Chapter 10: Out of Print
Posted: May 29, 2003 - 12:00:00 am

Something odd was happening. Jorge noticed the noises in the room had stopped.

He wondered if thiopental deadened normal senses. They said the effect was different on everyone. The white cloaked man asked him to count backwards, so he had laughed. Laughing failed to stop the drug from working however.

Some questions he ignored at first. But then he started telling them about the caves in Denmark and then Edda. They seemed very interested in anything about the symbols. They never heard of them before. And when he mentioned the Cabal, they looked very startled.

One of the men started mumbling something about subjects lying while under the drug before. They were very excited though.

It seemed hours passed before his head began to clear a little and he started getting very drowsy.

Then quiet settled over the room.

A strap over his forehead came undone. He tried to crane his neck, but some kind of cap was being removed from his hair. It pulled at him, making it feel as though the roots were being yanked out. Looking from side to side, he was able to make out one man burning a bunch of tapes in a trash can.

His arms came free. The straps holding his legs and ankles went next.

One man was politely offering him a hand to get up. His head spun a bit as he sat. The room, a sterile space, was littered with various bits of equipment normally found in a doctor's office. A pair of oxygen tanks stood nearby, a desk, a set of chairs, and various assorted paraphenalia.

The room contained only three men besides himself. They were all busy, making themselves ingratiating. The one burning the tapes was smiling and nodding at him. One offered tylenol for the headache he must now have. The third watched at the door, keeping an eye out for someone.

Their sudden change in behavior seemed very odd. They even still had mind shields on. He tried to probe all three without success.

A cardboard box on the floor contained his clothing and belongings. He poked through it, looking for a most important article, his watch. Finding it, he turned it over. The medallion was still attached. The foolish interrogators never checked.

He put in on, and doing so, felt vastly refreshed.

Then he spotted a phone on the desk. He managed, with some help from a former captor, to stumble over to it. Lifting the handset, he tried dialing only to get a horrible tone for the effort.

The man beside him picked up the phone, held down the switch hook for a few moments, then dialed '9'. He handed the phone back with the steady hum Jorge was accustom to. Jorge dialed again.

"You've reached the offices of Schmitz, Martin, and Lear. May I help you?" came a feminine voice.

Jorge smiled for the first time since the gas put him in dreamland. He recalled how nicely the owner of that voice screamed in the sack.

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Lear, Cindy."

Leisure activity at an end, Jones stepped into the hall. The very first man he saw was a guard.

Jones learned his craft years before. Every stitch out of place triggered some small part of his paranoid senses. Something was wrong. He knew it but couldn't find the cause.

Reaching into his pocket, he removed a second mind shield. One he'd taken from the lab techs who could have handled Bob on the gurney. He examined the hearing aid like device in his palm and looked down the hall at the receding backside of the guard.

The man's ears were both visible.

There was no mind shield. He suppressed his panic, and stepped back into the room with Diane. Grabbing her, he led her into Heather's room. He picked up one of the local censure shields, a skull cap like device to place over a telepath's head, intended to suppress the talent.

Seeing one man with his mind shield still in place, Jones stopped him along the way. He brought the man along. If he could get anyone out who was capable of helping the Institute rebuild elsewhere, it would prove useful.

Peters didn't know what was going on. But Jones was the number two man at the Institute. Peters wasn't going to lose his status by following the man's orders. He quickly complied with the directions he was given.

He led the little troop towards the river side exit. There were speedboats there. The loose spark couldn't control everyone. If only there was time enough left

Sunlight filled the room. Like a glass full of sparkling clear water, the sun washed to every corner, flooded the long wooden shelves, illuminating the oak desk.

Bob stood at the window. He tried to imagine mowing the yard before him. The number of tight corners, hedges, trees and other obstacles must make the gardeners crazy, he decided. A numbing escape into physical labor only goes so far before it becomes annoying.

Birds seemed to like the greenery. He tried to touch one of the flight borne creatures with a mind probe, but had forgotten the shield at the outer walls of the building. Some other time perhaps.

Jorge was led in by two of the men who interrogated him. He was back in his own things. It was much more comfortable than a blue hospital gown. The mess here would be settled soon. The Cabal was on the way.

Bob didn't turn as he spoke.

"The records of your interrogation have been destroyed, and the goons can't remember a thing," he said, watching a cardinal soar on bright red wings.

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Bob. You are Jorge."

"Oho! You must be the escaped Robert Lawrence that man was; wait a minute!" Jorge walked over to look out the window too. The clouds were puffing along, accenting a beautiful blue sky.

