Susan Polk had a lot to gain by returning to Robards Manor-almost a million dollars-but she had a lot to lose, also. Her old grandmother's evil scheme to make Susan and the servants stoop to the depths of depravity in order to collect their shares of the inheritance nearly proved disastrous for the innocent young girl. Only her determination to prove her vengeful grandmother wrong enabled Susan to survive the terrible acts of degradation that were forced upon her.
CHAPTER ONE
"Mmmm ... yes, baby! To hell with little Miss Priss! Let's do it anyway! I need you ... your mouth ... your cock ... your big fat dick!"
She has got one of the men in there with her! thought Susan Polk, her cheeks flushing as she quit brushing her shoulder-length, soft brown hair and placed the hairbrush on her missing grandmother's vanity table. I wasn't hearing things! Those mumblings were voices! The nerve of that Miss Olson! I knew she was a slut the minute I saw her this afternoon! Why would Grandmother hire a hussy like that as a maid? And where is Grandmother? Could Miss Olson have anything to do with her disappearance? One thing's for sure-Grandmother would never have stood for such sinful carrying on by the servants, and I don't intend to either! I'm the mistress of Robards Manor, now! I'll just go over there and open the door and order them to stop acting like animals! I won't put up with her having men in her room!
Krista Olson, the blonde goddess Susan's wealthy Grandmother Robards had hired as her personal maid after Susan had gone away to college, wasn't even trying to keep her voice down. As Susan got up from the vanity table, clad only in house slippers and a sheer, pale-blue nightgown, she could hear the dreadful maid moaning obscenely. The twenty-year-old brunette began to tremble slightly as she moved across her mysteriously absent grandmother's room toward the lurid sounds seeping through the door which connected the maid's and mistress' rooms.
I'll unlock the door, throw it open, and order the man, whichever one of the three he is, to get out! thought Susan. She gathered her courage and righteous indignation, pulled her curvaceous, five-foot-two body up stiff and straight, then stamped silently on the thick carpet the rest of the way to the connecting door. I'll let them know right off that I won't stand for any nonsense!
The strait-laced young lady unlocked the door to the maid's room, but couldn't throw it open because it was locked on the other side, as well. Deciding to order Miss Olson to open the door, Susan raised her hand and readied her knuckles for a flurry of loud raps.
"Aaaah ... oh, yesss!" came the sound of female pleasure through the door, and now that Susan was closer she could hear it upsettingly well. She gulped and drew back her hand to knock. "THAT'S IT ... SUCK ME ... SUCK MY CUNT GOOD!!!"
The wanton tone of the .lascivious outburst made Susan terribly nervous. Her knees felt weak and her hand, trembling visibly now, remained poised but motionless.
He's sucking her! thought the morally upright Susan with a shiver that wasn't caused entirely by horrified disgust. How gross! How perverse! They must be naked! What'll I do now? For heaven's sake, I don't want her to open the door if they're naked! I've never seen a man that way ... and I don't want to now ... especially not one of the servants! It would embarrass me to death!
A rush of vertigo swept over the perplexed girl, and she had to lean against the door to keep from falling. Somehow her dainty ear became pressed against one of the door panels, and she was able to actually hear the wet sucking sounds of the nasty act her prim mind could almost see happening in the next room.
How revolting! she thought, her cheeks turning scarlet as she listened to the blonde maid's throaty murmurings. To her utter dismay, Susan realized she was becoming excited by the sounds of the unnatural act. I'II jump in bed and cover my ears so I can't hear them! Then I'll reprimand Miss Olson first thing in the morning! I can't do it now! I'm shaking all over! Good grief ... what's the matter with me?
But Susan couldn't seem to move, and her burning ear refused to part with the door panel. It was almost as if her ear were glued to the door and her feet rooted to the floor. She felt guilty for eavesdropping, because that certainly hadn't been her intention, but suddenly she wanted to hear everything they did. It didn't sound quite so disgusting to her now. What they were doing was wicked and blatantly perverse, and she knew it, but her curiosity was pricked to the point where she wished she could see as well as hear them. Feeling terribly sneaky, she yielded to the strange excitement welling up inside her and dropped to her knees.
I shouldn't look! she thought, even as she shut one hazel eye and brought the other to within a fraction of an inch of the keyhole. All Susan could see was one side of the bed. Evidently the buxom maid was lying on it sideways, because she saw her head. Miss Olson had a rapturous expression on her face. Her blonde hair was disheveled and her head kept lolling back and forth.
Susan felt a tingling sensation begin in her chaste loins. Now I know I shouldn't have looked! Goodness! Look at her! Miss Olson must really like the awful thing he's doing to her! Who is he? Which one has to got in her room? Simmons? No, it couldn't be Simmons! I've known him for as long as I can remember, and he'd never do such a vile thing! And it couldn't be Reyes, the gardener, because he's so big and dark and Miss Olson is so white! A white girl wouldn't let a Mexican make love to her ... even a loose-moraled maid! Would she? It's probably Charles, the chauffeur Grandmother hired while I was gone. But I've got to know! If Grandmother has been murdered, I need to know everything that's going on around here! Damn you, Grandmother! Damn you, whether or not you're dead! You put me in this dangerous situation on purpose ... and I hate you for it ... hate you more than ever! If I didn't need your money so badly, I'd get out of here right now and never come back! But I do need it!
"Ohhh ... oh, Jesus!" squealed the Nordic Krista Olson, just as Susan was struggling to stand up. "God ... what a tongue! Fuck me with it, baby! Tongue-fuck me real deep!"
Her shapely legs felt like rubber as Susan hurried across her grandmother's bedroom toward the French doors, but she had to know which of the men Miss Olson was carrying on with. Assuring herself that was the only reason for her daring action, Susan took a deep breath and kicked off her house slippers so she could move more quietly. She opened the door of the century-old house-Robards Manor was huge, having once been the mansion of a cotton plantation-and stepped out onto the veranda. It was a sultry night, and since she would be outside only a moment, Susan didn't bother to put on her negligee.
Wearing nothing but her sheer blue nightie, the tense, barefoot young lady slipped stealthily along the veranda toward the curtained French doors of the maid's room. Her heart was thumping so loud she could hear it, and she wished she could breathe without making so much noise. A melange of fear, curiosity and unwanted sexual arousal was having its effect on her. Her fear tried to hold her back, while her curiosity drove her on. Good sense told her she must know who the man was, because if her grandmother had actually been murdered-and it appeared likely that something drastic had happened to the mean old woman-Susan needed to know everything she could find out about each of the servants. She knew all too well that she might be living in the same house with a killer. The thought made her shudder, but she tiptoed on down the veranda.
With a stroke of double-barreled luck-good for her curiosity and bad for her sensual discomfort-Susan discovered that Miss Olson had been surprisingly careless. The French doors were actually standing open to catch the breeze. Of course, there was little likelihood that anyone would by chance see into the maid's room, since it was on the side of the house which faces only the woods, but Susan was astonished at the hussy's total lack of discretion.
The door opened outward. When Susan eased in behind the nearest one and peered through the crack between it and the wall, her hazel eyes saw more than she'd bargained for. There on the bed lay the well-formed young blonde, without a stitch of clothes on. A man was kneeling beside the bed, with his hands under Miss Olson's milk-white behind and his face hidden in the fleshy Y of her upraised, widespread thighs. Apparently unconcerned about being seen, the maid was sighing her pleasure as she writhed about and caressed the huge mounds of her own breasts.
"My clit, baby! Get my clit ... aaaah ... suck it ... oooh ... out into your mouth and ... ahhhh ... tickle it with your tongue! Yes, yes, yesss! Oh, God ... ohhhh ... Jesus ... unnn ... mmmm!"
Susan couldn't see who the man was, what with his face buried in the vulgar maid's crotch, and she wasn't about to leave until she had accomplished her mission and learned his identity. He was fully dressed. All she could really be sure of was that he was large and wore khaki trousers with a faded orange shirt.
I've got to know for sure! she thought. It's probably Reyes, because of his size, but it could be anyone!
Atlanta had grown tremendously during the three years since Susan had escaped her domineering grandmother's clutches. She had remained at college, without so much as a single visit to the house in which she'd grown up and the oppressive grandmother she'd learned to despise. Robards Manor still sat in the center of ten acres of planted woodland, but all around those ten acres now rested new homes, the cheapest of which was valued at fifty-thousand dollars.
Miss Olson's lover might not be one of the servants after all, Susan realized suddenly. He could be one of the men living nearby! In one of the new houses! But I've still got to know who he is! Grandmother is missing ... and if I'm not careful, I might disappear, too!
The raspy sounds of Miss Olson's climactic utterings rang lewdly in Susan's straining ears. It sounded so vulgar, yet it-was fascinating and exciting. The uptight girl wanted to turn away until it was over, but she couldn't force herself to do it. The obscene tableau was right there before her, only a few feet away, and her eyes nearly bulged out of the sockets. The hairy crevice between her shaky legs was getting uncomfortably hot and tingly.
Hurry up, damn you! she thought, fighting down her panic and squirming about. Get up! All I want to do is see your face! I've got to know who you are before I go back to my room!
"Ohhh ... ohhh!" Krista Olson sighed. "Oh, Jesus, that was good! You've really got me in the mood, now, baby!"
"You want some fucking, huh?" the man asked as he wiped his face on the insides of her thighs.
"Shit yes! I need it! Get out of those clothes!"
Turn around ... turn around! Susan's whirling mind screamed as she watched the man stand up and begin removing his shirt with his back toward her. Who are you, damn it? Show me your face!
He kicked off his shoes and tossed him orange shirt aside. The skin of his muscular back was deeply tanned, either that or he was in fact Reyes the gardener. He dropped his khaki pants and white shorts at the same time, then kicked them away and leaned over, standing on one foot then the other as he pulled off his socks.
This was Susan's first view of a man's bare rump, but that part of his anatomy didn't upset her nearly as much as the heavy bag of testicles swaying between his legs. The sight of his hairy nut sac left the proper young lady with a gaping mouth and eyes big as saucers. It also sent an illicit thrill racing zigzag up her spine. The tingling sensation in her vulva moved inward, affecting her internal parts and becoming acutely distressing.
Shocking as the sight of a naked man's backside was, Susan wouldn't be swayed from her primary purpose. She couldn't return to her room without learning who the man was. Every bit of information she could gather was important, because there was no telling which would be useful and which wouldn't. The identity of the man in Miss Olson's room could very well prove to be the key with which she might unlock the mystery of her grandmother's disappearance. And it was either solve that mystery or spend the next seven years of her life at Robards Manor-with a possible killer or killers she couldn't evict because her grandmother had forbade her firing the servants in the trust deed by which she'd taken possession of the old woman's estate. If her missing grandmother should fail to reappear-and her reappearance seemed highly un-likely-Susan, as the sole heir, would inherit in the neighborhood of a million dollars. But the old woman had set up the trust deed in a sadistic way. Either she was found and proved dead or Susan would have to live in the house on an allowance-with all four of the possible murderers-for the full seven years required to assume Mrs. Robards legally dead.
Then the man turned around, with his side toward her, bringing Susan's mind back to her immediate problem. From his profile, she recognized the nude man. It was indeed Jesus Reyes, the Mexican-American gardener, whom she had never seen until her arrival that afternoon. There was no longer any need for her to remain, but she didn't move.
She blinked, gulped, then drew in a deep breath of air and stared with stunned fascination at the bronze column of masculine turgidity angling upward from the dense patch of crisp, black hair below his abdomen. From books-Susan was very interested in sex, even though it scared her to death-she knew that the average organ is five to six inches long during erection. Jesus Reyes had an erection, all right, but there was much more of it than a mere six inches. Susan's prudish mind wasn't prepared for such a fearsome sight as a nine-inch .hammer, and it plunged her into a state of total consternation.
The breeze had been bandying the curtains on the French doors. Just then a stronger gust blew into the room and whipped the curtain around so Susan couldn't see. It lodged on some unseen object inside the room and remained over the crack through which Susan had been peeking.
I should go back to my room right now! she thought, but she didn't.
There was an odd feeling down low in her stomach. It was a bit difficult for her to breathe. Her legs felt weak and her heart was racing faster. All this just from seeing the large man's huge, dark penis.
Why should it excite me so to see his thing? she moaned inwardly. It's so big! I can't believe it's really that large! I've got to have another look ... just a quick one ... then I'll go!
Susan bent over from the waist and put her hands on her dimpled knees, bringing her eye below the caught curtain which had blocked her view. The sight she wanted to see was denied her, however, because Jesus was climbing onto the bed and getting between Krista's legs.
They're going to do it! Susan thought. He's going to put that big thing into Miss Olson! How awful! There! Now I can see it again! It's too big! It'll hurt her ... won't it? But she wants it! Oh, look at the hussy ... grabbing it in her hand and helping him! For heaven's sake, I can see right up between their legs now! Good grief! It'll never fit!
The spectacle of male and female genitalia about to be joined was a compelling sight for the inexperienced Susan. All thought of returning to her room was gone. She felt feverish, yet she was shivering.
This is wrong! she thought. I shouldn't spy on them! But I want to see! I've got to see if he gets that enormous penis into Miss Olson! It would split me ... I just know it would ... but she's bigger than I am and ... oh ... there it goes! The front of it! More! Oh, good grief ... he's got it every bit inside her now ... and listen to her carry on!
Jesus Reyes had his long, bronze dick balls-deep into Krista Olson's puffy blonde pussy when she let out the ragged breath she'd just taken. "Aaaaah ... ooooh ... oh, Jesus ... baby ... God, what a cock! You sweet bastard ... you've ... ohhh ... ruined me! I'll never be satisfied with an average man again!"
"I'm going to fuck your ass off!" he said with a grin, and began sawing his pole in and out of her quivering pink hole.
Krista laughed throatily, then sighed and flung her arms around his barrel-like body. She kissed him wetly, stroking his back and locking her legs over his.
The lascivious display held Susan transfixed. She knew she shouldn't be watching while they had intercourse, but it was strangely exciting to see them engaging in the vile act. Susan would never do such a sinful thing herself, but she reasoned that it couldn't hurt for her to watch while they did it. No one would ever know, and her curiosity would at long last be satisfied.
"Un, unn, unn," Krista chanted as she writhed beneath the humping man, and the sounds of her carnal pleasure drifted out to Susan's alert ears.
She gripped her knees and bit her lower lip. From her secret vantage point, Susan could see and hear everything. They're like animals! she thought. What they 're doing is vulgar and obscene!
Susan had to keep reminding herself of that, because the longer she watched the less vulgar and obscene it seemed. The primal scene was having a strong effect on her. Beads of sexual secretion were forming on the walls of her vagina and oozing out over the swelling lips of her hair-ringed slit. She felt sneaky and sinful herself. It was a brand-new feeling for her, one that was troubling but rather delicious.
Nothing of any importance was hidden from her. Her unblinking eye took in the arcing of the gardener's tensed buttocks, the swaying of his hairy testicles as they splatted into the fleshy valley of the maid's undulating rump. It was thrilling to see. The most thrilling thing of all was the way his dark penis glistened wetly as it retreated from her belly with her pink sex folds drawing out around it and distending from her crotch. Or were the sounds affecting her more?
The rhythmic squeaking of the bedsprings, the female moans and the masculine grunts? Susan didn't know. All she knew was that it was becoming torturous for her. She felt hot and itchy and moist between her trembling legs.
I've got to get out of here! she thought with alarm. I should never have watched them! It's doing something to me! I feel so strange ... so uncomfortable!
"Harder, baby!" Krista panted, and threw her legs up around him. She locked her ankles over his pistoning butt and began spurring him with her heels. "GIVE IT TO ME! YES, DADDY ... OH, YESSS ... FUCK ME LONG AND HARD!!!"
The old four-poster bed started snapping and popping as the large man responded with gusto. His ass fairly flew up and down within the maid's encircling legs. The bedsprings raspingly protested their furious fucking motions, and the sounds grated lewdly in Susan's ears.
A surge of excitement rippled through her. She forgot about returning to her room for the time being. The abandoned sexual union held her spellbound. She squirmed with sensual discomfort as she became totally engrossed in the illicit act. The furry slot between her legs was hotter than ever now, and itching something fierce. Susan had to fight her hand to keep it away from her dribbling, soft pink crevice. Look at them! They're going like crazy ... and it sounds awfully good! They're horrid people! They don't care that it's sinful and wicked! Damn it! What's happening to me? I should go to my room! But I don't want to!
Susan was so caught up in her voyeurism that she failed to notice Miss Olson's boxer returning from his nightly romp in the woods. The magnificent animal weighed about seventy-five pounds, and his tan coat was sleek from daily brushing. As he neared the house, his pug nose began sniffing the air. He followed the scent up onto the veranda and had his muzzle stuck under Susan's blue nightgown before she was even aware of his presence. Because of her stooped posture, Susan's fragrant vulva presented an easy target at the top of her slightly parted legs. The dog wasted no time. Even as his head was diving under her blue nightie, his tongue was sliding out of his mouth.
The boxer's cold snout nudged the girl's rosebud anus only a split second before his long tongue snaked through the inflamed folds of her out-thrust hairy sex slit. It was the first hint Susan had that she was no longer alone. A stab of pleasure shot through her. She sucked in her breath and shivered, then greeted her unknown licker with a strangled little cry of pleasured shock.
What in the world? she gasped mentally. My heavens!
Evidently the boxer liked the taste of Susan's plushy little gash, because he licked it several more times in rapid succession before the startled girl could collect her wits and swing her rear out of his reach.
She straightened up and tugged her nightgown down as she spun around. The boxer's sad eyes gazed up at the horrified young lady. His tongue was hanging out and his stubby tail was wagging.
"Woof!" he barked, and attempted to stick his head under her sheer nightie from the front.
It was all Susan could do to keep from screaming. She clapped her hand over her mouth and darted up the veranda and into her room, barely getting the French doors shut in time. The dog was hot on her heels, but she managed to close the doors with him outside. She was shaking all over.
"Wooof, woof, woof!" the animal barked, scratching at the doors.
"My God!" Susan muttered. "What'll I do? That awful dog!" She locked the doors and knelt beside them, calling as loud as she dared, "Go away, dog! Go away!"
The sound of her frightened voice made him bark all the louder. He began whining and scratching frenziedly at the door.
Susan thought she was going to faint. If the beast didn't shut up, the maid and gardener would suspect she'd been out of her room and spying on them. She didn't want that. But there was nothing she could do to stop the barking and whining and clawing-nothing short of letting the animal into her room, which was out of the question.
He wants to lick me some more! she thought, her confused mind spinning. The nasty thing! I can't let him do that! It felt good, but I didn't let him do it! He sneaked up on me and ... go away, dog! Ohhh ... go away!!!
Deciding that all she could do was ignore the dog and hope for the best, Susan dove onto her grandmother's massive, ornate brass bed and pulled the sheet up to her chin. She lay there shivering with a melange of totally incompatible emotions, listening to the howling boxer outside the door and the toe-curling sounds of the sexual crescendo drifting in from the maid's room.
A couple of minutes later she heard footsteps in the next room, then the husky voice of the gardener calling, "Perro! Shut up, you stupid! What's the matter with you? Come on ... come on!"
Susan heaved a sigh of relief when the dog went away. She lay quietly for a moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath and tried to compose herself. It was a hot night. She'd already had a bath, but she felt so feverish and sticky that she got up and went into her grandmother's private bath for a cold shower.
Reyes was still in Miss Olson's room when she finished her shower. Susan could hear their voices but couldn't make out what they were saying. She wondered if she ought to go over to the door and eavesdrop, but decided no, that she'd had enough of that for one night. Instead, she returned to the vanity table and started brushing her hair again, preparing to retire and get some much-needed rest. She'd ridden the bus back to Atlanta, arriving only that afternoon after a three year absence at college, and she was beat.
Broke, too. And an orphan. The father Susan Polk had never known had been an army lieutenant. He'd gone to Korea and died in battle. She'd been raised in the big old house which was now hers under the screwy trust deed her missing grandmother had set up. Susan's timid mother and domineering grandmother-a witch of a woman who'd hated men and dominated a constant string of male servants-had raised the girl until Susan's first year of high school. Her grandmother had done something to her mother then, something her mother couldn't talk about or live with. To this day, Susan had no idea what it was. But she knew it had snapped something in her mother's mind, because she'd hanged herself in the cellar of Robards Manor soon afterward.
It was after her mother's unexplainable suicide that Susan had grown to hate and despise her demanding grandmother. As soon as she'd been graduated from high school, she'd gone away to college, intending never to return. But the money her mother had set aside for Susan's education, from her father's insurance, was gone. Inflation had eaten it up in three years instead of four. Susan was penniless, with another year of college to go before she could qualify for her teaching certificate.
And now she was back at Robards Manor, under mysterious and potentially dangerous circumstances. Susan couldn't help but wonder if her scheming grandmother had set the whole thing up in order to trick her into returning. Was the old witch dead? Had she wandered off suffering from amnesia or something? Or had she taken a pleasure trip of some sort and made it only appear that she'd vanished? Would she return in a few days or weeks and try to take control of Susan again, then attempt to break her will and keep her at Robards Manor until Susan committed suicide to escape, the way her mother had done?
All these questions ran through Susan's troubled mind, but there were no answers. She simply didn't know. Her grandmother had cajoled and threatened in her efforts to lure Susan back. That she knew. She also knew that her grandmother was worth more than a half-million dollars in cash, stocks and bonds, and that subdividers had offered a quarter-million more for the old house and its surrounding acres of choice woodland.
Susan was the sole heir to an estate worth at least three-quarters of a million dollars. If her grandmother didn't reappear, it was all hers under the trust deed. All she had to do to claim her inheritance was accept her allowance and live for seven years in the house with four servants she was forbidden to evict. And any or all of the four could be murderers.
Not Simmons, she thought. I've known him nearly all my life. I trust him more than Grandmother. He could never kill anyone. He's too meek. He's jumped to Grandmother's orders since I was a little girl. I used to wonder why he stayed on as butler when none of the other servants would put up with the old witch for more than a few months. But he did. Because he'd made that way, I guess. No, I'm sure that Simmons didn't kill my grandmother. He wouldn't be able to do it, even if he wanted to.
With her mind once again dwelling on her grandmother's puzzling disappearance, Susan decided that perhaps she should attempt to overhear what the maid and gardener were talking about, after all. The lawyer administering the trust deed had said she ought to keep her eyes and ears open, and that anything suspicious should be reported to the police.
Again she went to the connecting door and pressed her ear to the panel.
"Hand me my pants, Krista," Susan heard the gardener saying. "I want to show you something."
"To hell with your pants. I want you to show me nine inches of stiff cock again now. Shall I kiss it? Suck it a little for you? Would that bring it up nice and hard again, do you think, baby?"
Susan was fairly well calmed down, and she didn't want to hear or see any more of their obscene sexing. She was about to leave the door when Jesus Reyes said:
"Later for that. Get your book out. I've found another one."
"Really?" Krista squealed. "Where?"
"In the flower bed at the front of the house. The one on the left side."
Krista laughed excitedly. "I wondered why you spent the whole day digging out there. What did you find? A good one? Just one?"
"Just one, but it's an old sonofabitch. Brand-new but old, and sealed up in a little plastic case. You get the book while I get it out of my pocket."
Book? Brand-new but old? In a plastic case? What are they talking about? Susan wondered.
"Okay, I've got the book," Susan heard Krista say. "Now hand it to me and let me check it under the light ... I'll be damned! It's in perfect condition, Jesus! Hey, this has got to be worth something! Let me open the book and check it out!"
Susan thought she could hear pages flipping. She was more puzzled than before. What book? she felt like yelling. And what are you checking out? What's in that plastic case?
"Hurry up!" Reyes urged. "See how much it's worth!"
"Don't rush me!" Krista snapped. "This is a rare one! I've got to find it in the book before I can tell you anything!"
"I bet it's worth a hundred dollars, anyway," Reyes said.
"Easy," Krista agreed, flipping pages. "Probably a lot more than that."
Susan pressed her ear tighter against the door. This could be important, she knew, and she had to hear everything.
"Aaaah," Krista sighed as the page flipping ceased. "Here we are, baby! Right after the small cents! Two-cent pieces, eighteen sixty-four to eighteen seventy-three, bronze."
"It's an eighteen seventy-three," he said.
"I see it is ... and it's got a closed three. It's a proof, Jesus! That's all they made that year! My God, it's worth seven-hundred dollars! This is the most valuable one any of us has found so far!"
Jesus whistled. "Give it back. I'll keep it where I've got my other coins hidden. Damn ... seven-hundred for one little coin! I sure would like to find that big bunch she hid all together!"
"You and all the rest of us," Krista said. "What do you think we're sticking around for? Out of respect for the old bat? Hah! If it weren't for her coin collection, the bitch would have been living here by herself."
"How much is it worth, Krista? The case with most of the coins in it. Tell me again."
"Bitch Robards didn't tell me exactly. All the old shit did was hint. Around two-hundred thousand. I don't know if that's the whole collection or just what's in the hidden case."
Jesus whistled. "I'd sure like to find that case!"
"We've got to find it, Jesus. Either you or me. Then we'll go away together and really live it up. Piss on Charles and Simmons, right?"
"Right, baby," Jesus said. "You and me."
Krista Olson smiled inwardly. She was thinking how stupid men were. Each of the three expected her to run away with them. And if one of the men found the case of coins, she would take it all and run away from him. If she herself found it, she planned to disappear without the men being any the wiser.
"I wonder where she is," Jesus said absently.
"Bitch Robards? Hell, you're the man with the shovel. Where did you bury her?"
"Come on, Krista, I didn't kill her!"
Krista laughed. "You said you were going to kill her. Lots of times, you said it."
"I said I felt like doing it!"
"Did you kill her, Jesus?" Krista asked in a teasing tone. "You can tell me, honey."
"If I did, I wouldn't tell anyone. Let's get off the subject. Here, maybe this will shut you up."
"Mmm," Susan heard the maid sigh, and then for a moment there was nothing but wet sucking sounds. After a lewd smack, she heard Miss Olson exclaim, "What a man! It's hard as a rock again ... and so fast! Lie back, honey! Let me get on top this time!"
Shaking with fear, Susan left the door and began pacing the room. They'd been talking about her grandmother's coin collection, which Susan had seen a few times but paid little attention to. She wondered if it was worth two-hundred thousand dollars. They'd found part of it, a few coins by each of the servants, from the way they talked. And they thought her grandmother had been killed, which probably meant that she had been.
Susan shuddered. Did they kill her for her coin collection? she wondered. Miss Olson asked Reyes if he did it, and he said no. Does that mean Charles killed her? Or did they suspect I was listening and say that wanting me to hear? They're plotting together, planning to find the case and leave together. Could they have murdered Grandmother together?
Again Susan shuddered, because she knew they could have done exactly that. She stopped in the center of her grandmother's bedroom, wringing her hands and thinking hard. Grandmother is missing. That's a fact. She could have gone off somewhere in order to trick me into coming back, but I don't think so now. The coin collection throws a different light on her disappearance. Some of her coins have been found. How many ... and by whom? Why is part of the collection apparently scattered about? Why is any of it here in the first place? She kept it in a safe deposit box, didn't she? Oh, dear Lord, there's so many questions and no answers! Grandmother is dead, though. I'm almost sure of it now! I've got to have help! I'm living with a killer! I'll go talk to Simmons. He's bound to know something ... or at least suspect something! He'll tell me. I can trust him. He'll help me if he can. He's got to! Where else can I turn? I've got to talk to Simmons ... now ... or, dear God, I'll start screaming!
CHAPTER TWO
Like a sneak thief-she didn't want Reyes or Miss Olson to know of her late-night visit to the butler-Susan slipped from her grandmother's room wearing the blue negligee that went with her sheer nightgown but carrying her house slippers in her hand. Her bare feet made no sound as she hurried up the carpeted staircase, casting fearful glances all about. At the top, she paused and looked briefly toward the front of the house, where hers and her mother's rooms had once been.
The upstairs was deserted now, except for Simmons, who continued to occupy the butler's quarters at the rear of the house. Susan shivered, then proded herself into motion and began walking barefoot down the hall. There was no sound coming from the butler's room. It was late, but Susan felt that she must speak with him even if she had to wake him. She put on her slippers, then knocked softly on his door.
"Krista?" he called hopefully. There was a smile on the nondescript, middle-aged man's face when he swung open the door. It vanished immediately when he saw Susan, and was replaced by his usual lack of expression. "Oh ... Miss Polk."
He was wearing a red and black robe with brown slippers, and he'd answered the door so fast that Susan knew she hadn't wakened him. "I need to talk to you, Simmons."
His smile returned, but it was weary.
"May I come in?" she asked.
Simmons glanced over his shoulder. "Of course, Miss Polk, but give me a minute to tidy up first, please."
Susan was about to protest that he needn't bother, but the door was shut in her face before she could say anything. While Susan stood outside the door fidgeting, the butler put away the coin book and a handful of coins he'd been studying. When he reopened the door, he was smiling warmly, almost seductively.
"Won't you come in, Miss Polk?" he said graciously, stepping to the side and motioning her into the room with a swing of his arm. "I believe this is the first time you've ever been in my quarters, isn't it?"
"Why, yes, I guess it is, at that," Susan replied.
"And to what do I owe this honor? I do consider it an honor, Miss Polk. My, how you've changed since you went away. I'm afraid I didn't compliment you this afternoon. Forgive me. Allow me to do it now. You've developed into a very beautiful young woman, Susan, uh, Miss Polk. Seeing you dressed so casually, with your lustrous hair down and looking so soft ... I do hope I'm not embarrassing you."
