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Archive name: abducted.txt (MF, FF, wife, bond, prost,
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Authors name: Anonymous
Story title : Abducted Bride
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The Abducted Bride
Pixnix Anonymous Author (1994)
The smooth trim Marseille Express burrowed its way
swiftly through the clear night of the French
countryside. A large pale summer moon hung low in
the distance.
Kevin Taylor watched its shimmering light moving
against the darkened ceiling of his sleeper
compartment. It flickered hypnotically in unison
to the rhythmic roll of the train beneath his bunk.
Cool air from the open window played across his
naked well-built body, which covered the whole of
the narrow bed. He was alone.
Damn, he thought miserably, what a hell of a way to
spend a honeymoon.
He drug deeply on the almost finished cigarette
squeezed tightly between his thumb and forefinger.
His brow was wrinkled in deep thought.
He had reason to think. Ahead of him in Marseille
his bride was waiting after running out on him
their first night together in Paris. Utter, utter
stupidity, he grimaced, the details of their last
hour together flickering through his mind like the
reel of an old silent movie.
Perhaps he had been a little rough, but by God she
had it coming to her. He had fought with her the
entire year of their engagement about giving in to
him and had tried to explain that virginity had
gone out of style. Two people in love just didn't
wait anymore for marriage, they relied on their
love and trust and not some legal magic a ring was
supposed to bring. She had not listened to him
then and had even refused to discuss the matter
though they had come close to making it together
several times in the backseat of his car. She had
always drawn the line just at the last minute.
This was the part that had driven him crazy. He
had come so close to possessing that luscious body
so many times and had been left in frustration so
many times that his control had been destroyed
completely. He had even stopped parking with her
when they had gone out on dates for fear of what he
would have done.
With her conservative New England upbringing, she
would never have consented to marry him if he had
resorted to force and that's just what he would
have done sooner or later. He did love her very
much and didn't want to destroy their relationship
by some uncontrollable act that he may have
committed in the heat of passion. She was too fine
a girl for that.
He had to admit, in her favor, that he had nothing
else to complain about. She was almost perfection
personified in all other respects. In fact, it was
that perfection and his piled up frustrations that
caused all the trouble back in Paris. That damn
body was too perfect!
Things may still have been all right that first
night if she hadn't insisted on taking a plane to
Paris right after the ceremony. He would have
preferred to stay in New York for a few days and
take their time in getting to know each other.
But, Jean had insisted on Paris immediately. That
had meant sitting next to her on that fucking
airplane for another seven hours. All that ran
through his mind during the entire trip was, where
he should hare been at that moment. After all, she
had been stressing the ceremony all these months
and that was over. She was legally his now and he
still couldn't touch her.
It had just been too much. By the time they
arrived at the hotel in the center of Paris he was
almost out of his mind-and then-she had appeared in
the bathroom door in that flimsy hip length nighty.
He had gone crazy.
He could still see her standing there in the
doorway, her body a lovely thing of art. He had
seen her before in a bathing suit, but never like
this. Every sensuous detail of her nakedness was
lucidly clear, from her tiny rising nipples down to
the soft triangle of pubic hair that nestled
mysteriously below her white virginal belly.
Suddenly, nothing else had mattered but ramming his
hard cock into that teasing flesh. She had become
just a woman, a woman that he had to have right now
at any cost. All else was forgotten.
"Like me, darling?" He could still hear ringing
from her lips though now it seemed to have occurred
centuries ago.
There had been no verbal response from him, he
remembered dryly. He had just reached for her, a
deep animal-like groan erupting from his throat,
and pulled her roughly to the bed. Her soft
covered negligee had ripped away like so much
tissue paper.
"Be gentle, Kevin! Be gentle, please! P-Please!"
Her voice had resounded through the room in terror
as he held her down with one hand and ran the other
greedily over the lush contours of her resisting
young body, kneading her ripe succulent breasts
cruelly beneath hands he no longer controlled.
Tight fists of flesh protruded painfully in white
bloodless ridges between his straining fingers.
His head had dropped to the young budding nipples
and chewed hungrily at their tips until he had felt
the soft resilient flesh give way and the sweet
taste of blood seeping onto his lashing tongue.
"No, darling, N-Nooo, please, not this way, not
this way!" She had pleaded, but the words had
rolled unheeded from her tortured lips.
He still had, in his madness held her wildly
straining body tightly to the bed. She was
imprisoned there by his heavy tensed chest that
weighed upon her like a giant stone. Her long dark
hair had begun thrashing helpless from side to side
on the bed, her face contorted with terror. He
could still remember bitterly, her dark eyes
flashing wide in disbelief that this was happening
to her. She had pleaded more until the sounds
became nothing but incoherent mumbles of jumbled
words. It was then he had fucked her the first
time.
Ignoring the low moaning pleas, he had rolled on
top her, catching her body as her long slim legs
had scissored out in one last desperate effort to
escape his brutal assault. His hips had fallen
heavily between the full wide-splayed thighs,
pinning her jerking buttocks tightly to the bed.
The soft down of her pubic hair brushing teasingly
against his throbbing cock, inciting him to
incoherent mumblings of crazed uncontrollable lust.
The slow motion pictures of Jean's ravishment
flickered on through his tortured mind as the
express tunneled on ceaselessly through the
night... His knees were holding hers wide apart
now and he was grinding his pelvis hard into her
squirming defenseless crotch. The spasmodic
jerkings of the hollows of her soft inner thighs
drove his hand between them; he was searching to
place himself, striving to reach that goal that had
eluded him for so long... and suddenly, without
warning... he had brutally found it. He had
jammed the blood-filled head between the fleshy
moist lips and with a groan, shoved it all the way
forward into her quivering cunt. She had squealed
like a stuck pig and kicked her legs out wildly in
the air in a futile attempt to escape the cruel
impalement. It had only worsened her position and
he could still hear the guttural screech of further
pain that had come tumbling piteously from deep in
her throat as his rock-hard cock battered deeper
and deeper into her warm yielding flesh. At last,
his pelvis had smacked hard into hers, signaling
the end. His rigid fleshy column lay sunk all the
way down inside of her quivering belly, the warm
wet walls of her cunt wrapped tightly around it.
He didn't stop. He didn't even give her a chance
to adjust to his sudden presence deep in her womb.
He just began to fuck, ramming in and out of her
like a dog gone mad. He had only thought of one
thing and that was to spew that hot sticky load of
cum deep inside of her where it belonged and where
it had belonged for a year now. He vented his lust
against her groaning body time after time, flooding
her belly again and again with the hot white liquid
of a year's frustrated waiting and hoping...
until-finally... it was all gone.
How long or how many times he had fucked her, he
couldn't remember. He had been an unconscious
being in another world of complete madness. But,
he did remember, after the first great gush from
his sperm inflated cock had emptied into her, a
feeling of helpless guilt flooding over him.
He had become gentler with the sobbing body beneath
and had babbled soft apologies in her unhearing
ears as he had rocked over her. He had tried to
bring a response that would wipe away the terrible
guilt he felt for letting his unbridled lust
overcome the patience he knew he should have had
with her.
It had been useless. She had lain motionless
beneath him, her eyes open wide, staring coldly at
the ceiling above as he had tried time after time
to awaken some response that would show she felt
something other than pain and disgust.
The contemptuous eyes had not wavered from the
ceiling.
Kevin remembered rolling from her still body, and
unable to speak what he felt, had merely lit a
cigarette and gazed silently down at her. He had
finally mustered the courage to say something.
"Jean, can you forgive me?"
"Please cover me, Kevin," she had spoken coldly
after a long seconds delay, her eyes still refusing
to look at him. He pulled the sheet up over her
body and tucked it gently under her chin.
He waited, but there was silence.
"Darling, I know it must have been awful for you.
I-I just couldn't control myself."
Silence.
"You were beautiful standing there."
Silence.
"Perhaps if we hadn't waited so long. Remember? I
told you we should have tried before."
Silence.
"Damn it, Jean," he had finally blurted out in his
frustration. "You've got to understand a man's
feelings about these things. I'm not some robot
that can stand being next to a woman like you and
not feel something. It's been building up all this
time and it's your fault for being so almighty
righteous and virtuous."
Kevin had known he had treaded too far when this
had slipped out, but it was too late.
Because he had wanted to fight back, to recoup his
lost vanity, he had become cruel. He had blamed
his own failing on Jean and accused her of being
cold and unfeeling.
"Christ, I might as well have married a statue. It
could satisfy me as much as you have." He had
shouted in guilt and anger. "I don't think you'll
ever be able to Brake a man happy. Not until you
learn to get off that pedestal you've put yourself
on. Or, at least, that your old man's put you on."
Kevin had seen her move and glance toward him with
the deepest hatred he had yet seen in her eyes. He
knew he had hit a sore point and was glad to see
some reaction from her, even though it was of hate,
it was better than nothing. Besides, he felt like
hurting her now the way she had hurt him.
"I'm going out and get myself some little slut off
the street. I need a good grind. It'll be a long
time before I get one at home."
With this, he had gone to the bathroom and dressed.
He left, slamming the door behind him, not pausing
for even a side-glance at Jean.
That had been his big mistake, he thought bitterly
as he flipped the cigarette butt out the open
window of the racing train. Jean had been in no
condition to be left alone at that moment. He
should have swallowed his pride and not let his
male ego take over. They wouldn't have this mess
now if he had done what he should have and not run
off into the Paris streets to walk off his own
guilt feelings.
He had not gone out after a woman that night.
He had spent several hours just walking and
stopping periodically for a cognac. He had thought
long and hard about their relationship. It had
been a good one and still could be in spite of his
miserable failure on their wedding night. The cool
Paris night air had settled his mind a bit and he
had worked out an apology and explanation of sorts.
It might take a while, but he was sure she would
get over it.
When he had returned to the hotel the Concierge at
the desk had handed him an envelope. It had been a
simple note from Jean saying she was leaving. She
needed a few days to think things over and for him
not to try and contact her. She would let him know
when and where to meet her so they could discuss
things rationally.
That is why he was on this damn train. The cable
had come this afternoon for him to meet her in
Marseille. She made up her mind and wanted to talk
to him. He didn't have the slightest idea what the
decision had been and was a bit apprehensive,
though he was certain they could work something
out.
One thing he knew, he could not let her go. He
loved her more than anything in the world and could
not leave her under any circumstances.
He fell into a deep but troubled sleep, anxious for
the morning to arrive.
Jean Taylor had been on this same train two nights
previously. She had lain in the same bunk that
Kevin Taylor did a few nights later, but he had no
way of knowing it. Her thoughts also ran over the
events that had occurred in the hotel, her eyes
seeing them in a different light.
How could he have been so cruel, she thought, what
had turned Kevin so suddenly into the raging animal
he had been?
She ran her hands over the raw tips of her swollen
nipples that were so sore she could not bear to
wear anything over them, even to sleep. Her
shoulders trembled when she thought back to the
horrible rape of her body and the way he had used
it as a tool solely for his own gratification
without even the slightest thought of her desires
or pleasures. He had used her like an animal-his
own wife the thought sickened her and tears brimmed
her eyes.
She had actually looked forward to the first
evening with him and had been preparing herself
mentally for weeks before to make certain she
entered the marital relationship with the correct
attitude. She knew he had resented her not giving
herself to him before marriage, and she also knew
that most of her friends had not saved themselves
for that first night either. But, she had vowed
that theirs was going to be a classically perfect
marriage, in the old fashioned sense. She had
wanted, so much, for them to have a mutual respect
and understanding for each other from the beginning
and for him to never be able to doubt that he, and
he alone, was the only man to possess her.
Perhaps she had made the mistake of quoting her
father too often in this matter when Kevin had been
overly persistent about having her before marriage.
This was why she had cringed when he had thrown it
at her back in the hotel room. It was true,
perhaps, that he did place her on a pedestal, and
also that he was perhaps over-solicitous toward
her, but he had a right to be. He was of good
conservative New England stock, and as a God-
fearing man, had expected his family to be also.
She had been tempted many times, she had to admit,
but had always summoned up her courage and
resisted, even {bough the easy thing to do would
have been to give in to Kevin's demands. She had
come so close sometimes that if he had just had the
persistence to continue, he could have broken her
down. In fact, she was certain that she was as
anxious for the consummation as he was and it would
have been so beautiful if he could have just shown
a little understanding and could have prepared her
gently for the final assault on her virginity.
She had read so much about how important the first
night was in marriage and how beautiful it could be
if both partners were understanding of each other.
Well, she had been, she thought to herself, and all
she received for it was a broken and bruised body
bestially raped like she was a whore off the
streets.
Jean clenched her eyes tightly shut at the memory
of his last statement. She could still hear it
ringing in her ears as the sound of the train
lulled her tortured mind to sleep:
"I don't think you could ever make a man happy.
I'll get a good grind"
She was awakened the next morning by the knocking
of the porter on the compartment door.
"Breakfast call, breakfast call," he repeated in
his broken English several times.
Jean opened her eyes hesitantly. It just had to be
a good day. She needed some sun; the weather
always seemed to dictate her mood of the day and
she had enough problems to think about without
having that dismal French overcast.
It was shining beautifully. She could see its
warming rays streaming over her head and touching
the compartment wall, flooding the tiny cubicle
with a lovely radiance that made her forget her
problems momentarily. She was famished and brushed
her teeth and dressed rapidly. She wanted to make
the first breakfast call so she would have time to
do some thinking before arriving in Marseille. The
train wasn't due for another two hours or so and it
wouldn't hurt to try and organize herself mentally.
She still had to worry about a hotel when she
arrived there. She had not wanted to let anyone at
the hotel in Paris make reservations for her as
Kevin may have bought the information from them and
she would not have the time she needed to come to
grips with herself.
Jean settled herself back in the chair in the clean
white dining car. She had ordered fried eggs and
bacon, which had surprised her when she had seen
them on the French menu.
"Ah, une dejeuner, Americain," the waiter had said
smilingly.
"Oui, dejeuner, Americain," Jean had repeated,
smiling back. She was glad she had at least
remembered some of the words from her College
French course. She supposed that any French waiter
would know the word for breakfast, but it was nice
to be able to say some things in the language of
the country in which you were traveling.
"It was a beautiful day," she thought, as she
watched the green rolling French countryside roll
by. Quaint small sharp roofed farm houses could be
seen in the distance adding to the beauty of the
setting.
If only things had not happened the way they had in
Paris, she might have been enjoying this with
Kevin.
She was almost beginning to regret her hasty
decision to leave before he returned when her
thoughts were interrupted by a feminine French
voice speaking excellent English.
"Excuse me, you are American, aren't you?" a
stately, well-groomed woman asked, smiling
pleasantly.
"Why, yes I am," Jean answered, surprised by the
sudden intrusion upon her thoughts.
"May I join you? I haven't the chance to speak
English so often anymore, it would be nice while we
are having breakfast," she said nodding at the
empty chair across from Jean.
"Yes, please do," Jean replied, a bit perplexed at
having her solace interrupted so unexpectedly.
The annoyance only lasted a moment, however, as she
turned out to be one of the most pleasant women she
had talked with in a long time. Perhaps it was
good to talk to someone else and get this thing off
her mind for awhile, she rationalized to herself.
Madame DuBois had immediately monopolized the
conversation, but in a pleasant manner. She was
from the south of France and told Jean many little
stories and anecdotes about the area they were
passing through that brightened her spirits
perceptibly. She seemed to be an amazing woman.
She was married to a wealthy art dealer in Paris
and was going to Marseille to look at some
paintings for him that one of his underground
contacts had discovered in an old shop. She was
certain she could pick several Renior's for almost
nothing. The shop owner thought they were copies
and Madame DuBois was going down to discreetly
check before they bought them.
Jean felt herself extremely fortunate to have met
her. She solved her hotel problem. Madame DuBois
said she usually stayed at one of the more chic
places in Marseille, but did not want any of the
other art dealers to know she was in town. It was
a dirty business and if it was known she was there,
one of them was certain to have her followed to see
what she was up to. Therefore, she was staying in
a small third class hotel in the lower part of town
where she would not be seen or reported to be in
town. She had assured Jean it was clean and had
all the facilities of the more grandiose but just a
little more French.
Jean was happy with this. She was afraid Kevin
might call the police and they would send out an
alert to the hotels. It would take no time at all
to find her, as they were very efficient about
this, but with a small hotel it would be almost
impossible. This was luck and her spirits rose
immediately.
Breakfast finished, Jean had rushed back to the
compartment and put her things together. Marseille
was coming up. They had talked so long together
that both had forgotten about it being so near.
It was also nice to have an interpreter. Madame
DuBois handled all the baggage and porters and got
them into a taxi without the usual difficulties a
tourist to such a place has. Jean was certain her
high school French would not have done her much
good here.
The ride to the hotel was pleasant. Monique, they
were on a first name basis now, had made the driver
go along the waterfront drive so Jean could get a
good view of the city. The blue of the
Mediterranean looked so inviting that she could
have jumped into it that very moment. She almost
wished now she had taken a beach-side hotel outside
the city, but still it would be nice to have
Monique around for company and perhaps she could
help her with some advice. She seemed so much more
worldly wise than herself.
Jean would have been happy with any solution now
and perhaps she would confide in Monique later this
evening when they had gotten to know each other
just a little better. She was certain the older
woman would understand the problem. She knew she
would go back with Kevin, but the only problem was
how to do it with honor, and more important, how to
erase away the horrible memory of night before
last.
The taxi turned off from the waterfront drive into
the old sector of the city and the streets became
more narrow and crowded. Open markets selling
everything imaginable lined the narrow alleyways
the driver was picking his way through. It was
obviously the sailor quarter for the port as Jean
could see every nationality of seaman imaginable,
and even at this hour of the day, vulgar, gaudy,
looking women were parading the sidewalks plying
their age-old trade.
Jean became a bit apprehensive when the car stopped
in front of a dirty doorway marked, Le Pension
Afrique.
"Is this it, Monique?" she asked, obvious concern
reflecting in her voice.
"Yes, it is, dear," she answered, an assuring smile
on her lips, "but don't worry, the outside means
nothing. You Americans are all the same; you
expect the Hotel Ritz everywhere you go. Now come
on in and stop worrying."
She paid the driver and signaled to a boy standing
in front of the door to take their bags.
Monique led her down a darkened hallway to the
stairway and up to the second floor where the desk
was located. She checked them in with the desk
clerk, who was obviously pleased to see her. Jean
didn't like his looks. He was Algerian with a
short clipped mustache and looked as though he
belonged behind a bar rather than working as a desk
clerk.
"Jean, this is Shalla," Monique said, introducing
the clerk. "He speaks English very well and takes
care of all of my needs when I stay here. You'll
find him useful."
"How do you do Madame," the clerk bowed toward her
with the natural Arab obsequiousness.
She nodded back to him apprehensively. She didn't
like the looks of this place at all but perhaps
Monique was right, Americans did expect a lot.
Anyway it was quiet and the neighborhood quaint, it
may be just the place to reflect on her problems
for a few days.
Shalla led them up to the third floor and gave them
adjoining rooms. There was a connecting door,
which made Jean feel a little better. The lock for
it was on her side so if she needed anything in a
hurry she could always get into Monique's room.
She didn't like the way the Arab desk clerk was
looking at her. She knew they were an extremely
polite people and overly solicitous at times but
still made her nervous the way he looked her up and
down lustfully with his sharp penetrating eyes.
"Well, here we are, my dear," Monique said as the
clerk placed Jean's baggage next to the wrought
iron double bed. Jean had thought these beds had
gone out with the horse and buggy. She surveyed
the rest of the room and it looked as though it
hadn't been renovated since that time either. A
single uncovered light bulb hung down from the
center of the ceiling and was the only light source
in the room. There were no lamps on the table.
The cheaply painted plaster was cracked along the
walls and small blotches had fallen out of the
ceiling, leaving irregular shaped holes that showed
through to the lathe work beneath.
Thank God, Monique is here with me, she thought.
She seems to know what she's doing.
"Do you stay here often?" Jean had to ask.
"Oh yes, my dear, my husband and I always stay here
when we want peace and quiet and, it is quaint."
Jean felt foolish that she had to keep asking
questions like this. Monique had assured her
several times that everything was all right. She
would just have to accept it. After all, who knows
a country better than a native. Besides, she liked
her and was looking to her for some moral support
these next several days. They would be difficult
ones and she knew she wouldn't bear to face them
completely alone.
"Jean, dear," Monique said, "I've got to run and do
a few things before I unpack. Why don't you put
your things away and rest up a bit. I think a nap
would do you good. I'll be back around six and we
can have dinner together."
Jean agreed to this. She was happy to be left
alone for a few hours to get settled and take a
bath. She felt gritty from the trip and hadn't
been in a tub since her hurried exit from the hotel
room in Paris.
"I'd love it," Jean replied, "you wake me up when
you finish your business.
I'll probably be dead to the world."
As soon as Monique was out of the room, Jean
finished her unpacking and drew a cool refreshing
bath. She couldn't wait to get into bed, as
squeaky and uncomfortable as it looked. She
scrubbed herself a bright clean, feeling as though
she hadn't touched water in weeks. Afterwards, she
rubbed herself with lotion from head to foot,
rubbing gently over the bruises left from Kevin's
childish assault on her. She closed her mind
tightly against the memory for the time being and
decided to think about it later. Right now she was
too tired to do anything but sleep.
She chose a short hip-length nighty, purposely
pushing the torn one she had worn the other night
with Kevin into a far corner of the drawer where
she had put her things.
There was a soft knock on the door.
"Who is it?" Jean asked lightly, concluding that
Monique had forgotten something.
"Iced tea, Madame," she recognized Shalla's voice
through the door.
"But, I-I didn't order any tea," Jean answered,
surprised and a bit upset about the unexpected
intrusion.
"Madame Monique ordered it for you, Madame. She
said it would help you sleep.
It's a special mint tea to relax you."
"Oh, all right, just a minute," Jean threw on her
thin robe and opened the door to allow him to
enter.
Shalla stopped for a moment as he brought the tray
through the door. Jean caught his sharp quick eyes
as they glanced the length of her body. She
automatically drew the top of the robe tightly
around her throat and stood holding the door open
waiting for him to put the tray down and leave.
"If Madame needs anything else, just ring the
buzzer and Shalla will come." He bowed as he slowly
backed out the door, his penetrating eyes boring
straight through the robe Jean was wearing. She
gave him a cold stare and shuddered as she drew its
flimsy material more tightly around herself locking
the door behind him. She was glad Monique would be
returning in a few hours. She knew she was safe
here with the door locked but still felt a little
insecure. She didn't like the clerk and the way he
had looked at her. He had stripped her bare with
his glances and she knew it wouldn't take much
carelessness on her part to have him get out of
line. She had never seen such a raw animal lust in
a man's eyes before as they had locked on the
cleavage showing between her large ripe breasts.
Her hands inadvertently covered them as she
trembled repulsively at the thought of his hands on
her.
She picked up the glass of tea from the table by
the bed and sipped it thirstily. In spite of the
lewd appraisal of her body by the clerk, she was
glad Monique had sent the tea. It was cool and
refreshing, though it had a slight bitterness to
it. Must be from the mint, she thought, as she
stretched her long smooth body down the length of
the bed, draining the last drop from the tall
refreshing glass.
She stretched languidly, relaxed sweetly by the
hypnotizing bitterness of the drink and pressed the
switch by the bed that turned off the light hanging
above her. The room faded into a pleasant semi-
darkness as her eyes fluttered closed into a
strange floating half-sleep. Her mind seemed to
remain in an almost waking state as she could feel
the nerve ends of her body floating below her into
a deep, deep, softness that seemed like a gentle
fleece-lined cloud beneath her. The pleasant
intoxicating mint odor curled strangely through her
nostrils bringing dreams of sun and roses and Kevin
the deepest warmth she had ever known, descended
from somewhere above, and dropped gently the
alluring veil of near sleep over her.
From a broom closet next to the room of the
American girl, the Arab peered hungrily through the
small hole bored through the wall. He could see
her slowly remove the thin robe she was wearing,
exposing the flimsy night gown that covered her
firm luscious body only down to the tops of her
full well-rounded thighs.
He smiled in anticipation when he saw her lift the
glass of tea to her lips and drink deeply from it.
He held his breath as she winced slightly from the
initial bitter taste; then breathed freely again as
the puzzled look disappeared from her face and she
drank again. Small beads of perspiration broke
from his forehead as she reclined back on the bed,
her feet facing directly at the hole through which
he was observing her. The sparse nylon gown snaked
its way up over the white flat plane of her belly,
exposing the dark soft silkiness that covered the
junction of her slightly spread legs. The thin red
hair-lined slit was temptingly visible running the
length of her open crotch.
His bulging eyes followed the contours of the hips
up over the rising and falling rib-cage to the
large white rounded spheres of her breasts. They
were set slightly close together and through the
thin covering, he could sec their turgid nipples
rising into tantalizing little buds. His month
watered He could hardly wait to get his hands and
mouth on those and to twist and churn them into the
rock hardness of passion. He had never had an
American girl before and he had heard they were
passionless haughty things who ruled over their men
with an iron-hand. He would see soon. His potion
never failed. He had used it often on the women
Madame Monique had brought here and not one had
been able to resist its maddening aphrodisiac
effect.
He would show this proud little American bitch who
had everything and who had dismissed him as so much
dirt when he had tried to be friendly. It wouldn't
be long now as she had turned the glass up and
drained the last lethal drops for it. He clenched
his fist tightly as she squirmed around on the bed
before him and pushed the light switch, plunging
the room into semi-darkness. It took his eyes a
moment to adjust to the change but he could still
see her slim form stretched sensuously down the
length of the bed. Her thighs had fallen apart a
little more now and he could make out dimly the
dark wisp that covered the mound of her lower
belly. His tongue ran inadvertently around the
moist edges of his lips as he fingered the master
key in his pocket. He would have to wait a few
more minutes. He wanted no crying out, the potion
must have time to reach its full effect. His body
was soaked in a sweat now from the thought of that
haughty young bitch squirming in helpless surrender
beneath his excited body. The seconds of waiting
ticking by seemed like hours... till finally he
could stand it no longer. He returned to the
hallway, carefully tiptoeing down to the room and
fitting the key quietly into the door. He opened
it slowly, pushing his head into the darkened room,
to see if there was any sound. There was none but
the soft breathing of the motionless form on the
bed. He closed the door softly behind him, locking
it to insure there would be no disturbing them.
The Arab looked intensely through the darkness at
the bed. The head of the sleeping girl was facing
straight ahead at the ceiling. Her eyes were
clenched tightly shut as if in a deep hard sleep,
yet she moved slightly from time to time as though
dreams were coming to her from the haze of the
other world she had slipped into.
He moved cat-like around the foot of the bed, not
taking his gaze from the reclining figure sprawled
limply back on it. She had drawn one knee up flat
on the bed even with her hip, the smooth white
flesh of the inner thigh gleamed faintly in the
darkness. The soft dark hairs covering the
exposed, still tightly closed lips of her vagina,
were plainly visible now to his beady eyes as they
adjusted themselves to the darkness of the shaded
room.
He involuntarily drew in his breath at the
unbelievable sight before him. He had fucked many
drugged young women before on this same bed, but
never anything like this. Never anything so pure,
innocent, and proud. Never anything that he would
enjoy humiliating so much.
The thought of helpless mewling grunts of pleasure
coming from those untouchable lips, that had
scorned him before, goaded his organ into rock-
hardness. He could feel the blood throbbing
painfully into its large expanded head, tiny
droplets of thick white seminal fluid had already
begun to seep from the sensitive contracting gland
at its tip, smearing wetly against his thin thigh.
He silently opened the fly of his pants, easing the
pain slightly.
He slowly massaged the heavy thick foreskin back
and forth over the jerking head as he advanced
around the bed toward the proud young bitch who now
lay totally at his mercy. The drug had done its
work well and he now intended to teach this haughty
young American to scorn him as she and all of her
kind had when he tried to be nice to them. This
rod he held in his hands was the great equalizer
and he'd see if she treated him like a cur dog when
rammed deep between those open thighs and buried
the head far up inside her aristocratic little
belly.
His pants dropped heavily to the floor as he opened
the last button at the top and fully exposed his
long thick member. It stood out in proud menacing
erection over the spread eagle body on the bed
beneath. He slowly unbuttoned the soiled sweat
covered shirt and threw it to the chair in the
corner. He left his shoes and socks on in case the
French woman, Monique, returned and he had to get
out in a hurry. He had locked the downstairs door
so she would have to ring to get in. This would
give him plenty of warning. He didn't intend to
leave this delicious young bitch until he had
drained them both dry of every ounce of strength in
their bodies.
He stood for a moment longer over her motionless
body, stroking himself into a rigidity that
threatened to explode into streaming white hot
spurts at any moment. For a second, he considered
it. It would be a beautiful sight to see his hard
penis throbbing out its load into the helpless
girls face and down over her soft white tits. He
lewdly pictured it dribbling down over her chin to
the hollow of her throat and forming warm sticky
pools between those lush soft breasts. But no, he
had better not. He had to clean it all up. She
must never know she had been fucked. If she did,
and told the French lady, he would lose his job and
maybe his life. She was connected with the big
boys in the racket and they might not like his
sampling the merchandise every time they brought it
in.
He couldn't resist one thing before he climbed on
her. He knew the risk was great of losing his
load, but he had to see those proud little ruby
lips around it just for a moment. He had thought
so much about it while he was downstairs waiting
until she was alone. He kneeled down on the edge
of the bed by her head and turned it gently toward
his erected penis. When it was several inches
away, he pushed his hips slowly forward toward her
upturned face, laying the wet sticky underside of
the throbbing head between the small valley formed
by her closed pink lips. He placed one thumb under
her nose and the other on her chin, pulling slowly
out until the underside of the heavy head dropped
slightly through the stretched lips and rested
against her white bared teeth, the soft flesh of
the pink puckered lips forming a furrow along its
length. He flexed his hips slightly back and forth
until several small droplets of cum oozed from his
throbbing gland, and lubricated the mouth that was
half surrounding it. He could feel the warm air
from her nostrils pushing hotly against it as she
breathed in and out restlessly.
Looking down directly into her face, he could see
small rivulets run slowly down the corners of her
mouth on either side, dribbling like tears down the
sides of her cheeks. God, he would like to shoot
his hot stream down that soft palpitating throat
and see the adams-apple bob up and down as she
gulped it into her. Maybe later, if she was left
alone again and he was sure he had more time.
He reached one hand down to the hem of the flimsy
negligee, pulling it up slowly over her rounded
snow-white belly, over the large globular
magnificence of her tits, until her whole naked
body was exposed. He had seen it through the
peephole when he was watching her undress but it
hadn't excited him nearly as much as having it here
now, spread helplessly beneath him, where he could
touch and fondle it to his hearts content.
With the thumb and forefinger of the right hand he
reached over and pushed her lips tighter against
the purple veined member between them, gently
continuing the slow sawing motion. The other hand
moved over the magnificent breasts tweaking the
nipples between his fingers until he could feel
them mechanically hardening under his caressing.
The girl shifted slightly beneath him, moaning
softly as though aware of his presence. He held
still-frightened for a moment that the potion had
not done its work completely. His rod fell from
between her loose lips down over her chin, leaving
thin threads of warm white stickiness trailing
behind it.
"Kevin, darling," she mumbled thickly through the
fog of the drug. "I've been waiting, waiting so
long. My darling husband-come to me-come to me."
Jean had been aware of the movement in the room and
Kevin's shadowy figure coming to her. She felt as
though a great weight had been lifted from her and
that now things would be all right. He would be
gentle with her now and take her as she had always
dreamed he would. She could feel her blood begin
to stir deep within her body. A body he would
possess in a moment. She wouldn't fail him this
time.
The Arab smiled to himself above her. The mixture
had worked its magic as it always did.
The bitch thinks I'm her husband, he chuckled
lewdly to himself, she'll see the difference before
I'm finished.
He stroked the giant throbbing penis slowly,
reaching down and running his other hand over the
awakening mounds of her tits and down over her
belly to the soft fleshy folds of her cunt below.
"Ohhh, darling, darling, I'm sorry," the girl
droned beneath him. "I didn't want to leave, I
didn't want to leave. Be gentle with me, Kevin, be
gentle with me."
Jean dreamed on, her body becoming alert now to the
caresses of the magic hands that were stroking her
flesh into a hot sheet of desire. Tiny goose-bumps
sprang out over the whiteness of her sensitive
flesh.
God, how she wanted him, her body ached to be
touched gently and with understanding as he was
doing it now!
She pushed the mad rape he had subjected her to
from her thoughts and just wanted to make up for
all that time she had denied him and herself the
joys of merging their bodies as one. She wanted
him to crawl up inside her, to possess her and
quiet the thunder that was building up deep, deep,
inside from his maddening fingertips playing over
her defenseless nakedness.
Maybe he would understand her now, understand that
she had suffered as much as he had and that she had
wanted him too. Now it was different, her thoughts
flickered on hazily, he was here with her and they
were married and she could give herself to him
without fear of guilt or God's punishment. God
would understand now, they were man and wife.
Her tongue ran slowly around her moist lips,
savoring the sticky pungent taste of the strange
moisture that covered them-the odor wafted through
her flared nostrils, breathing it deep inside her
body. It did strange things to her, the odor and
taste coursed through her entire being like a sweet
soothing balm lighting tiny fires in her growing
nipples and causing a throbbing in the nerve ends
inside her tight hot vagina. She could feel dew-
drops of moisture rising there between her open
legs as the exposed hair-lined lips began a slow
spasmodic contracting, throbbing wetly against each
other.
