Patty's Doctor
by Paula Dunbar


FOREWORD 

In a world in which fraud and deception have become the order of the day-a 
world in which the highest placed public officials corruptly accept bribes 
of every sort, in which scandal, after scandal erupts, merely to be brushed 
aside as the norm-every segment of society has suffered. The persons to whom 
the distraught individual has traditionally turned-the clergy, the members 
of the teaching profession and those of the medical as well have lost the 
confidence of the average person. Like everyone else in this less than 
perfect world, they too have become objects of deep suspicion and distrust. 

In many cases, this suspicion is completely unwarranted. The majority of the 
men of the cloth are decent and dedicated. The world is full of inspired and 
inspiring teachers. The medical profession abounds with those who truly 
abide by the Hippocratic oath. But inevitably there are the "few rotten 
apples who spoil the barrel". 

It is just such a person whom Paula Dunbar has chosen to describe in her 
brilliant new novel Patty's Doctor. Dr. Smith is by no means the protagonist 
of this fascinating book. He is, rather, the catalyst, the agent which sets 
the events in action and which lead to the terrifying denouement. 

Ms. Dunbar writes with skill and objectivity. A less competent, a less 
sensitive writer, might well have turned Dr. Smith into a caricature and 
made of the Richards family-John, Gloria and Patty, whose very existence is 
threatened by the machinations of Smith-an equally absurd and distorted 
picture. It is to her credit that she has seen all of the characters with 
her own deep sympathy-Smith in his evil, the others in their innocence-and 
has described them as they are. She has told it, as the current saying goes 
"like it is". 

As a result, all emerge from the printed pages as live and believable human 
beings, whose problems are universal, whose facing up to them awakens a 
responsive chord in the heart of every reader. And such a chord will be set 
in motion by everyone who has faced the terrifying threat of mental illness 
in someone close to them. 

While depicting the evil acts of Dr. Smith, Ms. Dunbar by no means condemns 
the practice of psychoanalysis, nor the many thousands of honest and 
dedicated psychiatrists who have brought hope and help and happiness to many 
more thousands. Rather, she vents her anger against those squalid few who 
abuse their profession and exposes them in all their malfeasance to the rest 
of the world. 

For this reason we, the Publishers, feel that Ms. Dunbar has done a service 
to the public. We believe that her book is not only a fascinating novel, but 
a true and shocking story which must inevitably have a great impact on the 
American public. 

It is the fervent hope of the Publishers that this is so, and that, as a 
result, the effort needed to rid the world of both the inept and the 
dishonest who hide behind the caduceus and the Hippocratic oath will be 
promptly made. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Gloria Richards clenched and unclenched her hands nervously on the steering 
wheel of the Mercedes she drove slowly and carefully along the narrow 
gravelled road. The car's headlights on full beam showed up every pothole 
and illuminated the trees and undergrowth growing right up to the edges of 
both sides of the country route. It was eerie, she had time to think as she 
concentrated on peering out of her side of the car, trying to locate some 
telltale sign of her daughter's small, foreign sports convertible. Her 
husband, John Bart Richards, peered as best he could into the bush on his 
passenger side of the car, in between quick checks on a road map he held on 
his knees. John had always been the better map-reader of the two, and Gloria 
had climbed behind the wheel automatically when at two a.m. on a pitch black 
night they couldn't stand it any longer and decided to go look for their 
maverick sixteen year old daughter Patty. 

"Why?" Gloria suddenly exploded. "Why did we have to have that row?" 

John looked at his wife, his concentration on the search abruptly broken. 
The painful picture now came back into his mind of the way in which their 
long-legged daughter had flounced off the verandah of their summer lodge 
more than six hours earlier. Patty had just finished her last swim of the 
day in the pool and was talking about driving over to see some friends at a 
large nearby summer camp for teenagers when her parents decided they 
couldn't put off any longer telling her about the visit they had been asked 
to make that afternoon to the camp. Patty was officially in residence at the 
camp, seeing her parents at the family-owned lodge only at weekends and 
holidays, and the camp director in telephoning to ask the Richards to see 
him was all politeness. But in his office, Peter Sims was quite blunt. An 
outdoors type not given to tactful disclosures, Sims quickly laid it on the 
line that he and the other counselors considered it in the camp's best 
interests if the Richards would withdraw their fiery young redhead. 

"There's no point in beating around the bush," he had held up his hand as 
both John and Gloria had half-moved out of their chairs in reaction to the 
"notice-to-quit" announcement. 

"Patty is an extremely nubile girl for her age," Sims went on, "to be 
perfectly straight about it so that there won't be any misunderstanding, she 
is sexy, and what she's doing to the male population of this camp wouldn't 
bear telling." He looked at the stunned faces staring at him from the other 
side of the desk, then added, "In fact, the hysteria she's caused among her 
fellow females as a result of her activities isn't something to be laughed 
off easily, either." 

When the Richards found their voices they were angry and at first refused to 
accept that truth of their daughter's behavior, but the husky, 
weather-beaten camp director was prepared for their indignation. The file he 
brought out on Patty was well-documented and he read it all to the two 
aghast parents, interrupting himself from time to time to emphasize that the 
camp was not so much interested in sitting in judgement on Patty's level of 
morality as in breaking the influence of her high jinks on the others. And 
to stop this influence she had to go. 

"Now you've got it, chapter and verse," Sims finished, closing the file. The 
last straw for the camp administration had been the streaking incident. One 
boy caught running through the camp in the nude had been summarily expelled, 
but almost immediately a phantom trio of girls streaking with nothing on had 
appeared. The three naked girls picked any time of the day to do their 
racing between the bunkhouses, sometimes impudently making a quick dash 
passed the small, log-built administration building. The lightning-quick 
glimpses of the girls that any staff members of the camp caught were too 
brief to make positive identification possible, but for sure one was a 
redhead. Always in the lead, the redhead was tall and well-developed and 
there was pretty well a certainty in Sims' mind that it was Patty. He tried 
organizing several traps, and one day Patty ran literally into the arms Of 
one of the male counselors. Sims, in recounting this particular episode to 
John and Gloria in his office, finished by strongly indicating that at the 
point when Patty was caught in the act she had tried to "buy" her way out of 
any retribution by trying to seduce the counselor. 

"The last straw", said Sims, shaking his head. "If she stays on after that, 
every kid would know you can get away with murder in this camp and any 
managing we try to do around here would become impossible." 

John Richards looked down the tunnel of light made by the Mercedes' 
headlights and sighed deeply, desperately trying to think of some way to 
ease the tension of the beautiful woman sitting at his side. 

"There's no way we could have avoided a fight with that girl tonight," he 
said at last. "Patty being the way she is...." he corrected himself. "The 
way we have made her, it was impossible to expect there would be some 
rational discussion of how she was going to handle things from hereon in. 
Just impossible to register anything serious on her, the only thing that 
would register on her is a good spanking, and she's too old for that." After 
her childish temper tantrum earlier perhaps she wasn't all that old for a 
spanking. The father's lips twitched in anger. "By God, if she doesn't 
smarten up, I'm just going to take her across my i knee. I'll pull that 
little mini-skirt of hers up to her elbows and then I'll wallop that ass of 
hers until it looks like boiled lobster. Oh sure, she can scream and squirm 
and wriggle around all she wants to, but it's not going to stop me. That kid 
is going to get the spanking of her life if she doesn't stop this nonsense." 
He rubbed his hands together almost gleefully at the thought of what he 
would do to his daughter. 

"You're a bit late for that," Gloria said bitterly. "Might just as well try 
spanking me. Anyway, I think I've found that damned lake. Have you been 
following the map?" 

Gloria cut the engine and with the turn of the key in the ignition she 
switched off the air-conditioning unit at the same time. The humidity of the 
hot July night seemed to take over immediately in the car as she lowered her 
window. There didn't appear to be too many bugs around. The night sounds of 
crickets and other insects surrounded and enveloped the car. Gloria turned 
off the car's headlights and switched on the interior lights so John 
wouldn't have to peer at the map with the aid only of a flashlight. She got 
out of the car and walked a few paces toward the expanse of water in front. 
A full moon just appearing above the tree tops on the far side of the lake 
shed a shimmering silvery highway across the water's peaceful surface. It 
was the first resemblance of peace she had felt since the morning of that 
long, long day. But the feeling was feeble and fleeting, for she sensed they 
weren't going to find Patty here. 

"This has to be the lake Sims told us to try," John called out as he too 
quite the car. 

Nearly an hour before, when their anxiety for Patty's safety demanded some 
action, they had telephoned Peter Sims, apologizing for waking him in the 
middle of the night. The camp director had been completely understanding 
about their worry but said the only organized activity that Saturday night 
at the camp-a campfire singsong-had ended at 10:30. He hadn't seen Patty 
there. John asked him if he had any ideas where the girl might have gone and 
Sims left the phone briefly, requesting the concerned father to hang on. 
Sims returned to say one of the other counselors thought a certain location 
on Lake Cheboycokee was a favorite with some of the-Sims hesitated for a 
moment-wilder elements of the summer resort area for skinny-dippers, and 
other activities. He didn't spell these out. John got some rough directions 
from the now thoroughly-awakened camp director on how to reach this 
particular beach on Lake Cheboycokee, apologized again and then said he'd 
let Sims get back to bed. Before saying goodnight, Sims reminded Patty's 
father that he and Gloria had agreed to postpone returning to the city on 
Monday until the camp guidance counselor, a Mrs. Mellor, could see them. 
Mrs. Mellor was the staff member best able to advise them where they should 
seek psychiatric treatment for Patty. John confirmed they would both drive 
over to the camp again Monday morning. 

The beach in the moonlight showed many signs of previous use but as the 
distraught parents scanned it as far as they could see nothing moved or gave 
any indication of life at the moment. John walked over to the debris of one 
beach campfire and kicked it just to make sure it was cold, then said: "I 
think we should just take in a little more of the beach either way." 

"You're right," Gloria agreed. "If we separate we'll get it done faster. You 
check that way." 

John went farther than he had intended to, found nothing, then for one crazy 
moment on the way back thought he had. Gloria was already back and standing 
stock-still, pensively gazing out over the water. When he had first seen her 
from a distance John had experienced this crazy jolting turnover in the pit 
of his stomach as for a moment his mistook the tall well-rounded figure for 
his daughter. God, they were alike! Patty had even got the red hair from 
Gloria. His wife was just as voluptuous as when he married her; her breasts 
round and firm and high, her waist so small he could almost span it with his 
two hands. Her hips were full, her legs long and slender. It was no wonder 
that men turned to stare as she passed by. And that was the way men were now 
turning to stare at Patty. And she knew it-and reveled in it. That's where 
the difference lay between mother and daughter. Gloria ignored the whistlers 
and starers, had always ignored them. She'd seemed so beautifully innocent, 
she hardly knew what a sensation she created every time she walked down the 
street. Not Patty though-she'd sometimes put on an act that would shame a 
goddamned tart. She was very well aware that her thighs were rich and full, 
her breasts young and plump and ripe. She picked her clothes to show off her 
voluptuousness. 'See-through blouses, no brassiere at all, the tightest 
possible pants. And then she walked along in the most provocative way she 
could, the firm half-melons of her buttocks swaying sensuously, an open 
invitation to every man who passed. John wondered how many times that 
invitation had been accepted, and once again the name of Doug Lawson came 
into his mind. This name had been mentioned by Peter Sims as a warning to 
the parents of the kind of company Patty was mixing with. An eighteen year 
old long-haired wastrel from the local resort community of Triton Rapids, 
the Lawson reputation was well known to the Richard's. If it was Lawson 
who'd mesmerized Patty ... John smacked one fist into the palm of his other 
with a flat slap as an indication of what he would do to Lawson. 

The sound, loud in the night, made Gloria jump, startling her out of her 
reverie. 

"There's nothing, is there?" she demanded, not really needing any reply. 

"It's a wild goose chase, honey," dully intoned her husband as he reached 
her side. 

Gloria scanned the beach and bush quickly, one more time. 

"Okay! Let's make it back to the house, fast, and check there." She slipped 
her hand under his arm before moving off. 

"Yeah, you're right. We've been away too long." 

John now moved swiftly with her back to the car and this time took the 
driver's position as they .were merely retracing their route and there was 
some fast driving to be done. As fast as he drove, however, Gloria still 
kept her full attention on checking for any telltale signs of her daughter's 
car being parked just off the road in the bush. The older woman sat forward 
on the edge of the passenger seat, chin held high and breasts tautly pressed 
against the tight flimsy material of her blouse. This dim outline of his 
wife seen out of the corner of his eye excited John as he hurled the 
powerful car as fast as he dared over the road's almost non-existent 
surface. The thought of his daughter's loveliness passed fleetingly through 
his mind. God, he couldn't blame the Lawson kid for trying. He could 
remember how he had felt about Gloria when they were dating, when she wasn't 
much older than Patty. Christ, there were some nights he thought he would go 
out of his mind, he had wanted her so much. His virile young cock had 
lurched and grown hard beneath his pants, and he'd been embarrassed at the 
bulge there between his legs. There was even one night when he damn near 
lost control-and so had she-and he'd slid his hand under her tight little 
blouse and then under the flimsy lace and nylon of her brassiere, and his 
fingers had closed around the firm and upright mounds of her full young 
breasts, kneading and squeezing them. He'd taken the tiny buds of her 
nipples between her thumbs and fingers, teasing them into little erections. 
He'd even trailed one hand down over the flat plane of her belly, toward the 
little triangle of down that nestled between her legs. 

Jesus, there had been raging fires shooting flames through him while his 
whole body tingled and ached and burned in turn. He had slipped his other 
hand under her skirt then and had begun caressing her between her creamy 
white thighs. Gloria had gasped, as though out of breath, and then her voice 
all low and choked had begged, "No, John! No!" 

But he'd gone on stroking her, his hands roving over her flat white stomach 
and then going down to the little "vee" shaped patch of pubic hair modestly 
covered by her soft nylon panties. He'd even slipped his middle finger under 
their elastic legband, insinuating it slowly into the moist virginal slit of 
her pussy. 

He didn't know what would have happened if Gloria hadn't uttered a little 
scream of horror and twisted away from him, squirming and pushing at his 
hands. She'd been crying, he remembered, and had made him take her home at 
once. For a while, it looked as if things were all over between them. She 
refused to see him for days. Even when she relented, and they started dating 
again, she made him promise that he would never attempt under any 
circumstances to try and "take advantage of her" as she put it, again. 

And what a genuine bastard he had felt over the whole thing! Gloria, a 
trusting, beautiful person, had been treated by him as if she were a whore! 
There was nothing false about the promise he'd made to get her to date him 
again. When they later were formally engaged there were times when that 
promise came pretty close to being broken but even then he forced his hands 
to stay away from any explorations that could be called lewd. With a mother 
who had been as puritan as that how could they have raised a daughter with 
the reputation Patty had? 

"How, Gloria? How have we managed to raise a little wildcat like Patty?" 
John put his thoughts into words as he expertly swung the big car in at the 
entrance of the driveway to rambling log-built lodge. 

"We spoiled her," replied Gloria flatly. "Maybe we didn't intend to, but it 
happened. We gave her everything she ever wanted...." 

Her words trailed off as the lodge standing on a slight rise came into 
sight. It shared the cleared acres around it with two log cabins, one of 
which Patty had made her own domain. 

"No car and no lights," muttered Gloria. 

Lights showed from practically every room of the lodge but Patty's cabin was 
in pitch darkness and the space alongside where she usually parked her car 
was empty. 

John steered the Mercedes to its resting place behind the lodge, cut the 
engine and looked at his watch. 

"Two-thirty! What a hell of an hour!" 

"I need a drink, then some sleep," yawned Gloria. "But let's just give that 
cabin the once-over first." 

The hot, moist night air hit them again as they left the comfort of the 
automobile and made their way wearily over to Patty's cabin. Nothing had 
changed since their earlier checks. The one single big room of the cabin was 
in total disorder, as was the custom with any place Patty stayed in for more 
than three or four hours. Clothes made up most of the mess, but mingled with 
the panties, blue jeans, swimsuits and bikinis, shirts, skirts, sneakers, 
socks and pantyhose, were phonograph records, in and out of their covers, 
magazines, and various odd-shaped bits of driftwood culled from the nearby 
lake beaches. But no Patty. The bed was a mess like the rest of the room but 
it was the same disorder the sixteen year old had left the previous morning; 
it hadn't been slept in since. 

"I can't stand the sight of this," John said quickly. "Let's get some 
sleep." He moved to switch out the light. 

"I'm just going to make up that bed," said his wife, filled with sudden 
determination. "I'm not touching the rest, but the bed is the least I can 
do." 

"Can I get you that drink then? I'm taking a hefty scotch up to bed with 
me." 

"I want one just as big, believe me-yes, scotch, and with lots of ice, 
please, John." 

Gloria finished the bed and then despite her tiredness compulsively worked 
on for a while cleaning up some of the more stark disorder and litter that 
made even walking around the bed difficult. She gave the room one more 
glance from the cabin doorway, sighed, turned out the light and quietly 
closed the screen door. All lights in the lodge had been doused except a 
faint gleam from a low-powered bedside lamp in their bedroom. It took her 
thirty seconds to reach the lodge verandah and the full moon, now high in 
the sky, gave her plenty of light to see her way through inside and upstairs 
to their bedroom. John was in bed, asleep and snoring gently, his drink that 
he'd wanted so badly practically untouched, the highball glass standing on a 
bedside table. Her drink, with all the ice, rested on the vanity table, but 
with the ice almost melted. Gloria took a sip, made a face, decided it was 
just too watery to drink. She shrugged her shoulders. To get a replacement 
meant returning downstairs. Was it worth it? She looked at the bed. John's 
sleep deepened with every snore. No joy there! She decided it was worth the 
trip downstairs and stopping only to pick up John's straight scotch-she 
could, after all, use that for her drink Gloria headed for the kitchen. 

John had forgotten to put away the tray of cubes when he'd heard the call of 
his bed and could postpone sleep no longer. With a little smile Gloria took 
the watery mess off the top of the refrigerator and emptied the tray into 
the kitchen sink, turning on the cold tap at the same time. She opened the 
refrigerator for another tray of ice cubes and looked in the cupboard over 
the sink for the biggest glass she could find. Half-filling it with cubes, 
Gloria picked up her husband's almost untouched scotch and measured the 
amount dubiously with her eyes. It would be a good stiff drink, but what the 
hell! It was what she needed to help unwind. She quickly up-ended the scotch 
over her waiting pile of ice cubes in the bigger glass and immediately put 
the drink to her lips to try it. God, it was good! She leaned back against 
the kitchen counter and flicked off the cold tap with her left hand. She 
took another long sip of her scotch and enjoyed the cold from the ice cubes 
hitting her face from the large glass. That cool she'd like to be all over, 
she thought. 

The only tidying up to do in the kitchen before returning upstairs was to 
put back the refilled ice trays in the fridge and generally wipe up a little 
spilled water. Her drink was only half finished and she thought of the noise 
she might create in the bedroom, undressing. I mustn't wake John, she told 
herself. Why shouldn't she get undressed downstairs, finish her drink, then 
go immediately to bed? As she switched off the kitchen light and returned to 
the immense lounge of the lodge the idea appealed to her even 
more-especially the thought of getting her clothes off and cooling off some 
more with her drink. This had to be the stickiest night they'd had so far 
this summer. 

There was no need of turning on lamps in the lounge to undress by-the 
moonglow coming in through the picture windows was ample. Gloria took 
another long swallow of scotch to finish the drink off except for the 
remains of the cubes. She felt so much better now she debated whether she 
should mix herself a second drink right away, but decided the idea of 
discarding her sticky clothes was more tempting. 

She undressed slowly, undoing every button on the shirt-type front of her 
blouse before shrugging it from her shoulders to let it fall where it may. 
Her brassiere was very flimsy, and she freed the rounded peaks of her firm 
breasts roughly by tugging it over her head without bothering to undo the 
clasp at the back. It felt cooler already with only her top naked. Her 
short, denim skirt unzipped over one hip and dropping it to the floor she 
quickly stepped out of it and pushed it with one foot in the direction of 
brassiere and blouse. Gloria stood on tiptoe and stretched her arms as high 
above her head as she could, trying to get coolness to every inch of her 
body. When she needed air, she slumped down and gasped in a lungful, 
slipping her fingers under the elastic waistband of her nylon panties. Her 
creamy-white breasts heaved gently as she took more deep breaths and began 
to ease off her flimsy white panties down over her firmly curved hips and 
long, full-rounded thighs, letting them too fall to the floor when they were 
loose enough between her legs to do so. She stepped out of the panties and 
into range of the full-length mirror on the wall by the door leading 
directly on to the lodge's verandah. Watching her ghostly reflection in the 
mirror Gloria gently massaged away a few tension spots in her hips and upper 
thighs. A slight breeze through the opened screened windows of the room made 
her think how much cooler it would be outside. At first her mind rejected 
the idea of going outside naked but when she thought about it, why shouldn't 
she? They had perfect privacy, and she needn't go any farther than the 
verandah. God, it would be great to feel a breeze, she decided as she moved 
to the verandah door and peered cautiously out. The landscape, bathed in 
moonlight, was still and empty to where the trees and bush began. She opened 
the screen door and stepped out onto the verandah. An immediate sense of 
freedom coursed through her veins. She wanted to stretch on tiptoe again but 
with the angle of the moon illuminating most of this section of verandah she 
needed to find a place less exposed. The wide verandah surrounded the lodge 
on three sides and Gloria decided to move around to the most 
heavily-shadowed deck. Then she remembered they had the swing-couch up on 
that deck-she couldn't wait to stretch out on the coolness of that! She 
needed no more convincing once she thought of the couch. 

The garden swing-couch-the target of the silently creeping naked woman-was 
exactly where she thought John and the daily handyman they employed had last 
carried it but any idea of stretching out sensually along its length 
disappeared from her mind. A glowing spot in the bush caught her attention 
as soon as she reached the turn in the verandah and the lodge wall. She was 
so startled she crouched back and down and lost sight of the glow behind the 
verandah railing. It was only when she stood at a certain angle the bright 
spot reappeared and she realized it was caused by the moonlight reflecting 
on something metallic. Now she saw that it wasn't just one spot reflecting 
all the light-there were duller metallic gleams coming from between the 
trees and undergrowth. Then she saw the wheels, and those thin wire spokes 
could only belong to one car-her daughter's Alfa! Gloria stood up straight 
with a small gasp and her right hand went apprehensively to her mouth. The 
second cabin, the cabin on this side of the lodge that was supposed to be 
unoccupied and beside which, almost hidden in the bush, stood Patty's car; 
of course. 

She is here! 

The conviction surged through Gloria's whole being with a strength that 
carried her without thinking along the rest of the verandah, down the steps 
at the back and sent her racing across the open space to the second cabin. 
Her bare feet were silent on the grass and she paused briefly in shadow of 
one cabin wall to regain her breath. The small log building was in total 
darkness but she heard voices through the open screen window. Voices! They 
were only murmurs she heard, but there were two speakers, and one was 
unmistakably male. Gloria groaned softly and bit her clenched knuckles. What 
was happening? She thought of the security of her bed and John's presence 
and wanted desperately to hide away against his side, but she had to know 
what was going on! Who was in there with her daughter? What were they doing 
in the middle of the night? She had to find out. 

Gloria crept around in the shadowed screen door of the cabin. By the light 
of the moon streaming through the windows on the other side of the 
one-roomed cabin the older woman could make out the naked form of her 
daughter stretched out on the bed. A long-haired boy, his quivering buttocks 
white in the moonlight, knelt above her and as Gloria watched, the girl 
tangled her hands in his thick curly locks and pulled his head forward. 
"Oooooooh," she moaned. "Do it, Doug. Do it! Like that! Like you did before. 
DO IT!" 

Patty had actually said "Doug! Oh, no! Gloria could never-would never-permit 
this evil thing to happen under her roof. She opened her mouth to scream, to 
order the boy to leave, to insist that Patty dress immediately. But no 
sound, no words came. She stood, her mouth slack with shock, unable to move 
a muscle. 

Patty moaned again, pulling Doug's head down toward the snowy mound of one 
full young breast. As Gloria watched he fastened his mouth over the rosy 
nipple and began to suck on it as though it were a sweet ripe cherry. 

The young girl squirmed against him, mewling with pleasure as she ran her 
hands through his tangled hair. Then she took his hand in hers and guided it 
to the other milk-white mound. He continued to suck at the tender taut 
nipple, his tongue flicking out from time to time to swirl around the tiny 
quivering button while he cupped and massaged her breast in a teasing 
circular motion. 

"Oh, my God! It feels so good! So good!" Patty moaned. And then she uttered 
a sharp gasp as Doug nipped cruelly at her soft sensitive flesh. Once again 
an answering cry rose in Gloria's throat, to remain strangled there. She had 
to stop this obscenity somehow! And yet the shock of seeing the lewd 
ravishment of her own daughter left her paralyzed. For the life of her she 
could not lift a finger, could not utter a sound, could step neither forward 
nor backward. 

Instead she stood glued to the spot as if mesmerized, watching in horror as 
Doug's lips began crawling down Patty's writhing body spread before him on 
the coverlet of the bed. Slowly they worked their way along the girl's 
smooth resilient flesh, pausing now and then as he flicked his tongue out 
rapidly to run it across a particularly sensitive spot. 

He licked tantalizingly at the small indentation of her navel while Patty 
gasped and groaned, then threw her own arms around his lithe naked body, 
pulling him closer to her aching loins. Her nails clawed across his 
buttocks, leaving red welts in their wake. He cried out with the momentary 
pain that further roused his lust, then trailed his lips along her flat 
white belly until they hovered above the sparse little patch of hair at its 
base. 

Once again Patty moaned, once again she tangled her hands in his hair, 
pulling the boy's searching lips back up her recumbent body, now soaked with 
sweat. Once again he fastened them over a tiny throbbing nipple while his 
fingers circled and stroked and cupped her lovely rounded breasts. And then 
his hands left her trembling mounds to trace the soft curves of her naked 
body, to slip down the narrow crevice between the two-pink-capped peaks and 
then across her soft, unresisting belly. As his fingers slipped to the 
little "vee" between her creamy thighs, Patty sucked in her breath. 

He teased thrillingly at the hidden treasure there and then his fingers 
began to play with the moist narrow pussy-slit, searching out and finding 
the tiny bud of her clitoris. They caressed it gently until it sprang into 
quivering life, then slipped down to part the excitedly moistening lips of 
her vagina. His middle finger snaked enticingly between them, twisting and 
turning inside the warm clasping cuntal walls. He plunged his finger farther 
into her widespread cunt as a sweet moisture seeped from it, the viscous 
juices drenching his hand. 

