Susan's Secret

                                             SUSAN'S SECRET


                                                             1


	As soon as she heard the telephone start to ring, Susan knew. She didn't
know how she knew, but she knew unmistakably. It had been three weeks since she
had seen or spoken to Jerry, but she knew with absolute certainty that it was he
who was on the other end of the phone.

	I won't answer it, she thought.

	The phone rang.

	She sat on the bed she had been making and clutched the bedpost as if to
hold herself there. I will not answer it, she told herself again.

	The ringing continued.

	Oh god, she thought, let me not answer.

	She got up and went into the living room, where the phone was. Her heart
was pounding. Her legs trembled. She stared at the ringing telephone.

	Please, she thought.

	It kept ringing.

	She walked over to it as if in a trance. She sat down in the chair next
to the table on which it sat. She closed her eyes.

	No, she thought.

	The ringing stopped.

	She opened her eyes and stared at the instrument. A tiny sound came from
her mouth. The feeling that flooded over her was one of relief. Or so she told
herself.

	The phone rang again.

	She gave a soft cry. Then, her hand trembling, she picked up the
receiver.

	"Hello?" She tried to make her voice normal, but it was no use.

	"Hello, Susan."

	""What--what do you want?" she got out.

	"You know what I want, Susan."

	"No."

	"I'm coming over, Susan."

	"Jerry, no. I told you--no more."

	"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said. "I'm bringing two friends with
me."

	Her mouth was dry. "No. I won't be here."

	"I want you on your knees," he said. "On the floor. Naked from the waist
up."

	"I won't," she said. "I'm going out. It's finished, Jerry."

	"Ten minutes," Jerry said. "Leave the door open." He hung up.

	I won't, she thought. I'm free of him. I'm finished with all that. Dr.
Alberts told me so.

	She hung up the receiver, got up and went back into the bedroom. She
looked at the picture of her husband on the bedside table. I could call him at
his office, she thought. But what would I say? No. I'll go out. I just won't be
here.

	She unbuttoned her blouse and took it off, laying it on the bed. Then
she took off her brassiere. She unpinned her soft brown hair, letting it fall
loosely over her shoulders. She went back into the living room in her skirt.

	I don't have to let him in, she thought. He can't break the door down in
broad daylight. He'll just have to leave. I can call the police if necessary.

	She walked to the door and unlocked it.

	Then she went to the middle of the room and knelt down on the floor,
facing the door.

	She waited.

                                            2



	Tom, Susan's husband, said, "Lock the door."

	"Yes, Daddy," the girl said, sliding the bolt on the door of his office.

	She was not his daughter. She was his secretary. She was twenty years
old, but with her blonde hair in braids, as it was now, and with her wide blue
eyes and innocent expression, she could pass for sixteen. A well-developed
sixteen. At times like this, she called him Daddy. It was a game they played.

	She stood with her back against the door, smiling at him. Her full
breasts thrust out against the clinging material of her dress, and her
curvaceous legs, bare of stockings, seemed to gleam at him. He licked his lips.

	"Come over here," he said.

	She came across the room to him slowly, still smiling. She went around
his desk and stood in front of his chair, her hands behind her back, her body
twisting from side to side in a naughty-little-girl pose. "What did you want,
Daddy?" she said.

	He reached up and put his hands over her outthrust breasts, squeezing
them. "I want to fuck you," he said hoarsely.

	"You can fuck me any time, Daddy," she breathed. "You know that."

	"Yes, I know that. You're my hot little girl."

	"Do you want me to put your cock in my mouth, Daddy?"

	"No. I want your legs."

	"Okay," the girl said. "You like my legs, don't you, Daddy?"

	"I love your legs," he said. "Pull your dress up and let me look at
them."

	He dropped his hands from her breasts, and the girl stepped back so that
he could get a full view of her. Then she pulled her dress up slowly, until she
was holding it bunched around her waist. She wore a pair of brief white panties.
Beneath them, her bare legs were shapely and voluptuous. Tom gazed at them
hungrily, his eyes moving over the smooth, sensuous thighs and the beautifully
sculpted calves. He began to breathe heavily. His hand went to his fly and
opened the zipper of his trousers. Then he pulled out his cock, which was hard
and erect. He began to stroke it as he looked at her.

	"Your legs," he muttered softly, stroking himself. "Your damn lovely
legs..."

	The girl said nothing, but she shifted her body slightly, so that the
delicate interplay of flesh and muscle in her calves would inspire him.

	"Sit on the desk," he said hoarsely after a moment.

	The girl hitched herself up onto the front edge of his desk, and,
knowing what he wanted, stretched her legs straight out in front of her. Tom
maneuvered his chair so that he could take her legs over his lap. He moaned as
his cock rubbed against her thigh. The girl leaned back, propping herself up on
her hands as her legs rested across his lap. Tom put his hands on them,
caressing the soft skin, sliding his palms eagerly along their curving length.

	"Beautiful," he breathed. "Wonderful. Legs. So sexy..."

	"They're all yours, Daddy," the girl said.

	He bent over and kissed them, ran his mouth along the tender flesh,
licking at it with his tongue, leaving trails of moisture where his mouth
traveled. His breathing was harsh in the quiet office.

	"Oooo," the girl crooned. "That's nice, Daddy. Your mouth on my legs."

	He straightened up. "I want to fuck them." He slid his cock between her
soft thighs from beneath, groaning as he clutched at them, squeezing them around
his prick. His hips moved up and down in a short, jerky rhythm. His head fell
back against the chair. "Oh god," he rasped. "Oh Jesus god."

	The girl helped him by moving her legs gently back and forth around his
cock. "Oh yes, Daddy," she whispered. "Fuck my legs. Fuck them good."

	"Fucking them," he panted, moving harder. "Fucking your legs. Fucking
hell out of them. Your gorgeous goddam legs... Fucking...Oh...Ohh Jesus...your
legs...Oohh...Yes...OH MY GOD!!"

	He exploded. His body spasmed again and again, and the white sperm shot
out of his cock, rising into the air and falling to splatter over the girl's
creamy thighs. Her legs continued their gentle movements until they had drained
him of everything he had, and the sticky come lay in strands and puddles on her
smooth skin.

	The girl sat up. She brought her hands to her thighs, and slowly and
lovingly she began to spread his come over her legs, smiling into his eyes as
she rubbed the stuff thoroughly into the soft flesh.

	"Mmmm," she moaned. "That was nice, Daddy. Did you enjoy it?"

	"God," Tom said. "You're wonderful, Jeannine. You're just fantastic. I
wish my wife was like you."

                                                 3



	His wife at that moment was trembling violently as she knelt half-naked
in the middle of her living room and heard the steps approaching the door of the
apartment.

	There's still time, she thought. If I move now, I can get to the door
and lock it. Now!

	She didn't move.

	A moment later the door opened.

	Jerry stood in the doorway, grinning at her. He was big and husky, with
very dark hair slicked back from a cruelly handsome face. He was young, no more
than eighteen. She was twenty-three. Why did he have this power over her?

	He came into the room, followed by two men no older than himself. She
had never seen them before. Her immediate instinct was to put up her hands to
shield her naked breasts. But she didn't. She knew it was no use. She knelt
there, waiting.

	"Good girl," Jerry said. "Just like Jerry ordered." He turned to his two
friends, who were staring at her, one with his mouth open. "What did I tell you?
Isn't she a sexy bitch? Her name's Susan. Susan, this is Larry and George."

	She said nothing.

	"Jesus!" one of them said. "What have you got on her, anyway?"

	"Not a thing," Jerry said. "She just loves me. Right, Susan? Tell the
boys what you are."

	She knew what he wanted her to say. God help her, it was true enough.

	But she wouldn't.

	"Tell them," Jerry repeated.

	Her mouth worked. "Jerry, please..." she whispered. "Please don't..."

	He looked down at her for a long moment, and she wondered if he was
going to hit her. But that would be too easy for her. He shrugged. "Okay. If
that's the way you feel about it, we'll just leave. Come on, fellas." He turned
away and started for the door. He was pulling it open when she broke.

	"No!" she cried. Oh god, it was no use. No use. She felt the tears come
to her eyes.

	Jerry swung the door closed and turned back, grinning in triumph. "Tell
them, then," he said. "Tell them what you are."

	"I'm your slave," she whispered. The tears ran down her cheeks.

	"Louder," Jerry said. "They boys can't hear you."

	"I'm your slave," she said, louder.

	"That's better." He came back to her. "Now show them. Kiss my feet."

	The others moved closer to watch. She didn't look at them. They were
just an audience for Jerry's debasement of her. She knew he would make her fuck
them eventually. She knew she would do it. She would do anything he told her.

	She bent forward until she was on her hands and knees, then lowered
herself to her elbows. Crouching there in front of him, she dropped her head and
kissed the tips of his shoes, first one then the other.

	"Lick them."

	She licked them with her tongue until he told her to stop.

	"All right, Susan," he said. "Now crawl for us. Crawl around the room
like a good little slave."

	She crawled. On all fours, like an animal. With her full, firm breasts
swaying, her long brown hair trailing on the floor, she crawled for her
degradation and their delight. She sobbed as she crawled. But the shame and the
sobbing had nothing to do with the other feeling, the feeling that gave Jerry
his domination over her, the feeling that made her want to grovel naked before
them forever, the feeling that she knew deep down all the Dr. Albertses in the
world would never take away.

            	                                  4



	Jeannine had been back at her desk for half an hour when Billy, the
office boy, approached her. Her hair was no longer in braids, but fell in golden
waves down her back. Her blue eyes hid their amusement as the youth entered the
small anteroom outside Tom's office, where she worked.

	She was not surprised that he didn't look at her immediately. Her desk
was open-fronted, so that a person coming into the room had a clear view of her
legs beneath it. She always wore skirts or dresses, never slacks or jeans. When
a male entered the room, his eyes almost always made a predictable journey, with
three stops: first to her legs beneath the desk; then up to her breasts,
thrusting boldly above it; and finally to her face, to meet her cool, amused
blue eyes.

	Billy was almost on top of her desk by the time his eyes had completed
this itinerary, and when he caught her glance, he flushed slightly. But then he
recovered, clearing his throat and trying to look sure of himself.

	"Well," he said, "I got it."

	"Got what?" Jeannine asked, though she thought she knew.

	"The money," he said. "A thousand bucks. All of it. I saved it up. It
took me a long time, but damn it, I've got it now. Here!" And with a rough
gesture, he pulled a large roll of bills out of his pocket and dropped it on her
desk.

	"Why, Billy!" she said, looking surprised. "What's that for?"

	"You know what it's for," Billy said. "Come on, now. Don't play dumb."

	"But, Billy." She gave a confused little laugh, leaning back in her
chair so that her dress pulled tight over her high breasts. "I don't know what
you're talking about."

	His eyes wavered, dropped to her breasts for a moment, forced themselves
up again. "Yes you do, damn it. You remember. I said...I asked you...I mean..."

	Jeannine figured she'd better help him out. "I remember when I went down
to the stock room one day and you made a pass at me, and I slapped your face for
you," she said. "Is that what you mean?"

	"Yeah. And then I said I wanted to--to make it with you. And you laughed
at me, and then you said you'd do it for a thousand dollars. Remember?"

	"Did I say that?" she asked innocently.

	"Yeah. And I said did you really mean it, if I had a thousand bucks and
gave it to you, would you do it. And you said yes. And you meant it, too. Don't
tell me you didn't."

	"Golly," Jeannine said. "I don't know what could have come over me. And
so you saved up all this time, and now here you are with the money."

	"That's right. And I want...I want..."

	"You want to fuck me."

	The boy caught his breath. "Yeah," he said. His voice broke.

	"Well," Jeannine said, "if I really said that, I guess there's no way I
can get out of it. I'm not the kind of person who goes back on a promise, Billy,
I want you to know that. Of course, we'll have to get Mr. Garson's permission
first."

	He stared at her. "What?"

	"I said we'll have to get Mr. Garson's permission first. I work for him,
you know. And so do you, for that matter."

	"Yeah, but--I mean, so what? What's he got to do with it?"

	"But, Billy," she said patiently. "I'm Mr. Garson's personal secretary.
I can't just go around fucking people without asking him, can I?"

	"But--Sure you can. Why the hell not? What's the matter with you?"

	She sighed. "Don't be juvenile, Billy. If you want to fuck me, you'll
have to ask the boss. That's just common sense. Come on, let's go ask him now."
She stood up.

	"Wait!" Billy blurted, flustered. "What the--Are you crazy?!"

	"Come on," Jeannine repeated, and walked toward Tom's office door.

	"Hey, Jeannine--listen, wait a--"

	But she had the door open. "Come on, Billy," she said, loudly enough for
Tom to hear. "Let's ask him."

	"Jesus," Billy croaked. "I'm getting out of here." He made for the door
of the anteroom, but before he reached it, Tom had appeared in the office
doorway.

	"What is it?" he said. "What's going on here?"

	Billy hesitated. He seemed on the verge of bolting off, but he couldn't
move. His face was red. "It--It's nothing, Mr. Garson," he got out. "Nothing.
Just a--a joke. That's all."

	"Gosh, I didn't think it was a joke, Billy," Jeannine said sweetly. "I
thought you were very serious."

	"Serious about what?" Tom asked.

	"Billy wants to fuck me," Jeannine said.

	Billy got even redder. "Hey, that's not--I mean--Damn it..."

	"Is that right?" Tom said. "Well. Why don't we go into the office and
discuss this matter?"

	He led the way back into his office and sat at his desk. Jeannine went
in after him, and Billy, after a moment's agonized hesitation, followed.

	"Look, Mr. Garson," he said desperately. "It was just...I mean it
wasn't...I didn't..."

	"Why, Billy," Tom said mildly. "Are you telling me that you really
weren't serious? Do you mean you wouldn't like to fuck Jeannine here?"

	"No. I mean, I...I mean, hell, Mr.Garson. Well--sure I would. But--"

	"Well, I should think so. Any young man in his right mind would, I
should think. So what's the problem?"

	"Well, I--she--"

	"I told him we'd have to get your permission first," Jeannine said. "You
being our employer and all."

	"Yes, I see," Tom said. "Well, you have my permission, certainly. I
think it would be very nice."

	Billy stared.

	Jeannine smiled at him. "See, Billy? That wasn't so hard. Now you can
fuck me all you want--or at least a thousand dollars' worth. Take your clothes
off."

	He turned the stare on her, his eyes popping. "What?! You mean...now?
Here?!"

	"Why not? You've waited all this time, you must be pretty anxious."

	"I...but..." He glanced wildly at Tom. "With HIM here?"

	"Don't mind me," Tom said. "I like to watch young people enjoying
themselves."

	Billy's face was agonized. "Jesus," he said. "I can't. Not in front
of--I mean..."

	"Sure you can, Billy," Jeannine said. "Take your clothes off and I'll
show you."

	Billy didn't move.

	Jeannine stepped up to him and rubbed her surging breasts lightly
against his chest. "If you take your clothes off," she said softly, "then you
can take mine off."

	With a hoarse sound of surrender and lust, Billy began to undress.

	Jeannine smiled over at Tom. "Well, Daddy," she said, "I think your
little girl is going to get fucked."

	                                            5



	Jerry kept her crawling around the room for a long time.

	As she crawled, her knees caught the hem of her skirt, and the garment
began to pull down over her hips. She knew how ludicrous she must look to the
three youths, crawling before them half naked, her skirt sliding gradually down
to reveal her pink silk panties. But she crawled on. Nothing could worsen her
shame.

	The skirt slid lower, tangled in her legs, made her movements awkward.
She went on. Her sobbing continued. Tears fell on her hands.

	"Stand up," Jerry said.

	She got to her feet. The skirt fell to the floor.

	"Turn around."

	She turned. She knew what was coming now. He was going to tie her. Her
heart was beating hard. She needed it. She so needed to be tied, to feel the
ropes cutting into her flesh, binding her, making her helpless. A thing. His
thing.

	She heard him coming up behind her, knew he was pulling the rope from
his pocket. Her mouth was dry. She put her hands behind her, crossing her
wrists, ready for the rope.

	Instantly she knew she had done the wrong thing.

	"I'm sorry," she whispered into the terrible silence. "Jerry, I'm
sorry." She put her hands down at her sides, as if that could undo her
presumptuous anticipation of his order.

	"You're getting too damn eager, Susan," Jerry said softly. "Maybe I
won't tie you at all today."

	She felt as if her stomach had dropped out of her. "Oh, no," she
whimpered.

	"Please tie me, Jerry. Please."

	"I don't think you deserve it, Susan."

	"Oh, please. I'll do anything."

	"You'll do that anyway," he said.

	It was true. If he didn't want to tie her, there was nothing she could
do about it. She wouldn't beg any more. She wouldn't. But the rope...the rope on
her flesh...

	"Please," she said desperately. "Please. Please. Please."

	"Shut up," Jerry said. "Take those fucking pants off."

	She slid the panties down and stepped out of them, leaving them on the
floor. He told her to turn around again and she did, facing them in her
nakedness, keeping her hands at her sides.

	"Isn't she something?" Jerry said. "You like her, boys?"

	"Are you kiddin'?" one of them said. "Jesus, those tits are too much!"

	"Larry likes your tits," Jerry said. "Go over there and let him feel
them."

	Susan walked over to the boy who had spoken. He was blond, pimply and
moronic-looking. He grinned obscenely at her and put his hands over her breasts.
His nails were dirty. He squeezed her breasts hard, and she gasped.

	"Ask him if he'd like to fuck you, Susan," Jerry said.

	She forced herself to look into the boy's eyes. "Would you like to fuck
me?" she said.

	His grin got wider, the grip on her breasts tighter. "What do you think,
baby?"

	The pain. The pain in her breasts, shooting in sharp spasms through her
body. She heard herself breathing harshly. How she loved it! Had Jerry told him
that, told him to hurt her and see how it turned her on? Tom, she thought. What
would he think if he could see her now, his sweet, respectable wife, Susan
Glendinning Garson, his pride and joy. Filled with sick lust because some idiot
stranger was manhandling her tits, ready to take on him and his drooling
friends, ready to give them her body, to be their slave, their plaything, ready
to comply unquestioningly with any shameful demand they might make of her.

	Then the pressure was gone from her breasts, his hands were on her
shoulders, pushing her down to her knees, he was unzipping his fly and pulling
out his thick, evil-smelling cock. She didn't need to be told what to do. She
opened her mouth and took it in with a moan, dimly hearing his gasp of pleasure,
and the sharp, mocking sound of Jerry' laughter.

            	                                 6



	Jeannine was bent over his desk, facing him as he sat in his chair,
while Billy stood behind her, thrusting himself up into her cunt with strong,
eager strokes.

	Billy had undressed her awkwardly but reverently, his hands trembling,
stopping after each garment was removed to touch and fondle the newly exposed
flesh, while she had stood quietly, smiling, and let him do as he liked. All the
while her eyes had been on Tom, and Tom's breathing had quickened as Billy had
gradually stripped her, even though he was familiar with every inch of that
beautiful body.

	Billy's cock, which had been limp and shriveled when he had taken off
his own clothes, was soon rampantly erect, and when she was naked he had made an
ineffectual attempt to pull her down to the floor. But he had not objected when
she had turned and bent across Tom's desk, her ass high and thrusting, her legs
spread apart for him. He was willing to take her any way he could get her.

	Now he was moving in and out of her with a hard but uncoordinated rhythm
which brought a grunt of pleasure from him on each forward lunge. Jeannine's
upper body was lying flat on the surface of the desk, her breasts crushed
beneath her and bulging outward at the sides. Her arms were stretched out in
front of her. Tom was holding her hands tightly in his, as they looked deeply
into each other's eyes.

	"You're beautiful," Tom said softly.

	"Thank you, Daddy," she said, a bit breathlessly.

	"My little girl is getting fucked," he said.

	"Yes. Getting fucked. Do you like to see me getting fucked, Daddy?"

	"I love it," he said. "How does it feel?"

	"Nice," she said. "Because you're watching me, Daddy."

	Billy moved harder, oblivious to their conversation, oblivious of
everything but the fantastic pleasure of her tight, clutching cunt.

	"Are you going to come?" Tom said.

	"Maybe," Jeannine said. "Would you like to see me come?"

	"I always do," he said. "You're loveliest when you're coming."

	"I'll come for you, then," she said.

	"Not yet."

	"No. Not yet."

	Billy groaned.

	"Billy's going to come soon," Tom said.

	"Yes. He's not as good as you, Daddy."

	Tom was breathing hard. "Do you know what I want to do?" he said.

	Her eyes burned into his. "Yes, Daddy."

	"I want to come. I want to come in your mouth. Your sweet, sexy mouth."

	"It's yours, Daddy."

	Tom stood up, letting go of her hands. She grasped the edge of the desk.
Tom unzipped his fly, and his cock sprang out, ready. Jeannine raised her head.
He leaned forward over the desk, pushing his hard prick toward her lips. Her
mouth opened just widely enough to take him in. He gave a soft sigh as his rigid
cock gradully disappeared between her rounded lips.

	Jeannine began to make a sensuous, crooning sound around his prick as
she clasped it in her warm, soft mouth. He held himself still for a moment, the
tip of his prong pushing at her throat. He felt her tongue work lightly across
the underside of it.

	He pulled himself back slowly, until only the head of it was still in
her mouth, then just as slowly pushed in again. "Your mouth," he breathed
softly. "My cock in your mouth. You're beautiful with your face full of cock.
Your Daddy's cock fucking your face."

	She murmured something indistinct around his flesh, then made the
crooning noise again as he began to rock himself back and forth, back and forth,
gently but steadily screwing her marvelous mouth. Her tongue stroked him with
each movement.

	"I'm going to come in my little girl's mouth," Tom said, panting a
little. "Shoot my come into your sweet, sucking mouth. While Billy shoots into
your cunt."

	Billy indeed seemed ready to do just that. He was groaning loudly and
pounding himself hard against her outthrust rear with ever-increasing speed. The
rhythmic jolting of her body transmitted itself to Tom's prick, increasing the
incredible pleasure her mouth was giving him.

	"Come for me, little girl," Tom said hoarsely. "Come for me now!"