"Ohhh, Kevin, Kevin, darling, take me now, touch
me, rub me, Ohhh, yess, yessss, like that, like
that," she moaned, helplessly caught up in the
sharp deep pricks of lust that were dancing through
her.
The Arab grinned, his yellow teeth showing through
the unshaven stubble around his lips---his greedy
eyes feasting lewdly on her unconsciously squirming
nakedness.
He moved around on the bed, crouching on all fours
over the white moving body, pushing her unresisting
milk-white thighs wide apart. He crawled between
them, his knees pressed between her ankles and his
face panting a few inches above the hair-covered
vee of her open crotch. His mouth watered as his
eyes looked down at it rotating sensuously,
expectantly, just below his lips. Saliva dripped
from his open mouth, mingling with her juices in
the delicious narrow split that started at the
bottom of the smooth white belly and trailed down
through the rounded creamy spheres of her buttocks
pressed tightly against the mattress.
Through half slit eyes, Jean could see the shadowy
form of her husband crouching between her open
legs. She could feel the flat palms of sweating
hands pushing against the softness of her inner
thighs, holding them wide apart. Her secret
treasure was open to him to do as he willed. She
watched with baited breath as his head lowered
slowly-slowly-slowly-then!
"Ohhhhh!" she jerked, as his hot moist lips closed
over the soft mound at the base of her belly. His
hazy face disappeared from her view into the soft
fleece as he planted wet tickling kisses on the
still closed aperture, his tongue flicking lizard-
like at the quivering opening.
Her own hands moved sensuously down over her
throbbing breasts and slid slowly down her smooth,
flat stomach, coming to rest on either side of his
lips. Her fingers stroked softly for a moment at
the flexing hollows of her inner thighs-then,
slowly spread the fleshy hair-lined lips of the
moist wet furrow apart, allowing his hungry
devouring lips complete access to her moist secret
being.
Her elbows pressed tightly against her ribs and her
head lolled uncontrollably from side to side on the
pillow as the hot searing tongue shot out, its soft
flicking tip circling the quivering erected
clitoris- the lips sucked, drawing the warm soft
folds deep into the hot cavern of his mouth, the
tongue continued its maddening licking against the
straining pink bud of her sex she groaned huskily
from deep in her throat as the hot probing tip
worked its way up and down the length of the narrow
wet slit, starting at the lower belly and
pressuring its way dowel, down over the elastic
rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and into the
crevice of her flexing buttocks where it stopped
momentarily to do a wet probing homage to the tight
brown throbbing hole. Her hips ground
uncontrollably into the squeaking bed now, soft
mewling animal sounds escaped pitifully from
between her passion clenched teeth.
'The Arab worked hungrily, feeling the soft wet
pubic hair brushing tantalizing against his cheeks.
A feeling of power was in him. Never in his
wildest dreams had he ever expected to have such a
proud pure bitch like this squirming under his
tongue and completely at his mercy-and she was
loving it-her groans drove his tongue faster as it
worked its way up and down the steaming hot crotch.
He wanted her begging for it when he was ready to
ram it to her and she was almost there. He had
never seen anyone so hot, even with the potion.
She needed it bad and she was getting it-and this
was just the beginning.
He knew she was too far gone now to fight anything
he did to her and his mind began to form weird
erotic pictures of the positions he could put her
in and the things he could do at will to her limp
desire wracked body.
He chuckled obscenely as he felt her hands
desperately clawing at his greasy black hair,
guiding his face to the palpitating opening of her
cunt. He ran his tongue into the soft rimmed
flesh, flicking at it for a moment-and then quickly
withdrawing it to tease again around the ragged
pink edges.
He let her force him this time pressing his mouth,
directly over the tight little hole in her
squirming crotch.
As his lips rounded and covered the clasping
viscous opening, he thrust his tongue deep down
into it, bringing a low guttural groan from the
girl whose soft warm thighs closed convulsively
around either side of his moving head. He could
feel the wet flesh slip moistly around his long
extended tongue as the walls of the invaded vagina
opened and closed in a sucking motion, attempting
to pull it deeper and deeper into it. It felt as
though the nibbling hair-lined mouth would pull his
tongue out by the roots, devouring it alive. Her
heels pushed down against his back pressing his
body into the flesh trap until he couldn't breath,
his nose was smashed tightly against the tiny hard
clitoris above, breathing in the pungent odor of
the lust juice that was now flowing in abundance
from it. It incited his penis to a hardness that
he could no longer control-he had to fuck this
little bitch now or he would explode all over the
mattress.
Jean's body was lost in the fire of the moment.
Every muscle in her body was tensed as she strained
her hips upward toward that maddening probe between
her legs. Kevin was a god. She had never expected
it could be like this, that he could bring such
things from her body.
Her love for him incited her further. Her up-drawn
legs opened and closed around the tormenting head
that was licking gluttonously at her flame seared
hole. The cords of her neck stand out as she
pulled with all her strength against the tangled
hair of his head.
"Oh! Ohhh! Aggghhh!" she moaned, splaying her
legs wider and wider to give him greater access.
The Arab could stand it no longer. He grabbed her
flailing legs behind the knees and shoved them
roughly back against her shoulders, slithering up
her sweat soaked body at the same time. His rigid
stiff cock brushed against the wet dripping pubic
hair. He planted his hands on either side of her
shoulders, her ankles locked tightly behind his
neck. He could look down between their bodies and
see her upturned ass completely exposed to him.
The expanded narrow cunt-slit was visibly throbbing
its lips in invitation, the wet moist furrow held
wide apart by the pressure of his thighs pressed
tightly up against hers.
Jean could see Kevin hovering over her through her
passion and drug dimmed eyes. She could feel the
hugeness of his fleshy hardness lying the full
length of her quivering open slit. The jerking
head of his cock rested throbbing between her wide-
spread buttocks; insinuating itself up and down, up
and down, in a maddening tease that caused her to
twist her hips down toward it, her hungry cunt
searching desperately for its hard blood filled
tip.
She had to have it in her! Her belly screamed for
it!
She reached her hands in panic down underneath the
grinding cheeks of her ass and grasped the full
length of the stone-hard member. Her tightly
closed fists stroked it softly in reverence. She
could feel the spasmodic throbbing against her soft
palms and the sticky fluid that oozed in driblets
from the blood inflated head. She guided it up the
valley of her buttocks, not letting it lose contact
with her flesh until it was poised between the
mucous covered flanges of her vagina. She held it
there with one hand and placed the other on her
husband's buttocks, drawing with all her strength
to pull it into her and let it drown the gnawing
hot heat that burned out of control in her belly.
The Arab grinned obscenely above her. It was all
he could do to keep from shoving forward now and
impaling this squirming little bitch on his aching
cock, but the desire to punish her and her kind for
all the times they had shit on him by their
disdainful looks when he had spoken to them,
overcame the desire. This one typified them all,
she was everything he wanted to humiliate. Proud,
innocent, spoiled by the condescending young men of
her kind who did her every bidding. If one ever
needed punishing, this one did. Well, he would do
it, he would fuck her till she couldn't walk.
He received ever greater satisfaction from the
knowledge that he would know afterwards and she
wouldn't. She might treat him the same as she did
before but he would know that he had plowed her
good and left his white hot sperm deep in her cunt.
He might even make her pregnant. This though
excited him even more, a lowly immigrant Arab,
refugee from his own country, desk clerk, making
this proud haughty bitch pregnant. Filling her
belly with a child and she wouldn't even know the
father. The lewd thought caused him to
involuntarily flick his hips forward.
Jean felt the lips around her throbbing vagina
pushed open. The elastic rimmed tightness resisted
for a moment, then gave way before the hard cruel
pressure. The pain was harsh and she mechanically
resisted for a moment, emitting a long low groan
from deep within her throat. He liked that, he
liked hearing her hurt.
He shoved again-a deeper groan-he wanted to hear
her scream for mercy. And suddenly, he could stand
it no more. He rammed forward with everything he
had, sinking the lust inflated cock all the way to
the hilt. He could feel his balls slap tightly
against her jerking anus that screwed itself deep
down into the mattress attempting to escape the
cruel sudden impalement. Her legs jerked out wide
on either side of his thin emaciated body, splaying
over either edge of the beds kicking futilely into
the air.
"Kevin! Ke-Kevinnn! Nooooo! Nooooooo!" she
screamed, her impaled form pinned helplessly to the
bed. With each jerk, the huge head seemed to
burrow deeper into her. The Arab's outstretched
arms pinned her shoulders tightly to the mattress,
his wide-spread knees held her thighs split far
apart. She felt as though her body was being torn
down the middle and that she would be ripped in
half from this giant instrument imbedded deep in
her middle. The fiery plunging rod felt as though
it was coming out her throat as its blood-filled
head pressed hard against her cervix, buffeting her
head back harshly against the headboard of the bed.
He watched her from above with a lascivious grin on
his lips. Her face was contorted with the pain of
that first vicious stab. Her lips curled back from
her teeth, pleading, incoherent whimpers coming
from deep in her throat. Her arms were
outstretched, palms against his hips, attempting to
hold back the blunt hard head pressing against her
womb like a great hard stone.
She's never had it this deep, he gloated to
himself, as he held her pinned in the lewd
humiliating position. He looked down again and
could see his curly black pubic hair tangled
tightly with hers, the base of his thick fleshy rod
buried deep into the pink throbbing furrow that his
tongue had licked to moist receptiveness a moment
ago. He could see the tight lips of the cunt
stretched almost to the bursting point, the rubbery
outer pink rim clasping tightly around the dark
skinned base of his cock.
He held her there for a moment, savoring the
spectacle of this proud little bitch impaled
helplessly under him, with his huge rod buried deep
in her white little belly. He wished her husband
could see her now, spread-eagle this way with a
lowly Arab servant making her scream and yell. He
was going to give her a fuck she would never forget
as long as she lived.
Jean squirmed helplessly beneath him. She could
feel the hot searing pain of his sudden blunt entry
tearing cruelly at her insides. She flexed her
crotch muscles tightly together to attempt to ward
off the huge invading cudgel, but the throb of her
internal sinews seemed to incite it more and it
plowed its way deeper and deeper into her vainly
resisting passage. The walls of her cringing cunt
clasped around it like a glove. She could feel its
every fleshy ridge as her nerve ends transmitted
its monstrous form in minute detail to her muddled
mind like a telegraph line.
It was alive inside her! The hard rubbery tip
pressing against her cervix, the thin folds of
flesh along its length, the tickling hairs of the
balls dangling in the crevice of her ass were part
of her. She was one with it and in spite of her
pain her tongue began a wild licking at the wetness
of her lips. He had smeared them well with his cum
and her nostrils flared again, drawing the pungent
odor deep into her body, mingling it in strange
marriage with the feeling of the throbbing cock
lodged deep in her white soft belly. It all seemed
to roll together into one great fiery ball of
aching hunger for more. Her cunt contracted
involuntarily as the lascivious thoughts raced
through her mind.
The Arab felt the slight throbbing pressure exerted
against his buried penis. He had waited for it,
hovering motionless over her prostrate form
patiently until she became accustomed to his thick
presence rammed so deep in her belly. He flexed
the member gently, expanding it inside her, but
still not moving his body.
"Oh," she whimpered, through bared teeth, fighting
the fine line of pleasure-pain.
He waited a moment, and flexed again, watching her
contorted face below. The mouth hung limply open,
the eyes clenched tightly shut.
"Oooooohhhh!" She held her breath as the buried
cock expanded more, stretching the narrow passage
walls farther apart.
He flexed again, this time setting a slow teasing
rhythm to his throbs. He watched her nostrils
begin a slow hesitant flaring in time to the beat.
Soft mewling sounds of pleasure came from her open
mouth in time to his gentle ministrations.
"Ooooohhhh-Darling, darling."
He could foil her urgent answering throbs began
around the head of his penis. The wet clasping
cunt flesh began a soft opening and closing around
his pulsating member.
He did not move, but continued the slow rhythmic
throbs into the skewered girl beneath him. He
could hardly contain himself as her grunts of
pleasure resounded through the otherwise still
room. Her head lolled from side to side
unconsciously on the pillow as her hips began a
slow involuntary roll beneath his impaling rod. He
clenched his teeth tightly together as he felt her
hungry nibbling crotch screwing itself up tighter
against his hair-covered pelvis.
Jean's body felt itself coming to life now. The
pain was receding and was slowly giving way to a
maddening electric tingle that began deep within
her womb and seeped relentlessly through the raw
nerve ends of her flesh. It rippled through her
cunt and out the fleece-lined lips, dancing like
fire across the milky-white thighs, up the full
length of her splayed legs and circled around
inside her toes, curling them tightly against the
bottoms of her feet. It worked its way up from her
contracting belly through her rib cage and out to
the tips of her pink palpitating nipples, which
peaked into hard tiny buds, sensitive to even the
touch of the stale close air about them. Thin
rivulets of sweat rolled down the sides of the full
pulsating mounds, wetting the mattress beneath her.
She rotated her hips from side to side around the
fleshy impaling member, her vagina, dilating in
time to its rhythmic beating. It felt as though it
had a heart imbedded in the palpitating head whose
heat against her inner passage was becoming a part
of her being. She was one with it. She and her
darling Kevin were one fleshy mass of sensation,
merged magically together by their love. He had
crawled into her! He was a part of her!
The Arab could hardly contain his glee as he felt
her pelvis begin screwing up against the length of
his rock hard penis. The tiny contracting muscles
inside her cunt were nibbling hungrily at the
inflated head. The dilated lips between her hair-
lined pink slit pulled tantalizingly away, sliding
moistly down the rod for several inches and then
nibbling slowly back up buffering her soft down
tightly against his pubic hair embedding the full
length of him deep into her warm white belly. He
stayed immobile, resting still above her with his
hands on either side of her shoulders, his knees
pressed tight against the mattress. He let her
quivering body pump up and down at will on his
rigid piston that fused them together.
He could see its slow withdrawal between them
pulling thin soft ridges of her pink flesh out with
it as she screwed her pelvis down into the mattress
and the entry-pushing the soft folds back into her
and the moist shiny length was swallowed whole back
into the salacious opening. He let her strain
against him for a while, watching the utter abandon
of her labors, a half-crazed ecstatic smile playing
across her lips. Her motions became faster by the
second, the tempo of her thrusts up against him
became more urgent-her teeth bit hard into her
lower lip. He knew she was straining to come-the
juices of her milking vagina were beginning to flow
and he could hear the wet sucking sound of the in
and out sawing movement as she suddenly thrust
sharply up his cock, burying it deep inside her,
her back arched a foot off the squeaking bed, her
feet planted flat on either side of his knees
tightly against the mattress. She bucked against
him wildly.
"Oh, God, yes, yes. I'm coming darling, I'm
coming, Aaaggh!"
Suddenly, with a deep throated groan, her body
began vibrating uncontrollably-wet white cum oozed
from the throbbing passage, drowning his impaling
member with its sticky warmth and trickling down
the crevice of her white globular buttocks over his
balls that pressed hard against the tiny brown
puckered anus.
The Arab went berserk as she grunted out the last
of her juices against his matted pelvis, her body
still jerking spasmodically up against him. He
reached back, grabbing her ankles and pushing them
brutally back over her shoulders until she was
rolled up into a tight round ball of helplessness
beneath him. Her knees were pushed back tightly
over her shoulders against the mattress on either
side of her head, the wide-spread split between her
legs completely open to his desire.
He withdrew the deeply imbedded instrument until
just the tip of the head rested in her. Then, he
rammed forward with all his stored up bitter
strength. He had waited to destroy this little
bitch. She had had her fun and now it was his
turn. The full throbbing length of the incited
member sunk cruelly into her helpless exposed
vagina. He could hear the wet flat smack as his
belly thudded against her crotch. His body dropped
down heavily on her, mashing her full ripe tits
tightly against his chest. He locked his saliva
covered mouth over hers, thrusting his wet dripping
tongue deep in her throat, stifling the low animal
grunts fanning there. His shoulders pushing
against the backs of her full rounded calves kept
her locked in that helpless position as he rammed
it to her. Reaching around beneath them, he forced
his hands between the mattress and the white full
cheeks of her ass, cupping them in his spread
fingers and palms, kneading the warm soft flesh,
pulling the white rounded cheeks far apart.
He began long hard strokes into the streaming
passage that was now wet and slippery from her
climb withdrawing the head until just the tip was
inside the hot clammy opening and then thrusting
forward hard with his hips until his balls were
screwed tightly against the wide split crack of her
buttocks.
Jean groaned helplessly as her exposed cunt was
plundered again almost beyond endurance. He was
driving her head hard back against the headboard of
the bed with each jack-hammer thrust and she
couldn't fight from her hopeless position. Her
arms were pinned down at her sides by her own up-
drawn legs. She could feel the giant head sliding
up and down inside her warm viscous passage like a
feathered piston and the hot slap of his soft hair-
covered balls against her anus as he jerked forward
on the down stroke. Cool mad rushes of air rushed
between her thighs as he withdrew.
Her womb flared and the resisting lips of her hair-
lined furrow flowered open to receive the delicious
rape of her secret genitals. Her hands forced
themselves desperately from under her legs and
snaked around his back. The nails clawed a red
streaked path down to his flexing buttocks. She
pulled him deep and thrust her fleece covered belly
up hard to skewer herself deliciously on the
driving hot flesh of his pumping rod. She sucked
voraciously on the thick wet tongue that was shoved
deep in her throat through the yellow teeth of the
Arabs obscene grin. She swallowed greedily the
droplets of his saliva that ran down it in her lewd
excitement. The foul pungent odor of his breath,
incited rather than repelled her drugged senses.
Her body began to match his pounding lunges with
her own rhythmic thrashing.
The rusty bedsprings squeaked loudly in time to the
two tightly entwined bodies struggling wildly
against each other. The sounds of deep straining
grunts and groans filled the hot stifling air of
the room, mingling with the noise of sweat soaked
flesh smacking sharply against sweat soaked flesh
and the wet viscous slurp of his pile driving cock
going in and out of her mucous lined cunt.
"Hot bitch, hot bitch, hot bitch," the Arab mumbled
over and over to himself as he ceaselessly rammed
the blood filled cudgel deep into her white round
screaming little belly with long cruel jabs. He
could feel the hot white cum building up inside his
heated balls as they beat hard against her upturned
ass. It was ready to explode. He wildly shoved
his tongue far down her throat and with harshly
kneading hands pulled the wide-spread cheeks of her
white little buttocks hard up against his grinding
pelvis as he rammed his spewing cock all the way to
the hilt in her soft unresisting cunt.
Jean could feel her insides splitting painfully as
the head of the deep sunk tormenting instrument
suddenly flared into a hugeness that threatened to
tear her womb wide asunder-it began to spurt-and
she could feel the delicious hot white liquid r
hooting into her like burning fire, ricocheting
around inside her dilated stomach like streams of
molten lava. The pores of her cunt clasped around
it, erupting in answer and again spilling her own
white hot cum into the already drowning cavern of
her pink quivering passage.
It drove her insane!
She couldn't let it stop!
She reached frantically around under her squirming
buttocks with both hands and began to desperately
milk at the balls pressed into the split of her
behind. Her legs kicked out, quivering uselessly
in the air on either side of the bed. The huge
member continued to jerk its completion-white hot
spurts still spewed from its head, filling her womb
and foaming out the contracting fleshy lips around
the base of his cock, soaking the soft matted pubic
hair it was buried in.
"Oh, fill me, fill me, darling," she groaned
incoherently around the swabbing tongue still sunk
deep in her mouth. The hot walls of her jerking
cunt sucked at the throbbing cock hungrily, until
it gave one final spasmodic jerk, the last drop
sucked from it.
The Arab collapsed across her body, feeling her
insides still gushing forth around his deflated
limp prick. It seemed endless, until she too
suddenly gave one last jerk and quivered to a limp
stillness, her legs protruding lifelessly out on
either side of his fatigued body. Her arms
outstretched, one dangling doll-like over the edge
of the beck Her belly was filled to the bursting
point with the mixture of their hot sticky- white
cum.
He lay still for a moment to recover his strength
and then slowly pulled himself off the unconscious
girl's still form, his cock sliding slowly out of
her battered cunt. He could see the wet matted
hair of her well fucked furrow glistening wetly in
the faint light. The insides of her thighs were
smeared lewdly with the white-sticky juice. It
dripped in tiny rivulets down the crevice of her
ass, forming a dark wet circle on the mattress
beneath.
The Arab smiled down at her, pulling his clothes on
quietly. He'd like to fuck this hot little bitch
again right now, but he knew he had better not. He
had been there for over two hours now and he knew
the French lady would be coming back soon. He
couldn't take the chance now but he promised
himself he would get her again later. He couldn't
let this hot little American off this easy.
He took one last look at her lewdly splayed form,
her mouth hanging loosely open in contented sleep.
She must still be dreaming of the fucking he had
given her, he smirked obscenely to himself. Maybe
I had better help. He reached over her body
between her still wide-spread thighs and ran his
middle finger up the glistening cunt-lips
moistening it with the mixture of both their cum.
He rubbed the finger then around her open red lips
and under her nostrils. This should give her
something to puzzle over when she wakes up. The
thought amused him and he laughed softly to
himself. How he would like to see her face when
she awoke, trying to figure out what happened.
The thought of his hot full load sloshing around
deep in that unknowing little belly stirred him
again as he closed and locked the door behind him.
"God, I hope she's pregnant," he muttered half
aloud to himself as he descended the stairs to the
reception desk, his steps a bit unsteady. He could
hardly wait to look her in the eye later tonight,
knowing that he had fucked her silly for over two
hours. That would be revenge enough for the
scornful looks she had given him but he hoped he
would have the chance again. Next time he would
really throw it to that hot little body. He
whistled happily to himself.
**
Monique smiled complacently to herself as she had
entered the taxi several hours earlier in front of
the hotel. She had reason to be satisfied. After
all, she mused, this was the fourth girl she had
brought to Marseille in the past month and the
market for them was good. Since the tourists had
stopped going to Algiers because of the Arab
takeover, the demand for young white girls to fill
the Arab brothels was almost unlimited. They were
bringing up to two or three thousand American
dollars each, particularly the young fresh unused
ones like the girl she had back at the hotel. She
was certain she could get a premium for her. She
was her best catch so far and she had to play her
cards just right and get the right buyer. She
thought she had him in Gamal. He liked the
innocent ones and was willing to pay well for them.
He would get his personal pound of flesh and then
ship them off to Algiers for the Arab market. She
almost hated to see this sweet young American
turned over to a sadistic beast like him but money
was money and his perverted depravity should be no
concern of hers. She had to be cold and calculated
about it, after all, she was a business woman and
if she played her cards right could retire in a few
years on a substantial income from her earnings.
The cab followed the Rue Marriane outside the city
along the coast for several miles and pulled into
the grounds of a large ocean front villa. The iron
filigree gate was guarded by several dark Algerians
with pistols strapped to their sides. Upon
recognizing her, they waved the car through without
trouble. She was well known by them as a frequent
visitor so did not have to go through the usual
formalities required to get into the fortress-like
walls.
The cypress drive leading to the main villa was
almost half a mile long and they passed several of
the familiar patrols that roamed through the
estate. The patrols all traveled in twos and had a
pair of viscous looking black Alsatian dogs with
them. They were trained to kill and Gamal had
confided to her that they had done so several times
when Interpol agents had tried to penetrate the
grounds. They, of course, had disappeared without
trace and Gamal had allowed the local police to
enter and search the premises. This was a token
search and all evidence of the various illegalities
he was engaged in had been removed to a secret
subterranean cellar. Besides, he had also confided
that the police chief of the area was a frequent
visitor of his and kept him dutifully informed of
any official action that might be brewing against
him. The system had obviously worked well as Gamal
had been doing this since the end of the war and
had become a very wealthy man. It was rumored that
he had connections in the higher ministries in
Paris and even among the staff of Interpol itself.
Monique believed this, due to the immensity of his
operations. No one could exist so long and on such
a scale unless he was receiving important political
protection from somewhere higher up than the local
police.
The cab rounded the curved drive and pulled up in
front of a huge white stucco house. It had a
typical Mediterranean red tiled roof and was
surrounded by the most beautiful tropical gardens
Monique had ever seen. She enjoyed doing business
with Gamal just to be able to pay these periodic
visits to this fabulous villa. It must have cost
him at least five million new francs to build it in
the old days. At today's prices, it would be
impossible to calculate the true value.
Monique was met at the door by one of his burly
guards and escorted to Gamal's study. She knew she
wouldn't have to wait to see him as he was always
anxious when she came. She had made it a point
early in their relationship to bring him only the
best of the young females she lured to Marseille.
She had never disappointed him yet and did not
intend to now. She knew he would be overjoyed with
this tender young Jean because of her almost
unbelievable innocence and the fact that she was an
American. There was something about Americans that
seemed to appeal to the Arab nature. Perhaps it
was because they were so much more naive than
European women and always seemed to have such an
untouched clean appearance. This gave them
something to soil and humiliate. They all seemed
to enjoy this and gave them something upon which to
unleash the full vent of their natural base nature.
Monique was only too familiar with the degradations
they would force upon their own women much less a
poor foreigner that was completely defenseless.
She had seen some of the poor wretched girls she
had sold them after a few months in their hands and
had she not been so desperate to be financially
independent, she could not have had the stomach for
the business. In fact, as of late, she had found
herself becoming more and more like them. Perhaps,
she would make it a condition with Gamal that she
would get to see the initiation of this Jean into
her new life. This thought coursed warmly through
her as the guard held the door open for her to
enter.
"Hello, my dear Monique," the short fat obsequious
looking man said, rising from behind the large
oaken desk. "It's so good to see you again. You
haven't paid me a visit in such a long time."
"Oh, Gamal, you silly man, it's only been a month
since I've been here. You know it takes time to
find the right ones for you. Your tastes are so
special and refined that it takes a lot of
screening. You wouldn't want me showing up here
with just anything I run across, now would you?"
Monique flashed her warming coyish smile at him,
fluttering her eyelids slightly in a mock scolding
manner.
"Of course not, my love, I understand your concern
for my welfare," the Arab said, drawing his arm
around her waist in a friendly hug, his dark
balding head reaching barely to her shoulders. "If
I didn't know this so well, I would think it was
just my generous presents to you that caused your
deep concern."
"Now, now, Gamal," Monique admonished as she pulled
his creeping hand from behind her buttocks, "save
yourself for the little bird whose wings I've
clipped for you. She's just what you've been
after."
Gamal's eyes lit up perceptibly at the mention that
Monique had something for him. He knew her well
enough by now to know that she, unlike most women
or people who had something to sell him, didn't
exaggerate. If she was enthusiastic about it, then
she was worth listening to.
"Come, my dear, let us sit down with a small
aperitif and discuss this little bird. I've tired
of the last one you sent."
"Gamal," Monique kidded, "you mean you didn't like
her?"
"Oh, yes my dove," he cooed. "I liked her very
much, but one month with the same girl is a little
too much. You know they tire so quickly when left
in my care. A pity too, just when I have them
trained well to appreciate my little playful
sessions, they seem to lose their fire.
"I suppose you have passed her on to your playmates
in Algeria as usual," Monique said.
"Yes, she went rather reluctantly, but I am a
businessman and can't let my investments sit too
long without making a return on them. Must keep
the money moving, you know," he said slyly. A
secretive grin directed at Monique. "I have some
excellent movies made of her that will go well on
the British market though, you'll have to see them
later."
"I'd love to some other time, Gamal," Monique
replied, sipping at the whiskey he had poured her.
"Right now, I think we had better discuss my new
little donation to your pleasures. I think you
will be very interested."
"Tell me about her, my dear. When I see so much
enthusiasm in your eyes, I know it must be
something special," the Arab chided, his face
brightening at the thought of what was in store.
"First, Gamal, you know I only bring you the best,
correct?" Monique asked, looking at him over the
edge of her upraised glass.
"Yes, I feel you do well for me, but I have had
problems with some of them," he added the last
sentence quickly, sensing that the bargaining was
beginning. "You know, they are young and so
unworldly, I must do much training to prepare them
for my clients."
"Why you old lecher," Monique laughed, "you know
very well that's why you're in this business, so
you can sample the merchandise before you pass it
on to your friends."
"My dear, my dear," the Arab objected, raising his
hands, "it is not for I, Gamal, that I do these
things. I must do them to make certain my
reputation as a businessman is respected. My
clients are the wealthiest in Algiers and I dare
not send them something that I myself have not
trained to perfection."
"Yes, Gamal, you train them until they lose their
fire, you said?" Monique chided, raising an
eyebrow toward him.
"Ah, but there are ways of restoring that to them.
This is where my drug business assists me."
"Like doping race horses, my dear," she replied.
"They have enough for one last dash and then
useless."
"Monique, my dear, you are unkind. Let us stop
this silly bickering," he said sadly. "You know I
am a sincere man and honest. I am in a very
competitive business and profits have not been good
for the last several years. Do not take advantage
of my helpless position, I beg you."
"There, there," Monique consoled in a motherly
tone, laughing inside at the show the Arab was
putting on. She knew him well by now and knew she
would have to sit through his weeping sessions each
time she came. All Arabs are the same, she mused
to herself. They never grow away from the rug-
sellers mentality. It doesn't matter if they, are
dealing with one franc or one million, their
approach is always the same. Business is bad and
your price is too high but because you are a friend
they will sacrifice and give you half the price you
ask, even though they cry it will drive them to
bankruptcy. Well, Monique knew enough by now to
ask exactly double the price she expected to get
and many tears later they would arrive at that
figure. Strange that they weren't more original
than this, but they weren't. Perhaps the practice
was instilled too deeply in their heritage to ever
change.
"Gamal," Monique paused after speaking his name and
then said casually, "She's an American."
There was a moment's silence as she let the thought
sink into his mind. She observed a slightly
perceptible twitch in the corner of his mouth as he
grasped what she was saying.
"Ah, that is too bad, my dear, I thought you had
something special for me. You know they have no
native abilities for the finer passions. It is a
long expensive process to train them well. My
investment would be tied up for several months. It
would mean such a strain on my meager finances."
His face had contorted into its usual piteous plea
and he had placed his hand against his forehead in
classic sufferance.
"Gamal, my love," Monique purred, "This is no time
for theatrics. You know as well as I do that you
could buy the Eiffel Tower and it wouldn't dent
your purse in the slightest. Besides, you must
think of the expenses I have incurred and the
danger in bringing her to Marseille." This was all
part of the game and they played each time she
came. The Arab knew she hadn't spent a franc and
would only have to pay the hotel bill when the poor
unfortunate girl disappeared, but he had respect
for the protocol of bartering and played his part
with her.
"I know, my love, and I am willing to help you in
this matter but I must watch my expenses. The last
one cost me a great deal and I did not receive
nearly as much as I paid for her. It was a
sacrifice."
Monique knew that he had at least doubled his money
after taking a months pleasure for himself and
including all expenses of smuggling her out of
France and into Algeria. She also could detect
that when she had dropped the statement about her
being an American it had won her battle. She would
get her price and perhaps more. A plan began
forming in her mind as she watched the concerned
look on Gamal's face. He wanted this girl and
Monique now just had to put him in the position
where his decision would be made under more
emotional circumstances. She knew his weakness of
desire to humiliate and if she could arrange it so
that the girl would be in a helpless position
defenseless against his lust, she could sell her on
the spot for a goodly sum.
"I understand your concern, nay dear Gamal,"
Monique said, still turning the thought over in her
mind. "One should never buy without seeing the
merchandise first. I think I can arrange this."
This was a new approach and the Arab suddenly
sensed that this clever French woman was up to
something. He changed his tone and spoke more
softly.
"Now, now, my sweet Monique, we needn't go to all
that trouble. You know how valuable my time is to
me. We can just settle for the same amount we did
for the last one, even though she was rather weak.
I trust your judgment explicitly."
"No," Monique said, sensing his eagerness, "I want
you to make the decision after you see her. She
may not be worth that much to you and I want only
your happiness. I won't accept a franc more than
you think she is worth. Unless, of course," she
added slyly, "your opinion does not suit the true
value, but I don't think a man with your good eye
will make that mistake."
Gamal knew the bargaining was over for the day as
he detected a note of finality in Monique's last
statement. He knew she had something this time or
she wouldn't be so certain of her position. He
knew also, that he would probably have to pay
dearly for whatever it was she had. Well, he would
take a look. He had been doubling his investment
on the others she had brought him and perhaps he
could do even better with this one. He might even
get her down to a lower price than before. At any
rate, he gloated to himself after Monique had left,
he could hardly wait to get his hands on an
American bitch. He hadn't had one in almost a year
but he could still remember the pleasure he had in
converting her reluctant mind to accept his
perverted acts. In fact, he had been forced to
almost destroy her mind first. He hoped this one
would not be so difficult.
The voluptuous young girl stirred restlessly on the
rumpled bed. Her eyes fluttered open and fought
with the darkness that permeated the thick stale
air of the shabby room. Strange odors wafted
through her nostrils, causing her brow to wrinkle
slightly as though in deep concentrated thought.
Her tongue circled her lips, tasting the slight
pungency of a sticky moistness around them.
Her eyes adjusted quizzically to the darkness and
followed her form lying on the bed below. It was a
strange position she thought to herself through the
haze that still dimmed her half-sleep mind.
Her negligee was bunched almost around her neck and
she could see the twin peaks of her breasts lying
loosely between her eyes and the rest of her body.
Her legs were spread wide apart as though in
invitation to some phantom lover standing at the
foot of the bed.
After a moment it came to her through the dimness.
The dream! The dream she had; it had seemed so
real!
The vividness of it began flickering across her
mind as though she were watching a slightly out of
focus television screen. Her body ached terribly.
