Ravished Wife
by Richard Van Dorne


Chapter One 

Hobbling on one leg the fat hairy man bent to pull on one sock, too drunk to 
try holding onto the bed for support. He struggled, almost falling twice, 
but finally succeeded and put his foot down with a loud thump. As he looked 
for the other knee-length black sock he raised his head momentarily to grin 
at the sleek young girl who lay on the bed watching him. 

You fat bastard, Paula Moore thought as she smiled back at him. She was 
relieved that he had turned his head away in search of his other sock, but 
not half as relieved as she would be when he left the room, after he put his 
money on the table, of course. She inhaled deeply on the cigarette she was 
holding. The money was the important thing, she thought. He can do anything 
he wants for money... and he had. 

Paula could not ignore the burning pain that seared deep into her ravaged 
rectum. She hadn't been in the business long, but she was quickly learning 
the ways of "johns" who were willing to pay a girl for any perverted obscene 
pleasures they desired. This fat ugly man who now sat on the floor had not 
been the first to demand something unusual of her. Some had forced her to 
submit to fellatio or cunnilingus, while others had begged her to be cruel 
to them, beating them with a various assortment of instruments they had 
provided. 

True, he hadn't been the first, but his demands had been the worst, she 
thought as she watched him crawling around the floor looking for his shorts 
his huge belly almost touching the carpet. It took an ugly man to do such an 
ugly thing, her thoughts continued. Paula could still feel the pain of the 
slap he had given her when he had demanded that she do as he ordered. How 
terrible it had been, how animalistic when he had turned her over and 
suddenly thrust his finger brutally into the tight virginal ring of her 
anus. 

Paula tried to force the horrible picture from her mind but could not. She 
remembered screaming with fear as much as pain when he had first violated 
her. That was when he had slapped her with his wide flat hand. She had tried 
to get away, but he had thrown her back onto the large bed and had told her 
to shut up or she would get even worse. 

Worse, she thought. What could have been worse than having that depraved 
creature force his fat stubby prick into me like that? 

The throbbing in her rectum would not relent and she wished that he would 
hurry and leave. She inhaled again on the long cigarette, watching him 
pulling on his shorts while he bent over, unable to touch his toes because 
of the huge mass of flesh that he called his overpaid stomach. Lucky for me, 
she thought, that his prick hadn't been any bigger, or he might have really 
hurt me. She nearly laughed as she looked at the tiny bump in his shorts. At 
least Jed was a man in that respect, but in no other respect. 

Paula Moore had experienced many emotions during the first nineteen years of 
her life, but the strongest was hate. Two men shared the distinction of 
being hated by Paula. The first was her boss, Wade Jackson, but the second, 
the one who had caused all her misfortune was Jed Dearborn. 

Paula could not forget Jed for a moment, not even while she watched the 
drunken man hobbling around the room with one leg in his trousers, unable to 
gain his balance to put the other pantleg over his flabby calf. 

She remembered the homespun restaurant in Davenport, Iowa where she had 
waited on tables and helped clean the kitchen for ten hours a day after her 
parents had died when she was just barely eighteen. She had received a few 
thousand dollars from the insurance company, but by the time all the debts 
were settled she had less than three thousand left and had gone to work so 
that she could continue her schooling. 

But Davenport was so small and so limiting for a young girl who needed 
excitement. There were no boys her own age that interested her, and the only 
men that did appeal to her were already married, and therefore taboo to a 
girl whose strict morals refused her access to them. She was a woman at 
eighteen and needed a man, but none were available as far as she was 
concerned. 

None were available, that is, until that hot August afternoon when Jed 
walked through the door and sat down at the counter she was serving. His 
blond hair was longer than most men's, but it seemed to suit him perfectly. 
His entire face, perfectly chiseled, seemed to be centered around his deep 
blue eyes. Paula had tried not to stare when she brought him a glass of 
water, but it was impossible. He was the sexiest man she had ever seen and 
she had to look at him, secretly hoping that perhaps she would be able to 
touch him. 

Paula remembered him well, though her memory could not recall any of their 
conversation. She inhaled the menthol cigarette again and watched the fat 
man pulling his suspenders over his rounded shoulders. There was no 
comparison between this ugly man and Jed with his large muscled shoulders 
and slim hips, she thought, and retreated back to her memory. 

It had been Saturday when Paula met Jed, and she got off work at three 
o'clock. Each word that Jed had said to her had seemed like magic, and for 
some reason, she had agreed to go with him for a drive. She pointed out 
parts of the rolling countryside as he guided his new red convertible along 
the highway, but he hardly listened to her. As far as he was concerned, the 
conversation was entirely one-sided, his side. 