	Jeannine's moaning got louder. Her body began to writhe on the desk. Her
ass twisted. Tom's body rocked harder, faster. She never released the clasp of
her soft lips around him as her torso squirmed and rolled, and she drew sharp,
gasping breaths through her nose. His eyes glowed as he looked down at her
twisted face, her jerking body. "Beautiful!" he cried. "Oh, god! Beautiful...
coming...now!"

	Jeannine gave a smothered cry and her body heaved with a series of
convulsive spasms. Tom heard Billy give a hoarse shout of completion, and at the
same time his own cock exploded, pouring his sperm in jet after jet down the
girl's wildly gulping throat.

	                                             7



	The boy's sperm poured into Susan's throat. It hadn't taken long. She
swallowed it all, knowing that that was what Jerry wanted her to do. He was
still laughing as Larry pulled himself from her mouth and staggered back,
breathing harshly.

	She stayed on her knees, looking over at Jerry. Maybe he would tie her
now. She longed for the rope, but she didn't dare to ask again. Jerry grinned at
her. He knew what she needed, and her eyes stung as she realized that he wasn't
going to give it to her. Not yet.

	He grinned at her. "Slut," he said distinctly.

	Her eyes closed, the word sinking into her consciousness and sending
strange cracklings of excitement through her body. Yes, she was a slut. A dirty,
groveling slut. Then she heard the other boy, the one who had not spoken yet.
"Christ," the voice said, "this is one flaky chick."

	"You don't know the half of it," Jerry said. "You want her? She'll do
anything you say. Right, Susan?"

	She opened her eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

	The boy looked at Jerry slyly. "Anything?" he repeated softly.

	"You heard her."

	The boy's eyes had a strange glitter. "I bet she won't."

	"Ask her."

	When he told her what he wanted her to do, Susan retched. She had to
make an effort to keep from being sick on the floor. Jerry laughed again.

	The boy shrugged his shoulders. "I told you," he said.

	"She'll do it," Jerry said. "Go on, take your clothes off."

	The boy began to undress quickly. Susan raised her eyes to Jerry
pleadingly.

	"Don't make me do that, Jerry," she begged piteously. "Please. Please
don't make me."

	Jerry assumed a mock-innocent look. "I won't make you do it, Susan," he
said. "Of course not. But I'll tell you what. If you do it, I'll tie you up
afterwards. I promise. I'll tie you however you want."

	Susan stared at him. Her tongue came out to lick her dry lips. She
looked over at the third boy, who was naked now. He was short and stocky and
hairy. She looked back at Jerry. With a grin, he dug into his pocket and pulled
out the rope. Her eyes fastened on it compulsively, and she felt her breath come
faster. Jerry stepped toward her and let the rope dangle so that it brushed
against her body. She trembled and began to moan softly.

	Jerry drew the rope away.

	"It's up to you, Susan," Jerry said.

	She crawled slowly to the naked boy and did what he wanted.

                                                   8



	Jeannine sprawled sensuously on the carpeted floor of the office, her
naked body writhing slowly as Billy sucked on her cunt. Tom was sitting on the
floor with her head in his lap, stroking her face and hair. She was moaning
happily.

	"Oh, lovely, Billy," she murmured softly. "Sooo nice..."

	Tom leaned down to kiss her temptingly parted lips. Her tongue came out
and stroked his lazily. He put his hands over her full breasts, feeling the
stiffly erect nipples under his palm.

	He lifted his head, but kept his hands where they were. "Your nipples
are hard as nails," he said.

	"Play with them, Daddy."

	He manipulated the hard red nubs between his fingers, while she made
little noises of contentment. And after a while she came, gazing into his eyes
as she abandoned her body to its pleasure.

	Billy raised his head from between her thighs. Having completed her
orgasm, she took her eyes from Tom's and smiled at him.

	"Are you ready to fuck me again, Billy?" she said.

	His eyes widened. "Can I?" he asked hoarsely.

	"Of course," Jeannine said. "I want you to get your thousand dollars'
worth. I like to give full value, Billy; I don't want you to feel cheated."

	Billy gulped. "Would you...I mean...you know...like you did for Mr.
Garson?"

	"Suck your cock? Of course," Jeannine said. "If Mr. Garson thinks it's
all right."

	"I'd love to see Billy's cock in your mouth," Tom said.

	"Lie down, Billy," Jeannine said. Billy lay down on his back, and
Jeannine sat up, then got to her knees and crouched over him. She positioned
herself so that Tom had an unobstructed view of her face. Then she began to lick
his cock.

	Jeannine had a most artful and agile tongue, and for many moments she
used it and her lips on Billy's cock with all her skill, until the youth was
groaning and squirming in an ecstasy of pleasure and suspense. From time to time
she glanced at Tom, who was watching her closely.

	And when, finally, she opened her mouth and took Billy's cock inside it,
she again looked straight into Tom's eyes. She looked at him as her head moved
down, as she swallowed the boy's throbbing prick inch by inch until her lips
were surrounding the thick base of it. She never took her eyes from his as she
began to suck it, her lips suctioning, her tongue moving against the hard flesh
in her mouth, her head bobbing slowly, slowly up and down. And as the rhythm got
faster, as she brought Billy inexorably toward the pinnacle of joy, as hoarse
cries came from his mouth and his body jerked uncontrollably and his fists
banged on the floor, she still gazed into Tom's devouring eyes.

	And when Billy came, thrashing and jetting his come helplessly into her
still-sucking mouth, she still held his gaze as she swallowed it wantonly. But
not all of it, for as Billy's limp, drained member slipped finally from her
lips, she deliberately allowed a white glob of come to slide from her mouth and
run in a slimy stream down her face.

	Tom said, "I love you."

	"I love you too, Daddy," Jeannine said.

	Billy got up weakly and groped in a daze for his clothes.

	"Did you get your thousand dollars' worth, Billy?" Jeannine asked.

	Billy nodded. "Yeah," he said, still breathing hard. "Hell, yeah." He
was dressing awkwardly but quickly.

	"Good," Jeannine said.

	"You're a good boy, Billy," Tom said. "A fine young man."

	"Thank you, Mr. Garson," Billy said. He finished tying his shoes, said,
"Well..." and with a hesitant little wave, walked to the door.

	As he opened it, Tom said, "Oh, by the way, Billy..."

	Billy turned. "Yes, sir?"

	"You're fired," Tom said.

                                                           9



	Jerry had not kept his promise to tie her however she wanted. What she
really wanted was to be tied hand and foot, to have the ropes winding tightly
around every part of her body, to be bound so thoroughly that she could not move
a muscle, could do nothing but lie there, helplessly pinioned, an immobile
object, for them to do with as they liked.

	But Jerry had wanted her to be more active, so that she could continue
to pleasure them, he said, with her slut's body. But at least he had tied her
hands. At least she had that. She could feel the ropes binding her wrists,
pulling her arms behind her. She strained at them deliberately to feel how tight
they were, how useless her hands were to her. She moaned around Jerry's cock.

	She was on her knees in front of the chair he was now sitting in, her
head in his lap as she sucked at his long, thick tool. The boy named George was
kneeling behind her, battering his twice-revived cock into her cunt. Larry was
lying on the floor with his head beneath her body, sucking on her full, dangling
breasts as she bent over.

	"Sweet little slave," Jerry was saying, stroking her head as she moved
her mouth steadily up and down over the length of his prick. "Sweet little
cocksucking whore. I wish your fucking husband could see you now."

	She shuddered, half with fear and half with unexpected excitement at the
thought of Tom seeing her like this. What would he do? She could imagine the
horror and disgust on his handsome, upright face. He would probably divorce her
immediately and never speak to her again. Oh, god, why must she betray him like
this?

	"Suck harder, Susan," Jerry said.

	She sucked harder, clasping her mouth tightly around him, taking the end
of his hefty prick down her throat. She had never sucked a cock before she met
Jerry, and now she was an expert. A cock-sucker. She pulled again at her bonds,
the sensation sending thrills through her, twisting her kneeling body. She heard
George groaning behind her, and then she felt his spunk jetting up into her
squirming cunt. After a moment he fell away from her.

	Larry stopped sucking on her breasts and sat up. His cock was hard again
too, throbbing with eagerness. "Hey," he said, "I want to try out her asshole."

	Susan felt a pang of apprehension as the blond youth took George's place
behind her, but she did not dare to take her mouth from Jerry's prick. Besides,
she could not object to anything they wanted to do. She was a slave. A
plaything. Let them take what they wanted, let them hurt her, make her suffer...
The breath came harder through her nostrils as she sucked. Hurt me... hurt me...

	She felt the tip of Larry's cock pressing against the small, crinkled
opening of her anus. It felt huge. and then, with no further preparation, he
began to force it into her.

	She cried out, the sound muffled by Jerry's flesh, as the marauding
prick made the first assault, painfully breaching the tight sphincter muscles.
She heard Jerry chuckle. Larry pushed on, ploughing his way slowly but
inexorably into her protesting anal passage, making her body stiffen with pain,
making her bound hands claw helplessly at the air, bringing tears of agony to
her eyes--and thrilling her, filling her with a dark, hopeless joy to the bottom
of her soul.

	The stifled cries that now came continuously from her cock-stuffed mouth
contained more than pain, more than suffering. They were uncontrollable
expressions of her deepest passion, conveyors of the twisted, ecstatic
fulfillment which she could find only when she was like this, degraded, bound,
filled with pain... wonderful pain...

	She heard Jerry's laughter turn into quick, harsh breathing, and felt
his hips twisting under her moaning, devouring mouth. Then his fingers were
tangled in her hair, and he was pulling her face from his quivering prick.
Holding her by her hair, he stared wildly down at her, her face just over his
jerking phallus.

	"This is for you, Susan-slut," he panted. "Right in your face, slave.
Cocksucker. All over your fucking face...right... now! Now!! NOW!!"

	And as Larry, with a last grunting thrust, buried the last inch of his
cock deep inside her agonizingly stretched ass, bringing a squall of pain from
her, Jerry's thick sperm shot from his straining cock and splashed into her
face, hitting her eyes and cheeks, going into her open mouth and up her
nostrils, spurting endlessly all over her twisted features.

	Then at last he let go of her hair and she buried her head in his lap
again, but he pushed her away impatiently, and she was forced to rest her
forehead on the floor as Larry screwed himself back and forth in her burning
ass. Under the eyes of the other two grinning, chortling youths, she sobbed,
moaned and howled in torment and ecstasy as their friend pounded with
remorseless savagery at her bowed, tethered, tormented body.

                                                               10



	"You have come on your face," Tom said.

	"I know," Jeannine said.

	"What shall we do about it?" Tom said.

	"You could lick it off," she said.

	"No."

	"Someone else could lick it off."

	"Who?"

	"Deborah."

	"Deborah is expensive."

	"But you keep her here. You like her."

	"Yes."

	"She excites you."

	"Because she looks like a virgin, and she gives nothing of herself. She
only takes. And her flesh is like a baby's."

	She glanced down at his cock. "You want her now."

	"I want to see her licking the come from your face."

	"Because it will give you the illusion of mastery. But you will be
paying for every stroke of her tongue."

	"Yes. Call her."

	Jeannine got up, went to his desk and picked up the phone. She punched
one digit. "Will you ask Deborah to come to Mr. Garson's office, please." She
came back and joined him again on the floor.

	In a moment there was a brief knock on the door, and then it opened and
Deborah came in. She was young and dark-haired and pretty and slender except for
her breasts, which were not slender. She was wearing a sweater and skirt and
carrying a steno pad. She showed no surprise at seeing the two of them naked on
the floor. She stood quietly just inside the door and waited, expressionlessly,
while Tom looked at her. He drew his eyes very slowly down her body, drinking in
the full round breasts, the flat stomach and slim waist, the smooth, elegantly
curved legs.

	Tom said, "Jeannine has come on her face."

	"I see that," Deborah said flatly.

	"I want you to lick it off for her."

	Deborah's face did not change. "Clothed or naked?" she said.

	"Clothed. For now."

	"Two hundred dollars," Deborah said.

	"No," Tom said.

	Deborah said nothing.

	"All right," Tom said. "But do a damn good job."

	Deborah put her steno pad on the desk. She walked over to where Jeannine
lay on the floor and got down on her hands and knees. She lowered her face to
the blonde girl's and began, slowly and carefully, to lick the come off with her
tongue.

	"Lovely," Tom said. Jeannine reached out and curled her fingers
knowingly around his erect cock.

	Deborah cleaned every bit of come from Jeannine's face, starting from
where it had dripped off the bottom of her chin and licking upwards to the
corner of her mouth. Then she ran her tongue slowly around the other girl's
lips.

	"You sweet little bitch," Tom murmured. Jeannine's fingers moved
slightly against his cock.

	"Jeannine has come in her cunt, too," Tom said.

	Deborah raised her head. "You know the price of that," she said.

	"Yes," Tom said. "I know."

	Deborah lowered her head again and began to move her mouth gradually
downward over Jeannine's body.

	Jeannine began to slide her hand slowly up and down his prick. "Would
you like to fuck her, Daddy?" she said.

	"I'd love to fuck her," Tom said. "But not today. She's costing me
enough money. The bitch thinks her body is worth its weight in gold."

	"It's a nice body," Jeannine said.

	"It's a great body. But she's a stuck-up, mercenary little cunt. I'd
like to teach her a lesson."

	Deborah's mouth had reached Jeannine's crotch. Jeannine splayed her legs
wide, her hips lifting toward Deborah's face. Her hand stroked him lovingly,
expertly. "What would you like to do to her, Daddy?"

	"I'd like to tie her up and beat the hell out of her," Tom said.

	Deborah's lips fastened themselves to the still softer lips of
Jeannine's vagina, and her tongue delved deep inside her cunt, industriously
licking out all the come that Billy had deposited there. Jeannine's body writhed
sensuously and her breathing became ragged. Her hand moved faster on his cock.
"Tell me about it," she breathed.

	"Hang her up from the ceiling," Tom said, a little hoarsely. "By her
wrists. Naked. Feet off the floor. Body all stretched out. Helpless. Take a
bullwhip to her. Whip her all over. All over that damn soft body. Every inch.
Start with her back. Down to her ass. Watch her struggle. Kicking and squirming.
Whip her legs. Then her front. Whip those gorgeous tits. Listen to her scream.
Whip her stomach. Her thighs. Flesh like a baby's. Whip them raw. Let her yell
and beg me to stop. Whip her tits some more. Let her scream her head off.
Promise me anything if I'll stop. Anything. Anything at all. Begging and crying
and screaming. Laugh in her face. Start over again. Whip her again. Again.
Again..."

	Tom and Jeannine both came at the same time.

	Deborah rose to her feet. She wiped her mouth daintily with a tissue,
her face still calm and expressionless.

	Tom said, panting, "How much would you charge me to do that to you,
Deborah?"

	"A million dollars," Deborah said.

	"I'll think about it," Tom said.

                                                            11



	She couldn't stop coming.

	They had no more to give her, they had fucked themselves out on her body
until they were limp and exhausted. But they could still torment her with her
own passion. The long afternoon of degradation and pain and abuse had at last
whipped her up to such a state that they could make her come at will, come
helplessly, over and over, while they laughed and ridiculed her, the shame
adding to the passion in an endless cycle of debasement and lust.

	She lay on her back on the floor, her hands still tied behind her. Her
legs were spread wide; George and Larry, one sitting on either side of her, each
held one of her ankles, so that she could not move except to writhe and squirm
her upper body. This, too, added to her helpless excitement. Jerry was crouched
over her, one hand working at her cunt, the other squeezing and kneading her
breasts as she gasped and twisted through yet another orgasm. Three naked boys
grinned lewdly down at her sweating, straining, thrashing body.

	Finally she lay still, breathing in harsh, hoarse gulps. Jerry's fingers
moved wickedly, knowingly, in her cunt.

	"No," she panted, pleading, knowing her pleading would do no good. "No
more. Please, Jerry. Please, no more. I can't any more. Please..."

	"Sure you can, Susan," Jerry said mockingly. "Watch." His fingers
twisted a nipple, and she gasped. He retained his grip on the nipple, twisting
it back and forth, while his other hand plunged into her brutally. She heard
herself moan, felt herself beginning to squirm. "No," she whimpered, weakly,
uselessly. "No...oh, god, please..."

	Jerry's fingers found her clitoris. Her torso arched, her aching breasts
pushing hard against his pain-dealing hand, then fell back, rolling
uncontrollably from side to side. She heard them laughing at her, and she cried
out with shame and despair and indescribable bliss as another climax jolted
through her.

	After that they made her come twice more before they tired of that game.
Then, at last, they were through with her. She lay there, gulping air, totally
depleted, the sweat drying on her body, while they rose and began to dress. They
did not speak to her or look at her. She lay and waited for Jerry to untie her
and then leave. Then she could go on with her life, go on with her visits to Dr.
Alberts, pretend she was a normal woman.

	Until next time.

	They finished dressing, and Jerry came over to her. She sat up weakly so
he would have access to the ropes on her wrists. But he just stood there. She
looked up at him. He was grinning down at her with a gleam in his eye. She felt
a fearful sensation in the pit of her stomach.

	"So long, Susan," Jerry said. "See you around."

	She swallowed. "Jerry...the ropes..."

	Jerry nodded thoughtfully. "Tell you what, Susan. I'm going to do you a
favor. Since you like being tied up so much, I think I'll just leave you that
way. You can give me the rope back next time." He chortled, looking at his
friends for their appreciation of his amusing scheme.

	Susan turned pale. "Jerry," she whispered. "Jerry, you can't. You can't
leave me like this."

	"Can't I, Susan?"

	"Jerry, for god's sake! What will I do? Jerry..."

	"Maybe you can find a way to get yourself loose," Jerry said carelessly.
"Or if not, your husband can untie you when he gets home." He chortled again.

	"No! Jerry, my god...I can't let Tom find me this way. Oh please,

	Jerry...please...you can't...please..."

	"Let's go, boys," Jerry said.

	"Wait!" Susan, with some difficulty, managed to get herself to her feet.
"Jerry..." She struggled to speak calmly. "Don't do this. Please. You know my
husband doesn't know about...You know I can't have him see me like this. My god!
What would I tell him?"

	"That's your problem, Sal. Tell him the truth. It might be good for
him." He turned serious for a moment. "Just don't mention any names. Or you'll
be damn sorry."

	"Jerry..." She began to sob.

	"Bye, baby." He opened the door and the other two boys followed him out.

	"No! Jerry...please! Jerry!!" She ran awkwardly to the door, but Larry,
the last one out, pushed her back and closed it in her face. She heard their
laughter fade down the corridor.

                                                    12



	Deborah left Tom's office and went back to the steno pool, where she
worked. As she approached her desk, she saw Stanley Banks, the supervisor,
eyeing her balefully. He knew what she did when she went to the boss' office. He
hated her because he couldn't afford her, and because no matter how careless she
was about her work or about getting to the office on time, he couldn't fire her.
Tom saw to that.

	She sat down, and a minute later, as she had known he would, Banks got
up and walked toward her desk. he was middle-aged, fat, and balding, and he
sweated a lot. He was so unattractive that even if he could afford her, she
would have charged him double her usual rates, and she had told him that.

	He stood in front of her desk and spoke in a low voice, so the girls at
the other desks wouldn't hear. "Well, how much did you make this time, you
whore?"

	"That's my business, Mr. Banks," she said coolly, switching on her word
processor. She had been in the middle of transcribing something when she had
been called away.

	"It's your BUSINESS, all right," he said with sneering sarcasm. But he
couldn't hide his fevered curiosity. "What cute little tricks did you do for him
in there, hmm?"

	Ordinarily she would have told him again to mind his own business, but
he was getting on her nerves more than usual, and something made her want to
torment him further. "As a matter of fact," she said in the same cool voice,
looking straight into his eyes, "he was with Jeannine. They were naked, of
course. She had some come on her face, and I licked it off for her. Then I went
down on her and ate out her cunt until she came. Meanwhile, he got off by
fantasizing about stringing me up and whipping the hell out of me. Is that what
you wanted to know, Mr. Banks?"

	Banks' face was red. He licked his lips. "Jesus!" he breathed hoarsely.

	"That should give you something to think about," Deborah said, "when you
go to the men's room for your daily jerk-off session."

	His pig-like eyes blazed with rage. "You bitch!" he spat out. "I'd like
to--"

	"I know you would," she said sweetly. "But you can't." Deliberately, she
breathed deeply so that her breasts swelled even more enticingly against her
sweater; those breasts that he coveted so much and could never have.

	His mouth worked silently, but then without another word he turned away
and went back to his desk. She could tell he had a hard-on. He sat at his desk,
and she felt his eyes on her again. Probably he was already playing with himself
beneath the desk.

	Maliciously, she hiked her skirt up to show more of her bare thigh, and
began to type.

                                                               13



	Calm. She had to stay calm. There must be something she could do, some
way she could get herself loose. She forced herself to think. She needed
something sharp, something that would cut the ropes on her wrists. A knife.

	She went into the kitchen. There was a rack of cutting knives onthe
wall, but it was too high up; even by turning her back to it, she could not get
her bound hands high enough to reach it. Finally she managed to take one of the
knives in her teeth. She dropped it on the floor and bent down, twisting, to
pick it up. But when she had the knife in her hand she found, as she had feared,
that she was unable to position it properly to press the blade with any pressure
against the ropes. She persisted desperately in the effort, but only managed to
drop the knife several times, and at last she gave up. She knelt there on the
floor, small whimpering noises coming from her mouth.

	She had to think. If only there was something she could saw the ropes
against, something stationary, a piece of furniture, anything with an edge that
was sharp or jagged or...

	But there was nothing.

	Think, Susan. Think!

	She had to get help. It was the only way. There was no other choice;
either she stayed as she was until Tom came home--which was unthinkable--or she
had to get someone to release her.

	But who?

	She thought of Dr. Alberts. He was the only one in the world beside
herself and Jerry--and now Jerry's friends--who knew what she was, knew the
compulsions that had put her in this position. But that was no good. He couldn't
leave his office, all the way uptown, in the middle of seeing patients, to come
to her aid. There had to be someone else.

