POOL PARTY

       "She doesn't seem very happy to see me," Hoffman said.

       "Let's work on that," Rafer said, and he punched the woman in the belly.

       She doubled up and then fell to the floor, writhing and trying to suck in air. The two men watched her. A bulge formed at the front of Hoffman's trousers as the choking, gasping woman twisted at their feet. She was wearing a halter top and shorts, and she was in her early thirties. Her hair was brown and shoulder-length, her eyes dark, her figure excellent.

       "Show Mr. Hoffman how happy you are to see him, Rita," Rafer said.

       Still gasping and breathing with difficulty, the woman rolled onto her hands and knees, trying to get her feet under her in order to stand up. Unable to do this, she whimpered with fear and began to crawl toward Hoffman on all fours. When she reached him she rubbed her face against the bulge in his trousers, then put her mouth on it, as if to suck him through the material. She still whimpered slightly between her heavy panting.

       "Rita doesn't mean to be impolite," Rafer said. "It's just that sometimes when I bring home guests her fear gets the better of her. With good reason, of course. So I have to remind her of her manners."

       "I've been thinking about her all day," Hoffman said. He stepped away from the woman and sat down in a chair. The woman followed him, crawling. She reached for his zipper. "No," Hoffman said. "Just keep doing it through my pants, bitch. I don't want to come too quickly tonight." She lowered her head to his lap.

       Rafer had sat down also. "I'm sure you have," he said, smiling.

       "Yes. As I always do when I'm invited here. It's hard for me to work, thinking of the night to come. Of Rita. And the things we will do to her."

       There was a muffled whimper from the woman's busy mouth.

       "And, of course, the things she will do to us," Rafer murmured.

       "Yes. Do you remember the last time I was here? What was it, about a month ago?"

       "Was it that long? We really should invite you more often."

       "I wish you would,:" Hoffman said. "Anyway, remember, we sat outside, and you made her run around the pool. Around and around and around. Until she--"

       "Naked, I believe," Rafer said.

       "Yes, naked. God. What a sight that was. With her breasts bouncing and rolling, and her whole body--Jesus. Until she couldn't run any more, couldn't get her breath. But you made her keep running. On and on, and she was crying and practically choking to death. Until finally she fell down, and you told her not to stop, and she tried to crawl, but soon she couldn't even do that, she just collapsed, heaving in these terrible big breaths. And you kicked her into the pool. God, she almost drowned."

       "But she didn't," Rafer said. "Because you were so excited you couldn't wait to fuck her, and you pulled her out by her hair. And you got down on top of her and screwed her right there by the pool."

       "Oh Christ, yes, and it was fantastic, fucking that gasping, choking, half-dead body. Fantastic. No strength at all, and yet she was jerking and twitching and heaving, just instinctively trying to stay alive, and when I kissed her mouth and she struggled because she could barely breathe, I fucking came like twenty cannons. Christ!"

       "Yes," Rafer said. "I'm sure Rita remembers it fondly too. Although actually it was relatively tame, as our guest sessions go. No really severe pain, no bondage, no actual torture."

       "Well," Hoffman said. "Maybe we can make up for that tonight."

       Rita made a noise again. Rafer smiled. "I dare say you have something in mind," he said.

                                              #

       "Do it harder," Hoffman's daughter said.

       "If I do it too hard it will leave marks," her teacher said.

       "I don't care."

       "What if somebody sees them?"

       "Who's gonna see them?"

       "Whoever you decide to give yourself to next, you whore."

       "Yeah, well, don't worry, I won't tell him where they came from. Unless you keep wimping out. In which case I'll tell the whole goddam school about how you love to fuck me after class."

       "Who's idea was that?"

       "If I say it was yours, who are they gonna believe?"

       The teacher brought the belt down as hard as he could and listened to the girl's scream of agony and bliss.

                                                #

       "How can you do it with that creep?" Delilah asked. She was a slender girl with small high breasts and short blonde hair, whereas her friend Cassie was taller and rounder, with a striking figure and dark hair flowing freely down her back

       "Easy. I just lie back and think of how I'm gonna get an A in that class without having to do any work. That's a great motivator. Besides, I like it when he hurts me."

       "You're really twisted, you know that, right?"

       "Look who's talking. You still a virgin, Li?"

       "You know I am."

       "Nothing's more twisted than that. I don't think you like guys anyway. You go for girls, Li? You go for me? I'll do it with you if you want."

       "Are you nuts? I'm no queer, for god's sake."

       "Well I'm not either, but there's nothing wrong with a little variety, you know? I could show you a great time. Actually I wouldn't mind sucking on those cute little tits of yours, and then--"

       "Cassie!"

       Cassie shrugged. "Just a suggestion. You gotta lose it sometime, to somebody, you know."

       "Anyway, you like it too rough. Even if I--you know, even if we did it--which we won't--I wouldn't want to hurt you."

       "Maybe I could change your mind," Cassie said.

                                           #

       Rita's cries and pleas were so loud that it made it almost impossible for the two men to converse. She was tied on her stomach across Rafer's coffee table, stark naked. Her arms were spread out on either side of her, elbows crooked painfully over the table edges. Underneath the table, each of her wrists was tied to one end of a tight rope which kept them immobile. Her legs were stretched in a similar manner, pulled obscenely wide, bent at the knees, her ankles fastened beneath. Her long brown hair was held by a clamp that was attached to another rope, the other end of which was fastened at the far end of the table. This rope was stretched so taut that the pull on her hair forced Rita's head up and back as far as it would go, straining her neck in a futile effort to relieve the agony in her scalp, her eyes staring at the ceiling, the tension on her hair so great that she was scarcely able to close her mouth, which emitted a continuous series of squalls, groans, yelps, and incoherent begging which she must have known was useless. The two men sat looking at her, smoking cigars and drinking brandy. They were both naked. They had already made use of her body several times earlier in the evening, in various unpleasant positions, and had then released her to make them dinner. After that meal, in which Rita had not been allowed to participate, they had secured her in her present position in Rafer's living room. Both their cocks were hard now as they gazed at her writhing, straining, tormented body.

       "I'm not sure that would be a good idea," Rafer was saying, raising his voice to make himself heard over Rita's cries. "I mean, I understand your desire to own her for yourself, but--"

       "Just temporarily," Hoffman put in. "And with adequate compensation, of course."

       "I understand, but--Christ, this bitch is loud, isn't she? Why don't you try putting something in her mouth to tone her down a bit."

       "Great idea," Hoffman said. He rose and moved over to the coffee table. Standing at one end of it, his crotch was just level with Rita's face as it was pulled up and back. "Shut the fuck up, you sweet suffering cunt," he said, and rammed his cock hard into her open mouth. He pushed it in all the way and kept it there, jamming it into her throat, arcfhing his hips as his groin pressed against her face.. Rita's head was forced so far back by the strain on her scalp that she couldn't pull back any further. She began to choke on his cock, trying frantically to breathe through her nostrils, her stifled but unstoppable sobs and moans making it more difficult. Only when she began to turn purple and showed signs of passing out did he ease himself back enough to allow her to take in some air around his thick member. Her bound, helpless body was wracked with her desperate gasping and panting.

       "Suck it, bitch," Hoffman said. "Suck it, I said!"

       The fact that Rita could not move her head either forward or back made it virtually impossible for her to obey, but she tried, although she couldn't stop the muffled sobs and sounds of pain that still escaped around his dick.  She flexed her lips like a calf nursing on its mother's tit, and she used her tongue, sliding it over and around his staff in a frantic effort to compensate for her immobility. Hoffman urged her on by holding his cigar close to her neck and touching the glowing tip lightly to her flesh if she showed signs of slackening her efforts. Each touch brought a scream from her, which he choked off by shoving himself back into her throat. Eventually he got tired of this and began to fuck her face brutally, thrusting back and forth in her helpless mouth as she gagged and mewled and squalled in terror and pain, until finally he pressed forward one last time and shot his sperm into her choking throat, holding himself there until she had helplessly swallowed it all.

       Rita was coughing and fighting noisily for breath as he pulled away from her. "Shut her up a little bit, anyway," he said, contemplating the pain-wracked woman, her neck still straining as her head was forced back by the awful pressure on her scalp. "You want to try it now?"

       Rafer shook his head. "No, I'll wait. Let's leave her that way for a while. We can go out and talk by the pool, where it's quiet."

       Before leaving the room, the two men put their cigars out on Rita's inner thighs. Her screams followed them out the door.

                                           #

       "Think of it as a business deal," Hoffman said. He and Rafer were seated by the pool with fresh drinks in their hands. It was a pleasant night. They could still hear the sounds of Rita's torment, but now it was an unobtrusive background noise, like pleasant music. "You would simply be leasing her to me for a few days--say a week. You would get her back in the same condition--well, perhaps a little the worse for wear, but nothing permanent--and you would reap a handsome profit. I'm willing to meet your terms, and I certainly realize that for such a precious piece of equipment you would wish to make those terms exorbitant. Nonetheless--"

       "I don't think so, my friend," Rafer said, taking a sip of his drink. "As I say, I understand your wish to possess her exclusively for a period of time--"

       "A week, that's all I'm asking," Hoffman said.

       "A week during which she will belong to you as she now belongs to me, to be in your possession and at your disposal twenty-four hours a day, there whenever you want her, obedient to your every whim, punishable whenever the need strikes you, yours to torment and degrade and show off to your friends. . ."

       "Exactly." Hoffman's voice sounded a little hoarse. "Just for one week. That's all I ask. And I would pay you whatever you ask."

       "I don't think so," Rafer said again.

       "Why not? Surely you can spare her for a week. It's not as though you don't have other women to enjoy yourself with. In your position you can--"

       "Exactly," Rafer said. "In my position I can buy just about anything I want. So the financial considerations of your offer do not tempt me. And I'm sure you know the old saying: 'What is it the vintner buys quite so precious as the thing he sells?'"

       "You wouldn't be selling her. Just leasing."

       "The principal is the same," Rafer said.

       Hoffman slumped back in his chair. Rafer took two more cigars from his pocket and offered one to Hoffman, who shook his head. Rafer lit one of the cigars and took another sip of his drink.

       "Of course," he said after a minute. "There are some things money cannot buy. Even mine."

       Hoffman said nothing at first, but then something in Rafer's tone caused him to look over sharply at the other man. "You mean there's something else you want?"

       Rafer exhaled a plume of smoke.

       "Something you would trade even Rita for?"        

       Rafer said nothing.

       "If I can--" Hoffman broke off, then started again, more calmly. "You know, of course, that I have connections in high places. I have a good deal of influence, I know a lot of people. If there's something I can get for you--something I can do--"

       Rafer took another puff on his cigar before he spoke. "I wouldn't even ask, my friend," he said then. "It would be asking a price that you could never bring yourself to pay, even for the delectable Rita. Let us drop the matter and go inside to see what further delights we can persuade the lady to offer us."

       "Wait," Hoffman said. "What do you mean? There is something you'd consider? Look, just tell me what it is. Anything. If I can do it, it's yours. Just tell me."

       "There would be no point," Rafer said. "It is beyond the realm of possibility that you would even begin to consider it. And even my mentioning it might well be injurious to our friendship. And I certainly wouldn't want to risk that. So, as I say. . ."

       "Please," Hoffman said. "Just--just tell me what it is. If I can do it I will. If I can't, I won't. But at least give me the opportunity. Our friendship will remain as it is. And as a friend, I'm asking you. Just give me the chance."

       Rafer finished his drink. Then, slowly, he turned his head to look straight into Hoffman's eyes. There was a small, strange smile on his face.

       "You have a daughter," he said.

                                                 #  

       "You want to fuck me, Tommy?" Cassie Hoffman said. They were in the front seat of Tommy Neilson's car, parked in an out-of-the-way spot in the school parking lot. They had just shared a long, steamy kiss, during which Cassie had allowed his hands to roam over her body to an extent he had never achieved before.

       "Christ, you know I do, baby!" Tommy said. "Just feel this!"

       "I don 't need to feel that. You want to put it inside me, you have to do something for me first."

       "Hell, sure, baby, anything you want. Take off your panties and I'll show you."

       "I don't mean that. You know my friend Delilah, right?"

       "Delilah, sure. She's cute, but she's not a patch on you, baby."                

       "I want you to fuck her."

       "What?": Tommy said.

       "You fuck her and you can fuck me," Cassie said. "All  you want, okay?"

       "Are you fucking kidding me?" Tommy said. "Is this a game or something?"

       "No," Cassie said.

       "But why would you--Anyway, hey, everybody knows that Delilah's a fucking virgin or something. She doesn't even go out with guys."

       "About time that changed, don't you think?"

       "What?" Tommy said.

       Cassie sighed. Then she kissed him again. She kissed him for a long time, lying down as much as she could in the cramped seat and pulling him on top of her, pressing her body against him and pulling up her skirt so she could wrap her legs around his hips. Soon he was panting and gasping against her mouth. She could feel his erection poking at her panties as if trying to puch a hole through them. She squirmed beneath him and thrust her tongue down his throat, and only when she knew he was close to the point of orgasm did she push him away and sit up.

       "Christ!" Tommy said.

       "That's all you get until you fuck Delilah," Cassie told him.

       "Cassie, Jesus! How am I supposed to--she won't even--how can I--"

       "I don't care how," Cassie said. "Any way it takes. Just do it."

       "But--"

       "And if you can't get it done by yourself, take a couple of your buddies with you," Cassie said. "It shouldn't take too many guys to handle one girl, right?"

       Tommy just stared at her.

                                                  #

       Hoffman stared wordlessly at Rafer. He looked stunned. Several moments went by as the two men gazed at each other, unmoving. Finally Rafer shrugged his shoulders and took a puff on his cigar. He started to say something, but then stopped, waiting for the other man to spead first.

       When Hoffman spoke his voice was a barely audible croak. "My daughter?" he said, then paused. "My--Cassie is... she's sixteen."

       "Actually, she's seventeen," Rafer said. "She had a birthday two weeks ago."

       "Oh. Right," Hoffman said, still sounding dazed. "Seventeen."

       "Yes." Rafer took another puff. "She lives alternately with you and her mother, I believe."

       Hoffman nodded.

       "I am partial to young women," Rafer said. "Very young women. Rita is an exception. But adolescent girls are not all that easy to come by, even with my resources. And your daughter is...well. Quite attractive."

       Again there was silence. "I can't believe it," Hoffman said then.

       Rafer nodded. "I did warn you that the suggestion was inappropriate, to say the least. I hope you will forgive my mentioning it. Let us put this discussion behind us and enjoy the remainder of the evening. Just listen to how shrill Rita is getting," he added. "Shall we release her and make her run around the pool again? In her present condition it should be a most stimulating experience."

       Hoffman didn't move. "You want to...you want to use my daughter for--you want to put her in Rita's place?"

       "Just temporarily," Rafer said. "Say an even exchange. You take Rita for a week, as you requested, and I'll take Cassie. With the same guarantee that you offered to me--she will be returned in substantially the same condition...with perhaps a little wear and tear."

       "It's--it's monstrous!" Hoffman said.

       "I don't deny that. But then, we are monsters, aren't we? Men like us. In this case the monstrousness just strikes closer to home for you. And I understand that, of course. I only made the suggestion because you insisted, and I withdraw it completely. Whether we can still be friends is your decision. I certainly hope we can--although I'm sure Rita wishes otherwise," he added with a smile.

       "Jesus," Hoffman said. "Cassie is--I mean, she's only--she's never--she's a virgin, she's--"

       "Oh, no," Rafer said. "You can disabuse yourself of that notion, my friend. Your little girl is no virgin. Far from it. So you wouldn't have to worry on that score."  