Gloria, still watching through the screen door, felt a chill of horror sweep 
through her once more. And then her head began to whirl, her body to sway. 
I'm going to faint, she thought, and reached out to steady herself while 
another low moan escaped her lips. The sound of her voice shocked and 
frightened her. What if the lewdly copulating young couple heard her, turned 
to find her standing there and spying on them? What would they do? And what 
would she do if she were discovered? 

Once again she willed herself to flee from the spot, to close her eyes and 
blot out this obscene exhibition; once again she found herself incapable of 
moving. 

Her heart flailed against her ribs, thumping out a wild savage rhythm as 
Doug's finger continued to fuck deep into her daughter's narrow velvety 
vaginal channel, impaling the girl on the tip of it. Patty writhed 
ecstatically now, her head rolling from side to side, her long red hair 
thrashing about on the coverlet. And then, as he withdrew his finger with a 
sudden twist of his wrist, she gasped and reached for his hand. 

"Oh, God! Don't stop! Don't stop!" Patty pleaded, struggling fruitlessly to 
pull his fingers down back to the fleshy lips of her throbbing cunt. 

"Like that?" Doug leered above her, his eyes roving lewdly up and down her 
slim trembling body. 

"Oh, my God! Yes. Yes, I do!" 

"What else do you want me to do to you?" he asked, a cruel sneer twisting 
his lips. 

"That's all," Patty moaned. "Just what you're doing. That's all." 

"Like hell it is," he said brusquely. "What do you want me to do?" 

"I want you to ... to put your ... your...." 

"What do you want me to do?" 

With a little moan that signaled her complete submission to him Patty said, 
"Oh my God, Doug. I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me like you've 
never fucked anyone before." 

"That's more like it," Doug gloated triumphantly. "What do you want me to 
fuck you with?" 

"Your cock," she begged. "Your lovely big cock!" 

"Okay, baby! What you ask for, you get!" He turned suddenly and from the 
cabin doorway Gloria saw his thick young penis jutting out from his loins, 
stiff and straight as a pole. 

Her hands flew to her face and she covered her eyes at the sight. Oh dear 
God! It was so big ... so big! She had never imagined that anyone could have 
a member so enormous. And now he was going to force this huge ... huge ... 
weapon-yes, that's what it was, a weapon-into the tiny moist passage there 
between Patty's legs. Oh dear God! He mustn't! He mustn't! He would kill the 
girl, he would split her in two. She could never take such a mass of flesh 
into her quivering little belly. 

No, she pleaded silently. No, don't. For God's sake, don't. But when she 
opened her eyes she saw that Doug had grasped his rock-hard cock between 
finger and thumb and was already guiding it straight toward the glistening, 
half-hidden hole in Patty's pink little pussy. It grazed the softly curling 
pubic hair and parted the long narrow slit. As he pressed the rubbery 
scarlet head insistently against the elastic opening, her pussy popped open 
and seemed to swallow the rigidly throbbing penis. 

Patty thrashed beneath him, taking the thick pulsing length deep up between 
her wetly sucking walls until it had almost disappeared. As her young lover 
thrust deep into her, she moved back and forth on his impaling cock, 
rotating her hips and grinding her buttocks into the mattress while she 
whimpered with pleasure. 

He fucked in and out while Patty mewled and purred, crushing her lips 
against his, writhing her belly to his belly until the two smacked against 
one another. Slowly but implacably, Doug worked his hands beneath the girl's 
undulating buttocks, encompassing them in his palms, lifting them to press 
her loins against his own. She began a more and more frantic rotation of her 
ass-cheeks as he sent his long aching cock pounding and driving into her 
warm tight cunt, until finally the bloated head brushed against her cervix 
while his balls slapped hard against the smooth rounded half-moons of her 
buttocks. 

The young redhead strained against him, throwing her legs around his hips, 
tightening and then releasing them, as his heavy cock continued its rampage 
into the very depths of her soft clutching belly. Her low moans of 
passionate abandon sent now an even more exciting wave of lust crashing 
through him. Suddenly his middle finger reached into the widespread furrow 
between her buttocks, searching along the smooth wet crevice for the tiny 
puckered hole of her anus. He poked and probed at it, then pressed hard 
until, like her little vagina, the hairless nether ring popped open and his 
finger slid into the tight rubbery opening up to the first knuckle joint. 

Patty screamed at the pain, and then relaxed as it ebbed, turning to a new 
and ecstatic joy. Now she screwed her buttocks back down onto his finger as 
he twisted and turned it insanely inside the soft fleshy depths of her 
rectum. She began a low and soft moaning as Doug continued this double 
ravishment of her defenseless loins, his iron-like penis moving in and out 
of her clasping vagina like some motorized piston gone wild. 

She opened her legs to the fullest as Doug thrust into her with longer, 
harder strokes. Her daughter's teeth, Gloria now saw, were clenched, her 
eyes shut tight, her whole face contorted with lust as she suddenly cried, 
"Oh my God! 

I'm cumming....I'm cumming ... Oh, my God!" 

Her eyes were glazed as she writhed and twisted beneath the boy. At almost 
the same moment he arched back, then thrust forward in a final desperate 
lunge, gasping out his own climax. "Ooooooooh! Oh, my God! I'm cumming too! 
I'm cumming!" 

Their moans seemed to mingle as Doug shot his white-hot sperm deep into her 
belly, as her own orgasmic juice gushed forth to seep down between her 
creamy-white thighs, running in tiny rivulets over her supple young skin. 
The hot wet walls of her vagina clasped and unclasped desperately, milking 
at the jerking organ until the girl was drained of all strength, her legs 
collapsing on the bed to splay out obscenely over the sides. Doug groaned 
one more time, then rolled over, withdrawing his now deflating penis, to lie 
quietly beside her, eyes closed. 

There was no sound anywhere except the choked groan of utter horror from the 
dry throat of the stunned mother, before she turned and raced back to the 
lodge. 

But the benumbed minds of Patty and Doug registered nothing! 

 CHAPTER TWO 

"One thing I know, we just can't sit still with this going on." 

Gloria sat in an alcove seat by the huge stone hearth of the lodge lounge 
and looked at her husband in despair. John stared at her unbelievingly from 
the edge of the leather sofa dominating the center of the room. He looked 
like a man struggling to wake from a nightmare. 

"You're sure, honey?" he asked. "Absolutely sure?" 

Gloria jumped to her feet with a little gesture of impatience. "Of course 
I'm sure! My God, John, you don't think I could make up a story like that, 
do you?" 

John got up too and clumsily reached out a hand towards her. "No, no, I 
don't doubt you, that's not it. Only ... it's just I can't ... I can't take 
it in, that's all, it doesn't seem possible. In the cabin too!" 

Right under their noses! Every detail of what his wife had told him went 
round like a tape-recording in his head. Patty, he knew, was well along the 
path to womanhood and her slender, well-developed young woman's figure must 
appear like honey to most men but he still thought of her as his personal 
treasure. Innocent Patty lying there on the cabin bed, her legs obscenely 
splayed out over the bed's sides, the tiny slit of her young pussy lewdly 
put on full view for the benefit of that local long-haired do-nothing 
hippie. What was his name? Lawson, Doug Lawson. And then the way the young 
bastard had exhibited himself proudly, exposing his erect cock, before 
fucking the child almost silly according to Gloria. What an ordeal for 
Gloria, too shocked, too horrified to say a word! It wasn't any wonder her 
nerves were stretched to the limit today, with a sleepless night behind her 
and no solution in sight. Christ, he was' wound up enough himself, and he'd 
only just started to live with the story! Where was the answer to it all? 
What could they do? 

"God, I'd like a drink," he burst out. Gloria laughed mirthlessly. 

"That's just about the earliest you've ever asked for one," she said. "I'll 
get it. I need one too. Scotch?" 

"Yeah. Straight!" 

His mind flew back to Patty as his wife left the room, back to the 
tape-recorder in his mind...."Feeling and sucking on her breasts ... both 
naked ... wrapped her legs around him ... climaxed together. " What to do? 
Talk to Patty? That was a joke! There never had been any time she'd listened 
to him. Not since she was old enough to have any mind of her own, anyway. 
Maybe that's when he should have gone out of his way to make sure she stayed 
toeing to the line. The kid had never been spanked. And now it was too late. 
Even so, he longed to haul her across his knees, flip that little skirt of 
hers up and bring his hand down on her quivering white ass until it glowed 
like a red neon light beneath those flimsy nylon panties she wore. He 
wouldn't have cared how she kicked or screamed as he rained blow after 
blow'on her defenseless buttocks. Hell, no! her cries would have been music 
to his ears. He clenched his fists angrily. He would do it yet one of these 
days, he would give her the spanking she deserved, the spanking of her life. 
Only, he thought sadly, it wouldn't do a damn bit of good. Patty would run 
away or something. Where was she now? Gloria had said she heard her come 
into the kitchen first thing in the morning and make some breakfast. Then 
she'd left. The noise she'd made revving up her sports car had been the 
thing that had awakened him. At first he'd taken this as a good sign and 
then he'd seen his wife's swollen, red-rimmed eyes, and Gloria had poured 
out the whole sordid story for him. Unbelievable! 

He was still in his reverie when Gloria placed the generous measure of 
straight Scotch in front of him. 

"Any ideas materialized?" she asked, taking a sip of her own drink and then 
sitting beside him on the couch. 

He smiled his thanks at her as he tried the Scotch but shook his head in 
reply to her question. 

"We need help, honey," he said after taking a couple of gulps from his 
glass. "We need professional help and the one ray of sunshine is that we 
have that appointment tomorrow with that camp guidance counselor-what's her 
name?" 

"Mrs. Mellor." 

"Right. Now there's no guarantee she can do anything but at least it's her 
business to give people advice in these situations. Can you sit tight till 
then?" He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. 

"What about Patty?" 

"We handle her with kid gloves. We've got to tell her sometime today they 
don't want her ... that she's been expelled from the camp. We don't have to 
mention anything else and that will be quite enough to insist on her staying 
at home this evening and sleeping in one of the bedrooms in the lodge." 

John finished his Scotch in one final gulp and stared vacantly at the cold 
hearth grate as he replaced the glass on the coffee table. 

"At least, I sure hope to God it's enough." 

* * * 

Some people maintained Mrs. Florence Mellor kept the most comfortable office 
of any of the summer camp's staff and certainly she herself was one of the 
easiest of people to get along with. A former high school principal, she'd 
taken an early retirement "to get out of a rut" as she herself put it, and 
she had got great joy out of the two summers she'd worked at the camp as 
guidance counselor. She was the first to admit that she had absolutely no 
qualifications in psychiatry. What she lacked in degrees and diplomas, 
however, she more than made up for through the personal wisdom she'd gained 
over her fifty-six years of life. 

"I'm very glad to meet you," she told John and Gloria on Monday morning, 
giving each a brief but firm handshake. "Sit down-if you can find a seat!" 

Most of the small office was taken up with battered chairs and a couple of 
horsehair sofas with the stuffing protruding. Much of this furniture was 
occupied by papers and books, however, and Mrs. Mellor made room for the 
Richards on one of the sofas by clearing away a stack of folders and dumping 
them on the floor. She indicated with a smile and a slight gesture of the 
hand that the space was all theirs and returned to her small desk pushed up 
against the wall under the one window, swiveling her chair around so that 
she could face them. She became serious. 

"Peter Sims has told me his decision regarding Patty and I know there're no 
words to lessen the blow of that news for you," she started off. "What we 
have to think about now is where we go from here, and you're quite right to 
think in terms of psychiatric help." She turned to check an entry in a file 
on her desk. "Your home's in New Bristol, is it not?" 

The two parents looked quickly at one another and then John cleared his 
throat and agreed New Bristol was indeed their hometown. "But there's been 
something else happening ... regarding Patty ... we thought it might be ... 
be important." And with an encouraging nod of acquiescence from Mrs. Mellor, 
John poured out the whole story of what Gloria had seen through the cabin 
screen door. 

"Well, there's no question you two people are being put through the wringer 
with this development," commented Mrs. Mellor forcefully when John had 
finished his recital. "And there's no question now it's doubly imperative to 
find help quickly." The gray-haired former principal briefly explained the 
limitations of her own qualifications to offer the kind of professional 
assistance that they would need for Patty, but reassured them she could give 
them leads to the right people. 

"I'll write down the names and addresses of. the three New Bristol 
psychiatrists I know of," she finished up. 

To this point Gloria had remained silent, except to confirm with a nod of 
the head some of the details her husband had recounted to Mrs. Mellor, but 
she had spent the time studying the guidance counselor closely, and had 
decided the woman had a warmth about her, conveyed a feeling of motherliness 
that made Gloria trust her. If she asked a straight question perhaps Mrs. 
Mellor would be straight with her in return. 

"Mrs. Mellor? You don't have to answer this but maybe you can help me. Are 
many girls Patty's age this way?" 

The older woman looked up from her writing and stared hard at Gloria for a 
moment before replying. 

"Yes, as a matter-of-fact there is a lot of wildness, including sexual 
intercourse. With many young girls there's promiscuity and worse, but with 
Patty you're lucky." 

Gloria sat bolt upright. "Lucky," she exclaimed. "Lucky! A daughter who has 
no compunction about going all the way at sixteen and you say I'm lucky?" 

"It could be worse, you know." 

"Oh, sure!" Gloria snapped. 

"Patty could be on drugs." 

"What d'you mean, 'be on drugs'?" cut in John. 

"I mean it could have been that your daughter by now could be a confirmed 
drug addict," Mrs. Mellor told them softly. "Mr. Sims would probably fire me 
if he heard me reveal it but we have uncovered pushers no more than sixteen 
and seventeen right here in this camp. As far as we can tell-and we get 
pretty expert, believe me," the counselor added bitterly, "-as far as we can 
tell Patty is not into drugs. And that, bluntly, is what I meant when I said 
it could be worse." 

Gloria had only half-heard the last part of Mrs. Mellor's explanation, her 
mind growing dizzy with what it was expected to understand. First there was 
the memory of the other night when she had watched the young couple in all 
their lewd revolting acts. She couldn't banish the image of the young girl's 
naked body stretched out on the bed beneath Doug, offered up to him for 
sacrifice as though he were some pagan god. She remembered that terrible 
moment when his thick rigid cock had entered the girl's tiny vaginal 
passage, pushing aside the pink fleshy folds of her cuntal lips to disappear 
as if it had been swallowed. She remembered ... and couldn't stop 
remembering-and now this woman was asking her to digest the possibility that 
by now Patty could have been hooked on dope, that maybe there were confirmed 
drug takers among her friends. It was too much to take in. The room began to 
whirl and feeling herself close to fainting heard herself asking, "Please, 
could I have a glass of water?" 

She wasn't sure of what happened then except that John held her until Mrs. 
Mellor had returned with the water. She sipped at it, feeling a little 
stronger, but her mind had been dazed, her brain sent spinning, and she had 
difficulty concentrating. 

The fog in her mind cleared suddenly when in. the course of a remark to John 
Mrs. Mellor made another reference to "psychiatric help". 

"What do you mean, 'psychiatric help'?" demanded Gloria, struggling up out 
of the nest of John's arms. "The girl isn't mad!" 

"I know, of course not," soothed Mrs. Mellor. "But she's very troubled, and 
really it's the only hope for the child." 

"She isn't really a child," Gloria protested, half to herself, thinking 
again of Patty lying beneath Doug Lawson as he had fucked lewdly into her. 

"She's an adolescent, a troubled adolescent," cut in John quickly, trying to 
nip in the bud a needless rift between the two concerned women. 

"Yes, you're perfectly right, Mr. Richards," the guidance counselor 
graciously agreed. "Adolescent is much more the correct term. But child or 
adolescent, Mrs. Richards, she is headed for disaster if she doesn't get 
professional advice." 

Gloria leaned back wearily against John's arm and nodded her head, feeling 
the effort of speech beyond her. There was some more talk between Mrs. 
Mellor and John but it all passed over her head as all she could think of 
was getting home to New Bristol. It was about an hour's drive. Patty had 
left first thing that morning, getting back the keys to her car on the 
condition that she drove straight home. They had told her they had to go to 
the camp but explained it was to pick up her things. They did have to do 
that also. Suddenly she could stand the small office, the clutter and the 
buzzing talk, no longer. Concentrating all her strength, she stood up. 

"John, I want to go home. You'll have to take me now, I need to get home." 
Aware, now, of how rude and abrupt she must sound to the older woman, Gloria 
turned to Mrs. Mellor and explained, "Please try to excuse this, I know it 
must seem terribly rude but there's just no place I...." Mrs. Mellor cut her 
off with a silencing gesture. 

"No apologies necessary, Mrs. Richards, it's completely understandable you'd 
want to get home as soon as possible. I tend to drag these talks on too 
long, it's a fault I'm always fighting to remember not to do." She smiled 
and picked up the list of addresses she'd left lying on her desk. 

"New Bristol isn't exactly well-endowed with psychiatrists, Mr. Richards, 
but I think you'll find something to help you there." 

John took the list and thanked her and with a few more words at the door of 
the office they took their leave of the camp guidance counselor, picked up 
Patty's already-packed things from the reception area of the administration 
building and headed to where their car was parked. 

Gloria wouldn't even agree to take the time to search out camp director 
Peter Sims to say farewell. 

* * * 

Although he drove swiftly once he got on to the highway, it was lunchtime by 
the time they reached the outskirts of New Bristol and the turn off for 
Green Edinburgh, the well-treed suburb where they had lived for the last six 
years. 

Patty's car was parked, after a fashion, slewed askew so it blocked the 
entrances of two of the three garages. John didn't bother to garage the 
Mercedes as he intended driving downtown that afternoon to his retail home 
furnishings store on New Bristol Main Street. 

"You go in and rest, honey. I can get these things," John told his wife as 
he moved around to the car trunk where Patty's bags were locked away. Gloria 
had with her a small weekend bag of personal items she had brought from the 
lodge before closing it up. John had duplicates of all his personal stuff at 
the lodge. 

Gloria had been through the house by the time he'd finished bringing in 
Patty's bits and pieces. 

"She's not here, John. I can't find her anywhere." 

"There, honey, hold on," sighed John as he dumped the last tennis racket, 
the last hold-all and the last pair of sneakers on the pile at the bottom of 
the stairs. "I'm not surprised she's not here. She took off before we got 
home and I'm just glad she's not somewhere in that car of hers-at least 
she's likely in the neighborhood." 

Gloria turned and walked into the kitchen where she had a view across the 
back lot of the house of their nearest neighbors, who happened to have two 
sons about Patty's age. 

"Now, she's not necessarily with the Peters' boys either, Gloria," said 
John, following her into the kitchen. The tall redhead went on standing by 
the double-sink, staring out at nothing. "Look, Gloria, if you'd rather I 
stayed home this afternoon I can phone the office and postpone this auditing 
meeting. It's no life or death thing. I don't feel like anything to eat 
myself but I can fix you some lunch and start phoning some of those 
doctors...." 

Gloria turned and faced him, putting her hands in his and smiling as far as 
he could remember for the first time that day. "No, I'll fix us some 
lunch-we both need to eat after skipping breakfast this morning-and then 
I'll start in on the calls while you're at the store. You more than did your 
share of carrying the load for both of us this morning. It's time I got a 
grip on myself. Now, where's that list Mellor gave you, let's decide who 
looks the best to try first." 

While Gloria got some ham and eggs ready, John read out the list of names, 
addresses and qualifications written down by Mrs. Mellor and discussed the 
apparent merits of each of the two men and one woman. They decided to try 
the woman first and then move on to one of the men if she wasn't available 
or turned out after all not to be suitable. After eating, John got up to 
pour them a second cup of coffee. 

"How do you really feel about it," he asked suddenly, putting the 
coffee-maker back on the counter. "Sending Patty to a shrink?" 

Gloria considered the question carefully. "Is there any alternative?" she 
said at last. 

"Not that I know of," John said. 

"But what if she won't go? I mean-it could be a problem." 

"We'll face that when the time comes. The first thing to do is get an 
appointment with one of these characters. Then we'll figure out how we get 
dear Patty into his-or her-office." He pushed his coffee cup away and leaned 
back. "But are you sure you're going to be able to handle these phone calls? 
I can still call off that meeting...." 

"Now I've eaten there's no problem," Gloria reassured him. "I feel fine 
now." She paused. "Well, as fine as I'm likely to feel in the circumstances. 
So you take off, and I'll let you know, I'll leave a message with your 
secretary if I get into any trouble. Otherwise, just assume I got something 
fixed up." 

Still with a great many doubts in his mind about exactly to what extent his 
wife was really recovered from her breakdown of that morning, John collected 
a few papers together in his study and left in the Mercedes for the 
Richards' store, Twentieth Century Home and Recreation Furnishings. It was a 
hop, skip and a jump by the new downtown freeway, and he was in plenty of 
time for his two-thirty meeting. 

Meanwhile, Gloria stacked the few dishes involved in their simple meal and 
decided to start work on obtaining a psychiatrist's appointment right away. 
She immediately got off to a bad beginning. All the woman doctor's number 
gave back was a recorded message. 

"Dr. Alison Forester's office. This is a recorded announcement. Dr. Forester 
is with a patient at this time but expects to be free at five minutes to the 
hour. Please call again at that time." 

Gloria checked her watch and found it was a quarter of three. Okay, she had 
time to make at least one other call, but they had decided that there might 
be an edge in having a woman treat Patty, so Gloria considered she would 
stick with how they originally had seen things and wait on the stroke of 
five minutes of three to come around, getting herself another cup of coffee 
in the meantime. 

It was right on the stroke of five of three when the redhead finished 
dialing again but nevertheless someone who had been this route before, 
probably, had beaten her to the punch and all Gloria got was the busy 
signal. She couldn't help slamming the phone down. God, it was frustrating! 
Then she collected herself and became a little calmer. Ridiculous to get 
upset over a busy signal-why, it might be Dr. Forester herself phoning out. 
Then, Gloria couldn't help but get an immediate reaction of resentment 
against the psychiatrist for herself using uppart of the precious five 
minutes that she apparently allowed each hour for calls from the outside. 

Gloria went back to dialing the Forester number monotonously for the next 
five minutes but got nowhere, only a repeat of the busy signal, until at 
three o'clock precisely the recorded voice chimed in again with, "Dr. Alison 
Forester's office. This is a...." 

The frustrated housewife slammed down the telephone receiver again, only 
this time didn't cool off. She was so angry she misdialed the second 
psychiatrist's number and got some mindless idiot in a record store. When 
she did get through, it was another recorded announcement. 

"Dr. Gregory's office. Dr. Gregory cannot accept telephone calls during 
consulting hours. After the three blips, would you please record your name 
and telephone number, and Dr. Gregory will return your call?" 

Holding herself back from again slamming the receiver down on its cradle, 
Gloria dutifully waited for the three rapid blips and as calmly as she could 
spoke off her name and telephone number. She even managed a rather plaintive 
"Thank you" at the end. 

With the third telephone number Mrs. Mellor had given them-a Dr. Pearson, 
Rodney Pearson-Gloria didn't get a recorded announcement but did find 
herself connected to a message service. 

"Dr. Pearson isn't in at the present time," was the harsh, toneless response 
to Gloria's request to speak with him. And as if anticipating Gloria's next 
question, the impersonal voice went on: "He didn't say when he'd return." 

Not bothering to hide the exasperation in her own voice, the anguished 
mother asked how she was expected to make an appointment with Dr. Pearson. 

"Oh, are you a new patient? There's something from the office on that but 
please hold for a moment...." At least there was now a vestige of something 
human in the voice on the other end of the phone but Gloria seethed while 
she waited for the telephonist to handle the other call or calls that had 
come in. 

"Please continue holding," the voice came back on the line. "Yes, there is a 
message from Dr. Pearson's office for new patients. Would you please state 
on paper, in typewritten form preferably, the reason for your wishing to 
become a patient of the doctor, restricting the description of symptoms to 
twenty-five words or less. Do not forget name, address and telephone." The 
voice paused for an instant, then added brusquely: "Got that?" 

Gloria didn't wait to reply, but put the phone down, this time with 
deliberate calm. She wanted to yell and scream. That was a luxury she 
couldn't allow herself, however. It was three-thirty and she felt exhausted. 
She'd tried, she really had tried, but she would have to hand it over to 
John after all. There was no way Gloria could face going over that ground 
again. 

John was still tied up in his meeting and while she waited for him to call 
her back Gloria mixed herself something stronger than coffee to see her 
through the rest of the afternoon. The scotch-on-the-rocks took the edge off 
her nervousness, though she found herself getting hyper again as four came 
and went and the expected call didn't materialize. At ten after four she 
could stand it no longer and called Ramona, John's secretary. 

"God dammit, Ramona, is that meeting still on?" 

"Why yes, Mrs. Richards. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was urgent. They're 
meeting in the board room, but I can put you through on the extension if 
you...." Gloria was on the point of backing off, the exercise of merely 
talking to someone having taken the steam out of her frustration, when 
Ramona broke in to say Mr. Richards was in the passage outside. "The meeting 
must have broken off, Mrs. Richards. I'll get him right away." Ramona came 
back once more to say Mr. Richards was going into his office to take the 
call and then John was on the line. 

"Gloria? What happened? Did you get anybody?" 

"No," said Gloria bitterly. "No, no, there weren't even any replies, except 
one." She related her experience with the answering service and then added 
the details concerning the other calls she had tried to make. John listened 
with growing relief, thinking the situation less bad than her mood had 
originally given him to understand, for he well knew as a day-by-day 
practitioner in the business world just how frustrating trying to make 
contact with someone by telephone could so often be. 

"Okay, Gloria," he said as soothingly as he could once she had spilled out 
her tale of woe. "Now listen to me; it's a good thing you decided to call me 
when you did, it was a good try, but often you can get calls through from a 
business office that seem to be impossible when reaching the same connection 
as a private individual. I'll get Ramona to pull out all the tricks she 
knows ... No, no, no, I won't give her any details of what it's about ... 
Now you get to sleep if you can, lie down at any rate, and I'll be on my way 
home just as soon as I've done as much as I can from this end. So hang up 
now and try and rest." 

Resting was the least thing Gloria felt like doing at that point and it was 
some time before she stopped pacing the length of the broadloomed lounge and 
even sat on one of the two sofas ranged in front of the fireplace. Once 
immobile, however, the weariness in her arms and legs did take over and she 
fell into a fitful sleep. 

The sun was still high in the sky when John got home to find Gloria asleep 
on the sofa in the lounge despite the blare of music from Patty's phonograph 
in her bedroom, indicating that his daughter was home. John sat alongside 
his wife on the sofa and kissed her awake gently. "Well?" she asked 
immediately as her eyes opened. 

"No luck." His lips lost the slight smile they had at her awakening. 

"I did get through to Dr. Forester. She's just plain full up, says she just 
can't take on any more patients. She did give me the name of a lay analyst, 
not a fully-qualified psychiatrist at all, but I haven't bothered with her 
yet. The other one, the one who wanted written submissions, the reason for 
that I found out, or Ramona found out, is because he has a very narrow 
specialty. Something to do with mental upset due to pregnancy. God, I could 
do with a drink, is there any Scotch in the cabinet?" 