"Hmm," Bob faced towards the freed telepath. "what?"

"Where's the guy who questioned me about you? He was in charge of this place."

"What did he look like?'

"Perfect suit, black hair, manicured, muscular, short nose. About 42, give or take a few years. The kind you see as the heavy CIA type in flicks."

"That should be Jones. Dirk Jones is how he introduced himself to me."

"Yeah, if you say so. But he was in charge, what'd you do with him?"

"No, he wasn't. Some guy named Thadeous was. Neither of them are still here. Sorry, I haven't found your reporter friend yet either. You do know, by the way, how bad an idea it would be if she actually aired this story?"

"She's not going to tell anyone. You know that."

"And I expect your gang of thugs at any minute."

"Huh?"

"This Cabal, or whatever."

"You got that? Say, how did you get past those mind shields?"

"They're shaped funny, like donuts. I didn't know until they tried to experiment on me with some kind of control machine. Your people will probably find it soon enough. Like donuts, there's this hole in the middle. If I had to guess, they probably transmit some kind of energy through an antennae. Most antennas have some dead spots. You just need to know where."

"Really? Now I know, so lots of others will know too. You want, the Cabal would welcome you as a member."

"No thanks. Until Thadeous and Jones are caught though, I'd like to stay in touch with your people."

"I'll see what I can arrange. The Cabal won't have any trouble with that."

"Tell me a little about them. Who the hell is the Cabal?"

"What's to tell? It's an international organization, mostly based in the States because of the effort the Cabal put in moving here to escape persecution in Europe. The name is new by a few centuries. It was borrowed from a group in England under one of the kings named Charles. I don't know enough history to know what it was called before that.

"Let's see, the Cabal has been under siege a few times before. None with secretly organized opposition though. This Institute scares the leadership a whole hell of a lot."

"I can imagine"

"No you can't, it's never happened like this before. The Cabal has suffered from a few outside threats, but no one immune to the Voice. Internally, we have occasional problems, but those we can handle."

"How about those internal problems. Why would anyone be stupid enough to cause trouble when a whole bunch of telepaths would be all over them in a hurry?"

"No one in their right mind would. But anyone with the Voice has a substantially higher risk of insanity. If you've even a tenuous grip on reality, follow the 'rules', no one in the Cabal gives a fuck.

"In essence, if you call attention to anyone with Voice, mostly yourself, we try to convince you to ease back. We don't want any witch hunts.

"The Cabal doesn't much care what someone does with the Voice. Mostly. Stay away from power politics, it's too easy to spot the personality changes the highly visible mutes go through your voice influences them.

"There are also strict rules against violence, murdering mutes even by proxy, or even just maiming them. Its another thing that attracts too much attention. If you get enough mutes involved, they may figure out what happened, and then you can guess.

"This mess here for instance. Exactly the sort of thing the Institute was doing. I was out here looking for them. I've only been hanging out in the area a year, but everyone I work with think I've been here for five. The planted familiarity sometimes can get additional leads. The Institute's influence hit about two to three years ago, but we've been unable to track them down."

"Yeah," said Bob, "I can see why a group like the Cabal would form. But I don't like the idea of making too close an association."

"Embarrassed about your own set of playmates? The Cabal really doesn't care about that. They're too worried about Voices that act genuinely loco. Hell, they're much worse than you, I'm sure."

"That reminds me. They should be here any minute now. So what will you do with all the looney people the Institute has locked up here?"

"I'm not sure. It's against the rules to control other members and people with the Voice. We save it for special situations requiring censure. Some of these people have the Voice. They may simply need a little adjustment to return to more normal lives."

"Normal? You've got to be kidding."

"If we have to, we can make them mute again. They'll have a chance again, as soon as a little adjustment is made. A team will come in, remove the 'God' syndrome and fix the worst. I doubt we'll need to do much worse. As long as they're no longer a danger to the rest of us."

"I hope so," said Bob

"Just the way I feel."

Bob closed his eyes, sensing an additional presence. He didn't need to root around the room though to find it. The familiar symbols almost cried out to be found.

"Can I see your watch?"

"Huh? What for?"

"I just want to see the source of the symbols I keep, they're at your wrist."

"You see the symbols?!"

"I read a book. You read a cave wall. I think you and I may be unique. Most of the 'sparks' here are freaks of nature, finding their talent by one freak accident or another. You and I seem to have woken it by seeing the symbols."