       "What are you saying?" Hoffman demanded. "How could you--"

       "Oh, I have my sources of information, as you know. And I make it my business to learn as much as I can about things that interest me. Or people."

       "But Cassie--"

       "Cassie, from what I understand, is one of the most promiscuous girls at her school. She sleeps around indiscriminately, and not only with other students. She seems to have seduced most of the faculty, which is probably how she keeps her grade point average so high. And in addition to that, there are rumors about some rather unusual proclivities that she favors--rumors which interest me immensely. I am sorry to have to disillusion you so bluntly, but perhaps this knowledge might prove to be an influence on your decision."

       "I don't believe it!"

       Rafer shrugged. "Investigate for yourself, my friend. And now we really must go inside. I have to pee rather badly, and I wish to use Rita's lovely mouth as my toilet bowl before I release her for further adventures. Care to join me?"

                                       #

       Delilah never knew who her rapists were. There were three of them, and they wore Halloween masks over their heads. One was Donald Duck, one was Popeye and the third was somebody she didn't recognize. They grabbed her off the street one night as she was coming home from her piano lesson and forced her into the back of a car. They drove her out to the country and parked in a deserted spot. During the drive the two guys in the back with her felt her all over and stripped her clothes off as much as they could. Delilah fought and screamed, but it was no use. They were much too strong for her. When they stopped they dragged her out onto the ground and two of them held her down, easily pinning her twisting, bucking body, while the third, the one who'd been driving, finished stripping her and then forced her legs apart and took her. Nobody heard her screaming and crying and begging. After he was through the other two took their turns. When they finished, one of them said he wanted to fuck her mouth now, but the driver said they had done what they were supposed to do and now he had to get the car back or his father would kill him. But on the way home the one who had wanted to fuck her mouth had done just that in the back seat, holding on to her hair and forcing her to take all of his cock, nearly strangling her until he shot off and forced her to swallow it. They drove her back to where they had picked her up and threw her out.

       Delilah was so deeply ashamed and disturbed by what had happened to her that she couldn't bring herself to tell anyone. She managed to get home and get up to her room without anyone seeing her, and she fell on her bed and cried until she fell asleep, twitching and trembling. She resolved never to say a word about it to anyone, not even her best friend Cassie. But the next day, when she was over at Cassie's house, she got a surprise.

       "So," Cassie said, grinning, when they were alone in her room. "Who was better, Popeye or Donald?"

Delilah went utterly white. For a long minute she couldn't speak as she gaped open-mouthed at her friend.

"You...what...how did..." she choked out finally.

       "I told you you had to lose it sometime, Li," Cassie said. "I thought this was as good a way as any, because now you can  be--"

       "What!!? You...it was...oh my god...you--YOU did this? Cassie? YOU??"

       "Well, I didn't actually do it, but I arranged it, yes."

       Delilah sank down on the bed. She couldn't speak. Tears sprang from her eyes. Then she gave a sudden wild scream and lunged for the other girl, her nails reaching for her face. Cassie caught her wrists and pushed her down, holding her as she struggled, kicking and cursing and sobbing.

       "That's the girl," Cassie said, panting with the exertion of trying to control her friend. "Now you're mad at me, right? Now you want to hurt me? You want to hurt me, Li?"

       "I'll kill you!" Delilah shrieked. "God damn you, how could--ohh Jesus--you rotten filthy bitch! I'll--"

       "Good," Cassie said. She let go of Delilah's wrists and jumped up. Delilah started to go after her, but she was exhausted from her struggle, and she stopped instictively when Cassie put a hand up at her. "Wait," Cassie said. "You can hurt me all you want. All you want, Li. But let's do it right." And she began to strip off her clothes. She was breathing heavily, and it was not entirely due to her recent exertions.

       "Oh my god..." Delilah moaned in a strange voice. "Cassie, what are you--"

       Cassie, naked now, reached for a thick leather belt that she had been wearing around her waist and held it out to her friend. Then she lay down on the bed on her stomach and stretched her arms up, holding on the the rails in the headboard. "All right," she breathed. "Now. Hurt me, Li. Hurt me for what I did to you."

       Delilah stood by the side fo the bed, the belt in her hand. "Oh god," she panted. "Cassie, what--I can't believe--Jesus,    you--"

       "Do it!" Cassie said. "Whip me. You want to hurt me, this is your chance. Think of what I did to you. I got those guys to rape you, okay? I got them to fuck your silly little cunt and take away your precious virginity. I told them to--"

       "Oh Jesus!" Delilah with a wild cry swung her arm back and brought the belt down onto Cassie's back. Cassie cried out.

       "Yes!" she gasped then. "Harder! Do it harder!"

       Delilah, shaking with anger and she knew not what else, did it again, harder. Cassie's cry was louder.

       "More!" she demanded. "Don't stop, you bitch. Hurt me, I'm such a shit, make me scream, come on!"

       Delilah was almost sobbing now. She began to flail at the other girl with the belt, swinging wildly, gasping with rage and hatred and sorrow. The lashes fell on Cassie's buttocks and thighs as well as her back, and Cassie cried out with each one, cries of pleasure mingled with pain. Delilah stopped finally when she could no longer lift her arm, and then fell on the bed, crying exhaustedly.

       Cassie moved rather painfully until she was lying next to her friend, then raised her head to look down at her. She reached to stroke Delilah's hair, then brought her face down and kissed the sobbing, moaning mouth. Delilah, startled, turned her head away. Cassie gently turned it back and kissed her again. Her hands slid slowly over Delilah's breasts. Delilah gasped against her mouth, but didn't move again until Cassie broke the kiss.

       "All right, baby," Cassie murmured. "It's all right. Let me help you now. Let me make you feel better." Her hands went under Delilah's blouse, quickly unfastening her bra. Delilah's eyes widened. She started to say something, but Cassie stopped her. "Just relax, sweetie," she whispered. "This will be good, I swear it. Just let me show you."

       She moved down then, pushing up Delilah's blouse as her mouth slid over her breasts, sucking and licking at first one, then the other, and feeling the nipples slowly stiffen and grow. Her hands worked at the girl's skirt, and as she moved lower she slipped her friend's panties down and off. Delilah was saying something indistinct and her hands were pushing vaguely at Cassie, but her body was reacting. Cassie gently spread Delilah's trembling legs and licked at her inner thigh, then slowly slid her mouth upward. Delilah made a loud hissing sound, and her body arched slightly.

       "Yes," Cassie murmured, her voice muffled. "Just enjoy it, baby."

       And for a long time Delilah did. After a minute her fingers tangled themselves in Cassie's hair, and then she began to squirm. Cassie continued to make little murmuring noises as she worked to pleasure her friend. After Delilah's first orgasm, she did not stop, but she slowly worked herself around on the bed until they were lying in opposite directions, and her crotch was over Delilah's face. She did not force the issue, but after another minute she felt the tentative touch of her friend's mouth, and then her tongue.

       And that was how Cassie's father found them.        

                                             #        

       "So it's true," Hoffman said.

       Delilah had fled, sobbing and mortified, though Hoffman had not said a word to her. Cassie was now wearing a blue terrycloth bathrobe, sitting on her bed. Her father was in a chair by the door.

       "What's true, Daddy?" Cassie said flatly.

       Hoffman shook his head. "I heard things about you," he said slowly. "I heard you were sleeping around. That you were a tramp, actually. I heard you went in for some kinky things. But I didn't hear about you being a dyke."

       "I'm not a dyke, Daddy," Cassie said. "I go mostly for guys, actually. It's just sometimes I like a little variety. You know how that is, don't you, Daddy?"

        Hoffman stiffened. "Don't you get smart with me, girl! You're in a lot of trouble here, in case you don't realize it. I should whip the stuffing out of you for a start!"

       "Is that what you want to do, Daddy?" Cassie said. "That might be fun."

       "Christ, you're a filthy little--Jesus, you're seventeen, for Christ sake! How did you get this way?"
       "I guess I take after you, Daddy."

       "You smart-mouth little bitch, I thought you were--Christ, I thought you were a good girl. A normal girl. Your mother told   me--"

       "Come on, Daddy, you know Mom doesn't know what the hell is going on. You kept her fooled for years."

       "Never mind me, girl. The problem here is you. And how I'm going to deal with this situation."

       "Like you said, Daddy, maybe you should punish me. I think you'd like that, wouldn't you, Daddy? Now that I've got to be a big girl? You saw my body just now. Don't you think it's attractive? Wouldn't you like to hurt it? You like to hurt girls, isn't that right, Daddy? I hear things too, you know. You want to punish me for being bad, Daddy?"

       Hoffman took a long, deep breath. "No," he said then. "Unfortunately, you're my daughter. I can't give you what you deserve." He paused. "But I know someone who can," he said.

                                        #

       Delilah never found out who the boys were who raped her that night, though she had her suspicions. She knew Cassie had been going out with Tommy Neilson, and when she ran into Tommy at school he seemed to grin at her in a suspiciously knowing way. Tommy palled around with Vincent DiStefano, and although Vince didn't give any sign, she thought that one of the rapists had sounded a lot like him. She thought about going to the police, or to someone in authority at school, but she was still too ashamed, and besides, she didn't really know it was them. After a while she began to notice, or to think she noticed, other boys looking at her in strange ways, hiding secret smiles or looking her up and down more boldly than they normally would. She began to wonder if the rapists had spread the story around, had bragged about having her, and now maybe the whole school knew. She couldn't be sure of this, she could never bring hersefl to ask anybody, not even her friends. But as time went on she found herself scrutinizing the face of every boy she saw, trying to determine if he was looking at her strangely, or lustfully, as though he knew what had happened to her and was picturing it in his mind, picturing her being stripped and taken and degraded...

       More and more she was sure that the whole school knew, and she couldn't look the boys in the face anymore. She walked around with her head down and her books clasped to her chest, and avoided talking to anyone as much as possible. She couldn't think of anything else, couldn't concentrate on anything but the recollection of that night and the thought that she was now an object of ridicule and derision. And lust. Her appetite fell off, and her schoolwork suffered. She had always been a good student, her grades had been among the highest in the school, but now they began to go down. Down and down.

       Then one day Mr. Grenville, her algebra teacher, asked her to stay after class. When the other students had left, he closed the classroom door and went and sat behind his desk, looking at Delilah as she sat in her usual seat in the front row. Did he know too? Delilah thought. Did everybody know, even the teachers? Was there no end to her shame?

       "Delilah," Mr. Grenville began, "I've been very surprised by the way your work has been falling off of late."

       Delilah said nothing.

       "You were one of my brightest pupils," the teacher continued. "But now suddenly you don't seem to care anymore. You're not applying yourself, your homework is sloppy, your test grades are...mediocre. Can you tell me why that is, Delilah?"

       Delilah said nothing. When the teacher continued to wait for an answer, she just shook her head.

       Mr. Grenville frowned. "The thing is, Delilah, if your work doesn't improve very quickly and very markedly, you're on track to fail this class," he said. "Are you aware of that?"

       "I--" Delilah said. "I--I can't--I don't--"

       "I don't think you want to fail the class, Delilah," Mr. Grenville said. "I don't think you want to spoil your very good academic record that way, do you? It would make it much harder for you to get into a good college, and I'm sure your parents would--What's the matter?"

       Delillah had started to cry. Her tears were not simply a reaction to what her teacher was saying; they went much deeper than that. But Mr. Grenville did not know this. He found her reaction even more promising than he had hoped.

       "Don't cry, Delilah," he said. He sat up straighter in his chair and leaned forward. "Don't cry," he said again. "There might be a way we can work it out. Okay? There might be a way we can make it all right."

       Delilah struggled to stop her tears. "What--what do you mean?" she sniffled.

       "I mean that if you really want to, you can avoid failing the class. You can even get yourself a high grade. You know what I'm saying, Delilah?"

       Delilah shook her head.

       "I think you do," her teacher said. "Like your friend Cassie. You are friendly with Cassie Hoffman, aren't you, Delilah? Cassie seems to have dropped out of school, incidentally. Do you know what's happened to her?"

       Delilah was staring at him. What did he mean? Like Cassie? Did he want--did he expect--

       But of course he did. She was Cassie's friend. She had been raped. She had been dishonored. She was a slut.

       A slut.

       "No," she said faintly. "I don't--she's not--I don't know what--"

       "That's a shame," Mr. Grenville said. "Cassie was a fine girl. Not a great student, but--but a fine, outgoing girl. We had a sort of arrangement, Cassie and I. And Cassie always got good marks in my class. Perhaps you know about that."

       "No," Delilah said. But of course she did. Cassie had made no secret to her of the fact that she kept her grades up by having sex with some of her teachers. Mr. Grenville wasn't the only one. And it wasn't only male teachers either. There was at least one female instuctor with whom she had the same arrangement. Cassie's sexual voraciousness knew no bounds. Delilah felt shame when she thought of what she and Cassie had been doing when Cassie's father found them. How could she have done that? Yes, she was a slut. A worthless, ruined slut.

       "Cassie was...very nice to me," Mr. Grenville said. "Very...accommodating. You know what I mean, Delilah?" Delilah said nothing. "And I'm sure you could be too," he went on. "If you wanted to. You're very pretty, Delilah. And you wouldn't have to worry about failing. You wouldn't have to worry about anything."

       Still she said nothing. She felt sick. But she couldn't help feeling that she deserved this. As the slut she was, she deserved being put in this position. She was no better than Cassie. She'd been had by men and women too. Yes, the boys had forced her, but, she thought, maybe she could have fought harder. Maybe she could have put up more of a struggle. Anyway, Cassie hadn't forced her. She had let Cassie do it, she'd even liked it. She was as dirty as Cassie. Dirty and degraded. So why not? she thought. What could be worse than what she had already done? How could she sink lower than she was now? A ruined, worthless slut...

       Mr. Grenville was watching her closely. After a minute he got up from his chair, moved slowly around his desk and approached her as she sat there. As he got closer he reached for the zipper on his pants and slowly pulled it down. Standing directly in front of her, he pulled out his cock, which was semi-hard. Delilah didn't move. "Sweet Delilah," he said, and put his hands in her hair and pulled her head down gently, guiding her mouth to his cock.

       Delilah made a sound that could have been either a gasp or a sob as she opened her mouth and took him in. Mr. Grenville groaned loudly and pulled her head down further. Delilah closed her mouth around him and submitted to his maneuverings as he proceeded to move her head up and down with his hands clutched tightly in her hair. She continued to suck him that way until he came, and as she did so the tears ran steadily down her cheeks.

                                            #

       Rita sat beside Hoffman in the front seat of his car. She was wrapped in a voluminous robe that covered almost all of her body and hid the fact that she was naked beneath it, with her hands bound behind her, and that she was tightly trussed up with rope from her calves to her shoulders. The rope wound around and around her body, sinking into her flesh, crushing her legs together, constricting her stomach, compressing her breasts, wound so cruelly tight it was hard for her to breathe. That difficulty was compounded by the fact that her mouth was filled to bursting with an inflatable rubber gag which kept her jaws widely distended and was held in place with strong tape. A scarf around her neck had been discreetly arranged to cover the lower part of her face, so that the gag too was hidden from sight.

       "I'm really looking forward to this next week, Rita," Hoffman said. "Oh, we're going to have such fun, you and I. Well, I am, anyway. You can't imagine the fun I'm going to have. The things I have in store for you."

       A tiny muffled whimper came from the stopped-up mouth.

       Hoffman smiled. He took one hand off the wheel and reached forward to press in the old-fashioned cigarette lighter on the dashboard of the car. But he made no move to produce a cigarette or a cigar. Rita looked over at him fearfully.