She smoothed her hands carefully up to her breasts,
touching them gently in guarded exploration. Ohhh,
she moaned, they were tender. Her hands explored
farther, coursing their way down over her stomach
to her still open thighs.
She groaned again, as her fingers touched tenderly
the slight bruises lining the soft edges of her
vagina. Her finger probed carefully around the red
sensitive opening, the tips becoming moist from the
white sticky liquid that oozed viscously from it,
wetting the split of her buttocks and the bed beneath
Had Kevin really been here? The shadowy form that
remained in her memory and had probed and tasted
every secret part of her being had seemed so real.
It had all seemed so real. Had she done it to
herself?
Thoughts raced through her mind one after another.
It was possible that she had. She had done it
before in extreme moments of frustration but never
like this. She had never gone to this extreme even
in her wildest moments of desire. Could her own
hands have probed so deep into her stomach and left
this hot wet pool that seemed lodged there now?
Could they have made her gush forth so many times
in climax to soak the bed beneath her the way it
was now? It had to be. There was no other
explanation. She had gone completely out of her
mind in her dream and had fondled her own body to
the point of believing it was actually Kevin. She
had done those things with her own hands and her
body had reacted like that of a dirty animal in
heat.
A feeling of shame came over her. She had denied
her own husband the right to do those things to
her, a right that was his, and then sought her own
release by her own hands playing upon her body.
How selfish she had been. If she hadn't left Paris
perhaps the dream would have come true, perhaps
Kevin wouldn't have gone insane the next time. She
had been too prudish in their sexual relationship
she now realized and his brutal attack on her had
been brought about by her lack of understanding of
his needs. The dream had proved it. Hadn't she
herself turned half animal, even to the point of
wantonly satisfying herself with her own probing
fingers and hands.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a gentle
knocking on the door. A voice called softly from
outside.
"Jean, Jean dear, time to wake up."
She recognized Monique's voice and suddenly
panicked.
"Oh, my God," she mumbled to herself, stumbling to
her feet. "I mustn't let her see me like this. I
just mustn't."
"Just a moment, I'm getting up now," she called
back.
"Never mind, dear, I'm going to my room and get
ready. I'll see you for dinner in an hour. Dress
pretty, I've a surprise place for dinner tonight."
"Alright, Monique," Jean answered in relief. "I'll
knock on your door when I'm ready."
Jean turned on the light and looked at the rumpled
bed. Well, she thought, as her eyes saw the large
round wet spot where her buttocks had lain, I
really had myself a time. I guess there's no need
in crying over spilled milk. I did it and I can't
change that. After all, it was only a dream, I
shouldn't feel guilty about something I couldn't
control.
The warm spray of the shower felt good cascading
down over her body. She washed carefully the
insides of her thighs and buttocks, almost
reluctant to wash away the sticky still-warm fluid
from her soft pubic hair. As her fingers moved up
and down the warmth of the narrow slit between her
legs, cleansing it of the viscous almost dry
liquid, the visions of Kevin's shadowy face smashed
tightly between her yawning thighs ran through her
mind. Her middle finger duplicated his lashing
tongue that had flicked through her throbbing cunt
lips so many long minutes before. Jean had to
catch herself with her strength to withdraw her
probing finger from between her legs.
The feeling of guilt returned. Good Lord, she
thought to herself, what's happened to me. One
small dream about sex and I'm turning into a
shameless nymphomaniac. I do need Kevin, and
badly.
She combed out her long dark silken hair before the
mirror, letting it drape loosely down over her
shoulders.
"Mmmmm," she mused to herself, that looks
provocative enough. Monique said to dress well,
and after my little self-inflicted orgy, I guess
this is the best I can do. She noticed suddenly
that the curl that usually hung down on her left
shoulder was missing. What a careless nit, she
scolded herself. How could I have cut that off? I
thought I had been careful when I trimmed my hair
last night on the train. Before she could pursue
the thought any further, she heard Monique's
familiar voice outside the door, calling to her to
join her downstairs at the desk when she was
finished.
"Well, dear, you look just ravishing tonight, I
must say." Monique beamed at her as she descended
the steps a few moments later. This made Jean feel
wonderful. She needed something as a morale
builder now and a compliment from another woman was
just the thing. She always felt it was more
sincere coming from another woman as they had
nothing to gain by lying to you. It was good to
start an evening with this kind of feeling. She
handed her key to the obsequious Arab clerk, not
even looking at him. The look he had given her, up
and down her body, when he had brought the tea had
not been forgotten and she decided that ignoring
him completely was the best way to handle this.
The Arab grinned to himself as the American girl
disdainfully passed the keys to him. The last time
he had seen that pretty face, it was contorted in
passion and she was begging him to fuck her. He
wondered, smiling to himself, how those lipstick-
covered lips had tasted when she had awakened.
Arrogant bitch, she probably hadn't ever sucked a
cock so didn't even know what it was. Well, he
would take care of that little oversight before she
got out of the hotel.
I wonder what she would say now if she knew she was
carrying my hot load in that untouchable little
belly of hers, he mused as he watch them descend
the stairs to the street floor. She might just
come back for more, he laughed to himself,
fingering the curl of hair he had cut off as a
souvenir just before leaving her room earlier.
Jean sipped contentedly on her second martini. She
was happy, sitting high above Marseille overlooking
the lights of the bay in the delightful restaurant
Monique had chosen for them. She had wired Kevin
before they left the hotel to come down
immediately. The upsetting dream she had so
realistically experienced this afternoon had made
up her mind for her. It had even given her a
feeling of confidence. She knew now she could
enjoy bodily pleasures and if Kevin could ever
become the kind of lover he was in her dreams then
a whole new world was open to them. She took
another deep sip from the smooth martini
contemplating excitedly the full complete life they
could have sharing each other.
"You look preoccupied, Jean," Monique said, smiling
at her across the table.
"I hope my company isn't boring you."
"Oh, no, no, Monique," Jean said apologetically, "I
love being here with you. In fact, you may not
know it but this trip with you has changed my whole
thinking about life."
"That's quite a statement, my dear," the older
woman replied, an amused tone in her voice, "I
think you're being a little dramatic about it."
"No, no, I'm not. I mean it. I truly do," Jean
defended. She didn't want to hurt Monique's
feelings. She had done so much for her just being
around to help. The small things she had done,
like getting her to a hotel and being there to talk
to on the train, had taken her mind off her problem
long enough for her to relax and look at it again
with less prejudice than before. And, of course,
leaving her alone this afternoon had been the
turning point. If she hadn't been in such a
relaxed mood, she probably would never have had the
dream and consequently never realized just how much
she did need her husband.
"Then you must tell me about this great change that
I've brought about without even knowing it,"
Monique said lightly but with understanding. "My
impression is that you've everything already that
life could offer someone so young and pretty."
Jean was grateful for the sincerity in the older
woman's voice and felt that she did owe her an
explanation. Besides, she was bursting to talk
with someone about it and there just couldn't be a
more understanding person in the world than
Monique. She felt so close and so dependent on her
at this moment.
Jean hurriedly gulped the rest of her drink,
wondering how she could explain without going too
far. After all, she didn't want even Monique
knowing everything. It was too embarrassing and
made her feel like such a child.
"May I have another martini," she asked. "I think
I'll need it to be able to even tell this silly
story to you."
"Of course you may, I'll join you." Monique
signaled the waiter who returned within moments
with their refills. Jean took a large sip, feeling
the smooth liquid hit bottom and bolstering her
courage. They were beginning to have their effect.
She could feel the light-headed sensation calming
her inhibitions even before she had finished the
last one, otherwise she would not have had the
courage to even mention her problem. This last sip
had dampened them completely and she was feeling as
though she could at least tell Monique a few things
about the ridiculous mess she had gotten herself
into.
"Dear, you seem hesitant," Monique said, reaching
across the table and touching her hand warmly. "If
it's something you had rather not talk about then
don't. I just thought I might be able to help."
"Oh, no, it's not that important," Jean said
blushing slightly, not knowing quite how to begin.
"It's just about a dream I had this afternoon while
you were gone."
"Well then tell me, Jean, you know it sometimes
helps to talk to someone else about your problems.
I think we know each other well enough by now to
share our burdens."
Jean began from the beginning, telling Monique
about her courting days with Kevin and how she had
sometimes hoped he would force her into submitting
to him but would never encourage it. About her
father and his instilling the ideas of purity until
marriage into her young mind and the guilt complex
it had left her with about sex even now that she
was married. The horrible rape she had been forced
to submit to in Paris by Kevin, though she made
excuses for him to Monique, blaming herself for her
puritan attitude toward intercourse. Finally,
toward the end of the dinner, she had come to the
dream.
"It was beautiful, Monique. If making love were
always like that, I know I would never feel guilty
again. It just seems as though everything he did
to me was right and I felt so wonderful and so free
to return his love. I gave him everything I had
and I still wanted to give more."
There was a long pause, until Jean finally said
with a shrug of her shoulders, "Well, that's all,
you've heard the story of my whole love life. I
guess it seems so silly to a woman like you who's
lived as much as you have."
"Quite the contrary, my dear, I think it's a
beautiful story and I hope it turns out the way you
think it will."
"I just know it's going to be wonderful, Monique.
When Kevin arrives tomorrow, everything will be
alright again."
"You mean your husband is coming here tomorrow?"
Monique asked, concern suddenly showing on her
face. This could drastically interfere with her
plans for this naive little American.
"Why, yes, I sent him a cable before we left the
hotel. He'll be taking the train tonight and
arriving tomorrow. Is there anything wrong?" Jean
was afraid Monique had suddenly become ill, she
looked so strange.
"No, no, my dear," Monique choked, "just a slight
wave of nausea, it happens sometimes when I eat
rich food this way. Don't you worry. I'll be
alright in just a moment."
It was difficult for Monique to finish her dinner.
She knew she had some fast thinking to do if she
was to save her investment. She had not counted on
this complication even though she had known the
American had been married. It was going to be
doubly difficult to accomplish her purpose with
Gamal. Somehow she had to destroy this little
innocent in the eyes of her husband and at the same
time incite Gamal to the point where he would be
willing to pay almost anything to have her at his
mercy.
They finished dinner almost in silence. Jean said
a few words of consolation to Monique about her
discomfort but also could see she did not feel like
talking at the same time. It appeared as though
she had problems also and she would have given
anything if she could have helped the woman as she
had been so kind and understanding to her. She did
not want to bring it up as she felt so young and
helpless compared to the maturity of Monique and
knew that if there was anything she could do,
Monique would tell her.
Later, in the taxi on the way back to the hotel,
Monique apologized. "I'm so sorry, my dear, that I
feel this way. I had intended to take you out and
show you some of the night life of Marseille after
dinner but I just couldn't do it now."
"You've been so kind already, Monique," Jean
answered, still feeling helpless that she could not
help the older woman. "Perhaps if you feel better
tomorrow night, we could all go together. You
would love Kevin and I know he would like you."
"Yes, I think that would be better. I'm certain I
can get away tomorrow evening. These spells seldom
last more than one night. But we had better go
now."
Jean noticed the obsequious grin of the Arab behind
the desk as he gave them their keys for the room.
His look had a knowing familiarity about it that
she didn't like. Worse, he had rubbed his hand
closely over hers when he had given her the key and
his beady eyes appeared to undress her again as
they had when he had delivered the tea that
afternoon. She shuddered thinking about his greasy
dirty appearance as she bid Monique goodnight and
locked the door of her room behind her. How awful
it would be to have those oily dark hands crawling
over your body, she thought to herself. How do the
women he makes love to stand it.
She thought about the cleanliness of Kevin and how
good his smooth, well developed body would feel
against hers tomorrow night. She had thought about
their moving to a better hotel when he arrived, but
had changed her mind. It would be good to have him
here where the dream had occurred and on the same
bed that her body had come to know for the first
time the joys of physical union, even if it had
only been in her mind. Besides, what could be more
romantic than spending a few days in the old part
of Marseille. She fell into a deep and dreamless
sleep, looking forward with all her being to her
husband's arrival tomorrow. It was going to be
good for both of them, she just knew it would.
Monique had formed a plan. She had thought
carefully about the things the American girl had
told her during dinner, particularly the part about
the dream. Several other of her young initiates
had told a similar story about such dreams. They
always occurred when she had left them alone at the
hotel. That bastard Shalla has been sampling my
wares, she thought angrily to herself. Under
normal circumstances, she would have reported him
immediately to Gamal or another of her contacts and
they would have taken care of the matter by quietly
dumping his body in the bay, but with this new
development of the American girl's husband coming,
she would need his help. He wouldn't dare refuse
when she confronted him with her knowledge of his
assaults on her girls. She might even let him have
a little more fun with her. That should keep him
happy.
She pressed the service button by her bed and
waited patiently until she heard his light knock at
the door.
"Can I help, Madame?" he said as she opened it
wide, motioning for him to enter.
Shalla sensed that something was wrong when the
French lady invited him inside. She had never paid
much attention to him before and he stepped into
the room reluctantly, taking the seat she pointed
to.
Monique stood in the center of the room looking
down at him for a long moment.
The Arab lowered his eyes. He did not know how to
deal with such a woman. She was far above his
class and her very presence unnerved him. She must
know about his little afternoon parties with her
friends. This would be the only reason she would
be looking at him like this.
"Was she good this afternoon, Shalla?" she said
coldly, still staring straight down at him.
There was a long silence and the Arab did not
speak. He was frightened. He knew the people she
was connected with and what could be done to him if
she just gave the word. He would have no one to
turn to, he was just an immigrant without friends.
He kept his eyes lowered to the floor, afraid to
sneak. There was no one to defend him.
"I asked you a question, Shalla. Was she good?"
Monique repeated, almost enjoying watching the Arab
squirm. He deserved it, the bastard, having such a
good time with her property. He might have damaged
it irreparably playing his little games.
"I-I do not know of that which Madame speaks." he
finally answered slowly, raising his eyes slightly
from the floor but still not looking directly in
her eyes.
"You sniveling little, cochon," she spat at him
vindictively, "you know very well of which I
speak."
"But I do not understand," Shalla defended, "why
does Madame become so angry and talk this way.
Have I not always been of good service?"
"Yes, yes, you have," Monique's tone changed to one
of soft understanding. She knew she would have to
be gentler with him or he would never admit to
anything. She was frightening him too much and
this would never do, she didn't have much time to
put her plan into operation and this would require
his help or she would never succeed before the
girl's husband arrived.
"I'm not angry with you, Shalla," Monique
continued, speaking slowly; and addressing him now
in respectful tones as she would another business
associate. "In fact, I need your help."
The Arab looked up at her, not certain whether he
had heard correctly. Surely this was some kind of
trick she was playing on him to get him to confess.
Then she would turn him over to some of the toughs
who worked for her and he would be finished.
"Madame, Shalla knows his place, he does not do the
things of which you speak.
I have my duties to perform here, I have no time
for other things."
"Shalla, my dear man, you must understand that I am
not going to have you harmed in any way. I just
need your help. How would you like to have the
little American girl again?" Monique smiled at him
and said this last sentence slowly so that it would
sink into his mind deeply. She was certain he had
enjoyed it, otherwise, Jean would not have given
such glowing descriptions of the sensations she had
experienced in her so- called dream.
"How do I know that Madame does not play a trick on
me, to get me to confess to something I have not
done?" Shalla also spoke slowly. His Arab
intuition told him that this proud French lady
really did need his help and she needed it badly.
Otherwise, she could turn to any number of very
important people here in Marseille to do the favor
for her. She must have to keep it a close secret
that was not to be known outside the hotel.
Perhaps, just perhaps, if he played it right, he
could benefit well from her obviously difficult
situation. He was a lowly immigrant, but not a
fool.
Monique could see the change of expression on his
face. He had looked up at her and studied her
eyes.
He knew she was in desperate trouble and needed his
help.
This was bad. She knew the Arabs well by now and
if they knew they had an advantage they would press
it for everything they could get. They were the
best hagglers in the world and quick to perceive a
weakness in their adversaries. Perhaps she had
just better put her foot down now before he got too
far out of line.
"Listen you desk clerk! I can have you thrown to
the fish anytime I desire. I know now what you've
been doing to these poor defenseless girls while
I've been away from the hotel and I think you had
better admit it to me before I lose my temper."
Desperation was apparent in her voice and Shalla
sensed this. Whatever it was that she needed was
extremely important and she needed him to help her
accomplish it. He eyed her more confidently.
"Madame is wrong," he spoke with feigned hurt in
his voice. "I think I must leave."
"Shalla, stay where you are," he could almost
detect a pleading note in the tone of her voice
now. "I need some assistance and can make it well
worth your while to help me."
"What does Madame wish me to do?" the Arab asked
slyly. He would find out how important this favor
really was and then negotiate the price.
Monique outlined to him briefly the part she wanted
him to play in her little scheme, leaving out the
most important factors that would give away the
true reason for her plan. She didn't dare to
divulge it all to him. She knew he would demand a
price that would cut her profit down considerably,
and she envisioned quite a sum from Gamal if her
plan worked well. It had to work, it was her only
chance.
Shalla listened intently to the outline of his part
in this venture of the French lady. She tried to
sound casual as she described to him the details of
the actions he was to perform but he knew now
beyond all doubt from the discernible concern in
her eyes that there was so much more to it than she
was divulging to him. She was going to a lot of
trouble to merely humiliate this girl. There must
be something else to it, it sounded much more
complicated than she described.
"How much will this man pay to see her raped?" he
asked, attempting to draw more of the story from
her.
"He will pay a great deal if you and your friend
follow instructions well. He likes this kind of
thing and is willing to pay for it."
"But it is dangerous and if the police find out, it
will mean a long prison term for myself and the
friend I will need to help. We also will have a
witness in the girl. She will know who all of us
are and be able to identify us for the
authorities."
"Don't worry about the witness, my dear Shalla, our
friend who wants this little exhibition will take
care of that part later. All you and your friend
must do is to hold her here tomorrow and then
deliver her as I instruct-but your timing must be
absolutely perfect-and, of course, you may have
your little fun like you did before, but no rough
stuff, I want her fit tomorrow night."
"And how much does Shalla receive for this?" the
Arab asked, knowing in advance that whatever figure
she first offered would be a pittance compared to
what she would receive. He knew she was selling
these girls and that the correct timing had
something to do with a sale.
"You will get half, and the gentleman is willing to
pay two hundred American dollars. That would be
one hundred for you which is more than you make in
a month working here."
"A girl like that is worth three thousand American
dollars to some in Marseille." Shalla watched her
expression change as he made this statement. He
knew by the sudden frustration that crossed over
her face that he could almost name his own price
now. She wanted this done tomorrow night and he
knew it would be impossible for her to arrange it
with someone else in that time. He had sent the
cable for the American girl and knew when her
husband was arriving. This would mean the plans
would have to be completed tonight or he might take
her away with him. Obviously, the French lady had
already arranged the sale and this would destroy
her plans completely.
Monique had been afraid of this. Damn Arabs, they
would take the very clothing from an honest woman's
back if they had the chance. She also knew she was
in no position to argue with him too much and that
speed was of the very essence if the plans were to
be completed before the husband arrived.
"All right, you bastard Arab, five hundred American
dollars and no more." Monique spat at him in
desperation. "This is my final offer and you had
better accept or I'll make you wish you had stayed
in Algeria and let the revolutionaries string you
up!"
Shalla smiled to himself as he heard the
frustration rise in her voice. He knew the price
was open now and that he had gained the upper hand.
This may be the chance he was looking for. He had
worked as a lowly hotel clerk too long already
after losing his family shop in Algeria during the
revolution. It was time he became a business man
again and this was an excellent business. He had
to play his hand carefully in order not to upset
the fine balance of things as they stood.
"You are too kind, Madame, to a lowly hotel clerk.
The price sounds too high. I think we should wait
until the deed is done before we make the bargain.
I do not want to be overpaid for my services."
"Then I have your agreement?" Monique asked, a
smile of relief showing discernibly on her face.
"Yes you have my dear woman. I will do your
bidding, asking only that I be treated fairly after
the affair is finished."
"Agreed," Monique beamed. This had been easier
than she had expected. She would give him a small
tip after it was over and if he gave her any
trouble, she was certain Gamal would take care of
him for her.
"A drink to seal our bargain," the Arab said,
looking at her with his penetrating stare. He knew
exactly what she was thinking and counted on her
overconfidence to reveal the entire set-up later on
to him. Right now, he had to equalize them. It
would be taking a chance with this haughty bitch
who considered him slightly above the social level
of a pig but he had to try now while she needed
him. There was only one way to do this, and that
was to fuck her senseless before he left this room.
There was no better equalizer in the world than to
debase her by shooting a hot stream of his sperm up
into that hot belly of hers. That would convince
her she was no better than he was.
Monique suddenly detected the other, more bold
change in his voice. It emitted a certain
unmistakable suggestiveness that suddenly curled
her stomach. It took several seconds before the
full impact of what this cur's voice had so subtly
implied, but one look at his face and there was no
question what he had meant.
He wanted her to submit to him!
This sniveling Arab wanted her, Monique DuFour, to
submit to his base touch. The thought of rubbing
bodies with this filth sitting before her nauseated
her no end. His despicable pock-marked face and
yellow decaying teeth sickened her stomach, and now
he had the nerve to expect her to submit to him.
She held herself back from screaming at him to get
out. He had agreed to assist her and she couldn't
afford to lose him now.
"I'm tired, Shalla my dear, perhaps we can have one
another time when we've completed our agreement,"
she smiled sweetly, hiding her contempt as best she
could under the circumstances.
The Arab looked at her and she knew her ruse had
failed. She felt as though he were looking
straight into her mind and was sensing every
thought. Perhaps she shouldn't have called him
into this, she had misjudged him. He was a clever
one and she knew she wasn't going to get out of
this as cheaply as she had thought.
"We had better have it now, Madame," he said,
rising from the chair and pouring them two large
glasses of the Courvoisier cognac she had sitting
on the dresser.
Monique stood frozen in the middle of the room, not
taking her eyes from him as he handed her the
glass.
"Drink," he commanded, raising his glass to his
lips that were now curled in a contemptuous half-
smile. Monique found herself lifting the glass to
her lips almost in a daze, her superior bearing
lost. She was shaking slightly, fully aware of the
fact, that she had lost control of the situation
and that she had to put up with his insolence or
lose Gamal, her best customer, and this was
impossible as all her future business plans rested
upon his acceptance of her girls. She drained the
glass, feeling the hot liquid sear down her throat
softening for the moment the impact of the sudden
change of events.
Shalla reached for the bottle and poured her
another.
"I think Madame will need this, we have many plans
to make if we are to succeed in our little venture.
It will not be easy without total cooperation
between us. Do not you agree?" he smiled
triumphantly.
Monique nodded numbly in assent, taking the glass
as he passed it to her, and pouring another large
swallow into her throat. She felt as though she
would scream in revulsion if this pig touched her
but she knew it was coming and had to deaden her
senses. Things had gone too far now to turn back
and she just could not afford to lose Gamal's
loyalty as a client, in spite of what degradations
she had to submit to in order to save it. It meant
her reputation and that was all one had in this
business. Either you delivered if you had promised
to do so or suddenly found you had no customers for
your girls. It was that simple and she knew it too
well.
Shalla knew at the moment she nodded her head that
the battle was won. He was going to fuck this
high-class bitch and there was nothing she could or
would do to stop him. He had drained all fight
from her because she needed him and would do
anything he demanded in order to insure his help.
He smiled lewdly as he stood in front of her
unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop slowly
to the floor. His hardened cock stood out from his
body throbbing straight at her. It looked like a
giant oak growing up through the black underbrush
of his thick pubic hair, as with one hand he
stroked the foreskin back and forth over the
expanding head. It grew jerkily in size each time
it disappeared and reappeared through the thick
flap of flesh covering it. He watched the loathing
in her face as her eyes remained involuntarily
locked on his dark growing member. His excitement
flared as he saw the helpless fear rising in her
eyes. It would be more fun than with the American.
This one would be conscious of the things he was
going to do to her!
It would be he who was bringing forth the moans of
pleasure and pain this time and not some distant
lover that would receive the credit for his
caresses. It was he, Shalla, who would be felt
when he drove it deep into the soft unprotected
belly of this desperate bitch.
"Strip," he hissed at her. "Or should I do it for
you?"
Monique moved, she couldn't stand the thought of
this beast touching her yet. She undid the buttons
of her dress at the back, wriggled it off her
shoulders, down over her lush full hips and stepped
out of it. She could feel the Arab's lewd eyes
devouring her ripe mature body but she didn't dare
look at him. She was still well built and solid
for a woman of forty and kept herself in good
condition by daily exercises. She pulled her slip
up over her head and let it limply slither to the
floor at her feet with the dress. She suddenly for
the first time in years felt extremely defenseless
and naked. Thank God, for the cognac that had
deadened her nerves.
The Arab had removed his clothes except for the
dirty green socks that had large holes in the
heels. His yellow pallor skin clung tightly to his
thin rib cage; his long sinewy cock jutted
menacingly out from his belly.
Monique shuddered visibly this time, thinking back
to the horrors of another evening so many years ago
when she had been ravished brutally by a gang of
his kind in the same room where the broken body of
her husband had lain grotesquely spread in death on
the floor. They had been farmers in Algiers before
the revolution and had been caught in their home by
surprise one evening by a roving band of Arab
guerrillas. They had tortured her husband to death
before her eyes and then had taken turns committing
every kind of indecency imaginable on her then
young defenseless body. Her mind still bore the
scars of that night and its horrible memory had
prevented her from ever having a man since that
time. Most young wives of the slain settlers had
come back to France and out of desperation for
money had ended up on the streets. She had not.
She had worked hard in developing her little trade,
using the contacts she had with their Algerian
friends that had survived the revolution. She had
prided herself in the fact that she had survived
and had not given herself to anyone in respect for
the memory of her dead husband. And now, this.
This horrible creature was standing before her
ready to perpetrate the same indecencies on her
helpless body again. The thought revolted her of
that thin emaciated body slivering across hers,
using her for its own obscene pleasures. She
couldn't do it... she just couldn't...!
Shalla stepped toward her, his mouth open, his eyes
drinking in the long full roundness of her silk
cover legs, the globular protuberance of her
breasts that formed a fleshy valley above her
brassiere, the whiteness of her flat smooth belly
above the tops of the sheer nylon panties. His
gaze nauseated her and she gasped: "Don't touch me,
you filthy animal! Don't touch me!"
"It's too late, Madam," he slurred the "Madam"
contemptuously, grasping her shoulders with his
hands, the strong sinewy fingers digging harshly
into her skin. "We have our plans with this
American girl to consider."
"I don't care, I'll find someone else!"
He loomed above her, his eyes void of pity. They
shone into hers coldly-lust, cruel and unyielding,
boring into the very depths of her soul. The
pressure of his hands permitted no escape from his
hateful gaze.
"No, no, I mean it," the helpless woman whimpered.
"I can't do it, I just can't!"
Her pleas fell on unhearing ears as his arms
enveloped her, his lips crushed tightly down
against her. The long thin cock pressed hard into
her soft yielding belly below. His tongue snaked
its way between his yellow decaying teeth wetly
into her mouth. She tried to struggle but fear and
the cognac had drained her strength to fight. The
thick probing tongue and the heavy smell of garlic
and aged sweat gagged her into helplessness. The
thin emaciated body glued itself to hers tightly,
arms and legs flowing over her like a giant spider-
web from which there was no relief.
"Please, please don't," she groaned, the savage
rape of an earlier time whirling through her mind,
the room spun crazily as he pushed her backwards
toward the bed. The edge of the mattress caught
her behind the knees and the force of their
momentum sent her sprawling flat on her back, his
body pinning her tightly to the swaying bed. She
pressed her thighs tightly together, attempting to
hold back the squirming body trying to lodge itself
between them. His cock was trapped there, forcing
itself up and down against the thin nylon strip of
her panties that covered her crotch. She could
feel the wetness of the hard thick rod sliding in
its own lubricating fluid against the soft inner
hollows of her thighs. His head pressed forcefully
against hers, suddenly dropped, and she felt the
sharp excruciating pain of his teeth biting
savagely into the lobe of her ear. She kicked out
automatically with her long smooth legs attempting
to dislodge the painful teeth. His body sank
triumphantly between the legs as they splayed open,
the fleshy instrument safely imbedded against the
protective nylon band. Its hungry head throbbed
down between the white, round globes of her full
white buttocks. His knees held her thighs
sadistically apart.
The battle was over, the thought somehow came to
her dazed mind. And now the pain and humiliation
are all that's left.
The ceiling whirled above her until suddenly it too
was blotted out by Shalla's leering face moving
over hers, the mocking eyes laughing at the glazed
look of defeat and hopeless acceptance of his
victory. His pelvis began a slow grinding motion
against her upturned crotch, rubbing the sheer
nylon band into the red slit of her cunt. The huge
rubbery head traced a sticky wet path up and down
the length of the smooth wet nylon, pressing gently
against it until the full outline of the fleshy
hair-lined lips could be felt impressed clearly
through it. He ground slowly, slowly against the
restraining band, watching the changing expressions
on the face below him. He knew she couldn't stand
up to this torment forever. She was the proud kind
who could control her well as long as there were
other external realities to guide her. He had
destroyed those other realities and now there was
nothing for her but his body twisting above. He
had dreamed of having her like this since he had
started working here several years ago. She had
always been cold and stone-like and was hiding
something deep inside her that had to explode
someday given the proper circumstances. It needed
some kind of spark to ignite that fire that lay
buried mysteriously beyond the reach of the outside
world. He was patient in his probing and gloated to
himself that he would find this key, he was going
to ignite this body as he had the others-only this
time it would be he, Shalla, that did it and not
phantom lovers that played upon drugged minds.
Monique felt as though she were suffocating. Her
long smooth form was pressed tightly into the
mattress. She could feel the hot rotating rod
forcing itself against the flat smooth plane
between her legs. Silky tingling hair of the Arabs
legs played against the tender backs of the up
raised columns of her thighs. It was beginning
again as it had before, only more gentle this time,
more real. Her husband was lying on the floor
again, a body was rocking over her as it did then,
but there was no sudden ripping entry. Instead it
moved teasingly against her, probing and flicking
at her like a giant bird of prey playing with its
helpless quarry who has become so tortured and
tormented that peace lay only in being devoured by
it.
Her unconscious mind fought the torment of the
teasing hot probe, fighting against surrender to
it. "Nooo, nooooooo, please," she groaned beneath
the grinning yellow teeth, her hips suddenly
betraying her resisting unconscious mind. They
moved in small circles, hardly perceptible at
first, but moving. Moving like they did before
with the broken body lying so close by, but no
longer a real thing. The only reality was the
searing fire that burned deep in her scorched
stomach, the flames licking out between her legs,
crying to be drowned by the tormenting monster
slithering lewdly between their wetness.
Shalla felt the victory.
The thighs that had been pressed tightly against
his hips in defense suddenly fell loosely away.
Her heels hooked behind his knees and with a low
animal-like groan her arms snaked around his neck
pulling his mouth tightly down to mash wetly
against hers. She sucked his tongue voraciously
into her lips, soft mewling sounds escaping through
the wet sucking noise. She ground her crotch
tightly up his rock hard cock attempting to draw it
through the thin flimsy material still guarding the
wet moist entrance of her cunt. It was hopeless
and he lay for a moment savoring her frustration
until he too was beyond delaying longer.
He reached between them, ripping the mucous soaked
band viciously open and guided the throbbing head
of his cock between the now unprotected fleshy
folds of her cunt lips. He could feel soft crisp
pubic hairs parting before his unimpeded onslaught.
The blunt tip met resistance for a moment at the
entrance to the hot searing passage and then he
felt the elastic mouth suddenly give and his long
blood-filled member slithered deep, deep inside
with a sudden fury that brought a scream from
Monique's contorted face. His balls slapped flatly
against her upturned ass, she was wet and wide open
for him and the impact of his thrust drove her
thighs even farther apart.
She thought he was going to split her open and the
battering instrument was coming up out her mouth.
She gurgled crazily suddenly wanting it to hurt.
She wanted to be punished like the dirty bitch she
was for loving it this way while her husband lay in
a pool of blood on the floor. He had lain there
for three days while they kept her tied to the bed
and fucked her a hundred times or more and when
they'd stop, she would scream for it again to blot
out the ugly sight in front of her. She could
still hear their laughter and taunting remarks as
her body bucked and rolled endlessly under one
after another and sometimes two or three of their
dirty perspiring bodies. She could smell the same
smell now, of garlic and ancient dried sweat and it
brought back pictures of the degrading things the
beasts had made her do when she had begged for more
of the conscious killing ravishment.
She had done them all and more and the long
rampaging cock that was now buried unmercifully in
her belly, was all those cocks that had fucked her
into madness, merged into one. She screwed her
cunt up and down it with wild vengeful strokes
attempting to destroy it as it had her. She pinned
her legs back, her knees touching her shoulders,
wanting to take it all the way to the hilt. The
maddening slap of his balls against her anus drove
her to wilder frenzy.
The Arab gloated above, he had ignited it!
Whatever it was he had found the key. He braced
himself on his knees and elbows above the wildly
thrashing body letting the hungry clasping cunt
slither itself up and down the rigid length of his
cock at will. He bucked forward on her up stroke
several times, driving the growing head almost
through the walls of her womb.
"OOOoooh, OOOoooh," she groaned as the whole length
fucked into her, the momentum of his thrusts
driving her ass deep into the squeaking mattress.
"Aaaaagggg, Aaaaagggg," she screamed as Shalla
reached back underneath her grinding buttocks and
finding the wide spread crack open wide, thrust his
middle finger up to the second knuckle in her
puckered little anus, causing her feet to jerk
erotically in the air above them, her toes curling
spasmodically against the bottoms of her stockinged
feet. Through the thin wall of moist flesh
separating her asshole from her cunt, he could feel
the sperm bloated ridge of the bottom of his cock
sliding smoothly in and out like a well oiled
piston of a racing car.