Reluctantly, Jorge removed the watch. He pulled the concealed medallion from it's hiding place. Bob turned it in his hands, basking in a glow of definitions, descriptions and experiences from the red coin like object. He handed it back after a moment.

"Very interesting, where'd you find that?"

"In a locket from the cave. I learned about the symbols through it, more so than the scrawls in the cave."

"An unusual keepsake. Are there more?"

"I've never seen another one, you?"

"Oh no," Bob lied, "I'd know if one of those had passed under my eyes."

They both peered out the window to the brightly light lawn. Silence fell over them, a quiet born of the strange situation. Trouble shooter rescued by amateur, waiting for the rest of the cavalry.

Jorge tried to think of ways to reach out to the younger man. He wanted to know more about the book, yet somehow knew the subject had been closed. Hands in his pockets, he looked at the tall man, wondering what to say.

"What will you do once we take over this mess?"

"I'm going to hide for a while, some place with lots of people."

Jorge grinned, "and probably lots of attractive women too."

"Yeah," Bob grinned back, "as many as I can find. I've got this habit, see"

As Fran drove them away he looked back at the Institute.

Miki was acting snippish, jealous of Fran and the deep kiss from Bob when he greeted her. Bob deliberately made Miki watch as he gave Fran a violent orgasm in the car. Miki's embarrassment was turning into a deep humiliation, and he could sense deep down she liked the treatment.

He watched the manicured lawn and the frightening building vanished from sight. As they passed through the gates, his imprisonment passed away into a memory.

Too bad he couldn't make the Institute's organization vanish as easily.

}From the balcony, it seemed the view went forever. She could make out Denver in the distance. It was hazy, slightly marring the rest of the countryside.

Diane was confused. Heather was very important to her, but why were they here? She wanted to go home, if only to get a change of clothes. The people they traveled with were in such a rush. Hurry to the plane, hurry to the car, hurry in the house. It was very unnerving.

Every now and then, the man who confused her by claiming to be Bob insisted she service his peculiar needs. He still insisted on being called Master. And Heather insisted she had to cooperate. He always left a foul taste in her mouth, in much more than the physical sense. He made her feel dirty.

He never touched Heather though. That was a small consolation.

She could hear his voice. He was talking to someone in the study above. They probably didn't know the window was open.

"I tell you we can still do it!"

"The Senator will be difficult to control. I'm not certain we can continue operations until we've re-established ourselves here."

"As long as we have at least one of the sparks, we can still sell the process!"

"No," a strange male baritone replied. "I won't chance it until we've gotten a few more under our thumbs. I do thank you for bringing Heather. But we've got to get these two sparks. I have the folder on Robert Lawrence, and our field agents are gathering the necessary information on Jorge Dansen as well. Too bad the debriefing material for him was lost."

"I only just got out of there with the spark. The reporter was with me at the time. I couldn't have gotten the tapes if I'd tried. You know if I had, they'd be picking my brains too. Not just the lab techs we left behind. And they don't need drugs to learn everything someone knows."

"I know, I know. But I don't think Jezabel will understand."

A shiver went through Diane, hearing the tone in the stranger's voice.

Out of her sight, Jones shuddered at the name as well.

The trip was uneventful. The probe at the gate was gone. Whether removed by the Institute or driven away by the Cabal, Bob had no idea.

They settled into the hotel suite very nicely, the women spreading out all over. They had a nice view of Central Park looking north from the balcony.

A man named Charles came by to visit. Jorge sent him. The man looked a little like an academic, dressed as though he should pass for a professor. The wire frame glasses kept sliding down his nose.

Bob knew the Charles was in charge of Cabal security or something like it. They chatted a while. Bob didn't tell Charles anything he hadn't told Jorge. Still, the man was grateful to Bob for helping. He insisted on a substantial reward from the Cabal.

The Cabal demonstrated their gratitude to Bob in a monetary way. When Charles learned how carefully he'd been accumulating his income, he arranged a sizable retainer fee. Bob was now a semi-official consultant of the Schmitz, Martin and Lear law firm.

They also promised to provide an accountant if he wanted. He'd declined. If someone else was going to watch his money, it would be someone he controlled.

It was uncomfortable having older siblings watching his every move. Even if they were being protective.

His traveling harem had gone shopping.

Betty was excited about visiting Saks. Bob was more interested in a town-house for the 'family'. First though, he had to get more familiar with the City. He decided to explore a little on his own.

Manhattan is huge.