       "You know, a lot of cars don't have these handy little gadgets anymore," he remarked. "What with the decline in smoking and all. But I still find it useful now and again. Let me show you what I mean, Rita." After a moment the lighter gave a little click as it popped out again, and Hoffman reached for it, pulling it out all the way. Rita shrank back a little as he contemplated the glowing red tip of the lighter, but there was not much room for her to move. Hoffman smiled again. With the hand that held the lighter he reached out and found the opening at the front of her robe. His hand went beneath it, finding her leg, his fingers searching for a space between the tightly wound ropes large enough for the lighter to insert itself. He found one high on the inside of her left thigh. Rita was shaking her head and whimpering frantically. Hoffman carefully maneuvered the tip of the lighter between the ropes and pressed it firmly into the trembling flesh, holding it there. The convulsive stiffening and jerking of her body, along with the muffled, high-pitched wail of agony that came through the stifling gag made his cock throb painfully and strain against his pants. He held the lighter where it was long enough for it to begin to cool off, then removed it and replaced it in its holder. Then he put both hands on the wheel and pressed down harder on the accelerator. He couldn't wait to get home.

                                               #

       "Who the hell are you?" Cassie said. She was standing in Rafer's living room just as her father had delivered her, with her hands cuffed behind her back and her ankles hobbled with a short rope that allowed her to take only very short, careful steps. She was dressed in a plain blue blouse and a short dark skirt.

       "Who am I?" Rafer said. "This is who I am." And he drove his fist with all his strength into the pit of her stomach.

       Cassie fell down to her knees, and then toppled onto her side. Her mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. That mouth opened still wider, her body jerking and straining as she attempted to take in some of the air that had been knocked out of her, but to no avail. Her face began to turn blue before she was finally able to force air into her throat with terrible rasping gasps, her breasts heaving. Her body continued to spasm, writhing now against the floor, rolling back and forth, her legs kicking in such a way that caused her skirt to ride far up on her thighs. Her gasping, panting mouth now emitted painful moaning sounds with each exhalation.

       Rafer watched the squirming body for a long minute. Then he reached down, tangled the fingers of one hand in her hair and pulled sharply upward, forcing her to her feet that way and bringing a scream of agony from her throat. He then pulled her hair sharply back and down, eliciting another scream as her head snapped back, her throat going taut with the strain as she was forced to look up at him.

       "This is who I am, bitch," he said again, and mashed his mouth down on hers.

       Still pulling on her hair, he jammed his lips hard against her gasping, moaning mouth, muffling the sounds she was making, while his free hand roamed her body, traveling over her ass, going between her legs and squeezing her there, then rising to her breasts. Roughly he kneaded first one, then the other, then settled on the right one, clasping it and twisting it as hard as he could, while she cried out into his mouth. Finally he released her and thrust her away from him, and as she stumbled back he raised his right hand and slapped her very forcefully across the face. The rope caught at her ankles and she fell down again, landing hard on her pinioned arms.

       "That's who I am," Rafer said.

       Cassie rolled over and with some difficulty got to her knees. "Oh my god!" she gasped out, between heaving breaths. There was a strange light in her eyes. "Why didn't you say so?" She moved toward him then, on her knees, although the hobbling ankle rope and her inability to use her hands made it a slow progress. But she moved to him, and when she was at his feet she nuzzled her face into his crotch, her still panting mouth finding the outlines of his cock through his trousers.

       "Do it again," she said.

                                            #

       The second time Delilah stayed after class, Mr. Grenville fucked her on his desk. She didn't enjoy it, but as before she felt it was what she deserved. Mr. Grenville enjoyed it though. When he was finished he told her how much he had enjoyed it. Then he told her what would make him enjoy it even more.

       "Did Cassie tell you what we used to do, Delilah?" he asked her.

       "No," Delilah said, lying again. Cassie had told her everything.

       "Cassie used to let me hit her with my belt," the teacher said. He was watching her carefully, but she showed no reaction. "Cassie used to like that," he went on. "She liked it a lot." He paused. "Do you think you might like that, Delilah?"

       No, she thought. But what did that matter? She deserved to be hurt, didn't she? She deserved to be punished for what she was. "I don't know," she said.

       "Why don't we find out?" Mr. Grenville said. "Turn over, Deliliah." He reached down to his pants, which were crumpled around his ankles, and slowly pulled his belt out of the loops.

                                             #

       "This is it," Hoffman said as he unlocked his front door. He had removed the ropes binding Rita's legs, to allow her to walk, which she did very stiffly and painfully. He had removed the gag too, but beneath the robe her arms were still tied behind her. "This will be your home for the next week, Rita. It's not as grand as what you're used to, I'm afraid. I'm not as rich as Hoffman is. I don't have a swimming pool. I don't have a patio. But don't worry. I'll do my best to treat you every bit as well as he does." He ushered her in and closed the door behind them. "Take that thing off," he said.

       The robe was loosely tied and wrapped, but with her pinioned arms Rita still had to struggle a bit to work it off her body. It finally fell to the floor, and Hoffman surveyed her familiar voluptuous nakedness with a glint in his eyes that brought a tiny whimpering sound from her throat. Hoffman heard it and smiled. He reached down between her legs, his fingers finding the spot on her thigh where he had burned her with the cigarette lighter and pressing it hard. Her cry of pain and the quick flinching of her body made his smile grow wider.

       "A whole week," he mumured. "I have you all to myself for a whole week. It's just too delicious. But I have something for you, Rita. Come with me." Taking one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger and pulling on it, he led her that way out of the room and up a flight of stairs to his bathroom, Rita gasping all the way.

       "This will be your room," Hoffman said. "I'm sure you'll find the accommodations...stimulating. You and I will have some good times in here, Rita. Among other places. But let me show you how comfortable it is. Lie down, girl. On the floor. On your back. Get down."

       Slowly, awkwardly, Rita lowered herself to her knees. From there she allowed herself to topple onto her side, then straightened her legs and rolled onto her back, lying on her bound arms. The position made her body arch slightly, as if offering itself up to him.

       "That's fine," Hoffman said, standing over her. "That's fine, Rita. Just stay still now." He unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. "This is what I have for you, Rita," he said. "I've been saving it up for you all day." And he began to urinate on her.

       Rita knew better than to try to roll away. She stayed as she was, merely closing her eyes as the stream of his piss moved up and down her body. Hitting her breasts, her stomach, her crotch, her legs. Moving up again.

       "No, open your eyes, Rita," Hoffman said. "I want to piss in them."

       Rita opened her eyes.

       "And your mouth," Hoffman said.

       Rita opened that too.

       Hoffman pissed into it. Rita swallowed what she could and choked on the rest, but she didn't move. He pissed into her eyes. And in her hair, and all over her face. He pissed on her for a long time, and when he stopped he put his cock back and zipped himself up, looking down at her sodden figure. Much of his piss had rolled or splashed off her, making little yellow puddles on the floor.

       "Look at this mess," Hoffman said. "It's disgusting. I want you to clean it up, Rita. All of it. I will come back in an hour, and I expect to find this place spotless. Absolutely immaculate. If I don't you will be one very sorry young lady. Do you understand me, Rita?"

       Rita nodded wordlessly.

       "Use your tongue," Hoffman said. Then he went out and locked the door behind him.

                                                 #

       "Harder!" Cassie screamed. She was hanging in the middle of Rafer's living room, stark naked, her arms pulled high above her head, wrists bound by a rope attached to an exposed beam in the ceiling. Her toes barely touched the floor. Her body was taut and straining. Rafer was standing in front of her, holding one of her nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, crushing and twisting them cruelly. Her body twisted and writhed, her toes coming off the floor, legs jerking, all her weight on her straining arms as Rafer pulled at the tortured nubbins, turning his hands this way and that as viciously as he could, but the sounds that came from her were not primarily sounds of pain. The pain was there, distinctly, unmistakably there, but it was subsumed by an equally unmistakable joy, agony transmuting itself into ecstasy, and the harder Rafer pulled and twisted, the more intensely she seemed to enjoy it.

       'Harder!" she howled again, her voice hoarse, her hanging body contorting so violently that she seemed on the verge of orgasm. Rafer suddenly let go of her nipples and stepped back from her, cursing. Cassie's body stopped twisting and she hung limp, her head falling back, panting harshly through her open mouth. "More," she gasped weakly.

       "Damn you, you bitch," Rafer said angrily. HIs breathing was also heavy. "What the hell is wrong with you, you sick little slut?" He raised his hand then and slashed it hard across her breast, bringing a sharp cry from her. Without pausing he backhanded her across the other breast, and then continued to slap her there with all his strength, forward and back, again and again, making little grunting noises as he did so.

       Cassie's cries turned into words. "Yes!" she howled with each slap across her heaving, hard-nippled breasts. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

       And then she came.

                                         #

       Delilah screamed as the belt came down across her ass. She was lying face down across Mr. Grenville's desk, and she clutched at the edges of it until her knuckles were white. Mr. Grenville paused. She could hear his rapid breathing, but he just stood there for a moment, as if waiting to see what her reaction would be. It felt like there was a line of fire across her backside, and she wanted to plead with him to stop, to beg him not to hit her again. But she was a slut, and she knew she deserved to be punished, so she said nothing.

       "Try not to scream, Deliliah," Mr. Grenville said in a hoarse voice. "Probably no one can hear you now, but we don't want to take chances." And then he raised the belt and brought it down again. This blow was harder than the first, and Delilah couldn't stop herself from screaming again.

       "Cassie used to scream too," Mr. Grenville panted. "But that was because she loved it. Sometimes I had to stuff her panties in her mouth to muffle her screams. Maybe I should do that with you." He picked up Delilah's discarded panties from where they lay on the floor and moved around to stand in front of her. His cock was hard again. Very hard. "On the other hand," he said, dropping the panties,  "maybe I'll use this instead." And taking hold of her hair to hold her head still, he pushed his cock into her moaning mouth.

       Deliliah did her best to suck it as he moved it in and out, fucking her face. If she pleased him that way maybe he wouldn't punish her with the belt anymore. Even though she knew she deserved anything he did to her.

                                           #

       Hoffman awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of Rita's moans. Even before he opened his eyes he smiled at the thought of what he would see when he did. He rolled onto his back and let them open slowly. There was not much light in the room, but he could see her well enough. Rita was hanging naked at the foot of his bed in the form of an X, her arms and legs spread tautly, wrists and ankles bound tightly to the tall bedposts at the corners. There were nipple clamps on each of her breasts, and more clamps on her pussy lips and on her clitoris. Her hair was clamped and fastened to a rope that hung from the ceiling, pulling her head erect and keeping her body from sagging in its bonds. Hoffman's smile grew wider and his cock grew stiff. He thought of how pleasant it would be to take her that way, right now, in all that pain, maybe go around behind her and fuck her in the ass. But no, he decided, he was too comfortable to get up right now. It could wait till the morning.

       "Rita," he said. "Stop that noise."

       Rita stopped moaning immediately. But her heavy, rapid breathing was still loud in the room, much as she tried to control it.

       "If you wake me up again with that moaning and groaning, you'll regret it," Hoffman said. "Tomorrow night I'll make it even worse. Understand, Rita?"

       With her hair pulled tightly as it was, Rita couldn't even nod. But she made an inarticulate sound of assent. Hoffman turned over and went back to sleep.

                                                #

       "Girl, you are one screwed-up little cunt," Rafer said to Cassie. He had taken her down and she was sitting across from him in a chair, her hands tied behind her. "The more I hurt you the more you like it. What is your problem, girl?"

       Cassie shrugged. "That's the way I am," she said, looking him in the eye. "Pain turns me on. Always has. Nobody's complained before, though."

       "Well, I'm complaining," Rafer said. "I didn't bargain with your father for you in order to make you happy. You're supposed to be punished, and I'm a man who likes punishing girls. If the girl enjoys it, what the hell is the point?"

       Cassie shrugged again. "Sorry about that," she said, almost saucily.

       "Well, maybe you will be," Rafer said. "There must be some way to get to you. Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough. I told your father I wouldn't do any permanent damage, but that still leaves me a lot of room. Ever had a cigar put out on your tits?"

       "You're making me hot again," Cassie said. "Bring it on."

       "Watch your mouth, you bitch." Rafer scowled. "Everybody has limits. Everybody has something they can't stand. Or something they're afraid of. What are you afraid of, girl? Mice? Rats? Dogs? Snakes?"

       "Hell, no," Cassie said. "I'm not afraid of anything. You can't do anything to make me suffer, so you might as well just enjoy me."

       "Fuck you," Rafers said disgustedly. "I can't enjoy you if I can't punish you. I might as well give you back to your father. Or toss you out on the street. Or maybe just drown you like an unwanted puppy."

       For just a moment something flickered in Cassie's eyes. It was a quick flash and then it was gone, but Rafer caught it. "What?" he said.

       "What what?" Cassie said coolly.

       "What was that?"

       "What was what?"

       Rafer thought back to what he'd said. "Drowning you? Is that what it was? Cassie?"

       "I don't know what you're talking about," Cassie said. But the thing was back in her eyes again. Just for a moment. There and gone.

       Rafer stood up, "Come with me," he said. He reached for her arm, pulled her to her feet and led her to the back of the house, then outside, onto the patio. He felt her try to pull away, but he kept his grip on her and moved her with him toward the swimming pool. As they got closer to the pool her resistance increased, but Rafer pulled her nearly to the edge.

       "No!" she cried suddenly, and jerked herself away from him in a kind of panic, backing up. "No! No! No!"

       "Aha," Rafer said.   

                                              #

       Mr. Thomas, her English instructor, kept Delilah after class the next day. Delilah guessed what was coming, and she felt sick. Mr. Thomas was in his fifties, short and fat and largely bald. The thought of doing anything with him made her stomach turn over. But it never entered her mind to say no. She felt she could never say no to anybody again.

       After the other students had left, Mr. Thomas went to the classroom door and locked it. Delilah began to tremble, but she said nothing. Mr. Thomas then came over and sat down in the chair next to her. He smiled at her, but his eyes glittered in a way that made the smile ominous. He came right to the point.

       "I hear you're taking Cassie's place, Delilah, is that right?" Mr. Thomas said.

       "I...I don't...I mean..."

       "I know all about it, Delilah," Mr. Thomas said. "I've been told on good authority. Cassie has evidently dropped out, but you're her friend and you're very friendly, that's what I hear Just like her." Slowly he reached out and put a hand on her leg. "Are you friendly, Delilah?"

       "I...I guess so," Delilah whispered. She couldn't look at him.

       "Cassie was a very bad girl," Mr. Thomas murmured, his hand moving up her thigh, under her skirt. "Are you a bad girl, Delilah?"

       Delilah swallowed. "Yes," she said, very low. "Yes I am."

       Mr. Thomas leaned toward her. "Bad girls get fucked in the ass, Delilah," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

       Delilah looked at him then, staring. She was trembling harder. "I...you mean..."

       "Haven't you ever been fucked in the ass, Delilah?" Mr. Thomas asked.

       She shook her head.

       "Oh, you don't know what you're missing," Mr. Thomas said. His voice was changing now, becoming harsher. "Cassie loved to be fucked in the ass. I bet you'll love it too. All whores love to be fucked in the ass. Cassie was a whore, and you, her friend, you're a whore too. Right, Delilah?"

       "I..." There were tears in her eyes. "I'm...I don't know..."

       "Sure you do. You know you're a whore. Say it, Delilah." His hand was at her crotch now. His fingers slid under her panties and probed at her vagina. Delilah gave a small cry. "Say it, girl. You're a whore, aren't you?"

       "Yes..." she whispered.

       "Say it."

       "I...I'm a whore," Delilah said. She was crying, but after all, the truth was the truth. "I'm a whore," she choked out again.