Jed talked incessantly about big cities, about gambling, about the girls he 
had known and all the money he had. It wasn't long before Paula stopped 
talking altogether. Despite her intelligence she believed his every word, 
and hung on his arm, taking it all in as gospel. She had thought he was the 
most exciting, most interesting man she had ever met, and decided that she 
could not let him go. 

He had talked through dinner and half the night, never touching her, but 
teasing her with words she had long since forgotten. But by dawn she was 
completely naked in his motel room, her virginity gone and her whole being 
fulfilled. 

Paula thought about that bright morning as she watched the fat man tie the 
broad striped silk tie around his bulging throat. She remembered Jed fixing 
his own tie as she lay nude on the warm sheets, her firm breasts rising with 
her breath. She remembered running her slender fingers along the supple 
flesh of her torso, teasing herself with her own touch. It was that morning 
that Jed had made his proposal to take her to Miami. They could be married 
as soon as they arrived and live together forever as man and wife. 

Paula felt a sharp pain of anger rise in her breasts. That bastard! Jed's 
promise was as full of hot air as everything else he had said. After she 
drew all of her savings out of the Davenport Bank Monday morning, they had 
driven day and night to reach Miami. 

For more than two weeks they played in bed and in town. But Jed kept putting 
off the marriage, saying that his doctor had to run special blood tests to 
be sure there was nothing wrong with him. Paula had believed him and even 
felt sorry for him, fearful that something might really be wrong with his 
health. 

All those hours for two weeks, gambling and dining and drinking on her 
money, Jed saying that he had to wait for a transfer of funds from his San 
Francisco account, all that time for nothing! She easily remembered that 
terrible morning Jed had left the room to get a morning paper. When he 
hadn't come back by noon, she began to worry and by midnight was frantic 
with fear that something had happened to him. 

She had called the police and even gone out looking for him herself, but to 
no avail. For three days she waited for him to return, drinking and crying 
the whole time. 

Finally, on the fourth morning, the hotel manager came to the door with the 
bill. He told her she had to pay the balance before he could let her stay 
any longer. Paula had opened her purse and saw her wallet was empty. Jed had 
taken every dollar she had hidden in the secret compartment and now the 
manager was demanding six hundred dollars! 

Six hundred dollars, she thought, as she watched her customer put a crisp 
hundred dollar bill on the table beside the bed. She had lost more than the 
six hundred for the hotel bill that morning. 

The obese stranger said something Paula did not hear and left the room and 
she immediately got out of bed and walked gingerly toward the bathroom. Her 
anus burned with pain, and she was sure it was bleeding. 

Once in the bathroom, she put out her cigarette and started the water 
roaring. The hotter the better, she thought. That's what Wade had told her. 
Wade! 

Watching the bathwater, she remembered what the hotel manager had told her. 
There was one way she could raise the money... yeah, one way, Wade Jackson. 
With hardly any hesitation she had allowed the manager to call Wade for her, 
and explain the whole situation. Half an hour later he had arrived with the 
six hundred dollars cash, told her to pack her things and took her from the 
hotel to his car. 

Still half in tears over Jed, she wasn't aware of what was happening to her 
when Wade took her to his penthouse apartment and told her to unpack. 
Shocked, she refused at first, but he told her he needed a maid, and she 
could work off the money she had owed him. 

Finally, she consented, thinking that she could work it off as his maid, but 
two days later she discovered differently, when he came into her room and 
raped her. Unable to resist for long, she succumbed to his rape and spent 
the next two weeks in his bed, learning more about sex than most women learn 
in a lifetime. 

She didn't love Wade, but she had come to like him for his kindness to her, 
such as flowers, a fur coat and jewelry. At the time it didn't seem to be 
too bad; she had become his mistress, and he did treat her well taking her 
with him wherever he went. She was nurturing her hatred for Jed, but it 
didn't possess her, not until she found out what Wade really wanted. 

Paula tried not to think about it, but when she gently lowered herself into 
the tub, the pain forced her memory to work. The hot water on her ruptured 
anus seemed to burn throughout her entire body. "The bastards!" she said 
aloud, thinking of Jed and Wade as the pain seared through her abdomen and 
down into her tortured rectum. No one on earth could be worse than those 
two, she thought. 

Everything with Wade had been fine until the night he brought a guest to the 
apartment and left the man alone with her. She didn't know his name, but 
when he kept making advances to her and she refused he got angry and told 
her that he had paid Wade a hundred dollars for her, and he was going to get 
his money's worth. 

Well, he got his money's worth, she thought bitterly, and so had many other 
strange men since that night. The only difference was that now Paula got 
half of all she made. She was in constant demand, in so much demand that 
Wade had rented a special apartment for her to work in as well as one to 
live in. Paula would entertain usually three or four times a night at 
generally fifty to a hundred dollars a trick, depending on what they wanted. 