Bob was boggled at the shear size of it, the density of the buildings, the number of people. For a seventeen to eighteen mile long, five mile wide island, it was overwhelming him.

He went downtown to Chinatown. From there he walked north through the village, Greenwich Village. Past the New York University buildings and through Washington Square Park. He stopped for an early lunch near a used book store he'd found around 12th street.

He continued on. The crowds were amazing, rushing from place to place, hurrying to get where they were going so they could rush some where else. He was unaccustomed to the waves of people.

At 33th street, an interesting game store had attracted his attention. Too bad he really couldn't play competitively any more. His discipline would have to improve significantly to keep from reading an opponent's mind.

He wandered around, sampling food from street vendors, immersing himself in the crowds. In the heat, scantily clad women glowed as their exposed skin became moist. Crossing Herald Square, he avoided the plethora of beggars in the little islands between the avenues.

After wandering about in a camera/electronics store for a while, he decided to visit some of the Museums. The shopping crowd was beginning to oppress him. Too many rushing people.

He climbed into a taxi in front of Madison Square Garden, across from the Post Office.

Courtney was walking alone through the Gem exhibit.

The day was very peaceful. She'd taken off work to avoid the heat in her office. Sometime, her boss promised, they'd get air conditioning put in. In the meanwhile everyone had to live with it.

Today she'd escaped. The tiger's eye was her favorite gemstone. There were a bunch of them here in the Museum of Natural History. The more popular stones attracted the tourists, but the tiger's eye were the loveliest stones here. She also liked the opals, but she knew the colors came from the moisture in opal, not the stone itself. Tiger's eye was its own natural wonder.

She wandered out past the moon rock, encased in Plexiglas of some sort. There the school aged kids were gathered with their mothers. The distant origins of the stone chunk attracted as much attention as the rare gems of Earth.

A tall man looked on, over the children. He seemed as fascinated as the kids. Was it her imagination, or was he watching her too? She was used to men looking at her though, they found her attractive.

She stepped out into the hall. She started towards the exhibit of American Indian artifacts. Brushing her red paisley dress smooth, she failed to notice how it accented her figure. The low heeled, white shoes she wore set off the laced socks she'd worn well.

She passed a museum guard, whose head followed the swish of her dress' hem with momentary interest. He admired the section of exposed leg, a calf turned with gentle and elegant curves.

The old drums and pictures of tepees adorning the walls didn't attract her attention as much as the dugout canoe. She wondered how long it took to hollow out, the birch bark canoe had to be easier to make.

She clasped her hands behind her back, stepping from exhibit to exhibit. These weren't as interesting as the tiger's eye, but it remained a relaxing escape.

Behind her, a teenage boy admired the round shape of her bottom and the drop of her dark pony tail as his parents called him away. She never noticed.

She did catch a glimpse of the tall dirty blond fellow again, examining the same dugout she'd looked at a while ago. He was handsome enough, maybe she could introduce herself. He wandered off before she made up her mind. Sigh, so it goes, she thought.

In the hall with the insect models she shuddered. She slipped past them to see the whale. Hanging from the ceiling, it was impressive. She liked the elegance of its long sleek features.

She walked down the stairs, drawing attention from the male half of a couple going up. The guy's girlfriend punched him, whispered voices conveying disapproval of his behavior. She smiled to herself.

Before the case showing the stuffed Seals she spied the tall guy she'd seen elsewhere in the museum. This time she was going to get close. His dirty blond hair was neatly combed. He wore a stylish pair of trousers, a light cotton shirt, and dark running shoes. She thought about introducing herself.

This whole thing was very unlike her. She almost never walked up to a stranger to introduce herself. She stepped over to stand beside him anyway, uncertain where her courage was coming from.

He turned, flashing her a sweet disarming smile. Her insides melted a bit. Nerves took over. She froze up, barely managing to smile back.

"Hello."

"Hi," she squeaked. A short pause occurred.

"My name is Bob. I'm only visiting New York for the second time."

"I'm Courtney," she bobbed up on her tip toes, guessing him to be about six foot four. Her five and an half foot height forced her to tilt her head back to look at his face. She could see his eyes linger on the rise of her bust, thrust forward by tilting her head.

"What would you say to accompanying me through some more of the museum?"

"Sounds promising."

They walked for some time. She lost track of where they'd been. He was very absorbing to listen to. If asked, she couldn't have said what he talked about though. He was so, so, well, interesting for some reason.

By the time they walked through the exhibit of dinosaur bones, and passed the large sea turtle, she had her arm intertwined with his. Her head seemed almost magnetically drawn against his shoulder.

