The Blackmailed Wife
                             By Peter Jensen
                                Chapter 11


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WARNING:
This story is fiction, and should be treated as such. The following story is
for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit
sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, DO NOT read
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All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to anyone either alive or dead
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The darkened room with the blinds drawn looked vaguely familiar, and she knew
that she had seen it before somewhere. But what was she doing in it? This
wasn't her apartment. Then she remembered. Of course, we came to Tijuana
yesterday. It's my hotel room. Ann started to move on the bed, and then felt
the excruciating pain.

"Ohhh," she groaned aloud. "What's happened to me?"

Her head felt strangely thick, and it was difficult to think. Every muscle in
her body seemed to be tied in tiny knots. She lay still for a moment, then she
recalled the horrible dream she had last night. That obscene sickening show,
all those men, and Julia's voice encouraging them on. The impact suddenly hit
her with full force.

"My God, it did happen!"

In spite of the pain, she sat up quickly. Questions began to run through her
head faster than her muddled mind would check them, how did I get home? Who
dressed me? It's my nightgown I'm wearing! Why did it happen? Why, why?

She stumbled from the bed and lurched heavily to the bathroom mirror, looking
into it quickly. "My God," she moaned, "it did happen, it wasn't just a
nightmare!" Heavy lines marred her fresh, young skin. Her eyes were sunk
deeply into her head as though she had aged years since yesterday.

She looked down. Her body was a mass of bruises that centered around her
breasts and inner thighs. Her breasts were almost raw, and even the soft nylon
gown rubbing against its tips sent sharp waves of excruciating pain through
them. She suddenly vomited, sobbing hysterically.

"Oh, it didn't happen, it didn't, it just couldn't," she babbled incoherently
over and over to herself, still hanging over the basin. "I'll ask Julia, she'll
tell me that it didn't happen, she'll tell me it didn't happen."

"Julia, Julia!" she screamed hysterically, half staggering, half crawling to
the living room.

There was no answer. She could see the door to Julia's room was open, and the
bed was immaculately made. The maid had already cleaned it. Ann then looked at
the clock, it was five o'clock in the afternoon, she had slept the entire day!

She collapsed on the couch, sobbing hysterically. After a few minutes she saw
the envelope on the coffee table. It was addressed to her. She picked it up and
hesitantly opened it. There was just a short note inside, but it said a
million words:


Ann darling, I'm letting you sleep. I'll be back about six. Incidentally, you
were the hit of the party last night. I didn't realize you had such hidden
talents, dear.

Love, Julia


Then it was true, it hadn't just been a bad dream and it had been Julia who had
led her into it, and encouraged Carlos and Ramon and God only knows how many
other men to do those terrible, depraved things to her. What possessed Julia
to do such a thing? What did she have against her? Ann had trusted her, and
accepted her as a friend and protector. True, she hadn't accepted many of the
invitations that Julia had offered, but that couldn't possibly have offended
her that much.

Ann pondered these things, unable to answer any of the questions that still
ran through her mind. One thing, however, was certain, she couldn't face Julia
or the others again. She had to leave before they returned. She phoned the
desk.

"This is Mrs. Morrow, can you tell me when the next bus leaves for San Diego?"

"Si, Senora, they leave every half an hour. You can take one anytime," the
voice answered.

"Would you please send someone up for my bags in fifteen minutes then. I'll be
leaving," Ann said.

"Right away, Senora. Do you want a taxi?"

"Yes, please."

In spite of the pain through her body, Ann managed to dress and pack her bags
quickly. She was spurred on by the thought that Julia might return, and she
just couldn't be there to face her, she had to get away.

She made it, and with a sigh of relief, she settled back in the soft Greyhound
bus seat. She couldn't help but compare the difference in her feelings today
versus yesterday. She could remember the elation she had felt when they had
arrived. It was her chance to relax and release a few of the tensions she had
built up, worrying about Dave. True, she had been a bit upset with the boy who
had reached into the car and brazenly squeezed her breast, but that had passed
quickly.

She had entered this hateful city a faithful wife, who loved her husband more
than anything else, and was leaving it as a woman who had been used by other
men, she didn't even know how many, to fulfill their obscene desires. Worse
yet, she had been betrayed by her own body, that had bucked and twisted in its
own lustful fulfillment beneath its attackers.

She wondered what warped thing in Julia's mind could have caused her to lead
her into that perverted party last night. And worse, then stand by and
encourage these men to rape her, subjecting her drugged body to the most
depraved indignities.

Perhaps it was something in human nature that enjoyed seeing the humiliation
of others. She remembered for the first time her own reaction when she had
seen Julia rocking in uncontrollable passion beneath Pete's slavering mouth
and tongue. She had been repulsed at first, but then had stayed and watched in
fascination, unable to tear her eyes away until her own unleashed desires had
permitted Carlos to lift her away and take possession of her hungry body.

She tried to think more about it, but the soft drone of the bus engine and her
still-exhausted body conquered her mind. She would rest first, and then try to
make some sense out of the awful twenty-four hours she had just experienced.
She slept heavily in the soft comfort of the seat, her mind quiet for the
moment.