"A little," Susan said, looking down at her feet. "I'm afraid you are, Simmons."
He laughed nervously. "Then I shall stop it at once. I certainly didn't intend to embarrass you, Susan. You don't mind if I call you Susan in private do you? After all, I've known you so long."
"I guess it's okay," Susan murmured reluctantly. Actually it wasn't okay, but she needed his help, wanted him on her side, and he had, as he said, known her so long. "But not in front of the other servants, please, Simmons."
"Of course not," he replied quickly, "but call me Rob. After all, if I'm to use your first name, you should feel free to use mine, too, don't you think?"
"Yes, all right," Susan said, wishing he would shut up so she could tell him why she'd come. It struck her as odd that he even had a first name. She'd never heard it before.
"Ahh, that's better. I feel much more at ease now, don't you, Susan? Sit down, my child, please, there, on the sofa. I'm afraid it's rather crowded in here, what with the bed and all, but I do like to have a sofa and an easy chair, and I'm rather used to things being a bit cramped. In fact, I think I sort of like it this way. Get used to anything, you know. It grows on you over the years."
"I suppose so," Susan agreed, settling onto one end of the sofa and smoothing her negligee down over her knees. "Simmons, I-"
"Rob," he corrected.
"Rob," she said, trying again, "I must talk to you about ... about my grandmother and-"
"Of course you must, my dear child," he broke in. "But first I'm going to pour you a snifter of brandy. My stars, you're positively ashen, Susan! Have you seen a ghost or something equally dreadful? No, no, don't object, my dear. I was having some myself before you popped up. You must join me. It'll do you good, you know. Settle you down a bit. You are rather shaken over something. I can tell."
He's drunk, Susan thought. I've never heard him talk so much. "Are you drunk, Simmons?" she blurted.
"Definitely not, ma'am," he replied a bit sharply. "I never imbibe to that extent, I can assure you."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked," Susan said, squirming. Things weren't going the way she'd expected, and it made her all the more nervous.
"Quite all right, my dear," he said, his back toward her as he poured brandy. "You'll like this. It's blackberry, and very fine, indeed. From your grandmother's own stock, it is. Now you mustn't think badly of me for having it. Your grandmother was starting to mellow in her old age. She approved of my nightly brandies. In fact, the old dear set me a ration of a pint a week, and insisted that I take my pick from the store in the cellar."
Susan was amazed that her grandmother would do such a thing. The old woman had always been niggardly with everyone but herself, and the servants especially-their pay and living quarters, even the food they ate.
The butler had no qualms about lying to Susan Polk concerning the brandy he'd stolen. There was a fortune at stake. Susan was going to inherit it, and Simmons figured to get it. He had already decided to marry "the stupid little girl," even before she'd returned and he'd seen how lovely she'd become. Now he was thinking that he might even keep her as his wife after he'd married her and gotten her money. It was getting worse with Krista. She was treating him more shabbily with each passing day. He owed the blonde maid nothing. It was she who owed him. His relationship with Krista Olson was beginning to gall him-but that could wait till later. Now Susan Polk, the young heiress, was here. The naive little darling had come of her own volition into his room and was sitting on the sofa, just waiting to be brandied and seduced, wooed and won, along with all her sizable inheritance. It was the perfect opportunity, and Rob Simmons planned to take full advantage of it-before young Charles Lancaster or that slob Jesus Reyes began sucking up to rich little Miss Polk with ideas of their own. He picked up both brandies, sniffed the aroma from his glass and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he turned toward the sofa.
"My dear girl," he said, extending a snifter toward her. "Smell that, if you will, and savor the bouquet. It's magnificent, isn't it?"
Susan smelled and nodded. She knew nothing about alcoholic beverages, and didn't particularly want to learn.
"Go on, taste it," he urged. "A few sips, at least. It'll warm you from the inside. Do you a world of good. Think of it as a nerve tonic. Now, don't tell me no. I insist. Have a sip with me, then we'll discuss whatever it is that you have on your mind."
Mostly to shut him up, Susan took a sip of the blackberry brandy. To her surprise, it tasted good. She could feel it warming her throat as it trickled down. It did the same for her stomach. The effect was pleasant, so she took another sip. As the glow in her stomach radiated out through her body, she could feel her nerves beginning to ease. "It does help, Sim ... Rob," she said.
"Didn't I tell you it would?" he asked, smiling benevolently as he sat down on the sofa with only a few inches between them. "You can trust me to take care of you, Susan."
"I do trust you, Rob," she said. "That's why I'm here. You're the only friend I have, and-"
"You don't know how good that makes me feel, my dear, to hear you say I'm your friend. I am truly that. You best interests are my only worries at the moment."
Susan sighed. "And you couldn't possibly know how good it makes me feel to hear you say that."
"I can imagine," he smiled, patting her arm. "We've always been fond of one another, haven't we, Susan? Even when you were a little girl."
She nodded and took another sip of the brandy. "Yes. Even way back then."
"I tried to be a surrogate father to you, you know. You didn't have a man of your own class about and seemed to need one, so I did my best for you. I suppose I failed wretchedly, having never taken a wife or been a father myself."
Susan smiled tensely. She had always depended on Simmons, and even looked up to him in a way, but she'd never thought of him as a substitute father, or noticed that he ever attempted to fill that role. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she let it pass without comment. But this wasn't the type of talk she wanted to have with him, and she changed the subject abruptly. "Do you think my grandmother has been murdered?"
He blinked and looked away. "It, uh, it has crossed my mind as a possible explanation for her all too obvious absence," he said stiffly. He cleared his throat and took a large sip of brandy. "On the other hand, she might well have been kidnaped."
"Kidnaped?" Susan gulped. "My grandmother?"
"It isn't such a far-fetched notion, when you think about it. She is quite well-to-do, now, isn't she? It wouldn't surprise me a great deal if we received a note demanding ransom for Mrs. Robards' safe return. As a matter-of-fact, I sort of expect it. Have for days. Been watching the post carefully."
"But that wouldn't make sense," Susan protested. "None of us can touch her money. There's no way we could raise a large sum for ransom."
"My first thought, too, when the possibility of kidnaping crossed my mind. But if you'll think further, my dear, you'll have to admit it could be done. Suppose that is what occurred, that some dastardly fellow whisked the old lady away and is holding her. What's to keep a scoundrel like that from using either you or me as an errand runner? Could he not demand that we provide him with one of Mrs. Robards' personalized blank checks? It would be a simple matter for him to force her to make it out for whatever figure she deems her life to be worth. And it would be equally simple to have one of us cash the check and deliver the money into his greedy hands before he releases her or slays her or whatever the final act of his plan happens to be. Would you grant me that, put the way I've thought it might happen, it could make sense?"
More confused than ever, Susan could only stare at him blankly.
Simmons shrugged. "Perhaps I've read too many mystery yarns. I do find them fascinating, don't you?"
"I guess she c-could have been k-kidnaped," Susan stammered. "It just didn't occur to me! I thought she might have wandered off with amnesia or something, or that she might have taken a secret trip in order to trick me into coming back here! She did want me to come back, you know, and even threatened to disinherit me if I didn't."
"I know," he said, and took the glass from her trembling hand. "Let me get you some more brandy. No sense in sitting there with an empty glass." He went to refill the snifters, talking over his shoulders while he did so. "I know she wanted you to return to Robards Manor, Susan. But she is definitely not taking a secret trip. I would know if she were. And it seems to me highly un-likely that a woman of her age could wander about with amnesia for this length of time without being found and taken to a hospital, all of which have been notified and would have contacted us the moment she was brought in. Besides, there's nothing wrong with her mind. Your grandmother has been murdered or kidnaped, one or the other, or perhaps both. We can only guess and wait until she, a message or her body shows up."
"B-but that m-may never happen!" Susan wailed as she took the generously filled brandy glass and slumped back.
Simmons smiled enigmatically. He sat down on the sofa beside the girl, so close that their thighs were touching through their robes. He put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. "In that event, my dear Susan, the unexplainable disappearance of your grandmother will forever remain a mystery. Cheers," he said, clinking his glass lightly against hers. "Drink up now. Better have it all. I believe you need it for your nerves."
Susan gulped. She had to agree that she needed something, because her nerves were about shot. With an unsteady hand, she lifted the glass to her trembling lips and took a big sip of brandy, then another and another. Her numbed mind was preoccupied. She was in a fog, only hazily aware of the trusted butler scooting closer and closer until he had her pressed into a corner of the sofa.
"You're a very beautiful young lady," he breathed.
She heard his voice, but not his words. "How many coins have you found, Rob?"
"Coins?" he asked tensely, recoiling as if she'd slapped him. He took his arm from around her and scooted a few inches away. "What are you talking about?"
"I overheard Reyes and Miss Olson. He was in her room, and he had a coin from my grandmother's collection, that he'd found in a flower bed, he said, and they were talking about the collection as if it were hidden on the estate. It sounded to me as if they thought you and the chauffeur had also found some valuable coins."
Simmons stiffened. His upper lip twitched. "The slut!" he muttered under his breath. Aloud he said, "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about, my dear Susan. I've found no coins, believe me. As far as I know, Mrs. Robards' collection of rare coins is in her safe deposit box at the bank."
She threw him a puzzled glance. It didn't make sense. Nothing did. She wanted to believe him, but her intuition told her he was lying about the coins. "I'd better go now."
"Nonsense," he said, forcing a smile. "Stay and we'll talk. You haven't finished your brandy yet, and it's too good to waste."
The brandy was helping her nerves, so she decided to stay until she'd finished it, but no longer, and began sipping it again.
"So Reyes was in Krista's room, was he? And up to no good, I'd wager. What else were they doing, Susan?"
"Why, uh...."
"Come, come, now, you can tell me. I'm your friend, and you may need my help. Confide in me. Trust me. Let me help you, Susan. I want to help you, but if you keep secrets from me, how can I? Now, you did eavesdrop on them, didn't you?"
Susan nodded and blushed. She was very reluctant to tell Simmons about the upsetting sexual things she'd heard and witnessed, but he kept at her until she admitted they had done much more than talk about coins. The brandy helped, so she kept sipping it. When Simmons refilled her glass for the third time, she was quite tipsy. Until then she'd been hemming and hawing, but after the alcohol had loosened her tongue it was easy for her to open up and pour out the whole sordid story in all its loin-tingling details. She chose her words carefully to avoid vulgarities, but when she finished talking, she'd told the butler everything except about the, dog licking her. By then, the room seemed to be revolving slowly around her, due to the considerable amount of brandy she'd consumed. Reliving the shockingly obscene incident mentally had affected her, too, nearly as much as the alcohol. She couldn't seem to sit still, and the prickly heat down between her half-exposed thighs was becoming unbearable. Talking about the lewd things she'd seen and heard, telling it all to a man, affected her in a strange and totally unexpected way. The proper young lady felt embarrassed and ashamed, but she couldn't help the licentious mood which had come over her.
The scheming butler observed the girl's sensual discomfort, and had a rip-roaring erection himself. The sound of her quavering voice and the sight of her curvaceous, fidgeting body had a powerful effect on him. Normally a mild-mannered, servile type of man who seduced only rarely, and then by wheedling and playing on a woman's sympathies, he felt masculinely confident in the presence of this high-strung, sexually inexperienced girl. He could see she was terribly frustrated. It was the perfect opportunity, and he decided the ideal moment had arrived. Seizing his chance, knowing it was probably the only one he would have, he took the brandy glass from her hand and set it aside. Taking advantage of her agitated condition, he grasped her with one arm, pulling her close to him as he thrust his other hand between her creamy thighs and forced it under her nightgown.
Because she found them uncomfortable to sleep in, Susan never wore panties or a brassiere beneath her nightie. So when Simmons' hand reached the junction of her legs, it made flesh to flesh contact with the hairy mound of her hot, clefted vulva.
Susan sucked in her breath. "My God!" she gasped. "What do you think you're d-doing, Simmons?"
"Call me Rob," he whispered, and forced her back onto the sofa, mashing his lips to her gaping mouth while she was still too stunned to object. He thrust his tongue into her breathless mouth and stuck his middle finger into the slippery pink slit of her pouting sex hole.
For a moment, Susan was too shocked by his lewd boldness to do anything but whimper and squirm. His insinuating finger had penetrated her satiny vagina clear up to his palm, and to her utter dismay, it sent a lurid thrill rippling up her spine.
"Simmons!" she cried, jerking her mouth free and shoving at his shoulder with a violently shaking hand. "Stop it ... this instant! What are you thinking? What's the matter with you? Get your finger out of my ... my...."
"You're beautiful!" he panted, holding the struggling girl down and kissing along her cheek and neck while he pumped his finger rapidly in and out of her juicy little slot.
"Thank you ... I'm sure!" she sputtered, her mind spinning crazily. "But that's no reason ... no excuse for ... ohhh ... oh, my goodness ... aaah ... quit that; Simmons! Stop it! That's an order!"
"You like it," he crooned, fingering her harder and faster. "I can tell!"
"But ... it's not right!" she wailed, as she beat weakly at his shoulder with her small fist. She clamped her thighs together and attempted to wriggle off his thrilling finger, but her action only heightened her unwanted pleasure. "Ooooh ... oh, please don't, Simmons! I'm scared! I want to go! Let me up!"
His lips sought hers and locked to them leech-like.
"Nooh ... noooo!" the confused girl moaned into his mouth, even as his tongue was slithering past her lips and darting around in her moist oral cavern.
I do like it! she thought. His finger feels wonderful wiggling around inside me! Oh, how awful! I've got to stop him! Now!
Panic-stricken, she locked her fingers in his thinning, carefully combed brown hair and pulled. At the same time, she jerked her head in the other direction, breaking the kiss. "Damn you!" she screeched. "Stop it! This is insane! Quit ... leave me alone ... or I'll pull your hair out by the roots! I will!"
"I've got to possess you, Susan! You're so desirable! I must have you, my darling! I can't resist your beauty!"
While he spoke gaspingly, Susan twisted her fingers in his hair and applied pressure warningly. She could see his eyes glazing over, could feel his pleasure-giving finger stroking deep within her silky sheath. Realizing she had to make good her threat, she yanked out a handful of his hair.
"There!" she cried. "I told you I'd do it! Now will you please leave me alone?"
Instead of stopping him, as she'd expected, her desperate action made him all the more wild for her. His eyes glittered and his face mirrored an inner ecstasy. The pain she'd caused him seemed to increase his strength and fan the flames of his lust. He hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe, and rolled half on top of her, adding a second finger to the one he was plunging furiously within the tiny opening of her hairy portal.
"Simmons!" she gasped, fighting him with all her strength. "Stop it! Ooooh ... oh, please ... aaaah ... don't do this dreadful th-thing to meee!"
But her strength was fading rapidly, as was her will to resist. With two fingers pumping into her pussy, sending a constant barrage of erotic stimulation up to her alcohol-dulled brain, the prim young lady found it incredibly difficult to think straight.
What little will she had left drained from her. She let her legs fall open and heaved a whimper-like sob. Flames of lust licked tantalizingly in her loins. Her head was spinning and her heart thumping.
"I've wanted to do this," he gasped, "for so long!"
"Ooooh," she moaned, licking her parched lips. "Y-you shouldn't! It's s-sinful ... ahhh ... and wicked ... and ... and you must stop it ... mmm ... at once!"
"You don't really want me to stop, do you?" he breathed, capturing her elongated pleasure button between his thumb and forefinger and rolling it about.
"Unnn ... agh ... oh, God ... ohhh ... ahhh!" she panted. Her mouth hung open and her eyes began rolling beneath their lids. "Wh-What are ... you do-doing ... to meee?"
"It feels good, doesn't it, Susan?" he crooned, drawing the hood all the way back from the tip of her inflamed little nub and flicking it rapidly with a fingertip.
"Yes!" she panted, loosing her slippers as her flailing heels beat the floor erratically. "Good ... so good!"
"I'm going to fuck you, darling," he whispered.
"Ohhh," she whimpered, her head rocking from side to side. No one had ever spoken to her that way, but she found it extremely exciting, especially the obscene word he'd used. "Nooh ... you mustn't fuck me!" she cried, and felt a lewd thrill just saying the word. "I won't I-let you fuck mee!"
He kissed her with open-mouthed urgency, ramming his tongue down her throat, and Susan was too far gone to protest. Her passion was so hot it melted something inside her. Feeling as if the entire world had suddenly gone stark raving mad, she heaved a pleasured sigh of surrender and began sucking his tongue while he massaged her clitoris and drove her completely out of her prudish mind.
Over Susan's protesting, pleading and struggling, he removed her negligee and nightgown, then shoved her down on the sofa and snapped off the light. He shucked out of his robe and kicked away his slippers, then lay down on top of the nude, sobbing girl.
"Nooh!" she wailed, when he pried her trembling legs apart with his knees and lowered himself into the dominant male position. "I'm scared, Rob! Don't! Please d-don't do it to me!"
"Shh, not so loud!" he cautioned, wedging the bulging head of his stiff prick into the fluted folds of her steaming sexual aperture.
The initial contact of their blood-engorged genitals sent an electric-like shock through her, and it was frighteningly exciting.
"No, no, no!" she panted.
It was an agonizing moment for her, what with her sex-starved body crying for him to put it in her and her uptight mind screaming how evil and degrading sex was.
"I love you!" he croaked, pressing the taut-skinned head of his dick into the slippery slot of her puffy, hair-lined labia. "Love you!"
"Unn, unn, unn!" she chanted, pushing at his shoulders in a final, desperate attempt to prevent his penis from penetrating her. But she was too weak and feverish to stop him. The alcohol and passion had her mind surrounded by a steamy fog of lust. She could feel the blood-bloated head of his rod sinking into her yielding orifice, parting her swollen, slippery outer folds and dilating the tighter ring of her beet-red inner lips.
"Ohhh ... ohhh!" she moaned, half sighing and half sobbing.
It was torture for her. Susan was like two girls. Her emotions pulled her in one direction and her mind in another. The bittersweet pain in the vicinity of her groin was a glorious thing, so far as her body was concerned; but her conscience screamed stridently inside her reeling brain, demanding that she fight with all her might to save her virtue and protect the purity of her loins.
The choice wasn't hers to make, however, because the greedy butler was hell-bent on possessing his young mistress and making her fortune his. He grasped her wrists and pinned them down beside her shoulders, then tensed his buttocks and began forcing his pecker slowly but surely into the moist heat of her incredibly tight sex hole.
"Nooh!" she moaned, chewing her lower lip and screwing her head back into the sofa cushion. The pleasure-pain was becoming more intense. He had his glans into her vagina, with her inflamed inner cunt lips stretched to the very limit around the flared portion at the back of his penile crown. "It h-hurts ... oh, God ... it hurts!!!"
Simmons gritted his teeth and snapped his hips, lunging forward and driving his bulging knob through the elastic ring of her vaginal entrance.
"AARGH!" she yelled when his sleek cockhead popped into her. There was a spine-wrenching burst of pain and a blinding flash of red light. She shuddered. Then the sturdy lance sped into her, separating her flesh and enlarging the slick tube of her vagina to accommodate its girth.
"AA AIIIEEE ... AAAIIIEEE!!!" Susan shrilled, her eyelids blinking and her mouth agape, her small hands clenched into fists and her body twitching helplessly.
The penetration of her secret place took only a split second, but it seemed to Susan as if it were going on forever. Her conscience shouted its outrage while her healthy body was at long last being forced to accept the role nature had meant it for. The confused girl was keenly aware of the invading male organ. She could feel herself being stretched internally as inch after inch of the fat dick reamed into her writhing body. At last his pubis bumped against hers, his glans nudging her cervix and his testicles swinging forward to slap softly into the crack of her quivering ass, and she knew she had it all.
She sucked in her breath raggedly. A tremor racked her shapely body. The air rushed from her lungs in a lengthy, high-pitched squeal. She was horrified and thrilled, shocked and excited, so mixed-up that she didn't know whether to curse Simmons or kiss him.
But now that he'd succeeded in violating the sanctity of her most private chamber, he gave her no respite. The middle-aged butler had barely plumbed her feminine depths when he started screwing her with long, deliberately measured strokes.
Susan's large breasts were flattened against his chest, her rib cage expanding and contracting rapidly as she heaved for breath. Gurgling noises rumbled around in her throat. Her eyeballs revolved beneath their fluttering lids, while her fingers opened and closed with the rhythm of his thrusting dong.
The man's penis wasn't particularly large, but Susan wasn't accustomed to having sexual intercourse and her pussy was extremely small. Even though she was more than adequately lubricated, the fit of their genitals was painfully snug. Her puffy labia folded in around his shaft during each instroke and clung suckingly to the glistening stalk when he withdrew all but the throbbing head from her furry gash. The friction caused by his incessant screwing motions built quickly into a searing heat that radiated out from her hair-fringed opening. The licking flames of sexual passion reached her brain, and seemed to explode there. The tactile stimulation of his plunging peter drove her conscience to the back of her prudish mind, rendering that mental policeman totally inoperable, stripping the whimpering young lady of her remaining moral inhibitions.
"Ooh, ohh," she began to sigh. She couldn't hold back the sounds. She didn't even try. The potent mixture of alcohol and passion had done its work well. There was no fight left in her; her will to resist was gone.
"You like it now, don't you, darling?" Simmons asked pantingly, his hot breath bursting over her ear and his ass arcing steadily between her thighs.
I do like it! She realized with a jolt, but she wouldn't admit it vocally. The very idea that she, Susan Polk, could enjoy the obscenely wicked thing he was doing to her made her feel sinful and sluttish. What's come over me? I shouldn't have had all that brandy! Ohhhh ... that feels good ... so good! Damn it! I don't want him to fuck me! I'm not like Miss Olson!
"Does it still hurt, Susan?" he asked, humping away.
"Good!" she moaned involuntarily, her hips starting to undulate of their own volition. "It h-hurts good!"
Simmons grinned to himself in the darkness and speeded up the tempo, plunging his cock into her steaming slit harder and faster. He released her wrists and moved his arms down her body, then worked his hands under her and cupped the fleshy mounds of her squirming butt.
Instinctively Susan put her arms around the man and clung to him breathlessly, thinking, How awful! He's screwing me! I shouldn't let him do it! It's dreadfully wrong! Sex is evil ... immoral ... and to make it worse, he's my butler ... a domestic servant! Oh, God help me! What's to become of me now?
"We've always been very fond of one another, haven't we, Susan?" he gasped, powering the pole to her as he spoke.
"Yes!" she cried. "Oh, yesss!" It was getting better for the inexperienced young woman with each passing second. Ever time he hunched his prick into her sopping slot, it gave her a tremendous thrill. It mattered less and less that he was a servant, or that what they were doing was supposed to be nasty and demented. Her healthy body had been denied sex for too long. Now that her snug snatch was being pumped by a hard penis, her lust grew by leaps and bounds.
"My dear, dear Susan!" he crooned, thrusting his thick rod in to the hilt and grinding against her curly haired mons, stirring her silky depths with his swollen cockhead. "We were meant to become lovers, my sweet! I always knew it ... didn't you?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" she chanted, sighing and moaning her pleasure. She would've agreed to anything he said at that moment, because the first sensations of preorgasmic bliss were beginning to gather in her feverish loins. "Fuck me, Rob!"
"You, darling!" he gushed, and started humping her wildly. "Yes, I'll fuck you! How delightful to hear you ask me to!"
"HARDER!" she screeched, throwing her legs up and locking her ankles over his pistoning rear, the way she's seen Krista Olson do with Reyes. "FUCK ME ... FUCK ME ... FUCK MEEEM!"
"Are you going to come?" he huffed, increasing his efforts and fucking her for all he was worth.
"MMM ... OHHHH ... AHHHH!!!" Susan moaned, following the only example she had, spurring Simmons' buttocks with her heels the way she'd seen Miss Olson do to the gardener.
"Oh, God!" Simmons croaked, his rump arcing furiously as he humped her with shorter and more powerful jabs. "You are ready! I can feel you spasming around my cock!"
"OH, GOD!" she echoed him, just as the full impact of her first orgasm struck thunderously in her heaving belly. "I AM ... I'M COMING ... COMMMINGGG ... COOOMMMIIINNNGGG!!!"
She threw back her head and emitted a guttural groan as the first convulsion gripped her guts. It was instant ecstasy, like nothing she'd ever experienced before.
"Is it good?" he husked, hitting into her with body-jolting two-inch thrusts. "Tell me, darling!"
"COMING ... GOOD ... SOO GOOOOD ... AHHHH ... OHHHHH ... COOOMMMIIINNNGGG!!!" she rasped, her insides going wild.
It was impossible for her to tell him how it felt. There were no words to describe her joy. Her womb was convulsing, her vagina fluttering and her asshole winking. And somewhere inside her, her soul was being rent apart by the sheer rapture that racked her sweat-damp body with orgasmic shudders. She groaned and flung her head. Her legs fell from around him and began twitching and jerking.
With her velvety sheath quivering climactically around his pulsating organ, Simmons gritted his teeth and slammed into her right up to his tight nuts. The moist sucking sensations were entirely too good. He couldn't contain his semen a second longer. He grunted and wheezed, then let fly the first stream of his pent-up load, squirting it into the depths of Susan's rippling belly.
The first forceful jet of his white-hot sperm gushed from the tip of his ballooning cockhead and thumped into the supersensitive neck of her throbbing womb. She could feel it ricocheting around in the far end of her fluttering tunnel, and it only added to her orgasmic bliss.
"DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!!" she squealed, her toes curling down and her body quaking.
Simmons had a massive load built up, and he pumped every bit into the thrashing girl, with her sobbing and shuddering soulfully while her pussy gripped harshly at the twitching shaft of his cum-spewing prick.
Afterward, when her passion was satiated and Simmons had withdrawn his deflated penis and got up, Susan was mortified by what they'd done. Her cheeks were blazing with shame, and she felt terribly guilty.
"Don't turn on the light," she said, because she couldn't bear to look at him or have him see her naked body.
But she spoke too late. He'd already switched on the lamp. She burst out crying and grabbed her negligee, covering herself with it.
"There's no need to be bashful now," he said, smiling as he walked toward her with his limber peter dangling between his legs.
"Don't touch me!" she sobbed, when he sat down beside her. "And don't look at me like that! My God, Simmons, you raped me!"
"Hardly," he said, pulling her negligee from her trembling hands and tossing it away, then taking her in his arms. "You enjoyed it as much as I did, darling, and you know it. Perhaps I did force you a little at first, but it was for your own good."
"For my own good!" she wailed, and started crying all the harder. Tears of abject humiliation streamed down her cheeks. "You've ruined me!"
"Come now, my dear, I've done no such thing," he soothed, hugging and stroking her. "Surely you've been having your share of cock at college."
"I have not!" she groaned. "I've never even had a date!"
"Well now, I'm rather glad to hear that, my sweet. I shouldn't like my wife to have been promiscuous, though I could forgive you anything."
Susan thought her ears were playing tricks on her, that she couldn't have heard what she thought she'd heard. She sniffed and looked up at the butler.
"Yes," he said, nodding. "I'm going to do the right thing. Perhaps I have taken advantage of you, Susan, but you needn't feel badly because of what we did. My love drove me to it, don't you see? I'm going to protect your virtue and make an honest woman of you, my dear. We'll get married right away. Then if you're pregnant, there'll be no hint of scandal."
Susan was stunned speechless. She wondered if he actually thought that she would marry him. "I've loved you since you were twelve, Susan.
Secretly, of course. It began the day I caught the son of that e x-gardener-what was his name?-deflowering you down in the wine cellar. A strange way for love to blossom, I know, but it did. And it's grown even since. Do you recall that event, my sweet? I have a confession to make. I could have prevented the loss of your virginity. Actually, I arrived some moments before I nipped that little romance in the bud. You were both so engrossed in what you were doing that you didn't notice me. I stood by watching while the lad removed your panties. It was dreadful of me, but I couldn't seem to help it. Alas, I dallied too long. The boy had inserted his childish penis into you and you were crying out and bleeding before I acted. Should have grabbed him up by the scruff of the neck a moment sooner, I suppose, but-"
Susan screamed. She slapped Simmons as hard as she could and leaped to her feet. "YOU HORRID OLD MAN! SHUT UP, DAMN YOU ... SHUT UP! I DESPISE YOU! IF YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN, I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED!!!"
The degrading memory of the incident he mentioned increased Susan's shame till it was bitter as gall and totally unbearable. She grabbed up her things and ran from the butler's room without taking time to put them on.
It was true that the boy had deflowered her, but that had been eight long years back and she'd done nothing wrong since. Her grandmother had fired the gardener and had the boy sent away to reform school, but Susan had paid the most for their sin. Grandmother Robards had thrown fits over it for years, holding it over Susan's head and using it as an excuse to forbid her from ever dating. The old woman had beaten it into the adolescent girl's head that all men were beasts, that sex in any form was wicked, and that Susan herself was destined for whoredom unless she was constantly on her guard against the carnal lusting of her body.
At twenty, Susan still bore the emotional scars of her pubescent mistake. She had repressed it when she went away to college. Without her grandmother's frequent warnings and accusations, she had almost succeeded in burying it in the back of her mind over the past three years. But now Simmons had gotten her drunk and forced himself on her sexually, had awakened her body and made her thrill to the act of intercourse, only to plunge her into a mental hell by dredging up all the magnified sexual shame, guilt, fears and scathing humiliation from her tortured past.
