The Abducted Bride




The smooth trim Marseille Express burrowed its way swiftly through the clear
night of the French country side.  A large pale summer moon hung low in the
distance.

Kevin Taylor watched its shimmering light moving against the darkened ceiling
of his sleeper compartment.  It flickered hypnotically in unison to the
rhythmic roll of the train beneath his bunk.  Cool air from the open window
played across his naked well built body which covered the whole of the narrow
bed.  He was alone.

Damn, he thought miserably, what a hell of a way to spend a honeymoon.

He drug deeply on the almost finished cigarette squeezed tightly between his
thumb and forefinger.  His brow was wrinkled in deep thought.

He had reason to think.  Ahead of him in Marseille his bride was waiting after
running out on him their first night together in Paris.  Utter, utter
stupidity, he grimaced, the details of their last hour together flickering
through his mind like the reel of an old silent movie.

Perhaps he had been a little rough, but by God she had it coming to her.  He
had fought with her the entire year of their engagement about giving in to him
and had tried to explain that virginity had gone out of style.  Two people in
love just didn't wait anymore for marriage, they relied on their love and
trust and not some legal magic a ring was supposed to bring.  She had not
listened to him then and had even refused to discuss the matter though they
had come close to making it together several times in the backseat of his car.
She had always drawn the line just at the last minute.  This was the part that
had driven him crazy.  He had come so close to possessing that luscious body
so many times and had been left in frustration so many times that his control
had been destroyed completely.  He had even stopped parking with her when they
had gone out on dates for fear of what he would have done.

With her conservative New England upbringing, she would never have consented
to marry him if he had resorted to force and that's just what he would have
done sooner or later.  He did love her very much and didn't want to destroy
their relationship by some uncontrollable act that he may have committed in
the heat of passion.  She was too fine a girl for that.

He had to admit, in her favor, that he had nothing else to complain about. She
was almost perfection personified in all other respects.  In fact, it was that
perfection and his piled up frustrations that caused all the trouble back in
Paris.  That damn body was too perfect!

Things may still have been all right that first night if she hadn't insisted
on taking a plane to Paris right after the ceremony.  He would have preferred
to stay in New York for a few days and take their time in getting to know each
other.  But, Jean had insisted on Paris immediately.  That had meant sitting
next to her on that fucking airplane for another seven hours.  All that ran
through his mind during the entire trip was, where he should hare been at that
moment.  After all, she had been stressing the ceremony all these months and
that was over.  She was legally his now and he still couldn't touch her.

It had just been too much.  By the time they arrived at the hotel in the
center of Paris he was almost out of his mind--and then--she had appeared in
the bathroom door in that flimsy hip length nighty.  He had gone crazy.

He could still see her standing there in the doorway, her body a lovely thing
of art.  He had seen her before in a bathing suit, but never like this.  Every
sensuous detail of her nakedness was lucidly clear, from her tiny rising
nipples down to the soft triangle of pubic hair that nestled mysteriously
below her white virginal belly.

Suddenly, nothing else had mattered but ramming his hard cock into that
teasing flesh.  She had become just a woman, a woman that he had to have right
now at any cost.  All else was forgotten.

"Like me, darling?"  He could still hear ringing from her lips though now it
seemed to have occurred centuries ago.

There had been no verbal response from him, he remembered dryly.  He had just
reached for her, a deep animal-like groan erupting from his throat, and pulled
her roughly to the bed.  Her soft covered negligee had ripped away like so
much tissue paper.

"Be gentle, Kevin!  Be gentle, please!  P-Please!"  Her voice had resounded
through the room in terror as he held her down with one hand and ran the other
greedily over the lush contours of her resisting young body, kneading her ripe
succulent breasts cruelly beneath hands he no longer controlled.  Tight fists
of flesh protruded painfully in white bloodless ridges between his straining
fingers.  His head had dropped to the young budding nipples and chewed
hungrily at their tips until he had felt the soft resilient flesh give way and
the sweet taste of blood seeping onto his lashing tongue.

"No, darling, N-Nooo, please, not this way, not this way!"  she had pleaded,
but the words had rolled unheeded from her tortured lips.

He still had, in his madness held her wildly straining body tightly to the
bed.  She was imprisoned there by his heavy tensed chest that weighed upon her
like a giant stone.  Her long dark hair had begun thrashing helpless from side
to side on the bed, her face contorted with terror.  He could still remember
bitterly, her dark eyes flashing wide in disbelief that this was happening to
her.  She had pleaded more until the sounds became nothing but incoherent
mumbles of jumbled words.  It was then he had fucked her the first time.

Ignoring the low moaning pleas, he had rolled on top her, catching her body as
her long slim legs had scissored out in one last desperate effort to escape
his brutal assault.  His hips had fallen heavily between the full wide-splayed
thighs, pinning her jerking buttocks tightly to the bed.  The soft down of her
pubic hair brushing teasingly against his throbbing cock, inciting him to
incoherent mumblings of crazed uncontrollable lust.

The slow motion pictures of Jean's ravishment flickered on through his
tortured mind as the express tunneled on ceaselessly through the night...  His
knees were holding hers wide apart now and he was grinding his pelvis hard
into her squirming defenseless crotch.  The spasmodic jerkings of the hollows
of her soft inner thighs drove his hand between them; he was searching to
place himself, striving to reach that goal that had eluded him for so long...
and suddenly, without warning...  he had brutally found it.  He had jammed the
blood-filled head between the fleshy moist lips and with a groan, shoved it
all the way forward into her quivering cunt.  She had squealed like a stuck
pig and kicked her legs out wildly in the air in a futile attempt to escape
the cruel impalement.  It had only worsened her position and he could still
hear the guttural screech of further pain that had come tumbling piteously
from deep in her throat as his rock-hard cock battered deeper and deeper into
her warm yielding flesh.  At last, his pelvis had smacked hard into hers,
signaling the end.  His rigid fleshy column lay sunk all the way down inside
of her quivering belly, the warm wet walls of her cunt wrapped tightly around
it.

He didn't stop.  He didn't even give her a chance to adjust to his sudden
presence deep in her womb.  He just began to fuck, ramming in and out of her
like a dog gone mad.  He had only thought of one thing and that was to spew
that hot sticky load of cum deep inside of her where it belonged and where it
had belonged for a year now.  He vented his lust against her groaning body
time after time, flooding her belly again and again with the hot white liquid
of a year's frustrated waiting and hoping...  until-finally...  it was all
gone.

How long or how many times he had fucked her, he couldn't remember.  He had
been an unconscious being in another world of complete madness.  But, he did
remember, after the first great gush from his sperm inflated cock had emptied
into her, a feeling of helpless guilt flooding over him.

He had become more gentle with the sobbing body beneath and had babbled soft
apologies in her unhearing ears as he had rocked over her.  He had tried to
bring a response that would wipe away the terrible guilt he felt for letting
his unbridled lust overcome the patience he knew he should have had with her.

It had been useless.  She had lain motionless beneath him, her eyes open wide,
staring coldly at the ceiling above as he had tried time after time to awaken
some response that would show she felt something other than pain and disgust.

The contemptuous eyes had not wavered from the ceiling.

Kevin remembered rolling from her still body, and unable to speak what he
felt, had merely lit a cigarette and gazed silently down at her.  He had
finally mustered the courage to say something.

"Jean, can you forgive me?"

"Please cover me, Kevin," she had spoken coldly after a long seconds delay,
her eyes still refusing to look at him.  He pulled the sheet up over her body
and tucked it gently under her chin.

He waited, but there was silence.

"Darling, I know it must have been awful for you.  I--I just couldn't control
myself."

Silence.

"You were beautiful standing there."

Silence.

"Perhaps if we hadn't waited so long.  Remember?  I told you we should have
tried before."

Silence.

"Damn it, Jean," he had finally blurted out in his frustration.  "You've got
to understand a man's feelings about these things.  I'm not some robot that
can stand being next to a woman like you and not feel something.  It's been
building up all this time and it's your fault for being so almighty righteous
and virtuous."

Kevin had known he had treaded too far when this had slipped out, but it was
too late.

Because he had wanted to fight back, to recoup his lost vanity, he had become
cruel.  He had blamed his own failing on Jean and accused her of being cold
and unfeeling.

"Christ, I might as well have married a statue.  It could satisfy me as much
as you have."  He had shouted in guilt and anger.  "I don't think you'll ever
be able to Brake a man happy.  Not until you learn to get off that pedestal
you've put yourself on.  Or, at least, that your old man's put you on."

Kevin had seen her move and glance toward him with the deepest hatred he had
yet seen in her eyes.  He knew he had hit a sore point and was glad to see
some reaction from her, even though it was of hate, it was better than
nothing. Besides, he felt like hurting her now the way she had hurt him.

"I'm going out and get myself some little slut off the street.  I need a good
grind.  It'll be a long time before I get one at home."

With this, he had gone to the bathroom and dressed.  He left, slamming the
door behind him, not pausing for even a side glance at Jean.

That had been his big mistake, he thought bitterly as he flipped the cigarette
butt out the open window of the racing train.  Jean had been in no condition
to be left alone at that moment.  He should have swallowed his pride and not
let his male ego take over.  They wouldn't have this mess now if he had done
what he should have and not run off into the Paris streets to walk off his own
guilt feelings.

He had not gone out after a woman that night.

He had spent several hours just walking and stopping periodically for a
cognac.  He had thought long and hard about their relationship.  It had been a
good one and still could be in spite of his miserable failure on their wedding
night.  The cool Paris night air had settled his mind a bit and he had worked
out an apology and explanation of sorts.  It might take a while, but he was
sure she would get over it.

When he had returned to the hotel the Concierge at the desk had handed him an
envelope.  It had been a simple note from Jean saying she was leaving.  She
needed a few days to think things over and for him not to try and contact her.
She would let him know when and where to meet her so they could discuss things
rationally.

That is why he was on this damn train.  The cable had come this afternoon for
him to meet her in Marseille.  She made up her mind and wanted to talk to him.
He didn't have the slightest idea what the decision had been and was a bit
apprehensive, though he was certain they could work something out.

One thing he knew, he could not let her go.  He loved her more than anything
in the world and could not leave her under any circumstances

He fell into a deep but troubled sleep, anxious for the morning to arrive.

Jean Taylor had been on this same train two nights previously.  She had lain
in the same bunk that Kevin Taylor did a few nights later, but he had no way
of knowing it.  Her thoughts also ran over the events that had occurred in the
hotel, her eyes seeing them in a different light.

How could he have been so cruel, she thought, what had turned Kevin so
suddenly into the raging animal he had been?

She ran her hands over the raw tips of her swollen nipples that were so sore
she could not bear to wear anything over them, even to sleep.  Her shoulders
trembled when she thought back to the horrible rape of her body and the way he
had used it as a tool solely for his own gratification without even the
slightest thought of her desires or pleasures.  He had used her like an
animal--his own wife the thought sickened her and tears brimmed her eyes.

She had actually looked forward to the first evening with him and had been
preparing herself mentally for weeks before to make certain she entered the
marital relationship with the correct attitude.  She knew he had resented her
not giving herself to him before marriage, and she also knew that most of her
friends had not saved themselves for that first night either.  But, she had
vowed that theirs was going to be a classically perfect marriage, in the old
fashioned sense.  She had wanted, so much, for them to have a mutual respect
and understanding for each other from the beginning and for him to never be
able to doubt that he, and he alone, was the only man to possess her.

Perhaps she had made the mistake of quoting her father too often in this
matter when Kevin had been overly persistent about having her before marriage.
This was why she had cringed when he had thrown it at her back in the hotel
room.  It was true, perhaps, that he did place her on a pedestal, and also
that he was perhaps over-solicitous toward her, but he had a right to be.  He
was of good conservative New England stock, and as a God-fearing man, had
expected his family to be also.

She had been tempted many times, she had to admit, but had always summoned up
her courage and resisted, even {bough the easy thing to do would have been to
give in to Kevin's demands.  She had come so close sometimes that if he had
just had the persistence to continue, he could have broken her down.  In fact,
she was certain that she was as anxious for the consummation as he was and it
would have been so beautiful if he could have just shown a little
understanding and could have prepared her gently for the final assault on her
virginity.

She had read so much about how important the first night was in marriage and
how beautiful it could be if both partners were understanding of each other.

Well, she had been, she thought to herself, and all she received for it was a
broken and bruised body bestially raped like she was a whore off the streets.

Jean clenched her eyes tightly shut at the memory of his last statement.  She
could still hear it ringing in her ears as the sound of the train lulled her
tortured mind to sleep:

"I don't think you could ever make a man happy.  I'll get a good grind"

She was awakened the next morning by the knocking of the porter on the
compartment door.

"Breakfast call, breakfast call," he repeated in his broken English several
times.

Jean opened her eyes hesitantly.  It just had to be a good day.  She needed
some sun; the weather always seemed to dictate her mood of the day and she had
enough problems to think about without having that dismal French overcast.

It was shining beautifully.  She could see its warming rays streaming over her
head and touching the compartment wall, flooding the tiny cubicle with a
lovely radiance that made her forget her problems momentarily.  She was
famished and brushed her teeth and dressed rapidly.  She wanted to make the
first breakfast call so she would have time to do some thinking before
arriving in Marseille.  The train wasn't due for another two hours or so and
it wouldn't hurt to try and organize herself mentally.  She still had to worry
about a hotel when she arrived there.  She had not wanted to let anyone at the
hotel in Paris make reservations for her as Kevin may have bought the
information from them and she would not have the time she needed to come to
grips with herself.

Jean settled herself back in the chair in the clean white dining car.  She had
ordered fried eggs and bacon, which had surprised her when she had seen them
on the French menu.

"Ah, une dejeuner, Americain," the waiter had said smilingly.

"Oui, dejeuner, Americain," Jean had repeated, smiling back.  She was glad she
had at least remembered some of the words from her College French course.  She
supposed that any French waiter would know the word for breakfast, but it was
nice to be able to say some things in the language of the country in which you
were traveling.

"It was a beautiful day," she thought, as she watched the green rolling French
countryside roll by.  Quaint small sharp roofed farm houses could be seen in
the distance adding to the beauty of the setting.

If only things had not happened the way they had in Paris, she might have been
enjoying this with Kevin.

She was almost beginning to regret her hasty decision to leave before he
returned when her thoughts were interrupted by a feminine French voice
speaking excellent English.

"Excuse me, you are American, aren't you?"  a stately, well-groomed woman
asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Why, yes I am," Jean answered, surprised by the sudden intrusion upon her
thoughts.

"May I join you?  I haven't the chance to speak English so often anymore, it
would be nice while we are having breakfast," she said nodding at the empty
chair across from Jean.

"Yes, please do," Jean replied, a bit perplexed at having her solace
interrupted so unexpectedly.

The annoyance only lasted a moment, however, as she turned out to be one of
the most pleasant women she had talked with in a long time.  Perhaps it was
good to talk to someone else and get this thing off her mind for awhile, she
rationalized to herself.

Madame DuBois had immediately monopolized the conversation, but in a pleasant
manner.  She was from the south of France and told Jean many little stories
and anecdotes about the area they were passing through that brightened her
spirits perceptibly.  She seemed to be an amazing woman.  She was married to a
wealthy art dealer in Paris and was going to Marseille to look at some
paintings for him that one of his underground contacts had discovered in an
old shop.  She was certain she could pick several Renior's for almost nothing.
The shop owner thought they were copies and Madame DuBois was going down to
discreetly check before they bought them.

Jean felt herself extremely fortunate to have met her.  She solved her hotel
problem.  Madame DuBois said she usually stayed at one of the more chic places
in Marseille, but did not want any of the other art dealers to know she was in
town.  It was a dirty business and if it was known she was there, one of them
was certain to have her followed to see what she was up to.  Therefore, she
was staying in a small third class hotel in the lower part of town where she
would not be seen or reported to be in town.  She had assured Jean it was
clean and had all the facilities of the more grandiose but just a little more
French.

Jean was happy with this.  She was afraid Kevin might call the police and they
would send out an alert to the hotels.  It would take no time at all to find
her, as they were very efficient about this, but with a small hotel it would
be almost impossible.  This was luck and her spirits rose immediately.

Breakfast finished, Jean had rushed back to the compartment and put her things
together.  Marseille was coming up.  They had talked so long together that
both had forgotten about it being so near.

It was also nice to have an interpreter.  Madame DuBois handled all the
baggage and porters and got them into a taxi without the usual difficulties a
tourist to such a place has.  Jean was certain her high school French would
not have done her much good here.

The ride to the hotel was pleasant.  Monique, they were on a first name basis
now, had made the driver go along the waterfront drive so Jean could get a
good view of the city.  The blue of the Mediterranean looked so inviting that
she could have jumped into it that very moment.  She almost wished now she had
taken a beach-side hotel outside the city, but still it would be nice to have
Monique around for company and perhaps she could help her with some advice.
She seemed so much more worldly wise than herself.

Jean would have been happy with any solution now and perhaps she would confide
in Monique later this evening when they had gotten to know each other just a
little better.  She was certain the older woman would understand the problem.
She knew she would go back with Kevin, but the only problem was how to do it
with honor, and more important, how to erase away the horrible memory of night
before last.

The taxi turned off from the waterfront drive into the old sector of the city
and the streets became more narrow and crowded.  Open markets selling
everything imaginable lined the narrow alleyways the driver was picking his
way through.  It was obviously the sailor quarter for the port as Jean could
see every nationality of seaman imaginable, and even at this hour of the day,
vulgar, gaudy, looking women were parading the sidewalks plying their age-old
trade.

Jean became a bit apprehensive when the car stopped in front of a dirty
doorway marked, Le Pension Afrique.

"Is this it, Monique?"  she asked, obvious concern reflecting in her voice.

"Yes, it is, dear," she answered, an assuring smile on her lips, "but don't
worry, the outside means nothing.  You Americans are all the same; you expect
the Hotel Ritz everywhere you go.  Now come on in and stop worrying."

She paid the driver and signaled to a boy standing in front of the door to
take their bags.

Monique led her down a darkened hallway to the stairway and up to the second
floor where the desk was located.  She checked them in with the desk clerk,
who was obviously pleased to see her.  Jean didn't like his looks.  He was
Algerian with a short clipped mustache and looked as though he belonged behind
a bar rather than working as a desk clerk.

"Jean, this is Shalla," Monique said, introducing the clerk.  "He speaks
English very well and takes care of all of my needs when I stay here.  You'll
find him useful."

"How do you do Madame," the clerk bowed toward her with the natural Arab
obsequiousness.

She nodded back to him apprehensively.  She didn't like the looks of this
place at all but perhaps Monique was right, Americans did expect a lot. Anyway
it was quiet and the neighborhood quaint, it may be just the place to reflect
on her problems for a few days.

Shalla led them up to the third floor and gave them adjoining rooms.  There
was a connecting door which made Jean feel a little better.  The lock for it
was on her side so if she needed anything in a hurry she could always get into
Monique's room.  She didn't like the way the Arab desk clerk was looking at
her.  She knew they were an extremely polite people and overly solicitous at
times but still made her nervous the way he looked her up and down lustfully
with his sharp penetrating eyes.

"Well, here we are, my dear," Monique said as the clerk placed Jean's baggage
next to the wrought iron double bed.  Jean had thought these beds had gone out
with the horse and buggy.  She surveyed the rest of the room and it looked as
though it hadn't been renovated since that time either.  A single uncovered
light bulb hung down from the center of the ceiling and was the only light
source in the room.  There were no lamps on the table.  The cheaply painted
plaster was cracked along the walls and small blotches had fallen out of the
ceiling, leaving irregular shaped holes that showed through to the lathe work
beneath.

Thank God, Monique is here with me, she thought.  She seems to know what she's
doing.

"Do you stay here often?"  Jean had to ask.

"Oh yes, my dear, my husband and I always stay here when we want peace and
quiet and, it is quaint."

Jean felt foolish that she had to keep asking questions like this.  Monique
had assured her several times that everything was all right.  She would just
have to accept it.  After all, who knows a country better than a native.
Besides, she liked her and was looking to her for some moral support these
next several days.  They would be difficult ones and she knew she wouldn't
bear to face them completely alone.

"Jean, dear," Monique said, "I've got to run and do a few things before I
unpack.  Why don't you put your things away and rest up a bit.  I think a nap
would do you good.  I'll be back around six and we can have dinner together."

Jean agreed to this.  She was happy to be left alone for a few hours to get
settled and take a bath.  She felt gritty from the trip and hadn't been in a
tub since her hurried exit from the hotel room in Paris.

"I'd love it," Jean replied, "you wake me up when you finish your business.
I'll probably be dead to the world."

As soon as Monique was out of the room, Jean finished her unpacking and drew a
cool refreshing bath.  She couldn't wait to get into bed, as squeaky and
uncomfortable as it looked.  She scrubbed herself a bright clean, feeling as
though she hadn't touched water in weeks.  Afterwards, she rubbed herself with
lotion from head to foot, rubbing gently over the bruises left from Kevin's
childish assault on her.  She closed her mind tightly against the memory for
the time being and decided to think about it later.  Right now she was too
tired to do anything but sleep.

She chose a short hip-length nighty, purposely pushing the torn one she had
worn the other night with Kevin into a far corner of the drawer where she had
put her things.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Who is it?"  Jean asked lightly, concluding that Monique had forgotten
something.

"Iced tea, Madame," she recognized Shalla's voice through the door.

"But, I--I didn't order any tea," Jean answered, surprised and a bit upset
about the unexpected intrusion.

"Madame Monique ordered it for you, Madame.  She said it would help you sleep.
It's a special mint tea to relax you."

"Oh, all right, just a minute," Jean threw on her thin robe and opened the
door to allow him to enter.

Shalla stopped for a moment as he brought the tray through the door.  Jean
caught his sharp quick eyes as they glanced the length of her body.  She
automatically drew the top of the robe tightly around her throat and stood
holding the door open waiting for him to put the tray down and leave.

"If Madame needs anything else, just ring the buzzer and Shalla will come." He
bowed as he slowly backed out the door, his penetrating eyes boring straight
through the robe Jean was wearing.  She gave him a cold stare and shuddered as
she drew its flimsy material more tightly around herself locking the door
behind him.  She was glad Monique would be returning in a few hours. She knew
she was safe here with the door locked but still felt a little insecure.  She
didn't like the clerk and the way he had looked at her.  He had stripped her
bare with his glances and she knew it wouldn't take much carelessness on her
part to have him get out of line.  She had never seen such a raw animal lust
in a man's eyes before as they had locked on the cleavage showing between her
large ripe breasts.  Her hands inadvertently covered them as she trembled
repulsively at the thought of his hands on her.

She picked up the glass of tea from the table by the bed and sipped it
thirstily.  In spite of the lewd appraisal of her body by the clerk, she was
glad Monique had sent the tea.  It was cool and refreshing, though it had a
slight bitterness to it.  Must be from the mint, she thought, as she stretched
her long smooth body down the length of the bed, draining the last drop from
the tall refreshing glass.

She stretched languidly, relaxed sweetly by the hypnotizing bitterness of the
drink and pressed the switch by the bed that turned off the light hanging
above her.  The room faded into a pleasant semi-darkness as her eyes fluttered
closed into a strange floating half-sleep.  Her mind seemed to remain in an
almost waking state as she could feel the nerve ends of her body floating
below her into a deep, deep, softness that seemed like a gentle fleece-lined
cloud beneath her.  The pleasant intoxicating mint odor curled strangely
through her nostrils bringing dreams of sun and roses and Kevin the deepest
warmth she had ever known, descended from somewhere above, and dropped gently
the alluring veil of near sleep over her.

From a broom closet next to the room of the American girl, the Arab peered
hungrily through the small hole bored through the wall.  He could see her
slowly remove the thin robe she was wearing, exposing the flimsy night gown
that covered her firm luscious body only down to the tops of her full
well-rounded thighs.

He smiled in anticipation when he saw her lift the glass of tea to her lips
and drink deeply from it.  He held his breath as she winced slightly from the
initial bitter taste; then breathed freely again as the puzzled look
disappeared from her face and she drank again.  Small beads of perspiration
broke from his forehead as she reclined back on the bed, her feet facing
directly at the hole through which he was observing her.  The sparse nylon
gown snaked its way up over the white flat plane of her belly, exposing the
dark soft silkiness that covered the junction of her slightly spread legs.
The thin red hair-lined slit was temptingly visible running the length of her
open crotch.

His bulging eyes followed the contours of the hips up over the rising and
falling rib-cage to the large white rounded spheres of her breasts.  They were
set slightly close together and through the thin covering, he could sec their
turgid nipples rising into tantalizing little buds.  His month watered He
could hardly wait to get his hands and mouth on those and to twist and churn
them into the rock hardness of passion.  He had never had an American girl
before and he had heard they were passionless haughty things who ruled over
their men with an iron-hand.  He would see soon.  His potion never failed.  He
had used it often on the women Madame Monique had brought here and not one had
been able to resist its maddening aphrodisiac effect.

He would show this proud little American bitch who had everything and who had
dismissed him as so much dirt when he had tried to be friendly.  It wouldn't
be long now as she had turned the glass up and drained the last lethal drops
for it.  He clenched his fist tightly as she squirmed around on the bed before
him and pushed the light switch, plunging the room into semi-darkness.  It
took his eyes a moment to adjust to the change but he could still see her slim
form stretched sensuously down the length of the bed.  Her thighs had fallen
apart a little more now and he could make out dimly the dark wisp that covered
the mound of her lower belly.  His tongue ran inadvertently around the moist
edges of his lips as he fingered the master key in his pocket.  He would have
to wait a few more minutes.  He wanted no crying out, the potion must have
time to reach its full effect.  His body was soaked in a sweat now from the
thought of that haughty young bitch squirming in helpless surrender beneath
his excited body.  The seconds of waiting ticking by seemed like hours...  til
finally he could stand it no longer.  He returned to the hallway, carefully
tiptoeing down to the room and fitting the key quietly into the door.  He
opened it slowly, pushing his head into the darkened room, to see if there was
any sound.  There was none but the soft breathing of the motionless form on
the bed.  He closed the door softly behind him, locking it to insure there
would be no disturbing them.

The Arab looked intensely through the darkness at the bed.  The head of the
sleeping girl was facing straight ahead at the ceiling.  Her eyes were
clenched tightly shut as if in a deep hard sleep, yet she moved slightly from
time to time as though dreams were coming to her from the haze of the other
world she had slipped into.

He moved cat-like around the foot of the bed, not taking his gaze from the
reclining figure sprawled limply back on it.  She had drawn one knee up flat
on the bed even with her hip, the smooth white flesh of the inner thigh
gleamed faintly in the darkness.  The soft dark hairs covering the exposed,
still tightly closed lips of her vagina, were plainly visible now to his beady
eyes as they adjusted themselves to the darkness of the shaded room.

He involuntarily drew in his breath at the unbelievable sight before him.  He
had fucked many drugged young women before on this same bed, but never
anything like this.  Never anything so pure, innocent, and proud.  Never
anything that he would enjoy humiliating so much.

The thought of helpless mewling grunts of pleasure coming from those
untouchable lips, that had scorned him before, goaded his organ into rock-
hardness.  He could feel the blood throbbing painfully into its large expanded
head, tiny droplets of thick white seminal fluid had already begun to seep
from the sensitive contracting gland at its tip, smearing wetly against his
thin thigh.  He silently opened the fly of his pants, easing the pain
slightly.

He slowly massaged the heavy thick foreskin back and forth over the jerking
head as he advanced around the bed toward the proud young bitch who now lay
totally at his mercy.  The drug had done its work well and he now intended to
teach this haughty young American to scorn him as she and all of her kind had
when he tried to be nice to them.  This rod he held in his hands was the great
equalizer and he'd see if she treated him like a cur dog when rammed deep
between those open thighs and buried the head far up inside her aristocratic
little belly.

His pants dropped heavily to the floor as he opened the last button at the top
and fully exposed his long thick member.  It stood out in proud menacing
erection over the spread eagle body on the bed beneath.  He slowly unbuttoned
the soiled sweat covered shirt and threw it to the chair in the corner.  He
left his shoes and socks on in case the French woman, Monique, returned and he
had to get out in a hurry.  He had locked the downstairs door so she would
have to ring to get in.  This would give him plenty of warning.  He didn't
intend to leave this delicious young bitch until he had drained them both dry
of every ounce of strength in their bodies.

He stood for a moment longer over her motionless body, stroking himself into a
rigidity that threatened to explode into streaming white hot spurts at any
moment.  For a second, he considered it.  It would be a beautiful sight to see
his hard penis throbbing out its load into the helpless girls face and down
over her soft white tits.  He lewdly pictured it dribbling down over her chin
to the hollow of her throat and forming warm sticky pools between those lush
soft breasts.  But no, he had better not.  He had to clean it all up.  She
must never know she had been fucked.  If she did, and told the French lady, he
would lose his job and maybe his life.  She was connected with the big boys in
the racket and they might not like his sampling the merchandise every time
they brought it in.

He couldn't resist one thing before he climbed on her.  He knew the risk was
great of losing his load, but he had to see those proud little ruby lips
around it just for a moment.  He had thought so much about it while he was
downstairs waiting until she was alone.  He kneeled down on the edge of the
bed by her head and turned it gently toward his erected penis.  When it was
several inches away, he pushed his hips slowly forward toward her upturned
face, laying the wet sticky underside of the throbbing head between the small
valley formed by her closed pink lips.  He placed one thumb under her nose and
the other on her chin, pulling slowly out until the underside of the heavy
head dropped slightly through the stretched lips and rested against her white
bared teeth, the soft flesh of the pink puckered lips forming a furrow along
its length.  He flexed his hips slightly back and forth until several small
droplets of cum oozed from his throbbing gland, and lubricated the mouth that
was half surrounding it.  He could feel the warm air from her nostrils pushing
hotly against it as she breathed in and out restlessly.

Looking down directly into her face, he could see small rivulets run slowly
down the corners of her mouth on either side, dribbling like tears down the
sides of her cheeks.  God, he would like to shoot his hot stream down that
soft palpitating throat and see the adams-apple bob up and down as she gulped
it into her.  Maybe later, if she was left alone again and he was sure he had
more time.

He reached one hand down to the hem of the flimsy negligee, pulling it up
slowly over her rounded snow-white belly, over the large globular magnificence
of her tits, until her whole naked body was exposed.  He had seen it through
the peephole when he was watching her undress but it hadn't excited him nearly
as much as having it here now, spread helplessly beneath him, where he could
touch and fondle it to his hearts content.

With the thumb and forefinger of the right hand he reached over and pushed her
lips tighter against the purple veined member between them, gently continuing
the slow sawing motion.  The other hand moved over the magnificent breasts
tweaking the nipples between his fingers until he could feel them mechanically
hardening under his caressing.

The girl shifted slightly beneath him, moaning softly as though aware of his
presence.  He held still--frightened for a moment that the potion had not done
its work completely.  His rod fell from between her loose lips down over her
chin, leaving thin threads of warm white stickiness trailing behind it.

"Kevin, darling," she mumbled thickly through the fog of the drug.  "I've been
waiting, waiting so long.  My darling husband--come to me--come to me."

Jean had been aware of the movement in the room and Kevin's shadowy figure
coming to her.  She felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her and
that now things would be all right.  He would be gentle with her now and take
her as she had always dreamed he would.  She could feel her blood begin to
stir deep within her body.  A body he would possess in a moment.  She wouldn't
fail him this time.

The Arab smiled to himself above her.  The mixture had worked its magic as it
always did.

The bitch thinks I'm her husband, he chuckled lewdly to himself, she'll see
the difference before I'm finished.

He stroked the giant throbbing penis slowly, reaching down and running his
other hand over the awakening mounds of her tits and down over her belly to
the soft fleshy folds of her cunt below.

"Ohhh, darling, darling, I'm sorry," the girl droned beneath him.  "I didn't
want to leave, I didn't want to leave.  Be gentle with me, Kevin, be gentle
with me."

Jean dreamed on, her body becoming alert now to the caresses of the magic
hands that were stroking her flesh into a hot sheet of desire.  Tiny
goose-bumps sprang out over the whiteness of her sensitive flesh.

God, how she wanted him, her body ached to be touched gently and with
understanding as he was doing it now!

She pushed the mad rape he had subjected her to from her thoughts and just
wanted to make up for all that time she had denied him and herself the joys of
merging their bodies as one.  She wanted him to crawl up inside her, to
possess her and quiet the thunder that was building up deep, deep, inside from
his maddening fingertips playing over her defenseless nakedness.

Maybe he would understand her now, understand that she had suffered as much as
he had and that she had wanted him too.  Now it was different, her thoughts
flickered on hazily, he was here with her and they were married and she could
give herself to him without fear of guilt or God's punishment.  God would
understand now, they were man and wife.

Her tongue ran slowly around her moist lips, savoring the sticky pungent taste
of the strange moisture that covered them--the odor wafed through her flared
nostrils, breathing it deep inside her body.  It did strange things to her,
the odor and taste coursed through her entire being like a sweet soothing balm
lighting tiny fires in her growing nipples and causing a throbbing in the
nerve ends inside her tight hot vagina.  She could feel dew-drops of moisture
rising there between her open legs as the exposed hair-lined lips began a slow
spasmodic contracting, throbbing wetly against each other.

"Ohhh, Kevin, Kevin, darling, take me now, touch me, rub me, Ohhh, yess,
yessss, like that, like that," she moaned, helplessly caught up in the sharp
deep pricks of lust that were dancing through her.

The Arab grinned, his yellow teeth showing through the unshaven stubble around
his lips---his greedy eyes feasting lewdly on her unconsciously squirming
nakedness.