But it was no kind of life for her. She wanted out so badly and had begged 
Wade again and again for release, but he only threatened her with prison and 
disgrace. If she didn't play his game, everyone in Davenport and Miami would 
know what Paula Moore did for a living. 

She sat soaking in the tub, slowly washing her breasts and upper torso with 
a thickly lathered washrag. This is living? she thought. This is a living 
death, and I want out. But how? She couldn't do it alone, and most men she 
met would scorn her, and any man she would meet would probably want money, 
then leave her no better off than she was. There had to be some kind of man 
for her, someone who would care enough to take her out of this hell and into 
a real life. 

There just had to be. 

Chapter Two 

Sammy Wynn fumbled in his pocket for a book of matches, trying to ignore the 
greasy odor of the burning hamburger that was cooking on the grill. It had 
taken him nearly ten minutes to get the waitress' attention, and then she 
had fouled up his order so that he had to tell her three times that he 
wanted a hamburger with no catsup. 

He nervously lit his cigarette and watched her put catsup on the burned 
hamburger bun, spilling some on herself at the same time. Christ, he 
thought, what the hell am I doing here? 

Sammy had asked himself that question nearly every day for ten years, ever 
since the night he and his older brother had been caught stealing two cases 
of beer from an unattended truck. He was twelve years old that night, but 
with the arrival of two uniformed policemen, he started a record of arrests 
that would follow him wherever he went. 

He picked up the hamburger, remembering his mother's reaction to his minor 
crime. She had high hopes for him, having already given up on his brother. 
So when the pair was arrested she cried for days over Sammy. He tried to 
console her but to no avail. She repeatedly called him jailbird and thief. 

Stealing the beer had only been a prank, but with his mother's constant 
ribbing and the fact that word of his arrest had spread through the 
overcrowded school he attended, it soon became a badge of honor. Sammy had 
become a man in the eyes of his peers, a man who had stolen, a man with a 
record. He tried to resist their praise, but his efforts were hopeless. 
After his arrest he had become a celebrity, constantly sought after to tell 
his story of crime and arrest, and the brutality of the police. 

He tried to get his school work done, and seemed to possess a great deal 
more ability than his fellows, but his popularity prevented his study. They 
demanded his company, revering him as a leader in their impoverished 
community of underprivileged boys, many of whom would become criminals 
themselves in a few short years. His studies took second place to his role 
as a celebrity, and soon were neglected altogether. 

By the time Sammy was sixteen it was hopeless. He had to quit school to help 
his mother support his five younger brothers, all of whom ate more than 
their share, but all of them studied, and none of them stole. When he quit 
school he thought he would return within a year, but naturally he didn't. 
Life in Chicago's south side offered nothing to a young man with little 
money. He was able to shoot a little pool, and gamble in back alley crap 
games, but nothing else was left. 

There were no girls who could share his thoughts. Most of them had neither 
the intelligence nor the interest to hear anything but stories of excitement 
and brushes with the law. Sammy's active mind had no use for them. He 
refused to take drugs, and more times than he could count, he had refused to 
take part in crimes that his cronies had offered him a piece of. It was hard 
enough to get a job without adding more arrests to his record. 

Sammy bit into a soggy potato chip as he thought about his past life in the 
slums. The food in this restaurant was much the same as that in Chicago, 
except that there were less flies for some reason. He remembered the 
different warehouse jobs he had held, and the miserable year he had spent in 
the packing house, cleaning the stomachs of slaughtered cows. He could still 
recall the smell vividly. 

He remembered the night he had come home, the slaughterhouse smell all over 
his clothes, to find his mother lying on the kitchen floor. He had rushed to 
her and lifted her limp head but it was too late to do more than call the 
emergency rescue squad. If he had had a father it never would have happened, 
he thought bitterly, but it had. 

His mother had worked herself half to death trying to support her children. 
Now she needed support, especially for the hospital bills. It was then, at 
eighteen, that Sammy turned to crime for his own self-support as well as 
hers. 

At first he tried burglary. His quick mind enabled him to form almost 
elaborate plans, and his physical agility allowed him access to places where 
most thieves would not have tried. But the business was too risky, and after 
a year he gave it up, trying afterwards to establish a small protection 
racket in the surrounding neighborhoods. 

He made enough money to get by, and though his mother was out of the 
hospital, she could not work at all, forcing him to support the whole 
family. Sammy was smart enough, though, to make deals with the syndicate, 
and keep himself out of trouble with them. But soon, his take was reduced 
further and further as the syndicate took a larger and larger percentage of 
his illicit earnings. 

The bastards, Sammy thought, as he wiped the catsup off his chin and reached 
for another cigarette. They had forced him to expand further until he was 
carrying a pistol and planning robberies. Finally, just a week before his 
twenty-second birthday, Sammy and two friends held up a jewelry store in 
broad daylight. 