"How about we go outside, get a drink some place," he suggested.

"I'd like that."

As they emerged into the late afternoon sun, he allowed her to nuzzle against him as though they were long time lovers. His warmth wasn't the attraction, but attracted she was, clinging as she'd never done with anyone before.

"They blow up the balloons for the Thanksgiving Day parade on this street," she told him. He chuckled.

"I presume you mean they inflate them, not explode them."

She turned red for a moment, embarrassed, although she knew he was pulling her leg.

"It's great to come the night before the parade. Everyone comes. It's a huge party up and down the block. I've seen Woody Allen out here to see the event."

"Nice. Could be a lot of fun."

They walked away from Central Park, then south. He was particularly fascinated with a store featuring wind up toys. The name was "The Last Wound Up" and they had to go in. He bought her a set of walking teeth. She laughed as they clattered across the countertop.

They stopped at a cafe, pulling up a table by the window. She had Cappuccino, he had Expresso. She'd never seen anyone put cream and sugar into Expresso. He called it Turkish style. He was remarkably quiet now, letting her run her mouth about her life.

She told him how she'd come to New York to work as an actress. She talked about the problems with apartments, the job market, her favorite recent movie.

When he excused himself to use the men's room she admonished herself. She was practically flinging herself at him. She'd only just met him, and here she was telling him her life story. It was very out of character for her, the aloof woman she'd become, but she wanted to spend the rest of the evening with him.

Hopefully, she would have many evenings with him.

In the men's room, Bob rinsed his face. Two men slipped in the two stall bathroom after him. He had just washed his hands, when one of them grabbed his shoulders and slammed him back against the wall.

A knife glinted in the glare of harsh bare lightbulbs. The brawny man before him started to lunge never to make it. His eyes glazed over, then his accomplice froze as well.

Bob found the image of another man, a buddy, in their minds. They'd been told to roll him, take anything they wanted, but to leave him dead. They'd followed him since early in the morning. The buddy, someone they occasionally did work for, hadn't said why. And these two never would've asked anyway.

He pulled everything from them they knew about their charming pal. Then he left.

About fifteen minutes later, a blue uniformed patrolman was listening to the two confess everything illegal they'd done since kindergarten. They listened to him read them their rights, but they breezed on through everything again, explaining in detail where he could get evidence.

Bob by then was back with the girl. Very lightly adjusting her impressions of him to make him as seductive a partner as she'd ever met in her life. A dream like lover or prince to her. She was dizzy as he quickly either adjusted her the slightest amount, or by reading her mind took advantage of her own desires.

He was going to take her. And use her to sheath his tool.

Courtney enjoyed the flick, a romantic comedy about some guy, his kid and a truly improbable girlfriend. She held Bob's hand the entire time, unwilling to let him go.

The night was cooler. They walked to the upper west side, wandering around west of Columbia. Her apartment was near by, it was time to call it a night.

She took him along to her building stoop. They sat and watched the comings and goings from the neighborhood a little while.

"I've got to go to bed," she told him.

He smiled and took her by the hand to the door. She teetered back and forth a few minutes, while he stood there.

"Come up for a quick soda, but then you'll have to go."

His head tilted quizically, but he agreed. She couldn't escape the seductive draw he had about him. She found her eyes swallowed in his dark gray pool like eyes.

Unlocking the door she guided him into the narrow apartment. The living room shared space with the kitchenette. Her air conditioner had started on the time, so the apartment was cooler than out doors. Not much cooler, but enough to make it livable.

The bedroom, slightly unkempt, showed through the door next to the stove. She started to go pull the door to the bedroom closed, but his hand firmly grasped her shoulder.

She turned and her eyes again were drawn to his. She couldn't yank her eyes aside at all. Her mouth hung open as he drew close. She backed against a chair, stumbling, but not taking her eyes from his. Her head tilted unconsciously back as his lips met hers.

Finally her eyes were off his. They were closed as she lost herself in the lusty exchange of greetings between their tongues. She could feel strength in his arms as he reached behind her, pulling her torso close to his own. A dream quality, as though she were only present as an observer, crept over her.

She pulled back.

"I don't think we'd better"

He drew her in again. The sensual touch of his body against her sent a tingling and pleasant feeling into her stomach. The hum of the air conditioner covered her gasp of pleasure as he gently gripped her ass, more a light massage than a grasp.

She tried to pull away, but his tongue held her like a magnet. She pressed against his chest lighter than she intended, planning to escape from his clasp.

