Norma's Panties
by N. Van Heller


FOREWORD 

Norma's Panties is a portrait of the modern American woman as it has rarely 
been painted before, a portrait that skillfully highlights the intricate 
psychological features of a contemporary twenty-six year old career girl 
involved in a desperate struggle for a rewarding position in a man's world. 

Norma Peterson, the subject of this work, is an attractive young woman with 
excellent business credentials, but a well-hidden secret, which if revealed 
can ruin her career. Her secret is that, because of deep-rooted 
psychological drives, she is compelled to expose her panties to young boys 
in order to find sexual gratification. 

In spite of her intense sexuality, Norma Peterson appears cold and formal in 
the office. She channels her energy toward one goal - that of the 
vice-presidency - and competes fiercely with a male executive, Nick Saxby, 
to attain it. Her brusque manner rapidly succeeds in alienating, not only 
her rival, but many of the company's other employees as well. 

Norma Peterson is thus a paradox. On the one hand she is possessed by a 
salacious desire to expose her panties to young boys, and on the other hand 
manifests a rigid intractable personality in the office. 

Having posed this paradox, author Van Heller goes one step farther to point 
out what is behind it. In a poignant flash-back he portrays Norma Peterson 
as a thirteen year old tomboy at the helm of a boy's neighborhood touch 
football team. As quarterback and the only girl player, Norma engineers the 
one touchdown of the game, but in doing so, incurs the wrath of her young 
male opponents. In just a few swift moments, young Norma's childhood world 
is destroyed. The young boys have crudely pointed out to her that she is a 
woman and not just one of the gang. 

The incident, of course, leaves a deep psychological scar, and from this 
point on, Norma seeks revenge on the one hand by exposing her panties to 
youngsters, teasing and tantalizing them but never allowing them to gain 
control over her. On the other hand, her injured pride manifests itself by 
her need to succeed in the male domain of the business world, and to do this 
she must appear to be tough-minded and ruthless. 

Thus, the seemingly incompatible aspects of her personality derive from one 
single source - the need to avenge herself against the male sex. 

But as in any great work of art since the time of Aeschylus, vengeance 
breeds vengeance, and once her secret is inadvertently discovered, the 
office workers led by Nick Saxby knock the high-handed Norma Peterson off 
her pedestal by means of a cunning scheme. 

Mr. Van Heller has provided us with not only a fast-moving piece of 
entertainment, but a lucid analysis of complex psychological problems 
relevant to today's high-pressure society and, indeed, valid since the very 
beginnings of civilization. 

-The Publishers 

 Chapter One 

There were good reasons why the people at Cunningham Manufacturing Co. hated 
Norma Peterson, the new female marketing analyst. Immediately after the 
tall, aristocratic-looking brunette had assumed her post she began to make 
life unbearable for her underlings. Her first victim was the marketing 
department's head secretary, twenty year old Flo Jones, a buxom, shapely 
young blonde who had been working for Cunningham since graduating from high 
school. 

Early one morning the newly installed female executive had called Flo into 
her office and abruptly informed her that her desk was about to be 
relocated. 

"There's been far too much chatting between you and the other secretaries, 
Miss Jones. As of tomorrow morning your desk will be moved closer to my 
office so I can keep an eye on you." 

Flo could hardly believe her ears. Here was this newcomer - a woman at that! 
- talking to her as though she were some sort of misbehaving school child. 
Flo, who never let herself be pushed around by anyone, nearly blew a gasket. 

"Miss Peterson, you may be my boss, but you're certainly not going to tell 
me where I can sit and where I can't sit," she retorted angrily, her fair 
cheeks flushing bright red. 

But the new executive merely peered through her black-frame glasses and said 
in a cool commanding tone of voice: "Miss Jones, you'll do exactly what I 
say without asking any questions." 

And that was the end of the incident. Flo, boiling with rage, retreated to 
her desk and began pulling drawers open and banging them closed, slamming 
her stapler on the desk top and shuffling papers with a seething helpless 
fury. From that moment on, the volatile young blonde vowed she was going to 
get back at Norma Peterson no matter what happened. 

Feelings of vengeful hatred spread throughout the entire office when, during 
the second week of Miss Peterson's high-handed rule, a yellow form was 
distributed to all secretaries and clerical workers in the department. This 
form required that each worker fill in what he had done during the day and 
how much time he had spent doing it. There was no disguising who was behind 
all this, and the reaction among the office underlings was so violent that 
half of them threatened to quit on the spot. 

Miss Peterson's antics didn't stop there, though. She also managed to 
alienate some of the other executives and even Cunningham's two top 
industrial salesmen, Don Richardson and Benny Smith. She did this by firing 
off memos criticizing their sales performance based on their weekly and 
supposedly confidential reports to the president, Arthur Cunningham. 

In short, Norma Peterson, the high-powered business executive with a 
master's degree from a prestigious Eastern university, had managed to turn 
the whole office against her in a matter of weeks. 

But while everyone had his pet gripe against the tactless career girl, the 
person most directly affected by her presence was Nick Saxby, the other 
analyst in the department and the person who nominally shared power with 
her. 

Saxby, a handsome thirty year old bachelor, had a carefree easy way of 
handling things. He got along well with all the salesmen and the Cunningham 
clients he came in contact with, but as far as paper work and organization 
were concerned, he just didn't give a damn. He knew customers were often 
more satisfied with cheerful explanations of what went wrong than with long 
wordy letters they wouldn't read anyway. 

Under the surface, though, Saxby was more than a free and easy playboy. For 
more than a year his eye had been on the post of marketing vice-president, 
which had been left vacant, and up to now the field had been clear. To his 
dismay, Saxby was beginning to realize that his only competition was going 
to come from a woman - a tough, icy career girl who already was giving him a 
run for his money. Norma Peterson, in fact, was threatening to grind him 
under her high-heeled shoes, figuratively speaking. She put in long grueling 
hours of work, made detailed marketing reports on new products, and prodded 
everyone under her to push themselves to the limit of their endurance. She 
was one hard-ass bitch, all right, Saxby thought to himself, but the funny 
thing was he could sense something intense and physical beneath that career 
girl act of hers. 

It just didn't add up that a woman as attractive as Norma Peterson could be 
such a grind. Hell, she had the lushly curvaceous body of a movie star, the 
haughty polished manners of a European princess - and here she was burying 
her nose in papers for long hours every day when she could be out having a 
good time. 

The clothes she wore didn't make sense either. As far as colors went they 
were usually conservative - something dark or tweedy that matched up with 
the way she wore her hair - tied back in an austere chestnut bun that went 
with her dark-frame glasses. But the conservatism stopped there, for the hem 
length of her dresses reached no lower than six inches above the knee. It 
was as though she purposely wore them this short to tease the hell out of 
the men in the office in some sort of perverse way. Sure she acted cold and 
stiff, but every time she bent down to pick something up and her dress 
flared out she became the center of attention. The men would stop what they 
were doing and crane their necks to get an eyeful of her lacy garter straps 
and the trim of her white nylon panties. 

Nick could swear she did it on purpose, though the other guys thought he was 
crazy. His intuition told him that beneath her frigid manners was a real 
woman, a real sex siren just waiting to be let out. If only he could crack 
through the surface he was sure he could get the upper hand on her and put 
her in her place. But how? That was the problem . . . though not an 
unsolvable one for just by chance, Saxby's stronger ally in the office 
struggle had come across a rather unusual incident involving Norma Peterson. 

It was the thought of this incident which caused the smile on Flo Jones's 
face as she traipsed up the stairs to the second floor of the Cunningham 
building early one Friday morning in the fall. What she had seen was nearly 
making her burst inside with glee. She had to tell someone, and that 
someone, of course, would be Nick Saxby. He would be dying to hear the news 
about the high and mighty Miss Peterson, the same Miss Peterson who was 
always so prim and proper in the office, but who had a secret life that up 
until now no one had known about. 

Unfortunately, the young secretary was forced to contain her glee, for when 
she arrived at ten minutes to nine, Saxby was not yet in his office, and 
from past experience she knew he wouldn't show up for another half hour. 
Norma Peterson, on the other hand, was already hard at work, sitting at her 
desk and scribbling away on the rough draft report she was supposed to 
present to Cunningham later on that day. 

Flo purposely avoided saying hello to her and headed toward the coat rack by 
the coffee machine where the other secretaries and the office boy had 
gathered. Sliding her bulky fur coat down off her shoulders she could see 
Davey Wilson ogling her breasts the same way he did every morning. God, he 
was a horny little bastard, she thought. 

"What are you lookin' at, carrot face?" she sneered playfully. 

"That's a nice coat you got, Flo," he snickered. "Does it shrink in the 
wash?" 

The other girls giggled as the voluptuous blonde elbowed the slim redheaded 
teenager out of the way to hang her coat up and then bent down to insert her 
plastic cup below the spout of the coffee machine. She had more important 
things on her mind than Davey Wilson this morning, though Davey didn't 
bother to take his eyes off her. 

He was accustomed to the rough-and-tumble way she talked, and in spite of it 
the youth could feel himself getting turned on every time she came within 
three feet of him. 

Like now, for example, he had the distinct impression she was bending over 
the coffee machine an extra long time just to drive him crazy. His eyes 
wandered down to the hem of her tantalizingly short skirt beneath which he 
could see her black garter straps and the dark tight-clinging stockings 
which sheathed her fully contoured thighs. 

Damn, he wanted to fuck her, he thought to himself. Half the guys in the 
office had done it already, but not him. She treated him like he was in the 
second grade, even though he was nineteen years old. He didn't know who was 
worse - Miss Peterson or her. One of these days, though, he was going to get 
inside her panties even it if killed him. 

The object of the young office boy's lewd daydream, however, was suddenly 
summoned by Miss Peterson. 

"Miss Jones, would you please come here," Norma called out from her desk. It 
wasn't a question, it was an order - it was always an order with this dame, 
the head secretary mused in disgust. 

Flo stirred the sugar in her coffee, sighed deeply, and strutted slowly and 
defiantly toward her female boss, who was waiting impatiently. 

"Please type this before ten, Miss Jones. I have a meeting with Mr. 
Cunningham and I need a final draft of my report, and try not to have any 
mistakes in it." 

"Yes, Miss Peterson," Flo answered with polite sarcasm. She glanced at the 
clock on the wall and noted it was not even nine yet. Slavedriver, she 
thought to herself. But she wasn't going to last long . . . not when her 
secret was let out of the bag. 

More than anything Flo wanted to confront this snotty bitch with a certain 
little piece of private information just to see how she would react, but she 
knew it wasn't time yet. No, she would just have to wait and act humble in 
front of Miss Peterson for the time being. 

Obediently she settled into her typing chair and began to hammer out the 
report. But Miss Peterson wasn't satisfied to have just one person working 
before nine in the morning. Instead, she immediately called Davey Wilson 
into her office. Poor Davey, Flo thought to herself, he's going to get 
chewed out again. And she was right. 

"Y-yes, Miss Peterson," the freckle faced redhead stammered. 

"Davey, I received a call from Mr. Beeler, the purchasing agent at Stern 
Chemical Company. He said that he hasn't received the marketing analysis on 
the new Cunningham valve yet. Is that correct?" 

"G-gee, I don't know, Miss Peterson. I mean he should have." 

"Should isn't good enough, Davey," Norma scolded him. "I thought I requested 
that you deliver it to him by hand on Wednesday. Now suppose you tell me 
what happened." 

The carrot-faced teenager blushed in embarrassment. His job, which was the 
lowest and least remunerative in the company involved not only carrying 
messages to executives in different parts of the office building, but 
driving all over Philadelphia in his own car to drop off reports and other 
documents that couldn't be sent through the mail for various reasons. 

Generally he did his job without question, but the delivery to Stern 
Chemical had taken over three hours and involved fighting the worst traffic 
jam he had ever seen. Miss Peterson had handed him the envelope at four in 
the afternoon and by seven he was still stuck in traffic. In the end he had 
decided to turn around and go home and just drop the envelope off in the 
mail, hoping it would get to Mr. Beeler this morning. 

He should have known better, though, than try to put one over on this snooty 
bitch. Miss Peterson was the type who kept an eagle eye out on everything, 
and now she had the goods on him. 

"Well?" she demanded. 

"L-look, Miss Peterson, I was on the road till past seven o'clock. There 
wasn't nothin' I could do, so I just put it in the mail," he explained to 
her. 

"Davey, I'm disappointed in you, I really am. With that kind of attitude 
you're going to be a messenger boy the rest of your life. The next time 
something like this happens, I'm going straight to Mr. Cunningham. Do you 
understand?" 

"Y-yes," the office boy stammered hopelessly. His embarrassment was 
compounded by the fact that Miss Peterson had chewed him out loudly enough 
for everyone in the office to hear. He retreated from her cubicle like a dog 
with his tail between his legs. 

Flo glanced quickly over at Nick Saxby, who had just staggered into the 
neighboring office, to see if the good-looking marketing analyst had taken 
in the latest example of Norma Peterson's high-handed behavior, but Nick was 
in a world of his own, being afflicted by his usual Friday morning hangover. 
His eyes were puffy and red, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, 
his tie yanked down and his suitcoat slung over his shoulder. Wearily he 
flopped down on the chair behind his desk, lit a cigarette and shook his 
head to revive himself. Flo defiantly stopped typing and entered his office. 

"You better sober up quick," she warned him. "That bitch already has me 
typing up a long report for Cunningham." 

"Thanks, Flo," Nick mumbled. "You're a good kid." 

"Well?" Flo said. "Well what?" 

"Well, don't you have something you want me to type?" 

Nick glanced up at her absently and smiled in a crazy way. Flo was always 
looking out for his best interests, and that was a good thing. Without a 
guardian like her he stood the chance of being eaten alive by that 
high-powered brain, Norma Peterson, who was struggling to take his promotion 
away from him. 

Think, think, Nick chided himself. He knew he had to make a good impression 
with Cunningham this morning, even though his brain was barely functioning. 

"You're right, Flo," he said finally. "I've got to get that report done, 
don't I? Come in here and take some dictation." 

Flo gave him a quick conspiratorial smile, retrieved her steno pad from her 
desk and re-entered his office. Nick leaned back in his chair, crossed his 
legs and began tapping a pencil against his teeth. Flo was dying to tell him 
the good news, but checked herself, knowing that Nick had to concentrate on 
business at the moment. 

"How's this?" Nick said. "The new Cunningham valve is a triumph of modern 
technology. It combines the best features of modern science with the 
reliability of old-fashioned craftsmanship." 

He closed his eyes, straining to think, but the only images that came to his 
mind were those of the previous night - lewd visions of Tanya, the tall, 
oriental-looking ad agency model he had seduced, her lithe firm thighs 
scissoring open in sensual invitation on his big circular bed, the animal 
agility of her athletic body beneath his as he rode her up and down in the 
wild untamed rhythm of their fucking. 

"Yes?" Flo interrupted. "What else?" Nick's mind drifted farther off into 
outer space, still reeling with the liquor he had consumed the night before. 
God, he thought, how could he possibly concentrate on an industrial valve at 
a time like this? He began tapping the pencil furiously against his teeth, 
only to be interrupted by a voice from the neighboring office. 

"Miss Jones," Norma Peterson called. "I would appreciate that report by ten, 
thank you." 

Flo turned to Nick, waiting for him to say something. She wanted him to tell 
Norma Peterson to drop dead, but instead he closed his eyes and squeezed his 
forehead. 

"It's no use, Flo baby," he admitted. "She's one up on me again. I can't 
think of a damn thing. You better go type her report." 

"You better come up with something, Nick," Flo warned him. "Cunningham's 
going to blow his top." 

"Don't worry about it. I'll dig up some kind of bullshit." He gave her a 
confident wink, leaned back in his swivel chair and propped his feet up on 
the desk. 

"Miss Jones?" Norma Peterson called out again. 

"Yes, Miss Peterson," Flo said curtly. "I'll type that report right away." 
And with that, she headed back to her desk, her secret still bursting to be 
let out. 

At two minutes to ten Norma Peterson was hovering over the young secretary 
waiting for her to finish the last page and making her so nervous that she 
made three mistakes in the final paragraph. 

"That will do,' Miss Jones," the new marketing analyst said with crisp 
efficiency. Not bothering to reply, Flo removed the last page from her 
typewriter, placed it on the pile with the others and watched her female 
boss neatly joggling the stack on the desk top and carefully inserting it 
into a file folder. 

Nick Saxby by now had dosed himself with coffee and peeled his eyelids open. 
He winked at Flo behind Norma's back as he headed toward the door of Arthur 
Cunningham's office. 

"Well, I see you're all prepared as usual," he said to Norma as she drew up 
alongside him. His female rival smiled half-heartedly and gave him a cold 
gaze from behind her dark spectacles. 

"I'm always well prepared Mr. Saxby," she said calmly, eyeing him with 
distaste. "So I've noticed." 

Saxby opened the door chivalrously and allowed her to enter first, giving 
her a quick once over as she did so. 

She was one hell of a tough customer, he thought to himself. As smart as a 
whip with a master's degree in business administration, but as cold as an 
ice cube. And yet, as he'd noted many times before, she was a damned 
good-looking chick. She had a trim well-formed body, with long sensual legs, 
ripely swelling breasts, and a set of hips with a nice sexy wiggle, even 
though she tried to restrain it. As usual the way she was dressed today 
reflected the unique combination of conservatism and daring. 

Like now, for example, she was wearing a tasteful dark blue dress with a 
high collar. The hem came down midway to her knees, which wasn't 
conservative at all because it showed an eyeful of her supple, 
stocking-sheathed legs and an even bigger eyeful when she took a seat in 
front of Cunningham's desk. Nick sat down in a chair opposite her and tried 
to keep his gaze off the tempting sight of her thighs and the lacy little 
strap of her garter, but it was a hard thing to do. He could almost swear 
she was practically exposing herself to him and Cunningham too. In fact, he 
could see Cunningham shoot a quick meaningful look up at her from the 
letters he was signing. The boss fixed his eyes on her long smooth legs and 
glimpsed the silken triangle of her white panties glimmering beneath the hem 
of her dress as she crossed her legs. The old man, as he was affectionately 
known, cleared his throat to regain his composure and smiled at both of 
them, though Nick could see he was practically drooling. 

"Well, we're right on schedule," the gray-haired boss said, glancing quickly 
at the digital clock which was one of the two principal objects on his desk. 

The other principal object and by far the most dominating was a plastic 
model of his pride and joy, the new remote-actuated ball valve designed for 
the chemical process industries. There in full life-size, color-coded 
polypropylene was the Cunningham brainchild, the new invention that was 
going to catapult this year's sales figures. Nick could sense that his boss 
was going to be plenty angry with him unless he came up with some brilliant 
ideas on how to promote this baby. Jesus, if there was anybody in the world 
who could get more excited about a plastic valve than Norma Peterson" it was 
Cunningham himself. 

Nick could even sense the excitement in the old man's voice as he tossed him 
the ball. 

"Nick," Cunningham said. "Suppose you kick off. Let's get a good handle on 
this thing so our advertising agency can pick it up and run with it." 

Nick looked up at the ceiling and squinted his eyes, trying to give the 
impression that he was in deep thought. 

"Well?" Cunningham prodded after a long pause. 

"Well, I was thinking we could suggest the idea about this thing combining 
modern technology with an old-fashioned craftsmanship," Nick offered lamely. 

"And?" 

"Urn, of course, that's just the basic idea. They'd have to develop it on 
their own." 

Cunningham frowned in disappointment at Nick's obvious lack of enthusiasm 
for the new project and turned to Norma Peterson, who immediately adjusted 
her glasses on the bridge of her nose and removed the neatly typed report 
from her file folder. 

"Frankly, Mr. Cunningham," she began, "I think we should take a hard-nosed 
approach to this product. Since it will be advertised through trade 
publications I suggest we cite facts and figures illustrating the valve's 
durability, it's adaptability to automated systems and it's computer 
interface capability. In my report I have all this data broken down into an 
easy to read form so that the advertising people will be able to scan it and 
back up their claims with proven test figures." 

Christ, Nick swore angrily to himself, here goes the human computer again, 
the machine with all the answers and all the big words to impress the old 
man. It wouldn't be so bad if she were an ugly old witch, but here she was 
sitting with her legs crossed under that short dress of hers and that lacy 
little fringe of her garter strap right out in the open for everyone to see. 
It was enough to drive a man wild with lust. More than anything in the 
world, Nick wanted to get this cold-hearted bitch down on all fours and 
shove his cock up inside that tight little cunt of hers. 

Unfortunately, at the moment he had to concentrate on business, or at least 
try to, as Cunningham said: "Very good, Miss Peterson, let's take a look at 
this report of yours." 

Norma handed it to the boss like a proud school girl while Nick winced 
inwardly. She had really put him down this time. Here it was Friday, the end 
of the week, and she had a twelve page typewritten report in her hands. 
Jesus, she was a real killer. 

"Very good, very good," Cunningham praised her efficiency as he flipped 
through the bulky document. 

Setting it down on his desk, he turned to Nick. 

"Well, Nick, have you got anything to add along these lines?" 

Nick looked down at the crumby mess of coffee-stained papers in his hands 
and desperately tried to think of something intelligent to say. To him a 
valve was a valve. A hunk of metal or plastic, a piece of plumbing. What the 
hell could anybody say about a valve? 

Finally, he broke out in a broad smile, revealing his even white teeth. 

'That's a damn good idea," he said jovially. "That's really an excellent 
idea." He turned and focused his smile on Norma, who greeted it with cold 
stony silence. Shit, at least she could let him save face in front of 
Cunningham. 

The boss settled back in his chair. 

"Yes, Miss Peterson has been producing a lot of good ideas, hasn't she, 
Nick?" 

"Yes sir," Nick smiled. Cunningham smiled back at him, then abruptly wiped 
it off his face. 

"I like good ideas, Nick. I really do. I like to see people come up with 
good ideas. In fact, Nick, I wish you would come up with a good idea once in 
a while." 

Nick Saxby's own smile dropped off his face and fell on the floor. 
Cunningham had never been this blunt before, though he'd been throwing a lot 
of hints around lately. Nick could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his 
palms and he laughed nervously. 

"All right, that will be all for now," Arthur Cunningham said abruptly. 
"I'll review your report, Norma, and consult you some time before the 
meeting with the agency. This looks very well done." 

"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham," Norma said stiffly. 

After the gray-haired patriarch had dismissed the meeting, Nick headed to 
the coffee machine and sidled up to Flo Jones, who was stirring the sugar in 
her second cup of the morning. 

"That bitch," he growled. "She really put the knife in me today." 

"Cunningham really chewed you out, huh?" 

"I think he was ready to fire me on the spot. He just loves Norma Peterson." 

"Well, he won't when he finds out her little secret," Flo smiled 
cryptically. 

"What secret?" Nick said, his ears suddenly perking up. 

"It's a bombshell. Let's go into your office." 

Puzzled, Nick led the way in, drew his desk chair up close to his young ally 
and listened intently as she related her story in a hushed rapid whisper. 

"Tell me again," Nick demanded in disbelief when she had finished. "It can't 
be true." 

"But it is," Flo swore. "Except I've got no proof. When I went back to the 
playground to get my little brother I actually saw that bitch hiding in a 
clump of bushes. Her skirt was all bunched up, and I swear she was exposing 
her panties to those two young kids. Like a couple of idiots Tommy and this 
friend of his were just staring at her, you know, like she was crazy or 
something." 

Nick let out a low whistle, astounded by the secret Flo had revealed to him, 
but then he began to fear that perhaps the young secretary was letting her 
vengeance get the best of her. 