"I'll get it!" A much-refreshed Gloria jumped to her feet. "I need one 
myself. What about the other one, the Gregory doctor?" 

"Dr. Gregory, dear old Dr. Gregory, Ramona did her best work there. After 
getting the 'Leave your name and number' routine, she traced his home 
telephone number and got his housekeeper, who after a while suggested he 
just might be at one of three clubs. Ramona got him at the second and it 
took all my tact to calm him down when he found I was calling him 
professionally. But he is more than fifty percent retired and definitely 
wasn't about to take on any teenage girls. Thanks." 

Gloria gave him his straight Scotch. "I can hardly hear you with that music 
rocking the house," she told him. "I don't know how to deal with her now, 
can you get Patty to turn it down?" 

She left for the kitchen to get herself ice cubes and John went to the 
bottom of the stairs in the hall. Gloria heard some shouts and then the 
music quietened, almost went off altogether. John was back in the lounge 
when she took in her drink. 

"It's just as well, probably," he said pensively. "Gregory I mean, not 
wanting Patty. She'd only see him as an old fuddy-duddy." 

Gloria decided it best not to tell her husband that 'fuddy-duddy' was how 
Patty had described her father only a week before. "What do you intend to 
do?" she asked, taking a cigarette and lighting it. 

"Keep trying," John told her. 

John sipped his Scotch, cleared his throat and looked sidelong at Gloria. He 
knew his wife sometimes got a little uptight about how much Ramona tended to 
get involved in their private affairs. 

"After I bombed out with Gregory," he said at last, "Ramona got into the act 
a little bit. She wasn't being pushy or anything, just concerned." 

Gloria gave him a hard, unblinking look, then exhaled a cloud of cigarette 
smoke. 

"Oh, and just what did your secretary have to contribute?" she asked 
tonelessly. 

"Well, she said it wasn't that she wanted to pry but she could see I was 
worried and not having much luck among the people I was calling and that if 
it were a wig-picker I needed there was somebody her brother highly 
recommended over in Caledonia." 

"Do we really have to go that far away? Who is he?" 

John took a scrap of paper from an inside pocket. "A Dr. J. Jonathan Smith. 
Apparently has the two top floors of that office tower built south of the 
river last year. You're right, it's better if we can get somebody closer to 
home. Besides, we've got this other woman to check out tomorrow, the lay 
analyst...." 

"Tomorrow, tomorrow," muttered Gloria into the remains of ice cubes she was 
jiggling in her glass. 

"Now look, Gloria...." There was a note of anger in John's voice. And then 
it softened. "Honey," he said, "I'm doing all I can." 

Gloria sighed. "I know," she said softly, eternally grateful that he was 
beside her. "Don't mind me, I don't mean to get bitchy at you! There's 
nothing more we can do today, let me fix you an early supper, you must be 
starving." 

For a while in the kitchen, starting to plan the evening meal, she felt 
quite elated. But the high evaporated when she went to check with Patty if 
she would be in to supper. Patty said she had better things to do and 
pausing only to grab up a shoulder-strap purse, ran headlong down the stairs 
from her room and out through the front door to her car. Probably guessing 
her mother would be watching from some window with her heart in her mouth, 
Patty raced the car down the driveway, braking madly to make the corner into 
the narrow laneway of the subdivision, before taking off in a cloud of dust 
in the direction of the highway. 

* * * 

The following morning, Patty spent hardly any time in eating breakfast 
before she was out of the house again, so John decided to stay home and do 
his phoning, intending to concentrate on contacting Miss Elizabeth Thompson, 
the lay analyst recommended by Dr. Alison Forester, the moment she set foot 
in her place of business. 

"Don't call before nine," said Gloria, as John settled in at the telephone 
shortly after eight-thirty. "You're wasting your time now, most of these 
people don't start operating till nine-thirty, ten o'clock!" 

"I've got to start sometime, honey, there's no way I can sit still on my 
butt for twenty-thirty minutes reading the paper." 

Gloria shrugged. "Well, if you want to waste your time calling an empty 
office, go ahead. I'll go and get on with some work upstairs." 

John was luckier than he knew. Miss Thompson operated out of her home and 
she answered the phone on his first ring. But there his luck ran out 
again-there was a two or three month backlog of people wanting to see her, 
she said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Richards, it's impossible for me to take anybody 
else on." 

"Miss Thompson," said John in desperation. "Do you know any doctor who's got 
any time? Do you know A Dr. Smith, Jonathon Smith, over in Caledonia, or 
anybody else in Caledonia?" 

Miss Thompson was silent for a moment. "Dr. Smith I've heard of, but he's 
quite new, apparently, and he's not a doctor, he's a lay practitioner, like 
me. One thing I do know, there isn't a lay analyst in New Bristol who hasn't 
got a full caseload. There's no one here I could send you to with any chance 
of acceptance. And I can't really help you with Caledonia. Sorry." 

Gloria, hearing voices, had stampeded downstairs. Now she slumped into a 
chair as John put the telephone receiver down, crestfallen. 

"What is it?" Gloria whispered. "She doesn't have time, either." 

"Could she recommend anybody else?" 

"Nobody." 

"Not even this Dr. Smith, the Caledonia man?" 

"She's heard of him. He's not a doctor." 

"Does she know anybody in Caledonia?" 

"No." John suddenly twisted round in his chair at the telephone table. 
"Look. I'm going to get this address of Dr. Smith or whatever he is firmed 
up and then I'm going to drive over to Caledonia. If he'll see me. Want to 
come?" 

Gloria nodded her head without enthusiasm and went back upstairs to her 
housework. John dialed his office. 

"Ramona? Hi. Yes, it is. Would be a great day for golf. If I felt like golf. 
No, things aren't any better with Patty and we're striking out all over 
trying to get help. You mentioned yesterday your brother or brother-in-law 
had seen a shrink, er, a psychiatrist over in Caledonia. D'you know anything 
about him? Okay, well, you call your brother and let me know. Thanks. 
Goodbye." 

John kept the receiver to his ear and pressed the button on the phone for 
the master bedroom, guessing from the muted sounds he heard that that's 
where Gloria was busy. 

"I have that detailed map of downtown Caledonia in the car," he told Gloria. 
"Ramona's going to call me back-can you take it and buzz me in the garage?" 

John took time to get himself another cup of coffee to take out with him 
while he looked for the Caledonia map but he was hardly heading out to the 
Mercedes before the inter-com phone in the garage started buzzing. He turned 
on his heel back into the house figuring the lounge phone was closer. 
"Hello, Ramona." 

"Hello, Mr. Richards. Look, it turns out my brother didn't see Dr. Smith 
himself, it was a friend of his, I'm sorry. I should have checked before I 
opened my big mouth." 

"Does he know anything about Smith?" 

"Only that his friend thought him unusual, but effective. It seems he has a 
pretty plush set-up in that tower on the Place Caledonia complex. I got the 
number if you want me to phone him." 

"Is he a psychiatrist," cut in Gloria on the upstairs phone, "or a lay 
analyst?" 

"Derek just called him 'Doctor' Smith-I don't know." The secretary's usually 
crisp voice became hesitant. "Do you want me to check that?" 

Gloria didn't answer. "No, don't bother," replied John. "I think we have to 
go with what we've got. Unless I could talk to your brother? What does he 
do, can I reach him right now?" 

"Surely, Mr. Richards. You know Bellamy's Food-a-teria? He's chief cashier 
there. Another John-John Flanders. Three-eight-seven, five-zero, local six. 
But he might be on coffee break right now." 

John Flanders must have had his coffee, he was eager to please. 

"Sure, Mr. Richards, no trouble at all. He's not somebody I know personally, 
mind you heard of him through a friend." 

"But is he a psychiatrist or a lay analyst?" 

"If you ask me, they're all lay analysts," laughed Flanders. "Isn't that 
what the couch is for?" 

John smiled grimly into the phone. "Yes, Mr. Flanders, could well be, could 
well be, but we do have to get an idea of what his qualifications are, I 
don't want to send my daughter to a quack." 

The chief cashier on the other end of the line hurriedly agreed and tried to 
think of something to reassure the worried father. "I do know my friend told 
me Dr. Smith had been engaged in some very interesting experiments lately." 

"What the hell do you mean by that?" John asked. 

"Well, he's not Freudian, of course," went on Flanders. "Apparently he 
really doesn't belong to any of the other schools that you must have 
certainly heard of." 

"Such as...?" 

"He's not a Jungian, either...." 

Good God Almighty! Now the man was going highbrow-technical, even-on him. 
John impatiently cut off the flow of names-Horney, Adler, Sullivan-being 
shot at him. 

"Does he get results?" 

"He seems to," the man said. 

"All right, that's good enough for me, Mr. Flanders. I'll call him right 
now. And thank you very much." 

* * * 

Dr. J. Jonathan Smith was reached through not one but two soft-spoken 
secretaries. They took some minutes to locate him and seemed to spend more 
time returning to the line to reassure John they were certain the doctor 
would be imminently available on the job looking for him. John couldn't have 
cared less about the delay, however, when Smith had heard him out and then 
replied: "But of course, Mr. Richards. I would be glad to try to help your 
daughter." 

"When can we see you?" 

"Whenever you like." 

"Are you ... could you make it today?" 

"But of course." 

John breathed a sigh of relief. "What time?" he asked. 

"Whatever time is best for you, Mr. Richards." 

"We're in New Bristol, as I said. But we could be over to Caledonia by 
noon...?" 

"In that case, Mr. Richards, may I suggest that you and your wife spend a 
pleasant hour or two taking luncheon at one of our excellent 
restaurants-there are two right in the building if you prefer-and then come 
to see me at two-thirty?" 

John was taken in completely by the clipped Central European accent Smith 
used to impress his clients. "We'll be there," he replied. "You can bet on 
that." 

He cradled the telephone and called out to Gloria. "Where are you? I've got 
great news, honey." He quickly found her in the garden. "I've got great news 
for you." Then he told her. 

"Oh, John!" she said. "Oh, John! That's wonderful. It just goes to show what 
happens when you keep trying!" 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Dr. Smith returned to his office from his own lunch just before two o'clock 
and turning to the file folder already prepared by Rosetta Box, his private 
secretary, with Patty Richards' name on it, refreshed his memory from the 
brief notes he had made while talking with Patty's father. This, thought Dr. 
Smith, could be very interesting. Of course, he hadn't learned too much 
about Patty over the telephone, there had been a certain amount of 
incoherence on the part of her father. That was understandable, however-the 
man was distraught, most fathers in Richard's position would be, he 
reflected. He could hardly blame him. He would have felt the same way if 
he'd had a daughter of sixteen. 

He licked his lips in lascivious anticipation. Christ! Sixteen! and from 
what Richards had said, the kid was worth waiting for. He had a picture in 
his mind of a slim little thing with a voluptuous body. A regular 
miniature-sized Aphrodite, beautifully-proportioned. Full hips and thighs 
and breasts that were plump little mounds of soft sensuous flesh, tipped 
with tiny budding nipples that quivered an invitation. Dear God! Here he 
was, drooling over them already. Literally drooling! He could hardly wait to 
take one of those rose-tinted tips between his own lips and suck it, 
swirling his tongue around the tender mound. And run his hands over the 
snowy flesh and along the narrow furrow of the youthful cleavage. Jesus! 
Wait 'til she got his treatment! She'd never forget it! And neither would 
he! 

He wiped his brow, surprised to find it was wet with cold sweat. He must get 
a grip on himself, he thought. At least until this little charmer was in his 
tender care! 

Firmly closing Patty's file and replacing it in front of him on the desk 
with another containing a whole pile of papers, he looked around for notepad 
and pen. He really should finish this talk he had been invited to present on 
an avant-garde television program dealing with science. He had time to do a 
little more before the Richards arrived. He refreshed his memory on what 
he'd already written. "Absolute freedom," said the last sentence, "is the 
'sine qua non' of therapy." He remembered he'd felt a trifle uncomfortable 
immediately after he wrote that, wondering if he was using the phrase in 
quite the correct way. Latin, he thought with some justification, had never 
been one of his outstanding subjects at school. He smiled a little to 
himself as he thought of the large amounts of Latin that adorned his 
"diplomas" and other credentials hanging on the walls of his reception room. 
Oh, well, if he ran it off the tongue quickly, none of his viewers on the 
afternoon women's program would be any the wiser.... 

"Absolute freedom, especially sexual freedom," he wrote, is essential if the 
individual is to develop normally. We have all seen those uptight, pathetic 
neurotics who have been denied the right to the greatest of all freedoms, 
that of sexual freedom. 

"The repressed man or woman is a sick man or woman. Their lives are 
miserable. Yet such suffering is unneeded and unnecessary. Even those whose 
lives have been warped irreparably, it would seem-by an unfortunate and 
moralistic upbringing, can lift their heads and turn, like flowers to the 
sun, to joy and happiness. The secret for such restoration to the full life 
Nature intended for each of her children is a full, vital and varied sex 
life. 

"Away with guilty feelings. I say to you bluntly, what could be more pure, 
more natural, more normal than a man and woman reaching climax together? 
What could be more charming, more enchanting than two small children playing 
together-playing with each other, as the world would describe their innocent 
actions-running their hands over each others' naked bodies, the small girl 
exploring her young friend's penis, stroking it, perhaps bringing it to an 
erection, the little boy discovering the marvels of the other's vagina, 
caressing the warm flesh there, between her legs, going so far, even, as to 
insert a tiny finger deep up inside it?" 

He paused in his writing, wondering if he'd not gone too far, if he could 
get away with that, even on a self-proclaimed "liberated" TV show. "Away 
with guilty feelings!" he read over. 

Christ! That was good! He continued reading his scrawled paragraphs and 
began to feel himself getting excited. He wondered if there was a patient 
around, waiting and ready for his own special brand of therapy. 

Therapy! That was as good a name for it as any. One thing about it, nobody 
ever forgot it. And damn few fought it, after he got them over their initial 
inhibitions. Once they were, they just never could get enough of it. 

Once again he read over what he had written. "Full, vital and varied sex 
life," he said aloud. He liked that phrase. And by Jesus, he meant it. 
Especially the part about variety. There wasn't anything that the patients 
around here didn't try. "How you want it, every time you want it!" That was 
the motto of the Clinique Place Caledonia. 

Unable to stay still in his chair any longer, he rose and walked over to a 
small cupboard in the shelves of one office wall. Quickly removing a pair of 
high-powered binoculars, he twisted around to the window looking down from 
the skyscraper. Yes, there they were again, the beauties! Only one of the 
two girls on the rooftop of a nearby apartment block was sunbathing, but the 
sight of her long slim legs, her fully rounded breasts, her tiny waist sent 
little bolts of lightning flashing through his loins, making his cock jerk 
up into semi-hardness beneath his pants. The other girl, dressed in the 
uniform of an airline stewardess, suddenly bent down to do something to the 
strap of the bikini bra of the sunbather, but got her fingers flicked away. 
Smith now focused in on the taut mini-skirt stretched up and tight over the 
rounded ass-cheeks of the stewardess. God, but she was gorgeous! He wouldn't 
mind sampling that right now, he thought. The outfit she was wearing didn't 
do a damn thing to cool the fire that now raged in his balls. When she stood 
up again she took off her uniform jacket and loosened the frilly blouse 
underneath by undoing every button down to her waist. And her mini-skirt was 
so short it just managed to cover her hips, swinging back and forth over the 
tops of her thighs as she walked back to the rooftop elevator entrance and 
out of sight. 

The doctor swung the glasses back to focus in on the almost-naked sunbather 
recumbent on one of the fold-away garden lounging chairs that littered the 
rooftop sun-trap. Eyes closed, she was totally relaxed with one leg slightly 
raised and leaning out and one hand lightly resting on the tiny triangle of 
cloth protecting her crotch. No doubt about it, he really went for the young 
ones. Then he burst into a lecherous laugh. And for the older ones, he 
reminded himself practically anything in skirts, or in hot pants for that 
matter. 

Smith licked his lips, remembering with lascivious pleasure the particular 
joy that all-too-brief fad of hot pants had given him. It really was too bad 
so few women anymore were wearing those tight-fitting shorts that out-lined 
the undulating curves of their ass-cheeks and clung to the narrow crevice 
between them. 

His eyes roamed around his office, taking in the huge two-way mirror 
allowing untrammeled viewing into the therapy room next door, and then he 
gave a quiet smile as his glance rested on the tried-and-true couch standing 
beneath the mirror. A great idea in its time, he thought. A sign of Dr. 
Freud's genius, making his patients lie down on a couch. 

Of course, Freud had stopped there. As with every other analyst Smith had 
ever heard of, the great Viennese man of medicine had merely sat behind the 
couch while the patient relaxed, stretched out before him, and waffled and 
babbled on ... on ... on ... and on. But he, Smith, had gone way beyond 
that. Everybody knew these days that what made people who went to shrinks 
uptight was sex. So instead of letting them talk about it-a long and 
sometimes useless practice-he preferred to let his patients "act" out their 
problems. Let them worry less by "doing" more, was his little slogan. Or the 
other half of his private credo, which he wouldn't want to have had 
published under any circumstances, that expressed his sentiments entirely: 
"You're gaining control when you're filling the hole." 

Smith raised the binoculars to his eyes again and returned to his intimate 
study of the girl in the bikini on the nearby rooftop. I'd like to be 
helping your self-control by filling your hole, he thought as he fiddled 
with the fine adjustment of the lenses to compensate for a slow and lazy 
rearrangement of her long slim legs by the dozing girl. There was no telling 
what he couldn't do for the mental equilibrium of that lithesome young 
blonde exposed before him if he could but get her in for an extra-special 
session of his own brand of therapy here on his own couch. The trouble was, 
he'd been leaving too many cases like this, as evocative as this, in the 
hands of his assistants. A sudden thought jolted him-could his staff be 
pulling the wool over his eyes? 

Whatever line of speculation his mind might have taken on this thought was 
interrupted as his eyes and attention were sharply concentrated by a lazy 
roll the blonde had started on the somewhat rickety garden chaise-longue. 
Inside his air-conditioned office, Smith had no idea what the temperature 
was under the broiling sun, but it looked pretty sticky as the 
barely-covered hips of the girl jigglingly made their turn while she rested 
the weight of her upper body on one elbow and then finally slithered down 
flat again, this time on her belly. 

The watcher with the binoculars drew in his breath audibly as he immediately 
saw that the tiny crotch-piece of her bikini panties had narrowed-up in the 
turn-over and now was tightly pulled up in the crevice between her 
ass-cheeks, pushing them apart slightly but also at the same time almost 
disappearing from sight. She lay supine like that for a moment, as though 
exhausted by the heat, while Smith frantically worked on the binoculars' 
fine focus, then she slowly and with an effort reached behind her and with 
her left hand began trying to slacken off the tightness she had 
inadvertently caused to her bikini bottom in her efforts to turn over. To 
hook a finger under the almost-vanishing crotch-piece of the bikini panties 
she had to raise her hips and lower body slightly from the bed of the 
lounger, pushing her rounded quivering half-melons of ass-cheeks up into the 
sun's glare. Two fingers were now locked under the edge of the flimsy bikini 
material but some tightness or stickiness was still preventing her from 
pulling the narrow band out of the shadowed valley created by the mounds of 
white flesh exposed to the sun. Making a supreme effort, the girl opened her 
legs more by wriggling each leg out to rest them on either side of the 
lounger. Then she could run her fingers back down under the material of the 
panties until the crotch-piece was free and comfortable again. Smith gasped 
out the breath he had been holding, and she, too, seemed to have been 
holding her breath during her hot and strenuous performance because her 
shoulders heaved violently for a couple seconds and she flung back her head 
as though gasping for air. Smith rested his glasses on the window sill and 
did a mental re-play of the tiny strip of fabric popping up between the 
girl's tightening thighs, then slipping enticingly into the crevice of her 
rounded buttocks, even outlining the little puckered opening of her anus. 
Hell, there might be more to come! He wanted to rip her frail garments right 
off her, strip her naked and run his hands over her trembling bronzed 
flesh.... 

Before he could get the binoculars zeroed in on the curvaceous blonde again, 
the office inter-com buzzed. "Goddamn it to hell!" he blasted out between 
his teeth. "Why can't they leave me alone?" 

On the fourth buzz he swore another string of oaths and stormed over to his 
desk, flipping the inter-com switch. "I don't want to be disturbed!" he 
yelled. Then, native caution superimposed itself on animal lust. "What is 
it, Rosetta?" he added lamely. 

Rosetta, well-compensated for remaining the butt of her strange boss's 
erratic behavior, was left unperturbed by the emotional outburst that had 
erupted in her ear. 

"Sylvia has two people in reception, the two people you were expecting-Mr. 
and Mrs. Richards. Shall I send them in?" 

Good God, was it that time already? "Yes, no!" He checked his watch. It said 
twenty-nine minutes after two. There was no way out. Remembering the slight 
accent he adopted, he told Rosetta: "Send them in, in about ten minutes, 
would you, my dear?" 

Chuckling at the last-minute resumption of the accent, Rosetta switched the 
inter-com to reception. "Okay, Sylv, show the birds into the waiting room. 
Thanks." Flipping the "off" button and leaning back on her chair, Rosetta 
wondered not for the first time whether the money was worth it, working in a 
mad-house. 

* * * 

In the waiting room, although it was sumptuously furnished and amply 
supplied with up-to-date magazines, neither Gloria nor John were at ease. 
Unable to sit patiently, Gloria got out of a black leather armchair and 
wandered over to the window. She'd seen the city from roughly the same 
vantage point about eighteen months before when she and John had been 
invited to attend a cocktail party in the tower to celebrate the opening of 
the Place Caledonia complex. A tour had been an optional part of the 
ceremonies, though most of the stores and offices then were nothing more 
than bare concrete and glass. She glanced at her watch twenty-seven minutes 
of three. God! where was the man! 

Her casual surveillance of the city scene was arrested by a flash of 
movement and color on the roof of a nearby building. A girl-blonde 
sunbathing in a bikini was twisting her arm awkwardly behind her trying to 
scratch her back. No, she was trying to unfasten her bra strap and 
eventually the two halves of the clasp sprang apart as the elasticated 
back-band contracted. The expanse of the girl's now-totally bared back was 
vaguely exciting. Gloria remembered how hot it was out there. In that heat, 
she must be glad to get rid even of that bit of cloth, thought the waiting 
woman. The nearly-nude blonde lifted her breasts from the bra cups for a 
brief moment, then as she settled back on the lounger more comfortably 
another girl in blouse and skirt appeared in the shade of the rooftop 
elevator entrance. She called from the coolness, but the city hum must have 
drowned her out. She walked over slowly to the sunbathing blonde and, laying 
a hand on the naked shoulder, bent to put her mouth close to the ear of the 
recumbent girl. The blonde lifted her head sufficiently to shake it 
vigorously, her shining mane of hair for a split-second seeming to entwine 
itself in the cascading jet-black locks of the girl in the skirt. Again the 
second girl said something and again the blonde shook her head, but at some 
third comment she merely lay her head back on the lounger. The skirted girl 
stood up and, pulling her short skirt up even higher on her hips, suddenly 
straddled the sunbathing girl and the narrow lounger and bent to fish at the 
edge of the breasts of the nearly-nude blonde for the two halves of the 
bikini back-band. Two golden rivulets scampered over and down the girl's 
buttocks and inner thighs as the shine of her panty-hose reflected the glare 
of the sun. The clasp of the bikini top fastened, the raven-haired girl 
gently bumped up and down a couple of times on the blonde's buttocks, then 
stood and deftly swung a tapering leg back over' the lounger. She picked up 
a robe from another nearby lounge chair and draped it around the blonde's 
shoulders as the sunbather reluctantly shucked on flip-flops and stood. They 
walked slowly towards and into the entrance of the elevator tower, the 
taller, black-haired girl curling her right arm around the other's 
shoulders. 

* * * 

Rosetta watching the same scene from her office window felt a delicious 
quiver of longing run through her loins as the backs of the two girls 
disappeared from view. Another jolt shook her being, this time a guilty 
start, as she remembered the Richards put in cold storage in the waiting 
room. She checked the time-the office clock said twenty-four minutes of 
three. The old goat.' Still playing with himself, I suppose. She wondered 
who the hell he thought he was kidding with his "I'm so busy" routine. It 
was time for a secretarial-type, reassuring remark to the poor ducks waiting 
to be plucked. Besides, she was curious who these people were that the 
magical reputation of her boss had attracted from New Bristol. 

She flung open her door to the waiting room with all the confidence of 
someone in complete charge of things and gave a broad smile of friendliness 
to the first person her eyes lighted upon, a well-stacked woman in her late 
thirties who was in the act of turning from the window. Yes, indeed, this is 
a pigeon who will get the boss's eye, thought Rosetta, as she herself eyed 
Gloria's firm curving breasts and hips with slender waist to set them off. 
She walked three steps into the room and now smiling broadly at John said: 
"I'm most terribly sorry, but Dr. Smith is still in the last stages of 
examining a patient." She turned briefly to Gloria. "If I might prevail upon 
you to be patient for a further few minutes I'm sure the doctor will be 
ready to see you. Thank you." And with a gracious inclination of the head 
and another dazzling smile for both parents the perfect secretary sailed 
serenely from the room. 

"John, I'm scared," said Gloria in the silence Rosetta left behind her. 

"Why, honey?" asked John, startled. 

"I just am, that's all." 

"Of that woman?" 

"No, no! Well, partly, I suppose." 

"Do you know her?" 

"I can't put it into words." 

"But she's only a secretary." 

"It started before her. I can't explain it. It's a feeling, that's all." 

"Do you-do you want to go home? Try another day?" 

"Well, what do we tell this man?" Gloria waved her arms in exasperation. "He 
doesn't know Patty." 

"That's what we're here to background him on." 

"Do we have to-is it necessary to spell out everything?" Was she expected to 
go into every detail of that night? 

John sighed. "I know the worst burden is going to fall on you, honey, but we 
should tell him everything." 

"Even the drugs part?" asked Gloria quickly. 

"What 'drugs part'?" demanded John, now perturbed himself. 

"The friends of Patty. What Mrs. Mellor told us." 

"But there's nothing confirmed about that." He paused as a thought hit him. 
"Is there?" he looked at her sharply. "Is there something . confirmed? What 
have you found out? What has she told you?" 

"Nothing, nothing like that!" Gloria sat on the edge of a chair close by 
John and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Oh, John, this man isn't even a 
psychiatrist, an M.D. What makes him anymore different than us? Are we 
expected to confide in this, this total stranger the first time we set eyes 
on him...?" 