He moved around on the bed, crouching on all fours over the white moving body,
pushing her unresisting milk-white thighs wide apart.  He crawled between
them, his knees pressed between her ankles and his face panting a few inches
above the hair-covered vee of her open crotch.  His mouth watered as his eyes
looked down at it rotating sensuously, expectantly, just below his lips.
Saliva dripped from his open mouth, mingling with her juices in the delicious
narrow split that started at the bottom of the smooth white belly and trailed
down through the rounded creamy spheres of her buttocks pressed tightly
against the mattress.

Through half slit eyes, Jean could see the shadowy form of her husband
crouching between her open legs.  She could feel the flat palms of sweating
hands pushing against the softness of her inner thighs, holding them wide
apart.  Her secret treasure was open to him to do as he willed.  She watched
with baited breath as his head lowered slowly--slowly--slowly--then!

"Ohhhhh!"  she jerked, as his hot moist lips closed over the soft mound at the
base of her belly.  His hazy face disappeared from her view into the soft
fleece as he planted wet tickling kisses on the still closed aperture, his
tongue flicking lizard-like at the quivering opening.

Her own hands moved sensuously down over her throbbing breasts and slid slowly
down her smooth, flat stomach, coming to rest on either side of his lips.  Her
fingers stroked softly for a moment at the flexing hollows of her inner
thighs--then, slowly spread the fleshy hair-lined lips of the moist wet furrow
apart, allowing his hungry devouring lips complete access to her moist secret
being.

Her elbows pressed tightly against her ribs and her head lolled uncontrollably
from side to side on the pillow as the hot searing tongue shot out, its soft
flicking tip circling the quivering erected clitoris- the lips sucked, drawing
the warm soft folds deep into the hot cavern of his mouth, the tongue
continued its maddening licking against the straining pink bud of her sex she
groaned huskily from deep in her throat as the hot probing tip worked its way
up and down the length of the narrow wet slit, starting at the lower belly and
pressuring its way dowel, down over the elastic rimmed opening of her clasping
vagina and into the crevice of her flexing buttocks where it stopped
momentarily to do a wet probing homage to the tight brown throbbing hole.  Her
hips ground uncontrollably into the squeaking bed now, soft mewling animal
sounds escaped pitifully from between her passion clenched teeth.

'The Arab worked hungrily, feeling the soft wet pubic hair brushing
tantalizing against his cheeks.  A feeling of power was in him.  Never in his
wildest dreams had he ever expected to have such a proud pure bitch like this
squirming under his tongue and completely at his mercy--and she was loving
it--her groans drove his tongue faster as it worked its way up and down the
steaming hot crotch.  He wanted her begging for it when he was ready to ram it
to her and she was almost there.  He had never seen anyone so hot, even with
the potion.  She needed it bad and she was getting it--and this was just the
beginning.

He knew she was too far gone now to fight anything he did to her and his mind
began to form weird erotic pictures of the positions he could put her in and
the things he could do at will to her limp desire wracked body.

He chuckled obscenely as he felt her hands desperately clawing at his greasy
black hair, guiding his face to the palpitating opening of her cunt.  He ran
his tongue into the soft rimmed flesh, flicking at it for a moment--and then
quickly withdrawing it to tease again around the ragged pink edges.

He let her force him this time pressing his mouth, directly over the tight
little hole in her squirming crotch.

As his lips rounded and covered the clasping viscous opening, he thrust his
tongue deep down into it, bringing a low guttural groan from the girl whose
soft warm thighs closed convulsively around either side of his moving head.
He could feel the wet flesh slip moistly around his long extended tongue as
the walls of the invaded vagina opened and closed in a sucking motion,
attempting to pull it deeper and deeper into it.  It felt as though the
nibbling hair-lined mouth would pull his tongue out by the roots, devouring it
alive. Her heels pushed down against his back pressing his body into the flesh
trap until he couldn't breath, his nose was smashed tightly against the tiny
hard clitoris above, breathing in the pungent odor of the lust juice that was
now flowing in abundance from it.  It incited his penis to a hardness that he
could no longer control--he had to fuck this little bitch now or he would
explode all over the mattress.

Jean's body was lost in the fire of the moment.  Every muscle in her body was
tensed as she strained her hips upward toward that maddening probe between her
legs.  Kevin was a god.  She had never expected it could be like this, that he
could bring such things from her body.

Her love for him incited her further.  Her up-drawn legs opened and closed
around the tormenting head that was licking gluttonously at her flame seared
hole.  The cords of her neck stand out as she pulled with all her strength
against the tangled hair of his head.

"Oh!  Ohhh!  Aggghhh!"  she moaned, splaying her legs wider and wider to give
him greater access.

The Arab could stand it no longer.  He grabbed her flailing legs behind the
knees and shoved them roughly back against her shoulders, slithering up her
sweat soaked body at the same time.  His rigid stiff cock brushed against the
wet dripping pubic hair.  He planted his hands on either side of her
shoulders, her ankles locked tightly behind his neck.  He could look down
between their bodies and see her upturned ass completely exposed to him.

The expanded narrow cunt-slit was visibly throbbing its lips in invitation,
the wet moist furrow held wide apart by the pressure of his thighs pressed
tightly up against hers.

Jean could see Kevin hovering over her through her passion and drug dimmed
eyes.  She could feel the hugeness of his fleshy hardness lying the full
length of her quivering open slit.  The jerking head of his cock rested
throbbing between her wide-spread buttocks; insinuating itself up and down, up
and down, in a maddening tease that caused her to twist her hips down toward
it, her hungry cunt searching desperately for its hard blood filled tip.

She had to have it in her!  Her belly screamed for it!

She reached her hands in panic down underneath the grinding cheeks of her ass
and grasped the full length of the stone-hard member.  Her tightly closed
fists stroked it softly in reverence.  She could feel the spasmodic throbbing
against her soft palms and the sticky fluid that oozed in driblets from the
blood inflated head.  She guided it up the valley of her buttocks, not letting
it lose contact with her flesh until it was poised between the mucous covered
flanges of her vagina.  She held it there with one hand and placed the other
on her husband's buttocks, drawing with all her strength to pull it into her
and let it drown the gnawing hot heat that burned out of control in her belly.

The Arab grinned obscenely above her.  It was all he could do to keep from
shoving forward now and impaling this squirming little bitch on his aching
cock, but the desire to punish her and her kind for all the times they had
shit on him by their disdainful looks when he had spoken to them, overcame the
desire.  This one typified them all, she was everything he wanted to
humiliate. Proud, innocent, spoiled by the condescending young men of her kind
who did her every bidding.  If one ever needed punishing, this one did.  Well,
he would do it, he would fuck her till she couldn't walk.

He received ever greater satisfaction from the knowledge that he would know
afterwards and she wouldn't.  She might treat him the same as she did before
but he would know that he had plowed her good and left his white hot sperm
deep in her cunt.  He might even make her pregnant.  This though excited him
even more, a lowly immigrant Arab, refugee from his own country, desk clerk,
making this proud haughty bitch pregnant.  Filling her belly with a child and
she wouldn't even know the father.  The lewd thought caused him to
involuntarily flick his hips forward.

Jean felt the lips around her throbbing vagina pushed open.  The elastic
rimmed tightness resisted for a moment, then gave way before the hard cruel
pressure. The pain was harsh and she mechanically resisted for a moment,
emitting a long low groan from deep within her throat.  He liked that, he
liked hearing her hurt.

He shoved again--a deeper groan--he wanted to hear her scream for mercy.  And
suddenly, he could stand it no more.  He rammed forward with everything he
had, sinking the lust inflated cock all the way to the hilt.  He could feel
his balls slap tightly against her jerking anus that screwed itself deep down
into the mattress attempting to escape the cruel sudden impalement.  Her legs
jerked out wide on either side of his thin emaciated body, splaying over
either edge of the beds kicking futiley into the air.

"Kevin!  Ke-Kevinnn!  Nooooo!  Nooooooo!"  she screamed, her impaled form
pinned helplessly to the bed.  With each jerk, the huge head seemed to burrow
deeper into her.  The Arab's outstretched arms pinned her shoulders tightly to
the mattress, his wide-spread knees held her thighs split far apart.  She felt
as though her body was being torn down the middle and that she would be ripped
in half from this giant instrument imbedded deep in her middle.  The fiery
plunging rod felt as though it was coming out her throat as its blood-filled
head pressed hard against her cervix, buffeting her head back harshly against
the headboard of the bed.

He watched her from above with a lascivious grin on his lips.  Her face was
contorted with the pain of that first vicious stab.  Her lips curled back from
her teeth, pleading, incoherent whimpers coming from deep in her throat.  Her
arms were outstretched, palms against his hips, attempting to hold back the
blunt hard head pressing against her womb like a great hard stone.

She's never had it this deep, he gloated to himself, as he held her pinned in
the lewd humiliating position.  He looked down again and could see his curly
black pubic hair tangled tightly with hers, the base of his thick fleshy rod
buried deep into the pink throbbing furrow that his tongue had licked to moist
receptiveness a moment ago.  He could see the tight lips of the cunt stretched
almost to the bursting point, the rubbery outer pink rim clasping tightly
around the dark skinned base of his cock.

He held her there for a moment, savoring the spectacle of this proud little
bitch impaled helplessly under him, with his huge rod buried deep in her white
little belly.  He wished her husband could see her now, spread-eagle this way
with a lowly Arab servant making her scream and yell.  He was going to give
her a fuck she would never forget as long as she lived.

Jean squirmed helplessly beneath him.  She could feel the hot searing pain of
his sudden blunt entry tearing cruelly at her insides.  She flexed her crotch
muscles tightly together to attempt to ward off the huge invading cudgel, but
the throb of her internal sinews seemed to incite it more and it plowed its
way deeper and deeper into her vainly resisting passage.  The walls of her
cringing cunt clasped around it like a glove.  She could feel its every fleshy
ridge as her nerve ends transmitted its monstrous form in minute detail to her
muddled mind like a telegraph line.

It was alive inside her!  The hard rubbery tip pressing against her cervix,
the thin folds of flesh along its length, the tickling hairs of the balls
dangling in the crevice of her ass were part of her.  She was one with it and
in spite of her pain her tongue began a wild licking at the wetness of her
lips.  He had smeared them well with his cum and her nostrils flared again,
drawing the pungent odor deep into her body, mingling it in strange marriage
with the feeling of the throbbing cock lodged deep in her white soft belly.
It all seemed to roll together into one great fiery ball of aching hunger for
more. Her cunt contracted involuntarily as the lascivious thoughts raced
through her mind.

The Arab felt the slight throbbing pressure exerted against his buried penis.
He had waited for it, hovering motionless over her prostrate form patiently
until she became accustomed to his thick presence rammed so deep in her belly.
He flexed the member gently, expanding it inside her, but still not moving his
body.

"Oh," she whimpered, through bared teeth, fighting the fine line of
pleasure-pain.

He waited a moment, and flexed again, watching her contorted face below.  The
mouth hung limply open, the eyes clenched tightly shut.

"Oooooohhhh!"  She held her breath as the buried cock expanded more,
stretching the narrow passage walls farther apart.

He flexed again, this time setting a slow teasing rhythm to his throbs.  He
watched her nostrils begin a slow hesitant flaring in time to the beat.  Soft
mewling sounds of pleasure came from her open mouth in time to his gentle
ministrations.

"Ooooohhhh--Darling, darling."

He could foil her urgent answering throbs began around the head of his penis.
The wet clasping cunt flesh began a soft opening and closing around his
pulsating member.

He did not move, but continued the slow rhythmic throbs into the skewered girl
beneath him.  He could hardly contain himself as her grunts of pleasure
resounded through the otherwise still room.  Her head lolled from side to side
unconsciously on the pillow as her hips began a slow involuntary roll beneath
his impaling rod.  He clenched his teeth tightly together as he felt her
hungry nibbling crotch screwing itself up tighter against his hair-covered
pelvis.

Jean's body felt itself coming to life now.  The pain was receding and was
slowly giving way to a maddening electric tingle that began deep within her
womb and seeped relentlessly through the raw nerve ends of her flesh.  It
rippled through her cunt and out the fleece-lined lips, dancing like fire
across the milky-white thighs, up the full length of her splayed legs and
circled around inside her toes, curling them tightly against the bottoms of
her feet.  It worked its way up from her contracting belly through her rib
cage and out to the tips of her pink palpitating nipples, which peaked into
hard tiny buds, sensitive to even the touch of the stale close air about them.
Thin rivulets of sweat rolled down the sides of the full pulsating mounds,
wetting the mattress beneath her.

She rotated her hips from side to side around the fleshy impaling member, her
vagina, dilating in time to its rhythmic beating.  It felt as though it had a
heart imbedded in the papitating head whose heat against her inner passage was
becoming a part of her being.  She was one with it.  She and her darling Kevin
were one fleshy mass of sensation, merged magically together by their love.
He had crawled into her!  He was a part of her!

The Arab could hardly contain his glee as he felt her pelvis begin screwing up
against the length of his rock hard penis.  The tiny contracting muscles
inside her cunt were nibbling hungrily at the inflated head.  The dilated lips
between her hair-lined pink slit pulled tantalizingly away, sliding moistly
down the rod for several inches and then nibbling slowly back up buffering her
soft down tightly against his pubic hair embedding the full length of him deep
into her warm white belly.  He stayed immobile, resting still above her with
his hands on either side of her shoulders, his knees pressed tight against the
mattress.  He let her quivering body pump up and down at will on his rigid
piston that fused them together.

He could see its slow withdrawal between them pulling thin soft ridges of her
pink flesh out with it as she screwed her pelvis down into the mattress and
the entry--pushing the soft folds back into her and the moist shiny length was
swallowed whole back into the salacious opening.  He let her strain against
him for a while, watching the utter abandon of her labors, a half-crazed
ecstatic smile playing across her lips.  Her motions became faster by the
second, the tempo of her thrusts up against him became more urgent--her teeth
bit hard into her lower lip.  He knew she was straining to come--the juices of
her milking vagina were beginning to flow and he could hear the wet sucking
sound of the in and out sawing movement as she suddenly thrust sharply up his
cock, burying it deep inside her, her back arched a foot off the squeaking
bed, her feet planted flat on either side of his knees tightly against the
mattress. She bucked against him wildly.

"Oh, God, yes, yes.  I'm coming darling, I'm coming, Aaaggh!"

Suddenly, with a deep throated groan, her body began vibrating
uncontrollably--wet white cum oozed from the throbbing passage, drowning his
impaling member with its sticky warmth and trickling down the crevice of her
white globular buttocks over his balls that pressed hard against the tiny
brown puckered anus.

The Arab went berserk as she grunted out the last of her juices against his
matted pelvis, her body still jerking spasmodically up against him.  He
reached back, grabbing her ankles and pushing them brutally back over her
shoulders until she was rolled up into a tight round ball of helplessness
beneath him. Her knees were pushed back tightly over her shoulders against the
mattress on either side of her head, the wide-spread split between her legs
completely open to his desire.

He withdrew the deeply imbedded instrument until just the tip of the head
rested in her.  Then, he rammed forward with all his stored up bitter
strength. He had waited to destroy this little bitch.  She had had her fun and
now it was his turn.  The full throbbing length of the incited member sunk
cruelly into her helpless exposed vagina.  He could hear the wet flat smack as
his belly thudded against her crotch.  His body dropped down heavily on her,
mashing her full ripe tits tightly against his chest.  He locked his saliva
covered mouth over hers, thrusting his wet dripping tongue deep in her throat,
stifling the low animal grunts fanning there.  His shoulders pushing against
the backs of her full rounded calves kept her locked in that helpless position
as he rammed it to her.  Reaching around beneath them, he forced his hands
between the mattress and the white full cheeks of her ass, cupping them in his
spread fingers and palms, kneading the warm soft flesh, pulling the white
rounded cheeks far apart.

He began long hard strokes into the streaming passage that was now wet and
slippery from her climb withdrawing the head until just the tip was inside the
hot clammy opening and then thrusting forward hard with his hips until his
balls were screwed tightly against the wide split crack of her buttocks.

Jean groaned helplessly as her exposed cunt was plundered again almost beyond
endurance.  He was driving her head hard back against the headboard of the bed
with each jack-hammer thrust and she couldn't fight from her hopeless
position.  Her arms were pinned down at her sides by her own up-drawn legs.
She could feel the giant head sliding up and down inside her warm viscous
passage like a feathered piston and the hot slap of his soft hair-covered
balls against her anus as he jerked forward on the down stroke.  Cool mad
rushes of air rushed between her thighs as he withdrew.

Her womb flared and the resisting lips of her hair-lined furrow flowered open
to receive the delicious rape of her secret genitals.  Her hands forced
themselves desperately from under her legs and snaked around his back.  The
nails clawed a red streaked path down to his flexing buttocks.  She pulled him
deep and thrust her fleece covered belly up hard to skewer herself deliciously
on the driving hot flesh of his pumping rod.  She sucked voraciously on the
thick wet tongue that was shoved deep in her throat through the yellow teeth
of the Arabs obscene grin.  She swallowed greedily the droplets of his saliva
that ran down it in her lewd excitement.  The foul pungent odor of his breath,
incited rather than repelled her drugged senses.  Her body began to match his
pounding lunges with her own rhythmic thrashing.

The rusty bedsprings squeaked loudly in time to the two tightly entwined
bodies struggling wildly against each other.  The sounds of deep straining
grunts and groans filled the hot stifling air of the room, mingling with the
noise of sweat soaked flesh smacking sharply against sweat soaked flesh and
the wet viscous slurp of his pile driving cock going in and out of her mucous
lined cunt.

"Hot bitch, hot bitch, hot bitch," the Arab mumbled over and over to himself
as he ceaselessly rammed the blood filled cudgel deep into her white round
screaming little belly with long cruel jabs.  He could feel the hot white cum
building up inside his heated balls as they beat hard against her upturned
ass.  It was ready to explode.  He wildly shoved his tongue far down her
throat and with harshly kneading hands pulled the wide-spread cheeks of her
white little buttocks hard up against his grinding pelvis as he rammed his
spewing cock all the way to the hilt in her soft unresisting cunt.

Jean could feel her insides splitting painfully as the head of the deep sunk
tormenting instrument suddenly flared into a hugeness that threatened to tear
her womb wide asunder--it began to spurt--and she could feel the delicious hot
white liquid r hooting into her like burning fire, ricocheting around inside
her dilated stomach like streams of molten lava.  The pores of her cunt
clasped around it, erupting in answer and again spilling her own white hot cum
into the already drowning cavern of her pink quivering passage.

It drove her insane!

She couldn't let it stop!

She reached frantically around under her squirming buttocks with both hands
and began to desperately milk at the balls pressed into the split of her
behind.  Her legs kicked out, quivering uselessly in the air on either side of
the bed.  The huge member continued to jerk its completion--white hot spurts
still spewed from its head, filling her womb and foaming out the contracting
fleshy lips around the base of his cock, soaking the soft matted pubic hair it
was buried in.

"Oh, fill me, fill me, darling," she groaned incoherently around the swabbing
tongue still sunk deep in her mouth.  The hot walls of her jerking cunt sucked
at the throbbing cock hungrily, until it gave one final spasmodic jerk, the
last drop sucked from it.

The Arab collapsed across her body, feeling her insides still gushing forth
around his deflated limp prick.  It seemed endless, until she too suddenly
gave one last jerk and quivered to a limp stillness, her legs protruding
lifelessly out on either side of his fatigued body.  Her arms outstretched,
one dangling doll-like over the edge of the beck Her belly was filled to the
bursting point with the mixture of their hot sticky- white cum.

He lay still for a moment to recover his strength and then slowly pulled
himself off the unconscious girl's still form, his cock sliding slowly out of
her battered cunt.  He could see the wet matted hair of her well fucked furrow
glistening wetly in the faint light.  The insides of her thighs were smeared
lewdly with the white-sticky juice.  It dripped in tiny rivulets down the
crevice of her ass, forming a dark wet circle on the mattress beneath.

The Arab smiled down at her, pulling his clothes on quietly.  He'd like to
fuck this hot little bitch again right now, but he knew he had better not.  He
had been there for over two hours now and he knew the French lady would be
coming back soon.  He couldn't take the chance now but he promised himself he
would get her again later.  He couldn't let this hot little American off this
easy.

He took one last look at her lewdly splayed form, her mouth hanging loosely
open in contented sleep.  She must still be dreaming of the fucking he had
given her, he smirked obscenely to himself.  Maybe I had better help.  He
reached over her body between her still wide-spread thighs and ran his middle
finger up the glistening cunt-lips moistening it with the mixture of both
their cum.  He rubbed the finger then around her open red lips and under her
nostrils.  This should give her something to puzzle over when she wakes up.
The thought amused him and he laughed softly to himself.  How he would like to
see her face when she awoke, trying to figure out what happened.

The thought of his hot full load sloshing around deep in that unknowing little
belly stirred him again as he closed and locked the door behind him.

"God, I hope she's pregnant," he muttered half aloud to himself as he
descended the stairs to the reception desk, his steps a bit unsteady.  He
could hardly wait to look her in the eye later tonight, knowing that he had
fucked her silly for over two hours.  That would be revenge enough for the
scornful looks she had given him but he hoped he would have the chance again.
Next time he would really throw it to that hot little body.  He whistled
happily to himself.

Monique smiled complacently to herself as she had entered the taxi several
hours earlier in front of the hotel.  She had reason to be satisfied.  After
all, she mused, this was the fourth girl she had brought to Marseille in the
past month and the market for them was good.  Since the tourists had stopped
going to Algiers because of the Arab takeover, the demand for young white
girls to fill the Arab brothels was almost unlimited.  They were bringing up
to two or three thousand American dollars each, particularly the young fresh
unused ones like the girl she had back at the hotel.  She was certain she
could get a premium for her.  She was her best catch so far and she had to
play her cards just right and get the right buyer.  She thought she had him in
Gamal.  He liked the innocent ones and was willing to pay well for them.  He
would get his personal pound of flesh and then ship them off to Algiers for
the Arab market. She almost hated to see this sweet young American turned over
to a sadistic beast like him but money was money and his perverted depravity
should be no concern of hers.  She had to be cold and calculated about it,
after all, she was a business woman and if she played her cards right could
retire in a few years on a substantial income from her earnings.

The cab followed the Rue Marriane outside the city along the coast for several
miles and pulled into the grounds of a large ocean front villa.  The iron
filigree gate was guarded by several dark Algerians with pistols strapped to
their sides.  Upon recognizing her, they waved the car through without
trouble. She was well known by them as a frequent visitor so did not have to
go through the usual formalities required to get into the fortress-like walls.

The cypress drive leading to the main villa was almost half a mile long and
they passed several of the familiar patrols that roamed through the estate.
The patrols all traveled in twos and had a pair of viscous looking black
Alsatian dogs with them.  They were trained to kill and Gamal had confided to
her that they had done so several times when Interpol agents had tried to
penetrate the grounds.  They, of course, had disappeared without trace and
Gamal had allowed the local police to enter and search the premises.  This was
a token search and all evidence of the various illegalities he was engaged in
had been removed to a secret subterranean cellar.  Besides, he had also
confided that the police chief of the area was a frequent visitor of his and
kept him dutifully informed of any official action that might be brewing
against him.  The system had obviously worked well as Gamal had been doing
this since the end of the war and had become a very wealthy man.  It was
rumored that he had connections in the higher ministries in Paris and even
among the staff of Interpol itself.  Monique believed this, due to the
immensity of his operations.  No one could exist so long and on such a scale
unless he was receiving important political protection from somewhere higher
up than the local police.

The cab rounded the curved drive and pulled up in front of a huge white stucco
house.  It had a typical Mediterranean red tiled roof and was surrounded by
the most beautiful tropical gardens Monique had ever seen.  She enjoyed doing
business with Gamal just to be able to pay these periodic visits to this
fabulous villa.  It must have cost him at least five million new francs to
build it in the old days.  At today's prices, it would be impossible to
calculate the true value.

Monique was met at the door by one of his burly guards and escorted to Gamal's
study.  She knew she wouldn't have to wait to see him as he was always anxious
when she came.  She had made it a point early in their relationship to bring
him only the best of the young females she lured to Marseille.  She had never
disappointed him yet and did not intend to now.  She knew he would be
overjoyed with this tender young Jean because of her almost unbelievable
innocence and the fact that she was an American.  There was something about
Americans that seemed to appeal to the Arab nature.  Perhaps it was because
they were so much more naive than European women and always seemed to have
such an untouched clean appearance.  This gave them something to soil and
humiliate.  They all seemed to enjoy this and gave them something upon which
to unleash the full vent of their natural base nature.  Monique was only too
familiar with the degradations they would force upon their own women much less
a poor foreigner that was completely defenseless.  She had seen some of the
poor wretched girls she had sold them after a few months in their hands and
had she not been so desperate to be financially independent, she could not
have had the stomach for the business.  In fact, as of late, she had found
herself becoming more and more like them.  Perhaps, she would make it a
condition with Gamal that she would get to see the initiation of this Jean
into her new life.  This thought coursed warmly through her as the guard held
the door open for her to enter.

"Hello, my dear Monique," the short fat obsequious looking man said, rising
from behind the large oaken desk.  "It's so good to see you again.  You
haven't paid me a visit in such a long time."

"Oh, Gamal, you silly man, it's only been a month since I've been here.  You
know it takes time to find the right ones for you.  Your tastes are so special
and refined that it takes a lot of screening.  You wouldn't want me showing up
here with just anything I run across, now would you?"  Monique flashed her
warming coyish smile at him, fluttering her eyelids slightly in a mock
scolding manner.

"Of course not, my love, I understand your concern for my welfare," the Arab
said, drawing his arm around her waist in a friendly hug, his dark balding
head reaching barely to her shoulders.  "If I didn't know this so well, I
would think it was just my generous presents to you that caused your deep
concern."

"Now, now, Gamal," Monique admonished as she pulled his creeping hand from
behind her buttocks, "save yourself for the little bird whose wings I've
clipped for you.  She's just what you've been after."

Gamal's eyes lit up perceptibly at the mention that Monique had something for
him.  He knew her well enough by now to know that she, unlike most women or
people who had something to sell him, didn't exaggerate.  If she was
enthusiastic about it, then she was worth listening to.

"Come, my dear, let us sit down with a small aperitif and discuss this little
bird.  I've tired of the last one you sent."

"Gamal," Monique kidded, "you mean you didn't like her?"

"Oh, yes my dove," he cooed.  "I liked her very much, but one month with the
same girl is a little too much.  You know they tire so quickly when left in my
care.  A pity too, just when I have them trained well to appreciate my little
playful sessions, they seem to lose their fire.

"I suppose you have passed her on to your playmates in Algeria as usual,"
Monique said.

"Yes, she went rather reluctantly, but I am a businessman and can't let my
investments sit too long without making a return on them.  Must keep the money
moving, you know," he said slyly.  A secretive grin directed at Monique.  "I
have some excellent movies made of her that will go well on the British market
though, you'll have to see them later."

"I'd love to some other time, Gamal," Monique replied, sipping at the whiskey
he had poured her.  "Right now, I think we had better discuss my new little
donation to your pleasures.  I think you will be very interested."

"Tell me about her, my dear.  When I see so much enthusiasm in your eyes, I
know it must be something special," the Arab chided, his face brightening at
the thought of what was in store.

"First, Gamal, you know I only bring you the best, correct?"  Monique asked,
looking at him over the edge of her upraised glass.

"Yes, I feel you do well for me, but I have had problems with some of them,"
he added the last sentence quickly, sensing that the bargaining was beginning.
"You know, they are young and so unworldly, I must do much training to prepare
them for my clients."

"Why you old lecher," Monique laughed, "you know very well that's why you're
in this business, so you can sample the merchandise before you pass it on to
your friends."

"My dear, my dear," the Arab objected, raising his hands, "it is not for I,
Gamal, that I do these things.  I must do them to make certain my reputation
as a businessman is respected.  My clients are the wealthiest in Algiers and I
dare not send them something that I myself have not trained to perfection."

"Yes, Gamal, you train them until they lose their fire, you said?"  Monique
chided, raising an eyebrow toward him.

"Ah, but there are ways of restoring that to them.  This is where my drug
business assists me."

"Like doping race horses, my dear," she replied.  "They have enough for one
last dash and then useless."

"Monique, my dear, you are unkind.  Let us stop this silly bickering," he said
sadly.  "You know I am a sincere man and honest.  I am in a very competitive
business and profits have not been good for the last several years.  Do not
take advantage of my helpless position, I beg you."

"There, there," Monique consoled in a motherly tone, laughing inside at the
show the Arab was putting on.  She knew him well by now and knew she would
have to sit through his weeping sessions each time she came.  All Arabs are
the same, she mused to herself.  They never grow away from the rug-sellers
mentality.  It doesn't matter if they, are dealing with one franc or one
million, their approach is always the same.  Business is bad and your price is
too high but because you are a friend they will sacrifice and give you half
the price you ask, even though they cry it will drive them to bankruptcy.
Well, Monique knew enough by now to ask exactly double the price she expected
to get and many tears later they would arrive at that figure.  Strange that
they weren't more original than this, but they weren't.  Perhaps the practice
was instilled too deeply in their heritage to ever change.

"Gamal," Monique paused after speaking his name and then said casually, "she's
an American."

There was a moment's silence as she let the thought sink into his mind.  She
observed a slightly perceptible twitch in the corner of his mouth as he
grasped what she was saying.

"Ah, that is too bad, my dear, I thought you had something special for me.
You know they have no native abilities for the finer passions.  It is a long
expensive process to train them well.  My investment would be tied up for
several months.  It would mean such a strain on my meager finances."  His face
had contorted into its usual piteous plea and he had placed his hand against
his forehead in classic sufferance.

"Gamal, my love," Monique purred, "this is no time for theatrics.  You know as
well as I do that you could buy the Eiffel Tower and it wouldn't dent your
purse in the slightest.  Besides, you must think of the expenses I have
incurred and the danger in bringing her to Marseille."  This was all part of
the game and they played each time she came.  The Arab knew she hadn't spent a
franc and would only have to pay the hotel bill when the poor unfortunate girl
disappeared, but he had respect for the protocol of bartering and played his
part with her.

"I know, my love, and I am willing to help you in this matter but I must watch
my expenses.  The last one cost me a great deal and I did not receive nearly
as much as I paid for her.  It was a sacrifice."

Monique knew that he had at least doubled his money after taking a months
pleasure for himself and including all expenses of smuggling her out of France
and into Algeria.  She also could detect that when she had dropped the
statement about her being an American it had won her battle.  She would get
her price and perhaps more.  A plan began forming in her mind as she watched
the concerned look on Gamal's face.  He wanted this girl and Monique now just
had to put him in the position where his decision would be made under more
emotional circumstances.  She knew his weakness of desire to humiliate and if
she could arrange it so that the girl would be in a helpless position
defenseless against his lust, she could sell her on the spot for a goodly sum.

"I understand your concern, nay dear Gamal," Monique said, still turning the
thought over in her mind.  "One should never buy without seeing the
merchandise first.  I think I can arrange this."

This was a new approach and the Arab suddenly sensed that this clever French
woman was up to something.  He changed his tone and spoke more softly.

"Now, now, my sweet Monique, we needn't go to all that trouble.  You know how
valuable my time is to me.  We can just settle for the same amount we did for
the last one, even though she was rather weak.  I trust your judgment
explicitly."

"No," Monique said, sensing his eagerness, "I want you to make the decision
after you see her.  She may not be worth that much to you and I want only your
happiness.  I won't accept a franc more than you think she is worth.  Unless,
of course," she added slyly, "your opinion does not suit the true value, but I
don't think a man with your good eye will make that mistake."

Gamal knew the bargaining was over for the day as he detected a note of
finality in Monique's last statement.  He knew she had something this time or
she wouldn't be so certain of her position.  He knew also, that he would
probably have to pay dearly for whatever it was she had.  Well, he would take
a look.  He had been doubling his investment on the others she had brought him
and perhaps he could do even better with this one.  He might even get her down
to a lower price than before.  At any rate, he gloated to himself after
Monique had left, he could hardly wait to get his hands on an American bitch.
He hadn't had one in almost a year but he could still remember the pleasure he
had in converting her reluctant mind to accept his perverted acts.  In fact,
he had been forced to almost destroy her mind first.  He hoped this one would
not be so difficult.

The voluptuous young girl stirred restlessly on the rumpled bed.  Her eyes
fluttered open and fought with the darkness that permeated the thick stale air
of the shabby room.  Strange odors wafted through her nostrils, causing her
brow to wrinkle slightly as though in deep concentrated thought.  Her tongue
circled her lips, tasting the slight pungency of a sticky moistness around
them.

Her eyes adjusted quizzically to the darkness and followed her form lying on
the bed below.  It was a strange position she thought to herself through the
haze that still dimmed her half-sleep mind.

Her negligee was bunched almost around her neck and she could see the twin
peaks of her breasts lying loosely between her eyes and the rest of her body.
Her legs were spread wide apart as though in invitation to some phantom lover
standing at the foot of the bed.

After a moment it came to her through the dimness.  The dream!  The dream she
had; it had seemed so real!

The vividness of it began flickering across her mind as though she were
watching a slightly out of focus television screen.  Her body ached terribly.

She smoothed her hands carefully up to her breasts, touching them gently in
guarded exploration.  Ohhh, she moaned, they were tender.  Her hands explored
farther, coursing their way down over her stomach to her still open thighs.
She groaned again, as her fingers touched tenderly the slight bruises lining
the soft edges of her vagina.  Her finger probed carefully around the red
sensitive opening, the tips becoming moist from the white sticky liquid that
oozed viscously from it, wetting the split of her buttocks and the bed beneath

Had Kevin really been here?  The shadowy form that remained in her memory and
had probed and tasted every secret part of her being had seemed so real.  It
had all seemed so real.  Had she done it to herself?