"God, I'd love to believe it, but it's too incredible. She couldn't possibly 
do something like that . . . exposing her panties . . . Jesus!" 

"I saw it with my own eyes," Flo huffed. "And I watched her run away to her 
car. It was a white convertible just like the one she drives to the office." 

Although doubt still lingered in Nick Saxby's mind he began to recall the 
scene in the office earlier in the morning - the way Norma Peterson had 
crossed her legs, the way he could see her garter belt and even the lacy 
trim of her panties beneath her skirt. 

Hell, he thought finally, it was entirely possible that the hard-nosed new 
marketing analyst led a double life. It was very likely that she was hiding 
a secret - a secret which just might prevent her from becoming 
vice-president of Cunningham Manufacturing if it were ever revealed. 

"You know something, Flo," he chuckled. "I might just play private detective 
tomorrow. I think Norma Peterson really does have a secret. Get me her 
address from the personnel files, will you?" 

Chapter Two 

Though his evidence was flimsy, Nick Saxby was absolutely right. Norma 
Peterson did have a secret, and if it ever became known she would be out of 
her job in no time flat. 

To a casual observer, though, Norma did not seem like a woman with something 
to hide. In fact, the attractive brunette looked much like any other 
well-dressed career girl that Friday evening as she headed home to her 
apartment in an old town house on Pine Street in the center of Philadelphia. 

Her behavior appeared perfectly normal. A block away from home she purchased 
food from a small corner store and the evening paper from a nearby 
newsstand. Wearily, she trudged up the three flights of stairs to her 
apartment, struggling with the groceries and let out a deep sigh of relief 
as she entered her comfortable, modernly furnished living room. 

Fifteen minutes later she had made herself a pitcher of martinis and was 
slipping out of her dark blue office dress in the bedroom laying it neatly 
on her big double bed. Enjoying a cool, soothing sip of her drink, she 
strolled to the large mirror above her dresser to take a good look at 
herself, something she was doing more frequently during long weekends at 
home alone. 

After carefully removing her dark-framed glasses, she undid the neat bun of 
her rich dark brown hair and let it flow down over her shoulders in thick 
lustrous cascades. The transformation was miraculous. In just a matter of 
seconds she had changed from a coldly efficient female executive into what 
could have passed for an alluring sex siren. 

Fully conscious of her own metamorphosis, Norma stared at her reflection in 
the mirror until it gradually began to hypnotize her. Slowly, almost 
mystically she glided her hands down over her voluptuously flaring hips and 
began casually caressing the lacy hem of her white slip. Then she gripped 
the silky material and pulled it up over her head, letting it drop from her 
fingertips to the floor. 

Then her hands glided over the tapering contours of her midriff up to the 
cups of her daringly brief brassiere. 

She could feel her breasts swelling ripely against the silken confines, 
desperately wanting to burst free. She squeezed them together, exaggerating 
their fullness, feeling her nipples rise erect at the sensual touch of her 
own fingertips. Arching her body she slid her hands around in back and undid 
the tiny snaps, and as the brassiere slipped down off her shoulders, the 
lushly swelling, pink-tipped mounds of her breasts bursting forth, free at 
last from the: artificial constraints. 

The reflection in the mirror showed a maturely developed young woman of 
twenty-six normal - in fact, more than normal, from a physical standpoint, 
and this was what galled her. For as she gazed at herself she was overcome 
with an intense feeling of self-contempt. 

God, what's wrong with me? she asked bitterly. Why can't I behave like a 
normal woman? Why can't I be satisfied with a normal man? As these questions 
turned over in her mind, her hands descended to the white silk of her brief 
bikini panties. 

Here is the source of all my troubles, she thought to herself as she hooked 
her thumbs inside the delicate little waistband. The rippling touch of the 
silky material against her skin sent unwanted chills of pleasure racing up 
and down her spine. Her other fingers gently caressed the outer surface, 
smoothing and molding it to the outline of her provocatively rounded pussy 
mound. God, she thought, her panties felt so soft, so cool. How she loved to 
fondle them, even though she knew it was wrong, this strange unnatural 
fetish that had possessed her since childhood. 

Trying not to think about the events of the past which had led to her 
horrible panty compulsion, the voluptuous young brunette turned away from 
the mirror, headed to her closet, and slipped into a gauzy white nightgown 
that extended only to the very tops of her thighs, barely covering the 
narrow white crotch band of her panties beneath. Quickly, as though to gain 
much-needed moral support, she downed her martini, poured another, and 
headed into the living room to read the evening paper. 

But even now she could not escape her innermost thoughts, for almost against 
her will, her fingers flipped to the sports section, which she knew would 
rekindle her youthful memories. 

Her eyes scanned the football news photos of heavy-shouldered men slamming 
into one another with the force of brute elephants, glanced over the 
summaries of the professional games, bypassed the scores, and came to rest 
finally on a tiny two-inch column previewing a local suburban high school 
game. The headline read "Breyertown J.V.'s meet Cap's Creek on Saturday." 

It was an odd thing for a young single woman to do, to dwell on an obscure 
column in the sports page like this, but Norma Peterson nevertheless noted 
the time and location of the early freshman game, which was to take place 
the following morning in Breyertown. And then as she stared at the tiny 
column of newsprint, the lines began to wave and blur in front of her eyes 
while her mind tumbled back deep into the past to that terrible autumn day 
when she was thirteen years old . . . 

On that particular day she was standing on the sidelines of a makeshift 
football field in a public park not far from her home in suburban 
Whitemarch, Pennsylvania. There were other girls on the sidelines too, but 
they were cheering and yelling at the young boys on the field who had 
grouped themselves into two teams to play tackle. Instead of joining in the 
fun, young Norma was pouting and sulking on the verge of tears, for the boys 
had just kicked her off the home team. 

It had happened when Joe Baxter, a big rough-looking boy from Wyndmoor, a 
poor neighborhood nearby, decided that touch football was a sissy's game, 
and if they were going to have any fun at all they should play tackle. 

"Come on," he yelled to Freddy Green, the Whitemarsh captain. "Get rid of 
that girl and let's see who's tough and who ain't." 

Freddy, an agile young boy of fourteen at the time, wasn't about to be 
bullied by Joe Baxter, and he was having second thoughts about playing 
tackle. 

"Are you crazy or somethin'? We can't play tackle without equipment," he 
protested. 

"Pussy!" Joe chided him. 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah. That girl's the best one on your team," the bigger boy taunted. 

"That's what you think." 

"Okay, well show me then. Let's play tackle." 

Freddy's face was red with anger now. "Okay," he said, and then stormed away 
to the other side of the scrimmage line to his team huddle. 

"We can't chicken out now. We gotta play tackle." he convinced the others 
and looked up at Norma, who was dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. 
"You better go to the sidelines." 

The confident expression on the young tomboy's face suddenly dropped. "Oh 
no, I'm playing too!" she cried. 

"No, you're not. You'll get hurt. Didn't you hear what I said, we're gonna 
play tackle." 

"I'm playing too!" 

"Hey, come on Norma, you're a girl. You can't do that," one of the other 
boys complained. 

"Yeah come on, we wanna beat these guys." 

"Go be a cheer-leader for awhile, will ya?" 

The thirteen year old girl could feel the tears welling in her eyes. Almost 
every weekend she had been playing touch football with the same boys, and 
she could run and pass better than most of them. Now just because Joe Baxter 
and his tough guys were challenging them they were willing to discard her. 
It wasn't fair at all. 

"Aw, Norma, don't be a sorehead will ya?" Freddy pleaded. 

"You guys playin' or not?" Joe Baxter yelled. 

Norma knew when she was defeated, and she turned quickly away from the boys 
and walked back to the sidelines, not bothering to join the other girls. 
Instead she watched sourly as the Wyndmoor team ran roughshod over the home 
team. On the third play, as Freddy Green faded back for a pass, Joe Baxter 
broke through the line and smashed into him with a bone-crushing thud. 

A moment later everyone from Whitemarsh and all the girls on the sidelines 
were gathered around the injured player whose face was red with pain as he 
writhed on the ground. 

"Oh fuck," he groaned. "I think I broke my elbow." After Freddy, the star 
quarterback, had been carried off the field, his teammates milled helplessly 
around, as though their heads had been chopped off. They did this until 
Norma suddenly stood up and with her hands on her hips began castigating 
them. 

"You're not gonna let those guys win, are you?" 

"Yeah, well, what do you suggest?" they grumbled. 

"Let's go back on the field and play." 

"Yeah, and who's gonna be our quarterback?" 

"/ am," Norma announced defiantly. 

Surprisingly, the young girl took command of the situation with ease, and 
she avoided being tackled by giving quick hand-offs and short passes. She 
could see she had made Joe Baxter good and angry by bringing her team right 
down to the goal line. One more play and she could score a touchdown. 

At that moment the other team called a time out and huddled behind the goal. 
It was an extra long time out, and she could hear the big rough-looking boys 
laughing and shouting and clapping their hands together, though she couldn't 
possibly anticipate what they had in mind for her. She didn't find out until 
the next play which she realized she would have to run herself in order to 
get a touchdown, since the ball was practically on the goal line. 

Everything whirled by so quickly it became a jumble of confusion. The ball 
was snapped back from center, she raced furiously around the right end to 
score the touchdown and suddenly, without warning, all the rules disappeared 
and the game became something other than football. Even though she had 
already made the score, Joe Baxter's entire team was charging her from all 
sides, whooping and yelling, their faces contorted into strange lustful 
expressions the young girl had never witnessed before in her life. 

Joe Baxter was the first one to bring her to the ground. His head dove in 
between her legs, his hands driving into the backs of her knees and 
collapsed her like a folding chair. The sweating bodies of the big, 
tough-looking boys closed in all around her. Eager hands pulled at her 
sweatshirt and blue jeans. 

"Get the quarterback," someone yelled. 

"Yeah, get her, get her!" the others chanted in chorus as they closed in 
even tighter around her. 

"Stop, stop! Don't! Please!" She tried to protest as she wiggled and 
squirmed in a desperate effort to break loose, but her frantic pleas went 
unheeded. She could feel clammy, excited young hands half-tearing her 
sweatshirt up over her head as she desperately thrashed and kicked. 

Other pairs of hands popped open the snap of her blue jeans, ripped down the 
zipper, and pulled them off her flailing legs. 

Her pleasant tomboy world had suddenly turned into a horrible nightmare. 

"We got her now!" 

"Come on, let's take the rest of her clothes off." 

"Yeah, we'll show this stupid chick." 

Tears poured from the helpless teenager's eyes and she began to scream 
uncontrollably, loud piercing cries that rent the air of the calm, peaceful 
playing field. Before she knew what was happening her small training 
brassiere had been torn loose, and she was naked except for her flimsy 
little white nylon panties. 

Struggling mightily to protect her virginal young loins from the ravishment 
she thought was sure to come, she clamped her hands fiercely around her 
panty waistband, fighting to keep it from being ripped away by these crude, 
savagely aroused boys. Her legs kicked and pushed, her arms twisted and 
pulled, she screamed and screamed until she thought her vocal chords were 
going to burst, and suddenly the kids around her began to come to their 
senses. 

"Hey, come on, cool it." 

"Yeah, let's get outta here." 

"Move it before the cops come." 

One by one they silently disengaged themselves from the tangled pileup they 
had formed around the defenseless young girl. As they scurried away she 
could see the boys from her own team gathered around her, strange looks of 
excitement and horror mingled on their faces. But then they too began to 
turn and walk quickly away, breaking out into a fast run, as though they 
were hurrying away from some beggar with a terrible disease. 

The thirteen year old girl was up on her feet now, tears pouring down her 
cheeks, her face livid with rage. Her young, newly developing body exposed 
and humiliated, she began screaming every foul curse word she had ever heard 
in her life. 

"Bastards!" she yelled, the cords of her neck standing out in relief as 
though they were about to burst. "Dirty bastards!" 

Silently the young boys scooped up their coats and hurried homeward in 
separate directions, not once looking back, leaving her to her own fate ... 
a thirteen year old girl alone and humiliated. 

She was standing there practically naked, only her panties left to protect 
her. Her clothes lay scattered around about. Only moments ago she had been 
one of the gang wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, just like the boys wore. But 
in just a few brutal seconds she had been taught that she was a woman. For 
the first time in her life she had become the object of male lust, and now 
she was stripped naked except for her frilly little panties, the badge of 
her femininity, the femininity she swore she was going to use against men 
for the rest of her life. 

A shudder of horror trembled through Norma Peterson's body even now as she 
recalled the horrible event from her past, and she fixed herself a third 
martini. God, what a deep scar that incident had left on her! 

Ever since that day she had been marked with an unnatural craving for 
revenge - a craving that expressed itself in a terrible need to expose her 
panties to young boys and tease them until they could barely stand it. It 
was the amazed expression on their faces that satisfied her. She reveled in 
her power to shock and tantalize them without completely giving herself to 
them. She reveled in her female ability to render them helpless, just as she 
had felt helpless when attacked by those teenage boys so many years ago. 

A funny little smile crossed the bitter brunette's face and she began to 
tear out the clipping of the high school football game that was to take 
place tomorrow. She was going to take a little trip tomorrow - just a short 
trip to a certain high school football field in the suburbs of Philadelphia. 

* * * 

When Nick Saxby awoke at nine on Saturday morning, he felt more than a 
little ridiculous assuming the role of private detective. He felt downright 
silly, in fact, packing his camera and telephoto lens in their carrying case 
and carrying it downstairs to his Pontiac parked in the lot of his suburban 
apartment building. 

He had dressed casually, as though he were just going to do a few errands - 
a dark turtleneck sweater and double knit slacks, along with a pair of 
sunglasses which were a bit conspicuous for an autumn day in October, even 
though it was a clear beautiful day. At least, though, the sunglasses might 
prevent Norma Peterson from immediately recognizing him if she just happened 
to sight him from the rearview mirror of her car as he followed her. 

As he headed his car toward Philadelphia city center, he began feeling even 
more absurd. What if he spent the whole day waiting outside her apartment 
while she, in turn, spent the whole day inside. What if she had already 
left, and what if he did follow her and found that she didn't do anything 
abnormal? Hell, he might have to spend weeks on her tail to verify what Flo 
Jones had told him. And furthermore, what if that sexy little secretary's 
imagination had just run away with her? Norma Peterson certainly didn't seem 
the type to expose her panties to young boys, but still Nick had faith in 
the fallibility of humankind. Everybody had some kind of secret they were 
hiding, he told himself, and he was personally going to avail himself of 
Norma Peterson's to put her in her proper place! 

An hour later he was threading his car through the tangled traffic of 
downtown Philadelphia, negotiating it toward the Pine Street address Flo had 
swiped for him from the personnel file. After he had found it, he was 
obliged to cruise around the block several times to wait for a parking space 
to open up, and after that he had to wait an hour more before Norma emerged 
from her apartment house. When she did, though, it was one hell of a 
surprise. 

In fact, it was so surprising that Nick even whistled under his breath. Was 
this the same Norma Peterson he knew from the office; hell, no, it couldn't 
be. 

The woman who was coming down the steps of the town-house looked like some 
kind of movie star. She was wearing an ultra short tweed skirt that revealed 
enough thigh to practically make him cum in his pants. On top of that she 
was sporting a white see-through blouse, even though October was not known 
to be one of the hottest months of the year. Her hair, too, was different. 
None of this tightly pulled bun business. . . just long glossy brown tresses 
that flowed luxuriantly down over her shoulders. And the glasses. . . what 
happened to the black-framed glasses that usually made her look like an 
accountant? She must have traded them in for a pair of contact lenses or 
something. He peered forward in his seat to make sure he had zeroed in on 
the right woman, and sure enough he had. No doubt about it, the white 
convertible she stepped into was the same one he'd seen in the office 
parking lot. 

Excitedly, the amateur private detective gunned his engine and five minutes 
later found himself following his business rival through the maze of city 
center streets, his blue Pontiac trailing discreetly behind the white 
convertible that zoomed onto the expressway leading northwest out of the 
city. 

Nick was growing more ecstatic by the moment. His dumb idea about playing 
detective was beginning to pay off. After all, who could expect that Norma 
Peterson would be jazzed up like a sex siren on a Saturday morning? What Flo 
had told him was beginning to sound like the truth. 

Norma, for her part, was completely oblivious to the late-model car tailing 
her. She was aware only of the strange feelings of excitement and tension 
that were beginning to creep up on her. She was so tense, in fact, that the 
palms of her hands were beginning to sweat against the steering wheel. She 
could feel a parched roughness in her throat, and even her leg began to 
tremble as she pressed her high-heeled shoe down on the accelerator. God, 
she knew what she was going to do was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. 

All morning in spite of the warnings her conscience had been flashing to 
her, she had felt the heady anticipation of encountering young teenage boys 
on the football field - handsome young boys, naive and innocent. 

Soon she had left the choking smog of the city behind as she followed the 
expressway exit ramp onto the turn-off for Breyertown. It was a clear autumn 
day, the sun shining brightly above, a light breeze blowing through the red 
and gold trees - the kind of day that would make anyone feel relaxed - 
anyone, that is, except Norma Peterson, whose perverted excitement was 
growing by leaps and bounds. 

By noon she had arrived at the Breyertown High athletic fields just in time 
to witness the crowd of young boys and girls pouring out from the bleachers 
of the main field. This was ideal, she thought to herself, as she tamed the 
white convertible to a slow cruising speed. The freshman football game was 
just over, and the high school varsity team wouldn't be playing for another 
two hours. There were bound to be some stray boys lingering after the game, 
perhaps playing touch football by themselves, in one of the adjacent fields. 

Behind her, Nick Saxby abruptly eased off his accelerator and followed at a 
safe distance. Just what in the hell was this broad doing? he wondered to 
himself. Why would she drive all the way out to this suburban high school 
football field just in time to miss the football game, unless of course she 
were looking for something else - perhaps some stray boys, some boys very 
similar to Flo's little brother and his friend! Nick grinned at the thought 
of getting a peek at his female co-worker's private sex life. This, in fact, 
was even more exciting than getting the best of her in the office battle. 

Gradually the crowd began to thin out, knots of exuberant boys and girls 
heading toward their cars in the parking lot. Horns honked, tires squealed 
as the cars wheeled out over the macadam, and in the middle of this noisy 
crowd of teeny-boppers was Norma Peterson in her big white convertible just 
cruising along looking for unsuspecting little boys. If only she knew her 
every move was being followed, Nick chuckled gleefully ... 

By now, Norma had finally sighted her prey. Just as she'd expected, there 
were two young boys aimlessly tossing a football in a small field on the 
other side of the main bleachers. The field, which looked like a practice 
area, was located adjacent to a small brick building and was bordered on the 
far end by a steep embankment. 

Immediately the possessed brunette's muscles tensed and her heart began to 
thump in her chest. Bringing her car to a halt only about twenty-five yards 
or so from where the boys were playing, she glanced at the brick building, 
which was actually a field house, noted that it was empty, and turned off 
the engine. 

Inside the trailing Pontiac a big wide grin crossed Nick Saxby's face. That 
was it, he thought. This was the moment he would discover what made Norma 
Peterson tick, the moment the desperate job battle would turn in his favor. 

The attractive dark-haired woman in the convertible slipped on a pair of 
sunglasses and withdrew a compact mirror from her pocketbook. She nervously 
caressed the long lustrous locks of her hair and shot quick glances out of 
the corner of her eye. Good, she thought to herself. They hadn't noticed her 
yet, since they were too wrapped up in their little football game. 

Finally, though, she could stand the temptation no longer. Inserting the 
compact in her pocketbook she kicked off her high-heeled shoes, curled up 
her legs on the front seat, and resting her arm on the door panel of the 
driver's side, turned to feast her eyes on her catch - two innocent young 
teenagers who hadn't the faintest idea what was in store for them. 

God, they were so youthful, so naive, she mused. Their guileless innocence 
was practically making her drool, and yet at the same time she despised them 
for the very fact that they were young males, that they reminded her of the 
terrible thing a group of young boys had done to her in the distant past. 

The boy on the left from her vantage point looked about fourteen. He had 
thick chestnut brown hair and deep-set brown eyes. He was .wearing a 
tight-fitting T-shirt that molded around his chest to reveal his developing 
muscles. His low-slung faded jeans clung tightly to the slender cheeks of 
his buttocks, and her eyes fixed on him intently as he faded back to throw a 
long pass. 

The boy who was running swiftly to catch it was shorter and a bit stockier 
but about the same age and with wild curly blond hair. His agile young legs 
churned powerfully as he raced after the football that had been thrown over 
his head, and with a graceful lunge he caught it in his fingertips, brought 
it down against his chest and dove expertly to the ground, rolling on his 
shoulder and bouncing quickly to his feet. 

"Nice catch, banana face," the brown-haired boy called out. 

"Wilson," the second boy shouted back, "your turn next." And cocking his 
arm, he hurled the football in a long high arc. 

Norma watched all this as though she were witnessing a ballet of youthful 
innocence. God, how could she do what she had to do next to these 
inexperienced youngsters? How could she shock and tantalize them by exposing 
her panties to their inexperienced eyes? Yet now, even as these doubts 
plagued her, she found herself slipping gradually into an overwhelming 
trance-like state. Tense with anticipation she moistened her full red lips 
with the tip of her tongue and began gliding her hands sensually up over the 
gauzy material of her see-through blouse. Slowly, one by one, she undid the 
top three buttons to reveal just a hint of her voluptuous white breasts and 
the alluring deep valley between them. 

From a distance, Nick Saxby squinted his eyes to focus more accurately on 
this incredible sight, and now beyond any doubt, he realized that Flo had 
been right. Jesus! Norma Peterson was going to pick up those two young kids. 
Excitedly he pressed forward in his seat, draping his arms over the steering 
wheel. In fact, he was so worked up he had almost forgotten that he'd 
brought his camera along with him. Damn, what was she going to do next? 

For a long moment Norma merely stared lustfully at the two teenagers, who 
were still absorbed in their game, and as she stared her yearning nipples 
rose to erect little points against the restraints of her flimsy white 
brassiere. Chills of lewd excitement began to pulse through her trembling 
body. God, how desperately she wanted these kids to look at her. How 
desperately she wanted them to gape in amazement as she lured them over to 
the car and exposed herself to them! 

With the palms of her hands, Norma pushed her proudly swelling breasts up 
against each other, squeezing her aching nipples through her brassiere with 
the tips of her fingers. Any minute now they would see her, and any minute 
they would stop dead in their tracks, bug-eyed. Then they would be all hers, 
trapped in the web of depravity she had so carefully spun for them. 

In a minute it happened. Paul Wilson, the brown-haired boy, just by chance 
glanced over in the direction of the white convertible he had seen out of 
the corner of his eye. He did so at the very moment the football was 
hurtling directly toward him and the sight that struck his eyes was so 
amazing that his mouth gaped open, his hands fell to his sides, and the 
football bounced off his chest without him even blinking. 

"Jesus Christ!" he gaped. 

"Hey, what happened? You look like you saw a ghost," the blond boy called 
out. 

"Ghost, shit. Take a look over there, Jimmy." 

Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks, shot a glance at the convertible and 
froze. Jesus Christ was right! The dark-haired woman in the car had her 
blouse unbuttoned part way, and she was rubbing her half-naked tits in broad 
daylight. The two boys stared at her in unconcealed wonder, their eyes 
glazed, their mouths hanging incredulously open. 

Sudden pulsations of joy rippled through Norma Peterson's body. She had them 
now. They were all hers to do with as she wanted! Casually she slid down in 
the car seat, her short tweed dress bunching up around her hips. Her long 
slender right leg reached out, and with her toes she pressed down on the 
door handle and kicked the passenger door halfway open. 