"Yes, Mrs. Richards," Smith said from the doorway. "And I'll tell you the 
reason why one of the reasons why. It's because nothing you could tell me 
would shock me. I've been the listener of, and the viewer of, some weird and 
perverted things-what the world at large calls 'perverted'-and I'm willing 
to wager"-he concentrated on and succeeded in bringing out the "w" of 
"wager" with slightly "vee-ish" overtones-"I am villing to vager, Mrs. 
Richards, that there is nothing you could tell me that I haven't heard 
already, a hundred times maybe." Dr. Smith deadpanned in mock seriousness 
for two or three seconds as Gloria's blush of embarrassment intensified and 
she squirmed uneasily in her chair. Then the "doctor" unleashed a broad, 
forgiving smile, graciously letting them off the hook he himself had created 
and skewered them on. 

"But let us not continue talking of your daughter's future happiness in the 
semi-public domain of the waiting room," he said, stepping back from the 
doorway and ushering them through with a light gesture of the hand. "The 
privacy of my own quarters is the most appropriate place for that." 

* * * 

Once Dr. Smith had the Richards behind the closed door of his office he cut 
down drastically on the oozing charm, partly because he judged it better to 
appear to be getting down to business but mainly because keeping up the 
formal mannerisms was so tiring. He motioned Gloria and John to easy chairs, 
then sat behind his desk, now all seriousness. 

"Mr. and Mrs. John Richards, yes?" He looked once at John and then at 
Gloria, as though challenging them to deny the statement. "Yes, you were 
sent to me by...?" 

"It was a Mr. Flanders," said John. "Mr. John Flanders, of New Bristol." 

"Really!" Dr. Smith exclaimed mildly. He hadn't the faintest notion who Mr. 
Flanders was and didn't care, as he went through the motions of jotting down 
the name. "And which members of your family have been in analysis 
previously, if any?" 

"None," John said. "None at all. Not in the immediate family, anyway." 

"You see, doctor, we have only one child our daughter Patty." 

"Ah, yes, Patty. One daughter. And with Patty lies the trouble, is that not 
so, Mrs. Richards?" Gloria nodded and from behind his desk Smith ran his 
eyes up and down her voluptuous figure. He wouldn't be giving her some of 
his special therapy, he thought. Not in the least. 

"It was our daughter we came to see you about," John said. "She's become 
like a wild thing, as if she'd got some spring coiled up tight inside her." 

"How old?" 

"Sixteen." 

"In general good health?" 

"Oh, yes, she's a well-developed girl for her age." John thought just for a 
moment he caught a lecherous grin playing around Dr. Smith's lips, but when 
he turned to stare at him, the man was busy writing impassively on a pad on 
his desk. Smith was merely hoping the kid took after her mother. 

"Well now," he said, finishing his note taking. "What precisely seems to be 
the trouble?" 

John looked at Gloria, but she had her eyes cast down, hands clasped tight 
in front of her. 

"We had a really terrible night with her last weekend," John said at last. 
"In the country. We have a summer place up in the lake country and she has 
her own car now and we thought she'd taken off for the night...." 

"And vat vass the young wild thing doing?" prompted Smith, remembering his 
accent. "Drinking, dancing up a storm, perhaps?" 

John shook his head. "No, all the time she was in one of the cabins. With a 
boy. Gloria, Mrs. Richards caught her, them, in the...." 

"Ah! Flagrante delicto!" the doctor uttered with a flourish, bending forward 
to make copious notes. "Izz zat so?" 

Gloria shot her husband a glance. The man was a foreigner, she was positive 
now. Probably from Vienna. Or he could even be Russian, or German. She 
wondered if he had had his training in Vienna or over here. Probably here 
because he was so young. And he's attractive, she admitted to herself. 
Terribly attractive. And then she blushed a little and put thought of that 
nature out of her mind. 

"And so, then vat happened?" Dr. Smith looked from one to the other. "Mrs. 
Richards, as it happened you were the one to, er, catch, as your husband put 
it, these two young people, perhaps you would be so kind to give me all the 
details. All the details, Mrs. Richards." The analyst gloated inwardly at 
the thought of how he would make this cock-teasing redhead squirm by 
dwelling on every detail. This interview was going to be fun! 

She looked at John with desperation in her eyes and saw that he was staring 
at the floor. There wasn't a damn thing for her to do, she thought 
despairingly, except plunge into the story and try to get through all the 
details with as much composure as possible. She looked directly into the 
"doctor's" eyes, and thought she detected there a sympathetic interest and 
kindliness. Oh God! she thought. I'm being so unfair to this man. Here he is 
trying to help us more importantly, trying to help Patty-and here I am 
making his job more difficult. 

Gloria smiled wanly at the man waiting behind the desk and he gave her an 
encouraging smile back. "There have been some incidents at summer camp 
before these ... these...." 

"Yes?"...." These sexual relations of the other night." 

Smith tapped his pencil on the desk in an impatient tattoo. "Sexual 
relations, Mrs. Richards. Would you care to be more precise about this 
occasion, please?" 

Uncrossing and re-crossing her tapering legs, Gloria felt her face grow 
scarlet. "I'll try," she said helplessly. She cleared her throat, searching 
for words, but could find none. She spread her hands wide, shaking her head. 
"It's very difficult," she said. 

"But Mrs. Richards," Smith said sternly, "how can I help you ... help you to 
help your daughter ... if you won't speak frankly to me?" 

"I don't know," she said in a frightened voice. Her whole body trembled and 
tears sprang to her eyes. What on earth was the matter with her? She knew 
how important it was ... how terribly important it was ... for her to face 
reality. And she made up her mind that she would, she must. 

"She was having sexual relations," she said, and then realized she was 
repeating nothing more than she'd said before. 

Once again Smith tapped his pencil on the desk. "Yes?" he said. "But with a 
man? Or a woman?" 

Gloria's mouth gaped open. Oh, dear God! Did the man know what he was 
saying? He was suggesting some sort of perversion. And what Patty had been 
doing ... God knows, it was bad enough ... but what she had been doing was 
nothing like that! Nothing at all! "Why," she said, "it was with a boy, of 
course!" 

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Richards, of course. And can you tell me something more?" 
Once again the long legs uncrossed and re-crossed nervously, flicking 
Gloria's skirt up each time over her thighs. He tapped his pencil against 
his teeth to hide the enjoyment he was getting out of her embarrassment. 

"Well...." 

"Yes?" 

"Well, they were...." 

"Yes, I understand what you are trying to say but could you bleeze"-he fell 
back on the European accent-"bleeze be a little more brecise?" 

"Yes, of course, Dr. Smith. I'll try." But again she sat, tongue unable to 
pronounce the words, her hands clasping and unclasping on her lap. 

"Well?" 

"Well, they were both naked...." 

Smith bent over his pad, scribbling furiously. "Both naked," he repeated. He 
looked up. "And then?" 

"And then ... well, they were both naked...." 

"You said that, Mrs. Richards." 

"And he was sort of ... sort of...." 

"Yes?" 

"Well, he was sort of on top of her." 

"And then?" 

She felt a wild urge to scream. She sat up straight and put one hand to her 
mouth to stifle the impulse. Smith's eyes continued to bore into hers. "What 
do you mean?" she asked softly. 

"Vat I mean," he said, remembering his accent again, "is vat happens next? 
Does she ... Mrs. Richards, you must understand, we do have to be perfectly 
frank here. Izz zat not zo?" 

She nodded miserably. "Yes," she said. "That's so." 

"'very well. Vat happens then?" 

Gloria shook her head. "I can't. I just can't," she said. 

Smith rose in pretended anger. "How do you expect me to help you? he asked. 
"And your daughter-how can I help your daughter Patty, zat is her name, yes? 
If .you do not help me?" 

"I'll try," she said. She opened her purse, took a tissue from it and wiped 
her eyes. "They were having intercourse." 

Smith put down the pencil with a gesture of frustration. "Vat kind?" he 
asked in exasperation. 

Gloria looked up in dismay. "Why, intercourse," she said. "You know...." 

"Mrs. Richards, there are many kinds of intercourse. There is genital, which 
most of us tend to think of as normal. That's the kind in in which the penis 
of the man is inserted into the vagina of the woman...." 

"Yes, that was it," Gloria said, blushing now, trying to stop his flow of 
words. "That was what I saw." 

But Smith was enjoying himself too much to stop now. "Naturally," he 
continued, lecturing her as though she were a babe-in-the-wood attending her 
first class at school on basic sex education, "naturally there are other 
types of sexual intercourse." 

"I know ... I know." 

"For instance, there is that in which the male licks or sucks, if you wish, 
the woman's vagina. Or that in which the woman takes the penis into her own 
mouth, sucking on it until the man ejaculates. You understand the term, Mrs. 
Richards?" He wondered just how far he could go in his exposition, how 
obscene he could become. He would love to see the expression on Gloria's 
face when he threw in some of the more vulgar terms used to describe sex. A 
phrase, perhaps, like: "He rammed his cock deep into her cunt"-how would 
that affect her, he wondered. Or what would she say if he talked to her on 
the subject of sodomy? Faint immediately, he thought. 

He glanced at John Richards and decided to drop the line of questioning. The 
husband's face was red too, either from embarrassment or in indication of 
the first flush of anger growing. Probably wouldn't be a bad idea to throw 
in some sort of half-apology at this point. He smiled disarmingly and made a 
slight deprecating gesture with his right hand. "I sincerely trust my 
questions are not offensive to you," he said. "It is so important...." again 
the flourish of the hand and the slight trace of a foreign accent, " ... so 
very important that I understand exactly. It is the proven method." 

John nodded, placated. "Yes," he said. "I see." 

"Now, as for Patty," Smith said. "What other things have you noticed? Her 
schoolwork, for example?" 

"She's had problems the whole of the last school year," Richards said. 
"Impossible to keep up with the others, no motivation, that sort of thing. 
You know." 

"Yes, I know. Now tell me. Is it that she can't keep up or that she won't?" 

"She won't," John said. "She's bright enough. Isn't she, honey?" he asked 
Gloria. She nodded and he went on. "She's really very bright. But she 
refuses to work." 

Smith duly noted the information. "Temper tantrums?" he asked. Both John and 
Gloria nodded. "Moody? Yes." After a few more questions along this line he 
looked up with a smile, put down the pencil and folded his hands. "Well, I 
think I have the picture now," he said. 

Gloria looked at him anxiously. "Do you think you'll be able to help Patty, 
Dr. Smith?" 

He nodded vigorously. "I'm sure I can," he said firmly. "Yes, I'm certain of 
it." 

Gloria breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm so glad. You don't know what a 
load that takes off my mind." 

John sat back. "You have no idea, doctor, how worried we've been these last 
few months," he said. 

"There you are wrong, my friend. I have had zo many parents coming to me, 
just like you. You are not the first, believe me. Almost mad with vorry 
themselves, zese parents. But I help them, I help the children." 

"I only hope you can help Patty," Gloria said. 

"Now," Smith made his final pitch. "Of course, she will have to stay here at 
the clinique." 

"How long, Doctor?" 

"Three or four months, maybe. I do not know yet. I have not examined the 
patient yet. It always depends on the exact condition of the patient. You 
understand?" 

"Oh yes, yes." 

"And then, of course, we must discuss the other arrangements. Clinique Place 
Caledonia is, I'm afraid, very expensive. 

"Doctor," said the father, leaning forward earnestly in his chair, "we'll 
pay anything ... anything ... to see Patty well and happy again...." 

"A most commendable attitude, I'm sure," Smith intoned unctuously. "And I'm 
also sure that neither yourself nor Mrs. Richards will be disappointed in 
the transformation you will see take place in Patty while she is with us. 
Now, if you will just come with me, one of my secretaries will explain about 
the financial arrangements. This way, please." 

Outside in Rosetta's office, Dr. Smith shook hands with each in turn and 
delivered them into the efficient care of his private secretary. She 
presented them with forms to fill out and when that was finished she handed 
them a couple of illustrated brochures and suggested they read them 
carefully. "The first describes how the clinique is a completely 
self-contained unit occupying the top two floors of the tower in one hundred 
per cent isolation from the rest of the office floors. The second brochure 
will indicate exactly what Patty is to bring with her, what she is forbidden 
to have here, visiting hours. Everything." 

"And we're to bring her here on Thursday? Is that right?" 

"That's right, Mr. Richards." 

"Any particular time?" 

"No, Mrs. Richards. Our reception desk is equipped to register new patients 
at any hour of the day or night. So we'll see you at your convenience." 
Rosetta saw them out past reception to the elevator, waiting politely until 
the elevator doors had closed behind them. 

The rush of the non-stop journey to ground level accentuated the pang of 
doubt that assailed Gloria immediately on leaving the rarified atmosphere of 
Clinique Place Caledonia. "Oh, John," she said, gripping his arm, "are we 
doing the right thing?" 

"I'm sure of it." 

"How do you find him ... Dr. Smith?" John shrugged. "Peculiar," he admitted. 
"Yes, he was very ... very frank." 

"As he said, there's not much he hasn't heard." 

"There's a limit on how much I want to hear." 

John grinned at her. "He's the doctor, not you." 

"Y-yes. He needs all the facts." 

"Well, Patty's now got plenty to give him," John said grimly. 

"How frank will he be with her?" Then Gloria suddenly had another thought as 
the elevator began slowing to a stop. "You know, John, that's just where we 
might have gone wrong with Patty." He looked at her, puzzled. 

"Maybe we just weren't frank enough." 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Patty Richards tried playing it cool at the thought of spending a few weeks 
in Caledonia but in reality it was a girl consumed with curiosity who 
followed her parents into the tower complex on Thursday. She'd been 
intrigued by the brochures on the clinic run by Dr. Smith, getting the idea, 
as she was meant to, that it was managed more on the lines of a luxury hotel 
than a place of healing. The alternative, she knew, was incarceration again 
in another of those dumb summer camps with all their dumb games and healthy 
outdoors living. And there was no guarantee with any other dump in the 
backwoods that she'd find anybody like Doug Lawson to entertain her. The 
hotel-clinic on the top of the Caledonia tower seemed a much more groovy 
proposition than a summer of fighting off mosquitoes and the heavy-handed, 
ham-fisted attempts of immature male adolescents to feel her breasts. 
Besides, if she didn't like it here she could always split, couldn't she? 

She rode Dr. Smith's private elevator to the top of the tower with her 
parents and followed them over to reception, most impressed. After a few 
moments, Rosetta came out in response to the receptionist's call. 

"This is our daughter Patty," said John, as the private secretary gave the 
now-subdued young woman a broad, friendly smile. 

"Hello, Patty. I'm Miss Box, Rosetta Box, Dr. Smith's secretary. I'll show 
you to your room. Then I'll tell Dr. Smith you're here." 

"Sure," said Patty, shrugging. 

Rosetta picked up one of Patty's suitcases and said: "This way." She turned 
to see that John and Gloria were stepping forward too, as if to accompany 
their daughter. "No," she said, shaking her head. "It's better for you to 
say your good-byes here." 

Gloria nodded, feeling a pang of deprivation already. Determined, however, 
not to break down, she smiled bravely and put her arm around Patty's 
shoulders, kissing her lightly. "Bye-bye, darling," she said. "We'll come to 
visit you next Thursday." She looked anxiously at Miss Box. "We can visit 
next week, can't we?" 

"Yes, of course," Rosetta replied. "On Thursday, from two to four." 

"We'll see you then, Patty," her father said, kissing her in turn. And then 
they moved off back to the elevator as Patty disappeared through a door with 
the private secretary. 

Her room turned out to have as one whole wall a window looking south and 
west over the city with the other three walls painted in brilliant reds, 
yellows, purples and browns, all the colors following cleverly arranged 
geometric shapes to climax in a whorl like a planet's tail at the door of 
the small bathroom en suite. 

"Like it?" asked Rosetta, putting down the suitcase. 

Patty looked around at the TV and stereo against one wall. "Yeah," she said. 
"It's groovy." 

Rosetta smiled. "Excellent. And now let's go back downstairs for your first 
session with Dr. Smith." 

She led the redheaded schoolgirl to the office where Dr. Smith had received 
her parents the day before yesterday. He was seated behind his desk as she 
was shown in, wearing the heavy horn-rimmed spectacles that he'd been told 
improved his air of authority and pretending to write busily with felt pens 
of various colors. Patty's first reaction was not good. 

"Zo," he said at last, "vee have a visitor. A very pretty visitor. 'veil, 
veil, zo you must be the little Patty Richards vee have heard zo much about. 
Izz zat not zo?" 

"Yaaah," she said, trying to imitate his accent. "Dat is so." He flung back 
his head and laughed, taking off the phony glasses at the same time. He got 
up to come around to the front of the desk, deciding that he should throw 
out any ideas about impressing this girl with the accent. Patty took in the 
young face no longer hidden behind the glasses and the sharply-cut white 
jacket tailored tunic-style that he was wearing, with jeans-type white 
pants. Man, she concluded. This cookie is groovy! Why, he didn't look like a 
doctor at all, certainly not a wig-picker! More like a movie star. Or from 
some rock group. Boy, it was going to be fun if all the doctors around here 
looked like this one! 

"Okay, Patty." He took her hand. "Let's start again. I'm glad you found your 
way here all right. Did they look after you out there?" he nodded in the 
general direction of Rosetta's office. "I hope the room I picked out for you 
is okay." He noticed the look of pleasure on the girl's face and decided he 
was on the right track. He pointed to the chair drawn up before the desk. 
"Why don't you just sit down, make yourself comfortable and tell me all 
about it?" 

"About what?" Patty asked. 

"About what's troubling you." 

Patty shrugged. "Nothing's troubling me," she said. "It's mom and dad who 
are troubled." 

"Oh?" Smith sat down across from her, staring at her in turn. He licked his 
lips with lascivious relish. Christ! Was this kid ever built! And she didn't 
do anything to hide the fact, either. Her tight little, see-through blouse 
showed off the sweet pink mounds of her firmly plump young breasts, 
outlining the twin buds of her nipples pressing hard against the sheer 
fabric. Her waist was tiny and her hips were marvelously curved. God! Just 
looking at her made his loins ache, his cock lurch beneath his pants. It 
wouldn't be long, he thought, before she was benefiting from his personal 
treatment, one that would do them both the world of good. 

He took his eyes off her lovely body and glanced up at her face. It was 
charmingly heart-shaped, and framed by long silken red hair that caught the 
beams of sunlight slanting through the window to shine like burnished 
copper. She smiled at him, her full moist lips curling back slightly over 
her pearl-like teeth. Oh, Jesus! He hadn't had a patient like this in years! 
He licked his lips again at the thought of that lovely little mouth closing 
around his own stiff cock, the moist pink tongue swirling around it until it 
would nearly drive him out of his mind. 

Suddenly he realized she was staring at him, waiting for some comment. He 
cleared his throat and drew his face into a solemn-even a stern expression, 
wiping away his lecherous smirk. "Tell me, Patty, my dear, do you know why 
they are troubled?" 

She shrugged again. "Who cares? They're just a couple of squares, right from 
cubesville! You say or do anything and they get so uptight you wouldn't 
believe...." 

Smith nodded sympathetically. "That I can well believe, my dear," he said. 
"This matter of non-communication between parents and children is a tragedy 
of our times." 

Patty took a moment to let the words sink in. Man, he was talking sort of as 
if he were on her side! Well, that was a breakthrough! She gave him a 
puzzled look and then came out with a dubious, "Yeah?" 

"The problem is a very prevalent one," Smith assured her. "A difficult 
problem. But not insoluble, you know." 

"What can I do about it?" Patty asked. "They're on my back all the time. 
It's 'Patty, never see that Lawson boy again', or 'We expect you back at 
ten-thirty, Patty, don't forget!" She sighed, then pulled a face. "I suppose 
it'll be just the same here," she said. "I'll have to do whatever you say!" 

The lively young face turned downcast and Smith moved to reassure the girl. 
"Not at all," he said. "That's the very opposite of how we heal here." 

"For real?" 

"For real. You see, Patty, we're interested in freeing you-freeing your 
psyche, your inner self, from all the false notions that inhibit you and 
stop you functioning to the best of your ability. And we feel the way to do 
that is to let you do ... in fact, encourage you ... to do whatever you 
want. And whenever you want, too, I might add." 

"Yeah?" Patty's eyes opened wide in surprise. "I thought you were supposed 
to be a psychiatrist?" 

"Have you ever been to a psychiatrist before?" 

"No." 

"Do you understand the principles of psychotherapy?" 

"Sure," she said. "I know lots of people who go to shrinks, they tell me all 
about it. You lie on couches and talk and talk and talk." 

"That's part of it," Smith agreed. "And when you do talk, it's very 
important for you to say exactly what comes into your head. Even if it seems 
a terribly shameful thing to repeat, that word or phrase that popped into 
your head is the one you have to say to your analyst. Does that make sense? 
You must say it in your own words. Some people try to ... to ... well, 
phrase things, you know, so they won't offend the analyst. An example is 
"sexual relations" or "intercourse" when the word the person really wants to 
use is "fuck" 

"He gave her a sneaky glance to check whether he had rocked her by using 
that word. She appeared totally unshocked. A good sign she was uninhibited 
and much more amenable to therapy. 

His thoughts hearkened back to some of his previous "patients"-including 
some who had been reluctant to submit to him at first. There had been some 
who had actually fought off his advances, scratching and kicking at him the 
moment he trailed his hand over their curvaceous flesh, slipping his fingers 
inside their dresses to caress and stroke their ripe breasts, or up under 
their dresses to crawl teasingly along the smooth skin of their inner 
thighs. He had fucked them all eventually, of course, screwed them silly as 
he remembered with pleasure. But he had been forced to give many of them 
drugs first. A quick but shrewd appraisal of Patty convinced him that there 
would be no necessity of that in her case. 

"First reactions are all-important," he emphasized again. "You understand?" 

"Oh yes." 

"Right. Now, Patty, there are some tests I must make of your reactions to 
various scenes. This is a necessary preliminary to beginning your 
treatment." 

Patty nodded. She had read articles from time to time that referred to the 
tests many psychologists performed, showing patients ink blobs on a piece of 
paper and then asking them to tell the doctor what they were reminded of. 

"You mean a Rorschach test?" 

"Not quite, Patty. But you're pretty close." He got up from his chair. "Now 
if you wouldn't mind sitting here while I prepare the tests ... You make 
yourself comfortable until I get back. It'll only be a few minutes." 

He went out, closing the door behind him. She looked around the opulently 
furnished office and played with the heavy table lighter on the coffee table 
beside her, flicking it alight a couple of times. Then she got up to go to 
the window, but a smoggy mist billowed around the building today and there 
was nothing of interest to be seen. On her way back to the chair she passed 
the analyst's oaken desk again, but this time noticed the large book lying 
on it. She flipped open a page and then sucked in her breath! Oh, dear God! 
The book was filled with photographs-photographs of men and women making 
love! She had never seen such a thing before, and the very idea of a book 
apparently full of such pictures sent wild tremors of excitement coursing up 
and down her body. Fearfully she glanced at the door, afraid Dr. Smith would 
walk back in any minute. How long did she have? She ought to close it and 
return to her seat but her curiosity got the better of her and she twisted 
it around so as to open it up fully. On the page in front of her she saw a 
woman's face, her mouth strained in a tight circle around a man's hardened 
penis. She seemed to be sucking on it, and, as the idea registered on 
Patty's brain, she gasped. She had never really believed people did this, 
and yet she had heard some of the girls joking about it in the toilets at 
the camp. And now she was seeing it! Once again the thrills of excitement 
raced through her body as she took in how wide the woman's mouth was 
stretched and wondered how she kept from choking on the enormous shaft. It 
was huge, and her lips were locked on it as though they would never let go. 
A ripple of aroused pleasure coursed through the young girl as she pondered 
its size. It was much bigger than Doug's even, and Patty clasped her legs 
tight together as she wondered what it would be like to have something that 
big shoved up between her thighs. 

She flipped guiltily to the next page and stared in shocked surprise as the 
picture proved to be the opposite of what she had just seen. The same woman 
was sitting on a couch with her feet flat on the floor and her legs spread 
wide apart. A man was kneeling between her thighs, and Patty could clearly 
see his tongue curling into the spread lips of her vagina. 

The young redhead's mouth gaped at the obscene sight. She had also heard 
about men doing this to women but had never thought the sight of such 
depraved acts could arouse her against her will, as this photograph was 
doing. She could feel the slight moistness between her tightly pressed 
thighs and to try to stop the lascivious trembling of her legs she sat down 
hurriedly, grinding her buttocks into the leather seat. 

Hearing a sound outside the door, she closed the book quickly and shoved it 
farther along the desk. She was terrified of being caught looking at it. 
Nobody appeared, however, and she pulled the book towards her again. This 
time she opened it to a photograph of a girl on a bed with her legs wide 
apart and a man between them, his enormous cock sunk all the way up between 
her uplifted legs. The camera angle snowed clearly his hard thick member 
disappearing into the soft, hair-fringed folds of her vagina. It was almost 
to the hilt; only a tiny stretch of it was left showing, wet and glistening. 
The girl's face was contorted into the most depraved ecstasy Patty had ever 
seen. 

The excitable sixteen year old had never come across such a picture before 
and she wondered if this was the way she and Doug looked when they made 
love. The thought made her squirm slightly and press her thighs more firmly 
together to hold down the fire mounting deep in her loins. 

The aching hunger inside her was beginning to grow and spread upward from 
her stomach to the tingling nipples of her hardening breasts. She could feel 
her breath coming in short labored gasps now and she twisted down again into 
the seat in an attempt to try to extinguish the fire that again grew 
mercilessly between her legs. 

Once again a sudden noise distracted her and she closed the book, dropping 
it on the desk as she turned in the direction from" which the sound had 
come. At first she saw nothing except the almost wall-sized mirror. 
Gradually, though, it seemed to light up, becoming opaque and showing 
shadowy figures on the other side. Patty stared in disbelief at Dr. Smith's 
two-way mirror, and then got up and walked over to it to examine it more 
closely. Now she saw it was virtually a window, a window into another room, 
where people had entered and switched on lights. 

The figures seemed to come closer and closer, and she could make out a 
couple stretched out on a large double bed. And ... oh, dear God! It was a 
man and a woman and the two of them were completely naked. Her heart skipped 
a beat! Why, she could almost reach out and touch the woman lying 
spread-eagled on the bed! 

The man kneeling above her was running his lips and tongue moistly up and 
down her body. He had sucked her heaving breasts into quivering hardness, 
and then he traced a wet, hot path down the flat plane of her stomach and on 
to her inner thighs, while she writhed beneath his flicking caresses like a 
woman possessed. 

He had worked her up to a fever pitch and her mouth hung wide open in 
ecstatic rapture while her glassy, lust-smoked eyes stared up into 
nothingness. Now the man placed himself in position over her rapidly rising 
and falling belly, his face hanging within inches of the hair-covered pubic 
mound below. His hands were pressing down on the smooth flat plane of her 
stomach and his thumbs lay pressed into the fleshy outer contours of her 
cunt-lips. Patty sucked in her breath with a loud gasp as his thumbs 
massaged for a moment then pulled slowly outward, parting the soft pubic 
hair and then exposing the moist red slit of her vagina. The dainty bud of 
her clitoris was clearly visible, throbbing into hardness just above the 
stretched elastic opening of her cuntal entrance. 