Lingering kisses from him were covering her face. Chest heaving now with excited interest, she found her eyes were rolling from the sensation of being tenderly worshiped.

She didn't want to let this happen. She didn't. But Bob was in control of the moment, pulling her in tighter, raining little goose bump raising kisses about her neck and shoulders.

Then his fingers found her breast. She drew in a sharp gasp as the electric bolt of arousal shot through to her throat. The fabric added its own gentle silk feel to his touch, giving the contact a jolting and burning sensation.

She managed weakly to pull back, panting. Lips swollen with lust filled excitement, she shook her head trying to shake free from the cobwebs tangling her mind.

This couldn't be, she thought. She never let anyone in on the first date. And never necked or petted if she didn't know them pretty well. Bob though, he, well, he was almost mystically enticing. And well, she could stop him now, couldn't she?

He drew her to the couch and pulled her down.

The sounds of City life were battering down the walls, sirens, yelling couples, kids crying out in the night. She heard her own heart over the normal City noises, pounding excitedly as the man beneath her sucked in her lips, wrestled with her tongue, and took free liberties with her breasts.

It was a dreamy kind of excitement. A wild trip, a roller coaster with Bob's hands gently kneeding the concealed flesh through her clothing. Every time she opened her eyes they rolled about, bringing her head into gyrating motions of lust. The kisses he passionately endowed to her were searing hot, bringing a wet lust into her throat.

"Unnngh."

Her discussion was lowering to simple moans, she locked her hand about Bob's wrist, the one with the molesting hand attached. But she couldn't bring herself to push the hand away as she knew she should.

His breath brought a flaming red heat to her skin. A crawling feeling of pleasure crept across the back of her shoulders.

"Oh, please, I can't"

Her head lolled back as he treated her neck and throat to a bath from his tongue and lips.

"No. No. Don't do this"

That villainous hand was resting on her right leg. Right at the knee. The fingers were caressing the flesh there, exploring the inside of her leg.

"Oh. Please don't do that"

The hand slowly inched upwards. She snatch at it with her left hand while he tongued the slight cleavage exposed in the red paisley print. However tightly she griped the hand though, she found herself almost guiding him forward, helping to lift the hem of the dress above her thighs.

Sensing her vulnerability, he was going to get his fingers on her sopping wet crotch. She was ashamed, shocked she was allowing a one day acquaintance do this to her. The tips of his fingers teased her flesh through the wet panties. She knew he now was aware just how wet she'd become. She was certain her face was pink. The shame at letting him get this far tonight was affecting her breathing, bringing the panting to a heavier level.

"Ohhh! I don't want to do this, not tonight ohhhh!"

"Sure you do," he whispered into the ear he was nibbling. A wet soft tongue explored the recesses there afterwards.

"No, no. It isn't right. Ahhh! I hardly know you"

"Soon you'll beg me, I promise to get you hot enough to forget any reason for hesitating."

His fingers had teased her crotch to the point it was rolling on its own, betraying her professed wishes. Her pelvis was trying to join in, generating a rhythm she struggled to suppress. And failed.

"ooooohhh!"

Her tongue protruded its tip out, pressing against her lips. She could feel his mouth at her tits, chewing lightly through the cloth. Her nipples were shooting energy out her chest in all directions. Their erect state was clearly visible through the dress, any time he lifted his head.

"ooooohhh!"

A guttural groan rose within her. The day's excitement was growing into the night's excitement. Her body was engaged in sex without her permission. She couldn't stop him. His entire hand now cupped her crotch. Heat was rising from there as well.

"ooooohhh!"

She could feel him pull back a bit. Her dilemma at wanting to go on, and wanting to stop remained in his hands. He began to lift her dress up over her head. She struggled to stop him, pushing him away. But he simply took her wrists in one hand and did the work with his other. Stripped to her bra and panties, she felt exposed. The shame she felt earlier rose again, turning her pink.

He paused only to chuckle at her embarrassment. His fingers again working their magic at her crotch. There was a magic too, for all the arousal he gave her, she seemed unlikely to come soon. She was on the up side of a roller coaster, and there was no telling when she'd come down.

Her body's excitement grew. Her mind was wallowing in the shame at the loss of control over her own desires. His finger tips flew along the length of her most private parts, forcing the fluids to rise inside.

"ooooohhh! unnnggh, stop, unnnggh, please stop why are you, ooooohhh!, doing this to me???"