	Maybe Mrs. Wallensky...She was a nice widow lady who lived in the
building, two floors up, who she had gotten friendly with. Mrs. Wallensky was a
kind woman. Maybe she would understand. And Tom didn't know her.

	Could she risk it? She had to.

	Luckily, she had written Mrs. Wallensky's number on the list of phone
numbers they kept on the telephone table. Susan rose to her feet and went back
to the living room. Turning her back to the phone, she lifted the receiver from
the hook and put it down on the table. Then, by twisting her head so she could
look at the phone as her fingers found the right buttons, she managed with some
awkwardness to punch in the number she wanted. She knelt down with her ear to
the receiver and waited.

	The phone rang and rang. There was no answer.

	Oh, god.

	Finally she stood and put the receiver back on the hook. She felt tears
come to her eyes.

	No. She couldn't give in. She had to think. There must be someone else.
A friend, someone...

	But her friends were all Tom's friends, too. And Tom mustn't know.

	Maybe...Maybe...Mrs. Bartelli. The building superintendent's wife. Mrs.
Bartelli was a nice woman when she was sober, but she was a wino and was
notorious for trying to borrow money from the building's tenants for drink,
because her husband kept her on a short ration. She could be bribed, Susan
thought. I could give her money not to tell. Besides, Tom wasn't on good terms
with the Bartellis. Tom tended to be snobbish about people like that. And...and
if she ever did say anything, Susan could laugh it off, say she was drunk... He
head whirled. It was a desperate idea, but she was terrified now and didn't know
what else she could do. It had to work. It had to!

	Blinking her tears away so she could see the numbers on the phone
buttons, she turned again so that her fettered hands could punch in the
superintendent's number.

	She knelt to the receiver on the table. Please, god, let her answer.
Please...

	"Hello?"

	It was Mr. Bartelli.

	Susan gulped. She put her face close to the mouthpiece, and tried
desperately to make her voice sound normal. "H-hello...Mr. Bartelli? This is
Mrs. Garson. Is--is your wife there, please?"

	"My wife?" Bartelli's rough voice repeated. "No. She went shoppin'.
Why?"

	Oh, no.  "Will--will she be back soon, do you think?" Her voice was
trembling.

	"I don't think so, she just left a few minutes ago. Anything I can do,
Mrs. Garson?"

	"No!" she said, too strongly, too quickly. "I mean--no, I--I just wanted
to talk to her."

	"You sound funny, Mrs. Garson. You got some kind of problem up there?"

	"No. No." She knew it sounded unconvincing. "Everything's fine."

	'Yeah?" He sounded suspicious. "Maybe I ought to come up and check it
out, huh?"

	"No!" she gasped. "No...really...I..."

	"No trouble, Mrs. Garson. Be right up." And he hung up.

	Oh, Jesus. He was coming up. Would he help her? But no, she couldn't...
She wouldn't let him in. But he had a master key. Besides, the door was still
unlocked. And the lock, she knew, was placed to high for her to reach with her
hands tied as they were. She stood in the middle of the room, frantically trying
to think, to decide...

	And there was a knock on the door.

	"Mrs. Garson?" It was him. "Mrs. Garson, you okay?"

	She swallowed hard, took a breath. "Yes...yes, I--I'm--" It was no good.
The words choked in her throat, and then she started to cry as Bartelli opened
the door.

		                                               14



	Stanley Banks came into Jeannine's office. His eyes made the usual stops
on her body. Then he said, "Jeannine, can I talk to you a minute?"

	"Of course, Stanley," Jeannine said.

	He sat down by her desk. "Jeannine," he said, "you've always been nice
to me..."

	"Why, Stanley," Jeannine said. "I've never let you lay a hand on me."

	"I don't mean that, dammit! I mean you treat me like a human being, you
know, not like some...Anyway, I figure I can talk to you. I got this problem."

	"Tell me about it, Stanley."

	"It's that little bitch, Deborah," Stanley said.

	"Oh?"

	"She's a goddam tease, and I know she's just a whore, but she won't even
let me...I mean..."

	"I get the idea," Jeannine said. "But what can I do?"

	"Listen. She told me about what she did in there today."

	"Did she, though?"

	"Yeah. And I figure, you know, you being Garson's prime piece and all,
you might not--"

	"Watch your mouth, Stanley," Jeannine said.

	"Okay. Sorry. But I mean, you might not be too crazy about her, him
getting off on her and all, and making you do stuff like that with her in front
of him. And I figured you might want to help me."

	Jeannine laughed. "You've got it exactly wrong, Stanley. I have nothing
against Deborah. I'm not the one who has to pay her, and I have no jealousy
whatever. But supposing you were right, how did you figure I would be able to
deliver her into your sweaty clutches?"

	"Dammit, Jeannine--" Stanly said resentfully. Then he sighed and
shrugged. "I don't know, I just thought you might have some ideas."

	Jeannine looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Tell you what,
Stanley. I think Mr. Garson might be interested in your little problem."

	Stanley frowned. "Garson? Why?"

	"His feelings about Deborah are--mixed, shall we say. He enjoys her, but
he resents her, too. He likes the fact that she's at his beck and call and will
do whatever he wants her to do, but he doesn't like having to pay through the
nose for it."

	"Yeah," Stanley said. "Deborah told me he was talking about beating the
hell out of her."

	"That was just a fantasy, Stanley. Tom would never really do that, even
if he could. But I think he wouldn't mind seeing her taken down a peg or two.
Shall we go in and talk to him?"

	Stanley hesitated. He didn't want to get his boss mad at him, and maybe
even put his job in jeopardy. But if there was a chance...He thought of Deborah
and her superior ways and her unconcealed contempt for him. He thought of her
maddening body.

	"Yeah," he said.

	"Come on, then." They rose and Jeannine led him into Tom's office.

	"I see," Tom said thoughtfully when Jeannine had explained Stanley's
problem to him, while Stanley sat red-faced and silent. "That's very
interesting."

	"I thought you might think so," Jeannine said.

	"Deborah is an arrogant bitch," Tom said.

	"Even when she's naked," Jeannine said.

	"Even with a cock in her mouth," Tom said.

	Stanley got redder.

	"You'd like to puncture her arrogance, wouldn't you, Daddy?" Jeannine
said.

	"Yes. I'd like to see her squirm."

	"Like to see her fucking fat, sweaty old Stanley."

	Stanley opened his mouth, then closed it again.

	"Even better," Tom said, "I'd like to see her fucking fat, sweaty old
Stanley--for nothing."

	"That would be something to see," Jeannine said.

	"Let's arrange it," Tom said.

	Stanley licked his lips.

                                                             15



	"Jesus fucking Christ!" Bartelli said.

	Susan was sobbing. She stood half turned away from him, trying
ineffectually to shield her nakedness from his eyes. He appeared to be stunned
by the sight of her bound, exposed body. it was several moments before he could
even move to shut the door behind him. He did it without taking his eyes from
her.

	"Please..." Susan sobbed. "My hands...untie me...please..."

	Bartelli stayed rooted to the spot. "What the hell..." he rasped
finally. "What the hell happened?"

	"They--they raped me!" Susan gasped desperately. "They... they came in
and--and raped me, and they left me like this! Oh god, untie me..."

	Still the man did not move. His eyes, never leaving her body, slowly
narrowed. "Raped you, huh?"

	"Yes! Oh, please..."

	"How'd they get in, Mrs. Garson?"

	"W-what?..."

	"How'd they get in?" Bartelli repeated. "Door's not busted. The lock's
not forced. How'd they get in?"

	"Well...they--they came...they..."

	For the first time his eyes left her to look around the room. "Don't
look like much of a struggle," he said. "Everything nice and neat." He saw her
skirt on the floor where she had dropped it, and moved to pick it up. Then he
picked up her panties. He examined both garments with interest, then dropped
them again. "Clothes ain't torn," he said.

	"For god's sake!..."

	Bartelli peered into the bedroom, seeing her blouse and brassiere lying
neatly on the bed. He turned back to her with a look in his eyes that made her
start to tremble.

	"Well now," he said slowly. "I guess what we oughta do, Mrs. Garson, we
oughta notify your husband about this."

	Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with fear. "No!" she cried loudly.
Then she bit her lip.

	Bartelli's mouth twisted into what might have been the beginning of a
grin.

	"No?" he said. "Not tell your husband? About how you been raped and all?
You don't mean that, Mrs. G	arson."

	She couldn't look at him any more. She shook her head helplessly, her
eyes on the floor. "No," she choked. "Please... don't tell him...don't...please
don't..."

	"Well..." Bartelli said, and then, very slowly, he began to walk across
the room toward her. "Well, okay, Mrs. Garson. If you say so. I won't tell him.
I won't tell anybody. It'll be like a secret between us, right?" He stopped
directly in front of her. She did not look up. "You sure are a pretty girl, Mrs.
Garson," he said.

	Fresh tears flowed from her eyes. "Oh, god..." she sobbed, but she did
not move as he reached out to put his hand over her breast.

                                                               16



	Tom smiled with satisfaction as he looked at the series of photographs
spread out on his desk. "Beautiful," he murmured. "I knew it would work. She
always was a greedy bitch."

	"You went to a lot of trouble, Daddy," Jeannine said. "I hope it was
worth it."

	"It will be," Tom said. "I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this." He
gathered up the photographs and put them into a drawer. Then he picked up his
telephone and asked for Deborah to be sent to his office.

	Deborah came in with her steno pad. As usual, she stood just inside the
door, waiting expressionlessly.

	"Sit down, Deborah," Tom said.

	She moved to the chair at the side of his desk and sat in it. Her skirt
rode up over her knees as she did so, and Tom's gaze lingered on her shapely
bare legs. His eyes rose to her breasts, which pushed out boldly against her
light-colored sweater, and then to her face. He smiled at her.

	"Deborah," he said, "there's something I'd like you to do."

	Deborah waited.

	"I'd like you to fuck Stanley Banks," Tom said.

	Deborah's face did not change. She looked at him silently for a long
time. Then she said, "Ten thousand dollars."

	Tom raised his eyebrows. "That's a lot of money," he said. "A lot of
money for just one fuck."

	"It's a bargain," Deborah said. "He's disgusting."

	"I suppose he is," Tom admitted. He leaned back in his chair, savoring
what was to come. His eyes moved briefly to Jeannine, sharing the moment, then
back to the dark-haired girl.

	"Deborah," he said, "what would you say if I told you that I would like
you to fuck Stanley Banks for nothing?"

	Deborah said, "I would probably laugh."

	"I see," Tom said. He paused again. Then he said, "Well, Deborah, that
is exactly what I want you to do."

	Deborah did not laugh. Her expression did not change at all. She simply
got up and started to walk out of the office.

	"Wait, Deborah," Tom said.

	Something in his voice made her stop and turn around. Tom opened his
drawer and took out the photographs. "Sit down, Deborah," he said. "I have
something to show you."

	She came back and sat down. He handed her the pictures, one by one.

	They had been taken with a hidden camera, without special lighting, but
they were clear enough. They had all been taken within a span of two minutes,
and they showed Deborah in the act of taking an envelope full of money from an
open safe in Tom's office, putting it into her purse, and walking out.

	Deborah looked at each photograph, saying nothing, showing no reaction.
When he had handed her the last one, she looked up at him.

	"You set that up," she said flatly.

	"Of course," Tom said. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist that kind
of temptation. As I was telling Jeannine here, you always were a greedy little
bitch."

	"Why?" Deborah said.

	"Blackmail, of course--of a kind. I'm really tired of paying your
exorbitant fees, Deborah. And even more tired of your arrogance and your haughty
manner. I found them intriguing at first, but now I'm beginning to find them
merely irritating. I wish to put a stop to all that."

	"It won't work," Deborah said. "You can't accuse me of anything. You
trapped me into it, and you're trying to blackmail me."

	"No one will believe that," Tom said. "You're the one making false
accusations, Deborah. I have witnesses who will back me up. Jeannine. And
others. While my evidence"--he nodded at the pictures--"is conclusive."

	"What do you want?" Deborah said.

	"Ah. Two things--to start with. First, I want you to return the money.
All of it. Tomorrow. And second, I want you to fuck Stanley Banks. And not just
fuck him; I want you to fuck him well and thoroughly. I want it to be the best
fuck he's ever had in his life. I want him to be completely satisfied. Fuck him
as much as he wants. Suck his cock. Whatever it takes. I want you to give him
everything you've got, Deborah. And I want to watch it all."

	"No," Deborah said.

	"You realize, Deborah, that the amount of money you stole from this
office constitutes grand larceny," Tom said. "Do you know what the penalty for
grand larceny is in this state? You would be in jail for a long time, Deborah.
In jail," he repeated. "For a very long time."

	There was a pause. Deborah said, "No."

	Tom shrugged. "As you wish," he said. He picked up his telephone and
pushed a button. "Get me the police," he said.

	While he waited for the connection, he watched Deborah. She met his eyes
squarely, her face blank.

	"Hello," he said into the phone. "This is Thomas Garson, of Garson
Industries. That's right. I'd like to report a theft at my office."

	"All right," Deborah said.

	"Never mind, officer," Tom said. "There seems to have been a mistake.
Sorry to have troubled you." He hung up. His gaze was still on Deborah's face,
and now he watched her with renewed interest. He had never seen tears in her
eyes before.

                                                           17



	Her bound hands were crushed cruelly beneath her as Bartelli's heavy
body pounded relentlessly down on top of her. He made coarse grunting sounds
with every thrust. His entire weight was on her, pinioning her body, flattening
her breasts beneath his chest. His mouth slobbered over her face as he worked
away.

	The tears ran endlessly down her cheeks; she was not even aware of them
any more. She had not tried to stop him from taking her. It was no use, and
besides she couldn't take the risk that he would leave her that way, or that he
would tell Tom. What did it matter, anyway; one more man using her degraded body
for his pleasure. Only let it be over, let him finish with her and go away.

	His cock was enormous. She had seen it, thick and gross when he had
taken off his clothes, and now she felt it, stretching and mauling her aching
and exhausted cunt. Filling her, pounding and battering the tender flesh,
forcing its brutal and inexorable way deep, deep inside her, again and again and
again. Hurting. Raping. While her body was mashed beneath his terrible weight,
trapped and helpless...her crushed arms behind her, useless... and the
pain...the shame...the pain...

	Oh no. Oh god no. Please, no...

	Her legs rose, rose and curled themselves over his. Then they went
higher, wrapped themselves around his body. Her ankles locked behind his back,
squeezing him tightly in the grip of the shapely, trembling limbs. Moans came
from her mouth, interspersed with her sobs. her hips writhed involuntarily
beneath his accelerating lunges, and when finally she felt him spewing into her,
she gave a broken cry of helpless climax.

	After a long moment Bartelli rolled off her and lay flat on his back
beside her, panting heavily. She stayed where she was, her eyes closed, not
wanting to move, not wanting to have to face him, or herself.

	But she had to. With a great effort, she opened her eyes and sat up.
Bartelli hadn't moved. He was no longer a young man. His body was still
powerful, but fleshy, with a protuberant beer belly. He was hairy all over.

	"Please," Susan said. "Untie me now."

	Bartelli didn't move. He just looked at her. "Jesus," he said
wonderingly. "You really like it, don't you? You really get off on that stuff."

	She swallowed. "Mr. Bartelli," she said, making an effort to keep her
voice calm. "You've had...what you wanted. Now please... untie me and go."

	"Sure," Bartelli said. "Sure I will, Mrs. Garson. Don't worry about
that. Hey, who tied you up, anyway?"

	"It doesn't matter," she said. "Please..."

	"Come on," he said. "You can tell me. Must be quite a guy. Ties you up
and fucks you silly, and you dig it, right?"

	"For god's sake," Susan said. "Look, my husband will be home soon..."

	"Not for a while," Bartelli said. "I know about when the people in this
building come and go. What else do you to for him?"

	"What?"

	"This guy that ties you up. What else do you do for him?"

	"I...I don't know what you mean."

	"Sure you do." He was looking at her mouth. She felt suddenly weak. "You
got a nice mouth, Mrs. Garson. A real nice mouth."

	"Please..." she whispered.

	"I bet you use it real good on him," Bartelli said hoarsely. "Show me,
Mrs. Garson. Come on. Show me what you do for him."

	Susan swallowed again. She couldn't speak.

	"Come on," Bartelli repeated. "Show me, and then I'll untie you, okay? I
promise." He reached a hand up to the back of her neck and began to pull her
head down. "Show me, baby. Show me good."

	She gave a moan of despair and surrender, and let him pull her head to
his crotch. She opened her mouth and took him in.

                                                       18



	"We have to make a decision," Tom said.

	"What decision, Daddy?" Jeannine said

	"Well--when we call Stanley in, shall we have Deborah greet him naked?
Or shall we have her strip for him once he's here? Which do you think Stanley
would prefer, Deborah?"

	"You bastard," Deborah said in a low voice.

	"I really don't think it's a good idea for you to call me names,
Deborah--under the circumstances. Apologize, please."

	"I'm sorry," Deborah said.

	"What do you think, Jeannine?"

	"Well, that's a hard choice. But on the whole, I think Stanley would
prefer to watch her take her clothes off. Don't you, Deborah?"

	"Yes," Deborah said tightly. "The slimy creep would love it."

	"Remember, Deborah," Tom said, "I want you to fuck that slimy creep as
if he was Robert Redford. I want you to give him the time of his life. Is that
understood?"

	Deborah's look was full of hatred. "Yes," she hissed.

	"God, I'm going to love this," Tom said. "I'm getting hard just thinking
about it. Deborah--Stanley can wait. Come over here and suck me off. As an
appetizer, you might say."

	Deborah sat very still for a long moment. Then she got up and went
around Tom's desk. He swiveled his chair so that she could get to him. She knelt
down in front of him.

	"That's the girl," Tom said, pulling down his zipper and bringing out
his erect cock. "Do it nicely, now. Show me how good you'll be to Stanley."

	"Maybe we should let Stanley watch," Jeannine said.

	"Now that's a great idea," Tom said, and smiled at the expression on
Deborah's face. "Just the thing to put him in the mood. Well, Deborah, what are
you waiting for?"

	Deborah seemed about to say something, but thought better of it. She
bent her head and took him in her mouth.

	"That's fine," Tom said. "Nice and slow, Deborah, the way I like it. Oh,
yes, that's just fine. All right, Jeannine--ask Stanley to come in. Don't stop,
Deborah."

	Deborah's body stiffened. But she kept sucking.

	Jeannine went to the door and opened it. "You can come in now, Stanley."

	Stanley came in. He looked nervous and eager at the same time. He
stopped short as he saw the kneeling girl with Tom's cock in her mouth. His jaw
dropped, and his small eyes bulged grotesquely. He seemed to have trouble
getting his breath.

	"Hello, Stanley," Tom said. "I'm just getting Deborah warmed up for you.
Hope you don't mind. I'll be through in a minute. Deborah's really very good at
this. She'll be glad to do it for you. Won't you, Deborah?"

	Deborah, still sucking, nodded.

	"Oh my god," Stanley whispered.

	"And anything else you want," Tom said, his voice getting husky.
"Anything at all. And all for free. Right, Deborah?"

	Deborah nodded again. There were tears in her eyes.

	"Good girl," Tom said. His hands clutched the arms of his chair. "I
can't wait to see it." His hips arched. "Here, Deborah. Here it comes. Take it.
Swallow it down. Now. Now! NOW!"

	Deborah swallowed. Stanley made a gurgling sound.

	"She's all yours, Stanley," Tom said.

                                                      19



	Jerry was shaking her so hard she thought her head would snap right off
her neck.

	"You bitch!" he shouted at her. "You stupid, fucking cunt!" He pushed
her away from him violently, and she stumbled backwards and landed on her ass on
the floor. She sat there slumped over, sobbing breathlessly and rubbing her arms
where his fingers had bruised her flesh.

	"I ought to kill you, you whore!" Jerry raved. "Of all the dumb--What
the fuck do you want anyway--every last man in town in your silly twat? Is that
it?"

	"Jerry, please..." Susan gasped out. "I told you--I was just trying to
get help. I couldn't stay tied up like that. I couldn't let Tom..."

	"You're a dirty slut, Susan. That's all you are, and you know it."

	"No! I didn't want--I was just..."

	"Yes, you are. You're a dirty slut. Aren't you?"

	"I...I'm...Yes."

	"Tell me that."

	"I'm a dirty slut."

	"Louder."

	"I'm a dirty slut!"

	"That's right, lady. Now get the hell up."

	Susan got to her feet. She was still rubbing her arms, but she wasn't
crying now. She waited.

	Jerry looked at her and grinned. Her stomach turned over. With
excitement.

	"Take your fucking clothes off," Jerry said.

	Her hands trembled as she obeyed. Her clothes were quickly in a heap on
the floor.

	Jerry pulled out his ropes.

	Susan's breath quickened. She felt weak. But she knew better now than to
anticipate him. She waited.

	"Get on the bed."

	She walked to it and lay down.

	And Jerry said, "Of course, if I tied you down to the bed and left you,
then you wouldn't be able to get to the phone, would you, slut? You wouldn't be
able to do anything. But wait. For your husband."

	"No!" Susan cried. She sat up on the bed and cringed away from him.

	"Lie down," he said.

	"No, Jerry, please. Please don't. You know...you know if Tom..."

	"Hell, baby, you got out of it before, didn't you? Maybe this time you
can get the fucking landlord to help you out." He guffawed.

	"But--but if you tie me so I can't..."

	"You'll just have to take your chances, baby."

	"No...no..."

	"Now don't kid me, Susan. You'd love to be tied down right now. Right?
You really want it. Spread out and tied down hand and foot. So you can't do a
damn thing but squirm a little. You'd love it, wouldn't you, Susan? Hmmm?"

	"Oh god," Susan whispered.

	"Tell me how much."

	"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, Jerry. But--but don't leave me that way.
You--you won't, will you, Jerry? You can't..."

	"Lie down."

	"You won't...please..."

	Jerry reached out with the ropes and drew the ends over her naked flesh.
Susan drew a sharp breath and then moaned softly.

	"Lie down."

	"Ohh..."

	"I won't tell you again, Susan. I'll just leave. Is that what you want?"