Thoughts raced through her mind one after another.  It was possible that she
had.  She had done it before in extreme moments of frustration but never like
this.  She had never gone to this extreme even in her wildest moments of
desire.  Could her own hands have probed so deep into her stomach and left
this hot wet pool that seemed lodged there now?  Could they have made her gush
forth so many times in climax to soak the bed beneath her the way it was now?
It had to be.  There was no other explanation.  She had gone completely out of
her mind in her dream and had fondled her own body to the point of believing
it was actually Kevin.  She had done those things with her own hands and her
body had reacted like that of a dirty animal in heat.

A feeling of shame came over her.  She had denied her own husband the right to
do those things to her, a right that was his, and then sought her own release
by her own hands playing upon her body.  How selfish she had been.  If she
hadn't left Paris perhaps the dream would have come true, perhaps Kevin
wouldn't have gone insane the next time.  She had been too prudish in their
sexual relationship she now realized and his brutal attack on her had been
brought about by her lack of understanding of his needs.  The dream had proved
it.  Hadn't she herself turned half animal, even to the point of wantonly
satisfying herself with her own probing fingers and hands.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a gentle knocking on the door.  A
voice called softly from outside.

"Jean, Jean dear, time to wake up."

She recognized Monique's voice and suddenly panicked.

"Oh, my God," she mumbled to herself, stumbling to her feet.  "I mustn't let
her see me like this.  I just mustn't."

"Just a moment, I'm getting up now," she called back.

"Never mind, dear, I'm going to my room and get ready.  I'll see you for
dinner in an hour.  Dress pretty, I've a surprise place for dinner tonight."

"Alright, Monique," Jean answered in relief.  "I'll knock on your door when
I'm ready."

Jean turned on the light and looked at the rumpled bed.  Well, she thought, as
her eyes saw the large round wet spot where her buttocks had lain, I really
had myself a time.  I guess there's no need in crying over spilled milk.  I
did it and I can't change that.  After all, it was only a dream, I shouldn't
feel guilty about something I couldn't control.

The warm spray of the shower felt good cascading down over her body.  She
washed carefully the insides of her thighs and buttocks, almost reluctant to
wash away the sticky still-warm fluid from her soft pubic hair.  As her
fingers moved up and down the warmth of the narrow slit between her legs,
cleansing it of the viscous almost dry liquid, the visions of Kevin's shadowy
face smashed tightly between her yawning thighs ran through her mind.  Her
middle finger duplicated his lashing tongue that had flicked through her
throbbing cunt lips so many long minutes before.  Jean had to catch herself
with her strength to withdraw her probing finger from between her legs.

The feeling of guilt returned.  Good Lord, she thought to herself, what's
happened to me.  One small dream about sex and I'm turning into a shameless
nymphomaniac.  I do need Kevin, and badly.

She combed out her long dark silken hair before the mirror, letting it drape
loosely down over her shoulders.

"Mmmmm," she mused to herself, that looks provocative enough.  Monique said to
dress well, and after my little self-inflicted orgy, I guess this is the best
I can do.  She noticed suddenly that the curl that usually hung down on her
left shoulder was missing.  What a careless nit, she scolded herself.  How
could I have cut that off?  I thought I had been careful when I trimmed my
hair last night on the train.  Before she could pursue the thought any
further, she heard Monique's familiar voice outside the door, calling to her
to join her downstairs at the desk when she was finished.

"Well, dear, you look just ravishing tonight, I must say."  Monique beamed at
her as she descended the steps a few moments later.  This made Jean feel
wonderful.  She needed something as a morale builder now and a compliment from
another woman was just the thing.  She always felt it was more sincere coming
from another woman as they had nothing to gain by lying to you.  It was good
to start an evening with this kind of feeling.  She handed her key to the
obsequious Arab clerk, not even looking at him.  The look he had given her, up
and down her body, when he had brought the tea had not been forgotten and she
decided that ignoring him completely was the best way to handle this.

The Arab grinned to himself as the American girl disdainfully passed the keys
to him.  The last time he had seen that pretty face, it was contorted in
passion and she was begging him to fuck her.  He wondered, smiling to himself,
how those lipstick-covered lips had tasted when she had awakened.  Arrogant
bitch, she probably hadn't ever sucked a cock so didn't even know what it was.
Well, he would take care of that little oversight before she got out of the
hotel.

I wonder what she would say now if she knew she was carrying my hot load in
that untouchable little belly of hers, he mused as he watch them descend the
stairs to the street floor.  She might just come back for more, he laughed to
himself, fingering the curl of hair he had cut off as a souvenir just before
leaving her room earlier.

Jean sipped contentedly on her second martini.  She was happy, sitting high
above Marseille overlooking the lights of the bay in the delightful restaurant
Monique had chosen for them.  She had wired Kevin before they left the hotel
to come down immediately.  The upsetting dream she had so realistically
experienced this afternoon had made up her mind for her.  It had even given
her a feeling of confidence.  She knew now she could enjoy bodily pleasures
and if Kevin could ever become the kind of lover he was in her dreams then a
whole new world was open to them.  She took another deep sip from the smooth
martini contemplating excitedly the full complete life they could have sharing
each other.

"You look preoccupied, Jean," Monique said, smiling at her across the table.
"I hope my company isn't boring you."

"Oh, no, no, Monique," Jean said apologetically, "I love being here with you.
In fact, you may not know it but this trip with you has changed my whole
thinking about life."

"That's quite a statement, my dear," the older woman replied, an amused tone
in her voice, "I think you're being a little dramatic about it."

"No, no, I'm not.  I mean it.  I truly do," Jean defended.  She didn't want to
hurt Monique's feelings.  She had done so much for her just being around to
help.  The small things she had done, like getting her to a hotel and being
there to talk to on the train, had taken her mind off her problem long enough
for her to relax and look at it again with less prejudice than before.  And,
of course, leaving her alone this afternoon had been the turning point.  If
she hadn't been in such a relaxed mood, she probably would never have had the
dream and consequently never realized just how much she did need her husband.

"Then you must tell me about this great change that I've brought about without
even knowing it," Monique said lightly but with understanding.  "My impression
is that you've everything already that life could offer someone so young and
pretty."

Jean was grateful for the sincerity in the older woman's voice and felt that
she did owe her an explanation.  Besides, she was bursting to talk with
someone about it and there just couldn't be a more understanding person in the
world than Monique.  She felt so close and so dependent on her at this moment.

Jean hurriedly gulped the rest of her drink, wondering how she could explain
without going too far.  After all, she didn't want even Monique knowing
everything.  It was too embarrassing and made her feel like such a child.

"May I have another martini," she asked.  "I think I'll need it to be able to
even tell this silly story to you."

"Of course you may, I'll join you."  Monique signaled the waiter who returned
within moments with their refills.  Jean took a large sip, feeling the smooth
liquid hit bottom and bolstering her courage.  They were beginning to have
their effect.  She could feel the light-headed sensation calming her
inhibitions even before she had finished the last one, otherwise she would not
have had the courage to even mention her problem.  This last sip had dampened
them completely and she was feeling as though she could at least tell Monique
a few things about the ridiculous mess she had gotten herself into.

"Dear, you seem hesitant," Monique said, reaching across the table and
touching her hand warmly.  "If it's something you had rather not talk about
then don't.  I just thought I might be able to help."

"Oh, no, it's not that important," Jean said blushing slightly, not knowing
quite how to begin.  "It's just about a dream I had this afternoon while you
were gone."

"Well then tell me, Jean, you know it sometimes helps to talk to someone else
about your problems.  I think we know each other well enough by now to share
our burdens."

Jean began from the beginning, telling Monique about her courting days with
Kevin and how she had sometimes hoped he would force her into submitting to
him but would never encourage it.  About her father and his instilling the
ideas of purity until marriage into her young mind and the guilt complex it
had left her with about sex even now that she was married.  The horrible rape
she had been forced to submit to in Paris by Kevin, though she made excuses
for him to Monique, blaming herself for her puritan attitude toward
intercourse.  Finally, toward the end of the dinner, she had come to the
dream.

"It was beautiful, Monique.  If making love were always like that, I know I
would never feel guilty again.  It just seems as though everything he did to
me was right and I felt so wonderful and so free to return his love.  I gave
him everything I had and I still wanted to give more."

There was a long pause, until Jean finally said with a shrug of her shoulders,
"Well, that's all, you've heard the story of my whole love life.  I guess it
seems so silly to a woman like you who's lived as much as you have."

"Quite the contrary, my dear, I think it's a beautiful story and I hope it
turns out the way you think it will."

"I just know it's going to be wonderful, Monique.  When Kevin arrives
tomorrow, everything will be alright again."

"You mean your husband is coming here tomorrow?"  Monique asked, concern
suddenly showing on her face.  This could drastically interfere with her plans
for this naive little American.

"Why, yes, I sent him a cable before we left the hotel.  He'll be taking the
train tonight and arriving tomorrow.  Is there anything wrong?"  Jean was
afraid Monique had suddenly become ill, she looked so strange.

"No, no, my dear," Monique choked, "just a slight wave of nausea, it happens
sometimes when I eat rich food this way.  Don't you worry.  I'll be alright in
just a moment."

It was difficult for Monique to finish her dinner.  She knew she had some fast
thinking to do if she was to save her investment.  She had not counted on this
complication even though she had known the American had been married.  It was
going to be doubly difficult to accomplish her purpose with Gamal.  Somehow
she had to destroy this little innocent in the eyes of her husband and at the
same time incite Gamal to the point where he would be willing to pay almost
anything to have her at his mercy.

They finished dinner almost in silence.  Jean said a few words of consolation
to Monique about her discomfort but also could see she did not feel like
talking at the same time.  It appeared as though she had problems also and she
would have given anything if she could have helped the woman as she had been
so kind and understanding to her.  She did not want to bring it up as she felt
so young and helpless compared to the maturity of Monique and knew that if
there was anything she could do, Monique would tell her.

Later, in the taxi on the way back to the hotel, Monique apologized.  "I'm so
sorry, my dear, that I feel this way.  I had intended to take you out and show
you some of the night life of Marseille after dinner but I just couldn't do it
now."

"You've been so kind already, Monique," Jean answered, still feeling helpless
that she could not help the older woman.  "Perhaps if you feel better tomorrow
night, we could all go together.  You would love Kevin and I know he would
like you."

"Yes, I think that would be better.  I'm certain I can get away tomorrow
evening.  These spells seldom last more than one night.  But we had better go
now."

Jean noticed the obsequious grin of the Arab behind the desk as he gave them
their keys for the room.  His look had a knowing familiarity about it that she
didn't like.  Worse, he had rubbed his hand closely over hers when he had
given her the key and his beady eyes appeared to undress her again as they had
when he had delivered the tea that afternoon.  She shuddered thinking about
his greasy dirty appearance as she bid Monique goodnight and locked the door
of her room behind her.  How awful it would be to have those oily dark hands
crawling over your body, she thought to herself.  How do the women he makes
love to stand it.

She thought about the cleanliness of Kevin and how good his smooth, well
developed body would feel against hers tomorrow night.  She had thought about
their moving to a better hotel when he arrived, but had changed her mind.  It
would be good to have him here where the dream had occurred and on the same
bed that her body had come to know for the first time the joys of physical
union, even if it had only been in her mind.  Besides, what could be more
romantic than spending a few days in the old part of Marseille.  She fell into
a deep and dreamless sleep, looking forward with all her being to her
husband's arrival tomorrow.  It was going to be good for both of them, she
just knew it would.

Monique had formed a plan.  She had thought carefully about the things the
American girl had told her during dinner, particularly the part about the
dream.  Several other of her young initiates had told a similar story about
such dreams.  They always occurred when she had left them alone at the hotel.
That bastard Shalla has been sampling my wares, she thought angrily to
herself.  Under normal circumstances, she would have reported him immediately
to Gamal or another of her contacts and they would have taken care of the
matter by quietly dumping his body in the bay, but with this new development
of the American girl's husband coming, she would need his help.  He wouldn't
dare refuse when she confronted him with her knowledge of his assaults on her
girls.  She might even let him have a little more fun with her.  That should
keep him happy.

She pressed the service button by her bed and waited patiently until she heard
his light knock at the door.

"Can I help, Madame?"  he said as she opened it wide, motioning for him to
enter.

Shalla sensed that something was wrong when the French lady invited him
inside.  She had never paid much attention to him before and he stepped into
the room reluctantly, taking the seat she pointed to.

Monique stood in the center of the room looking down at him for a long moment.
The Arab lowered his eyes.  He did not know how to deal with such a woman.
She was far above his class and her very presence unnerved him.  She must know
about his little afternoon parties with her friends.  This would be the only
reason she would be looking at him like this.

"Was she good this afternoon, Shalla?"  she said coldly, still staring
straight down at him.

There was a long silence and the Arab did not speak.  He was frightened.  He
knew the people she was connected with and what could be done to him if she
just gave the word.  He would have no one to turn to, he was Just an immigrant
without friends.  He kept his eyes lowered to the floor, afraid to sneak.
There was no one to defend him.

"I asked you a question, Shalla.  Was she good?"  Monique repeated, almost
enjoying watching the Arab squirm.  He deserved it, the bastard, having such a
good time with her property.  He might have damaged it irreparably playing his
little games.

"I--I do not know of that which Madame speaks."  he finally answered slowly,
raising his eyes slightly from the floor but still not looking directly in her
eyes.

"You sniveling little, cochon," she spat at him vindictively, "you know very
well of which I speak."

"But I do not understand," Shalla defended, "why does Madame become so angry
and talk this way.  Have I not always been of good service?"

"Yes, yes, you have," Monique's tone changed to one of soft understanding.
She knew she would have to be more gentle with him or he would never admit to
anything.  She was frightening him too much and this would never do, she
didn't have much time to put her plan into operation and this would require
his help or she would never succeed before the girl's husband arrived.

"I'm not angry with you, Shalla," Monique continued, speaking slowly; and
addressing him now in respectful tones as she would another business
associate.  "In fact, I need your help."

The Arab looked up at her, not certain whether he had heard correctly.  Surely
this was some kind of trick she was playing on him to get him to confess.
Then she would turn him over to some of the toughs who worked for her and he
would be finished.

"Madame, Shalla knows his place, he does not do the things of which you speak.
I have my duties to perform here, I have no time for other things."

"Shalla, my dear man, you must understand that I am not going to have you
harmed in any way.  I just need your help.  How would you like to have the
little American girl again?"  Monique smiled at him and said this last
sentence slowly so that it would sink into his mind deeply.  She was certain
he had enjoyed it, otherwise, Jean would not have given such glowing
descriptions of the sensations she had experienced in her so- called dream.

"How do I know that Madame does not play a trick on me, to get me to confess
to something I have not done?"  Shalla also spoke slowly.  His Arab intuition
told him that this proud French lady really did need his help and she needed
it badly.  Otherwise, she could turn to any number of very important people
here in Marseille to do the favor for her.  She must have to keep it a close
secret that was not to be known outside the hotel.  Perhaps, just perhaps, if
he played it right, he could benefit well from her obviously difficult
situation.  He was a lowly immigrant, but not a fool.

Monique could see the change of expression on his face.  He had looked up at
her and studied her eyes.

He knew she was in desperate trouble and needed his help.

This was bad.  She knew the Arabs well by now and if they knew they had an
advantage they would press it for everything they could get.  They were the
best hagglers in the world and quick to perceive a weakness in their
adversaries.  Perhaps she had just better put her foot down now before he got
too far out of line.

"Listen you desk clerk!  I can have you thrown to the fish anytime I desire.
I know now what you've been doing to these poor defenseless girls while I've
been away from the hotel and I think you had better admit it to me before I
lose my temper."  Desperation was apparent in her voice and Shalla sensed
this. Whatever it was that she needed was extremely important and she needed
him to help her accomplish it.  He eyed her more confidently.

"Madame is wrong," he spoke with feigned hurt in his voice.  "I think I must
leave."

"Shalla, stay where you are," he could almost detect a pleading note in the
tone of her voice now.  "I need some assistance and can make it well worth
your while to help me."

"What does Madame wish me to do?"  the Arab asked slyly.  He would find out
how important this favor really was and then negotiate the price.

Monique outlined to him briefly the part she wanted him to play in her little
scheme, leaving out the most important factors that would give away the true
reason for her plan.  She didn't dare to divulge it all to him.  She knew he
would demand a price that would cut her profit down considerably, and she
envisioned quite a sum from Gamal if her plan worked well.  It had to work, it
was her only chance.

Shalla listened intently to the outline of his part in this venture of the
French lady.  She tried to sound casual as she described to him the details of
the actions he was to perform but he knew now beyond all doubt from the
discernible concern in her eyes that there was so much more to it than she was
divulging to him.  She was going to a lot of trouble to merely humiliate this
girl.  There must be something else to it, it sounded much more complicated
than she described.

"How much will this man pay to see her raped?"  he asked, attempting to draw
more of the story from her.

"He will pay a great deal if you and your friend follow instructions well.  He
likes this kind of thing and is willing to pay for it."

"But it is dangerous and if the police find out, it will mean a long prison
term for myself and the friend I will need to help.  We also will have a
witness in the girl.  She will know who all of us are and be able to identify
us for the authorities."

"Don't worry about the witness, my dear Shalla, our friend who wants this
little exhibition will take care of that part later.  All you and your friend
must do is to hold her here tomorrow and then deliver her as I instruct--but
your timing must be absolutely perfect--and, of course, you may have your
little fun like you did before, but no rough stuff, I want her fit tomorrow
night."

"And how much does Shalla receive for this?"  the Arab asked, knowing in
advance that whatever figure she first offered would be a pittance compared to
what she would receive.  He knew she was selling these girls and that the
correct timing had something to do with a sale.

"You will get half, and the gentleman is willing to pay two hundred American
dollars.  That would be one hundred for you which is more than you make in a
month working here."

"A girl like that is worth three thousand American dollars to some in
Marseille."  Shalla watched her expression change as he made this statement.
He knew by the sudden frustration that crossed over her face that he could
almost name his own price now.  She wanted this done tomorrow night and he
knew it would be impossible for her to arrange it with someone else in that
time.  He had sent the cable for the American girl and knew when her husband
was arriving.  This would mean the plans would have to be completed tonight or
he might take her away with him.  Obviously, the French lady had already
arranged the sale and this would destroy her plans completely.

Monique had been afraid of this.  Damn Arabs, they would take the very
clothing from an honest woman's back if they had the chance.  She also knew
she was in no position to argue with him too much and that speed was of the
very essence if the plans were to be completed before the husband arrived.

"All right, you bastard Arab, five hundred American dollars and no more."
Monique spat at him in desperation.  "This is my final offer and you had
better accept or I'll make you wish you had stayed in Algeria and let the
revolutionaries string you up!"

Shalla smiled to himself as he heard the frustration rise in her voice.  He
knew the price was open now and that he had gained the upper hand.  This may
be the chance he was looking for.  He had worked as a lowly hotel clerk too
long already after losing his family shop in Algeria during the revolution.
It was time he became a business man again and this was an excellent business.
He had to play his hand carefully in order not to upset the fine balance of
things as they stood.

"You are too kind, Madame, to a lowly hotel clerk.  The price sounds too high.
I think we should wait until the deed is done before we make the bargain.  I
do not want to be overpaid for my services."

"Then I have your agreement?"  Monique asked, a smile of relief showing
discernibly on her face.

"Yes you have my dear woman.  I will do your bidding, asking only that I be
treated fairly after the affair is finished."

"Agreed," Monique beamed.  This had been easier than she had expected.  She
would give him a small tip after it was over and if he gave her any trouble,
she was certain Gamal would take care of him for her.

"A drink to seal our bargain," the Arab said, looking at her with his
penetrating stare.  He knew exactly what she was thinking and counted on her
overconfidence to reveal the entire set-up later on to him.  Right now, he had
to equalize them.  It would be taking a chance with this haughty bitch who
considered him slightly above the social level of a pig but he had to try now
while she needed him.  There was only one way to do this, and that was to fuck
her senseless before he left this room.  There was no better equalizer in the
world than to debase her by shooting a hot stream of his sperm up into that
hot belly of hers.  That would convince her she was no better than he was.

Monique suddenly detected the other, more bold change in his voice.  It
emitted a certain unmistakable suggestiveness that suddenly curled her
stomach.  It took several seconds before the full impact of what this cur's
voice had so subtly implied, but one look at his face and there was no
question what he had meant.

He wanted her to submit to him!

This sniveling Arab wanted her, Monique DuFour, to submit to his base touch.
The thought of rubbing bodies with this filth sitting before her nauseated her
no end.  His despicable pock-marked face and yellow decaying teeth sickened
her stomach, and now he had the nerve to expect her to submit to him.  She
held herself back from screaming at him to get out.  He had agreed to assist
her and she couldn't afford to lose him now.

"I'm tired, Shalla my dear, perhaps we can have one another time when we've
completed our agreement," she smiled sweetly, hiding her contempt as best she
could under the circumstances.

The Arab looked at her and she knew her ruse had failed.  She felt as though
he were looking straight into her mind and was sensing every thought.  Perhaps
she shouldn't have called him into this, she had misjudged him.  He was a
clever one and she knew she wasn't going to get out of this as cheaply as she
had thought.

"We had better have it now, Madame," he said, rising from the chair and
pouring them two large glasses of the Courvoisier cognac she had sitting on
the dresser.

Monique stood frozen in the middle of the room, not taking her eyes from him
as he handed her the glass.

"Drink," he commanded, raising his glass to his lips that were now curled in a
contemptuous half-smile.  Monique found herself lifting the glass to her lips
almost in a daze, her superior bearing lost.  She was shaking slightly, fully
aware of the fact, that she had lost control of the situation and that she had
to put up with his insolence or lose Gamal, her best customer, and this was
impossible as all her future business plans rested upon his acceptance of her
girls.  She drained the glass, feeling the hot liquid sear down her throat
softening for the moment the impact of the sudden change of events.

Shalla reached for the bottle and poured her another.

"I think Madame will need this, we have many plans to make if we are to
succeed in our little venture.  It will not be easy without total cooperation
between us.  Do not you agree?"  he smiled triumphantly.

Monique nodded numbly in assent, taking the glass as he passed it to her, and
pouring another large swallow into her throat.  She felt as though she would
scream in revulsion if this pig touched her but she knew it was coming and had
to deaden her senses.  Things had gone too far now to turn back and she just
could not afford to lose Gamal's loyalty as a client, in spite of what
degradations she had to submit to in order to save it.  It meant her
reputation and that was all one had in this business.  Either you delivered if
you had promised to do so or suddenly found you had no customers for your
girls.  It was that simple and she knew it too well.

Shalla knew at the moment she nodded her head that the battle was won.  He was
going to fuck this high-class bitch and there was nothing she could or would
do to stop him.  He had drained all fight from her because she needed him and
would do anything he demanded in order to insure his help.  He smiled lewdly
as he stood in front of her unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop slowly
to the floor.  His hardened cock stood out from his body throbbing straight at
her.  It looked like a giant oak growing up through the black underbrush of
his thick pubic hair, as with one hand he stroked the foreskin back and forth
over the expanding head.  It grew jerkily in size each time it disappeared and
reappeared through the thick flap of flesh covering it.  He watched the
loathing in her face as her eyes remained involuntarily locked on his dark
growing member.  His excitement flared as he saw the helpless fear rising in
her eyes.  It would be more fun than with the American.

This one would be conscious of the things he was going to do to her!

It would be he who was bringing forth the moans of pleasure and pain this time
and not some distant lover that would receive the credit for his caresses.  It
was he, Shalla, who would be felt when he drove it deep into the soft
unprotected belly of this desperate bitch.

"Strip," he hissed at her.  "Or should I do it for you?"

Monique moved, she couldn't stand the thought of this beast touching her yet.
She undid the buttons of her dress at the back, wriggled it off her shoulders,
down over her lush full hips and stepped out of it.  She could feel the Arab's
lewd eyes devouring her ripe mature body but she didn't dare look at him.  She
was still well built and solid for a woman of forty and kept herself in good
condition by daily exercises.  She pulled her slip up over her head and let it
limply slither to the floor at her feet with the dress.  She suddenly for the
first time in years felt extremely defenseless and naked.  Thank God, for the
cognac that had deadened her nerves.

The Arab had removed his clothes except for the dirty green socks that had
large holes in the heels.  His yellow pallored skin clung tightly to his thin
rib cage; his long sinewy cock jutted menacingly out from his belly.

Monique shuddered visibly this time, thinking back to the horrors of another
evening so many years ago when she had been ravished brutally by a gang of his
kind in the same room where the broken body of her husband had lain
grotesquely spread in death on the floor.  They had been farmers in Algiers
before the revolution and had been caught in their home by surprise one
evening by a roving band of Arab guerrillas.  They had tortured her husband to
death before her eyes and then had taken turns committing every kind of
indecency imaginable on her then young defenseless body.  Her mind still bore
the scars of that night and its horrible memory had prevented her from ever
having a man since that time.  Most young wives of the slain settlers had come
back to France and out of desperation for money had ended up on the streets.
She had not.  She had worked hard in developing her little trade, using the
contacts she had with their Algerian friends that had survived the revolution.
She had prided herself in the fact that she had survived and had not given
herself to anyone in respect for the memory of her dead husband.  And now,
this.  This horrible creature was standing before her ready to perpetrate the
same indecencies on her helpless body again.  The thought revolted her of that
thin emaciated body slivering across hers, using her for its own obscene
pleasures.  She couldn't do it...  she just couldn't...!

Shalla stepped toward her, his mouth open, his eyes drinking in the long full
roundness of her silk cover legs, the globular protuberance of her breasts
that formed a fleshy valley above her brassiere, the whiteness of her flat
smooth belly above the tops of the sheer nylon panties.  His gaze nauseated
her and she gasped: "Don't touch me, you filthy animal!  Don't touch me!"

"It's too late, Madam," he slurred the "Madam" contemptuously, grasping her
shoulders with his hands, the strong sinewy fingers digging harshly into her
skin.  "We have our plans with this American girl to consider."

"I don't care, I'll find someone else!"

He loomed above her, his eyes void of pity.  They shone into hers
coldly--lust, cruel and unyielding, boring into the very depths of her soul.
The pressure of his hands permitted no escape from his hateful gaze.

"No, no, I mean it," the helpless woman whimpered.  "I can't do it, I just
can't!"

Her pleas fell on unhearing ears as his arms enveloped her, his lips crushed
tightly down against her.  The long thin cock pressed hard into her soft
yielding belly below.  His tongue snaked its way between his yellow decaying
teeth wetly into her mouth.  She tried to struggle but fear and the cognac had
drained her strength to fight.  The thick probing tongue and the heavy smell
of garlic and aged sweat gagged her into helplessness.  The thin emaciated
body glued itself to hers tightly, arms and legs flowing over her like a giant
spider-web from which there was no relief.

"Please, please don't," she groaned, the savage rape of an earlier time
whirling through her mind, the room spun crazily as he pushed her backwards
toward the bed.  The edge of the mattress caught her behind the knees and the
force of their momentum sent her sprawling flat on her back, his body pinning
her tightly to the swaying bed.  She pressed her thighs tightly together,
attempting to hold back the squirming body trying to lodge itself between
them.  His cock was trapped there, forcing itself up and down against the thin
nylon strip of her panties that covered her crotch.  She could feel the
wetness of the hard thick rod sliding in its own lubricating fluid against the
soft inner hollows of her thighs.  His head pressed forcefully against hers,
suddenly dropped, and she felt the sharp excruciating pain of his teeth biting
savagely into the lobe of her ear.  She kicked out automatically with her long
smooth legs attempting to dislodge the painful teeth.  His body sank
triumphantly between the legs as they splayed open, the fleshy instrument
safely imbedded against the protective nylon band.  Its hungry head throbbed
down between the white, round globes of her full white buttocks.  His knees
held her thighs sadistically apart.

The battle was over, the thought somehow came to her dazed mind.  And now the
pain and humiliation are all that's left.

The ceiling whirled above her until suddenly it too was blotted out by
Shalla's leering face moving over hers, the mocking eyes laughing at the
glazed look of defeat and hopeless acceptance of his victory.  His pelvis
began a slow grinding motion against her upturned crotch, rubbing the sheer
nylon band into the red slit of her cunt.  The huge rubbery head traced a
sticky wet path up and down the length of the smooth wet nylon, pressing
gently against it until the full outline of the fleshy hair-lined lips could
be felt impressed clearly through it.  He ground slowly, slowly against the
restraining band, watching the changing expressions on the face below him.  He
knew she couldn't stand up to this torment forever.  She was the proud kind
who could control herself well as long as there were other external realities
to guide her.  He had destroyed those other realities and now there was
nothing for her but his body twisting above.  He had dreamed of having her
like this since he had started working here several years ago.  She had always
been cold and stone-like and was hiding something deep inside her that had to
explode someday given the proper circumstances.  It needed some kind of spark
to ignite that fire that lay buried mysteriously beyond the reach of the
outside world. He was patient in his probings and gloated to himself that he
would find this key, he was going to ignite this body as he had the
others--only this time it would be he, Shalla, that did it and not phantom
lovers that played upon drugged minds.

Monique felt as though she were suffocating.  Her long smooth form was pressed
tightly into the mattress.  She could feel the hot rotating rod forcing itself
against the flat smooth plane between her legs.  Silky tingling hair of the
Arabs legs played against the tender backs of the up raised columns of her
thighs.  It was beginning again as it had before, only more gentle this time,
more real.  Her husband was lying on the floor again, a body was rocking over
her as it did then, but there was no sudden ripping entry.  Instead it moved
teasingly against her, probing and flicking at her like a giant bird of prey
playing with its helpless quarry who has become so tortured and tormented that
peace lay only in being devoured by it.

Her unconscious mind fought the torment of the teasing hot probe, fighting
against surrender to it.  "Nooo, nooooooo, please," she groaned beneath the
grinning yellow teeth, her hips suddenly betraying her resisting unconscious
mind.  They moved in small circles, hardly perceptible at first, but moving.
Moving like they did before with the broken body lying so close by, but no
longer a real thing.  The only reality was the searing fire that burned deep
in her scorched stomach, the flames licking out between her legs, crying to be
drowned by the tormenting monster slithering lewdly between their wetness.

Shalla felt the victory.

The thighs that had been pressed tightly against his hips in defense suddenly
fell loosely away.  Her heels hooked behind his knees and with a low
animal-like groan her arms snaked around his neck pulling his mouth tightly
down to mash wetly against hers.  She sucked his tongue voraciously into her
lips, soft mewling sounds escaping through the wet sucking noise.  She ground
her crotch tightly up his rock hard cock attempting to draw it through the
thin flimsy material still guarding the wet moist entrance of her cunt.  It
was hopeless and he lay for a moment savoring her frustration until he too was
beyond delaying longer.

He reached between them, ripping the mucous soaked band viciously open and
guided the throbbing head of his cock between the now unprotected fleshy folds
of her cunt lips.  He could feel soft crisp pubic hairs parting before his
unimpeded onslaught.  The blunt tip met resistance for a moment at the
entrance to the hot searing passage and then he felt the elastic mouth
suddenly give and his long blood-filled member slithered deep, deep inside
with a sudden fury that brought a scream from Monique's contorted face.  His
balls slapped flatly against her upturned ass, she was wet and wide open for
him and the impact of his thrust drove her thighs even farther apart.

She thought he was going to split her open and the battering instrument was
coming up out her mouth.  She gurgled crazily suddenly wanting it to hurt.
She wanted to be punished like the dirty bitch she was for loving it this way
while her husband lay in a pool of blood on the floor.  He had lain there for
three days while they kept her tied to the bed and fucked her a hundred times
or more and when they'd stop, she would scream for it again to blot out the
ugly sight in front of her.  She could still hear their laughter and taunting
remarks as her body bucked and rolled endlessly under one after another and
sometimes two or three of their dirty perspiring bodies.  She could smell the
same smell now, of garlic and ancient dried sweat and it brought back pictures
of the degrading things the beasts had made her do when she had begged for
more of the conscious killing ravishment.

She had done them all and more and the long rampaging cock that was now buried
unmercifully in her belly, was all those cocks that had fucked her into
madness, merged into one.  She screwed her cunt up and down it with wild
vengeful strokes attempting to destroy it as it had her.  She pinned her legs
back, her knees touching her shoulders, wanting to take it all the way to the
hilt.  The maddening slap of his balls against her anus drove her to wilder
frenzy.

The Arab gloated above, he had ignited it!

Whatever it was he had found the key.  He braced himself on his knees and
elbows above the wildly thrashing body letting the hungry clasping cunt
slither itself up and down the rigid length of his cock at will.  He bucked
forward on her up stroke several times, driving the growing head almost
through the walls of her womb.

"OOOoooh, OOOoooh," she groaned as the whole length fucked into her, the
momentum of his thrusts driving her ass deep into the squeaking mattress.

"Aaaaagggg, Aaaaagggg," she screamed as Shalla reached back underneath her
grinding buttocks and finding the wide spread crack open wide, thrust his
middle finger up to the second knuckle in her puckered little anus, causing
her feet to jerk erotically in the air above them, her toes curling
spasmodically against the bottoms of her stockinged feet.  Through the thin
wall of moist flesh separating her asshole from her cunt, he could feel the
sperm bloated ridge of the bottom of his cock sliding smoothly in and out like
a well oiled piston of a racing car.

She began streaming words out at him between panting gasps from the pain in
her rectum.