The spiral of excitement climbed higher as her hips lunged against his hand. Her head rolled. And again he stopped. She couldn't decide whether to scream for him to leave or to continue.

He lifted her. Carrying her draped across his shoulders like so much waste in a large sack, he hauled her to the bedroom. She never let anyone in here. She knew she was being violated, but her body was an accomplice in the act. He eased her onto the bed, and pulled off the panties, her shoes, and undid the bra she still wore. Her body continued to throb with desire against her wishes.

Still wearing her lacy socks, she was rolled onto her back. He stood there undressing as she watched panting.

"Don't do this. I beg you, stop now. Maybe we can do this some other time, when we've known each other longer."

He chuckled again.

"I'm taking you now. And instead of begging me to stop, you'd best consider begging me to fuck you. You might want to get over eventually, and you'll only get there if I take you."

"No, ooooohhh, can't be true."

He was beside her again, naked. Her flesh against his flesh. She could feel the draw, the magnetism, a seductive pull from the man. He had her body under his sway, and she couldn't change that.

"ooooohhh!"

Her moaning commenced again. He wrapped his arms around her, spooning her with his stiff prick against the crack of her ass. Right hand cupping her crotch again, he cupped her left breast in the other. His lips worked across her shoulders to her neck and back.

Goose bumps ran up and down the length of her body. She couldn't keep her legs together. Her right foot desperately sought to be behind his legs, pulling him closer to her. A finger slipped into her vagina, sending pulses into her.

Her already heightened state accelerated, her left arm pounding against the mattress, seeking release. She gasped. She moaned. The air in her lungs gushed out, only to be replaced in seconds by a rush of fresh oxygen.

"No," she gasped again. "no"

His cock was rubbing in and out along her cheeks. A tingling pleasant feel rose from her bottom. Where she lay now, trapped in Bob's arms, she couldn't change no matter what.

She needed to come. She had to come. The orgasm she needed was just another step on the ladder of ecstasy, she could tell. However, nothing changed to give her the release her body demanded. Frantically, she pushed herself farther along, and just as frantically the release moved another step away.

"No. no, ooooohhh!"

"You want to come?" came his harassing voice.

"Oh Yes! ooooohhh!"

"You'll have to beg for it"

"AAAHHHH, I-I CAN'T!"

"Oh, come on now, let's here it. 'Please fuck me, please fill my pussy', you can do it"

"no, no, aaaahhh, nooooo"

The fingers in her cunt began to work her clitoris, the nerves virtually shouted in combinations of pain and pleasure. Her body was pounding against him, rocking the mattress now.

"You either beg, or you won't get what you want"

"OH GOD, why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you're so pretty as you plead with me. It excites me, and you seem to crave this kind of treatment."

"no, no, aaaaahhhyyyyyaa!"

"Oh yes"

"You're humiliating me. nnnnngggh, you bastard."

"Yes, but it's making you so fucking hot isn't it? ISN'T IT?!"

"No, no, no,. aaaahhhh, yes it is you fuck."

"Be nice, beg."

Her cheeks were being prodded nicely by his manhood. She wanted him in her now. She was horribly ashamed of herself for failing to stop him from going this far, but now she was trapped in a cycle of arousal. Requiring release, now she knew begging for it was the only way.

"Okay, please fuck me.nnnnnnggg."

"What? I don't think that was very good try again."

"GOD! fug me, please, oh please put your prick in my cunt and make me come."

"Good, much better. You keep it up nicely and I may yet let you come."

"AAAHHHHIIEEE! unnngh, unnnggh!"

Her panting grew heavier, the heaving of her chest as he abused the nipples was madly rhythmic. She'd fuck a goddamn horse if it would get her off now. She had to have that cock in her, and she had to have it now!

He pulled her feet up onto his shoulders. Maddeningly, he admired the lacy socks a moment. Then he just teased the lips of her pussy with the tip of his prick, pulling away as she tried to lunge her crotch against him to get a plunge into her. She felt like a slut begging, and now a bit like a whore, trying to press him into her like this.

He was grinning.

"Before I fuck you, you should tell me what a useless rag you are. I want to hear you say how you are making yourself my property, forever."

"You fucking bastard. I begged. I PLEADED. Please fuck me, goddammit! Can't you see how desperately I need it? I want you, I want you so bad it hurts inside."

She rolled her head from side to side again. Her body writhing out of control.

"Yeah, but that's old news. I want to hear you give me ownership of your body. I want you to admit you're no better than a slave"

"Aaahhhh! I give myself to you! please, please fuck me. Please treat me like property, but please fuck me now!"