"Holy shit, what do you think she's doing?" Jimmy asked. 

"Beats me, but I'm gonna find out. She looks like a spaced-out chick. Come 
on, Porter, get down so she can't see us coming." 

The two teenagers sank to their knees and stealthily crept over the grass to 
get a better angle on the front seat of the car. To their amazement, Norma's 
stretched out foot kicked the door open even wider until it swung out full 
length. 

But Norma Peterson wasn't the only one who took in their look of youthful 
surprise: Nick Saxby saw it too, even though he couldn't see what his 
scheming co-worker was doing at the moment. Now was his chance, he thought. 
While she was sunk down in the car seat and the two kids were absorbed in 
gazing at her he could sneak behind that brick field house and make his way 
to the steep embankment at the other end of the playing field. From there he 
could see exactly what was going on and what's more, take photographs of it. 

Christ, he thought, it was almost unbelievable that this super-efficient 
business woman had just transformed herself into a lust-crazed 
child-seducer, but there it was - happening right before his very eyes . . . 

As the titillated whispers of the two young teenagers floated to her ears, 
Norma reclined sensually back against the cool leather car seat and spread 
her willowy legs brazenly apart. Her left foot dangled off the front edge of 
the seat and touched the thick-carpeted floor while her right leg she tucked 
back under her thigh. Even now she could feel tiny warm droplets of moisture 
seeping down into her flimsy panty crotch band. 

Come closer, she murmured to herself, come closer and see Norma's panties. 
You want to touch them, don't you? You want to run your little fingers over 
the cool silk and feel my hot little pussy. You want to, don't you? 

As a tantalizing smile played lewdly over her lips, she reached down for the 
hem of her short skirt and worked it even higher to reveal the entirety of 
her daringly brief white bikini panties. 

"Oh wow!" Jimmy Porter moaned ecstatically. "I gotta get closer." 

"Hey, wait a minute. You can't - she's gonna see us." 

"The hell with that. I'm gonna get a fifty-yard line seat." 

Before Paul could restrain his friend, Jimmy was crawling on his hands and 
knees toward the convertible like a hungry dog. 

Norma, fully conscious of the excitement she was arousing, slowly caressing 
the insides of her stocking-sheathed thighs. Her fingers rippled up and down 
over the firmly yielding flesh like tickling feathers, slithering inch by 
inch up toward the silken sheen of her panties, and she could feel the hot 
wet moisture of her loins seeping out in greater excitement against the 
tightly confining nylon. 

Jimmy by now was within ten feet of the car, and he could hear his companion 
crawling up fast behind him. The sight of the lewdly sprawled woman on the 
front seat was making his penis shoot up inside his pants like a bamboo 
pole. Jesus, she was driving him crazy! He thought any minute he was going 
to cum in his pants! 

In the meantime, Nick Saxby had sneaked around the field house unnoticed and 
hidden himself along the embankment about seventy-five yards away from the 
convertible. His view was not as good as he would have liked, but he could 
still see plenty, especially after he'd attached a telephoto lens to his 
camera. He could see Norma Peterson, the high-powered executive of 
Cunningham Manufacturing Company, invitingly laid out on the front seat of 
her convertible on the verge of seducing two young boys. Hell, that was all 
he needed! He had something on her now, and if she thought she was going to 
get the best of him she was dead wrong. Still, even though he had discovered 
her secret, he continued watching the salacious spectacle unfolding on the 
playing field below. He could feel his cock springing out hard and rigid 
against the confines of his pants. Hell, that bitch was one big tease all 
right, and if it was the last thing he did he was going to shove his cock 
inside those flimsy little panties of hers. But for now he was just going to 
watch. 

Down below inside the convertible, Norma suddenly removed her sunglasses and 
stared straight at the two boys creeping up on her. For a moment, a surge of 
terrified panic sped through the teenagers' bodies, and they were on the 
verge of bolting until the attractive dark-haired woman spoke to them in a 
deep, throaty voice. 

"You like my panties, don't you? You want to touch them?" She murmured 
hoarsely. Her eyes looked kind of funny, the boys noticed, as though she 
were in another world or something. 

Too dumbfounded to say anything, Paul and Jimmy gazed at her in disbelief as 
she smiled at them like a beautiful sorceress. 

Then she raised herself up in the seat and propped her shoulders against the 
car door on the driver's side, her quivering milk-white legs still splayed 
obscenely apart. 

She began running the tips of her fingers slowly along the lacy edge of her 
panty crotch band, soft throaty moans tumbling from her throat. As she 
tilted her head back against the rolled-down window, her long flowing brown 
locks cascaded over the door panel on the outside like beautiful silk. 

Jimmy could see the long elegant curve of her neck leading down to the 
parted folds of her blouse where it swelled into the roundly curving 
cleavage of her half-naked breasts. Like a moth drawn to light, he moved 
toward the lewdly beckoning woman despite the cautioning whispers of his 
friend. 

"Come, little boy, come here," Norma urged in a low otherworldly voice, 
mesmerized by her own power over him. 

Only moments ago this blond curly-haired teenager was enjoying a simple game 
of catch with his friend. He had been a sexual innocent just like all the 
other inexperienced youngsters in the world, but now she could see the first 
faint glimmerings of lust in his wide-open eyes -glimmerings of lust such as 
she had seen once before in the distant past. Only this time it was 
different. She was the one in control now, the one who could make him do 
whatever she wanted: Stop if she said stop, come if she said come. 

A low inviting groan purred from her throat as she arched her back away from 
the car door and spread her legs even farther apart, thrusting her vagina 
forward, teasing him with the sight of her brief white panties, the silken 
second skin that guarded the treasure of her loins. 

His hand was at the car door, trembling as he tried to decide whether to 
jump in the front seat with her or run away. Hell, he couldn't run away from 
something like this, from some strange beautiful woman who was offering her 
body to him. God, how he wanted to fuck her if she would only give him some 
signal, if she would only let him know. He'd never fucked a girl before, 
never even touched one, but man he sure knew what to do, given half a 
chance. 

But the lewdly positioned woman was not about to give him that chance. She 
was going to let him dangle there for a good long moment until his little 
penis bulged so hard in his pants that he couldn't stand it any longer. She 
was going to tease him and make him pay for what other cruel teenage boys 
had done to her in the past. 

Norma glided the tips of her fingers back and forth along the insides of her 
thighs, up over her stockings to the lacy white straps of her garter belt 
and the small unprotected area of naked trembling flesh between. 

"Ummmh," she moaned through slightly parted lips as she rested her head back 
against the door panel, letting her eyes flicker shut. 

Tiny electric sensations streamed through her body as her fingertips began 
tracing the lacy trim of her panties, squeezing the edges ever so slightly 
toward the center to reveal the curly strands of dark pubic hair nestled 
beneath. 

Jimmy Porter's eyes bulged out like watermelons, and his stiff young penis 
danced savagely inside his pants. Jesus, he wanted to cum all over her 
panties. Why didn't she say something to him? What did she want him to do? 

"Get inside, quickly," the mysterious woman whispered at last, determined to 
get this boy even if his friend didn't seem to want to move. His hands 
trembling, his heart pounding like a tom-tom, Jimmy half-leaped onto the 
front seat. 

"Get up on your knees on the seat," she ordered him. His whole body shaking 
like a vibrating machine, he obeyed her command, not realizing that he was 
unwittingly posing for a photograph, for high on the embankment seventy-five 
yards away, Nick Saxby framed the scene below, adjusted the focusing ring on 
his telephoto lens and began shooting. 

"You like my panties?" Norma cooed at the helpless teenager. "You want to 
touch them, don't you?" 

"Y-yessss," Jimmy stammered. "Cripes yessssss!" 

Slowly, rhythmically, she began to thrust her pelvis up and down in a lewd 
grinding motion, tantalizing the young boy with the enticingly rounded mound 
of her vagina as she undulated her hips in obscene sexual rhythms. All this 
time the blond boy knelt rigidly still, his body shaking and trembling as he 
hovered before her like a young slave in front of a goddess. 

Lightning sensations of forbidden excitement flashed through Norma's belly 
at the thought of the power she wielded over this powerless youngster. 
Velvety moisture seeped down between the pulsating lips of her vagina as she 
carefully drew the lacy crotch band to one side and briefly exposed her 
desire-swollen pussy to his eager eyes. 

"Oh wow!" Jimmy whined like a tortured animal. She was flashing her cunt at 
him, and he was just kneeling there like a dumb ass-hole. Christ, he 
couldn't stand it any longer! He was going to jump right on top of her! 

But before he could move, she began whispering instructions to him in a 
sharp commanding voice. 

"Undo your zipper!" she ordered him like an angry school teacher. 

"Oh J-Jeeeesus!" he gasped as he fumbled with his fly and felt a cold sweat 
breaking out on his forehead. 

In the meantime, his friend found that he couldn't stand the suspense any 
longer. Paul Wilson crept forward on his hands and knees, his stiff cock 
thrashing around inside his pants like an angry snake. When he had reached 
the car he timidly rose to his feet and peered into the front seat just in 
time to see the strange mystery woman reaching inside Jimmy's pants and 
grasping his young cock firmly in her hand. 

"Holy balls!" the spying teenager swore out loud, though he wasn't the only 
one who was amazed. 

Hidden behind a low shrub on the embankment Nick Saxby zeroed in on the 
scene again with his camera. What a shot! That young kid on his knees with 
his cock hanging out and Norma Peterson's hand wrapped around it. This was 
going to be an aware-winning photograph, he chuckled to himself as he 
snapped the shutter. 

Jimmy Porter couldn't hear the distant chick, however. The only thing he 
could hear was the crazy pounding of his own blood inside his head and the 
excited fluttering of his heart as the lust-demented older woman wrapped her 
fingers around the entire length of his penis and began stroking it back and 
forth, making it swell and pulse as though it had a life of its own. 

"Oh wow!" he gasped out loud, supporting himself with one hand on the 
dashboard and the other on the top of the car seat. Crazy sensations rippled 
up and down his spine, and his balls ached as though they were going to 
explode at any second. 

Her clasped fingers glided over the bulbous rubbery head, sliding down the 
length of its rigid base as it jerked and palpitated with excitement. 

"Aaaaagh!" he moaned as she reached inside his pants and began massaging the 
small hairless sac of his balls. His young penis quivered and throbbed, 
ready to spew its white-hot load in mid-air. 

"Get closer!" she hissed. "Closer!" 

As waves of savage excitement swarmed through his body, the curly-haired 
youth moved deeper in between her widespread legs. 

He could feel them moving together, circling around his own legs where they 
were bent at the knee, trapping him in her web, her body sliding down in the 
seat so that the hem of her skirt pushed farther up over her stomach. 

"Now I'm going to let you fuck my little panties. That's what you want, 
isn't it?" she breathed. 

"G-geeze yes, yes!" 

The sweating palms of his hands gripped the car seat and dashboard on either 
side for dear life as his friend looked on in utter amazement from behind. 
Paul Wilson's mouth was wide open, his face pale and his entire body 
trembling. Holy balls! He wanted to jump right in there and push Jimmy out 
of the way. Jesus, this was the first real live piece of ass he'd seen in 
his entire life. 

Paul's young cock throbbed wildly inside his pants as he gaped at the lewdly 
aroused woman's thighs wrapped luridly around his companion's legs, the thin 
straps of her garter belt expanding and contracting as she rhythmically 
squeezed and released her obscene scissor-grip around his legs. And then 
right before his eyes, he saw her suddenly yanking Jimmy's pants down below 
his buttocks. Goddamn, he must be about ready to shoot his wad! 

As the swollen lips of her pussy palpitated insanely beneath her panties, 
Norma grasped the captive teenager's cock and guided it up against the hotly 
swelling mound of her vagina, feeling it pulse and throb with spasmodic 
ecstasy. 

Deep passionate moans poured from her lips as she levered her legs up high 
and wrapped them firmly around the young boy's muscular white buttocks. 

"Ooooo Christ!" he wailed, clenching his eyes shut against the aching pain 
inside his testicles. His arms strained against their supports as the 
obscenely aroused woman guided the narrow rubbery head of his cock up tight 
against the obscenely moistened crotch band of her panties still sheathing 
her palpitating cunt like a silk scabbard. 

"Uuuggghhh, God! I'm gonna cum!" he wailed, his body shuddering with unknown 
pleasure. 

Norma gasped and moaned as her cream-white thighs squeezed against the 
teenager's hips and her pelvis began to undulate in an intense quickening 
rhythm. 

"More! More!" she demanded as she suddenly reached out and grasped his hard 
unspoiled ass-cheeks and pulled his naked hips closer to her. 

His throbbing young cock pushed the soft wet silk of her panties a quarter 
inch up into the tight slippery depths of her pussy, straining futilely 
against the frustrating restraint of this strange condom. 

"Oh God, cum, cum!" she gasped as she tore at his buttocks, her fingernails 
raking deep welts in his resilient skin. 

Sweat was pouring off the young boy's face now, not the cold sweat of fear 
but the hot dripping sweat of youthful passion. His heart leaped up inside 
his throat and pounded there like a jackhammer as his hands tore themselves 
loose from the car seat and dashboard, and he lunged forward on top of the 
lewdly squirming female beneath him. 

"Aaaaahhh, nooo!" Norma squealed, suddenly aware that the once-helpless 
youngster was seizing the initiative. But it was too late now. Her own body 
had deserted her and she could feel wickedly pulsating sensations of her own 
desire rippling out of control through her belly. 

Like an animal gone wild she locked her legs even tighter around the young 
boy's buttocks, pushed up his sweatshirt, and dug her nails into the naked 
skin of his back. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, damnit!" she screamed, her stocking-sheathed legs hotly 
squeezing his virginal young body, her feet pointed high up in the air above 
the convertible. 

Obediently, the young boy grunted like a baby elephant and shoved his cock 
hard up inside her wetly throbbing pussy, pushing the panty silk far into 
the depths of her vaginal canal. 

He grasped her half-clad breasts hungrily as his body squirmed and jerked in 
an awkward dance of adolescent lust, kneading and squeezing them until 
submissive moans of lewd abandon broke from her throat. 

"Harder, harder!" she wailed, raking her fingernails across his back until 
she could feel their path lubricated by blood. 

The young boy grunted and moaned as his watching companion grasped the rear 
door of the car so tightly that his muscles shook and shuddered. 

"Oh God, I'm gonna cum!" Jimmy moaned. His stiff young penis twitched 
spasmodically inside the warm walls of the writhing woman's panty-lined 
cunt, and then it burst like a bomb. 

Wave after wave of hot wet liquid poured into the strange woman's savagely 
grasping cunt pounding against the unnatural barrier of her panties. Her 
legs jerked and squeezed as she dug her fingernails into his buttocks, her 
belly quivering with perverse passion, her cuntal lips clasping and 
unclasping around the eager young cock erupting frantically inside her. She 
moaned and shuddered, her head tossing back and forth in desperate abandon 
until finally she exhaled a heavy gasping breath and released her legs. 

The young boy pulled out of her abruptly, his mind awhirl with confusion. 
Hurriedly he jerked up his shorts and pants and buckled his belt as Norma 
sprawled out luxuriously on the seat, letting her eyes flicker closed. 

Jimmy was scared to death now as he stumbled backward out of the 
convertible. Jesus, he was sure somebody must be looking. 

"Come on, quick!" Jimmy repeated, grabbing Paul's arm. It was a tough 
struggle, but the blond-haired boy finally managed to pry his partner loose 
and the two of them dashed back for their football and then blitzed across 
the field as though they were being chased by jet planes. 

They weren't the only ones who were excited, though. On top of the 
embankment, Nick Saxby was so shaken that when he lit a cigarette to calm 
his nerves he found that his hands were trembling uncontrollably. 

Jesus, he had never expected anything like this, never in his life! Funny 
thing, though ... his blackmail mission had suddenly become less important. 
The thing he wanted most now was to fuck the living daylights out of 
snobbish Miss Norma Peterson. Jesus, what a cock-teaser! 

Chapter Three 

When Norma arrived home that afternoon she found herself in a state of total 
confusion, her body trembling all over. Immediately the exhausted brunette 
headed into the kitchen to fix herself a martini, though she wasn't 
accustomed to drinking during the day. 

I haven't gone this far in a long, long time, she thought to herself as she 
hurriedly shook the gin and vermouth in a container and poured a drink. What 
if someone saw me? God, it's bound to happen someday if I keep doing things 
like this in public. 

The muscles of her whole body felt tight and stiff, and her mind was on the 
verge of snapping. How much longer could she carry on the double life she 
was leading, acting cool and crisp in the office like a robot and seducing 
young boys on the side? The tension was killing her, and after she had 
finished the martini, she entered the bedroom and began sobbing like a 
frightened child. If only there were some way she could rid herself of the 
strange compulsion to expose her panties in front of young boys, everything 
would be all right. But it was impossible, impossible, she thought to 
herself. 

Norma passed the rest of the weekend idling listlessly around her apartment, 
trying to concentrate on some books on salesmanship which Mr. Cunningham had 
suggested she read. Early Sunday evening, after a meager dinner which she 
forced herself to eat, she climbed back in bed and gradually drifted off to 
sleep. 

The following morning she woke early and after seriously contemplating not 
showing up for work, dressed herself in a gray-checked jumper with a white 
long sleeved blouse underneath. As usual, she pulled her long dark hair back 
in an austere bun, donned her dark-framed glasses and headed out to her 
convertible. 

When she arrived at work at a quarter to nine, she was surprised to find 
Nick Saxby already at his desk, his feet propped up on it as usual, a broad 
grin playing over his handsome arrogant face. He certainly looked bright and 
cheery, she thought to herself as she passed by his office, but she quickly 
looked away, partly out of guilt since she had a strong feeling that Nick 
wouldn't be with the company much longer. Good riddance to him anyway, he 
was nothing but a little playboy who thought he could succeed in business by 
charming everyone, not by putting in long hours of hard work as she did. 

"Well, hello, Norma," her fellow marketing analyst called out to her in a 
pleasant voice as she walked briskly by. 

"Good morning, Mr. Saxby," she answered formally as she entered her office, 
a small cubicle surrounded by metal partitions and topped by frosted glass 
windows. 

To her surprise, Saxby strolled casually up to her desk and asked if she 
wanted a cup of coffee. She removed her dark-framed glasses to stare at him, 
trying to figure out what his game was. At first she thought he was being 
sarcastic because ever since she'd been with the company she had refused to 
take her turn at coffee duty like the rest of the girls. 

A moment later, though, she could see he wasn't being sarcastic at all, he 
was smiling so pleasantly at her. 

"All right," she said finally. "I think I will." 

Before she could count to ten, her rival was back with a steaming hot cup 
which he set on her desk. Uninvited, he pulled a chair up, lit a cigarette, 
and casually crossed his legs. 

'Tell me something, Norma," he said. "Do you think you'll make 
vice-president?" 

The question was so blunt that it caught her completely off guard, and she 
could almost feel herself blushing. 

"Why ... I haven't the slightest idea. Mr. Cunningham hasn't mentioned a 
thing about it. Why do you ask?" 

Nick grinned coyly, realizing he could afford to grin now that he had taken 
those incriminating pictures of her seducing the two young kids. He'd 
dropped them off at the photo lab and requested a rush job. 

"Just curiosity," he said. "He certainly seems to be very fond of your 
work." 

"Well, / happen to be fond of my work too." At that Nick threw his hands up 
in the air. "Look, don't bite me," he grinned. "I'm just making 
conversation. After all, I don't get much chance to talk with you. You're 
always so busy." 

"Mr. Saxby, I know you're trying to get at something, but I don't know what 
it is." She glanced quickly down at her wristwatch. "It's almost nine now, 
and I have a lot of work to do. Perhaps you could do the same." 

Snotty bitch, he thought to himself. She really played that office robot act 
to the hilt. He was going to enjoy it when he knocked her down a notch, when 
he showed her the photos of that young kid screwing her through her panties 
and caught the expression on her face. Shit, he was really going to enjoy 
it, but now was not the time to spring his surprise. Now was the time to 
just act normal, and so he took another sip of coffee and rose from his 
chair. 

"Just call me Nick," he winked from the entrance to her office. He gave her 
a last lingering grin and went on his way. 

As he left, Norma looked up from the papers she had pretended to busy 
herself with and felt a strange uneasiness clouding her mind. Why was he 
suddenly trying to be so friendly to her, and why had he just dropped into 
her office to pay her a visit? There was something ominous in his tone of 
voice, something a bit too familiar for her taste. 

Norma continued to ponder this strange behavior until Mr. Cunningham called 
her into his office, at which point she dismissed all thoughts of her rival 
from her mind. 

As she took a seat on the opposite side of the president's desk, she saw him 
lean back in his swivel chair, fold his powerful hands in his lap, and smile 
at her in a fatherly way. Norma knew that was a good sign, because Arthur 
Cunningham did not smile at everyone, and he did not give compliments 
easily, which was the way she liked it. 

There was no other male she admired more than this handsome fifty year old 
industrialist. Even from the alertness of his deep-set brown eyes it was 
evident that his mind was as sharp as a razor. He exuded an air of calm 
confidence that was reflected in his strong distinguished features, his 
neatly combed-back steel gray hair, and the rugged character lines in his 
leathery suntanned face. 

"Norma," he said finally. "I want to tell you that you've been doing an 
excellent job. I've read every word of your report, and I agree with you 
completely. You've hit on exactly the right approach for the advertising 
agency." 

"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham," she answered promptly. 

"I also want you to know that we're seriously considering you for the post 
of marketing vice-president. We've kept that post open a long time - ever 
since Ned Baxter left - and we've done it for a good reason. We want to find 
the right person. Of course, there's one problem. We've never had a woman in 
that high a position before." 

Norma braced herself for what she thought was going to come, the thing she 
had been fighting all her life. He was going to tell her that her work was 
excellent, but that women just weren't suited for executive positions. They 
received expensive training then left to get married, pregnant, etc. Her 
mind flashed back quickly to the experience which had occurred when she was 
thirteen years old - the day the boys had sent her to the sidelines. Men 
were all the same, she thought bitterly. They let you play the game, and 
then whether they were thirteen or thirty, shoved you aside when you played 
too well. 

Surprisingly, though, Arthur Cunningham did not say what she expected. 

"In spite of the fact that we've never had a woman vice-president," he 
resumed. "I'm willing to back you, provided you can show me you know how to 
handle men. You have to understand, Norma, business just isn't statistics 
and marketing forecasts. The human element is the main thing - especially 
when you're dealing with sales. And if you're going to be marketing 
vice-president, you've got to know how to handle salesmen - men like Benny 
Smith and Don Richardson. In essence, you've got to become one of the boys, 
and if you can do that, you're a sure bet for vice-president." 

"Mr. Cunningham," Norma interrupted him. "I certainly can't be one of the 
boys, but I think I've proven that I'm competitive and I know what I'm 
doing. I think I can earn the respect of all our salesmen." 

"Good, good!" Cunningham smiled. "I have confidence in you, Norma, and I 
know you can do the job." 

"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham, thank you very much." Norma said and, realizing 
that the brief meeting was at an end, she rose from her chair in front of 
Arthur Cunningham's desk. 

As she left the room, the fifty year old widower's eyes fixed on the slender 
columns of her legs and the neatly rounded mounds of her firmly swaying 
buttocks. Damn, he thought to himself. If she would only loosen up, she'd be 
one hell of a broad . . . 