"Fuck me you Arab, bastard!  Fuck me good!  Split me!  Split me!"

Shalla gloatingly shoved a second punishing finger in, sinking both all the
way to the palm of his hand.  He dug them cruelly into the soft fleshy anal
passage.  Monique jerked up, her buttocks rising several inches off the bed,
to escape the sudden second intrusion in her backside.  But the Arab had timed
it well, and rammed his pelvis forward with a vengeance, driving his cock deep
into her cunt.  As she bucked down to keep the rock hard instrument from
ripping straight through her, she skewered herself down hard on the up-probing
fingers.  She was hopelessly impaled between the fingers and cock and groaned
helplessly as he ground them both deep inside her.  The juices of her dilating
cunt ran down over his hand, lubricating wetly the fingers now sunk fist deep
up her straining asshole.

Monique strained back under him, arching her loins against the grinding
assault on her cunt and anus.  She moaned incessantly, her head flailing from
side to side on the crumpled bedspread, her body a mass of electric tingles
that shot through it half in pain and half in pleasure.

Shalla moved the fingers around inside her, she jerked and then screwed her
buttocks back on them, grunting incessantly as the pain slowly subsided.  She
gradually became accustomed to the dual ravishing of her genitals.  A
masochistic pleasure slowly replaced the searing firebrands of pain that raced
from her totally filled crotch to the top of her head.

"Uuuughh!"  she grunted as he began buffeting her in rhythm between his hand
and giant growing cock.  He could feel it expanding with each thrust down the
wet hot passage, it's lust fed by the very hopelessness of the woman squirming
incoherently beneath him.

Monique could feel the monster growing inside her battered vagina.  The giant
head seemed like an unrelenting fist pummeling into her mercilessly.  The
fingers tore inhumanely at her raw torn backside, giving her no respite from
the growing pleasure building--building--deep in her belly.

"Harder, harder, fuck harder, you pig, fuck harder," she chanted in rhythm to
his long hard strokes.  She wanted to be torn apart.  She wanted to be ripped.
Great huge waves of delicious feeling raced through her.  Her entire body was
like an expanding balloon, growing--growing--ready to burst.  Burst into a
thousand colored pieces like it did before when two of them had fucked her
simultaneously like they were now--they had sandwiched her between them like a
piece of raw meat, one on the bottom and one kneeling behind her driving their
hot red members into her at the same time and shooting their unclean sperm
into her until her belly thought it would burst open.  They had filled her
cunt, her mouth, and her raw pink back passage time after time with their
white hot sperm until every inch of her body was covered with the pungent
stickiness.  She sucked wildly on the tongue flicking into her mouth, she was
filled again, every entrance to her tingling body was being raped again,
driving away the horror of the sightless eyes staring up from the floor.  This
was all that was real, there was nothing else, as suddenly with a grunt from
deep in her throat, great floods of hot juice began throbbing from the walls
of her vagina, streaming out in gushes over the balls and trapped hand
skewering between the split of her ass.  It felt as though her very insides
were coming out with the flowing liquid.  Monique gave one long low scream,
splaying her legs high into the air and as wide apart as they would go to give
the still pistoning cock and hand greater access.  She thrust her loins at him
with brutal force, screwing herself up hungrily on the still pumping rod.
Juices flowed still from the quivering vagina as her nostrils flared and one
long last gasp of breath escaped raspingly from her lungs as though she had
been hit in the stomach with a powerful fist.  She collapsed under him, her
body quivering uncontrollably as the after sensations floated her down gently
from the peak she had reached.

The Arab sensed her climax and drove his cock deep inside as her legs splayed
out, waving on either side of his body.  He could feel the hot jet stream
begin in his inflated balls and race headlong down the length of his pulsating
member, spewing wildly out the glands into the depths of her womb, filling her
completely and overflowing with her own juices out the hair covered lips of
her contracting cunt.  He gave one last low gasp as with a jerk he emptied the
last of the sperm into her still quivering belly then he too collapsed across
her spent body.

They lay still, a loose tangle of arms and entertwined legs, their breathing
slowing after a long moment of quiet.

Shalla arose from the unmoving body of the woman, his deflated cock slipping
with a sucking noise out of the liquid filled furrow between her open legs.

"You will make an excellent partner, Madame," he said simply, smiling
obscenely down at her still lewdly spread body.  "We will discuss our plans in
the morning."

He dressed quickly and left the room, turning at the door and directing a
triumphant grin at her.  Monique knew she was in no condition to consider
anything now.  She would think of some way to get back at this Arab pig after
she had taken care of the American girl tomorrow.  He would not escape
punishment for the indignities he had heaped upon her tonight, she would pay
him back a thousand-fold for every drop of his ugly sperm that lay in the hot
pool in her belly She didn't even have the strength left to wash herself of
this filth.  Sleep came quickly in the same position as she lay.  There were
no dreams for Monique tonight.

About an hour before the Arab had closed Monique's door and stealthily stole
back to his bunk downstairs, Jean had suddenly bolted up in bed to a sitting
position.  She had been awakened by a noise in the adjacent room.  It sounded
like the muffled squeal of a pig being put to the slaughter.  She had been
sleeping soundly and had thought at first it was a dream but it came again,
jarring her to alertness.

Something was wrong in Monique's room.  Other muffled sounds were echoing
through the thick wall also.  Sounds that were not familiar to her but seemed
to be cries of terror and pleading.  She looked at her watch.  It was only a
little after midnight.  She had not even been asleep an hour though it had
seemed like a full night.

She sat still on the bed listening.  She didn't want to make a fool of herself
if nothing was wrong.  It could be that Monique was having a nightmare.  There
was silence for a long moment and then another sound, this time of movement.
It sounded as though something were being thrown bodily on a bed.  She could
not be certain.  The walls to the room were of solid stone like all old
buildings in Europe and the connecting door was of heavy oak.  It made them
almost soundproof.

Without turning on the lamp, she groped her way through the darkness to the
door, pressing her ear tightly against it to see if she could hear anything.
There was the unmistakable sound of movement making its way through the
thickness of the wood.  She thought also she could hear whimpering but it was
impossible to tell.  She hesitated for a moment, not certain what to do.
Certainly if something were drastically wrong, Monique would scream.  She
would certainly hear that.  Her hand was frozen on the door knob as she waited
silently, unable to make up her mind what to do.

A long low moan suddenly was discernible from the other side.  This convinced
her, Monique might be ill and unable to move.  She hadn't been feeling too
well when they had returned from dinner and it might be serious.  She would
just take a quick look quietly so as not to disturb her if nothing were
seriously wrong.

She silently turned the key in the door and opened it carefully, just a crack.
She scanned the room, her eyes adjusting to the dim glow of the bedlamp.  Then
her heart leaped into her throat!

It was Monique--and a man was on top of her.

He was trying to rape her!  He had her pinned to the bed and was trying to pry
her legs open.  Jean was frozen into immobility.  She almost let out a scream
but choked it back with the palm of her hand.  It was unbelievable.  She
started to shake uncontrollably and bit down hard on the back of her hand to
keep from crying out in fright.  She was shaking too hard to close the door
and just stood there helplessly trying to regain her composure.  She knew it
would do no good for her to attempt to help physically.  He might kill them
both.

She watched horrified, unable to move, as Monique struggled beneath the man.
She had a good view of them.  Their feet were pointing almost directly at her,
not more than fifteen feet away across the room.  She could not see who the
man was except that he was naked and wearing only a dirty pair of socks with
holes in the heels.  He was darker than most.

Monique had her ankles locked tightly together and he was trying to get his
feet between hers, but she fought bravely.  The man's head suddenly bobbed
down and a squeal came from Monique's throat, her legs involuntarily splaying
out in the air.  Jean could see the man's body fall heavy between the long
white columns, pinning them wide apart.  From this position she could see his
huge hard penis insinuated tightly against the wide open crotch of the
struggling woman and rub lewdly against the white band of her panties that she
still wore.

It was huge.  She had never seen a man before, even Kevin.  She had felt him
when he had brutally raped her but she had not seen his penis.  How could a
woman take such a thing, it seemed it would split Monique open.  It lay
menacingly like a great log along the slit of her crotch, the two round
globular balls dangling down wickedly at the upper base.  She could see the
foreskin slipping back as he slid it down along her wide-spread buttocks, the
red blood-filled head bursting forth like some primeval monster crawling
evilly from its lair.

Jean stood transfixed, she was unable to take her eyes from the lewd spectacle
in front of her.  She could not understand.  Monique had suddenly stopped
struggling so violently.  Her body was now churning in a different manner.  It
almost seemed to be searching for the giant penis.  The man suddenly reached
down and she saw his hand grasp the flimsy silk band of the protective
panties, ripping it away like tissue paper.  She could see clearly the exposed
hair covered furrow between her splayed thighs.  The narrow red slit glistened
in the dim light and she could make out mouth-shaped lips of her vagina that
seemed even from this distance stretched so cruelly apart.  She thought she
could see it contracting, opening and closing like the mouth of a gasping fish
out of water.

The man's hand reached down between them, grasping the long hard instrument
and raised his buttocks high in the air, poising its bulbous head between the
sucking mouth of Monique's cunt.  Jean watched horrified as the muscles of his
behind suddenly tensed heavily and drove brutally downward, sinking the
sinewed shaft all the way into the wet gaping channel until only a tiny little
stretch of it showed, moist and glistening, beneath his balls.  She winced as
she heard the smack of his pelvis against hers it hit with such force.
Monique's unearthly scream pierced through her ears like the cry of a wounded
animal, her stocking feet curling in pain.

Jean's heart pounded like a jack-hammer until she was certain they could hear
it clear across the room.  She pressed one hand tightly to her breast as
though to dull the sound.

The figures on the bed were still for a moment, that seemed to the entranced
girl an eternity, then the man began a slow rocking motion over the impaled
woman below him.  He withdrew slightly, the thick fleshy column sliding out
for several inches then thrust forward again, holding it there.  He withdrew
again until the underside of the head was visible to the hypnotized Jean.  Her
mouth dropped open in disbelief as she watched Monique's long full legs wrap
suddenly around his hips, her heels tight against the cheeks of his ass,
straining to pull him back inside her.  The cords on the inside of her thighs
flexed tightly as she pushed her soft down covered crotch back up over the
glistening prick.  Her hollowing buttocks lifted several inches off the bed as
she struggled upward desperately trying to absorb the entirety of the thick
cock back into the fleshy pink folds of her hungry cunt.  A wet viscous sound
drifted across the room as she slithered up its full length.  Her flexing
buttocks began a rhythmic beat up and down the long smooth pole, the soft
hairy balls slapping in time against the faintly puckered little anus below.

Monique mouthed obscenities at the man as she squirmed lewdly in the throes of
passion beneath him, words that Jean had only heard spoken in whispers as a
girl.  Forbidden words that still brought a guilty tingling to her as they did
then, merely, because they were forbidden.  They drummed ceaselessly into the
watching girl's mind who was beyond understanding the sudden change in the
woman on the bed.  The quiet reserved Monique that seemed too aloof from this
kind of thing, her friend who was her strength since they had met on the
train.  God, if it could happen to her, if she could be driven into insane
submission to a man she had fought so strenuously a moment before, it could
happen to anyone.  She felt a slight electric tingle dart menacingly between
her own full thighs.

She watched thunder-stuck, as again the man's hand curled beneath Monique's
pumping buttocks and the tip of his middle finger circled tantalizingly the
rubbery ring of the tightly puckered anus.  It played there for a long teasing
moment and suddenly brought another tortured groan from the twisting body
beneath as it slipped through the protective fleshy ring and disappeared
inside.  Legs kicked out again, another tormented squeal with toes curling,
and then the legs locked again, pumping viciously against both probing
instruments.

Jean was shaking violently now and with all her concentrated effort slipped
the door closed silently and groped her way in panic back to the bed.  She
pulled the covers tightly up over her head to attempt to shut out the depraved
sounds coming now in streams through the thick walls.  It was hopeless, gasps
of pain and pleasure filtered through, permeating her tortured ears.  The
squeak of bedsprings merged with the pictures of the struggling tangled limbs
in her mind, igniting again a tiny smoldering spark between her own legs.  She
clamped them desperately together trying to choke it away.

As if in a dream her own hands began to involuntarily massage the straining
whiteness of her breasts, trapping the trembling nipples between her fingers,
kneading and pulling it until it felt as though she would rip them loose from
the white quivering mounds.  She groaned and turned over on her stomach,
pressing the mound of her clitoris tightly into the mattress, attempting to
relieve the fire that was suddenly raging out of control there.

Her hands, against her will, burrowed down between her body and the bed and
groped at the throbbing mass of her pubic hair.  Her legs scissored open, a
foot dangling on either side of the wide bed.  She could feel her own moist
slit now palpitating against the tips of her fingers which drew the narrow
furrow open, exposing the lips of her pulsating cunt to the warm air
underneath the covers.  With a groan, she sunk one of her middle fingers deep
into the viscous moistened mouth.  She held her breath, relieved for the
moment, but it was only a short moment.  The fire burned more intensely,
demanding more to feed its lewd hunger.  She inserted another finger, drawing
her knees up to a kneeling position, with her buttocks high in the air.  The
squeak of the bedsprings became more violent through the wall and she crammed
her fingers into the moistness of her vagina in time to the maddening rhythm
of the couple fucking in the other room.

The pictures in her mind of their locked bodies drove her on and she rocked
back on her knees against her fingers, screwing them deeper into herself.  She
could see his huge thick glistening cock ramming its way into Monique's
clasping cunt, sinking through the soft pubic hair like a greased telephone
pole.  Her hands became At pole and her gasps began to match that of the
racing bodies in the adjacent room.  She wanted everything Monique was
getting, she wanted to be split too, she wanted to be fucked.  Oh, how she
wished Kevin were here now pumping his own cum filled cock into her hot
searing passage.  The fingers weren't enough as her thoughts centered on the
thick member ravishing Monique, she had to have more but there was nothing,
nothing but the fingers. In desperation she reached up over her buttocks with
her other hand, searched the wet crevice, and rammed a finger deep into the
puckered asshole between her moon-shaped buttocks.  She gasped as in her haste
a fingernail dug into the soft fleshy walls sending a sharp jolt of pain
through her quivering body.  She stilled for a moment and then took up the
rhythm of the bedsprings again, her upper body braced against the top of her
head digging into the mattress.  Her white full tits hung down, the nipples
brushing sensuously against the sheet as they swayed beneath her kneeling
body.  Electric tingles of darting pleasure raced through her nerves as she
pictured herself under the nameless pounding body with the dirty socks.  Her
face colored crimson as she felt it coming--coming with a great roar--she hung
for a moment teetering on the edge of release her whole body vibrated and then
the white hot juice gushed from around her rummaging fingers covering her hand
and ran onto the mattress below.  She could feel it running in tiny prickly
rivulets down the inside of her quivering thighs to her bended knees.  A
piercing scream reverberated through the wall followed by a low male groan
signaling that the fury of the couples savage orgasm had matched her owns
Then, there was utter silence.

Jean stayed on her hands and knees for a while, her buttocks still swaying in
the air.  She couldn't bring herself to withdraw her fingers from herself
until the last dying throbs had stilled her body.  At last, she heard the door
slam next door jarring her back to almost consciousness.  Her fingers
slithered wetly from her satiated cunt and she rolled limply over to her side,
the ever-present feeling of guilt crawling over her.  Tomorrow, tomorrow,
Kevin would be here to take care of her.  Thank God, the way she was now, she
didn't know what she might do.  Her spent body curled into a tight womb-like
ball and welcome sleep glided smoothly through her tortured and confused mind.

"Monsieur Taylor, Monsieur Taylor," the loudspeaker blared through the shouts
of the porters and the cacophonous noises of the crowded railway station.
"Message for you at the information desk."

Kevin motioned for the porter carrying his bags to follow him and walked
toward the booth displaying the "Information" sign in English, French, and
German.  Kevin identified himself, and the small squat Frenchman behind the
desk pointed toward a woman standing about fifteen feet away.

"The Madame standing there has requested we page you, Monsieur Taylor.  Would
you please speak with her."

Kevin thanked the clerk and quizzically walked toward the woman waiting for
him.  She obviously did not know who he was as she glanced past him without
recognition as he approached her.  This was strange, to be met by an unknown
person in a city where he had never been before.  It must be connected with
Jean and he felt a lump of fear rising in his throat.

Had something happened to her, an accident, had she taken ill?  He was almost
afraid to speak to the woman for fear of being confronted with news of some
horrible disaster.  It just couldn't happen.  He had raised his hopes so much
on the train that things would straighten themselves out between them in
Marseille and it frightened him to think that something may have happened to
prevent their getting a second chance at it.  He had a lot to make up to her
and found himself praying silently now that she was all right.

He spoke hesitatingly to the woman.  "H--Hello, I'm Kevin Taylor, the man at
information said you had me paged."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Taylor, I should have recognized you from Jean's descriptions
but then you Americans are all so handsome," the woman said, smiling at him as
though she had known him all her life.

"Th--then Jean did send you?"  he asked hurriedly, anxiety apparent in his
voice.  "Is something wrong?  Where is she?"

"Just a moment, young man, don't get carried away.  Jean is fine and waiting
for you," she assured him.  "I'll explain it all to you on the way to the
hotel.  A crowded train station is no place to discuss the problems of
newlyweds."

Monique instructed the porter to get them a taxi and they followed him out of
the station.  After they were comfortably settled in the back and wending
their way through traffic toward the hotel, Monique spoke.

"Please let me introduce myself before I explain why I'm here to meet you.  I
am Monique DuFour, a friend of Jean's.  We met on the train coming down from
Paris and took a liking to each other so I have been staying with her.  She
certainly needed someone to look after her after your little mistake in
Paris," she gave Kevin a friendly reproachful look, indicating she was teasing
and for him not take her admonishments too seriously.

"Has--has she told you everything?"  Kevin asked, unbelieving.  He just
couldn't accept the fact, so suddenly, that Jean had run to a complete
stranger and told her that her own husband had raped her on their wedding
night.

"Yes, you naughty boy," Monique chided, "she has done just that.  And you are
the one to blame for all this so don't look too harshly on her for discussing
your short-comings with me.  You should be grateful that we met.  I've been
able to convince her that it is a common thins among newlyweds to go through
this. That's why she cabled you to come so soon even though she didn't want to
at all."

"Well," Kevin answered, looking at the woman with a new found warmth.  "I
appreciate what you've done.  I've been worried sick sitting in that hotel
room not knowing where Jean was.  I would have gone to the police if that
cable had been another half an hour.  I was afraid she may have done something
desperate. She was quite upset when I stormed out of the room the other
night."

"Don't you feel she had reason to be?"  Monique said, turning to him in the
seat.  "It seems I detect a self-righteous tone in your voice.  Or is it one
of wounded pride?"

"I don't think that is important, Madame DuFour," he answered defensively.
"The important thing is not who is right or wrong in this matter, but that we
get together and solve it.  I've done a lot of foolish things and so has she.
We should be about even on that score now."

"Please call me, Monique," she corrected.

"All right, Monique, please call me Kevin.  Now tell me why Jean didn't meet
me, she said in her cable that she would be there."  Kevin was a bit perplexed
about this and had to say something.

"She was just a little hung-over from last night," Monique smiled intimately
at him as though confiding a deep secret to him.  "And she didn't want to
come."

"Hung-over?  Why, she never drinks," Kevin sputtered, ignoring the last
statement.

"Oh, she does now," Monique said.  "We had quite a time on the town last
night. I thought she would never stop."

"But what brought this on?  She said in her note she was going away to do some
serious thinking, not to live it up."

"I think it was just the pressure, my boy, now don't you worry," Monique
patted his knee next to her consolingly.  "After all, it's not every girl who
gets frustrated on her wedding night.  They might react strangely to it."

"Frustrated!"  Kevin almost shouted even though he was only sitting a few feet
from the women.  "Is that what she told you?"

"Why yes, of course," Monique answered, surprise in her voice.  "You mean you
couldn't tell--that night?"

"Well," Kevin answered slowly, a tinge of anger beginning to grow in him.  "I
suppose I didn't satisfy her if that's what you mean, but I haven't even
considered that.  I though it was because I was too rough."

"That should be the first thing you do consider, young man, when you make love
to a woman.  I don't care if you ravish her like a slave, it's making her
enjoy being ravished that's important.  Jean wasn't nearly so concerned about
your forcing her, she just was disappointed that you knew nothing about the
finer points of making love."

Kevin crimsoned beside Monique.  Anger rising in him at the older woman's
words...  So this is what he had come all the way from Paris for, to find out
his bride says he's a lousy lover.  This was one thing he would have to talk
to Jean about the first moment he saw her.  He could take a lot of things but
having your wife tell perfect strangers something like this was almost too
much.

Monique could see the color of his face changing out of the corner of her eye.
Her plan seemed to be working well so far.  His masculinity was being
insulted, and if there was anything a man couldn't stand, it was having that
questioned. She knew men well enough by now and they were the same the world
over in that particular respect.  You could control their anger or love
completely by praise or insult to that one god of theirs, masculinity.  She
intended to use it well on this young immature American as he was just at the
age when it was so important.  He was so vulnerable it almost made her laugh
This was going to be easy if that damn Arab, Shalla, was doing his part as
well as she.

She smiled to herself and looked over at the clean cut young American,
wondering musedly to herself what he would think if he knew his sweet pure
young wife had been screwed within an inch of her life by that pig.  He
probably would go completely crazy and start tearing things apart like all of
his kind.  They were so proud and naive, it would never occur to them that a
woman might want to try something else also as men always did when they got
the chance.  This might be a good experience for him.  At least, it would
teach him one of the basic lessons of life, that even without love, people
would simply multiply from lust alone, it felt too good to ever go out of
style. Even she had succumbed last night, after all these years.  True, she
had been forced into it but her body had made the most out of its chance even
though her mind had fought it, and it had brought back the horrible memories
of her brutal ravishment at the hands of other Arabs so many years ago.  Yes,
the body was a strange uncooperative thing and under the right circumstances
would go its own way regardless of the high sounding moral principles the mind
might harbor.

Monique finally broke the silence that had persisted for several miles now.
She knew she had hit the sore point and would make the most of it in
furthering her little scheme.  "I gather you've not had much experience in
making love, Kevin.  Don't you know a man owes it to his wife to learn these
things before the wedding night."

Kevin thought for a moment before answering.  He hadn't wanted to explain
anything to her.  It was something between he and his wife and no one else he
had thought, but obviously, Jean had confided more in her than she had her own
husband.  Perhaps he could learn a few things from this straight forward
woman. She certainly was unlike any American woman he had ever met.  They
would never think of discussing a subject like this with a person even if they
knew them well, much less a total stranger.  Her friendship might be worth
cultivating, it might even be the key to recapturing the respect of Jean.  As
a lover, he obviously had sunk pretty low in her estimation and he knew their
love could never work unless it were built on mutual respect, including
respect in bed.

"Do you think there's a chance, Monique," he said, a questioning tone
detectable in his voice.  "I've a lot of making up to do."

"Why, of course, there's a chance.  It's never too late or anything," Monique
purred, sensing that soon she would have him in her power and he would follow
her advice to the letter.  The key to her success would lie in gaining his
trust and she felt she was winning it even at this early stage.  He was such a
pup and almost a shame to have to destroy his illusions about the purity and
fairness of life at such a tender age.

"What should I say to her?  I've been worried sick about this thing and to be
perfectly frank, I don't even know where to begin."

"Why don't we stop and have a drink and discuss it quietly before we go to the
hotel," she suggested.  "Jean won't be awake for several hours yet and I think
I can give you some valuable advise, young man.  After all, we French are
supposed to be experts at this sort of thing."

"Good," Kevin replied, obviously relieved.  It would give him more time for
preparing himself for the meeting with Jean, and Monique just might have some
excellent ideas.

Monique directed the driver to take them to a small quiet bar not too far from
the hotel and instructed him to wait across the street with Kevin's luggage.

The bar was dark and cool inside and Kevin was happy to get in from the hot
sun that was beginning to bring the outside temperature up to an unbearable
level.  He had never liked heat and had argued with Jean about coming to
Europe in August.  He had heard it was impossible this time of year but, as
usual, she had not listened to him.  He pulled his handkerchief from his
pocket and began wiping the sweat form his brow as they sat at a small
intimate table in a darkened corner.

Monique ordered two tall cool drinks from the waiter who brought them almost
immediately.  Kevin took a long hard sip, sighing at the same time.  "Mmmmmm,
that was good.  I think I needed it."  The cool liquid ran refreshingly down
his throat, relaxing him from the tension he had built up on the train
worrying about what he would say when he arrived.  He felt fortunate.  Monique
seemed to have developed Jean's confidence and also seemed to have given their
problems a lot of thought on her own.  She just might be able to help him as
her understanding of another woman's emotions would probably be much more
concise than his own.  In fact, he had just about given up trying to
understand his wife at all.  Perhaps, this French woman was a god-send from
above.  At any rate, it could do no harm discussing it with her.

"Now, Kevin, let's get down to your problem," Monique said, after taking a
long drink from her glass.  "We've got a lot of thinking and planning to do."

"I don't know quite where to begin," Kevin reflected.  "It goes all the way
back to the time we first started dating and covers all the details in between
that time and now.  There were a lot of frustrations on both sides, I
suppose."

"Well we don't have a year, my dear boy, you had better just give me the
outline so I can understand it a little better from your view point.  I've
already heard the other side and it doesn't sound too favorable to you."

"Monique, I'm not going to try and defend myself, if that's what you're
expecting.  I'm willing to concede that I was completely wrong.  I just want
to apologize to Jean the best way I know how and promise it won't happen
again. It's too complicated to try and unravel in such a short period of time.
We've the rest of our lives to adjust to each other and I'm just going to beg
for another chance."

Monique shook her head, an obvious impatience with what he had just said
reflected in her tight lips.

"My dear young man, if you do that, then you've conceded your position as
master of the house for all time to come.  No man should put himself in that
situation, nor would any woman want it."  She was working the subject subtly
to his pride in masculinity and smiled to herself as she watched his eyes
absorb her words.  He took another long swallow from the glass and waved to
the waiter for another.  Monique knew it was merely a question of time now.

"A slave in my own home, is that what you mean?"  he said, looking straight
ahead across the darkened room.

"If that's the way you want to put it," Monique answered, placing her own hand
warmly over his on the table.  "You seem so much stronger than she thinks you
are, Kevin.  I feel your only hope is to prove you are."

"Did she say that too?"  he asked wryly.

"Well, yes she did.  After all, you had many chances before you were married
but never pursued them.  Jean said she always felt like a china-doll and that
you were afraid of breaking her."

"I suppose I did, there were times when I almost took her bodily, I guess I
should have."

"Yes, you should have, my dear, but not like you did in Paris.  Women like to
be ravished sometimes, but ravished tenderly, or at least, not hurt too much.
As I said in the taxi, however you do it, you've got to make them enjoy it.
Strength alone doesn't do that.  You've got to be able to understand when a
'No' means yes and also, when a 'Yes' may sometimes mean no."

"And just how does one fathom the depths of women like Jean's mind, I'm not a
psychiatrist.  If someone says no, I'm accustomed to it meaning no, and not
something else.  She's angry now because when she said, No, I didn't take her.
In Paris, she said yes, and I did take her.  How in the hell am I supposed to
know what to do and when."

Monique felt that now was the time to drop her little bomb.  He was ready for
it and sufficiently worked up that he wouldn't stop to think too strongly
about it.

"You could learn what to do when you do take them, my boy.  That's the secret.
No woman minds being had if she's had correctly."

"And just where and with whom an I to get all this on the job training," Kevin
said without thinking.  "And what about the time?  She's waiting for us now,"

"I think I can arrange these things," Monique answered quickly.  "I like you
and Jean so much that I can't bear to see your happiness spoiled by a little
thing like this.  The important thing is that we must have time.  I think one
night should be sufficient."

"And how am I going to explain not arriving when I said I would?"  Kevin asked
skeptically.

"I have an idea about that, but you must be strong about it," Monique said
slyly.  This was the key to her entire plan and he must accept it.

"Okay, let's hear it.  I'm open to suggestions."

"Well," Monique said softly, almost holding her breath, "I'll go back to the
hotel and say there was a message from you saying you were having a wonderful
time in Paris and would be down in several days.  You would cable her the
time."

"That's probably the best plan I've ever heard for losing her completely.  You
don't know Jean like I do," Kevin objected, shaking his head hopelessly.

"No, I don't know Jean like you do, but I do know her like a woman and that's
more important.  Didn't her little run-out act bring you crawling down here?"

Kevin reflected on this for a moment.  Monique's argument did have basic
logic. Jean had done it to him and it had been extremely effective.  In fact,
she had always been doing this to him.  Perhaps, a change in roles would be
good for her.  Maybe she should squirm for a while.

"Let's do it," Kevin said, making a snap decision.  He was desperate now.
From the things Monique had told him, he knew something drastic had to be done
or he would lose Jean sooner or later.  It was better to take the chance now
while he still might gain some respect in her eyes.

"Good boy, I knew you had more strength than she gave you credit for having.
She'll be eating out of your hand in several days, I promise that."

"Let's hope so," Kevin said with resignation.  "This is going to be an all or
nothing try."

"Don't you worry, Kevin, it's going to work beautifully.  Come now, let's get
you a hotel and I'll work out the details.  I'll call you later this
afternoon."  Monique smiled happily to herself as they left the bar.  The plan
was working well and Monique's chest swelled a little in pride at her
resourcefulness.  She couldn't fail now.  She tucked the little note she had
the naive American write in her purse, patting it lovingly.  This would be the
final blow that would destroy any spirit of resistance the girl might have
left after the Arab finished with her.

Jean awoke early.  Kevin's train should arrive within a few hours and she
wanted to get all her things packed and meet him at the station.  They could
move to another hotel directly from there.  This way, she would not have to
face Monique.  She couldn't look her in the eye again after last night.  She
could still picture Monique's firm full body pumping crazily beneath that man,
whoever he was, and could still hear her impassioned pleas begging him for
more.  She shuddered each time the thought came into her mind.  It could have
even happened to her.  She didn't know how the man even got into Monique's
room but it obviously had been against her will.  At least, the beginning had
anyway until her body had run away with her and turned her into an obscene
mass of helpless sensation.

The thought worried Jean of what had happened to her also.  She had been as
bad as they were and a deep shame hung over her for allowing the picture of
her friend being ravished so brutally to overcome her own civilized
principles. She had acted like a common whore, using whatever means were
closest to reach her own fulfillment.  What if that man had come to her room
instead of next door.  Would she have reacted the way Monique had done?  The
possible answer frightened her and she had to get away from this evil place as
quickly as possible and into the protective arms of Kevin.  She would never be
angry with him again and understood fully now how he might have let himself
get carried away under the circumstances in Paris.  Her faith in her own
strength was now shattered and she needed him badly to lean on, to wash away
the horrible sensual feelings she had let her mind give vent to in the last
two days.

She finished her morning shower, washing gently her genitals.  Her anus was
still slightly sore from the finger she had attacked it with in her
uncontrollable depravity last night.  She soaped it tenderly hoping to wash
away the humiliation of her lewd surrender to her own demanding body.  Her
reactions still puzzled her.  Had she discovered something about herself that
she hadn't known before.  Had these sudden exposures to raw sex ripped away a
facade of respectability that had been made of paper.  She certainly had acted
like it.  It hadn't taken much to set her off, a dream, a few sounds next door
and she had become a raging maniac.  She had to admit though, that watching
two other people make love was a tremendous stimulation.  She had never even
thought about it before and had always felt it was something to be done
quietly under the covers with as little noise as possible.  Well, it certainly
hadn't been done that way last night by Monique and that man.  They had gone
at it like they had been performing for General DeGaulle himself.

Jean looked at her watch.  She still had forty-five minutes to check out of
the hotel and get down to the train station.  It should be just right.  She
closed the suitcase on the bed and rang for the porter.  Thank god, it would
be the last time she would have to look at that Arab.  He had undressed her
enough with his eyes during her stay here.  Well, she hoped he took a good
look this time, it would be his last chance.  She thought wickedly for a
moment, of letting him catch her in her panties, that would teach the lecher a
lesson he probably wouldn't forget for a long time.  If she only did have the
courage to do something like that, she sighed, but she knew she never would.
She would always be just plain Jean, even afraid of her own husband.

She opened the door to the Arabs soft knock.  He stood there with his
perpetual grin, looking in through the open door.

"Please take my baggage downstairs," she motioned toward the bed, "and prepare
my bill."

"Is Madame checking out now," he asked, a note of surprise registering in his
otherwise still obsequious tone.

"Yes, I am, and please hurry.  I am late now and can't waste any more time,"
Jean said sharply.

"But Madame has not had her morning tea," he objected, feigned concern in his
voice.

"I do not want my morning tea," Jean said, impatiently.  "I told you I was
late and must leave the hotel within five minutes."

"I will have the tea in one," the Arab smiled, and without waiting for her
answer, turned quickly and disappeared down the stairs.  Jean started to say
something but she was left standing with her mouth open, noiseless sounds
sputtering out at the empty hall in front of her.

She paced the room impatiently for several minutes, fuming over the insolence
of this desk clerk.  Who did he think he was, deliberately delaying her this
way.  If there were a management, she would certainly report him but he seemed
to be the only one she had ever seen here.

Her angry thoughts were cut short as he suddenly returned, entering the room
without knocking.  Jean started to object again but with resignation shrugged
her shoulders.  She was too late to start an unpleasant tirade against him
now.

Shalla sat the tray on the small table and Jean noticed he had brought two
glasses this time, both filled with the mint green tea she had drank before.
He handed her one, taking the other for himself.