CHAPTER THREE
Susan could hear the rapping for some time before she managed to open her eyes, but the rattling of the doorknob was what finally awakened her. She'd lain awake long into the night, crying bitter tears of mortification.
"What is it?" she called sharply, sitting up and rubbing her swollen, bloodshot eyes.
"Mistress Susan?" came Rob Simmons' concerned voice. "Are you all right, ma'am?"
"Oh, hell yes, I'm just wonderful! What do you want, Simmons?"
"It's eight o'clock, ma'am. Shall I start your breakfast?"
"I don't want any breakfast. Go away."
"You should eat something, ma'am."
"All right, damn you, fix it then!"
"What would you like this morning?"
"Orange juice, toast and coffee."
"Very good, ma'am," he said, and went away.
When Susan entered the dining room a few moments later, her soft brown hair was done up in a severe bun and her girlish face was totally devoid of make-up. She wore a summer business suit, light pink with a midi-skirt, a white blouse and low-heeled shoes that did nothing to enhance her shapely, nylon-clad calves.
"About last night, Susan," Simmons said confidentially when he set her orange juice before her. "I do hope-"
"Nothing happened last night!" Susan snapped, interrupting him in midsentence. "Do you understand, Simmons? And I'll thank you not to use my first name again. You will address me as Miss Polk or Mistress Susan at all times! Do I make myself clear?"
The butler gulped and nodded stiffly.
"Bring my toast and coffee now, please."
The other three servants sauntered into the dining room wearing smug grins, and sat down at the table with Susan, demonstrating their disrespect for her. Susan glared at their leering faces and drummed the table with her fingers. She could hardly stand to look at the maid and gardener, after having seen them wallowing in carnality. But she'd decided not to mention that, because she didn't feel like reprimanding Miss Olson after what Simmons had done to her. She was sick with guilt over having enjoyed the sordid interlude, and worry gnawed at her guts over the possibility of being impregnated by the butler. But worried and sick or not, she was mistress of Robards Manor, and she would not tolerate such insolence from her servants.
"You may as well sit down, too, Simmons," she said when the butler brought her toast and coffee.
"No, thank you, ma'am," he replied poutingly. "I've chores to attend, if you don't mind."
"I do mind," she said with authority. "Sit down!"
Simmons blushed and stammered, but he sat down, with the three laughing amusedly.
Using the time to gather her nerve, Susan sat quietly until they stopped laughing.
"Let your hair down, baby," Charles Lancaster, the upsettingly handsome young red-headed chauffeur said cockily. "You look too uptight with it pulled back in an old maid's bun. What are you trying to do, intimidate us?"
Susan ignored his remark. "I see that it's necessary for me to remind you of your positions, because you've obviously forgotten that you're servants at Robards Manor."
"Can that shit, Miss Priss," Reyes said. "We stopped being servants the day your bitchy old grandma vanished. If you figure to hang around here, you better get off your high horse."
"That's what you think," Susan replied coolly, although she was shaking inside. "Robards Manor is mine under a trust deed, and as long as it remains so I can assure all of you that you will perform your duties respectfully and obediently, taking orders from me! If you don't like it, get out."
"Why you snotty bitch," Krista Olson slurred. "You know what you can do with that crap? I'll tell you. You can drop your drawers and stick it up your gold-plated ass!"
The others roared with laughter, all except Simmons, who seeing an opportunity to get back into Susan's good graces leaped to his feet and shouted, "That is quite enough! The Mistress has spoken, and she is perfectly within her rights! As chief servant of this household, I consider it my duty to support Miss Polk! No further insubordination will be tolerated! If any of you persist in this despicable conduct, I will see that the offender is dismissed for cause and denied references!"
The gardener and chauffeur snorted, and the buxum blonde maid hissed, "Simmons, you pompous ass! Shut up or I'll bite your balls off! None of us can be fired, and you know it. The old bat set up her will that way. We're here on full pay for seven years or until we get good and goddamned ready to leave, and there's nothing you or this little snip can do about it. Fuck off, the both of you!"
Susan took a sip of her orange juice, forcing her hand to be steady, then blotted her lips with the linen napkin. For cause, she thought graspingly, for cause! It might work! I can't actually fire them for any reason, but perhaps they don't know that. I've got to try to bluff them! What can I lose?
She cleared her throat and looked at each one of the insolent servants in turn. Her lips were tight and her gaze was steady. Then she said, "Evidently none of you has read the trust deed my grandmother had drawn up." She paused, watching them glance at one another and seeing the signs of uncertainty in their expressions. "At least you haven't read it in its entirety," she went on, much more confidently now. "If you had done so-but of course you couldn't have since Grandmother's lawyer has the only complete copy-you would know that Simmons spoke with knowledge and authority on my behalf. It's true that you can't be fired simply because I happen not to like you, which I don't, none of you, but I most definitely can fire you for cause ... and I certainly will if you give me reason."
"You're bluffing," the chauffeur scoffed.
Susan smiled enigmatically. "You may be the first one to test me, if you'd like, Charles. I wish to be driven to my grandmother's bank. I'll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Bring the car around front and wait for me."
The muscular young redhead laughed nervously and looked around for moral support which was not forthcoming.
"I gave you your orders, Charles. What are you waiting for? Either bring the car around to the front and wait for me, or get on your motorcycle and don't come back. By the way, if you wish to stay on as my chauffeur, get into your uniform. You look like a hippie in those sandals, blue jeans and sloppy, filthy shirt."
Charles Lancaster left muttering under his breath, then Susan lit into Krista Olson. "I want all the furniture dusted and polished today, and every floor in the house must be swept and mopped. Get busy, Miss Olson. Vacuum the carpets, too, please."
"But I'm not that kind of a maid!" the voluptuous blonde protested. "I was your grandmother's personal maid! Simmons does the housework!"
"According to the trust deed, you are a maid," Susan informed her sternly. "Nowhere in it is the word 'personal' written. Simmons will continue to do the cooking, but I'm hereby assigning the rest of the household duties to you. Either get with it or get out, Miss Olson. The choice is yours."
"You bitch!" the infuriated maid spat.
"Simmons, if you'll be so kind as to bring me the phone, I'll call Grandmother's lawyer and have Miss Olson removed from the premises."
Miss Olson saw the light then, and so did the gardener. Susan finished her orange juice, toast and coffee in solitary splendor, as the undisputed-temporarily, at least-mistress of Robards Manor.
Less than an hour later, she was in downtown Atlanta, climbing from the like-new, ten-year-old black Cadillac as the uniformed chauffeur stood at attention and held the door for her. "Thank you, Charles," she said, and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the bank. "Come back for me in an hour. In the meantime, you need a haircut. Get one."
Susan knew nothing about safe deposit boxes, so it didn't surprise her when she was allowed into her grandmother's. The old woman had left written instructions with the bank president, who was used to bending the rules to pacify Mrs. Robards, that Susan and Susan alone was to have access to her box prior to the settlement of her estate, and that included her lawyer. Susan didn't realize she was being granted a special privilege, for the instructions required that fact to be kept from her.
There was no coin collection inside the box, Susan discovered to her chagrin. In fact, there was nothing in it except a sealed envelope with Susan's name inked across the front in her grandmother's flowing script. Since she could only examine the contents of the box with the guard watching discreetly from a distance, she ripped open the envelope and extracted the hand-written letter, sat down at the end of the table and began reading it.
My Disobedient Granddaughter, If you should ever see this letter, I will most likely have been murdered, with the whereabouts of my body still unknown. I hate to write ha, ha, but how else is one to express laughter on paper, and I do want to laugh at you.
Yes, my dear Susan, at you, for I've left you in rather of a pickle, haven't I? Read on and you'll soon realize what I mean.
You are a bad seed, girl. Your father, as I've told you often, was a commoner of whom I heartily disapproved. A Damn Yankee, that's what he was. I never forgave your mother for marrying him, and I'll never forgive you for deserting me in my old age.
I had great plans for you, but would you listen to me? Of course not, because you were as stupid and lovely as your mother. Only your weakness for men, vile beasts that they are, showed up much sooner. Whereas your mother was eighteen when she gave herself to your father, you were only twelve when you had your first taste of carnality. But I won't go into that here, as you know my feelings on the matter only too well. You say you yearn to be a teacher, but I have my reservations as to whether you'll make it or not. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if you wind up earning your living flat on your back in some filthy house of ill-repute.
But I'm offering you one last chance. You can still become the grand Southern Lady I'd hoped to make of you, if you have the stuff it takes. And I honestly hope you do. You are, after all, my own flesh and blood, and I can't help the soft spot I have for you.
You deserve to be disinherited, Susan Polk, but I'm not going to let you off that easy. I've been conducting a little experiment in human greed lately. You're the central figure in my experiment, my lovely Susan, even though you're the last to arrive on the scene. Now that I've aroused your curiosity, I'll tell you what I've been up to, or rather enough of it to give you a fighting chance to inherit everything as my sole heir.
As I write this, I have reason to believe that one or more of the servants is planning my demise. The reason I'm so sure of it is that I have pushed them to it by dangling before their noses what is to them a fabulous sum of money. Yes, it is the coin collection which you came to check on today. I removed it from the safe deposit box and have hidden it in the house and about the grounds, individual coins having been placed where each of the servants is bound to find a few during the course of their routine duties, and the bulk well hidden in a case that may never be found until the house is demolished, God forbid that should ever happen to Robards Manor.
Does it sound like a fantastic Easter egg hunt to you, Susan? Well, that is exactly what it is, only with rare coins instead of colored eggs. Greed is the name of the game, my child, and the servants' greed is what I've been playing on while mistreating each of them to the point of murder. Perhaps you've guessed my reason for doing all this already, but in case you haven't I'll tell you now.
It's simple. I want to be killed, and soon. Cancer is eating away my stomach. The pain of it is becoming intense. Had I the nerve, I would shoot myself. But, alas, I haven't the nerve, so I'm using my coin collection to hold the domestics while I goad them until one or more of them snaps and puts me out of my misery.
But their greed will live on after I'm gone. Oh, indeed yes. Until the bulk of the collection is found, you, Susan, are living in the same house with a killer or killers. In order to claim your inheritance, you will have to survive for seven years under those nerve-racking conditions. Or you will have to find my body. Or you will have to join the hunt and find the case containing most of my coin collection. The servants, killer and all, will go away once the case is found. Or you will have to go away yourself and give up your inheritance.
So there you have it, girl. Are you greedy enough to play the game with killers who might turn on you, too? Can you hear my laughing from my grave, Granddaughter? Well, I am, whether or not you can hear me, because I doubt that you have the guts to do what is necessary to claim your inheritance.
Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord; but this is the price you have to pay for deserting me when I needed you, Susan. Ha, ha, ha!
Your Maternal Grandmother, Sharlotte Evans Robards
Why, you old witch! Susan thought as she left the bank. How does it feel to die with everyone hating you? Ha, ha, ha, yourself! I'll show you! I may feel like a scared rabbit, but I'm not running!
Susan had to stand outside the bank waiting for her car, but her mind was so busy she hardly noticed the time. When Charles arrived, with a respectable haircut which made him all the more good-looking, Susan opened the door herself and climbed into the back of the Cadillac before he had time to get out and come around.
"I hope it went well for you, ma'am," he said, and when she didn't reply, he asked, "Where to now, Miss Polk?"
"What?" she asked, looking up. "Oh, home, please."
"I got a haircut," he said, removing his cap and turning his head.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, a haircut. You look very nice."
"Thank you, ma'am," he said, smiling. "And if I may say so, so do you. I'm sorry about the way I acted this morning. It won't happen again."
Despite her troubles, Susan smiled and nodded.
"Home," he said, and dropped his cap in the seat.
As the young red-headed chauffeur drove toward Robards Manor, he watched Susan in the rear-view mirror almost as much as he watched the traffic and his driving. Halfway there he noticed her dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and soon afterward she started crying uncontrollably but silently. Smiling to himself, he drove faster. There were three lovers' lanes in the woods surrounding Robards Manor, each of them quite popular with the young people who lived nearby. But that was at night. Now it was daytime, in the forenoon, and all three would be deserted. Charles turned onto the new street which bordered the estate, then swung into one of the twisting, rutted roads which wound around in the trees.
Susan hadn't noticed that the chauffeur wasn't taking her directly home until the car started bumping slowly along. She looked up and saw trees all around her. "Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.
"Right here," he answered and braked the Cadillac to a stop. He shut off the engine and glanced over his shoulder. "Don't be alarmed, Susan. The house is right over there. You can see it through the trees if you look closely."
"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, trying to sound composed even though her nervousness showed plainly in her expression. "And I'll thank you not to use my first name."
Smiling, Charles Lancaster climbed out of the car and took off his jacket.
"What do you think you're doing?" Susan demanded.
"It's hot," he said. "I'm taking off my jacket." He pitched the jacket into the front seat, shut the door, opened the rear door and climbed into the back seat with Susan, who was now wide-eyed and cringing. "Relax, Susan. Forget the mistress-servant bit for a while. I like you. I want to help you. We should have a talk, and we can do that privately here. Okay?"
"How can you help me?" Susan asked suspiciously.
He scratched his head. "I'm not sure yet, but I've a feeling you're going to need all the help you can get before long. I know some things you don't. I have a pretty good idea of what's been going on around here. Shall we talk? Will you let me try to help you? I'd like to be your friend."
"Oh, God," she sighed. "I need a friend."
He nodded and patted her hand. "I know. I wouldn't want to be in your place, believe me."
That was very easy for Susan to believe, after having just read the letter from her grandmother, and somehow she felt she could trust Charles.
"Do you know about the coin collection, Susan?"
She nodded."
"We've all found a few coins."
"Simmons says he didn't. He swore that he knows nothing about the coins."
"Simmons is a liar," Charles said flatly.
"Yes ... I'm beginning to think maybe he is," she said, looking at Charles out of the corner of her eye. "Reyes is having an affair with Miss Olson. Did you know that?"
The youthful chauffeur laughed. "That doesn't mean a thing. So am I. So is Simmons. She's trying to play us off against one another. Krista likes her sexing, all right, but those coins are what she's after in the long haul. If you're looking for a conspiracy, I'm afraid you'll have to keep looking."
"Do you think my grandmother was killed?"
"I'd bet on it. I'd also bet that her body is still on the place, buried somewhere in the woods." Susan shuddered. "Who do you think killed her?"
"I know who didn't," he drawled, looking her right in the eye. "I didn't. And I don't think Reyes did, either."
"That only leaves Miss Olson and Simmons. Which of them do you suspect?"
"Both of them."
Susan shivered. He might be wrong. He might be lying to me. But he seems so sincere, and what if he's right?
"Simmons acted funny right after Bitch Robards-sorry, a slip of the Up-right after your grandmother disappeared. He was all uptight, you know, like he was nervous and playing dumb. He didn't know anything, whereas he usually thinks he knows everything."
He said he didn't know about about the coins, Susan thought, and she wanted to scream, because her grandmother had written that she was dangling the coins before them, putting them where each of the servants would find some.
"I'm not positive about old Rob," Charles went on, "but Krista hated your grandmother."
"Everyone did," Susan admitted. "Me, too."
Charles grinned. "Yeah. I know what you mean. She did inspire the worst in people, didn't she? But about Krista ... I mean, she really hated her guts."
"Why? Krista was her personal maid, wasn't she?" '
"That's why. Things got too personal for Krista. Dig?"
Susan shook her head, frowning. "Hell," he said, lowering his gaze, "I figured you knew."
"What, Charles?" she prodded when he didn't continue. "What did you think I knew?"
"That your grandmother was a bull dyke," he replied somewhat sharply.
"I had no idea," Susan replied.
"Well, she was, and Krista went along for a while. But she finally had all she could take. That's when Bitch Robards really started pouring it on her. From what Krista told me, the old gal became insatiable, made her do all sorts of real far-out things."
"What kinds of things?" Susan asked. "And what's a bull dyke, anyway?"
"My God, Snow White, are you putting me on?" he laughed, but when he saw she wasn't, and that his remark had cut her, he took her hand and said, "I'm sorry, Susan. Okay ... a bull dyke. How do I tell you? Look, do you know what a Lesbian is? Do you have any idea what they do when they ball?"
"Yes, I've read a lot," Susan answered. "I think Lesbians are disgusting!"
He grinned and gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm awful glad to hear that from you, because I was afraid ... never mind. A bull dyke is a dominant Lesbian, the one who takes the lead, the one who calls the sexual tune and makes the other female jump to it. Now do you understand?"
"Oh, my God!" Susan groaned, clapping her hands over her flushed cheeks. "You're lying! You've got to be! My grandmother was a horrid person, but she couldn't have been perverted! She just couldn't have been a Lesbian! She hated sex!"
Charles could sense that she was bordering on hysteria, so he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Susan started yelling, so he had to shout to make her hear. "SHE DIDN'T HATE SEX, SUSAN! NO ONE DOES! THE OLD BITCH HATED MEN! BUT SHE LOVED GIRLS! THAT WAS HER BAG!"
The car seemed to be whirling crazily. Susan feared she was going to faint. Her mind flashed back through the years. She remembered all the young attractive women who'd visited Robards Manor, staying for a night, a week, a month, sleeping in the room which Miss Olson now occupied, or so Susan had thought at the time. She recalled the way her grandmother had made a habit of coming into the bathroom while she herself was bathing, and the strange expression which had always come over the old woman's face at the sight of her nude, budding body.
And then she remembered something else-her own mother's body dangling obscenely by a rope down in the cellar after she'd hanged herself. Now Susan knew why her mother had committed suicide. Now she knew the terrible thing that her grandmother had done to her own daughter-the thing her mother had tried to tell her but never did. The truth was too horrendous. Susan screamed at the top of her healthy lungs, then started sobbing uncontrollably.
Playing the role of comforter, Charles Lancaster took his comely young boss in his arms and began stroking her head. Susan was so distraught that she let him. He was offering solace, and it was something she needed desperately. Actually the chauffeur intended to take advantage of her mental agitation and turn it to his own use, just as Simmons had done the previous night. But Susan didn't know that. She felt safe and secure in the young man's proper embrace, thinking him to be the friend she needed so badly.
While he stroked her head, his nimble fingers were busy picking the pins one by one from her old maid's bun. After he'd removed all the pins, he pulled out the curved comb and her lustrous, soft brown hair cascaded down around her heaving shoulders.
Susan was in a state of semi-shock. Tears of grief for her mother and self-pity for herself were flowing freely down her cheeks. For some reason her stunned mind couldn't fathom, she felt dirtied and degraded because of her grandmother's secret life of perversion. She didn't notice her hair being let down, and then stroked.
"Oh, Charles!" she sobbed. "What am I going to do?"
"Cry it out, baby," he soothed, sliding his hand up from her waist, making little circles over her expanding and contracting rib cage until he reached his objective and cupped the jouncing mound of her left breast. "Let it all hang out. Cry it out of your system. I'm with you all the way, Susan. I'll look after you."
Since he'd been stroking her arm, side and back, as well as her head, Susan was aware of a comforting pressure on her sensitive tittie, but it didn't enter her troubled mind that he was fondling her. She let him pull her head down onto his shoulder, and felt better for it, though choking sobs were still racking her well-proportioned form. His cheek felt a trifle scratchy brushing against her forehead, but even that was soothing, especially when he scooted closer to her and kept telling her that everything would be all right.
"I'm scared," she wept. "If I didn't need the money so badly, I'd get away from here and never come back!"
"You mustn't talk like that," he crooned, kissing her forehead. He grew bolder and began massaging her bust openly. "I'll help you, Susan. Lean on me, honey. Depend on me. I won't let you down."
Susan turned toward Charles and put her arm around him. She snuggled in closer, until his hand was forced from her breast without her ever having been consciously aware of his intimate fondling. Her subconscious was aware of it though, and liked it. In fact, the pressure had been so pleasant that the sensual being emerging within her impelled the young woman to press against him so tight that her large bosom was flattened on his muscular chest.
"I need someone to lean on!" she wailed.
"Let it be me," he said, smiling, with his chin resting on the top of her head and his hand easing the hem of her pink midi-skirt up past her dimpled knees. "I'll give you what you need."
"I need your strength!" she sobbed.
"You've got it, sugar," he cooed, and hugged the breath out of her. "Look at me, Susan."
She raised her head and blinked her red-rimmed eyes at him. "How do I know I can trust you?" she sniffled.
"Because I think I'm falling in love with you," he said, and before she could think again he French kissed her and slid his hand up the nylon-clad valley of her slightly parted thighs.
Before Susan could collect her senses, his hand snaked under the narrow white band of her panties and she could feel his finger sinking into the barely moist cleft of her curl-thatched vulva.
Simmons had introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh only nerve-racking hours earlier, and her genitals remembered it well, even though her mind had attempted to suppress any recollection of enjoyment. Her first impulse was to let her legs fall open, and since that urge was beneath the level of her thinking mind, she did so. A stab of illicit pleasure rippled through her as she felt the full length of Charles' insinuating finger penetrate the hair-fringed slit between her trembling legs. Reflexively she licked at his tongue, then took a tentative suck. The next thing the disturbed young lady knew, she was sucking his tongue hungrily, moaning into his mouth, while he plunged his thick finger in and out of her soft pink slot a mile a minute.
"Nooh!" she cried, breaking the kiss and trying to push him away. "Oh, noooo ... not again!"
"Again?" he asked, his finger working incessantly within the moistening folds of her sexual opening. "What are you talking about, baby?"
"N-nothing!" she gasped, and slapped him. It didn't faze him, so she slapped him again, harder, and tried in vain to close her legs, which was impossible with his knee holding them apart. "Quit it, Charles! Goddamn you ... stop this insanity ... aaah ... at once! Did y-you hear meee? Ohhh ... oh, don't ... damn you ... please don't!"
"I can't help it," he breathed. His cheek bore the red imprint of her hand, but he ignored the stinging pain and held her down. Her pussy was growing slicker and hotter by the second, and he kept finger fucking her, knowing he was getting to her despite the intensity of her struggling and the shrillness of her constant protests. "I didn't want to fall for you, Susan! You're a spoiled brat, and I should know better than to let myself love you! But I can't help it, baby! I wanted you the minute I laid eyes on you ... and I'm going to have you! Maybe once will be all ... maybe I'll go to jail for it ... but I'm go-"
"You sonofabitch!" Susan screamed, and raked down the side of his face with her sharp fingernails. "You're crazy!"
"Ouch!" he cried, and backed his finger out of her cunt. He brought up his hand, the middle finger glistening with her colorless vaginal secretions, and felt the red welts she'd raised on his cheek. "So that's the way you want it, is it?" he yelled, and slapped her.-
"AAAIIIEEE!!!" Susan shrilled, and saliva flew from her mouth as the impact of his blow snapped her head to the side. "Oh, dear Lord, Grandmother was right! All men are evil beasts!"
"Grandmother liked to have her twat sucked! Maybe that's what it takes to turn you on, too, huh, baby? Well, we'll just see! Since Krista's not here, I'll suck your hot little snatch for you, myself!"
"Nooh!" Susan pleaded, trying to hold her skirt down. "Leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"
Charles paid no attention to Susan's piteous pleading. He wrestled her down in the seat, pulled her skirt and slip up until they were bunched around her waist, then held both her wrists with one hand while he used the other to drag her white panties over the flare of her hips and tug them down her flailing, nylon-encased legs. Her briefs caught on her ugly brown shoes, and he jerked the monstrosities off her pretty feet as he gave her panties a final yank.
"Now, baby," he panted, forcing her legs apart and dropping to his knees on the floorboard between them. "Let's see how this grabs you!"
With that, he extended his tongue and licked the juice-oozing furry split of her crotch from bottom to top.
"Aghhh ... ahh!" she trilled, pressing one stockinged foot against the door and the other against the back of the front seat, using the muscles in her legs to push away from his rough tongue. "Don't ... that's nasty!"
She couldn't get away, what with him holding her wrists and pulling her back every time she tried. He kept licking her secret place, and flicking the tip of her clitoris until it started tingling and soaking up the hot blood her hammering heart sent racing through her veins. Her legs turned to rubber. The muscles in them lost their strength. Her mind reeled with the lewdness of the perversity the handsome chauffeur was forcing upon her. She didn't want him to continue licking her down there, because perverse or not it was moving her right out of her skull. His tongue felt marvelous washing over the palpitating, ultrasensitive inner surfaces of her yawning, hair-lined labia. She didn't want to like it, but she did, and there was nothing she could do about it. His strength was much greater than hers and, struggle as she did, he held her helpless and kept licking her secretion-slick hole until it felt so good she wanted to scream.
"Don't! Please d-don't!" she begged, her eyes clenched shut and her head flung back. "Ohhh ... oh, I c-can't stand that!"
Charles tickled the supersensitive head of her elongated clitoris with the tip of his flashing tongue, then pulled his mouth away from her steaming crotch and looked up at her. The sight of her lust-contorted face brought a grin of triumph to his sex-wetted lips. "Do you still want me to leave you alone, baby?"
She bit her lower lip and tried to make her undulating hips be still. A whimper-like sob escaped her passion-flared nostrils. Flames of unwanted lust licked searingly inside her loins. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she gasped for breath. "More!" she groaned. "Do it some more!"
"You like to have your pussy sucked, do you?" he chortled.
"Yesss! I like it!" she cried, locking her nylon-clad legs around him and drawing him toward her groin. "Suck it some more, Charles! Please!"
"Sure thing," he chuckled, and licked the inflamed furry gash of her quivering elliptical opening. "I just wanted to hear you ask for it, Mistress Susan!" He laughed derisively, then opened his mouth wide and glued his lips to the outer edges of her swollen cunt lips, and sucked hard.
"Aaaaah!" Susan sighed huskily, hugging him with her legs and shuddering with pleasure. She could feel the suction collapsing her vagina and tugging at her insides. "Ohhh ... God, that's good ... so good!"
There was a raspy report of a zipper being jerked open, but Susan didn't hear it because she was moaning and huffing for air. Charles had his tongue in her, and was licking in a tight circle far up into her velvety sheath. It was excruciatingly good, and she wanted him never to stop.
But stop he did, and quite abruptly, too. With a loud, wet smack, he kissed her dribbling pussy good-bye and sprang up suddenly. He was already between her legs, with her squirming rump hanging on the edge of the seat, so it was easy. He dove atop her and socked seven inches of rock-hard prick right up into the moist, hot depths of her heaving belly.
"UUUNNGGGHH!!!" she cried. Her mouth fell open and worked soundlessly, with her eyeballs rolling up into their sockets.
"You've got some fine pussy, baby!" he panted, leaving his dong buried in her to the very hilt, savoring the snug fit of her flesh as it fluttered softly around him. "Jesus, it's tight ... and hot!"
"Nooh!" Susan moaned. "Don't fuck me!"
"Bullshit!" he snorted, and began hunching it to her hard and fast, making the car rock and the springs in the seat creak and snap. "You want it ... and you know it!" he panted.
"But I'm a-afraid!!!" she screamed, locking her fingers in his coppery hair and yanking wildly. "YOU'LL MAKE ME PREGNANT! STOP ... GODDAMN YOU ... STOP, STOP, STOP!!!"
"All right!" he yelped, backing his prong out of her and wincing with pain. "Let go of my hair!"
She released her grip on his hair, then covered her face with her shaking hands and lay there writhing with passion as she sucked air in raggedly and let it out moaningly.
Charles pulled her up into a sitting position and plopped down beside her. He put one arm around her and stuck his other hand between her legs. When she only whimpered, he began petting her sopping cunt, stroking it, tickling her throbbing pleasure button and running his finger in and out of her slippery little gorge. "You're in a helluva shape, aren't you, Susan?"
She groaned and nodded.
"Would you like me to suck you some more?"
"Yes!" she husked.-"I w-would! More than anything!"
"Okay ... but that's a two-way deal, you know," he said, and began pushing her head down into his lap.
In her present condition, the sight of his secretion-coated dick protruding boldly from his gaping fly wasn't altogether horrifying. Susan stared unblinkingly at the fascinating column of turgid masculinity as he pushed her head lower and lower. The purplish head looked like an overripe plum, and he was aiming it right at her mouth.
"Kiss it, baby."
His voice drifted to her through a fog. Her heart sounded like a tom-tom in her head. One part of her actually wanted to do the vulgar thing he suggested, Susan realized with a flood of consternation, but she couldn't. What he wanted was just too grossly obscene for her prudish mind to accept. She clenched her lips tightly together, moaned, then shook her head frantically.
His fingers bit into the back of her neck. "Go on," he coaxed, applying downward pressure until the slitted tip of his penile bulb was touching her lips. "Kiss it."
I can't do that! she thought dazedly, and shook her head again, only this time the rounded end of his cockhead slid back and forth across her soft oral petals, and the lascivious thrill the unthinkable contact gave her merely added to her confusion. II feels so smooth and soft! How can it feel soft when it's so big and hard? I can't let myself kiss it! He'd want more! I know he would! He'd want me to suck his penis ... and I'll never do such a dirty thing!
Charles maintained the downward pressure while she was wagging her head, and managed to work the tip of his bulging glans between her puffy lips.
"Don't!" she begged, her lips fluttering around his glans, the tip of which was now pressed firmly against the fronts of her clenched white teeth. "Please d-don't make me do this ... this awful thing!"
He chuckled throatily. "Keep talking, honey. I like the way those hot lips are flapping around my dick."
"You beast!" she groaned.
"Open up, Susan," he urged softly. "I'm coming in. Quit resisting it, baby. If you want me to suck you off, you've got to do the same for me. Come on now. Open wide. Don't scrape me with your teeth. That's the girl ... ahhh ... wider, honey, take it all ... mmm ... oh, yeah!"