In the meantime, Nick Saxby hadn't been able to get a stitch of work done 
the whole time Norma was in Cunningham's office. He had a hunch that the 
boss was praising his female rival's work, and it was getting him very 
upset. His hunch was confirmed when the female computer emerged from 
the-president's office with a smug little smile on her face, the first one 
he had ever seen her give. Shit, he thought to himself, she was damn well 
going to be the next marketing vice-president unless he moved fast, unless 
he developed a sure-fire plan to stop her. 

For the rest of the day, Nick racked his brains, smoking cigarette after 
cigarette. The first part of the plan was easy. He was going to pay Norma a 
visit and show her certain photographs he had taken. That he would do 
tonight. The second part of the plan was more difficult, for not only did he 
want her to give up her ambition to be vice-president, he also wanted 
everyone else in the office to know what a hypocrite she was, to know that 
her high-powered career girl act was just a phony and that deep down inside 
she was a sex-crazed whore lusting after any little-boy cock she could find. 
That would be his ultimate vengeance for the fact that she had tried to do 
him out of what he thought was rightfully his. And that was where things got 
complicated. 

By mid-afternoon, though, a definite plan was finally beginning to take 
shape in his mind. The plan involved a party he was going to throw, a real 
wild party - in fact, an orgy. Two things were necessary for it to succeed. 
First he had to lure Norma to his apartment on the appointed night, and 
second he had to make sure that people from the office would show up, 
because he needed witnesses to observe the real Norma Peterson, the woman he 
had seen seducing two young boys on a suburban football field the day before 
yesterday. To make the plan succeed, he needed the cooperation of Flo Jones, 
and he knew the young blonde secretary would be plenty willing to help out. 

By the time five o'clock rolled around Nick Saxby was on top of the world. 
Over at the coat rack he accosted Flo and invited her to McGurk's bar across 
the street for a drink, an invitation she willingly accepted. 

The bar was a dingy joint with a pinball machine in the back and half-drunk 
laborers occupying the stools facing the counter. They all turned around and 
stared brazenly as Flo entered with Nick, glancing at her coat as though it 
were mink and gaping at the pair of breasts that swelled voluptuously 
beneath it. 

Nick led the young secretary quickly to a booth in the back room near the 
pin-ball machine and took a seat opposite her. He ordered two drinks when 
the bartender finally came around and then proceeded with his business as 
Flo slipped out of her coat. 

"Listen," he said excitedly. "I've got some good news. I found out about 
Norma Peterson. You were absolutely right. She likes little boys." 

"You see? I told you so," the aggressive young blonde said as the bartender 
placed two drinks in front of them. 

Nick reached out, grinned at her, and patted her hand. 

"I'm gonna fix her, Flo baby. I'm gonna fix her for good." 

"It's about time," Flo said. "What did you find out?" 

"I can't tell you right now, because it's part of a plan I'm still trying to 
work out, but I need your help." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"That's right," Nick confided. "You've got to invite some friends of yours 
from the office to a party I'm having at my apartment." 

"A party? Oh yeah?" Flo cooed, too dumb to realize that he was trying to 
imply something important. 

''It's more than a party Flo. It's something special. I want you to bring 
some girls who know what it's all about, you know what I mean?" 

"So . . . you're planning an orgy," Flo whispered secretively, her blue eyes 
lighting with a seductive twinkle. Nick grinned. 

"That's right, sweetheart. A genuine orgy, and Norma Peterson is the star 
performer." 

"You're putting me on, Nick," the eager young blonde chided. 

"I'm telling the truth, I swear it. I've got a plan and I think it'll work. 
It's something out little Miss Peterson can't possibly back out of.' 

"Tell me, I'm dying to hear about it." 

"No, no," Nick objected. "Not yet, you'll find out in good time. But I need 
your help. Can I count on you?" 

"You can count on me all right," the young secretary swore, the expression 
on her face becoming cold and calculating. "That damn Peterson bitch has 
been on my ass ever since she started. I'm getting sick and tired of the 
high-handed way she acts." 

"Well, if things work out right, Norma Peterson isn't going to be on 
anybody's ass except her own," Nick chuckled confidently. 

After glancing at his watch, he downed his drink and hurriedly excused 
himself. He laid a five dollar bill on the table in front of his female ally 
and headed out the door before she could protest his abrupt departure. 

When he arrived at the photo lab, it was almost closing time. Behind the 
counter stood the proprietor, a white-haired old man with slumping 
shoulders, who scanned his customer up and down as if he were memorizing a 
description for the police. Finally, the old man took his claim slip. 

"All thirty-six of them come out?" Nick inquired as casually as he could. 

"Nope," the owner said. "Just twenty-four." Nick's face went pale. 

"Twenty-four, what are you talkin' about? There were thirty-six shots." 

"Show ya what I mean," the old man said cunningly and shuffled into the back 
room. He returned a moment later with two separate boxes. Pointing to the 
first box, he said: "This here box has twenty-four slides. That runs you the 
normal price. This other box has twelve slides in it. That's gonna run you 
twenty dollars." 

For a moment Nick didn't know whether to blow up or simply grab the smaller 
box and dash out of the store. Then he saw a sly smile cross the old 
codger's face, and he burst out laughing. 

"Okay you greedy old bastard," he chuckled as he reached in his wallet. "Now 
tell me how they came out." 

"Look for yourself," the owner said as he pocketed the folding money and 
handed his client a small viewer from the counter. 

Nick opened the box excitedly, slipped in the slides one by one, and smiled 
like a baby. Perfect! Absolutely perfect - each one of them. Close-ups of 
the seductive expression on Norma Peterson's face, shots of her lewdly 
spread legs with the young kid gaping down at them, and even a couple of 
beauties showing the super-career girl's hands wrapped around the teenager's 
cock. Hell, this stuff was so hot it was burning his hands. 

"Friend of yours?" the old man leered. 

"It's my grandmother," Nick said, inserting the slides in his coat pocket as 
he turned to hasten out the door. 

* * * 

At the same moment, the object of the incriminating photos, Norma Peterson, 
was just changing out of her work clothes and donning a long ,gauzy peignoir 
in the privacy of her city center apartment. Customarily she didn't drink at 
all during the week ... but tonight she felt was an exception as she happily 
went about mixing a pitcher of martinis. After all, there weren't many girls 
who'd been practically assured of becoming vice-president in a large 
manufacturing company. 

She deserved it too, she thought. She had worked hard getting a master's 
degree and from there learning all about industrial marketing. Ironically, 
though, if it hadn't been for her special problem, the strange compulsion to 
expose her panties to young boys, she wouldn't have gotten where she was 
now. It was to keep from dwelling on this obsession of hers that she'd 
buried herself in work and stayed free of romantic entanglements with men 
her own age. Her sexual needs being satisfied in her own perverse way, the 
only thing that remained was to absorb herself in the business world where 
she had carved an important niche. 

Even now, as she transported the pitcher of martinis and a glass to the 
low-slung living room couch, she was in the process of improving her mind, 
for on an end table nearby lay a half-read book on salesmanship which Mr. 
Cunningham suggested she go through. If only she could master some of the 
techniques of relating to people she would have the coveted position of 
marketing vice-president in the bag, and this was the only way she knew to 
begin the task - by reading a book. 

Her eyes scanned the pages rapidly in an alert professional manner, and 
within ten minutes she was thoroughly absorbed in the material - so 
absorbed, in fact, that she did not hear the doorbell until the fourth ring, 
and then she practically jumped from her seat. 

Who in the world? she thought to herself, glancing at her watch as she went 
to the door. It was seven o'clock in the evening. She wasn't expecting 
anyone, and it certainly didn't seem like a logical time for somebody to pay 
a visit on her. Hesitantly she opened the door a tiny crack, and got the 
surprise of her life. It was Nick Saxby! 

Dressed in a neat blue shirt, his suitcoat draped over his left shoulder, 
his top shirt button undone and his tie pulled down, he was casually resting 
one arm against the doorjamb. And he was smiling at her - that arrogant 
little smile of his - as though it was the most natural thing in the world 
to just drop by like this. 

"What are you doing here?" Norma gasped, ready to slam the door in his face. 

"Just thought I'd stop by for a minute," he chuckled suggestively. 

"How did you find my address?" she demanded angrily, self-consciously 
clasping the folds of her peignoir together at the top. 

"Easy. I just looked it up in the personnel file." 

"Well I can see somebody's going to be in trouble. Those files are supposed 
to be confidential." 

Nick calmly lit a cigarette and blew smoke through the crack in the door. 

"Listen, I have some important business I want to discuss with you. I 
suggest you let me in." 

"You can discuss it from right where you are," she huffed, absolutely amazed 
at his brazen attitude. 

"If you're smart, baby, you'll let me in. My business concerns two young 
boys and a certain woman." 

The words hit her like a fist in the stomach, and the events of the Saturday 
morning she'd spent on the suburban high school football field flashed 
through her mind like a quick nightmare. But how could Nick Saxby possibly 
know about that? How could anyone know about that? 

Her look of surprise registered with Nick, and his confidence grew. Before 
she could shut the door on him he pulled out a stack of color slides from 
his shirt pocket and flashed them before her eyes. 

"I think you'll be interested in these," he leered. "They're not exactly 
pictures of sailboats." 

Norma's eyes darted desperately back and forth, trying to find a way out of 
the trap she knew was being set for her. But it was hopeless. Somehow, he 
had found out what she'd done. Somehow he had learned the truth that no one 
else had discovered, and he was holding the proof in front of her eyes, or 
at least pretending to. 

"You better let me in," he grinned. "You wouldn't want any of those nasty 
office rumors to make the rounds, would you?" 

Norma grew suddenly pale at the implied threat, her hands trembling as she 
clenched the door knob tightly. God, it was all over now. Someone had 
discovered her secret life, and that someone was the very man who could do 
the most harm. How desperately she wanted to claw his eyes out! But in spite 
of her growing anger she knew she must remain outwardly calm. He could be 
bluffing after all. Grudgingly she undid the chain lock on the apartment 
door and opened it. 

"Well, well, well," Nick clucked as he swaggered inside and eyed the living 
room. "Pretty nice setup you have. Pretty nice getup too," he leered as he 
eyes the diaphorous gown she was wearing. Hell, he could see practically 
everything - those round, up-tilted tits of hers, even the outline of her 
tight-fitting bikini panties. No sir, this wasn't the same Norma Peterson he 
knew from work. This was the Norma Peterson who fucked little boys. 

Instinctively the young career girl crossed her arms over her breasts to 
hide them from his searing gaze. Then she turned and headed briskly into the 
bedroom to slip into something more modest. To her surprise, though, the 
uninvited guest simply followed her in and sat down on the edge of the bed, 
bouncing on it slightly as though trying it for size. 

"I don't discuss business in the bedroom. Mr. Saxby," she informed him 
coldly as she tightened the belt of a dark blue bathrobe around her waist. 

"Oh, I like bedrooms. I always talk business in the bedroom. How about a 
drink?" 

"Look, if this is some sort of joke, why don't we just forget about it," 
Norma retorted. 

Nick gave her a level gaze, knitting his dark eyebrows together. 

"I said I'd like a drink," he repeated slowly. 

For the first time Norma realized this brazen intruder was a dangerous foe, 
not just an ineffectual playboy. His menacing tone of voice was beginning 
to- frighten her, and after hesitating for a long moment, she went to the 
living room to retrieve the pitcher of martinis. She paused there, wondering 
whether to call the police. But what would she tell them? And if she did 
call, he was sure to use whatever information he had against her. No, the 
only thing to do was to bring him the drink he wanted. Only she'd be damned 
if she was going to get him a glass too. 

"Tell me, Norma," he said as she re-entered the bedroom. "Do you usually 
spend your evenings sitting at home drinking martinis? 

He was sitting casually on the edge of the bed as if he owned it and staring 
at her with a kind of mocking curiosity. Rudely, she thrust the pitcher of 
martinis in his hand and took a sip from her own half-empty glass, backing 
away toward a low bureau against the wall. 

"No glass?" he inquired. 

"Not for you," she snapped. "You're not exactly a guest." 

"You're a very nasty little girl," Nick informed her as he grinned back and 
took a deep draught from the pitcher. 

"Suppose we discuss business, Mister Saxby." 

"Don't pull your high and mighty act with me," he cautioned her. "We're out 
of the office now. It's just you and me." 

Norma's face flushed red with anger. God, she wanted to toss her drink in 
his face, but somehow she managed to control herself. 

"Okay, I'm ready to talk," he said finally in a level but still threatening 
voice. Casually he tossed his suit coat onto the foot of the bed and took 
the slides from his pocket. 

"Here take a look at these," he teased "You'll enjoy them." 

He held the slides in the hand of his outstretched arm like bait for a 
helpless fish as Norma, trembling desperately, approached him, setting her 
drink on the bureau. 

"Here take them." He raised them up toward her out-reaching hand and slid 
the top one off the stack with his thumb. 

By God, he thought, she was trapped now. She was shaking all over, her 
fingers trembling so badly she could barely get a grip on the mounting. 

"Go on," Nick coaxed. "Raise it up to the light and take a good look. Take a 
real good look, baby." 

Norma's mind was torn in half. She wanted to snatch the whole stack of 
filthy photos from his hands and destroy them before he could stop her. But 
at the same time she knew she must force herself to see how incriminating 
they really were. 

Reluctantly, standing at the edge of the bed to one side of him, she raised 
the tiny mounted piece of film toward the overhead light and inspected it as 
her tormentor grinned cruelly up at her. 

A wave of panic surged through her body, her heart pounded, and her face 
paled. God, she was finished now! It was all over. The tiny piece of film 
had captured the young boy with his pants down, his thickened little penis 
cuddled in her hands. The camera had focused on her face so clearly that 
anyone who knew her would recognize her immediately. She was ruined, 
destroyed! 

Angrily she hurled the evidence down at him, wishing it were a brick instead 
of a flimsy piece of film. 

"What do you want?" she hissed contemptuously. 

"We'll talk about that in a minute. I'm going to pour you a drink first to 
take away that nasty edge in your voice." 

Gloating in his new found power over his rival, he hoisted up the martini 
pitcher from the floor by the bed, ambled over to the bureau where her glass 
was sitting, and casually refilled it. 

"Here, take it," he offered. "You're going to need it." 

Norma gazed at him bitterly, helpless anger rising inside her body. She 
wanted to kill him, destroy him for what he had done. He pressed the glass 
into her unsteady hand and grinned at her in hateful triumph. He had her 
just where he wanted her - under his thumb, only that wasn't the only thing 
she was going to be under tonight. 

"Drink up, doll. It kills the pain." 

Norma's knuckles turned white as she gripped the thin stem of her glass. 
Then suddenly her hand made a swift upward movement, and in a split second 
her tormentor's face was dripping with gin and vermouth. 

"That does it, baby!" Nick rasped furiously as he lunged toward her. He 
grabbed her wrists, twisting them painfully until the glass dropped from her 
left hand. Violently he pinned her arms behind her and pulled her body 
tightly against his. 

"Don't, I'll call the police!" she gasped helplessly. 

"Don't give me that shit. You would have called them already." 

"Let me go!" she squealed, desperately trying to free her wrists from his 
grip. But it was hopeless, she knew she could never resist anyone as strong 
as him. 

Before she knew what was happening he had forced her down on the bed and 
torn her bathrobe loose at the waist. Kneeling on the mattress his knees 
wedged in between her legs and splayed them apart as his hands wrenched the 
robe down off her shoulders. The skirts of her flimsy peignoir underneath 
spread apart, leaving the insides of her thighs naked and unprotected. 

'This time, you're the underdog," he hissed down at her between tightly 
clenched teeth. Squirming helplessly, she tried to free her legs to kick at 
him, but he only forced his knees tighter between them, wedging her thighs 
farther apart. 

He bent forward from his haunches, still firmly positioned between the 
struggling girl's legs and pinned down her shoulder with one hand as he 
seized her jaw with the other Pressing his lips hotly against hers, he 
speared his tongue up between them into the warm wet cavern of her mouth. 

Desperately she tried to jerk her head away, but his hand held it in place. 
She gasped for air as his tongue jousted with hers and then thrust deep up 
into her throat, squirming like a wild animal with a life of its own. 

"Aaaaaaagh!" she choked, her body jerking violently as she tried to break 
away. But as quickly as he had inserted his tongue, he withdrew it and, with 
his hands pressing down her shoulders, his face only inches from hers, he 
gazed cruelly into her eyes. 

"Now, you're gonna feel some real man-cock inside that hot little pussy of 
yours," he snarled obscenely down at her. 

"N-no, don't rape me! I'll give you anything you want. J-just get out of 
here." 

"This is what I want, baby," he muttered as he lowered his head again and 
began kissing her neck with savage passion. 

She struggled to free her legs held wide on either side of his thighs, but 
he spread his knees farther apart, stretching them wider with brutal 
cruelty. 

"Just relax, baby," he crooned. "I'm better than any fourteen year old kid. 
Besides, I want to teach you a lesson for throwing that drink at me." 

"N-no! God! You're hurting me!" she wailed. 

Suddenly he pushed himself off her shoulders and thrust back to a kneeling 
position. She squirmed back on the bed, seeing a chance to bring her legs 
together, but his hands quickly grasped her calves just below the knee, 
raised them up, and held them against either side of his chest as his arms 
clamped around them like tight vises. Her limbs were locked in a helpless 
position. 

"Stop! Let me go!" she squealed like a frantic child. 

"Nothing' doing," he growled, reveling in his power over her. "I want to get 
inside those pretty little panties of yours." 

"God-d-d, no! Not my panties!" she wailed, tremors of fear pulsing through 
her body. No one had ever taken her panties off, not even the innocent young 
boys she had exposed them to. It was her panties that allowed her to control 
males, to tease and torture them. She could never let them be stripped away! 

Desperately, she tried to thrust herself to a sitting position to escape the 
powerful hold he had on her legs, but as her arms strained to push the top 
half of her body upward, he suddenly levered her trapped legs high splaying 
them lewdly apart. Her balance was ruined, and she toppled back onto the 
mattress. 

Seeing her upended, he jerked her legs back down against the mattress, 
spread them wide, and pinned them down with the strength of his forearms. 
Lurching forward again, his fingers hooked into the narrow elastic of her 
panty waistband on either side of her hips. 

"No, not my panties!" the horrified woman gasped, bucking and squirming like 
a trapped animal. Arching her back powerfully and tensing her muscles she 
again tried to break loose, but he only tightened his grip on her, spurred 
on by the excitement of her desperately writhing loins. His buttocks resting 
back on the heels of his shoes, he bent low until his face was only inches 
away from her pussy, framed by the milk-white "vee" of her thighs. He could 
see the thin strands of her dark pubic hairs curling out from the legband of 
her white panties on either side, the shapely mound of her vagina swelling 
beneath the crotchband, and he licked his lips in nervous preparation for 
the feast that was about to begin. 

His head lowered slowly to the point of the silk-swathed triangle, and his 
tongue flicked at it with a sudden snake-like swiftness. 

"OOOOOOH, God! Let me go!" she wailed bitterly. She pushed up to a sitting 
position and reached forward to grab his hair in her hands. She yanked it 
brutally, but it only seemed to excite him more, and his tongue pushed the 
panty silk forward into the tight little opening of her diaphanously guarded 
pussy until she could feel his saliva mingling with the hot seeping moisture 
of her own loins. 

Levering up her thighs, he raised them so that they fell over his shoulders 
on either side. Helplessly Norma kicked at his back with her naked heels 
trying to hurt him with all her might, but she was powerless as a tiny 
child, and his fingers hooking into her panty waistband again began to roll 
them slowly down her hips. Her whole body bucked in wild protest. 

"Nooo, not my panties, no!" she squealed. 

Nick grinned up at her from between her legs with a triumphant smile on his 
face. So that was it, he thought to himself. It wasn't just young kids she 
was after. Panties were her hangup. Her whole thing was to go around 
exposing her panties to teenage boys without actually letting them get 
inside her. She was a cock-teaser... just one big panty-flashing 
cock-teaser! It was going to be easier than he thought to turn her on. All 
he had to do now was keep her panties on, and he could have anything he 
wanted. 

Without warning he unhooked his thumbs from the frilly waistband, pushed her 
legs away, and hoisted himself to a standing position at the side of the 
bed. Hurriedly he pulled his shirt from his pants and began unbuttoning it. 

Norma saw her chance and attempted to dash past him toward the door, but his 
arm caught her waist and hurled her back down onto the mattress. She 
realized it was impossible to escape now, and in spite of her fear she found 
her eyes glancing at his powerful hairy chest and muscular biceps while at 
the same time seeking another escape route. There was no doubt that this was 
a man before her and not a young boy - a man who wanted to dominate her in 
the same way she dominated the boys she exposed herself to. 

Her eyes wide open in horrified amazement, she watched as he stepped out of 
his pants and dropped his shorts. His thickly erect cock sprang right out 
like a menacing spear beneath his belly. 

"N-no! Don't, Don't!" she gasped in horror as he smiled cruelly down at her. 
Propelling herself slowly backward with her arms along the bed, she tried to 
reach the safety of the far edge, but in one swift move he dove at her, 
seizing the smooth trembling flesh of her hips through her peignoir and 
pulling her toward him along the mattress. 

Norma froze, all hope gone. She was sure he was going to rape her now, and 
there was nothing she could do about it. He would shove that huge thick 
penis of his up between her legs and expect her to scream. God, how could 
any woman take something so big inside her without being split apart? At 
that horrible thought she came to life and squirmed again as his naked body 
mounted on top of hers. The trembling thickness of his cock pulsed obscenely 
through the gauzy material of her peignoir against her almost naked belly. 

His hands tore at the narrow ribbon holding the flimsy garment together at 
the top, and as she mustered the last of her strength to fight him, he 
pulled it down off her shoulders and clamped his mouth savagely on her naked 
milk-white breast. She squealed in panic as his tongue swirled around the 
rigid bud of her nipple, sending crazy sensations darting through her body. 
Hungrily he sucked the swelling heaving mound deep inside his mouth as 
groans of protest poured from Norma's lips. 

Finally she managed to push his head back and hold him at arm's length while 
his penis throbbed excitedly against her belly as he supported his torso in 
a push-up position, his arms on either side of her shoulders. 

"Goddamn, I've been waiting a long time for this," he swore vengefully at 
the woman who was trying to take his job from him. A cruel grin flashed 
across his face as he contemplated what he was going to do to her, how he 
was going to make her pay for her unnatural ambition. 

"N-no, please don't do it to me, she pleaded in a trembling voice. All the 
calm composure she displayed in the office had disappeared so that now she 
was a squealing mass of fright, in thrall to the dominating male on top of 
her. 

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'm not going to fuck you yet. I'm gonna 
tongue that little pussy of yours, and get you nice and hot. .. just the way 
you were with those little kids the other day." 

Norma groaned in despair, clenching her eyes tightly shut as if to brace 
herself for what was to come. Her energy was almost gone now, and she did 
not know how much longer she could resist this intruder's lustful will. 

Nick drew himself up on his knees and spread her legs yet wider apart on 
either side of his body. Resting his buttocks on his heels he bent forward 
and gripped the insides of her thighs. He had found her weak spot now - 
those panties of hers - and he was going to take full advantage of it. 

His fingers hooked into the narrow elastic panty waistband, but instead of 
sliding them down off her hips he merely drew it slowly down from the center 
until it revealed the hair-covered mound of her pussy. His fingers rested on 
the stretched elastic, brushing tantalizingly against her soft dark pubic 
hair. 

Norma lay perfectly still, tense with anticipation. It was all over now, her 
body could no longer resist the humiliation that was to come. 