She began streaming words out at him between
panting gasps from the pain in her rectum.
"Fuck me you Arab, bastard! Fuck me good! Split
me! Split me!"
Shalla gloatingly shoved a second punishing finger
in, sinking both all the way to the palm of his
hand. He dug them cruelly into the soft fleshy
anal passage. Monique jerked up, her buttocks
rising several inches off the bed, to escape the
sudden second intrusion in her backside. But the
Arab had timed it well, and rammed his pelvis
forward with a vengeance, driving his cock deep
into her cunt. As she bucked down to keep the rock
hard instrument from ripping straight through her,
she skewered herself down hard on the up-probing
fingers. She was hopelessly impaled between the
fingers and cock and groaned helplessly as he
ground them both deep inside her. The juices of
her dilating cunt ran down over his hand,
lubricating wetly the fingers now sunk fist deep up
her straining asshole.
Monique strained back under him, arching her loins
against the grinding assault on her cunt and anus.
She moaned incessantly, her head flailing from side
to side on the crumpled bedspread, her body a mass
of electric tingles that shot through it half in
pain and half in pleasure.
Shalla moved the fingers around inside her, she
jerked and then screwed her buttocks back on them,
grunting incessantly as the pain slowly subsided.
She gradually became accustomed to the dual
ravishing of her genitals. A masochistic pleasure
slowly replaced the searing firebrands of pain that
raced from her totally filled crotch to the top of
her head.
"Uuuughh!" she grunted as he began buffeting her
in rhythm between his hand and giant growing cock.
He could feel it expanding with each thrust down
the wet hot passage, it's lust fed by the very
hopelessness of the woman squirming incoherently
beneath him.
Monique could feel the monster growing inside her
battered vagina. The giant head seemed like an
unrelenting fist pummeling into her mercilessly.
The fingers tore inhumanely at her raw torn
backside, giving her no respite from the growing
pleasure building-building-deep in her belly.
"Harder, harder, fuck harder, you pig, fuck
harder," she chanted in rhythm to his long hard
strokes. She wanted to be torn apart. She wanted
to be ripped. Great huge waves of delicious
feeling raced through her. Her entire body was
like an expanding balloon, growing-growing-ready to
burst. Burst into a thousand colored pieces like
it did before when two of them had fucked her
simultaneously like they were now-they had
sandwiched her between them like a piece of raw
meat, one on the bottom and one kneeling behind her
driving their hot red members into her at the same
time and shooting their unclean sperm into her
until her belly thought it would burst open. They
had filled her cunt, her mouth, and her raw pink
back passage time after time with their white hot
sperm until every inch of her body was covered with
the pungent stickiness. She sucked wildly on the
tongue flicking into her mouth, she was filled
again, every entrance to her tingling body was
being raped again, driving away the horror of the
sightless eyes staring up from the floor. This was
all that was real, there was nothing else, as
suddenly with a grunt from deep in her throat,
great floods of hot juice began throbbing from the
walls of her vagina, streaming out in gushes over
the balls and trapped hand skewering between the
split of her ass. It felt as though her very
insides were coming out with the flowing liquid.
Monique gave one long low scream, splaying her legs
high into the air and as wide apart as they would
go to give the still pistoning cock and hand
greater access. She thrust her loins at him with
brutal force, screwing herself up hungrily on the
still pumping rod. Juices flowed still from the
quivering vagina as her nostrils flared and one
long last gasp of breath escaped raspingly from her
lungs as though she had been hit in the stomach
with a powerful fist. She collapsed under him, her
body quivering uncontrollably as the after
sensations floated her down gently from the peak
she had reached.
The Arab sensed her climax and drove his cock deep
inside as her legs splayed out, waving on either
side of his body. He could feel the hot jet stream
begin in his inflated balls and race headlong down
the length of his pulsating member, spewing wildly
out the glands into the depths of her womb, filling
her completely and overflowing with her own juices
out the hair covered lips of her contracting cunt.
He gave one last low gasp as with a jerk he emptied
the last of the sperm into her still quivering
belly then he too collapsed across her spent body.
They lay still, a loose tangle of arms and
intertwined legs, their breathing slowing after a
long moment of quiet.
Shalla arose from the unmoving body of the woman,
his deflated cock slipping with a sucking noise out
of the liquid filled furrow between her open legs.
"You will make an excellent partner, Madame," he
said simply, smiling obscenely down at her still
lewdly spread body. "We will discuss our plans in
the morning."
He dressed quickly and left the room, turning at
the door and directing a triumphant grin at her.
Monique knew she was in no condition to consider
anything now. She would think of some way to get
back at this Arab pig after she had taken care of
the American girl tomorrow. He would not escape
punishment for the indignities he had heaped upon
her tonight, she would pay him back a thousand-fold
for every drop of his ugly sperm that lay in the
hot pool in her belly She didn't even have the
strength left to wash herself of this filth. Sleep
came quickly in the same position as she lay.
There were no dreams for Monique tonight.
About an hour before the Arab had closed Monique's
door and stealthily stole back to his bunk
downstairs, Jean had suddenly bolted up in bed to a
sitting position. She had been awakened by a noise
in the adjacent room. It sounded like the muffled
squeal of a pig being put to the slaughter. She
had been sleeping soundly and had thought at first
it was a dream but it came again, jarring her to
alertness.
Something was wrong in Monique's room. Other
muffled sounds were echoing through the thick wall
also. Sounds that were not familiar to her but
seemed to be cries of terror and pleading. She
looked at her watch. It was only a little after
midnight. She had not even been asleep an hour
though it had seemed like a full night.
She sat still on the bed listening. She didn't
want to make a fool of herself if nothing was
wrong. It could be that Monique was having a
nightmare. There was silence for a long moment and
then another sound, this time of movement. It
sounded as though something were being thrown
bodily on a bed. She could not be certain. The
walls to the room were of solid stone like all old
buildings in Europe and the connecting door was of
heavy oak. It made them almost soundproof.
Without turning on the lamp, she groped her way
through the darkness to the door, pressing her ear
tightly against it to see if she could hear
anything. There was the unmistakable sound of
movement making its way through the thickness of
the wood. She thought also she could hear
whimpering but it was impossible to tell. She
hesitated for a moment, not certain what to do.
Certainly if something were drastically wrong,
Monique would scream. She would certainly hear
that. Her hand was frozen on the door knob as she
waited silently, unable to make up her mind what to
do.
A long low moan suddenly was discernible from the
other side. This convinced her, Monique might be
ill and unable to move. She hadn't been feeling
too well when they had returned from dinner and it
might be serious. She would just take a quick look
quietly so as not to disturb her if nothing were
seriously wrong.
She silently turned the key in the door and opened
it carefully, just a crack. She scanned the room,
her eyes adjusting to the dim glow of the bedlamp.
Then her heart leaped into her throat!
It was Monique-and a man was on top of her.
He was trying to rape her! He had her pinned to
the bed and was trying to pry her legs open. Jean
was frozen into immobility. She almost let out a
scream but choked it back with the palm of her
hand. It was unbelievable. She started to shake
uncontrollably and bit down hard on the back of her
hand to keep from crying out in fright. She was
shaking too hard to close the door and just stood
there helplessly trying to regain her composure.
She knew it would do no good for her to attempt to
help physically. He might kill them both.
She watched horrified, unable to move, as Monique
struggled beneath the man. She had a good view of
them. Their feet were pointing almost directly at
her, not more than fifteen feet away across the
room. She could not see who the man was except
that he was naked and wearing only a dirty pair of
socks with holes in the heels. He was darker than
most.
Monique had her ankles locked tightly together and
he was trying to get his feet between hers, but she
fought bravely. The man's head suddenly bobbed
down and a squeal came from Monique's throat, her
legs involuntarily splaying out in the air. Jean
could see the man's body fall heavy between the
long white columns, pinning them wide apart. From
this position she could see his huge hard penis
insinuated tightly against the wide open crotch of
the struggling woman and rub lewdly against the
white band of her panties that she still wore.
It was huge. She had never seen a man before, even
Kevin. She had felt him when he had brutally raped
her but she had not seen his penis. How could a
woman take such a thing, it seemed it would split
Monique open. It lay menacingly like a great log
along the slit of her crotch, the two round
globular balls dangling down wickedly at the upper
base. She could see the foreskin slipping back as
he slid it down along her wide-spread buttocks, the
red blood-filled head bursting forth like some
primeval monster crawling evilly from its lair.
Jean stood transfixed, she was unable to take her
eyes from the lewd spectacle in front of her. She
could not understand. Monique had suddenly stopped
struggling so violently. Her body was now churning
in a different manner. It almost seemed to be
searching for the giant penis. The man suddenly
reached down and she saw his hand grasp the flimsy
silk band of the protective panties, ripping it
away like tissue paper. She could see clearly the
exposed hair covered furrow between her splayed
thighs. The narrow red slit glistened in the dim
light and she could make out mouth-shaped lips of
her vagina that seemed even from this distance
stretched so cruelly apart. She thought she could
see it contracting, opening and closing like the
mouth of a gasping fish out of water.
The man's hand reached down between them, grasping
the long hard instrument and raised his buttocks
high in the air, poising its bulbous head between
the sucking mouth of Monique's cunt. Jean watched
horrified as the muscles of his behind suddenly
tensed heavily and drove brutally downward, sinking
the sinewed shaft all the way into the wet gaping
channel until only a tiny little stretch of it
showed, moist and glistening, beneath his balls.
She winced as she heard the smack of his pelvis
against hers it hit with such force. Monique's
unearthly scream pierced through her ears like the
cry of a wounded animal, her stocking feet curling
in pain.
Jean's heart pounded like a jack-hammer until she
was certain they could hear it clear across the
room. She pressed one hand tightly to her breast
as though to dull the sound.
The figures on the bed were still for a moment,
that seemed to the entranced girl an eternity, then
the man began a slow rocking motion over the
impaled woman below him. He withdrew slightly, the
thick fleshy column sliding out for several inches
then thrust forward again, holding it there. He
withdrew again until the underside of the head was
visible to the hypnotized Jean. Her mouth dropped
open in disbelief as she watched Monique's long
full legs wrap suddenly around his hips, her heels
tight against the cheeks of his ass, straining to
pull him back inside her. The cords on the inside
of her thighs flexed tightly as she pushed her soft
down covered crotch back up over the glistening
prick. Her hollowing buttocks lifted several
inches off the bed as she struggled upward
desperately trying to absorb the entirety of the
thick cock back into the fleshy pink folds of her
hungry cunt. A wet viscous sound drifted across
the room as she slithered up its full length. Her
flexing buttocks began a rhythmic beat up and down
the long smooth pole, the soft hairy balls slapping
in time against the faintly puckered little anus
below.
Monique mouthed obscenities at the man as she
squirmed lewdly in the throes of passion beneath
him, words that Jean had only heard spoken in
whispers as a girl. Forbidden words that still
brought a guilty tingling to her as they did then,
merely, because they were forbidden. They drummed
ceaselessly into the watching girl's mind who was
beyond understanding the sudden change in the woman
on the bed. The quiet reserved Monique that seemed
too aloof from this kind of thing, her friend who
was her strength since they had met on the train.
God, if it could happen to her, if she could be
driven into insane submission to a man she had
fought so strenuously a moment before, it could
happen to anyone. She felt a slight electric
tingle dart menacingly between her own full thighs.
She watched thunder-stuck, as again the man's hand
curled beneath Monique's pumping buttocks and the
tip of his middle finger circled tantalizingly the
rubbery ring of the tightly puckered anus. It
played there for a long teasing moment and suddenly
brought another tortured groan from the twisting
body beneath as it slipped through the protective
fleshy ring and disappeared inside. Legs kicked
out again, another tormented squeal with toes
curling, and then the legs locked again, pumping
viciously against both probing instruments.
Jean was shaking violently now and with all her
concentrated effort slipped the door closed
silently and groped her way in panic back to the
bed. She pulled the covers tightly up over her
head to attempt to shut out the depraved sounds
coming now in streams through the thick walls. It
was hopeless, gasps of pain and pleasure filtered
through, permeating her tortured ears. The squeak
of bedsprings merged with the pictures of the
struggling tangled limbs in her mind, igniting
again a tiny smoldering spark between her own legs.
She clamped them desperately together trying to
choke it away.
As if in a dream her own hands began to
involuntarily massage the straining whiteness of
her breasts, trapping the trembling nipples between
her fingers, kneading and pulling it until it felt
as though she would rip them loose from the white
quivering mounds. She groaned and turned over on
her stomach, pressing the mound of her clitoris
tightly into the mattress, attempting to relieve
the fire that was suddenly raging out of control
there.
Her hands, against her will, burrowed down between
her body and the bed and groped at the throbbing
mass of her pubic hair. Her legs scissored open, a
foot dangling on either side of the wide bed. She
could feel her own moist slit now palpitating
against the tips of her fingers which drew the
narrow furrow open, exposing the lips of her
pulsating cunt to the warm air underneath the
covers. With a groan, she sunk one of her middle
fingers deep into the viscous moistened mouth. She
held her breath, relieved for the moment, but it
was only a short moment. The fire burned more
intensely, demanding more to feed its lewd hunger.
She inserted another finger, drawing her knees up
to a kneeling position, with her buttocks high in
the air. The squeak of the bedsprings became more
violent through the wall and she crammed her
fingers into the moistness of her vagina in time to
the maddening rhythm of the couple fucking in the
other room.
The pictures in her mind of their locked bodies
drove her on and she rocked back on her knees
against her fingers, screwing them deeper into
herself. She could see his huge thick glistening
cock ramming its way into Monique's clasping cunt,
sinking through the soft pubic hair like a greased
telephone pole. Her hands became faster and her
gasps began to match that of the racing bodies in
the adjacent room. She wanted everything Monique
was getting, she wanted to be split too, she wanted
to be fucked. Oh, how she wished Kevin were here
now pumping his own cum filled cock into her hot
searing passage. The fingers weren't enough as her
thoughts centered on the thick member ravishing
Monique, she had to have more but there was
nothing, nothing but the fingers. In desperation
she reached up over her buttocks with her other
hand, searched the wet crevice, and rammed a finger
deep into the puckered asshole between her moon-
shaped buttocks. She gasped as in her haste a
fingernail dug into the soft fleshy walls sending a
sharp jolt of pain through her quivering body. She
stilled for a moment and then took up the rhythm of
the bedsprings again, her upper body braced against
the top of her head digging into the mattress. Her
white full tits hung down, the nipples brushing
sensuously against the sheet as they swayed beneath
her kneeling body. Electric tingles of darting
pleasure raced through her nerves as she pictured
herself under the nameless pounding body with the
dirty socks. Her face colored crimson as she felt
it coming-coming with a great roar-she hung for a
moment teetering on the edge of release her whole
body vibrated and then the white hot juice gushed
from around her rummaging fingers covering her hand
and ran onto the mattress below. She could feel it
running in tiny prickly rivulets down the inside of
her quivering thighs to her bended knees. A
piercing scream reverberated through the wall
followed by a low male groan signaling that the
fury of the couples savage orgasm had matched her
owns Then, there was utter silence.
Jean stayed on her hands and knees for a while, her
buttocks still swaying in the air. She couldn't
bring herself to withdraw her fingers from herself
until the last dying throbs had stilled her body.
At last, she heard the door slam next door jarring
her back to almost consciousness. Her fingers
slithered wetly from her satiated cunt and she
rolled limply over to her side, the ever-present
feeling of guilt crawling over her. Tomorrow,
tomorrow, Kevin would be here to take care of her.
Thank God, the way she was now, she didn't know
what she might do. Her spent body curled into a
tight womb-like ball and welcome sleep glided
smoothly through her tortured and confused mind.
"Monsieur Taylor, Monsieur Taylor," the loudspeaker
blared through the shouts of the porters and the
cacophonous noises of the crowded railway station.
"Message for you at the information desk."
Kevin motioned for the porter carrying his bags to
follow him and walked toward the booth displaying
the "Information" sign in English, French, and
German. Kevin identified himself, and the small
squat Frenchman behind the desk pointed toward a
woman standing about fifteen feet away.
"The Madame standing there has requested we page
you, Monsieur Taylor. Would you please speak with
her."
Kevin thanked the clerk and quizzically walked
toward the woman waiting for him. She obviously
did not know who he was as she glanced past him
without recognition as he approached her. This was
strange, to be met by an unknown person in a city
where he had never been before. It must be
connected with Jean and he felt a lump of fear
rising in his throat.
Had something happened to her, an accident, had she
taken ill? He was almost afraid to speak to the
woman for fear of being confronted with news of
some horrible disaster. It just couldn't happen.
He had raised his hopes so much on the train that
things would straighten themselves out between them
in Marseille and it frightened him to think that
something may have happened to prevent their
getting a second chance at it. He had a lot to
make up to her and found himself praying silently
now that she was all right.
He spoke hesitatingly to the woman. "H-Hello, I'm
Kevin Taylor, the man at information said you had
me paged."
"Oh, yes, Mr. Taylor, I should have recognized you
from Jean's descriptions but then you Americans are
all so handsome," the woman said, smiling at him as
though she had known him all her life.
"Th-then Jean did send you?" he asked hurriedly,
anxiety apparent in his voice. "Is something
wrong? Where is she?"
"Just a moment, young man, don't get carried away.
Jean is fine and waiting for you," she assured him.
"I'll explain it all to you on the way to the
hotel. A crowded train station is no place to
discuss the problems of newlyweds."
Monique instructed the porter to get them a taxi
and they followed him out of the station. After
they were comfortably settled in the back and
wending their way through traffic toward the hotel,
Monique spoke.
"Please let me introduce myself before I explain
why I'm here to meet you. I am Monique DuFour, a
friend of Jean's. We met on the train coming down
from Paris and took a liking to each other so I
have been staying with her. She certainly needed
someone to look after her after your little mistake
in Paris," she gave Kevin a friendly reproachful
look, indicating she was teasing and for him not
take her admonishments too seriously.
"Has-has she told you everything?" Kevin asked,
unbelieving. He just couldn't accept the fact, so
suddenly, that Jean had run to a complete stranger
and told her that her own husband had raped her on
their wedding night.
"Yes, you naughty boy," Monique chided, "She has
done just that. And you are the one to blame for
all this so don't look too harshly on her for
discussing your short-comings with me. You should
be grateful that we met. I've been able to
convince her that it is a common thins among
newlyweds to go through this. That's why she cabled
you to come so soon even though she didn't want to
at all."
"Well," Kevin answered, looking at the woman with a
new found warmth. "I appreciate what you've done.
I've been worried sick sitting in that hotel room
not knowing where Jean was. I would have gone to
the police if that cable had been another half an
hour. I was afraid she may have done something
desperate. She was quite upset when I stormed out
of the room the other night."
"Don't you feel she had reason to be?" Monique
said, turning to him in the seat. "It seems I
detect a self-righteous tone in your voice. Or is
it one of wounded pride?"
"I don't think that is important, Madame DuFour,"
he answered defensively. "The important thing is
not who is right or wrong in this matter, but that
we get together and solve it. I've done a lot of
foolish things and so has she. We should be about
even on that score now."
"Please call me, Monique," she corrected.
"All right, Monique, please call me Kevin. Now
tell me why Jean didn't meet me, she said in her
cable that she would be there." Kevin was a bit
perplexed about this and had to say something.
"She was just a little hung-over from last night,"
Monique smiled intimately at him as though
confiding a deep secret to him. "And she didn't
want to come."
"Hung-over? Why, she never drinks," Kevin
sputtered, ignoring the last statement.
"Oh, she does now," Monique said. "We had quite a
time on the town last night. I thought she would
never stop."
"But what brought this on? She said in her note
she was going away to do some serious thinking, not
to live it up."
"I think it was just the pressure, my boy, now
don't you worry," Monique patted his knee next to
her consolingly. "After all, it's not every girl
who gets frustrated on her wedding night. They
might react strangely to it."
"Frustrated!" Kevin almost shouted even though he
was only sitting a few feet from the women. "Is
that what she told you?"
"Why yes, of course," Monique answered, surprise in
her voice. "You mean you couldn't tell-that
night?"
"Well," Kevin answered slowly, a tinge of anger
beginning to grow in him. "I suppose I didn't
satisfy her if that's what you mean, but I haven't
even considered that. I though it was because I
was too rough."
"That should be the first thing you do consider,
young man, when you make love to a woman. I don't
care if you ravish her like a slave, it's making
her enjoy being ravished that's important. Jean
wasn't nearly so concerned about your forcing her,
she just was disappointed that you knew nothing
about the finer points of making love."
Kevin crimsoned beside Monique. Anger rising in
him at the older woman's words... So this is what
he had come all the way from Paris for, to find out
his bride says he's a lousy lover. This was one
thing he would have to talk to Jean about the first
moment he saw her. He could take a lot of things
but having your wife tell perfect strangers
something like this was almost too much.
Monique could see the color of his face changing
out of the corner of her eye. Her plan seemed to
be working well so far. His masculinity was being
insulted, and if there was anything a man couldn't
stand, it was having that questioned. She knew men
well enough by now and they were the same the world
over in that particular respect. You could control
their anger or love completely by praise or insult
to that one god of theirs, masculinity. She
intended to use it well on this young immature
American as he was just at the age when it was so
important. He was so vulnerable it almost made her
laugh This was going to be easy if that damn Arab,
Shalla, was doing his part as well as she.
She smiled to herself and looked over at the clean
cut young American, wondering musedly to herself
what he would think if he knew his sweet pure young
wife had been screwed within an inch of her life by
that pig. He probably would go completely crazy
and start tearing things apart like all of his
kind. They were so proud and naive, it would never
occur to them that a woman might want to try
something else also as men always did when they got
the chance. This might be a good experience for
him. At least, it would teach him one of the basic
lessons of life, that even without love, people
would simply multiply from lust alone, it felt too
good to ever go out of style. Even she had
succumbed last night, after all these years. True,
she had been forced into it but her body had made
the most out of its chance even though her mind had
fought it, and it had brought back the horrible
memories of her brutal ravishment at the hands of
other Arabs so many years ago. Yes, the body was a
strange uncooperative thing and under the right
circumstances would go its own way regardless of
the high sounding moral principles the mind might
harbor.
Monique finally broke the silence that had
persisted for several miles now. She knew she had
hit the sore point and would make the most of it in
furthering her little scheme. "I gather you've not
had much experience in making love, Kevin. Don't
you know a man owes it to his wife to learn these
things before the wedding night."
Kevin thought for a moment before answering. He
hadn't wanted to explain anything to her. It was
something between he and his wife and no one else
he had thought, but obviously, Jean had confided
more in her than she had her own husband. Perhaps
he could learn a few things from this straight
forward woman. She certainly was unlike any
American woman he had ever met. They would never
think of discussing a subject like this with a
person even if they knew them well, much less a
total stranger. Her friendship might be worth
cultivating, it might even be the key to
recapturing the respect of Jean. As a lover, he
obviously had sunk pretty low in her estimation and
he knew their love could never work unless it were
built on mutual respect, including respect in bed.
"Do you think there's a chance, Monique," he said,
a questioning tone detectable in his voice. "I've
a lot of making up to do."
"Why, of course, there's a chance. It's never too
late or anything," Monique purred, sensing that
soon she would have him in her power and he would
follow her advice to the letter. The key to her
success would lie in gaining his trust and she felt
she was winning it even at this early stage. He
was such a pup and almost a shame to have to
destroy his illusions about the purity and fairness
of life at such a tender age.
"What should I say to her? I've been worried sick
about this thing and to be perfectly frank, I don't
even know where to begin."
"Why don't we stop and have a drink and discuss it
quietly before we go to the hotel," she suggested.
"Jean won't be awake for several hours yet and I
think I can give you some valuable advice, young
man. After all, we French are supposed to be
experts at this sort of thing."
"Good," Kevin replied, obviously relieved. It
would give him more time for preparing himself for
the meeting with Jean, and Monique just might have
some excellent ideas.
Monique directed the driver to take them to a small
quiet bar not too far from the hotel and instructed
him to wait across the street with Kevin's luggage.
The bar was dark and cool inside and Kevin was
happy to get in from the hot sun that was beginning
to bring the outside temperature up to an
unbearable level. He had never liked heat and had
argued with Jean about coming to Europe in August.
He had heard it was impossible this time of year
but, as usual, she had not listened to him. He
pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and began
wiping the sweat form his brow as they sat at a
small intimate table in a darkened corner.
Monique ordered two tall cool drinks from the
waiter who brought them almost immediately. Kevin
took a long hard sip, sighing at the same time.
"Mmmmmm, that was good. I think I needed it." The
cool liquid ran refreshingly down his throat,
relaxing him from the tension he had built up on
the train worrying about what he would say when he
arrived. He felt fortunate. Monique seemed to
have developed Jean's confidence and also seemed to
have given their problems a lot of thought on her
own. She just might be able to help him as her
understanding of another woman's emotions would
probably be much more concise than his own. In
fact, he had just about given up trying to
understand his wife at all. Perhaps, this French
woman was a god-send from above. At any rate, it
could do no harm discussing it with her.
"Now, Kevin, let's get down to your problem,"
Monique said, after taking a long drink from her
glass. "We've got a lot of thinking and planning
to do."
"I don't know quite where to begin," Kevin
reflected. "It goes all the way back to the time
we first started dating and covers all the details
in between that time and now. There were a lot of
frustrations on both sides, I suppose."
"Well we don't have a year, my dear boy, you had
better just give me the outline so I can understand
it a little better from your view point. I've
already heard the other side and it doesn't sound
too favorable to you."
"Monique, I'm not going to try and defend myself,
if that's what you're expecting. I'm willing to
concede that I was completely wrong. I just want
to apologize to Jean the best way I know how and
promise it won't happen again. It's too complicated
to try and unravel in such a short period of time.
We've the rest of our lives to adjust to each other
and I'm just going to beg for another chance."
Monique shook her head, an obvious impatience with
what he had just said reflected in her tight lips.
"My dear young man, if you do that, then you've
conceded your position as master of the house for
all time to come. No man should put himself in
that situation, nor would any woman want it." She
was working the subject subtly to his pride in
masculinity and smiled to herself as she watched
his eyes absorb her words. He took another long
swallow from the glass and waved to the waiter for
another. Monique knew it was merely a question of
time now.
"A slave in my own home, is that what you mean?"
he said, looking straight ahead across the darkened
room.
"If that's the way you want to put it," Monique
answered, placing her own hand warmly over his on
the table. "You seem so much stronger than she
thinks you are, Kevin. I feel your only hope is to
prove you are."
"Did she say that too?" he asked wryly.
"Well, yes she did. After all, you had many
chances before you were married but never pursued
them. Jean said she always felt like a china-doll
and that you were afraid of breaking her."
"I suppose I did, there were times when I almost
took her bodily, I guess I should have."
"Yes, you should have, my dear, but not like you
did in Paris. Women like to be ravished sometimes,
but ravished tenderly, or at least, not hurt too
much. As I said in the taxi, however you do it,
you've got to make them enjoy it. Strength alone
doesn't do that. You've got to be able to
understand when a 'No' means yes and also, when a
'Yes' may sometimes mean no."
"And just how does one fathom the depths of women
like Jean's mind, I'm not a psychiatrist. If
someone says no, I'm accustomed to it meaning no,
and not something else. She's angry now because
when she said, No, I didn't take her. In Paris,
she said yes, and I did take her. How in the hell
am I supposed to know what to do and when."
Monique felt that now was the time to drop her
little bomb. He was ready for it and sufficiently
worked up that he wouldn't stop to think too
strongly about it.
"You could learn what to do when you do take them,
my boy. That's the secret.
No woman minds being had if she's had correctly."
"And just where and with whom an I to get all this
on the job training," Kevin said without thinking.
"And what about the time? She's waiting for us now,"
"I think I can arrange these things," Monique
answered quickly. "I like you and Jean so much
that I can't bear to see your happiness spoiled by
a little thing like this. The important thing is
that we must have time. I think one night should
be sufficient."
"And how am I going to explain not arriving when I
said I would?" Kevin asked skeptically.
"I have an idea about that, but you must be strong
about it," Monique said slyly. This was the key to
her entire plan and he must accept it.
"Okay, let's hear it. I'm open to suggestions."
"Well," Monique said softly, almost holding her
breath, "I'll go back to the hotel and say there
was a message from you saying you were having a
wonderful time in Paris and would be down in
several days. You would cable her the time."
"That's probably the best plan I've ever heard for
losing her completely. You don't know Jean like I
do," Kevin objected, shaking his head hopelessly.
"No, I don't know Jean like you do, but I do know
her like a woman and that's more important. Didn't
her little run-out act bring you crawling down
here?"
Kevin reflected on this for a moment. Monique's
argument did have basic logic. Jean had done it to
him and it had been extremely effective. In fact,
she had always been doing this to him. Perhaps, a
change in roles would be good for her. Maybe she
should squirm for a while.
"Let's do it," Kevin said, making a snap decision.
He was desperate now. From the things Monique had
told him, he knew something drastic had to be done
or he would lose Jean sooner or later. It was
better to take the chance now while he still might
gain some respect in her eyes.
"Good boy, I knew you had more strength than she
gave you credit for having.
She'll be eating out of your hand in several days,
I promise that."
"Let's hope so," Kevin said with resignation.
"This is going to be an all or nothing try."
"Don't you worry, Kevin, it's going to work
beautifully. Come now, let's get you a hotel and
I'll work out the details. I'll call you later
this afternoon." Monique smiled happily to herself
as they left the bar. The plan was working well
and Monique's chest swelled a little in pride at
her resourcefulness. She couldn't fail now. She
tucked the little note she had the naive American
write in her purse, patting it lovingly. This
would be the final blow that would destroy any
spirit of resistance the girl might have left after
the Arab finished with her.
Jean awoke early. Kevin's train should arrive
within a few hours and she wanted to get all her
things packed and meet him at the station. They
could move to another hotel directly from there.
This way, she would not have to face Monique. She
couldn't look her in the eye again after last
night. She could still picture Monique's firm full
body pumping crazily beneath that man, whoever he
was, and could still hear her impassioned pleas
begging him for more. She shuddered each time the
thought came into her mind. It could have even
happened to her. She didn't know how the man even
got into Monique's room but it obviously had been
against her will. At least, the beginning had
anyway until her body had run away with her and
turned her into an obscene mass of helpless
sensation.
The thought worried Jean of what had happened to
her also. She had been as bad as they were and a
deep shame hung over her for allowing the picture
of her friend being ravished so brutally to
overcome her own civilized principles. She had
acted like a common whore, using whatever means
were closest to reach her own fulfillment. What if
that man had come to her room instead of next door.
Would she have reacted the way Monique had done?
The possible answer frightened her and she had to
get away from this evil place as quickly as
possible and into the protective arms of Kevin.
She would never be angry with him again and
understood fully now how he might have let himself
get carried away under the circumstances in Paris.
Her faith in her own strength was now shattered and
she needed him badly to lean on, to wash away the
horrible sensual feelings she had let her mind give
vent to in the last two days.
She finished her morning shower, washing gently her
genitals. Her anus was still slightly sore from
the finger she had attacked it with in her
uncontrollable depravity last night. She soaped it
tenderly hoping to wash away the humiliation of her
lewd surrender to her own demanding body. Her
reactions still puzzled her. Had she discovered
something about herself that she hadn't known
before. Had these sudden exposures to raw sex
ripped away a facade of respectability that had
been made of paper. She certainly had acted like
it. It hadn't taken much to set her off, a dream,
a few sounds next door and she had become a raging
maniac. She had to admit though, that watching two
other people make love was a tremendous
stimulation. She had never even thought about it
before and had always felt it was something to be
done quietly under the covers with as little noise
as possible. Well, it certainly hadn't been done
that way last night by Monique and that man. They
had gone at it like they had been performing for
General DeGaulle himself.
Jean looked at her watch. She still had forty-five
minutes to check out of the hotel and get down to
the train station. It should be just right. She
closed the suitcase on the bed and rang for the
porter. Thank god, it would be the last time she
would have to look at that Arab. He had undressed
her enough with his eyes during her stay here.
Well, she hoped he took a good look this time, it
would be his last chance. She thought wickedly for
a moment, of letting him catch her in her panties,
that would teach the lecher a lesson he probably
wouldn't forget for a long time. If she only did
have the courage to do something like that, she
sighed, but she knew she never would. She would
always be just plain Jean, even afraid of her own
husband.
She opened the door to the Arabs soft knock. He
stood there with his perpetual grin, looking in
through the open door.
"Please take my baggage downstairs," she motioned
toward the bed, "and prepare my bill."
"Is Madame checking out now," he asked, a note of
surprise registering in his otherwise still
obsequious tone.
"Yes, I am, and please hurry. I am late now and
can't waste any more time," Jean said sharply.
"But Madame has not had her morning tea," he
objected, feigned concern in his voice.
"I do not want my morning tea," Jean said,
impatiently. "I told you I was late and must leave
the hotel within five minutes."
"I will have the tea in one," the Arab smiled, and
without waiting for her answer, turned quickly and
disappeared down the stairs. Jean started to say
something but she was left standing with her mouth
open, noiseless sounds sputtering out at the empty
hall in front of her.
She paced the room impatiently for several minutes,
fuming over the insolence of this desk clerk. Who
did he think he was, deliberately delaying her this
way. If there were a management, she would
certainly report him but he seemed to be the only
one she had ever seen here.