The man's head dropped, his long wet tongue snaking out to flick teasingly 
at the quivering little nub of raw nerves at the top of the slit. The 
woman's body jerked as the electric contact was made and her legs clamped 
tightly together around his head, the soft inner thighs imprisoning his ears 
in a vise-like grip. Her hips began a slow up and down movement in rhythm to 
the probings of his slavering tongue. Soft mewls of animal pleasure came 
from between the woman's clenched teeth as she was caught up in a mindless 
fit of uncontrolled lust, her upper torso writhing spasmodically against the 
mattress. 

Patty's body ached and tingled in response to the lewd scene she was 
witnessing. Moisture seeped slowly from her tensed cuntal passage, creeping 
down her firm young thighs. They were tightly clamped together, pressuring 
the soft tufted "vee" between her legs so that the tiny bud of her clitoris 
was rubbed up against the soft moist pillows of pussy flesh that surrounded 
it. The excited teenager felt the blood draining from her head and swirling 
downward as her own lewd desires built within her. Oh God! I can't stand 
much more of this, she thought wildly. Before she even realized it, her hand 
had slipped up beneath her skirt, and along her thighs, then under the 
elastic leg band of her white nylon panties. And then her fingers were 
touching her own moist cleft, parting the pale red-gold pubic hairs and 
grazing teasingly inside the quivering outer lips. An electric shock ran 
through her and she shook her head, "Oh no!" she thought. "What am I doing? 
What am I doing?" She felt a moment's panic once more at the sudden 
realization that Dr. Smith might come in' and catch her as she stroked and 
caressed her own pussy. 

But she couldn't stop now. Her entire body was in the grip of the wild 
desire that had been awakened by the obscene coupling of the pair in the 
room beyond. Lewd sounds now reached her ears, and with each grunt of the 
man's voice, her hand moved swiftly among the hot palpitating folds of her 
burning cuntal lips. Oh God! It felt so good! It felt so good! 

She rubbed slowly at the tormented little patch of her femaleness between 
her now widespread legs, while thrills raced up and down her body. Her 
breasts were tensed and aching, the nipples taut against the lacy fabric of 
the little brassiere she wore. The moisture of her secret flesh rolled 
beneath the fingers of her still rubbing hand-the tiny red bud of her 
clitoris was now enlarged beneath . her frantic manipulations and stuck up 
from the silky folds of her pale reddish triangle like a little stream of 
pure jOy nestled cosily there. And then she parted the pink, wetly 
glistening edges and an exploratory finger wormed slowly up into her 
throbbing cuntal passage. She slipped another finger into the hotly burning 
cavern, then a third, and the moist tender flesh up between her legs closed 
greedily around them, sucking and swallowing them eagerly up inside. She was 
totally lost, sunk in an abyss of delight. 

And then she sensed someone standing behind her! At almost the same time she 
heard Dr. Smith asking, "Izz good, yah?" 

The startled young redhead stopped her shameless abuse of her own body, and 
before she could whirl around, before she could think, she felt the supple 
firmness of the doctor's body pressed into her back. His arms slipped around 
her and he began to massage and cup her ripe young breasts in a teasing 
circular motion that caused her to squirm her buttocks back hard against his 
loins. She could feel a stiffness there under his pants and, when he pressed 
forward, she could feel the full thickness of it pressing against her dress 
into the crevice of her buttocks. The thin folds of the bunched material 
grated against her tiny sensitive anus, sending small warning spasms of 
pleasure rippling through her belly and up into the rising nipples of her 
breasts. 

And then she felt a hand leave her breast and gently lower the zipper that 
ran down the back of her dress to her upper buttocks. His hands slipped into 
the opening between the parted material from behind, curling around her bare 
mid-section and rising to push the tight restricting brassiere up and away 
from her swollen ripe breasts. His hands cupped the youthfully resilient 
mounds greedily as they came free, trapping the hardened sensitive nipples 
between thumb and forefinger, squeezing until a tiny excruciating sensation 
brought a gasp of surprised pleasure from her open lips. He pushed forward 
with his pelvis, sinking his covered hardness deeper into the split of her 
involuntarily contracting buttocks. 

She gasped, then jerked, as one of Smith's hands left her breast to trail a 
slow teasing path down her soft belly and insert itself into the elastic 
waistband of her panties, teasing thrillingly at the sparse patch of pubic 
hair. Patty jerked forward slightly as the hand curled farther down to snake 
its teasing way up inside the tight little opening of her cunt, sending wild 
shocks of pleasure stabbing hotly through her. The rigid thickness of his 
pants-covered cock was now pressed deeply in the perspiration-moistened 
crevice of her buttocks and the throbbing of it had a life of its own. She 
ground back against it, imprisoned licentiously between its pulsing hardness 
and the thrusting finger skewering deep inside her vagina. And then he began 
a gentle rocking motion to which her own body responded. 

Through the glass she saw the man in the room beyond slither up along the 
woman's naked body until he was poised above her lips. The lewdly incited 
young redhead gasped as she saw his thick cock slide deep up into the 
woman's open mouth, while she felt Smith's cock jerking under his pants 
against her in uncontrolled excitement. He leaned forward slightly, pressing 
his moist lips against her ear, and whispered, "Bend downward-I want to fuck 
you from behind!" 

"Oh, my God!" gasped Patty. Her body seemed to be consumed by fire now and 
she longed to take his hard grown-up penis deep inside her. But the 
suddenness of his approach, the surprise she had felt, held her back. "Oh, 
my God!" she said again. He couldn't, she thought. She couldn't let him! 

"Yes," he soothed. "Yes, it's all right. This is good for you, Patty. Don't 
forget that. It's going to help you free yourself of all those inhibitions 
which make a slave of you." 

"No!" she said again. "Oh, God, no!" 

"I'm your doctor, Patty. You must do what I say. I know what is best for 
you. I, Dr. Jonathan Smith, know what you must do." 

The scene in the next room, where the young man labored above the woman, his 
lust-bloated penis spearing up into her mouth, withdrawing, then spearing up 
in again, excited Patty beyond endurance, and she groaned in surrender as 
Smith lifted her dress above her hips to bunch it around her waist, and then 
drew her flimsy white panties down over the firmly rounded cheeks of 
buttocks. A cool rush of air hit her ripe half-moons and then she heard the 
metallic sound of a zipper, as her analyst opened his fly and liberated his 
rigidly thick cock. A moment later he had dropped to his knees to lick 
moistly down the entire length of the perspiring crevice of her buttocks, 
then stopped abruptly to flick the tip of his tongue into the tightly 
puckered ring of her anus. 

She groaned again as the tantalizing licking roused new and more thrilling 
sensations, teasing insanely at her. She quivered back against the probing 
tongue, screwing her buttocks in helpless circles around and around in 
response to the incredibly exciting rape of her helpless loins. There was 
nothing in the world like this feeling that seemed to consume the whole of 
her being. As she reveled in wild abandon against the tongue obscenely 
lashing at her rectal orifice from behind, she thought that her entire body 
was going to explode from the lewd tingling joy. 

Abruptly it stopped, and Dr. Smith stood to press the obscenely swollen head 
of his penis into the split between her widespread buttocks. And then Patty 
screamed. "Oh, God! Oh, dear God!" He was too big, she thought with sudden 
panic. He would split her open! 

Her ass-cheeks involuntarily cringed forward, drawing away from the 
rubbery-tipped cock pressing into her from behind, but it followed, and she 
realized she was trapped between the mirror on the wall and the 
self-proclaimed doctor behind her. She felt his hands close around the tops 
of her thighs, gripping them tightly, his fingers digging harshly into her 
supple white flesh. "I'm going to put it in," he whispered evilly, and then 
she felt the blunt, throbbing head against the tight elastic opening of her 
vagina, felt it begin a slow prodding and working against the wet pouting 
lips, parting them and forcing its way inside the resisting ring of flesh 
that jealously guarded the entrance to her secret passage. Then she felt her 
thighs swept apart as Smith's thick pulsing cock slithered deep up into the 
hotly quivering cuntal passage. 

Patty gasped as the rampaging penis penetrating her now burning vagina 
tunneled deep into her belly. She struggled in vain to escape the cruel 
impalement, but Smith had skewered into her all the way up to the hilt. Her 
cunt walls were afire now and she moaned incoherently, as he began to saw in 
and out. 

He rocked rhythmically now, panting with his own excitement as he thrust 
back and forth in her moistly clasping vagina. The pain she had felt at 
first had gradually eased and she felt a strange and thrilling pleasure 
ripple through her as she began to move her buttocks lasciviously in circles 
in rhythm to the hard swollen cock fucking into her from behind. 

Oh God! the helpless teenager thought. This was good ... it was great ... it 
was groovy! 

Smith stood over her bent body now, gritting his teeth as he rammed in and 
out with long hard lunges. Jesus! The kid was great! She was taking it all, 
and screwing back against him, practically begging for more! And Jesus! He 
was ready to give it to her! His balls ached and burned and he was sure they 
would explode any minute, shooting his white-hot sperm deep into her velvety 
little vagina. 

He stretched the quivering half-moons of her buttocks wide with his fingers, 
watching the pink folds of wetly glistening flesh clinging tightly around 
the pistoning rod. 

A wave of wild and abandoned passion spread through Patty's lithe young body 
as Smith continued to vent his lust in her delightedly clasping cunt. 
Nothing mattered to her now except the obscene pleasure coursing through her 
like a fire out of control. Oh, my God! She wanted this . she wanted this! 
She felt like a slave, bending before him in humiliating shame, and yet she 
wanted it! She wanted to be subjected to every lewd demand he could make! 

And then, briefly, the incredible excitement stopped as Smith eased his 
relentless thrusting into her narrow little passage and quickly and expertly 
ripped off her panties completely and then pulled her dress up and over her 
head, flinging it hastily to the floor. Her little brassiere came next and 
she half-stood, half-knelt naked before this lust-crazed creature who stood 
behind her with his thick cock buried deep up in her vagina. 

Her young seething body twitched and writhed as she groaned in abandoned 
welcome to the thrillingly punishing instrument sinking deep into her cunt. 
Her face contorted with passion, and now cries of ecstasy escaped her 
tightly clenched teeth. Sweat was pouring from her body as she began to 
strive mightily for the end. And then Smith uttered a long low moan that 
swelled to a shout as he began spewing his hot sperm wildly up into her wet 
slippery vagina. 

She moved frantically against him, grinding, her buttocks back desperately 
against his loins, and then she felt her own climax begin. "Oh, my God!" she 
screamed. "Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm cumming!" Small gushes of her 
orgiastic fluid seeped out hotly around the edges of his thrusting penis in 
spite of the tightness of her cunt's grip on it and ran in glistening 
streams down the wide-stretched crevice of her buttocks. The tiny puckered 
anus clenched and unclenched in the moistness of the crack in tempo with the 
groans of her expending passion. And then at last her firm young body was 
drained of everything, as Smith groaned and withdrew his now deflated penis, 
and she slipped forward to lie, spent and exhausted, half on the couch and 
half on the floor before him. 

Dr. Smith groaned once more, watching the sixteen-year-old girl with 
complete approval through his half-closed eyelids. Oh, Jesus! What a ride, 
what a fuck! What a patient she'd turned out to be! This was the best one he 
had had since first conceiving the whole brilliant idea of Clinique Place 
Caledonia. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Gloria Richards the following Thursday parked in the basement lot of the 
Caledonia tower complex some minutes before visiting hours were due to 
start. She sat anxiously behind the wheel compulsively checking her watch 
every half-minute or so. Oh, how she wished John had not been called away on 
that urgent business trip. She'd known how important it was, otherwise she 
would have taken him up on his much-repeated offer to cancel it. At the 
time, she thought she would be able to cope with the visit alone, but now 
she felt so nervous there was a great reluctance in her legs to actually 
move out of the car. 

With an effort of will she told herself not to be so idiotic and opened the 
Mercedes' door. Although there had been no news from Patty, or of her, this 
had been expected in the first week and was nothing to worry about. The time 
had now come to make the elevator trip up to Dr. Smith's domain and visit 
with her daughter in a normal and serene way. 

The receptionist looked up and smiled as Gloria stepped out of the elevator, 
greeting her pleasantly. "Your daughter, isn't it? Patty Richards? Will you 
take a seat, please, Mrs. Richards? I'll check if Patty is in her room." 

Syliva, the receptionist, had to make three calls in all before she replaced 
the receiver and turned again to Gloria. 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Richards. Patty's just finishing therapy and won't be free 
for another few minutes. Would you like to wait in the waiting room? I'm 
sure it won't be long." 

Gloria hesitated. "Would it be possible...?" 

"Yes?" 

"I'd like to see Dr. Smith if it's possible?" asked Gloria. "While I'm 
waiting, I mean." 

"Yes. Well, I don't know whether the doctor is with a patient. Let me check 
with Miss Box." 

The girl avoided using the inter-com this time, getting up and walking into 
Rosetta's office to ask the question. She reappeared almost instantly. 

"Yes," she said from the doorway. "Dr. Smith is free. Would you come this 
way, please." 

Dr. Smith had come out into Rosetta's office to greet his visitor, and for 
the first time, with some disquiet, Gloria saw him dressed in his modish 
tunic-style white medical suit. He is incredibly handsome, she thought, as 
he came forward to take her hand in both of his, oozing charm. 

Briefly exchanging smiles with his private secretary, Gloria was ushered 
into the ornate office of the flattering quack and directed to sit in one of 
the deepest and lowest armchairs in the room so that he might enjoy the best 
possible view of her tapering legs. You are a dish, there's no doubt about 
it!, Smith inwardly reaffirmed to himself as he gave her another reassuring 
smile from behind his desk. 

"Well," he said, tapping with a pencil on the desktop to reinforce his 
words. "I have some very good news for you. Yes, very good indeed." 

Gloria let out an involuntary sigh of relief and smiled in her turn. "Oh, 
I'm so glad," she said. 

"Yes, I thought you would be. Is your husband going to be along later? 
Perhaps I should wait before giving the details?" 

"No, I'm the only one who could make it today. My husband's away on 
business." 

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," replied the analyst, the exact opposite of 
what he was thinking. "Perhaps we shall have the pleasure of meeting Mr. 
Richards again next week." He vacated his desk chair, deciding in the 
circumstances he may as well move around to a position nearer the voluptuous 
redhead who in so many ways reminded him of a maturer version of her 
daughter. "Now, your daughter's treatment. Right at the start I must say 
Patty ... I think I can say that I've never had any patient respond to 
treatment quite so ... receptively as your daughter!" 

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Gloria exclaimed. 

"Absolutely marvelous!" She leaned forward eagerly. "And does that mean you 
can revise ... can you say at this time how long she has to stay here? I 
mean, if she's responding so well she might be able to come home much 
earlier than you expected, mightn't she?" 

"Oh, well now, Mrs. Richards, it is a little early for us to make that kind 
of prognostication. It's true that Patty is responding really excellently to 
ongoing treatment, but-you must realize she is at bottom a profoundly 
disturbed little girl. That will take time to cure." 

"And the treatment? That will continue, will it not?" 

"Oh yes, indeed, yes. In fact, you find me at the moment in the throes of 
deciding whether it is possible to increase her treatment. I think you may 
safely assume that I shall. And I want you to know, Mrs. Richards, that I 
intend to treat her myself." 

"It makes me happy to hear that." 

"Well, one cannot but take a great interest in your daughter and I feel that 
I should be personally responsible for all her therapy." 

"So very good of you, Dr. Smith...." 

"Don't speak of it again, Mrs. Richards. The pleasure is mine," Smith said, 
an evil smile twitching at his lips as he airily waved away her thanks. 

"Mr. Richards, too, will be so pleased when I...." the relieved mother 
began. But suddenly a slight noise behind distracted her and she turned 
toward the two-way mirror on the wall, the one through which Patty had 
watched the obscenely copulating couple several days before. Lights had been 
switched on in the room beyond, and, just as earlier, the mirror became 
opaque and then revealed dim shadows, slowly growing clearer. 

Gloria at first refused to believe her eyes. The glass had become 
transparent and the shadows had turned into all-too recognizable human 
bodies! She gasped. Oh, dear God! The bodies were naked-there was a naked 
man in that room! And a naked woman, too! 

"Wh ... what is that?" she stuttered in confusion. 

Goddamn it to hell! Smith thought. What stupid oaf had decided on using the 
therapy room at this time? But he must appear calm and in control of the 
situation at all costs. "What is what, Mrs. Richards?" he coolly asked. 

"That ... that ... there over on the wall," she said. "That mirror." 

Again he cursed the person responsible for lighting up the "treatment" room. 
But there was nothing to do now but make the best of it. That meant brazenly 
admitting just what went on at Clinique Place Caledonia. Okay, he thought. 
Here goes! 

"Oh, the mirror," he said. "'very clever, isn't it?" 

"Clever!" Gloria half-choked, half-screamed. 

"Clever! My God! It's ... it's diabolical, that's what it is!" 

"Why not at all, Mrs. Richards. You're letting your imagination run away 
with you. It's merely a medical device providing a means for the therapist 
to measure the progress of certain therapeutic sessions." 

Therapeutic sessions! Gloria wondered if her ears were playing tricks. She 
could have sworn this man was calmly defending that ... that room as 
necessary to his business. The blood drained from her face and she went 
dizzy. She struggled to regain control over her body, control over her 
trembling voice, to demand an explanation. No demand would come forth, 
however. Merely a plaintive statement. "But they're naked," she stated 
weakly. 

Smith made an elaborate pretence of leaning over in his chair to get a 
clearer picture of the room next door. "So they are," he agreed quietly. "So 
they are." 

Gloria turned from the mirror to see the doctor unconcernedly relax back 
into his armchair again. "But ... but ... but...." she spluttered 
helplessly. What was with this man? Why didn't he do something? Patients, 
casually stripping off their clothes before two-way mirrors. And doing 
terrible things to each other, too. Oh, my God! It's too much! 

She turned again, and stared, speechless with horror, as the man's hands 
roamed lewdly over the woman's writhing naked form, trailing the length of 
her torso, stroking teasingly at her hips and thighs. A shudder ran through 
Gloria and she closed her eyes for a moment against the obscene spectacle. 
When she reopened them, she saw that the man had cupped the round full 
spheres of the woman's breasts in his hands and was massaging them, his 
fingertips nibbling vigorously at the small brown nipples, coaxing them into 
taut erection. 

She shook her head, which seemed to be swimming now, and wondered how on 
earth Smith could let such a wicked act continue. "Doctor" Smith noted the 
disbelieving shake of her head with amusement. This could be more fun than 
he'd thought. In her discomfiture, Gloria's body was twisted round rigidly 
in her chair, the slope of the shoulders curving down through the small of 
her back and around the line of her buttocks to where her dress had rucked 
up over one thigh without her realizing it. A very fetching picture, thought 
Smith, feeling his semi-hardened cock lurch inside his pants. Suddenly aware 
of how much leg she was displaying, she quickly twisted back toward him. 
"Why don't you stop them?" she blurted out with terror-stricken eyes. "Why 
don't you stop them?" 

"But why should I?" he replied calmly. "They're expressing themselves in a 
perfectly natural way, are they not?" 

"No!" Gloria screeched between gritted teeth. "No! They are not! They're 
disgusting, that's what they are. Disgusting!" 

"My dear," Smith said, reaching out and taking one of her hands. "I think 
you're over-reacting. Copulation ... or as we prefer to call it here ... 
fucking ... is the most normal of human acts." During his quick look earlier 
into the therapy room he'd recognized the male patient as Fred Harris, a 
young man with recurring sexual problems. Helping him was not a female 
"patient" but Jenny Jones, a compassionate Mother Earth-type who lent her 
services voluntarily to the clinic as a lay analyst "nurse", always ready to 
open her big heart to ease back any suffering, sexually hung-up member of 
humanity into the mainstream of normalcy. He wished Gloria could meet Jenny, 
but the moment was decidedly not now. 

"And you mean you don't stop these people doing what you call ... call...." 
Gloria's tongue gagged at pronouncing the word Smith had used so easily just 
before. "You mean you let them do what they're doing?" 

"Right on, Mrs. Richards! Now you're beginning to appreciate what we do 
here. It is the way for these unfortunate people to rid themselves of their 
inhibitions. We honestly name names here, Mrs. Richards, like having no 
compunction about naming breasts as tits, or talking about a man's cock or a 
woman's cunt. It's the therapy of truth!" 

Gloria noticed with a shock Smith was holding her hand. She withdrew it 
brusquely. 

Dear God! The man was in earnest! She had to get out of here. It was 
disgraceful, utterly disgraceful! Then for the first time since seeing the 
mirror light up she thought of Patty. Patty! Where was Patty? Surely he 
hadn't ... he wouldn't dare! But the image of the innocent teenager being 
violated in this way refused to leave her mind and she closed her eyes to 
try to stem the tears that involuntarily welled up in them. They b-rimmed 
over and spilled down her cheeks nevertheless, and she sobbed openly as she 
asked: "And Patty? Is this the treatment you've been giving her, too?" 

"Patty has undergone our standard form of therapy," replied Smith coolly. 
"You understand the procedure, of course, when you...." 

"Then the answer is 'Yes'?" cut in the distraught mother, sitting up 
rigidly. 

Smith stared at her back, eyes unflinching. "The answer is 'Yes'." 

Gloria recoiled as though physically hit. Her eyes stared vacantly as the 
word "Yes" echoed and re-echoed through her mind. Then she started to 
scream. "Oh God! Dear God! No! You can't do that! I don't believe it! You 
can't do it! I won't let you do it! No, and John won't either. Oh my God! 
He'll kill when he finds out. He'll kill you!" 

Smith reached out to take both of her hands in his, brooking no resistance. 
"Please, Mrs. Richards, you're hysterical. You must stop this self-indulgent 
performance of yours and begin acting like a mature and sensible woman." 

"Hysterical! You call me hysterical!" Gloria screamed, trying to wrench her 
hands free of his grasp. "Well, I'm not. I'm not. But you know what you 
are?" She suddenly sat stock-still again, her eyes blazing. "Do you know 
what you are, Dr. Smith? You are an animal, that's what you are. An animal!" 

The door to his office burst open and Rosetta stood on the threshold. "Mrs. 
Richards," Smith said as she began again struggling to free her hands. "Mrs. 
Richards, I must ask you to try to control yourself. I simply cannot 
tolerate this sort of behavior in my office!" 

"Oh, you can't, can't you?" she shrieked back. "Oh, you can't!" 

"No, I can't, and if you don't get hold of yourself I shall be forced to 
give you a sedative." 

"Oh yes?" Gloria spat out, struggling now to stand up. "You and who else?" 

"Several of my colleagues." Gloria had half-risen, and over her head as she 
twisted around he looked at Rosetta and gave a nod. The efficient secretary 
went for help. 

"You're not going to do a thing to me," Gloria screeched at the top of her 
voice. "Let me-go!" 

Smith had only to hold her for a few seconds longer, however, before two 
burly young men in white coats entered the room. "Your secretary called us, 
Doctor," one asked. "What seems to be the trouble?" 

"I'm afraid Mrs. Richards is hysterical," he said in cold, clipped, 
professional tones. "There will be a requirement of a sedative to be 
administered. Please be so good as to help Mrs. Richards over to the couch. 
I fear she'll require assistance from both of you." 

Gloria screamed again as the two men seized her. She struggled desperately 
to escape as they half-carried, half-dragged her to the couch. As she was 
forced to lie face down on the couch she kicked furiously at one of her 
captors and the heel of her shoe seemed to connect with some part of his 
anatomy. "Goddamn you, lady!" he muttered menacingly, and her moment of 
satisfaction came to an end with her shoes being harshly wrenched off her 
feet and two powerful hands gripping with a steel-like bite at her ankles. 
The other man seemed to be sitting on her back, and she was unable to writhe 
even, and hardly able to breathe. 

She could see, though, out of the corner of one eye, and the process of 
filling a hypodermic syringe from a vial that Smith was in the middle of 
turned her heart and belly cold. "Dr. Allen. If you would just lift up Mrs. 
Richards' dress, please." 

She felt the weight on her back shift a little and then a coolness wafted 
across her upper thighs as "Dr. Allen" flicked up her dress to above her 
waist. She tried to writhe free again as the other "doctor" asked with 
sucked-in breath: 

"Gee, are you going to give it to her in the ass?" 

"You're damned right," Smith said, pressing down with all his weight on the 
small of her back, stilling her writhing hips. "It will work faster this 
way. Now, if you, Dr. Allen, can just hold down firmly where I've got my 
hand, I can pull down her panties." 

Gasping for air, held fast and humiliated beyond tears already by the 
thought of what an appearance she must be presenting to the three monsters 
above, Gloria braced herself-every muscle in her body tensed-for Dr. Smith's 
next move. She felt his fingers curl under the elastic rim of her panties 
and then draw them down as much as he could with her lower torso pressed 
hard into the leather of the couch. He moved his fingers around to first one 
side of her hips and then the other to ease the tightly-held panties down as 
far as her upper thighs, exposing the two half-moons of her firmly rounded 
buttocks to the lust-filled eyes of the "medical" trio. But the muscles in 
her ass-cheeks were being held too rigidly, too tensely, for Smith to use 
the hypodermic he held in his other hand. Giving the flimsy panties one more 
sudden tug to fix them firmly in the crevice between Gloria's upper thighs, 
Smith raised his free hand as high as he could and then brought it down in a 
vicious hard spank across the unprotected buttocks. Gloria gasped out her 
pain at the totally unexpected assault and unconsciously allowed her muscles 
to relax throughout her body. Smith grasped one now-quivering and trembling 
half-moon of her buttocks and jabbed the hypodermic home before the shocked 
woman could collect herself or realize what had happened. She let out a tiny 
scream of pain as the stab of the needle registered on her numbed brain, but 
this trailed off into a pitiful whimper as she wished suddenly that she were 
dead. Even that would have been better than having been made to submit to 
this complete and utter degradation. 

Through the fog that was quickly clouding her brain as the fast-acting 
sedative began its work, she thought she felt the cruel grip on her ankles 
and the heavy weight on her back disappear. She made a supreme effort of 
will and by exerting all her available energy on one elbow managed to 
half-turn her body over to the couch. But the dead-weight of her upper torso 
and leaden legs collapsed her back on the make-shift bed as though she were 
a sack of potatoes. 

She felt an overwhelming peace sweep over her then, felt a lifting of the 
terrible cares that burdened her. Voices vaguely registered unintelligibly 
on her mind and she was aware of the door opening and closing and then, 
silence. This was the moment she should seize to escape, a startling moment 
of clarity told her. The sapping of will, the sapping of energy, however-all 
the continued work of the drug immediately took over control again, and her 
eyes closed exhaustedly while the world seemed to whirl around her, closing 
in gently to wrap her in a cocoon of blissful forgetfulness. 