With his fingers resting on the surface of her pulled-down panties, he moved 
his thumbs gently to the hair fringed lips of her pussy, and with a slow 
outward movement began to draw them apart until the pinkly moistened slit 
was exposed to the mercy of his gaze. He watched it greedily for a moment, 
and then with a low animal-like groan dropped his head and buried the full 
length of his slippery slithering tongue deep up into the moist softness of 
her cunt. 

His blackmailed business rival jerked, a soul-searing moan escaping from 
deep in her chest. Her buttocks ground down into the mattress in a vain 
attempt to escape the maddening assault on her most secret flesh. 

"Oh God, oh ooooooh!" she whimpered before her co-worker's attack. Her head 
was up off the mattress watching in horrified disbelief that this nightmare 
was actually happening to her as his head began to rock up and down in 
greedy feast between her legs. 

"AAAAGGHHH! NO, DON'T! STOP, STOP!" she wailed bitterly, her head falling 
back on the mattress and flailing helplessly from side to side as his tongue 
speared in and out of the involuntarily dilating lips of her cunt. In spite 
of her terror and humiliation at the debasing things being done to her 
defenseless genitals, tiny wisps of weird erotic sensation began to ripple 
down deep in her naked belly. 

Nick's hands reached up over the white flatness of her quivering belly and 
dug harshly into the softly trembling mounds of her breasts, his fingers 
rolling the hardening nipples between them in unrelenting fury. As his mouth 
and tongue worked in slavering subjugation at the widespread tightness of 
her cunt, his eyes remained wide-open to delight in the contortions of her 
fear-contorted face. He was waiting for her to turn into the sex-crazed 
siren he had seen offering herself to those young teenage boys. 

And he would not have long to wait either, for even now as Norma struggled 
with the last ounce of resistance in her body she could feel the animal 
desire flaring even more intensely in her loins. It was impossible to 
believe these tiny electric thrills were being caused by a grown man who was 
forcing her to submit to his will and not from young boys whose every move 
she could control. God, it was so different from anything she had 
experienced before. For the first time she could feel the savage thrill of 
illicit adult sex rippling through her soul as this man she so hated made 
obscene wet sucking noises between her legs. 

Saxby's eyes remained locked on her face as he continued the torturing 
thrusts of his tongue deep up into her vagina. He watched her body struggle 
and squirm as she tried to fight the lewd sensations that threatened to 
burst out of control. God, he wanted nothing more than to hear her suddenly 
beg and scream for his cock inside that hungry little pussy of hers. 
Chuckling softly to himself, he jerked her panties down another inch or so, 
bent forward again and traced tiny lewd circles with his tongue around the 
moistly pulsating little bud of her clitoris. 

The searing hot contact with this sensitive nerve center brought a low moan 
of anguish from the helpless brunette's parted lips. She clenched her eyes 
shut and bared her lips back over her teeth to brace herself against the 
torturing sensations it sent racing out of control through her captive body. 

"OOOOOOOOOH God, Don't suck me! Don't. Don't!" she whimpered, desperately 
trying to screw her pussy back down and away from the hotly flicking tongue. 
His only answer was a lewd chuckle from between his wet lips and another 
stab in between her moistly glistening cuntal flanges. 

Slowly his Fingers slipped down between the mattress and her buttocks until 
he could seize the fearfully trembling mounds of flesh. Digging harshly into 
them with his nails, he lifted them up tighter to his face for better access 
to her reluctantly proffered loins. 

Norma could feel her body rapidly deserting her now. Her buttocks spasmed 
involuntarily as her tormentor's tongue flicked maddeningly at the hidden 
depths of her cunt. 

"Stop, stop! I can't stand it!" she gasped as she twisted and squirmed on 
the bed. Clenching her teeth together, she fought with all her remaining 
will against the unwanted sensations of pleasure that threatened to burst 
free inside her at any moment. But it was a losing battle as Nick Saxby 
continued to lick without cease at her lewdly inflamed pussy and knead the 
firm roundness of her undulating ass-cheeks. 

And then after a final desperate struggle within her tortured mind, 
something snapped. She could stand it no longer - the obscene position of 
her body, the wild pulsations of lust that were beginning to ripple through 
her cunt, the lewd placement of her panties, stretched to the limit between 
her thighs. Never before had she experienced such savage pleasure with a man 
of her own age, a man she could not control. 

She jerked spasmodically and began a slow gyrating movement up and down 
against his obscenely thrusting tongue. Her hands curled down into his hair 
as a low, soul-stirring moan issued from deep in her chest . . . She knew 
she was ruined now. Her body had betrayed her, and there was no turning 
back. 

Norma's lust-fired company rival easily sensed the beginning of her 
surrender and grinned in triumph as he drove his tongue rhythmically in and 
out of her dilating pussy. He could feel her silk-soft pubic hairs graze 
tantalizingly against the tip of his nose as her buttocks clenched and 
loosened in a slow hypnotic rhythm up against his face. Any minute now, she 
would be turned on the way she'd been with those young kids. Any minute now 
she would be his, and he watched the lustful contortions of her face as she 
tried to banish the wild thrills that were threatening to overcome her. 

"Now, I'm gonna fuck you," he breathed savagely. "Better than any little boy 
could!" 

Norma lay still, her body trembling with both fear and desire, her panties 
suspended tautly between her legs like a stretched rubber band, her breath 
coming so fast she felt her lungs would burst. Her belly quivered and heaved 
as though he already had his long thick cock shoved deep up inside her 
helpless vagina. 

Nick came up to a kneeling position again between her thighs and gloated 
over the humiliated form of his office rival. 

"I'm really gonna fuck you," he breathed harshly. "I'm gonna fuck you like 
it's never been done before. I want to see you twist and squirm when this 
cock of mine sinks into your snotty little belly!" 

Norma clenched her eyes shut again and held her body rigid. There was no 
fighting it any more. He was determined to rape her, and the horrible thing 
about it was that she was going to enjoy it, she was going to enjoy being 
dominated and penetrated by a full-grown male. Oh God, she had sunk to the 
very depths of depravity! 

"Spread your legs wider," Nick grinned as he reached forward and roughly 
jerked her panties down even farther. He pushed her panty-hobbled thighs 
flat against the mattress and, straddling her hips with his knees, guided 
his madly pulsing cock forward. The thick rubbery head parted the already 
moistened lips of her cunt and inched its way up inside, throbbing with 
lustful intensity. 

Turning her head to one side on the mattress Norma shuddered as she felt the 
searing electrical contact of his cock-head. She held her breath for what 
seemed an eternity, her body trembling with frantic excitement. 

"Oooooooh," she breathed as she felt the throbbing pressure against the tiny 
elastic opening of her vagina He pushed. 

"Aaaaaaagh," she coughed as the round bulbous tip slipped through, 
stretching the tight little passage cruelly until Norma thought it was 
surely going to split apart. 

"Ooooooooh, God, no, you're hurting me!" She was suddenly pleading at the 
top of her voice as her eyes opened in pain and fear. God, he was torturing 
her, and he was enjoying it! 

Suddenly the grin on his face faded only to be replaced by a frightening 
expression of savage primitive lust. He could stand it no more, watching the 
woman who was his most dangerous career competitor lying spread-eagled 
beneath him with the head of his lust-swollen cock disappearing into the 
dark brown hair of her pussy. 

He had to fuck her, he had to, and quick! 

As he fell forward, his weight smashed her breasts back tightly against her 
chest. Thrusting his hips at the same time, he drove his massively bloated 
cock up into her cunt like a raging bull after the red flag, pushing the 
soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it. There was 
no stopping him until with a loud groan his balls smacked heavily down into 
the narrow crease of her tightly clenched buttocks. And down below his 
sperm-filled testicles, her tight-stretched panties held him like a silken 
glove. 

"Oh God! Oh God! she cried beneath him. She had never been so filled in her 
life - his cock felt as though it had ripped her vagina into a thousand tiny 
shreds as he speared into her without mercy or thought of injury. And now, 
now his painfully impaling member lay sunk in her belly, filling every part 
of her insides. A man's cock, long and hard and thick, not a boy's slender 
immature penis. There wasn't one tiny ridge on the blood-engorged rod of 
flesh that she could not feel as it pressed against the tight sensitive 
flesh of her vagina, enclosed in the spasmodically clutching sheath like a 
sword sliced cruelly into its piteous victim's belly. 

He lay still for a moment, his face poised directly over hers. Norma, too, 
lay immobile, afraid to move for fear of the pain it might bring. Neither 
made a sound for a long moment, and then suddenly she felt a throb deep 
inside as the thickness of Nick's cock jerked up another half inch deep 
inside her vagina. 

"Auuuuuuuuuuugh! It hurts! It's too big!" she wailed, her face contorting to 
the deeper pain. Even as she protested, her hotly fluttering cunt-lips 
flowered wide to accommodate the lust-bloated shaft of his madly pulsing 
penis. God, this was going to kill her! 

"Told ya I'd stretch that tight little pussy of yours, baby," he taunted 
her, again flexing his still burgeoning hardness. 

"Aaaaaaaaagh," she groaned deeper this time, the cords in her neck standing 
out from the pressure of her resistance. 

"Like it?" he grinned down in lewd delight at the pained expression on her 
face. 

There was no answer. 

"Like it, baby?" he flexed again. 

"Ooooooooh, yes, yes," she cried, afraid now to offend him. The pain was 
just unbearable. God, he was destroying her. She had never known a cock 
could be this huge. 

"Beg me then," he hissed. 

"W-what?" was all the anguished girl could utter. 

"Beg me." 

"Oooooooh, no, I can't, I can't," she moaned beneath him. 

"Beg me to fuck you now!" His rigidly throbbing cock flexed a third time 
deep up inside her quivering belly, forcing another groan from her lips. 

"Ooooooooh God, don't, I can't." She struggled with all her strength and 
courage to escape this one final humiliation. This she knew would be the 
ultimate unconditional surrender. There would be no escaping him ever again. 

Saxby inched his turgid embedded weapon deeper into her imprisoned belly, 
digging his fingers into the wriggling softness of her buttocks at the same 
time. 

"Do it," he commanded, savage fire burning in his eyes. "Beg me, you bitch!" 

"Oooooh, God," she sobbed, her resistance broken by the very pain and utter 
helplessness of her position. "Do it to me, do it to me." 

"Not like that. Say - Please fuck me, Mr. Saxby," he demanded, reveling in 
her obvious shame. 

"Please fuck me, Mr. Saxby," she hissed through clenched teeth, tears 
gushing from her eyes as she spat out the salacious words. Her humiliation 
and degradation were complete. She would never be the same again. She had 
allowed herself to lose control over all the things she knew were right, and 
now she wished she were dead. There was nothing left but the relentless 
cock-shaft buried deep up inside her lewdly violated vagina, her panties 
stretched between her widespread thighs. 

Nick Saxby clamped his wet lips suddenly right down over her mouth and began 
a slow rocking motion with his hips as he straddled her open legs. He could 
feel her tight-clenched cuntal passage widening slightly with each pulsating 
stroke as she groaned in defeat beneath him. It wouldn't take long to turn 
this smooth Venus-bodied panty-freak into a raw squealing mass of helpless 
feminine desire. He could predict it by the way she'd responded to his 
earlier touches. 

Norma's body began to react again with savage passion in spite of the fact 
that Saxby had made her beg - maybe even because of it, the confused 
brunette mused fleetingly to herself. She had lost the battle against these 
obscene feelings now, and even the agonizing thought of her total surrender 
sent chills of unexplainable excitement running up and down her spine as she 
felt the slow rhythm of his cock begin skewering wetly up between her legs. 

Her whole body twitched and writhed beneath him and she groaned incessantly 
up into the moistness of his mouth, shoving her tongue with a sudden 
complete reciprocating abandon deep into his throat. Low hums of passionate 
servile acceptance came in torrents from her throat, her face contorted with 
lust, her mouth working, her neck straining for the release she now so 
desperately craved. 

Nick dug his fingers even harder into her obscenely working buttocks. They 
flexed and unflexed, oozing like dough between his fingers as he pressed his 
hands tightly into them. He jerked her up harder to his loins and felt her 
straining with him, the moistly tingling orifice of her cunt flowering even 
wider to receive his cock to greater and greater depths. 

The pain was gone now and her panty-held legs twitched up against his 
straddling thighs. Her eyes were closed and her tongue worked and slaved 
inside his mouth as small mewling sounds of velvety pleasure rumbled from 
her throat. The cords in her neck and thighs stood out in livid relief as 
she writhed beneath him from the intensity of her feeling. With horror and 
self-loathing, she realized that she had to satisfy him now, or everything 
would be lost. Her job, her self-respect, everything! And, God, she was 
actually enjoying it. 

Nick slaved above her, moving suddenly into longer, smoother strokes that 
brought his cock almost all the way out of her hotly clasping vagina on the 
backstroke and then thrusting forward again deeper and deeper. He grinned at 
the thought of besting this cold-hearted bitch, and slid his fingers down 
over her ass-cheeks until he found the small puckered opening of her anus 
cradled defenselessly below. It was soft and warm and he could feel it 
working with the movement of her buttocks pushing against his loins. 

With his outstretched middle finger he pushed into the tight little hole 
until her body jerked with increased excitement. 

"Ooooooooooh," she groaned from the outrageous probing of her nether flesh. 

But there was no respite. With a vicious lunge, he shoved his finger all the 
way in up to the hilt until his palm slapped flat against her obscenely 
skewered buttocks. 

"Aarrggh!" she groaned, but he continued working his finger around inside, 
stretching the rubbery softness wider and wider as he ground into her. Then 
he slipped another finger in and felt the tight resistance give way as it 
moved into the soft warm depths of her rectum to join the first. 

The deep guttural noises coming from her chest slowed into whimpers of pain 
for a moment and then subsided to be replaced by greater moans of unwanted 
pleasure as her anus gradually became accustomed to the strange unnatural 
invasion. 

Her victorious co-worker smiled a smile of triumph down into her open mouth 
as he felt her begin to screw her rectum back onto his fingers while he 
probed them methodically around the warm elastic lower recesses of her 
belly. She was hopelessly impaled between his hard throbbing cock in her 
vagina and his fingers shoved tightly up her anus. And now, moaning and 
mewling again beneath him, she began twisting and squealing in abandon under 
the lewd double ravishment of her loins. 

He slid his other hand slowly up from the frantically gyrating cheeks of her 
buttocks to where his cock was sliding in and out of her pussy, and could 
feel the soft, hair-lined folds clasped tight to its hardness, pulling and 
giving with each long hard jackhammer thrust into her. 

For a moment, he fondled the contracting lips of her lewdly stretching pussy 
at the place where he entered her, bringing softer moans of abandoned 
sensation from her mouth and at the same time feeling the ever-widening 
passage of her clasping vagina opening in greedy desire to swallow the whole 
of his cock plunging far up inside her. 

She was ready to cum - he could feel it as her legs jerked savagely beneath 
the arch of his thighs. He ripped his fingers from her wildly clutching anus 
and seized her breasts, pinching her nipples until she squealed with pain. 
The pile-driving thrusts of his cock drove deep up inside her cunt with 
salacious wet sucking noises that only carried her closer and closer to her 
elusive orgasm. 

"Oh, oh, oh," she chanted wantonly beneath him, her face a mask of unbridled 
passion, all thoughts of her panties or the teenage boys she'd seduced - or 
her precious job - now vanished from her lust-crazed mind. 

He grunted and groaned as he quickened his stroke so that his rock-hard 
shaft bored far up into the hidden untouched recesses of her womb. Her 
breasts heaved and quivered beneath the pressure of his chest, her tiny 
swollen nipples digging into him like buttons on a coat. 

And suddenly she shivered under him. 

"Oh God, Oh God, I'm cumming, cummmming! Ooooooh, oooooooh!" 

He felt her cunt opening around him and warm gushes of fiery orgasmic liquid 
flooding around his frantically pistoning cock. Faster and faster he thrust, 
digging deep, deeper - wanting her to remember this fucking all her life. 

He felt her jerk up toward him several times, the lips of her cunt working 
and sucking as though trying to milk him dry. Her breath was coming in short 
desperate gasps and he thrust deep again, suddenly feeling his own hot wet 
sperm rush up from his bloated testicles and shoot from the tip of his cock 
far up into her orgiastically quivering belly. 

Norma spasmed and twitched with the force of her passion, gasping and crying 
like a tortured animal. And finally her legs went limp, continuing to twitch 
and jerk as the energy drained from her body. Her heart pounded in her chest 
as though it would burst. Her body was beaten and satisfied as it had never 
been before, but the sudden wave of shame and humiliation returned to her 
again as she remembered where she was and who was lying on top of her. 

Oh God, how would she ever be able to go to the office again? 

Chapter Four 

When Norma awoke the next morning, strange feelings mingled confusedly in 
her mind. On the one hand, the unhappy brunette felt enormously depressed at 
the prospect of resigning from Cunningham Manufacturing, for that was what 
she would surely have to do now that she had been blackmailed. But on the 
other hand, she felt an unusual kind of satisfaction combined with a deep 
sense of guilt - the same kind of feeling she had experienced in the past 
after seducing young boys. She hated to admit it, but deep down inside she 
had actually enjoyed the savage assault on her body by her unscrupulous 
office rival - not that she meant to give in to Nick Saxby that easily. She 
still had a plan in mind to save her job, and she intended to do her best to 
make it work. 

But how could she make it work, she wondered as she tossed off her bedcovers 
and approached the dresser mirror. Lazily she ran her fingers through the 
thick locks of her rich brown hair, and then the idea struck. This time, to 
get her way in the office, she would use a pound of honey instead of a 
teaspoon of vinegar. Nick Saxby couldn't be a complete sadist, and if she 
turned on the charm, perhaps she could persuade him to realize that he'd 
made a mistake and to give her those obscene photos back. She might even 
have to seduce him, but it would be worth it, even though she despised him 
for what he'd done to her. At least she could reassert her power over the 
male sex and, if successful, still qualify for the vice-presidency. 

God, it was going to be difficult to act pleasant toward a man of her own 
age. It had always been difficult, though at one time she remembered trying 
to do her best. It was the time when John Peters, a fellow senior in the 
small New England college she had attended as an undergraduate had proposed 
marriage to her. 

She had thought the matter over for several days and then decided to accept 
his offer, though she'd still had misgivings. She loved John as much as she 
could love any man, but for some reason he just did not excite her sexually, 
and the problem, she realized, was hers, not his. She could recall vividly 
the first night he had attempted to sleep with her in his off-campus 
apartment. Sensing somehow that the attempt was going to end in disaster, 
Norma tried in vain to make excuses. 

"Wait a minute. Where are you going?" her thin scholarly-looking fiance had 
demanded as she gathered her books up and threw a sweater over her 
shoulders. 

"I've got to leave now, John. I've got a lot of studying to do before 
finals." 

"Leave, what do you mean? I thought you already finished studying?" 

"I did, but - " she hesitated as he curled his arms around her shoulders and 
gazed at her tenderly. 

"Norma, for Pete's sake, we're engaged now." 

"I know, John, I know, but there's something I can't tell you." 

"You mean you don't want to sleep with me. That's it, isn't it?" 

God, she hadn't meant to hurt him, but what could she say? 

"It's not that, John. It's a certain problem I have that I just can't tell 
you about." 

"Oh, Norma, for Pete's sake. You're just scared that's all. It's the first 
time, isn't it? Every girl is scared the first time." 

He said it with great assurance, as though he were certain of his facts. And 
technically he was right, for she'd never slept with a man before, although 
there were two nameless young boys in her past whom she'd thoroughly enjoyed 
going all the way with - whose every trembling move had inflamed the hot 
relentless desires of her loins. But she was not about to reveal her secret 
to her fiance and she allowed him to retain his illusions. 

In fact, she even went so far as to abandon her plans to return to the dorm 
and she accompanied him into the bedroom, though she dreaded what she knew 
was about to happen. 

Swiftly, John removed his clothes and set his glasses down on the make-shift 
end table by the head of his bed, then waited for her to do the same. Doing 
as he expected, she too stripped naked - all except her panties. 

"Well, aren't you going to take them off?" he said as though the way for 
them to make love was to immediately remove all their clothing and jump into 
bed. 

It was impossible to explain to him what her panties meant to her, how they 
were the focus of her forbidden escapades with young boys. Her whole secret 
sex life ever since the age of thirteen had centered around them. They were 
the red flag that she waved in front of young teenagers to attract their 
attention, to assert her power over them, and her whole body trembled with 
delight as she teased them with the thought of what unobtainable treasures 
lay beneath. John, however, couldn't possibly understand something like 
that. 

Her young fiance wasn't totally inexperienced in sex, of course, but he had 
no idea of the forbidden side of it, the strange ways in which men and women 
can heighten their lust to a wild fever pitch. His idea was simply that a 
man and a woman took off all their clothes and went to bed - a very rational 
idea for a scholar who intended to pursue a doctorate in history. 

Norma hid her true feelings and did as he bade her, removing her panties and 
then lying down on the bed beside him. It was one of the dullest nights she 
ever spent - ten minutes of kissing and petting and then a premature attempt 
at intercourse which left her completely cold. After it was all over, and 
her fiance had cum, she was left hanging in the air, with images of handsome 
young boys whom she could so easily tantalize and seduce floating through 
her mind in spite of her will to shut them out. From that point on, she knew 
her engagement was over. 

That same night she left John's apartment and, propelled by an inner 
compulsion that she could not resist, set out in her car for a local bowling 
alley where she knew she would find teenage boys. The attractive college 
co-ed as usual succeeded with ease, luring a wide-eyed fourteen year old boy 
into her car and driving to a rural area where she joyously seduced him. 
They were all the same, yet all so excitingly different - these young boys, 
so bashful and so eager that they aroused the same lustful eagerness in 
herself, although she always maintained firm control of the situation and 
made them do exactly as she wanted. She could remember how nervously this 
particular teenager had rolled her panties down below her hips, the almost 
frightened look in his eyes as she guided his head in between her legs and 
felt his tongue begin to lick at her naked pussy. God, how much more 
exciting it had been than the boring conventional way her fiance had 
attempted sex. How much more exciting it always was when forbidden! 

Now, however, as she stood in front of her dresser mirror lost in 
reflections, the young career woman realized that her secret life was about 
to break into the open, and that she must do everything possible to stop 
that from happening. Yes, she thought to herself, the only approach was to 
play up to Nick Saxby in the hope that she could conquer him. Assuming she 
was successful, she could always fire him at the first excuse after she was 
named vice-president. 

The first thing necessary, Norma decided, was a sudden change in appearance 
to make herself look more attractive in the office and thus convince Saxby 
that she had changed her high-handed ways. So, instead of tying her hair 
back in the usual school teacher's bun, she began running a brush through 
her thick chestnut locks until they glowed with a lustrous sheen. Then, 
instead of putting on her glasses, she retrieved her contact lenses from her 
dresser drawer. There, she thought to herself when she was done, this should 
certainly make a difference. 

The difference was noted immediately at the office - especially by Flo Jones 
at the coffee machine, who nudged Davey Wilson firmly in the ribs. 

"For Pete's sake, will ya look at that!" Flo gasped. 

The redheaded office boy could hardly believe his eyes. Miss Peterson was 
wearing her hair long and her glasses were gone. And hell, the dress she was 
wearing was so short he could practically see her panties from where he was 
standing. Jesus, she looked like a real sexy broad! 

Later when Flo entered Norma Peterson's office, she discovered that not only 
had her boss's appearance changed, her whole personality had too, or at 
least that's the way it seemed. 