Her angry thoughts were cut short as he suddenly
returned, entering the room without knocking. Jean
started to object again but with resignation
shrugged her shoulders. She was too late to start
an unpleasant tirade against him now.
Shalla sat the tray on the small table and Jean
noticed he had brought two glasses this time, both
filled with the mint green tea she had drank
before. He handed her one, taking the other for
himself.
"It is always a custom for the concierge to drink
with a departing guest," he said, "Particularly one
who has been so pleasant to the staff."
Jean suddenly, for a reason she couldn't explain,
felt a warning signal flash through her mind.
Perhaps it was the tone in the Arab's voice. There
had definitely been a subtle sneer to the last
sentence he had spoken. His eyes were again boring
through her, but not as before. They didn't rove
the curves of her body in a questioning manner,
wondering what was there beneath the dress. They
seemed to know this time and lewdly sparkled their
approval. She raised the glass to her lips and
drank, almost as if in a trance. She was suddenly
frightened of this strange man whose eyes seemed to
lack the slightest spark of humanity. They bored
into her, cruel and unyielding, causing small goose
bumps to ripple along her skin.
The tea was cold and the cool mint flavor relaxed
her a bit. She was grateful for it. It would get
her through this ordeal of being alone with this
horrible man. She only had to bear it for a few
more moments until the tea was gone. She sipped
more heavily on the refreshing liquid anxious to
finish it.
Shalla watched her over the top of his glass. He
could see the slight hesitation as she reached to
take the tea he offered. The sudden recognition,
though silent, that he knew her better than she
thought was also apparent flickering through her
eyes. He savored the slight tinge of fear that he
could see building up. He knew he had surprised
her and that she hadn't expected him to be so bold.
It was good to have this power that he had so
recently gained by fucking that French lady half to
death last night. He had been made to squirm so
much during his life and now it was going to be a
pleasure paying it all back It was particularly
satisfying taking it out on the haves, like this
bitch that had never known the depths of
humiliation before. Well, it was his turn to do
the humiliating! He had a score to settle with the
world and he had begun last night. He was through
being a mat for others to trample on to quench
their need for superiority. He would now do the
trampling.
"Thank you, that was very nice," Jean said
nervously as she drained the glass and replaced it
on the tray. "I-I think you had better take the
baggage down now."
"Just a moment, Madame," Shalla replied, "I have
not finished mine."
He watched her carefully. He wanted to delay a few
minutes longer until the potion began to take
effect. He had prepared it carefully. It was not
as strong as the first he had fed her. He wanted
her completely conscious this time so she would
feel every minute of the degradations he had
planned. There was just ought to drain the
strength of resistance from her fresh young body.
Yes, he thought complacently, now he would begin to
get his pound of flesh back for all the years these
kind of people had treated him like a lowly cur.
The great god Allah taught that there would be
satisfaction for the oppressed of the world. He,
Shalla, would collect his now. He wanted to pluck
the wings from this little fly slowly so that she
would remember it all the rest of her life.
Jean watched him standing before her. He was
making no move to finish the tea as he had said.
He was just staring at her, watching as though he
expected her to suddenly disappear or something.
There was a detached interest in his eyes that
locked on any slight move she might make. What did
he expect her to do? Why was he staring like that?
"Really, I think I must go now. You can finish
your tea after you've taken my bags down," she said
nervously, moving at the same time toward the door.
He still watched her intently and she knew she had
better get out as quickly as she could. He was no
longer the poor obsequious desk clerk but had
somehow changed overnight. There was a cruel,
unflinching confidence in his eyes and movements.
Jean no longer felt the superiority that she first
did over him, instead, she felt the cold isolation
of fear.
Shalla sensed her thoughts, and moved quickly
between her and the door, blocking her path. There
was no way out for her now, he chuckled to himself.
What would she do. He knew this was totally
unexpected to her. She hadn't dreamed the worm
would turn this way. It would be interesting to
see what she did to cope with this new situation
confronting her, if she could last that long before
the potion took effect. It should be any moment
now.
"Please, Mr. Shalla, my husband will be waiting for
me at the station," Jean said, her tone changing to
one of almost pleading. "I must leave now or I'll
miss him and he'll come here."
She wanted him to know this in hopes it might
frighten him away from whatever he had in mind.
Certainly, he was clever enough to realize that he
couldn't do anything with Monique sleeping next
door and with Kevin expected shortly. She hoped he
was no fool.
"I see you have remembered Shalla's name. Madame
has not used that before. It pleases me that you
do remember."
It was apparent to Jean that he was stalling her
now. He was leading up to something. She couldn't
believe that he had any intentions of making a pass
at her. Surely he couldn't believe in his wildest
dreams that she would even consider accepting a
proposition from him He must be a madman. She
watched him closely, afraid that he would make a
movement toward her, to try and touch her. She
shuddered at even the thoughts of those filthy
greasy hands coming near her body. Suddenly, her
knees felt weak. She reached for the post at the
foot of the bed to steady herself.
"Please Mr. Shalla, I must go," she repeated, her
breath coming in labored gasps. It was so
difficult to breathe, the air in the room was
stifling. Her clothing felt as though it were
elastic around her body, choking off the supply of
blood that ran through her veins. Tiny beads of
perspiration began forming along the hairline of
her forehead.
The Arab stood motionless, watching the
metamorphosis take place gradually before his eyes.
A puzzled look crossed the girls face. She knew
something was wrong but couldn't quite comprehend
what it could be. Her legs swayed slightly
indicating to him that the evil liquid had hit its
mark.
"Is something wrong, Madame?" he smiled through
his yellow teeth. "Can Shalla be of help?"
"No, no, just stay a-away f-from me," she
stammered, holding on to the post to keep from
falling. The smell of mint again wafted through
her nostrils, ringing a familiar bell of another
time that her fading mind struggled to recall. She
could feel her strength slowly leaving her body and
she knew if she were ever going to make it to the
door she had better move now.
Shalla watched the girl lurch toward him. Her eyes
rolled uncontrollably in her head and her legs
wavered as though supporting a body ten times her
size. He did not move from her path and as she
tried to pass him, reached out with his arm and
held her back. She struggled weakly for a moment
and then all resistance ceased. Shalla guided her
backwards to the bed and pushed her limp body back
on it where she lay, arms and legs askew, looking
glassy-eyed straight up at the ceiling. Her dress
had snaked up over the tops of her nylon stockings,
showing the white firm flesh of her full thighs.
The white nylon band of her panties was visible
between her loosely spread legs. Tiny dark threads
of soft pubic hair could be seen coming out the
elastic leg bands that were stretched tight from
the pressure of the position in which she lay.
"What's happened to me, What's happened to me," she
moaned incoherently. She tried to move but she
couldn't. Her body refused to follow the dictates
of her mind. She could see the Arab standing over
her, an evil grin etched obscenely on his face.
It was strange, she was fully conscious and yet
could not move. Her eyes could see and her mind
could understand and yet she was helpless
She watched him move about the bed, her eyes
rolling after him like a helpless bird cornered by
a hungry cat. He removed her suitcase from the
other side of the bed and reaching under his robe,
withdrew a short piece of rope. The rolling eyes
widened in terror as he tied one end around one of
her wrists and pulling her up on the bed, ran the
loose end around a brass rod in the middle of the
top bedstead and tied her other hand to the end.
She was secured helplessly, both arms over her
head.
"There my proud little one. You make a beautiful
picture like this. If Shalla didn't have better
plans for you, he would save you for himself."
Jean's dress had hiked up over her hips now and the
full ripeness of her upper thighs and belly were
visible to the gaze of the Arab. He ran his tongue
around his lips wetly, enjoying the torment the
poor girl stretched out before him was going
through. He could feel his cock hardening under
his pants as the girl began struggling weakly
against the bonds that held her tight. Her legs
scissored open and closed weakly as her body fought
the deadening effect of the potion. He could see
the dark triangle visible through the thin sheer
material of her panties, he promised himself he
would get more of that later after he had put his
plan into effect. He would make some money today
from this little American girl. The men on the
streets would pay well. The initial shock of the
potion had worn off and she could move now. This
was good, he had planned it so that she would only
be immobile for several minutes at the most while
he tied her down. He had timed it well. The
French lady must not find out, she might object and
do something drastic but she would be gone most of
the day. After last night, he felt confident he
could handle her anyway.
"Please, please," Jean whimpered, "what-what have
you done to me?" She suddenly felt as though she
were descending from a cloud. A moment ago, she
was watching all of this through detached but
seeing eyes, she could feel nothing. Now the
feeling was returning to her nerves and the full
horror of what was happening to her tumbled through
her unbelieving mind. This couldn't be happening
to her. She had heard about such things, about
being raped in hotel rooms in Europe but she hadn't
in her wildest thoughts ever considered it
happening to her. It just couldn't happen, not by
this hideous creature leering down at her with
those horribly cold and unbending eyes. She would
die if he touched her, she clenched her eyes
tightly shut as if she could blot away the scene
and make it not exist. But it did exist. The
taunting voice of the Arab came through the
darkness of her closed eyes.
"We shall have ourselves a time today, my dear
girl," he said, "and we shall make some money.
Have you ever worked before, my dove?"
Jean lay silently, unable to speak for the shame
and humiliation of the helpless position she was
lying in. She wanted to reach down and cover
herself but the ropes binding her wood only allow
her hands to come down to shoulder level. She
could not reach her dress to pull it down and cover
her exposed thighs and stomach. She clamped her
legs tightly together and drew them up, attempting
to hide her precious treasure between them. She
could not see but she could feel his eyes burning
into her there. She squirmed on the bed against
the bonds until they felt as though they would cut
through her wrists. It was hopeless.
The Arab sat on the edge of the bed and reached
over to her bare thigh, running his long
fingernails along the inner softness. He suddenly
pinched, making a red whelp rise beneath the
fingers.
"When Shalla asks a question, you must answer. You
belong to him now, at least for the moment."
"Oooh, Nooo, Please-e, Please don't," Jean pleaded,
"It hurts. It hurts."
"Then do as Shalla says, and things will be much
easier. You will enjoy it, Shalla shall teach you
how to enjoy it."
"My husband is coming, Kevin is coming, he'll kill
you if you touch me," she whimpered in desperation.
"Yes," the Arab cooed softly, "he's the one you
spoke of the other night when we made such
beautiful love."
Jean's heart stopped for a moment as the words sunk
into her awakening mind.
The dream!
"I see you remember just as I thought you would,"
he taunted, reaching over with one hand to stroke
at the nylon covered mound at the base of her
rapidly rising and falling belly. He could feel
the crisp dark pubic hair through the thin
material, and the sudden jerk of her hips at the
unexpected probe to her secret parts. Her eyes
fluttered open in disbelief.
"No, no, it's not true. I had a dream," she half
screamed at him, her mind unable to accept his vile
accusations Her hips screwing down against the
mattress to escape his indecent stroking.
Shalla reached in his pocket with his other hand
and brought out the small dark curl, dangling it
above her face. "I think you lost this. Have you
wondered about it."
His evil grin widened in triumph as he detected the
horrified impact of recognition on the thunder-
struck girl's face. Her mouth gaped open
helplessly as the thoughts of that evening rolled
through her mind: the taste of mint, the smell of
garlic, the rumpled bed in the morning!
It was true! He had raped her in her sleep! It
hadn't been Kevin, it had been this filthy beast
who was daring to touch her again!
"Get away from me! Get away from me! It's not
true, it can't be," in spite of the certainty, her
dazed mind fought on against the acceptance of the
grotesque thought.
Shalla slipped a finger under the elastic of the
leg band between her clenching legs and moved his
finger up and down the sweat moistened slit.
"Remember this," he taunted, "remember my fingers
opening your cunt and finger fucking you?"
"No, no, I don't remember," Jean lied, her torso
squirming against the horrible indignity.
"And I fucked you with my cock, remember, I fucked
you until you screamed for more," he hissed at the
tortured girl. "I fucked you good, admit it!"
"No, no, you didn't, it was a dream," she groaned.
"It was a dream!"
He dug his finger cruelly into her dry unready
cunt, bringing a moan of pain from Jean's tortured
lips. Her inner thighs relaxed involuntarily to
ease the excruciating hurt.
"Admit it, admit I fucked you good!" he breathed,
digging the fiery finger deeper.
"Yes, yessss, you did, you did," she whimpered to
escape the cruel hand ravishing her vagina.
"I did what?" he demanded lewdly. "Say it!"
"You fucked me! You fucked me good!" Jean spat
out the words in pain, the shame and humiliation,
too much to bear. She clenched her eyes tightly
shut again to close out the sight of his perverse
triumphant smile leering over her. Oh God, if only
Kevin would arrive or Monique would hear them to
save her from this awful man and his tormenting
words. She thought of the thickness of the walls
and screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping it
would penetrate through as it had last night.
Her vagina received another cruel thrust from the
Arab's finger, choking the scream back down her
throat.
"No one can hear you, my little pigeon," he
gloated. "The French lady has gone. You are now
Shalla's slave for the day and shall do his
bidding. We shall make much money together today,
you and I. If you perform well for my friends
perhaps I shall buy you something nice. Don't you
think that's fair?"
"You wouldn't dare to touch me again," Jean gasped,
between squirms against the finger still inserted
deep in her vagina. "My husband will kill you."
"If he comes," Shalla chided.
"He will come, he will! I just know he will!" she
spat at him. He loved her and he wouldn't leave
her alone if he knew where she was and she had told
him in the cable. He just had to come in time to
save her from this maniac who had already violated
her pure clean body once. He was her only chance
and if he didn't arrive in time, she would never be
the same. She might recover in time from the
horrible rape of the other night because she was
hardly conscious when it occurred but if she had to
submit again with her full senses aware of it, she
Flew it would destroy her self respect forever.
She would never be able to face the world again.
The thought nauseated her and she suddenly felt as
though she would throw-up. It took all of her
remaining control to keep from it.
Shalla slipped his now moistened fingers from her
cunt. It had become slightly wet from its natural
reaction to the pain. He pressed it under Jean's
nose. He felt like taunting her again and couldn't
pass up this last remaining opportunity before he
threw her on the open market.
"Does that smell familiar," he asked, wiping the
viscous fluid against her upper lip. Jean moved
her face from side to side to escape this further
humiliation, the familiar smell seeping into her
nostrils.
"Oooohhh, don't, don't please," the odor blocking
out all other thoughts but of the other night.
Horrible memories streamed back of her body bucking
against the mattress the shadow of this beast
hovering over her like a hugs bird of prey and-and
she had thought it was Kevin and had given herself
completely. She had begged him, begged him, and
the memory of the hot searing eruption in her
stomach nauseated her. He had emptied himself in
her, shooting his sperm into her every open pore,
sperm she thought belonged to her beloved Kevin-Oh,
how could she ever face her husband again, the
memory of that would always be with her. He must
never know, he must never know-
There was a sudden rapping on the door. The Arab
quickly reached over and drew Jean's skirt down
over her exposed thighs. He straightened his robe
and leaning his head against the door asked in a
quiet voice:
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Madame DuFour, open the door."
He slid the bolt back and allowed it to swing open,
letting the woman enter.
Monique took one look at the bed and rushed to
Jean's side.
"My dear, my dear, what has this horrible man done
to you? What has he done?"
"Oh, Monique, thank god it's you," the bereaved
girl sobbed. "He was going to-to-" The remainder
of the sentence was drowned in the tears that
flowed profusely down her cheeks.
"You filthy Arab, I told you not to harm her,"
Monique almost screamed at him. "Now you get out
of here, right this minute." She grabbed him by
the arm and shoved him toward the door, winking
slightly as she pushed him outside and closed it.
"Oh, my dear, Jean. If I had known they were going
to hurt you, I would never have left this morning.
They promised they wouldn't touch you." She rushed
over to the bed, stroking Jean's perspiring
forehead.
"You-you knew they were going to do this?" Jean
mustered the strength to say through her sobs.
"It isn't what you think, my dear," Monique said in
a low confidential voice, sitting beside Jean and
wiping the tears with her handkerchief.
"You must listen carefully to every word I say, it
will mean both of our lives."
"But-but where is Kevin?" Jean interrupted, "he
should be here by now. I told him the name of the
hotel in my cable."
"They sent me with another man to meet him this
morning but he didn't arrive. Instead, he sent
this note with the porter on the train." Monique
drew the note she had Kevin write a few minutes
earlier from her purse, holding it so that Jean
could read it from the position in which she was
lying. She watched with a secret satisfaction as
she saw the stunned look of hopelessness flicker
across her eyes.
"How-how could he do it? I thought he loved me,"
Jean's body broke into tortured sobs again. She
couldn't believe it. The note was in Kevin's
handwriting but someone must have forged it. He
wouldn't desert her. He just wouldn't!
"Dear, remember, he doesn't know we are in this
trouble," Monique said as though anticipating her
thoughts. "He's probably met some pretty French
girl in Paris and has decided to teach you a
lesson. I'm sure he would have come if he had
known we needed him so desperately."
"Then untie me, please, before that man comes back.
We must get out of here," Jean pleaded to Monique.
"Dear, I can't. They are holding us both
prisoner," she said in a whisper, holding a finger
over her lips for quiet. "They're white-slavers
who followed us to the hotel from the restaurant
last night. They saw we were alone and decided to
kidnap us. They've hired this desk-clerk to watch
you."
"But what about you? He can't watch us both, can't
you get away and call the police?"
"No, they are watching me closely with another man.
I told them if they would give us our freedom, I
would give them ten thousand dollars but it's only
to stall for time. I don't have that much money."
"Kevin could help, my father would gladly pay it."
"I hope so, dear. I have cabled him this morning
when he was not at the train station and told him
it was urgent for him to come here. He is to
contact me the moment he arrives. Until then, we
must do everything they demand of us or they will
kill us. You will never see Kevin again."
"Oh Monique, there are some things I just can't do,
even if they do kill me.
I had rather die than to have another man touch
me," the poor girl whimpered.
"It may not come to that. I'll tell that desk-
clerk to keep away from you, but it might raise
suspicions if I untie you. You must have faith in
me, Jean, it's our only chance."
"I'll try, but please hurry. Please," she moaned,
"I can't stand it much longer."
"I promise I'll have us out of here tonight, my
dear," Monique smiled confidently. "Now you just
be brave. I must go and see if I can't really do
something about that money in case Kevin doesn't
arrive before tonight."
"Oh, no!" Jean cried, "please don't leave me
alone. Something awful will happen if you do. I
just know it will. I can feel it."
"Nonsense, my dear, you must not get hysterical and
show your weakness. I told you I would talk to
that Arab and tell him if he touches you, no money.
He won't dare risk offending his superiors."
To Jean's horror, Monique rose and went to the
door. She was going to leave her alone.
"Remember now, chins up," she smiled confidently as
she closed the door behind her.
Jean had never felt so alone in her life. Monique
was her only chance to ever see Kevin again and
make up for all the awful things that had happened
to her. It would never be the same, she knew that.
He was probably with some French girl in bed now as
he had threatened to do when he left her that
morning. But she had made a mistake too and now
all she had to depend on was Monique. She would
forgive Kevin when she was with him again, he had
no way of knowing what she was going through. It
was all her fault now, and all she had to depend on
was Monique-she had to get them out of this.
The Arab had no intention of letting this chance of
making fast money escape him. He had the girl
completely under his control and he could turn that
into quite a sum in a matter of hours if he kept
the customers turning over fast enough. By tonight
when he had to deliver her to the address the
French woman had given him, he could have amassed a
small fortune. He smiled to himself when he
thought of the French woman's warnings to him about
not hurting the American girl.
Great ghost of Allah, didn't she know it was
impossible to wear it out!
She could perform just as well tonight after a
hundred fucks as she could after one. Perhaps even
better. She would be more experienced. He,
Shalla, would see that her education was carried
out properly.
He had planned it well. As soon as the Madame had
left, he called his cousin. Mufta, and promised
him one dollar for each customer he brought in. He
warned him to be careful in those he chose and make
certain they were foreign sailors and would keep
quiet as it might be dangerous with the police if
one of them talked about it afterwards.
Shalla was happy and pleased with himself for his
cleverness. At least, he would have the days
profit if anything went wrong with the rest of the
plan tonight. He did not like to place all his
eggs in one basket. Besides, he would not have to
share this with the French lady. All of it would
be his, except of course, the commission to his
cousin. He might even take part of that back at
the end of the day by selling him a turn.
Mufta should be coming back with the first customer
soon, he thought happily, he had better go up and
prepare the girl. There were not many hours for
this little side business and he couldn't afford to
lose time by any of her childish objections.
Jean's body jerked to life as she heard the rattle
of the key in the door. This was the moment she
had been dreading. The moment she would have to
face the Arab again. She was totally helpless like
this and she knew from the cruel eyes that no words
Monique might say to him would stop him if he
really wanted her. She had remembered his
reference to her and his friends this morning. It
had almost been forgotten but during the period in
which she was alone she had time to ponder their
entire conversation. He had spoken of her
performing well. What did he mean by those things?
She didn't like the tone of them and she hoped
Monique would be back before the afternoon.
Perhaps she could hold him off for that length of
time. Well, she would fight as she had never
fought before if he did try anything. She still
had her feet to kick with and she vowed to herself
she would use them with all her strength.
The door opened and the Arab entered, locking it
behind him. His eyes flickered over Jean's form
stretched down the length of the bed. Her body was
tense and some of the bravado she had seen building
up deserted her as she saw the cold business-like
look on his face. He walked to the foot of the bed
and looked down at her.
"Well my pigeon, we must open shop. Our first
customers will be coming soon and we want to be
ready for them."
"What-what do you mean?" Jean whispered in a low
unbelieving voice.
"You-you mean someone else is coming here?"
"Why, of course. I told you we would make much
money together today," he answered walking around
the bed. "But we must hurry. Mufta, my cousin,
will bring our clients in a few minutes."
Shalla reached down, lifting her dress and began
pulling it up her full thighs. Jean had lain
motionless in a momentary state of shock from the
horrible things he had just said, but as he reached
down, her body reacted. She lifted one leg back
suddenly and kicked up, catching him full under the
chin. Shalla, caught by surprise, let out a sick
gasp and tumbled backwards against the wall. He
slid slowly to the floor, dazed and with a slight
trickle of blood coming from the corner of his
mouth. He sat still for a moment, his mouth
hanging open as though not comprehending what had
happened to him.
Jean watched him, her heart in her throat. Then
she saw his eyes flicker slowly up to meet hers.
She had never seen such cruel hatred registered in
a human face before. She knew by his expression
that any compassion he may have had for her as a
human being was now totally destroyed. Deep fear
gripped her body as she watched him bring his hand
slowly to his mouth and wipe the blood away. His
gaze dropped to the smeared streak on the back of
his hand and then quickly back to her.
He stood up slowly, not taking his eyes from her.
His hands went under his robe and withdrew a long
black belt from his pants. Without a word, he
advanced on the bed eyeing her like an animal
trainer advancing on his prey.
Jean huddled frozen in fear, her legs drawn up in a
tight ball in the center of the bed, her arms held
tightly by the ropes above her head. She stared in
wide-eyed terror as he raised his arm and cracked
the belt through the air, the tip biting into her
left breast with a sickening slap. She groaned from
the sudden excruciating pain, kicking her legs out
in automatic reaction. The belt sang through the
air again, this time catching her full between the
open thighs. She groaned again, this time deeper
as the cruel leather cut its way into her flesh
again and again, leaving tiny red welts rising on
her skin behind its cruel path "Aaaaggg! Aaaggg!
No! No! Please! No more, no more, I'll do
anything!" she blurted out after several minutes
of the sickening torture. The pain was unbearable
and she knew if he hit her again she would faint
dead away. Her mind was beyond logical thought,
the only thing that mattered was to escape
this horrible punishment. She couldn't stand it
again.
"Has Madame had enough?" Shalla glared down at
her, the whip raised for another blow.
"Yes, yes, oh please, don't hit me again!" Jean
cowered into the mattress, tears streaming from her
eyes.
"Shalla shall not be so gentle the next time.
Let's hope you remember well."
He placed the belt on the table and came to the bed
again. Jean closed her eyes tightly as she felt
the humiliation of his hands moving over her,
stripping her clothing away. He didn't bother to
untie her hands, but ripping her thin summer dress
from the neck down to the hem, peeling the pieces
away roughly and throwing them haphazardly to the
floor. She clenched her teeth tightly together,
fighting off waves of nausea as he drew her thin
nylon panties slowly down her rounded full thighs,
lifting her buttocks with his free hand to let them
pass. Her brassiere came last as he took each cup
in a hand and tore it away brutally, her firm full
breasts popping out like ripe succulent grapefruit
ready for harvest. The tiny red tips hardened
involuntarily as they hit the cool air and stood up
like dainty pink buds of a spring flower ready to
quiver into bloom.
Shalla stood back from the bed a few feet, viewing
his handiwork. This should be a most profitable
day, he thought happily, as his gaze wandered over
the voluptuous body spread naked and defenseless
before him, its spirit broken. She would cooperate
now, he thought, or he would have to teach her a
real lesson. He couldn't risk any of his customers
being dissatisfied. He knew the brutality of the
seamen that came into port here and if they paid
money for something, they expected to get every
penny's worth. He could not afford to have trouble
with them. They might ruin the hotel.
Jean lay docile in the center of the mattress. Her
thoughts were a jumbled mass of humiliation and
helplessness. Monique had promised she would keep
the Arab away from her but she had not. He was now
going to turn her body into a receptacle for any
man that was willing to pay for it. How could she
live through this? How could she ever face Kevin
or anyone again after she had been used as a common
whore with the dregs of the earth using her young
almost untouched body to satiate their warped
desires. She had no idea what to expect but her
imagination ran wild. What would they do to her?
What would they expect her to do? Great tears of
self-pity swelled through her clenched eyes and
rolled silently down her cheeks. Her mind suddenly
rebelled again, the pain of the belt was forgotten.
She couldn't go through with it!
"I won't do it," she suddenly screamed, opening her
eyes and looking straight at the Arab. "You can
beat me, but I won't do it."
"Shalla has other ways, Madame," he said looking at
her coldly. He did not intend to have his plans
spoiled now. He had not really wanted to harm her
too much as he would have to argue later with the
French woman but it was beginning to appear that he
had no choice. Time was growing short and he
couldn't risk an outburst from this little bitch if
one of the customers were there.
He calmly lit a cigarette, watching her from the
corner of his eye as he did so. Jean stared back
at him arrogantly, refusing contemptuously to drop
her eyes from his almost amused gaze.
"Madame realizes, of course, that the belt is an
orthodox way of convincing ones property to do its
bidding. We Arabs are noted for the more subtle
methods of gaining obedience. Do you wish to test
them?"
Jean glared at him through hate filled eyes,
refusing to speak. She was afraid her voice would
crack from the fear that dwelled underneath. She
was determined not to show it. He might conquer
her body but he would never conquer her spirit
again as he had the other night with drugs. She
would never consciously submit no matter what he
did to her.
"You leave me no choice, my pigeon," Shalla said,
as he unlocked the door and disappeared down the
hallway.
Jean's spirits sagged and she felt her body shaking
violently. What horrible thing was he going to do?
She had heard of the terrible tortures they used on
each other in their wars and her faith in her
resolution to fight him at all costs began to
falter. She prayed that her strength would hold up
against whatever it might be. She couldn't give
him the satisfaction of total submission. She
would resist if it killed her.
The Arab returned, carrying a cage in his hand with
a huge black carnivorous rat squeaking inside, his
long monstrous nose sniffing inquisitively through
the wire bars.
Jean felt her stomach turn and a deep piercing
scream escaped involuntarily from her throat. It
was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen,
it's evil little eyes darting about the room as
though searching for something to fasten its tiny
needle-like teeth on and rip to shreds.
"I see you like my little pet," he chuckled
harshly. "He likes meat but only if it's flavored
to his special taste."
As Jean cringed tightly into the mattress, the
grinning Arab took a small piece of raw meat from
his hand and dropped it into the cage. The rat
scurried for it, sniffed it carefully and then
backed away without touching it.
"You see, not to his liking."
Shalla took another piece and rubbed a liquid from
a small bottle on it and dropped that into the
cage. The rat leaped upon it, gulping it down
greedily and then stood on his hind legs against
the side of the cage squeaking wildly for more.
"You see, my dear, he is well trained in his
tastes."
Shalla advanced on the prostrate girl who was
frozen into immobility by the horror of the sight
she had just seen. She tried to move but couldn't.
Her body refused to answer. Shalla rubbed small
droplets of the liquid smoothly around the nipples
of her upturned breasts as she watched helplessly.
Then, he opened the cage door and pulled the evil
little animal from it, attaching a string around
his neck. He dropped him on the bed, holding the
loose end of the cord in his hand. The rat
struggled against it, sniffing his way on the
mattress along the side of the fear-frozen girl's
body. She jerked spasmodically as Shalla gave him
a little more line and he leaped to her naked
belly, his tiny feet making slight imprints in her
soft yielding flesh.
Jean shrieked in terror as suddenly the rat smelled
the liquid. She could feel the horrible creeping
claws dig suddenly into the flesh of her stomach as
he struggled to get at her scent covered breasts.
He squeaked wildly, fighting with savage
desperation to crawl his way to the coated tips of
her quivering nipples. Jean could see his tiny
evil eyes down between the valley of her breasts,
his teeth bared like a giant snarling dog. She
wanted to scream out again but the paralyzing fear
held her motionless, her flesh crawling in
abhorrence from the touch of the vile little
animal. Her body struggled to sink keeper into the
mattress in escape but it was useless, there was no
sanctuary from the cruel defilement. Shalla,
taunting her proud full body, loosened the string
again and she could feel the warm nose sniffing
hungrily at the underside of her left breast, the
sudden moist contact bringing back her voice
without warning. Low whining pleas droned almost
incoherently from between her clenched teeth.
"Ugggggg, get him off of me! Get him off of me!
Please, please," her head churned from side to
side, her wrists fighting against the bonds, "Oh
God, get him off of me!"
"Say fuck, shit, cunt," the grinning Arab demanded.
He would break her spirit completely before he let
her go this time.
"Ooohh, fuck, shit, cunt," the words spat from her
mouth without hesitation, there was no thought of
resistance left, only the revulsion of this
horrible beast struggling to devour her unprotected
breasts.
"Say it again," he smirked, loosening the cord
another hair.
"Ooohh! fuck! Ooohh! shit! No-Nooo,
Aaaahhhhggg! Cunt!" she shrieked, feeling the wet
sniffling nose touching farther up the underside of
her quivering breast, the sharp tiny nails
straining against the flaccid skin of her ribs.
Shalla held the string tight, keeping the squeaking
black rat less than an inch from the throbbing
nipple for what seemed an eternity, and then,
pulled him slowly from the churning girls body.
Jean was next to unconscious when she felt the vile
hairy animal withdrawn from her flesh and the
liquid wiped from her breasts. His hand dwelling
longer at the task than necessary. Her body
shuddered. She knew she was at his mercy. She
could fight against pain or even humiliation-but
not this-not this horror-it was asking too much
Only death would be better and she would gladly
have killed herself this very minute to escape the
degradations she knew were to be heaped upon her
helpless body now, but there was no way. There was
only hopeless submission or the rat and she knew
her body would betray her again if she were
subjected to those horribly cruel teeth straining
to tear viciously at her flesh.
There was something else, something else that would
help her through the grotesque ordeal coming, it
had helped before-it was the only hope of coming
through it sane.
"Shalla," she said lifelessly, her voice steeped in
resignation. "Give me some strong tea."
"Madame is learning well, I see," he answered. "I
will get some."
He had wanted her to have nothing, as seeing her
conscious humiliation and submission meant almost
as much to him as the money he would make but it
was getting late. The first customers may be
coming through the door downstairs even at this
moment. He would leave out the sleeping potion
when he mixed it and add some extra aphrodisiac.
This would be almost as good, at least she would be
fully conscious. Her drugged enjoyment of it might
even be as good a show as her being forced to
subject herself to it out of fear. It would
certainly please the clients better. Perhaps he
should have done this from the beginning and saved
himself all this trouble.
He added the extra pinch of the lust producing
powder, whistling softly to himself. It was a bit
much but he hoped for many customers today and she
must please them all. After all, what man wanted
a limp piece of meat under him, especially when he
had paid good money for it This would put some fire
into that proud little white ass. It would shake
as it never had before or probably ever would again
He returned to the room and presented the glass to
the naked girl, loosening one arm so that she might
drink.
"We shall leave "Chiga" here just to make certain
Madame. I want him close by in case we need him
hurriedly. He is very hungry. I have not fed him
in three days," he chuckled.
Jean shuddered again, looking at the horrible
creature with unabashed loathing and took a deep
swallow of the dark mint tea. Its warm refreshing
flavor coursed through her emotion scarred body, a
welcome sedative to the pain and soul searing
torture her mind and flesh had been subjected to.
It was almost a relief this feeling of surrender.
She had done all that was humanly possible to avert
the inevitable and now the burden of responsibility
was lifted from her. She had no other choice and
when one has no other choice their responsibility
does not exist. Unless, of course, one is made of
the stuff that martyrs are and there aren't many of
those left in the world.
"Cover him please, Shalla," she said simply, taking
another long swallow from the glass. "I'll
remember he's there."
Shalla covered the cage with a towel from the rack
in the bathroom. He could already detect a note of
fatalistic acceptance in the girl's voice. The tea
and the presence of the rat were working better
than he had expected. He had anticipated some
further form of resistance but it hadn't
materialized. Now it was too late. With the
amount of aphrodisiac he had put in the drink, she
would be a churning mass of raw lust in a mater of
a few minutes. He wanted to see that. He would
like to stand at the foot of the bed and watch her
go into heat. He had seen it before with others
and it was an inciting thing to see an unwilling
woman turned into a raging sex-crazed mass of flesh
in a matter of minutes. He would, besides
profiting well, also enjoy the day ahead.