	"No...No..."

	"Well?" He slid the ends of the ropes across the upper slopes of her
breasts.

	Susan closed her eyes. With a small sobbing sound, she lay down on her
back.

	"That's a good little slut. Now spread out."

	With her eyes still closed, Susan stretched herself wide, spreading her
arms and legs so that the pointed to the four corners of the bed. Quickly and
competently Jerry tied her that way, fastening his wicked ropes around her
wrists and ankles, pulling them--and her--achingly taut before securing them to
each bedpost.

	Finished, he grinned down at her helplessly spread-eagled, naked body.
Her firm breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing. The nipples were hard
and thrusting.

	"Now move," Jerry said.

	"I...I can't..."

	"Move, I said. Or I leave right now."

	Susan moaned, and strained her tightly stretched body. All she could
manage was to move her hips very slightly up and down. Even that increased the
pressure on her arms and legs enough to make her gasp with the pain.

	The wonderful pain.

                                                               20



	"We considered having Deborah greet you naked," Tom said. "But we
decided you might prefer to watch her take her clothes off for you."

	"God," Stanley said. "God, yes."

	"Strip, Deborah," Tom said.

	Deborah stood up. Her face was expressionless, except for her eyes,
which had lost their tears and now burned with suppressed fury. She began to
unbutton her blouse.

	Stanley licked his lips.

	Deborah took the blouse off.

	Stanley's breath was loud in the room.

	Deborah took off her skirt. She wore just a bra and panties, and shoes.

	"Oh Jesus," Stanley moaned.

	"Nice, isn't she?" Tom said. "I hope you're enjoying this, Stanley."

	Stanley nodded jerkily. "She--she told me...she said I'd never see
her...never get to see her body," he said breathlessly.

	"You'll see it now," Tom said. "Go on, Deborah."

	Deborah took off her brassiere.

	Stanley made a whimpering noise.

	Deborah took off her panties.

	Stanley looked as though he might faint. There was a small bulge in his
pants.

	"Why don't you take your clothes off, too, Stanley," Tom said. "Or would
you like Deborah to do that for you?"

	"Yeah," Stanley said.

	"Deborah," Tom said.

	Deborah walked across the room toward Stanley.

	"Christ," Stanley said. "I can't believe this."

	"Stanley's dreams are coming true," Jeannine said.

	Stanley swallowed. "She said I was a creep. A jerk. She teased me, then
she said I could never even touch her."

	"Not very nice of her," Tom said. "Deborah, I want you to apologize to
Stanley."

	"I'm sorry, Stanley," Deborah said tightly.

	"That didn't sound very sincere," Tom said. "I'm sure you can do better.
I want Stanley to believe you."

	Deborah took a breath. "I'm very sorry, Stanley," she said. "Please
forgive me for insulting you."

	"Did you tell Stanley that he would never touch you?" Tom said.

	"Yes," Deborah said.

	"Well," Tom said. "I want you to take Stanley's hand and put it on your
body. On your tit. Now."

	Deborah took Stanley's right hand in hers. She placed it over one
breast.

	Stanley drew in his breath with a sharp hiss.

	"Now take his other hand," Tom said, "and put it on your cunt."

	Deborah did that, too.

	"Now, Deborah," Tom said. "Look into Stanley's eyes, and tell him that
you want him to fuck you. Tell him you want him more than anything in the world.
Tell him you'll do anything he wants, anything at all. Suck his cock. Lick his
ass. Crawl for him if he likes. Until he's satisfied. Tell him that."

	Deborah told him.

                                                               21



	"Keep it up," Jerry said. "It's real sexy."

	He was still grinning, looking down at her nude and straining body as
she struggled to maintain the slight raising and lowering of her hips which was
the only motion she could make. She had been doing it for fifteen minutes. He
had not let her stop. Each movement increased the agony which had now spread
throughout her entire frame. She was gasping steadily. The ropes were cutting
deeply into the flesh of her wrists and ankles. Sweat covered every part of her
body.

	"Real sexy," Jerry repeated. He reahced down and pinched one hard, erect
nipple. She cried out, but did not stop moving. "Good little slut," he said.
"Think you could still do that with me on top of you?"

	"Yes," she gasped out. "Oh yes...please...yes..."

	"Really need to be fucked, don't you, slut?"

	"Yes, Jerry...please...now..."

	He began to strip his clothes off. "Beg for it."

	"Please...fuck me...please...I beg you...fuck me..."

	"Fuck you and leave you there, right?" He slid his shorts off.

	Her head rolled back and forth. "No...oh god...just fuck me...oh,
please..."

	"Fuck you and leave you like that. Ask me."

	"No...don't, Jerry...have mercy..."

	He moved over her so that his huge cock was in front of her eyes. "It's
that or nothing, baby. You want it?"

	"Jerry...for god's sake..."

	"Yes or no?"

	"Yes...yes..."

	"Ask me."

	"I...I can't...Oh, please, please..."

	"Okay," Jerry said. "Anything you say, baby. I'll untie you now. And
I'll leave. And I won't come back." He moved to unfasten one of the ropes.

	She tried to stop herself, but she couldn't. "No!" she yelled. "Oh god,"
she gasped despairingly. "Oh my god..."

	He paused. "Ask me. Now!"

	Susan began to cry.

	"Say, `Fuck me and leave me like this.' Say it nice, Susan. Say please."

	It took a moment before she could speak. "Plea-please," she sobbed.
"Fuck me and...and l-leave me...like this."

	"You got it, baby," Jerry said, and threw himself on top of her
outstretched body.

	She screamed with the pain, and screamed again when he thrust his cock
up inside her with one brutal lunge.

	Her hips never stopped moving.

                                                    22

          

	 "Move faster, Deborah," Tom called out. He spoke loudly to make himself
heard over Stanley's continuous moaning and gasping. The dark-haired girl lying
on the floor beneath the fat man speeded up the rhythmic movement of her hips.
Her arms and legs were wrapped around Stanley's body, and she was bucking and
writhing under him as though she were in the throes of passion. Her face told a
different story, but Stanley's eyes were too glazed to see it.

	Tom sat watching avidly, with Jeannine kneeling beside his chair, slowly
stroking his erect prick.

	"Stanley's going to come again," Jeannine said.

	"I'll bet Stanley didn't know he had it in him," Tom said. Then he said,
"Kiss him, Deborah."

	Deborah raised her head to put her lips against Stanley's gasping mouth.

	"I want to see a really passionate kiss," Tom said. "You love Stanley,
remember?"

	Deborah's mouth opened wide, and her tongue pushed into Stanley's mouth.

	Stanley's groans got louder. His body shook with his approaching climax.

	Still stroking Tom's cock with one hand, Jeannine began to unbutton her

	blouse with the other. "When she's finished with Stanley," Jeannine
said. "I want her to work on me, Daddy. Okay?"

	"Fine," Tom said. "But she's not going to be through with Stanley for
quite a while yet."

	Stanley yelled loudly as he exploded inside Deborah's squirming body. He
collapsed on top of her.

	"Nice going, Deborah," Tom said. "Now you can start getting Stanley
ready again. With your mouth."

			                                   23



	"I think I'm getting worse," Susan said.

	"Why do you say that?" Dr. Alberts asked.

	"My god, don't you understand what I've been telling you? I really
thought he would do it. I really thought he was going to leave me tied up like
that--just leave me there, helpless, for Tom to find me when he got home. And if
he did--well, my whole life would be over. I mean Tom would divorce me--if he
didn't kill me first. He'd throw me out, I'd have no place to go... Don't you
see, I knew all that, I KNEW it. And still I had to have him. I couldn't say,
No, go away--I HAD to have him...fuck me. To hurt me more. Right then. Even if
it meant my life!"

	"Could it be," Dr. Alberts said, "that subconsciously you WANT your
husband to find out about you? To discover your needs?"

	"God, no. I told you, he'd throw me out so fast--"

	"Perhaps on some level you resent your husband and would like to have
your marriage destroyed."

	"No!" Susan shook her head despairingly. "I love Tom. You know I do.
He's--our marriage is the most precious thing on earth to me. Don't you
see--that's why it's so horrible. When Jerry starts in on me, nothing can stand
up to that need. Nothing!"

	"Susan--"

	"And my god, there's no help for it! I mean I've been coming to you for
six months now, and we've talked and talked about it, and you tell me I'm
getting better, and it's...well, it's bullshit, that's what it is!"

	"Susan, please..."

	"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Doctor. But--but I don't know what to do any
more. It's...it's not just Jerry, you know. He just knows how to push the
buttons by now. But it's me that's the problem. Jesus, even that disgusting
janitor got to me. He just--he just had to--" Susan began to cry.

	Dr. Alberts placed a box of kleenex on the arm of her chair. With a
sudden violent movement, she knocked it to the floor.

	"Oh stop it!" she sobbed. "Stop being the wise, all-knowing healer, for
god's sake! You can't heal me. Jerry is right, I'm a slut. A filthy, lousy
whore. No, worse. I don't even do it for money. Anybody can have me for
nothing--all they have to do is push the button. Just give old Sal a little
pain, and she turns on. Just make her crawl a little, she loves it! She'll do
anything you want. Christ, you wouldn't BELIEVE what she'll--"

	"Susan, if you'll just--"

	"No, I won't just! Oh god, you're so calm and superior, aren't you?
Don't YOU ever get turned on? Don't YOU ever lose control? Hell, you could have
me, too. Sure! You're a man, aren't you? and you know all about me. All you'd
have to do--"

	"Look, I really think--"

	"Oh, shut up, Doctor! You don't know what you're talking about. And god
knows I don't. Don't you like me? Don't you think I'm good-looking? I have a
nice figure, right? Good breasts. Good--"

	"Susan, you're a very attractive woman. But why don't--"

	"Well? Then why shouldn't you take me? All you'd have to do is hurt me a
little. You know that. Twist my arm, pull my hair. Slap me. Whatever. Doesn't
that turn you on, Doctor? Doesn't it excite you to know I'd be putty in your
hands? Nothing but a  toy--a plaything. A slave. You could make me do anything
you could think of. You could--"

	"You're hysterical, Susan. Stop it now."

	"Come on, Doctor. Slap me. Isn't that what you do with hysterical
people? It's a great excuse. Go ahead, slap me. You could have me sucking your
cock in no time. Go ahead, damn you! Go ahead!"

	"I think our time is up now," Dr. Alberts said, looking at his watch.
"I'll see you next--"

	"Oh, you bastard!" Susan moaned, her voice suddenly breaking. "You're so
saintly, aren't you? I'm just dirt to you. Well, you're right, I am dirt. But--"
She stood up suddenly. "But look, Doctor!"

	With a quick movement, she grasped the hem of her blue slipover top with
both hands and pulled it up over her head and off. Before Dr. Alberts could
react, she had droopped it on the floor and was unfastening her brassiere, which
she also pulled off and dropped.

	"How about it, Doctor?" Her voice was strong again, but she was
trembling now. "Take a good look. That's not dirt, is it? And that's not all..."
Her hands went to her skirt, and it fell around her feet, leaving her naked
except for the panties and shoes.

	But now Dr. Alberts was out of his chair and walking away from her
toward his desk. "Susan! Stop this right now. Get dressed immediately, or I'll
call in the receptionist."

	"You son of a bitch," Susan whispered; and then she suddenly shrieked at
the top of her lungs, "You son of a BITCH!" And she ran at him with all her
strength, her hands coming up to claw at his face.

	"Susan!" The doctor turned and, seeing her coming at him, got his own
hands up just in time to defend himself. Instinctively he grabbed her wrists and
forced her arms down. She struggled to get loose, and he twisted them back
behind her. "Susan! For god's sake--"

	But Susan had suddenly stopped struggling. "Yes," she gasped. "Oh,
yes..." Her body slumped against him. Her breathing was audible. "Harder," she
panted. "Twist harder."

	Alberts didn't move. "No, Susan," he said. "You mustn't. No." But he
didn't move.

	"Please," Susan breathed. Her bare breasts were flattened against his
chest, her hips pushing into his. Her face was raised to him, her mouth open and
quivering. "Harder..." she whimpered.

	"Oh, damn you," Alberts said hoarsely. "Damn you!"

	And he twisted her wrists very hard indeed.

	Susan cried out her joy in the flooding pain. Her body writhed into the
doctor's, and with an inarticulate sound he mashed his mouth down on hers. They
kissed passionately, while he still kept her arms twisted in his painful grasp.
They gasped and moaned as the savage kiss went on, their bodies squirming to get
impossibly closer to each other.

	After a time he pushed her away from him and stepped back, his body
trembling, his hands clenching and unclenching as he made a last effort to
control himself. But he couldn't take his eyes off the panting, moaning, nearly
naked woman.

	"Oh god," he rasped finally. "You bitch. You little bitch."

	"Yes," she groaned. "I'm a bitch. Hit me."

	He hit her.

	The open-handed blow landed on the side of her face, and she went down.
He fell on top of her.

	In a blind fury of lust he managed to pull her panties off and to yank
down his zipper. There wasn't time for any more. Then he was at her and pushing
into her, bearing down on her as her legs spread wide and then clamped around
him. Her loins rose eagerly to welcome him deeper into her cunt, and then went
into a wildly erratic pumping as he began to slam his hips brutally up and down,
the rest of his body crushing her beneath his weight.

	"Aaahh! Aaahh! Yeesss!! Fuck me!" she cried. "Hurt me! Oohh god...More!
Hurt me more!"

	He slammed his mouth down on hers again, and at the same time he brought
his hands to her head, grabbing two fistfuls of her soft brown hair and pulling
hard.

	She screamed into his mouth and her body spasmed out of control as she
came. The pressure on her hair pulled her head back, tearing their mouths apart.
She shrieked again as a second climax smashed through her on the heels of the
first. Alberts groaned and battened still harder at her arching, squirming,
bucking body until he too lost control, gave a hoarse cry and shot jet after jet
deep into her eager, writhing pussy.

	Dr. Alberts rolled off her after a while. They lay there catching their
breath. Then he said, "Susan...I-I'm sorry."

	"Why?" Susan said. "It was my idea. Anyway, it was the best therapy
you've given me yet."

	Then she turned over and began to sob into the rug.

                                                                   24



	Deborah crouched wearily over Stanley, her head bobbing steadily as her
mouth moved up and down over his cock. Stanley was lying on his back, propped up
on his elbows so he could see what she was doing.

	"Holy Christ," he breathed, as if even now, after two hours and three
climaxes, he still couldn't believe what was happening to him. "She's sucking my
cock. Deborah. The little tease is really sucking my cock."

	"You're making Stanley a very happy man, Deborah," Tom said. "Keep up
the good work."

	Deborah said nothing. She kept sucking.

	"God," Stanley said. "I wish I had a picture of this."

	"Why not?" Tom said. "Jeannine, get the camera."

	Deborah raised her head. "No," she said.

	Jeannine got the camera from a drawer, inserted a flash cube, and
checked the film. She looked through the lens and focused it on Deborah.

	"I'd like Stanley to have a little souvenir of this occasion," Tom said.
"Continue, Deborah."

	"For god's sake," Deborah said.

	"Continue," Tom said.

	Deborah put her mouth back over Stanley's cock. Jeannine took the
picture.

	"Why don't you come in her mouth this time, Stanley?" Tom suggested.

	"Yeah," Stanley said. "Great. If I can..."

	"Maybe Deborah's not performing well enough," Tom said.

	"She's doing great," Stanley panted. "It's just...after..."

	"I'm getting impatient for my turn with her," Jeannine said. "Let me
give you some stimulation, Stanley."

	Jeannine had already unbuttoned her blouse while she had been stroking
Tom's cock. Now she stood up and took it off. She wore a white bra underneath
it. She took that off, too.

	Stanley's eyes widened. He began to pant more heavily. Jeannine smiled
and rubbed her tits. Her nipples stuck out.

	Deborah kept sucking.

	Jeannine opened something on her skirt and it fell down. Stanley's hips
began to squirm under Deborah's face.

	"Right in her mouth..." he moaned.

	Jeannine took off her panties.

	Stanley's hips arched off the floor, and he gave a great shout as he
shot everything he had left down Deborah's throat.

	"Swallow, Deborah," Tom called out.

	Deborah swallowed.

	"My turn," Jeannine said eagerly. She sat down in a chair and spread her
legs wide, exposing her open cunt. "Here, Deborah," she said crooningly. "Right
here, dear. Just crawl over and put your sweet little mouth right here."

	Wearily, Deborah obeyed.

                                                     25



	When Susan got home, Bartelli was waiting for her in her living room.

	She closed the door behind her and slumped against it. She was
emotionally and physically exhausted, and she couldn't decide whether she wanted
to laugh or cry. She laughed.

	"Hi, Mrs. Garson," Bartelli said, scratching his stomach.

	"Hello, Mr. Bartelli. I suppose I should have expected another call from
you."

	"Well, see, Mrs. Garson, I just thought--"

	"I know what you thought. Well, Mr. Bartelli, what can I say? You see, I
just had sex with a man, quite violently, not more than an hour ago. I had it
with another man, even more violently, yesterday afternoon. I'm tired, Mr.
Bartelli. I'm tired of sex, and of men, and of myself, and of everything. I do
not want to have sex now, and certainly not with you. But, of course, I don't
have much say in the matter. You can always tell my husband how you found me the
other day. Aside from that, you know that you can change my mind very quickly
just by being rough with me. And those things make my wishes mean very little.
So we can do two things, Mr. Bartelli. You can go away and leave me alone out of
the goodness of your heart, or we can go in the bedroom and get it over with.
Which will it be?"

	Bartelli stared at her. "Jesus, Mrs. Garson, you talk a lot."

	Susan laughed again, bitterly. "I think that means you want me to stop
talking and start fucking, right, Mr. B.?"

	"What's wrong with you? You liked it the other day."

	"Look, I've been analyzed enough. Would you go away? Please?" She moved
away from the door in the slim hope that he would choose to leave.

	For a moment Bartelli seemed undecided. Then he said, "No. No, I won't
do that, Mrs. Garson."

	"Oh. Why not?"

	"Because when you get turned on you're the greatest piece of ass I've
had in I don't know how long."

	"I see," Susan said flatly. "Well. Well, good for me. At least I'm good
at being a slut. But I'm afraid I don't have the same reaction to you."

	"Oh, come off it!" Bartelli said. "Cut it with the high-and-mighty act,
Mrs. Garson. You loved it. Christ, once you got into it you fucked me like a
goddamn tiger! And with your hands tied, too! Geez, you must've come at least--"

	"Yes, Mr. Bartelli," Susan said wearily. "I know. And if you tied me up
again, or slapped me around a bit, I'd be that way again. But I want you to
know, Mr. Bartelli, that it has nothing to do with you. Nothing. It's the way I
am--I can't help it. So don't be too pleased with yourself. I don't find you the
least bit attractive. In fact, I think you're rather disgusting. Right now, the
thought that I may be having sex with you in a few minutes--yes, and loving it,
as you say--makes me want to throw up." She shrugged. "That's how it is. And if
you were really any kind of a man, Mr. Bartelli, you'd get the hell out of here
and leave me alone."

	Bartelli stared at her a moment, then got up out of his chair. His facte
twisted, and he spat suddenly at the floor. "You cunt!" he rasped harshly. "You
stuck-up twat! Yeah, I'm going. Hell, I don't need to beat up some kinky pervert
whore to get laid! Fuck you, you bitch!" He started toward the door.

	His abusive words were almost like physical blows. Susan's knees felt
weak.

	Stop, she told herself. He's going, thank god. I'm spared this time. But
her mouth was dry, and she felt her legs start to tremble.

	Bartelli was at the door now. "High-class weirdo, that's all you are,"
he raged. "Fucking cock-teasing pig! You're shit, Mrs. Garson! Shit! Who needs
it? So long, cunt!" He opened the door.

	"Wait," Susan whispered.

	He paused. "What for, bitch? You want to give me some more bullshit?
Stick it up your filthy ass!"

	Susan made a small whimpering sound. She hugged herself, shaking. "Don't
go," she moaned softly. "Please..."

	Bartelli looked at her in amazement. "Jesus Christ," he said then. "It
gets you, doesn't it? The names. Just calling you names..."

	"Please..."

	"Bitch," Bartelli said, deliberately now. "Cunt. Fucking whore.
Cocksucker."

	Susan fell to her knees.

	"Turd. Asshole. Shit-eating twat."

	Susan lowered her head. "Please..." she breathed. "Tell me...what you
want me to do."

	Bartelli closed the door.

                                                             26



	The knock on the door was not loud, but it was so unexpected that Billy
nearly dropped the magazine he was holding. He had been holding it with one hand
while jerking himself off with the other. The page he had been looking at
featured a picture of a naked blonde girl whose mouth was stuffed with the thick
cock of an equally naked man.

	After his initial start, Billy jumped to his feet, looked around wildly
for a place to hide the magazine, then stuck it hastily beneath the chair
cusion.

	"Who--who is it?" he called, nervously jamming his erect penis back into
his open fly.

	"Open the door, Billy," a voice said. To his astonishment, it was a
female voice. He didn't recognize it.

	His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled at his zipper, attempting to
close it swiftly yet quietly. That done, he crossed the small room toward the
door. His cock was deflating rapidly, but there was still a bulge in his pants.
He bent forward a little to make it less noticeable as he opened the door.

	He blinked. The woman who stood there was not a stranger, but he didn't
actually know her. He had seen her around the office when he had worked for
Garson Enterprises. He tried to think of her name, but his surprise at seeing
her was scrambling his brain.

	She looked at him expressionlessly, and when she spoke her voice was
flat. "You know me, don't you, Billy?"

	"I...yeah. I mean, sure, I--you used to--I mean, up at Garson
Enterpri--"

	"Right. May I come in?"

	"Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure." He stepped aside and she entered the room. She
took it--and him--in with one quick look.

	"Nice place," she said. Her tone was as flat as before, but her sarcasm
was not lost on Billy. His face reddened as he saw his single unkempt and barren
room through her eyes.

	"Yeah, well--it's...it's just temporary...you know..."

	"Sure. May I sit down?"

	"Uh--yeah. Anyplace."