"No, Flo, I really don't have anything for you to do at this moment. Why 
don't you just enjoy your coffee," her female boss smiled at her. 

What a change! It was almost too good to be true. For the first time since 
Norma Peterson had started working at Cunningham, she was actually becoming 
pleasant! 

When Nick arrived at nine-twenty that morning, late as usual, Flo scurried 
immediately into his office. 

"My God!" she said breathlessly. "You really must have done something. She's 
changed completely." 

Nick glanced over his shoulder at the new Norma sitting in her office, 
wearing her dark hair down in the style he recognized from the evening 
before, and obviously sporting contact lenses instead of glasses. So, he 
thought, I'm supposed to think that all she needed was a good stiff cock. 
Ha! He was a bit too smart to fall for that act. For one thing he accurately 
sensed that Norma Peterson was just playing a role as usual. In the past 
she'd worn one costume in the office and another on the weekends when she 
set out to seduce little boys. Now, he was pretty sure, she'd just switched 
costumes, that's all. She's a clever broad, he thought shrewdly to himself, 
and it certainly doesn't make sense that she would just suddenly change her 
personality for everyone in the office to see. In short, he was still 
worried. Norma Peterson was up to something, the clever little bitch. Still, 
he had further plans for her, so he'd play along for a while. 

"Listen, Flo," he said. "Have you got anybody lined up yet for the party at 
my place this Friday?" 

"I talked to a couple of people. I called two girl friends last night and I 
talked to three girls from the office this morning." 

"Good, good! The more people you can get from the office the better. Invite 
a couple of salesmen too. You're my official hostess." 

"Sure, Nick," Flo said. "But I still don't see what you've got in mind." 

"Just trust me, Flo baby. I'm gonna get Norma Peterson off your back once 
and for all." 

"Okay, I'll trust you," she shrugged, a mischievous twinkle glittering in 
her clear blue eyes. She frowned at him quizzically and headed back to her 
typing desk. 

With the exception of lunch, which he ate in a small diner across the street 
from the company, Nick remained in his office until late afternoon, letting 
Norma sweat, though he was still suspicious about what kind of game she was 
trying to play. At four he finally sauntered into the neighboring cubicle to 
pay her a little visit. 

"I've been expecting you," she said quite pleasantly, smiling at him as he 
stared back in response. 

"Oh have you?" he said suspiciously. 

"Yes, I expected you much earlier in fact." Norma continued smiling at him, 
though deep down inside she wanted to kill him for taking advantage of her 
the way he had. 

She managed to suppress her primitive venal urge by thinking about how she 
was going to get the best of him, and held her smile as though she were 
posing for a portrait. 

Nick, for his part, still eyed her suspiciously but began to warm up. Hell, 
how could he help it? She was flashing that winning smile at him, looking 
warm and satisfied. Maybe all she had needed was a good stiff cock to break 
down that icy reserve of hers. 

His ego surged sky-high as he contemplated this somehow unlikely thought, as 
he pulled up a chair. 

"Look, baby, why don't we just stop this battle and call a truce." 

"That's fine with me, Nick," Norma said, using his first name without a 
trace of embarrassment. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, 
smiling at him easily, though she hated herself for doing it. 

"I'll tell you what," Nick said. "I'm having a little party at my apartment 
this Friday. Why don't you just come along?" 

"Well, I might and I might not," she answered coyly. 

"Oh?" Nick grinned. " "It depends on what you offer me in return." 

"The photos, you mean?" 

"Yes, exactly. That was a rather nasty trick you pulled, taking pictures 
like that!" 

"Not as nasty as trying to screw me out of the vice-presidency," he 
countered. "Stop over at my place around nine or ten on Friday, and we'll 
make a deal. Okay?" 

He gave her a quick wink as he backed out of her office, but the moment he 
reached his desk, he began thinking things over. There was something strange 
about her behavior. By all rights she should be feeling depressed and hating 
his guts. But no, she was sitting there smiling at him as though they were 
the best of friends. 

For the first time, Nick began to realize exactly what she was up to. She 
was still in there fighting for her career, and undoubtedly at his expense. 
She was tougher than he thought. Any other woman in this position would have 
quit her job and gone to another town. But the fact remained, he still had 
the goods on her, and he was going to have a little fun with her besides. 

He was going to get her in a situation she could never live down. He was 
going to make sure she got screwed by everyone in the office, just like she 
screwed them - only in a different sense of the word. This phony act of hers 
was going to come apart at the seams. 

Chapter Five 

Nick Saxby's apartment in an exclusive building on Philadelphia's main line 
was an elegant bachelor pad - the kind of place that could serve as a 
background for an ad in Playboy magazine. And on Friday night it looked 
especially elegant. 

The spacious living room area was furnished with expensive modern furniture 
- black leather couches against walls at opposite ends of the room, a thick 
oaken table laden with bowls of appetizers and party sandwiches, low-slung, 
scooped-out chairs, and on the floor, thick wall-to-wall beige carpeting. 

Across the room from the table stood a mahogany paneled bar and behind it 
Nick's official hostess for the evening, Flo Jones, who was dressed in a 
tight-fitting low-cut red dress that made her look like a racy sexpot. 

Leaning on the counter, the buxom blonde was busy sampling the expensive 
imported liqueurs that Nick stocked - at great expense - for some of his 
more discriminating dates, like Tanya, the tall oriental-looking model from 
the advertising agency that handled the Cunningham account. As Flo oohed and 
aahed at the strange, sweet tastes, Nick scurried about to make sure 
everything was well-arranged for his little "party." This would be the most 
important soiree he'd ever thrown in his life, for if things worked right, 
Norma Peterson was certain to quit the company in disgrace as a result of it 
and pave the way for him to assume the vice-presidency. 

He straightened the throw pillows on one of the black leather couches and 
turned to the vivacious secretary behind the bar. 

"Hey Flo, come over here, I want to show you something," he said. 

Flo set down her drink and followed him to the bedroom, the center of which 
was occupied by a luxurious circular bed. To one side of it stood something 
that looked rather out of place - a zebra-striped spread loosely draped over 
an indistinguishable object. It looked like the kind of drop-cloth that 
artists put over their sculptures before the grand unveiling. 

"See this?" Nick said. 

"Sure, I see it. It looks like some sort of bedspread." 

"You're right, Flo baby. It is a bedspread, but there's something underneath 
it." 

"What is this? Twenty questions?" 

Nick grinned, then ambled over and ripped the zebra-patterned cloth off the 
hidden object with a dramatic gesture. Underneath was revealed a slide 
projector mounted on a table with casters. 

"So what?" Flo said, shrugging her shoulders. 

"This, baby doll, is our 'light show' for the evening. I have certain slides 
in here that I'm going to show in front of our dear Miss Peterson. Certain 
slides that are going to embarrass the hell out of her." 

"Will you stop talking riddles!" Flo demanded. 

Nick faced the secretary, a rugged grin lighting his face, and grasped her 
shoulders. 

"Flo baby, this is what you and I have been waiting for. When I get Norma 
Peterson in this room and she sees those slides, she'll flip out. And when 
everybody else from Cunningham is sitting in this room looking at the same 
slides, they're gonna flip too. That bitch will be on her way out of a job 
in no time flat." 

"You mean you really got something on her?" Flo gasped incredulously. 

"You're damn right, baby," Nick assured her. "Here's where you come in. I 
want everybody from the office inside this bedroom around ten o'clock. Tell 
them you're gonna smoke a joint or something. I have some grass in a plastic 
bag behind the bar." 

"Oh, / get it," Flo said. "Once everybody's in the bedroom, you walk in with 
Norma Peterson, and we start the slide show. But how are you planning to 
keep her in there?" 

"Just leave that to me, sweetheart," Nick grinned and clapped her on the 
shoulders just as the doorbell rang. He looked up. "It looks like we have 
guests." 

Jovially, the buoyant host parted company with his female ally and answered 
the door. He was greeted by one of Cunningham's top salesmen, Don 
Richardson, a sandy-haired ex-football player dressed in a blue suit and 
striped regimental tie. 

"Hello, Nick my man," Richardson grinned as he entered the apartment. "This 
sure as hell doesn't look like an orgy to me." 

"The guest of honor hasn't arrived yet. Just wait my friend, just wait." ' 
Clapping the hefty salesman on the back, Nick led him to the bar, and was 
joined by Flo, who emerged from the bedroom. Richardson eyed the young 
secretary's low-cut dress and whistled appreciatively. 

"So this is the guest of honor!" 

"Afraid not," Nick laughed. "The guest of honor is none other than Miss 
Norma Peterson." 

At that, the smile on the salesman's face suddenly disappeared. 

"Now you're putting me on, old buddy. If Norma Peterson is coming to this 
party, I'm leaving." 

"Just hang on," Nick assured him as Flo fixed a bourbon and water, which she 
knew from past experience was Richardson's usual libation. 

"I'm serious, Nick. If that bitch comes in here tonight I'm either gonna 
walk out or belt her in the mouth. I got the worst goddamn memo from her 
today that I've ever seen from anybody in the home office. She blamed me for 
losing the Powell account in no uncertain terms." 

"You're not the only one who hates her," Flo said as she set Richardson's 
glass in front of him and began fixing a gin and tonic for Nick. "I know at 
least three girls in the marketing department who'd like to strangle her." 

"Well, in that case, I don't get it," the sandy-haired salesman said in a 
puzzled tone of voice. "If everybody hates her, how come she's the so-called 
guest of honor tonight?" 

"You might say it's a surprise party for our dear Miss Peterson. We have a 
certain surprise that we're going to show her. A surprise she won't like at 
all." 

"Now you've really got me confused," Richardson said. 

"Don't worry about it. I've got it all planned," Nick reassured him as the 
doorbell rang again. "Believe me, the people from the office are going to 
have the time of their life." 

Setting down his drink, Nick crossed the living room and opened the door on 
a group of people from the advertising agency which handled the Cunningham 
account. Tanya, the six-foot tall Eurasian model, was the first one to greet 
him. 

"Oh darling, it's going to be such a divine little party," she raved in her 
usual ecstatic manner as she threw her arms around him to plant a kiss on 
his lips. The others in her party included two more models and several 
account executive types, and as they entered, Flo turned on the stereo set 
in back of the bar so that the apartment suddenly filled with blaring rock 
music. Nick was beginning to get high just anticipating what would happen 
when his female nemesis walked in. 

Ten minutes later people from the office began filtering into the plush 
bachelor pad: Davey Wilson, the redheaded office boy; Nina Wilcox, a dark 
haired secretary who had been practically fired by Norma Peterson; and 
several junior executive types who were scared to death of their female 
boss' icy superiority. Nick practically rubbed his hands together in glee. 
Flo had done a good job all right. She had invited just about all the people 
with a grudge against Norma Peterson - the very people who would gloat over 
seeing the incriminating photos he had taken blown up to twenty times their 
normal size and flashed on the wall before their eyes. 

"Drink up, everybody!" he called out above the din of the blaring stereo 
set. "We're gonna have a real blast tonight!" 

* * * 

The scene was quite different at Norma Peterson's apartment, though. 
Upstairs in the third floor of the town house on Pine Street, it was quiet 
to the point of being morbid. Norma had dressed for the party almost an hour 
ago, slipping on an elegant short black dress that molded tightly to the 
voluptuous curves of her breasts and buttocks. But even now the nervous 
brunette had not quite mustered the courage to set out for Nick Saxby's 
place. Instead she was dallying, fiddling with a small gold earring as she 
took a needed sip of her second martini of the evening. 

She couldn't help feeling there was something very ominous about this party. 
Why hadn't Saxby come right out and said he wanted her to resign from 
Cunningham Manufacturing? Why had he insisted that she show up at his party 
tonight? It must be that he wanted a repeat performance of what had happened 
the night he had dropped in on her. If that was the case, there was very 
little she could do. She would have to lead him on until he gave her those 
dirty slides he'd taken, and when that happened, she would wreak her 
vengeance on him. In spite of the dizziness she was beginning to feel from 
the two martinis, Norma raised the long-stemmed glass to her lips and took 
another long sip. God, how she needed that drink now . . . .. . Back at 
Nick's place, the party was growing noisier and more festive by the minute. 
The living room was thick with clouds of cigarette smoke, conversations were 
flowing, and the music was blasting, its heavy vibrations rattling the 
paintings on the wall. Couples lay leisurely spread out on throw pillows on 
the floor, men were beginning to loosen their ties, and all the while Nick 
Saxby was biding his time . . . waiting for Norma Peterson to make her 
entrance. 

On the other side of town, finally, at about a quarter to ten, the reluctant 
career girl overcame her hesitancy and headed for her convertible parked a 
block away. Her head was beginning to spin even faster now, though she 
wasn't really drunk yet. In fact, she felt almost carefree, having resigned 
herself to the fact that whatever happened tonight couldn't be avoided. And 
besides, she was bound to get those films back .. . .. . Five minutes after 
Norma left, Nick Saxby made a phone call. The phone rang ten times without 
being answered, and he set the receiver down at last. The thing to do now 
was to set his plan in action. 

Wending his way through the crowded living room, he located Flo, who was 
bent over the bar counter displaying her buxom breasts to one of the 
advertising agency account executives. 

"It's time now," he whispered in her ear as inconspicuously as he could. 
"Start getting our office people into the bedroom! 

"What if somebody else wants to come in and smoke a joint?" she whispered 
back. 

'The more the merrier. But start getting them in there." 

A vengeful grin lit up the obedient young secretary's face, and she reached 
below the bar to locate the plastic bag of marijuana that Nick had secreted 
there along with a small box of cigarette papers. At last, she thought to 
herself, she was finally going to get back at that snooty Miss Peterson, and 
it was about time. 

Nick remained by the bar as Flo began rounding up the Cunningham people and 
herding them into his bedroom. The plan was starting to work like a charm, 
and now all he needed was one certain young female marketing analyst to show 
up at the door. As he nursed a drink to kill time, Tanya, the model, slinked 
up next to him. 

"Darling, you have such a horrible expression on your face," she cooed in 
his ear. 

"Oh really?" Nick said casually. 

"Yes, you look as though you're devising some truly awful plan." 

He grinned at her, realizing he could make good use of the uninhibited 
agency model. She'd be the perfect catalyst to get things going in the 
bedroom. 

"You're absolutely right, Tanya, my love. Terrible things are going to 
happen in the bedroom tonight. Shall we join the others for a joint?" 

"Oh, it sounds so exciting, darling. Just lead the way." 

The tall alluring model wrapped her arm around Nick's waist and accompanied 
him into the bedroom where Flo was busy rolling joints on the floor by the 
bed. 

"Oooooh - I just love grass," Tanya swooned exultantly at the sight of the 
thickly rolled joints on the carpet. As Nick handed her one she inserted it 
in a long-stemmed cigarette holder, lit it and took a deep drag. 

"It's so strong I just know you have evil plans for these lovely people. 
Take some, Nicky." 

"No, no," Nick protested. "I've got to stay sober tonight. I have my evil 
plans to attend to." 

"You must darling. It makes your balls grow." 

Reluctantly, Nick took a short swift drag, wincing as the powerful drug 
burned his throat and set his head spinning. My God, he thought, that grass 
was equal to five martinis, but so much the better. Once these people were 
loosened up, there would be no holding them back when Norma Peterson walked 
in. 

In just a matter of minutes the plush bedroom was filled with an 
incense-like cloud. Nick observed the glazed-eyed expressions on his fellow 
employees' faces as they relaxed further and spread out on the floor. He was 
almost getting high himself. Finally, Tanya stretched her long luxurious 
body and announced in a deep throaty voice: "Darlings, it is so hot in here. 
I do believe I'll take off my dress." 

The dark-haired Amazon-like model rose to her feet, curled her hands behind 
her back and slid down the zipper of her tightly clinging black sheath. All 
eyes were fixed on her as she stepped out of it and lifted her slip up over 
her head. Her brief black lace brassiere came next as she slid the straps 
down over her shoulders to reveal the full white mounds of her voluptuously 
swelling breasts. 

"There, that's so much better," she sighed as she sank down to her knees and 
took a deep drag on the joint. "Come darlings, we must all take our clothes 
off," she urged the others in her cultivated but commanding voice. 

At last, Nick mused, this pleasant little party was about to turn into the 
genuine orgy he'd hoped for, thanks to Tanya's well-known lack of 
inhibition. If it kept up steam, it would be the perfect scene for his rival 
to walk into. 

The dream-like trance induced by the heavy blanket of marijuana smoke was 
abruptly interrupted - for the host at least - by the distant sound of the 
doorbell. Instinctively, Nick knew it was Norma, and he rushed to answer the 
door. His expectations were confirmed a moment later when he swung the door 
open and greeted his office rival face to face. Neatly turned out in a dark 
tasteful cocktail dress that amply displayed her long alluring legs, she 
flashed a forced smile at him. 

"Well, don't we look nice tonight," Nick chuckled. 

"Yes, don't we," Norma said, trying her best to conceal her bitterness. 

"Come on in and meet my friends," Nick said warmly, taking her coat. "Here, 
you know Ralph Collier from the ad agency, don't you." 

The bald-headed man sporting a flashy wide tie acknowledged the introduction 
and gave her a quick once-over. 

"Oh y-yes, Mr. Collier, of course," Norma said nervously. "I've spoken to 
you over the phone." 

"And here," Nick interrupted, leading her deeper into the party, "You know 
Ed Beeler, the purchasing agent from Stern Chemical ..." 

"Mr. Beeler, certainly ..." 

"And here and here and over there are a lot of people you should know," Nick 
continued, hardly giving her a chance to speak to Mr. Beeler. He held her 
firmly by the elbow as he conducted her through the smoke-filled room. 
Norma's eyes darted quickly from group to group, noticing that everyone 
seemed to be enjoying himself, though she still felt very uncomfortable. But 
what was there to worry about? What could Nick Saxby do to her at a party 
with so many guests from the business world? It was later that she was 
worried about . . . once the party was over and her blackmailer was drunk. 
The best thing to do would be to press him for the photos now. He certainly 
seemed mellow enough, and there might be a good chance she could pry them 
away from him. 

"It certainly looks like an enjoyable evening, but perhaps we could conduct 
our business first," she suggested nervously. 

"Our business? Right, of course. Those slides." 

"Yes, I would like them back." 

"Of course you would," Nick grinned. "Of course. I've got to drop your coat 
off in the bedroom, and we can both take a look for them in there." 

"I ... I would appreciate that," Norma sighed with relief. God, she hadn't 
thought it would be this easy at all. What had come over him anyway? Had he 
realized the seriousness of blackmail and decided to forego it? 

Nick led the way to the bathroom and stopped just outside the closed door, 
bending forward to place his ear against it. 

"Listen," he said. 

Norma's ears strained for a moment and then she heard muffled giggles from 
the room mingled with the sounds of light groans. 

"I don't know," Nick said. "It sounds like there's a private party going on 
in there. It might be better to wait till later." 

Straining to control his delight, Saxby could barely keep a wide smile from 
breaking out on his face. He could see how uncomfortable Norma was now, how 
desperately she wanted those slides. 

"It... it won't take long to find them, will it?" she stammered. 

"Well, they're in my dresser drawer somewhere. I'll have to look for them. 
Of course, they're pretty important to you, aren't they?" 

"Y-yes," Norma broke down. "Please, look for them now." 

"All right," Nick said finally. "But I can't vouch for what we're going to 
walk into." 

He grasped the doorknob, turning it with torturous slowness, teasing her 
until she could barely stand it any longer. Then, stealthily, he pushed the 
door open inch by inch. The acrid tang of marijuana smoke seeped through the 
opening like a deep fog, making Norma reel from its power as she took the 
first step inside. 

She squinted her eyes to adjust to the poor illumination, but before she 
could focus on the smoke-dimmed figures inside she was greeted by a loud 
chorus of familiar voices. 

"Surprise, Miss Peterson!" they shouted, sending a wave of shock rippling 
through her body. Instinctively she took a step back but heard the door 
click shut. When she spun around in panic she saw Don Richardson, the 
massive well-built salesman standing directly in front of it, with one hand 
behind him firmly clasped around the doorknob. To her horror he was dressed 
only in his undershirt and shorts with a lewd grin playing across his face. 

"So the female executive is paying a visit to the bedroom," he announced. "I 
didn't know you mingled socially with the lower classes from the office." 

Norma stepped back, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, her throat 
suddenly dry with fear. 

"I . . . I" her voice cracked. As she turned away in panic, her eyes 
flickered over the figures gathered on the floor by the bed and throughout 
the room. 

She recognized the office boy, Davey Wilson, kneeling down with a funny 
looking cigarette dangling from his mouth. His skinny chest stripped bare 
and his body clad only in socks and undershorts, he was looking at her with 
a strange vengefulness burning in his eyes, not his usual expression of 
confused innocence. 

"Hey, look everybody!" he mocked. "It's Miss Peterson." 

Next to him, one arm resting on the mattress of the bed, sat her own 
secretary, Flo Jones, her large out-thrust breasts bolstered by a lacy 
brassiere and her provocatively swelling hips swathed in white silk panties, 
but nothing else. 

For a moment Norma thought she was going to black out. Her eyes darted to 
and fro, desperately searching for a friendly face. They lighted on another 
salesman, Benny Smith, on two young junior executives and on a long lithe 
female whom she didn't recognize at all and who was reclining casually naked 
on the carpet as if nothing fazed her. 

But without exception, everyone from the office was staring at her in cold 
stony silence, muted cruelty visible in their eyes. The atmosphere of the 
room was so tense Norma could almost feel the invisible vibrations of hatred 
being focused on her. And then she sighted the strange zebra-striped 
bedspread draped over an object by the bed. It was so out of place, she 
didn't know what to make of it. 

"Miss Peterson is looking for some slides," Nick announced finally. 

Norma could feel her cheeks burning with rage, and she struggled desperately 
to control herself. She dare not say anything now. She had to find a way out 
of this horrible trap. 

"Maybe we can help her look, Nick," the voluptuous young Flo offered 
sarcastically. 

"Yeah sure, we'll give you a hand," Davey Wilson chimed as the older woman 
stood frozen in horror in the middle of the room. 

"Thanks," Nick said jovially, turning toward the dresser as the two others 
came to join him. 

"What do they look like, Nick?" Flo asked as she kneeled down and pulled out 
the bottom drawer, her eyes flashing a shifty glance at her frightened 
female boss. 

"Oh, just some slides. You know, they're in a plastic case, that's all." 

"Are they color slides?" Davey asked. 

"Yeah," Nick said, "just regular color slides, you know. I'm sure they're 
around somewhere. Hey, Norma, why don't you help us look for them?" 

"It's - it's all right, it's n-not important," she said helplessly. 

"Sure it is, you wanted them right away," Nick contradicted her. 

"N-no, please. Don't look for them now. J-just find them some other time." 
She looked toward the door, desperately seeking a means of escape, but 
Richardson was still there planted squarely in front of it. The other people 
in the room, the young secretaries and salesmen were all watching the scene 
with a curious interest now, though they didn't know exactly what was going 
on yet. They knew something was going to happen though and in a moment it 
did. 

"Maybe they're here," Flo Jones suggested. Before anyone knew what she was 
doing the drugged blonde headed over toward the object draped by the 
zebra-striped bedspread and yanked the cover off with a dramatic gesture. 
The slide projector mounted on the table with casters was suddenly revealed 
to Norma's incredulous eyes. 

"Oh God!" she gasped. 

"Well, look at that," Nick said. "Maybe those are the slides in there. " 

"N-no, please!" Norma suddenly cried out, realizing at last what his trap 
was. He was determined to humiliate her in front of her co-workers, and 
there was no way out. She tried to lunge toward the projector, but Nick 
stepped in front of her. 