"It is always a custom for the concierge to drink with a departing guest," he
said, "Particularly one who has been so pleasant to the staff."

Jean suddenly, for a reason she couldn't explain, felt a warning signal flash
through her mind.  Perhaps it was the tone in the Arab's voice.  There had
definitely been a subtle sneer to the last sentence he had spoken.  His eyes
were again boring through her, but not as before.  They didn't rove the curves
of her body in a questioning manner, wondering what was there beneath the
dress.  They seemed to know this time and lewdly sparkled their approval.  She
raised the glass to her lips and drank, almost as if in a trance.  She was
suddenly frightened of this strange man whose eyes seemed to lack the
slightest spark of humanity.  They bored into her, cruel and unyielding,
causing small goose bumps to ripple along her skin.

The tea was cold and the cool mint flavor relaxed her a bit.  She was grateful
for it.  It would get her through this ordeal of being alone with this
horrible man.  She only had to bear it for a few more moments until the tea
was gone. She sipped more heavily on the refreshing liquid anxious to finish
it.

Shalla watched her over the top of his glass.  He could see the slight
hesitation as she reached to take the tea he offered.  The sudden recognition,
though silent, that he knew her better than she thought was also apparent
flickering through her eyes.  He savored the slight tinge of fear that he
could see building up.  He knew he had surprised her and that she hadn't
expected him to be so bold.  It was good to have this power that he had so
recently gained by fucking that French lady half to death last night.  He had
been made to squirm so much during his life and now it was going to be a
pleasure paying it all back It was particularly satisfying taking it out on
the haves, like this bitch that had never known the depths of humiliation
before.  Well, it was his turn to do the humiliating!  He had a score to
settle with the world and he had begun last night.  He was through being a mat
for others to trample on to quench their need for superiority.  He would now
do the trampling.

"Thank you, that was very nice," Jean said nervously as she drained the glass
and replaced it on the tray.  "I--I think you had better take the baggage down
now."

"Just a moment, Madame," Shalla replied, "I have not finished mine."

He watched her carefully.  He wanted to delay a few minutes longer until the
potion began to take effect.  He had prepared it carefully.  It was not as
strong as the first he had fed her.  He wanted her completely conscious this
time so she would feel every minute of the degradations he had planned.  There
was just ought to drain the strength of resistance from her fresh young body.
Yes, he thought complacently, now he would begin to get his pound of flesh
back for all the years these kind of people had treated him like a lowly cur.
The great god Allah taught that there would be satisfaction for the oppressed
of the world.  He, Shalla, would collect his now.  He wanted to pluck the
wings from this little fly slowly so that she would remember it all the rest
of her life.

Jean watched him standing before her.  He was making no move to finish the tea
as he had said.  He was just staring at her, watching as though he expected
her to suddenly disappear or something.  There was a detached interest in his
eyes that locked on any slight move she might make.  What did he expect her to
do? Why was he staring like that?

"Really, I think I must go now.  You can finish your tea after you've taken my
bags down," she said nervously, moving at the same time toward the door.  He
still watched her intently and she knew she had better get out as quickly as
she could.  He was no longer the poor obsequious desk clerk but had somehow
changed overnight.  There was a cruel, unflinching confidence in his eyes and
movements.  Jean no longer felt the superiority that she first did over him,
instead, she felt the cold isolation of fear.

Shalla sensed her thoughts, and moved quickly between her and the door,
blocking her path.  There was no way out for her now, he chuckled to himself.
What would she do.  He knew this was totally unexpected to her.  She hadn't
dreamed the worm would turn this way.  It would be interesting to see what she
did to cope with this new situation confronting her, if she could last that
long before the potion took effect.  It should be any moment now.

"Please, Mr. Shalla, my husband will be waiting for me at the station," Jean
said, her tone changing to one of almost pleading.  "I must leave now or I'll
miss him and he'll come here."

She wanted him to know this in hopes it might frighten him away from whatever
he had in mind.  Certainly, he was clever enough to realize that he couldn't
do anything with Monique sleeping next door and with Kevin expected shortly.
She hoped he was no fool.

"I see you have remembered Shalla's name.  Madame has not used that before.
It pleases me that you do remember."

It was apparent to Jean that he was stalling her now.  He was leading up to
something.  She couldn't believe that he had any intentions of making a pass
at her.  Surely he couldn't believe in his wildest dreams that she would even
consider accepting a proposition from him He must be a madman.  She watched
him closely, afraid that he would make a movement toward her, to try and touch
her.  She shuddered at even the thoughts of those filthy greasy hands coming
near her body.  Suddenly, her knees felt weak.  She reached for the post at
the foot of the bed to steady herself.

"Please Mr. Shalla, I must go," she repeated, her breath coming in labored
gasps.  It was so difficult to breathe, the air in the room was stifling.  Her
clothing felt as though it were elastic around her body, choking off the
supply of blood that ran through her veins.  Tiny beads of perspiration began
forming along the hairline of her forehead.

The Arab stood motionless, watching the metamorphosis take place gradually
before his eyes.  A puzzled look crossed the girls face.  She knew something
was wrong but couldn't quite comprehend what it could be.  Her legs swayed
slightly indicating to him that the evil liquid had hit its mark.

"Is something wrong, Madame?"  he smiled through his yellow teeth.  "Can
Shalla be of help?"

"No, no, just stay a-away f-from me," she stammered, holding on to the post to
keep from falling.  The smell of mint again wafted through her nostrils,
ringing a familiar bell of another time that her fading mind struggled to
recall.  She could feel her strength slowly leaving her body and she knew if
she were ever going to make it to the door she had better move now.

Shalla watched the girl lurch toward him.  Her eyes rolled uncontrollably in
her head and her legs wavered as though supporting a body ten times her size.
He did not move from her path and as she tried to pass him, reached out with
his arm and held her back.  She struggled weakly for a moment and then all
resistance ceased.  Shalla guided her backwards to the bed and pushed her limp
body back on it where she lay, arms and legs askew, looking glassy-eyed
straight up at the ceiling.  Her dress had snaked up over the tops of her
nylon stockings, showing the white firm flesh of her full thighs.  The white
nylon band of her panties was visible between her loosely spread legs.  Tiny
dark threads of soft pubic hair could be seen coming out the elastic leg bands
that were stretched tight from the pressure of the position in which she lay.

"What's happened to me, What's happened to me," she moaned incoherently.  She
tried to move but she couldn't.  Her body refused to follow the dictates of
her mind.  She could see the Arab standing over her, an evil grin etched
obscenely on his face.  It was strange, she was fully conscious and yet could
not move. Her eyes could see and her mind could understand and yet she was
helpless

She watched him move about the bed, her eyes rolling after him like a helpless
bird cornered by a hungry cat.  He removed her suitcase from the other side of
the bed and reaching under his robe, withdrew a short piece of rope.  The
rolling eyes widened in terror as he tied one end around one of her wrists and
pulling her up on the bed, ran the loose end around a brass rod in the middle
of the top bedstead and tied her other hand to the end.  She was secured
helplessly, both arms over her head.

"There my proud little one.  You make a beautiful picture like this.  If
Shalla didn't have better plans for you, he would save you for himself."

Jean's dress had hiked up over her hips now and the full ripeness of her upper
thighs and belly were visible to the gaze of the Arab.  He ran his tongue
around his lips wetly, enjoying the torment the poor girl stretched out before
him was going through.  He could feel his cock hardening under his pants as
the girl began struggling weakly against the bonds that held her tight.  Her
legs scissored open and closed weakly as her body fought the deadening effect
of the potion.  He could see the dark triangle visible through the thin sheer
material of her panties, he promised himself he would get more of that later
after he had put his plan into effect.  He would make some money today from
this little American girl.  The men on the streets would pay well.  The
initial shock of the potion had worn off and she could move now.  This was
good, he had planned it so that she would only be immobile for several minutes
at the most while he tied her down.  He had timed it well.  The French lady
must not find out, she might object and do something drastic but she would be
gone most of the day.  After last night, he felt confident he could handle her
anyway.

"Please, please," Jean whimpered, "what-what have you done to me?"  She
suddenly felt as though she were descending from a cloud.  A moment ago, she
was watching all of this through detached but seeing eyes, she could feel
nothing.  Now the feeling was returning to her nerves and the full horror of
what was happening to her tumbled through her unbelieving mind.  This couldn't
be happening to her.  She had heard about such things, about being raped in
hotel rooms in Europe but she hadn't in her wildest thoughts ever considered
it happening to her.  It just couldn't happen, not by this hideous creature
leering down at her with those horribly cold and unbending eyes.  She would
die if he touched her, she clenched her eyes tightly shut as if she could blot
away the scene and make it not exist.  But it did exist.  The taunting voice
of the Arab came through the darkness of her closed eyes.

"We shall have ourselves a time today, my dear girl," he said, "and we shall
make some money.  Have you ever worked before, my dove?"

Jean lay silently, unable to speak for the shame and humiliation of the
helpless position she was lying in.  She wanted to reach down and cover
herself but the ropes binding her wood only allow her hands to come down to
shoulder level.  She could not reach her dress to pull it down and cover her
exposed thighs and stomach.  She clamped her legs tightly together and drew
them up, attempting to hide her precious treasure between them.  She could not
see but she could feel his eyes burning into her there.  She squirmed on the
bed against the bonds until they felt as though they would cut through her
wrists. It was hopeless.

The Arab sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to her bare thigh,
running his long fingernails along the inner softness.  He suddenly pinched,
making a red whelp rise beneath the fingers.

"When Shalla asks a question, you must answer.  You belong to him now, at
least for the moment."

"Oooh, Nooo, Please-e, Please don't," Jean pleaded, "It hurts.  It hurts."

"Then do as Shalla says, and things will be much easier.  You will enjoy it,
Shalla shall teach you how to enjoy it."

"My husband is coming, Kevin is coming, he'll kill you if you touch me," she
whimpered in desperation.

"Yes," the Arab cooed softly, "he's the one you spoke of the other night when
we made such beautiful love."

Jean's heart stopped for a moment as the words sunk into her awakening mind.
The dream!

"I see you remember just as I thought you would," he taunted, reaching over
with one hand to stroke at the nylon covered mound at the base of her rapidly
rising and falling belly.  He could feel the crisp dark pubic hair through the
thin material, and the sudden jerk of her hips at the unexpected probe to her
secret parts.  Her eyes fluttered open in disbelief.

"No, no, it's not true.  I had a dream," she half screamed at him, her mind
unable to accept his vile accusations Her hips screwing down against the
mattress to escape his indecent stroking.

Shalla reached in his pocket with his other hand and brought out the small
dark curl, dangling it above her face.  "I think you lost this.  Have you
wondered about it."

His evil grin widened in triumph as he detected the horrified impact of
recognition on the thunder-struck girl's face.  Her mouth gaped open
helplessly as the thoughts of that evening rolled through her mind: the taste
of mint, the smell of garlic, the rumpled bed in the morning!

It was true!  He had raped her in her sleep!  It hadn't been Kevin, it had
been this filthy beast who was daring to touch her again!

"Get away from me!  Get away from me!  It's not true, it can't be," in spite
of the certainty, her dazed mind fought on against the acceptance of the
grotesque thought.

Shalla slipped a finger under the elastic of the leg band between her
clenching legs and moved his finger up and down the sweat moistened slit.

"Remember this," he taunted, "remember my fingers opening your cunt and finger
fucking you?"

"No, no, I don't remember," Jean lied, her torso squirming against the
horrible indignity.

"And I fucked you with my cock, remember, I fucked you until you screamed for
more," he hissed at the tortured girl.  "I fucked you good, admit it!"

"No, no, you didn't, it was a dream," she groaned.  "It was a dream!"

He dug his finger cruelly into her dry unready cunt, bringing a moan of pain
from Jean's tortured lips.  Her inner thighs relaxed involuntarily to ease the
excruciating hurt.

"Admit it, admit I fucked you good!"  he breathed, digging the fiery finger
deeper.

"Yes, yessss, you did, you did," she whimpered to escape the cruel hand
ravishing her vagina.

"I did what?"  he demanded lewdly.  "Say it!"

"You fucked me!  You fucked me good!"  Jean spat out the words in pain, the
shame and humiliation, too much to bear.  She clenched her eyes tightly shut
again to close out the sight of his perverse triumphant smile leering over
her.  Oh God, if only Kevin would arrive or Monique would hear them to save
her from this awful man and his tormenting words.  She thought of the
thickness of the walls and screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping it would
penetrate through as it had last night.

Her vagina received another cruel thrust from the Arab's finger, choking the
scream back down her throat.

"No one can hear you, my little pigeon," he gloated.  "The French lady has
gone.  You are now Shalla's slave for the day and shall do his bidding.  We
shall make much money together today, you and I.  If you perform well for my
friends perhaps I shall buy you something nice.  Don't you think that's fair?"

"You wouldn't dare to touch me again," Jean gasped, between squirms against
the finger still inserted deep in her vagina.  "My husband will kill you."

"If he comes," Shalla chided.

"He will come, he will!  I just know he will!"  she spat at him.  He loved her
and he wouldn't leave her alone if he knew where she was and she had told him
in the cable.  He just had to come in time to save her from this maniac who
had already violated her pure clean body once.  He was her only chance and if
he didn't arrive in time, she would never be the same.  She might recover in
time from the horrible rape of the other night because she was hardly
conscious when it occurred but if she had to submit again with her full senses
aware of it, she Flew it would destroy her self respect forever.  She would
never be able to face the world again.  The thought nauseated her and she
suddenly felt as though she would throw-up.  It took all of her remaining
control to keep from it.

Shalla slipped his now moistened fingers from her cunt.  It had become
slightly wet from its natural reaction to the pain.  He pressed it under
Jean's nose.  He felt like taunting her again and couldn't pass up this last
remaining opportunity before he threw her on the open market.

"Does that smell familiar," he asked, wiping the viscous fluid against her
upper lip.  Jean moved her face from side to side to escape this further
humiliation, the familiar smell seeping into her nostrils.

"Oooohhh, don't, don't please," the odor blocking out all other thoughts but
of the other night.  Horrible memories streamed back of her body bucking
against the mattress the shadow of this beast hovering over her like a hugs
bird of prey and--and she had thought it was Kevin and had given herself
completely.  She had begged him, begged him, and the memory of the hot searing
eruption in her stomach nauseated her.  He had emptied himself in her,
shooting his sperm into her every open pore, sperm she thought belonged to her
beloved Kevin--Oh, how could she ever face her husband again, the memory of
that would always be with her.  He must never know, he must never know--

There was a sudden rapping on the door.  The Arab quickly reached over and
drew Jean's skirt down over her exposed thighs.  He straightened his robe and
leaning his head against the door asked in a quiet voice:

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Madame DuFour, open the door."

He slid the bolt back and allowed it to swing open, letting the woman enter.
Monique took one look at the bed and rushed to Jean's side.

"My dear, my dear, what has this horrible man done to you?  What has he done?"

"Oh, Monique, thank god it's you," the bereaved girl sobbed.  "He was going
to--to--" The remainder of the sentence was drowned in the tears that flowed
profusely down her cheeks.

"You filthy Arab, I told you not to harm her," Monique almost screamed at him.
"Now you get out of here, right this minute."  She grabbed him by the arm and
shoved him toward the door, winking slightly as she pushed him outside and
closed it.

"Oh, my dear, Jean.  If I had known they were going to hurt you, I would never
have left this morning.  They promised they wouldn't touch you."  She rushed
over to the bed, stroking Jean's perspiring forehead.

"You--you knew they were going to do this?"  Jean mustered the strength to say
through her sobs.

"It isn't what you think, my dear," Monique said in a low confidential voice,
sitting beside Jean and wiping the tears with her handkerchief.

"You must listen carefully to every word I say, it will mean both of our
lives."

"But--but where is Kevin?"  Jean interrupted, "he should be here by now.  I
told him the name of the hotel in my cable."

"They sent me with another man to meet him this morning but he didn't arrive.
Instead, he sent this note with the porter on the train."  Monique drew the
note she had Kevin write a few minutes earlier from her purse, holding it so
that Jean could read it from the position in which she was lying.  She watched
with a secret satisfaction as she saw the stunned look of hopelessness flicker
across her eyes.

"How--how could he do it?  I thought he loved me," Jean's body broke into
tortured sobs again.  She couldn't believe it.  The note was in Kevin's
handwriting but someone must have forged it.  He wouldn't desert her.  He just
wouldn't!

"Dear, remember, he doesn't know we are in this trouble," Monique said as
though anticipating her thoughts.  "He's probably met some pretty French girl
in Paris and has decided to teach you a lesson.  I'm sure he would have come
if he had known we needed him so desperately."

"Then untie me, please, before that man comes back.  We must get out of here,"
Jean pleaded to Monique.

"Dear, I can't.  They are holding us both prisoner," she said in a whisper,
holding a finger over her lips for quiet.  "They're white-slavers who followed
us to the hotel from the restaurant last night.  They saw we were alone and
decided to kidnap us.  They've hired this desk-clerk to watch you."

"But what about you?  He can't watch us both, can't you get away and call the
police?"

"No, they are watching me closely with another man.  I told them if they would
give us our freedom, I would give them ten thousand dollars but it's only to
stall for time.  I don't have that much money."

"Kevin could help, my father would gladly pay it."

"I hope so, dear.  I have cabled him this morning when he was not at the train
station and told him it was urgent for him to come here.  He is to contact me
the moment he arrives.  Until then, we must do everything they demand of us or
they will kill us.  You will never see Kevin again."

"Oh Monique, there are some things I just can't do, even if they do kill me.
I had rather die than to have another man touch me," the poor girl whimpered.

"It may not come to that.  I'll tell that desk-clerk to keep away from you,
but it might raise suspicions if I untie you.  You must have faith in me,
Jean, it's our only chance."

"I'll try, but please hurry.  Please," she moaned, "I can't stand it much
longer."

"I promise I'll have us out of here tonight, my dear," Monique smiled
confidently.  "Now you just be brave.  I must go and see if I can't really do
something about that money in case Kevin doesn't arrive before tonight."

"Oh, no!"  Jean cried, "please don't leave me alone.  Something awful will
happen if you do.  I just know it will.  I can feel it."

"Nonsense, my dear, you must not get hysterical and show your weakness.  I
told you I would talk to that Arab and tell him if he touches you, no money.
He won't dare risk offending his superiors."

To Jean's horror, Monique rose and went to the door.  She was going to leave
her alone.

"Remember now, chins up," she smiled confidently as she closed the door behind
her.

Jean had never felt so alone in her life.  Monique was her only chance to ever
see Kevin again and make up for all the awful things that had happened to her.
It would never be the same, she knew that.  He was probably with some French
girl in bed now as he had threatened to do when he left her that morning.  But
she had made a mistake too and now all she had to depend on was Monique.  She
would forgive Kevin when she was with him again, he had no way of knowing what
she was going through.  It was all her fault now, and all she had to depend on
was Monique--she had to get them out of this.

The Arab had no intention of letting this chance of making fast money escape
him.  He had the girl completely under his control and he could turn that into
quite a sum in a matter of hours if he kept the customers turning over fast
enough.  By tonight when he had to deliver her to the address the French woman
had given him, he could have amassed a small fortune.  He smiled to himself
when he thought of the French woman's warnings to him about not hurting the
American girl.

Great ghost of Allah, didn't she know it was impossible to wear it out!

She could perform just as well tonight after a hundred fucks as she could
after one.  Perhaps even better.  She would be more experienced.  He, Shalla,
would see that her education was carried out properly.

He had planned it well.  As soon as the Madame had left, he called his cousin.
Mufta, and promised him one dollar for each customer he brought in.  He warned
him to be careful in those he chose and make certain they were foreign sailors
and would keep quiet as it might be dangerous with the police if one of them
talked about it afterwards.

Shalla was happy and pleased with himself for his cleverness.  At least, he
would have the days profit if anything went wrong with the rest of the plan
tonight.  He did not like to place all his eggs in one basket.  Besides, he
would not have to share this with the French lady.  All of it would be his,
except of course, the commission to his cousin.  He might even take part of
that back at the end of the day by selling him a turn.

Mufta should be coming back with the first customer soon, he thought happily,
he had better go up and prepare the girl.  There were not many hours for this
little side business and he couldn't afford to lose time by any of her
childish objections.

Jean's body jerked to life as she heard the rattle of the key in the door.
This was the moment she had been dreading.  The moment she would have to face
the Arab again.  She was totally helpless like this and she knew from the
cruel eyes that no words Monique might say to him would stop him if he really
wanted her.  She had remembered his reference to her and his friends this
morning.  It had almost been forgotten but during the period in which she was
alone she had time to ponder their entire conversation.  He had spoken of her
performing well.  What did he mean by those things?  She didn't like the tone
of them and she hoped Monique would be back before the afternoon.  Perhaps she
could hold him off for that length of time.  Well, she would fight as she had
never fought before if he did try anything.  She still had her feet to kick
with and she vowed to herself she would use them with all her strength.

The door opened and the Arab entered, locking it behind him.  His eyes
flickered over Jean's form stretched down the length of the bed.  Her body was
tense and some of the bravado she had seen building up deserted her as she saw
the cold business-like look on his face.  He walked to the foot of the bed and
looked down at her.

"Well my pigeon, we must open shop.  Our first customers will be coming soon
and we want to be ready for them."

"What--what do you mean?"  Jean whispered in a low unbelieving voice.
"You--you mean someone else is coming here?"

"Why, of course.  I told you we would make much money together today," he
answered walking around the bed.  "But we must hurry.  Mufta, my cousin, will
bring our clients in a few minutes."

Shalla reached down, lifting her dress and began pulling it up her full
thighs.  Jean had lain motionless in a momentary state of shock from the
horrible things he had just said, but as he reached down, her body reacted.
She lifted one leg back suddenly and kicked up, catching him full under the
chin.  Shalla, caught by surprise, let out a sick gasp and tumbled backwards
against the wall.  He slid slowly to the floor, dazed and with a slight
trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth.  He sat still for a
moment, his mouth hanging open as though not comprehending what had happened
to him.

Jean watched him, her heart in her throat.  Then she saw his eyes flicker
slowly up to meet hers.  She had never seen such cruel hatred registered in a
human face before.  She knew by his expression that any compassion he may have
had for her as a human being was now totally destroyed.  Deep fear gripped her
body as she watched him bring his hand slowly to his mouth and wipe the blood
away.  His gaze dropped to the smeared streak on the back of his hand and then
quickly back to her.

He stood up slowly, not taking his eyes from her.  His hands went under his
robe and withdrew a long black belt from his pants.  Without a word, he
advanced on the bed eyeing her like an animal trainer advancing on his prey.
Jean huddled frozen in fear, her legs drawn up in a tight ball in the center
of the bed, her arms held tightly by the ropes above her head.  She stared in
wide-eyed terror as he raised his arm and cracked the belt through the air,
the tip biting into her left breast with a sickening slap.  She groaned from
the sudden excruciating pain, kicking her legs out in automatic reaction.  The
belt sang through the air again, this time catching her full between the open
thighs.  She groaned again, this time deeper as the cruel leather cut its way
into her flesh again and again, leaving tiny red welts rising on her skin
behind its cruel path

"Aaaaggg!  Aaaggg!  No!  No!  Please!  No more, no more, I'll do anything!"
she blurted out after several minutes of the sickening torture.  The pain was
unbearable and she knew if he hit her again she would faint dead away.  Her
mind was beyond logical thought, the only thing that mattered was to escape
this horrible punishment.  She couldn't stand it again.

"Has Madame had enough?"  Shalla glared down at her, the whip raised for
another blow.

"Yes, yes, oh please, don't hit me again!"  Jean cowered into the mattress,
tears streaming from her eyes.

"Shalla shall not be so gentle the next time.  Let's hope you remember well."

He placed the belt on the table and came to the bed again.  Jean closed her
eyes tightly as she felt the humiliation of his hands moving over her,
stripping her clothing away.  He didn't bother to untie her hands, but ripping
her thin summer dress from the neck down to the hem, peeling the pieces away
roughly and throwing them haphazardly to the floor.  She clenched her teeth
tightly together, fighting off waves of nausea as he drew her thin nylon
panties slowly down her rounded full thighs, lifting her buttocks with his
free hand to let them pass.  Her brassiere came last as he took each cup in a
hand and tore it away brutally, her firm full breasts popping out like ripe
succulent grapefruit ready for harvest.  The tiny red tips hardened
involuntarily as they hit the cool air and stood up like dainty pink buds of a
spring flower ready to quiver into bloom.

Shalla stood back from the bed a few feet, viewing his handiwork.  This should
be a most profitable day, he thought happily, as his gaze wandered over the
voluptuous body spread naked and defenseless before him, its spirit broken.
She would cooperate now, he thought, or he would have to teach her a real
lesson.  He couldn't risk any of his customers being dissatisfied.  He knew
the brutality of the seamen that came into port here and if they paid money
for something, they expected to get every penny's worth.  He could not afford
to have trouble with them.  They might ruin the hotel.

Jean lay docile in the center of the mattress.  Her thoughts were a jumbled
mass of humiliation and helplessness.  Monique had promised she would keep the
Arab away from her but she had not.  He was now going to turn her body into a
receptacle for any man that was willing to pay for it.  How could she live
through this?  How could she ever face Kevin or anyone again after she had
been used as a common whore with the dregs of the earth using her young almost
untouched body to satiate their warped desires.  She had no idea what to
expect but her imagination ran wild.  What would they do to her?  What would
they expect her to do?  Great tears of self-pity swelled through her clenched
eyes and rolled silently down her cheeks.  Her mind suddenly rebelled again,
the pain of the belt was forgotten.  She couldn't go through with it!

"I won't do it," she suddenly screamed, opening her eyes and looking straight
at the Arab.  "You can beat me, but I won't do it."

"Shalla has other ways, Madame," he said looking at her coldly.  He did not
intend to have his plans spoiled now.  He had not really wanted to harm her
too much as he would have to argue later with the French woman but it was
beginning to appear that he had no choice.  Time was growing short and he
couldn't risk an outburst from this little bitch if one of the customers were
there.

He calmly lit a cigarette, watching her from the corner of his eye as he did
so.  Jean stared back at him arrogantly, refusing contemptuously to drop her
eyes from his almost amused gaze.

"Madame realizes, of course, that the belt is an orthodox way of convincing
ones property to do its bidding.  We Arabs are noted for the more subtle
methods of gaining obedience.  Do you wish to test them?"

Jean glared at him through hate filled eyes, refusing to speak.  She was
afraid her voice would crack from the fear that dwelled underneath.  She was
determined not to show it.  He might conquer her body but he would never
conquer her spirit again as he had the other night with drugs.  She would
never consciously submit no matter what he did to her.

"You leave me no choice, my pigeon," Shalla said, as he unlocked the door and
disappeared down the hallway.

Jean's spirits sagged and she felt her body shaking violently.  What horrible
thing was he going to do?  She had heard of the terrible tortures they used on
each other in their wars and her faith in her resolution to fight him at all
costs began to falter.  She prayed that her strength would hold up against
whatever it might be.  She couldn't give him the satisfaction of total
submission.  She would resist if it killed her.

The Arab returned, carrying a cage in his hand with a huge black carnivorous
rat squeaking inside, his long monstrous nose sniffing inquisitively through
the wire bars.

Jean felt her stomach turn and a deep piercing scream escaped involuntarily
from her throat.  It was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen, it's evil
little eyes darting about the room as though searching for something to fasten
its tiny needle-like teeth on and rip to shreds.

"I see you like my little pet," he chuckled harshly.  "He likes meat but only
if it's flavored to his special taste."

As Jean cringed tightly into the mattress, the grinning Arab took a small
piece of raw meat from his hand and dropped it into the cage.  The rat
scurried for it, sniffed it carefully and then backed away without touching
it.

"You see, not to his liking."

Shalla took another piece and rubbed a liquid from a small bottle on it and
dropped that into the cage.  The rat leaped upon it, gulping it down greedily
and then stood on his hind legs against the side of the cage squeaking wildly
for more.

"You see, my dear, he is well trained in his tastes."

Shalla advanced on the prostrate girl who was frozen into immobility by the
horror of the sight she had just seen.  She tried to move but couldn't.  Her
body refused to answer.  Shalla rubbed small droplets of the liquid smoothly
around the nipples of her upturned breasts as she watched helplessly.  Then,
he opened the cage door and pulled the evil little animal from it, attaching a
string around his neck.  He dropped him on the bed, holding the loose end of
the cord in his hand.  The rat struggled against it, sniffing his way on the
mattress along the side of the fear-frozen girl's body.  She jerked
spasmodically as Shalla gave him a little more line and he leaped to her naked
belly, his tiny feet making slight imprints in her soft yielding flesh.

Jean shrieked in terror as suddenly the rat smelled the liquid.  She could
feel the horrible creeping claws dig suddenly into the flesh of her stomach as
he struggled to get at her scent covered breasts.  He squeaked wildly,
fighting with savage desperation to crawl his way to the coated tips of her
quivering nipples.  Jean could see his tiny evil eyes down between the valley
of her breasts, his teeth bared like a giant snarling dog.  She wanted to
scream out again but the paralyzing fear held her motionless, her flesh
crawling in abhorrence from the touch of the vile little animal.  Her body
struggled to sink keeper into the mattress in escape but it was useless, there
was no sanctuary from the cruel defilement.  Shalla, taunting her proud full
body, loosened the string again and she could feel the warm nose sniffing
hungrily at the underside of her left breast, the sudden moist contact
bringing back her voice without warning.  Low whining pleas droned almost
incoherently from between her clenched teeth.

"Ugggggg, get him off of me!  Get him off of me!  Please, please," her head
churned from side to side, her wrists fighting against the bonds, "Oh God, get
him off of me!"

"Say fuck, shit, cunt," the grinning Arab demanded.  He would break her spirit
completely before he let her go this time.

"Ooohh, fuck, shit, cunt," the words spat from her mouth without hesitation,
there was no thought of resistance left, only the revulsion of this horrible
beast struggling to devour her unprotected breasts.

"Say it again," he smirked, loosening the cord another hair.

"Ooohh!  fuck!  Ooohh!  shit!  No-Nooo, Aaaahhhhggg!  Cunt!"  she shrieked,
feeling the wet sniffling nose touching farther up the underside of her
quivering breast, the sharp tiny nails straining against the flaccid skin of
her ribs.

Shalla held the string tight, keeping the squeaking black rat less than an
inch from the throbbing nipple for what seemed an eternity, and then, pulled
him slowly from the churning girls body.

Jean was next to unconscious when she felt the vile hairy animal withdrawn
from her flesh and the liquid wiped from her breasts.  His hand dwelling
longer at the task than necessary.  Her body shuddered.  She knew she was at
his mercy. She could fight against pain or even humiliation-- but not
this--not this horror--it was asking too much Only death would be better and
she would gladly have killed herself this very minute to escape the
degradations she knew were to be heaped upon her helpless body now, but there
was no way.  There was only hopeless submission or the rat and she knew her
body would betray her again if she were subjected to those horribly cruel
teeth straining to tear viciously at her flesh.

There was something else, something else that would help her through the
grotesque ordeal coming, it had helped before--it was the only hope of coming
through it sane.

"Shalla," she said lifelessly, her voice steeped in resignation.  "Give me
some strong tea."

"Madame is learning well, I see," he answered.  "I will get some."

He had wanted her to have nothing, as seeing her conscious humiliation and
submission meant almost as much to him as the money he would make but it was
getting late.  The first customers may be coming through the door downstairs
even at this moment.  He would leave out the sleeping potion when he mixed it
and add some extra aphrodisiac.  This would be almost as good, at least she
would be fully conscious.  Her drugged enjoyment of it might even be as good a
show as her being forced to subject herself to it out of fear.  It would
certainly please the clients better.  Perhaps he should have done this from
the beginning and saved himself all this trouble.

He added the extra pinch of the lust producing powder, whistling softly to
himself.  It was a bit much but he hoped for many customers today and she must
please them all.  After all, what man wanted a limp piece of meat under him,
especially when he had paid good money for it This would put some fire into
that proud little white ass.  It would shake as it never had before or
probably ever would again

He returned to the room and presented the glass to the naked girl, loosening
one arm so that she might drink.

"We shall leave "Chiga" here just to make certain Madame.  I want him close by
in case we need him hurriedly.  He is very hungry.  I have not fed him in
three days," he chuckled.

Jean shuddered again, looking at the horrible creature with unabashed loathing
and took a deep swallow of the dark mint tea.  Its warm refreshing flavor
coursed through her emotion scarred body, a welcome sedative to the pain and
soul searing torture her mind and flesh had been subjected to.  It was almost
a relief this feeling of surrender.  She had done all that was humanly
possible to avert the inevitable and now the burden of responsibility was
lifted from her.  She had no other choice and when one has no other choice
their responsibility does not exist.  Unless, of course, one is made of the
stuff that martyrs are and there aren't many of those left in the world.

"Cover him please, Shalla," she said simply, taking another long swallow from
the glass.  "I'll remember he's there."

Shalla covered the cage with a towel from the rack in the bathroom.  He could
already detect a note of fatalistic acceptance in the girl's voice.  The tea
and the presence of the rat were working better than he had expected.  He had
anticipated some further form of resistance but it hadn't materialized.  Now
it was too late.  With the amount of aphrodisiac he had put in the drink, she
would be a churning mass of raw lust in a mater of a few minutes.  He wanted
to see that.  He would like to stand at the foot of the bed and watch her go
into heat.  He had seen it before with others and it was an inciting thing to
see an unwilling woman turned into a raging sex-crazed mass of flesh in a
matter of minutes.  He would, besides profiting well, also enjoy the day
ahead.