	There was the chair and the bed. The bed was closer. She sat on it and
put her legs up. She didn't bother to arrange her skirt. Her legs were very
shapely. She looked at him until he sat down on the chair, nervously. He was
again aware of the lump in his trousers.

	There was the faintest look of amusement on her face. He wished he could
remember her name. He was getting up the nerve to ask her when she spoke.

	"Let's get down to business, Billy. I want you to help me. Rather, we
can help each other."

	"What--how...?"

	"We have something in common, you and I, Billy. We both hate the same
person."

	"We--we do?"

	"Yes. Tom Garson."

	"Mr. Garson? Why...I--I mean..."

	"I know he fired you. And I know why. I know the whole story."

	Billy swallowed. "How--how did--"

	"Never mind. But he fucked you over, didn't he?"

	"Well...yeah. Yeah!"

	"He did to me, too. Only worse. So we have that in common. But--we can
get back at him."

	"Get...How?"

	"Through his wife."

	"His wife?"

	"Billy? Don't repeat everything I say. Okay? Just listen now. I've done
a lot of checking. I know things about Garson's wife that even he doesn't know.
But he will. He will. That's how we'll get back at him."

	"But--but why me?"

	"I need you, because he can't know I had anything to do with it. He's
got a hold over me. But he can't do anything to you any more. So that's how it
works. I tell you what to do, you do it, and we both get the satisfaction of
sticking it to the son of a bitch."

	Her voice was as expressionless as ever.

	"But..." Billy said. "But I--I mean--what is it about his wife, anyway?"

	"You'll find out," she said. "For now, just do as I say, all right?"

	"I...Wait a minute. I mean...I don't know if--I mean I don't know
what--"

	"Relax. Everything will work out fine."

	"No, wait. Hold on. I don't think I want to--I mean--"

	"Yes, you do, Billy. You will. Believe me."

	"I will?"

	"I promise you."

	"Why? How do you know?"

	She gave a small sight. Then she swung her legs off the bed and stood
up. Then she began to unbutton her blouse.

	"This is why," she said.

	"Oh," Billy said.

	When she was naked, she said, "And it won't cost you any thousand
dollars, either."

	"Oh my god," Billy said.

                                                              27



	"Okay," Bartelli said. "Strip."

 	He was lying naked on Susan's bed, his hands clasped beneath his head.
Susan had undressed him, at his orders, before they had gone to the bedroom. Now
she stood near the foot of the bed, where he could get a good view of her.

 	She began to strip.

	"Slower," Bartelli said. "Make it sexy."

	Slowly and as sexily as she could, Susan took off her clothes.

	"It looks good," Bartelli said. "Bring it here."

	She moved to the side of the bed, close to him. Her eyes were slightly
glazed. He had her now. She could not refuse him anything. She did not want to.

	Bartelli grinned at her and said, "Cunt!" And watched the shiver that
went through her, watched her hard nipples get harder.

	"Okay," he said then. "Climb aboard, Mrs. Garson."

	Eagerly she got onto the bed and straddled him. She looked down at his
thick, erect cock. It was an ugly purple color. Veins throbbed just beneath the
skin, and

little hairs sprouted from several places on the shaft.

	"Put it in," Bartelli said. "Little stuck-up bitch. Put that thing
inside you."

	Susan obeyed. She moaned as the large pole breached the opening of her
cunt.

	"Now get down on it. All the way."

	"Unnhh. Oohh. Aaahhh..." Susan lowered herself slowly, pushing down,
feeling the ruthless prick being forced farther and farther into her narrow
pussy. "Aahh...Oooh...Unnnh...Ahh... Aaahh..."

	"Look at you," Bartelli gritted. "You can't get enough of it. Whore!"

	"Yesss..." Susan hissed. The thing was up her to the hilt now.

	"Now fuck, Mrs. Garson. Fuck me good."

	Susan began to move. She leaned back on her hands for leverage, and she
fucked him, hips squirm	ing, breasts bobbing, hair tossing, head back, mouth
open and panting.

	"Goddamn!" Bartelli said, a little breathlessly. "Go to it, baby!"

	"Ah. Ahh. Aaahh. Ooohhh! Ohh!"

	"Hey. Hey, bitch. I'm disgusting, right?"

	"Ohh...Yes...you are...unnhh..."

	"I make you want to throw up, huh?"

	"Yes! Damn you...yes..."

	"But you're fucking me, you kinky cunt. I'm so damn disgusting, you're
about to pop your cork. Right? Right, shithead?"

	"YES! aahh...AAAAHHH!...Aiieeee!!"

	Susan's orgasm blasted through her and left her limp. She fell forward,
crouched over Bartelli on her knees and elbows, her breasts dangling above his
chest, his stiff cock still deep inside her.

	"Don't stop," Bartelli said. "You're gonna make it again. I make you
throw up, but you fuck like a bunny."

	"I...can't help it..."

	"All I did was call you a few names."

	"Do it again..." Her hips began to move again.

	"You stood there and took off your clothes for me. For this guy who
disgusts you."

	"Yes..."

	"And you screwed yourself silly, and you'll do it again." He brought his
hands to her breasts and held them, squeezing slightly.

	Susan began to whimper. "Yes. Hurt them. Hurt me."

	"Shut up. And after you're done fucking, you're gonna suck me hard
again. I want to see my cock in your mouth."

	"Ohh. Oh, yes...Oooh..."

	"Then you can lick my ass. How's that for disgusting? You'll really dig
that, won't you?"

	"Anything...ohh god...anything you want..."

	"Miss High-and-Mighty," Bartelli laughed.

	"Hurt me..."

	"No." He pulled her down on top of him. Her breasts flattened on his
chest. "Kiss me on the mouth, Mrs. Garson."

	She put her mouth on his and he stuck his tongue inside it and moved it
around roughly, then sucked hers into his own mouth. Her hips moved faster, her
body twisting against him.

	Finally he broke the kiss and brought her head down to speak hoarsely
into her ear. "Ready to throw up yet, bitch? Cunt. Cocksucker. Pig-fucker.
Shit-licker. Whore!"

	Susan screamed as she came again, and Bartelli came with her.

                                                  28



	"Please," Billy said.

	"Afterwards," Deborah said.

	"Jesus Christ! Why--why the hell did you take your clothes off, then?"

	"To give you a preview. And make sure you'd say yes."

	"I SAID yes! Just let me--"

	"No."

	"Oh, Christ. You're so beautiful."

	"I know."

	"How do I know you will...afterwards?"

	"Because I say I will."

	"But...but you could..."

	"Yes, I could. You'll just have to take your chances, Billy."

	"What if I don't want to take the chance?"

	Deborah looked at him and cupped her breasts in her hands. "Don't you?"

	"Jesus! I can't stand it!"

	"Then I'll get dressed."

	"No! No, don't...please..."

	"Am I better than the girl in the magazine?"

	Billy blushed furiously. "What--how did you--"

	"I told you I have ways of knowing things. Would you like to finish
jerking off while I'm here? At least you'll have something live to look at."

	Billy went even redder. "Jesus," he choked. "I...I..."

	"Go ahead," Deborah said. "It's free. But I'm not going to be here
long." She had been sitting on the bed, and now she lay down on her back. She
parted her legs so he could see everything she had, and began to writhe slightly
but suggestively.

	He wanted to go over there and jump on her; just rip his clothes off,
fall on top of her, hold her down and take her whether she liked it or not. But
he knew he couldn't.

	"Do it," Deborah said. "Think about how it will be--later. You on top of
me, inside me. All the way in me. Fucking." Her hips twisted slowly.

	Billy made a small choking sound and tugged at his zipper. His hard cock
thrust forth, pulsing. In a moment he was stroking it rhythmically, his
breathing loud and hoarse, his eyes glued hungrily to the beautiful naked body
writhing on the bed.

	"That's it," Deborah said. "Do it to me, Billy. Give it all to me. Oh,
yes. Fuck me. Fuck me hard."

	"Oh god," Billy groaned, his hand moving faster. "Oh, Jesus. Oh...ohh
god!...Ohhh...Ohhh...Ahhh..."

	He leaned forward in the chair as the sperm shot from his spasming
prick. It arched in the air and made small plopping noises as it hit the floor.

	Immediately Deborah stood up, and in the same movement reached for her
clothes and began to dress. Her face was quite blank.

	It took Billy a few moments to recover. By that time she was fully
dressed and seated on the edge of the bed.

	"Jesus..." he breathed.

	"Now," Deborah said calmly. "Here's what you're going to do..."

                                                              29



	"That's enough, cocksucker," Bartelli said.

	Susan whimpered as she removed her mouth from his imposing pole, which
she had sucked back into throbbing erection. She had hoped he would come in her
mouth, as he had the first time she had sucked him off, a few days ago. She
wanted him to shoot his sticky sperm down her throat, and make her swallow it.
She would probably come again if he did that.

	But Bartelli was turning over to lie on his stomach. His gross, hairy
buttocks were in front of her face.

	"Okay, Miss Rich Bitch. Just like I said. Lick my ass out. And do a good
job of it, you hear?

	Susan bent to her task. She put her hands on the fleshy cheeks and
spread them apart, exposing the puckered ring of his asshole. A stale, soiled
aroma drifted from it to her nostrils. She shivered, and brought her mouth to
it.

	Bartelli jerked as her tongue touched him there, and when it began to
probe he gave a slight groan. "Oh, yeah," he said huskily. "That's the way,
lady. Lick that thing...Christ, yeah... get that little tongue right up
there...More...get it deeper, you whore...you shit-licker, deeper...Yeah...Oh,
yeah..."

	Susan panted through her nose as she forced her tongue still harder into
the tight opening. Themore Bartelli swore at her, the more she needed to
pleasure him and debase herself. Look at me now, Dr. Alberts, she said silently.
And the thought of how she must look, crouching naked over this unpleasant lump
of a man, her face buried in his ass, mewling and gasping as her tongue wriggled
around in his anus, made her nipples tingle and her cunt twitch spasmodically.

	Bartelli had begun to squirm under her ministrations. "Grab my dick," he
commanded.

	Susan's right hand moved from his asschook to slide beneath his body.
She found his straining cock and curled her fingers around it. Automatically she
began to pump it rhythmically, while continuing the deep licking of his ass.

	"Oh shit," Bartelli groaned. "Keep that up, you sweet little whore. Go
on, jerk me off. I want to come with your tongue up my ass."

	She made a moaning sound that was half disappointment at the idea of his
cock wastefully ejaculating without being buried somewhere inside her, and half
pleasure at her degradation in being so callously used. The sound was muffled as
she pressed her mouth harder around his asshole, straining to dig her twisting
tongue yet deeper. Her hand kept moving on his cock, picking up speed when he
began to pant wheezingly.

	"Oh Christ," he gasped out, his hips twisting. "Oh Jesus shit
Christ...I'm gonna come...Oh shit, that fucking tongue... Yeah...Now...NOW, YOU
DIRTY FUCKING CUNT!!...Aaahhhgghh..."

	And with a strangled roar, he came, spewing his copious gism onto the
bed.

	Susan released his cock and pushed herself back to the foot of the bed
on her hands and knees, breathing hard. Bartelli rolled onto his side. His semen
made a sticky puddle on the bedsheet. Still wheezing slightly from his orgasm,
he grinned at the glazed-eyed, stiff-nippled girl and pointed toward the little
puddle.

	"You want it?" he said.

	Susan swallowed, then nodded slowly.

	"Okay," Bartelli said. "Eat it up, bitch."

	A tiny sound escaped her as she crawled forward and lowered her face
toward the slimy wetness. The ends of her hair brushed over it, and then she was
lapping at it, hungrily scooping it up with her tongue, while Bartelli watched
her and laughed at her eager self-debasement.

	"Christ, you're really bent, you know that, you fucking twat?" he
rasped. "Let's see you rub your face in it. Good and hard. Get it all over your
slutty face!"

	And Susan obeyed him.

	When he let her stop, she lay beside him, gasping and whimpering, her
face smeared and slimy with his sperm. It dripped from her lips and clogged her
nostrils and made little rivulets down her cheeks and into her hair.

	"You happy now, Mrs. Garson?" Bartelli said mockingly. "I bet you are!
You're ready to pop off again, right? Or do I have to call you some more dirty
names first?" He laughed again.

	Susan tried to speak, but coughed instead, and had to swallow some of
the sperm in her mouth before she could say anything. "I...I want...I need..."

	"Spit it out, cocksucker."

	"Tie me," Susan gasped. "Tie me up. Please..."

	"Jesus Christ!" Bartelli said.

	"Please!"

	"The hell with that," he said. "I don't have time for those games."

	"Oh, please...I need it...I want to be tied...Please!"

	"No," Bartelli said.

	Susan began to cry softly.

	"Tell you what, though. I don't like to leave a high-class lady like you
all hung up. So why don't you just jerk yourself off. You do that, and I'll lie
here and watch. Let's see how many times you can bring yourself off. Do it!"

	Still sobbing, but with a squirmy feeling of excitement at this new
humiliation, Susan slowly lowered a hand to her crotch. her legs moved apart,
and the hand slid between them. Under Bartelli's mocking gaze, she began to
stroke herself.

	"And while you're doing that," Bartelli said, "you can tell me about how
disgusting I am, and how I make you throw up. And then you can tell me all the
things you want me to do to you next time."

	And Susan did that too.

                                                             30



	"I want her again," Stanley said.

	"Sorry, Stanley," Jeannine said. "Once is all you get. Mr. Garson
doesn't like reruns."

	"He doesn't have to watch again, for Christ sake."

	"Forget it, Stanley. The cookie jar is closed. Be thankful for what you
got."

	"Goddammit, Jeannine, that girl was the greatest lay I ever had!"

	"Somehow I don't think that's saying too much, Stanley."

	"Oh, cut it out, willya? Listen...I just gotta have her again. I can't
stop thinking about it. And she won't even spit on me now. But if Mr. Garson
would just tell her to--"

	"No way," Jeannine said. "He did that for his own amusement. He's not
interested in yours."

	"Well, if you could just tell me what it is he's got on her...you know?
Then I could make her..."

	"You know I can't do that, Stanley. No go away, okay? You're boring me."

	"Wait. Listen...What if I had some, like, information. You know?
Something Garson would really like to know. I mean about her. About Deborah."

	"Like what?" Jeannine asked skeptically.

	"Well...suppose I did. And I told him, right? You think he'd let me have
her again? Like a reward, you know?"

	"I think," Jeannine said, "you would have to tell me whatever it is, and
then if I think it merits Mr. Garson's attention, I would tell it to him, and
then he would decide whether it was worth...what you want."

	"Nuts," Stanley said.

	Jeannine shrugged, causing Stanley to drop his eyes to the front of her
sweater.

	"That's the only way, Stanley. And what have you got to lose?"

	"Well...okay. But dammit, Jeannine--"

	"Just tell me, Stanley."

	"Well, I--I think she's cooking something up."

	"What does that mean?"

	"Okay, see--see, after that time...in Garson's office..."

	"The climax of your life."

	"Come on. Well, after that for a little while she was sort of nice to
me...like kind of hinting that maybe we could do it again. You know?"

	"Really?"

	"Yeah. Only I got the feeling that she was really trying to, like, pump
me. To tell her stuff."

	"What kind of stuff?"

	"I don't know. Stuff she could use, somehow...maybe to get back at
Garson. And then--"

	"Wait a minute. What did she think you could tell her?"

	"That's what I couldn't figure. Hell, she knew lots more than I did,
right? But she kept kind of teasing around and all... and...you know how it
is..."

	"Not really," Jeannine said. "Was there anything you could tell her,
Stanley?"

	"Well...not anything REALLY...I mean...well...just about... you
know...Billy Scofield..."

	"Billy Scofield?"

	"Yeah. About you and him--and the thousand bucks." Stanley was sweating
a little.

	"And him getting fired and all. I mean, it didn't seem like much. And
she...well, Christ, I thought she would..."

	"How very interesting," Jeannine said. "And how did you find out,
Stanley, about Billy Scofield and me and the thousand bucks?"

	"He told me. Billy. When he got fired. We were kind of friendly, you
know, and that day we went to a bar and had a few drinks, and he told me."

	"I see. And swore you to secrecy, I'll bet."

	"Well..."

	"But of course lust is stronger than loyalty. Well, so what, Stanley?
That story is no big secret or anything. There's nothing illegal about it."

	"Right! Right. But anyway, the thing is, after I told her that, she all
of a sudden wouldn't look at me any more. But I kept tabs on her--you know? I
watched her pretty close."

	"I'll bet."

	"Yeah. and you know what I found out?"

	"No, Stanley. Are you going to tell me?"

	"She went to the personnel office and asked for Billy Scofield's
address. That's what."

	"You don't say," Jeannine said.

	"You see? So I think she's cooking something up. With Billy. I can't
figure what, exactly, but it's something to do with Garson, for sure. Because
she hates him, see?"

	"Yes. Because he made her have sex with you. Who can blame her?"

	"Damn it!"

	"All right, Stanley. Calm down. I'll pass your information on to Mr.
Garson. And I'll tell him what you want for it. And we'll see."

	"I really want to fuck that girl again," Stanley said.

	"Goodbye, Stanley," Jeannine said.

                                                          31



	After Bartelli left, Susan lay naked on the bed, motionless, staring at
the ceiling.

	What am I going to do, she thought. What in the HELL am I going to do?

	Run away, she answered herself. Go somewhere far away and start over.

	That wouldn't do any good. It wouldn't change me. It wouldn't change
my...needs. Besides, I couldn't leave Tom. Never.

	Tom will find out.

	No!

	Sooner or later, he will. YOu know it.

	Oh no...

	It's inevitable. Somehow. Somebody will tell him. Or he'll come home at
the wrong time. Or one day Jerry really will leave you tied up for him to
find...

	Jerry. That bastard. He would.

	Yes. Tied up and helpless. Not able to move. The ropes--

	Susan turned over and pressed her face against the bed. God, she
couldn't be getting excited again, not after all she'd been through today.

	Face down, that's how he would tie her. As she was now, only--

	Stop it!

	Only spread out. Her body stretched taut by the ropes. Naked, of course.

	Open. Unprotected...

	Lying on her stomach, Susan spread-eagled her body. Imaginary ropes
pulled her arms and legs wide, till they pointed to the four corners of the bed.
Her body strained with a fantasy effort to free herself. Useless, of course.

	The nipples of her crushed breasts began to throb.

	Please, Jerry. Don't leave me like this!

	But Jerry was gone. And she couldn't move. She couldn't do a thing.

	And then...Tom would come home.

	She would hear the door open and close, and then he would call her.
`Susan? You here, darling?'

	Desperately, she struggled against her nonexistent bonds.

	Then he would come into the bedroom. And see her. She would hear him cry
out in astonishment and horror.

	He would rush up to the bed. `Susan! Are you all right? What happened?
What's going on?'

	She would be too ashamed to say anything, or even to look at him. She
would not even be able to lie. He would know if she lied. Tom always knew.

	`Susan!' he would say again. And then, `My god. Oh, my god!'

	And she would know that he saw the truth.

	For a while after that he would be silent. And when he spoke again, his
voice would be very low, very strained. `My wife,' he would say. `My good, sweet
little wife.'

	The tone of that voice, as she heard it in her mind, made her start to
tremble.

	`A slut,' Tom would say then. `A stinking, perverted--' He would choke
up with disgust and rage.

	`Tom,' she would plead. `Tom--try to understand...'

	`Understand! You--you piece of filth! You're a disgrace! I never want to
see you again!'

	`Tom...please...I love you...'

	`Shut up! Shut up!' Shaking with anger and shock, he would look for some
way to punish her. `I ought to kill you, you...you whore!'

	`Tom...'

	`Shut up, I said!' His hands would go to his belt buckle. He would open
it and pull the thick leather belt out of his pants. `I'll gie you something to
remember before I throw you out of here!' he would say wildly.

	In her mind she saw him draw his arm back. She saw him bring the belt
dow, swiftly and hard. She heard it whistling through the air. And she felt it
land, smacking savagely across the flesh of her back.

	Her body jerked, and she cried out at the imaginary blow.

	Again he would swing the belt back; again he would bring it down. This
time it would lash across her jutting buttocks. Her hips twisted with pain,
rubbing her loins against the crumpled bedsheet beneath her.

	The next blow would be on the tender flesh of her thighs. Once more she
moaned loudly and bucked against her invisible bonds. The twisted sheet rode up
between her legs. She pressed her cunt against it.

	Tom would not stop. He would hit her with the belt again and again, on
her back, buttocks and legs. The blows would come more swiftly, and harder.
Susan gasped and squirmed, shrieked and writhed as the envisioned whipping went
on, her outstretched body straining, her cunt rubbing harder against the sheet.
Her clitoris rubbing...rubbing...against the sheet...

	She was panting hard. Tom...Tom would drop the belt now, rip down his
pants and shorts to expose his large, erect prick. Lust-maddened by the
whipping, he would throw himself onto her, heedless of her pain, and with one
mighty lunge, force his stiff cock deeply and brutally into her asshole...

	Susan screamed and came. Her body spasmed again and again, but her arms
and legs stayed as they were, splayed and spread by the ropes of her fantasy...

	For a long time afterwards she lay there. What am I going to do, she
thought. What in the HELL am I going to do?

                                                                   32



	When Stanley left, Jeannine buzzed Tom on the intercom. "Stanley was
just here," she told him. "He told me something I think maybe you should know
about. Shall I come in?"

	"What a coincidence," Tom's voice said. "I was just thinking about you."

	"Oh?"

	"And about how nice it would be if you came in."

	"Really?"

	"Yes. Yes, indeed. In fact, as I've been thinking about it, my cock has
grown quite stiff."

	"How interesting," Jeannine said.

	"Isn't it? So why don't you come on in, and we will discuss the matter."

	"Which matter?"

	"Jeannine," Tom said, "you have a beautiful ass."

	"Why, thank you, sir."

	"This thing about Stanley--do you think you will be able to expain it to
me with my cock up your asshole?"

	"Well," Jeannine said, "it would be interesting to try."

	"Because I want to put my cock up your asshole, Jeannine. I want it so
bad I'm almost coming just from thinking about it."

	"Oh, don't do that!" Jeannine said. "I'll be right in."