"Somebody put the lights out. We're gonna have a little slide show," he 
announced as he held her wrists tightly together and forced her toward the 
bed. 

Instantly the lights were out, and an excited murmur filled the room. Norma 
tried to struggle away from her captor but found herself being abruptly 
forced down on the mattress. 

"No, don't please! Please don't show them!" she begged him, but she could 
see the look of vengeful pleasure in her own secretary's eyes as Flo settled 
behind the projector and aimed it at an empty space on the opposite white 
wall by the door. 

Norma struggled to break free but Saxby was immediately up behind her on the 
bed, sliding his arms tightly through hers, locking them in place and 
holding her body in a half-kneeling position so that she could do nothing 
but look at the illuminated square on the wall. 

"Go ahead, roll them," he commanded, as Norma clenched her eyes tightly 
shut, trying to blot out what she knew was going to come, but to her 
surprise a roar of laughter greeted the first slide. It was a photo of a New 
England landscape which Nick had shot on his vacation during the summer. 

"Look!" Nick prodded her. "Take a good look." Fearfully, Norma opened her 
eyes, saw what the others had been laughing about and let out a deep sigh of 
relief. 

He loosened his grip on her slightly. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" 

A confused buzz of muffled voices traveled through the thick, smoke-filled 
air. 

"Hey, what is this?" Don Richardson called out. "I thought we were gonna see 
a real show." Nick grinned inwardly as Norma's mind whirled with confusion. 
God, he was a horrible sadist. What was he trying to do to her? 

The slides flashed on in rapid succession: landscapes, beach scenes, photos 
of Tanya, the model, and then a shot of a white convertible parked on the 
shoulder of a driveway by a football field. It went by so quickly that Norma 
barely had time to gasp. Two shots of a lighthouse flashed on the wall and 
then a further shot of a woman in dark glasses inside the white convertible. 

"Please, please don't show them. God, no!" Norma gasped in anguished horror. 

"You haven't seen anything yet, baby!" Nick whispered in her ear from behind 
as his arms circled around her waist and slowly began to travel up toward 
her breasts. Norma's heart was beating crazily inside her chest, and her 
eyes were wide open now as though she were witnessing her own execution. The 
next slide brought a titillated whisper from the drug-stimulated office 
workers who were avidly watching the presentation. 

It was a close-up of the attractive dark-haired woman in the car with the 
top three buttons of her blouse undone, the tight cleavage of her proudly 
swelling breasts tantalizingly revealed. Norma held her breath in tense 
anticipation as Saxby's hands began kneading and squeezing her breasts 
through the soft crinkly material of her black dress. 

"Oh God, what do you want from me?" she squealed in helpless frustration. 

"Nothing yet, just watch the pictures." 

They began to flash on the wall like horrible memories from her past, every 
lurid detail illuminated in front of her and the people who worked with her 
. . . ... the abandoned dark-haired woman reclining on the car seat, her 
legs spread wide apart, her fingertips caressing the frilly crotchband of 
her white panties. 

Then in rapid succession: the young blond boy crawling into the car seat 
with her, his pants down, her fingers massaging his swollen little cock, the 
boy bending forward, her fingers guiding his penis against the glistening 
material of her panty silk. 

God, it was a nightmare, a nightmare! She couldn't stand it any more. 

"Stop! Stop!" the shamed woman cried out desperately, trying to break loose 
from her tormentor who tightened his vise-like grip on her arms for a brief 
second. 

The light from the slide projector suddenly flickered off, and the soft room 
lights went on, casting a fantasy-like haze over the bedroom. All Norma 
could see were the dim outlines of faces she knew contorted in lust, strange 
whisperings being exchanged between them; the firefly glow of marijuana 
cigarettes being lit; and then before she knew it, Davey Wilson standing by 
the edge of the bed facing her as Nick held her tightly in place. 
Frantically, she twisted her head to one side to avoid looking into the 
teenager's vengeance-twisted face. His eyes were filled with lust as he 
moved closer toward her. 

"So, Miss Peterson ain't any better than the rest of us," he sneered 
viciously. 

"That's right," Nick grinned. "Except Miss Peterson likes to flash her 
panties to teenage boys. Come on, Miss Peterson, show everyone your panties. 
Davey'll like that. He's still a teenager." 

"N-no God, don't make me do this," she squealed helplessly, but it was too 
late as Nick firmly grasped her shoulders, forced them backward onto the 
mattress and pinned them to the bed with his knees. One knee on either side 
of her head, he reached forward for the hem of her dress skirt and drew it 
up over her thighs as she kicked out wildly with her legs. She was powerless 
to resist as her panties were mercilessly exposed to the hate-filled 
teenager in front of her. 

"Come on, somebody hold her legs," he commanded, and immediately Flo grasped 
one ankle while Benny Smith grabbed the other. 

Davey sank down on his knees at the foot of the bed, tightly grasped her 
squirming thighs and, stretching her legs flat on the bed, buried his head 
between them. Shit, he was really going to enjoy this, he thought to 
himself, after all the crap Miss Peterson had given him. It was even better 
than the thought of fucking Flo. 

His tongue began a slow circulating motion against her panty silk wedging it 
ever so slightly between the tiny lips of her cunt until he could feel the 
first droplets of moisture seeping down from deep in her loins. Tiny 
tingling sensations raced through his marijuana-drugged body as the 
fearfully trembling career girl jerked against the sudden lewd contact. 

"Oh God, please let me go!" Norma wailed, struggling hopelessly against the 
hands that held her legs splayed wide apart, against the knees that pinned 
down her shoulders. 

"Not on your life," Nick growled down at her as he pressed hard on her 
shoulders to keep her from moving. At the same time the young office boy's 
tongue began burrowing even deeper between her pussy-lips, pushing her panty 
crotch band before it. Her legs jerked and strained wildly against the 
teenager's hands tightly clasped around her legs, but it was hopeless. There 
was no way to escape the horrible humiliation she was being subjected to, 
and her head began to spin from the combination of her fear and the liquor 
she had consumed. The hazy thickness of the heavy marijuana smoke made the 
room waver in front of her eyes as though everything was part of a dream. 
She saw the mirage-like figure of the young redheaded boy suddenly draw his 
head out from between her legs and stand up in front of her, then slowly 
begin pulling his shorts off his legs, a weird unearthly smile crossing his 
face. She watched in horror as he dropped them and his young eager cock 
sprang out hard and stiff, threatening her like a menacing spear. God, it 
was so large for a young boy, she thought to herself in spite of her 
struggle to break free. 

The freckle faced teenager grinned at her and then whispered hoarsely. 

"I've been waiting for this for a long time, Miss Peterson. Now it's my turn 
to give you orders. Get up on your knees." 

"Noooo, noooooo!" Norma rasped as the youngster began stroking the swollen 
bulbous head of his cock. Saxby behind her raised up her shoulders and 
struggled to pin her arms behind her before she could break loose. He was 
having trouble until Don Richardson suddenly emerged from the fog of the 
crowded room and began stripping off his own underwear. 

A moment later the burly ex-football player was up on the bed behind the 
captive woman, taking over from Nick Saxby who willingly relinquished the 
job just to get a better view of his rival's humiliation. 

Richardson's ferocious hands clamped around the helpless woman's waist and 
turned her over, planting her up on her knees, with her ass-cheeks facing 
him. She lurched forward to escape but found she could only assume a pushup 
position, her out-stretched arms supporting the top half of her body as 
Richardson locked her buttocks against his loins. 

"Noooooo," she screamed savagely. "Let me go, let me go!" 

"Not until you suck that boy's cock," the salesman grinned brutally, his own 
cock throbbing against her quivering ass-cheeks through her dress. 

God, she was trapped now, hopelessly caught from behind while in front of 
her the young teenager's cock stood poised like a spear ready to penetrate 
the depths of her mouth. 

"We want to see you perform now, just like you did with those two little 
kids," Saxby growled at her as he stood next to the teenager, with the 
slides which he had just removed from the projector in his hand. He shifted 
them from hand to hand as though they were playing cards, grinning at her 
sadistically. "You put on a good show and you'll get these slides back, all 
of them." 

"No, no, I won't," she whimpered helplessly, but Richardson suddenly hiked 
up the hem of her skirt, doubled it up over the small of her back and wedged 
his throbbing hardness between her panty covered ass-cheeks. 

"Oooooooh God!" she moaned at the sudden harsh pressure. In front of her the 
teenage office boy's eyes lit up gleefully at his female boss's helpless 
position and he suddenly grasped the long thick locks of her chestnut hair, 
pulling her head forward. 

"Suck my cock!" he commanded in a deep masculine voice the humiliated older 
woman had never heard from him before. She closed her eyes in bitter 
submission, still determined she would not go through with this without a 
fight. Bravely, she clenched her teeth tight as the soft rubbery head of 
Davey Wilson's penis slipped in between her resisting lips. 

"Suck it!" he commanded her again, this time louder, and yanked her head 
forward. Her eyes opened wide in horror so that she could see the rigid 
slender shaft disappearing slowly into her mouth. God, it seemed incredibly 
long, much too long for a teenage boy! She hesitated a moment, sickened by 
the thought of being made to do such a lewd thing with a mere office boy. 

But by this time she felt herself being nudged from the back as the salesman 
thrust his hips forward against her panty-swathed buttocks. As she suddenly 
gasped from the unexpected propulsion from behind the eagerly pulsing pole 
of flesh in front rammed even deeper into the moist cavern of her mouth. She 
could feel the glans of the lewdly inflated head sliding wetly up the full 
length of her tongue inside, tiny droplets of lubricating fluid seeping from 
it to fill the warm cavern between her cheeks with its pungent salty taste. 

The teenager's sinewy white hips began a slow undulating motion, his thickly 
inflamed cock sliding in and out of her mouth with a wet sucking sound 
guided by his hands gripped tightly in her hair. 

Richardson grinned from behind as he poised his rigid penis against the 
tautened silk of her panties, ready to shove it forward in between her 
ass-cheeks when he was good and ready. His grin widened with each grunt the 
office boy made ramming into the office tyrant's helplessly trapped face. He 
began running his rugged hands over her panties, caressing the cool silken 
material, sliding the frilly elastic together so that it wedged in the 
crevice of her buttocks. God, this snotty bitch was really getting what she 
deserved now. His fingers kneaded the rounded contours of her buttock-moons 
hungrily as he watched the office boy's distended young cock sawing into her 
helpless mouth. 

Norma could feel the salesman's hands in back roaming over the tops of her 
thighs and her buttocks, and in front she could see the small red tufts of 
pubic hair curling out around the base of Davey Wilson's penis. God, she 
wanted to get it over with as quickly as she could! 

Reluctantly she began to suck, running her tongue wetly around and around 
the wetly lubricated head and flicking the tip teasingly into the tiny open 
slit of the moist glans until she could feel it throbbing as though it had a 
life of its own and would erupt any minute in a great fountain of gushing 
sperm. 

Her tortured mind droned on senselessly, the very helplessness of her 
position excusing away the weird masochistic sensations rising erotically in 
her belly. 

Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the obscenely impaling shaft of 
flesh, sucking to end it now, sucking to draw the thick milky semen from it 
until she killed this impudent young man's lust. 

Davey groaned and twisted above her, gasping obscenities and watching with 
contorted delight the oval-shaped lips straining at his genitals. Behind 
her, Richardson began playing at Norma's kneeling form like a sex-crazed 
fiend, running his hands brutally over the milk-white softness of her hips, 
twisting and squeezing the flesh until small red welts began to appear 
wherever they touched. Groaning, he pushed her hem farther up along her back 
and pressed his lips against her spine, tracing a path that sent shivers 
running to the tips of her still-clothed breasts. His hands descended down 
to the elastic waistband of her panties and yanked it down over her 
buttocks. 

"Aaaaaaaaagh, nooooooo!" Norma tried to protest, but the cock driving deep 
into her mouth muffled her cry into a vain unintelligible sound. 

Moistening the tip of his middle finger, Richardson slowly glided it up in 
between her naked ass-cheeks, his other fingers rippling over her wetly 
moistened pubic hairs. The tip of his finger began circling lightly around 
the tight nether ring of her anus, and then with a sudden thrust sank deep 
up inside. 

Norma jerked forward from the unexpected digging pain and Davey thrust up 
again, impaling her mouth more fully on his saliva-moistened cock-shaft 
until she felt as though it would choke her to death. She gagged slightly at 
the startling entry, struggling to regain her breath. It came in a great 
gasping sound as she sucked in from the pressure of the finger digging deep 
up into her defenseless rectum. Mewls of pained protest escaped from around 
the tight sucking oval of her lips as he dug in harder and harder, expanding 
her rectum until she thought she would faint from the agony of the cruel 
probe. 

Her concentration on her skewered anus was short-lived as she felt a sudden 
tightening of the hands holding her head down on Davey's tirelessly 
pummeling cock. The drug-incited youth's pelvis began jerking wildly, 
ramming his achingly stiffened member deeper and deeper up into his boss's 
submissively sucking mouth. She could feel it throbbing against the warm 
slimy inside of her cheeks and knew this was it. This mere office boy was 
going to cum in her mouth; the ultimate humiliation was now being forced on 
her! 

But she wanted to get it over with. She wanted to end the degradation that 
would take her one step closer to the photographs in Nick Saxby's 
possession, because she knew those photographs could follow her anywhere she 
went, even after she had long departed from Cunningham Manufacturing 
Company. It wasn't just her resignation Saxby wanted, she realized, it was 
her body and soul. He wanted to humiliate her because she was a woman who 
had dared to take a man's job. She sucked hungrily, her mouth salivating as 
it never had before, as Richardson behind pulled and stretched the tight 
puckered ring of her anus with his middle finger. 

Davey groaned above her flailing head and rammed deep up into her throat. 

Then suddenly his cock began a jerking motion as, with a savage vengeance, 
it spewed the hot jets of his cum deep up into her throat. Norma groaned and 
continued sucking, her Adam's apple bobbing in rapid rhythm as she swallowed 
the gushing sperm that squirted hotly into the working moistness of her 
mouth. She clasped her lips in a tight elastic ring around the furiously 
squirting instrument, swirling her tongue around and around its throbbing 
head. She wanted to suck it dry, to hurt him for the bitter humiliation he 
was forcing upon her. His groan of pleasure, mistaken by her for pain, 
incited her to greater effort. It continued for almost an eternity, and she 
thought it would never end until finally the hands clamped on the sides of 
her head fell away and the emptying cock gave one last spurt of its depleted 
seminal fluid and stopped. The finger in Norma's expanded rectum popped out 
and the burly salesman behind her pushed her gruffly forward. 

"Lick him clean," he commanded hoarsely. The humiliated career woman 
followed his command quickly, anxious to end it all. She began at the base 
where the tiny tufts of the teenager's pubic hair protruded and began to 
lick around it, twirling the tip of her tongue into the thin sticky streams 
that had escaped the sucking vacuum of her lips. She could feel its satiated 
limpness jerking slightly under the teasing ministrations and licked avidly 
to complete her degrading task before Davey's sock sprang to life again. 

"Oh wow!" the redheaded office boy shrank back, his eyes glazed with 
amazement. The athletic salesman behind her grinned, a cruel twinkled 
sparkling in his eye. 

"You're not finished yet, Miss know-it-all," he sneered down at her as she 
buried her head in her hands on the mattress. 

From the other room, Norma could hear the frantic pounding of the music from 
the stereo, and right here all around her she could sense the fascinated 
eyes of the office workers gloating in her humiliation. God, what have I 
ever done to them? What have I done to deserve this? 

But as these thoughts whirled through her mind, the salesman behind her 
suddenly gripped the little elastic band of her panties suspended between 
the tops of her thighs and crudely yanked them down to just above her knees. 

"No, don't take my panties off, please noooooo," his helpless victim wailed 
bitterly. 

"Don't worry, Miss Peterson," Richardson sneered. "I just want to get a 
better shot at that tight little ass of yours." 

Before she could resist, he clamped her tightly around the waist and pulled 
her ass-cheeks back toward the menacing thick shaft of his penis. Still clad 
below the waist in her garter belt, stockings and high heels, she jumped at 
the sudden contact with her vulnerably naked buttocks. 

"G-god no, not there, not there!" she pleaded desperately, straining as she 
pushed up with her arms to brace herself. 

"Why not, baby?" Richardson cracked. "You've shafted everybody else up the 
ass. Now it's your turn." 

Norma couldn't believe it was about to happen. Wasn't it enough that they 
had humiliated her by making her suck the office boy's cock? Now there was 
going to be a further humiliation. This crude salesman was going to fuck her 
in the ass while all the secretaries and office workers looked on. God, it 
was too much to bear! 

Desperately, she clenched her legs and buttocks together in automatic 
reaction to the horrible thought. God, it would kill her to have a fully 
distended man-cock penetrate her there. 

"Man what a nice little ass our marketing analyst has," she heard Richardson 
crooning behind her. "I'm gonna love this." 

Through the haze of bitter sensations that enveloped her the blackmailed 
brunette felt his powerful hands drawing her buttocks apart. She tried to 
hold them together but the pressure of his thumbs inserted in her innermost 
crevice was too great. They were cruelly stretched away from each other 
until she could feel the cool air rushing into the hot interior between her 
legs. 

"It's too tight," he gloated from his kneeling position. "Better stretch it 
out a little." 

She could feel the tip of his finger again at the entrance of her naked 
rectum, and she clenched the puckered tiny folds tight in a feverish effort 
to stop the cruel penetration she knew was coming. For a moment he probed 
the outer edges of the small elastic circle and then moved forward with a 
grin, sinking his finger with a jerk up to the first knuckle. Norma jumped 
from the anticipated pain that was, in fact, not as keen as she'd thought it 
would be. It was still stretched from his obscene prod dings while she had 
sucked Davey Wilson a few moments ago. She relaxed slightly until suddenly 
she felt the extra pressure of another finger ram unexpectedly in alongside 
the first. It hurt this time, and she jerked forward to escape its painful 
entry, her body moving a few inches up the bed, groaning as she did so. 

"God, no, it hurts!" Tears of pain and humiliation ran from her cheeks 
again. God, he was really going to make love to her there in front of all 
these people! This was the ultimate degradation and surrender. She opened 
her eyes and saw the leering gazes of her co-workers fastened on her, their 
faces flushed with excitement. God, she wished she could die rather than go 
through with this! 

The degraded woman cringed her buttocks away from her tormentor, but it was 
useless. He planted the palm of his hand on the small of her back and pushed 
down tight, his fingers digging cruelly up into her back passage, expanding 
it mercilessly as he twisted and turned them, preparing her rectum for the 
coming assault. 

As suddenly as he had shoved his fingers in he withdrew them. They seemed to 
slip out reluctantly, the elastic ring of her anus clinging to them until 
they popped out with a slight sucking sound. He forced her legs wider with 
his knees, dropping his head to her buttocks and licking wetly at the 
crevice between them, moistening the tiny hole as he prepared for a greater 
entry. 

"Ready now, Miss Business Whiz?" he called down at her. 

Norma tried desperately to scurry forward on the mattress on her hands and 
knees, but his hands gripped the tops of her stockinged thighs and pulled 
her forcefully back. 

Her buttocks were high in the air now, waving as if in open invitation to 
the cruel ravishment that was about to begin. 

The big man's knees behind her pushed her legs farther apart, the hair of 
his legs brushing against the sensual material of her stockings. She was 
held wide and helpless, completely at his mercy and she bit hard down on her 
lower lip to keep back the tears of impotent frustration brimming to her 
eyes. 

His hand fastened harshly onto her hips, holding them steady in the air as 
she felt his thick swollen cock impress itself into the moist naked slit of 
her buttocks. She gasped in surprise from the first contact. It was huge! 
She could never take that in her rectum without her belly being ripped in 
half. In fearful panic, the entrapped woman jerked forward again, attempting 
to move away. 

"Hold her!" Richardson yelled. 

Nick Saxby's hands suddenly reached out and pinned down her shoulders, 
holding her against the mattress. She was wide and helpless now before the 
unnatural onslaught of the man behind her and she could feel his hairy loins 
and his obscenely searching penis throbbing hard into her upturned rectum. 

His hands coursed down over her buttocks, his thumbs pressing either side of 
the tiny puckered anus, stretching it wide. Then she felt a probing between 
the thumbs that was soft and rubbery at first and then grew to a hard, 
unyielding bluntness. 

"Pleeeeeeease nooooooo! It's too big!" she pleaded in a soul-shattering moan 
as she felt her tightly resisting nether ring giving way before the 
merciless pressure of his cock-tip popping inside with a jerk. 

"Hold her, hold her, that's it Nick!" Richardson puffed from behind. "God, 
it's tight." 

She gasped and then groaned again, but the sounds echoed through the room 
unheeded. There was no one to help her, no one in the world, all that 
existed was the excruciating torture of her anus being defiled by the beast 
behind and the cruel hands pressing her shoulders to the bed. There was no 
escape from the horror and degradation of the depraved attack on her 
helpless body. The blunt intrusion of his thick cock vibrated through every 
fiber of her being, pushing the soft rubbery flesh inside her widely 
stretched anal passage in great waves of pain before it, filling her belly 
ceaselessly as though she were being impaled on the trunk of a giant oak by 
the barbarians of old. She moaned in submission, her eyes opened wide in 
torment until suddenly she felt the coarse hair of his loins grinding 
against the softness of her buttocks, the cruelly ravaging cock thickness 
buried to the hilt. 

She groaned in anguish, hung on the end of the stone-hard penis like a pig 
on a giant roasting spit. 

The salesman behind her gasped with sadistic pleasure and began to saw 
rhythmically and without mercy deep up into the agony-racked depths of her 
back passage, bringing further sobs of pain and misery from her lips. She 
had never felt so soiled and debauched in her life, and her whole rectum 
felt seared and used as Richardson levered up on his knees and began to 
plunge the full length of his punishing rod back and forth into her with 
long smooth strokes. It pulled tiny ridges of her tender inner flesh out 
with the base of his cock as it withdrew for another vicious lunge up 
inside. 

She was aware of Saxby chuckling to himself and pushing down hard on her 
shoulders with each thrust the lewdly rampaging cock made into her from 
behind, trapping her servile body between the skewering hardness ploughing 
into her anus and the hands holding her in front. 

Her body jerked and quivered, and her thighs periodically convulsed as an 
extra hard forward movement seared into her tortured rectal passage. She 
could hear the salesman's grunts of lust floating through the room around 
them and hated herself for the pleasure it was bringing him. In spite of her 
pain she clasped her anal muscles tightly together trying to rip the 
plunging column of his relentless penile flesh from his body. 

"Aaaaaaaaagh, God it's tight!" he groaned, throwing his head back in ecstasy 
caused by the warmly clasping nether folds enveloping it. 

She couldn't permit this indecent sodomizing of her rectum to continue much 
longer. The humiliation was too great. She had to end it, she had to! 

She began to move backward to meet the forward lunge of his cock, undulating 
her body and swinging her buttocks in rotating circles, clasping his member 
tightly with the slight throb of her rectum on the outstroke. Richardson 
watched with delight as the reddish-pink skin from the obscenely distended 
hole drew back with his cock and sent spasms of pleasure rippling up his 
spine. 

Nick Saxby grinned as he observed the depraved scene unfolding before his 
eyes. He could see how, in spite of herself, Norma Peterson was getting 
worked up to a savage frenzy just the way she'd been with those young kids 
she had seduced. And he gloated over it too, for he wanted everyone in the 
office to see what a slut she really was. He was really getting back at her 
with a vengeance now! 