Gloria felt something soft against her skin, felt someone fumbling with her 
clothes. But she had no strength to ask, let alone protest. It dawned on her 
that the person-whoever it might be-was pulling down the zipper on her 
dress, was easing her out of it. She felt the soft, cool air again as it 
brushed across her bare back and knew somehow that her dress had been pulled 
down to her waist, bunching up beneath her. She remembered the humiliating 
moment when her skirt had been pulled up and now she twisted slightly, 
groping behind her, touching her buttocks with her own hands, and 
realizing-with another moment of terrible shame-that they were still bare. 

The drugged housewife tried to pull her dress-skirt down over her quivering 
ass-cheeks, succeeded for a moment, and then felt it raised again. Once more 
she made the effort; once again she failed. And then she opened her eyes a 
little wider and strained her neck around to see that Dr. Smith was standing 
over her. 

His hands slid down over her hips now, and then she knew he was pulling her 
dress right off, just as he had pulled the top down. "Lift up," he whispered 
hoarsely and she did as she was told, too dazed to do more than protest 
feebly and futilely. 

She felt his hands against her sensitive flesh as he pulled her little white 
panties down over her slim legs, over her ankles, lifting her feet to slip 
them off. She twisted and turned, trying to protect herself, but in spite of 
her maneuvers, she could do nothing to stop him. 

She felt a moment's anguish, a moment's deep shame and degradation at 
submitting to him this way, and then she felt a little thrill of excitement 
shoot through her. It was wrong, she knew. It was wicked and evil and there 
was something depraved about her if she could feel this way. But she 
couldn't help herself! She just couldn't help herself. 

She felt Smith's hands on her again and somehow she knew that she was lying 
naked now while he stared at her. It bothered her enormously-it was wicked, 
she told herself again-and yet it pleased her. And in any case, she was too 
tired to resist. She lay stretched out on the couch, not moving. And then 
she felt herself lifted slightly again, but this time turned over on her 
back. 

She opened her eyes and saw Dr. Smith bending down over her. "Ah, so now you 
are calm again?" he asked. 

It seemed a foolish question, but Gloria tried to answer it. "Yes," she 
said. "I guess I am." She looked up into his face and a shudder went through 
her at the evil leer she saw contorting his features. Oh, dear God! How had 
she come to be trapped here like this, at the mercy of this fiend! 

She realized suddenly that Smith, standing by the couch, was stripping off 
his own clothes. His white tunic-style jacket came first ... that symbol of 
his profession of medicine ... and she noticed that he carried it across the 
room and hung it on a hook in the wall there. She thought for a moment of 
trying to escape-and it ought to be easy with him several yards away-but 
once again she found that she had no energy even to lift herself from the 
couch. And then the terrible thought struck that she really did not want to 
escape! She wanted him to ... to ... fuck her ... Oh, dear God! She couldn't 
even admit to herself what she wanted him to do. But the almost hidden 
thought of having him run his hands over her naked body again, over her 
proudly upthrust breasts, over her flat white belly, excited her insanely. 
What on earth had happened? She had never, never felt the insatiable desire 
that now suffused her entire being. And then the truth struck her! He had 
said it was to calm her, and it had actually done that. But it had excited 
her too, in a way that she had never been excited before. She felt that her 
body was alive for the first time in her life, alive and burning with a fire 
that could only be extinguished by her own lewd and wanton submission to 
this man now approaching her. 

She gasped at the sight of him. He was as naked as she was, and his 
iron-hard cock stood out in front of him like a steel javelin. Oh dear God! 
In a moment now, he would be slithering it deep up into her hotly waiting 
vaginal passage. And there was nothing whatsoever that she could or wanted 
to do to prevent it. 

He leaned down over her naked body, one hand moving from her throat down 
slowly to her creamy-white breasts, tweaking the nipples rapidly between his 
fingers until he felt them harden. The blood began to stir in Gloria's body. 
She was helpless now, so weakened by the drug that Smith had administered 
that she was powerless to resist him. But she was aroused by it too, so that 
now she welcomed every lewd advance he might make, while her body ached to 
be touched gently, so that it quivered with the need for fulfillment he 
could give her. 

The gorgeous redhead opened her eyes wider to see her daughter's analyst 
steadily stroking his rigidly throbbing penis. God, It was huge! At the same 
time, he let his other hand roam down from her white trembling breast to 
trail across her belly until it reached at last the soft fleshy folds of her 
now-inflamed cunt. As his hand stroked her body into a flaming sheet of 
desire, she began to writhe wantonly beneath him. "Oh, God!" she moaned. 
"Oh, dear God!" 

Smith moved over her now, positioning himself above her lovely body, 
kneeling while he pushed her unresisting thighs apart. He lowered his head 
slowly, and then his hot lips closed over the soft mound at the base of her 
belly. His face disappeared as he planted wet tickling kisses on the tiny 
aperture there, his tongue flicking lizard-like at the quivering opening. 

She groaned now, groaned huskily from deep in her throat as Smith's tongue 
continued its maddening licking against her straining pink bud of a 
clitoris. And then he pulled himself forward and slithered up her gently 
writhing body until his face was over hers. His head leaned forward, and his 
tongue edged its way between her two trembling, half-parted lips, sinking 
deeper and deeper into the warm oral cavern. 

And then Gloria felt the lips around her throbbing vagina pushed open as 
Smith thrust forward, forcing his lust-inflated cock up into the narrow 
velvety passage. He watched her now with a lascivious grin on his face as 
her face contorted with the pain of his first vicious stab and her lips 
curled back while she whimpered helplessly. His fleshy rod was buried deep 
in the pink throbbing furrow that his tongue had licked to a moist 
receptiveness a moment ago, and now the tight cuntal lips were stretched 
almost to bursting point, their rubbery pink outer rim clasped securely 
around the base of his impaling cock. 

Gloria squirmed helplessly beneath him as he plowed deeper and deeper into 
her vainly resisting vaginal passage. The walls of her cringing cunt clasped 
around the skewering cock-shaft like a glove until she felt every fleshy 
ridge. As he began a slow rhythmic probing, her head rolled from side to 
side and her hips began a seductive involuntary grinding motion beneath his 
impaling rod. 

Her body seemed to come to life now, as an electric tingle that began deep 
within her womb seeped relentlessly through the raw nerve ends of her flesh. 
She rotated her hips from side to side, her flesh one quaking mass of 
incredibly exciting sensation. She strained against him, her motions 
becoming faster by the second, the tempo of her thrusts more urgent. 

The incredibly aroused redhead groaned as Smith withdrew his thick throbbing 
cock with a lewd sucking noise, and then-as suddenly as he had withdrawn 
it-he thrust deep up inside her with all his strength. The full length of 
his rigid cock-shaft sank cruelly into her helpless, defiled vagina, a wet 
flat smack sounding as his belly thudded against her own soft flesh. 

The handsome analyst's body dropped down heavily on hers now, mashing her 
full, ripe breasts against his chest. He locked his mouth over hers, sending 
his tongue deep down into her throat while she groaned in unwilling ecstasy. 
He reached beneath her then to the round full cheeks of her buttocks, 
spreading his fingers to knead the warmly yielding flesh and pull the taut 
half-moons apart. 

He stared down at her lust-contorted face and a feeling of overwhelming 
triumph swept through him. She was his, by God! He'd fucked the young girl 
and now he was fucking her mother too! Jesus! He'd never had it so good! 

He threw his head back and a leering grin spread across his face. And then 
he began making long hard strokes into Gloria's now wet and slippery 
passage, spearing in, then withdrawing the swollen relentless shaft of his 
penis until just the tip was inside her hotly clinging cunt. He thrust 
forward hard again, with his hips until his balls were once more screwed 
tightly up into the wide-split crevice of her buttocks. 

Gloria groaned as her helplessly exposed cunt was plundered almost beyond 
endurance. Her body was pinned down and there was no way she could resist in 
the trapped position in which she found herself. 

The drugged mother felt the bloated cock-shaft slide up and down inside, her 
warm viscous passage like a tireless piston, while his soft, hair-covered 
balls slapped hotly against her anus with each forward jerk of the 
downstroke. Her womb flared and the quivering lips of her hair-lined cuntal 
furrow flowered open to receive his iron-hard pummeling cock. She stretched 
her fingers out and her lust-guided nails clawed a red streak across his 
flexing buttocks. She pulled him deep up into her now, thrusting her 
fleece-bordered belly up hard to skewer herself thrillingly on his driving 
flesh. 

She began to writhe and twist ecstatically beneath him. The drug had left 
her void of all sense of right and wrong; she knew only that she had to have 
the maddening fucking sensation that coursed through her body. Nothing on 
earth could make her stop now. And oh, dear God! She was certain she would 
die unless Smith could fuck her crazy and satisfy her desperate need. 

He arched his back, withdrawing slightly, then plunging his cock deep up 
into her throbbing cunt with long cruel jabs. He could feel the hot sperm 
ready to explode now, and with harsh hands he gripped the wide-spread cheeks 
of her buttocks, lifting them up to push her loins insistently against his 
driving pelvis, then rammed his cock all the way up to the hilt inside her 
unresisting vagina. 

The lust-driven housewife could feel her insides splitting painfully as the 
head of his deep-sunk cock seemed to flare into a hugeness that threatened 
to tear her womb asunder. And then she felt the white-hot liquid that 
spurted into her burning fire, filling her dilated stomach like wild hot 
streams of molten lava. She felt her own cunt juices seep forth as if in 
answer and she screamed out her delirious joy: "I'm cumming ... oh, my God! 
I'm cumming ... I'm cumming...!" 

Her body tensed and arched in the spasm of ecstasy sweeping through her, and 
there was a long moment when all was still, all was silent as their 
orgiastic juices pooled and mixed within her. And then the desperately 
clasping walls of her hotly jerking cunt sucked hungrily one last time at 
Smith's hotly ejaculating cock, until it gave one final spasmodic lurch-and 
stopped. 

Smith collapsed across her body, feeling his seemingly endless sperm-load 
still gushing forth around his now-deflating penis, and then he withdrew his 
cock slowly from Gloria's battered cunt and smiled down at her. 

He rolled over, sliding from her sweat-soaked body, and began to pull on his 
clothes. When he had finished dressing and had slipped his white jacket over 
his shoulders, he went out to the office of his private secretary. "Miss 
Box," he said. 

"Yes, Dr. Smith?" 

"I'm afraid that Mrs. Richards is very disturbed. She was hysterical not 
long ago, and I think it will be necessary to keep her here for a while. 
Will you see that a room is made ready for her?" 

"Yes, Dr. Smith." 

"Good. I'll help her upstairs myself." 

"Help her?" Miss Box asked. 

"Yes," Smith said, staring coolly into the eyes of his secretary. "I will 
help her." He walked across the room to the calendar on Rosetta's desk. 
"Mrs. Richards was very disturbed," he repeated. "It was necessary to give 
her a very strong sedative in order to calm her. She is still under the 
influence of it." He turned and smiled disarmingly at his secretary. "I'm 
sure she will be all right. It's nothing serious. But it's imperative she be 
kept at the clinic for a while." He smiled evilly. "She must have treatment, 
you know." 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Gloria looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall of her room 
and fingered the material of the gown that the clinic provided its women 
patients. The gown was attractive, she thought, someone had had the good 
taste to think of getting good-quality fabric, and it seemed ironical to her 
that here she was in a sanatorium where the doctors were the mad people and 
she was calmly admiring her prison robe. There seemed no escape! 

A tap on the door was followed immediately by the entry of two nurses, a 
burly one and another carrying a luncheon-tray, which the young woman put on 
the bedside table. 

"I don't want anything," Gloria said. 

"You have to eat, Mrs. Richards," the matronly one said, standing by the 
doorway. "You need to keep your strength up." 

"What for?" Gloria asked wearily, and then she noticed the tray also held a 
little paper cup with a red pill and a yellow pill inside. Oh, God, no! she 
thought. Oh, God, no! These were more of the drugs they had fed her with 
constantly since her arrival here-the "sedatives" that made her a willing 
tool of Smith's desire, made her accept anything he cared to do to her 
without a murmur. She wouldn't take them, she decided. She wouldn't take 
them! 

But she looked up to see the younger nurse approaching her with the pills in 
one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Time for your pills, Mrs. 
Richards," she said with a smile. 

Gloria shook her head with fear-crazed eyes. 

"Now come, Mrs. Richards," said the nurse at the door, beginning to move in. 
"Let's not have any trouble!" 

"No, you're keeping me here drugged. I won't take them!" 

"We're not keeping you drugged, Mrs. Richards," the older nurse now said 
soothingly. "It's just the necessary medication Dr. Smith thinks advisable 
for you." 

"Dr. Smith!" Gloria shrieked, backing away. "He's no doctor." The truth of 
this statement suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt. He wasn't an M. D. and 
as such had no right to prescribe medication! None at all! And here he was, 
practically forcing her to take every drug under the sun. She stood up and 
threw her shoulders back, erect and proud. "I refuse to accept Dr. Smith's 
qualifications," she said. "He has no right to prescribe drugs for me. And I 
am not going to take those pills!" 

Her surge of stamina seemed to keep the nurses at bay for a moment. Then her 
courage drained from her as the matronly one said; "'very well, Mrs. 
Richards. If that is to be your attitude, there's nothing for it but we must 
administer the medication by injection. Would you rather have it that way?" 

A spasm of near-panic shook Gloria as she remembered with horror her 
experience with Dr. Smith's hypodermic two days earlier-how the two 
"doctors" had thrown her down on the couch, how her dress had been pulled up 
and her panties down, and the injection of the drugs into her naked 
buttocks. She couldn't stand the pain and humiliation a second time! With a 
half-snarl she lurched forward at the nurse holding out the pills and 
scooped them out of her hand and into mouth and throat in one action, 
grabbing the water afterwards to wash down the ghastly concoction. She fell 
forward on the bed with a sob, letting the empty glass fall to the carpeted 
floor. The younger nurse bent to retrieve the glass and exchanged a look of 
satisfaction with her companion before both of them exited, closing the door 
softly behind them. 

Gloria didn't know how long she remained sobbing on the bed, waiting for the 
effect of the drugs to begin. At least they will blot out reality, she 
thought, and make this sexual nightmare bearable. She was grateful for that. 
It must be some sort of aphrodisiac Smith was forcing on her-Spanish fly, 
perhaps, or something similar, Oh, yes, that was it, she thought with a 
shudder. Her mind raced back to her husband, John. Oh, dear God! What if he 
found out how she'd been fucked by Smith? Would he ever forgive her? And had 
they convinced him she was crazy? He wasn't expected home from his 
out-of-town trip for several days, but all the same, he'd probably called 
the house, or his office, by now. Why didn't he come to rescue her from all 
this? Tears welled up again in her eyes and she wiped them away. But they 
refused to be stemmed, and she buried her head in her pillow, sobbing as if 
her heart would break. 

The salty warm tears were still streaming unstoppable down her reddened 
cheeks when the door opened again and a white-coated orderly poked his head 
into the room and made a tut-tutting sound. "Such tears!" he exclaimed in 
mock alarm. "This will never do. You've got an appointment in the therapy 
room in ten minutes." 

Gloria sat up quickly and wiped her eyes, wondering what appointment he 
meant. Then she heard a quick intake of breath, and turned to see him 
staring at her untouched luncheon-tray. 

The broad-shouldered young man's face turned towards her in a cold fury. 
Gloria knew the staff regarded it as a serious offence for any patient to 
refuse to eat the various meals provided and her skin crawled at the thought 
of what kind of retribution this sullen creature would exact from her. "I 
did mean to," she whimpered, "but I forgot it was there." 

"You know I'm supposed to report all infringements of our regulations, Mrs. 
Richards. By rights, I should get on the phone to Dr. Smith right away." 

"Please don't do that!" Gloria implored, fearful of what new games Smith 
might think of to subject her to. "I'll eat it now!" 

"All right, Mrs. Richards, this time I'll forget it. But you only have a few 
minutes to eat and get dressed, so hurry." 

Gloria gobbled the semi-cold food down and in spite of herself began to feel 
better as her plate emptied. Also she could feel her body beginning to react 
to Dr. Smith's drugs, the now-familiar little chill of excitement chasing 
itself up and down her spine. She gave the young orderly a sidelong glance, 
wondering if he guessed at the tiny tingle of pleasure starting to quiver up 
between her tightly closed thighs. When her lunch was finished and she went 
to put on her clothes, she thought of taking them into the adjoining 
bathroom to dress. But by then her lackadaisical mood was in the driving 
seat and she couldn't care less about hiding. Why bother? she thought. I'm 
in their hands! And she felt the tingling again course through her body as 
she stripped off the pale-yellow gown over her head and quickly began 
donning her clothes. 

The young man stood watching with lust-filled eyes. Jesus! The boss sure 
could pick 

'em! He continued to stare with the same lewd expression on his face as she 
shamelessly displayed her voluptuously rounded hips, her flat smooth belly 
and firm thighs and the long swiftly-scissoring legs. He licked his lips 
lasciviously at the fluid motion of her limbs. 

He's like all the rest, Gloria thought languidly as she briefly put a brush 
through her hair and smoothed her dress down over her hips, checking her 
reflection in the mirror. "What do you want?" she asked, talking to the 
man's reflection in the mirror. "As if I didn't know!" 

"What I want doesn't have anything to do with it, Mrs. Richards," said the 
young man, moving out of her range of sight toward the door. "Come on. Let's 
go!" 

The therapy room he led her to was the one adjoining Dr. Smith's office and 
she looked around for the handsome young analyst, expecting to see him. But 
instead she saw several of the other patients sitting on chairs or wandering 
around the room. She recognized Fred Harris and instinctively moved away to 
the farther end of the room, where a blond Nordic-looking young man was 
watching her curiously. She realized this was the teacher of basket-weaving 
she'd met in one of the occupational therapy classes she'd attended. His 
name was Tren Miller. 

She waved and moved closer. "Hello, Tren," she said. 

He smiled and nodded. "Hello, Mrs. 

Richards." 

"Gloria," she said. "Call me Gloria." 

"I'd be happy to-Gloria," he said. The piercingly blue eyes that accompanied 
the golden hair also seemed to be smiling at her now and for some strange 
reason she felt deeply stirred. The drugs were working and in spite of 
herself she experienced a sudden blaze of fire within her body. Her loins 
suddenly seemed to burn, and she longed to press them tightly up against 
Tren's pelvis. 

She stepped forward, her quivering body further inflamed by his nearness. II 
was incredible, she thought. An hour before, he had been nothing to her. And 
now ... now ... !' Now his body was the most desirable possession she could 
think of! 

Her acquiescing eyes met an answering flash in Tren's and abruptly he 
grasped her by the shoulders, his fingers digging brutally into her 
milk-white flesh and sending new ripples of excitement coursing through her 
body. He pulled her close, grinding his pelvis up against her loins. She 
felt his bulging penis lurch in his excitement, growing bigger as it pressed 
hard against her throbbing flesh, causing an excruciating pleasure-pain 
sensation. 

Oblivious to the other patients around her, she closed her eyes, overcome by 
the joy of the moment. And then he slid his fingers into the cleavage of her 
dress, eliciting a thrilled gasp from her throat. She held her breath as he 
teasingly caressed first one whitely upthrust breast and then the other, 
cupping and kneading them, rolling the twin buds of her little nipples 
between his fingertips until they hardened into taut erection. 

"Take this off," he whispered hoarsely, pulling at her dress now. His arms 
snaked around her to undo her zipper. A cool breath of air passed over her 
back as he pulled it down. "Take the dress off!" 

At the back of her mind under its shroud of lust Gloria knew very well that 
she was the focus-point of half-a-dozen staring pairs of eyes. There was 
still a vestige of her conscience left to tell her to run now, escape now, 
flee from the coming obscene ravishment of her body. And yet she was 
powerless to obey. She wanted to be fucked-and publicly fucked-in the 
lewdest and most humiliating way possible. In front of all these people she 
wanted to feel Tren's now rigid cock deep up inside her moist slippery cunt. 

The drug-crazed redheaded housewife sucked in her breath as arrows of 
burning joy shot through her. For the third time Tren commanded: "Take it 
off!" and Gloria obeyed him like an automaton, slipping her arms out of the 
sleeves, letting the dress slide down to her full ripe hips. With a tiny 
wriggling motion she eased it down over her thighs until it fell to the 
floor. She stepped out of it, clad now only in the fragile lace brassiere 
and thin nylon panties she'd put on. She felt Tren fumbling at the brassiere 
hooks behind her back, felt the wisp of fabric fall open while her lustfully 
swelling breasts sprang free of the tight restricting garment. A moment 
later he was pulling at her panties, inserting his feverishly working 
fingers beneath the elastic waistband. With a sudden twist of his wrist he 
jerked them down until they, too, fell to the floor with Gloria standing 
nakedly before him. 

"Oh, God!" she moaned, her body a roaring funnel of fire by now. "Oh, my 
God!" She was aware of the other patients staring at her, their eyes boring 
lecherously into her nakedness, and, yet she was helpless to protect 
herself. All shame, all modesty was gone as her passion overwhelmed her. 

She waited for what seemed an eternity, her very flesh crawling with the 
anticipation of the pleasure yet to come, and then she felt herself being 
pushed to the floor. She sank to her knees as Tren sat heavily in the chair 
before her. 

Oh, no! This wasn't what she wanted. Not this! She wanted to feel his hands 
running over her hotly quivering flesh, wanted to feel his fingers probing 
at her warm moist cunt, stroking the tiny bud of her clitoris into intense 
arousal. She wanted to take him deep inside her, to clasp his throbbing 
cock-flesh there in her velvety vaginal channel. 

She groaned, looking up expectantly into Tren's face, and then she heard the 
metallic rasp of a zipper as he opened his fly and his thick, rock-like 
penis burst forth. She stared in wonder at the stiff swollen rod, its purple 
head throbbing obscenely. At the same time, she felt Tren tangle his hands 
in her hair, pulling her forward until her face was directly above the 
blunt, bloated tip of his penis. 

Excited almost beyond endurance now, Gloria scratched her fingernails 
lightly over the pulsating cock-shaft and began to stroke and massage it, 
rubbing the skin back and forth, then slipping her hands down to cup Tren's 
balls lasciviously, cradling their softness in her palms. He groaned and 
thrust his loins forward until his thickly rigid penis grazed teasingly at 
her moistly parted lips. 

With a little gasp of delight Gloria puckered her lips into" a hungry oval, 
while Tren lunged forward, plunging his cock into the warm cavern of her 
mouth. She almost choked, but continued to stroke the thick heavy shaft 
until finally the warm moistness of her open lips slid succulently down over 
the firmly resilient sensitive head. And then she began to suck 
tantalizingly on it, her face contorted with pure lust as he sawed 
rhythmically in and out. 

His loins tensed and jerked as he realized that the lovely redhead at his 
knees was absorbing almost the full length of his aching cock into her 
throat. The bulbous head throbbed and jumped with the nerve-tingling licking 
of her tongue on every outstroke, and the pink flesh of her lips clung to 
his thick cock as she sucked voraciously, her mind feverish with the 
salacious delight of the act. And then the pressure began to grow in his 
balls. It wouldn't be long now before he shot his hotly seething sperm into 
her mouth-right down into her beautiful little belly! 

His rigidly pulsing cock was about to burst and he shoved his loins up hard 
against her face as she hummed and sucked maddeningly. Once again she cupped 
his balls into her two hands, squeezing and massaging their sperm-laden 
heaviness as if to pump their vital hot moisture down into her open throat. 

Suddenly Tren felt the white-hot fluid begin to churn inside the bloated sac 
of his testicles and then surge forth along the full length of his impaling 
cock-shaft in a burning jet-like stream. He gasped as it spurted wildly in 
long streams from the jerking tip, making Gloria's cheeks bloat and hollow 
as she rapidly swallowed the thick deluging gushes in a frantic effort to 
keep from choking. 

Tren wound his hands in Gloria's hair as she continued to suck madly, 
clutching at her head as he shot his hot semen far into her throat. Finally, 
he locked his hands behind her neck and thrusted his squirting penis even 
farther into her receptive mouth. And then he was empty-he let her head free 
and fall back against the chair as her lips fondled his cock gently now, 
until it fell, limp and deflating, from her mouth. 

There was silence as Gloria sank to the floor, exhausted. She curled up in a 
little heap and closed her eyes. She was dimly aware that Tren had stood up 
and crossed the room. When she became fully conscious again she saw the 
chair had been taken away. 

A terrible feeling of guilt overwhelmed her. Oh, dear God! What had she 
done! She scurried around the floor to collect her clothes. Tears welled up 
in her eyes as she tried to cover her nakedness as quickly as possible. This 
perverted act-this obscenity! How could she have done it? It was insane. 
Perhaps she was insane, she suddenly thought. Surely no woman in her right 
mind willingly degraded herself before all these people as she had done! 

As the thought continued to throb in her brain she turned her head and her 
eyes searched the room. Then her body stiffened and she blinked away her 
tears. Yes! There was Patty, her own daughter, Patty, sitting on a chair at 
the far end of the room. And Tren Miller was now kneeling at her feet. And 
... oh, dear God! Both of them had stripped their clothes off! Both were 
naked! 

Looking again, Gloria saw that Patty's slim young legs were spread wide, 
exposing the soft pink lips of her thinly hair-lined little pussy. Just 
then, Tren slipped his hands beneath her thighs, drawing the little 
reddish-gold patch of hair that nestled at the base of her belly close to 
his face. Patty smiled down at him, her body trembling with the excitement 
that pulsed through her. She ran her tongue around her lips, wetting them 
until they glistened as she waited expectantly, her smile growing more and 
more provocative. 

Tren gazed hungrily at the moist tight vaginal slit as she rotated it 
sensuously only a few inches from his lips. He placed his palms flat against 
the inside of her thighs, his thumbs resting on the soft fleshy flanges of 
her cunt. Then, with a slow, torturing outward movement they drew the 
delicate pink lips apart, exposing the moist coral slit more fully to him. 

Patty moaned, then dug her hands into his hair trying to pull his face into 
her. With a guttural sound like that of an animal, Tren moved forward to 
bury his face between her thighs and the full length of his slippery tongue 
up into the hotly throbbing passage of the girl's expectant pussy. 

She gasped, her buttocks jerking forward involuntarily as his warm 
spiralling tongue rotated wildly in the soft palpitating depths of her 
already red-hot vagina. "Aaaaarrrrgh!" she moaned as he withdrew the 
impaling oral spear to send his tongue licking upward, its soft tip flicking 
and circling her quivering erect clitoris. And then his lips enclosed it to 
suck at its bud-like hardness, drawing the warm surrounding pussy folds into 
the cavern of his hot mouth, his tongue continuing its maddening licking 
against the straining pink nub. 