       "Okay, whore." Mr. Thomas removed his hand from her skirt and stood up. "Get your clothes off and bend over that desk. Hurry up."

       And Delilah obeyed.

                                            #

         The next morning Hoffman kept his promise to himself and fucked Rita from behind, just as she was, spread-eagled at the foot of his bed. She looked so horribly anguished after hanging there all night that he decided to leave her there when he went to work. Rita couldn't keep herself from begging him to let her down, even if only for a few minutes, just to let her go to the bathroom. She badly needed to use the bathroom, she pleaded. Hoffman listened to her pleas for some time. They made him hard again, but he refused to take her down. He told her he would be gone all day, and that she had better hold it in. He told her that if he found she had made a mess on his floor, any kind of mess, while he was gone, he would punish her very severely. He described some of the things he would do to her, in detail. Then he left.

       When he got home that evening, somewhat to his surprise, there was no mess. But Rita was nearly out of her mind. As soon as she saw him she began to beg, The begging was nearly incoherent, broken up by sobs and moans and cries of agony and sounds that were indescribable, sounds that might have been screams except that she was too weak to scream, so they came out as gurgles or rasps or terrible choking noises. And of course it made him hard again. He considered fucking her, but decided that in her condition that might have unfortunate consequences. So he left her there, enjoying the frantic sounds of her suffering as he changed unhurriedly from his business suit into a comfortable dressing gown. Then finally he took her down. He cut her feet free first, allowing her to get a purchase on the floor before releasing her hands, but when he had done that she could not stand up. Her legs were too stiff and weak and painful to hold her, and she collapsed in a heap. Somehow, though, she managed to get herself onto her hands and knees and immediately began to crawl, as fast as she could, yet with painful slowness and obvious torment, toward the bathroom. Every move made her cry out, but she forced herself onward. Hoffman followed her.

       He followed her right into the bathroom and watched without offering to help as with great difficulty she pulled herself up onto the toilet and got herself seated. Immediately, with a great sobbing cry, she began to relieve herself. The unmistakable sounds of urination and defecation mingled with her moans and her heavy rapid breath.

       Hoffman moved toward her then, parting his dressing gown. Standing in front of her as she continued to do her business, he brought his very stiff cock close to her open, panting mouth. "Suck me, bitch," he demanded. Rita, with a terrible sob but without stopping what she was doing, leaned forward and took him in, and he fucked her face until he came down her throat.

       "God, you're disgusting," Hoffman said as he pulled away from her. "You're lower than a pig, Rita, did you know that, you slime-sucking cunt? And to prove it, here's what you're going to do when you finish pissing and shitting your guts out. You''re not going to flush this toilet, Rita. You hear me? You're going to clean it out by eating and drinking everything that's in there. And then licking it clean. I want that bowl to be shining, Rita. Clean and shining. You got that?"

       Rita nodded, sobbing. The sounds of her voiding herself were still going on, but lessening now, and finally they stopped. Rita continued to sob and moan, and her breasts heaved with her heavy, irregular breathing. Hoffman sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "Go ahead, Rita," he said. "I'll stay and watch, just to see that you do a good job and don't cheat or anything." When Rita hesitated, he smiled at her. "You want to be persuaded, Rita, is that it?" he said softly. "I'd enjoy persuading you, if that's what you want."

       Rita made a sound and shook her head. She slid herself painfully off the toilet and went to her knees. She lifted the ring of the seat to better access the porcelain bowl. As she looked into it she made a little retching noise.

       "Don't forget to wipe yourself, Rita, you filthy pig cunt," Hoffman said.

       Rita reached for the roll of toilet paper on the side of the commode, tore some off and wiped herself with it. Then she hesitated.

       "Into the toilet, Rita," Hoffman said.

       Rita dropped the paper in the toilet. Hoffman waited. Rita swallowed hard. Then she slowly lowered her head into the bowl. Her long hair fell into the water, and she quickly tried to brush it back. "No hands, Rita," Hoffman said, and she let it go. She hesitated for another moment, then with a tiny whimper she plunged her face into the foul water.

       She then proceeded to obey Hoffman's orders as best she could. She ate what was in there. Her head rose and fell again and again as she came up for air, gasping and retching and forcing herself to swallow, gasping and retching some more, and then plunging back in. She ate the soiled toilet paper, and she swallowed her turds. All of them. It took her a long time. Once, early on, she vomited into the bowl, and Hoffman made her eat that too. She retched constantly after that, but somehow kept herself from actually throwing up. When the solid matter was gone she drank the remaining water until it was gone too. Then she licked out the entire bowl with her tongue, until Hoffman was satisfied that it was clean.

       When she finished she fell back onto the floor, still retching, her face dripping, her hair wet and foul, her whole body heaving as she gasped for breath. Hoffman was hard again. He picked her up and, lowering the seat, laid her over the toilet bowl face down and proceeded to fuck her violently in the ass.

                                         #

       Rafer and Cassie, both naked, were standing in Rafer's large, elaborate swimming pool. They were midway between the shallow and the deep ends, the water coming nearly to Cassie's chin. Rafer was holding on to Cassie's long dark hair, and Cassie was moaning and crying.

       "No more," she pleaded breathlessly, her body shaking badly. "Please. Please no more, please. Oh god please, I'll do anything, please!"

       "I'm sure you will, Cassie," Rafer said. "But what could you possibly do that would please me more than this?" And he pulled hard at her hair, so that her face was forced down into the water, and held her there. Cassie panicked immediately. Her body thrashed frenziedly, arms and legs flailing. After a few moments she got her feet under her again and tried desperately to push herself up, but Rafer held her under the water with his hand in her hair, pulling her head back so that he could look down at her twisted, frantic face. Her eyes bulged with fear and horror as her struggles continued, but only when they began to weaken and she could no longer hold her breath did he pull her up, choking and coughing out water as she fought to get air into her lungs. His grip on her hair did not slacken.

       As soon as she could breathe she tried to plead with him again, but she was shaking so hard and still choking and coughing to such a degree that her words were incoherent, though the sense of them was clear enough. Rafer smiled at her.

       "You know that your father charged me with punishing you, Cassie," he said. "That's why he brought you to me. Well, that and because I had something to give him in return. But the purpose was to punish you for being such a promiscuous and immoral young slut. Now I am not inexperienced in punishing women, but you make it very difficult, as what most women would consider punishment you seem to consider pleasure. Pain has no horrors for you; you like it. You enjoy being tortured, perverse bitch that you are. And the worse it hurts the better it is for you. Pain, degradation, torment--apparently you love it all. So in order to truly punish you I have to find something you don't like. Something that does horrify you. And now it seems I've found it. So you can't really blame me for taking advantage of that, can you?"

       "No, god, please, no more, please, I can't..." Cassie was sobbing now, still shaking. "Please, anything you want, please god please stop please..."

       "We haven't even started, Cassie," Rafer said, and ducked her under again.

       This time when he brought her up she tried another tack. After she had stopped choking and coughing and spitting water, she turned to face him, disregarding the pull of his hand in her hair, and pressed her body to his, plastering her breasts and loins tightly against him and raising her face to his, kissing him on the mouth. Small moans and frightened whimpers still escaped from her as she moved herself against him, her tongue probing between his lips. Rafer let her kiss him for a long moment, planting his feet apart so the pressure of her body would not upset his balance, before pulling her face away by tugging on her hair.

       "That's very nice, Cassie, but you don't think that's really going to help you, do you?" Rafer said. "I can have that luscious young body of yours any time I want it, as I'm sure you're aware. And I will. So you can't really think that offering yourself to me now will mitigate your punishment in the slightest. You're far more intelligent than that."

       Cassie began to sob again.

       "However," Rafer went on, "since you seem so anxious to offer me sexual pleasure, I will allow you to do so. This time, while you're down there--" Cassie gave a small cry of terror, but he ignored it-- "I want you to take my cock in your mouth and suck on it."

       Cassie gasped and stared wildly at him, her face pale. Her head was shaking from side to side, as if of its own volitiion. "Please..." she got out, her voice hardly audible. "God, please, I can't, please..."

       "Sure you can," Rafer said. "And you will, if you want me to let you up again. Just take me in your mouth and start sucking, and if you can make me come before you drown, we'll stop. For now. That's a fair offer, isn't it?" And before she could say anything more he pulled down on her hair again, plunging her deep under the water. Using both hands this time, he pushed at her head until it was level with his crotch. Her body flailed again, wildly thrashing about, her hands clutching at him in a desperate effort to pull herself back up, but he held her effortlessly and pulled her face against his groin. His cock was semi-hard. He rubbed it against her tightly compressed lips, and after another moment of mindless sturggle he felt those lips open just enough to admit his growing erection, and then close hurriedly around it. It grew harder as he felt the spasmic quivering of her mouth around his flesh, and he could even imagine that he heard her drowned and smothered moans of terror as he began slowly to fuck her face under the water.

                                          #

       The word about Delilah having replaced Cassie as the faculty slut seemed to spread like wildfire. Delilah thought she had known about most, if not all, of Cassie's sexual exploits, but she was amazed to find how many of the teachers her friend had been sleeping with. Even some of those she had seduced in previous semesters but no longer had classes with, she had continued to fuck, evidently just for the fun of it. And her favors had not been limited to male teachers. Miss Harvey, a tall red-haired woman in her late thirties, who taught Art Appreciation, was the next faculty member to approach Delilah. Delilah soon found herself on the couch in Miss Harvey's office, doing to her what she had started to do with Cassie when Cassie's tather found them, although she wasn't turned on, as she had been then, in spite of herself. But she did it, tears rolling down her face all the time. It was as though she were doing penance.

                                      #

       Hoffman, with Rita beside him, drove through narrow, potholed streets in the most rundown part of town. They passed boarded-up store fronts, husks of burned-out buildings, abandoned, trash-strewn lots. For the most part the only people to be seen were obvious derelicts, some shambling aimlessly along the sidewalks, some sitting or lying on the ground. Some were unconscious or asleep, a few were drinking from bottles wrapped in paper bags, or out in the open. Hoffman slowed as they passed an alleyway in which, a few yards down, two men in torn, raggedy garments were sitting on the ground, leaning against the back of a building near a couple of overflowing garbage cans. They looked as though they were sleeping. Hoffman turned into the alley; it was barely wide enough to admit the car. He drove slowly down the alley until he reached the two men, then stopped. "These men look like they could use some pleasant recreation, don't you think?" he said to Rita.

       Rita said nothing. For a moment she looked as though she was about to plead with him, but then her expression showed that she knew it would be of no use, and she remained quiet.

       Hoffman turned off the engine and gave two quick blasts on the horn. The sound reverberated loudly in the narrow alley and startled the two men, who woke and stared at the car as if they were still dreaming. Hoffman rolled down his window and beckoned to them.

       One of the men slowly got to his feet and shambled over to the car. He was dirty-looking, unshaven and wild-haired. It was hard to tell his age, but he might have been in his early forties. He was short and pot-bellied, and he scratched at his stomach as he approached Hoffman's window. The other man, equally unkempt, now started to get up also. He looked a little younger than the first man, and thinner, but noticeably dirtier, and he had a squint in one eye.

       "Congratulations, gentlemen," Hoffman said, smiling at them. "You men are the lucky winners of today's grand prize."

       The first man stared at him uncomprehendingly. His bleary eyes widened a little as he saw Rita sitting next to him. "Huh?" he grunted. The other man, standing now, a little unsteadily, called out, "Hey, mister, you got any spare change? Help a fella out?"

       "I can do better than that," Hoffman said. "As I said, you guys are lucky winners, and I am here to give you your reward. Rita, show them what they've won."

       Rita hesitated. As before, she looked like she wanted to say something, but decided against it. After a moment she opened the door on her side of the car and got out. She was wearing a simple yellow dress, short enough and snug enough to show off her rather spectacular figure. She moved around the front of the car so that she could be fully seen by the two men, and stood there quietly. Her expression was a mixture of apprehension and resignation. The two men stared at her.

       "This is your prize, gentlemen," Hoffman said. "She is yours to enjoy, right here, right now. What do you say?"

       The first man simply continued to stare, his mouth falling open. The second man after a moment grinned hugely. Several of his teeth were missing, the rest yellow and crooked. "Shit," he croaked out. "You gotta be kidding, mister."

       "Not at all," Hoffman said. He looked around to see that they were not being observed from either end of the alley. "Rita, take off the dress."

       Rita, with no change of expression except for a slight tightening of her lips, pulled up the dress and slipped it off over her head. She wasn't wearing anything under it.

       Both men made noises of surprise and disbelief. "Jesus Christ!" the second one said. The first one was breathing audibly. Both of them stood as though petrified, their eyes glued to the naked body. Rita stared straight ahead, not looking at them.

       "Get in the car, Rita," Hoffman said. "In the back." Rita moved to the rear door of the car, opened it and got in.

       "All right, guys, which of you wants to go first?" Hoffman said.

       For a moment neither of them spoke. The first man was still standing as if poleaxed, his mouth open. "Shit, I will!" the second man said finally, and lurched toward the car. He got into the back with Rita, who didn't look at him. He began awkwardly to pull off his ragged garments.

       "Help him, Rita," Hoffman said.

       Rita helped him. When he was naked he threw himself at her and bore her down to the seat. She didn't resist.

       "Kiss him,  Rita," Hoffman said.

       Rita threw him a glance. What he saw there made him smile. "Kiss him good," he told her.

       Rita put her arms around the naked derilict's neck and pulled his face down to hers. She made a sound of disgust as she did so, but she kissed him. She pressed her mouth against his scabbed, slobbering lips and held it there. At another word from Hoffman, she opened her mouth and slipped her tongue between the man's lips. Little whimpering sounds came from her throat, but she didn't break the kiss until Hoffman told her to help the man, who had pushed his way between her legs and was now fumbling at her crotch, trying to find her with his very hard penis. She reached down and grasped him, then guided him to her. Her sobbing cry was almost drowned out by his loud groan as he pushed his way inside her.

       "Make it good for him, Rita," Hoffman said. "Fuck him good. Put your legs around him."

       Rita obeyed. She continued to sob as she did so. She wrapped her legs around the tramp's waist and her body moved strongly beneath him, moving up and down, imparting a forced rhythm to his erratic strokes. The man was gasping and emitting cries of pleasure and disbelief. He didn't last long. He shouted as he came inside her, then collapsed on top of her, panting for breath. Rita turned her face away to avoid his foul breath. She was still sobbing.

       "Jesus!" the man said. "Holy shit! That was...Jesus!"

       "You want to do it again?" Hoffman asked him.

       "Hey, what about me?" the other tramp protested. He had been watching his friend through the car window, his eyes wide, his mouth open. Little bubbles of saliva trickled from the corners of his lips.

       "You'll have your turn," Hoffman told him. "Don't worry. Isn't that right, Rita?"

       Rita moaned.

       "Rita?"

       "Yes," Rita got out.

       "Tell him."

       Rita  raised her damp eyes to the second man. "You'll have your turn," she said brokenly.

       "So what do you say, buddy?" Hoffman said to the first man. "You want to go again?"

       "Hell, yeah!" he responded. "Don't know if I can though." His cock had slipped out of Rita's pussy and was hanging limp, shiny with traces of semen and other effluvia.

       "Rita will see that you can," Hoffman said. "Rita is very good at that. Aren't you, Rita?"

       "Please," Rita breathed softly. Helplessly.

       "Suck him, Rita," Hoffman said. "Suck his dick till he's hard again."

       The man gasped.