Susan didn't really know how it happened. One second she had her teeth closed tight and was determined not to open them, no matter what; then the next second they were parting, with Charles' voice droning in her ears and his big dick slipping into her mouth.
Oh, my God! she moaned inwardly, feeling light-headed as she allowed her head to be pushed gently down. What am I doing? What's the matter with me? He's sticking his penis in my mouth ... and I'm letting him!
Actually, there was no way she could have stopped him. The sensual part of her inner being had been empowered by lust to the degree that it was now considerably stronger than her horrified conscience. The strait-laced portion of her mind seemed to be standing off to one side, looking on with disdain and censure, while the awakening pleasure center of her brain vibrated joyfully and prodded her on.
A lewd thrill of unbelievable magnitude washed over her as more and more of the pulsing prick slithered over her tongue on its sinful journey into the moist recesses of her warm oral cavern. Finally the rubbery crown sank into the satiny lining at the back of her throat, and she could take no more. Just over four inches of fat dick had wormed its way through the trembling gateway of her soft, full lips, and now that she had it, she wouldn't have parted with it for anything in the world. A surge of wild excitement rippled through her. Instinctively she formed her lips around the turgid shaft and moaned through her nose as she began sucking it willingly.
"Jesus!" he groaned. "You really like it, don't you?"
Yes, goddamn you, yesss! she wanted to shout, but instead she whimpered in pleasured surrender and sucked so hard her cheeks folded inward and molded themselves around the pungent rod of manmeat. I do like it! I love it! Oh, God help me ... I've never been so excited in my whole life!
The chauffeur grasped a handful of her disheveled hair and began working her head up and down to give her the idea. Susan caught on fast. Eagerly, she took it from there. Of her own volition, she started bobbing her head at his loins, going down on him hungrily because of her fit of passion. v"Ohhh ... oh, Susan ... go, baby! Christ, that's good! You're a natural born cocksucker, honey! God!"
Cocksucker, cocksucker, cocksucker! The word rang echoingly around inside her feverish brain. It should have sounded obscene, but it didn't. Not in the least. The licentious tone of it thrilled her tremendously. She gave herself over body and soul to the oral act which until only a moment before she'd considered the vilest of all possible sexual perversions.
Charles couldn't pry her suctioning mouth off his pecker, so he swung her stockinged legs up onto the seat and lay down with his head between her creamy, moist thighs. They wound up on their sides, with Susan's arched spine touching the back of the seat in only one place. She snuggled her furry nest against his mouth and kept right on sucking his peter ravenously. When his tongue burst into her overheated tunnel, she moaned around her mouthful of fat dick and flung her arm over his thrusting hip.
Her lust was so all-consuming that Susan wasn't even aware of herself as a person. Nothing mattered except the frenzied sixty-nine into which they had plunged themselves. She was a she and he a he-nothing more-and it was glorious to lose her identity as she dove ever deeper into the glowing, red-velvet vortex of carnality.
It was no longer necessary for her to bob her head, for he was fucking his delicious stalk in and out of her voraciously sucking mouth while he ate her juicy cunt with vacuuming lips, thrusting tongue and nipping teeth. The pleasure of it was incredible.
When she felt his pistoning dong begin twitching jerkily, she knew he was about to come. I shouldn't let him come in my mouth! she thought fuzzily, but made no move to prevent his doing so. She was teetering on the brink of climactic release herself, so she was in no mood to stop. Susan felt as if she would die if she didn't get to have her impending orgasm. To hell with it! she decided.
I'm not going to stop! I don't want to! Why shouldn't I suck him all the way? He's doing it for me ... and it's awfully good! Come, Charles! Come in my mouth if you want to, you darling man! I don't mind! I think I even want you to!
She couldn't have backed out then if she had wanted to. It was too late. His pecker expanded and contracted mightily, shooting a thick stream of his scalding hot sperm into her virgin mouth. She held it on her tongue and moaned soulfully, intending to contain his semen in her mouth and spit it out later. But the heady flavor of it proved to be surprisingly good in her wanton state of mind, and her own climax exploded in her quivering loins just as he pumped the second big jet of his creamy jizz into her mouth.
A tremor of spine-wrenching bliss racked her lovely body. It felt as if he were sucking the marrow right out of her bones. Susan shuddered from the top of her tousle-haired head down to the tips of her dainty, turned-down toes. A guttural groan of pure ecstasy burst from her lustfully dilated nostrils. Knowing exactly what she was doing, thrilling even more because it was so depraved, she swallowed the big mouthful of cum he'd given her and sucked his cock insanely to get the rest of his massive load.
She was still in a daze, whimpering and moaning, when he pulled his Umbering prick from her twitching Ups and sat up. He picked up her panties off the floorboard, used them to wipe her saliva off his penis, then leaned over and kissed her.
"That was great, baby," he said. "And I meant what I said about falling in love with you. I do love you, Susan. Christ, even if I didn't before, I do now! That was the best blow job I ever had, sweetheart!"
Her passion was already ebbing, and the vulgar word snapped her back to reality. A melange of humiliation, abject shame and scorching guilt flooded over her. Now that her mind was clearing, she couldn't believe what she'd done. The heretofore prim young lady felt debased to the core of her being. Scalding tears of mortification welled up in her blinking eyes.
"I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS DOING!!!" she yelled, struggling to sit up, feeling soiled and miserable. "YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME! YOU FORCED ME!!!"
He grinned. "Yeah, I guess I did, at that. But I could tell you wanted me to. It was something else, wasn't it, baby?"
"YOU RAPED ME!!!" she screeched.
"Bullshit," he said, laughing.
"YOU'RE DESPICABLE!" she shrilled, and tried to slap him, but he caught her hand and put it on his deflated rod, which infuriated her. "STOP IT! I HATE YOU! IF YOU SO MUCH AS TOUCH ME AGAIN, I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED FOR RAPE!!!"
Charles smiled complacently as he stuffed his spongy dick in his pants and zipped up his fly. "You'll get over your mad," he said, climbing from the car. Before he shut the door, he leaned back in and patted her thigh. "When you do, let me know and we'll have another go at it. Now put your panties on. I'm going to drive you home, and it wouldn't look right for the mistress of Robards Manor to go in carrying her drawers in broad daylight."
"You lowlife sonofabitch!" she hissed, jamming her stockinged feet through the leg openings of her nylon briefs and jerking them up her legs.
The handsome chauffeur blew her a kiss, put on his jacket, got in the car and drove away without saying anything else.
CHAPTER FOUR
No matter how defiled she felt, Susan was determined to establish and maintain what she considered to be the proper image for the mistress of Robards Manor. Acting much more haughty and aloof than she felt, she put in two more appearances at the formal dining table that day and was served tasty meals, which might as well have been sawdust because she had no appetite.
The rest of the time, she stayed in her room, away from the servants, feeling sullied and miserable. She racked her brain for hours trying to figure out where her grandmother might have hidden the big cache of coins.
Those coins had to be found soon. Her grandmother's letter had said the servants would go away once the case of coins was found, and Susan desperately wanted them to leave. She didn't really care who found the case, just so long as someone did.
There were so many places the case could be hidden-in the main house itself, on the grounds, in the gardener's cottage, in the garage which had long ago been a carriage house or in the chauffeur's small apartment above the garage-that she started making a list.
At ten that night, with her hair brushed out full and soft and wearing a sheer lavender nightgown, she was still adding to the list of possible hiding places for the case of coins. She was feeling almost hopeful about the situation, and had no idea that she was being conspired against at that very moment.
"Little Miss Polk is a bundle of sexual hang-ups," Charles Lancaster informed his guests, Krista Olson and Jesus Reyes, as the three of them were having their fourth round of highballs in his apartment above the garage. "On the way back from the bank today, I stopped in the woods and got with her. She was scared shitless, but I slipped her the old banana, anyway."
"I'd have liked to see that," Krista said.
"Yeah," Reyes grunted, "me, too. Was she good screwing?"
"She's good and tight, I can tell you," Charles drawled. "I didn't get to finish, though. It flipped her right out of her gourd when I socked it to her. The little bitch started pulling my hair and screaming like hell."
"And you let that stop you?" Krista asked tauntingly. "Come on now!"
"It stopped me from screwing her," Charles said with a grin. "But I had me a damned good blow job before I brought her back."
"Yeah?" Reyes asked, his ears perking up.
Krista set her drink aside and leaned forward in her chair. Her blue eyes were twinkling. "I was beginning to wonder why you were telling us this, but I think I'm getting it now. Spell it out for me, Charles."
"She accused me of raping her. I didn't, but I did force her some. I'm still here. Why? Because she was bluffing this morning, that's why. She can't fire us, for cause or any other reason. I gave her plenty of cause, didn't I?"
Krista nodded expectantly. "And?"
"That's all, baby. We can quit kowtowing to her. She can't get rid of us."
The blonde maid got up and began pacing the floor. She had on a pair of granny boots, red hot pants and a knit pullover blouse with no bra, which let huge jugs sway and bob freely. "Not, that's not all. She can't get rid of us, but maybe we can get rid of her ... if you guys are the men I think you are."
They had already agreed that Susan was worse than a nuisance, cursed her for coming to Robards Manor and expressed their hopes that she would leave soon, so they could get down to some serious coin hunting without having to worry about destroying things.
"You said she was frightened of sex," Krista went on. "Just how frightened of it is she, and of what in particular?"
"Of getting pregnant mostly, I guess, but all of it shakes her. Hell, her hang-ups have got hang-ups. Fucking scares her to death. Why?"
"Let's scare her to death right now," Krista said, her eyes glinting evilly as she stopped before the men with her legs apart and her hands on her scantily clad hips. "Let's really shake her up ... enough to send her packing. I'll lure her up here and help hold her down while you both rape her gold-plated ass. How about it, guys, are you game?"
It was about ten-thirty when Susan opened the connecting door between hers and the maid's room in answer to three minutes of insistent knocking and calling of her name. She couldn't imagine why the hussy would want to see her, or why Miss Olson hadn't replied when she kept asking what she wanted. Susan was ill prepared for the sheepish expression on the buxom blonde's face, and it nearly floored her when the maid took her hand and dropped two coins into her palm.
"They're from Mrs. Robards' collection," Krista explained, feigning nervous guilt. "I found them."
"Why are you giving them to me?" Susan asked suspiciously.
"Because they rightfully belong to you," Krista replied, her eyes downcast as if in shame. "I've made an ass of myself, and I'm Sorry. What I'm trying to say is that I like my job. I want to stay on with you ... if you'll have me, Mistress Susan."
The gullible young lady swallowed the story, hook, line and sinker. "Thank you, Miss Olson. Of course you may stay on, now that you have the proper attitude." She started to close the door.
"Wait," Krista said, planting a booted foot in the way. "There's something else."
Susan held herself regally and waited for her maid to continue.
"Charles found a bunch of coins. Some of them are worth a lot. I know where he keeps them hidden, ma'am. You ought to have those, too, but he'll never give them to you like I did mine. Come on. He went into town. We'll go up there and get them while he's gone."
Susan frowned. She would just as soon not bother with a handful of coins, since she was willing to forfeit the entire collection if it would get rid of the servants, at least one of which she was now sure had killed her grandmother. But the surest way to lose what little respect she'd gained from them was to let them get away with something she knew about. Now that Miss Olson had told her of Charles' coins and offered to help her get them, Susan supposed she should follow through.
"They're rightfully your coins, ma'am," Krista said, throwing Susan a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it-glance.
She cleared her throat. "Why are you doing this?"
The maid gritted her teeth. Her lips became tight and thin, and her eyes narrowed spitefully. "Charles said he loved me and ... and now he's seeing another woman. He's with her now ... in town."
"I see," Susan murmured. She received the news about her chauffeur's promiscuity with mixed emotions, because he'd said he loved her, too, and because she'd been unable to keep mental images of his handsome face from flitting through her mind. "Just a moment, Miss Olson. Let me slip into my housecoat."
Susan put on her housecoat and went with the scheming maid out onto the veranda and toward the back of the old mansion.
"Charles is a real bastard," Krista said, as they walked across the expansive, well-kept back lawn toward the garage.
Susan said nothing.
"All men are, aren't they, Miss Polk?" Krista added, stepping aside when they reached the bottom of the outside stairs which led up to the chauffeur's darkened apartment.
"Yes, Miss Olson, they most certainly are," Susan answered, and stepped onto the stairs, properly preceding her maid up them.
Smiling like a cat with canary feathers stuck to its chops, the voluptuous blonde followed Susan up the stairs, clomping her boots on the wooden steps to alert the men lurking just inside the door to get ready.
At the top of the stairs, Susan stood on the landing with a straight-backed posture befitting her social position as mistress of Robards Manor, while her maid opened the door and held the screen door out of her way. Then like an unsuspecting lamb to the slaughter, she glided past Miss Olson and stepped through the open doorway into the dark room beyond. She could hear the maid starting to laugh as she stepped over the threshold, and she wondered what was funny, but not for long.
"AAAIIIEEE!!!" she screamed, as both her arms were grabbed by strong, masculine hands. Her heart leaped into her throat. She couldn't get her breath. The hair on the back of her neck bristled as she vented her terror with another ear-piercing scream.
"Scream, baby, scream!" Krista Olson yelled from behind her. "Do it now, because we're going to cut your fucking throat and you'll never scream again!"
Susan was being dragged into the room when she heard the maid's blood-chilling threat. "Oh, dear God ... no!" she groaned, and fainted.
Krista switched on the light and saw the unconscious Susan sagging between the two men. "Brave little bitch, isn't she?" she laughed.
"Why did you tell her that?" Charles snapped.
"Because I felt like it!" Krista snapped back.
Reyes shook his head. "You can count me out.
I'm ready to dick her, but I don't want no part of any murder ... and I'm not going to watch it, either."
"There's not going to be any throat cutting in my apartment," Charles barked. "What the hell is the matter with you, Krista?"
"Aw, come on, you guys!" Krista said, kicking the door shut behind her. "Can't you take a joke? For Christ's sake, I didn't mean it!"
"With the old lady disappearing the way she did," Reyes muttered, "it was a piss poor joke."
"All right, all right," Krista groaned, throwing up her hands. "So I've got poor taste. Are you going to stand there holding her up all night? Carry her into the bedroom. Let's get her clothes off her before she wakes up and starts hollering again."
When Susan regained consciousness only short moments later, she found herself lying on a rumpled bed in a brightly lighted room. Krista stood at the foot of the bed with her hands on her hips and an evil smile on her face. Reyes stood on one side of the bed, Charles on the other. Krista still had her clothes on, but the men didn't. All they had on was hards, and the sight of their turgid masculinity told Susan all too well what she was in for. A quick glance at her own body confirmed her fears, for she saw she was stark naked.
"AAAIIIEEE!!!" the terrified young woman screamed as she sat bolt upright and attempted to leap from the bed.
"Huh-uh, Miss Polk," Reyes said, catching her with one powerful arm and flinging her back onto the bed. "You ain't going nowhere for a while. We're going to fuck that pretty ass of yours."
"NO!" Susan wailed, her eyes growing wide with fear as she shook her head and cringed away from the advancing men. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!!"
While the maid looked on with sadistic glee, the gardener and chauffeur climbed onto the bed with their panic-stricken mistress and both began running their hands lewdly over her struggling body. They explored every inch of her well-formed torso from shoulders to thighs, paying special attention to her pink-tipped breasts, resilient buttocks and curly-haired groin. With them mauling her tits and poking at her vulva, Susan thought she was going to pass out again. Their vulgar caresses sent bitter tears of mortification spilling from her saucer-like eyes.
"Don't!" she sobbed, as Charles took the sensitive pink cone of her left nipple into his hot mouth and started sucking it, while Reyes spat into her hairy cleft and prompty inserted a long, fat, knobby finger up into her vagina. "Please, please don't treat me like this ... AAAGH ... NO, NO, NO!!!"
"They're going to fuck you, Miss Priss!" Krista taunted. "Both of them! They're going to stuff you with cock and shoot your belly full of cum!"
"NOOOO!!!" Susan screeched, bucking furiously as the men held her on the bed and had their obscene way with her suffering body. "OH, MY GOD ... YOU CAN'T ... YOU WOULDN'T DARE!!!"
Krista laughed insanely. "Show her boys! Jesus, hold the haughty bitch down while Charles sticks his servant's dick in her high-class cunt!"
"Yeah," Reyes grunted, pinning Susan's wrists to the bed beside her shoulders. "Go on, man. Sock it to her!"
The red-headed chauffeur mounted the struggling, pleading girl and edged her legs apart with his knees. He lowered himself onto her and pressed his bulging glans into the soft pink crack of her spit-slick pussy.
"Nooh ... Oh, please don't!" Susan sobbed piteously between gasping breaths. "Mercy ... I beg you ... to have mercy on-AARGH ... MEEEE!!!"
The head of his peter popped through the fluted folds of her sexual portal, and he thrust into her all the way with one brutally swift lunge. His rubbery glans nudged her cervix and his copper-haired nut sac arced forward and slapped into the milk-white valley of her quivering buttocks.
Susan sucked in her breath raggedly, then let it out with a heart-rending scream.
"Give it to her, baby!" Krista called. "Pour it on! Make her holler! Make her know she's being raped!"
And that's exactly what the redhead did. While Reyes held her down, Charles started fucking her for all he was worth. His tensed rump arched furiously as he powered the pole to her with pile driving force.
"AAGH, AAGH, AAGH!!!" Susan groaned chantingly, with her eyes and teeth clenched against the pain and her spinning head snapping from side to side. "YOU'RE ... KILLING ... MEEE!!!"
She could hear the maid's shrill laughter over the sounds of her own anguish and the huffing of the wildly humping chauffeur's labored breathing. His breath smelled strongly of whiskey 'as it burst offensively over her contorted face, and she knew he was drunk. The others, too. There would be no mercy, she realized, and something inside her died.
The most she could hope for was that they wouldn't kill her, and that was no comfort at all, because she almost wished she were dead. The vile misuse of her pain-racked body was so thoroughly humiliating that she nearly suffocated with shame.
Struggling and pleading had gotten her nowhere, so Susan gave up both. Resigning herself to the bitter fact that she could do nothing to prevent the atrocity being perpetrated upon her, she lay as still as she could, suffering silently as she took the loathsome screwing which she was being forced to endure.
Since the handsome redhead had already had one orgasm that day, his self-control was virtually complete. He rode her long and hard, pistoning his fat dick rapid-fire in and out of the moistening slit of her outraged sex opening.
To her utter dismay, Susan soon discovered that her body was beginning to accept his plunging organ. The incessant pumping of her erogenous canal had a most undesirous effect on her sexual parts. The pain drained from her, and in its place came a prickling sensation that wasn't altogether unpleasant. And it got better.
The fit of his invading prick and her yielding pussy was slippery but snug, and his constant thrusting produced a titillating heat that was irresistible. Susan didn't want to respond to the lewd act of intercourse, but her feverish loins betrayed her.
She groaned inwardly, biting her lower lip. Stabs of illicit pleasure rippled through her each time he sank the full length of his stiff rod into the velvety depths of her sweating sheath.
It was incredible to the uptight Susan that she should experience anything but horrified revulsion.
One man was holding her down while another violated her with callous unconcern for the suffering it caused her. But her suffering had changed. It was taking a different course now. With the pain gone, her ravished cunt was well on its way to surrendering unconditionally to the thrusting male organ. She knew she was being conquered, dragged down to the animalistic level of unthinking physical passion where she'd already been twice during the last twenty-four hours, and her morally upright conscience was giving her fits. That mental guardian of virture had never been so infuriated with her sensual flesh as it now was. Its strident screams rang gratingly inside her lolling head, demanding that she resist the Devil's fire which was licking deliciously within her cock-filled vagina.
But as it always has since the beginning of time, lust once again proved itself to be stronger than conscience. Susan's healthy body had been denied sex for eight years, and it refused to tolerate that unnatural condition any longer. Her clitoris glutted itself on the hot blood racing through her veins. The tiny head swelled and began to throb with pleasure as the shaft elongated and thickened. The ultrasensitive tip of her miniature cock sprang from its hooded hiding place and snuggled itself tight against the top of the chauffeur's plunging dick.
"Aaaah ... aaaah!" Susan cried involuntarily. The abrasive stroking of her inflamed little button sent a fiery mass of lewd sexual excitement careening about inside her.
"It's getting to her," the hulking gardener breathed.
"About time," Charles panted, his butt rising and falling at a fantastic clip as he sawed his pecker happily away in the puffy lips of her hair-ringed hole. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and his nuts were drawn up tight against his body. "Do you like my dong, Susan? Is it moving you, baby?"
"Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh!" she chanted, licking absently at her quivering lips. Her hips were beginning to undulate, and she couldn't stop them.
The chauffeur laughed and increased his efforts. "That's the way, honey. Forget that servant-mistress shit for now. You can remember it later and think how vulgar we were. But it's not vulgar now, it is Miss Polk? I'm fucking you, Mistress Susan! Your lowlife chauffeur is fucking the shit out of you! What have you got to say about them apples?"
"Ohhh ... ohhh ... ohhh," she sighed, her mouth hanging open and her disbelieving eyes blinking up at him. Her conscience had been subdued until it was nothing but a muffled mumbling in the back of her mind. The walls of her dilated vagina were giving off an overabundance of lubricating fluid and the slick cunt oil was bubbling out around the sturdy shaft fucking into her and seeping into the thicket of pubic hair surrounding her sopping little gash.
"Do you like it?" he demanded.
"Yes!" she whined, and quit fighting the tide of lust churning within her loins. "God help me, but I do like it!"
Once she had admitted her wickedness, there was no turning back. She didn't care. Not any more. She couldn't help what they were doing to her, and the thinking portion of her prudish mind was rapidly being enveloped by a steaming cloud of licentious lust.
Smirking, Charles pulled his turgid rod all the way out of her fluttering tunnel and teased her by rubbing its sleek glans up and down the outer edges of her pouting split.
"Mmmm ... ohhh!" she crooned, pushing up her midsection in an effort to ease her torment and get it back into her hungry orifice. "Don't stop! Oh, God ... don't stop now!"
"Don't stop what?" he asked, pulling back his sex-wetted member so that she couldn't reach it.
"Doing it to meee!" she whined. "Don't stop, Charles!"
"Fucking you!" he snarled. "Say it dirty!"
"Don't stop f-fucking meee!" she stammered, her glassy eyes looking up imploringly at him as she arched her back and followed his retreating prong with her snapping snatch. "Put it b-back in me ... please!"
"Put what back in you, Miss Hot-Ass Polk?"
"Your p-penis!" she gasped.
"I told you to say it dirty!" he taunted, holding the object of her lustful desire barely out of her cuntal reach. "It's a cock, baby, and you're going to have to beg for it if you want more! Now let's hear you beg for your pecker! Come on, Miss High and Mighty, you know the words!"
Susan knew the words he wanted to hear, but they were in her reading not her speaking vocabulary. She didn't know if she could bring herself to repeat such crude obscenities. But she had to try, because it felt as if her loins were on fire.
"Well, do you want it or not?" Charles snapped.
"Yes!" she groaned. "I want it! Your dick! Your big lovely fat dick! Put it in me, Charles! Ram your cock in me and fuck me good!"
"Now you're talking, baby," he said, and pressed the knob-like head into the sopping pink slot at the junction of her wide-splayed, straining legs. "Is this what you want?"
"Yesss!" she squealed, making her small hands into fists. "God yesss ... more ... give me more!"
"More what, Mistress Susan?"
"MORE COCK!!!" she yelled, bowing upward in an effort to impale herself on the seven-inch lance. "GIVE IT TO MEEE ... FUCK ME, YOU SONOFABITCH!!!"
He hesitated briefly, with nothing but the throbbing crown of his organ in the tight ring of her swollen labia, looking down at her lustful expression and her frantic squirming motions, gloating over his victory. Then he lunged forward and slammed into her steaming vagina right up to his tight nuts.
She cried raspingly, shuddering with pleasure.
The chauffeur took up where he'd left off. The rubbery end of his stalk had barely jarred her womb before he threw a flurry of short, body-jolting thrusts into her.
"OHHH, OHHH, OHHH!" she moaned chantingly, throwing her legs over his and starting to work with him. "YESSS ... OH, LORD, YESSS ... GIVE IT TO ME ... FUCK ME, FUCK MEEE!!!"
"I'll give it to you, all right, baby!" he rasped as he fucked into her frenziedly with shorter and shorter jabs of his twitching prick. "And right ... now!"
"OH, NOOO!" Susan protested, when he rammed in to the hilt and started pumping her heaving belly full of semen. "NOT YET ... DON'T COME YET, GODDAMN YOU! I'M NOT READY!!!"
It didn't matter a whit to Charles Lancaster whether or not she was ready. He ground his pubis against her puffy mons and squirted jet after jet of his thick load into her straining body. As soon as his climax was over, he backed his spongy dick out of her palpitating crevice and hopped off the bed.
A wave of foamy white jizz washed out over the beet-red lips of her swollen twat and trickled down into the fleshy valley of her quivering buttocks, some of it pooling lewdly in the puckered brown ring of her clasping anus. Susan groaned her disappointment. She was seething with lust now, nearly out of her mind, and her frustration was unbearable. Just when she'd given in to her baser nature and wanted to be fucked more than anything in the world, Charles had failed her miserably.
"You bastard!" she hissed. "You crud!"
"Why, whatever is the matter, ma'am?" Krista asked mockingly. "Didn't your high-class snatch get enough vulgar servants' prick?"
"SHUT UP!" Susan screamed. "SHUT UP, YOU SLUT!!!"
"Well, la-de-da," Krista laughed. "Look who's calling who a slut, would you?"
The men's raucous laughter mingled with the maid's shrill peals, and Susan felt her cheeks burning with shame. She'd never felt so utterly humiliated in her life, but that didn't lessen her terrible sexual need one iota. She was full of the chauffeur's sperm, with the bulk of his load far up inside her. The thought that she might be pregnant crossed her lust-dulled mind, but she was too hot and bothered to care. Every nerve and cell in her body craved more sexual stimulation. Susan feared she would die if she didn't get more of this coarse fucking immediately.
As if he'd read her mind, the hulking Mexican-American gardener pulled her small hand over to his loins and placed her slender white fingers around the wrist-thick shaft of his bronze penis. "You want some of that, baby?"
Susan sucked in her breath. She turned her head toward him and tried in vain to make the tips of her thumb and middle finger meet around his pulsating organ. It was impossible. He was huge. Reyes' nine-inch tool commanded her undivided attention. She stared at it in fearful fascination and ran her shaking hand timidly up and down its entire length. She shuddered and licked her parched lips.
"It's too big!" she moaned, her voice husky with lust but quavering with fearful anticipation. "Yes ... I do want it! It'll probably split me, but I've got to have it!"
Jesus Reyes grinned, nodded and started to climb on top of the passion-crazed young woman.
"Wait, Jesus," Krista said, and he paused, frowning. "Make her ask for it nicely."
"Say please," Reyes muttered half-heartedly.
"Please!" Susan moaned.
"You can do better than that, cunt," the buxom blonde scolded. "Tell your gardener that you know you're not worthy of his magnificent dong."
"I'm not worthy of your magnificent dong!" Susan whined.
"Please give it to me anyway," Krista coached.
"Please give it to me anyway!" Susan begged.
"Let me humble myself in your presence."
"Let me humble myself," Susan parroted as she stroked the gardener's turgid masculinity, "in your presence!"
"Allow me to lick your balls to prove that I don't consider myself above you."
"Oh, God!" Susan groaned. She didn't want to say it, but her need was too great to refuse. "Allow me to lick your balls to prove I don't consider myself better than you!"
"Yeah," Reyes said, and he swung astride her shoulders on his knees. "Lick my balls."
The gardener's hairy sac was wrinkled and dark brown. It contained two testicles big as walnuts. He laid them right on her parted lips and waited patiently to have them licked.
Susan's mind reeled with the gross indignity. She was the mistress of Robards Manor and they were the servants, but everything was backward. They were giving the orders and she was taking them because she had no choice. She wanted to refuse, but she couldn't. Her lust wouldn't permit her the luxury. She yearned for the penis angling above her face, so she extended her tongue and laved all over the dark-skinned gardener's salty-tasking nut sac. Even as she tongue-washed his scrotum, she knew that she would never again command so much as token respect from any of them.
It didn't matter at the moment. Her wanton body vibrated with desire. There was a ravenous void in her that only a hard male organ could fill. She had to have the beautiful bronze prick inside her hungry belly or she would lose her mind.
"There!" she gasped, letting her head fall back to the pillow. His dangling bag was completely coated with her saliva, and droplets of it clung to his coarse black hair, glistening like diamond chips as it reflected the light. "I licked your balls, now fuck me, Jesus!"
"Damn right!" he exclaimed, and swung back into position between her eager thighs.
"Make her lick your ass first!" Krista urged.
"To hell with that noise," Reyes muttered, fitting the bluntly rounded end of his enormous member into the sperm-slick hairy cleft at the bottom of Susan's protuberant mons. "I don't go for that far-out crap, and you know it, Krista. Me and Susan are going to have us a plain old fucking good time, ain't we, Susan?"
"Good ... time!" she grunted. Her lips were drawn back over her clenched white teeth, and she was trembling violently.
Despite her longing for it, Jesus' cock was simply too big for her small pussy. Less than half of his glans was into her, and the back of it-big around as a doorknob-just wouldn't go. The raw-nerved lips of her vulva were stretched taut as bowstrings, with the broadest part of his penile crown yet to penetrate her furry opening.