The lewdly excited sixteen-year old groaned in mounting sensual enchantment 
as the insanely probing tongue-tip worked its way up and down the length of 
her narrow wet pussy slit. He lifted her slightly, cupping his hands beneath 
her flexing buttocks so that his searching tongue could slide passed the 
elastic-rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and on into the narrow valley 
between her creamy-white ass-cheeks. Patty mewled with pleasure at the 
unbelievably thrilling sensation, purring and whimpering like a kitten. 

Her soft wet pubic hair grazed Tren's cheeks as he sent his tongue swirling 
once again into the widespread tightness of her hotly dilating cunt. She 
clenched her teeth with passion now, moaning through them as her hands 
clawed at his hair, trying to guide him closer to the hungrily clasping 
opening of her vagina. And then he slithered his tongue into the pink 
velvety cuntal flesh, flicking at it tantalizingly before withdrawing to 
taunt the coral-colored edges again. 

As her mother unbelievingly registered the scene on her drug-befogged brain, 
Patty shifted and raised her body, pushing forward and clamping her hands 
behind his head to force his mouth directly over the tight little hole of 
her cunt. He glued his ovaled sucking lips to the viscous aperture and 
thrust his tongue deep into it. With a sudden shriek of pure ecstasy, Patty 
closed her youthfully supple thighs about his bobbing head, and now Tren too 
felt the lewd sucking performance of her inflamed vaginal passage as his 
tongue flicked deep, deep up into it. Then a tremendous convulsing shudder 
racked her hot young body and she wailed in wanton abandon as the walls of 
her wildly climaxing cunt poured forth their orgiastic fluids, to seep down 
over Tren's still rhythmically flicking tongue. 

It seemed a long time before the girl's uncontrollably quivering body had 
spent all its passion, a long time before her excited trembling had 
ceased.-Her mother had half-crawled, half-ran over to her as she slipped 
from the chair to lie curled in a ball on the floor. With an anguished cry, 
Gloria sat on the floor and lifted her daughter's head and upper body as 
gently as she knew how and rested them between her cradling arm and breast. 
Her other hand she used to gently brush away the girl's damp red hair from 
her closed eyes. 

Patty felt the soft touch and lifted her face a fraction in a plea for more 
strokes, opening her eyes at the same time. A frown creased her young brow 
for a moment, then she smiled in recognition of her mother. "Hello, mother," 
Patty murmured, nestling more comfortably into Gloria's shoulder. "Are you 
finding this place a groovy trip, too?" 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

John Richards stared vacantly at the milling throng of people on the ground 
floor of the Place Caledonia tower as he waited for the elevator of Clinique 
Place Caledonia to arrive. It was unbelievable that Gloria could have become 
sick-especially mentally sick-in the short space of time his trip had taken. 
Yet that was the message his office got. 

He had immediately called Dr. Smith from New Bristol and then had decided 
there was no alternative but to drive at once to Caledonia when Smith's 
explanations proved far from satisfactory. "I shouldn't do that, if I were 
you," Smith told him brusquely on the phone when he heard John's intention. 
"Our visiting days are Thursdays, Mr. Richards, you know that. Believe me, 
your wife needs every chance to recuperate before you see her then. In the 
meantime, she'll be in the best possible hands, I assure you!" 

The elevator doors opened and John was the car's single occupant to the 
first floor of Dr. Smith's menagerie. All was soft muzak and cool 
air-conditioning, plus welcoming smiles from the receptionist, Sylvia. 

He ignored her, her face becoming horror-stricken as she realized he 
intended to stride right passed her into Miss Box's office. "Mr. Richards, 
you can't ... ," she got as far as saying before he was out of sight in 
Rosetta's room. 

"Please get Dr. Smith for me," he demanded of the startled private 
secretary. "And while you're about it, you may as well start whatever's 
necessary for the discharge of my wife and daughter from this place." 

"I ... I'm afraid there's some mistake, Mr. Richards. There is no discharge 
authorized for either your wife or your daughter." Rosetta stood up and 
smiled sweetly at him. "Possibly a misconception you're laboring 
under-didn't Dr. Smith explain the circumstances?" 

John slammed his fist down on her desk. "Understand this, Miss Box, I am not 
here to answer questions. Now get me that man, your boss, Smith. And I mean 
now!" 

Inside his office, "Doctor" Smith shoved back the desk chair in annoyance, 
rose, then strode rapidly toward the door. This was intolerable, this 
shouting in the outer office. He thrust the door open to reveal his 
secretary gazing fearfully at the menacing form of John Richards. 

"What the hell's going on here?" he demanded. 

"Mr. Richards...." began the for-once agitated Miss Box; John cut her off. 

"Yes, what is the hell going on here?" he directed at Smith. "That's exactly 
what I want to know, Dr. Smith!" 

Smith glanced at Rosetta, then back at John Richards. "You'd better come in. 
But you'd be well-advised to drop your apparent animus toward me, Mr. 
Richards. I assure you, I can summon ample assistance within seconds, and if 
I have the slightest reason to feel threatened, I shall have no compunction 
about doing so." 

John uttered a mirthless laugh at this little speech and stalked past the 
doctor into the large airy inner office, Smith following him and closing the 
door, but not before exchanging a significant look and nod of the head with 
his private secretary. 

"Look, Smith...." 

"Just a minute, Mr. Richards," half-snarled the analyst as he made his way 
back behind his desk. "Just a minute!" He play-acted the role of the injured 
party as he went through an elaborate performance of sitting down again at 
his desk. "Now, Mr. Richards, won't you please sit down?" 

Smith shook his head resignedly and sighed. "Mr. Richards! I have explained 
exhaustively on the telephone that your wife is not to be disturbed, that 
there may even be some doubt of her being well enough by Thursday for anyone 
to visit her." Smith thought he discerned the first trace of indecision in 
the husband's manner. 

He decided to keep up the firm line of resistance. "I'm sorry, Mr. Richards, 
but if you don't believe what I tell you, there's hardly much point in 
talking any further, is there?" 

"Only if you tell the truth, Smith," John said, subsiding into a chair. 

"I have told you the truth, Mr. Richards," Smith replied with raised 
eyebrows and widespread hands. "I can only go on repeating that fact." 

"The truth? The truth?" John jumped up from his chair and leaned forward on 
the desk. "You told me my wife was 'disturbed'. You told me she became 
hysterical and now has to be kept under constant guard-a nut case! Crackers 
... bananas...." 

"Those terms are not used at this establishment," broke in Smith 
witheringly. "Your imagination is running away with you, Mr. Richards." 

"Maybe you didn't use those words," John admitted. "But that is sure as hell 
what you meant." 

"It's quite true that your wife is emotionally ill. I'm sorry to have to 
tell you that but denying the fact won't make it go away." 

Oh, Christ, John thought bitterly, how he'd like to punch this smug bastard 
in the nose! But he had to talk to him, he had to find out what was the 
matter with Gloria. Not that he believed she was truly sick. But he had to 
learn more. And the only one who could help him right now was this 
son-of-a-bitch sitting opposite. 

He sank back into the chair again, burying his face in his hands. Oh Lord! 
How did he ever get into this mess? And his wife? And his child? 

With effort he pulled himself together. "Right," he said in a near-whisper. 
"I'll play it your way, Dr. Smith. Suppose you just tell me what's the 
matter with Gloria?" 

Smith smiled to himself, knowing he'd won. He leaned ingratiatingly across 
the desk. "It's not a pleasant task," he said confidingly. "I'm afraid, Mr. 
Richards, that your wife is a nymphomaniac." 

"You're a liar!" 

The handsome young poseur behind the desk again sighed in mock-reproof. "Mr. 
Richards, if you want me to discuss your wife's condition you'll have to 
control yourself." He pretended to busy himself with files and papers to one 
side of his desk. John sighed in his turn. He felt hopelessly defeated now. 
Gloria? Gloria, a nymphomaniac? She was a a sensual woman he knew from 
personal experience, but a nympho? God, no! 

"What makes you so sure of your diagnosis, Doctor?" John asked levelly. 

Smith waited a moment, choosing his words carefully. "The first time your 
wife arrived at this office ostensibly to visit with her daughter she 
attempted to seduce me." He paused again. "From what we've observed of her 
actions since then...." He shrugged. "I've told you before we cannot afford 
to relax our guard on her for one moment," he went on. "Because neither man 
nor woman is safe." 

"There's not a word of truth in that!" John shouted, springing to his feet 
and advancing menacingly on Smith's desk again. "Not a word. And I'll break 
your goddamned neck if I hear another...." 

Smith silenced him with an imperious uplifting of his right hand. "Would you 
prefer witnessing her shocking behavior rather than accept my professional 
report? 'very well, perhaps the sight will convince you." He flicked the 
switch of the two-way mirror. "Remember, Mrs. Richards' mania has been 
lessened by our treatment since her arrival last Thursday." And as he spoke, 
the figures of Gloria and Patty appeared in the room beyond. 

* * * 

About the time John Richards was stalking through the reception area, his 
wife Gloria was being fetched from her room for her "therapeutic" session. 
She had sat despondently in her room the entire morning, feeling too 
degraded to care what happened to her any more, until the pills she was 
forced to take each day with her lunch began working their diabolical magic 
on her. Yesterday, she'd been dragged away from her daughter before they'd 
had a chance to exchange more than half-a-dozen words, though they had been 
enough to indicate an attitude on Patty's part that blew her mind. 

The door of her room opened and the orderly who'd so lecherously watched her 
dress entered. Today she was dressed already, and he was obviously 
disappointed the same performance wasn't about to be repeated. Sullenly he 
said: "It's that time again, Mrs. Richards. Better get down to the therapy 
room." And he turned on his heel to lead the way. 

This time the big room alongside Dr. Smith's office was empty-at least at 
first she thought it was, and then she saw the slim girl standing at the end 
of it-her daughter! Patty saw her about the same time, and as Gloria started 
over toward her called out, "Hi, Mom!" 

Gloria put a hand on each of Patty's shoulders and from arm's length studied 
the girl's face. Her eyes were glazed and the mother shuddered with 
revulsion, knowing instinctively that her daughter, too, was drugged. Oh, 
dear God! What were they doing to this child in this evil and wretched 
place? Feeling as if her heart would break, she put a hand to her forehead 
in despair. She had witnessed the degradation the daughter had been forced 
to. Her daughter had seen her! In a great surge of maternal love she pulled 
the slight figure of the girl to her and wrapped Patty in her arms. "Oh, 
Patty," she whispered fearfully. "What shall we do, what shall we do?" 

The distraught mother heard the door open and others come into the room but 
paid no attention as she hugged and kissed and comforted her sixteen year 
old daughter. She would cradle her against her breasts, protect the child 
against the terrible ordeal that was probably planned for her. Even though 
she might have to suffer in the child's stead, she would sacrifice herself 
gladly. 

The room held quite a crowd now, but she ignored everyone, her mind consumed 
with Patty. And then she heard Dr. Allen, one of the young doctors who had 
held her down the first day in Dr. Smith's office. "Why, Mrs. Richards," he 
was saying. "We didn't realize that you had lesbian tendencies!" 

The anguished mother rounded on the man as though she had been flogged 
across the back with a cat o'nine tails. Her right hand came up to slap his 
face and he caught her wrist in a grip of steel. "What do you mean?" she 
demanded between gritted teeth. 

"There, there," Allen said soothingly. "There's no reason to get upset about 
it. It's just as normal as heterosexuality, you know." 

Gloria's face blanched. "You're lying!" she hissed. "Another of your filthy 
lies! You can't believe ... that ... There's no way I would ever touch 
another woman!" 

"You're doing it now!" Allen exclaimed, laughing. 

"That's my daughter," Gloria said in astonishment. "My own flesh and blood." 

"A female, nonetheless. A young example of her sex but unmistakably a woman. 
We have seen it demonstrated time and time again here at Caledonia the 
proclivity mothers have for the love-sexual love-of their daughters." 

"You at Caledonia!" Gloria said sarcastically. 

Dr. Allen ignored her remark and went on: "Here at the clinic we encourage 
everyone to do whatever he or she may feel like doing. And so we believe it 
is in your best interest, Mrs. Richards-also your daughter's-for you to 
seduce her." 

"What? Oh, my God! What?" Gloria shrieked. 

"Seduce, Mrs. Richards. Seduce your daughter. Or, as we prefer to state it 
in plain language here, fuck your daughter." 

Gloria shook her head, steeling herself to disobey the perverted command. 
But in spite of herself the depravity of the idea sent a wave of lascivious 
excitement rippling through her. She couldn't help her mind dwelling on what 
it would be like, and from the way the other patients were crowding around 
the two women with leering and gloating faces her lusting curiosity was 
widely shared. Once again came Dr. Allen's command: "Fuck her! And fuck her 
good!" 

"Oh, no!" she wailed out, but even as she refused she was impelled by 
impulses stronger than her own will to slip her hand into the cleavage of 
Patty's blouse and beneath the flimsy nylon of her white brassiere. She felt 
the round smooth mounds of her daughter's tender breasts and another thrill 
of wicked pleasure swept through her. She had never known that such a 
forbidden act could be so exciting! 

She trailed her finger over one snowy mound, finding the tiny bud of the 
pink nipple, teasing and taunting it into quivering hardness. She had a 
sudden urge to take the tiny throbbing nub into her mouth and swirl her 
tongue over it. She wanted to fasten her lips on the proudly erect knob and 
suck the sweetness from it as though it were some small succulent cherry. 

In the grip of a sudden passion, she grasped at Patty's blouse and tore it 
from her body, then unhooked the little white brassiere and pulled that off 
too. The girl now stood before her mother with naked breasts quivering in 
the cool air while Gloria trembled with involuntary pleasure at the sight. 
Her head seemed to spin and she felt weak and faint, yet at the same time an 
animal-like lust possessed her. 

She tugged at Patty's skirt now, sliding it down over her firm young thighs 
and hips, and letting it too drop on the floor. And then she insinuated her 
fingers beneath the elastic waistband of the girl's skimpy white panties and 
drew them off. She sucked in her breath as she stared at the voluptuously 
naked young figure, at the full rounded spheres of her daughter's throbbing 
breasts, at the little wasp-waist, at the firmly swelling flare of her hips 
and the soft curves of her buttocks. With a sudden impulse, she ran her hand 
over the smooth white skin, trailing it down over the girl's belly to the 
triangle of reddish-silken hairs nestling up between her thighs. And then 
she pulled her close to touch and fondle her with ever-growing delight. 

From Dr. Smith's office, John Richards watched with increasing horror the 
whole obscene act through the two-way mirror. It wasn't possible! he told 
himself. It-was-not-possible! This was some visual trick that Smith had 
dreamed up. But as Gloria began to take off her own clothes he gasped in 
agony. He turned to stare at Smith who returned his look impassively. How 
... how ... had this fiend managed to corrupt his wife and daughter in this 
shockingly lewd way? 

When he turned back to the two-way mirror he saw that Gloria now had her 
clothes off and, naked, stared adoringly at the naked girl. The lustfully 
aroused mother trailed her fingers the length of her daughter's slim young 
body, pausing to rotate the middle one in a circle over the pinkish flesh 
tones of her flat white belly, while her own nipples hardened spontaneously 
at the electric contact. Her finger traced the flesh farther down, then 
paused again at the patch of sparse pubic hair up between her legs, slowly 
and deftly parting it. And then it dipped between the hair-lined lips of 
Patty's wetly throbbing pussy to search for the tiny knob of her clitoris. 
Her probing middle finger touched it at last, then circled the quivering 
erect nub lightly, while Patty jerked in maddened excitement. And then, as 
the small bit of flesh grew more and more tautly erect, the girl groaned in 
ecstasy. 

The horror of the scene sent waves of disgust shooting through John's 
shuddering body. He tried to order his legs to walk away-run away-but he was 
rooted, mesmerized by the lewd sight of his wife's finger probing his 
daughter's pussy. He would kill Smith for this, he vowed. Kill him! He 
whirled around. "You son-of-a-bitch!" he screamed. "You son-of-a-bitch!" 

"Come now, Mr. Richards. This is no time for anger," the analyst said 
pleasantly. "We want to help your wife-help her to overcome these 
overpowering impulses she has...." He stepped adroitly backward as John 
swung at him, getting in a glancing blow on his chin. He rubbed his jaw. "I 
wouldn't try any rough-guy tactics, if I were you," the younger man warned. 

John swung again, missing this time. Then he found his wrists imprisoned in 
Smith's steel-like grip. "I'm beginning to fear you are as strongly 
disturbed as your wife, Mr. Richards," he said menacingly. "I think you'd 
better control yourself." And he pushed the older man away from him, nodding 
at the same time to two doctors in the therapy room. There was no mistaking 
his meaning; John in reality was just as much a prisoner as Patty and 
Gloria. 

The trapped father groaned, then riveted his gaze one more time on the scene 
in the next room. Gloria was still stroking the smooth white flesh of her 
daughter's quivering thighs. Then once more her obscenely searching fingers 
probed at the pink folds of flesh up between her legs. Abruptly she slid to 
her knees and flicked her head forward. Just then, one of the figures 
standing behind her stepped forth, stooping down to slide his strong hands 
beneath her arms, pulling her to her feet. 

He whirled her around and Gloria, in spite of her daze, realized that she 
was facing Fred Harris. His eyes were heavy with lust, and his lips curled 
lasciviously. 

Suddenly the excitement within her body that had built up from the tiny 
spark earlier into a burning flame seemed to envelop her. She needed Fred! 
She needed a man to bring her to fulfillment just as she had been about to 
bring her own daughter to her trembling climax. 

She pressed her naked body up against him, grinding her loins deep into his 
pelvis and feeling the hardening cock-flesh beneath his pants. Oh, dear God! 
It was almost a miracle, as if an unspoken prayer had been answered. With a 
little whimper of pleasure she let Harris lead her across the room to the 
bed. He nodded at it and Gloria, understanding, slipped quickly onto it, 
spreading her slim long legs wide, exposing her own moist pussy to his lewd 
gaze as her daughter watched excitedly. 

Almost at once he stripped off his clothes, causing Gloria to gasp at the 
sight of his virile cock, already thickly swollen and hard. In a quick 
movement, he flung himself on the bed, his legs sinuously straddling her 
voluptuous body. With another quick movement he positioned himself above 
her, kneeling, and then shot his hand out to brutally seize one full snowy 
breast. He began to knead it, squeezing the swelling tender flesh between 
his wiry fingers, making it stand out in little ridges. Gloria recoiled at 
the pain and bit her lips as Fred tweaked mercilessly at the tautly erect 
nipple, then closed his strong teeth over the now upright little bud, 
nipping cruelly at it. 

His other hand trailed the length of her body, down to the hair-covered 
"vee" up between her legs until his middle finger wriggled between the moist 
fleshy folds of pink skin, seeking the tiny opening that glistened there. He 
felt its spongy wetness beneath his fingertip at last and sucked in his 
breath as Gloria twisted into a provocatively obscene position. Her lips 
were wet and parted, and her magnificent breasts began to rise and fall in 
tormented pleasure, her dark red nipples erect and throbbing. She squirmed 
beneath him now, writhing in passion as his finger plowed forward deep into 
her warm velvety cuntal passage. 

In the next room John witnessed the process of his wife's fucking with 
incredulous horror. Here ... Oh, Christ! Here was his modest ... his demure 
glorious wife showing an obsession with sheer sensual need that he had never 
seen duplicated in any other woman. She ... she welcomed this stranger's 
finger-fucking! 

Gloria's hand shot out suddenly to seize Fred's thick hard cock and guide it 
to the quivering little entrance of her cunt. With a sucking sound, he 
withdrew his twisting finger and a moment later sent his iron-stiff penis 
plunging deep up into her soft moist channel, the blunt rubbery head plowing 
everything before it until it battered against the cervix. 

Suddenly, Fred slipped his hands beneath the quivering half-moons of her 
buttocks, lifting the two rounded spheres up from the mattress. His middle 
finger explored the long smooth furrow between them until it touched lightly 
on the tiny puckered hole of her anus. Cruelly, he forced the tip of his 
finger inside the stretching warm flesh, while Gloria screamed at the sudden 
pain, which gradually ebbed away, fading into a pleasure she had never known 
before as she whimpered ecstatically. Then she skewered her buttocks down on 
his impaling finger until it was buried in her rubbery flesh all the way up 
to his palm. 

Gloria murmured happily at this new double ravishment of her wildly 
throbbing loins. Fred speared deep inside her now, quickening his rhythm and 
lengthening his strokes. The hotly swelling penis fucked in and out of her 
wet clasping vagina and sent maddening thrills exploding through her blood, 
and she moved her loins ecstatically up and down beneath the thick pounding 
cock-shaft. 

She knew nothing now but the wonderful joy of surrendering completely to the 
lure of the flesh. In her daze, all else was forgotten-her husband, her 
child, the humiliating degradation of being fucked almost senseless here 
before this watching group. Her mounting excitement seemed to flow outward 
from her moist cuntal channel, to spread like spilling water to every cell 
of her body, to set on fire every inch of her quivering skin. 

For the passion-soaked woman there was nothing at all but this moment of 
ecstasy as she gave herself in wild abandon to the all-pervading pleasure. 
It seemed that she had reached heights that had never been scaled before, 
and yet the bliss and joy went on mounting until she was sure she would 
explode from it. 

Crazed with her approaching orgasm, she finally let out a wild, earthy 
groan. "I'm cumming...." she gasped. "Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... I'm 
cumming ...!" And then, as she writhed and groaned and twisted insanely, her 
warm cuntal fluids seeped forth from her ravished passage and her body 
contracted in a convulsive spasm. 

At almost the same time, the thick milk-white semen gushed from Fred's 
bloated balls to spurt deep up into her belly and mingle there with her own 
wetly hot secretions. And then with a shudder so intense that it shook her 
violently from head to toe, her legs played out over the side of the bed and 
she collapsed, while the exhausted Fred slowly withdrew his now deflated 
penis. Then, equally satiated, he rolled over to lie beside her. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

"Satisfied now?" Smith quietly inquired of John, flicking off the switch to 
the two-way mirror in his office. "You did more or less say 'show me!'." 

At first John was too anguished to say anything. Was there no end to the 
indecency, the utter and complete evil of this man who called himself a 
doctor, He would kill him, he vowed again. Kill him with his bare hands! 

He took a step toward the still smiling man, then stopped. Oh, God! What 
good would it do to beat this man? How would that get Gloria and Patty out 
of this place? He had to try to play it cool. Realizing the hopelessness of 
his situation made him reel back as if from a blow. He shook his head, 
trying to retain a grip on reality. 

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Richards?" Smith mocked. "You bastard!" 

"You simpleton!" Smith rejoindered contemputuously. 

"You've done everything possible to that poor woman, haven't you? That 
beautiful woman! Every degrading and obscene thing possible!" 

Smith's lips twisted into a malicious smile. "There's one thing nobody's yet 
done to her," he said. 

"Impossible!" 

"No. I thought we'd save this to the last." 

"What the hell do you mean?" 

Smith lit a cigarette, puffing on it a couple of times before replying. "How 
do you feel about sodomy?" 

"Sodomy? Oh, my God!" 

"Well, what's your opinion?" 

"You're out of your mind!" 

"I didn't ask for your opinion of my mental state." 

"Well, I'm giving it to you, gratis." John slumped down in a chair and gazed 
blankly at the now normal-looking wall mirror. "You mean you're going to 
make someone ... someone ... do that to my wife?" 

"Why not? It's a perfectly normal form of intercourse." 

"Normal!" yelled the distraught husband, springing to his feet. "You call 
that normal?" 

Oh, God! The image came to his mind of Gloria spread-eagled face down on the 
bed next door with her quivering buttocks exposed to the view of God knows 
how many others as some depraved animal stuck his thick rigid cock against 
the tiny puckered hole of her anus. 

Jesus! He could almost see it disappearing deep up inside while his wife 
screamed in agony at the perverted invasion. "I won't let you do it to her," 
he screamed at Smith. "I won't let you do it to her!" 

Smith puffed calmly on his cigarette. "I'm not going to," he said. 

"You're damn right you're not!" John exploded. 

Smith nodded his head. "No. You are." he said quietly. 

Smith's remark at first made no sense to John, and then its import sank in. 
"You-mean-what?" he asked unbelievingly. 

"Just that. You're going to do it to her." 

John shook his head. "No, Dr. Smith, I'm not." His face contorted in hatred 
for the analyst. "I'll see you in hell first!" 

Smith smiled blandly. "You'll do what you're told," he said. 

"No!" 

"Mr. Richards, do you want your wife to leave here?" Smith asked 
dramatically. "Do you want her released-not now, of course, she's far too 
disturbed still-but eventually? Do you want her back?" 

John grasped the idea in all its despicable cunning. "That's blackmail," he 
said. "The only word for it, blackmail!" 

Smith shrugged. "Call it what you will, Mr. Richards." He stubbed out his 
cigarette in a silver desk ashtray. "Well?" 

"Well what?" 

"Will you cooperate, Mr. Richards? Or will you be happy to leave your very 
lovely wife in our tender care indefinitely?" 

John stared into the impassive eyes of the madman opposite. God! What a 
choice! How could he get his wife out of here without that fiend's 
cooperation? He looked over at the door, as if estimating distances. Even if 
he managed to make it out of here, what could he do? The only exit he knew, 
the elevator, could probably be locked immobile from Smith's desk. And that 
left only one course. He looked round at Smith again, knowing the decision 
was made for him. Facing the inevitable that there was no other choice open 
to him he managed to mumble, "I'll do it." 

"Excellent," Smith said, rising from his chair. "I knew you'd see sense." 

"But you'll release Gloria." 

"As soon as possible." 

John knew the answer was evasive but had no alternative but to rest content 
with it. The future of Gloria and Patty-and probably his depended on it. 
Swallowing with the greatest difficulty and speaking almost inaudibly he 
muttered: "All right, all right. I'll do anything to help my wife." 

* * * 

Gloria was still lying drowsily on the bed when Smith opened the door to the 
therapy room and ushered John through. The stunned husband was only dimly 
aware of the many other people in the room but he did catch sight of Patty, 
partially dressed now, and his heart skipped a beat. How could he do this 
thing to Gloria and hurt both her and his daughter? Oh God! He couldn't 
humiliate his family this way. He whirled around to face Smith. "I can't do 
it," he said, his lips trembling. "I just can't!" 

Smith gave him a contemptuous smile, then fumbled through pockets in his 
jacket. Almost sympathetically he said: "Perhaps these will help?" 

John looked down at the two pills in Smith's hand. He grabbed at them 
gratefully, looking around for something to pop them with. Smith also gave 
him a paper cup after filling it to the brim from the water fountain near 
the door. John swallowed the pills quickly and drained the cup. "Thanks, 
Smith." 

"You're quite welcome," the man said sardonically. "Quite welcome, I'm 
sure." 

