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Archive name: abducted.txt (MF, FF, wife, bond, prost,
intr, white-slavery, drugs, dwarfs)
Authors name: Anonymous
Story title : Abducted Bride

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-= This work is copyrighted to the author © 2000. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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The Abducted Bride
Pixnix Anonymous Author (1994)


The smooth trim Marseille Express burrowed its way 
swiftly through the clear night of the French 
countryside.  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 gentler 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...  till 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 wafted 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 futilely 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 palpitating 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 gentler 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 pallor 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 her 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 probing 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 
intertwined 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 faster 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 advice, 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 uncontrol-
lable 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 evening's 
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
thesuperior 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 dwarf's 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 dwarf's 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 
dwarf's 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 dwarf's 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 day's 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 Monsieur's," 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 
go in Paris at 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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy.  The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story;  should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 12