	"Just a minute," Tom said. "Before you come in, take off your panties. I
want your ass naked under your skirt."

	"All right."

	"And, Jeannine..."

	"Yes?"

	"Braid your hair."

	"Of course, Daddy," she said.

                                                   

	Tom was naked when she came into his office. She stopped just inside the
door after she had closed it.

	"You were right," she said. "About your cock. It does get awfully big
when you think about me, doesn't it?"

	"Get over here," Tom said.

	"Yes, Daddy. Shall I take my clothes off too?"

	"No. Bend over the desk."

	"Like this?"

	"Pull up your skirt. All the way up."

	"So you can see my ass?"

	"So I can FUCK your ass."

	"How's that, Daddy?"

	"That's wonderful," Tom said. He stepped forward and placed the tip of
his cock at her anal opening. "How's THAT?" And he pushed forward.

	"Oh!" Jeannine said. "Oh, Daddy! Ohhh...Oh my god..."

	"You sweet little girl," Tom said, and pushed harder.

	"Daddy...Oooohh...You're so big..."

	"And you're so tight..."

	"God! I think I'm going to burst!"

	"There's lots more coming," Tom said.

	"Ohh no! It feels like it's going right up into my stomach!"

	"Don't you like it?"

	"Oh, I love it! I LOVE it!"

	"Good. Me too."

	"Ohh...oh, ahh...aaahh!"

	"You're wriggling. Don't wriggle yet."

	"I...can't help it...It feels so...Ohh my god..."

	"Almost in now."

	"Almost? Oh Jesus..."

	"Now. Now. There. I'm in. All the way. Damn, that's so good! I needed
that. Sweet Jeannine. Sweet, tight little baby..."

	"Can I wriggle...now?"

	"Not too much. I don't want to come yet." Tom leaned forward a little
and slid his hands beneath the girl's upper body to hold her breasts. "Damn," he
said, "I think I'm in heaven."

	"Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck your little girl's ass."

	"In a minute," he said. "Tell me about Stanley now."

                                                            33



	Susan was just coming in the door when the phone rang. Probably it was
Dr. Alberts, she thought. Her regular appointment had been this afternoon--the
first appointment since she had gotten him to make love to her. She had debated
about going, and had finally started out for his office, but had backed down.
She had gone shopping instead. Now he was calling to check on her. Was it
concern about her state of mind? she wondered. Or did he want to fuck her again?

	And if he did...

	Susan closed the door and put her packages down, not hurrying. Maybe the
phone would stop and she wouldn't have to answer it. But the phone kept ringing.

	With a sigh, she went to it. "Hello?"

	"Good afternoon." It was a voice she did not know, a deep, cultured male
voice. "Is this Mrs. Susan Garson?"

	"Yes. That's right."

	"How do you do, Mrs. Garson? My name is Arthur Townsend."

	"Yes?"

	"I--ah--I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. Mr. Jerry Potter."

	Jerry! Susan felt weak. She sank into the chair next to the phone.
"What...what do you want?"

	"Well, I do hope you won't think me too forward, Mrs. Garson; but I
would very much like to invite you to a little gathering I'm having this evening
at my apartment."

	"What? But...but I don't..."

	"Just a few friends and colleagues. I'm sure you will enjoy yourself."

	"I--I'm afraid I can't, Mr.--"

	"Townsend. Arthur Townsend. I do hope you will reconsider, Mrs. Garson.
Jerry assured me that you would be happy to come."

	"Jerry?"

	"Yes. He suggested I ask you. In fact, he said I should insist."

	Susan felt a familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach. She moistened
her lips. "Will--will Jerry be there?"

	"I'm afraid not. You see, it's to be rather a formal affair. I don't
think Jerry would quite...fit in."

	"Formal?"

	"Yes. I suggest you wear an evening gown. Strapless, please. It will
make things easier. You do have such a gown?"

	"Well...yes, but--but I--"

	"Good. And nothing underneath, please. Nothing at all."

	"Oh." Susan swallowed.

	"And one more thing, Mrs. Garson. Your hands are to be tied."

	"My...my hands?"

	"Tied. Behind your back," Townsend said.

	Fear and excitment washed over her simultaneously. "You--you
mean...before I come?"

	"Yes. I'd like you to arrive here that way. Such a stimulating prospect,
isn't it?"

	"But I--I can't...I'd have to get someone to--oh, no..."

	"I'm sure you'll find a way, Mrs. Garson. Jerry tells me you are most
obliging."

	"No...I can't..."

	"I'll send my car to pick you up. It will arrive at eight o'clock."

	"But--"

	"Please be ready," Townsend said, and hung up.

	Susan sat very still. Her mouth was dry and her nipples tingled. I
won't, she told herself. I will not. Go to the apartment of some man she'd never
met, just because Jerry had told him...

	What had Jerry told him? That she would respond to his command, that she
would go there half naked. And bound...

	Didn't this Townsend, whoever he was, know she had a husband? But Tom
was away on an overnight business trip. Did this man know that?

	No way will I do that. Go there with my hands tied...does he think I can
tie them myself? Does he...

	Come to his door like a--like a package. Hands tied behind me. A gift
for him. And his guests...

	Susan picked up the telephone receiver. Her hands were trembling. She
picked out Bartelli's number. She held her breath till he answered.

	"I need you to do me a favor," she said.

                                                         34



	Billy thought he must be dreaming. Two of the most desirable women he
had ever seen had unexpectedly shown up at his door in two days. The night
before it had been Deborah, and now here was Jeannine, the sexy blonde who had
been the cause of his getting fired, standing in the middle of his room and
smiling at him.

	"Well, Billy," she said. "This place is a real drag."

	"Yeah. I know," he said. "Look, what--what are you here for, anyway?"

	"Why, I just thought I'd pay you a visit, Billy. I have very fond
memories of the last time we saw each other. Don't you?"

	"Oh, sure. You took my thousand bucks, and I got fired."

	"But there was a little more to it than that," Jeannine said. "I'm sure
you haven't forgotten the good parts, Billy."

	Billy blushed.

	"I knew it. Well, I thought maybe--just maybe--we could have some more
fun together. Wouldn't you like that?"

	Billy felt his heart beat faster. "Come on," he said skeptically. "I
don't have any thousand dollars any more."

	"I guess I deserve that," Jeannine said. "But I'm not always out for
money, you know. Not like some people. Deborah, for instance. You remember her,
Billy, don't you?"

	"D-Deborah?"

	"Deborah. I think you know her. In fact, I have the funny feeling that
she was here to see you. Am I right, Billy?"

	Billy felt himself flushing again. "What? I--I mean--No. No, she...What
would she come here for, anyway?"

	"Well, that's what I'd like to find out," Jeannine said.

	"But she wasn't--I don't know what you're--"

	"You're a terrible liar, Billy."

	"I'm not--I mean..."

	"Yes you are," Jeannine said. "Now look. Deborah came to see you and
tried to mix you up in some scheme or something. Right?"

	"Wait a minute--"

	"And it's something about Mr. Garson, isn't it? Because she wants to get
him, and she figures you do, too."

	"I..."

	"Did you agree?"

	"Well, I...I mean..."

	"She's bad news, Billy. It's not smart of you to get involved in
something like that. Tell me what she's up to."

	"I--I don't...I can't--I mean..."

	Jeannine walked over to where he was standing. She walked up very close
to him, and put her arms around him, her body grazing his lightly. Billy
swallowed hard.

	"Billy? Tell me. Nothing will happen to you, I promise. Except good
things."

	She swayed against him a little.

	"Look--" Billy had to stop and clear his throat. "Look,
please--I...There's nothing...Oh, Jesus..."

	"What did Deborah offer you?" Jeannine asked softly. "Not money. She's
too cheap for that. Did she fuck you, Billy? Hmm? Did she?"

	"Well...well, no...not really...but--"

	"But she said she would, I'll bet. But you can't trust her, Billy. Don't
believe her. But you can trust me. I'm right here, and I'll fuck you right now.
You'd like that. I can tell. I can feel your cock, and it's hard. See?" And she
slid her hips sideways, rubbing her loins over the protuberant lump in his
trousers. He drew in his breath with a hiss.

	"Tell me," Jeannine said.

	"Don't," Billy gasped. "Come on, Jeannine. I--Jesus, I--I wish I
could..."

	"You can," Jeannine said. "I'll show you. Come and lie down."

	"No..." Billy said weakly.

	"Come on." She pulled him, without too much difficulty, toward the bed
and got him to lie on his back. Then she sat beside him.

	"Well, Billy?" She put out a hand and stroked his face gently; then the
hand moved down to his chest. It slid in a slow, caressing circle over the upper
part of his body, stopping to let her fingers play teasingly with his shirt
buttons. One of them came open, and the fingers slipped inside.

	Billy breathed more rapidly, but stayed stubbornly silent.

	"Would you like to touch me, Billy?" Jeannine said softly. "Would you
like to feel my breasts?"

	Billy swallowed again. "Well...yeah. Sure."

	"Go ahead, then."

	He lifted his hand, a bit tentatively, and put it over the luscious
mound that strained against the white sweater she was wearing. He made a small,
almost inaudible sound.

	"Don't they feel nice?" Jeannine said. "Do you remember what they looked
like, Billy? Hmmm? Wouldn't you like to see them again?"

	"Oh god, Jeannine...don't...I mean..."

	"Don't? You don't mean that." Her hand moved lower, over his belt, to
hover over the bulge in his pants. "Tell me what Deborah said, Billy. Then we
can do such wonderful things to each other."

	"I told you...I--I can't...Oh, Christ..." He jumped as Jeannine's hand
made contact with his cock.

	"Billy." Her hand stroked him gently through his pants. "Remember how it
was that day? Remember how you fucked me? And how I sucked your cock? And how
good it all was? Remember?"

	"Ohh..."

	Her hand was moving lightly but rhythmically. "We can do it all again,
Billy. And more. Anything you want. And it will be even better. I promise you.
What do you say?"

	"Please..."

	Jeannine got hold of his zipper tab and very slowly pulled it down.
"Just tell me, Billy. Nobody has to know you told me. And you will remember this
night until the day you die."

	"Oh my god...I don't know..."

	"I'll fuck you all night, Billy. All night long." She had his cock out
now, stiff and throbbing, a tiny drop of moisture beaded on the tip. "Just tell
me."

	"Jeannine..."

	"Think about my body," Jeannine whispered. "Think about my breasts. And
my legs. And think about my mouth, Billy."

	She slid off the bed then and knelt on the floor beside it. Crouching
over him, she lowered her head until her mouth was nearly touching his erect
phallus. Her long blonde hair fell over him. She pushed it back over her
shoulder so it wouldn't block his view of her face. Her mouth opened. He could
feel her warm breath on his cock.

	"Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me, Billy."

	Billy groaned agonizedly.

	Her mouth moved closer. Her tongue snaked out and lightly flicked the
drop of moisture off his prick. Her lips waited to close over him.

	Helplessly, gaspingly, he told her.

                                                          35



	"Did you bring the rope?" Susan asked.

	"Yeah," Bartelli said. "Yeah. It's in my pocket. But I don't know if I'm
gonna do anything with it. I mean, why the hell should I?"

	"Oh, really!" Susan said impatiently. "It's not such a big deal, for
god's sake! I'm just asking you to tie my hands, that's all."

	"You are really a sick broad, you know that?"

	"Yes, I do know that, Mr. Bartelli, thank you very much. But you don't
seem to mind that sickness when you are the beneficiary. Do you?"

	"Fancy words," Bartelli sneered. "Fancy lady. Look at you." He gestured
at the gown she was wearing. Light blue, and strapless, in accordance with her
instructions, it left her arms and shoulders bare and clung precariously to the
upper slopes of her breasts. "All dolled up like you're goin' to the opera or
someplace. Instead of to be fucked by some creep weirdo you don't even know. And
I'm supposed to help him out by tying you up for him? Shit on that!"

	"Well, pardon me," Susan said with bitter mockery. "I didn't mean to
wound your poor delicate sensibilities, Mr. Bartelli. You didn't strike me as
the jealous-lover type."

	Bartelli's face twisted. "Hoity-toity," he growled. He took a sudden
step toward her and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back. She
gave a sharp cry. He retained his hold, but allowed her head to come up a
little, so she could look at him. Her breath was loud and ragged, and her eyes
were beginning to lose focus. As he tightened his fist in the brown hair, her
hands rose instinctively to the source of the pain.

	"Hands down!" he rasped. "Down!"

	Slowly, Susan lowered her hands.

	"Hoity-toity," Bartelli repeated, watching the excitement rising in her,
watching the melting eyes and the panting mouth.. "Stuck-up, fancy-talking lady.
You're not so damn hoity-toity when I get my hands on you. Are you, Mrs. Garson?
Huh?"

	"No," Susan gasped. "No. No..."

	"Okay," Bartelli said. "Take off that fuckin' dress."

	"Yes..." Her arms reached up behind her to fumble at the catch of the
gown.

	Bartelli didn't let go of her hair. With some difficulty, she got the
catch undone and pulled down the zipper. The gown fell around her feet. She was
naked beneath it. With her head straining backwards, her round, hard-nippled
breasts thrust out toward him. His free hand went to them, squeezing and
fondling them roughly, bringing loud moans from her open mouth.

	Then he turned her body around, still holding her hair. "See that couch
over there?" he demanded.

	"Ohhh..."

	"Go bend over it." He released her suddenly, and gave her a hard shove
with his hand in the small of her back. With a startled cry, she stumbled across
the room toward the sofa he had indicated. Her momentum carried her against it;
she hit the side and fell across one of the padded arms. She started to push
herself up, but his voice stopped her.

	"Just like that," he said. "That's perfect."

	Susan stayed where she was, bent awkwardly over the sofa arm, her rear
end in the air, her face in the couch cushions. "What...what are you going to
do?" she said in a quavery voice.

	"I haven't tried plugging your asshole yet, Mrs. Garson," he said. "Now
seems like a good time."

	Susan caught her breath. "Oh my god," she breathed. His cock was so damn
big! "You'll kill me if you do that."

	"You'll love it," Bartelli said, and she closed her eyes as she heard
him coming toward her.

                                                           36



	As soon as Billy began to talk, Jeannine took his cock into her mouth.

	Which caused him to stop talking and start moaning.

	Jeannine pulled her head away from him. "No, Billy. Don't stop. You keep
talking and I'll keep sucking, okay?"

	"Yeah...okay!" He arched his hips upward toward her face.

	"Go on then," she said, and closed her mouth over him again.

	"Well...she...Deborah...she checked around some...about Garson..."

	"Mmm," Jeannine said, her lips sliding down around his prick.

	"Ohh...And...and she couldn't find anything...anything she could hurt
him with...you know?"

	"Mm-hmmm," Jeannine said. Her mouth was encircling the base of his cock,
and he felt her tongue slide across the underside of the shaft.

	"Oh, Jesus...Jeannine..."

	"Mmm?" Her voice had a hint of warning, and he quickly resumed his
panting narrative.

	"So she started checking...on his wife...and something made her
suspicious...I don't know what...and she hired a private detective...like, to
watch her..."

	"Mmmm..." Jeannine said. Her mouth was gliding upwards now.

	"And he found there was...there was this guy...who came to see her
sometimes...I mean, she didn't tell me all the details... Deborah, I
mean...Oooohh..."

	"Mn-mmn," Jeannine said.

	"I am...So she got this guy--the detective...to call her the next time
the other guy showed up there...And he did, and she went over there...and
waited...and when this guy came out, she... she sort of let him pick her
up...accidentally like..."

	"Mmmm..." Jeannine's head was moving in a slow, sensuous rhythm, up and
down. Billy was twisting on the bed, and it was hard for him to concentrate on
what he was saying. But he had to keep her caressing lips and swirling tongue
from stopping what they were doing to him.

	"So she...I guess she seduced him or something..."

	"Hmmm."

	"...and then she got him to tell her...about...about Mrs. Garson..."

	"Umm?"

	"Well...it seems she's...she's kind of...I mean..."

	Her moist mouth enveloped him, silky tongue circling. "Mmumhhm?"

	"Well, she...she's freaky...She likes to be hurt...you know? And...like,
ordered around and stuff...and tied up, and..."

	Jeannine's mouth popped off his dick very suddenly; her head came up and
she stared at him in astonishment. "What?!" she exclaimed.

	"Oh, Jesus, Jeannine, don't stop now!" Billy cried.

	"Wait. Wait a minute," Jeannine said. "I'll do it some more, Billy, I
promise. I'll do it all you want. But let me get this straight. Are you telling
me the truth?"

	"Yeah! At least--that's what Deborah said. And she wasn't kidding,
because she wanted me to--"

	"You mean--oh my god--you mean Tom Garson's wife--his sweet, innocent,
namby-pamby little Susan--is a masochist? A real, honest-to-god practicing
masochist?"

	"Well, I guess that's what you call it. Anyway, Deborah said this guy
does all kinds of weird stuff to her--ties her up all the time, and knocks her
around, and even makes her do it with his friends. And she gets off on it. Like,
the worse it gets, the more she likes it. Sounds kind of creepy to me."

	"Jesus H. Christ!" Jeannine said slowly. And then she began to laugh.

                                                                    37



	Susan's fingers clawed spastically into the fabric of the sofa as
Bartelli's thick cock stretched the walls of her anal passage until she thought
they must surely split. With her face buried in the seat cushions, she bit into
one of them to stifle the squalling cries she could not hold back, while the man
behind her grunted rhythmically, moving his hips in short but powerful thrusts,
each one ramming him a tiny bit farther into her tight little asshole.

	"Hurt good?" Bartelli rasped, as Susan's muffled wails increased in
volume. "Answer me, bitch!"

	"Nnnmmmm..." Her moaning reply conveyed an affirmative answer through
the sound of her pain.

	"Yeah." He moved harder.

	"Nnnhh...nnngghh...nnuhnngghh...NNNNUUMMMNNGGHHH..."

	"You said it, baby." Bartelli stopped moving for a moment, panting a
little. "You got a great little ass, whore."

	"Mnunhh...uunnhh...."

	"You want more, huh? Sure you do." He chuckled. "Tell you what, though.
You got me up here to tie your hands, right? Well, I guess this is as good a
time as any." He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the length of
rope he had brought with him. "If I'm gonna tie you up for some other guy, it
might as well be with my cock up your ass. Right?"

	Susan turned her head so that her mouth was no longer blocked by the
cushion. "Yes..." she gasped. Oh god, yes..."

	"Let's have them, then. Put your hands back here."

	"Ohh..." The panting girl slowly let go of the sofa fabric she was
clutching.

	"Let's go, cocksucker." Bartelli emphasized his command with a sharp
thrust of his hips.

	"Aaahh...yes..." Susan brought her trembling arms behind her. She
crossed her wrists and waited for the touch of the rope.

	Bartelli wrapped the rope several times around her wrists, then tied it
securely. "How's that, Mrs. Garson?" he said sneeringly. "Tight enough?"

	"Ohh...ooohhh...ohh it's good...oh god..."

	"Kinky tramp," Bartelli grated, and thrust at her again. He kept it up,
moving harder than before, battering his way deeper inside her.

	"Aaaahh...Ooohh...AAAHHH! AAAHH! AAAGHHH..." Susan buried her face in
the pillow again, but her cries were hardly muted now. Her body squirmed,
grinding her belly painfully against the sofa arm, and the fingers of her bound
hands clutched helplessly at the air.

	Seeing that she was on the verge of climax, Bartelli reached beneath her
with both hands to find her dangling breasts. Thrusting still farther into her
ass, he pinched the nipples hard.

	"NNGHHAAAAAAAHHH!!" Releasing the sofa pillow, Susan threw back her head
and screamed out her orgasm. Her spasming, twisting body made Bartelli's task
easier ass he attempted to bury his elephantine prick to the hilt in her
clutching rear passage. In turn, his progress added to her painful ecstasy,
setting off a further climax on the heels of the first.

	Bartelli let go of her nipples and grasped her hips tightly, pulling at
them as he rammed himself all the way inside her. She gave a final cry and her
head dropped back to the couch seat, her shrieks diminishing into gurgling
moans.

	Bartelli, his entire pole now planted firmly in Susan's ass, began to
pump himself back and forth, letting the tight grip of the stretched anal walls
jerk him off. His breathing became loud and harsh, mingling with the girl's
animal-like groans, which increased in volume as his relentless prick worked her
toward another climax.

	But suddenly they both became still, their bodies frozen, startled by
another sound that had cut through the nosie of their passion.

	The sound of the doorbell.

	"Oh, my god!" Susan gasped. "It--it's eight o'clock! It must be the car!
Oh, no..."

	Bartelli swore, and then unexpectedly broke into a laugh. "What the
hell," he chortled wildly. "The more the merrier." And then he yelled: "Come
in!"

                                                                    38



	"What's so funny?" Billy demanded.

	Jeannine wiped her eyes. "Oh, lord," she said, when she had recovered
her breath. "This is just too much. Too much!"

	"Jeannine--"

	"And poor Deborah thought she was going to use this to get back at Tom,
right? The dumb little bitch!" She began to laugh again.

	"Well...she thought that if he found out--"

	"Billy--when Tom Garson finds out, he's going to be the happiest man in
the whole damn world."

	"What?"

	"And if he knows you told me this, he'll probably be so grateful that
he'll hire you back again."

	"Are you kidding?"

	"I'm perfectly serious. Not only that--if you play your cards right, he
might persuade Deborah to keep her promise and fuck you after all. Would you
like that?"

	"Hell, yes!"

	"But first--well, you've kept your part of the bargain, Billy, and now
I'm going to keep mine. I'm going to keep it so well that you may never be
satisfied with any other woman again!" And Jeannine lowered her face to his
crotch once more.

	Within two minutes, Billy was sobbing with ecstasy.