The euphoria that almost instantly seemed to take over control of John's 
body as a result of Dr. Smith's pills relaxed his taut nerves and spread a 
feeling of joyous well being through every part of his brain. Things didn't 
seem at all as bad as they had been! A little thrill of excitement jolted 
him at the thought of what lay in store. After all, he never had done 
anything like this before, and he was being forced. At least, he thought he 
was being forced, but now he was aware of another feeling. Now he actually 
wanted to do it! 

Gloria was waking up as he approached her, but, dazed by drugs, she had 
trouble recognizing him. It was his touch as he deftly flipped her over onto 
her stomach that seemed to clinch it for her and she smiled languidly, 
murmuring: "It's you, John." She felt her husband's strong hands around her 
ankles as he spread her slim curvaceous legs apart and her belly ground into 
the mattress as she writhed against it. He flung himself onto the bed 
between her wide-open legs and sank to his knees. 

His hands snaked out to caress the quivering cheeks of her buttocks, and 
then he spread them apart until the tight little anal aperture nestled in 
the crevice was clearly visible. It seemed to throb in excited expectancy as 
he ran his hand up inside her thighs, to her wet, gaping cunt. And then his 
head dropped to kiss her smooth rounded ass-cheeks while his tongue trailed 
down to lick up into the crack between them. 

His fingers probed at the puckered little hole while Gloria groaned. 
Suddenly he barked: "Spread your legs wider." His beautiful wife struggled 
to comply with the command but he wasn't satisfied, seizing her by the 
thighs and pulling until she was afraid she would be split wide open. 

She groaned again, as her legs were splayed achingly wide until her toes 
were hanging over the edges of the bed at what felt like right angles to her 
body. Once again John probed at the tight little anal hole and then he 
plunged his middle finger abruptly up into it, while she winced with the 
unexpected pain. 

He moved his finger around, digging it in up to the first knuckle, sawing to 
expand the tiny anus while Gloria strained back against him. She had a 
sudden surge of passion for her own husband in spite of the pain he was 
causing her and began to rotate her hips lewdly. Spurred on by her wanton 
abandon, he dug a second finger up into the rubbery opening to join the 
first, while each merciless twist of his hand brought a squeal of pain from 
her, which tapered off eventually into a gasp of delight. 

He continued to skewer his fingers up into her obscenely stretched rectum 
and then, as she became accustomed to the probing deep up into her impaled 
anus, the squeals died out completely, to be replaced by little cat-like 
mewls of pleasure. 

John plunged his fingers in and out of his wife's rectal passage, possessed 
by the demons that seemed to have taken hold of his drug-saturated body. And 
when, with a sucking noise that both surprised and excited him, he pulled 
his fingers out, the pink, clasping skin clung to them lewdly. 

For a moment he stared wordlessly down at her prone form while within 
himself he felt a terrible need grow and take over that demanded he 
humiliate his wife in the most obscene fashion imaginable. Yes, he would do 
what Smith had decreed, but he would get his own particular kind of revenge 
on the doctor by enjoying the moment to the full. He shot a triumphant 
glance over at the wall holding the doctor's diabolical mirror-window and 
then ordered his wife to "kneel up!". 

Gloria lay still, uncomprehending. She turned her head back over her 
shoulder, disappointed at the cessation of the delightful thrills that had 
been arcing through her loins. Her John-her own, dear John-had for some 
reason withdrawn the plunging fingers that had been carrying her to such a 
pinnacle of ecstasy, but he was speaking to her, telling her to do 
something. "Kneel," she heard him say, "Kneel up." She felt him stroking her 
buttocks again, awakening a new and different joy in her that she had never 
known before. 

"Kneel up!" John ordered once more, and this time she struggled to her knees 
and presented the rounded half-moons of her buttocks to him, wriggling them 
lasciviously in the air. "Take my cock!" John said suddenly. "Take it and 
put it in." Gloria hesitated a moment and then groped for the rock-hard 
length of cock-flesh that now rested against her split crevice. She stroked 
it, curling her fingers around it. It seemed huge to her, too huge ever to 
penetrate the small hole of her anus. Oh, dear God! How could she ever take 
it, take it deep up inside her rectum as she longed to! "Put it in!" 

"Oh, no," she wailed. "I can't!" 

She felt John's harsh fingers digging fiercely into the tender flesh of her 
thighs. Urged on by the sharp pain, she placed the blood-engorged tip of his 
cock against the puckered little anal orifice. Behind her, her husband 
strained forward, trying to worm his thickly pulsing shaft into the hairless 
opening. Suddenly the brown nether ring gave way before the relentless 
prodding and the bloated tip popped inside, while Gloria groaned at the 
sudden surge of pain. "Oh, God, no! No! It hurts! It's too big! It hurts!" 
But John continued to ram forward with all his strength while he pulled her 
waving hips back tightly against his own pelvis. 

As the hard fleshy rod sank deep up into her quaking rubbery rectum, he 
began to saw back and forth until his pistoning cock was totally buried in 
the pink inflamed passage. And now his wife moved backward to meet his 
forward thrusts, turning her head from side to side while her long red hair 
flailed out around her. 

John's hugely distended penis sank in up to the hilt now, buried almost to 
the balls in Gloria's tight restricting passage. In spite of the pain that 
still caused her to gasp from time to time, she began to moan with growing 
pleasure. The lewdly submissive sound incited him to make further assaults 
upon her voluptuous naked body, and he trailed his hands over her buttocks 
and back, kneading and squeezing her smooth resilient flesh. His nails 
raised cruel red welts, and yet Gloria continued to moan, finding pleasure 
and ecstasy in the purposely inflicted pain. 

John puffed and gasped now, almost out of breath with his exertions. Then he 
began to thrust home with an almost super-human force that drove his pelvis 
into her excitedly yielding buttocks with hard vicious smacks. His 
sperm-inflated balls hung down heavily as if the load of boiling semen they 
carried would explode at any moment. 

Gloria felt the sweat dripping from her husband's face as it fell in huge 
wet drops onto her strenuously working back. She shivered a mite with 
pleasure at the measured tingles as she ground back against his pounding 
hips. She felt him filling her in a way he never had before, and it gave her 
a pleasure completely new to her. She wanted only one thing now, and that 
was for John to cum, to spurt his warm thick semen deep up into her forever 
expanded rectum. 

Almost as if she'd willed it, John's body jerked convulsively and he began 
to utter strange, lust-crazed sounds. With a final shriek that was a 
half-scream, half-wail, he surged forward one more time as his pounding body 
sent shattering waves of white hot cum spurting into her anal depths. It ran 
through her, filling her even more completely, and then she felt her own 
climax as it mounted to its soul-wrenching explosion. She screamed as she 
felt John's thick white cum trickle out along the length of his deflating 
cock-shaft to run down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks, drenching 
them just as her own fluids seeped forth from her open cunt. 

As the spasms and convulsions of the two bodies subsided, the others in the 
room pressed forward. Someone pulled John's spent body off his wife's, while 
another flipped Gloria over onto her back as easily as she had been turned 
over onto her stomach. 

As Gloria turned her head, her mouth gone slack, she felt a thick fleshy 
object' against her lips. She whirled her tongue around it and at last, 
recognized it as the hardened cock of yet another of the men in the room. As 
he pushed forward she ovaled her lips in a wide round circle and took the 
pulsing rod deep up into her throat, choking a little at first, but then 
accepting it with pleasure. Her cheeks hollowed and filled as she sucked 
crazily at the blunt and swollen head. 

She closed her eyes, letting her tongue rove at will over the rigidly 
hardened penis that filled her mouth. And then she felt someone else's hands 
sliding down her smooth body, stopping to caress her softly throbbing 
breasts. The finger circled one little budding nipple, until it swelled into 
a quivering knob of hardness. She sighed ecstatically as her body seemed to 
take fire once more. Oh God! She had never been so aroused, so thrilled in 
all her life! She stretched out to grasp the head of the man stroking her 
body, tangling her hands in his hair and trying to pull his face down, his 
lips to her tingling skin. 

He arched back, breaking away from her, but continued to trail his fingers 
down her nakedly quivering flesh until they finally reached the sparsely 
curling pubic hair at the base of her belly. He paused to tease the tiny 
clitoris hidden there while Gloria sucked in her breath. Oh, dear God! It 
was wicked but she wanted it. She wanted to be fucked to death by all the 
men here. She wanted to give herself completely, wanted to be filled and 
filled again by all the cum in their balls. 

As the man hovering over her slid his hands down the firm creamy-white flesh 
of her inner thighs she let her legs fall open obscenely, displaying the 
trembling folds of her pussy to his lurid gaze even as she continued to suck 
hungrily at the thick penis in her mouth. She felt his finger trace the long 
slit there, felt it pause then and slide forward to sink deep up into the 
hungrily devouring passage. 

He twisted and turned his finger tip, bringing little mewls of contentment 
from deep in Gloria's throat. And then he withdrew his finger with a sudden 
sucking sound and positioned himself above her. Gloria waited anxiously, her 
nether lips trembling in renewed excitement. And then she felt the blunt 
head of his thickly prodding cock teasing at the entrance to her moist pink 
vagina. She reached out one hand to let it fall on the arched and tensing 
man positioned between her legs. Then, as she dragged her nails across the 
skin of his shoulders he suddenly pressed forward and his rock-hard 
relentless cock swept deep up into the narrow cuntal channel while a shocked 
cry of pleasure escaped her lips. 

Still sucking avidly at the penis screwing hotly into her mouth, she let the 
hand fall from the back of the man now ravishing her cunt and felt it land 
on a firm fleshy object-another cock! Her fingers curled lovingly around the 
resilient hardness, cradling the rigidly throbbing length in her palm. She 
massaged it now, pushing the soft, unresisting foreskin back and forth, as 
the desire ran deep within her belly like a torrent once more. She began to 
writhe and grind her cunt wildly up beneath the pummeling cock deep up 
inside her shuddering cunt, grinding her buttocks lewdly into the bed 
beneath her in a circling movement, constricting her cunt muscles to clasp 
the hot impaling pole more securely. She wanted to exploit her situation to 
the limit, to grovel in the hotly seething sticky cum that would saturate 
her insides when it gushed forth. 

She ground her buttocks more and more furiously against the mattress, 
lifting her loins to press forward as he sawed in and out of her wetly 
throbbing pussy, at the same time sucking insatiably at the stiff shaft of 
penile flesh in her mouth, swirling her tongue-tip to taunt the 
blood-fattened head that stabbed hotly into her greedy oral aperture. She 
wanted it to shoot into her mouth, wanted to swallow it and feel it pouring 
down her throat until her stomach was as filled as her cunt. She wanted it 
to drench her body both inside and out. As she pumped the jerking cock in 
her hand, she wondered vaguely if perhaps one of the three demanding rods 
she was acting as a receptable for belonged to her husband. But what did it 
matter? All she wanted was cock, cock, and more cock! 

And then the cock fucking deep into her ravished vagina bulged and jerked, 
spurting its creamy hot charge far up into her quaking cunt. As her own 
climax crescendoed, the surging semen splashed violently against her 
contracting vaginal walls and dribbled back out of her, dripping from her 
saturated, hair-covered cunt lips down her thighs. The spasm of his jerking 
pelvis massaged her erect clitoris, making her convulse uncontrollably, 
taking the cock in her wildly sucking mouth to the very hilt. It too burst 
forth with sudden violence, flooding her mouth and throat with its pungent 
orgasmic liquid. Her cheeks bloated and hollowed as she swallowed the hotly 
spewing gushes excitedly and she clasped her lips like a tight-fitting ring 
about the spurting cock so as not to lose a single drop of the life-giving 
sperm which dribbled from the corners of her mouth down her chin. Then, as 
he withdrew his deflating penis, she lashed out her tongue in a sweeping 
motion to swipe the stringy viscous fluid trailing from his satiated 
cock-head back into her mouth. 

She felt the cock in her hand begin its insistent jerking, but the man 
abruptly pulled it out of her grasp and a moment later shoved it deep up 
into her sperm-covered mouth. Again the violent sawing in and out, with a 
choking thrust that lunged far back into her throat and then as quickly 
withdrew, as she quickly caught her breath. And then she felt yet another 
wild explosion, felt the burgeoning shaft between her tightly ovaled lips 
shoot forth its cream-like jets of churning white-hot sperm, as her own body 
seemed to fragment in a great burst of showering stars, racking her entire 
being with an ecstasy that set her brain whirling madly. She moaned out her 
joy, and then lay motionless on the bed, enveloped at last in oblivion, 
mercifully unaware of her husband, who was staring in stark, lust-distorted 
horror at her still quivering body. 

John felt his own brain whirl, felt all his strength flow from his body. His 
stomach churned and his knees buckled. He fought off the attack of dizziness 
as long as he could, but it overcame him at last and he sank to the floor, 
unseeing and unknowing. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

To John Richards' reeling and throbbing head it seemed as if he were trapped 
in a box when he first woke up but as he struggled in panic to free himself 
he realized he was actually in the familiar surroundings of his own car, the 
Lincoln he'd taken on his out-of-town trip and parked the day before in the 
basement lot of the Place Caledonia. He extricated himself from where he had 
been dumped on the floor between the back seat and the front seat and felt 
his head ruefully. God! What a mess he'd made of things! 

He painfully hoisted himself up into a sitting position and buried his head 
in both hands now as he tried to relieve the buzzing and sawing within his 
brain that made all rational thought impossible. Oh Jesus! Gloria and Patty 
were still that man's prisoners! His feeling of panic returned, intensified, 
and he brought his anguished face up out of his hands to stare out blankly 
at the garage's concrete pillars as though the way he must go was written 
there. What could he do? 

He immediately spurned the obvious answer of going to the police as the one 
course that would automatically guarantee page-one publicity for all the 
degradation that his family had been put through. On top of everything else, 
he didn't want his wife to have to live with a public record of her ordeal 
for the rest of her life. That's why that smug bastard had felt safe in 
dumping him in the outside world again Smith knew the police would move 
cautiously against an ostensibly-respectable "medical" practice, with any 
"investigation" immediately opening up the entire Richards' family's shame 
and humiliation to the new media. 

But there was a way, there had to be a way! And while he thought about it, 
it'd probably be better to kiss goodbye the Place Caledonia parking lot too, 
before Smith perhaps changed his mind about the safety of letting him go. He 
eased over into the car's front seat and started the motor. His watch said 
eight-thirty and the car clock showed the same thing-but eight-thirty at 
night or in the morning? Only one way to find out, he thought, and ignoring 
his aching head, took off in a squeal of burning rubber. 

It was morning, Caledonia's streets filled with commuters hurrying to work. 
John wondered where you got a drink in Caledonia at eight-thirty in the 
morning-he could sure do with one!-but he was willing to settle for strong 
coffee at a lunch counter with a telephone. 

He parked in a shopping center and located the small restaurant serving the 
complex. It was open, about the only thing that was. He took grateful gulps 
of the hot, black coffee some angel in human form served him from behind the 
counter and then moved over to the pay phone. He suddenly realized he still 
didn't know what he was going to do with the apparatus now he'd found it, he 
still hadn't decided on the best course of action. But he did know one call 
he could make right away-he should check with his office. 

He had to make the call collect, and between sips of coffee his mind went 
over all the alternatives while he waited for the connection to go through. 
Friends? He had friends, influential friends, but what could some overweight 
businessman in New Bristol do to help, except offer the obvious sympathy and 
recommend the police. And at once become another potential fountainhead of 
gossip about "the Richards' troubles". 

His thoughts were cut off by Miss Flangers' voice. Thank God his secretary 
was an early bird! "Thanks very much, Ramona," John replied to his 
secretary's greeting. "And the same to you. Look, I'm sorry I didn't get 
back to you yesterday...." 

"I hope everything was all right?" Ramona asked politely. "At the 
clinic...." 

"Oh, yes. Yes," John said quickly. "No problem at all. Well," he added, as 
an idea grew in his mind. "It's ... it's not entirely the most satisfactory 
arrangement. That's why I probably won't be into the office at all today. 
Tell me, Ramona, is the stockroom foreman in today Tom Lemmon?" 

"Yes. I saw him parking his car." 

"Well, would you please tell him to stand by for a call from me? I may need 
his help and about four or five of his men. Some of the younger men. Now, 
are there any messages for me?" 

"Well, the switchboard said Dr. Smith left a message about eight this 
morning. It's very cryptic but the operator on duty said he insisted that 
was the whole thing...." 

"What, what?" John demanded impatiently. 

"'Mrs. Richards' recovery and release will depend on perfect quiet.' That's 
all." 

"That's fine, I understand. Anything else?" 

"Nothing I can think of, Mr. Richards. Except that the bill came in the mail 
yesterday from Patty's summer camp and the director-a Mr. Sims?-enclosed a 
note, asking after Patty." 

"Oh, what did he say?" John asked. 

"He hoped she was settling in back at home satisfactorily and said that if 
there was anything he could do to help to get in touch." 

"He did, did he?" 

"Yes, he sounds like a nice man. But apart from that personal note the only 
correspondence dealt with routine business which I could pass on to 
department heads." 

John's racing brain made a sudden decision. "Look, Ramona, will you do 
something for me? Call Sims-the number's in my ... oh, you've got it, 
okay!-call Sims and ask if he will see me urgently. In fact, tell him I'm 
driving out there right now, will arrive, oh, about ten. I'm taking him up 
on his offer to help. Got that? About ten, ten-thirty. I'm leaving now." 

* * * 

Peter Sims had heard out the desperate father in almost total silence, 
listening to the story impassively and asking merely a couple of questions 
where John had tried to gloss over some of the grosser details of his 
nightmare visit with Dr. Smith. At the end, the camp director had made two 
phone calls, apparently tracking down all he could about the Caledonia 
quack. He hung up on the last call and turned with a sigh to John again. 

"You know, I'm by way of being partly qualified in psycho-analysis myself." 
He shook his head. "I sometimes think there're more charlatans in our line 
of work than ... anything!" Sims shrugged and smiled at John regretfully, 
then suddenly became sternly businesslike. 

"Everything you've said is confirmed. Or at least it bears up with what I 
found out about this man. And I think your idea is right that the only way 
to get your family back without publicity is to make your own personal 
assault on the devil's citadel." The shirt-sleeved man smiled again. "Only 
if you don't mind me saying it, I don't think you should lead your own 
troops into the attack. I would be more than happy to bust this fraud's 
racket wide open, and I've more than enough young men among the counselors 
here who'll be only too glad to be in on the operation." 

"There may be a risk," John warned. "Supposing he's armed?" 

"Phooey!" Sims said, rising from behind his desk and walking to the office, 
door. "We'll hit so fast he won't have a chance to try anything. And talking 
of risk-by giving us the opportunity to settle this bastard's hash there'll 
be less chance of someone closer to you, one of your people, leaking the 
whole thing out to some mutual friend later. Now, I'm going to call in some 
of my boys, and you'll see for yourself what they say." 

The plan of action finally decided on called for John to again present 
himself to Dr. Smith, this time as a sort of undercover agent. His role was 
to locate Gloria, and if possible his daughter too, and protect them at the 
moment of open assault by Sims' "boys", timed for ten minutes later. "If 
what you say is true," Sims said finally, "and all outside calls must go 
through the receptionist's switchboard, then we can control that before 
there's any chance of him phoning for help. And by the time we've spelled 
out our message to him, he won't be inclined to call for help!" 

The receptionist showed no surprise when John stepped out of the elevator on 
the penultimate floor of the tower of Place Caledonia. But Miss Box seemed a 
trifle taken aback as she came out of her office in response to Sylvia's 
call. She allowed as how the "Doctor" was in, but couldn't guarantee he 
would see John "without an appointment". John, as part of the plan, went to 
some lengths to stress that he'd gotten Dr. Smith's message that morning and 
agreed to all the terms implied, therefore it was very urgent that he see 
the doctor. 

After a longish wait, during which two burly young men in white coats 
happened to come by with apparently no other purpose except to scrutinize 
him heavily, Miss Box returned and conducted him into Dr. Smith's office. 

"Well, come back for more?" Smith greeted him sardonically without 
disturbing his comfortably-settled slump as he relaxed in his chair. "Taking 
a chance, aren't you, Richards? Coming back here?" 

Inwardly wishing to punch the man's face to a pulp, John tried to make his 
demeanor obsequious. "You've got nothing to fear from me, Smith. I agree to 
your terms to get my family back." He shrugged. "Why would you need to do me 
any further harm?" 

"You're quite right there," Smith agreed. 

"You local Babbits do have your limitations. A simpleton quickly becomes a 
bore. Have you said all you want to say?" 

John swallowed hard. "I want to ask a favor?" he asked deferentially. 

For the first time, Smith looked suspicious. "Okay," he said. "I'll perhaps 
entertain a favor-you've certainly got no rights around here, Mr. Richards." 

"Okay. It's just that ... that, can I see my wife for a while ... a couple 
of minutes, before she's ... when she isn't under the influence of drugs? 
Please?" 

The doctor looked at his watch. "You'll have to hurry; it's lunchtime, and 
she takes her pills at lunch." He looked quizzically at John. "But what do 
you want to say to her?" 

John had prepared for this question. "It's just that I want to reassure her, 
about afterwards ... after she comes out ... I don't want her worrying about 
the future." 

Smith slid his feet off his desk and stood up. "You sure are a glutton for 
punishment, Richards. But, if you want to wallow in it, that's your 
business, I suppose." He led the way to the door. "Follow me." 

This was an unexpected development for John, the scenario as he had 
envisioned it calling for an aide or secretary to be the one who was 
directed to take him to his wife. But it seemed Smith was taking the chore 
on personally. Ah, well, it was only a slight deviation from his 
expectations. 

Smith checked on Gloria's room number with the receptionist and John made a 
mental note of her answer-11C. He also surreptitiously glanced at his 
watch-the ten minutes were almost up. 

There was no elevator to the second story of Dr. Smith's domain and the 
staircase lay beyond two glass swinging doors. They should help cut down any 
hullabaloo being heard upstairs, thought John, but one of the doors only 
partially closed-to behind Smith. At the top of the stairs, he again passed 
through first at Smith's bidding-and then the row started, scream upon 
scream from below. Even a duty nurse sifting at a desk along the corridor 
heard it. 

Smith had just been on the point of letting go the swinging doors at the top 
of the stairs when the cries echoed up. He looked quickly at John, and his 
face contorted with hatred and fear. "This is your doing, Richards!" he 
hissed. "Come back with me." 

Instead John started backing away from him fast, then scuttled sideways 
along the corridor wall, nearly bowling over the nurse as she left the desk 
to find out what the noise was all about. Smith at first made as if to 
follow the store president but changed his mind in mid-stride and instead 
disappeared down the stairs. John began frantically checking door numbers. 

He burst through the door marked "11C" and vainly looked for signs of his 
wife. "Gloria," he shouted at the top of his voice. "Gloria!" As he headed 
into the room, his wife dressed in a pale-blue ankle-length gown and 
carrying two pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other appeared at 
the bathroom door. 

"Gloria, thank God you're safe!" He advanced to embrace her. The pills and 
the glass fell from her hands and she fainted into his arms. 

"Dad!" came a cry from behind him. Clumsily supporting his wife he turned 
around. His daughter in skirt and blue stood in the doorway. 

"Dad, what's happening? I heard your shout, I was just down the hall. Was 
Mom in this room all the time?" 

John had half-carried, half-dragged his wife over to the bed when he heard 
another voice at the doorway. "Excuse me, young lady. It's a good thing I 
recognized you from the camp." 

He turned to find with amazement that Mrs. Mellor was trying to insinuate 
her bulk between the door-post and Patty. She grasped with menacing firmness 
a blackjack in her right hand. 

"What in hell's name...!" 

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Richards. And Mrs. Richards. Good. Just came along 
to help. Couldn't let Peter have all the fun. Wanted me to 'Look after the 
fort', of all things! I told him I'd be much more valuable here." She 
glanced again at Gloria. "And from the look of Mrs. 

Richards I was right, too!" 

John backed away from her as she came forward to minister to Gloria, tucking 
the blackjack in her coat pocket and opening the voluminous purse she'd been 
carrying on her left arm. "Never know what you might need when you get into 
one of these mad scrambles," she said, half to herself. "Best to bring 
everything." She noticed John was at the doorway, looking down the corridor. 
"Shouldn't bother going looking for Peter yet, Mr. Richards. He'll find you 
soon enough." She lifted Gloria's head gently and held a phial under her 
nose. "Moments like this, it's best you stay close to home. Meaning in this 
case, I suppose, your kinfolk." 

Sims still hadn't shown up when a couple of the camp counselors appeared to 
say they'd been designated to look for Mr. Richards and help him down to his 
car if he'd found his wife and daughter. No, they didn't know where Pete 
Sims was now, but everything was quiet downstairs. Pete had gone around 
announcing to all the patients and staff that the bailiffs had been ordered 
in by Smith's creditors for non-payment of debts! Everybody was "requested" 
to remain at the clinic for a while until a fast inventory had been taken, 
then patients and staff would be free to go. by the time bags had been 
quickly packed Gloria was almost able to walk unaided again, although her 
brain was still befogged by the speed of events and the drugs she's been 
given. The whole party easily got down the stairs to the elevator, where 
Mrs. Mellor suggested Mr. Richards alone look for Peter Sims while the rest 
of the group continue the journey non-stop to the parking-lot where Mrs. 
Richards and Patty could rest and wait for him in the car. John agreed, 
assuring his wife he would be only a moment, and by the time the elevator 
doors had shut on them, Sims himself was coming out of Rosetta's office. 

"I broke my journey just to say 'Thanks' and also to say we hope to see you 
again soon," John said in answer to Sims' questioning raised eyebrows. "What 
happened to Smith?" 

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Sims chuckled with great amusement. "He's agreed 
it's best he leave town-the state even. I reminded him of one or two things 
from his past. Things that if noised abroad wouldn't get him a license to 
sell candy." He chuckled again. "Especially candy!" He turned to point to 
one of his 'boy's' appearing to be engrossed in making elaborate notes about 
the state and type of the office furniture. "You heard about my little 
caper-being the bailiff?" 

John threw his head back and laughed. "Yes," he said. "But why?" 

Sims shrugged. "Just to cover tracks. This way everybody goes home happy. 
How Smith closes down shop is his business, as long as he disappears. But 
for patients and staff, innocent and guilty alike, it's a normal 
foreclosing-the place went 'bankrupt', period. Some of the 'analyst's' more 
intimate members of staff-the 'doctors' and orderlies-those I've had a 
little talk with, too, and now they're on their way, each honored with a 
two-man escort as far as some point on the state line. But as far as any 
local people are concerned, there won't be any more publicity warranted than 
whatever usually goes with a routine business failure." 

John shook his hand. "That's the silver-lining!" 

"Rest easy, my friend," said the camp director, accompanying John to the 
elevator. "You're all going to recover from this. When we meet again, I 
think I'll see a happy family." He winked, slowly, as John stepped back into 
the elevator car. "One where every member has gained considerably in 
maturity." 

The automatic doors twanged-to, and John descended to join his wife and 
daughter. 


THE END