"Too big!" she yelped, trying to scoot away from him and ease the pain in her groin. "It's t-too big! Stop ... agh ... before you tear meee!"
"It'll go," he assured, holding her still and pressing into her millimeter by agonizing millimeter. "You're tight as hell, honey, but you'll stretch enough!"
"NOOH!" she wailed, her wide eyes mirroring her fear of being ruined forever. "AARGH ... IT HURTS TOO MUCH! OHHH ... OH, JESUS ... NO ... NOOO ... NOOO ... AAAHHH!!!"
It did go, just as he'd said it would, and it didn't tear her, either, though Susan felt as if she were being rent asunder. A tremor wrenched her spine when his giant bulb stretched the slick tissue of her cuntal folds to the limit and lurched into the lower end of her silky vagina. She couldn't scream again. It took her breath away. All she could do was lie there with her legs jerking and her mouth gaping as she stared up at him in utter incredulity and felt inch after inch after inch of his gigantic cock slipping in through her gripping hole and making its way clear up to the very core of her being. His taut-skinned glans nudged into her until at last she felt his heavy balls nestling into the crack of her squirming ass, and she knew she had taken all he had.
The air burst from her lungs in a shrill, siren-like cry that would've put a banshee to shame.
"You okay, Susan?" Reyes asked.
She had to take three gasping breaths before she could answer, and by then the pain of being impaled so thoroughly was a thing of the past. There was a sensation of utter fullness, and it was a glorious experience. She was amazed at how fantastically good it felt to be skewered on her Mexican-American gardener's gigantic cock.
"Ohhh ... oh, Jesus!" she moaned hoarsely as she flung her arms around him and locked her legs over his.
"You're okay?" he asked again.
"Good God, yesss!" she rasped. "What are you waiting for? Do it to me!"
Reyes withdrew seven of his nine inches, with Susan's puffy red cunt lips clinging suckingly to his gleaming wet shaft.
"Oh, God!" she sighed.
He sank the huge organ back into her with a swift, smooth thrust.
"OHHH ... OH, JESUS!" she squealed, her head rolling limply about.
Then he started fucking her in earnest. Using long, measured strokes and an unhurried pace, he proceeded to give her the fucking good time he'd promised her.
"Yes, yes, yes!" she groaned, and started hunching her delighted snatch up to meet his inrushing prong.
He French kissed her, and Susan accepted his tongue gladly, sighing over and over as she sucked it and took the thorough screwing he was giving her.
"Ohhhh ... ohhhh ... ohhhh!" she crooned, burying her face in the sweat-damp crook of his neck when he ended the tongue-sucking kiss. "What a man ... what a wonderful man!!!"
Susan's breathing was coming in short, gasping huffs, and each exhalation was a mournful sigh of unadulterated bliss. The huge prick pumped pleasure into her until Reyes had transported her to a mindless realm of raging carnality. Her ecstasy became too excruciating for mortal flesh to endure, and she succumbed to a soul-rending orgasm.
"AAAIIIEEE!!!" she screamed shrilly, throwing back her head and thrashing wildly about as a series of harsh convulsions racked her sweat-soaked body. Great waves of white-hot orgasmic rapture rolled over her. "OHH, GODDD!" she yelled. It felt as if her intestines were exploding like fireworks on the Fourth of July. "OH, MY GOD ... I'M COMING ... COMMMIIINNNGGG!!!"
She flung her head erratically. Her eyes were shut, with her eyeballs revolving beneath their fluttering lids. She raked Reyes' back and buttocks unknowingly with her sharp fingernails. Her legs flailed jerkily,' with her heels pounding the mattress. The strong walls of her youthful vagina gripped suckingly at the enormous dong it harbored. Her lovely legs quaked ecstatically, and she sobbed brokenly until she'd ridden out the unbelievable bliss of her all-encompassing sexual fulfillment.
"Someone's coming up the stairs!" Charles cried.
Reyes backed his rock-hard prong out of her palpitating pussy and leaped off the bed. All the well-fucked Susan could do was lie there with a fatuous smile on her face, moaning and blubbering, as the door opened and slammed and footsteps drew near.
"What the deuce is going on out here?" Simmons demanded as he charged into the bedroom. He spotted the naked, moaning Susan and stopped in his tracks, shaking with rage. "You swine! I thought I heard the Mistress crying out! What have you blackguards done to that sweet child?"
"Fuck off, Rob," Krista warned.
"Please keep your vulgarities to yourself!" he barked, glaring at the other servants. Then he set his jaw and stamped toward the bed. "Come along, Mistress Susan. It'll be all right now that Simmons is here to protect you. Let me help you up. We'll go to the house and have a nice brandy, then I'll tuck you in."
"We'll go to the house and have a nice brandy, then I'll tuck you in," Krista said mockingly. "Then you'll climb in with her and slip it to her yourself, huh, Robbie?"
"Of course not!" he snarled. "But if I did, it would be none of your business!" He pulled Susan up to a sitting position and was trying to help her off the bed when Krista attacked.
"You egotistical shithead!" she screeched. "I'll teach you to stick your big nose into affairs which don't concern you!" And with that, the buxom maid grabbed the slender butler by the hair of his head and flung him across the room.
Simmons was visibly shaken, emotionally as well as physically. He got up, smoothed his hair and pulled himself together, then started back toward the bed upon which Susan was sitting. "You should not have done that, Miss Olson!" he wheezed. "Get out of my way, all of you! I'm taking Mistress Susan back to the house, where she'll be safe, and we'll not tolerate another vile atrocity of this sort!"
"You're just begging for it, Robbie," Krista said threateningly. She stood blocking his path, with her legs spread and her hands on her hips. "Go back to the house, luv, before you force me to show everyone the secret side of your personality!"
"You can't intimidate me!" Simmons bellowed. "It's all over between us, Miss Olson! Do you understand?"
"You're the one who doesn't understand, Robbie Boy," she slurred, and slapped him viciously. Before he could react, she backhanded him.
His mouth hung open and his eyes turned glassy. "No, Krista!" he whined. "Not in front of the others!"
An evil smirk played over the blonde's face as she grasped the lapel of Simmons' coat and held him still with one hand while she slapped him repeatedly with the other.
"My Lord!" he gasped, not lifting a hand to defend himself. "No, darling ... please ... don't humiliate me in public!"
"You're a sniveling masochist, Simmons!" she shouted, slapping him all the while. "You're my slave, aren't you? My bootlicker!"
"Yes, milady!" he sobbed. "But not here ... not with them watching!"
"Prostrate your worthless self at my feet! Lick the dust off my boots! Now, Robbie ... or, by God, I'll bite your balls off!"
Susan saw it, but she didn't want to believe it. Simmons flung himself down and started licking Krista's boots, slavering and whimpering in a fit of masochistic bliss.
"Well, I'll be a sonofabitch!" Charles exclaimed.
"Yeah, me too," grunted Reyes.
Krista smiled serenely and began removing her hot pants. "Don't waste those hard-ons, guys. I'm going to let Robbie suck my asshole. In the meantime, I believe little Miss Prim could use some more sexing. Why don't you both give it to her at the same time? I think she might appreciate having a dick in her mouth while she's being buggered."
The men looked at one another, smiled and nodded. "I get her ass," Charles said as they moved toward the bed. Reyes nodded assent, and Charles added, "How about holding her while I get it in, okay?"
"Nooh!" Susan begged, cringing away and shaking her head. "No more ... please ... I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE!!!"
Although she was physically spent, Susan found enough additional energy to put up a valiant struggle. Which did her no good. Neither did her vociferous begging and free-flowing tears. Between them, the men swung her onto her hands and knees, with her ass sticking vulnerably out in the direction of the standing chauffeur and her face pointing at the fearsom loins of the massive, kneeling gardener. Charles was beside the bed and Reyes on it with the pleading Susan. Krista had Simmons on his back on the floor, squatting over him with her bare ass shining, and was asking him if he'd like her to piss all over his face and shit a nice long turd into his mouth this time.
Susan felt the redhead's hands locking around her hips. Then his hot organ wedged between her fleshy buttocks and the head of it nudged her rosebud anus. She shivered. "NOOH ... DEAR GOD ... NOT THERE ... NOT IN MY RECTUM!!!"
His fingers bit into her hips as he forced the tip of his dreaded dick into the rubbery flesh of her tiny anal aperture.
"AGH ... I CANT TAKE IT!" she wailed, her shaking hands gripping the sheet and twisting. "IT HURTS! OHH, LORD ... IT HURTSSSS!"
He held her in the degrading position and lunged brutally into her, his fat dick battering through the elastic opening of her rectum and bludgeoning its way deep into the murky recesses of her anal canal.
A searing pain swirled within her. A tremor of bone-rattling intensity racked her aching body. Susan flung back her head and vented her anguish with a bloodcurdling scream.
Charles laughed raucously and started sodomizing the young woman with powerful, deeply penetrating thrusts of his too-large peter. "Hang on, baby!" he cried gleefully, his stomach slapping rapid-fire against the cringing cheeks of her violated ass as he socked his cockhead in to the very depths of her recoiling bowels. "You'll get used to it in a minute!"
But she didn't get used to it. It hurt something fierce, and she cried out in pain continually until Reyes stuck his monster prick in her mouth and silenced her. She sucked his cock, but only because she had to. There was no enjoyment in it for her. Her passion was satiated. All she felt was excruciating pain and scathing shame as she was rocked to and fro by the two cocks fucking into her, one in her reluctant mouth and the other in her pain-racked butt.
Susan was numb when they finally began shooting their vile semen into her. The chauffeur came first, slamming into her so hard his stomach flattened the resilient globes of her quaking ass, grunting like a male beast while his fully inserted peter spewed torrents of hot sperm into the depths of her outraged bowels. Then the gardener's gigantic prick throbbed mightily and inundated her mouth with a flood-like gush of his pent-up load. She groaned piteously. It was impossible for her to swallow fast enough. She gagged wretchedly. Foamy waves of the Mexican's glutinous cum rolled over her trembling red lips. The gluey substance coated the front of her chin, with a thick white rope of it dangling obscenely from the quivering point. Fearing she would suffocate, Susan backed her mouth off the cum-spewing organ, only to have her head held scant inches away from his ballooning cockhead while he squirted the rest of his massive load all over her agonized face.
"Oh, God!" she whimpered. Scalding tears of mortification cascaded down her sperm-streaked cheeks. Her degradation was complete now. They'd defiled her until she had no self-respect whatsoever left. "I WANT TO DIE!" she wailed.
When the men had finished with her, Susan collapsed into a sobbing heap and kept groaning, "I want to die ... I want to die!"
"Shut up and wipe the cum off your face, bitch!" Krista ordered.
"I'M GOING TO THE POLICE!" Susan screamed in her misery. "YOU'LL ALL GO TO PRISON FOR THIS!!!"
Simmons could be heard vomiting in the bathroom, regurgitating chunks of the turd which the sadistic blonde had forced him to eat directly from her asshole. After that dubious victory, Miss Olson was in no mood to be intimidated by Susan's threats. The dominant maid pounced onto the bed and grabbed her mistress by the hair of the head. She dragged the terrified girl off the bed and flung her to the floor, then sat on Susan's tits and, using both hands viciously, slapped her senseless.
"Now, goddamn you!" Krista hissed, when she'd reduced Susan to a state of mindless cringing and sniveling. "Go to the police! Tell them anything you want! It'll be your word against ours-all four of us! Who do you think they'll believe, stupid? You?"
"Oh, dear God!" Susan groaned. "I want to die!"
Krista's eyes glinted coldly. The corners of her mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. "You could get your wish, Mistress Susan!" she spat. "What you'd better do is get the hell away from Robards Manor ... before you disappear the same way your bull dyke old grandmother did!"
The buxom maid scooted forward and wiped her ass on Susan's face, then got up and stood by laughing as Reyes tossed Susan her night clothes and told her to get out.
Like a whipped dog, Susan staggered back to her room. She was beaten, and she knew it. No amount of money was worth what she'd been through. She was going to leave the next morning and never return. If she hadn't been so exhausted, she would've left immediately.
CHAPTER FIVE
Someone did disappear that night, but it wasn't Susan. She slept late the next morning, and when she came out of her room carrying her suitcase, Charles and Jesus were pacing nervously on one side of the living room. On the other side, Simmons sat tensely in an overstuffed chair. He had a pistol in his hand.
"What's going on here?" Susan gasped. "That's what we'd like to know," Jesus grunted. "Krista's gone," Charles muttered. "She vanished just like Bitch Robards. Now this old fool," he said, motioning toward the gun-wielding butler, "is threatening to shoot us!"
"I'll shoot either or both of you if you should so much as make an off-color remark to the Mistress again," Simmons said, and his tight, twitching lips and glowering eyes told them he was capable of doing it. "Miss Polk is a lady, and I will not allow the likes of you scum to treat her otherwise. Henceforth I am Mistress Polk's bodyguard in addition to being her chief servant. There is no reason for you to leave now, Miss Susan. Believe me. Please stay. I'll protect you, with my life if necessary."
This unexpected turn of events cast a different light on things. Susan did an hour's worth of thinking in a minute. The chauffeur and gardener both looked subdued and worried, so she reasoned that her butler could actually protect her from any further degradation at their hands.
Perhaps Simmons does love me, after all, she thought. He said he did. And he's certainly acting like it. It won't do him any good, of course, but he doesn't know that. I don't think he'll try to force himself on me again. I saw part of what Miss Olson did to him last night, and he knows I did. If worse comes to worse, I can slap him around, too. I've read all about masochists, and now that I know Simmons is one I'm sure I can handle him. Why shouldn't I stay and let him be my bodyguard? Grandmother's estate is worth a lot of money, and I'm the sole heir! And I want my inheritance!
"All right," Susan said, pulling herself up regally because the role she had to play demanded it. She was so grateful to the butler that she felt like calling him by his first name, but that would never do now. "I'll stay, Simmons, with you as my bodyguard. I'll pay you extra for it, too, and well. But what are you going to do about Miss Olson? The police will have to be informed of her disappearance. Have you called them yet?"
"No, ma'am," he replied, rising with the gun in his hand. "I haven't notified them, and there is no need to do so. Though I haven't the foggiest notion as to why. Miss Olson left Robards Manor of her own free will and under her own power. I saw her walking away with her valise at dawn this morning. I say good riddance. Let her go to hell or wherever."
"Why didn't you tell us that?" Charles barked.
"I'll tell you whatever I choose to tell you and not a whit more!" Simmons snapped. "Now get out of here and attend to your duties, the both of you. Don't enter the house again unless the Mistress or I should summon you."
The gardener and chauffeur stood there for a moment, undecided, glancing at Susan and Simmons suspiciously. Then they turned and stamped from the room and out of the house.
"I'd like to have my breakfast now, Simmons," Susan said with a sigh of relief. "Suddenly I'm famished. I'll have orange juice, eggs and pork chops well-done, buttered grits and black coffee."
"Very good, ma'am," Simmons said. He put the pistol in his belt and bowed slightly. Then he turned away and an enigmatic smile crept over his face.
"And, Simmons," Susan called.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, pausing.
"I'd like some sliced tomatoes, too. Have Reyes bring in a couple of nice ripe ones from the garden. Don't bother with chilling, just wash and slice them."
"Very good, Mistress Susan. I'm glad you're feeling better," he said before he shuffled off to prepare her food.
Susan was feeling better, considerably so. She spent the bigger part of the day alone in the library, browsing through the books she'd read and loved as a child. Being brought up in Robards Manor had not been a happy experience, so Susan had escaped into the more appealing world of fiction as frequently as possible. But she wasn't reading the books now. Her thoughts were of the present-still fraught with danger-and of the future, which could be extremely bright if she was fortunate enough to live until she received her sizable inheritance.
One of the possible murderers was gone, but three still remained; and though she accepted Simmons' explanation of Miss Olson's absence, her intuition told her to keep her guard up, that he might have been lying.
Simmons seemed only too happy to rush into the library and attend her when she rang the bell, and this time was no different. The door opened within seconds and he stepped in from the hallway.
"You rang, Mistress Susan?"
She nodded thoughtfully.
"More coffee? Perhaps you'd like some crumpets with it this time?"
Susan shook her head. "Sit down, Simmons."
He took the chair beside hers and reached for her hand. "Call me Rob, darling. We're quite alone."
She frowned and pulled her hand away.
"You're not in the proper mood, I take it."
"I haven't decided anything definite yet," she said, playing him along because she needed him. "Give me time, Rob. I'm very confused."
"Of course, my sweet," he gushed. "I understand perfectly."
"Good. Then perhaps you'll also understand that it would help me if we didn't, uh, show our affection for one another until things are more settled."
He smiled complacently. "As you wish, Mistress Susan. I have waited eight years for you. I can wait longer. Patience is one of my virtues."
"Let's not talk this way any more for the time being, either."
"If it upsets you, then certainly we shan't. But you did ring."
"Yes, I want us to have a talk." She met his gaze and affected a helpless, trusting expression. "Why do you think Miss Olson left the way she did?"
"I'm afraid only she knows the answer to that," he said smugly.
"Did she leave, Simmons? I mean, did you actually see her walk away?"
He shifted uneasily.
"After what she did to you last night, I wouldn't blame you for killing her," Susan added.
Simmons cleared his throat. His cheeks flushed and he lowered his gaze.
"Did you kill her, Rob? You can tell me. I won't give you away. Miss Olson needed killing. So did my grandmother. I wouldn't hold it against you if you confessed to killing them both. In fact, I'd admire you, in a way. It would be our secret, darling. I promise never to betray you."
"Miss Polk!" he wheezed. "I do not like the tone of this! Why, you would have me confess to crimes which are totally beyond my capabilities is unfathomable to me ... but I can assure you that your suspicions are without the slightest foundation! I most certainly did not kill Mrs. Robards, and I swear by all that's holy that I saw Miss Olson depart depart the premises this dawn with valise in hand!"
"And I believe you, Simmons. Honest, I do." Her manner concealed the doubts and fears which logical thought had raised. "Forgive me, but I had to ask. Do you think Miss Olson found the case of coins?"
Simmons thought about that one before he answered. "I didn't tell you the whole truth that first night. Although I didn't find any myself, I did know about the coins. I denied it because ... well, because you had enough to worry about already, and because I'm relatively sure the coins had nothing to do with your grandmother's disappearance. I didn't want you to worry unnecessarily. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Susan murmured.
The butler brightened visibly. "Well, then, now that we've got that behind us, yes, I do indeed believe Miss Olson found the case of rare coins. She was struggling with her valise, as if it contained something much heavier than clothing. It must have been the coins. Why else would a greedy slut like her leave of her own volition?"
Now it was Susan's turn to think. She had no way of knowing whether or not he was telling her the truth, but even if he was lying she might turn his statement to her advantage. There was still the possibility that she was living with a murderer, and it could be any of the three men, only one of which she felt that she could manage and keep in line. Leaning forward intently, she asked, "Why don't you tell Charles and Reyes that? If they knew Miss Olson found the case of coins and took it with her, wouldn't they go away and leave us alone?"
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "That's a smashing good idea! I'm not positive she did abscond with the treasure, but what's to keep me from telling those wretched fellows she did?"
"Go tell them, Rob," she urged. "Do it now. I won't draw an easy breath as long as those animals are here. Get rid of them, darling. It'll help me get myself under control much faster. I can't promise you that I'll ... I'm so confused with them here. They frighten me, Rob! I'll be able to think more clearly when they're gone and you and I are alone in the house, and maybe then we can ... I don't want to make any promises I might not be able to keep, darling, but I am very fond of you. You know that, don't you?"
"I'll go tell the scoundrels right now," he said, rising. "I'll make them believe there's no reason for them to stay on!"
She thought for a moment Simmons was going to want to kiss her, and she would've let him because of the stakes involved, but he left after he'd given her nothing more than a fatherly peck on the forehead. Susan heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. Go on, Simmons, she said to herself, crossing her fingers. Get rid of Charles and Reyes for me! Then I can start thinking about how to get rid of you, too!
Susan allowed her hopes to soar unrealistically high for the rest of the day. After supper, she locked her doors, took a hot bath and retired early. She hadn't talked to Simmons again, but just before she drifted off to sleep she heard Charles blast off on his motorcycle. "One down," she sighed, snuggling her head into her pillow and falling asleep with a smile on her lovely face.
Simmons sat in his room sipping brandy and mulling things over in his scheming mind until eleven that night. He felt Susan was ready for him to take her over, perhaps as ready as she would ever be. All she needed was a gentle push to persuade her to marry him, then her fortune would be his when it became hers legally. He decided he had to give her that push now, while she was upset and confused, because if he waited until things were settled he knew she might change her mind. Taking courage from the alcohol he'd consumed, he went down the stairs and to her room. He'd expected her door to be locked. When the knob turned but the door wouldn't open, he reached into the pocket of his robe and brought out his master key which fit all the doors in the house. He unlocked the door, slipped into her darkened room, relocked the door, then stripped naked and crawled into bed with the sleeping young lady.
Until the butler got into bed with her, Susan had been sleeping dreamlessly. That changed when he began caressing her with feather-light touches. Her slumbering mind perceived the physical stimulation and started building a story around it. She was married and on her honeymoon, lying in a deck chair beside her husband on a ship bound for Europe. Susan kept telling him that he shouldn't be fondling her in public, but he wouldn't stop because he loved her so much he couldn't keep his hands off her. It was embarrassing but sort of nice. The most troubling part of her dream was that she couldn't remember who she'd married, and the sun was glaring in her eyes so she couldn't see his face. But it didn't really matter who she'd married after a while, because she liked being fondled and had realized that she was only dreaming. Since dreams are harmless, and she was enjoying hers, Susan was in no hurry to wake up. She allowed him to pull up her dress and put his hand on her cunny. As he stroked her down there, she spread her legs and pretended that nothing was happening. People were walking by on the deck. They all stopped to stare. Some were smiling and some frowned with disapproval. She shut her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at them. But when her husband, whose identity was still unknown to her, stuck his finger into her vagina, she decided he was going too far. It felt marvelous though, and she didn't want him to stop, so she opened her eyes with the intention of explaining to the onlookers that it was all right since he was her husband and they were on their honeymoon.
There were no onlookers when Susan opened her eyes. She discovered she was in the huge brass bed in her grandmother's room, and that she was actually being fingered-by Simmons. "My stars!" she gasped, pushing him away. She was startled but not truly shocked, and she felt guilty for not reacting with horror. "How did you get in my room, Simmons? And what are you doing in bed with me? And naked?"
"I used my key, darling," he said, inserting his finger all the way into the moist heat of her body and massaging the secretion-beaded walls of her satiny sheath. "I can't wait. I love you too much. I'm going to make love to you."
"No!" she protested, but not as strongly as she thought she should, when he swung between her legs and brought the head of his erect penis into thrilling contact with the sensitive outer folds of her hair-rimmed slit. "Not yet! Give me time!"
"There's no reason to wait," he insisted, pressing forward and giving her an inch of taut-skinned glans.
"The others are gone?" she gulped. "Charles and Reyes?"
"No," he admitted, sinking the rest of his organ into her surprisingly well-lubricated pussy. "They didn't believe me about the coins, I'm afraid. And they ... aaah, that's quite lovely, isn't it, my sweet?"
"Wait till they leave, Simmons!" she gasped, squirming with sensual discomfort as she felt his balls snuggling into the crack of her ass, the rectal area of which was still somewhat sore from being buggered by the chauffeur. "We agreed ... mmm ... to wait!"
"I will not wait," Simmons said, and he started screwing her. "Those greedy devils may well stick around for the full seven years, and by then I should be quite mad with longing for you. You're the only woman I've ever loved. No, my dear," he said, his ass arcing as he pistoned his stiff rod within her responding cunt, "I will not be put off. We'll apply for a license to marry on the morrow, but tonight we shall sleep together and enjoy a bit of sweet fucking."
"But I'm not ready to get married!" she wailed, licking her lips and making her small hands into fists. It was delightful to have his peter working in her erogenous orifice, but she knew she shouldn't permit this sinful act to continue. "Stop, damn you! Stop screwing me at once! That's an order!"
"I won't take no for an answer," he replied gruntingly as he humped blissfully away. "I'm going to have you for my wife, even if I must force you to marry me!"
"No, Simmons ... ohhh ... no!" she panted, forcing her arms to remain at her sides even as her hips started working with him.
"Yes, darling," he sighed, slipping his hands under her and cupping the soft pillows of her buttocks as he increased the speed of his fucking motions. "I love you ... with all my heart! Charles and Reyes wanted me to help them kill you ... but I told them where to get off ... and ... you need me, Susan ... and I'm going to marry you ... aaah ... and protect you!"
Susan had no way of knowing if he was telling her the truth. If he was, she certainly needed his protection. If not, then he was desperate. The whole situation was insane. She was afraid of all three of the men, Simmons included. But her life was at stake, and Simmons, though he could've been the one who murdered her grandmother, was the only hope she had for the present. And he was fucking her so good that she couldn't think straight.
I'll have to pretend to agree to his proposal, she thought, heaving a sigh as she put her arms around him and opened her legs wider. I don't have any choice! Oh, why did he have to put his thing in me? And why does it have to feel so good?
"Oh, Susan ... my sweet Susan!" he cooed, when she slid her hands down his back and clasped the contracting cheeks of his thrusting butt. "We'll get married straightway!"
"Yes," she breathed, humping her hungry snatch up to meet his inrushing dong. "Whatever you say, Rob!"
His lips covered hers, and he stuck his tongue into her mouth. A soft sob of pleasured surrender escaped her nostrils. She accepted his tongue, licked it timidly, then moaned and began sucking it hungrily as she locked her legs over his and started throwing her juicy cunt up to him.
I can't help it! she thought fuzzily. He's not cruel like the others! And he says he loves me! Maybe I love him, too! Ohhh ... it's awful of me, and I know it, but I do like what he's doing to me! He's fucking me ... and it's so nice!
"I love the way you're fucking me, Rob!" she cried aloud without thinking, and once she'd said it she didn't want to take it back. It thrilled her to admit such a lustful thing. She dug her fingernails into his buttocks and pulled his sturdy dick all the way into her dribbling twat.
"Aagghhh!" he groaned, shuddering with a burst of masochistic bliss at the sudden pain she'd caused him. "You darling!" he croaked, and the first jet of his semen raced up the twitching shaft of his peter and squirted out the eye at the tip of his expanded cockhead.
"Not yet!" Susan wailed, shaking him with her fingernails buried in the layer of fatty tissue covering his tensed buttocks, only adding to his ecstasy. "Don't come yet, Rob! I like it now! I want you to fuck me for a long, long time!"
"Ung, ung, ung!" he grunted, oblivious of her need as he pumped the rest of his load deep into her straining belly.
His organ went limp almost immediately, and he apologized as he withdrew, which only frustrated the sexually aroused young woman all the more. She lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, while Simmons got up and went into the bathroom. It required all her self-control not to yield to the nasty urge to put her hand between her legs and use her fingers to achieve the orgasm her feverish body yearned for.
Simmons came back and climbed into bed with her. He removed her nightgown and held her naked in his arms, stroking her lovingly as he talked of marriage and the trip they would take to England as soon as things were settled.
Krista's dog began howling out by the edge of the woods. It wouldn't shut up. The sound seemed to upset Simmons, but Susan had other things on her mind. Her body was still aching for orgasmic release, and while Rob talked of their future together, stopping to curse the dog frequently, she fondled his penis. Doing such a wanton thing made her ashamed of herself, but she did it anyway, because of her physical need. He'd already screwed her, she reasoned, so what could it hurt if he did it again.
But his prick wouldn't respond to her manual stimulation. He was getting angry. "If that mutt doesn't quit yapping, I'm going to go out there and shoot it!" he hissed.
"No, Rob!" Susan protested, jerking her hand away from his genitals and forgetting her sexual desire. "That's cruel! Miss Olson should have taken her dog with her. It misses her, is all. It'll quit howling after a while. Besides, what can a little barking hurt?"
"It hurts my ears," he grumbled. "I have no use for dogs ... especially that dreadful beast!"
The barking came closer and closer to the house, and Simmons became almost frantic. When the animal came up onto the veranda and began scratching at the French doors, Miss Olson's first and then Susan's, whining between bursts of barking, Simmons leaped out of bed and turned on the light.
"What are you going to do?" Susan asked fearfully.
"Kill that goddamned mutt!" he snapped, and he put on his slippers and robe, from the pocket of which he produced his pistol.
"No, Rob!" Susan cried, jumping out of bed and darting between him and the French doors. "You can't! I won't let you shoot the poor animal!"
She begged him not to kill the dog, saying that she could never love a man who would do such a cruel thing. Finally he relented, grudgingly, when she promised to keep the animal in her room and see that it stayed quiet.
"I'm going to have it taken to the humane shelter first thing in the morning, though," he insisted.
"All right," she said. "Bring some food from the kitchen. The poor thing is probably starving. I'll let it in while you're going for the food. Is there any leftover meat?"
He nodded stiffly. "I'll bring it. I'll set it outside the door. But I'll not sleep in the same room with that creature! Keep it quiet, Susan. I warn you, if I hear any more howling, I'll come down and shoot it!"
CHAPTER SIX
Susan was so busy with the dog, feeding and petting it to keep it from barking so Simmons wouldn't come back down and shoot it, that she didn't have a chance to put her nightgown back on. The meat was all gone before she remembered that Reyes had called the boxer Perro. And as she recalled what she thought was the animal's name, another remembrance crossed her mind-that the dog had licked her vulva.