	If he had thought Jeannine's mouth, lips and tongue had given him
exquisite pleasure before, that was as nothing to what they were doing to him
now. Her mouth was a movable sheath of unbelievable warmth and sensuality, with
no limit to its devouring capacity; her lips a snug yet pliant circle around the
flesh of his cock, sliding lovingly up and down its length, now slowly, now
quickly, with an instinctive knowledge of the rhythm that would give him the
most pleasure at any particular moment; her tongue a tireless caress of moist
velvet, with the ability to lick him into maddening arousal by precisely seeking
out his most achingly sensitive spot, or to seem to twist itself abandonedly
around the entire circumference of his pleasure-crazed penis, writhing and
humping like a warm-skinned snake. When her mouth took the whole length of him
inside her, lips kissing the flesh at the base of his pole, her throat would
open to accept the head of his cock as though she were ready to swallow all of
it right down to her stomach. And would release him reluctantly as her mouth
began the long, slow slide back up.

	At first Billy made an attempt to control himself, worried that he might
come too quickly and shorten the undreamed-of pleasure she was giving him; but
he soon gave that up, surrendering himself to the overwhelming sensation. His
hips arched and fell, squirmed and twisted; but Jeannine stayed with him, never
letting him escape her talented mouth, never missing a stroke.

	Billy groaned and babbled incoherently, gasped and sobbed, and pounded
the bed with his fists, while Jeannine brought him inexorably closer to climax.
As his tumescent prick twitched and throbbed under her tongue, she began to make
a humming sound around his flesh, a sound that seemed to urge him on, as though
she were eager for the release of his sperm into her mouth.

	"I...I..." Billy choked wildly. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna come...Oh
Jesus...Oh god, Jeannine...I'm...Your mouth...Ohh...I can't...I'm gonna
come...Aahh...Aaahh...Unh...Unh...Unnh...Ohh, GOD!! AAAAGGHH..."

	Billy flopped helplessly on the bed as his cock jerked and spasmed
inside Jeannine's suctioning mouth, pouring out his come in a series of spurts
that seemed to have no end.

	Jeannine swallowed it all. She kept suctioning and swallowing as the
spurts began to get weaker and finally dribbled out. She still held him in her
mouth, as though to get every last drop, until his depleted cock began to
soften. Even then she released him only gradually, her lips and tongue cleaning
him off as he slid slowly out of her face.

	Billy lay as if dead, except for his rapid breathing and the little
moaning sounds of blissful satisfaction that came from his mouth. Jeannine rose
from her knees and sat on the bed beside him.

	"That," she said, "was only the beginning."

                                                                  39



	"No!" Susan shrieked when Bartelli shouted his invitation. She tried to
get up, but Bartelli's weight and her bound hands kept her helpless. With a
pitiful cry, she turned her head away as the door opened.

	"Hi there!" Bartelli said, chuckling obscenely as he punctuated his
greeting with a particularly hard thrust into Susan's ass.

	"Good evening, sir," she heard a voice say from the door. "I am Mr.
Townsend's chauffer. I have been sent to pick up Mrs. Susan Garson."

	"Well, here she is," Bartelli said, thrusting again. "And you can pick
her up as soon as I'm done with her. How's that?"

	"That's fine, sir," the voice said. "Shall I wait here, or in the car,
sir?"

	Susan's shame and humiliation at being exposed this way to a stranger
was of course only adding to her helpless arousal; and her excitement was
heightened by the calm, unemotional reaction of the new arrival--as though it
were completely routine for him to come into a strange apartment and be
confronted with the sight of a naked young woman bent over a sofa with her hands
tied, while a man fucked her in the ass. Unable to stop herself, she turned her
head to look at him.

	He was a young, dark-haired man wearing a chauffeur's uniform, complete
with a visored cap, which he held in his hand. He was quiqte attractive, in a
sharp-featured way, and though his face showed no emotion, she thought she saw a
flicker in his eyes as they met hers. Her mouth went dry as she watched him
watching her degradation; and she almost came when she heard Bartelli answer his
question.

	"Hell, you might as well stay here," Bartelli laughed. "In fact, come on
over and join the party!"

	The chauffeur stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Then he
hesitated. "Well, sir, I don't know if I..."

	"Come on!" Bartelli urged. "The more the merrier for Mrs. Garson here.
She'll eat it up." He laughed again. "She'll eat YOU up! Right, Mrs. Garson?" He
slapped her hard on the hip. "Right, bitch?"

	"Oh god..." Susan moaned. "Yes. Yes..."

	"See? Get the hell over here. Here, sit down right here." He grabbed
Susan by the hair and pulled her head up out of the couch seat, bringing a
squall of pain from her. "Here you are, my friend. Just sit right down here and
pull out your dick, and the lady will suck it for you while I finish reaming her
ass. Come on!"

	"Well...thank you, sir," the young man said. "I'd be happy to." He
approached the sofa, unzipping his trousers on the way, and then sat down. He
placed his cap on the floor and pulled out his penis, which was already large
and getting larger every second. Its growth was spurred on by the breath from
Susan's open, panting mouth as Bartelli held her head just above his lap.

	"Okay, cocksucker," Bartelli grated. "Do your thing." And he pushed her
head down into the young man's crotch and held it there, keeping his grip on her
hair.

	With a sound that was half moan, half sob, Susan took the man's cock
into her mouth. He responded with a sharp hiss, and his head fell back against
the couch as she engulfed the full length of it at once.

	In fact, Bartelli's pressure on her head prevented her from moving it,
and she was unable to do anything but hold the chauffeur's prick in her mouth
while it grew rapidly to full erection, filling her mouth and pushing into her
throat until she had to struggle to keep from gagging. Her breath whistled
through her nose and strangled noises came from her as she strove to swallow the
throbbing weapon.

	Meanwhile Bartelli had resumed fucking her ass, driving into her with
hard, painful strokes that drove her to the brink of climax. The rhythmic
jolting of her body transmitted itself to her head, and thus to the spasms of
her mouth around the young man's cock, bringing low moans of delight from him.
He didn't seem to mind at all that she could not really suck him; and in fact as
her throat relaxed around him she began to caress the stiff pole with her
tonuge, licking and stroking as much of it as she could. Soon he was breathing
hard, his head rolling gently from side to side.

	Suddenly Susan felt herself coming. Body heaving, bound hands clutching
at the air, mouth gasping around the flesh staff that filled it, she rode out
her orgasm and immediately started on another. Her jerking, twisting body
brought Bartelli close to his own finish, and he battered at her harder and
faster than ever, roaring curses as he emptied himself inside her.

	The feeling of his come splattering the depths of her ass sent Susan
over the edge again. Bartelli, though finally spent, still did not relax his
grip on her head, but pushed it down even harder than before over the young
man's cock. Voraciously, desperately, she tongued and suctioned at it, moaning
and whimpering as she approached still another climax. As she came again she
heard the chauffeur give a hoarse cry, and felt him shoot his load in powerful
spurts straight down her throat. She swallowed it with joy, knowing she would
come yet again. She could not stop. She came when Bartelli pulled his now soft
prick out of her ass. She came as she tried to suck the chauffeur back to
hardness, and came again even as she moaned with disappointment when she failed.

	Even when the two men moved away from her, leaving her bent over the
sofa arm alone, she came twice more as they watched her, before she finally
subsided, sobbing, shuddering and gasping for breath.

	Dimly she heard the sound of zippers being pulled up, and Bartelli
laughing and calling her names as he moved to the door. Then he was gone,
leaving her with the man who had come to take her to the party.

s                                                                      40



	Billy stared at Jeannine. "The beginning?" he said. "Holy shit,
Jeannine. You really knocked me out! It's gonna take me a while to get it up
again."

	Jeannine smiled. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, Billy. But I always
keep my promises. We've got a long way to go. And I'll bet it won't take you so
long as you think."

	She stood up. "Watch me, Billy," she said. "I'm going to take my clothes
off now."

	Billy watched.

	Jeannine crossed her arms and grasped the hem of her snugly fitting
white sweater. "I'm not wearing a brassiere, you know," she said. "You probably
realized that when you felt my breasts. There's nothing under this sweater but
me. Are you ready?"

	Billy nodded.

	With a slow, deliberate movement she pulled the sweater up and over her
head. Her magnificent naked breasts swayed and bobbed as she pulled it off,
shaking her head to free her blonde hair. She threw the sweater on a chair and
smiled at him again. "Well?" she said. "Are they as good as you remember?"

	"Better," Billy said hoarsely.

	"Want to see the rest of me?"

	"You know I do!"

	"Okay." She undid a catch at the waistband of her skirt and let it fall.
She wore only a brief pair of panties. She picked the skirt up and put it with
the sweater. She took a step closer to Billy as she brought her hands to that
final garment. She rolled it down over her hips, then bent, breasts swinging
provocatively, to pull it off her long, lovely legs. She tossed it aside and
straightened up to face him naked. Then she turned slowly around in a full
circle, so he could see her nude body from every angle.

	"God!" Billy breathed.

	"It's all for you, Billy--tonight." She came and sat beside him on the
bed. "Now let's get YOUR clothes off." Her hands went to his shirt buttons.

	She undressed him lovingly, taking her time. Billy arched up or rolled
over when necessary to allow her to remove a garment, but she did it all, giving
him little pats and caresses as she took off his shirt, shoes, socks, trousers
and shorts. When he was as naked as she, she glanced down at his cock, which had
long since begun a return to life, and was now pointing upwards toward his
belly. Jeannine petted it gently, and it hardened further under her hand.

	"See?" she said. "I told you it wouldn't take too long." She knelt up on
the bed near his feet and bent to plant a brief kiss on the revived phallus.
Then her mouth moved up to kiss his navel. He gasped as her tongue licked
swiftly into the little depression.

	Her lips slid over his stomach, moving in a slow, erratic course from
side to side in their upward journey. Her tongue left a moist trail on his
flesh. Billy's breath began to come faster.

	The soft, caressing mouth moved higher. It lingered over each of his
nipples, sucking gently, her tongue circling the tiny buttons which hardened
under her skillful care. It traveled up over his chest to kiss the hollow of his
throat. With a moan, Billy brought his hands up almost fearfully to touch the
smooth, enticing flesh of her body.

	"Yes," Jeannine whispered. "Hold me." She was crouching above him, and
now she brought her body down gently to lie full-length on top of him. Her
breasts were pressed into his chest, her smooth legs entangled with his, her
pubic hair brushing his crotch while his hard cock pulsated against her stomach.

	"Oh Jesus!" Billy husked, and put his arms around her.

	She smiled down at him. "Hello, Billy," she said softly. And then she
lowered her mouth to his.

	Her lips were soft and demanding at the same time. She kissed him as
he'd never been kissed before, kissed him long and deeply, her head turning
slowly as she ground her mouth on his; her tongue dipping into his mouth and
probing, exploring, rubbing against his own tongue; her body moving subtly, just
enough to make him aware of her breasts rolling slightly on his chest, her loins
teasing the base of his cock. Billy moaned against her mouth, his arms
tightening around her. He struggled against the feeling that he might come again
any moment, just explode onto her stomach and his own. And still he did not want
her to stop. He wanted her to kiós him forever.

	At last she pulled her tongue out of his mouth and raised her head.
"Well, Billy," she said, with a mischievous little roll of her hips which made
her stomach shift against his straining cock. "I think you're ready now. Don't
you?"

	Breathlessly, he nodded agreement.

	She reached down for him. "I'm going to put you inside me now," she
said.

	"Wait..." he panted. "I...I want to be on top of you."

	"All right," Jeannine said. "Any way you want it, Billy."

	Together they rolled over so that their positions were reversed.
Jeannine spread her legs. She reached down between their bodies to guide his
cock to the sweet harbor of her cunt.

	Billy groaned with joy as he slid into her welcoming pussy. Though it
felt snug, even tight, around his cock, it offered no resistance, and in a
moment he was buried to the hilt inside the beautiful, incredibly sexy girl
beneath him.

	Jeannine put her arms around his neck. Her legs came up to clasp
themselves around his body.

	"I'm all yours, Billy," she whispered. "Fuck the hell out of me."

                                                   41



	Susan's heart beat rapidly as she stood waiting outside the door of
Townend's penthouse apartment. Her mouth was dry. A part of her wanted to run
away, but she knew it was too late. Besides, she couldn't run very well with her
hands tied behind her. And where could she go, anyway, in that condition? Was
that why Philip--the young chauffeur--had taken her jacket from her?

	He had told her his name after Bartelli left her apartment. He had been
very kind and helpful; had cleaned her up, put her back into her dress, and had
chosen a jacket from her closet to put over her shoulders, thus disguising the
fact that she was tied. She could only pray that the jacket would not slip off
as he escorted her to the car, drover her across the city to Townsend's
luxurious apartment building, and guided her into the lobby, politely opening
doors for her all the way.

	Just inside the lobby was a security desk with a uniformed guard behind
it, chatting with the doorman. "Please tell Mr. Townsend that his package is
being delivered," Philip said to him.

	His package! Susan could not look at the men, though she felt their eyes
upon her. Do they know? Can they tell? A hot flush rose to her cheeks, and at
the same time she felt her nipples stiffen against the cloth of her dress.

	The man behind the desk picked up a phone and murmured something into
it, then nodded at the chauffeur. Philip led her to the elevator. As they rode
up, he took her jacket from her shoulders, telling her he would return it to her
when she left. She protested weakly, but he only said, "Mr. Townsend's orders,
ma'am."

	At the top floor he pointed out the door to her. "Mr. Townsend knows you
are here," he said. "Just wait, please." And with that, he stepped back into the
elevator and left her.

	And now she waited, trembling, for the door to be opened. A package for
Mr. Townsend. Wrapped, as ordered, in strapless gown and high heels and nothing
else. And neatly tied.

	She heard footsteps approaching the door. Again she had an urge to run.
But she stood there. And the door opened.

	The man who opened it was middle-aged and elegant looking. He was not
especially tall, but his body gave the impression of being well cared for, as
did his tanned skin. His head was nearly bald, with a fringe of neat, graying
hair. He was wearing a dinner jacket.

	His eyes gleamed at the sight of her standing there. For a long moment
he said nothing; he just looked at her. Again Susan felt the flush on her face
and the tightening of her nipples. And then the man spoke.

	"Mrs. Garson," he said softly. "How lovely. How very lovely." His eyes
traveled over her body, not crassly, but with obvious appreciation. "Lovely," he
said again. And then: "Turn around, please."

	Trying to control the trembling of her body, Susan forced herself to
move slowly as she did as he asked. She knew his eyes would be on the rope that
lashed her crossed wrists together. She heard him make a sound like a sigh, and
turned to face him again.

	His eyes were glowing. "That's fine," he murmured. "Just fine. Come in,
my dear."

	He stood aside to let her enter, then closed the door. Susan's heart was
pounding again. There was no way she could back out now.

	The moistness between her thighs told her she didn't want to.

	Townsend led her through a foyer and into a large, beautifully appointed
living room. There was no one else there.

	"I--" Susan began, and had to swallow to loosen her throat muscles. "I
thought...You said a party..."

	Townsend smiled, seating himself on a large white sofa. He did not
invite her to sit.

	"Yes indeed," he said. "The other guests will be arriving a bit later.
You see, I wanted to savor your arrival by myself." His eyes devoured her as she
stood self-consciously in the middle of the room. "It's a marvelous feeling," he
went on. "A beautiful young woman coming to my door of her own free will, yet
tied up for my pleasure. Helpless. Not knowing what will happen to her. Bringing
me the gift of her defenseless body. Such an exciting gift. So beautifully
bound."

	Susan's legs felt weak, and she could not control her accelerated
breathing. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly inside the strapless dress, and she
knew the stiffness of her nipples would be obvious against the soft material.
Townsend never took his glittering eyes away from her.

	"You are naked under your dress," he said. It was not a question.

	"Yes," Susan breathed.

	"Show me," Townsend said.

	"But...my hands..."

	"Pull up your dress. You can manage."

	Susan pulled at her bonds. Bartelli had done his job well; they were too
tight to allow her wrists any movement, but by straining painfully she managed
to twist the fingers of one hand around just enough to grasp at the material of
her gown just above her buttocks. Awkwardly and with some difficulty she began
to pull at it, bunching it up in her fingers. The long dress was drawn tightly
against her legs, then began to rise slowly over her calves. The rope cut into
her wrists, and her twisted fingers ached as she worked at the material,
managing only gradually to tug the hem of the dress up to her knees. She paused
to rest her straining hands.

	"All the way up," Townsend said.

	She resumed. It became a bit easier as the gown slid higher, and soon
she had pulled it up to the tops of her thighs. Townsend's tongue passed swiftly
over his lips as his eyes slid like caressing hands along her naked legs.

	"Magnificent," he said hoarsely. Then: "Continue."

	Susan forced her pained wrists upward, tugging the dress over her hips
and revealing her brown-furred crotch, then bunched the remaining material until
the hem was pulled snugly around her waist. She held it there. Her breasts rose
and fell rapidly with her heavy breathing, which was due only partly to her pain
and exertion as she stood facing this middle-aged stranger, naked from the waist
down.

	"Ah," Townsend sighed. "A lovely picture. Most inspiring.
Most...arousing. You do arouse me, Mrs. Garson. Not only your nakedness. Not
only your helplessness. But your own arousal arouses me. For you ar aroused,
aren't you, my dear?"

	Susan swallowed. "Yes," she got out.

	"Yes. And you also have the most exciting legs I have seen in perhaps
twenty years. Absolutely flawless. Come to me now, Mrs. Garson. No, leave the
dress just as it is, and come here to me."

	Her bound hands holding the gown tightly around her waist, Susan walked
toward the sofa on which he was sitting. As she stopped in front of him, he
reached out both hands to touch her legs. He stroked her thighs almost
reverently, his hands moving slowly over the smoothness of her skin.

	"Part your legs," Townsend said.

	She spread her feet apart, opening her inner thighs to his hands. His
breathing became audible as he caressed them, moving up and down over the soft
flesh.

	"Wonderful," he said huskily. "Such fine legs. And so obedient." He took
one hand away from her to undo his trousers. "I must have them," he breathed,
pulling out his cock. It was long and thin, and fully erect. "I must have you
quickly, Mrs. Garson. Right now, before the guests arrive. A preview, so to
speak." And he pulled her close to him.

	Nobody bothers to undress for me any more, Susan thought wildly. Just
open their pants and bang away. Well, why not? A convenient hole, that's what I
am. Legs, tits and a hole.

	Townsend was pulling her onto his lap, and she knelt astride him on the
sofa, her hands still clutching the dress around her waist. He brought her body
close to his and maneuvered his cock to the opening of her pussy.

	"Now!" he said eagerly, and thrust himself upward, penetrating her
completely with one stroke.

	Susan gasped. Her body shuddered, and her hands opened inadvertently,
causing the dress to slip downward.

	"Hold it up!" Townsend ordered harshly. "And move, Mrs. Garson. Move!"

	She obeyed, moving as best she could in her awkward position, hands
bound behind her holding her dress up, her upper body pressing into his.
Townsend's hands were on her thighs, stroking obsessively up and down the length
of them as they strained to raise and lower her body on his cock. He was
grunting and gasping heavily, his hips jerking in rhythm jwith her movements. It
was obvious that he was going to come quickly. Susan was panting hard, the pain
in her wrists and the subservience of her situation bringing her to the verge of
climax herself.

	"Lovely," Townsend gasped, clutching at her thighs. "Oh, yes. Lovely!"
He lifted one hand to Susan's head, twisting her hair and forcing her face to
his. Their lips ground together. He pushed his tongue between them, probing
roughly, raping her mouth with it as his cock was raping her cunt. Susan came
then, and he came too, both of them crying out into each other's mouth as he
shot his sperm into her spasming pussy.

	He released her hair then, and she slumped against him. He was
struggling to regain his breath, and she had an irrational moment of fear that
he might expire. But gradually his breathing slowed.

	"Forgive me...my importunate haste, my dear," he panted. "I could not
resist...the first taste of you...before my guests take their share." He stroked
her legs again.

	"How many...guests will there be?" she asked in a shaky voice.

	"About twenty-five or thirty," Townsend said. "All men. Some of my women
friends wanted to come, but I decided against it. You will be the only female,
my dear. The guest of honor, so to speak."

	Susan's throat was dry. "What--what will I have to do?"

	"Whatever they want," Townsend said.

			                       42



	"Oh my god," Billy said.

	He was sprawled out on Jeannine's body, panting heavily, still twitching
in the aftermath of climax. "Oh. Oh Christ. That was...it was...I never..."

	"I'm really glad you enjoyed it, Billy," Jeannine said.

	"Christ," Billy said. "Fantastic. Oh Jesus..." Having recovered his
breath slightly, he started to pull away from her.

	Jeannine tightened her arms and legs around his body. "Don't go away,"
she said.

	"But--I was just..."

	"You stay right there, Billy. Right where you are. We are in no way
finished," Jeannine said.

	Billy's jaw dropped. "You mean...again?" he got out. "Oh god, Jeannine,
I...I don't think I can."

	"Don't be silly," Jeannine said.

	"I mean, you took it all out of me. Jesus. First with your mouth, and
then just now..."

	"Speaking of my mouth," Jeannine said. "Why don't you taste it."

	Billy tasted it. He may have been worn out, but he wasn't dead, and he
remembered how she had kissed him earlier. In his depleted state he was even
able to show some finesse. He ran his tongue over her lips, savoring their
softness before covering them with his own and plunging his tongue deep inside.

	He tasted her for a long time. Jeannine made sure of that be the things
she did with her mouth and tongue. At the same time she undulated her body very
slightly beneath him. She kept her legs around him, sliding them gently up and
down against his flesh. She worked the muscles of her pussy so that it clutched
softly at his flaccid penis.

	Which began to get less flaccid.

	Finally Billy broke the kiss. "God," he gasped. "You--you're getting me
hard again."

	"That's the idea," Jeannine murmured.

	"But I don't know if I--"

	"We'll take it nice and slow this time," Jeannine said. "A nice long,
slow fuck, okay? And maybe you can make me come. Would you like me to come for
you, Billy?"

	Billy looked as though he'd never thought of that possibility. "Yeah,"
he said. "Hell, yes!"

	"Well, then," Jeannine said, tightening her legs around him. "You just
take it nice and easy, and do what I tell you. Okay?"

	"Yeah," Billy said.

	"You're getting harder, Billy. I can feel it," Jeannine said. "Do you
like having my legs around you like this?"

	"Jesus," Billy said.