       For a moment Rita didn't move. Hoffman reached over to the dashboard and pressed in the little cigarette lighter. Rita made a sound and slid off the seat, going to her knees on the floor of the car. Then she leaned over and brought her face to the man's crotch. Lifting his flaccid penis with her fingers, she took it into her mouth. The man moaned. His fingers tangled in her hair as her lips and tongue began to work on him. Soon he was gasping continuously, the sound mingling with her now muffled sobs as her head began to move up and down. When she heard the sound of the cigarette lighter clicking out, she moved faster. She didn't stop until he was as hard as before.

       "Good girl," Hoffman said. "Now you fuck him this time."

       Rita got up onto the seat and straddled the man as he lay on his back. She adjusted his cock between her legs and gradually sank down on it, taking him inside her. The man groaned. When she had taken it all she began to ride him slowly. She never stopped sobbing.

       "Go faster, Rita," Hoffman ordered. "Make those boobs bounce."

       Rita obeyed. The man now reached up with both hands and put them over her bouncing breasts. At first he just held onto them, and then he began to squeeze. Rita cried out as his fingers dug into her flesh, but she didn't stop moving. The man pulled at her breasts to bring her upper body down on top of him, then moved his hands to her hair and forced her mouth to his again, kissing her and panting. His hips began to buck in rhythm with her movements. Rita's breasts were mashed against his chest and she was crying into his mouth as he continued to hold her head in place.

       "Goddam it, hurry up!" the other derelict said. "I gotta fuck that bitch too!" He fumbled at his ragged fly and pulled out his stiff, dirty-looking cock, which he began to stroke as he watched the pair in the back seat.

       "Why don't you join them?" Hoffman said. "You can both fuck her at the same time. Isn't that right, Rita?":

       Rita was unable to answer; her mouth was still pressed forcibly against the first man's. The second man gave an exclamation, then quickly opened the rear door of the car and squeezed himself inside, still fully dressed. But it was a tight squeeze, and with all three of them in the back seat there was not much room to maneuver. The second man cursed as he attempted to position himself behind Rita, with little success.

       "It's too crowded back there," Hoffman said then. "Why don't you guys take it outside."

       'Yeah," the second man said, panting with frustration. "Good idea." He backed out of the car, taking hold of Rita's arm and pulling her with him as he did so. The first man made an angry sound of protest and tried to hold on to her, but the other man was stronger. Rita cried out as she was ripped away from the man beneath her and pulled forcibly out of the car. The first man scrambled out after her, and Hoffman got out also, looking quickly up and down the alley to make sure no one was in sight.

       "Take her around in front of the car," he told them. The car would block the sight of them from one end of the alley, and the other seemed permanently deserted. The second man, still holding Rita's arm, propelled her with him around to the front. When he let her go she stumbled and lost her balance, and with another loud cry she fell to her hands and knees. Gasping, she started to get up, but Hoffman stopped her. "Stay right there, Rita," he told her. "Just like that. That's perfect, right, guys?"

       Rita's head dropped and she moaned, but she stayed as she was. "Jesus, yeah!" the second man said. He moved to stand in front of her, then reached down to take hold of her hair and pull her head up. His dirty cock still stuck out of his soiled pants, and now with a gap-toothed grin he jammed it into her moaning, gasping mouth. Holding on to her hair he began to fuck that mouth, moving strongly back and forth and making little sounds in his throat.

       "You know what to do, Rita," Hoffman said. Rita was choking and gagging, but she closed her lips around the man's cock. The other man was staring at her luscious naked body, on all fours, her mouth full of cock, her breasts swaying beneath her as that body was jolted with every thrust of the second man's hips. He quickly moved behind her and got to his knees. His cock was still hard. He tried to get it into her pussy, but her legs were too close together. He pulled at them, cursing, and managed to pry them apart a little, her knees scraping on the rough asphalt. She was sobbing and gagging around the other man's cock, but still sucking him as best she could as he rammed it in and out between her lips.

       "Try her ass," Hoffman said to the first man. "It's nice and tight. You'll enjoy it."

       "Jesus!" the man said. He put his hands on Rita's buttocks and spread them apart, revealing her small anus. Rita made a sound of terror around the cock in her mouth and quickly moved her knees further apart, as if offering him her pussy instead. But he ignored it now. His cock was still wet from having been inside her, but that did not seem to help much as he brought his rampant member to her asshole and without pause forced it into her with a mighty push. His cockhead disappeared inside her, and Rita's mouth opened wide as a shrill scream escaped her throat.

       "Don't stop sucking, Rita," Hoffman said.

       Rita tried to obey, but she couldn't hold back the cries of pain and anguish that issued from her as the man behind her forced his way into her tight rear passage. Both men were grunting steadily now as they fucked her from both ends. The first man's cock pushed deeper and deeper, ramming its way past her sphincter and finally burying itself completely in her clenching tunnel, while the other continued to fill her gasping, squalling mouth and thrust into her throat. Hoffman looked on with a smile as her body was battered back and forth, her breasts juddering and bouncing, her hands and knees scraping continually against the filthy floor of the alley.

       "Oh Christ!" the second man shouted finally, and he grabbed her hair with both hands now, pulling her head hard against him. His body shuddered and then jerked repeatedly as he shot his come into her throat. Rita choked and gagged, but he held her  that way until she managed to swallow it down, her throat working convulsively. He pulled away from her then and fell back, gasping so hard he had to bend over to catch his breath.

       Rita was crying hard now. The man behind her was fucking her ass with short but forcible strokes, and now he reached around to take hold of her breasts, squeezing them hard as he increased the tempo of his pounding. Her arms gave way and her upper body collapsed, her shoulders and her face now resting against the ground. A few moments later the man behind her came also, spewing his jism deep into her rear passage.

       "Holy shit!" he panted as he pulled away from her. "Holy fucking shit!"

       "That's what you were doing," Hoffman said. "Both of you. Fucking shit. Isn't that right, Rita?"

       Rita toppled over onto her side, then curled herself into a ball on the ground, sobbing and moaning.

       "Rita?" Hoffman said.

       "Yes," Rita choked.

                                                #

       "Don't put me in there again," Cassie begged. She was naked, as she was nearly always now, and on her knees, as she was a great deal of the time. They were on Rafer's patio. Rafer enjoyed spending time with her there, as just the sight of the water in the swimming pool sent her into a near frenzy. She avoided looking at it as much as she could, but just the knowledge that it was there had a terrorizing effect on her. Driven by that fear, her blowjobs were more fervent, her fucking even wilder and more intense than usual as she labored frantically to distract him from what had now become his favorite pastime--playing with her in the water, sometimes fucking her there, sometimes having her suck him as before, sometimes just ducking her under and watching her nearly go out of her mind with horror and desperation. Right now just the threat of that had her lovely face twisting with panic. It showed in her wide, staring eyes, her twisted mouth, the sweat that broke out on her body. "Please. Please," she panted. "I'll do anything, please..."

       Rafer sighed. "We've already had this conversation, Cassie," he said. "Too many times. There is nothing you can do for me that I will enjoy more than making you suffer, and this is the one way I've found to do that effectively. You can't really expect me to give it up, not as long as I can do what I want with you. Which I can, for another few days anyway."

       "Please, oh god please!" she babbled. "Something, there must be something, you must want--my father can--he can--my father is, you know, he--he knows people, he can--he can do things--if you--"

       Rafer laughed. "You're getting desperate, Cassie. Yes, your father is an influential man, but I am even more so. And I am a lot richer. Not to mention that your father is a good friend of mine, and if I wanted a favor from him he would do it for me all on his own. Besides, he gave you to me--or traded you, anyway--for the express purpose of breaking you, so I don't think you can count on him to mitigate your punishment. Any other suggestions?"

       Cassie began to cry.

       "Well, I have one," Rafer said.

       Cassie looked up at him through her tears.

       "Not, mind you, that I intend to stop having fun with you for the rest of your stay," Rafer said. "But I might make things a bit easier for you afterwards. Think of how interesting your life might be if I were to divulge your little weakness to your father. Thus giving him a reliable means of controling you, which he has long sought for in vain."

       "Oh god..." Cassie choked out.

       "But we might strike a deal, you and I," Rafer continued. "I could keep your little secret to myself, provided you are willing to do some little service for me when you return to school."

       "Anything..." Cassie gasped. "Anything, please..."

       "I like young girls," Rafer said. "Girls like you." He smiled. "Well, not that there are many girls like you, of course, but girls your age. Of whom you must know a great many. Some of whom you might be able to...steer my way, if you know what I mean."

       She stared at him, trying to blink her tears away. "You--you want me to--get you girls?"

       "Girls your age are not that easy to come by," Rafer said. "Even for me. Obviously I would not want any scandals, or anything that might call undue attention to myself. But I should think a smart and resourceful young lady like you might find ways to persuade at least a few of her acquaintances to...pay me a visit, shall we say, from time to time. Money is no object, incidentally."

       "Pimp for you, you mean," Cassie said.

       "It's entirely up to you, Cassie," Rafer said. "If you would rather have me tell your father everything..."

       "All right," Cassie said. "I'll do it."

       "Good," Rafer said. "Then once this week is over, you will have nothing to fear. But of course the week is not over yet. Go jump in the pool, Cassie."

       "Oh please please god please no please god no..."

       He listened to her frantic pleading and begging and sobbing for several more minutes, enjoying it immensely. In the end he got up, pulled her to her feet, dragged her, shrieking and struggling, to the edge of the pool and threw her in. Then he jumped after her.

                                                #

       Although some of the teachers who fucked Delillah in place of Cassie continued to do so when the opportunity arose, others did it only once. Delilah figured that was her fault. She knew she wasn't as good a lay as Cassie was. She knew she was not much of a lay at all, since she usually did nothing more than allow them to do what they wanted to her. At first she had cried a lot while they did it, but now she usually felt too numb even for that. She just took what was coming to her like the slut she was.

       She still cried with Mr. Grenville, though, because he continued to whip her with his belt. He routinely stuffed her panties in her mouth now when he did it, because she could not stifle her screams. She could not understand how Cassie could have put up with that, let alone have enjoyed it, as the pain was so terrible. And Mr. Grenville seemed to do it harder each time. He not only whipped her buttocks, he whipped her back too as she bent across his desk. He would get so carried away with whipping her that finally even her gagging panties were not enough to muffle her shouts. Then he would fuck her like a wild man from behind as she stayed bent over his desk, choking and sobbing and snorting as she tried to pull enough air into her lungs.

       On this day, however, Mr. Grenville was not content with that. After delivering three blows to her naked buttocks (she was holding her skirt up for him, and her panties, as usual, were in her mouth) and two across her blouse-covered back, he stopped. He was already panting with exertion and with arousal. Then he told her to turn around. Delilah made a sound of surprise and fear and twisted her head to look at him. "Turn around," Mr. Grenville repeated hoarsely. "I want to whip your breasts too."

       Delilah's eyes went wide over her distended mouth and she shook her head fearfully, whimpering.

       "Come on," Mr. Grenville said. "Just a little bit." Delilah didn't move. "Cassie let me do it," Mr. Grenville said. "Cassie loved it. She would beg me to do it." His voice sounded a bit strange. "Christ, the bitch would tell me to do it harder. She would laugh at me because I couldn't hit her hard enough. Laugh at me." He suddenly raised the belt again and lashed it sharply over Delilah's ass. She screamed through her gag. "Turn over," Mr. Grenville panted. He hit her ass again, harder. "Turn over, damn you." Again. "Turn over!"

       Crying now, Delilah pushed herself up from the desk and slowly turned to face him, dropping her skirt. Her eyes were full of fright and pain. Her breasts rose and fell against the front of her blouse with her rapid sobbing breath. Mr. Grenville looked at them. "Not as big as Cassie's," he panted. "Not the same. Lean back. Lean back, you small-breasted bitch. Stick them out for me."

       Delilah tried to say something, but she couldn't. Her knees felt weak, and she was afraid she might fall down. She leaned back against the desk. The edge of it cut into her hips, and she put her hands back to support her, propping herself on them. Her upper body was arched toward him, the blouse tight now over her jutting breasts.

       "Sweet bitch," Mr. Grenville said, and the belt flew up and then down, slashing across the straining mounds. Even through her blouse and bra the pain was worse than anything she'd ever felt. She howled through her gag and quickly straightened up, bringing her arms around to hug her burning bosom.

       "Oh Christ!" he cried, and then he was on her, pushing her back over the desk, laying her crossways on top of it, ripping his pants open, lying on top of her, pushing up her skirt, forcing her legs open and jamming himself into her with another cry of rampant lust. His hands squeezed her aching breasts as he took her, hard and punishingly, cursing and calling her names. Calling her cunt and bitch and whore. But the last name he called her, just before he burst inside her with a shout of release, was Cassie.

                                         #

       "You know, I always wondered," Hoffman said to Rita as they were driving home, "how it was that Rafer got hold of you in the first place. And how he can manage to keep you like a slave all this time. Just make you disappear and turn you into his personal play toy. I envy that. I'd like to be able to do that myself. Rafer would never telI me, though. Must have asked him a hundred times, but he won't talk about it. So I'd like you to tell me, Rita. What's your story?"           

       Rita was silent.

       "I asked you a question, Rita," Hoffman said.

       "I...I can't tell you," Rita whispered.

       "Sure you can. Of course you can. Just tell me."

       "I can't," Rita breathed. "Please, I can't, please."

       "And why not?" Hoffman said.

       "I...he...he told me not to."

       "Oh, is that right?" Hoffman said. "Rafer told you not to? You don't say. Well, I don't care about that, Rita. I want you to tell me anyway. Now."

       He could hear her swallow. "I...I...I can't..."

       "You want me to persuade you, Rita?"

       Rita made a sound.        

       "Okay," Hoffman said. "Push in the cigarette lighter."

       Rita made another sound. She started to say something, but she didn't. She knew it was no use. Her hand reached for the dashboard and pushed on the knob of the lighter. That hand was trembling. Badly.

       "Tell me now, Rita," Hoffman said. "Save yourself some pain."

       Rita was panting. "If I do he'll kill me," she said in a strangled voice.

       "Oh, I doubt that," Hoffman said. "He wouldn't deprive himself of all that pleasure." The cigarette lighter clicked. "Admittedly he might hurt you a lot," Hoffman went on. "So I guess you'll just have to weigh the pain he might give you later against the pain I'm going to give you now." He pulled the lighter out, the tip glowing red hot. Rita made a choking noise and cringed back against the car door.

       Hoffman put the lighter back. "On second thought," he told her, "it's too public out here, and you aren't gagged. I can wait till we get home."

                                   #  

       Delilah's breasts were still aching when she left the school. She was crying softly, and she couldn't seem to stop. She was afraid that now that Mr. Grenville had taken pleasure in whipping her breasts, he would go on doing so, and worse. She knew she deserved it. But she didn't think she could take it anymore. All of it. She couldn't.

       She decided she had to run away.

                                         # 

       Rita's whole body was shaking as Hoffman pulled the car into his garage, the door closing automatically behind it. "There," Hoffman said, turning off the motor. "Now nobody will hear you scream. Except me. Take that thing off."

       She had put on the yellow dress again before they had left the alley. Now she took it off. She knew it was no use to protest or refuse. It would only make things worse for her. So she took it off. She was whimpering. Hoffman pushed in the cigarette lighter.

       "Tell me now," Hoffman said.

       Rita swallowed. "I can't," she choked. 

       The lighter clicked. Hoffman pulled it out. Rita instinctively raised her hands in a protective motion toward her breasts. "Hands down," Hoffman said sharply. "Put them behind you."

       A moan forced itself from her throat as she slowly did as he ordered. The position made her upper body arch slightly, her breasts pushing out. Her nipples were taut with fear. Hoffman reached out and pressed the lighter firmly against the right one, holding it there.