Jean drained the glass and lay back against the
mattress waiting for the conscious-killing sleep
that she remembered from before. It did not come.
She waited expectantly, praying the dream producing
drug would begin its work before Shalla's cousin
returned. She couldn't bear to be conscious and
face the man who was to possess her body for money.
The Arab hovered over her suddenly.
"We have a long day, Madame, and Shalla does not
want his investment ruined. We must make certain
you do not tire." He took her free wrist that she
had been drinking with and retied it to the top of
the bed and then pulled a small jar from his robe
pocket, holding it above her face. She recognized
it as a Vaseline type substance. He removed the
cap and took a swab on his middle finger. Jean
automatically clamped her thighs tightly together
as he looked down between her legs.
"Open them," he commanded.
Jean lay still, the fear rising again.
"Would Madame prefer "Chiga!" he nodded
impatiently toward the covered cage.
Her eyes widened at the mention of the loathsome
name and she drew her legs quickly apart, closing
her eyes tightly to hide the shame of her exposure.
She jerked abruptly as his hands came in
electrifying contact with the fleshy lips of her
vagina. He pulled them gently apart, until the
hair-lined slit was wide-open, exposing the tightly
clasped entrance to her cunt. He inserted his
finger, massaging the lubricating salve all around
inside the walls and opening. Jean's shame knew no
bounds as his finger circled around inside her,
unhindered by any resistance on her part.
"Oh God, if I could only fight," she groaned
incoherently to herself. "If I only had the
courage."
Shalla's humiliating rummaging between her legs was
suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Mufta is here," he said, excitedly, looking down
at the stricken Jean as though she should share in
his joy. "He has our first client."
Shalla's face sobered for a moment and he placed
his hand on top of the covered cage, casting a
menacing glance at the prostrate girl.
"Remember, if there is one complaint from a
customer, then I shall give "Chiga" your left
breast. You have my word by Allah."
There was absolutely no doubt in the cringing
girl's mind that he would do it. There was no such
thing as mercy in his animalistic world, and she
was fully aware that her survival as a whole human
being depended on how well she accepted the
hopelessness of her situation. Kevin had deserted
her, and now Monique, she was alone and
defenseless.
Jean cowered in the center of the bed, her arms
still bound tightly above her head. She felt her
nakedness as a great shame covering her like an
evil blanket. One that couldn't be dislodged no
matter how hard one struck out against it. And
now, that blanket was going to be replaced by
something even more evil, the bodies of strange
obscene men. Men, who would not even know her name
or that she would not know, except as great shafts
of indecent flesh drubbing into her helpless body.
She would be the receptacle into which they would
spew their lewd sperm as they had into thousands of
other whores in other places at other times.
The vile squeak of the rat penetrated through her
thoughts into her inner conscious mind. It too was
part of the evil picture. It was the conqueror,
the thing against which she could not fight. She
knew she would have submitted to any demands, no
matter how depraved, to keep that evil creature
away from her, to keep its monstrous teeth from
tearing at her body. This she would have done with
or without the deadening potion she was now
awaiting to lift consciousness from her tortured
brain. It would only make it bearable, like
Novocain when one had a tooth pulled, it didn't
eliminate the horrible tearing at one's flesh, only
hid it from the mind of the patient.
The door opened.
Oh God, she thought, Not yet. I'm not ready. I
can still feel. Wait, wait please!
She prayed in fevered anguish for the drug to work,
to cover her nakedness with the invisible cloak of
unconsciousness.
But it didn't.
"Remember, my friend, fifteen minutes for your two
dollars, no more," the voice of the Arab reminded
cheerfully from the hallway. "And do not mark the
girl."
The squeak of the rat resounded through the room as
it heard its master's voice from the distance. It
was hungry and the harsh scratching sounds of its
paws clawing against the side of the cage silenced
a cry building deep within Jean's fear-quaking
body.
A short fat man, dressed in the sweat-soaked
clothes of a dock- worker, entered and closed the
door behind him. His eyes flickered in
appreciation when he saw the delicious young feast
spread defenseless on the bed. Jean had hoped,
somewhere deep in her mind, that the bonds tying
her to the bed would stir his conscience and he
would call the police. One look at his lust-filled
face dispelled this hope. The Arab was too clever.
He would not bring men who say eye to eye with the
law. He would choose his clientele well, probably
those wanted by the law themselves. The quarter
around the hotel was filled with them.
The dock-worker removed his shirt, silently staring
at her with undisguised rapaciousness visible in
his eyes. His huge barrel chest covered with ape-
like hair, rose and fell in short puffing gasps as
he dropped his pants to the floor. His short fat
cock jerked into view beneath an overhanging roll
of fat from his white belly.
Jean's eyes bulged in terror. The tea! The tea!
Why didn't it work?
And, suddenly, it did, but not the way she had
expected.
The first piercing warning of Shalla's betrayal
came as the man leaned gleefully over the edge of
the bed and began running has rough callused hands
over her smooth cringing flesh.
Her reaction was violent!
A deep indescribable electrifying shock shot
through the frayed nerve-ends of her body like a
thousand tiny sharp needles. Laughing red devils
danced wickedly along the inner softness of her
thighs. Her buttocks ground desperately into the
mattress to quench a searing hot flame suddenly
licking hungrily at her nakedness. It was futile,
the fire roared headlong out of control. She lay
immobile for a moment, her mind struggling hopelessly
against the pin-pricks of sensation following the
path of the course fingers digging into her flesh
He played cruelly on, unaware of the hopeless
battle raging within the tortured girl beneath his
kneading hands. He placed his thumbs on the fleshy
lips of hair lining the outside of her cunt and
pulled slowly apart. Jean lay holding her breath
and fighting with all her moral strength It was not
enough, her resistance shattered.
She groaned, the exquisite feeling of air rushing
over the rising bud of her exposed clitoris. It
rippled up her now quivering belly and out into the
nipples of her throbbing tits, drowning out the
debasing humiliation of the strange hands roaming
over her nakedness. The straining muscles of her
thighs relaxed loosely, her white ivory breasts
rose and fell heavily with her labored breath.
The man's tongue licked nervously at his thick
mouth, small beads of sweat formed over his upper
lip as he watched the gradual transformation of the
girl beneath his stroking fingers. He did not
understand and did not care, he would not question
a gift like this-only a fool would.
He could not wait. He pushed her unresisting
thighs wide with the rough palms of his hands and
crawled eagerly over between their lush fullness.
The devils danced faster around the rough pink
edges of Jean's naked cunt as she felt the bed sag
from his weight. It felt like a wet hot tunnel,
and it had to be filled. Her eyes locked greedily
on the fat thick cock dangling from his kneeling
body above her. Suddenly forgotten was the evil
animal lurking in the cage on the table; forgotten
were the fears of humiliation. She needed but one
thing now; she needed that cock! More than
anything else in the world!
Even as her mind fought the repulsive sight of the
kneeling fat body hovering between the slimness of
wide-stretched thighs, her legs kicked out
uncontrollably and her heels curled around his
hips. She jerked forward wildly, pulling him with
a grunt, heavily on top of her writhing body. He
guided the thick blood-filled head straight into
her throbbing cunt, his heavy weight smashing her
with a deep moan far down into the mattress. He
levered up, ramming his rod as deep as it would go
into the hungry clasping pussy. His balls smacked
heavily against her upturned ass, his fat hairy
stomach bored hotly into the yielding softness of
her belly.
Jean strained against the ropes but they held,
cruelly cutting into her wrists and causing her
teeth to gnash tightly together to drive back the
pain of her tortured muscles. She wanted him
deeper. She wanted to pull him deeper into her hot
quivering cunt but the bonds held her back.
"Fuck deeper, Fuck deeper!" she screamed at him in
desperation.
He grasped her ass cheeks in both hands and drove
his cock to the hilt. It was too short!
She groaned in frustration, splaying her legs wide
out over the bed to give him greater access. But
it did not help.
As if in apology, the sweating fat man rammed his
tongue deep into her wide-open mouth, the saliva
drooling down into her throat. She sucked at it in
wild frenzy, her body caught up in a whirlpool of
naked raw lust that she had never known before.
His jerking cock pistoned into her mercilessly,
bringing gasps of pain as his pelvis smacked
against her crotch, a brutal thud resounding
through the room with each pile-driving thrust.
She moaned again, he was bringing her to the peak
with the brutal pounding of his body alone.
Then-suddenly-as she bucked uncontrollably beneath
him, she felt his plunging cock stiffen without
warning and spew its white-hot liquid far into the
hidden recesses of her tortured womb.
Jean groaned in frustration. It was too soon, too
soon. She was almost there, the peak was but a
hair away. She strained crazily for it, but the
man's dead weight collapsed heavily across her
still driving body. The useless deflated prick
hung spent between her churning thighs.
She buffeted her wet crotch up against it angrily,
tears of frustration running down her passion
inflamed cheeks. But the soft rubbery tube gave
way limply before her anguished last upward
thrusts. He rolled from her body, breathing
heavily in satiation, he had gotten his two dollars
worth. He smiled happily.
The fire burned on in Jean, even as the man left
the room, she was waiting for the next, grinding
her buttocks into the mattress in anticipation.
Oh God, she sobbed, the hunger coursing through her
like a narcotic. I'm going crazy, crazy. Send me
someone! send me someone!
Shalla's head appeared through the partially open
door, a grin of satisfaction on his lips as he saw
Jean's drugged body writhing out of control on the
bed. He must raise his price and cut the time to
ten minutes. Mufta had many clients waiting
downstairs and the potion would last for hours.
The girl was beyond objecting to anything now. In
fact, he thought happily, she would welcome it.
Jean's eyes were glazed in frightened uncontrol-
lable desire. The thoughts of unconsciousness had
faded. She wanted to feel. She wanted to feel the
deliciousness of a man fucking her. She wanted her
belly filled by great pools of cum and feel it
shaking around wetly inside her-
Hurry, Shalla, hurry, her mind droned drunkenly.
Bring me one, bring me one or I'll die!
She did not have long to wait. The door opened and
an old man on crutches hobbled in, his eyes shining
in lust. He had only one leg and his clothes were
those of a street beggar. They looked as though
they had not left his body in months. Jean's
passion was beyond caring now, he was a man! A man
with a cock that could slice into her burning
pussy. That was all that mattered.
Hurry, you bastard, hurry, raced through her mind
desperately. She opened her legs wide, pointing
the dripping hair-lined slit of her cunt directly
at the lewdly grinning cripple, grinding it up with
her tightly clenched ass in an equally lewd
invitation to spur him to speed.
He lost no time in tearing his ragged clothes from
his unwashed body. He hadn't believed the Arab on
the street when he had described this women he had
for sale. Nor the price. All that would buy on
the street was a fat old hag who had been used up
years before and who would lie drunkenly under you
thinking of the wine she could buy with the money
from this trick. But this was different. The Arab
had spoken truly. She was young and her flesh was
firm. It had been many long years since he had
fucked anything even approaching this. He could
not afford the young ones in the houses and even if
he could they would turn him down because of his
nauseating appearance. He could not believe his
luck with this one, begging him for it with her
obscene gestures and groans. He would use his ten
minutes well.
He hobbled to the bed and without ceremony, threw
the stump of his missing leg over Jean's squirming
body. He straddled her stomach heavily. The soft
whiteness of it brushed tantalizingly against the
wrinkled sac of-his dangling balls causing his
ancient prick to jerk in anticipation He moved
forward along her writhing torso, laying his still
semi-soft penis between the valley of her full
fleshy tits. He cupped a hand on either side of
the quivering mounds and pushed them together,
trapping his awakening cock softly between them.
He had always wanted to do this but none would ever
let him. Now with the girl's hands tied over her
head she could not object. Besides, the Arab said
anything as long as he didn't mark her.
Jean, beneath him, could feel the bones of his thin
buttocks pressing painfully into her ribs as he
rocked forward. He had straddled her so suddenly
that she had been taken unaware. She needed him in
her-not like this. She tried desperately to
wriggle up the bed under him but he rode with her
body.
"No, no, please, not that way, not that way," she
cried in frustration as she looked down her nose
and watched the red bulbous head growing between
her tightly held tits. She could feel it begin to
throb against the sensitive tissue of her skin,
sending further sheets of hot licking flame racing
down to the quivering slit of her palpitating cunt.
"Oh God no! Fuck me, please! Please!" she begged
as he began a rocking motion, sliding his blue
veined cock faster and faster between her straining
breasts. Spit dripped from his puffing lips,
moistening the narrow valley and making the passage
easier for the rampaging instrument that ignored
her pleas. He continued his desperate thrusting-
faster-faster-his breath coming in quick labored
gasps, until before her horror- stricken eyes, its
long stored cum began spurting in sticky hot
streams over her naked breasts. It ran down over
her shoulders and throat in wet white rivulets,
soaking the mattress beneath.
"Get in me. Get in me. Now! Now!" she raved,
her head thrashing from side to side in bitter
defeat.
"Why didn't you? Why didn't you?" she shouted up
at him through hate-filled eyes, her arms straining
at the binding ropes like a mad woman. She cursed
his impotency with all the foul words that came to
her lust deranged mind.
"Send me a man! Shalla you son of a bitch! Send
me a man!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Her cunt was a steaming hot cavern now that
twitched like a nerve out of control. Her body was
going to explode into a million fiery particles if
someone didn't stuff a cock into her soon-she
sobbed hysterically, crying out for deliverance.
The crippled dressed and hobbled hurriedly from the
room, fearful that this lunatic might break loose
from her bonds and do him bodily harm.
As Jean watched him disappear through the door, she
suddenly gasped and held her breath. His form was
replaced by the shadow of the biggest man she had
ever seen. He stooped as he entered to keep from
hitting his head against the frame.
He was jet black!
Her pleadings froze in her throat. Desire,
suddenly replaced by fear, withered in her body.
He would kill her!
"I've brought you a man, my pigeon," Shalla's voice
cooed from behind the giant Nubian. "I've given
him a discount to let some of the others watch.
You must perform well," he chortled happily. "They
are paying one American dollar each for a good
exhibition and we can't disappoint them, can we?"
"Ohh, please, no," Jean whimpered, a battle raging
between her mental revulsion and the fire raging
inside her drugged body. "I can't, I can't, not in
front of other people. N-not with h-him. Ohh,
Please, please, Shalla!"
Without speaking, he reached for the towel over the
caged black rat and withdrew it slowly, his cruel
grin directed straight into her eyes.
"Chiga would like to watch also. I'm certain you
would not like to disappoint my little pet. He
offends so easily."
The starving rat clawed and struggled against the
restraining wire of the cage, his beady eyes hungrily
searching the room for some sign of food to quell
his ravenous appetite. Jean shrank back into
the mattress, the terror again crawling over her as
his tiny wicked eyes locked on her naked white flesh
Shalla watched the servile acceptance register on
her terrified face. He was contented that she
would not give trouble with the threat present of
her breasts being ripped from her body. He patted
the top of the cage lovingly and motioned for Mufta
to herd the crowd into the room.
Jean was dimly aware, through drug glazed eyes, of
the leering faces crowding into the small closed
room. Would they ever stop coming? They were lining
the walls and hanging over the iron rail at the end
of the bed, packing the small chamber until the air
became hot and almost unbearable from their sweating
unwashed bodies and heavy excited breathing. They
were horrible grotesque faces peering down at her.
Some toothless and unshaven, some marred by terrible
diseases, but all wide-eyed and eager for the cruel
ravishment of the quivering white body staked out
before them to begin.
When the room was jammed with at least twenty
straining men, Shalla motioned for Mufta to lock
the door, cutting off the last entrance for air.
The odor was heavy and pressed down on Jean like an
invisible musty cape. She struggled for breath,
her lungs sucking in great gasps, fighting to
maintain consciousness.
Shalla nodded his head at the painting Nubian who
began eagerly stripping his clothes from his
glistening black body. His pants fell to the floor
causing a murmur of fevered approval to ripple
through the excited crowd. His giant ebony cock
reared out from his black muscular stomach like a
third arm with a huge tightly balled fist at the
end. It was at least ten inches long and two
inches wide and the two great sperm inflated balls
hanging at the base gave it the menacing appearance
of a cannon ready to fire.
Jean jerked her tightly clenched eyes open at the
ripple of noise running through the room, her
shocked gaze locking on the monstrous shaft
pointing directly at her. She gasped in terror,
drawing her thighs tightly together in anguished
fear, her mouth dropping loosely open in astonished
disbelief.
It couldn't be true. He would split her open!
Horrible visions of her ripped torn body flickered
wildly through her cringing mind. They couldn't do
it. They couldn't do it!
The Nubian stepped to the bed, the crowd closing
behind him to get a closer look at the unbelievable
spectacle about to take place before them. Helpful
hands from the sides of the mattress grasped
harshly at Jean's tightly clasped ankles, pulling
them brutally open. Her delicate pink slit
nestling in the soft pubic hair burst into full
view of the spectators at the end of the bed. The
others strained closer around the bedside to get
their look at the palpitating treasure of the
struggling girl. Over-anxious hands reached out to
pinch quickly at the white full tits above, digging
harshly for a stolen moment, and then disappearing
anonymously back into the crowd.
The giant black climbed between her wide-spread
legs. The restraining hands on her ankles levered
them up off the bed and back over her head until
the soles of her upside down feet were touching the
headboard in a great vee about four feet apart
Jean's face contorted in anguish, every muscle in
her body felt as though it were stretched beyond
all human endurance. The flat plane of her soft
hair covered pussy was presented up to the kneeling
Nubian in defenseless sacrifice. It was his, his
to plunder at will.
He grinned down at it, his lips bared back over the
white ivory of his teeth in unbridled lust. He
stroked his immense cock with both hands in greedy
preparation for the assault on the helpless up-
turned cunt in front of him His body swayed on his
knees like a stalking cobra, the glistening ebony
skin shining in the dim light of the single bulb
hanging above. He shuffled forward slowly, his
pelvis and great bulging black cock shoved out and
quivering like a savage limbo dancer caught in the
hypnotic throes of a primeval jungle ceremony.
Jean, up through wide-split thighs, watched in awed
terror, the writhing torso advancing toward her
helpless aperture. She could not turn her eyes
from the vile instrument that was in a moment to
cleave through her warm body in vicious rape. She
was mesmerized into abject stillness.
Suddenly, without warning, the swaying Nubian
jerked his pelvis back and his head came forward
and down in a dark blur, his gleaming ivory teeth
fastening into the soft flesh of her belly. A tiny
nip at her navel and his tongue began a slow
tantalizing exploration of her whiteness, following
the soft path of light fuzz down into the flanges
of her cringing pussy. He spread its young fleshy
lips with his fingers and with a maddening liquid
suck of the lips, drew the tiny pink bud of Jean's
throbbing clitoris wetly into his hot moist mouth.
He nibbled at it with the sharp tips of his teeth,
feeling it jerking back to life from the softness
that fear had brought.
Jean clenched her eyes tightly shut against the
whirlpools of sensation that were shooting out of
control again through her loins. She fought with
all her inner strength against the betrayal of her
body. Thoughts of Kevin and the life and children
they would have after this nightmare was over
coursed through her mind. No, No, she must not let
them win. She mustn't! She mustn't!
But suddenly, the Nubian's tongue snaked forward,
burrowing up her straining cunt like a racing
lizard. The shock rippled crazily up her spine to
the base of her skull where it shattered in a
cascade of wildly shooting colored stars. The hot
meteors rained down tauntingly over her whole body.
Her crotch jerked involuntarily forward, burying
the flicking tongue to its roots. Fire replaced
fear and all else.
She was that cent! Oh God, she was that cant!
Her entire being was suddenly a great open cavern
that had to be filled, that had to be gorged and
stuffed with hot fiery flesh. Nothing else
mattered now; not Kevin, not principles, not
humiliation, just the flicking reality of the
probing tongue that had crawled from between her
hot steaming furrow and was tracing tiny round wet
circles up her body.
"Ohh, ohh, yes, yesss, suck my tits, yes, like
that, like that! Bite me!
Aaaaagggg!"
It moved on up over her throat, licking at her nose
and eyes and cheeks, the hot thick saliva soaking
her skin. She rotated her lust contorted face
around searching with her open mouth for the wet
fleshy mass. She found it and sucked it deep into
her throat with a low animal moan. His saliva
gushed into her in unimpeded torrents, she
swallowed greedily, mewling for more.
Her crotch ground frantically around below,
searching with her gaping hot pussy for that
monstrous pole that was going to rip her belly
asunder. The lust incited crowd around the bed
gasped as the great bulging head found its
pulsating opening. It jostled for a moment against
the pink ragged edges of flesh, insinuating itself
gently between them. Then, with a flick of the
hips, the grinning Nubian forced the blood-filled
tip brutally into the throbbing lips of the hair-
lined cunt, stretching the resisting rubbery flesh
almost to the bursting point.
Jean threw her head wildly to the side and screamed
"Aaaagggg!"
It sunk a cruel inch, the struggling girl trying
desperately to kick her legs free and escape the
punishing impalement. The eager restraining hands
held them tightly back against the bedstead. In
her wild passion a moment ago she had overestimated
herself. The cock was too big. She could never
take it in a million years. It was splitting her
cunt lips terribly, the pain unbearable, rocketing
through her stretched body like tiny sharp probing
needles.
The Nubian levered up on his hands in the push-up
position and flicked again-his grin widening-the
relentless monster sliding another excruciating
inch.
"Uuuuuugggg!"
Another inch-
"Aaaagggg!"
Hot stale breaths coursed over her naked sweating
body as the men crowded closer. Their faces hung
over the bed within inches of her straining nudity,
watching hypnotically this young white beauty being
fucked and skewered like a medieval slave by the
giant glistening Nubian. She was dimly aware of
hands tearing at her breasts from the leering crowd
and fingers clawing over every part of her flesh
until it felt as though she were covered with tiny
crawling animals trying to enter every pore of her
helpless body. The room had become a giant octopus
with thousands of grasping tentacles reaching out
obscenely to crush her in her helplessness.
"Nooo... Noooooo!" she sobbed hysterically, tears
gushing like fountains from her open but almost
unseeing eyes.
Her sobbing, struggling protests and resistance
brought a sudden crushing thrust from the Nubian
that plowed the giant black cock deep into her
tight resisting passage, pushing great ripples of
pink soft flesh in rolling waves before it. Jean
jerked convulsively as the huge rod raced into her
belly like a runaway freight train smashing all
resistance. It was an uncontrolled monster
crawling around inside her, filling her every
crevice and pushing her inner organs into tiny
tight balls that could not breath or move. It was
coming out her throat, out her mouth, curling
around her shoulders and neck to crush her life
away. It was ripping her soul from her body and
devouring it in great gulps of depraved sensuality.
Suddenly, it stopped. With an earth-shattering
jolt, the Nubians pelvis thudded heavily into her
upturned crotch The monstrous sperm inflated balls
insinuating themselves with a smack into the wide-
split crevice of her ass.
The huge ebony cock lay imbedded to the hilt inside
Jean's shivering cunt like an ancient impaling
torture device.
The Nubian held still above for a moment until the
bereaved girl beneath him adjusted to the presence
of the huge member planted in her white soft belly.
He watched as her pain contorted face began a slow
relaxation, the tightly gnashed teeth opening in
surprised adjustment.
"A-Aaaaah," her lips breathed in welcome relief.
He flexed the giant head, bringing a deep groan
from her lips, her teeth re-clenching. He flexed
again-another groan again- a lesser groan, as her
hot passage grew accustomed to the increasing size.
Then he began a slow revolving motion with his
pelvis, grinding his cock tightly into her naked
crotch, expanding the still cringing walls of her
vagina until it fit like a well tailored glove.
Unbelieving eyes peered lustfully within inches of
the huge buried member, amazed that the tight tiny
cunt they had seen before was capable of swallowing
the whole of it Hands from the crowd rubbed lewdly
over the moon-shaped cheeks of her skewered
buttocks. From both sides of the bed, fingers
pulled cruelly at the fleshy hair covered lips
surrounding it. A fingertip probed under the
dangling balls at her tiny puckered anus, flicking
teasingly at it like another tongue. She winced as
it suddenly popped Rough the tight surrounding
nether ring and dug deeply at the soft rubbery
flesh inside. It moved around, expanding the tight
tiny hole until the palm of the intruding hand lay
flat against her ass cheeks, the whole finger sunk
safely inside the dry throbbing tunnel.
Now the Nubian began a painful sawing motion in and
out of Jean's moist stretched pussy, thrusting
forward mercilessly from the apex of his withdrawal
and battering her pain-wracked body back hard
against the mattress. The finger imbedded in her
ass joined the slowly pistoning cock in a rhythmic
fucking duo that brought groans of pain and gasps
of pleasure gushing from the lips of her moaning
mouth in time to their simultaneous tempo.
The pain was easing and a weird sensation of
happiness tingled through her helpless body. The
outrageous debasement and subjugation brought
strange masochistic pleasures flooding through her
blood stream. Her hips began unconsciously
gyrating in an abandoned rhythm with the increasing
speed of the cock and finger fucking into her. A
thousand helpful hands groped at her from the
leering faces surrounding them.
"Ohhh yes, yessss, fuck me like this. Oh shit yes,
fuck me like this," she crooned, squirming her body
lewdly around among the myriad of hands and fingers
that crawled over her tingling flesh. She opened
her eyes. Cocks were everywhere. The men around
the bed had pulled them out and were stroking them
over her in time to the black and white flesh
smacking together before them. Long ones, short
ones, fat ones, she was in a great cock heaven,
surrounded by them-a prisoner of them-and all the
time while the great black glistening pole fucked
into her, expanding with each stroke like a giant
balloon, the finger drubbed into her asshole like
another cock-she was a prisoner, a helpless
prisoner to the delicious rape of her cunt and
asshole-trapped between them like a helpless
insect.
"Oh god, don't stop! Oh fuck, don't ever stop!"
she grunted into the thick stale air, gyrating her
upturned ass faster and faster, trying to keep up
with the monstrous poles of flesh and finger that
drubbed into her like tireless fucking machines.
She felt long fleshy objects dropped into her
tightly bound hands on either side of the mattress
and other hands press her fingers tightly around
them. She knew they were cocks and began a hard
vicious stroking in time to the communal rhythm, as
she felt the shaft of flesh pummeling into her
throbbing cunt expanding almost to the bursting
point.
"No! No! Wait, wait," she chanted in desperation,
but it was too late. The Nubian's eyes rolled
around helplessly in his head and his great balls
began pumping spurt after spurt of hot white cum
deep into her contracting belly. She ground her
naked crotch up tightly against his pelvis to stop
the flow for a moment but her very eagerness
defeated her desperate purpose. The nibbling clasp
of her pussy milked it clean, the last drop of his
hot load sloshed around deep inside her dilated
womb.
The giant rolled useless and drained from her still
squirming form, helped by a hundred eager hands
clawing to take his place. A thin string of white
sticky liquid trailed from his cock over her leg to
the floor where he collapsed in exhaustion.
"Three dollars, my friends, three dollars," she
could hear dimly through the muffled confusion of
the noise and caught a glimpse of Shalla
desperately reaching over heads for the freely
offered bills like an excited circus barker.
Her hips jerked up automatically to receive the
hurried thrust of a short fat man who had replaced
the Nubian between her legs. He rammed into her
like a jack-hammer, needing no fore-play to incite
him. The spectacle had been enough. They raced
wildly together for the climax Jean had been so
cruelly deprived of when the Nubian had deserted
her. It hit her suddenly, like an angry fist in
the stomach. Great waves of searing indescribable
joy coursed through her fanatically aroused body
with the power of a thousand lightening bolts,
curling the tips of her toes and fingers like
burning twigs on a bonfire. The fat man's cock
spat uncontrollably into her as the palms of her
bound hands were flooded too with the hot sticky
fluid simultaneously. Great pools of cum clung
stickily to her as she saw other cocks spurting at
her body from the sides of the bed. She wallowed
lewdly around in it, punishing and debasing herself
in maniacal arousal, the odor rushing through her
nostrils, as her own cum gushed hotly from between
her legs, soaking the mattress beneath her wildly
grinding buttocks.
The bodies came on and on, spurred by her screaming
supplications for further and further humiliation.
Her hair was matted thickly with the pungent fluid
now and her body was covered from head to foot.
She squirmed wetly on her back in it as she was
buffeted up and down the mattress by one rampaging
man after another. It seemed it would never stop.
Suddenly, Shalla grinned to himself. It was going
too slow. There was a better way to handle this
volume of business. After all, the American bitch
was screaming for it. He would make sure she got
more.
He held back the next men in line and reaching over
the bed, cut her bonds.
"Turn over," he commanded.
Jean rolled her battered body over in the slippery
pools of cum, resting heavily on her stomach.
"Now kneel," he commanded to the half conscious
girl again. He grabbed impatiently at her hips and
helped her to her knees. She rested panting for a
moment on all fours, her buttocks high in the air
and her face pushed into the bed. Her eyes were
glazed thickly from the ravishment her body was
enduring.
Shalla directed the waiting traffic like an
experienced policeman on a busy intersection
Jean felt heavy hands on her hips from a nameless
body suddenly kneeling behind and between her open
thighs. She waved the stretched moons of her
buttocks back at him, feeling the blunt end of his
cock pressing into the now dripping slit in her
crotch. With a grunt, he shoved cruelly forward,
burying the long thin instrument deep up her
crevice, causing her to jump forward in surprise at
the sudden lunge. Her face ran head on into
another waiting hard erect cock that rammed without
warning into Jean's gaping mouth. The man was
kneeling on the bed in front of her grasping both
sides of her head vice like between his strong
callused hands and holding it firm. He sawed into
her face viciously, like it was a second delicious
cunt. Jean gagged, as he rammed it half- way down
her throat, the full length disappearing into her
ovaled lips almost to the hilt. His balls slapped
harshly against her chin, the soft fuzz covering
them tickling like a light airy feather. She
struggled to breath, catching small gasps of air on
the out-stroke.
"Oh God," she groaned as they buffeted her back and
forth like a rag doll between them, using her
helpless body as a great receptacle into which they
would pump their burning sperm. She was no longer
human but a great mass of flaccid flesh, unable to
think or feel.
But then, the very helplessness of her position
flickered through her mind. The mental picture of
her body being fucked between two excited men
incited her. The hunger in her belly began raging
out of control again. She began to undulate her
buttocks in tiny circles, squeezing with her cunt
muscles at the fleshy staff boring into her. She
wanted to milk it dry, to fill her belly again
until more of the hot sticky fluid ran down her
already thickly covered thighs. She wanted to
wallow in it again. She sucked voraciously at the
cock in her mouth her cheeks hollowing and filling
with his cruel thrusts. She had never tasted a
cock before and she explored its every pore. Her
tongue licked wildly at the blood-filled head, the
tip probing hotly into the gland on the end. She
wanted it to shoot in her mouth. She wanted to
swallow it and feel it running down her throat
until her stomach was filled as her cunt. She
wanted it to run through every pore in her body in
great torrents of joy.
Her wish came true a moment later.
Simultaneously with the rising tide of her building
orgasm, she felt the cock fucking into her from
behind, inflate and begin spewing its white hot
load deep up her clasping cunt. It ricocheted
wildly around inside and dripped from the hair-
covered lips into the matted hair of his belly.
His balls pressed tightly against her exposed
clitoris, causing her body to jerk convulsively
forward, burying the rod in her madly sucking mouth
to the hilt. It too exploded, flooding her throat
with the delicious pungent liquid, her cheeks
expanded like a balloon to keep from choking on the
great gushes that spurted without stopping deep
into her throat. She swallowed in hungry crazed
gulps fastening her lips like an elastic ring
tightly around the ejaculating rod, fearful of
losing even a drop of the precious fluid. Small
droplets ran from the corners of her mouth as he
collapsed in front of her and his deflated penis
flopped lifelessly from her still sucking mouth,
thin narrow sticky strings of cum hung from her
lips connected still to the deflated cock several
inches away.
She screwed her buttocks back tightly against the
still squirting cock in her cunt and with a scream
from between clenched teeth felt her own body
explode into what seemed a thousand tiny sparks.
Her strength was suddenly gone and she collapsed on
the bed as the cock slipped limply from her
drenched pussy, gushes of cool air rushed
refreshingly into the unplugged opening.
Time, after that, became meaningless and merged
into a blur of strange and different cocks, fucking
her as they would and where they would. Jean was
beyond emotion. Her body still reacted with orgasm
to several of the more inventive males that bent
her to their will but her strength was gone and she
followed mechanically the directions Shalla would
scream at her when she lagged in her duties to the
clients.
"Get those legs up! Move that ass! Suck harder!"
She was nothing now but a robot at his command and
weakly moved her limbs to comply with his shouts.
Many long hours later, the room was finally emptied
and she fell into a deep exhausted sleep on the
soiled sticky mattress that was forever to be her
shame.
Monique smiled sweetly across the table at Kevin,
lifting her champagne glass in a toast.
"Well, here's to the conquering hero. Honestly
Kevin, she was absolutely crushed. You should have
seen her face when I showed her the note. She
couldn't believe you would turn into a tiger like
this."
The words eased Kevin's worried mind. He had
walked about the city all day worried to death
about Jean's reaction to the note he had written
for Monique. Several times, he had almost gone
over to the small hotel she had indicated in her
cable and begged her forgiveness but each time, he
thought of Monique's advice about being strong and
had desisted. It had taken all his courage but now
it seemed it had all been for the best. He would
have blubbered out something stupid if he had seen
Jean and probably made things more of a mess than
they already were. The champagne was relaxing him
now and he felt better than he had since walking
out of the hotel several days ago in Paris.