Norma was amazed to find that, as she began actively thrusting back to meet 
Richardson's powerful strokes, the very realization of the debasing 
humiliation of her position sent shooting jolts of masochistic delight 
coursing through her veins. She had to play her servile role to the hilt. 
She had to make him shoot his obscene cum up into her asshole! 

He could see her head buried in the mattress, the long locks of her dark 
hair lashing from shoulder to shoulder as she gasped and moaned in the 
throes of orgasm. She bucked and churned her body against the salesman 
mounted behind her, mewling and groaning, encouraging him with the motions 
of her buttocks to end it all. 

Richardson, who sensed her sudden frantic need, began to ram rapidly up into 
her, hard and deep, battering her quivering buttocks with his pelvis. He 
gripped the tops of her thighs with his fingers, squeezing with all his 
strength to pull her back over his expanding cock as though he were slipping 
a sleeve over an oversize arm. His eyes bulged wide at the spectacle of her 
abandoned young body bucking before him, and the sadistic desire to hurt 
rippled through him as he jogged forward with a mighty thrust that seared up 
her cruelly stretched anus like fire. 

"Aaaaaaaggghhhhhhh!" she groaned helplessly as he flicked deeper again. 

With the last half-groan, half-scream, Norma could feel in her agony the 
impaling tormenting staff begin to grow and expand until she thought it 
would never stop. It was killing her - it was stretching her muscles beyond 
all human endurance. 

"Oh God cum, for God's sake cum!" she gasped in weirdly combined pain and 
masochistic pleasure as she fucked back wildly at him. 

He moaned above her, incoherent words sputtering from his lips, and shoved 
forward with a thundering thrust that almost tore through the walls of her 
quivering belly as he exploded his hot thick cum in wave after wave up into 
the depths of her rectum. She knelt abjectly in front of him, buttocks still 
waving high in the air, and pressed back against his hairy loins as he 
poured his sperm deep inside her anal passage, filling her soft rectum to 
the bursting point with warm sticky wetness. The satiated salesman groaned 
with delight and collapsed over her body, flattening her to the bed. 

After a while the blackmailed woman felt his weight lifting from her and the 
softness of his deflated penis slipping out with a wet sucking noise from 
the confines of her flooded, forever expanded anus. She felt wet and 
slightly sore there but nothing like what she had experienced at the 
beginning. There was nothing left now. Her fellow workers had debauched and 
humiliated her beyond all belief. But this was only the beginning. 

Through the dream-like haze of the dimly lit room she could see her own 
secretary crawl up on the bed and with a look of hateful revenge burning in 
her eyes, suddenly rip the zipper of Norma's dress down her back. At that 
point of exhaustion, the abused older woman barely resisted as the expensive 
garment was slipped off her shoulders, yanked down over her waist, and torn 
from her legs. 

"That's it, Miss Peterson," the drugged blonde vixen crooned in a throaty 
voice. "Let's take all your nice little clothes off." 

"No, don't do this to me!" The female executive pleaded in vain for mercy. 
But there was none to be had, as her drug-crazed co-workers crudely pulled 
her slip over her head. Desperately she tried to reach down to pull her 
panties up, but her arms were suddenly pinned to the mattress and she was 
laid flat on her back. Someone's hands slid between her shoulders and the 
bed, undid her brassiere snap, and slid the straps down off her shoulders. 

Her mind was so beaten and battered now that she hardly knew what to do when 
Flo Jones suddenly kneeled between her legs. 

"You're going to enjoy this, Miss Peterson. I'll bet you've never been 
fucked by a grown-up girl before," she hissed vengefully. 

The young blonde's knees splayed Norma's legs wide apart and she lowered her 
own panty-cloaked vagina down on top of her boss's naked pussy. 

"Look, Miss Peterson, I've got panties, too." she crooned as she began to 
rub her pussy wildly against the other woman's. 

"God, no, not this!" Norma squealed helplessly at the obscene lesbian act 
she was being forced to submit to. 

Her mind began to spin crazily as though she were tumbling head over heels 
into a deep chamber of horrors. Harsh masculine hands seized her breasts and 
began to caress her nipples until they grew hard and rigid with unwanted 
excitement. The young secretary slipped her fingers through Norma's garter 
straps and began to move the older woman's legs in an outward splaying 
rhythm. 

"We've got you now, Miss Peterson," the voices seemed to be screaming in 
chorus. "It's our turn to have fun now." 

The voices grew in volume, rang and shouted in her ears as her body began to 
spasm and undulate. Her mind floated away from her body as hands rubbed and 
kneaded her vagina, tweaked her nipples, and pulled savagely at her hair. 
Then as suddenly as her perverted rape had begun, Flo Jones dismounted from 
between Norma's legs only to be replaced by the naked body of one of the 
other salesmen. 

His massive loins crushed her against the mattress, and she could feel the 
thickly palpitating shaft of his penis penetrating suddenly right up into 
the depths of her cunt. She twitched and spasmed, her body jerking with 
overwhelming pulsations of unwanted desire. The room began to spin, the 
voices faded like the sound of tinkling glasses, and without knowing what 
she was doing she wrapped her stocking-sheathed legs around the salesman's 
naked body, squeezing and releasing her thighs around his buttocks as he 
pumped his cock relentlessly up into her pussy. 

The rampaging hardness rippled through the velvet moisture of her savagely 
aroused cunt like a rocket blasting off into space, and then she heard a 
voice from somewhere wailing. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, you bastards!" Somewhere deep in her mind she realized it 
was her own voice, but it didn't matter now. Everything was lost. There was 
nothing left but the savage obscenity of being fucked until she could not 
stand it any more, of hands brutally squeezing her nipples, fingers gliding 
deep up into her rectum and prying her ass-cheeks apart. 

"Ooooooooh God, cum all over me, you bastards!" she panted, the tendons in 
her neck bulging like steel rods, her head flailing from side to side. 

From his position by the foot of the bed, Nick Saxby watched the lewd 
goings-on with brutal glee. He was the victor now. Norma Peterson would 
never show up in the office again after the humiliation she had suffered. 

He watched her high-heeled shoes dig into the salesman's back as her body 
jerked and gyrated, trying to squeeze every last rigid inch of his cock deep 
up into the hotly clasping walls of her pussy. 

He listened with delight to her savage cries of delirious lust as she 
gritted her teeth together and raked her fingernails over the other man's 
sweating flesh. 

And as Nick watched, he slowly began to strip off his own clothes. He was 
going to enjoy his office rival's cunt one last time before she left the 
city in humiliation. God, he'd beaten her now. She was finished. No woman 
was going to take his job away from him. And in spite of the way she was 
performing now, he was never going to return those photographs to her. He 
was going to save them for the ultimate triumph over her. 

Chapter Six 

On Monday morning Norma Peterson called in sick for the first time in her 
career with Cunningham Manufacturing. On Tuesday she did it for the second 
time, and during both days her empty office was the object of intense gossip 
among the young secretaries, office hands, and junior executives as they 
passed by. 

Except for these occasional whisperings, an air of stillness pervaded the 
office, for by now almost everyone knew what had happened at Nick Saxby's 
party on Friday night, and almost everyone was waiting to see what would 
happen when Miss Peterson returned to work. Everyone, that is, except Arthur 
Cunningham who, being the boss, had no idea what was going on. 

From time to time he would emerge from his office and remark how quiet 
everything seemed to be. On Tuesday he strode up to Flo Jones's typing desk 
and inquired as to Miss Peterson's whereabouts. 

"Sick again? That's strange, I can't remember Miss Peterson ever losing a 
day of work before," 

Arthur Cunningham muttered in his absent way. 

Flo Jones and Davey Wilson could barely keep from bursting out laughing, and 
as the president returned to his office he couldn't help overhearing their 
muffled giggles. 

This strange behavior was still a mystery to him, and he knew there was 
something behind it. For some reason it seemed to be connected with Norma 
Peterson's absence, and he would certainly like to know why. 

He also wondered why it had to be his female assistant who was out sick 
instead of someone else - like Nick Saxby. This was just the time he needed 
that high-powered brain of hers to work with the advertising agency in 
setting up the promotion campaign for the new Cunningham valve. 

Norma Peterson was one hell of a woman all right. Even the ad agency had 
said she'd provided a fresh outlook on promoting the new valve. On top of 
that, her statistical work was always accurate and flawless. The only 
problem with Norma, he'd noted many times, was her inability to handle 
people - if she could just be a little bit looser, a little more friendly, 
she would have it made in the business world or anywhere else for that 
matter. 

In fact, the fifty year old widower mused, if she'd just loosen up she would 
make an ideal companion for someone like him. He'd been conclusion that he 
needed to be around someone as intelligent and beautiful as that young lady. 

True, her personality was a little stiff, but those short dresses she wore 
more than made up for it. By God, they made him feel like he was twenty 
years old again looking at her, and there were times when he couldn't stand 
up from his desk for fear of revealing the thick bulge in his pants. 

You know something, Arthur, you might just give her a whirl, he was telling 
himself more and more often and, for the first time in years, ever since his 
wife had died, he began to feel vital again. For the first time he had 
something to look forward to other than things connected with the business. 

Now stop dreaming, Arthur old boy, he chided himself. You're fifty years 
old, and you've got a lot of work to do today. With that, he briskly snapped 
on the intercom and called for Miss Jones. 

"Miss Jones," he said when she entered. "I'd like you to take this to Mr. 
Saxby and tell him I want a detailed analysis of the market potential for 
the new valve in the chemical industries." 

"Yes, Mr. Cunningham," Flo replied, and took the file folder he handed her. 

Cunningham exhaled deeply and hoped for the best. This kind of work was 
really more up Norma's alley than Nick's. He hoped that for once Saxby could 
get his figures straight. 

Inadvertently, the silver-haired industrialist had forgotten to switch off 
the intercom and overheard the following conversation between the young 
blonde secretary and his male marketing analyst: "Thanks, Flo baby," he 
heard Saxby say. "I'll start working on this little package after I get a 
couple of cups of coffee." 

"You better do a good job," Flo warned him. "This is the old man's pride and 
joy." 

"Now you're beginning to sound like Miss Peter-pussy. If there's one thing I 
don't need it's another female nag like her. I took care of that bitch, and 
I don't need a replacement." 

"We all did," Flo giggled. "Do you think she'll ever show up here again?" 

At that, Arthur Cunningham leaned forward and began listening intently to 
the eavesdropped conversation over the intercom. It was curious all right, 
but it only served to further confuse him about the unusually quiet 
atmosphere of the office in recent days. 

"No," he could hear Nick Saxby saying. "I think she's got her bags packed. 
At least that's what I'd do if I were in her position." 

"She's really got brass balls if she does show up here again." 

The conversation drifted away amid shuffling of papers, and Cunningham 
flicked off the intercom switch. Now he was really puzzled. It sounded as 
though the whole office had ganged up on his favorite marketing analyst in 
some way or another. But what had they done to make her stay away from the 
office for two days, for now he realized she wasn't sick at all. 

The puzzling mystery plagued him until four-thirty in the afternoon when he 
began going through the late inter-office mail. He sifted through the usual 
memos and reports that filled the wire basket on his desk until he came to 
an unusual unmarked white envelope sealed with Scotch tape. 

The curious thing about the envelope was that there didn't seem to be a 
letter or note of any sort inside it, but rather a number of small hard 
rectangular objects stacked together. 

Mystified by it, he slit open the Scotch tape, tore up the flap and removed 
a stack of ten color slides. Now what in the hell was this? he wondered as 
he glanced at them, still not connecting them in any way with Norma 
Peterson. 

It was not until he had held each one of them up to the light and examined 
them carefully that he added up two and two. And when he did he practically 
fell off his chair. What the slides showed was practically impossible to 
believe they were all pictures of a tall attractive woman slumped down in 
the seat of a car with her legs lewdly spread apart. There were unimaginably 
filthy pictures of this same woman with her hands wrapped around the stiff 
young penis of an innocent teenage boy. It was unmistakable that this woman 
was seducing the boy, and it was equally unmistakable that this very woman 
was one of his most favored employees, Norma Peterson. 

Cunningham went through the slides again and again, a strange kind of 
excitement pulsing through his body. The hair was a different style but the 
same color. The expression on the face was that of a tempting seductress, 
but the face sure enough belonged to Norma Peterson. My God, she'd been 
leading a double life all along. 

Never in the world had he expected anything like this. If there had been one 
person he deemed beyond reproach it would have been Norma Peterson - now 
this evidence in front of his eyes was telling him exactly the opposite. For 
several moments the handsome middle-aged executive sank back in his chair 
and simply stared at the wall. So this was what that scoundrel Saxby had 
been talking to Flo Jones about! This was the reason Norma hadn't shown up 
at work. Someone had blackmailed her, someone who was obviously jealous of a 
woman rising to a high position at Cunningham Manufacturing, that shiftless 
Saxby! 

At the same time as the slides had shaken him to the core, the industrialist 
found himself titillated by them, and after restraining himself for a good 
five minutes, held them up to the light and reviewed them again, one by one. 
He could barely believe that his prim and proper female executive could be 
so highly sexual. The expression of raw lust on her face as she grasped the 
young boy's cock in her hand almost made him tremble, and he felt his own 
penis awakening in his pants. 

In fact, his hand was even shaking slightly when he picked up the receiver 
and began dialing her phone number, which he had got from the address book 
on his desk. The phone rang five times, and when the young business woman 
finally answered it she spoke in a voice that her boss barely recognized. It 
was hollow and hoarse and sounded very old. 

"Norma, how are you feeling?" Cunningham asked pleasantly in a buoyant tone 
of voice. 

"Not very well, Mr. Cunningham," came the reply. "Not very well at all." 

"I hope it isn't the flu." 

"No, Mr. Cunningham." Norma sighed wearily, making no effort to disguise the 
terribly depressed state she was in. "It's not the flu." 

"Well, I think I know what it is," her boss said sympathetically in his 
gruff masculine voice. 

"You're down in the dumps. It happens to the best of us, and there's only 
one way to get out of them." 

"I'm - I'm afraid it's more complicated than that," Norma said slowly. 

"Nonsense," Cunningham reprimanded her. "I'm going to cure you tonight. I 
want you to be ready for dinner at seven. We'll go to the 
Bellevue-Stratford." 

"B-But," Norma tried to protest. 

"But nothing. I'll see you at seven on the dot," he said commandingly and 
hung up the receiver. 

True to his word, Arthur Cunningham arrived at Norma's doorstep at seven 
sharp and entered her apartment like a cheerful Santa Claus. 

"Well, you certainly don't look very ill," he greeted her buoyantly as he 
eyed her ravishingly clad figure sheathed in a dark evening dress. "You know 
something Norma, you're a beautiful woman, you really are." 

He gazed admiringly at her long flowing dark hair, her deep-set eyes and the 
roundly swelling mounds of her breasts beneath the low-cut top of her dress. 
In spite of his own forced attempt at gaiety Cunningham noted the look of 
wistful sadness of her eyes, and for the first time he could see her as a 
vulnerable cameo of feminine beauty, rather than just a pretty, efficient 
career-girl type. She was wonderfully beautiful tonight, he thought to 
himself, in spite of the images that ran through his mind from the damning 
photographs. He was blissfully unaware that Norma had consented to this 
rendezvous only to inform him of her resignation. 

As her host escorted her to his car he felt alive with electric vitality. He 
felt like a young man again that night. 

Especially when he took in the 'admiring glances of the well-heeled 
businessmen gathered around the tables of the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel. They 
began whispering among themselves as he led his ravishing escort to the best 
table in the house and seated her with pride. 

Norma, for her part, began to feel her spirits rise in spite of herself. She 
had given up all hope that Nick Saxby would refrain from showing her boss 
the incriminating slides he had taken, and now, ironically, she hardly 
cared. Her career at Cunningham was finished anyway because of what had 
happened at his apartment, and at the moment she felt a strange freedom she 
had never experienced before. The worst that had happened was over, and she 
was free to find herself a new career where, with her brains and drive, she 
could succeed equally well. Moreover, she had firmly resolved to control the 
hateful compulsion that had led her to expose her panties to young 
unsuspecting boys. She had finally seen the sordid results of that obsession 
once it had been discovered by someone else, and she never wanted to live 
through the harrowing experiences of the past few days again. 

The meal progressed like a regal feast. Arthur Cunningham ordered the most 
expensive and exotic dishes on the menu, commanded the best wines, and 
pronounced their names with a perfect French accent. He was truly a man who 
knew how to handle himself, and her admiration for him grew by leaps and 
bounds. 

By the time coffee and cognac came around for the last course, Norma could 
feel herself growing mellow, though still haunted by the shame of what had 
happened during the weekend. Her boss, sensing her deeply troubled mood, 
reached across the table and touched her hand. 

"I hope you've enjoyed this tonight, Norma," Cunningham said. "I know I 
certainly have. I haven't enjoyed myself as much in years." 

"I have, Mr. Cunningham, I really have," Norma smiled back quietly. 

"Call me Arthur, Norma." His hand squeezed tightly around hers, and as it 
did so, she could feel herself slipping into a dream world, a pleasant dream 
world for a change. Mr. Cunningham had been almost like a father to her. 

After they had finished their coffee she gracefully accepted his invitation 
to go back to his house in the exclusive area of Chestnut Hill. 

It was an old house solidly built from stone and with a kind of baronial 
elegance inside. The huge living room was covered with rich oriental rugs; a 
crystal chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling; and at each end of the 
vast room stood two huge fireplaces, faced by large antique velvet couches. 

Cunningham took his young employee's wrap, hung it up in a closet and 
returned to offer her a brandy. As she sipped it, he removed his suitcoat, 
stacked the fireplace with wood chips and thick dry logs, and in a moment 
had started a roaring fire. Then he settled comfortably into a couch and 
waved Norma over beside him. 

"You know, it's been a long time since I've been out with a charming woman 
like you. I've kept pretty much to myself since my wife died, but I think 
I've been mourning long enough. I'd like to do this more often, Norma." 

"I - I'm afraid I can't, Arthur. It just wouldn't be right," Norma said 
shyly. 

The middle-aged industrialist gazed at her curiously and smiled. 

"Of course, it's right, I know it is." 

Norma looked straight ahead into the fireplace, watching the hypnotic shapes 
of the flames as soft tears began to well in her eyes. 

"I'm afraid you don't know certain things about me," she said painfully, 
feeling a deep ache inside. 

"Nonsense, Norma," Cunningham interrupted in his business-like way. He 
reached into his suitcoat on the couch beside him and withdrew the plain 
white envelope, flashing it before her eyes. 

"I know more than you think I know thanks to a certain third party who 
deserves to be shot." 

Norma gasped in surprise and sat forward on the edge of the couch. The 
horrible uneasiness she had always experienced with Saxby before suddenly 
returned to her. She realized in a flash that the incriminating slides were 
inside the envelope and thought she could not bear to hear him go on. 

"Please," she pleaded. "Don't say it." 

"I'm not going to say anything at all Norma. You have nothing to worry 
about," he reassured her, and with a regal gesture he flung the envelope 
into the raging fireplace. 

Norma rose to her feet as though she could hardly believe what was 
happening, and tears of relief streamed to her eyes. Arthur Cunningham 
approached her and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her nubile young 
body close to his. 

"The only thing you need," he said, "is a real man to take care of you. 
Shall we?" he nodded toward the stairway leading to his second floor 
bedroom, but Norma's body froze in his arms. 

"I'd ... I'd love to, Arthur, but I just can't..." 

"In other words, you're trying to tell me you can't be satisfied with a man, 
is that it?" he asked sympathetically. 

Norma was on the verge of tears now, the terrible nightmare of what had 
happened at Saxby's apartment flashing through her mind. God, how she wanted 
to clear her mind, to tell her boss all about the terrible compulsion that 
had ruled her and ruined her. It didn't matter now, for she knew she could 
not work for him any longer. She would have to resign in disgrace no matter 
what happened. 

"I don't know, Arthur. I've tried it, believe me. I was engaged once to a 
very nice young man . . . it . . . it just wasn't exciting at all." 

"And do you think all men are like that, Norma?" 

Her hate for the male sex, for the things that little boys had done to her 
in the past, for the way that men like Nick Saxby had humiliated her, welled 
up so strongly inside her soul that she couldn't contain it any longer. 

"Men are nothing," she hissed at him with sudden violence, watching his face 
grow red with anger. 

"Little boys are better, is that what you're telling me? You mean you can 
only get your kicks exposing your panties to little boys ...?" 

"Yes! Yes!" Norma screamed hysterically. "They're mine, I can control them 
and tease them! They're in my power." 

As he stood in front of the hysterically shouting young woman, Arthur 
Cunningham was struck with a sudden revelation. He realized now that Norma 
Peterson would never respond to gentle treatment from a male, that her mind 
was geared to being crudely and physically dominated by them, though she 
would protest this bitterly. 

He realized that in her adventures with young boys - as evidenced by the 
slides he had seen - she was daring them to rebel against her power, to 
dominate her by suddenly ripping her panties away. It was the forbidden 
expression of untamed male lust, and only this, which unlocked the real 
secret of her loins. 

And realizing this, Cunningham suddenly slapped her in the face. He was 
going to cure her sickness once and for all. Tonight he was going to give 
her all the crude violent lust that she needed; he was going to break that 
deep-rooted cycle. Deep inside him he felt an intense attraction to this 
strange, confused woman. What he was going to do now was only an act, but it 
was going to be the most convincing role he'd ever played. 

Norma reeled back, her hand protectively guarding her burning cheek, her 
head spinning with disbelief. 

"N-No," her voice quavered as her boss moved resolutely toward her. "N-No, 
not you too!" 

"You're getting a man this time, Norma, a real man, not just some little 
boy." 

Fiercely, he seized her wrist and yanked her violently protesting body 
toward the stairway. He struggled mightily with her, dragging her up the 
stairs, until, once inside the bedroom, he hurled her down on the mattress 
and tore her dress away from her body. 

"Oh God, Arthur, please don't do this!" she whimpered. But her words were 
blotted out by the sudden clamping of his mouth over hers as Cunningham's 
body fell heavily on top of her struggling frame. 

As the night drew on her moans of protest yielded to plaintive sobs and 
finally to deep gasps of carnal pleasure. 

* * * 

The following morning Nick Saxby arrived fifteen minutes late for work as 
usual. To his surprise, however, Arthur Cunningham was not yet in his 
office, which was unsual. To his further surprise, at ten o'clock in the 
morning he watched Cunningham and Norma Petersen walk up the stairs at the 
same time, practically arm in arm. 

He had never seen his rival so radiant before. Laughing, smiling, she 
exchanged jokes with the boss and instead of entering her cubicle, 
immediately followed him to his office. 

The scene was too unbelievable to be true and, possessed by curiosity Saxby 
crept to the locked door at the president's office, intent on eavesdropping 
regardless of how obvious it would appear to anyone else. When he put his 
ear against the door he could hear gales of laughter from inside. 

"Norma," he could hear Cunningham say, "I feel happier now than I've been in 
a long time." 

"Oh Arthur, you've taught me a lesson, all right." Saxby's female rival 
replied. "And the breakfast was so delicious." 

"Of course, my dear," the patriarch added. "Only the best for my new 
vice-president." 

The shock of those words hit Nick like a fist in the stomach. Numbed, he 
crept back to his office, stared into space in dumb silence, and finally 
began writing his letter of resignation in long hand. In spite of his clever 
and carefully carried out plan, he had failed. He had been beaten by a 
woman, and one hell of a woman at that. 

"So it goes," he sighed to himself as he signed his name at the end of the 
terse little note. 


End