A shiver darted up her spine. She stroked the boxer's head and said, "You mustn't do that naughty thing again tonight, Perro. I'll have to put you out if you do. And if you start barking again, mean old Simmons will shoot you. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
The magnificent animal looked up at her with his sad eyes and licked the front of his broad snout. "Woof!" he barked.
"Shh!" she cautioned, lifting her finger to her lips. "There's not any more meat. You've had enough. Don't be a hog."
She stroked his sleek tan coat from his head clear back to his wagging stub of a tail. "Nice doggy," she said with a smile. "I suppose I ought to thank you for making such a fuss. If it hadn't been for your howling, Simmons would have stayed here all night. Thank you for rescuing me, Perro, even though it was a bit too late."
Now that the food was gone, the boxer noticed the condition his benefactress was in. His ears perked up as his keen nose caught the scent of aroused pussy. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for a dog to do, he stuck his muzzle between the young woman's thighs and licked the sperm-oozing hairy split where they joined her body.
"Ooouuu," Susan mewled, her mouth falling open as a shiver of pure pleasure rippled through her. Her loins were still congested with blood, the lips of her gaping pussy all swollen and very sensitive. The dog's tongue felt terrific, but of course it was unthinkable to allow the licking to continue. "Naughty doggy!" she scolded, and pushed his head away. "I told you not to do that!"
Perro whined and stuck his head back between her thighs. His tongue shot out and lapped her like mad.
"Ohh," ohhh ... oh, my goodness!" she whimpered, feeling faint with the delightful pleasure his insistent tongue gave her. "Stop it, Perro!" she gasped, and slapped his head as she took a step backward. "I told you not to do that!"
The huge boxer growled and overtook her. He thrust his cold snout between the creamy tops of her held-together thighs and licked her hot pussy again.
Horrified, Susan kept backing away. But the dog was growlingly persistent in his efforts to lick her cunt. He wouldn't be denied, and the growling frightened Susan. She retreated until the backs of her knees stuck the bed and she toppled down ignominiously, half-sitting and halflying, with her butt teetering precariously on the edge of the mattress and her legs inadvertently hanging wide-open.
The dog advanced licking his chops.
"No, Perro!" she hissed, pulling her legs together a second too late. She trapped his head between her knees. "Go away! Get under the bed and go to sleep! You mustn't keep after me this way, damn it!"
He pulled his head back and licked her knees.
"No!" she scolded. "I can't let you do what you want. It's out of the question! You're a dog! If you were a man ... Charles or Simmons ... I might think about it ... but you're an animal! Stop coaxing me! Quit licking my knees! Oh, damn you, Perro!" she hissed, and slapped his head hard to let him know she meant business.
The boxer's next action let Susan know just how serious he took the business of licking a woman's cunt. The powerful canine reared up with his front paws on her thighs and bared his sharp teeth. If that hadn't been enough to intimidate Susan, the menacing growl he let out most certainly was.
What have I got myself into? she thought frantically. I'd better let him do what he wants! I'd rather he licked me a little than-look at those teeth! My God, he could rip me to pieces in no time!
"Nice doggy," she said, her voice quavering with fear as she let her legs fall open. "There it is! Go ahead and lick me ... just don't bite me!"
The dog dropped between her widespread legs and started licking the inflamed red gash at the center of her trembling crotch.
"Aaah! Ohhh!" Susan moaned. Illicit stabs of pleasure shot through her steaming loins as the dog's roughened tongue washed all over her puffed vulva. "Don't h-hurt me, Perro! Ahhhh ... d-don't h-hurt meee!"
Apparently the animal had no intention of hurting her. All he seemed to want was to lick her privates, and the more he licked the better it got for Susan.
Lord! she thought dimly. He's driving me crazy! Ohhh ... oh, what a wonderful tongue! He sure knows what he's doing! I'll bet Miss Olson had him do this to her! She probably taught him to lick her cunny! The hussy! What a demented pervert ... mmmm ... to teach a dumb animal such a wicked thing!
Perro's hot tongue slithered through the shimmering pink valley of her smooth labia, and Susan sucked in her breath. "Yesss!" she sighed. "Nice doggy! Deeper! Lick me deeper!"
Listen to me! she groaned inwardly. Dear Lord, how could I say such a vile thing? Have I sunk this low ... ohhh ... that I'm willing to let a dog lick into me? But I can't help it! He's been taught to do this by that horrid Miss Olson! If I don't let him have his way, he'll bite me!
It was a rather awkward position for her to be in, with her toes and the balls of her feet on the floor and her wide-splayed legs straining to keep her rump from slipping off the bed. But she hardly noticed the strain when she felt the full length of the canine's tongue snaking up into her rippling belly. Perro lapped the remains of Simmons' sperm off the velvety walls of her vagina and kept right on, licking the copious flow of her sexual nectar directly from its productive source.
"God!" she moaned, grabbing her tits and massaging them as she rolled her head lollingly from side to side. "God, God, God!!!"
Almost as if her pleasured outburst were a signal, the boxer backed his snout out of her overheated cuntal vestibule and stopped licking her altogether.
"More!" Susan husked. "Don't stop now, Perro! I'm almost there! Lick me till I come!"
But the panting animal had other ideas. Susan had guessed right. His mistress had taught him to lick her blonde twat. The voluptuous maid had also taught the seventy-five pound dog to mount her and screw her. Perro had been trained well, so he had no difficult in finding his mark. Before Susan realized what was happening, the tan boxer reared up over her and plunged the entire length of his long, beet-red canine penis into the slippery depths of her unsuspecting human pussy.
"Oh, no!" Susan yelped, shuddering with pleasure as the pointed tip of his hot dick speared into the tiny mouth of her ultra-sensitive womb.
He's got his penis in me! her shocked mind groaned. A dog! I'm being fucked by a dog!
Wasting no time, the powerful canine began fucking into her with rapid-fire thrusts, locking his forelegs around her torso and servicing her the way he'd been trained to do.
"Oh, oh, oh!" she chanted, fighting for air as she stared with utter incredulity at the boxer's dangling red tongue and sad glassy eyes.
Susan had read about bestiality, and she'd found the subject strangely disquieting. Now that she herself was getting it from a large dog, she realized why. It was forbidden everywhere, considered to be a crime against nature, but the incredible perversity of copulation with an animal made it terribly exciting. What Perro lacked in penile girth, he more than made up for in length, heat and vigorous thrusting.
"Do ittt!!" she rasped gutturally. "Do it to me, ou magnificent animal! Fuck me ... ohhhh ... FUCK MEEE!!!"
Her fit of lust bordered on insanity. It was an abomination, what she and Krista's dog were doing. This she knew. The trouble was, she no longer cared. Susan felt as if she'd been dragged down to the very depths of depravity, and she loved it there. Throwing everything she'd ever stood for to the wind, she gave up her human status for the privilege of rutting with the wildly humping boxer as if she herself had been reduced to a bitch in heat. Which she had, of course, temporarily.
The heretofore prim young miss' thinking mind was out of it at this point. Susan was functioning purely on the animal level, with the strongest instinct in the world sweeping her up and carrying her to the heights of sexual rapture.
Perro's back arched at a fantastic clip as his gleaming red cock pistoned within the sucking cylinder of Susan's burning cunt. The dog whimpered and whined, dribbling saliva all over the jouncing mounds of her aching white breasts.
And Susan, her eyes glazed over with raging lust, whimpered and whined right along with the slavering beast she had fully accepted as her unnatural lover.
Mindlessly they fucked on and on, with the lust-crazed young woman having one soul-shattering orgasm after another in rapid succession, each of which only served to plunge her ever deeper into the throes of her runaway passion.
"Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God!" she could be heard chanting in a hoarse voice between her gasping gulps of air.
She clawed the bed on each side of her wildly pumping hips. The cords connecting her inner thighs to her sweat-dripping body stood out taut and jerking. Animal-like snarls and hisses streamed from her gaping mouth. She flung her head till her hair was a tangled mess.
And still the large dog fucked her, his ass moving so fast it was a blur of motion. He made her come so many times that his slender, red-hot pecker could actually be heard jabbing into her.
Squish, squish, squish, came the wet, rhythmic noises of their bestial union.
Susan's plushy pussy was giving off so much hot girl goo that it washed in waves down the fleshy gorge of her quivering ass and lay beneath her in a slick pool, soaking through the sheet and into the mattress.
It was during her umpteenth climax, and she was about to pass out from the agonizing ecstasy of it, when she felt a large knot start slipping up the shaft of Perro's womb-nudging penis.
The added stimulation of the penile knot popping incessantly in and out of her slushy hair-ringed hole kept her coming for what seemed like forever. Finally the knot was all the way inside her and moving quickly the rest of the way up the animal's thrusting prick.
When it was almost to the pointed tip of his rod, the panting boxer hunched all the way into her and began yelping like crazy. Perro was shuddering all over, just like Susan had been doing for some time, and his cock was pounding and jerking around in her belly. Then all at once he expelled a massive gush of dog cum. Some of the superheated animal sperm squirted in through the tiny, dilated mouth of her convulsing womb, with the rest of the scalding fluid irrigating the deep end of her fluttering vagina.
Susan groaned huskily, her body quaking from the top of her flung-back head right down to the tips of her trembling toes.
She never lost consciousness completely, but she was only dimly aware of the dog using his tongue to clean up her messy crotch when at long last he had finished fucking her. For quite a while she could only lie there shuddering with bliss and sobbing brokenly.
Then pieces of her blown mind started fitting themselves back into their proper places, and when she could think clearly enough to realize what had happened, it was just too horrible for her to accept. Feeling like the lowest scum of creation, she pulled her hair and cursed herself unmercifully, then staggered over to the French doors and let the contented dog out. She had never known such total, scathing shame as she now suffered. Kneeling beside the doors, she prayed for God to strike her dead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was too early to get up when Susan awakened the next morning, and she didn't feel like moving anyway. "A dog!" she kept groaning, recalling only too vividly the insane fucking she had taken from the huge boxer the night before. Each time she said it she shuddered with a mixture of totally incompatible emotions.
There was no denying that she'd enjoyed it tremendously while it was going on, but now it was daylight. Her body and mind were rested and free of the perverted lust which had dominated her actions then. She could hardly believe that she, Susan Polk, had done such a disgusting thing. But she had, and her conscience wouldn't let her forget it. Her guilt was eating her insides like some gigantic malignancy.
She didn't want to get out of bed and face the world. Only she and the dog knew what they'd done, but Susan couldn't bear the thought of looking at her face in the mirror. She lay in bed trying not to think, which of course caused her to think constantly.
Sex wasn't all she thought about, however. After a while, she began to think about her dilemma, about her inheritance and what she'd already gone through to get it, and what she might yet have to go through before she could claim it. If she wasn't killed first.
Susan didn't know what to believe. Her andmother had vanished, and no one seemed to care. Now Miss Olson was gone, with nothing but Simmons' word that she'd left on her own. Charles and Reyes had been upset about Miss Olson's departure, but not Simmons. Had he actually seen her leave? He'd admitted to lying once. Could he not be lying now?
The horrid maid wouldn't have left unless the coins had been found. Of that, Susan was reasonably sure. But Simmons hadn't mentioned Miss Olson's struggling with a heavy valise until Susan herself had brought up the question of the coin collection. Now she wondered. And shuddered.
The troubled young lady was still lying in bed, deep in disquieting thought, when Simmons entered her room without being courteous enough to knock first.
"Good morning, darling," he gushed, approaching her bed with a glass of orange juice.
She cringed, forced a "good morning," took the glass and had one sip from it before she set it on the bedside table.
"I trust you slept well, Susan. Krista's dog didn't keep you awake, I hope."
"No," Susan said, watching Simmons closely. She'd been wondering about the dog. Miss Olson had been very attached to the boxer. It didn't make sense that she would leave without taking Perro with her. And the barking last night, she had decided, shouldn't have upset Simmons the way it had.
"Where is the dreadful beast, my love?"
Susan looked, as if for the first time, at the slender, middle-aged butler who had screwed her twice and was now calling her his "love". Her skin crawled.
"Come, come, my sweet. Charles is waiting with the car. I've ordered him to take the wretched animal in to the city and deliver it to the humane shelter. Is the mutt under the bed? Locked in the bathroom?"
She gulped and said nothing while Simmons squatted and peered under the bed. When he started toward the bathroom door, she said, "He isn't in there, either. After I quieted him down last night, I let him back out."
Simmons spun around. "You didn't!"
Why is he so furious? Susan wondered, as she watched the butler turn almost apoplectic. What's so terrible about a dog barking? Why is he so determined to get rid of Perro?
"I did," she said. "I didn't think it would hurt anything. And I didn't hear any more barking, did you?"
"You little idiot!" he hissed. "I told you to keep the animal here!"
"How dare you call me an idiot!" Susan hissed right back at him. "This is my house, Simmons!"
That was all it took to remind Simmons of his place. She was still the mistress and he the servant. Until they were married, he had no legal claim to any of her money. Apologizing profusely, blaming his outburst on the mental strain he'd been under, Simmons assumed the role of placating lover. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand and stroking it as he begged her forgiveness. When he thought he had wormed his way back into Susan's good graces, he kissed her on the forehead and left.
Susan watched the door close behind Simmons, and she shivered. She suspected that the coins had not been found. She didn't believe Simmons had seen Miss Olson walking away. She feared he had killed her and disposed of her body.
Those coins must be found, she decided. My life could depend on it! Charles and Reyes won't go away until the case of coins is found. Simmons may not leave even then. But I can worry about him later. Right now, I've got to get busy and find that case! I've made a list of the most likely places where Grandmother would hide them. I've got to start looking. Simmons knows the house as well as I do, but he doesn't want the coins found now. It would make him out a liar, and a murder suspect. He won't look for them. The others don't know where to look, and Simmons won't let them in the house anyway. The case has to be hidden somewhere in the house, and it's up to me to find it!
She didn't want to go down in the cellar. That was where her mother had hanged herself. She could still picture her mother's body swaying on the end of that rope, with her mouth gaped open and her eyes bulged out.
The cellar was also where she'd lost her virginity at the tender age of twelve, and she'd been made to suffer for it ever since.
No, Susan Polk certainly didn't want to go down into the cellar, because that's where the two most traumatic events of her childhood had occurred. Just thinking about opening that door and descending those creaky old stairs caused her to break out in a cold sweat.
But she had to do it. It was mid-afternoon. She'd searched all the first and second floor places on her list and hadn't located the case of coins. It had to be in the cellar. There were several places down there where it could be hidden. Good places. Places where no one would think to look unless they'd grown up in the house and played down there and knew about them. There were hiding places in the cellar which even Simmons wouldn't know about. But Susan knew them all. The problem was getting up the nerve to go down there.
It was the ideal time. She was alone in the house, as she had been most of the day. Simmons had taken his pistol and gone out to the woods to search for Miss Olson's dog again.
I'm a rational human being, Susan thought as she stood trembling at the top of the stairs. She had turned on the lights and was peering down into the cellar. The floor was still dirt, but the stairs leading down to it were no longer old and rickety. The creaky ones she remembered had been torn out and replaced while she was away at college. There's nothing down there that can harm me. It's all in my head. I shouldn't be afraid of a cellar. It's irrational. I'm not a little girl any longer, and I've got to quit thinking like one. I'm going to do it. Right now. I'm going down those stairs and find that case of coins. Then I'm going to put them right back again and call the police. I want the police here when I let the servants see that I've found the coins. They're mine, and I'm going to keep them and sell them later. I'll have the police take them out of the house and keep them for me until I can put them away in the safe deposit box where they belong.
It required a great deal of courage for Susan to walk down the stairs into the cellar, but she did it. The air was cool and damp, the way she remembered it. There were no windows. The earth floor was surrounded with walls of mortar and native stone. Overhead were hand-hewn beams which Negro slaves had helped cut and prepare just prior to the outbreak of the Civil War.
Susan paused beneath the beam which her mother had used to commit suicide. She looked up and shuddered with the horrible memory. Panic gripped her. It was irrational but real nevertheless, and she felt like dashing back to the stairs and fleeing the cellar without having accomplished her mission.
The urge was strong, but she shook it off and tore her gaze from the death beam. Her heart palpitating, she walked toward the corner where she'd given up her virginity, as if some unseen force was drawing her there. Again she paused, and relived the degrading scene in her mind.
Then she smiled ruefully. How innocent that long-ago incident seemed now, without her grandmother around to tell her she was sinful and wicked.
It had been an act of love, actually, or at least they'd thought themselves to be in love. Susan couldn't recall the boy's name, but she could still visualize his face, so full of excitement and concern as he gazed down at her and inserted his small, hard penis into her immature vagina.
She wondered whatever had happened to him. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, she hoped he was happy and well, because she'd never blamed him for her own misfortune.
As she stood there for long minutes, thinking about the boy and what they had done together, her mind carrying on from there and evaluating her grandmother's years-long reaction to her one pubescent mistake, an amazing thing happened. Susan could feel a great burden lifting from her shoulders. She realized how small her original sin had been, and how out of proportion the guilt and shame her domineering grandmother had heaped upon her truly was.
She felt so good, so lightened of her oppressive load, that she let the guilt slip from her without lowering herself to hate her grandmother any more than she already did. Suddenly she was glad she'd driven herself down into the cellar, because in so doing she had met head-on a trauma from her past and was free of it at last.
For over half an hour she poked around in the cavernous cellar, searching for the case of coins. She didn't bother with the obvious places, since she knew they would've already been gone through by the servants. Instead she concentrated on the secret places where she herself had hidden things during childhood play.
Finally she had searched them all, finding an abundance of memories but no sign of a case full of valuable rare coins. There was only one more place to look. In the small, tomb-like room where the wines and brandies were kept.
Susan tugged open the heavy, squeaking door and peered into the nearly pitch-blackness of the dank wine cellar. She reached inside and ran her hand along the doorframes, her fingertips brushing the unevenness of the stone wall, until she found the ancient electric switch and turned on the dim light.
She stepped inside and hugged herself as she looked about. There was really no place to hide anything in the wine cellar. Wooden racks lined three of the walls. They were mostly empty now. Only a dozen or so cobwebbed bottles of vintage wine remained. For the most part, Susan could look right through the racks at the mortar and stone behind them.
Cardboard boxes were stacked almost hip high along the fourth wall. The lettering on them said they contained imported brandy, which Mrs. Robards had come to prefer over wine and had bought by the case because she could get it cheaper that way.
Since Simmons had been helping himself to the brandy, Susan knew he would've found the case had it been hidden among the boxes. She was about to give up the search and leave when she noticed something that didn't look right. She walked over to the neatly stacked boxes and saw that they were sitting out several inches from the wall. There was no apparent reason for it, because she could see nothing behind them.
I've got to see for sure, Susan thought, her hopes soaring. But there's not enough light. I'll have to move the boxes.
The top row proved easy to move, because they were all empty. Some of the second row were, too. It didn't figure. Susan wondered why anyone would keep empty boxes, and in a stack with full and partly full ones.
But she didn't have time to ponder the reasons behind eccentricities, either Simmons' or her grandmother's. In her haste to move the boxes, she dropped one of the full ones from the second row. It landed on her toe, and she let out a yelp to go 'along with the rattling sound inside the box.
Ignoring the pain and not bothering to open the box and check for breakage-Susan went on moving boxes as fast as she could.
When she'd moved the bottom row of brandy cases, Susan saw that someone had been digging behind them, and beneath them, as well. A good-sized area of the dirt floor had been dug up. Quite recently, too, if the freshness of the earth was any indication.
A flood of fearful excitement washed over Susan. She shuddered. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to bury something, and they'd attempted to conceal that fact. Susan didn't know what was down in the freshly turned ground. It could be the case of coins. She hoped it was, but she feared it might be a body. A cold shiver ran up her spine.
Whatever was down there, Susan knew she had to dig it up. Beneath the new stairs, she'd already discovered while searching for the case of coins, was a bunch of rusty old hand tools which should have been discarded rather than stored. That's what she'd thought when they were in her way. Now she was glad they hadn't been discarded, because she seemed to recall noticing a garden spade among them.
Her palms sweating and her heart pounding in her chest, she dashed out to see. She saw the spade, grabbed it and hurried back to the wine cellar. What she failed to see was that someone had closed the door at the top of the stairs.
Susan had scooped out perhaps two dozen spades of loose dirt when the man slipped unnoticed into the wine cellar with her. He had an ax handle in his hand. He raised it and sneaked up behind the hunched over girl, aiming for the back of her head. It was a solid blow. Susan didn't even whimper. One second she was shoveling dirt, the next she was lying in it.
It was nearly dark when she came to, and she had a splitting headache. She was in her room, on her bed, without remembering how she'd gotten there. A note was pinned to the pillow. She groaned, rolled over and turned on the bedside lamp so she could see to read it. It was printed, and obviously not with the hand whoever had left it used for writing.
Susan Polk, Don't make me kill you. Stay out of the cellar!
Susan was terrified, but she wouldn't let herself go to pieces. She couldn't afford that now. The medicine cabinet in her grandmother's private bathroom contained all sorts of pain killers. She chose plain aspirin, took two of them, then began pacing the bedroom and forgot all about her headache as she racked her brain.
One thing was certain. Whatever was buried in the wine cellar was important. Whoever put it there had knocked her out to keep her from digging it up. He'd threatened to kill her if she went back down there, too. She didn't dare return to the cellar alone, but whatever was buried there had to be dug up.
She tried to figure out which one of the men might have hit her over the head and carried her back to her room. She couldn't. She hadn't seen him, hadn't even known he was there. It might have been any one of the three, she realized. And then it hit her. She didn't dare go back down there alone, because whoever had left the note would be watching to see that she didn't, or to kill her if she did. It was too risky to confide in one of the men and have him go with her, because either of them could be the guilty one. But there was nothing to keep her from taking all three of the servants down there at the same time and having them work together. They weren't all killers. If they were, she would've already been murdered. Figuring she would be safe with all three of the men digging, perhaps safer than if she left things as they were, Susan acted on her plan immediately.
Since she now suspected Simmons as much as the others, she went for the men herself instead of sending him to fetch them into the house. She had Reyes bring two shovels with him, and when she had them gathered in the kitchen she announced they were all going down into the wine cellar and dig up something that had been secretly buried there. She watched their faces as she talked, but their expressions told her nothing. No, she didn't know what was buried, was her answer to their questions, they would just have to all go down there and find out together.
The men seemed excited but reluctant. They really had no choice but to do as she said, though, and Susan knew it. Refusal to dig would cast suspicion on the refuser, and the police, although stymied at the moment, had not closed the case of her grandmother's disappearance. The police! Susan thought as she and the men went down the cellar stairs. Why didn't I think to call them?
But it was too late then, and she didn't really feel threatened since all three of the servants were present.
Susan stood by nervously as the men dug up the soft spot in the floor of the wine cellar. There were no sounds other than labored breathing and the shovels cutting into the dirt and then of it falling as they threw it onto the growing mound. She wished someone would say something, anything, but no one did. The men were apparently as nervous as she herself. Then someone said something, and she regretted having wished they would. "It's a body!"
"Wh-whose?" Susan gasped.
"Just a minute ... let me uncover the face!"
Oh shaky legs, Susan walked to the edge of the waist-deep excavation. Charles and Simmons were standing at one end of it, their shovels idle as they gazed down at the other end, where Reyes was squatting, his hands busy brushing dirt to the sides.
Susan didn't want to look, but she couldn't tear herself away. The sight was horrifying and fascinating, both at the same time. Part of a face was visible. Susan felt as if everything were spinning around her. Her spine was like an icicle. Her heart was in her throat. Reyes kept brushing dirt, revealing more and more of the face, until finally enough of it was exposed for Susan to recognize it.
"It's Mrs. Robards!" Reyes gasped, recoiling in horror from the bluish face with the gaping, dirt-filled mouth and bulging, unseeing eyes.
The shocked announcement came too late for it to register on Susan's ears. She had seen the lifeless face of her murdered grandmother, and she had slumped silently onto the mound of earth beside her shallow grave.
When Susan regained consciousness, she was once again in her dead grandmother's room, lying on the bed. Only this time there was no note. The gardener, butler and chauffeur were in the room with her. She could hear their anxious voices before her mind cleared enough for her to make out what they were talking about. She opened her mouth and let out the scream which fainting had left lodged in her throat.
The sound of her terror caught the men's attention. They walked to the bed and stood looking down at her, one at the foot and one on each side.
"I'm going to call the police!" Susan wailed, sitting bolt upright and shaking her head to clear it.
"No one's going to call the police, baby," Charles said.
"But my grandmother's been murdered!" Susan groaned, and when no one argued that fact, she added, "One of you did it! One of you killed her!"
"Maybe," Reyes grunted. "Maybe not."
"We've had a discussion which you were unable to join, Susan," Simmons explained. "Now, no one is going to kill you, so just relax."
"But-" Susan started to protest, but Simmons slapped her.
"Shut up and listen!" he snapped. "We've already reached a decision, so we're not interested in anything you have to say. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps one of us did kill your bitch of a grandmother. Then again, maybe Krista killed her. The old witch deserved what she got, whoever did it. Does it really matter who murdered her? We don't think so. Here's the way it looks to us, Susan.
"We all had reason to kill her. That's why we're not going to permit you to phone the police. We would all three be suspect, don't you see? Now that would never do. Murder is a messy business. Trials are long and costly, and we don't have the money it would take to hire good lawyers.
"We're going to leave, Susan. But first we're going to find that case of rare coins and divide them among us. Now, we don't want you in our way, and we can't have you phoning the police. Remove your clothes, please. We're going to bind and gag you."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Susan pleaded with them. She didn't want to be bound and gagged. But they insisted that it must be done, and she was frightened enough to accept it. However, she steadfastly refused to take off her clothes. So they overpowered her, two of them holding her while the other stripped her. She struggled. She cried. She begged.
To no avail. They were adamant in their agreement that she had to be naked.
"But why?" she wailed, as her brassiere was removed and her large, beautiful breasts were exposed to their excited eyes. "It doesn't make any sense! Why do you want me naked?"
"It was Rob's idea," Reyes grunted, holding her left arm with one hand while he mauled her vulnerable breasts with the other.
"No real reason," Charles grinned, tugging her panties down her long, tapering legs, pulling them over her dainty feet and leaving her stark naked. "I guess we just want to."
"Oh, my God!" she groaned, straining and twisting about when Charles reached up between her legs and tickled her tender asshole with his finger.
"Give me her panties," Simmons said. "The belt from her skirt, too, if you will."
The chauffeur gave the butler Susan's undergarment and belt, then took his turn holding her while Simmons stuffed the panties into Susan's mouth and pulled the belt tight around her head and buckled the nylon gag securely in place.
Simmons stepped back to admire his handiwork. The brown belt was made of imitation leather, but it was sturdy enough. The width of the belt hid her full lips completely. The shiny metal buckle was where her mouth should have been. Above it, her nostrils were twice their normal size. She couldn't utter a word. She was petrified. Her eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets by then.
"You've got a hard-on, Simmons," Charles chuckled.
The butler threw a quick glance down at his tented trousers. He was smiling tightly when he looked back up. "So I have. Can't seem to help it, though. My Lord! Isn't she lovely like that? Let me run into the kitchen and get some nylon cord. Won't be a minute." He hurried out and back, reentering the room with a length of nylon clothesline in one hand and a paring knife in the other. "Pull her down in the center of the bed. Tits up. That's it. Now stretch her arms out toward the posts."
With the three servants working together, the gardener and chauffeur holding her down and spreading her vulgarly open while the butler tied her wrists and ankles to the four posts of the ornate brass bed, Susan knew it was useless to resist. They would only hurt her if she did, then do with her whatever they wished anyway. As it stood, they'd promised not to harm her, and she tried to make herself believe they would keep their word. She whimpered and moaned. She quaked with fear. But she let them have their lewd way with her nude body. She had no choice.
"There!" Simmons said triumphantly, stepping back to view the total scene of her helplessness when he'd finished binding her.
She was obscenely spread-eagled now. Her arms were upraised and out-flung, with her wrists attached to the posts at the head of the bed by lengths of the slender nylon rope. Her legs were spread wide-open, her trim ankles firmly bound to the brass posts at the foot of the bed. Her own panties were stuffed in her mouth, the nylon soaking up her saliva and becoming slick and wet. The belt was tight around her head, mashing her lips and rendering her speechless.
Susan tugged testingly at her bonds. The nylon cord bit into her ankles and wrists. She could hardly move a muscle. Her head, fingers and toes were the only movable parts of her whole body. Slowly she lifted her head. The men were watching her. Her wide eyes mirrored the fear within her when she noticed that all three of the men's-crotches were bulging. She groaned through her nose and shut her eyes, letting her head flop back into the pillow.
They could do anything to me they wanted to! she thought frantically. Absolutely anything! I'm utterly helpless! Good heavens! I can't even beg!
Simmons unbuckled his belt and started pulling it out through the loops of his trousers. Reyes unzipped his fly and let his enormous cock spring out.
"What the hell do you two think you're going to do?" Charles asked.
"A few lashes on those adorable thighs!" Simmons breathed, approaching the bed as he raised the belt.
The hulking Mexican-American put his arm out and held the smaller man back. "You ain't whipping her till after I fuck her, so back off!"
"You'd better not whip her at all, Rob," Charles warned. "I'll break your damned arm if you do, and that's a promise!"
Reyes was climbing onto the bed by then, using Susan's nearest tit for a handle to pull himself over her defenseless form.
Groaning, Susan stared up at the gardener, her saucer-like eyes imploring him not to screw her.