"I owe you a lot, Monique," he said warmly, "I
honestly didn't know what to do when I arrived
here. Jean's such a funny conservative girl that I
had no idea what to say to her."
"Believe me, my dear boy, you'll never have that
problem again. By tomorrow she'll be chomping at
the bit wondering what you're doing in Paris.
Women are like that. I know, I'm one too,
remember?"
Monique was pleased. Things had gone much better
than she had expected and this naive young American
had swallowed her story, hook, line and sinker.
She had spent her day arranging things with Gamal
for one of his usual parties at his villa and
tonight she would clench the sale to him Kevin
didn't know it, she smiled to herself, but he would
play a great part in it. He probably would raise
the price on his own wife by at least one thousand
American dollars if things went the way she had
planned it. And knowing Gamal's taste for the
unusual, she was certain it would work.
"I've planned a surprise for you," Monique said,
interrupting his thoughts of Jean. "Remember the
experience we discussed this afternoon? Well, I've
arranged for us to attend a very special party
tonight."
"A party, what good will that do me? I've been to
thousands already and it's never helped yet."
"I said a special party, Kevin, and I mean a very
special one. Men and women do things to each
other. Good things," she grinned slyly, waiting
amusedly for his reaction. It certainly would be
one of indignation at first, until she convinced
him otherwise. Lord, what one had to go through to
teach these youngsters about life!
Kevin's reaction was exactly as Monique had
predicted. He blushed heavily and lowered his eyes
from hers.
"You don't mean one of those French exhibition
things do you?" he said quickly, "I've heard
they're pretty raw."
"No, no, my dear boy. This is not a cheap
exhibition. This is a very special affair given by
a very wealthy man. You can watch-and participate
if you wish," Monique lowered her voice on the last
sentence, an unmistakable invitation hidden subtly
in it.
"I couldn't do that, Monique. What would Jean
think of a man that got his kicks from watching
others?" Kevin said, a flat note of refusal
apparent in his voice. But Monique knew him better
than he did himself and her appeal to his weak
point began.
"Well, it isn't important. It's just that you may
have learned something about lovemaking. Jean will
expect that after your supposed good time in Paris.
I don't think you want to disappoint her." Her
eyes watched his face change slowly from stern
objection to thoughtful consideration of her
statement. She pushed him further.
"Remember also, a woman doesn't expect faithfulness
from her husband as he does his wife. You've
already seen her reaction to the little fiasco in
Paris. She would have had a great deal more respect
for you if you had known how to control yourself.
I'm certain she wouldn't have bothered asking
herself, or you for that matter, where you got your
experience."
She could feel Kevin weakening, just as she had
anticipated. Like all others in the world, if you
could justify something to their conscience, then
it was all right, even though it had been latently
present all along. No one ever did anything they
really didn't subconsciously want to do from the
beginning. Just supply the excuse, that was all
that was necessary.
"You make these crazy things sound so logical,
Monique," he said, looking at her with resigned
acceptance.
"I was right about today, wasn't I?" she said,
smugly. "If I hadn't headed you off and talked
some sense into you, you would have been groveling
at Jean's feet right this very minute."
"Yes, I suppose you're right," he admitted, "we can
go and take a look, at least that much can't hurt."
"All right then, it's settled. Tonight, young man,
you're going to get an education you'll never
forget." Monique beamed, chuckling to herself at
the double meaning that could be placed on her
statement had he known the actual state of things.
"Let's go have our dinner, the party starts about
midnight."
They entered the door to the villa a little before
one o'clock. The dinner had been long and
pleasant. Monique had purposely drawn it out to
make certain Kevin got enough wine and after dinner
drinks to deaden his inhibitions. She didn't want
him too alert tonight, particularly in the
beginning of the party. Her timing had to be very
good to pull this thing off and she couldn't afford
to have him get too moralistic on her and want to
leave before she could put her little plan into
action.
An attendant took their coats at the door and Kevin
followed Monique into the large salon. As he
adjusted his eyes to the light from the large
crystal chandelier hanging from the frescoed
ceiling, he could make out a small crowd of people
gathered around a bar in the corner. There
couldn't have been over twenty or twenty-five in
all. It was evident that it was a fairly wealthy
group as the men were in black tie and coats and
the women, all young voluptuous girls around
twenty, were in long evening gowns. Certainly they
were not the wives of these men, as they were at
least thirty years their juniors in most cases.
Monique led him over to the bar and ordered drinks
from the dark appearing bartender. Kevin couldn't
place his nationality but it appeared to be Arabic
of one form or another. He marveled at his quiet
efficiency in handling the group of people without
complaint. Some of them had obviously been there
for several hours and were beginning to get a
little noisy. Kevin could not understand one word
of the French and had to content himself with
watching their animated gestures with their hands.
"It seems those two are coming to blows in just a
moment," he confided to Monique over his drink. He
was watching two men violently shaking their fists
at each other.
"Oh, no. Not the French, it's just that we use our
hands a lot like the Italians," Monique laughed,
"they are just discussing whether or not it will
rain tomorrow."
He laughed with her, now understanding why he
thought he had seen so many "almost" fights in
Paris but never the real thing.
"They'll scream and shake their fists until you are
certain they are going to kill one another, but I
have never seen one yet with the courage to
strike," she added. "They will quiet down in a
moment when things begin. Just watch."
"Just what exactly is this place," Kevin asked in a
low whisper, still not certain he should have come.
He would have preferred going back to his hotel and
getting some rest for his meeting with his wife.
He still needed to build up some courage in spite
of Monique's assurance that she would melt like
butter into his arms.
"It's a private club," Monique answered in a
confidential tone. "The members are all
nationalities and just fly in when a special party
is being given. It's very exclusive and always has
some extremely unique entertainment for them."
"What do you mean by unique?" he asked, his
curiosity rising slightly now that he had finished
another scotch.
"You'll see, my boy, you'll see before much longer.
I guarantee you'll get quite a kick out if."
Monique smiled to herself again. She could hardly
wait to see this pup taken down a peg or two.
Innocence bored her, particularly from those who
had it made all their lives.
"Oh, you must meet Gamal," Monique said suddenly,
interrupting something else she was going to say.
"He's coming now."
Kevin turned his head and saw a short dark fat man
approaching them from the center of the room. He
disliked him immediately. He looked like just the
type to be running a place like this. Kevin's
stomach recoiled as Monique introduced them and
Gamal pressed his small well manicured hand into
his, shaking it like a limp handkerchief. He could
smell his thick over-sweet perfume hanging heavily
in the air immediately surrounding his presence.
It was sickening.
"Welcome to our little get together," Gamal smiled
to them. "You could not have picked a better
companion. Our little Monique is always welcome
here with her friends."
Kevin reached for another drink from the bar as the
fat insipid little man took Monique by the arm and
squeezed tightly as though he owned her. He felt
like pushing his fist straight into his flat oily
little nose. He had never met anyone who repulsed
him so much at first sight.
"You will be participating in our little games
tonight, Mr. Taylor?" Gamal asked with a sly wink,
nudging Monique in the ribs at the same time. "We
have never had an American here before. I'm
certain you would be quite popular with the ladies
of the crowd."
"No, I don't think I will," Kevin said, an
indignant tone apparent in his voice. "I prefer my
love life to remain private."
"Ah yes, a moralist, I see," Gamal said with a
subtle mocking smile. "Perhaps you will change
your mind later. Now if you will excuse me, may I
talk privately with your charming escort for a
moment."
"Be my guest," Kevin replied coldly, turning back
to the bar. He was beginning to feel his drinks
and decided as soon as Monique finished talking
with that slime they would get out of here. He
didn't like the setup at all and right now had no
desire to see a trumped up exhibition with paid
actors.
"Your little package arrived a few minutes ago, my
dear," Gamal whispered with a delighted smile when
they were out of earshot of Kevin. "You have done
well, I must say. I will add one hundred dollars
to the usual price in reward for your excellent
taste."
"My dear Gamal you have not taken a close look at
the young lady or you wouldn't even consider such a
ridiculous offer. She is worth double the usual
price if she is worth a franc. Come, let's go take
a quick look at her. I'm certain you have missed a
great deal of the quality."
"If you insist, my love," Gamal said with
resignation. He knew he was not going to get this
voluptuous young thing as cheaply as he had the
others, but perhaps with luck, he could keep the
price within reasonable bounds.
Monique followed him down the hallway from the
Salon and into a room that had a guard on the door.
Jean was lying fully dressed on the bed, her eyes
closed in sleep. Her dress had hiked up over the
tops of her stockings and the smooth white flesh
was tantalizingly visible up to her panties. She
was the absolute picture of helpless innocence.
Gamal liked that, Monique could tell. Her battle
was almost won.
"Your desk-clerk friend gave her something to make
her sleep during the trip here in the car. He says
she will awaken in a half an hour or so," Gamal
explained as Monique purposely registered concern
on her face. She had actually instructed Shalla to
give her the light sleeping potion so she would
make no great fuss when she was transferred from
the hotel. She just hoped that stupid Arab had not
given her too much. She had to wake up soon or her
plans would be ruined.
"Oh, the poor dear, I do hope they handled her
gently. She's so sweet," Monique poured the
compliments on, she could tell by the slight beads
of perspiration breaking out on Gamal's forehead
that he was very eager to get his hot little hands
on Jean's young body. It was just a question of
the price now and she was ready to put her plan
into operation.
"Why don't you strip her down completely, Gamal,
you can get a better idea of the true value that
way," Monique slyly suggested, certain that he had
already lifted the sleeping girls dress and peeked
underneath. The slight guilty blush that passed
over his face confirmed her suspicions. She smiled
to herself in satisfaction. "I'll get us a drink
while you are doing it and then we can discuss the
final price with all the merchandise laid out
before you. Business should be done like that,"
she smiled sweetly.
Gamal advanced eagerly on the bed as Monique left
the room and made her way happily back to the
Salon. She was going to enjoy the evening. It was
nice to be happy in one's work, particularly when
the work was lucrative and presented a challenge as
this one did. Yes, tonight should be an evening to
remember.
She circled her arm through Kevin's, who had not
seen her approaching from behind. "Such a sad face
for such a handsome young man. Give me a drink and
I'll cheer you up," Monique squeezed his arm
playfully.
"What did that creep want? He looks like he should
be running a whore house in Tangiers."
"Do I detect a bit of jealousy, my love," Monique
cooed, squeezing his arm a little tighter.
"Not of that fat little grease ball," he said
gruffly, handing her another scotch.
"Come now, Kevin, that's our host you're insulting.
Besides, Gamal can be rather pleasant at times. He
does mean well."
"So what was he so secretive with you about?" he
demanded, the alcohol putting him in an impatient
mood.
"Oh, just to advise him on some new drapes for one
of his guest rooms. He has no need for me, dear
boy. He has one of your young American girls for
the evening. At least that's what he said."
"An American girl. How did he get her here, kidnap
her?"
"No, not Gamal, silly boy. He wouldn't do that
kind of thing. She's evidently here because of
frustration. She asked her desk-clerk where she
could get some action, pardon the Americanism," she
laughed with her pun, "and he directed her here.
There are many like that, you know. Their husbands
don't keep them happy at home, so they play when
they come to France. Frenchmen do have a
reputation as lovers, even you must know that."
Kevin pulled deeper on his drink. "Well, maybe she
needs it badly, but I can't understand any woman
coming to a place like this."
"You'd be surprised how a woman needs it sometimes
too. We're all flesh and blood, even we females,"
she laughed. "You'll see."
"I think we had better get out of this place,"
Kevin said impatiently. "It depresses me."
"Oh, nonsense. Finish your drink and order us
another," Monique said, draining her glass. "I
want to show you around a bit and then we can
leave. It's quite an interesting house. You might
even enjoy it. Gamal is very clever."
Monique took Kevin's hand after their fresh drinks
had arrived and led him out of the Salon. He was
amazed at the splendor of the rooms through which
they passed. Arab mosaics and inlaid ivory panels
abounded through the house. It must have cost a
fortune just for the interior of the rooms. No
expense had been spared.
Monique led him down one hallway into a theater-
like chamber. It had couches arranged in a
circular seating pattern around a large round bed,
the largest Kevin had ever seen. It must have been
twenty feet across and had a strange circular post
about six inches across coming right up through the
center of the mattress. It stood up about four
feet from the surface of the bed and had a short
rope with manacles hanging down that was attached
through a ring on top of the post.
"This little room, as you can see, is the theater.
Quite a nice stage don't you think," Monique joked
with a twinkle in her eyes.
"Yes," Kevin answered grimly. "I see by the
handcuffs and rope that your sneaky friend Gamal
has many unwilling actors too."
"Yes, they are sometimes, but for the most part
they enjoy it, even if they so resist at first.
I've seen some fantastic changes come over girls
who are being ravished at first against their
will."
"Well, certainly no one with the correct upbringing
could ever enjoy making a public spectacle of
themselves. I think he has them fake it."
"You'd be surprised, my boy, at what hidden devils
lurk beneath most of us, even the most conservative.
We're still not too far removed from animals, you
know."
"I can see your friend isn't, but I think you're
wrong about the majority," Kevin objected. "At
least, I hope you're wrong. Otherwise there isn't
much hope for the future of the world."
"I think you're being a bit melodramatic, Kevin.
After all, what harm does it do if a group of
people want to privately amuse themselves this way?
Perhaps it's a better solution than you Americans
with your bottles upon bottles of tranquilizers or
stuffed psychiatrists offices. You people go to
your headshrinkers and say; "Doctor, I'm sick, I
have dreams of seeing people making love, I can't
get it off my mind. Then he tells you about some
far distant event that occurred when you were two
years old that's supposed to explain it and cure
you. That kind of thing never cures, it merely
gives one the justification they need for thinking
about sex without guilt. Here, when we feel like
seeing an exhibition, we go see one. It's a simple
and practical solution. Satisfies everyone. No
doctors or tranquilizers."
"And what about the poor people on stage," Kevin
said, speaking a little more harshly. "There are
better occupations to earn ones living."
"Like a chimney sweep? No, my dear young man, for
every voyeur that likes to watch there's an
exhibitionist that likes to show it to him. Most
people end up in the occupation that most suits
their talents whether they will admit it or not.
If it happens to be less than their aspirations
they blame it on bad luck or circumstances. A
slight change of aspiration is much more
practical."
"Well, regardless, I think it's a rotten business
and I think that pig friend of yours should be
shot."
"Let's not fight about it, Kevin," Monique
retreated. She didn't want to get him too upset.
His state of mind was perfect now for her next step
in the plan. Gamal would be quite surprised at
their little interruption. She was looking forward
with extreme delight at the confrontation that was
now ready to take place. "Come I'll show you some
of the other rooms before we go. Perhaps you'll
change your mind about our host."
Kevin followed her through a series of smaller
rooms. They were equipped with every known
perverse device Kevin had ever hard of and then
some. He was growing rapidly more ill with each
new disclosure. Each seemed to be worse than the
one before. He could not comprehend how anyone
could enjoy having relations with some of the
devices. He just wanted to get out of this sick
place as quickly as possible and followed Monique
more with a sense of duty for her assistance with
his problem than anything else.
They stopped before the door with the guard.
Monique had entered with Gamal before so the guard
made no move to stop them.
"This is the room where the American girl was to be
entertained. She didn't want to join the crowd
outside for her first experience," Monique
explained to the listlessly following Kevin. He
stepped through the door and adjusted his eyes to
the dim light.
Suddenly, Kevin's heart leaped to his throat!
In the dim light of the bed lamp was a completely
stripped girl lying on the bed. Her head was
turned away from the door groaning and the fat Arab
had his face buried deep between her wide splayed
thighs licking at her cunt like a hungry pig. He
was completely dressed and his black suit
contrasted distinctly with the whiteness of the
weakly protesting girls skin. Kevin instinctively
stepped back to leave the room when the still
groaning girl turned her face, eyes closed tight,
toward the door.
The shock shot through him without warning, like a
thunderbolt! His knees sagged momentarily.
It was his wife!
It took seconds for the full impact of the
spectacle to hit him. This dirty Arab had his
young wife down on the bed slobbering over her
naked body lie an animal! His muscles coiled, and
Kevin threw himself at the hated figure like a wild
bull, knocking Monique out of the way like a store
dummy. She screamed just as Kevin landed on the
totally unprepared Gamal, sending his fat body
rolling across the bed like a bowling ball. He
landed on the floor with a thud knocking the table
and lamp over with a crash and Kevin was right on
him, fists flailing like a windmill. He could feel
the soft flabby flesh of the oil face giving way
beneath his driving knuckles like so much putty.
He wrapped his hands around the stunned Arabs
throat and began beating his head against the floor
with all his strength. He was a man gone mad and
there was no reasoning left in him. He wanted to
kill this vermin more than anything else in the
world, to destroy him for daring to touch his
helpless wife this way.
The guard rushed through the door and leaped across
the bed, swinging wildly at Kevin's head with the
club he carried. He connected with a sickening
thud and Kevin slumped over on the floor with a
dizzying blackness enveloping him, the light of the
room faded painfully from his eyes. There was
nothing but a great churning dark sea and he was
sinking helplessly down into it, until even that
disappeared-
"Want to buy her for the show tonight, my love,"
Monique cooed down at the Arab who was trying to
rise dizzily from the floor.
"Are you mad," he spat at her. "Who is this crazy
fool anyway?"
"He's her jealous husband, luv. He might enjoy
watching her perform," Monique suggested coyly.
"That would be sweet revenge and would give you
something different for your clients. They are
quite particular, I understand."
Gamal rubbed his throbbing head. What the woman
was saying made sense for his clients and it would
be a welcome revenge. No one ever touched him and
this young punk had dared. Yes, it would be sweet.
He obviously was the wildly jealous type. It would
be good to make him squirm.
"Done," he said. "It shall be a pleasure to pay
such an intelligent woman the additional amount
this little trick obviously costs."
"You're sweet to do business with, my dear Gamal.
I was going to charge you two thousand American
more, but it will be only one thousand if you will
give me a car to take me to Paris now and put out
of the way a certain desk clerk named Shalla, at
the Pensione Afrique. Do it slowly, please."
"Both shall be done, my dear," Gamal answered with
new respect for the business acumen she had
presented. He liked people that could think well.
"I see we shall be doing much business together in
the future, your imagination impresses me greatly."
"Thank you, Gamal. I promise to keep your stables
full with the best of the young foreigners I can
find. Now, if you'll give me the money I shall be
on the way. I want to reach Paris before tomorrow
noon. A new group of British girls are coming
through on tour. Perhaps, I will have something
else for you soon."
"Wonderful," Gamal smiled, peeling the bills from
his wallet. "We shall be waiting."
"Oh," Monique turned back as she started out the
door, the money placed safely in her handbag.
"Don't worry about the young girl not giving a good
performance. She has received a good dose of
aphrodisiac. It should last for several hours
after she is fully awake. You won't need the
manacles."
Gamal licked his lips in anticipation of the coming
spectacle as he waved goodbye. Yes, this Monique
was clever. Who else would have ever thought of
such an original, yet simple idea. He would enjoy
it too. This little bastard, who did he think he
was? He deserved everything he was going to get.
The room was blurred a dark gray and out of focus.
A low hum of voices surrounded him. Kevin groaned,
and shook his head to clear the cob-webs that kept
his thoughts from coming through clearly. He tried
to move. He couldn't. It felt as though he were
wrapped tightly in a cocoon and the glazed picture
of a colorful butterfly escaping and bursting forth
into the air to freedom flickered through his mind.
He was somewhere whirling in a great vacuum, but
where, he didn't know. A dulling ache grew at the
side of his head as the whirling slowed and his
vision cleared slightly. He could see the white
shapes of faces now that seemed to be peering right
at him from all around a room.
A room that he suddenly recognized!
It was the room with the round bed and it was
filled with people staring at him. The picture
became more clear by the second and he could see
amusement in their eyes. He tried to move again
but still was held tightly in place.
"Welcome to our little party, Mr. Taylor," Kevin
heard a voice sneer softly at his side. He
painfully turned his head toward the sound and saw
the fat, now leering Gamal, smiling directly into
his eyed He had a white bandage plastered above his
left eye and his nose was swollen slightly. An
evil grin lined his lips.
Kevin suddenly remembered! That horrible scene
with Jean on the bed and this pig touching her
naked body. His full senses roared back to him and
he tried to lunge at the smiling face but
discovered that he was bound tightly to his chair
from his shoulders down to his ankles. He tried to
shout, but the sound was choked back by a thick
cotton gag held in place by a white scarf. Kevin
was completely helpless. The bonds held him fast.
"We are happy to have you Mr. Taylor, after your
disgraceful little show a while back," Gamal smiled
to him from the next seat. "We have arranged
something to teach you the etiquette of sharing.
You Americans really are a bit selfish, you know.
Your sweet little wife doesn't object nearly as
much as you do. In fact, she rather seems to enjoy
it. I did try it after your silly interruption and
I must say, with a little training, she has
excellent possibilities."
Kevin strained harder against his ropes until they
were cutting into him like wet rawhide. He
pictured with anguish Jean's white virginal body
squirming helpless beneath this filth. He would
kill this son-of-a-bitch if he had harmed her.
What had happened to her? What had happened to
Monique? His first question was answered a moment
later as he still struggled in his chair.
An announcer stood up from his seat, raising his
hands for silence. A hush fell over the room as
those present leaned forward to hear his
introductory remarks about the evening's
performance.
"Tonight my friends," he smiled intimately, "we
have a special treat. You know we always strive
for the unusual so that you, our members, receive
thesuperior entertainment you deserve. We have
had many variations of shows, all of which I think
you have appreciated. But tonight-tonight, I
believe we have the most interesting of all. We
have seen many rapes here, both male and female."
He paused a moment to give his speech more
effectiveness, "but we have never had the
interesting situation of a young bride ravished
before the eyes of her new husband. Particularly
one as possessive as this. We have decided to
substitute her in the act as his fair punishment
for the unwarranted attack upon our benefactor."
A slight ripple of amused laughter ran through
the room at this statement. "And she is certain
to enjoy it, even if he doesn't. We have chosen
an exceptional partner for her tonight. You
have seen him perform before and is one of our
favorites. I would like to re-introduce to you,
"Pierre," our little French friend."
The crowd broke into a light restrained applause in
keeping with the social positions of most present.
It was apparent they were pleased with the
selection. Kevin's eyes bulged in disbelief as a
short dwarf-like man of not more than four feet
tall entered the room by the side door and bowed
before the crowd. His eyes were small and sunk
deep in his ugly over-sized head. There was
unmistakable cruelty registered in them, the look
of a man who had been teased an his life and who
enjoyed taking it out on others more helpless than
he when he had the chance.
The dwarf, without further fanfare, stripped the
robe he was wearing from his small deformed body
and handed it to a waiting attendant like a barer
preparing to go into the ring. The crowd gasped at
the size of his cock. It was huge relative to the
size of his body and hung down almost below his
knees even in the soft state. He was obviously
proud of it as he took it in both hands and walked
around the edge of the circle displaying it to the
spectators. He stopped in front of the straining
Kevin and with a small teasing grin, stroked it
into a semi-hardness. Kevin could not take his
eyes from the growing fleshy rod, unable to believe
that it was going to be the instrument that would
ravish his helpless wife in front of this depraved
crowd. At last, he clenched his eyes tightly shut
to close out the horrible sight.
The dwarf moved close to him, his grinning mouth a
few inches from his ear. "I understand she is very
young and tender, my friend. They are my favorite
kind. Pierre will show her what a lover is like.
You know you must treat them as dirt or they will
not respect you. Have you done that to her?" He
reached up and pulled Kevin's ear in a teasing
manner that was pleasing to the crowd. Snickers of
amusement raced through Kevin's ears above the
taunting voice of the dwarf. He could not believe
this was happening. It was a nightmare and he
would awaken soon and Jean would be lying
peacefully next to him in bed. That was the way it
had to be. This couldn't be real, things didn't
happen this way in the civilized world.
The hissing face of the taunting deformed little
creature moved closer to Kevin's, his foul breath
nauseating him.
"Have you ever fucked your wife in the ass, my
friend?" the dwarf raised his voice so that the
crowd could hear him better. Kevin's desperate
shout came through the gag as a mumble, his eyes
flashed hate at the taunting face. Gamal was
almost rolling in laughter next to him, tears
streaming from his eyes as the teasing continued.
"No, you wouldn't, not you. I can tell, you have
absolutely no imagination. I must teach you things
about controlling a woman," he laughed, turning his
short over developed body toward the bed. "Bring
me the little cunt. I think lesson number one
should begin."
With this, the side door through which the dwarf
had appeared, opened again. An attendant came into
view, leading Jean by the hand behind him. Kevin
was startled into immobility. He froze, unable to
move, his eyes bulging from their sockets like
fisheyes. He watched his wife being led
unresisting toward the dwarf and the bed like a
lamb to the slaughter and he could not help. Tears
began to stream from his eyes and he strained
against the ropes, but it was hopeless. They had
made certain he could not interfere.
He tried to close his eyes as the attendant
stripped the robe from her, exposing her luscious
naked body beneath it. He moaned as he saw the
horrible little dwarf reach up, his hands high
above his head, and knead her full exposed tits
with his gnarled little fingers. He waited for
Jean's scream. None came. Instead, her mouth
dropped open in a dazed rapture. She looked as
though she was hardly conscious and yet she moved.
Her eyelids appeared heavy and her eyes glassy, a
slight mewl escaped from her lips as the dwarf
pinched the nipples hard and moved his head
forward. His face was even with her smooth white
belly and his tongue snaked out and teased into her
navel, bringing another mewl from her open mouth
Kevin watched in transfixed horror as the
slobbering lips traced a path down the smooth flat
plane to the soft pubic hair guarding her secret
parts. The dwarf's hands dropped and placing a
thumb on either side of the fleshly lips of her
cunt, he pulled them gently apart. The great
slobbering tongue leapt forward burying itself in
Wee exposed slit with a wet sluicing sound.
Kevin could not believe the sight before him.
Instead of fighting with all her strength against
these humiliating acts, his wife had instantly
turned into a groaning mass of passion. She moved
her feet far apart on the floor like a native
dancer and tangled her hands in the dwarf's hair
pulling his face tight into her crotch. She ground
her hips sensuously in time to the darting tongue
that probed hotly up into her wide split pussy.
Her eyes were closed and her mouth hung open in
undisguised ecstasy.
It couldn't be Jean! It couldn't be the young
virginal bride he had just married several days
ago!
Kevin's mind whirled in utter confusion as his eyes
remained glued to the lewd spectacle taking place
in front of him. Monique's words drifted
hauntingly back to him-American girl-wants to try
it-frustrated-God!-- is that what happened? She
couldn't be here of her own free will, she just
couldn't. Something was wrong. Something was
wrong! The words screamed through his tortured
mind. Monique couldn't be right, she just
couldn't!
The scene belied his thoughts. It was Jeans It was
his bride of a few days but not the one he knew,
not the cold frigid girl he had wrestled with in
the back seat of cars so many centuries ago. This
was a new creature, one that he did not know. She
was goading the deformed little man on with her
hands and pumping hips like a nymphomaniac gone
wild. Her muscles strained under the tightness of
her skin and Kevin could sec the cords of her inner
thighs standing out like taunt ropes ready to snap
against the pressure as she thrust her pelvis
forward again and again against the munching face
buried deep into her already throbbing cunt.
"You see, my young friend, she does not need your
assistance. She does well by herself," Gamal's
amused voice spoke beside him. "Relax and enjoy
the show. Your bride has just begun to exhibit her
talents."
Kevin's resistance was crushed. He had fought with
all his strength against the ropes holding him to
the chair. He had wanted to tear the vicious
little animal attacking his wife to pieces, but it
was now she who was attacking. She had pushed the
dwarf back to the bed, still holding his face
tightly between her crotch and sat full down on it
with her squirming buttocks. She was straddling
the whipping tongue, grinding his head back down
into the mattress until it was only half visible,
his hair protruding bushily from between her full
thighs, his legs kicking back toward the edge of
the bed to catch his breath. It was she who was
doing the ravishing, animal grunts of lust coming
in torrents from her lips. It was obvious to the
crowd, half of whom were now stripped of their
clothing, that she was racing for a climax already,
her body completely out of control.
The dwarf was helpless in her desperate grip. He
was trying with all his strength to throw her from
his suffocating body but to no avail. He would
have choked in another second had not helpful hands
from the assistants pulled the jerking girl's body
from him. She screamed in protest, her legs
kicking futilely out into the empty air.
He sat up choking and sputtering, his face beet red
from the lack of air. "Turn her over, turn her
over," he half shouted, "I'll show the fucking
bitch who's master here."
His face was blue with rage. He had lost control
of the situation. The crowd was laughing at him
and too many crowds had laughed at him. He had to
show them. He had to make this bitch scream and
scream good.
Kevin sickened, as he watched Jean's flailing body
twisted about on the bed until she was lying flat
on her stomach. Her belly ground into the mattress
still striving hopelessly for the near orgasm just
out of reach.
The dwarf took her by the ankles and spread her
long slim legs wide apart. He crawled up on his
knees between her full thighs and spread the cheeks
of her ass with his hands. From Kevin's position,
he could see clearly the tiny tight ass hole nestled
in the crevice. He thought he could see it throbbing
as it anticipated the dwarfs next move. His hand
ran up the inside of her thigh all the way to the
wetness of his wife's open cunt and his head dropped
to kiss the smooth oval ass cheeks, his tongue
trailing down to lick the crevice between then
Kevin could see the skin straining around the hole
as the thumbs of the dwarf pulled at the flesh
around it. His fingers probed at the puckered
little red inlet like teasing needles. His wife
groaned beneath him.
"Spread 'em wider," the dwarf commanded.
Jean's legs opened until her toes were hanging over
the rounded edges of the bed behind her. They were
almost at right angles with her body. Kevin
thought she would split. The dwarf's finger probed
and he could hear her groan as it entered. She
jumped forward slightly from the unexpected pain,
her mouth wincing in unheeded protest. She
strained back at the intruding finger as the
rubbery flesh closed over it in forced acceptance.
A flicker of surprised pleasure passed over her
face as it dug to the first knuckle.
He moved it around in the tight expanding hole in
preparation of what was to follow, sawing it in and
out expanding the tiny anus more and more. Jean
wriggled her hips back against it, her hands
clawing at the mattress in front of her. He dug
another finger in, this time it hurt. A short
muffled squeal escaped from her lips as she buried
her face into the covers. But the dwarf persisted,
placing one hand in the small of her back and
pinning her to the mattress. He screwed both
fingers into her mercilessly, stretching the tiny
puckered anus until she grunted in pain each time
he twisted his hand. She was being skewered like a
helpless animal on a spit.
Kevin watched in horror at the cruel subjugation of
his wife by the deformed little monster. His mind
registered disbelief as her flushed face, the hair
strewn down over it, began to register joy. Her
mouth opened and began to pant and mewl as the
cruel fingers worked around and around deep up her
wide-stretched rectum. The ugly dwarf grinned as
he prodded at the defenseless asshole like an
avenging angel. Jean squirmed beneath his cruel
probes in total surrender.
"Fuck me there!" she suddenly screamed, turning
her head to the side so that he could look down on
it. "Screw my ass! Screw my ass!"
Kevin's stomach sickened as the dwarf pulled the
fingers out of his young writhing wife. They
seemed to come out reluctantly, the pink clasping
skin clinging to them until they withdrew with a
wet vacuum-like sucking noise.
He pushed the cheeks apart again with his hands and
dropped his face into the crevice. His tongue
licked at the quivering hole teasingly until the
squirming girl couldn't stand it another minute.
"Oh God, fuck it! Fuck it, please!" she breathed
in a thick passionate plea.
"Quick, quick, or I'll die!"
"Kneel, you little cunt," he ordered from behind
her.
Kevin watched in horrified stillness as his wife
struggled to her knees, presenting the rounded
white orbs of her buttocks up to the now wildly
aroused dwarf. He stood up between her wide-spread
thighs directly behind her, his huge cock standing
straight out with the head resting in her split
crevice. He was just the right height with him
standing and her kneeling.
"Tickle my balls, you slut," he commanded
gleefully. She was at his mercy and he intended to
take full advantage of it. He was at his best when
he could humiliate. His eyes roamed over
triumphantly to the tortured face of Kevin who
watched his helpless bride reach back under her
body like an automate and gently stroke at the
hairy testicles dangling down between her spread
thighs. She stroked at them hungrily, as though
they were sacred eggs that shouldn't be broken.
"Now put it in, bitch," he commanded roughly. Her
hands moved hesitantly from the softness of the
balls and grasped his huge rock-hard cock. A
sudden expression of fear flashed through her eyes
as her fingers wrapped around it and perceived for
the first time the enormity of the throbbing
instrument. She stroked it experimentally,
indecision apparent on her tortured face.
"Put it in, I said," he snarled again, digging his
fingers harshly into the tops of her thighs.
Jean submitted to the cold command and pressure of
his hands and placed the tip against the tight
hairless opening. Kevin could see it begin probing
and working against her anus, the muscles of the
dwarf's stomach standing out as he strained
forward. It was worming its way into her, looking
like a giant battering ram trying to force its way
into his bride's quivering behind. He clenched his
eyes tightly shut as the straining nether ring
suddenly gave way before the pressure and the huge
head popped inside with a sudden rush. A slight
hiss of escaping air could be heard as it entered.
He watched her hopelessly trying to pull away but
the dwarf, grinning lasciviously behind, held her
tight.
"Ooooohhh," she groaned from the pain, her face
contorted tightly from the first ravishment of her
defenseless anus. His pressing thighs forced her
forward and she began slipping away.