       Rita screamed. She screamed very loudly. She tried to pull back, but she was squeezed against the back of the seat and the car door, and there was nowhere to go. Hoffman took the lighter away. "Tell me," he said.

       Rita only moaned and sobbed. Hoffman returned the lighter to its place in the dashboard and pushed it in. There were small concentric burn marks on Rita's nipple. He thought about how he had promised Rafer to return her with no permanent damage. Well, Rita had been burned before, and the marks had healed. Hopefully these would too. If not, that was just too bad. The lighter clicked. Rita couldn't hold back a cry of fear as he pulled it out. "Tell me," he said.

       "Please..." Rita sobbed. "Please I can't please..."

       He pressed the lighter against her other nipple. Rita screamed and screamed. Her body thrashed. Hoffman held the lighter firmly where it was for a long moment, then put it back and pressed it in again.

       "Tell me," he said.

       Rita tried to say something, though she was crying and gasping too hard to get it out. But by the way she was wildly shaking her head he knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear. He sighed. He took hold of her legs and pulled her forward slightly, so she was sitting on the edge of the seat, then spread her thighs wide apart. Her cry of terror drowned out the click of the lighter. Hoffman pulled it out and pressed it directly onto her clitoris.

       He had to do that twice before she told him.

                                   #

       Delilah didn't know what to do. She had no money, she had no car. She didn't even have any friends anymore. Cassie had been her only really close friend, and now Cassie was gone. Cassie would have been able to advise her, to tell her what she should do. Of course, Cassie was the reason she had gotten into all this trouble to begin with, but even so, she wished she could talk to her now. She thought about going to Cassie's house to see if she could find out about her, but she recalled how Cassie's father had come upon them that terrible day. He hadn't said a word to her, she had run off too quickly, but the memory shamed her deeply, and she felt she couldn't possibly face him again. Still, as she wandered about aimlessly after school, she found herself instinctively heading in that direction. She allowed her feet to take her toward Cassie's house, but she crossed to the other side of the street as she passed it, hoping not to be seen, but searching forlornly for some sign of Cassie which she knew she wouldn't find.

       She was almost past the house when Cassie's father came out on the porch. She quickened her step, but it was too late. He had seen her. "Delilah?" he called to her. "Is that you?"

       She wanted to just go on, to ignore him, but something made her stop. Maybe he could help her, somehow. Maybe...

       Now he was motioning for her to come over there. He looked friendly enough. The thought of how he had seen her last made her blush hotly, but she had to do something. Something...

       Slowly she crossed the street and moved closer to the house. Hoffman came down off his porch and moved to meet her. "Hello, Delilah," he said, not unpleasantly. "What are you doing around here?"

       'I--I was...I just wondered if Cassie was...I mean..."

       "Cassie's gone away for a while," Hoffman said. "She'll be back pretty soon. But I don't think you should hang around with her too much anymore, Delilah. I think she's a bad influence on you."

       Delilah blushed and looked down at the sidewalk. "I--" she stammered out. "I'm sorry you--I mean, that day--it wasn't--it was just--"

       "I understand," Hoffman said. "I'm sure it was all Cassie's doing. Evidently Cassie did a lot of things that I was not aware of, but I think this little vacation she's on should help her to straighten out. Even so, I think you should probably stay away from her from now on. You're too nice a girl to be getting involved with--"

       Delilah, still looking down, mumbled something in a low voice, but the words were not intelligible. "What's that, Delilah?" Hoffman said.

       "I'm not..." Delilah said chokingly.

       "You're not what?" Hoffman said.

       She was on the verge of sobbing. "I'm...I'm not a nice girl..." she got out.

       "Of course you are," Hoffman said. "Just because Cassie tricked you into...doing what you did with her, that doesn't make you a bad girl. Just forget about that. Basically you're as good and sweet as any--"

       "No!" Delilah burst out, and now she did start sobbing. She couldn't hold it in anymore. "I'm not!" she gasped out between sobs. "I'm not good! I'm a slut! At school I--they make me--they...they do things to me, and I...I can't..." She was crying too hard to go on.

       Hoffman was staring at her. There was a strange expression on his face. Finally he put his arms around her and held her against him, as if to comfort her as she continued to cry. "There, there," he said. "It's all right, Delilah. Maybe I can help you. Why don't you come inside and tell me all about it."

                                         #

       Delilah told him everything. Hoffman listened with growing surprise and most avid interest. Even after what he had already learend about Cassie's activities, he could hardly believe that his daughter had been into so much depravity with so much of the faculty at her school. And now this sweet innocent-looking Delilah had been maneuvered into taking her place. But whereas Cassie had evidently enjoyed, and even initiated the things she had done, Delilah had been coerced by her own feelings of guilt and weakness, untill she had been driven to the point of desperation. She continued to sob softly all the time she was talking, with Hoffman gently prodding her for more details. When he asked her if she had told anybody else any of this, she said no. Not even her parents? he asked her. Oh god, no, she told him, they would never understand, they would throw her out. And she ended by telling him how, not knowing what else to do, she had planned to run away, to just disappear...only she didn't know how to do it.

       It was a perfect setup. And it gave him all sorts of ideas.

       He smiled at her reassuringly. "Well, I think I can help you with that, Delilah," he told her.

       She looked at him through her tears. 'What--what do you mean?"

       "Running away," Hoffman said. "Disappearing. I can help you with that. You can stay here. With me. And nobody will ever know where you are."

       Her eyes went wide. "But--but what--how can I--I can't just--"

       "Sure you can," Hoffman said. "You and I can have a lot of fun together, Delilah. A great deal of fun. For a long time, I'm sure. You're so young and pretty. You'll make the perfect toy."

       He saw the fear come into her face, the slow realization of what he was saying. She made a sound and started to stand up. Hoffman stood up too. He was between her and the door. He moved to stand in front of it.

       Delilah slowly sat down again. She seemed frozen, except that her head was moving from side to side. "You--" she breathed finally. "You--I can't--you can't-- My...my parents will--"

       "Your parents won't know," Hoffman said. "You're running away, remember? You'll write them a note. You'll tell them you've gone away and don't want to see them again. They might look for you, but they won't find you. Problem solved."

       She was shaking now. "I can't--I won't--I--"

       "Oh, you will, Delilah," Hoffman said. "You will. Believe me."

                                                      #                 

       Delilah screamed when she saw Rita in Hoffman's bedroom. Rita was bound to the foot of his large bed, facing outward this time, her arms and legs stretched taut, wrists and ankles lashed to the bedposts, her body a straining X. She was stark naked, and covered with angry-looking marks. Hoffman led Delilah into the room, holding her tightly by the arm. Rita's eyes widened when she saw them, but she said nothing. She just continued to moan softly. After her intial scream of surprise and horror, Delilah just stood staring at the bound woman for a long moment, as if paralyzed by the sight. Then she screamed again and instinctively began to struggle, frantically trying to pull away from Hoffman's grip. But he was much too strong for her and simply held her more tightly, sinking his fingers savagely into the flesh of her arm until she stopped struggling and began to whine softly, bent over a little with the pain.

       "That's your future, Delilah," Hoffman said, nodding toward Rita. "You're going to be my little toy, just like Rita here. Unfortunately, Rita is just temporary, but not you, Delilah. You will be my permanent slave. And the more you fight it, the worse it will be for you. Do you understand?"

       Delilah began to sob.    

       "Christ, I can't wait to fuck the shit out of you," Hoffman said. "Been a long damn time since I fucked anybody that young. I could have fucked my daughter, of course, but I didn't. Did you know my daughter offered to fuck me, Delilah? When I caught her with you. She offered me her body to do whatever I wanted with. My own daughter. I couldn't do that. But I can fuck you, Delilah. I can fuck your sweet young body. And I will. Oh, I will. As many ways as I can."

       Delilah tried to say something, but she was crying too hard. Hoffman pulled hard at her arm, jerking her off balance, and then let go, so that she fell to the floor, sprawling there. "Strip," Hoffman said then. "Take your damn clothes off for me, bitch. And hurry it up."

       The sobbing girl curled herself into a ball on the floor, rocking a bit, as though trying to escape somehow from the reality of this unexpected hell. Hoffman unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his pants. "Let me show you what happens when you don't do what I tell you, bitch," he said, and with that he began to whip the girl with the belt, flailing it viciously back and forth over her body. Delilah screamed and turned onto her back, trying to protect herself with her hands from the flying strap, to little avail. It lashed into her stomach and her thighs, and when she lowered her hands to protect them, it slashed into her breasts. Screaming, she rolled away, her hands scrabbling at her blouse buttons. Hoffman gave her a few more lashes for good measure, then paused, breathing heavily, as he watched the writhing, squirming, squalling girl pulling frantically at her clothes. The blouse came off, then the skirt. In a pink bra and panties, she hesitated for barely a second before the sight of Hoffman raising the belt again made her continue. She was shaking  so hard that she had trouble unfastening the bra, but she managed finally, baring her breasts to him. Still on the floor, too weak or fearful to try and get up, she scrunched herself up again and reached for her panties, pushing them down, sliding them over her legs, kicking them off her feet. Then, at a command from Hoffman, she lay down again on her back, spreading herself out for him.

       His eyes devoured her nakedness: her firm girlish breasts, perhaps not yet as full as they would be, but sweetly formed and delightful to the eye, moving up and down with her continuing sobs, the pink nipples distended with fright; her creamy belly, almost flat, with just the slightest trace of lingering baby fat which only added to its erotic allure; the gentle but definite curves of her hips; her smooth, surprisingly shapely legs.

       "Nice body, bitch," he said then. "Not bad at all. I've seen it before, of course, whien I caught you doing filthy things with my daughter. But I only got a brief glimpse of it then, before you skedaddled out of there. This is much better." Still gazing down at her avidly, he began to take off his clothes. Delilah moaned and turned her head away. Hoffman laughed. "Don't act like a scared virgin, you little whore. I'm sure you've had plenty of cocks inside you, hanging around with my slut daughter. Or do you only do girls? Is that it?" As he continued to undress, his eyes moved from the girl's body to the fuller, more voluptuous form of the woman stretched between the bedposts. Suddenly he grinned. "You want to do it with Rita here, little dyke?" he asked Delilah. "You want to eat her pussy the way you did with Cassie? Would that turn you on?"

       Delilah only moaned again. She said something in a pleading tone, but the words were unintelligible, and she obviously knew they were futile anyway. "Bet it would," Hoffman said. "Let's find out, okay?" Naked now, he reached down and grabbed a handful of the girl's hair, then dragged her by it over toward where Rita hung at the foot of the bed, as Delilah shrieked with pain. He then forced her up onto her knees in front of the outstretched woman and forcibly thrust her face between the widespread legs.

       "Do it, dyke," he commanded. "Eat that pussy. Show Rita what a good little cunt-licker you are, just like you did with Cassie."

       Delilah was crying again. Rita's face was etched with the pain and torment of her cruel bondage, but otherwise she showed nothing. Hoffman, still holding Delilah's hair, pushed her head forward harder and twisted sharply, grinding her face against the other woman's crotch. Delilah could only gasp for breath between sobs. With a curse, Hoffman released her hair and stepped back to pick up the belt again, then slashed it savagely back and forth across the kneeling girl's back, stopping only when Delilah’s shrieks turned to muffled cries as she pressed her mouth against Rita's pussy. With Hoffman standing over her holding the belt at the ready, she did her best to do what he wanted. Her sobs did not stop, but her lips and tongue were active now as she struggled to put to use what Cassie and Miss Harvey, the Art Appreciation teacher, had taught her. When she slacked off or paused for breath, Hoffman used the belt on her until she resumed.

       For some time Rita showed no reaction to Delilah's ministrations, but Hoffman would not let the girl stop, and eventually there were signs that the bound woman was responding in spite of herself and her pain. Her breathing became shallow, and gradually more rapid, and after a while she began to moan softly. Hoffman ordered Delilah to work harder, encouraging her with another slash of the belt, and she did, holding on to Rita's straining thighs as she lapped at her pussy and her clit. Rita's moans got louder. Her nipples were hard now. Her head fell back, and her body pulled even harder against its bonds as she arched forward involuntarily, trying to press harder against the girl's mouth. Then she was crying out harshly, tensing and quivering on the very verge of orgasm. And at that point Hoffman tangled his fingers in Delilah's hair again and pulled her head back and away with such force that it sent her tumbling to the floor. Rita cried out again, this time with frustration and thwarted need, her body twitching helplessly, aching for the fulfillment it had been denied.

       Hoffman laughed. "You didn't think I was going to let you come, did you, Rita?" he said mockingly. "You don't come when you're with me, you whore. You're here for my pleasure, not yours." He laughed again. "And speaking of pleasure..." He turned from the moaning woman to regard the girl sprawling on the floor, gasping for breath. His cock was very hard. "Time we got to it, bitch," he told her. Reaching down to grab her hair once more, he pulled her to her feet and propelled her, squalling, toward the bed. He pushed her onto it crossways, on her stomach, so that her ass stuck up at him. Kneeling behind her, he put his hands on it and spread her buttocks apart. Delilah gave a howl of fear and tried to squirm away, in vain. Hoffman brought his cock to her tiny asshole and jammed it in without ceremony, pushing hard, breaching all resistance, ramming into the depths of her and laughing at her screams. He then proceeded to fuck the screeching, struggling, howling girl that way for a long long time.

                                                #   

       "Yes, she's young and juicy," Hoffman said to Rafer. He was using the telephone in his private study; he didn't trust cell phones and never had. "And she just sort of fell into my lap. A gift from the gods. At first I thought I would just keep her here, my own private Rita, you know? But I'd forgetten about Cassie. It wouldn't be such a good idea, after we make the trade, with Cassie living here and all. So I thought you could keep this one at your place, and we could share her, you know? Like Rita,   except--"

       "Except that Rita belongs to me," Rafer said. "You're not forgetting that, my friend, are you?"

       "Of course not," Hoffman said.

       "And who would this one belong to?" Rafer said.

       "Well...I did find her," Hoffman said. When Rafer said nothing, he added, "But as I say, we can share..."

       "Mmm," Rafer said. "Well, the week will be over tomorrow. Why don't you deliver Rita back here tomorrow night, and pick up your daughter. You can bring this girl with you and let me take a look at her."

       "But I don't want Cassie to--"

       "Don't worry about Cassie," Rafer said. "She won't give you any more trouble. About anything. I can assure you of that."

       "So I take it you've tamed her," Hoffman said.

       "Thoroughly. That's what you wanted, isn't it? Not only will she be the perfect daughter from now on, but she'll do anything you want. Anything. And I can tell you, my friend, she knows how to do it too."

       "Yes, she seems to be an experienced whore, all right," Hoffman said bitterly. "But she is my daughter, you know, so I'm not going to--to use her that way. I just want her to be less wild."

       "Well, suit yourself, my friend," Rafer said. "Personally, had I a daughter as deliciously luscious as Cassie, I would not balk at a bit of incest. Who can it hurt, after all?"

“I can’t do that,” Hoffman said. “Jesus. Not my own daughter. I mean, it's not like you and--" He stopped abruptly. "I mean I just couldn't," he said then.

       There was a silence on the line.

       Then Rafer said, very quietly, "It's not like me and whom?"

       "What?"

       "You heard me," Rafer said. "You said it's not like me and... What did you mean? Me and whom?"

       "Never mind, it's not important," Hoffman said. "I'll bring--"

       "Tell me," Rafer said.

       Hoffman sighted. "All right. Rita told me."

       "Rita told you."

       "Yes. She told me everything. I made her. I forced her to. She didn't want to, believe me. But I was curious about--you know, about the whole thing with you and her, and I just wanted to know the story. That's all. No big deal."