Jean drained the glass and lay back against the mattress waiting for the
conscious-killing sleep that she remembered from before.  It did not come.
She waited expectantly, praying the dream producing drug would begin its work
before Shalla's cousin returned.  She couldn't bear to be conscious and face
the man who was to possess her body for money.

The Arab hovered over her suddenly.

"We have a long day, Madame, and Shalla does not want his investment ruined.
We must make certain you do not tire."  He took her free wrist that she had
been drinking with and retied it to the top of the bed and then pulled a small
jar from his robe pocket, holding it above her face.  She recognized it as a
Vaseline type substance.  He removed the cap and took a swab on his middle
finger.  Jean automatically clamped her thighs tightly together as he looked
down between her legs.

"Open them," he commanded.

Jean lay still, the fear rising again.

"Would Madame prefer "Chiga!"  he nodded impatiently toward the covered cage.

Her eyes widened at the mention of the loathsome name and she drew her legs
quickly apart, closing her eyes tightly to hide the shame of her exposure.
She jerked abruptly as his hands came in electrifying contact with the fleshy
lips of her vagina.  He pulled them gently apart, until the hair-lined slit
was wide-open, exposing the tightly clasped entrance to her cunt.  He inserted
his finger, massaging the lubricating salve all around inside the walls and
opening.  Jean's shame knew no bounds as his finger circled around inside her,
unhindered by any resistance on her part.

"Oh God, if I could only fight," she groaned incoherently to herself.  "If I
only had the courage."

Shalla's humiliating rummaging between her legs was suddenly interrupted by a
knock on the door.

"Mufta is here," he said, excitedly, looking down at the stricken Jean as
though she should share in his joy.  "He has our first client."

Shalla's face sobered for a moment and he placed his hand on top of the
covered cage, casting a menacing glance at the prostrate girl.

"Remember, if there is one complaint from a customer, then I shall give
"Chiga" your left breast.  You have my word by Allah."

There was absolutely no doubt in the cringing girl's mind that he would do it.
There was no such thing as mercy in his animalistic world, and she was fully
aware that her survival as a whole human being depended on how well she
accepted the hopelessness of her situation.  Kevin had deserted her, and now
Monique, she was alone and defenseless.

Jean cowered in the center of the bed, her arms still bound tightly above her
head.  She felt her nakedness as a great shame covering her like an evil
blanket.  One that couldn't be dislodged no matter how hard one struck out
against it.  And now, that blanket was going to be replaced by something even
more evil, the bodies of strange obscene men.  Men, who would not even know
her name or that she would not know, except as great shafts of indecent flesh
drubbing into her helpless body.  She would be the receptacle into which they
would spew their lewd sperm as they had into thousands of other whores in
other places at other times.

The vile squeak of the rat penetrated through her thoughts into her inner
conscious mind.  It too was part of the evil picture.  It was the conqueror,
the thing against which she could not fight.  She knew she would have
submitted to any demands, no matter how depraved, to keep that evil creature
away from her, to keep its monstrous teeth from tearing at her body.  This she
would have done with or without the deadening potion she was now awaiting to
lift consciousness from her tortured brain.  It would only make it bearable,
like Novocain when one had a tooth pulled, it didn't eliminate the horrible
tearing at one's flesh, only hid it from the mind of the patient.

The door opened.

Oh God, she thought, Not yet.  I'm not ready.  I can still feel.  Wait, wait
please!

She prayed in fevered anguish for the drug to work, to cover her nakedness
with the invisible cloak of unconsciousness.

But it didn't.

"Remember, my friend, fifteen minutes for your two dollars, no more," the
voice of the Arab reminded cheerfully from the hallway.  "And do not mark the
girl."

The squeak of the rat resounded through the room as it heard its master's
voice from the distance.  It was hungry and the harsh scratching sounds of its
paws clawing against the side of the cage silenced a cry building deep within
Jean's fear-quaking body.

A short fat man, dressed in the sweat-soaked clothes of a dock- worker,
entered and closed the door behind him.  His eyes flickered in appreciation
when he saw the delicious young feast spread defenseless on the bed.  Jean had
hoped, somewhere deep in her mind, that the bonds tying her to the bed would
stir his conscience and he would call the police.  One look at his lust-filled
face dispelled this hope.  The Arab was too clever.  He would not bring men
who say eye to eye with the law.  He would choose his clientele well, probably
those wanted by the law themselves.  The quarter around the hotel was filled
with them.

The dock-worker removed his shirt, silently staring at her with undisguised
rapaciousness visible in his eyes.  His huge barrel chest covered with
ape-like hair, rose and fell in short puffing gasps as he dropped his pants to
the floor.  His short fat cock jerked into view beneath an overhanging roll of
fat from his white belly.

Jean's eyes bulged in terror.  The tea!  The tea!  Why didn't it work?"

And, suddenly, it did, but not the way she had expected.

The first piercing warning of Shalla's betrayal came as the man leaned
gleefully over the edge of the bed and began running has rough callused hands
over her smooth cringing flesh.

Her reaction was violent!

A deep indescribable electrifying shock shot through the frayed nerve-ends of
her body like a thousand tiny sharp needles.  Laughing red devils danced
wickedly along the inner softness of her thighs.  Her buttocks ground
desperately into the mattress to quench a searing hot flame suddenly licking
hungrily at her nakedness.  It was futile, the fire roared headlong out of
control.  She lay immobile for a moment, her mind struggling hopelessly
against the pin-pricks of sensation following the path of the course fingers
digging into her flesh

He played cruelly on, unaware of the hopeless battle raging within the
tortured girl beneath his kneading hands.  He placed his thumbs on the fleshy
lips of hair lining the outside of her cunt and pulled slowly apart.  Jean lay
holding her breath and fighting with all her moral strength

It was not enough, her resistance shattered.

She groaned, the exquisite feeling of air rushing over the rising bud of her
exposed clitoris.  It rippled up her now quivering belly and out into the
nipples of her throbbing tits, drowning out the debasing humiliation of the
strange hands roaming over her nakedness.  The straining muscles of her thighs
relaxed loosely, her white ivory breasts rose and fell heavily with her
labored breath.

The man's tongue licked nervously at his thick mouth, small beads of sweat
formed over his upper lip as he watched the gradual transformation of the girl
beneath his stroking fingers.  He did not understand and did not care, he
would not question a gift like this--only a fool would.

He could not wait.  He pushed her unresisting thighs wide with the rough palms
of his hands and crawled eagerly over between their lush fullness.  The devils
danced faster around the rough pink edges of Jean's naked cunt as she felt the
bed sag from his weight.  It felt like a wet hot tunnel, and it had to be
filled.  Her eyes locked greedily on the fat thick cock dangling from his
kneeling body above her.  Suddenly forgotten was the evil animal lurking in
the cage on the table; forgotten were the fears of humiliation.  She needed
but one thing now; she needed that cock!  More than anything else in the
world!

Even as her mind fought the repulsive sight of the kneeling fat body hovering
between the slimness of wide-stretched thighs, her legs kicked out
uncontrollably and her heels curled around his hips.  She jerked forward
wildly, pulling him with a grunt, heavily on top of her writhing body.  He
guided the thick blood-filled head straight into her throbbing cunt, his heavy
weight smashing her with a deep moan far down into the mattress.  He levered
up, ramming his rod as deep as it would go into the hungry clasping pussy.
His balls smacked heavily against her upturned ass, his fat hairy stomach
bored hotly into the yielding softness of her belly.

Jean strained against the ropes but they held, cruelly cutting into her wrists
and causing her teeth to gnash tightly together to drive back the pain of her
tortured muscles.  She wanted him deeper.  She wanted to pull him deeper into
her hot quivering cunt but the bonds held her back.

"Fuck deeper, Fuck deeper!"  she screamed at him in desperation.

He grasped her ass cheeks in both hands and drove his cock to the hilt.  It
was too short!

She groaned in frustration, splaying her legs wide out over the bed to give
him greater access.  But it did not help.

As if in apology, the sweating fat man rammed his tongue deep into her
wide-open mouth, the saliva drooling down into her throat.  She sucked at it
in wild frenzy, her body caught up in a whirlpool of naked raw lust that she
had never known before.  His jerking cock pistoned into her mercilessly,
bringing gasps of pain as his pelvis smacked against her crotch, a brutal thud
resounding through the room with each pile-driving thrust.  She moaned again,
he was bringing her to the peak with the brutal pounding of his body alone.

Then--suddenly--as she bucked uncontrollably beneath him, she felt his
plunging cock stiffen without warning and spew its white-hot liquid far into
the hidden recesses of her tortured womb.

Jean groaned in frustration.  It was too soon, too soon.  She was almost
there, the peak was but a hair away.  She strained crazily for it, but the
man's dead weight collapsed heavily across her still driving body.  The
useless deflated prick hung spent between her churning thighs.

She buffeted her wet crotch up against it angrily, tears of frustration
running down her passion inflamed cheeks.  But the soft rubbery tube gave way
limply before her anguished last upward thrusts.  He rolled from her body,
breathing heavily in satiation, he had gotten his two dollars worth.  He
smiled happily.

The fire burned on in Jean, even as the man left the room, she was waiting for
the next, grinding her buttocks into the mattress in anticipation.

Oh God, she sobbed, the hunger coursing through her like a narcotic.  I'm
going crazy, crazy.  Send me someone!  send me someone!

Shalla's head appeared through the partially open door, a grin of satisfaction
on his lips as he saw Jean's drugged body writhing out of control on the bed.
He must raise his price and cut the time to ten minutes.  Mufta had many
clients waiting downstairs and the potion would last for hours.  The girl was
beyond objecting to anything now.  In fact, he thought happily, she would
welcome it.

Jean's eyes were glazed in frightened uncontrollable desire.  The thoughts of
unconsciousness had faded.  She wanted to feel.  She wanted to feel the
deliciousness of a man fucking her.  She wanted her belly filled by great
pools of cum and feel it shaking around wetly inside her--

Hurry, Shalla, hurry, her mind droned drunkenly.  Bring me one, bring me one
or I'll die!

She did not have long to wait.  The door opened and an old man on crutches
hobbled in, his eyes shining in lust.  He had only one leg and his clothes
were those of a street beggar.  They looked as though they had not left his
body in months.  Jean's passion was beyond caring now, he was a man!  A man
with a cock that could slice into her burning pussy.  That was all that
mattered.

Hurry, you bastard, hurry, raced through her mind desperately.  She opened her
legs wide, pointing the dripping hair-lined slit of her cunt directly at the
lewdly grinning cripple, grinding it up with her tightly clenched ass in an
equally lewd invitation to spur him to speed.

He lost no time in tearing his ragged clothes from his unwashed body.  He
hadn't believed the Arab on the street when he had described this women he had
for sale.  Nor the price.  All that would buy on the street was a fat old hag
who had been used up years before and who would lie drunkenly under you
thinking of the wine she could buy with the money from this trick.  But this
was different.  The Arab had spoken truly.  She was young and her flesh was
firm.  It had been many long years since he had fucked anything even
approaching this.  He could not afford the young ones in the houses and even
if he could they would turn him down because of his nauseating appearance.  He
could not believe his luck with this one, begging him for it with her obscene
gestures and groans.  He would use his ten minutes well.

He hobbled to the bed and without ceremony, threw the stump of his missing leg
over Jean's squirming body.  He straddled her stomach heavily.  The soft
whiteness of it brushed tantalizingly against the wrinkled sac of-his dangling
balls causing his ancient prick to jerk in anticipation He moved forward along
her writhing torso, laying his still semi-soft penis between the valley of her
full fleshy tits.  He cupped a hand on either side of the quivering mounds and
pushed them together, trapping his awakening cock softly between them.  He had
always wanted to do this but none would ever let him.  Now with the girl's
hands tied over her head she could not object.  Besides, the Arab said
anything as long as he didn't mark her.

Jean, beneath him, could feel the bones of his thin buttocks pressing
painfully into her ribs as he rocked forward.  He had straddled her so
suddenly that she had been taken unaware.  She needed him in her--not like
this.  She tried desperately to wriggle up the bed under him but he rode with
her body.

"No, no, please, not that way, not that way," she cried in frustration as she
looked down her nose and watched the red bulbous head growing between her
tightly held tits.  She could feel it begin to throb against the sensitive
tissue of her skin, sending further sheets of hot licking flame racing down to
the quivering slit of her palpitating cunt.

"Oh God no!  Fuck me, please!  Please!"  she begged as he began a rocking
motion, sliding his blue veined cock faster and faster between her straining
breasts. Spit dripped from his puffing lips, moistening the narrow valley and
making the passage easier for the rampaging instrument that ignored her pleas.
He continued his desperate thrusting--faster-- faster--his breath coming in
quick labored gasps, until before her horror- stricken eyes, its long stored
cum began spurting in sticky hot streams over her naked breasts.  It ran down
over her shoulders and throat in wet white rivulets, soaking the mattress
beneath.

"Get in me.  Get in me.  Now!  Now!"  she raved, her head thrashing from side
to side in bitter defeat.

"Why didn't you?  Why didn't you?"  she shouted up at him through hate-filled
eyes, her arms straining at the binding ropes like a mad woman.  She cursed
his impotency with all the foul words that came to her lust deranged mind.

"Send me a man!  Shalla you son of a bitch!  Send me a man!"  she screamed at
the top of her lungs.  Her cunt was a steaming hot cavern now that twitched
like a nerve out of control.  Her body was going to explode into a million
fiery particles if someone didn't stuff a cock into her soon--she sobbed
hysterically, crying out for deliverance.

The crippled dressed and hobbled hurriedly from the room, fearful that this
lunatic might break loose from her bonds and do him bodily harm.

As Jean watched him disappear through the door, she suddenly gasped and held
her breath.  His form was replaced by the shadow of the biggest man she had
ever seen.  He stooped as he entered to keep from hitting his head against the
frame.

He was jet black!

Her pleadings froze in her throat.  Desire, suddenly replaced by fear,
withered in her body.  He would kill her!

"I've brought you a man, my pigeon," Shalla's voice cooed from behind the
giant Nubian.  "I've given him a discount to let some of the others watch.
You must perform well," he chortled happily.  "They are paying one American
dollar each for a good exhibition and we can't disappoint them, can we?"

"Ohh, please, no," Jean whimpered, a battle raging between her mental
revulsion and the fire raging inside her drugged body.  "I can't, I can't, not
in front of other people.  N-not with h-him.  Ohh, Please, please, Shalla!"

Without speaking, he reached for the towel over the caged black rat and
withdrew it slowly, his cruel grin directed straight into her eyes.

"Chiga would like to watch also.  I'm certain you would not like to disappoint
my little pet.  He offends so easily."

The starving rat clawed and struggled against the restraining wire of the
cage, his beady eyes hungrily searching the room for some sign of food to
quell his ravenous appetite.  Jean shrank back into the mattress, the terror
again crawling over her as his tiny wicked eyes locked on her naked white
flesh

Shalla watched the servile acceptance register on her terrified face.  He was
contented that she would not give trouble with the threat present of her
breasts being ripped from her body.  He patted the top of the cage lovingly
and motioned for Mufta to herd the crowd into the room.

Jean was dimly aware, through drug glazed eyes, of the leering faces crowding
into the small closed room.  Would they ever stop coming?  They were lining
the walls and hanging over the iron rail at the end of the bed, packing the
small chamber until the air became hot and almost unbearable from their
sweating unwashed bodies and heavy excited breathing.  They were horrible
grotesque faces peering down at her.  Some toothless and unshaven, some marred
by terrible diseases, but all wide- eyed and eager for the cruel ravishment of
the quivering white body staked out before them to begin

When the room was jammed with at least twenty straining men, Shalla motioned
for Mufta to lock the door, cutting off the last entrance for air.  The odor
was heavy and pressed down on Jean like an invisible musty cape.  She
struggled for breath, her lungs sucking in great gasps, fighting to maintain
consciousness.

Shalla nodded his head at the painting Nubian who began eagerly stripping his
clothes from his glistening black body.  His pants fell to the floor causing a
murmur of fevered approval to ripple through the excited crowd.  His giant
ebony cock reared out from his black muscular stomach like a third arm with a
huge tightly balled fist at the end.  It was at least ten inches long and two
inches wide and the two great sperm inflated balls hanging at the base gave it
the menacing appearance of a cannon ready to fire.

Jean jerked her tightly clenched eyes open at the ripple of noise running
through the room, her shocked gaze locking on the monstrous shaft pointing
directly at her.  She gasped in terror, drawing her thighs tightly together in
anguished fear, her mouth dropping loosely open in astonished disbelief.

It couldn't be true.  He would split her open!  Horrible visions of her ripped
torn body flickered wildly through her cringing mind.  They couldn't do it.
They couldn't do it!

The Nubian stepped to the bed, the crowd closing behind him to get a closer
look at the unbelievable spectacle about to take place before them.  Helpful
hands from the sides of the mattress grasped harshly at Jean's tightly clasped
ankles, pulling them brutally open.  Her delicate pink slit nestling in the
soft pubic hair burst into full view of the spectators at the end of the bed.
The others strained closer around the bedside to get their look at the
palpitating treasure of the struggling girl.  Over-anxious hands reached out
to pinch quickly at the white full tits above, digging harshly for a stolen
moment, and then disappearing anonymously back into the crowd.

The giant black climbed between her wide-spread legs.  The restraining hands
on her ankles levered them up off the bed and back over her head until the
soles of her upside down feet were touching the headboard in a great vee about
four feet apart Jean's face contorted in anguish, every muscle in her body
felt as though it were stretched beyond all human endurance.  The flat plane
of her soft hair covered pussy was presented up to the kneeling Nubian in
defenseless sacrifice.  It was his, his to plunder at will.

He grinned down at it, his lips bared back over the white ivory of his teeth
in unbridled lust.  He stroked his immense cock with both hands in greedy
preparation for the assault on the helpless up-turned cunt in front of him His
body swayed on his knees like a stalking cobra, the glistening ebony skin
shining in the dim light of the single bulb hanging above.  He shuffled
forward slowly, his pelvis and great bulging black cock shoved out and
quivering like a savage limbo dancer caught in the hypnotic throes of a
primeval jungle ceremony.

Jean, up through wide-split thighs, watched in awed terror, the writhing torso
advancing toward her helpless aperture.  She could not turn her eyes from the
vile instrument that was in a moment to cleave through her warm body in
vicious rape.  She was mesmerized into abject stillness.

Suddenly, without warning, the swaying Nubian jerked his pelvis back and his
head came forward and down in a dark blur, his gleaming ivory teeth fastening
into the soft flesh of her belly.  A tiny nip at her navel and his tongue
began a slow tantalizing exploration of her whiteness, following the soft path
of light fuzz down into the flanges of her cringing pussy.  He spread its
young fleshy lips with his fingers and with a maddening liquid suck of the
lips, drew the tiny pink bud of Jean's throbbing clitoris wetly into his hot
moist mouth.  He nibbled at it with the sharp tips of his teeth, feeling it
jerking back to life from the softness that fear had brought.

Jean clenched her eyes tightly shut against the whirlpools of sensation that
were shooting out of control again through her loins.  She fought with all her
inner strength against the betrayal of her body.  Thoughts of Kevin and the
life and children they would have after this nightmare was over coursed
through her mind.  No, No, she must not let them win.  She mustn't!  She
mustn't!

But suddenly, the Nubian's tongue snaked forward, burrowing up her straining
cunt like a racing lizard.  The shock rippled crazily up her spine to the base
of her skull where it shattered in a cascade of wildly shooting colored stars.
The hot meteors rained down tauntingly over her whole body.  Her crotch jerked
involuntarily forward, burying the flicking tongue to its roots.  Fire
replaced fear and all else.

She was that cent!  Oh God, she was that cant!

Her entire being was suddenly a great open cavern that had to be filled, that
had to be gorged and stuffed with hot fiery flesh.  Nothing else mattered now;
not Kevin, not principles, not humiliation, just the flicking reality of the
probing tongue that had crawled from between her hot steaming furrow and was
tracing tiny round wet circles up her body.

"Ohh, ohh, yes, yesss, suck my tits, yes, like that, like that!  Bite me!
Aaaaagggg!"

It moved on up over her throat, licking at her nose and eyes and cheeks, the
hot thick saliva soaking her skin.  She rotated her lust contorted face around
searching with her open mouth for the wet fleshy mass.  She found it and
sucked it deep into her throat with a low animal moan.  His saliva gushed into
her in unimpeded torrents, she swallowed greedily, mewling for more.

Her crotch ground frantically around below, searching with her gaping hot
pussy for that monstrous pole that was going to rip her belly asunder.  The
lust incited crowd around the bed gasped as the great bulging head found its
pulsating opening.  It jostled for a moment against the pink ragged edges of
flesh, insinuating itself gently between them.  Then, with a flick of the
hips, the grinning Nubian forced the blood-filled tip brutally into the
throbbing lips of the hair-lined cunt, stretching the resisting rubbery flesh
almost to the bursting point.

Jean threw her head wildly to the side and screamed

"Aaaagggg!"

It sunk a cruel inch, the struggling girl trying desperately to kick her legs
free and escape the punishing impalement.  The eager restraining hands held
them tightly back against the bedstead.  In her wild passion a moment ago she
had overestimated herself.  The cock was too big.  She could never take it in
a million years.  It was splitting her cunt lips terribly, the pain
unbearable, rocketing through her stretched body like tiny sharp probing
needles.

The Nubian levered up on his hands in the push-up position and flicked
again--his grin widening--the relentless monster sliding another excruciating
inch.

"Uuuuuugggg!"

Another inch--

"Aaaagggg!"

Hot stale breaths coursed over her naked sweating body as the men crowded
closer.  Their faces hung over the bed within inches of her straining nudity,
watching hypnotically this young white beauty being fucked and skewered like a
medieval slave by the giant glistening Nubian.  She was dimly aware of hands
tearing at her breasts from the leering crowd and fingers clawing over every
part of her flesh until it felt as though she were covered with tiny crawling
animals trying to enter every pore of her helpless body.  The room had become
a giant octopus with thousands of grasping tentacles reaching out obscenely to
crush her in her helplessness.

"Nooo...  Noooooo!"  she sobbed hysterically, tears gushing like fountains
from her open but almost unseeing eyes.

Her sobbing, struggling protests and resistance brought a sudden crushing
thrust from the Nubian that plowed the giant black cock deep into her tight
resisting passage, pushing great ripples of pink soft flesh in rolling waves
before it.  Jean jerked convulsively as the huge rod raced into her belly like
a runaway freight train smashing all resistance.  It was an uncontrolled
monster crawling around inside her, filling her every crevice and pushing her
inner organs into tiny tight balls that could not breath or move.  It was
coming out her throat, out her mouth, curling around her shoulders and neck to
crush her life away.  It was ripping her soul from her body and devouring it
in great gulps of depraved sensuality.

Suddenly, it stopped.  With an earth-shattering jolt, the Nubians pelvis
thudded heavily into her upturned crotch The monstrous sperm inflated balls
insinuating themselves with a smack into the wide-split crevice of her ass.

The huge ebony cock lay imbedded to the hilt inside Jean's shivering cunt like
an ancient impaling torture device.

The Nubian held still above for a moment until the bereaved girl beneath him
adjusted to the presence of the huge member planted in her white soft belly.
He watched as her pain contorted face began a slow relaxation, the tightly
gnashed teeth opening in surprised adjustment.

"A-Aaaaah," her lips breathed in welcome relief.

He flexed the giant head, bringing a deep groan from her lips, her teeth
re-clenching.  He flexed again--another groan again--a lesser groan, as her
hot passage grew accustomed to the increasing size.  Then he began a slow
revolving motion with his pelvis, grinding his cock tightly into her naked
crotch, expanding the still cringing walls of her vagina until it fit like a
well tailored glove.

Unbelieving eyes peered lustfully within inches of the huge buried member,
amazed that the tight tiny cunt they had seen before was capable of swallowing
the whole of it Hands from the crowd rubbed lewdly over the moon-shaped cheeks
of her skewered buttocks.  From both sides of the bed, fingers pulled cruelly
at the fleshy hair covered lips surrounding it.  A fingertip probed under the
dangling balls at her tiny puckered anus, flicking teasingly at it like
another tongue.  She winced as it suddenly popped Rough the tight surrounding
nether ring and dug deeply at the soft rubbery flesh inside.  It moved around,
expanding the tight tiny hole until the palm of the intruding hand lay flat
against her ass cheeks, the whole finger sunk safely inside the dry throbbing
tunnel.

Now the Nubian began a painful sawing motion in and out of Jean's moist
stretched pussy, thrusting forward mercilessly from the apex of his withdrawal
and battering her pain-wracked body back hard against the mattress.  The
finger imbedded in her ass joined the slowly pistoning cock in a rhythmic
fucking duo that brought groans of pain and gasps of pleasure gushing from the
lips of her moaning mouth in time to their simultaneous tempo.

The pain was easing and a weird sensation of happiness tingled through her
helpless body.  The outrageous debasement and subjugation brought strange
masochistic pleasures flooding through her blood stream.  Her hips began
unconsciously gyrating in an abandoned rhythm with the increasing speed of the
cock and finger fucking into her.  A thousand helpful hands groped at her from
the leering faces surrounding them.

"Ohhh yes, yessss, fuck me like this.  Oh shit yes, fuck me like this," she
crooned, squirming her body lewdly around among the myriad of hands and
fingers that crawled over her tingling flesh.  She opened her eyes.  Cocks
were everywhere.  The men around the bed had pulled them out and were stroking
them over her in time to the black and white flesh smacking together before
them. Long ones, short ones, fat ones, she was in a great cock heaven,
surrounded by them--a prisoner of them--and all the time while the great black
glistening pole fucked into her, expanding with each stroke like a giant
balloon, the finger drubbed into her asshole like another cock--she was a
prisoner, a helpless prisoner to the delicious rape of her cunt and
asshole--trapped between them like a helpless insect.

"Oh god, don't stop!  Oh fuck, don't ever stop!"  she grunted into the thick
stale air, gyrating her upturned ass faster and faster, trying to keep up with
the monstrous poles of flesh and finger that drubbed into her like tireless
fucking machines.  She felt long fleshy objects dropped into her tightly bound
hands on either side of the mattress and other hands press her fingers tightly
around them.  She knew they were cocks and began a hard vicious stroking in
time to the communal rhythm, as she felt the shaft of flesh pummeling into her
throbbing cunt expanding almost to the bursting point.

"No!  No!  Wait, wait," she chanted in desperation, but it was too late.  The
Nubian's eyes rolled around helplessly in his head and his great balls began
pumping spurt after spurt of hot white cum deep into her contracting belly.
She ground her naked crotch up tightly against his pelvis to stop the flow for
a moment but her very eagerness defeated her desperate purpose.  The nibbling
clasp of her pussy milked it clean, the last drop of his hot load sloshed
around deep inside her dilated womb.

The giant rolled useless and drained from her still squirming form, helped by
a hundred eager hands clawing to take his place.  A thin string of white
sticky liquid trailed from his cock over her leg to the floor where he
collapsed in exhaustion.

"Three dollars, my friends, three dollars," she could hear dimly through the
muffled confusion of the noise and caught a glimpse of Shalla desperately
reaching over heads for the freely offered bills like an excited circus
barker.

Her hips jerked up automatically to receive the hurried thrust of a short fat
man who had replaced the Nubian between her legs.  He rammed into her like a
jack-hammer, needing no fore-play to incite him.  The spectacle had been
enough.  They raced wildly together for the climax Jean had been so cruelly
deprived of when the Nubian had deserted her.  It hit her suddenly, like an
angry fist in the stomach.  Great waves of searing indescribable joy coursed
through her fanatically aroused body with the power of a thousand lightening
bolts, curling the tips of her toes and fingers like burning twigs on a
bonfire.  The fat man's cock spat uncontrollably into her as the palms of her
bound hands were flooded too with the hot sticky fluid simultaneously.  Great
pools of cum clung stickily to her as she saw other cocks spurting at her body
from the sides of the bed.  She wallowed lewdly around in it, punishing and
debasing herself in maniacal arousal, the odor rushing through her nostrils,
as her own cum gushed hotly from between her legs, soaking the mattress
beneath her wildly grinding buttocks.

The bodies came on and on, spurred by her screaming supplications for further
and further humiliation.  Her hair was matted thickly with the pungent fluid
now and her body was covered from head to foot.  She squirmed wetly on her
back in it as she was buffeted up and down the mattress by one rampaging man
after another.  It seemed it would never stop.

Suddenly, Shalla grinned to himself.  It was going too slow.  There was a
better way to handle this volume of business.  After all, the American bitch
was screaming for it.  He would make sure she got more.

He held back the next men in line and reaching over the bed, cut her bonds.

"Turn over," he commanded.

Jean rolled her battered body over in the slippery pools of cum, resting
heavily on her stomach.

"Now kneel," he commanded to the half conscious girl again.  He grabbed
impatiently at her hips and helped her to her knees.  She rested panting for a
moment on all fours, her buttocks high in the air and her face pushed into the
bed.  Her eyes were glazed thickly from the ravishment her body was enduring.

Shalla directed the waiting traffic like an experienced policeman on a busy
intersection

Jean felt heavy hands on her hips from a nameless body suddenly kneeling
behind and between her open thighs.  She waved the stretched moons of her
buttocks back at him, feeling the blunt end of his cock pressing into the now
dripping slit in her crotch.  With a grunt, he shoved cruelly forward, burying
the long thin instrument deep up her crevice, causing her to jump forward in
surprise at the sudden lunge.  Her face ran head on into another waiting hard
erect cock that rammed without warning into Jean's gaping mouth.  The man was
kneeling on the bed in front of her grasping both sides of her head vice like
between his strong callused hands and holding it firm.  He sawed into her face
viciously, like it was a second delicious cunt.  Jean gagged, as he rammed it
half- way down her throat, the full length disappearing into her ovaled lips
almost to the hilt.  His balls slapped harshly against her chin, the soft fuzz
covering them tickling like a light airy feather.  She struggled to breath,
catching small gasps of air on the out-stroke.

"Oh God," she groaned as they buffeted her back and forth like a rag doll
between them, using her helpless body as a great receptacle into which they
would pump their burning sperm.  She was no longer human but a great mass of
flaccid flesh, unable to think or feel.

But then, the very helplessness of her position flickered through her mind.
The mental picture of her body being fucked between two excited men incited
her.  The hunger in her belly began raging out of control again.  She began to
undulate her buttocks in tiny circles, squeezing with her cunt muscles at the
fleshy staff boring into her.  She wanted to milk it dry, to fill her belly
again until more of the hot sticky fluid ran down her already thickly covered
thighs.  She wanted to wallow in it again.  She sucked voraciously at the cock
in her mouth her cheeks hollowing and filling with his cruel thrusts.  She had
never tasted a cock before and she explored its every pore.  Her tongue licked
wildly at the blood-filled head, the tip probing hotly into the gland on the
end.  She wanted it to shoot in her mouth.  She wanted to swallow it and feel
it running down her throat until her stomach was filled as her cunt.  She
wanted it to run through every pore in her body in great torrents of joy.

Her wish came true a moment later.

Simultaneously with the rising tide of her building orgasm, she felt the cock
fucking into her from behind, inflate and begin spewing its white hot load
deep up her clasping cunt.  It ricocheted wildly around inside and dripped
from the hair-covered lips into the matted hair of his belly.  His balls
pressed tightly against her exposed clitoris, causing her body to jerk
convulsively forward, burying the rod in her madly sucking mouth to the hilt.
It too exploded, flooding her throat with the delicious pungent liquid, her
cheeks expanded like a balloon to keep from choking on the great gushes that
spurted without stopping deep into her throat.  She swallowed in hungry crazed
gulps fastening her lips like an elastic ring tightly around the ejaculating
rod, fearful of losing even a drop of the precious fluid.  Small droplets ran
from the corners of her mouth as he collapsed in front of her and his deflated
penis flopped lifelessly from her still sucking mouth, thin narrow sticky
strings of cum hung from her lips connected still to the deflated cock several
inches away.

She screwed her buttocks back tightly against the still squirting cock in her
cunt and with a scream from between clenched teeth felt her own body explode
into what seemed a thousand tiny sparks.  Her strength was suddenly gone and
she collapsed on the bed as the cock slipped limply from her drenched pussy,
gushes of cool air rushed refreshingly into the unplugged opening.

Time, after that, became meaningless and merged into a blur of strange and
different cocks, fucking her as they would and where they would.  Jean was
beyond emotion.  Her body still reacted with orgasm to several of the more
inventive males that bent her to their will but her strength was gone and she
followed mechanically the directions Shalla would scream at her when she
lagged in her duties to the clients.

"Get those legs up!  Move that ass!  Suck harder!"

She was nothing now but a robot at his command and weakly moved her limbs to
comply with his shouts.

Many long hours later, the room was finally emptied and she fell into a deep
exhausted sleep on the soiled sticky mattress that was forever to be her
shame.

Monique smiled sweetly across the table at Kevin, lifting her champagne glass
in a toast.

"Well, here's to the conquering hero.  Honestly Kevin, she was absolutely
crushed.  You should have seen her face when I showed her the note.  She
couldn't believe you would turn into a tiger like this."

The words eased Kevin's worried mind.  He had walked about the city all day
worried to death about Jean's reaction to the note he had written for Monique.
Several times, he had almost gone over to the small hotel she had indicated in
her cable and begged her forgiveness but each time, he thought of Monique's
advice about being strong and had desisted.  It had taken all his courage but
now it seemed it had all been for the best.  He would have blubbered out
something stupid if he had seen Jean and probably made things more of a mess
than they already were.  The champagne was relaxing him now and he felt better
than he had since walking out of the hotel several days ago in Paris.