His hand trembling, Simmons reached into his pocket and brought out his pistol, but before he had a chance to use it on Reyes, Charles grabbed it.
"Cut out the bullshit!" Charles bellowed, brandishing the gun back and forth at the butler and gardener. "You guys can fuck her and whip her all you want after we find those coins but, by God, I'll shoot you if you fuck around like that now! Get off her, Reyes! I mean it, buddy!"
"You sonofabitch!" Reyes grunted, but he swung from between Susan's legs and hopped off the bed. "I'll break your neck!"
"Don't get your shit all hot, boys. There's what, about two-hundred thousand dollars at stake? But we've got to find it before we can divide it. Right? And to find it, we've got to keep our cool. Now, don't we? What comes first? That case of money or a piece of ass? Use your heads, for Christ's sake!"
Simmons turned away from the bed. "Seeing her that way did something to me," he mumbled. "But you're right, Charles."
Reyes grinned embarrassedly as he stuffed his cock back inside his pants and zipped up. "Okay, so I won't break your neck."
"Let's get this coin hunt under way," Charles said, giving the pistol back to Simmons, who dropped it quickly into his pocket. "The sooner we find that case, the sooner we can split up the loot and clear out of here once and for all."
As the servants trooped from the bedroom, Susan heaved a sigh of relief. I'm safe for the time being, thank God, she thought. They won't bother me again-not till after they find the case and divide the coins. Maybe not then. Maybe they'll just take their loot and go away. Lord, I hope so! I don't want any of them touching me again!
She'd never thought she would be willing to have people steal from her, but she was now. She was glad their lust for the coin collection was stronger than their lust for her body. Now that her grandmother's corpse had been found, she knew the case of coins was the only thing holding them. If finding it and dividing the valuable collection would rid her of them, then she wanted them to find it and go away forever.
They were in the kitchen. She could hear drawers being pulled out and dumped before they were flung away.
"Look under the stove! Behind it! Help me push the refrigerator over! It might be strapped to the bottom! No, goddamn it! Where is it? Get a crowbar and a sledge hammer! The old bat had some workmen in not long ago! She might have plastered the damned case up inside the walls!"
The banging, crashing and tearing sounds drifted in to where Susan lay shivering and cringing.
They're going crazy! she thought. Listen to them! They're demolishing the kitchen! Destroying everything! Ripping out the walls!
The kitchen was gutted beyond repair when, having found no treasure, they moved the hunt into the dining room and went through the same procedure there. Except for the walls. The kitchen was the only place where any plastering they knew of had been going on recently, and tearing out walls proved to be much harder work than the domestics were used to.
"Do you suppose it could be in one of the bedrooms?" Charles asked exasperatedly after they'd ransacked the dining room and turned up nothing.
"Not in Krista's room," Reyes said, wiping sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "I helped her search it. We gave it a good going over."
"Maybe Krista did find the case and take it with her, after all," Charles muttered.
"No," Simmons assured. "I told you I was lying about that. I saw her leave, all right, but she wasn't laboring with her valise. The coins are still here ... in the house somewhere!"
"All we've got to do is find them!" Reyes groaned.
"How about the old lady's bedroom?" Charles asked.
Susan held her breath, saying a silent prayer. She didn't want them in the room with her. The sight of her helplessly bound body had a powerful erotic effect on them, and she feared they would pause in their searching long enough to have their wicked way with her.
"Too obvious," Simmons said. "The old bitch was much too sly a fox to have hidden it in her own bedroom. Let's try the sitting room next. If we don't find it there, we'll search the library and then move on upstairs."
Susan let out her breath in a sigh. She was at that moment looking at the oil portriat of her grandmother-done when she was in her forties and still a very fetching woman-which hung across from the foot of the bed. It was a huge portrait, of Mrs. Robards reclining on a chaise longue on the veranda. The planted woods surrounding Robards Manor had been new then, but the bright colors of the autumn leaves on the young trees had been captured on the canvas. It was an excellent painting, and huge, running the full length of the mantel and reaching almost to the high ceiling of the old room.
Neither Susan nor the servants suspected just how sly the late Mrs. Robards had been. The case of coins' was hidden in the most obvious place a vain, self-centered woman could have thought to hide it, because Mrs. Robards had known it would be the last place anyone would think to look. The workmen had thought it odd when the old woman had asked them to take down the painting in her bedroom, but they'd done it. And because they were making so much noise with their kitchen remodeling, no one had heard the hammering in the master bedroom of the house. Mrs. Robards hadn't bothered the workman for plaster. She'd had her own. Paint, too. When she asked the workmen to rehang the painting the following day, they'd been in a hurry and hadn't noticed the area of new paint which almost perfectly matched the color of the old. Only one person had heard the workmen grumbling about having to take down the portrait just so the old woman could clean it without having to stand on a ladder.
Better them than one of the other servants and himself, Simmons had muttered under his breath at the time, because the yearly cleaning Mrs. Robards gave her beloved portrait had been due about then and he'd been dreading the chose of taking it down and putting it back up for her. Simmons had dismissed the incident from his mind, counting it as a minor stroke of good luck, and had taken no thought of it since. Not yet, anyway.
Susan could hear them in the living room. They were slashing and ripping at the upholstered furniture, tearing it completely apart in their frantic search for the case of rare coins. She felt like crying. All of the furniture was very expensive, and some of the pieces were antiques upon which prices had never been set.
The living room lay in ruin when they left it and went in to pillage the library. The upholstered furniture there received the same treatment. Desks were turned inside out. Books were dragged off shelves and sent crashing to the floor.
The men were cooperating, but that didn't mean they trusted one another. After having searched the entire first floor of the house, except for the two bedrooms, their lust for the hidden treasure was greater than ever, but they were becoming suspicious and frustrated.
"Might as well move on upstairs," Simmons said. By then he'd removed his coat and tie and his thinning hair was no longer neatly combed.
"Right," Charles said, "and I think we'll start with your quarters."
"But there's only a handful of coins there," Simmons assured. "The ones I found individually. Surely you don't think I would have the case hidden in my room! If that were so, why would I be helping you search for it? Indeed, why would I be here now at all?"
"You afraid to let us go through your things, man?" Reyes grunted.
"Of course not!" Simmons snapped. "It's just that it's pointless! A waste of time! We can't afford to waste any time, you know! Suppose the police decide to drop by and ask more of their inane questions? What if Susan should free herself?"
"Maybe you'd better go check on her while we look through your stuff," Charles told him, as he and Reyes left the cluttered library and started toward the stairs.
Simmons fingered his belt buckle while he stood watching the gardener and chauffeur ascend the stairs. He thought of Susan lying nude on the bed, bound and gagged, utterly helpless, unable to resist or even cry out. He thought of the several minutes it would take the others to search his room. In record time his penis rose to a state of erection which he found to be painful in the confines of his clothes. His upper lip twitched as he unzipped his fly and fished out his aching rod. Then the corners of his mouth turned up slightly and his eyes started to narrow. As he walked toward the bedroom, he took off his belt and palmed the buckle.
Since Susan hadn't overheard the conversation in the library, she didn't anticipate a visit from the butler. It was somewhat of a shock for the young woman when she saw him approaching the bed with an evil gleam in his eyes, his prick sticking out and his belt in his hand.
"It's a shame that things have worked out this way, because I sincerely believe we could've been happy together," he said. Then he swung the belt with surprising strength and raised a red welt on the creamy skin of her nearest thigh.
Susan screamed a muffled scream and her body jerked reflexively.
"I'm going to flog you, Mistress Susan," he informed her coolly, lifting the belt high into the air.
"Noom!" she cried. With her panties in her mouth and her belt over her lips, the sound of her horror was nasal and unintelligible.
"I must," he said. "Seeing you like this, with your lovely body naked and so appealingly bound, has brought out a facet of my personality that I hadn't dreamed existed. I must flog you, my dear. I simply must!"
There was nothing Susan could do to stop him. He struck her again. She cried out and shuddered. There were two ugly red stripes on her milk-white thigh now. Taking careful aim, the masochist-turned-sadist placed his third lash across the appealing, slightly rounded surface of her quivering lower abdomen. Straining against her bonds, she screamed into the gag and bowed upward, then fell back and stared at the upraised belt through terrified eyes.
"Some people love being flogged," he said. "What about you, Mistress Susan?"
"Noom, noom!" she wailed.
"Ah, what a pity, But it doesn't matter, really, not to me. How about the helplessness of your condition? Does being in bondage produce any sort of erotic mood? A tingle in your adorable little pussy, perhaps?"
Susan shut her eyes and groaned.
"No denial there, hmmm? That's very interesting. I thought I detected a bit of telltale moisture here," he said, and he ran his hand obscenely over her exposed privates.
She whimpered. His shameless hand was ranging over her groin, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. And worst of all, he was right. The bondage was having its lurid effect on her. At first it had only horrified her, but that seemed hours ago. It seemed to her as if she'd been tied to the bed for hours, lying there helpless and vulnerable as her mind kept morbidly thinking about what the male servants could and might decide to do to her.
"Yes," he sighed, insinuating his fingertip into the soft pink crevice of her hairy sex split. "You're getting nice and wet, you little darling."
Don't! Please don't do that! she wanted to say, but of course she couldn't because of the gag.
The very fact of her helplessness seemed to excite her. She held her breath as he sank the full length of his finger slowly into the moist warmth of her responding pussy.
"There," he said, moving his finger around inside her. "Do you like that?"
Yes, damn you! she thought. I don't want to ... but I do! What's the matter with me? Mmmm ... oh, that feels good! I shouldn't like what he's doing to me! I'm afraid of him ... of what he might do! I should be screaming!
A second later she was screaming, because he'd jerked his pleasure-giving finger from her and slapped her cunt a stinging blow with the end of his belt. Then his finger was back inside her, turning the pain into pleasure and making her moan and squirm about in sensual discomfort.
Alternating rapidly, Simmons finger fucked and whipped her snatch. He lashed her tender portal hard enough to hurt her, but not so severely as to actually damage the sensitive flesh of that attractive opening.
Pain, pleasure. Pain, pleasure. It changed so swiftly. Susan shuddered and bucked, moaned and screamed. Then she quit bucking and screaming. She couldn't tell the difference any longer. Her flesh couldn't distinguish the pain from the pleasure. It was torture, but torture of a type from which sado-masochism feeds.
Something inside Susan snapped, and then the pain itself was pleasure. She lay there twitching and moaning while Simmons gave up the fingering and concentrated on whipping her twat, then her thighs, then her belly and finally the soft, jiggling mounds of her innocent, pointed-tipped breasts.
There was no blood. Simmons saw that she was beginning to like being flogged, so he was careful not to draw any. That could come later, after they were married. Yes, he was sure the rich young lady would marry him, after all, and what a perfect marriage it would be, too, now that he'd found a streak of masochism in her. There were other things to worry about, but for the present he concentrated all his attention on developing the latent element he'd discovered in Susan-the one which would cause them to be perfectly mated.
As for Susan, she had no conscious thoughts. In her fit of masochistic bliss, she was incapable of them. All the spread-eagled beauty could do was lie there trembling and twitching, a continuous stream of sighs and moans pouring from her flared nostrils as she took the lashes her delighted butler was only too happy to give her. Her smooth, white skin was covered with red streaks from her graceful neck clear down to her dimpled knees.
"I love you so much, Susan!" Simmons exclaimed, laying another lash across her heaving stomach.
"OOOHHH!" she moaned, and another wave of pussy juice gushed from her hair-ringed sex hole.
"We'll get married, darling! Would you like that?" he asked, and he reached out for her nearest nipple, taking the tumid cone between his thumb and forefinger and pinching as he twisted it.
"OOOMMMM!!!" Susan groaned, flinging her head.
"Shall I whip you some more, darling?" he asked.
Susan groaned and nodded her head.
A smug smile crept over the butler's face. "Would you like me to fuck you now, Susan?"
She groaned and nodded her head.
Simmons gloated, his eyes feasting on the sight of her abused, writhing body. "Will you marry me, Susan?"
Her glassy eyes gazed up imploringly at him. Bowing upward, lifting her well-rounded fanny clear off the bed, the bound and gagged girl heaved a guttural groan and nodded urgently. The questioning tone of his voice was all she heard. She didn't know what she was agreeing to. It didn't matter. At the moment, her lust was so great that she would've agreed to anything he said.
His nuts were already hugging his groin when the butler dove atop the young woman and penetrated the hairy slit of her sopping cunt with one vicious thrust. It was all over for Simmons as soon as his aching rod hit home. He groaned, shuddered, and ejaculated his pent-up load.
A gurgling sound of tortured delight rumbled in Susan's throat as her cock-hungry pussy sucked the rhythmic jets of his orgasm up into her sperm-starved belly. Then his dick went limp and she could feel it slipping from her, and her mind screamed, MORE, YOU SONOFABITCH! DON'T STOP NOW! FUCK ME ... OH, GOD ... FUCK MEEE!!! I NEED IT SO BAD!!!
"I'll go help those greedy devils find the coins," he said, getting up and putting away the thing Susan wanted most in all the world. "We'll be rid of them then, darling, and we can make plans for our future together."
"Simmons? Simmons! Where the hell are you?" It was Charles, descending the stairs after having searched the butler's quarters. "Come on, man! Help us find the coins!"
Charles and Simmons arrived at the bedroom door at the same time. They bumped together and the smaller man was bowled over.
The butler got up muttering under his breath. "Watch where you're going, damn it! I told you, you wouldn't find the case in my room, didn't I? Are you satisfied now?"
The redhead didn't bother to answer. He saw Susan's belt-striped body writhing on the bed, and by the expression on her face and the sound of her moans he knew she was out of her head with lust. "You dirty bastard!" he spat. "What did you do to her?"
"I proposed marriage. She accepted, too," Simmons replied tensely. "So butt-out. It's none of your affair. Let's go find the case."
"I ought to break your neck!" Charles hissed, grabbing Simmons' shirt with one hand and drawing him close.
"Now, now," Simmons soothed. "There's no reason for us to be at one another's throats, Charles. I didn't really hurt the girl. Hellfire, she loved being flogged!"
"I'll just bet she did," Charles growled, pushing Simmons away as he drew back his fist.
"Don't be a fool, Charles!" Simmons gasped. "I know the house well! You need me to help find the coins! Have her yourself, if you'd like. Sure, why not? Whip her, fuck her, do whatever you like, so long as you leave her in bondage!"
"You miserable crud!" Charles spat, flinging the butler away.
"Go ahead," Simmons encouraged, backing up. "Have your way with her. I'll go up and keep Reyes busy searching for the case. We won't bother you."
As the butler hurried off, the young chauffeur turned back toward the bed. His prick was already rising, and when he saw the crazed gleam in Susan's eyes it sprang to a thumping erection. He unzipped his fly and took it out, then climbed onto the bed and removed the belt from around Susan's head.
The instant Charles pulled her panties from her mouth, she looked right at his seven-inch pole and moaned, "Give it to me! I want it, Charles! Put your lovely cock in me! Fuck me with it, darling! Do it ... do it before I go crazy!"
He thrust the turgid column of masculinity at her face. "Kiss it! If you want it, kiss it, damn you!"
Without a second's hesitation, Susan lifted her head and covered the end of his glans with her puffy, parted lips, making a loud, wet smack as she kissed his dick. The terrible need within her drove her on. Extending her pink tongue, she licked all over the sleek cockhead and as much of its supporting shaft as she could, the cords standing out in her neck as she strained toward him.
"You filthy slut!" he said, slapping her.
"Yesss!" she yelped, rubbing her face on the undersurface of his thick shaft.
"You maso bitch!" he rasped, hurling himself between her legs and ramming his fat dong all the way into the vulnerable cleft of her sex-slick pussy.
"Yessss!" she squealed with delight. "Ohhh ... oh, yesss! Do it! Do it!"
Charles gritted his teeth and began fucking into her like a wild man. His lust for the loot carried over to his lust for the spread-eagled young woman. He was frustrated at not finding the case of coins, and he set about venting that frustration on Susan's body.
In her present condition, nothing could have pleased her more. His pubis pummeled her loins, hurting her as he hammered his sturdy rod into the slippery furnace of her fluttering tunnel with brutal lunges.
"Harder!" she screeched, digging her heels and shoulders into the mattress. She humped her dripping snatch up to meet his every thrust. "Give it to me! Harder! Harderrr!!!"
The bedsprings creaked and snapped as he increased his efforts. His ass arced steadily, swiftly, driving his blood-bloated prong in and out of her hairy hole with body-jolting force.
"That's it!" she cried, kissing the side of his face again and again. "I love it! Ahhhh ... love it!"
Beads of sweat glistened on the chauffeur's forehead. He shoved his hands under her and cupped the straining cheeks of her butt, squeezing and twisting the soft globes as he socked the meat to her hard and fast.
"Aaagghh, aaggghhh!" she cried, turning her head to the side and biting her lower lip.
Susan's smooth skin shone wetly with a film of sweat. The redhead was fucking her insanely, ravishing her defenseless body. The nylon ropes bit into her wrists and ankles. He had his fingers jammed into the moist valley of her undulating behind, jerking her up to him each time he plunged his throbbing peter into the swollen gash between her legs. It felt like he was trying to tear her in half, beginning with her buttocks. But Susan was so deep into her fit of masochism that she loved every second of it. The pain and pleasure were indistinguishable, and she was getting plenty of both.
He was using her so thoroughly that she couldn't help him screw her any more. All she could do was lie there, moaning and groaning, and take the furious fucking. Her head lolled limply back and forth. Her mouth opened and closed gaspingly as she huffed air in rapid, shallow gulps. Masochistic pleasure rolled over her in great scalding sheets till she couldn't bear it for another instant.
"UNNN ... UNNNN ... AAAGGGHHHH!!!" she groaned, her body turning rigid as she arched upward. The first tremor of her mind-blowing climax swept over her. A shrill scream rent the air as she gave voice to her bliss. Her lovely, upthrust body began quaking violently .Then she heaved a guttural groan and fell back to the bed. "COMING ... OH, GOOD LORD ... I'M COMMIINNGGG ... OHHHH!!!"
And so was Charles.
Her insides went wild, the muscles of her youthful vagina contracting harshly around his twitching cock, vacuuming the semen up from his balls and sucking it greedily from the expanding eye of his ballooning glans.
The orgasmic release of her torturous sexual tension was like nothing the inexperienced girl had ever known before. It seemed as if her soul itself was vibrating along with her genitals, joining in the rapturous relief which the crescendo of her climax brought. Her womb convulsed rhythmically. Her vagina spasmed with a heartbeat-like cadence, clasping and releasing the chauffeur's fat dick as it spewed torrents of hot cum into the depths of her rippling belly.
Susan lay beneath him, shuddering and moaning, writhing and sobbing brokenly, until finally he withdrew and left the room without speaking. She was scarcely aware that he'd gone. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, her toes curled down. A continuous stream of satisfied sighs escaped her trembling lips. Sperm oozed from the gaping red gash of her vulva and trickled down the crack of her quivering ass. The dark hair of her pubic triangle was soaked with sweat and sexual secretions, plastered to her swollen mons in tight, wet curls which reflected the light glisteningly.
Her body was limp as a dishrag, and her mind was reluctant to return to normal. She could hear the men tearing the upstairs apart as their search for the treasure became more and more frantic. She could also hear Miss Olson's dog howling off in the distance, as if it were keening for the dead.
Idle thoughts drifted languorously through her mind, which seemed almost detached from her body. She wondered if she would live through the night, if the disgusting servants with the nice pricks would find the case of coins. If Simmons really would force her to marry him, if he would hear the dog and kill it. None of it seemed to matter especially, because she was in a state of mild shock and nothing seemed real. It was as if she were having a grotesque dream, but even so, she could hear the magnificent boxer drawing nearer to the house, barking constantly, and she didn't want Simmons to shoot it.
Soon the animal was whining instead of barking, and she could hear it scratching at the French doors which opened into the maid's room, then at her own doors, with the whining becoming louder.
"Poor thing," she said, glancing toward the doors in time to see one of them swing open.
The boxer trotted into the room, his sad eyes searching for his missing mistress. He stopped. His head came up and he sniffed the air. Even before he spotted the well-fucked young woman who was bound helplessly to the bed, his pointed red dick started sliding jerkily from its hairy sheath.
"Woof," he barked, approaching the bed.
"No, Perro!" Susan gasped.
The animal leaped onto the bed and sniffed his way to the sperm-oozing elliptical opening between her wide-splayed legs.
"Woof, woof!" he barked, and licked his chops.
"No, Perro! Oh, nooh ... not you, too!" she wailed, twisting her body in an effort to keep the eager dog from getting to her crotch.
Her movements were extremely limited, however, and her desire to prevent the animal from licking her was nowhere near as strong as his conditioned urge to do so. Perro won the battle easily. Actually, one lick was all it took. His long, hot tongue swept into the crack of her rump and snaked upward through her steaming, hair-ringed hole, scrubbing the supersensitive end of her pleasure button as it passed its way, and Susan sucked in her breath.
"Aaaah!" she sighed, her muscles wilting as she fell back to the bed and lay trembling and docile.
The dog had a feast lapping up the sperm and pussy juice from her messy groin and buttocks, with Susan sighing again and again as the' bestial tongue caught her waning passion and whipped it back up to a feverish pitch. Then the abrasive canine tongue slithered deep into her cum-drenched vagina and began lapping the remains of the two male loads out of her slippery sheath.
"God!" she squealed, forcing her thighs apart and tilting her pelvis to make it easier for the dog to lick all the way inside her. "What a tongue! Ohhh ... mmmm ... lick, you nasty dog! Lick me good! Aaahhh ... oh, shit yessss! Miss Olson was crazy to have left you behind!"
Unlike the first time Perro had forced her to submit to bestiality, Susan didn't fear the animal now. She knew the huge boxer wouldn't hurt her, which was a lot more than she could say for the male servants.
Oh, that's good! she thought, shivering with delight when she felt the dog's tongue sliding around way up in her rippling belly. So damned good! I might as well enjoy it! He's going to do it anyway! I wonder if he'll screw me this time? There's no way I could stop him, short of calling out for help. . , which would bring Simmons and get Perro shot! I don't want him shot! Oh, no! I want him to lick me and lick me and lick me! Lord! I think I could come with him doing it like this!
"More!" she gasped, lifting her head to watch the dog's red tongue bathing over her crotch and into the soft, slick crevice of her dripping cunt. "Deeper, Perro! Go on, baby ... ohhh ... lick deeper! Make me come! You can fuck me, too, if you want to! I don't care any more! God help me, but I don't!"
The sound of her passion-heavy voice brought the boxer's head up from her loins. Susan watched him lick his muzzle clean of her colorless fluid. Her eyes narrowed with lust. A strange smile washed over her face. She knew he was going to mount her and ram his long, slender, superheated red penis into her, and she also knew she wanted him to. Her human womb twitched with anticipation as the seventy-five pound dog crawled atop her and fumbled to penetrate her willing snatch. She lifted her hips, caught the pointed tip of his dick in the hairy ring of her vulva and made a mewling sound of pure pleasure as the animal hunched his lovely canine cock in to the hilt.
"God, God, God!" she puled, her face contorting rapturously as the point of his hot prick jabbed the ultra-sensitive mouth of her uterus.
Once he had it into her, he wrapped his front legs around her torso and began screwing her every bit as hard and fast as he had the first time. His back arched at a fantastic clip, his ass moving faster than any man's ever has, his crimson penis spearing her blood-congested orifice many times per second. And he was licking her tits, to boot, panting and humping and drooling all over her chest.
It was as good as she remembered. Even better this time, because now she knew exactly what she was doing. Her lust-fogged mind was dull and sluggish, but she realized a dog was fucking her. The unnaturalness of it gave her a tremendous thrill, and her mind was functioning well enough so that she knew she wouldn't regret it later.
"Oh, you lovely animal!" she moaned, moving her left tit so his tongue could caress its aching nipple while he hammered his canine cock to her. "Go, Perro! Ahhh ... yes, yes, yes ... ohhhh ... oh, fuck me ... fuck me good!"
Susan closed her eyes and gave herself over to the womb-pricking pleasure of the bestial union. One minute Perro was humping madly away atop the writhing young lady, the next he was gone, and Susan didn't like it one bit. She could hear the boxer yelping halfway across the room. Groaning in protest, she opened her eyes in time to see Reyes sling the dog out onto the veranda and kick its ass to send it on its way.
"You sonofabitch!" she screeched. "Why did you do that? Don't close the door! Let him back in!"
As he shut the French door and locked it, Reyes laughed to himself. Then he turned toward Susan and unbuckled his pants. "I didn't expect to see you throwing it up to the dog, baby."
"Let Perro back in, damn you! I need him!"
"Charles said you were hot as a pistol, but you ... and a dog? Shit, Miss Priss, you must be in bad shape!" He unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly as he walked toward the bed.
"Wh-what are you going to do?" she asked, her eyes growing large with interest when she saw his enormous cock.
"Going to fuck you, hot ass, what else?" He kicked his pants and shorts away and approached the bed with his long dick swaying stiffly before him. The hulking Mexican-American gardener climbed on the bed and knelt between Susan's legs, taking his pole in his hand. "You don't need no dog, Susan. This is what you need, ain't it?"
"Yes," she breathed, her gaze riveted to the purplish plum of his sleek glans. "I need it!"
"Where do you need it?" he taunted.
"In my cunt!" she wailed, thrashing about eagerly.
"I'm going to shove it all the way up into that hot little belly of yours, sugar!" he said, lowering himself onto her and wedging the huge dickhead into the quivering folds of Susan's fluted sex hole. "Do you want it?"
"Yes, goddamn you! Shut up and do it!"
The bronze dong had a head almost as big as Susan's fist, and she couldn't help crying out with shocked delight when she felt it pop through her hairy entrance. Then he gave her the rest of the nine-inch monster with one swift thrust. She sucked in her breath raggedly, throwing back her head and shaking all over. His walnut-size nuts swung forward and slapped lewdly into the soft crack of her trembling ass, and she let out her breath in a drawn-out sign of total surrender.
"I've been thinking about you, baby," he said, sliding his prick in and out of her tight, gripping pussy with long, swift jabs, the head of it thumping her sensitive cervix. "Been looking for them coins and thinking about you tied up down here on the bed! Christ, I been dying to fuck you!"
Susan cringed at his choice of words. It reminded her that her grandmother had been murdered, and that she herself might die before this night was over. But she didn't want to think such gruesome thoughts now. Reyes was fucking her, and it was awfully good. Mexican or not, he was the best of the three men. His big cock was twice as good as Charles', and at least ten times better than Simmons'.
"Fuck me!" she moaned, throwing her happy cunt up to him. Their bellies slapped together and he drove her squirming rump back down to the bed, evoking a heartfelt sigh of pleasure from her as the end of his long dong flicked the neck of her uterus. "They all want to fuck me, Jesus! But I'd rather have you! Ohhh ... Oh, Jesus, Jesus ... you're such a good fucker!"
He threw a series of hard, rapid jabs into her. "I'm going to fuck the ass off you, sugar!"
"Yesss!" she cried, working with him, making her hips pump up and down. The muscles in her straining abdomen rippled and jerked. The cords connecting her inner thighs to her body stood out taut and twitching. "Fuck the ass off me, you darling man ... ahhhhh ... fuck it right off meee!"
"Damn right!" he grunted, and started really powering his pole to her.
Reyes was sweating now, too, and his hairy belly made wet slapping sounds as it contacted her glistening abdomen. When he wanted to French kiss her, Susan didn't have the slightest urge to resist. She opened her mouth and let him ram his tongue down her throat. Gurgling blissfully, she sucked his tongue voraciously and hammered her sopping twat up to meet every spine-tingling thrust he gave her.
"Oh, Jesus ... sweet Jesus!" she husked, burying her face in the sweat-dampened crook of his neck. "Do you love me, Jesus?"
"Hell, no," he said, humping on without missing a stroke. "I love to fuck your tight little pussy, baby ... ahhh ... that's all. You got some fine pussy!"
"Then fuck it!" she squealed. "Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it! God, I love your cock! It's so big and hard and ... sooo good! Harder, you sweet man! Give it to me harder ... ohhh ... and faster ... ahhh ... make me come! Now! Oh, God ... Jesus ... NOW ... NOW, DARLING!!!"
"Yeah!" he grunted, increasing the tempo till his gigantic prong was pistoning furiously within the sucking cylinder of her wet-velvet cunt. "Oh, yeah, baby ... YEAH!!!"
Their sweat-soaked stomachs slapped together rapid-fire as they strove toward orgasm with perfect synchronization of motion. The brass bed popped and creaked. The ropes bit into Susan's wrists and ankles, but she was barely aware of the pain it caused. Her breath was coming in shallow, huffing gasps. She moaned constantly, the throaty sounds growing softer and fainter till finally she socked her crotch up and heaved a mournful groan from the depths of her being.
A tremor of flesh-quaking intensity racked her arched body as orgasm thundered through her keyed-up loins. She screamed, and fell limply back to the bed, with the massive Mexican still fucking into her thrashing body like a madman.
His tense buttocks flew up and down, almost as fast as the dog's, and each time the head of his long dong bumped jarringly against her convulsing womb, he let out an animalistic grunt.
Susan had a whole series of orgasms, one following another nonstop, each more soul-rending than the last. She chewed her lip and pulled at her bonds. Her body shuddered and twitched convulsively. Harsh contractions made her vagina grab rhythmically at his plunging dick while her puckered asshole winked incessantly. Her head snapped from side to side, with guttural groans pouring from her mouth.