"Close, not treat you like, you are property. Say it."

"I'm property, yours, body and soul. GoD! CAN'T TAKE IT. PLEASE!?"

"Good bitch. Now"

He plunged into her. The fullness was grand! She rolled her head, ignoring the fact the right swing made her hang out over the edge. He pumped. She rejoiced as he pounded away, hammering with practiced skill.

"Tell me, everything we agreed to while you come!"

Humiliation swept deeply into her soul. It bit into where she kept her self respect, bringing out the shame she'd grown inside since she asked Bob in. She was low, an animal, no more important than a slug. She bit back her grunts, moaning as she began to speak,

"I'm yours. unh, I belong oooohhh! to you. I want to be fucked. Use me as a rag. Unnngh! I need you to screw me hard! Please don't stop! unnnh"

Suddenly she felt the spurting of semen into her intimate parts. He grunted out a stern "YEES!". But she still hadn't come. He slowed down, she writhed about even more.

"You promised me, please don't stop now! Please!"

"Roll over bitch."

"WHAT!"

"You heard me."

Her humiliation knew a new height. Desperate for release, she rolled. He pulled her up to her knees and pushed her face into the pillows in front of her.

"Fuck me, please, let me come!" she continued to plead, knowing it didn't matter. He was going to do whatever he please with her, and she would happily consent. And assist.

He was remarkably stiff for a man who just came. His prick rubbed against her little rosette, the nether hole, an even more private part of her anatomy. She never would've considered doing this before. She whimpered as he pushed his prick into her little asshole.

"Yooow!" she yelped as he pressed it deeper. Her body was still rolling with waves of pleasure, anxious to orgasm. He pressed another inch into her. Surprisingly the fullness was desperately exciting as well. His cock finally pressed all the way home, his balls resting against the wet bottom of her cunt.

"Unnnnggh!" she mouthed, breathing the sound out as well. His fingers found her clit again, and rubbed it in little circles.

"Ready slut?"

"Yes, please fuck my ass, god please fuck me hard!" and she whimpered again.

His dominance of her was complete, she'd yielded everything she could. There simply wasn't anything left to give over tonight.

His in and out motions built slowly. To her amazement, she found herself pushing back, forcing her ass to accept the bludgeoning instrument of invasion. She could feel the violation deep within her, her panting heaving from her in waves.

Then. Then it began. She could feel the white heat rising. Flashing fires raged up from her ass, filled her from her clit, and even surged outward from the nipple he'd begun to pinch so brutally she thought she must be bleeding.

"OOOOOOOHHHHIIIIIIEEEEE!" screamed her voice, as loud as she'd ever managed. Her body surged through a second orgasm following close on the heels of the first. His cock unleashed another pulse of fluid into her, leaving seed inside her most private regions. She screamed again, releasing another wave of orgasmic energy, almost slamming her head against the wall before her.

She collapsed. Still kneeling, her body relieved of the tight tension of waiting, she gasped for air to recover. As she did, she could still feel him filling her ass. The humiliation returned in strength. She was too embarrassed to speak.

He pulled out slowly, leaving her with a feeling she was missing something. She suddenly felt lonely without him in her. She longed for his penis within her, anywhere in her. She felt a longing well up within, desire for his touch. A desire to be a bare object, a tool for his use. She wondered at this nugget of desire, turning it in her mind.

He rose. Slapping her sharply on the bottom. She smiled at this sign of ownership he'd made. At least he liked her, she thought.

"Hiya, Jorge."

"Where are you Bob?"

"New York. Met your Mr. Charles."

"Not Mr. Charles. Charles is his first name."

"Really? Doesn't matter. How would the Institute trace me here? I mean, I had two guys try to kill me."

"Jesus. How in the fuck could anyone find you that fast? Maybe scanners at the airport?"

"No, no. I'd notice that. Gotta be something else."

"Maybe a simple surveillance thing. Someone recognized you from a photo. It's possible, although I have a hard time figuring out where they'd spot you. Maybe they tumbled through the hotel reservation system. I don't know."

"I guess. I just thought you'd like to know. I'm gonna look for their boss. Call if anything breaks on your end."

"You bet. Maybe New York isn't such a good idea."

"Maybe I'll be able to backtrack them if they keep it up."

"Good point. Good night."

"Yeah"

click.

He hung up the handset.

The naked sleeping woman was a sweaty mess from their sex. She was lovely though, serene in her repose. Lacy socks still in place.
Chapter 11
Blackie