"I owe you a lot, Monique," he said warmly, "I honestly didn't know what to do
when I arrived here.  Jean's such a funny conservative girl that I had no idea
what to say to her."

"Believe me, my dear boy, you'll never have that problem again.  By tomorrow
she'll be chomping at the bit wondering what you're doing in Paris.  Women are
like that.  I know, I'm one too, remember?"

Monique was pleased.  Things had gone much better than she had expected and
this naive young American had swallowed her story, hook, line and sinker.  She
had spent her day arranging things with Gamal for one of his usual parties at
his villa and tonight she would clench the sale to him Kevin didn't know it,
she smiled to herself, but he would play a great part in it.  He probably
would raise the price on his own wife by at least one thousand American
dollars if things went the way she had planned it.  And knowing Gamal's taste
for the unusual, she was certain it would work.

"I've planned a surprise for you," Monique said, interrupting his thoughts of
Jean.  "Remember the experience we discussed this afternoon?  Well, I've
arranged for us to attend a very special party tonight."

"A party, what good will that do me?  I've been to thousands already and it's
never helped yet."

"I said a special party, Kevin, and I mean a very special one.  Men and women
do things to each other.  Good things," she grinned slyly, waiting amusedly
for his reaction.  It certainly would be one of indignation at first, until
she convinced him otherwise.  Lord, what one had to go through to teach these
youngsters about life!

Kevin's reaction was exactly as Monique had predicted.  He blushed heavily and
lowered his eyes from hers.

"You don't mean one of those French exhibition things do you?"  he said
quickly, "I've heard they're pretty raw."

"No, no, my dear boy.  This is not a cheap exhibition.  This is a very special
affair given by a very wealthy man.  You can watch--and participate if you
wish," Monique lowered her voice on the last sentence, an unmistakable
invitation hidden subtly in it.

"I couldn't do that, Monique.  What would Jean think of a man that got his
kicks from watching others?"  Kevin said, a flat note of refusal apparent in
his voice.  But Monique knew him better than he did himself and her appeal to
his weak point began.

"Well, it isn't important.  It's just that you may have learned something
about lovemaking.  Jean will expect that after your supposed good time in
Paris.  I don't think you want to disappoint her."  Her eyes watched his face
change slowly from stern objection to thoughtful consideration of her
statement.  She pushed him further.

"Remember also, a woman doesn't expect faithfulness from her husband as he
does his wife.  You've already seen her reaction to the little fiasco in
Paris. She would have had a great deal more respect for you if you had known
how to control yourself.  I'm certain she wouldn't have bothered asking
herself, or you for that matter, where you got your experience."

She could feel Kevin weakening, just as she had anticipated.  Like all others
in the world, if you could justify something to their conscience, then it was
all right, even though it had been latently present all along.  No one ever
did anything they really didn't subconsciously want to do from the beginning.
Just supply the excuse, that was all that was necessary.

"You make these crazy things sound so logical, Monique," he said, looking at
her with resigned acceptance.

"I was right about today, wasn't I?"  she said, smugly.  "If I hadn't headed
you off and talked some sense into you, you would have been groveling at
Jean's feet right this very minute."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he admitted, "we can go and take a look, at
least that much can't hurt."

"All right then, it's settled.  Tonight, young man, you're going to get an
education you'll never forget."  Monique beamed, chuckling to herself at the
double meaning that could be placed on her statement had he known the actual
state of things.  "Let's go have our dinner, the party starts about midnight."

They entered the door to the villa a little before one o'clock.  The dinner
had been long and pleasant.  Monique had purposely drawn it out to make
certain Kevin got enough wine and after dinner drinks to deaden his
inhibitions.  She didn't want him too alert tonight, particularly in the
beginning of the party. Her timing had to be very good to pull this thing off
and she couldn't afford to have him get too moralistic on her and want to
leave before she could put her little plan into action.

An attendant took their coats at the door and Kevin followed Monique into the
large salon.  As he adjusted his eyes to the light from the large crystal
chandelier hanging from the frescoed ceiling, he could make out a small crowd
of people gathered around a bar in the corner.  There couldn't have been over
twenty or twenty-five in all.  It was evident that it was a fairly wealthy
group as the men were in black tie and coats and the women, all young
voluptuous girls around twenty, were in long evening gowns.  Certainly they
were not the wives of these men, as they were at least thirty years their
juniors in most cases.

Monique led him over to the bar and ordered drinks from the dark appearing
bartender.  Kevin couldn't place his nationality but it appeared to be Arabic
of one form or another.  He marveled at his quiet efficiency in handling the
group of people without complaint.  Some of them had obviously been there for
several hours and were beginning to get a little noisy.  Kevin could not
understand one word of the French and had to content himself with watching
their animated gestures with their hands.

"It seems those two are coming to blows in just a moment," he confided to
Monique over his drink.  He was watching two men violently shaking their fists
at each other.

"Oh, no.  Not the French, it's just that we use our hands a lot like the
Italians," Monique laughed, "they are just discussing whether or not it will
rain tomorrow."

He laughed with her, now understanding why he thought he had seen so many
"almost" fights in Paris but never the real thing.

"They'll scream and shake their fists until you are certain they are going to
kill one another, but I have never seen one yet with the courage to strike,"
she added.  "They will quiet down in a moment when things begin.  Just watch."

"Just what exactly is this place," Kevin asked in a low whisper, still not
certain he should have come.  He would have preferred going back to his hotel
and getting some rest for his meeting with his wife.  He still needed to build
up some courage in spite of Monique's assurance that she would melt like
butter into his arms.

"It's a private club," Monique answered in a confidential tone.  "The members
are all nationalities and just fly in when a special party is being given.
It's very exclusive and always has some extremely unique entertainment for
them."

"What do you mean by unique?"  he asked, his curiosity rising slightly now
that he had finished another scotch.

"You'll see, my boy, you'll see before much longer.  I guarantee you'll get
quite a kick out if."  Monique smiled to herself again.  She could hardly wait
to see this pup taken down a peg or two.  Innocence bored her, particularly
from those who had it made all their lives.

"Oh, you must meet Gamal," Monique said suddenly, interrupting something else
she was going to say.  "He's coming now."

Kevin turned his head and saw a short dark fat man approaching them from the
center of the room.  He disliked him immediately.  He looked like just the
type to be running a place like this.  Kevin's stomach recoiled as Monique
introduced them and Gamal pressed his small well manicured hand into his,
shaking it like a limp handkerchief.  He could smell his thick over-sweet
perfume hanging heavily in the air immediately surrounding his presence.  It
was sickening.

"Welcome to our little get together," Gamal smiled to them.  "You could not
have picked a better companion.  Our little Monique is always welcome here
with her friends."

Kevin reached for another drink from the bar as the fat insipid little man
took Monique by the arm and squeezed tightly as though he owned her.  He felt
like pushing his fist straight into his flat oily little nose.  He had never
met anyone who repulsed him so much at first sight.

"You will be participating in our little games tonight, Mr. Taylor?"  Gamal
asked with a sly wink, nudging Monique in the ribs at the same time.  "We have
never had an American here before.  I'm certain you would be quite popular
with the ladies of the crowd."

"No, I don't think I will," Kevin said, an indignant tone apparent in his
voice.  "I prefer my love life to remain private."

"Ah yes, a moralist, I see," Gamal said with a subtle mocking smile.  "Perhaps
you will change your mind later.  Now if you will excuse me, may I talk
privately with your charming escort for a moment."

"Be my guest," Kevin replied coldly, turning back to the bar.  He was
beginning to feel his drinks and decided as soon as Monique finished talking
with that slime they would get out of here.  He didn't like the setup at all
and right now had no desire to see a trumped up exhibition with paid actors.

"Your little package arrived a few minutes ago, my dear," Gamal whispered with
a delighted smile when they were out of earshot of Kevin.  "You have done
well, I must say.  I will add one hundred dollars to the usual price in reward
for your excellent taste."

"My dear Gamal you have not taken a close look at the young lady or you
wouldn't even consider such a ridiculous offer.  She is worth double the usual
price if she is worth a franc.  Come, let's go take a quick look at her.  I'm
certain you have missed a great deal of the quality."

"If you insist, my love," Gamal said with resignation.  He knew he was not
going to get this voluptuous young thing as cheaply as he had the others, but
perhaps with luck, he could keep the price within reasonable bounds.

Monique followed him down the hallway from the Salon and into a room that had
a guard on the door.  Jean was lying fully dressed on the bed, her eyes closed
in sleep.  Her dress had hiked up over the tops of her stockings and the
smooth white flesh was tantalizingly visible up to her panties.  She was the
absolute picture of helpless innocence.  Gamal liked that, Monique could tell.
Her battle was almost won.

"Your desk-clerk friend gave her something to make her sleep during the trip
here in the car.  He says she will awaken in a half an hour or so," Gamal
explained as Monique purposely registered concern on her face.  She had
actually instructed Shalla to give her the light sleeping potion so she would
make no great fuss when she was transferred from the hotel.  She just hoped
that stupid Arab had not given her too much.  She had to wake up soon or her
plans would be ruined.

"Oh, the poor dear, I do hope they handled her gently.  She's so sweet,"
Monique poured the compliments on, she could tell by the slight beads of
perspiration breaking out on Gamal's forehead that he was very eager to get
his hot little hands on Jean's young body.  It was just a question of the
price now and she was ready to put her plan into operation.

"Why don't you strip her down completely, Gamal, you can get a better idea of
the true value that way," Monique slyly suggested, certain that he had already
lifted the sleeping girls dress and peeked underneath.  The slight guilty
blush that passed over his face confirmed her suspicions.  She smiled to
herself in satisfaction.  "I'll get us a drink while you are doing it and then
we can discuss the final price with all the merchandise laid out before you.
Business should be done like that," she smiled sweetly.

Gamal advanced eagerly on the bed as Monique left the room and made her way
happily back to the Salon.  She was going to enjoy the evening.  It was nice
to be happy in one's work, particularly when the work was lucrative and
presented a challenge as this one did.  Yes, tonight should be an evening to
remember.

She circled her arm through Kevin's, who had not seen her approaching from
behind.  "Such a sad face for such a handsome young man.  Give me a drink and
I'll cheer you up," Monique squeezed his arm playfully.

"What did that creep want?  He looks like he should be running a whore house
in Tangiers."

"Do I detect a bit of jealousy, my love," Monique cooed, squeezing his arm a
little tighter.

"Not of that fat little grease ball," he said gruffly, handing her another
scotch.

"Come now, Kevin, that's our host you're insulting.  Besides, Gamal can be
rather pleasant at times.  He does mean well."

"So what was he so secretive with you about?"  he demanded, the alcohol
putting him in an impatient mood.

"Oh, just to advise him on some new drapes for one of his guest rooms.  He has
no need for me, dear boy.  He has one of your young American girls for the
evening.  At least that's what he said."

"An American girl.  How did he get her here, kidnap her?"

"No, not Gamal, silly boy.  He wouldn't do that kind of thing.  She's
evidently here because of frustration.  She asked her desk-clerk where she
could get some action, pardon the Americanism," she laughed with her pun, "and
he directed her here.  There are many like that, you know.  Their husbands
don't keep them happy at home, so they play when they come to France.
Frenchmen do have a reputation as lovers, even you must know that."

Kevin pulled deeper on his drink.  "Well, maybe she needs it badly, but I
can't understand any woman coming to a place like this."

"You'd be surprised how a woman needs it sometimes too.  We're all flesh and
blood, even we females," she laughed.  "You'll see."

"I think we had better get out of this place," Kevin said impatiently.  "It
depresses me."

"Oh, nonsense.  Finish your drink and order us another," Monique said,
draining her glass.  "I want to show you around a bit and then we can leave.
It's quite an interesting house.  You might even enjoy it.  Gamal is very
clever."

Monique took Kevin's hand after their fresh drinks had arrived and led him out
of the Salon.  He was amazed at the splendor of the rooms through which they
passed.  Arab mosaics and inlaid ivory panels abounded through the house.  It
must have cost a fortune just for the interior of the rooms.  No expense had
been spared.

Monique led him down one hallway into a theater-like chamber.  It had couches
arranged in a circular seating pattern around a large round bed, the largest
Kevin had ever seen.  It must have been twenty feet across and had a strange
circular post about six inches across coming right up through the center of
the mattress.  It stood up about four feet from the surface of the bed and had
a short rope with manacles hanging down that was attached through a ring on
top of the post.

"This little room, as you can see, is the theater.  Quite a nice stage don't
you think," Monique joked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes," Kevin answered grimly.  "I see by the handcuffs and rope that your
sneaky friend Gamal has many unwilling actors too."

"Yes, they are sometimes, but for the most part they enjoy it, even if they so
resist at first.  I've seen some fantastic changes come over girls who are
being ravished at first against their will."

"Well, certainly no one with the correct upbringing could ever enjoy making a
public spectacle of themselves.  I think he has them fake it."

"You'd be surprised, my boy, at what hidden devils lurk beneath most of us,
even the most conservative.  We're still not too far removed from animals, you
know."

"I can see your friend isn't, but I think you're wrong about the majority,"
Kevin objected.  "At least, I hope you're wrong.  Otherwise there isn't much
hope for the future of the world."

"I think you're being a bit melodramatic, Kevin.  After all, what harm does it
do if a group of people want to privately amuse themselves this way?  Perhaps
it's a better solution than you Americans with your bottles upon bottles of
tranquilizers or stuffed psychiatrists offices.  You people go to your
headshrinkers and say; "Doctor, I'm sick, I have dreams of seeing people
making love, I can't get it off my mind.  Then he tells you about some far
distant event that occurred when you were two years old that's supposed to
explain it and cure you.  That kind of thing never cures, it merely gives one
the justification they need for thinking about sex without guilt.  Here, when
we feel like seeing an exhibition, we go see one.  It's a simple and practical
solution.  Satisfies everyone.  No doctors or tranquilizers."

"And what about the poor people on stage," Kevin said, speaking a little more
harshly.  "There are better occupations to earn ones living."

"Like a chimney sweep?  No, my dear young man, for every voyeur that likes to
watch there's an exhibitionist that likes to show it to him.  Most people end
up in the occupation that most suits their talents whether they will admit it
or not.  If it happens to be less than their aspirations they blame it on bad
luck or circumstances.  A slight change of aspiration is much more practical."

"Well, regardless, I think it's a rotten business and I think that pig friend
of yours should be shot."

"Let's not fight about it, Kevin," Monique retreated.  She didn't want to get
him too upset.  His state of mind was perfect now for her next step in the
plan.  Gamal would be quite surprised at their little interruption.  She was
looking forward with extreme delight at the confrontation that was now ready
to take place.  "Come I'll show you some of the other rooms before we go.
Perhaps you'll change your mind about our host."

Kevin followed her through a series of smaller rooms.  They were equipped with
every known perverse device Kevin had ever hard of and then some.  He was
growing rapidly more ill with each new disclosure.  Each seemed to be worse
than the one before.  He could not comprehend how anyone could enjoy having
relations with some of the devices.  He just wanted to get out of this sick
place as quickly as possible and followed Monique more with a sense of duty
for her assistance with his problem than anything else.

They stopped before the door with the guard.  Monique had entered with Gamal
before so the guard made no move to stop them.

"This is the room where the American girl was to be entertained.  She didn't
want to join the crowd outside for her first experience," Monique explained to
the listlessly following Kevin.  He stepped through the door and adjusted his
eyes to the dim light.

Suddenly, Kevin's heart leaped to his throat!

In the dim light of the bed lamp was a completely stripped girl lying on the
bed.  Her head was turned away from the door groaning and the fat Arab had his
face buried deep between her wide splayed thighs licking at her cunt like a
hungry pig.  He was completely dressed and his black suit contrasted
distinctly with the whiteness of the weakly protesting girls skin.  Kevin
instinctively stepped back to leave the room when the still groaning girl
turned her face, eyes closed tight, toward the door.

The shock shot through him without warning, like a thunderbolt!  His knees
sagged momentarily.

It was his wife!

It took seconds for the full impact of the spectacle to hit him.  This dirty
Arab had his young wife down on the bed slobbering over her naked body lie an
animal!  His muscles coiled, and Kevin threw himself at the hated figure like
a wild bull, knocking Monique out of the way like a store dummy.  She screamed
just as Kevin landed on the totally unprepared Gamal, sending his fat body
rolling across the bed like a bowling ball.  He landed on the floor with a
thud knocking the table and lamp over with a crash and Kevin was right on him,
fists flailing like a windmill.  He could feel the soft flabby flesh of the
oil face giving way beneath his driving knuckles like so much putty.  He
wrapped his hands around the stunned Arabs throat and began beating his head
against the floor with all his strength.  He was a man gone mad and there was
no reasoning left in him.  He wanted to kill this vermin more than anything
else in the world, to destroy him for daring to touch his helpless wife this
way.

The guard rushed through the door and leaped across the bed, swinging wildly
at Kevin's head with the club he carried.  He connected with a sickening thud
and Kevin slumped over on the floor with a dizzying blackness enveloping him,
the light of the room faded painfully from his eyes.  There was nothing but a
great churning dark sea and he was sinking helplessly down into it, until even
that disappeared--

"Want to buy her for the show tonight, my love," Monique cooed down at the
Arab who was trying to rise dizzily from the floor.

"Are you mad," he spat at her.  "Who is this crazy fool anyway?"

"He's her jealous husband, luv.  He might enjoy watching her perform," Monique
suggested coyly.  "That would be sweet revenge and would give you something
different for your clients.  They are quite particular, I understand."

Gamal rubbed his throbbing head.  What the woman was saying made sense for his
clients and it would be a welcome revenge.  No one ever touched him and this
young punk had dared.  Yes, it would be sweet.  He obviously was the wildly
jealous type.  It would be good to make him squirm.

"Done," he said.  "It shall be a pleasure to pay such an intelligent woman the
additional amount this little trick obviously costs."

"You're sweet to do business with, my dear Gamal.  I was going to charge you
two thousand American more, but it will be only one thousand if you will give
me a car to take me to Paris now and put out of the way a certain desk clerk
named Shalla, at the Pensione Afrique.  Do it slowly, please."

"Both shall be done, my dear," Gamal answered with new respect for the
business acumen she had presented.  He liked people that could think well.  "I
see we shall be doing much business together in the future, your imagination
impresses me greatly."

"Thank you, Gamal.  I promise to keep your stables full with the best of the
young foreigners I can find.  Now, if you'll give me the money I shall be on
the way.  I want to reach Paris before tomorrow noon.  A new group of British
girls are coming through on tour.  Perhaps, I will have something else for you
soon."

"Wonderful," Gamal smiled, peeling the bills from his wallet.  "We shall be
waiting."

"Oh," Monique turned back as she started out the door, the money placed safely
in her handbag.  "Don't worry about the young girl not giving a good
performance.  She has received a good dose of aphrodisiac.  It should last for
several hours after she is fully awake.  You won't need the manacles."

Gamal licked his lips in anticipation of the coming spectacle as he waved
goodbye.  Yes, this Monique was clever.  Who else would have ever thought of
such an original, yet simple idea.  He would enjoy it too.  This little
bastard, who did he think he was?  He deserved everything he was going to get.

The room was blurred a dark gray and out of focus.  A low hum of voices
surrounded him.  Kevin groaned, and shook his head to clear the cob-webs that
kept his thoughts from coming through clearly.  He tried to move.  He
couldn't. It felt as though he were wrapped tightly in a cocoon and the glazed
picture of a colorful butterfly escaping and bursting forth into the air to
freedom flickered through his mind.  He was somewhere whirling in a great
vacuum, but where, he didn't know.  A dulling ache grew at the side of his
head as the whirling slowed and his vision cleared slightly.  He could see the
white shapes of faces now that seemed to be peering right at him from all
around a room.

A room that he suddenly recognized!

It was the room with the round bed and it was filled with people staring at
him.  The picture became more clear by the second and he could see amusement
in their eyes.  He tried to move again but still was held tightly in place.

"Welcome to our little party, Mr. Taylor," Kevin heard a voice sneer softly at
his side.  He painfully turned his head toward the sound and saw the fat, now
leering Gamal, smiling directly into his eyed He had a white bandage plastered
above his left eye and his nose was swollen slightly.  An evil grin lined his
lips.

Kevin suddenly remembered!  That horrible scene with Jean on the bed and this
pig touching her naked body.  His full senses roared back to him and he tried
to lunge at the smiling face but discovered that he was bound tightly to his
chair from his shoulders down to his ankles.  He tried to shout, but the sound
was choked back by a thick cotton gag held in place by a white scarf.  Kevin
was completely helpless.  The bonds held him fast.

"We are happy to have you Mr. Taylor, after your disgraceful little show a
while back," Gamal smiled to him from the next seat.  "We have arranged
something to teach you the etiquette of sharing.  You Americans really are a
bit selfish, you know.  Your sweet little wife doesn't object nearly as much
as you do.  In fact, she rather seems to enjoy it.  I did try it after your
silly interruption and I must say, with a little training, she has excellent
possibilities."

Kevin strained harder against his ropes until they were cutting into him like
wet rawhide.  He pictured with anguish Jean's white virginal body squirming
helpless beneath this filth.  He would kill this son-of-a-bitch if he had
harmed her.  What had happened to her?  What had happened to Monique?  His
first question was answered a moment later as he still struggled in his chair.

An announcer stood up from his seat, raising his hands for silence.  A hush
fell over the room as those present leaned forward to hear his introductory
remarks about the evenings performance.

"Tonight my friends," he smiled intimately, "we have a special treat.  You
know we always strive for the unusual so that you, our members, receive the
superior entertainment you deserve.  We have had many variations of shows, all
of which I think you have appreciated.  But tonight--tonight, I believe we
have the most interesting of all.  We have seen many rapes here, both male and
female."  He paused a moment to give his speech more effectiveness, "but we
have never had the interesting situation of a young bride ravished before the
eyes of her new husband.  Particularly one as possessive as this.  We have
decided to substitute her in the act as his fair punishment for the
unwarranted attack upon our benefactor."  A slight ripple of amused laughter
ran through the room at this statement.  "And she is certain to enjoy it, even
if he doesn't.  We have chosen an exceptional partner for her tonight.  You
have seen him perform before and is one of our favorites.  I would like to
re-introduce to you, "Pierre," our little French friend."

The crowd broke into a light restrained applause in keeping with the social
positions of most present.  It was apparent they were pleased with the
selection.  Kevin's eyes bulged in disbelief as a short dwarf-like man of not
more than four feet tall entered the room by the side door and bowed before
the crowd.  His eyes were small and sunk deep in his ugly over-sized head.
There was unmistakable cruelty registered in them, the look of a man who had
been teased an his life and who enjoyed taking it out on others more helpless
than he when he had the chance.

The dwarf, without further fanfare, stripped the robe he was wearing from his
small deformed body and handed it to a waiting attendant like a barer
preparing to go into the ring.  The crowd gasped at the size of his cock.  It
was huge relative to the size of his body and hung down almost below his knees
even in the soft state.  He was obviously proud of it as he took it in both
hands and walked around the edge of the circle displaying it to the
spectators.  He stopped in front of the straining Kevin and with a small
teasing grin, stroked it into a semi-hardness.  Kevin could not take his eyes
from the growing fleshy rod, unable to believe that it was going to be the
instrument that would ravish his helpless wife in front of this depraved
crowd.  At last, he clenched his eyes tightly shut to close out the horrible
sight.

The dwarf moved close to him, his grinning mouth a few inches from his ear.
"I understand she is very young and tender, my friend.  They are my favorite
kind. Pierre will show her what a lover is like.  You know you must treat them
as dirt or they will not respect you.  Have you done that to her?"  He reached
up and pulled Kevin's ear in a teasing manner that was pleasing to the crowd.
Snickers of amusement raced through Kevin's ears above the taunting voice of
the dwarf.  He could not believe this was happening.  It was a nightmare and
he would awaken soon and Jean would be lying peacefully next to him in bed.
That was the way it had to be.  This couldn't be real, things didn't happen
this way in the civilized world.

The hissing face of the taunting deformed little creature moved closer to
Kevin's, his foul breath nauseating him.

"Have you ever fucked your wife in the ass, my friend?"  the dwarf raised his
voice so that the crowd could hear him better.  Kevin's desperate shout came
through the gag as a mumble, his eyes flashed hate at the taunting face.
Gamal was almost rolling in laughter next to him, tears streaming from his
eyes as the teasing continued.  "No, you wouldn't, not you.  I can tell, you
have absolutely no imagination.  I must teach you things about controlling a
woman," he laughed, turning his short over developed body toward the bed.
"Bring me the little cunt.  I think lesson number one should begin."

With this, the side door through which the dwarf had appeared, opened again.
An attendant came into view, leading Jean by the hand behind him.  Kevin was
startled into immobility.  He froze, unable to move, his eyes bulging from
their sockets like fisheyes.  He watched his wife being led unresisting toward
the dwarf and the bed like a lamb to the slaughter and he could not help.
Tears began to stream from his eyes and he strained against the ropes, but it
was hopeless.  They had made certain he could not interfere.

He tried to close his eyes as the attendant stripped the robe from her,
exposing her luscious naked body beneath it.  He moaned as he saw the horrible
little dwarf reach up, his hands high above his head, and knead her full
exposed tits with his gnarled little fingers.  He waited for Jean's scream.
None came.  Instead, her mouth dropped open in a dazed rapture.  She looked as
though she was hardly conscious and yet she moved.  Her eyelids appeared heavy
and her eyes glassy, a slight mewl escaped from her lips as the dwarf pinched
the nipples hard and moved his head forward.  His face was even with her
smooth white belly and his tongue snaked out and teased into her navel,
bringing another mewl from her open mouth Kevin watched in transfixed horror
as the slobbering lips traced a path down the smooth flat plane to the soft
pubic hair guarding her secret parts.  The dwarf's hands dropped and placing a
thumb on either side of the fleshly lips of her cunt, he pulled them gently
apart. The great slobbering tongue leapt forward burying itself in Wee exposed
slit with a wet sluicing sound.

Kevin could not believe the sight before him.  Instead of fighting with all
her strength against these humiliating acts, his wife had instantly turned
into a groaning mass of passion.  She moved her feet far apart on the floor
like a native dancer and tangled her hands in the dwarfs hair pulling his face
tight into her crotch.  She ground her hips sensuously in time to the darting
tongue that probed hotly up into her wide split pussy.  Her eyes were closed
and her mouth hung open in undisguised ecstasy.

It couldn't be Jean!  It couldn't be the young virginal bride he had just
married several days ago!

Kevin's mind whirled in utter confusion as his eyes remained glued to the lewd
spectacle taking place in front of him.  Monique's words drifted hauntingly
back to him--American girl--wants to try it--frustrated--God!-- is that what
happened?  She couldn't be here of her own free will, she just couldn't.
Something was wrong.  Something was wrong!  The words screamed through his
tortured mind.  Monique couldn't be right, she just couldn't!

The scene belied his thoughts.  It was Jeans It was his bride of a few days
but not the one he knew, not the cold frigid girl he had wrestled with in the
back seat of cars so many centuries ago.  This was a new creature, one that he
did not know.  She was goading the deformed little man on with her hands and
pumping hips like a nymphomaniac gone wild.  Her muscles strained under the
tightness of her skin and Kevin could sec the cords of her inner thighs
standing out like taunt ropes ready to snap against the pressure as she thrust
her pelvis forward again and again against the munching face buried deep into
her already throbbing cunt.

"You see, my young friend, she does not need your assistance.  She does well
by herself," Gamal's amused voice spoke beside him.  "Relax and enjoy the
show. Your bride has just begun to exhibit her talents."

Kevin's resistance was crushed.  He had fought with all his strength against
the ropes holding him to the chair.  He had wanted to tear the vicious little
animal attacking his wife to pieces, but it was now she who was attacking.
She had pushed the dwarf back to the bed, still holding his face tightly
between her crotch and sat full down on it with her squirming buttocks.  She
was straddling the whipping tongue, grinding his head back down into the
mattress until it was only half visible, his hair protruding bushily from
between her full thighs, his legs kicking back toward the edge of the bed to
catch his breath.  It was she who was doing the ravishing, animal grunts of
lust coming in torrents from her lips.  It was obvious to the crowd, half of
whom were now stripped of their clothing, that she was racing for a climax
already, her body completely out of control.

The dwarf was helpless in her desperate grip.  He was trying with all his
strength to throw her from his suffocating body but to no avail.  He would
have choked in another second had not helpful hands from the assistants pulled
the jerking girl's body from him.  She screamed in protest, her legs kicking
futilely out into the empty air.

He sat up choking and sputtering, his face beet red from the lack of air.
"Turn her over, turn her over," he half shouted, "I'll show the fucking bitch
who's master here."

His face was blue with rage.  He had lost control of the situation.  The crowd
was laughing at him and too many crowds had laughed at him.  He had to show
them.  He had to make this bitch scream and scream good.

Kevin sickened, as he watched Jean's flailing body twisted about on the bed
until she was lying flat on her stomach.  Her belly ground into the mattress
still striving hopelessly for the near orgasm just out of reach.

The dwarf took her by the ankles and spread her long slim legs wide apart.  He
crawled up on his knees between her full thighs and spread the cheeks of her
ass with his hands.  From Kevin's position, he could see clearly the tiny
tight ass hole nestled in the crevice.  He thought he could see it throbbing
as it anticipated the dwarfs next move.  His hand ran up the inside of her
thigh all the way to the wetness of his wife's open cunt and his head dropped
to kiss the smooth oval ass cheeks, his tongue trailing down to lick the
crevice between then

Kevin could see the skin straining around the hole as the thumbs of the dwarf
pulled at the flesh around it.  His fingers probed at the puckered little red
inlet like teasing needles.  His wife groaned beneath him

"Spread 'em wider," the dwarf commanded.

Jean's legs opened until her toes were hanging over the rounded edges of the
bed behind her.  They were almost at right angles with her body.  Kevin
thought she would split.  The dwarfs finger probed and he could hear her groan
as it entered.  She jumped forward slightly from the unexpected pain, her
mouth wincing in unheeded protest.  She strained back at the intruding finger
as the rubbery flesh closed over it in forced acceptance.  A flicker of
surprised pleasure passed over her face as it dug to the first knuckle.

He moved it around in the tight expanding hole in preparation of what was to
follow, sawing it in and out expanding the tiny anus more and more.  Jean
wriggled her hips back against it, her hands clawing at the mattress in front
of her.  He dug another finger in, this time it hurt.  A short muffled squeal
escaped from her lips as she buried her face into the covers.  But the dwarf
persisted, placing one hand in the small of her back and pinning her to the
mattress.  He screwed both fingers into her mercilessly, stretching the tiny
puckered anus until she grunted in pain each time he twisted his hand.  She
was being skewered like a helpless animal on a spit.

Kevin watched in horror at the cruel subjugation of his wife by the deformed
little monster.  His mind registered disbelief as her flushed face, the hair
strewn down over it, began to register joy.  Her mouth opened and began to
pant and mewl as the cruel fingers worked around and around deep up her
wide-stretched rectum.  The ugly dwarf grinned as he prodded at the
defenseless asshole like an avenging angel.  Jean squirmed beneath his cruel
probes in total surrender.

"Fuck me there!"  she suddenly screamed, turning her head to the side so that
he could look down on it.  "Screw my ass!  Screw my ass!"

Kevin's stomach sickened as the dwarf pulled the fingers out of his young
writhing wife.  They seemed to come out reluctantly, the pink clasping skin
clinging to them until they withdrew with a wet vacuum-like sucking noise.

He pushed the cheeks apart again with his hands and dropped his face into the
crevice.  His tongue licked at the quivering hole teasingly until the
squirming girl couldn't stand it another minute.

"Oh God, fuck it!  Fuck it, please!"  she breathed in a thick passionate plea.
"Quick, quick, or I'll die!"

"Kneel, you little cunt," he ordered from behind her.

Kevin watched in horrified stillness as his wife struggled to her knees,
presenting the rounded white orbs of her buttocks up to the now wildly aroused
dwarf.  He stood up between her wide-spread thighs directly behind her, his
huge cock standing straight out with the head resting in her split crevice.
He was just the right height with him standing and her kneeling.

"Tickle my balls, you slut," he commanded gleefully.  She was at his mercy and
he intended to take full advantage of it.  He was at his best when he could
humiliate.  His eyes roamed over triumphantly to the tortured face of Kevin
who watched his helpless bride reach back under her body like an automate and
gently stroke at the hairy testicles dangling down between her spread thighs.
She stroked at them hungrily, as though they were sacred eggs that shouldn't
be broken.

"Now put it in, bitch," he commanded roughly.  Her hands moved hesitantly from
the softness of the balls and grasped his huge rock-hard cock.  A sudden
expression of fear flashed through her eyes as her fingers wrapped around it
and perceived for the first time the enormity of the throbbing instrument.
She stroked it experimentally, indecision apparent on her tortured face.

"Put it in, I said," he snarled again, digging his fingers harshly into the
tops of her thighs.

Jean submitted to the cold command and pressure of his hands and placed the
tip against the tight hairless opening.  Kevin could see it begin probing and
working against her anus, the muscles of the dwarfs stomach standing out as he
strained forward.  It was worming its way into her, looking like a giant
battering ram trying to force its way into his bride's quivering behind.  He
clenched his eyes tightly shut as the straining nether ring suddenly gave way
before the pressure and the huge head popped inside with a sudden rush.  A
slight hiss of escaping air could be heard as it entered.

He watched her hopelessly trying to pull away but the dwarf, grinning
lasciviously behind, held her tight.