"Shove it back, shove it back!" the dwarf shouted.
Jean hunched back suddenly in automatic obedience
to the loud command. To the bereaved Kevin her
body looked like that of a pet dog straining back
on all fours against his master's leash. The dwarf,
spittle now drooling from his lips, hugged her
waving hips tight and pushed with all his strength
against her futile screams "Oh God, it hurts, it
hurts, it's too big, too big!"
But the hard fleshy rod surged forward battering
the rubbery resistant flesh before it without
mercy.
"Oooohhh, Oooohhh," she groaned as his pelvis
suddenly smacked loudly against the softness of her
twin white buttocks. The rampaging instrument was
buried to the balls in her nearly split anus. She
was hopelessly impaled.
Now gasping with arousal at the voluptuous white
body skewered on the end of his stiff fleshy rod,
he began sawing rhythmically deep into the pink
inflamed passage.
And before the unbelieving eyes of her husband,
Jean began to move backwards to meet the forward
thrusts of the dwarf's body. She was reveling _n
the lewd sodomizing of her backside like a slave of
old bending before her cruel master. The dwarf
rammed into her with hard cruel thrusts, watching
the pink flesh follow the probing cock out on the
backstroke as though it were fighting its
withdrawal. The pain suddenly seemed strangely
pleasant to her and she turned her head from side
to side, her hair thrashing against the bed so that
the audience could follow her feelings by the
reflection in her face. Her teeth were bared back
over her lips in a masochistic joy that pictured to
the hypnotized onlookers the feelings of the giant
cock boring into her.
Kneeling above her, the dwarf watched with sadistic
delight his cock pushing and pulling at the pink
flesh surrounding her clasping asshole. His eyes
locked on Kevin's evilly and he began a series of
brutal hard thrusts that sent the still growing
member sinking to the hilt in his wife's wide-split
crevice. His balls smacked rhythmically against
her cunt below bringing further mewlings of
pleasure hissing through her clenched teeth. Her
glazed eyes stared unseeingly around the room.
Kevin thought he saw them stop on him and a flicker
of puzzled recognition pass through them, but with
another hard jolt from the dwarf sawing into her
anus, they jerked away in reflex to the sudden
pain. She had forgotten him. There was nothing
left for him. Monique had been right. Jean had
come of her own free will. Her wild uninhibited
exhibition with this deformed monster in front of
him proved it. And she was enjoying it so much
that she didn't even recognize her own husband.
Small wet tears formed in the corners of his eyes
as he watched his bride's total subjugation to the
dwarf.
He saw the white vicious penis disappearing all the
way up her gyrating ass with each cruel stroke.
Not a bit could be seen left as it buried itself
into the tight resistant passage, the straining
cock reaching far into her shaking belly. Kevin
wondered when it was going to explode. He couldn't
bear to see that. That would be too much to see
someone else shooting his cum far into his wife's
defenseless ass. The humiliation would be too
great for him to stand.
But even as the tears swelled in his eyes from the
horrible thought, he watched Jean's face flushing a
bright red, her head turning from side to side, her
long black hair strewn down over her sweating
forehead like a mad woman. She was panting for
more.
"Ooohh, fuck it, fuck it, on, on," she gasped as
the dwarf pressed tight against her soft buttocks
and rotated the head around and around deep inside
her rectum. Her moaning was adding to his pleasure
and his hands crawled over her buttocks and back
kneading the flesh like fresh dough. Bright red
welts followed his fingers as they dug into her
tender milk white skin.
"Oh, yes," she panted, even at the pain, "keep it
up, keep it up."
He pulled it out almost to the tip of the blood-
filled head so that the audience could see the
giant inflated testicles ready to explode. It was
apparent to them now that he was just holding it
back to torment the squirming impaled girl longer.
This was part of his pleasure, this was his
ultimate reward.
He reached down and pulled her ass cheeks wide
apart beginning to drive his pelvis into her soft
yielding buttocks with hard vicious smacks that
resounded through the room. His sweating face
dripped onto her lovely hollowing back making it
glisten in the light over the bed. His breath came
in short puffing gasps like a runner, his eyes
locked down on the whiteness of her quivering body
that slipped over his plunging cock like a tight
fitting glove. He had lost control of himself as
he felt his cock growing like a tire inflating.
His balls hung heavy from the sperm building there
and they had to be emptied soon or burst from the
excruciatingly delicious pressure.
Jean mumbled incoherently beneath his pounding hips
behind her. She waved her ass salaciously back
against his eager thrusts. She wanted him to cum.
She wanted him to shoot his great wad of sperm deep
into her belly. She wanted him to split her open
and drown her in its loveliness. She could feel a
great wetness in the crevice of her ass and there
was no longer any pain, only a feeling of being
filled, filled as she had never been before. Her
shoulders dropped to the mattress so that her ass
was now sticking high up in the air and the great
plunging cock could fuck her at will. Her eyes
gazed at the side and a hazy figure came into focus
for a moment. Was it Kevin? No, the thought that
she had been fooled before drifted crazily through
her mind. He was gone, gone forever. There was
nothing now but this great fleshy mass filling her
with pleasure and pain and the pain was pleasure
too. She ground happily back against it as she
felt it throb into a hugeness that could mean only
one beautiful thing.
He was going to cum! Kevin numbly watched the
dwarf throw his head back and groan as he thrust
the cock's full expanded length into his wife's
full stretched rectum, his body jerking
convulsively, his hands pulling at her flesh like
the talons of a hungry hawk. He screamed, uttering
strange crazy sounds that mixed wildly with the
obscene insults he hurled spitefully at Kevin's
vanquished bride writhing on her knees beneath him.
"Ohhh, baby, ooohhh daddy's coming you little
fucking bitch, oh, yes. Screw back! Screw back!"
Jean, beneath his pounding body felt the first
delicious waves of the hot white liquid creaming
into the depths of her rectum. It ran through her
body like the first warning shock waves of a great
tidal eruption, smacking into her belly and
rebounding around like a great licking tongue sunk
deep inside her. She screamed her own release at
the same time as it gushed from her open cunt,
drenching the dwarfs hairy balls pressed tightly
against the spewing opening. His cum ran down the
crevice of her wide-split buttocks and they mingled
together in a single stream of thick viscous fluid,
attesting to the animal joy of their unnatural
coupling.
Gamal's revenge was complete as the dwarf pulled
his wet shining cock from the still kneeling girls
forever expanded rectum. This would teach this
bastard this bastard American to burst in on him
when he was just beginning to enjoy himself. He
reached over and put his hand under Kevin's
unresisting chin and turned his face toward him.
"I shall take her next in the privacy of my own
quarters. I think my little friend has broken her
in to my liking. I want to finish her education my
way. I am not so gentle and understanding." His
beady evil little eyes gleamed at the helpless
resignation in Kevin's look.
Tears still trailed down his cheeks from the
humiliation of watching his lovely young wife
ravished cruelly before him and even participating
in her own humiliation. She did all this without
even recognizing him. His spirit was completely
crushed by the horrible experience and he made no
move to resist when he was led from the room. He
did not even look back at the bed where Jean was
just beginning to stir again. There was nothing
left for them. He would take the first plane home
tomorrow.
There was nothing else he could do for her or
himself. She had found her place. Now he had to
go home and find his in this rotten world if he
could. He had never felt so lost and useless in
his entire life.
He was accompanied to the front door by several of
Gamal's men and with his hands still bound tightly
behind his back put in the back seat of a long black
limousine and driven in a round about way back to
his hotel. No one spoke a word until the car pulled
up at the curb and his hands had been released
"Monsieur Gamal said to give you this," the thick
dark man sitting next to him in the back seat said
handing him a manila envelope. "You will have need
of it when you return to the States."
Without speaking, Kevin automatically reached for
the packet and placed it in his inside coat pocket
as he stepped from the car. He stood for a
solitary moment watching it pull away from the curb
and enter the heavy stream of traffic still flowing
along the wide boulevard even at this late hour.
There goes my last chance of ever finding Jean, he
thought dryly as it disappeared into the blinding
cover of the oncoming sea of headlights a block
down the street. He half walked, half staggered to
the door of the hotel, too tired and emotionally
upset to feel or do anything right now. He would
worry about it tomorrow when his senses returned
and then do something-if there was anything to be
done. He had a lot of thinking to do before that
plane left tomorrow afternoon.
Kevin awoke the next morning to the loud medley of
traffic and street vendor sounds that carried up
through his window from the street five storys
below. His head felt as though a pile-driver were
crushing down on it and the thick cotton taste in
his mouth almost nauseated him. He groaned, and
sat up in bed, blinking his eyes at the full bright
rays of sun that trickled in through the breeze
fluttering curtains.
It was a short moment before he could recall where
he was and what he was doing in this strange
European looking room that had the washbasin right
out in the open next to the bed. Then, slowly the
entire sordid nightmare of the night before
flickered back through his fogged mind. He groaned
aloud and fell back to the pillow as the horrid
vision of Jean's body squirming down on her knees
in front of that dwarf who had sodomized her
mercilessly bored itself deep in his brain. He
clenched his fists tightly together until the
whites of his knuckles showed as he recalled the
ecstatic abandoned look of joy on her face as she
had let herself be screwed like a common whore in
front of all those people. And she had been loving
it. He tried to the best of his ability to
understand, to make himself understand and find an
excuse for her, but there could be none He had seen
her. He had seen her doing it, not once, but twice
if he included the fat Arab that had been licking
her in that room when he had walked in
unexpectedly. Monique had said the girl was there
for some unusual kicks and she had no reason to lie
to him, plus she did not even know it was Jean
until they entered the room. She had just been
told by that Arab Gamal that it was some American
girl who wanted to taste the seamier side of French
night-life. It was just by their accidental
rummaging around through the place that they had
burst in on those two.
Well, she had certainly tasted it and in first
class style. He wondered how many others present
at that little gathering had tried it too after he
had been sent away from the place. Jean had looked
like she might be in the mood to show half the room
a good time. It was just strange that he had never
recognized the nymphomaniac streak in her before or
that it had never shown itself during some of their
sessions in the back seat of his car when they had
been dating or at least back in the hotel room in
Paris where she had screamed so convincingly at his
advances.
Perhaps Monique had been right. Women are strange
creatures and there is no way of knowing what their
reaction to a given situation will be until they
are actually placed in that situation. He could
have never in his wildest dreams have imagined that
underneath the stiff upper New England facade of
respectability in Jean that such an uncontrolled
demon of passion smoldered. And what was more
mysterious and difficult to understand, was how it
was set off so violently in the short span of a few
days since she had run away from him in Paris.
There was so much he could not understand and so
many questions he wanted answered that it caused
his head to throb more than it already did. But,
he had to know some of these things before he left
Jean here even though she had done so much to him
in the last few hours. He would at least ask a few
questions to ease his own mind if he could find the
right places.
Later, after he had pulled himself from his bed and
shaved and showered, he had coffee downstairs at
the restaurant and planned out his day's itinerary.
He had called the airline office and found that he
could get the plane for Paris with direct
connections to New York at seven o'clock tonight.
That should give him plenty of time to go to the
hotel that Jean had indicated in her cable to him
and ask a few questions. He could possibly find
out whet happened to Monique also. He had wondered
where she had gone after he had been knocked
unconscious last night and decided she had probably
gotten out of the place. He couldn't blame her very
much under the circumstances after they had seen
Jean lying under that Arab friend of hers, with her
legs spread wide open in invitation. She had
probably been so upset with what she had seen that
she had gone on back to Paris. He couldn't blame
her very much after all she had done to try and
patch things up between two juvenile young
newlyweds. He would at least like to let her know
that he didn't blame her for the way things had
turned out. She had no way of knowing what Jean
was really like or that she would turn nympho
overnight. Flow could she possibly know if even
her own husband didn't. He paid the waiter for the
coffee and stepped out of the hotel to hail a taxi
clutching the address of the hotel in his hand.
The hall porter had said it wasn't too far away but
had had a funny expression on his face when he
mentioned the district it was located in but Kevin
shrugged it off. Nothing mattered too much now
anyway and he was just taking the trip to satisfy a
vague curiosity about Jean's sudden about face.
Last night had destroyed any love he felt for her
and nothing he found out today would make any
difference in his plans to go home and file for
divorce immediately.
Shalla, when he heard the footsteps on the stairs
leading up to the second floor desk leaped to his
feet in excitement. He had been waiting for
Monique to return with his share of the price for
the American girl since early this morning. He had
been counting with glee over and over again the
money he had made from her yesterday and it was a
considerable amount considering she had taken on
between twenty and thirty customers not including
the amount he made for the exhibition she put on
with the African. Now, with his share of her sale
to the syndicate, he could start his own business
again and be on easy street. He had hoped this
time it was her coming up the stairs but as they
drew nearer a slight tinge of disappointment
crossed over his brow. The steps were too heavy.
It was not a woman, just probably another tired
seaman who wanted a room for the night He was
surprised suddenly when an American appeared at the
top of the steps looking as though he had just
stepped from the advertising section of one of
those American men's magazines Shalla had sometimes
seen, old and used, in the barbershop. He must be
wealthy and perhaps looking for a woman for the
day. Why else would he come down to this section
of town. Damn, if he only had the American girl
here now he could probably get four or five times
the price he would have from the customers he had
sold to yesterday.
"May I help you, Monsieur," he purred in his best
English, hoping to make an immediate impression on
him. He enjoyed speaking to them first in English
and always getting the query, "Why, how did you
know I was American?" It was strange that they
didn't even know themselves they always looked so
different from Europeans in their neat looking
ever- pressed suits and shirts.
Kevin looked at the desk clerk for a moment before
answering. He was still stunned by the appearance
of the neighborhood when he had gotten out of the
cab downstairs. There were nothing but cheap
looking bars, sailors, and prostitutes for blocks.
Why on earth had Jean chosen a place like this to
stay in unless she were really looking for a chance
to wallow in filth. Had she gone completely out of
her mind. It certainly would appear that way.
"I-I wonder if you might answer a few questions for
me," he managed to stammer after an uncomfortable
moment.
"Certainly," Shalla grinned, sensing that there was
some money to be made here if he played his cards
right. Truly this was his week of "bonne chance"
and rebirth. "Anything that Shalla does not know
about Marseille, Monsieur, is not worth knowing."
"I would like some information about a girl," Kevin
said softly, his voice lowered in suspicion of the
unsavory looking character standing in front of
him.
"Ah, but you have come to the right place," Shalla
answered in a low confidential voice so endemic to
pimps. "I can arrange any type you want, Monsieur,
or any color. And it will not be too expensive.
You have come to the right man."
"I-I didn't mean that kind of woman," Kevin quickly
corrected. "I mean a woman that was registered
here at your hotel. A young American one."
Shalla's grin suddenly faded as the recognition
flickered through his mind.
He suddenly recalled the cable the American girl
had sent to Paris. This was her husband! Panic
seized him for a moment as thoughts of the police
following close behind came to him. He had sudden
frightening thoughts of the entire transaction
being destroyed by an over-zealous husband and
with that the destruction of his profits from
the deal. This would ruin him and his plans for
his business that he had spent the whole morning
dwelling on.
"H-Have you seen her?" Kevin's voice interrupted
his thought. "Her name was Taylor, Jean Taylor."
"I-I don't know, Monsieur, if I can help you,"
Shalla hesitated, placing his finger against his
chin as though trying to recall. "I am not always
on duty here."
"It would mean a great deal to me," Kevin offered.
"I will pay you well for any information you can
give me."
Shalla sensed that he should just deny any
knowledge whatsoever of the girl but the mention of
money started his mind working again. He could
kill two birds with one stone by misleading the
American and still take his money for the
information even if it was false.
"Perhaps if Monsieur could describe the young
lady," he ventured cautiously, "you see we have so
many customers, particularly during the tourist
season. I don't know if I would recognize her."
"I think you would remember her if you saw her "
Kevin said. "She was a very pretty girl with long
dark hair. Twenty-three years old and built very
well."
The thoughts of the American girl's body thrashing
under him in wild abandon that first day drifted
back to Shalla as Kevin continued his description.
He felt a slight tinge in his prick as he thought
back on it. Yes, he mused silently to himself, she
did have a nice body and again a surge of secret
power rippled through him as he listened to her
husband stand before him and describe a being that
he in all probability knew better than he did. He
wondered what his reaction would be if he knew that
he had fucked her silly not long ago and then
watched while multitudes of others used her body
for any purpose they wanted for hours on end Yes,
it did give him a secret sense of power to listen
to this poor fool here who probably was looking
upon him as nothing but a dirty illiterate Arab as
his wife did when she first came into the hotel.
Perhaps he could make up a story that would be half
true that would bring him down a peg or two. He
would enjoy watching him squirm.
"And, oh yes, she was traveling with an older
French woman. Nice looking also and about thirty-
nine or forty years old," Kevin added as he
finished describing Jean to the apparently close
listening Shalla.
"Yes," Shalla finally said after a long minutes
thought. "I do recall such a pair. What is it
exactly that Monsieur wishes to know about them?"
"Nothing in particular," Kevin flustered for a
moment. "I-I just wondered if the young one had
any v-visitors or went out much at night."
"Ah," Shalla's face brightened as though in
comprehension. "Monsieur is a detective, no
possibly, for the young ladies husband?"
"Y-Yes I am," Kevin lied, thinking it might be the
least painful way to ask embarrassing questions.
In fact he was glad that Shalla had made the
mistake as it wouldn't put him in the position of
the jealous husband chasing after an errant wife.
"Well then, if it is a business matter then I think
I can he of assistance," Shalla grinned, proud of
his cleverness in leading the American on to think
that he did not know he was her husband. "How does
fifty American dollars sound for my information?"
"Yes, that will do," Kevin said, matter-of-factly,
and reached into his pocket and pulled out his
wallet. He carefully peeled five tens from it and
placed them on the desk in front of the grinning
Arab. He didn't like the man's looks at all, but
this was the only thing that he had to go on so he
had no choice in the matter. His own personal
pride dictated that he at least find something out
about Jean's activities the last few days before he
went home and filed for divorce. Even if it was
all over he would like it verified by someone else
too. He still was having trouble believing what
his own eyes had seen last night.
"Good," Shalla said, tucking the bills carefully
under his robe. "Now we understand each other."
"Please hurry," Kevin asked "I haven't much time
and I want to know all you can remember about her
movements while she was staying here."
"Well actually, Monsieur, there is not much to
tell. She was just like many of the other young
tourists. She came here for a good time because
evidently she had a very negligent husband who
could not satisfy her back in the States or
somewhere. It is a very common cause for the women
who come here. They have no fear that their little
indiscretions will become known.
Shalla paused for a moment watching with secret
satisfaction the blank expression on Kevin's face.
He knew this would get to him because he recalled
the groans of passion and relief from the American
girl and knew she had never been screwed the way he
had given it to her before. There must have been
something lacking in the husband. Shalla had the
knife in him, he knew, and he twisted it further as
he watched the color of Kevin's skin ashen slightly
as the words he was hearing sunk into his mind.
"She had several lovers here the first day and just
did not seem to be able to get enough. She kept
going out into the streets for more. Do you
believe it, Monsieur, she even tried to get me into
her room but I explained to her that I am a
business man and not for that kind of thing."
"The Arab was almost bursting inside now with the
joy of watching Kevin squirm before his words. It
was all he could do to keep a serious expression on
his face as he described a few of the lovers that
Jean had brought back into the room with her. He
had no way of knowing just how devastatingly
effective his lies were as he did not know that
Kevin had watched Jean being sodomized in apparent
ecstasy last night and was at the point where he
would believe anything without question. Shalla
had his final blow for the spoiled young American
now. He had been saving it for the last of the
descriptions to make certain it hit with the
correct impact.
"And, Monsieur, the last she brought here was
enough to make a man cringe. He was a giant Nubian
black from the south of Algeria. A sailor I think
and he must have been built big enough to kill any
ordinary woman but she loved him I could hear wild
sounds coming from her room for hours after they
went inside. And it was disgraceful, the way they
made noises like animals. I was tempted to knock
on the door and throw them both out. I was afraid
they would disturb the whole hotel, Monsieur, and
we must protect our clientele from such
inconveniences. Do you not agree?"
"Do you not agree, Monsieur?" Shalla repeated, an
indignant expression on his face. He pushed the
question to force Kevin to answer. He wanted him
to have to speak and show his emotional weakness.
No wonder the girl had been so hungry with someone
so weak for a husband. It was unusual too, he
mused. The American sailors that came into
Marseille had the reputation for being the most
insatiable men on earth and one didn't see the
whores of the town out working for days after the
American fleet left. It was joked about the
quarter that there was not one left that could walk
after such an ordeal. Well, this one was
different, he was not the common American stock.
It would be good for him to suffer a penance for
his cowardice.
"Yes, yes of course, you could not let them make so
much noise," Kevin said slowly, his eyes misting.
"And what of the older woman?" he queried after a
pause.
"Ah, Monsieur, that was the mystery. She was the
tower of virtue, which is most unusual for French
women. She tried very hard to hold the young girl
down. They had just yesterday a loud argument
right here in front of me about the way she was
acting but she would pay no attention to the French
lady. She just told her to mind her own business
that she knew what she wanted out of life now."
"And what did the French woman say?" Kevin asked.
This must have been after she had returned from
picking him up at the station yesterday and he was
curious even in his grief about what she had tried
to do.
"She just said to the girl that she has a surprise
for her and for her to be good tonight."
"And did she?" Kevin knew the answer after what he
had seen last night but wanted it substantiated
again for some unknown reason in him that would not
admit Jean had turned so quickly away from him.
"Did she ask you about going to a special place or
anything like that?"
Shalla paused for a moment. He could sense that
this was a loaded question and knew also that if
the American knew about that special place and the
fact she may have asked about it, then someone had
told him that he had directed her there.
"Is there a particular reason you asked, Monsieur?"
Shalla asked cautiously.
"Yes, there is," Kevin replied, innocent of what
the Arab was thinking. "Someone said she was
directed to one of those exhibition and orgy places
last night and may have gone."
"Oh, why yes, I do remember her asking about one,
but Monsieur, I know of no such places and I
explained it to her."
"Most probably in one of the bars on the street.
They would all know about them. I understand there
are several around the city of Marseille. I am
certain she asked as she seemed determined to find
something unusual and bizarre in the way of sexual
experience. She also said something about finding
a happiness she had never known before. We get
many strange ones here, Monsieur, and I would say
she was one of the strangest. You must tell her
husband, Monsieur, not to expect her to ever come
home. They always find themselves a lover and
stay. I have seen hundreds like her."
Kevin's heart sank. He had heard enough. It was
obvious now from what the Arab was saying and what
he had seen last night that Jean had played him for
a complete fool all this time. He had been a child
and nothing more in her eyes. Well if that was the
way she wanted it then there was nothing he could
do or wanted to do for that matter, it was her life
and she had obviously decided to go about it
without him.
"Thank you for your assistance," Kevin mumbled as
he turned and started toward the stairs. "You've
been very kind."
"It was nothing, Monsieur," Shalla smiled as he
watched him disappearing down toward the street.
"I am glad to be of help to you."
He fingered the crisp ten dollar bills happily in
his pocket. He could hardly wait to place it with
the amount he had collected yesterday from pimping
for the American's wife. It would make a handsome
amount in itself and he would be a rich man when
the French lady came with the rest He was not
worried that she would not come. She needed this
hotel to do her business in and even if later she
decided to try another he would still find her.
Besides, she knew he knew all about the operation
and he could always threaten to go to the police
with what he knew. No, she would come back this
afternoon and he might even drag her back into the
room and try a little more of his new partner. He
whistled happily to himself as he tidied up behind
the counter preparing for the days rush of
prostitutes and customers that would want to rent
the rooms by the hour.
Kevin waved to the taxi from the sidewalk and
entered it quickly when it stopped at the curb.
Small streams of tears had begun to run from the
corners of his eyes and he wanted to get off the
street as quickly as possible so that no one would
see him It was ridiculous for a grown man to be
crying on the streets like this. As the cab drew
away from the curb, he noticed two dark looking men
entering the hotel. They looked vaguely familiar
from somewhere but it wasn't important. In his
grief everyone looked alike.
Shalla heard the noise on the stairs and for the
second time that morning his pulse quickened. It
must be her this time, the walk was soft like a
woman tiptoeing. It drew closer up the stairs and
sounded strangely like two women. He lifted up on
his tiptoes so that he could see farther over the
counter and down the stairs. Strange, he thought,
two more men. Algerians this time. What could
they want at this hour unless it were women.
Perhaps this was his lucky week.
"Your name Shalla?" one of them asked casually as
they advanced to the desk.
"Why, yes, it is Monsieur's," he answered slowly.
"May-may I help you?"
The last thing Shalla saw on this earth was the
silencer end of a snub-nosed automatic that
appeared suddenly in the hand of the man who had
asked the question. It puffed softly three times
straight at his belly bringing a surprised gush of
air from his open mouth before he pitched forward
stone-dead across the counter. The man who had
pulled the trigger walked behind the sprawled body
and reaching under the robe withdrew his hand
filled with crisp French francs and American ten
dollar bills. He smiled toothily at his companion,
quickly dividing it in half and handing one pile to
him before they disappeared silently back down the
stairs from which they had entered.
As Kevin finished packing his bags he picked up the
suit he had worn last night from the floor where he
had left it and started to fold it into the case.
As he shook the jacket to straighten the wrinkles a
packet fell from the inside pocket to the floor.
It was the manila envelope he had been given by one
of the men who had brought him back to the hotel
last night. He had forgotten about it in his
anxiety today to get to the hotel where Jean had
stayed.
In feet, he thought dryly, I've forgotten almost
everything about last night.
Almost.
He opened it carefully not wanting to tear the thin
onion skin sheets of paper inside. He unfolded the
thin sheets and began reading a typewritten note on
the first sheet. It said simply:
Kevin,
I am sorry about everything and the mistake we have
made in our marriage. The last several days
without you have shown me that there are better
things in life than the simple mundane existence we
accept at home. I have fallen in love with the
life here and intend to stay forever. You will
have to explain to my family why I have not
returned with you. Please use the enclosed
documents for that purpose and do not attempt to
find me. I do not wish to be bothered by anyone
from my old life again.
Jean
It was her note alright. He would recognize the
signature anywhere. She must have written it last
night after he had caught her with that Arab in the
room. Well, she couldn't have put it more bluntly
and she certainly had fallen in love with the life
if her little exhibition last night with that dwarf
was any indication. The Arab desk clerk's little
disclosures of her side activities more than
substantiated it. Well, if she wanted it that way,
there was nothing he could do about it.
He flipped the page to the first attachment. It
was obviously a death certificate from the
Prefecture of Marseille made out in Jean's name.
It also had all the pertinent data about her. The
information could have only come from her. With it
was attached a Certificate of Burial again
certified by the Prefecture of Marseille. Cause of
death was listed as accidental drowning at the
local beach. Both were complete with official
registration numbers.
Well, she certainly has thought of everything. He
knew her old man would raise a stink when he got
back and have half the private detectives in France
here in a matter of hours if he just said she
stayed here because she wanted to be left alone.
He knew he could never tell the real story.
He reached for the phone and instructed the
operator to get the local Prefecture office in
charge of issuing death certificates. He also
instructed her to get an English speaking clerk on
the line. After several minutes of gibberish in
French a thick accented voice boomed into the line.
"Can I be of service, Monsieur?"
"Yes, you can," Kevin answered quickly. "I want to
verify the correctness of a death certificate filed
the last several days with your department. Can
you do it for me without much trouble."
"Why of course, Monsieur, we have the files right
here. If you will kindly give me the number of the
filing or the name of the deceased I will fetch it
immediately."
"The number is M64589. Dated yesterday. Do you
need more?"
"No, that is fine, Monsieur. Just one moment."
There was a muffled noise at the other end of the
line as the clerk laid the phone on the desk and
moved away from it. Kevin reached in his pocket
and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking out and
lighting it while he was waiting. He would see how
efficient Jean had had her friends be. This would
be the first thing her father would have checked.
If it was verified then he would do nothing else.
What could he do? One had to believe official
documents He tensed for a moment as he heard the
phone being lifted back from the desk again.
"Monsieur?" the accented voice came back.
"Yes, I am here," Kevin replied.
"We have the number. It is for a Mrs. Kevin
Taylor of the United States.
No?"
"Yes, it is," Kevin answered surprised. "What is
listed as the cause of death?"
"It is accidental drowning, Monsieur. A sad case.
We do not like to lose tourists. It is bad
publicity for our city and France is suffering
enough from Monsieur DeGaulle's anti-American
policy. Do you know Monsieur we have lost over
twenty-five percent of our tourists because they
refuse to come to a country that turns its back on
its savior in two wars. It is a shame Monsieur. It
is a shame."
"Yes, yes of course," Kevin replied, cutting him
off. He was in no mood for a political discussion
now. "Thank you for your help in this matter."
"Not at all, Monsieur, we are glad to be of
service."
Kevin hung up the phone and walked to the window.
He looked out over the blue of the Mediterranean
for a long moment, thinking back to his arrival
here yesterday and the optimism he had had about a
reconciliation with Jean. It all seemed an
eternity ago and yet only a few short hours had
passed.
He folded the certificates and placed them
carefully back in the envelope. Yes, he would use
them as an explanation when he arrived home
tomorrow. He had no other excuse. No one would
believe him if he told the true story and besides
it wouldn't be fair to Jean. She had a right to
privacy if she wanted it and he would help her get
it. It was the least he could do after letting her
go in Paris at night when it all began so long ago.
**
The girl dropped the soft clean white robe from her
trim well tapered body on the command of the short
dark Arab standing in front of her. His name was
Mahguib and he controlled with an iron hand the
sale of all the fresh young European women that
passed through the Algiers division of the
organization. He had just received a fresh
shipment of four girls from France this morning and
already had them out on the platform for inspection
by the prospective buyers. He could not hold them
here very long because of the pressure of the
authorities since the revolution. They did not
forbid his trade completely as they knew the tribal
chieftains who now supported the government would
take a dim view of their supply of white girls
being cut off and possibly revolt again. But they
did require that he do it more discreetly than it
had been done when the French were here. After
all, this was one of the new socialist societies
and must protect their world image as such in the
United Nations and before the world press. One
never knew when an Interpol agent might penetrate
the mother organization and blow the whistle. If
this happened, then the Socialist State needed a
scapegoat and Mahguib knew very well who that
scapegoat would be. A firing squad was the only
acceptable penalty for disgracing the state and he
did not have the slightest inclination for ending
his term here on earth in that brutal manner.
"Now turn for the Emir, my dear," he coaxed sweetly
to her. "Let him see the abundance of charms and
treasures you have to offer."
Jean followed his commands as a well-trained show
bitch. She had learned over the last several
months that life was much more pleasant for her if
she followed the orders she was given. Gamal had
groomed her well for the role she was now to play
for the remainder of her life. She had resisted
his training the first several weeks, still hoping
that Kevin would come to free her from the horrible
degradations to which she was being subjected
nightly. Finally, after a time, and seemingly
endless doses of the aphrodisiac she had been
introduced to the drug hashish. That, plus the
final acceptance of the hopelessness of her
position had made her a willing pupil for all the
secrets of pleasure Gamal had taught her. She had
learned well and had quickly become his favorite
even up until the time he was forced to finally
send her across the Mediterranean because of police
pressure on his operation.
She looked down at the Arab chieftain studying her
and with a sudden deft movement of her hands
brought them up under her breasts, cupping them
into twin rounded peaks of firm white flesh as she
had been taught. She tweaked the nipples between
her thumbs and forefingers and teased them into
tiny hard duds that captured his eyes immediately.
She could see a gleam of desire flicker momentarily
through his face, and then turning to Mahguib, he
raised three fingers in offer, each finger
indicating a thousand American dollars. Mahguib
shook his head in refusal.
"My dear, Emir, this is a fresh young American
girl, almost a virgin. She is worth at least ten
thousand dollars the way things are today. Come
take a look here."
Mahguib led the old gentleman around behind the
small circular stand on which Jean was standing.
It was about three feet off the ground which made
her buttocks even with the level of their eyes.
"Now, my dear, bend forward and let the Chief see
more of your treasures."
Jean bent over, spreading her legs about two feet
apart on the stand. She could hear a slight gasp
of approval from behind her as the Chief looked
straight up between her slightly spread legs.
"Now reach back and open it for him, dear. Let him
see how tight you are."
Jean reached back with both hands around her
buttocks, and looking back at the Sheik with a
sweet seductive smile on her face, spread the lips
of her vagina slowly and tantalizingly apart. The
moist pink flesh of her tiny narrow slit became
visible slowly as she gently parted the soft dark
pubic hair covering the plane between her legs.
Another gasp from behind and she saw the old Sheik
raise seven fingers. Mahguib nodded his head in
agreement. Jean was sold for the first time. She
didn't realize it in the haze of the hashish they
had fed her just before the sale but it was only
the first in many to follow. Not all of them would
be this easy or this pleasant and the price would
drop with each further sale. But now, at this
moment she was happy. She had fulfilled the first
function she had been trained for, to be bought.
Now, she must fill the second, to please her
master. This she was also prepared for, the steady
supply of hashish would insure that she remained so
prepared.
She stepped down from the stand, replacing the robe
about her shoulders and followed her new master
from the room toward the exit. Mahguib had ordered
that her things be sent to the car to avoid delay.
She winced slightly at the bright desert sun that
beat down outside while at the same time a thousand
miles north in Europe a woman named Monique smiled
sweetly at another young tourist boarding the
Marseille Express. Soon, she too would be wincing
in the desert sun as she followed her first
faceless master off into nowhere.
The End
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 12