       "Is that right?" Rafer said. "Have you not asked me about that in the past?"

       "Yes."

       "And what have I told you?"

       "Well, basically that it's none of my business."

       "Precisely. And yet you persisted, behind my back."

       "Look, I just--"

       "I consider that you have violated the spirit of our agreement, my friend," Rafer said. "And of our friendship. That disappoints me. Although I am sure that whatever you have learned from the unreliable Rita will go no further."

       "Of course not. Christ, why would I tell anybody? I'd be cutting my own throat. The whole thing with Rita, Jesus."

       "Indeed. In the light of this development, however, I'm afraid I may have to reconsider your...relationship with Rita in the future."        

       Hoffman said nothing.

       "However," Rafer went on, "that remains to be seen. In the meantime, I will expect you and Rita--and your other guest--tomorrow night. We'll all have a big party around my pool."

                                               #

       "Your father is coming to pick you up tomorrow night," Rafer said to Cassie, who was kneeling naked on the patio tiles, cleaning his feet with her tongue. "I'm planning an interesting exhibition for him, to demonstrate your new-found vulnerability,"

       Cassie looked up at him, startled. There was fear in her eyes. "But you--you said you wouldn't tell him! You said if I--"

       "Things have changed," Rafer said. "All agreements are off now. We're going to have a pool party."

       Cassie was sick. Rafer made her eat her vomit off the tiles before continuing to clean his feet.

                                                  #

       When they arrived the next night, Rafer met them at the front door. He was naked. Hoffman was holding two leather leashes, each of which was attached to a collar worn by one of the girls who stood behind him. Both Rita and Delilah also wore a brief sarong-like garment, obviously designed for easy removal. Both of them had their hands tied behind them.

       Delilah made a soft whimpering sound as she saw the naked man. Rafer smiled. "'Good to see you, my friend," he said to Hoffman, standing aside for his guests to enter. Hoffman led the girls into the spacious foyer, and Rafer closed the door behind them. Then he turned and approached the older girl. "I missed you, Rita," he said to her. And then, without warning, he drew back his leg and aimed a vicious swiping kick at her ankles. It knocked her legs out from under her, and she cried out with fear as she went down hard, unable to protect herself with her bound hands.

       "You know better than to stand in my presence without permission, Rita," Rafer said to her. "Do I have to teach you all over again?"

       Rita had landed on her side, bruising her arm and part of her body on the hard floor. She seemed stunned for a moment, but then, moaning with pain, she managed to turn herself over and to maneuver herself, with some difficulty, onto her knees.

       "That's better," Rafer said, then turned to look at the other girl.

       "This is Delilah," Hoffman said. "The girl I told you about."

       Rafer looked her up and down. "Nice and young," he murmured. "But a bit scrawny, isn't she?"

       "She looks better naked," Hoffman said, and brought his hands to the back of her garment. Delilah whimpered again as he unfastened it and pulled it off, but she didn't move. There was nothing beneath it.

       "Yes, she does," Rafer agreed. "I'm sure she'll do fine. How's her mouth?"        

       "Getting better all the time," Hoffman said. "She was kind of amateurish at first, but I've teen training her. Why don't you test it out?"

       "Good idea," Rafer said. "On your knees, girl." He reached out to tangle his fingers in Delilah's short blonde hair and gripped it tightly as he pressed down. Delilah gave a cry of pain and despair, and her knees buckled under her. She would have fallen harder if Rafer had not held onto her hair, slowing her descent but bringing more pain to her tormented scalp. She was whining softly as she knelt before him, but when he brought his now semi-erect cock to her panting mouth, she opened it obediently and took him in.

        "That's the girl," Rafer said. He kept both hands in her hair, holding her head still as he slid himself slowly and deeply into her mouth. When she started to choke he withdrew most of the way, then pushed in again. He did this several times, deliberately fucking the girl's face, making her gag each time he pushed in. "Sweet young mouth," Rafer said. "Use your tongue, girl." He showed no expression as he continued to move in and out between her clasping lips, without speeding up or varying his tempo, until finally he thrust himself into her mouth all the way and held himself there, pulling her head hard against him, her lips jammed against the flesh around the base of his cock. Delilah choked and tried to pull away, but she could not. A strangling sound came from her throat as she tried frantically to pull in air through her compressed nostrils. Still he held her there as she gagged and retched, literally strangling on his cock. Her restrained hands pulled vainly at their bonds, the fingers clawing the air. It was not until her eyes had begun to roll back in her head  that Rafer let her go. She fell back, toppling over and writhing on the floor, heaving great gasping breaths of air into her wide open mouth. Rafer's cock was still hard and straining as he looked down at her twisting naked body.

       "Yes, she's got a lot to learn," he said to Hoffman. "But it will be fun breaking her in. Shall we go out to the pool now? I've arranged a special treat for you, my friend."        

       "On your knees, bitch," Hoffman said to Delilah, and when the still gasping, squirming girl did not respond quickly enough he reached down with one hand to pull her up by her hair, adding further torment to her already aching scalp and bringing a shriek of agony from her as she clambered onto her knees. Rafer now stripped off Rita's sarong so that she was as naked as Delilah, and Hoffman picked up the two leashes and tugged at them as Rafer led the way to the back of the house. Rita and Delilah were forced to follow, shuffling slowly and painfully on their knees with their hands bound behind them.

       As they approached the door leading to the terrace, they could hear sounds coming from the pool area. They seemed to be female cries of terror and distress, interspersed with frantic sobs and pleas. Hoffman cocked an ear.

       "Would that be my daughter, by any chance?" he said to Rafer.

       "It would indeed," the other man replied, smiling. "She was, as you know, a very tough case. Punishment of most kinds was ineffectual with her; in fact, she actually enjoyed it. Pain and torture are mother's milk to that girl. And so I had to find the one area in which she was vulnerable, the one irrational fear that was even stronger than her masochistic drives, and would thus allow me to control her. Most people have at least one, you know. And fortunately, I found it. But come and see."  

       As he opened the door to the terrace the sounds got louder. Stepping through it, Hoffman stopped short for a moment, his eyes going wide at what he saw. His daughter Cassie was hanging upside down at the deep end of the pool, her ankles bound with a stout rope, the other end of which was tied around the green-painted diving board that projected over the water. She was stark naked, but for a thin chain around her waist, to the back of which was attached a pair of handcuffs that kept her wrists imprisoned, immobilizing her arms. She had been hung in a way that left her shoulders just clear of the pool's surface, so that she had to make a continuous effort to keep her head out of the water. It was this that was bringing the frightful, unearthly sounds from her throat as she strained and twisted in a desperate struggle to raise her head, to hold it clear of the water, to keep herself from drowning. She was obviously tiring, her neck muscles giving way, her body trying helplessly to pull itself up somehow, arching and straining, then falling back. Her upside down breasts bounced and rolled with her struggles, and the tendrils of her long hair floated on the surface of the pool.

       "Lovely sight, isn't she?" Rafer said. "I don't think you'll have any more trouble with her, my friend, now that you know her secret. She will do anything to avoid even going near the water. Anything at all."

       "Jesus!" Hoffman said hoarsely.

       "Would you like her to demonstrate that for you now?" Rafer said. "Her sexual prowess, amazing under any circumstances in one so young, tends to reach even greater heights when she is terrified in this way. Or would you prefer to wait and let her--"

       "I'm not--I can't--" Hoffman said, his eyes still on the weakly flailing girl. "I told you I won't--do anything sexual with her. Not with my own daughter. Jesus!"

       "How righteous," Rafer said mockingly. "How moralistic of you, my friend. But if you--"

       At that point a particularly loud cry came from Cassie as in the midst of her struggles she now caught sight of the two men standing just outside the doorway of the house. "Daddy!" she screamed, straining her neck as hard as she could to keep her head up, her eyes filled with horror and pleading. "Daddy, help me! Please! Oh god Daddy please! Help me!"

       "Well?" Rafer said to Hoffman. "Your daughter is calling for your help. Do you want to rescue her? Or would you like me to release her? It's your call, my friend."

       Hoffman said nothing at first. His eyes were still on the girl. Then he said, "No. Not yet. Leave her there."

       Rafer smiled. Cassie continued to plead frantically, but her shrieks got weaker and more despairing as they went unheeded. "In that case," Rafer said, "since you will not take advantage of this delightful opportunity, I assume you will not mind if I do so. Your presence will give it an extra bit of zest, as I'm sure Cassie would agree."

       Hoffman looked at him then. "Why not?" he said. "You've been fucking her all week long, why stop now?"

       "Indeed," Rafer said.

       "Just as I've been fucking your sister," Hoffman said.

       Rafer's eyes blazed for a moment. But his voice, when he spoke, was level. "You've been fucking her longer than that," he said. "At my instigation, and with my compliance. And if you wish to continue to do so, you will forget whatever it was that she told you--all of it--and not refer to it again."

       Hoffman shrugged. "That girl is going to drown in a minute," he said, nodding toward Cassie, who was having an increasingly difficult time keeping her face out of the water. Her cries came intermittently now, insterspersed with gurgling sounds and desperate gasps for air.

       "Oh, I won't allow that," Rafer said. "But I'll have a little more fun with her before I stop it. Watch this." He moved across the patio to the deep end of the pool and swiftly climbed the steps to the diving board. He stepped out to the end of the board and then began to bounce up and down on his toes, as if preparing to dive. Each time he came down the flexible board dipped under his weight, lowering Cassie's suspended body so that her head was plunged under the water, in spite of all she could do to avoid it. Again and again Rafer bounced on the board, and again and again the girl's face and head were submerged before the board sprang back again, pulling her up as before, gasping, shrieking and choking.

       Finally Rafer arced himself off the board, executing a graceful dive into the water, several yards from the hanging body. Coming up, he turned himself onto his back and, without haste, propelled himself toward her. Cassie gave a gurgling cry of relief as he maneuvered himself beneath her, inserting his body between her head and the water. Floating easily on the surface, he grabbed at the hanging strands of her hair and pulled her face to his crotch. "Suck me, girl," Rafer said. "Show your daddy what a fine little cocksucker you are. And do it good, or by god I'll let him watch you drown."

       Cassie was still gasping hard and sobbing with terror and pain, but she managed to take him into her open mouth and, with him holding on to her hair to keep from floating away, use it to pleasure him as well as she could. "That's the girl," Rafer said, above her muffled whimpers. "Look at this, Daddy!" he called to Hoffman. "Look how obedient she is now. Doesn't this give you some ideas?"

       Hoffman cursed. He was still dressed, but there was an undeniable bulge in his pants as he watched his tormented daughter desperately pleasuring his friend. "Yes," he replied then, and began swiftly to strip himself. "Let me help you out there," he called to Rafer. When he was naked he turned to Rita, still on her knees with Delilah beside her. He moved to her and unclipped the leash from her collar. "Come on, Rita," he said, pulling her up by her hair. "One last fuck, you and me. Let's go." Holding her by her hair and one arm, he pulled her with him across the terrace to the end of the pool where the diving board stood. "Up on the board," he told her, pushing her toward the steps.

       It was difficult for her to negotiate the steps with her hands lashed behind her, but Hoffman steadied her from behind as she slowly climbed up. Following his instructions, she walked gingerly out onto the board, struggling to keep her balance, and then turned to face him. With Hoffman's help, she lowered herself to her knees on the board, then managed to lie down on her back as he lowered himself on top of her. "Spread, Rita," he said harshly, and she opened her legs for him, raising her knees, her feet sliding off the sides of the board as she tried vainly to get purchase, her body in a painful arch as she lay on her bound hands. Hoffman found her opening with his stiff cock and moved into her hard. He then proceeded to fuck her as hard as he could, each fierce stroke causing the diving board to bounce, which of course impacted Cassie's hanging body and drove her mouth down further on Rafer's cock, making her choke and gag even more. Rafer laughed.

       Hoffman battered at the moaning woman again and again, often peering over the side of the board to watch his daughter's plight. His thrusts became even wilder, crushing Rita's hands beneath her and causing her body to slide about on the slippery board. Finally he got so carried away that both of them slipped off the board and, with him still inside her, plunged into the water. Rita screamed as they fell, but the sound was cut off as they sank beneath the surface, not far from where Rafer was floating as he enjoyed the hanging girl's ministrations.

       The impact drove them apart, and also caused Rafer to let go of Cassie's hair and drift away from her, treading water. Hoffman came to the surface immediately and with a quick look around, swam toward his daughter, who was once again fighting to keep her head above water. Rita came up more slowly. She was experienced in the water, but with her hands immobilized behind her she could not do a great deal to keep herself afloat. She kicked out with her legs, but with minimal effect; she was barely able to keep herself from sinking. With a little cry of apprehension she aimed her body toward the side of the pool that was closest and thrashed wildly with her legs, managing to propel herself forward only very slowly and with great effort.

       Rafer, seeing this, now moved to place himself between the struggling woman and the poolside. "Where you going, Rita?" he called to her. "You just got here. Why not enjoy a little swim for awhile?"

       Rita continued her efforts, making slow progress but obviously tiring rapidly, until it became clear that Rafer did not intend to allow her to get past him. Another cry escaped her as she turned in the water and made even more slowly for the other side of the pool. Rafer, without haste, swam in a semi-circle around her and again placed himself between her and her destination. There was real fear in her eyes now as in desperation she tried to move to the other end of the pool, the shallow end. But Rafer moved to block that escape also.

       Rita was panting now, obviously exhausted.  Not much more than her head was above water as her legs continued to thrash weakly. "Please..." she gasped out. "Please..."

        Hoffman was treading water close to the hanging body of his daughter, who was trying as hard as she could to use his shoulder as a resting place for her head, an endeavor which was only intermittently successful. "Hey, what are you doing, man?" he called to Rafer. "Damn, we don't want Rita to drown. Lot of good fucking in her yet!"

       "You know what?" Rafer called back. "I'm tired of fucking her. I've been fucking this bitch since she was fifteen. Too fucking long. I'm sick of her. Besides, she blabbed. She told what she swore she'd never tell. She's gone."

       Rita screamed. "No!" she shrieked. "He made me! He made me, please, god, please..." She was blubbering with terror, gasping and sobbing. Thrashing her legs, pulling with futile desperation at her pinioned arms, she turned herself to face Hoffman. "Help me! Help me help--" Her head sank under the water, but she managed to pull herself back up. Her words became inchoherent sounds of primordial horror. She made another superhuman but hopeless effort to get to the side of the pool. Unhurriedly, Rafer moved to cut her off.

       "Ever watch a woman drown?" he said to Hoffman. "It's a stimulating experience, isn't it? Like drowning puppies when you're a kid, only better, because a human is so much more aware of what is happening to her. Isn't that right, Rita?"

       Rita couldn't catch her breath anymore. She was hyperventilating and making choking sounds. In a last ditch resort she turned again toward Hoffman, trying with her last ounce of strength to reach him. Hoffman's cock was hard beneath the water, hard and throbbing as he took in the utter horor and panic on the face of the struggling woman. "Oh, Christ!" Hoffman said, and when she managed somehow to bring herself within arm's reach of him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her strongly away.'

       "Goodbye, Rita," Rafer said.        

       Rita gave one last strangled scream as her head now sank below the water. She bobbed up once, briefly, her eyes and mouth wide with unspeakable terror, then sank again. Her body convulsed beneath the water, her legs still moving spasmodically, but she continued to sink until she hit bottom. Bubbles came up and broke the surface of the water. Then they stopped.