Then, just when she thought he actually was going to fuck the ass off her, like he'd said, Reyes slammed into her all the way, burying his enormous cock to the hilt in her heaving, sweat-dripping belly, and sent a stream of his scalding white lava gushing geyser-like into the depths of her exploding guts.
She screamed wit the sheer ecstasy of it, then began shuddering violently and sobbing brokenly as he lay atop her grunting and groaning, while, his ballooning cock squirted torrents of hot, thick semen into her. At the last, she was nothing more than a ' mindless blob of quivering female protoplasm. Her cunt gripped suckingly at the huge, cum-spewing prick while she shivered and shook and blubbered incoherently.
When Susan finally regained her senses, Reyes was gone and she was alone in the room. But not for long.
Charles stepped into the doorway and paused. On his handsome face was a strange expression. In his right hand was a long, wicked-looking butcher knife.
"Susan," he said, his voice sounding choked and strained.
The sound of her name brought her face toward him. "Charles!" she gasped, her eyes growing large and frightened as she noticed the odd look on his face and the long, glinting blade of the knife he held.
He stepped unsurely into the room. "I've got to do it," he said, as if he were talking to himself.
Icy fingers of stark terror closed vise-like around Susan's palpitating heart. She watched the red-headed chauffeur walk hesitantly toward her.
Her mouth worked, forming words that wouldn't come out.
His face deadly serious, Charles stopped beside the bed and ran his fingers over the blade of the butcher knife. "I shouldn't have waited so long," he said. "I could've spared you so much misery."
"Ch-Charles?" Susan finally managed to gasp.
"I've got to do it," he muttered. "I've got to!"
"Wh-what h-have you got to d-do?" she stuttered.
"I've got to put an end to your suffering," he said, leaning over her with the knife in his hand.
CHAPTER NINE
"Don't kill me!" she begged, her terrified eyes imploring him not to do it. "I don't want to die, Charles! Oh, dear God, I d-don't want to die!"
"Kill you?" he asked, apparently astonished by her fearful pleading. "I'm not going to kill you, Susan! Christ, where did you get that idea? The knife? It's for the ropes, honey! I'm going to cut you loose!"
"Oh, Charles!" she sighed. "I nearly died of fright! I thought you were going to ... to cut my throat!"
He shook his head. "Your throat is much too pretty for that. Now, listen to me, Susan. I want to help you get this mess cleared up once and for all. If you'll forgive me for all the shitty things I've done, I'll cut you loose and take you to the police right now. I'm not a murderer. I swear I'm not! And I don't want to go to jail for rape, either. You'll have to promise not to press charges against me."
"I won't have you arrested, Charles! I swear it! I never intended to! Help me! I'll be so grateful to you if you will! I forgive you! God, yes! Gladly!"
Charles cut the ropes. She dressed hurriedly. They went out through the French doors, onto the veranda and around to the back of the house.
The dog was at the edge of the woods, howling its fool head off. They could see him in the moonlight. Evidently he saw them, too, because he came at them as fast as he could run. Charles was opening the garage doors and turning on the light when Perro reached them. The dog started barking insistently, prancing, then running a few steps towards the woods and back again. He kept it up until Susan said, "Do you think he's trying to tell us something?"
"Looks like it," Charles said. "I think he wants us to go with him. Maybe we shouldn't, but I want to see what he's up to."
Susan nodded. "All right. Let's go."
They had to run to keep up with the excited animal. Perro led them into the woods, and directly to a place where he'd been digging. Enough moonlight filtered through the trees for them to see the hole. When they squatted beside it, they saw what it was for. Miss Olson's sudden disappearance was no longer a mystery. She lay dead in a shallow grave. Her face was recognizable, but not her once-lovely body. Her throat was laid open. Her nude body had been slashed repeatedly with a knife. Butchered.
"My God!" Susan gasped, staggering back in horror. "Who would do a brutal thing like that?"
"Not me," Charles insisted. "Don't even think it! Let's go, Susan! Let's get to the police, and fast!"
Susan and Charles were panting for breath by the time they neared the garage again, both of them running for all they were worth. The back door of the house slammed just as they rounded the corner of the old carriage house. A figure rushed toward them. Susan and Charles were inside the garage, one of them on each side of the car, when Simmons burst through the open doorway with his gun in his right hand and the case of coins under his left arm.
"Get away from the car, Charles! Susan, get in, darling. I've found the coins! We'll go to the police. They can deal with Reyes and Charles. Everything's going to be fine now, my sweet. You'll see. Once these murderers are out of our hair, we can get married as planned. Then everything will be lovely. Why aren't you getting in the car, Susan? Charles! Stay away, you killer!"
"You're the killer," Susan said, trying to sound brave but feeling sick on the inside. "You didn't see Miss Olson leave. You killed her! You killed her and buried her in the woods! You're insane, Simmons. I'm not going anywhere with you."
"So you found her body, did you?" Simmons said, moving cautiously into the garage, waving Charles away from the driver's door of the car with the pistol. His eyes looked like those of a cornered animal, though his voice was steady and rather calm. "I suppose that wretched dog led you to her. All right. I admit it. There's no reason to play games any longer, is there? I killed Krista. I had to, after what she did to me. Don't you see? She left me no self-respect! But let's set the record straight. It was Krista who killed Bitch Robards. The old Lesbian became outrageous in her sexual demands, and Krista strangled her in a fit of rage. I helped Krista bury the body, was all."
"Where did you find the coins?" Charles asked.
"In the wall behind the vain old woman's portrait, right where I should've known to look at the very beginning. Ah, well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"
"Open the case, Rob," Charles urged. "We agreed to divide them, remember?"
"You're even more of a simpleton than I thought, Charles. Divide the coins with you? Don't be absurd!" Simmons caressed the case of coins. "These are mine. I put up with the old witch for years! I deserve them all!"
"Come on, Rob," Charles said, inching forward. "We agreed, damn it!"
"Back up, you fool!" Simmons yelled, brandishing the gun. "You, too, Susan! The both of you get back there in the corner. I'm leaving, and taking all of the coins with me. But first I have to do something. You young people shouldn't have been so curious. Now I've got to kill the both of you, because you know too much."
Gun in hand, Simmons made Susan and Charles back into the old carriage house until they were standing side by side against the back wall. "It's a shame," he said, taking aim at Charles' heart. "I never wanted to kill anyone."
"For God's sake!" Susan screamed. "Don't kill us, Simmons! Take the coins and go ... but don't shoot us!"
"I'm afraid I can't afford to risk-"
Simmons' sentence was cut short by Reyes' bull-like bellow as he charged across the back lawn toward the garage. "You dirty sonofabitch!" the enraged gardener was shouting. "You found the coins! You're trying to sneak off with all of them! I'm going to stomp your ass!"
The butler whirled around reflexively and fired. The bullet hit Reyes in the right shoulder. The big man went down, screaming and clutching his shoulder. Before Simmons could turn back around, Charles dove at him, tackled him and wrested the pistol from his hand.
"Now, you mother fucker!" Charles hissed, and he cold-cocked Simmons with the pistol butt.
Susan stood at the rear of the garage, chewing her nails and shaking like a leaf.
"Get me some rope, Susan!" Charles yelled. "Hurry! We've got to get Jesus to the hospital before we take Simmons to the police!"
CHAPTER TEN
Two police vehicles followed as Charles drove back to Robards Manor. Susan sat in the front seat with him, but with more than a respectable distance between them. Charles had opened the front door for her, and it had seemed natural for her to slide in there. The necessary role of grand mistress was over. Reyes was in the hospital, doing well. Simmons had confessed and was being held for Krista's murder. As yet, the police knew nothing of the coin collection, the bulk of which was in the case in Charles' apartment. No one had opened it yet. There hadn't been time.
"Susan," Charles said, breaking the silence which had prevailed since they'd driven away from the police station.
Susan glanced at the handsome young redhead.
"Thanks for not implicating Reyes and me."
"I told you I wouldn't."
He nodded, forcing a nervous smile as he drove carefully. "You could have had us both arrested for rape, you know, and I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."
"I don't want to talk about that," she said tensely. "I'd rather forget it, if you don't mind, Charles."
"Hell, no, I don't mind."
Neither of them spoke for a few blocks, then Charles said, "You're something else, Susan. Really an all right gal."
Susan smiled and said nothing. She was grateful to Charles for coming to her aid, even though he had waited dangerously long to decide to help her.
"When I told you I was falling in love with you, I wasn't bulling you." He paused, throwing her a hopeful glance. "Of course, I don't expect you to believe that now. Not after the rotten way we all treated you, me included." Again he paused. "You think I'm lying, don't you?"
Streetlights illuminated his features with soft, intermittent bursts as the car swept past them. Susan couldn't help but think how upsettingly good-looking he was. "I don't know. It's all over now. Why would you lie?"
"I wouldn't," he said. "Not any more. You've been hurt too much already."
"I am still reeling a bit," she admitted.
"I guess there's no chance for us ... the way things stand ... after all that's happened."
Susan frowned. She took a deep breath. A lot was going through her mind. Her grandmother's estate, worth almost a million dollars, was now hers. The other servants were gone, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be rid of Charles. Her emotions concerning the muscular young man were distressingly mixed. "I don't know," she finally replied, letting her breath out slowly. "I just don't know, Charles."
He reached across the seat, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "How about if I stick around till you make up your mind?"
"All right," she answered, her voice sounding hesitant.
"How about if I help you make up your mind?" he asked, pulling her toward him with gentle, undemanding pressure.
"I think I'd like that," she sighed and impulsively slid across the seat till their hips and thighs were touching.
He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. "I do love you, Susan ... and I'll prove it, somehow."
You'll have to prove it, she thought. I could love you, too. It would be very easy. But I'm not going to let it happen until I'm sure of you, Charles Lancaster. I'll test you. I don't know how I'll do it, but I will. Even if I have to lie, I'll test you good. If it's me you want, then maybe we can have a good thing going for us. But if you want to marry me for my money, I'll find you out and dump you quick.
Charles drove into the garage and shut off the lights and engine. The police were stopped on the drive outside.
"Let's get it over with, honey," Charles said, patting her thigh as he opened the car door. "They're waiting." He got out and helped Susan slide out under the steering wheel.
"I can't bear to see them again," Susan said, shivering.
"Then you won't have to," he said, leading her toward the outside staircase. "You go on up to my apartment and wait for me there. I'll show them where the bodies are."
He gave her a furtive pat on her well-rounded bottom, and Susan started up the stairs. She paused at the top landing, glanced toward the house and saw Charles letting the policemen in through the back door. For the second time that night, Susan felt grateful to him. The sight of the men in white, with their stretcher, made her cringe. She opened the door, turned on the light and went into her chauffeur's apartment.
Her nerves were on edge. She made herself a drink and forced herself to enter the bedroom while she sipped it. Nothing. It was just a room. The degradation she'd been through there was only a hazy memory, she found to her relief. She smiled ruefully and returned to the small living room.
The case of coins was setting just inside the door. It was much heavier than it looked. She lugged it over to the couch and sat down with it resting on the floor between her legs. It resembled a small piece of luggage, except that it opened from the top. Susan pushed the latch. It surprised her when it snapped open. She'd expected it to be locked.
There was a note lying atop the coins, she discovered when she lifted the flap and peered inside. She fished it out and unfolded it, and immediately recognized her grandmother's handwriting.
To Whomever:
I care not which of your greedy curs finds this case and reads this note. I only wish I could be there to see the expression on your face when you take out the coins one by one and examine them.
Did you ever doubt that I would have the last laugh? Well, you'll find out soon enough. Go through the coins now. Hurry! Do you hear me laughing? Would you like to know why?
I'll tell you anyway, because I can't resist. The coins I planted for my servants-and I expect you're one of them-were not from my collection, which is still quite safely locked away. I bought them solely for bait. The coins in this case, as you'll soon learn, are not from my collection, either.
They're worthless, you fool. Yes, worthless! I took them out of everyday circulation, and mostly pennies, at that. If the coins in this case amount to two-hundred dollars, I've given you more than I intended, simply because I didn't bother to count them.
Now you can hear me laughing, can't you?
From the Grave, Charlotte Evans Robards
Why, you old witch! Susan thought. What a mean trick to pull on everyone!
But that was only her first reaction. As she sat mulling things over, she began to appreciate just how sly and cunning the old woman had been. She didn't love her grandmother, and death didn't change that fact. However, the coin collection would now be hers, too, and she couldn't help but admire the craftiness of her grandmother's planning.
"So you didn't think I had the stuff to stick it out and claim my inheritance, did you, Grandma?" she said aloud. "Maybe so ... and then again, maybe you wrote that to get my dander up and stiffen my backbone. Either way, you did set it up so I'd get everything if I met your test and survived the ordeal, didn't you? I guess maybe you did love me, in your own vicious way. Thanks. That's all I'm going to say. Thanks for a million dollars ... and thanks for teaching me a lesson I can put to good use right now."
Realizing that some of her grandmother's blood was flowing in her veins, Susan closed the coin case and put it back beside the door. Then she went into the bathroom, tore up the note, dropped the pieces into the John and flushed them down.
It was nearly an hour later when Charles entered the apartment. He stopped just inside the door and glanced down at the coin case. "They're gone," he said.
"I heard them drive off." She crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to slide up her bare thighs. She sat on the center cushion of the couch, swinging one bare foot and smiling enigmatically.
"They took both bodies," he said, glancing back at the case, then at Susan again. "Krista's dog, too. Said they'd turn him over to the humane shelter."
Susan felt a prick of regret at the news that the magnificent boxer was gone, but she supposed it was for the best. The two drinks she'd consumed left her relaxed and glowing pleasantly. Her frame of mind was right. She was ready to test both Charles and herself-Charles for his intentions, and herself to see if she could respond sexually to a young man under normal conditions.
"You didn't open it?" Charles asked, bending over the case.
"Huh-uh," she said throatily.
He ran his hand over the top of the case, his thumb coming to rest on the latch. "Do you mind if I open it and have a look?"
Susan didn't answer until he looked at her. When he did, she uncrossed her legs and pulled her skirt up sufficiently high to show that she'd removed her panties. "Couldn't it wait until morning, darling?" she asked sultrily. "Wouldn't you rather take my clothes off and look at me?"
He grinned nervously. "Are you drunk, Susan?"
"Just a little," she admitted. "Just enough so I want you to make love to me. Really make love to me, I mean, not just fuck me. I've never had anyone make love to me. You'll be the first, Charles ... if you want to, that is."
"You know I do," he said, making a big fuss about pushing the coins away, as if they were nothing, before he started toward the couch. He sat down beside her and took her in his arms. "The coins can wait for a week, for all I care. That's how much I love you, baby. It's going to take me a solid week to get enough of you. God, you're so sweet I could just eat you up!"
She went willingly into his strong arms. When he kissed her, she let him part her lips with the tip of his tongue and lick back and forth along their smooth inner surfaces for a while before she began to respond. She didn't want to force anything. Whatever happened was fine with her, just so long as she wanted to do it and found it pleasurable.
Before long she began to respond normally and naturally, and once it started she let her mounting passion take its course and lead her on. She let her teeth open slowly, then extended her tongue and began licking back at his tonguetip, fencing with it, teasing it, opening her mouth more and more till finally Charles groaned and thrust the full length of his titillating tongue into her receptive mouth.
Susan whimpered softly and began sucking his tongue as it explored the hidden recesses of her moist oral chamber. She could feel his hand on her thighs, stroking their creamy inner slopes, caressing them, moving ever higher toward the soft, hairy mound of her vulva. Her sex flesh was tingling with anticipation before he ever touched it. When he did make contact with her moistening cleft, she opened her legs willingly and steeled herself for the initial pain of his finger jabbing into her. The sudden invasion of her privates was not to happen this time, she realized. Charles lingered lovingly at her feverish portal, his hand and fingers caressing her entire crotch, playing over her spongy mons, through the triangle of dark-brown cruly hair which covered it, the tips of his fingers teasing up and down the smooth tissue of her sex-wetted outer cunt lips, massaging coaxingly at the top of her elliptical pink slit until her clitoris stood out hard and throbbing.
A sensual sigh escaped her nostrils. She opened her legs wider, so as to give his exciting hand all the freedom it desired. The fiery nub of her tumid pleasure button was being enclosed gently but firmly by his thumb and forefinger when she moaned her delight and thrust her tongue into his mouth, offering it insistently, wanting him to suck it the way she'd been sucking his. And he didn't disappoint her. He worked on her at both ends, rolling and tweaking her nerve-rich clit while he sucked hungrily at her dainty tongue, driving her desire ever higher.
So this is what it's like to be made love to, Susan thought, running her fingers through his red hair as she squirmed her liberated pussy against his hand and fucked his mouth with her tongue. It's nice! Oh, I could get to like it a lot! I do already! Oh, Charles ... yes, darling ... yesss!
"I love you, Susan!" he exclaimed, breaking the long, tongue-sucking kiss and kissing urgently across her cheek and down her neck, licking as he went. "So much, baby!"
"I Move you too!" she cried, as his fingertip insinuated itself into the slippery slit of her puffed pussy, then sank palm-deep into her juicy hole.
"I'm going to pick you up and carry you in to my bed," he crooned, sliding his finger in and out of her hair-fringed opening. "I'm going to undress you. Then I'll show you how much I love you, Susan."
"What are you going to do?" she asked pantingly. "How are you going to show me?"
"You'll see," he said, and he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
She didn't help in any way with the removal of her clothing. Charles said he wanted to do everything for her, and she let him. When she was naked, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that her nudity in no way bothered her. He stripped quickly and got on the bed with her. He started at her neck and worked his way down her body, licking every inch of her feverish skin.
"My nipples!" she urged, when she felt his tongue washing the fleshy valley between her large breasts. "Suck my nipples, Charles!"
No sooner had she asked than she received. Charles took the tumescent pink cone of her left breast into his mouth and paid it oral homage, then moved to the other and gladly gave it the licking and sucking she'd asked for. Then he moved on down her curvaceous torso, his tongue flashing over her abdomen as he rocked his head from one side of her rib cage to the other. His next pause was at the quivering little indentation of her navel, into which the tip of his tongue dove eagerly and washed swirlingly.
"Oh, Charles," she sighed, caressing his head with her hands. "I like this! I like being licked!"
"I thought you would," he said, glancing up.
From her neck to her belly button the front of her body was coated with saliva, her smooth skin glistening and rippling.
"Don't stop now, darling!" she mewled.
"I'm not going to stop," he assured. "I'm going to lick every inch of your sweet body, honey, and I mean every delicious inch!"
"Ohhh," she sighed, letting her head fall back into the pillow when he started licking the fluttering, soft plane of her slightly rounded lower abdomen.
His tongue combed through the crisp hairs of her pubic triangle. His mouth covered the swollen lips of her secreting sexual aperture.
"Ahhh, ahhhh!" she moaned, when she felt his tongue slithering snake-like into her vagina.
He sucked the pool of vaginal nectar from her steaming tunnel, then deserted her cunt and began licking down her legs. Evidently he'd meant what he said, because soon she could feel his tongue licking slavishly at the soles of her small feet.
My God, she thought, when he started sliding his tongue around between her toes. He doesn't have to do that, does he? It's not bad, and I sort of like it ... but what's he trying to prove by it? That he loves me?
Charles didn't have to take her dainty toes one by one into his mouth and suck each of them in turn either, but he did. And Susan let him. It reminded her of Simmons that night with Krista, but her erotic mood wouldn't permit her to object.
"I love you, Susan! Do you see how much I love you?"
"Yes!" she gasped, and stuck her saliva-slick foot between his thighs and rubbed his testicles.
"Roll over, baby! I'm not through yet!"
Wondering if he was going to lick there, too, Susan rolled over and gave herself over to the sensual luxury of having the backs of her legs washed by his masculine tongue. She didn't have long to wonder, because he was getting very excited. The closer he came to her rump, the faster she could feel his tongue licking the velvety skin along the backs of her thighs.
Then he arrived at her buttocks and began tongue-bathing those lush hillocks as if they were the best-tasting part of her. Susan lay shivering with pleasure, especially when he drew the cheeks of her fanny apart and licked eagerly down into the musky crack of her butt. The tip of his tongue flicked back and forth over the tiny ring of her puckered anus, dipped into it testingly, then all at once she felt the full length of his pink organ spearing into her rectum.
"OOOUUU!!!" she cried, shuddering. "YOU'RE DOING MY ASSHOLE!!!"
"Mmmm!" came his grunting reply. He held her ass cheeks wide open and tongue-fucked her butt furiously for a minute or so, with Susan moaning and rocking her ass against his face. He smacked a loud kiss into her asshole, then backed away. "Even your asshole is sweet to me, Susan! I told you I love you! I told you I'd prove it, darling! Now do you believe me?"
Susan was in no mood for debate. She was so hot she couldn't even take time to think. Onto her back she flopped, flinging her legs open and rasping, "Fuck me, Charles! Hurry, lover! Put your dick in me, darling! I want it ... want it so bad!"
"I'll give you anything I can," he said, mounting her and wedging the bulging head of his dick into the pulsating pink crevice of her crotch. "I'll do anything for you!"
"Fuck me!" she yelped. The tip of his rod lay in the snug vestibule of her vulva, and she wanted it all.
"Do you love me?" he asked, pressing into her, giving her his penile crown but withholding the sturdy shaft beyond it.
"Yes!" she moaned, throwing her arms around him and palming the tense cheeks of his hairy rump. "I love you! I do, Charles! I really do!"
He backed the small amount of prick he'd given her out of her sweltering sex slit. "We'll get married," he said. "Will you marry me, Susan? Tomorrow?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" she cried, gripping his buttocks and attempting to pull him down as she arched upward and searched for his dong with the snapping lips of her pussy.
"You probably think I'm after your money," he said, letting her bring him down till the tip of his sleek glans lay in the inflamed slot of her hair-rimmed hole.
"No!" she gasped. "I don't think that at all, darling! You love me! And I love you! And I want you to fuck me! We'll get married! Of course we will! Tomorrow! Now fuck meee!"
"You bet, baby," he said, grinning confidently as he hunched forward and gave her what she wanted with one swift thrust.
Nothing had ever felt so good to the passion-racked young woman. The fat dick raced up into her elastic vagina, and she loved it. His nuts whacked into the crack of her spit-slick ass, and she knew she had taken all he could give her. She would've liked more, but it was enough. Enough to make her suck in her breath and shudder with rapturous delight.
"Is it good, Susan?" he asked, rotating his hips and grinding his pubic bone against her blood-swollen mons as he stirred her silken depths with the taut-skinned head of his peter.
"Good!" she cooed, locking her legs over his and kissing peckingly along the side of his neck. "So Good!"
Chuckling to himself, he raised his head and gazed down at her lust-contorted face. Then he kissed her, ramming his tongue down her throat, and started fucking her with long, carefully measured strokes. When he closed his eyes, he could see dollar signs, at least a million of them, and he knew he'd better give her the best fucking of her life this time.
Susan had the orgasm her body was crying for. She thrashed about and groaned with the agonizing bliss it sent careening through her seat-dampened loins. But the redhead held back and kept on screwing her. She had a second climax, even more intense than the first, but he gritted his teeth and kept right on socking it to her. He wanted to drive her out of her naive mind, to hook the inexperienced girl on his cock as if it were dope, to fuck her so thoroughly that she would have no second thoughts about marrying him. He was fucking for a million, and he had to make it good for Susan, so good that she wouldn't suspect he wanted her money more than herself.
After Susan's fourth come, she was reduced to the female fuckstuff he'd wanted to make of her. Her body was dripping sweat. Her cunt was a virtual spring of girl goo. She writhed in ecstasy beneath him, moaning and groaning with each breath she took.
"OH, GOD, CHARLES! FUCK ME FOREVER, DARLING! I LOVE IT! LOVE YOU! LOVE YOUR COCK! YOUR BIG, HARD, SWEET DICK! GIVE IT TO ME HARDER ... OHHHH ... FASTER, BABY ... OH, LORD GOD ... YESSS ... IT'S TOO GOOD, DARLING! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE! COME! COME SOON! PLEASE COME ... BEFORE I GO CRAZY!!!"
Her voice was hoarse with lust, her head rolling about on the pillow. Her arms lay beside her body. Her hands tore at the sheet, her fingers clawing and twisting the material. She'd fucked with him for a long time, but she couldn't go any more. Her muscles were spasming. She couldn't coordinate her movements.
It was all he'd been waiting for. His tight nuts ached with the need to release their load of pent-up sperm. "I love you, Susan!" he croaked, ramming his blood-bloated pecker into her sopping pussy right up to his body-hugging balls. "Love you so much, my darling! I'll nev--ung ... ungg ... UUUUNNNGGGHHH!!!"
He was ejaculating into her. It felt like a garden hose had been rammed up her cunt and turned on full force. The hot, thick semen gushed into the depths of her heaving belly. Squirt after squirt of the lava-like jizz spewed from the slitted tip of his ballooning cockhead. The viscous cream bathed scaldingly over her convulsing womb and washed in waves down her spasming vagina.
"SHOOT IT!" she rasped, feeling another flood of ecstasy rushing toward her. "SHOOT IT! PUMP IT INTO ME, DARLING! COME IN ME! OH, GOD ... HOW I LOVE IT!!!"
Charles kept grunting in the typical male fashion, and with each grunt his expanding prong blew another jet of his massive load into her rippling abdomen. The force of his hot cum thumping into the supersensitive mouth of her womb brought on Susan's fifth climax. It felt like her intestines were exploding this time. She slapped the soles of her feet onto the bed and arched upward. Her body shook like an epileptic having a violent seizure.
"HUUNNGG! AAAHH! AHHH! OHHH!" she groaned gutturally. Then she collapsed back to the bed.
They rode out the excruciating ecstasy of their simultaneous orgasm. Susan's spasming vagina gripped suckingly at the young man's sperm-spewing prick. Waves of foamy white cum washed out past the tight connection of his thick cock base and her raw, red, fluttering pussy lips. Rivulets of their mixed sexual secretions trickled down the crack of her quivering ass and soaked the sheet on which she lay. Charles left his deflating pecker in her for a long time, supporting her weight on his knees and elbows as they both fought to catch their breath.
"That was wonderful, darling," she crooned, when he withdrew his limp organ and lay down beside her. "It was marvelous ... simply marvelous!"
He rolled over, smiled smugly when he had his back toward her, pulled open the nightstand drawer, extracted several coins and gave them to Susan.
"What are these for?" she asked.
"They're yours, sweetheart," he said. "From your grandmother's collection. I found them."
"Oh," she said, and forced her mind back to normal. "But they're yours, Charles, You found them."
"I wouldn't feel right about keeping them now," he said. "I want you to have them. They're worth almost two thousand dollars."
"All right, darling," she said. "If you're sure you want me to have them, then I'll take them." She was glad he'd mentioned money, because now she was ready to test his intentions.
"I'll bring the case in here," he offered. "You can put these in with the rest of the rare coins."
"Let it go till morning, Charles." She leaned over and put the coins on the nightstand, then lay back and sighed. "Do you truly love me?" she asked.
He leaned over and kissed her spermy cunt, then wiped his mouth on her stomach as he buried his face in its softness. "You know I do, darling," he said, his words muffled by her flesh. "Could you doubt it after the way I made love to you?"
She caressed his head, thinking how easy it would be to believe him, to take him at his word and let herself go with him. But she wouldn't let herself go. She could love him dearly, but she wouldn't allow it until she knew for sure. It was time to tell him the lie she'd made up, to really test his sincerity once and for all.
"I'm glad you truly love me, Charles. It makes it easier for me to tell you this."
"What do you want to tell me, baby?" he cooed.
"My grandmother was almost broke, Charles. What little money she had left will be eaten up in court. All I'll get is Robards Manor, and there's a mortgage on it. I'll be able to sell it and come out with about fifty thousand dollars. But according to Grandmother's will, it has to be held in trust till I'm thirty-one. The coins, too. Everything. The coins are worth around two hundred thousand, I understand, so eventually I'll inherit about a quarter of a million dollars. But that's in eleven years. In the meantime, darling, you're going to have to find a job and support us. Do you still want to marry me tomorrow?"
Susan could feel his body tensing up. He didn't look at her, and it was several seconds before he said, "Sure, honey. Let's get some sleep now. You must be beat, huh?"
When Susan awakened the next morning, Charles was gone, just as she'd expected he would be. He'd taken the collector's coins off the nightstand, and the relatively worthless case in the living room, as well. She could almost picture him streaking down some highway on his motorcycle, smiling to himself, with the case of coins, as yet unexamined, strapped onto the bike behind him.
"Thanks, Grandma," she said aloud. "Thanks for the lesson. I believe I can take it from here and look after myself and all your money."
The young millionairess showered, got dressed and drove herself into Atlanta. There was a lot to do. See the lawyer. Sell Robards Manor to the sub-dividers. Make funeral arrangements. Get Perro from the humane shelter and put him in obedience school. The magnificent boxer would make a wonderful pet and companion, she was sure. But she wanted him well-trained before she took him to Europe with her.
A month would be long enough to see Europe the way she'd always dreamed of doing, grandly.
There would be men, perhaps, but only when she felt like it, and then on her terms. And after Europe she planned to return to college. Susan was determined to become a teacher. Not a whore, like her grandmother had predicted, either a paid whore or a rich slut.
She was her own woman, at last, and could do or have anything she wanted. It was a good feeling. Damned good. Right then she wanted breakfast, a hearty one, and she pulled the showroom-new, ten-year-old Cadillac into the parking lot of the first nice restaurant she saw.