	"Fuck me again, Billy. Fuck me good. And later, after you make me come,
you can fuck me in the ass. Would you like that?"

	Billy's answer was a strangled moan. But his cock grew harder still.

	"Now, Billy," Jeannine said. "Do it now. Start out nice and slow. That's
it. That's right. Oh, that's nice, Billy. That's very nice..."

	Billy fucked her slowly. Because he had already come twice, he was able
to hold himself back more easily this time. Jeannine moved with him, but whereas
before she had been a bucking, twisting, squirming tigress, this time she was a
softly sensuous pussycat, her clinging body sweetly rocking, gently writhing
beneath him as she breathed her instructions into his ear. He followed them as
best he could. She told him when to speed up his tempo slightly, and when to
slow down again. She told him when to move harder and when to be more gentle.
She told him when and how to shift his hips so that he penetrated her at a
different angle. She told him when to kiss her, when to bite gently at her
nipples, and where to put his hands. He did everything she said, and held
himself back heroically, and after a long, beautiful time he was overjoyed to
hear her breathing become ragged and a note of strain creep into her voice.

	"Oh, good, Billy," she moaned. "Oh, yes, good. Oh yes. That's lovely.
That's just...ohh yes, lovely. Do that harder...yes...Ah nice...so good...Go
faster now...Yes, like that...like that ...Ahh... Oh...Oh, oh, aahh...More,
more...right there, yes, yes! There...Ooohh...Do it to me...Aaahh...Oh yes...
Harder...Ahh!...Uhh...yes...I'm--now I'm...Ohh,ahh...I'm going to
come...Billy...I'm going to...come...yes...now...Now! Aaahh...Unnhh...Unnhhh...
Coming...Now...AAAAHH!... YESSSS... AAAAAAHHH!!"

	Billy gave a cry of triumph as he felt her body jerk and twist beneath
him. He would have liked to hold off his own climax, but her spasming hips and
clutching legs were too much for him, and helplessly he went off inside her once
more. But he felt fine. Jeannine stroked him and crooned into his ear as they
lay recovering their breath. She told him how sweet he was, and how nice it had
been for her, and how in just a little while he was going to fuck her in the
ass. Billy felt as though he would never be able to fuck again. He didn't see
how even Jeannine could get him aroused yet again that very night. But, deep
down inside, he knew that somehow she would do it.

                                                                           43



	"Gentlemen," Townsend said grandly, "allow me to introduce our guest of
honor."

	There was a murmur of anticipation from the group of men gathered in the
large room. There were at least two dozen of them. They were all naked.

	Townsend had kept Susan waiting in another room while his guests had
arrived and made themselves comfortable. Now he brought her out, and with a
flourish presented her before them. A collective moan of appreciation and
arousal seemed to fill the room as the gazed at the sensuous yet
innocent-looking young woman in a strapless evening gown, who stood before them
with her hands tied behind her, and her breasts heaving with fright, or
excitement, or both.

	"The lady's name is Susan," Townsend announced. "She is here for your
pleasure."

	Several men applauded.

	Townsend went on. "Before we have the...official unveiling, as it were,
I'm sure Susan would like to meet all of you. So, if you will, gentlemen, let us
set up a proper reception line. Susan--kneel down, please."

	Susan lowered herself awkwardly to her knees. Her heart was pounding
nervously, but her pussy was moist and her nipples tingled.

	"I will introduce each of my guests to you in turn," Townsend said. "You
will greet each one by kissing his penis. As a token of your servitude, so to
speak. Do you understand?"

	Susan's throat was too tight for her to reply. She nodded.

	"Fine," Townsend said. "Very well, gentlemen."

	The men formed a line, and they came forward one by one. As each man
approached, Townsend announced his name, and when he stopped in front of her,
Susan bent forward and kissed his cock.

	Some of the cocks were already hard from the sight of her; some were
semi-erect, others still limp. She kissed them all. At first it was a mere touch
of her lips against their flesh, but as the parade went on, and her knees began
to ache, and her wrists throbbed, and she began to feel her degradation more
keenly, her lips softened, the kisses grew more lingering, and there was even an
occasional brush of her tongue against a particularly rampant male shaft.

	When the last man had been introduced, Townsend ordered her to stand up.
He did not help her. With some difficulty she got to her feet. She was panting
slightly.

	"And now," Townsend said, "the unveiling."

	He reached for the zipper at the back of Susan's gown, and slowly pulled
it down to her waist. The dress fell away from her breasts.

	There were a few gasps from the men, some sighs, a couple of soft
comments. But mostly silence. A waiting, tension-filled silence.

	Townsend pushed the gown down over her hips and let it fall to the
floor.

	Susan began to tremble as this group of strangers gazed with glittering
eyes and open mouths at her bound and naked body. She trembled, but her nipples
were hard little spikes jutting out from her heaving breasts.

	"Susan is your toy for the evening, gentlemen," Townsend said. "My only
stipulation is that her hands are to remain tied as they are--and of course that
no lasting damage be inflicted. Other than that, you may do with her as you
will."

	He paused. The men waited. Susan's stomach twisted.

	Then, with a sudden and completely unexpected roughness, Townsend put a
hand on the small of her back and pushed her with all his strength, sending her
stumbling helplessly forward toward the group of waiting men.

	They fell upon her.

                                                         44



	"That little bastard!" Deborah said.

	"Don't blame Billy," Jeannine said. "He just got a better offer. Much
better."

	Deborah glared at her.

	"Anyway, it wouldn't have worked," Jeannine said. "Billy's not the type
to get to Mrs. Garson. You should have knonw that."

	"What do you want?" Deborah demanded.

	"I want the name of Susan's boyfriend--the one you got all that
information out of. And his address. He's the one you should have used in the
first place. You're really not very smart, Deborah."

	"Go to hell," Deborah said.

	"Now, Deborah. That wasn't very nice, what you tried to do to Tom. If I
told him about it, he'd probably give you to Stanley forever. You wouldn't like
that, would you, dear?"

	Deborah swallowed. "No," she said.

	"Give me the name," Jeannine said.

	Deborah gave it to her. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

	Jeannine smiled. "Why, exactly what you were going to do, Deborah," she
said. "I'm going to give Tom Garson the surprise of his life."

                                                          45



	She couldn't stop coming.

	There was no way she could stop. It didn't matter that she had already
come repeatedly earilier that evening--with Bartelli, with Philip, with
Townsend. It was as if that had been long ago. And something else. Not like
this. Nothing had ever been like this.

	They used her constantly. There was no pause, no rest. They passed her
from one to another, from man to man, from group to group. She was always being
fucked by at least one man, usually two, often three. They used every hole she
had, and some didn't bother with holes. They took her lying, standing, sitting,
crouching, bending, kneeling, leaning. She swallowed gallons of sperm. Her cunt
and her asshole overflowed with it. The men were tireless. It went on for hours.

	And she couldn't stop coming.

	As much as they gave her, she wanted more. She gloried in the helpless
feeling given her by her bound and aching wrists. She pulled at the ropes just
to feel how useless her arms were to her as the men manipulated her body into
the positions they wanted. She moaned with joy as they pulled her legs roughly
apart to get at her cunt, or flipped her over to use her ass, or pushed her tits
together toslide a cock between them. Her cries filled the air, even when
muffled by a marauding prick pushing its way into her throat. She came again and
again, over and over, with no lessening of intensity. Over and over. And still
it went on.

	Her body was streaked with come, wet and dry, mingling with her sweat.
When it got distracting, they took her into the bathroom and placed her in the
tub. Then they gathered round and cleaned her off by urinating all over her
body. She came twice as they were doing that. Then they ran the shower on her,
and then it began again.

	Some time in the small hours they were finally ready for a break.
Townsend uncovered a large buffet that had been set up on one side of the room,
and the men partook ravenously of the various kinds of food and drink. They did
not untie Susan to allow her to eat, but they amused themselves by throwing bits
of food at her, and making her scramble after them as best she could, and eat
them from the floor like a dog. She hated herself for doing it, but she loved
being degraded so thoroughly before the watching, laughing men. Her debasement
and their assuaged hunger swiftly aroused most of them still again, and soon she
was screaming with the terrible ecstasy of being mercilessly, endlessly, mauled,
fucked, used and passed on. And coming. Over and over again...

	It ended at dawn, with some of the depleted men dragging themselves into
their clothes and out the door, but most of them just lying around the room,
either sleeping or just too tired to move. In their midst Susan lay crying with
exhaustion, with joy, with despair. Townsend, who had watched throughout the
night without participating, sat on the sofa, still watching.

	"You may go home now, Mrs. Garson," he said.

	"Oh god," Susan sobbed bitterly. "I'm such a whore."

	"Of course," Townsend said.

	"A rotten, fucking slut," Susan choked.

	"You are magnificent," Townsend said flatly. "Would you like to come
over here and suck me off before I let you go?"

	"Yes," she said, and crawled painfully toward him.

	After she had sucked him off, he untied her hands and helped her into
her dress. He tucked something down inside it as he said goodbye to her. Outside
the apartment door, Philip was waiting to drive her home. He was polite and
silent, seeing her to her door and even tipping his hat as he left her.

	She was almost too tired to undress herself, but she managed to unzip
her gown, and the thing Townsend had put down between her breasts fell to the
floor. It was a thousand-dollar bill.

	Susan's face burned and her eyes stung. I guess that makes it official,
she thought bitterly. I'm a whore for real now. A genuine, honest-to-god whore.

	She began to cry again, and when she stopped she had decided to kill
herself.

                                                                   46



	"What do you mean, don't say anything?" Tom said. "What the hell is
going on here, anyway?"

	"It's a surprise, Daddy," Jeannine said. "A really big one. You're going
to love it, really. Trust me."

	"I don't want to trust you. I just want to fuck you," Tom said. "Bring
that sexy body over here."

	Jeannine grinned. "Not right now, Daddy. Save it for the surprise."

	"Oh," Tom said. "THAT kind of surprise."

	"Yes. And the thing is, I don't want her to hear your voice. Not right
away, anyway. Okay?"

	"I don't get it," Tom said.

	"You will," Jeannine said. "Believe me, you will. Just try not to say
anything. No matter how much you want to. You won't be sorry, I promise. Okay?
Please?"

	Tom shrugged. "Okay," he said. "But this better be good."

	"It'll be fantastic," Jeannine said. She went to the door of the office.
"Okay," she called. "Bring her in."

	"Let's go, bitch," a man's voice said.

	A man and a woman came into the office. The man was propelling the woman
by her arms, which he held twisted high up behind her. The woman was
blindfolded. The man guided her by pushing her strained arms cruelly in the
direction he wanted her to go. The woman's face was distorted with pain, but the
little moans and gasps that came from her were not sounds of pain alone. Her
obviously erect nipples made hard little bumps in the front of her sweater.

	Jeannine was eagerly watching Tom's face, and she was rewarded with
something she had never seen there before--an expression of utter astonishment
and stupefaction, as he realized that this blindfolded, brutalized and
passionately aroused woman was his wife.

                                                             47



	Susan knew there were at least two other people in the room; she had
heard a woman's voice telling Jerry to bring her in, and Jerry had told her he
was taking her to meet a man he knew--to "perform for him" was how he had put
it. He had awakened her from an exhausted sleep by pounding on her door, and
though she hadn't wanted to, she had of course let him in. She didn't care what
he did to her; she would be dead by the end of the day anyway. Suicide was the
only way out.

	She had opened the door naked, but Jerry had only leered at her
contemptuously. "Put some clothes on, bitch," he growled. "I'm taking you to
meet a friend of mine. He wants to see you perform."

	"Oh no..." Susan moaned hopelessly.

	Jerry slapped her face. "Get dressed, I said."

	She got dressed. She told herself again that she didn't care any more,
but she knew she was lying. The slap had gotten to her. She would perform for
Jerry's friend, whoever he was. One more humiliation, she thought, the old
mixture of shame and anticipation twisting inside her. Maybe Jerry would tie her
up... The thought made her heart beat faster, and she hated herself for it. This
is the last time, she thought. One last dirty thrill, and then the bottle of
sleeping pills she kept in the medicine cabinet...

	Tom would be better off without her.

	"Let's go," Jerry said.

	She went with him. Downstairs, in his car, he took out what looked like
an elasticized bandage and put it around her head so that it covered her eyes.
She couldn't see a thing.

	"What's that for?" she asked, raising a hand to it.

	Jerry slapped the hand down. "Leave it alone," he ordered. "And shut
up." He started the car. They drove for about half an hour, but she had no idea
where they were going. She felt particularly helpless, not being able to see.
She wondered what people seeing her would think. Probably only that she'd just
had an operation or something.

	Finally they stopped. Jerry pulled her out of the car, and she felt
herself being guided across a street, and then into some kind of building. Then
they were in an elevator, going up. Then some sort of room, where they waited
for what seemed like a long time, until at last she heard the voice say, "Bring
her in."

	Jerry grabbed her arms and pulled them hard up behind her back. She
cried out and went up on her toes to relieve the pressure, but he only pushed
them up further, twisting her wrists. She began to moan as the pain spread
through her, along with the sweet, terrible excitement.

	"Move," Jerry ordered, pushing at her arms. Gasping and whimpering, she
stumbled forward under his brutal guidance, through a doorway and into another
room, where she knew there were at least two people, a man and a woman.

	Jerry positioned her where he wanted her, and let her go. "There she
is," he said.

	"Good work, Jerry," she heard the woman say. "Now show Mr....show our
friend here what she's all about."

	"Just look at the bitch," Jerry said. "She's a kinked-out whore, that's
what she's about. She's a weird little slut who loves to be knocked around and
tied up and have the hell fucked out of her. Right, Susan? Tell them."

	"Yes..." Susan gasped.

	"Tell them what you are, Susan-slut. Like you told the boys, remember?"

	She remembered. It seemed like a long time ago. She felt her face
burning. "I--I'm a slave," she whimpered into the void. "A slave and a whore. A
cocksucker. A...a piece of shit..."

	"Enough talk," Jerry snapped. "Take your damn clothes off."

	Susan trembled. She was to strip herself naked in front of a man who was
not only a stranger--she should be used to that by now--but whom she couldn't
even see. She couldn't do it--but she knew she would. She had to.

	Trying to control her ragged breathing, she brought her hands to the hem
of her sweater and pulled it up over her head. She had worn underwear today,
having had no instructions not to. She dropped the sweater and opened her
slacks, then pushed them down and stepped out of them. She hesitated. No one
spoke. The strange man, she realized, had not spoken at all. It was eerie. Her
hands shook as she reached back to open the catch of her bra, and she knew a
blush was suffusing her whole body as she pulled it off, exposing her
taut-nipples breasts to his mysterious gaze. Her breath was audible in the room.
She pushed her panties down, let them drop. She was naked. She resisted an
impulse to cover herself with her hands; she just stood there, letting the
people she couldn't see see her.

	"Want me to tie her up?" she heard Jerry say. "She goes crazy for that."

	Yes, Susan thought. Please, yes...

	"No, thank you," the woman's voice said. "That's fine, Jerry. You can go
now."

	"No!" Susan cried reflexively. "Jerry--" She broke off with a wail as
she heard the door close.

	"Jerry is gone," the woman's voice said. "You won't see him any more.
You have a new master now, Susan. Go to him. Get down on your knees and crawl to
him. Now!"

	"Oh god..." Susan slowly lowered herself to her knees. Then, whimpering,
she began to crawl on all fours, moving blindly across the floor.

	She heard the sound of a zipper opening.

	She crawled toward it.

	She stopped when her head touched something. A pair of  legs--the man's?
Then she felt a hand in her hair, pulling her head up, making her gasp with the
pain in her scalp. Something rubbed against her face. A cock! A naked, erect
prick was sliding over her face, moving deliberately back and forth, leaving a
thin, slimy trail. With a helpless, eager cry she opened her mouth wide, trying
blindly to capture it with her lips, whimpering with frustration when it avoided
her. She heard the woman laugh dilightedly.

	Then suddenly it was there at her mouth, the hand in her hair pulling
her urgently forward. Joyfully she took it in. "Swallow that thing!" she heard
the woman order. "Take it all!" But she didn't need the command, even if the man
had left her a choice. The cock filled her mouth, pushing its way irresistibly
deeper, its tip striking the back of her palate and then probing farther,
stabbing at her throat. With a muffled moan she swallwed it, her tongue
caressing the marauding shaft, her lips sucking at the base in an attempt to
pull even more of it inside her. It was so big, and so beautifully brutal. She
wanted to strangle herself on it.

	She heard the man gasp, and gloried at finally bringing a sound from
him, no matter how small. He pulled her head back and then forward again,
jerking it rhythmically back and forth over his cock, and she sucked him with
all of her skill and passion, sucked him with lips and throat and tongue, her
cries stifled by his fleshy pole, her body on the verge of climax from the
lovely pain and from her fantastic self-abasement as she eagerly sucked the cock
of this man she had never seen...

	Then, without warning, he pulled away from her. She gave a moan of
disappointment as his hands let go of her hair, but a second later she felt them
on her body, turning her around, positioning her on her hands and knees, facing
away from him. Then the hands were spreading the cheeks of her ass, and the
hard, powerful cock was probing between them.

	She drew in her breath sharply as he breached the opening of her anus,
then gave a shriek of joyful agony as he pushed forward, forcing his cock deeply
into her tight asshole. He drew back slightly and then plunged again, his hard
pole battering at the narrow passage. His hands slid around to clutch at her
dangling breasts. He squeezed them as he fucked his way up her ass, squeezed
them rhythmically and hard, his strong fingers scissoring the nipples. Susan
gave a loud, animal-like cry, and then she came.

	She was still spasming as she felt him withdraw from her ass. Weak and
trembling, she knelt there on all fours, panting and sweating, her head hanging,
her hair touching the floor. But then he was moving her again, pushing her down,
turning her over. Lying on her back, she felt him come down on top of her, his
legs forcing hers apart. She responded with a sharp moan, her hips arching
reflexively to meet him. His cock slid easily into her moist and eager cunt,
burying itself to the hilt with one powerful thrust.

	It seemed to fill her to her very guts. Her body jerked and squirmed,
but her movements were limited by the weight of the man above her. He was lying
full-length on top of her, crushing her beneath him. Her breasts were mashed
against his chest; she could hardly breathe for the pressure. The feeling drove
her wild, and when he seized her wrists in his powerful hands, stretching her
arms high ove her head and pinning them to the floor, she nearly went insane.
Stretched, crushed and helpless beneath a man she couldn't see, she whipped her
head from side to side and shrieked and babbled and cursed and pleaded with him
to fuck her.

	He fucked her that way for a long time. Susan came, and came again, and
again. Each time was better than the last, until she couldn't keep track any
more, and then she was lost in a land of continual coming, continual passion,
and pain, and helplessness, and she knew it could not go on for even one more
moment, and she wanted it never to stop...

	She felt it inside her when he climaxed, felt him exploding deep in her
pussy, and it set her off one last time, and this time ti was as though she had
shattered into a thousand pieces, and lay broken and glittering on the floor.

	His body was still on top of her, though unmoving now. She heard him
panting close to her face. Her head was whirling and her own breath was loud in
her ears. His grip on her arms loosened, and then, through the dizziness, she
heard him speak at last.

	"Fantastic!" he said breathlessly.

	The voice...she couldn't...what was...But before she could get her
thoughts together, she felt his hands on her face, and her blindfold was being
removed.

	The sudden light blinded her. She was able only very slowly to open her
eyes, and then had to blink hard several times to get things in focus.

	Then, finally, she looked up into the face of the man above her.

	And she began to scream.

                                                      48



	"Why didn't you tell me?" Tom said.

	"Oh, god," Susan sobbed. "I couldn't. I--I thought you'd... you'd hate
me...throw me out..."

	"No," Tom said. "I love you, Susan."

	"Oh, Tom...you can't...You--you don't know what I am...what I've
done..."

	"I love what you are," Tom said. "Don't you understand? I've always
loved you. But I thought you were so...nice. So normal. And you thought I was.
And we were both so wrong, Susan."

	"But I'm...I'm such a..."

	"You're a magnificent, exciting woman," Tom said. "And you're my wife,
thank god. I love the way you are, Susan. I love it. And I hope you can love the
way I am."

	"I do, Tom...I do love you..."

	"And whatever you've done, I want you to go on doing it. With me."

	"Yes, Tom," Susan said.

	"Jeannine," Tom said. "I don't know how you managed this, but I'm very
grateful. I think you deserve a raise."

	Jeannine smiled. "I thought you'd like it," she said. "It was Deborah's
idea, actually--though she was after a different result. But I'm not the only
one you should be grateful to. Billy was very helpful. I think it would be nice
if you gave him his job back."

	"Yes, indeed," Tom said.

	"And I think he also deserves a session with Deborah. She promised him
one, but I don't think she meant it."

	"All right," Tom said. "That should be interesting."

	"And Stanley, too. He started the whole thing--and he's dying for
another crack at her."

	"He shall have it," Tom said. "Deborah's going to be a busy little
girl."

	"Maybe Susan would like her, too," Jeannine suggested.

	"What a good idea," Tom said.

	Susan looked startled. "You mean...with--with another girl?" she
stammered. "But I--I've never--"

	"You'll love it," Tom said.

	"I don't know..." Susan said. "I don't think I..."

	"Show her, Jeannine," Tom said.

	Jeannine took her clothes off.

	"But, Tom..." Susan said. "I don't want...I don't think I could..."

	Tom smiled. He put one hand in Susan's hair, and with the other he
pinched her nipple. "Couldn't you, Susan?" he said.

	"Oh...oh god...oh, darling...aaahh..."

	"Tell me," Tom said. "Tell me, you beautiful bitch. Tell me you want
to."

	"Ohh yes...yes, Tom...darling...I want to...I do..."

	"Good," Tom said. "Do it nicely and I'll tie you up when we get home.
Would you like that?"

	"Yes...yes, please...Oh, Tom..."

	Tom let her go. "Go to Jeannine."

	Susan crawled to the other girl.

	"This is nice, Daddy," Jeannine said as she guided Susan's head between
her thighs. "The three of us. We'll be one happy little family."

	Tom smiled.





                                                 THE END

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