       Cassie was screaming now. So was Delilah, from where she still knelt in the doorway. Now the blonde girl, with a frantic scramble, attempted to get to her feet, bound hands and all. She fell over twice before she managed it, and then, still screaming, turned and ran back into the house. Hoffman, himself breathing so hard he could barely speak, called Rafer's attention to this by gesturing wildly toward the doorway. Rafer seemed unperturbed.

       "Don't worry," Rafer said. "She's not going anyplace. I'll bring her back." He swam to the side of the pool and pulled himself out, then walked to the house. He went in, but returned after a moment, carrying a large utility knife, which he placed by the edge of the pool. "Better cut Cassie down now, if you don't want her to drown too," he said, and went into the house again.

       Cassie's screams had died down, but she still made panicky sounds as she continute to strain her exhausted neck muscles to keep her face out of the water. Hoffman, still treading water, now reached out with one hand and took hold of her hair, pulling her head up hard. She cried out with a mixture of pain and relief.

       "Why shouldn't I let you drown?" he asked her. He was still panting hard. "Why not, you filthy whore? Christ! My fucking slut daughter! Why shouldn't I--" He suddenly tugged harder at her hair, pulling her face toward him, and savagely jammed his mouth against hers, holding it there for a long minute before pulling back. "Oh fucking Christ!" he gasped. "Why shouldn't I fuck you too? My own whore daughter. Why not, damn you! Damn you to hell!"

       Cassie was gasping too. "Anything you want, Daddy!" she cried out. "Daddy, god, please, anything...Daddy..."

       "Whore!" Hoffman shouted. Releasing her hair, he swam to where Rafer had placed the knife. He clambered out of the pool and picked it up, then moved to the diving board. He swiftly climbed the steps and moved out on the board, lowering himself to lie down on his stomach, so that he could reach underneath to cut the rope from which his daughter was suspended. He did so quickly, and Cassie barely had a chance to scream before her body was submerged, her hands and ankles still bound. Hoffman rolled off the board and let himself fall into the water. Reaching his daughter's helplessly writhing body, he again clutched a hunk of her long dark hair with one hand, pulling her along that way as he struck out for the steps at one corner of the pool.

       As he did so, Rafer came out of the house, pushing Delilah roughly in front of him. The blonde girl was crying. Her hands were still tied, her leash still hanging from her collar. When Rafer saw Hoffman trying to haul Cassie out of the water, he pushed Delilah onto her knees and quickly moved to help him. Together the two men dragged the half-drowned girl out onto the tiles, where she lay retching and gagging and coughing up water, her body jerking spasmodically in its bonds.

       "You ready to fuck her yet, my friend?" Rafer asked.

       "Damn you," Hoffman said, panting. "Yes. Yes. Christ, yes!"

       "I knew you'd come around," Rafer said.

       "Fuck you. Get the goddam ropes off her."

       "Where's the knife?"

       "Oh shit. Probably in the pool."

       "Well, that'll have to wait. Use her mouth. Or her ass. I've got some business to settle with little blondie over here."

       "Make her run around the pool," Hoffman said.

       Rafer grinned. "You mean like Rita."

       "Yes. Like Rita."

       "So you can watch while you're fucking your daughter."

       "Yes."

       "Fucking her up the ass."

       "Yes."

       "You want to drown her afterward?"

       "No," Hoffman said.

       "What about blondie?"

       "Why?" Hoffman said.

       Rafer shrugged. "She's too skinny. And it would be fun. Don't tell me you didn't get off on watching Rita."

       "Damn you."

       "Yes," Rafer said. "Damn us both."

       "I want to keep Delilah," Hoffman said.

       "Then I get to keep Cassie," Rafer said.

       "Jesus! You--you can't. Her mother..."

       "Her mother will never know. Neither will anyone else. She's already disappeared. She'll just stay that way."

       Cassie was moaning.

       "I get to visit," Hoffman said.

       "Certainly."

       "Any time I want."

       "Within reasonable limits," Rafer said.

       "You hear that, you whore?" Hoffman said to Cassie, who was still gasping for air between moans. He crouched down beside her and took hold of her arm, pulling her over onto her back. His hands moved roughly over her body, squeezing her breasts, slapping, pinching, worming between her thighs to finger her crotch. "You offered me this body before," he choked out. "Remember, whore? But you were my daughter, and I couldn't..." He slapped her face suddenly, hard, and Cassie cried out. "But you're not my daughter anymore," Hoffman panted. "You're my fucking whore. My fuck toy. My piece of shit slut, and I'm going  to--Oh Christ!" He turned her over again, then grasped her hips and pulled her lower body up till she was on her knees, her rump in the air, her face again pressed against the tiles. Crouching behind her, he placed his hands on her buttocks and spread them apart. His cock was very hard.

       "Daddy!" the bound girl cried out as her father slowly forced his penis into the her tight rear entrance, grunting and panting. "Oh Daddy oh god...Oh Jesus Daddy..." She continued to squall and moan as Hoffman pushed deeper, his hands moving around to clutch at her hanging breasts, squeezing them hard.

       Rafer watched as the other man began to fuck his daughter's ass with short, punishing strokes. Then he turned and moved toward where Delilah was still kneeling a few yards away. She had stopped crying, but a sound of terror came from her throat as Rafer approached her. "Get up, girl," he said, and pulled her to her feet by her hair. He then unclipped the leash from the collar at her neck. "Now I want you to run around the pool, bitch," he said to her. "I want you to run as fast and as hard as you can, and I don't want you to stop till I say you can. You understand me, bitch?"

       Delilah whimpered. Rafer doubled up the leash and slashed it hard across her buttocks, making her shriek. "I asked you a a question, cunt. Do you understand?"

       Delilah's head bobbed frantically. "Yes..." she gasped out.

       "Fast as you can," Rafer repeated. "And don't stop. All right, go."        

       Delilah just stood for a moment, as if paralyzed. Rafer raised the leash and whipped her with it again, this time on her thighs. Delilah screamed again and began to run.

       With her arms pulled behind her by her pinioned wrists, and her bare feet slapping at the hard tiles, it was difficult for her and she ran awkwardly, breathing heavily almost from the first moment. Her small high breasts bounced and bobbled with each step, her buttocks flexing as her thighs pumped doggedly. By the time she had made her first circuit of the pool she was already gasping for breath and slowing down. Hoffman watched her exertions avidly as he pumped away in his daughter's ass. Rafer encouraged her by whipping at her with the leash as she passed him. "Don't slow down, bitch, keep going," he yelled at her, and she forced herself to increase her pace again. When she came around the second time she was heaving in great gulps of air and seemed about to collapse. Again Rafer slashed at her with the leash. "You stop before I tell you, cunt, and I'll toss you in and watch you drown, just like Rita," he threatened.

       They could hear her sobs and cries of exhaustion mingling with her heaving gasps as she forced herself onward around the far side of the pool, and when she came around once more it was obvious that she could push herself no further. She was stumbling and retching, her eyes glazed over, sweat pouring down her body. As she passed Rafer again her legs finally gave out, and she fell forward with a fearful cry, landing on her front. Rafer was at her immediately, swinging the doubled-up leash. "Don't stop, girl," he snarled, slashing it back and forth across her back and buttocks, leaving angry-looking welts. "Don't you ever fucking stop!" Delilah, squalling with pain, managed to get her knees under her, and though she could not stand up, forced herself to crawl forward on those knees, trying with pathetic desperation to do what he wanted. But even that effort could not be sustained for long, and after a moment she collapsed again, sobbing brokenly and trying futilely to get enough air into her exhausted lungs.

       Rafer stopped whipping her and, standing over her, rolled her heaving body over with his foot. "Yes," he said huskily, looking down at the naked, spasming, writhing form. "That's about right." And he lowered himself quickly on top of her. His knees parted her thighs like two matchsticks, and he rammed himself into her with one hard thrust.

       As he did so, Hoffman came with a shout inside Cassie's anus. Having emptied himself, he pulled out, got to his feet and, still breathing hard, walked over to where Rafer was pounding at Delilah's tormented body. He crouched beside the girl's face and lowered his now limp, soiled and sticky cock into her gasping, moaning mouth. Delilah gagged and reflexively tried to turn her head away, but Hoffman grabbed her hair with one hand and kept it where it was. "Lick it clean, Delilah," he panted. "Get it hard again, so I can fuck you too."

       "Make it a good one," Rafer grunted, still thrusting hard into Delilah's body, "because it's going to be her last."

       A muffled scream came from the girl.

       "No way!" Hoffman said. "I told you, I'm keeping her."

       "And I told the cunt I'd drown her if she stopped running. You wouldn't want me to...go back on my word...now would you, my friend?" His voice became strained as he neared his climax, and he cried out in triumph as he shot again and again into the

helpless girl. Delilah, in her fear and horror, inadvertently clamped down for just a moment around the cock that filled her mouth, her teeth sinking into the slowly stiffening flesh, not enough to actually break the skin, but enough to cause pain. Hoffman jerked his cock out of her mouth with a shout, and his free hand shot out to slap hard across her face, back and forth, while the other still clutched her hair. Delilah screamed again.

       "All right," Hoffman said hoarsely, releasing her hair and standing up. "All right. Do it. Drown the little whore. I want to watch her die. Just like Rita."

       "Great idea," Rafer said. He was still on top of her and inside her, and now he grinned down into her wide-eyed, terrified face. "Hear that, girl?" he said to her. "We're going to watch you die. Won't that be fun?" Delilah tried to beg, but she could not form words, only incoherent sounds. "Look how frightened she is," Rafer panted. "God, I could almost fuck her again."

       "Never mind that," Hoffman said. "Let's do it before I change my mind. In fact I'm changing my mind already. Why would I give up a sweet little fuck slave like this? Why?"

       "So you can watch her die," Rafer said.

       "Yes," Hoffman said. "But I could watch her die slowly too. Over the years. Of torture. Of torment. Of agony. Of degradation. Of slavery. Wishing to die long before she actually does. All those years of screaming, of suffering, of unending pain and horror and despair. I could watch that. You could watch it too. Like with Rita."

       "No," Rafer said. He pulled himself out of Delilah's body and got to his feet, then reached down and picked up the girl's legs, holding an ankle in each hand. "Get her shoulders," he said.

       Hoffman hesitated for a long moment. Then he sighed. "I'm going to regret this," he murmured. Bending down, he took hold of Delilah just under her pulled-back arms and lifted her up. Now she hung like a sack between the two men. "On three," Rafer said, and they began to swing her back and forth, standing there by the edge of the pool.

       Delilah, who throughout this colloquy had been moaning and whimpering in a strangely subdued manner, as if lost in a smothering daze of terror, now began to scream as she had never screamed before, shrill, ear-splitting, unearthly shrieks that seemed to displace the air and reach to the sky. Rafer had to raise his voice to make himself heard above them. He waited until they had swung her back and forth a few times to build up momentum. "One," he said then, as they swung her in the direction of the pool. They swung her back, then toward the pool again. Her body swinging further, faster each time. Back. Then toward the pool        

       "Two," Rafer said.

       Back she swung. Then toward the pool. Back. Then toward the pool.

       "Three!" Rafer said. The men let go.

       Delilah's body flew out in a graceful arc and dropped into the middle of the pool. Her screams rose to an almost deafening shrillness and then were cut off by the water.

       Rafer and Hoffman both jumped into the pool a second later, Rafer swimming around to the far side, so that each of them was positioned between the girl and one side of the pool. But it was hardly necessary. Delilah bobbed to the surface, but it was obvious that, in her exhaustion and panic, she was not going to last nearly as long as Rita had. Her body flailed futilely, her legs kicking like mad, but she was unable to make any real progress through the water, even if she'd had anyplace to go. Her throat was trying to scream some more, but her mouth was too full of water, and she could only choke and try desperately to breathe.

       "Look at her eyes," Rafer said. "Cassie's eyes look almost like that, when I'm playing with her in the water. Almost, but not quite. Isn't that right, Cassie?"

       Cassie, still bound hand and foot, was lying on the patio where Hoffman had left her, watching the scene with wide, horrified eyes, soft moaning sounds coming from her throat. She did not seem to hear Rafer's question.

       "Christ, I'm so hard," Hoffman said, watching Delilah's weakening struggles. "Who would believe it?"

       "You'd be surprised, my friend," Rafer replied.

       Then they were silent, watching as Delilah struggled her last and slipped beneath the water for the final time.

       When the bubbles had ceased, they made their way out of the pool. As they did so, Hoffman's foot came in contact with something at the bottom, and he submerged himself to see what it was. It was the utlilty knife he had used to cut Cassie down, which had fallen into the water when he had followed her in. He picked it up and took it with him as he climbed out of the pool. He moved immediately to where his daughter lay and swiftly cut the ropes binding her ankles.

       "Oh Jesus, I have to fuck you now, you whore," he said hoarsely. "I have to fuck the shit out of you.' And he proceeded to do so, forcing her legs apart and coming down on her like fury as she lay on her back, her still cuffed hands crushed beneath her. "Ahh Christ ahhh..." he rasped, ramming his turgid cock up inside her with one brutal lunge. "Yes! Yes! Fucking my daughter! My filthy...filthy...whore...daughter..." He pumped strongly in and out of her with all his force, panting heavily. Cassie was moaning. Her eyes looked glazed.

       "Have fun, my friend," Rafer said, heading for the house. "I will join you shortly."

       "Filthy...shit...slut...cunt...daughter," Hoffman gasped. Still thrusting hard, he raised his upper body and began to slap Cassie across the face, back and forth, hard, as she cried out. Then he moved to her breasts, hitting them with both hands, and when he tired of that he took her nipples between his fingers and twisted them viciously, squeezing and turning them back and forth, continuing to fuck her steadily all the while.

       "Daddy!" Cassie shrieked out, her body arching beneath him. "Yes! Yes Daddy! Yes!"

       Hoffman spat in her face.

       He was still battering at her and mauling her breasts when Rafer came out of the house and made his way toward them. He was still naked, and he was carrying a pistol in his hand.

       Hoffman's movements stopped when he looked up and saw his friend standing a few feet away. His cock was still inside his daughter, his hands still on her breasts. But he stopped moving. HIs eyes were on the gun.

       "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, still breathing hard.

       Rafer raised the pistol and pointed it at him. Cassie gave a cry of fright.

       "Jesus Christ!" Hoffman yelled, starting to pull away.

       "No, stay right there," Rafer said. His voice was calm. "Just stay right where you are. You should be enjoying this. Don't you want to finish?"

       "Put it down," Hoffman said. His voice was not very steady. "What the hell is this? I'm your friend!"

       "You didn't really think I was going to let you survive after what you've seen tonight, did you?" Rafer said.

       "But--but we both--"

       Rafer shook his head. "It's too dangerous," he said. "You're too weak. And besides, having tasted Cassie's charms, I don't really want to share her with you anymore. I want her all to myself."

       "You can't--"

       "Goodbye, my friend," Rafer said, and shot Hoffman through the head.

       Cassie screamed as her father's blood spurted from his temple to spatter on her body, and she screamed again when he toppled over on top of her. Rafer tossed the gun aside, then reached down to drag her away from him. She was still screaming.

       "Shut up," Rafer said. "Or I'll by god hang you from the diving board again."

       Cassie stopped screaming. But she was shaking, and little mewling sounds came from her throat.

       "It's just you and me from now on, Cassie," Rafer said, smiling at her. "You and me and our nice little swimming pool. You're going to get to love the water, Cassie. You'll see."

       "Oh Jesus," Cassie whimpered. She was shaking harder. "No, please, please god, please...."

       "God won't help you," Rafer said.

       Cassie began to cry helplessly. Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Kill me too," she whispered finally, between sobs. "Please. Please. Just kill me too."

       "Not for a while," Rafer said.        

       .

.  

       

       

                 

       .