"Ooooohhh," she groaned from the pain, her face contorted tightly from the
first ravishment of her defenseless anus.  His pressing thighs forced her
forward and she began slipping away.

"Shove it back, shove it back!"  the dwarf shouted.

Jean hunched back suddenly in automatic obedience to the loud command.  To the
bereaved Kevin her body looked like that of a pet dog straining back on all
fours against his master's leash.  The dwarf, spittle now drooling from his
lips, hugged her waving hips tight and pushed with all his strength against
her futile screams

"Oh God, it hurts, it hurts, it's too big, too big!"

But the hard fleshy rod surged forward battering the rubbery resistant flesh
before it without mercy.

"Oooohhh, Oooohhh," she groaned as his pelvis suddenly smacked loudly against
the softness of her twin white buttocks.  The rampaging instrument was buried
to the balls in her nearly split anus.  She was hopelessly impaled.

Now gasping with arousal at the voluptuous white body skewered on the end of
his stiff fleshy rod, he began sawing rhythmically deep into the pink inflamed
passage.

And before the unbelieving eyes of her husband, Jean began to move backwards
to meet the forward thrusts of the dwarfs body.  She was reveling _n the lewd
sodomizing of her backside like a slave of old bending before her cruel
master.  The dwarf rammed into her with hard cruel thrusts, watching the pink
flesh follow the probing cock out on the backstroke as though it were fighting
its withdrawal.  The pain suddenly seemed strangely pleasant to her and she
turned her head from side to side, her hair thrashing against the bed so that
the audience could follow her feelings by the reflection in her face.  Her
teeth were bared back over her lips in a masochistic joy that pictured to the
hypnotized onlookers the feelings of the giant cock boring into her.

Kneeling above her, the dwarf watched with sadistic delight his cock pushing
and pulling at the pink flesh surrounding her clasping asshole.  His eyes
locked on Kevin's evilly and he began a series of brutal hard thrusts that
sent the still growing member sinking to the hilt in his wife's wide-split
crevice.  His balls smacked rhythmically against her cunt below bringing
further mewlings of pleasure hissing through her clenched teeth.  Her glazed
eyes stared unseeingly around the room.  Kevin thought he saw them stop on him
and a flicker of puzzled recognition pass through them, but with another hard
jolt from the dwarf sawing into her anus, they jerked away in reflex to the
sudden pain.  She had forgotten him.  There was nothing left for him.  Monique
had been right.  Jean had come of her own free will.  Her wild uninhibited
exhibition with this deformed monster in front of him proved it.  And she was
enjoying it so much that she didn't even recognize her own husband.  Small wet
tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he watched his bride's total
subjugation to the dwarf.

He saw the white vicious penis disappearing all the way up her gyrating ass
with each cruel stroke.  Not a bit could be seen left as it buried itself into
the tight resistant passage, the straining cock reaching far into her shaking
belly.  Kevin wondered when it was going to explode.  He couldn't bear to see
that.  That would be too much to see someone else shooting his cum far into
his wife's defenseless ass.  The humiliation would be too great for him to
stand.

But even as the tears swelled in his eyes from the horrible thought, he
watched Jean's face flushing a bright red, her head turning from side to side,
her long black hair strewn down over her sweating forehead like a mad woman.
She was panting for more.

"Ooohh, fuck it, fuck it, on, on," she gasped as the dwarf pressed tight
against her soft buttocks and rotated the head around and around deep inside
her rectum.  Her moaning was adding to his pleasure and his hands crawled over
her buttocks and back kneading the flesh like fresh dough.  Bright red welts
followed his fingers as they dug into her tender milk white skin.

"Oh, yes," she panted, even at the pain, "keep it up, keep it up."

He pulled it out almost to the tip of the blood-filled head so that the
audience could see the giant inflated testicles ready to explode.  It was
apparent to them now that he was just holding it back to torment the squirming
impaled girl longer.  This was part of his pleasure, this was his ultimate
reward.

He reached down and pulled her ass cheeks wide apart beginning to drive his
pelvis into her soft yielding buttocks with hard vicious smacks that resounded
through the room.  His sweating face dripped onto her lovely hollowing back
making it glisten in the light over the bed.  His breath came in short puffing
gasps like a runner, his eyes locked down on the whiteness of her quivering
body that slipped over his plunging cock like a tight fitting glove.  He had
lost control of himself as he felt his cock growing like a tire inflating.
His balls hung heavy from the sperm building there and they had to be emptied
soon or burst from the excruciatingly delicious pressure.

Jean mumbled incoherently beneath his pounding hips behind her.  She waved her
ass salaciously back against his eager thrusts.  She wanted him to cum.  She
wanted him to shoot his great wad of sperm deep into her belly.  She wanted
him to split her open and drown her in its loveliness.  She could feel a great
wetness in the crevice of her ass and there was no longer any pain, only a
feeling of being filled, filled as she had never been before.  Her shoulders
dropped to the mattress so that her ass was now sticking high up in the air
and the great plunging cock could fuck her at will.  Her eyes gazed at the
side and a hazy figure came into focus for a moment.  Was it Kevin?  No, the
thought that she had been fooled before drifted crazily through her mind.  He
was gone, gone forever.  There was nothing now but this great fleshy mass
filling her with pleasure and pain and the pain was pleasure too.  She ground
happily back against it as she felt it throb into a hugeness that could mean
only one beautiful thing.

He was going to cum!  Kevin numbly watched the dwarf throw his head back and
groan as he thrust the cock's full expanded length into his wife's full
stretched rectum, his body jerking convulsively, his hands pulling at her
flesh like the talons of a hungry hawk.  He screamed, uttering strange crazy
sounds that mixed wildly with the obscene insults he hurled spitefully at
Kevin's vanquished bride writhing on her knees beneath him.

"Ohhh, baby, ooohhh daddy's coming you little fucking bitch, oh, yes.  Screw
back!  Screw back!"

Jean, beneath his pounding body felt the first delicious waves of the hot
white liquid creaming into the depths of her rectum.  It ran through her body
like the first warning shock waves of a great tidal eruption, smacking into
her belly and rebounding around like a great licking tongue sunk deep inside
her.  She screamed her own release at the same time as it gushed from her open
cunt, drenching the dwarfs hairy balls pressed tightly against the spewing
opening.  His cum ran down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks and they
mingled together in a single stream of thick viscous fluid, attesting to the
animal joy of their unnatural coupling.

Gamal's revenge was complete as the dwarf pulled his wet shining cock from the
still kneeling girls forever expanded rectum.  This would teach this bastard
this bastard American to burst in on him when he was just beginning to enjoy
himself.  He reached over and put his hand under Kevin's unresisting chin and
turned his face toward him.  "I shall take her next in the privacy of my own
quarters.  I think my little friend has broken her in to my liking.  I want to
finish her education my way.  I am not so gentle and understanding."  His
beady evil little eyes gleamed at the helpless resignation in Kevin's look.

Tears still trailed down his cheeks from the humiliation of watching his
lovely young wife ravished cruelly before him and even participating in her
own humiliation.  She did all this without even recognizing him.  His spirit
was completely crushed by the horrible experience and he made no move to
resist when he was led from the room.  He did not even look back at the bed
where Jean was just beginning to stir again.  There was nothing left for them.
He would take the first plane home tomorrow.

There was nothing else he could do for her or himself.  She had found her
place.  Now he had to go home and find his in this rotten world if he could.
He had never felt so lost and useless in his entire life.

He was accompanied to the front door by several of Gamal's men and with his
hands still bound tightly behind his back put in the back seat of a long black
limousine and driven in a round about way back to his hotel.  No one spoke a
word until the car pulled up at the curb and his hands had been released

"Monsieur Gamal said to give you this," the thick dark man sitting next to him
in the back seat said handing him a manila envelope.  "You will have need of
it when you return to the States."

Without speaking, Kevin automatically reached for the packet and placed it in
his inside coat pocket as he stepped from the car.  He stood for a solitary
moment watching it pull away from the curb and enter the heavy stream of
traffic still flowing along the wide boulevard even at this late hour.

There goes my last chance of ever finding Jean, he thought dryly as it
disappeared into the blinding cover of the oncoming sea of headlights a block
down the street.  He half walked, half staggered to the door of the hotel, too
tired and emotionally upset to feel or do anything right now.  He would worry
about it tomorrow when his senses returned and then do something--if there was
anything to be done.  He had a lot of thinking to do before that plane left
tomorrow afternoon.

Kevin awoke the next morning to the loud medley of traffic and street vendor
sounds that carried up through his window from the street five storys below.
His head felt as though a pile-driver were crushing down on it and the thick
cotton taste in his mouth almost nauseated him.  He groaned, and sat up in
bed, blinking his eyes at the full bright rays of sun that trickled in through
the breeze fluttering curtains.

It was a short moment before he could recall where he was and what he was
doing in this strange European looking room that had the washbasin right out
in the open next to the bed.  Then, slowly the entire sordid nightmare of the
night before flickered back through his fogged mind.  He groaned aloud and
fell back to the pillow as the horrid vision of Jean's body squirming down on
her knees in front of that dwarf who had sodomized her mercilessly bored
itself deep in his brain.  He clenched his fists tightly together until the
whites of his knuckles showed as he recalled the ecstatic abandoned look of
joy on her face as she had let herself be screwed like a common whore in front
of all those people.  And she had been loving it.  He tried to the best of his
ability to understand, to make himself understand and find an excuse for her,
but there could be none He had seen her.  He had seen her doing it, not once,
but twice if he included the fat Arab that had been licking her in that room
when he had walked in unexpectedly.  Monique had said the girl was there for
some unusual kicks and she had no reason to lie to him, plus she did not even
know it was Jean until they entered the room.  She had just been told by that
Arab Gamal that it was some American girl who wanted to taste the seamier side
of French night-life.  It was just by their accidental rummaging around
through the place that they had burst in on those two.

Well, she had certainly tasted it and in first class style.  He wondered how
many others present at that little gathering had tried it too after he had
been sent away from the place.  Jean had looked like she might be in the mood
to show half the room a good time.  It was just strange that he had never
recognized the nymphomaniac streak in her before or that it had never shown
itself during some of their sessions in the back seat of his car when they had
been dating or at least back in the hotel room in Paris where she had screamed
so convincingly at his advances.

Perhaps Monique had been right.  Women are strange creatures and there is no
way of knowing what their reaction to a given situation will be until they are
actually placed in that situation.  He could have never in his wildest dreams
have imagined that underneath the stiff upper New England facade of
respectability in Jean that such an uncontrolled demon of passion smoldered.
And what was more mysterious and difficult to understand, was how it was set
off so violently in the short span of a few days since she had run away from
him in Paris.  There was so much he could not understand and so many questions
he wanted answered that it caused his head to throb more than it already did.
But, he had to know some of these things before he left Jean here even though
she had done so much to him in the last few hours.  He would at least ask a
few questions to ease his own mind if he could find the right places.

Later, after he had pulled himself from his bed and shaved and showered, he
had coffee downstairs at the restaurant and planned out his days itinerary.
He had called the airline office and found that he could get the plane for
Paris with direct connections to New York at seven o'clock tonight.  That
should give him plenty of time to go to the hotel that Jean had indicated in
her cable to him and ask a few questions.  He could possibly find out whet
happened to Monique also.  He had wondered where she had gone after he had
been knocked unconscious last night and decided she had probably gotten out of
the place. He couldn't blame her very much under the circumstances after they
had seen Jean lying under that Arab friend of hers, with her legs spread wide
open in invitation.  She had probably been so upset with what she had seen
that she had gone on back to Paris.  He couldn't blame her very much after all
she had done to try and patch things up between two juvenile young newlyweds.
He would at least like to let her know that he didn't blame her for the way
things had turned out.  She had no way of knowing what Jean was really like or
that she would turn nympho overnight.  Flow could she possibly know if even
her own husband didn't.  He paid the waiter for the coffee and stepped out of
the hotel to hail a taxi clutching the address of the hotel in his hand.  The
hall porter had said it wasn't too far away but had had a funny expression on
his face when he mentioned the district it was located in but Kevin shrugged
it off. Nothing mattered too much now anyway and he was just taking the trip
to satisfy a vague curiosity about Jean's sudden about face.  Last night had
destroyed any love he felt for her and nothing he found out today would make
any difference in his plans to go home and file for divorce immediately.

Shalla, when he heard the footsteps on the stairs leading up to the second
floor desk leaped to his feet in excitement.  He had been waiting for Monique
to return with his share of the price for the American girl since early this
morning.  He had been counting with glee over and over again the money he had
made from her yesterday and it was a considerable amount considering she had
taken on between twenty and thirty customers not including the amount he made
for the exhibition she put on with the African.  Now, with his share of her
sale to the syndicate, he could start his own business again and be on easy
street.  He had hoped this time it was her coming up the stairs but as they
drew nearer a slight tinge of disappointment crossed over his brow.  The steps
were too heavy.  It was not a woman, just probably another tired seaman who
wanted a room for the night He was surprised suddenly when an American
appeared at the top of the steps looking as though he had just stepped from
the advertising section of one of those American men's magazines Shalla had
sometimes seen, old and used, in the barbershop.  He must be wealthy and
perhaps looking for a woman for the day.  Why else would he come down to this
section of town.  Damn, if he only had the American girl here now he could
probably get four or five times the price he would have from the customers he
had sold to yesterday.

"May I help you, Monsieur," he purred in his best English, hoping to make an
immediate impression on him.  He enjoyed speaking to them first in English and
always getting the query, "Why, how did you know I was American?"  It was
strange that they didn't even know themselves they always looked so different
from Europeans in their neat looking ever- pressed suits and shirts.

Kevin looked at the desk clerk for a moment before answering.  He was still
stunned by the appearance of the neighborhood when he had gotten out of the
cab downstairs.  There were nothing but cheap looking bars, sailors, and
prostitutes for blocks.  Why on earth had Jean chosen a place like this to
stay in unless she were really looking for a chance to wallow in filth.  Had
she gone completely out of her mind.  It certainly would appear that way.

"I--I wonder if you might answer a few questions for me," he managed to
stammer after an uncomfortable moment.

"Certainly," Shalla grinned, sensing that there was some money to be made here
if he played his cards right.  Truly this was his week of "bonne chance" and
rebirth.  "Anything that Shalla does not know about Marseille, Monsieur, is
not worth knowing."

"I would like some information about a girl," Kevin said softly, his voice
lowered in suspicion of the unsavory looking character standing in front of
him.

"Ah, but you have come to the right place," Shalla answered in a low
confidential voice so endemic to pimps.  "I can arrange any type you want,
Monsieur, or any color.  And it will not be too expensive.  You have come to
the right man."

"I--I didn't mean that kind of woman," Kevin quickly corrected.  "I mean a
woman that was registered here at your hotel.  A young American one."

Shalla's grin suddenly faded as the recognition flickered through his mind.
He suddenly recalled the cable the American girl had sent to Paris.  This was
her husband!  Panic seized him for a moment as thoughts of the police
following close behind came to him.  He had sudden frightening thoughts of the
entire transaction being destroyed by an over-zealous husband and with that
the destruction of his profits from the deal.  This would ruin him and his
plans for his business that he had spent the whole morning dwelling on

"H--Have you seen her?"  Kevin's voice interrupted his thought.  "Her name was
Taylor, Jean Taylor."

"I--I don't know, Monsieur, if I can help you," Shalla hesitated, placing his
finger against his chin as though trying to recall.  "I am not always on duty
here."

"It would mean a great deal to me," Kevin offered.  "I will pay you well for
any information you can give me."

Shalla sensed that he should just deny any knowledge whatsoever of the girl
but the mention of money started his mind working again.  He could kill two
birds with one stone by misleading the American and still take his money for
the information even if it was false.

"Perhaps if Monsieur could describe the young lady," he ventured cautiously,
"you see we have so many customers, particularly during the tourist season.  I
don't know if I would recognize her."

"I think you would remember her if you saw her " Kevin said.  "She was a very
pretty girl with long dark hair.  Twenty-three years old and built very well."

The thoughts of the American girl's body thrashing under him in wild abandon
that first day drifted back to Shalla as Kevin continued his description.  He
felt a slight tinge in his prick as he thought back on it.  Yes, he mused
silently to himself, she did have a nice body and again a surge of secret
power rippled through him as he listened to her husband stand before him and
describe a being that he in all probability knew better than he did.  He
wondered what his reaction would be if he knew that he had fucked her silly
not long ago and then watched while multitudes of others used her body for any
purpose they wanted for hours on end Yes, it did give him a secret sense of
power to listen to this poor fool here who probably was looking upon him as
nothing but a dirty illiterate Arab as his wife did when she first came into
the hotel.  Perhaps he could make up a story that would be half true that
would bring him down a peg or two.  He would enjoy watching him squirm.

"And, oh yes, she was traveling with an older French woman.  Nice looking also
and about thirty-nine or forty years old," Kevin added as he finished
describing Jean to the apparently close listening Shalla.

"Yes," Shalla finally said after a long minutes thought.  "I do recall such a
pair.  What is it exactly that Monsieur wishes to know about them?"

"Nothing in particular," Kevin flustered for a moment.  "I--I just wondered if
the young one had any v-visitors or went out much at night."

"Ah," Shalla's face brightened as though in comprehension.  "Monsieur is a
detective, no possibly, for the young ladies husband?"

"Y--Yes I am," Kevin lied, thinking it might be the least painful way to ask
embarrassing questions.  In fact he was glad that Shalla had made the mistake
as it wouldn't put him in the position of the jealous husband chasing after an
errant wife.

"Well then, if it is a business matter then I think I can he of assistance,"
Shalla grinned, proud of his cleverness in leading the American on to think
that he did not know he was her husband.  "How does fifty American dollars
sound for my information?"

"Yes, that will do," Kevin said, matter-of-factly, and reached into his pocket
and pulled out his wallet.  He carefully peeled five tens from it and placed
them on the desk in front of the grinning Arab.  He didn't like the man's
looks at all, but this was the only thing that he had to go on so he had no
choice in the matter.  His own personal pride dictated that he at least find
something out about Jean's activities the last few days before he went home
and filed for divorce.  Even if it was all over he would like it verified by
someone else too.  He still was having trouble believing what his own eyes had
seen last night.

"Good," Shalla said, tucking the bills carefully under his robe.  "Now we
understand each other "

"Please hurry," Kevin asked "I haven't much time and I want to know all you
can remember about her movements while she was staying here "

"Well actually, Monsieur, there is not much to tell.  She was just like many
of the other young tourists.  She came here for a good time because evidently
she had a very negligent husband who could not satisfy her back in the States
or somewhere.  It is a very common cause for the women who come here.  They
have no fear that their little indiscretions will become known.

Shalla paused for a moment watching with secret satisfaction the blank
expression on Kevin's face.  He knew this would get to him because he recalled
the groans of passion and relief from the American girl and knew she had never
been screwed the way he had given it to her before.  There must have been
something lacking in the husband.  Shalla had the knife in him, he knew, and
he twisted it further as he watched the color of Kevin's skin ashen slightly
as the words he was hearing sunk into his mind.

"She had several lovers here the first day and just did not seem to be able to
get enough.  She kept going out into the streets for more.  Do you believe it,
Monsieur, she even tried to get me into her room but I explained to her that I
am a business man and not for that kind of thing."

"The Arab was almost bursting inside now with the joy of watching Kevin squirm
before his words.  It was all he could do to keep a serious expression on his
face as he described a few of the lovers that Jean had brought back into the
room with her.  He had no way of knowing just how devastatingly effective his
lies were as he did not know that Kevin had watched Jean being sodomized in
apparent ecstasy last night and was at the point where he would believe
anything without question.  Shalla had his final blow for the spoiled young
American now.  He had been saving it for the last of the descriptions to make
certain it hit with the correct impact.

"And, Monsieur, the last she brought here was enough to make a man cringe.  He
was a giant Nubian black from the south of Algeria.  A sailor I think and he
must have been built big enough to kill any ordinary woman but she loved him I
could hear wild sounds coming from her room for hours after they went inside.
And it was disgraceful, the way they made noises like animals.  I was tempted
to knock on the door and throw them both out.  I was afraid they would disturb
the whole hotel, Monsieur, and we must protect our clientele from such
inconveniences.  Do you not agree?"

"Do you not agree, Monsieur?"  Shalla repeated, an indignant expression on his
face.  He pushed the question to force Kevin to answer.  He wanted him to have
to speak and show his emotional weakness.  No wonder the girl had been so
hungry with someone so weak for a husband.  It was unusual too, he mused.  The
American sailors that came into Marseille had the reputation for being the
most insatiable men on earth and one didn't see the whores of the town out
working for days after the American fleet left.  It was joked about the
quarter that there was not one left that could walk after such an ordeal.
Well, this one was different, he was not the common American stock.  It would
be good for him to suffer a penance for his cowardice.

"Yes, yes of course, you could not let them make so much noise," Kevin said
slowly, his eyes misting.  "And what of the older woman?"  he queried after a
pause.

"Ah, Monsieur, that was the mystery.  She was the tower of virtue, which is
most unusual for French women.  She tried very hard to hold the young girl
down.  They had just yesterday a loud argument right here in front of me about
the way she was acting but she would pay no attention to the French lady.  She
just told her to mind her own business that she knew what she wanted out of
life now."

"And what did the French woman say?"  Kevin asked.  This must have been after
she had returned from picking him up at the station yesterday and he was
curious even in his grief about what she had tried to do.

"She just said to the girl that she has a surprise for her and for her to be
good tonight."

"And did she?"  Kevin knew the answer after what he had seen last night but
wanted it substantiated again for some unknown reason in him that would not
admit Jean had turned so quickly away from him.  "Did she ask you about going
to a special place or anything like that?"

Shalla paused for a moment.  He could sense that this was a loaded question
and knew also that if the American knew about that special place and the fact
she may have asked about it, then someone had told him that he had directed
her there.

"Is there a particular reason you asked, Monsieur?"  Shalla asked cautiously.

"Yes, there is," Kevin replied, innocent of what the Arab was thinking.
"Someone said she was directed to one of those exhibition and orgy places last
night and may have gone."

"Oh, why yes, I do remember her asking about one, but Monsieur, I know of no
such places and I explained it to her."

"Most probably in one of the bars on the street.  They would all know about
them.  I understand there are several around the city of Marseille.  I am
certain she asked as she seemed determined to find something unusual and
bizarre in the way of sexual experience.  She also said something about
finding a happiness she had never known before.  We get many strange ones
here, Monsieur, and I would say she was one of the strangest.  You must tell
her husband, Monsieur, not to expect her to ever come home.  They always find
themselves a lover and stay.  I have seen hundreds like her."

Kevin's heart sank.  He had heard enough.  It was obvious now from what the
Arab was saying and what he had seen last night that Jean had played him for a
complete fool all this time.  He had been a child and nothing more in her
eyes. Well if that was the way she wanted it then there was nothing he could
do or wanted to do for that matter, it was her life and she had obviously
decided to go about it without him.

"Thank you for your assistance," Kevin mumbled as he turned and started toward
the stairs.  "You've been very kind."

"It was nothing, Monsieur," Shalla smiled as he watched him disappearing down
toward the street.  "I am glad to be of help to you."

He fingered the crisp ten dollar bills happily in his pocket.  He could hardly
wait to place it with the amount he had collected yesterday from pimping for
the American's wife.  It would make a handsome amount in itself and he would
be a rich man when the French lady came with the rest He was not worried that
she would not come.  She needed this hotel to do her business in and even if
later she decided to try another he would still find her.  Besides, she knew
he knew all about the operation and he could always threaten to go to the
police with what he knew.  No, she would come back this afternoon and he might
even drag her back into the room and try a little more of his new partner.  He
whistled happily to himself as he tidied up behind the counter preparing for
the days rush of prostitutes and customers that would want to rent the rooms
by the hour.

Kevin waved to the taxi from the sidewalk and entered it quickly when it
stopped at the curb.  Small streams of tears had begun to run from the corners
of his eyes and he wanted to get off the street as quickly as possible so that
no one would see him It was ridiculous for a grown man to be crying on the
streets like this.  As the cab drew away from the curb, he noticed two dark
looking men entering the hotel.  They looked vaguely familiar from somewhere
but it wasn't important.  In his grief everyone looked alike.

Shalla heard the noise on the stairs and for the second time that morning his
pulse quickened.  It must be her this time, the walk was soft like a woman
tiptoeing.  It drew closer up the stairs and sounded strangely like two women.
He lifted up on his tiptoes so that he could see farther over the counter and
down the stairs.  Strange, he thought, two more men.  Algerians this time.
What could they want at this hour unless it were women.  Perhaps this was his
lucky week.

"Your name Shalla?"  one of them asked casually as they advanced to the desk.

"Why, yes, it is Monsieurs," he answered slowly.  "May--may I help you?"

The last thing Shalla saw on this earth was the silencer end of a snub-nosed
automatic that appeared suddenly in the hand of the man who had asked the
question.  It puffed softly three times straight at his belly bringing a
surprised gush of air from his open mouth before he pitched forward stone-dead
across the counter.  The man who had pulled the trigger walked behind the
sprawled body and reaching under the robe withdrew his hand filled with crisp
French francs and American ten dollar bills.  He smiled toothily at his
companion, quickly dividing it in half and handing one pile to him before they
disappeared silently back down the stairs from which they had entered.

As Kevin finished packing his bags he picked up the suit he had worn last
night from the floor where he had left it and started to fold it into the
case.  As he shook the jacket to straighten the wrinkles a packet fell from
the inside pocket to the floor.  It was the manila envelope he had been given
by one of the men who had brought him back to the hotel last night.  He had
forgotten about it in his anxiety today to get to the hotel where Jean had
stayed.

In feet, he thought dryly, I've forgotten almost everything about last night.
Almost.

He opened it carefully not wanting to tear the thin onion skin sheets of paper
inside.  He unfolded the thin sheets and began reading a typewritten note on
the first sheet.  It said simply:


Kevin,

I am sorry about everything and the mistake we have made in our marriage.  The
last several days without you have shown me that there are better things in
life than the simple mundane existence we accept at home.  I have fallen in
love with the life here and intend to stay forever.  You will have to explain
to my family why I have not returned with you.  Please use the enclosed
documents for that purpose and do not attempt to find me.  I do not wish to be
bothered by anyone from my old life again.

Jean


It was her note alright.  He would recognize the signature anywhere.  She must
have written it last night after he had caught her with that Arab in the room.
Well, she couldn't have put it more bluntly and she certainly had fallen in
love with the life if her little exhibition last night with that dwarf was any
indication.  The Arab desk clerk's little disclosures of her side activities
more than substantiated it.  Well, if she wanted it that way, there was
nothing he could do about it.

He flipped the page to the first attachment.  It was obviously a death
certificate from the Prefecture of Marseille made out in Jean's name.  It also
had all the pertinent data about her.  The information could have only come
from her.  With it was attached a Certificate of Burial again certified by the
Prefecture of Marseille.  Cause of death was listed as accidental drowning at
the local beach.  Both were complete with official registration numbers.

Well, she certainly has thought of everything.  He knew her old man would
raise a stink when he got back and have half the private detectives in France
here in a matter of hours if he just said she stayed here because she wanted
to be left alone.  He knew he could never tell the real story.

He reached for the phone and instructed the operator to get the local
Prefecture office in charge of issuing death certificates.  He also instructed
her to get an English speaking clerk on the line.  After several minutes of
gibberish in French a thick accented voice boomed into the line.

"Can I be of service, Monsieur?"

"Yes, you can," Kevin answered quickly.  "I want to verify the correctness of
a death certificate filed the last several days with your department.  Can you
do it for me without much trouble."

"Why of course, Monsieur, we have the files right here.  If you will kindly
give me the number of the filing or the name of the deceased I will fetch it
immediately."

"The number is M64589.  Dated yesterday.  Do you need more?"

"No, that is fine, Monsieur.  Just one moment."  There was a muffled noise at
the other end of the line as the clerk laid the phone on the desk and moved
away from it.  Kevin reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of
cigarettes, taking out and lighting it while he was waiting.  He would see how
efficient Jean had had her friends be.  This would be the first thing her
father would have checked.  If it was verified then he would do nothing else.
What could he do?  One had to believe official documents He tensed for a
moment as he heard the phone being lifted back from the desk again.

"Monsieur?"  the accented voice came back.

"Yes, I am here," Kevin replied.

"We have the number.  It is for a Mrs.  Kevin Taylor of the United States.
No?"

"Yes, it is," Kevin answered surprised.  "What is listed as the cause of
death?"

"It is accidental drowning, Monsieur.  A sad case.  We do not like to lose
tourists.  It is bad publicity for our city and France is suffering enough
from Monsieur DeGaulle's anti-American policy.  Do you know Monsieur we have
lost over twenty-five percent of our tourists because they refuse to come to a
country that turns its back on its savior in two wars.  It is a shame
Monsieur. It is a shame."

"Yes, yes of course," Kevin replied, cutting him off.  He was in no mood for a
political discussion now.  "Thank you for your help in this matter."

"Not at all, Monsieur, we are glad to be of service."

Kevin hung up the phone and walked to the window.  He looked out over the blue
of the Mediterranean for a long moment, thinking back to his arrival here
yesterday and the optimism he had had about a reconciliation with Jean.  It
all seemed an eternity ago and yet only a few short hours had passed.

He folded the certificates and placed them carefully back in the envelope.
Yes, he would use them as an explanation when he arrived home tomorrow.  He
had no other excuse.  No one would believe him if he told the true story and
besides it wouldn't be fair to Jean.  She had a right to privacy if she wanted
it and he would help her get it.  It was the least he could do after letting
her dowel in Paris &t night when it all began so long ago.

The girl dropped the soft clean white robe from her trim well tapered body on
the command of the short dark Arab standing in front of her.  His name was
Mahguib and he controlled with an iron hand the sale of all the fresh young
European women that passed through the Algiers division of the organization.
He had just received a fresh shipment of four girls from France this morning
and already had them out on the platform for inspection by the prospective
buyers.  He could not hold them here very long because of the pressure of the
authorities since the revolution.  They did not forbid his trade completely as
they knew the tribal chieftains who now supported the government would take a
dim view of their supply of white girls being cut off and possibly revolt
again.  But they did require that he do it more discreetly than it had been
done when the French were here.  After all, this was one of the new socialist
societies and must protect their world image as such in the United Nations and
before the world press.  One never knew when an Interpol agent might penetrate
the mother organization and blow the whistle.  If this happened, then the
Socialist State needed a scapegoat and Mahguib knew very well who that
scapegoat would be.  A firing squad was the only acceptable penalty for
disgracing the state and he did not have the slightest inclination for ending
his term here on earth in that brutal manner.

"Now turn for the Emir, my dear," he coaxed sweetly to her.  "Let him see the
abundance of charms and treasures you have to offer."

Jean followed his commands as a well-trained show bitch.  She had learned over
the last several months that life was much more pleasant for her if she
followed the orders she was given.  Gamal had groomed her well for the role
she was now to play for the remainder of her life.  She had resisted his
training the first several weeks, still hoping that Kevin would come to free
her from the horrible degradations to which she was being subjected nightly.
Finally, after a time, and seemingly endless doses of the aphrodisiac she had
been introduced to the drug hashish.  That, plus the final acceptance of the
hopelessness of her position had made her a willing pupil for all the secrets
of pleasure Gamal had taught her.  She had learned well and had quickly become
his favorite even up until the time he was forced to finally send her across
the Mediterranean because of police pressure on his operation.

She looked down at the Arab chieftain studying her and with a sudden deft
movement of her hands brought them up under her breasts, cupping them into
twin rounded peaks of firm white flesh as she had been taught.  She tweaked
the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and teased them into tiny hard
duds that captured his eyes immediately.  She could see a gleam of desire
flicker momentarily through his face, and then turning to Mahguib, he raised
three fingers in offer, each finger indicating a thousand American dollars.
Mahguib shook his head in refusal.

"My dear, Emir, this is a fresh young American girl, almost a virgin.  She is
worth at least ten thousand dollars the way things are today.  Come take a
look here."

Mahguib led the old gentleman around behind the small circular stand on which
Jean was standing.  It was about three feet off the ground which made her
buttocks even with the level of their eyes.

"Now, my dear, bend forward and let the Chief see more of your treasures."

Jean bent over, spreading her legs about two feet apart on the stand.  She
could hear a slight gasp of approval from behind her as the Chief looked
straight up between her slightly spread legs.

"Now reach back and open it for him, dear.  Let him see how tight you are."

Jean reached back with both hands around her buttocks, and looking back at the
Sheik with a sweet seductive smile on her face, spread the lips of her vagina
slowly and tantalizingly apart.  The moist pink flesh of her tiny narrow slit
became visible slowly as she gently parted the soft dark pubic hair covering
the plane between her legs.  Another gasp from behind and she saw the old
Sheik raise seven fingers.  Mahguib nodded his head in agreement.  Jean was
sold for the first time.  She didn't realize it in the haze of the hashish
they had fed her just before the sale but it was only the first in many to
follow.  Not all of them would be this easy or this pleasant and the price
would drop with each further sale.  But now, at this moment she was happy.
She had fulfilled the first function she had been trained for, to be bought.
Now, she must fill the second, to please her master.  This she was also
prepared for, the steady supply of hashish would insure that she remained so
prepared.

She stepped down from the stand, replacing the robe about her shoulders and
followed her new master from the room toward the exit.  Mahguib had ordered
that her things be sent to the car to avoid delay.  She winced slightly at the
bright desert sun that beat down outside while at the same time a thousand
miles north in Europe a woman named Monique smiled sweetly at another young
tourist boarding the Marseille Express.  Soon, she too would be wincing in the
desert sun as she followed her first faceless master off into nowhere.



The End