They didn't have a chance. One was shot leaving, the store, and the other 
was tackled by a burly policeman. Sammy had run for blocks before he 
stopped. Time had ran out for him and he had to leave town. 

That's what did it, he thought angrily, a lousy jewelry store stick-up and 
I'm forced out of town like a hunted animal. He didn't think his friends 
would tell who he was, but he couldn't have taken the chance. 

On the train out of Chicago he had read a tourist's add for the glamorous 
city of Miami. It was there he had thought he could make a fresh start. 

Fresh start, bull! he thought as he left the restaurant. Wade Jackson gave 
me a fresh start alright, a fresh start on crime. 

Sammy had met Wade on his first night in Miami two weeks ago. The pair had a 
good time with a couple of Wade's girlfriends, and Sammy thought he was a 
pretty fair sport. It was only after Sammy had told him that he needed a job 
that he discovered Wade's true business. 

But after all, it was a job, and for the time being, Sammy needed the money. 

Wade Jackson's enterprise enveloped every hotel and nearly all the motels in 
Miami. Miami, the convention city, had more tourists and conventioneers than 
any one man could handle, but Wade made the effort anyway. He controlled the 
lives of over a hundred prostitutes in every part of the city. They catered 
strictly within certain areas, and each was expected to make a quota of 
"tricks" each week, some more than others. Often Wade's contacts made the 
arrangements for the girls, but many were on their own. They were all 
carefully watched and had to account for every cent they were suspected of 
making. If they didn't make quota, or held out some of the money, they were 
dealt with severely. 

A few of the girls knew each other, meeting at some of Wade's 'specially 
arranged parties, but no one person know enough to really hurt the 
organization. 

Sammy, himself, had already come into contact with twenty-one of the girls; 
he was a collector. Each week he was responsible to pick up twenty-five 
thousand dollars in cash from his twenty-five girls, his reward being one 
percent of the take, which came to a nice round two hundred and fifty 
dollars a week. In a few months he would be able to quit and find something 
else, including different restaurants to eat in. 

But for now, he had four more collections to make before his first week on 
the job was finished. He looked at the addresses in his notebook and started 
the car. With luck he could be finished in two hours. 

Chapter Three 

"Breakfast is ready," Pamela Lee called up the stairs. 

Jeff didn't answer his wife's call, but walked down the stairs, stopping for 
a moment in front of a mirror to straighten his tie. At forty he already had 
a distinguishing streak of grey at his temples that offset his 
youthful-looking face. He thought that the grey was one of his rewards for 
being the managing editor of one of Miami's largest newspapers. His 
professionalism had earned him an impeccable reputation across the country, 
as well as in the city, a reputation he sometimes regretted. 

"Hi, Honey," he greeted his wife as he entered the dining room, and looked 
at her admiringly. 

Though ten years younger than her husband, Pamela made an almost perfect 
wife. She loved her husband as much as he loved her, and focused all of her 
concern around him and their life together. 

They had met in Washington, had dated for nearly a year before they were 
married. And each day of the past three years had been good to them both, 
even through the small quarrels that all married people suffer. 

Pamela ensured good food, a clean house and good company for her husband 
without fail. Only one point of friction remained between them. Her concern 
for social acceptance. She felt it proper that they be a part of the same 
circle of socially elite people that she had known before they were married. 
She had argued that it was important for his work, but he countered that he 
didn't give a damn. Pamela knew it irritated him, but thought she was right 
and would not relent, though she tried not to bring the subject into 
conversation too often. She hoped to convert him by a soft-sell technique. 

But society pages were the furthest from Jeff's mind as he sat at the table 
and unfolded his napkin. For more than two years, ever since he had been 
offered the job in Miami, Jeff had been occupied by one thought: 
prostitution. 

He examined his poached egg and began to eat. His morning occupation 
consisted of scanning his own paper's night edition, then his competitors' 
products, making mental notes of errors in each between bites of breakfast. 

"Hmmf," he grunted after he finished and picked up his coffee cup. There had 
been nothing of any consequence in any of the papers, with the exception of 
the editorials in his own. I wish no news were really good news, he thought. 

Every morning Pamela watched him read the papers and wolf down his 
breakfast, while she sat silently across from him. She knew that he didn't 
want to be disturbed, and so never said anything until he finished reading 
and gave his usual, "Hmmf." She knew now, that he was ready for 
conversation. 

"What's the matter, Jeff," she asked as she did every morning. 

"The same old thing," he replied, not really wanting to talk. 

"How's your other work going then," she asked, slightly annoyed by his curt 
answer. 

"Don't get me started on that so early," he answered her, not wanting to get 
into an argument. Pamela would always listen, he thought, but it all goes 
right over her head. She was too naive to believe that anything like 
organized prostitution would take place in Miami. 

"Please," she asked, "I want to know." 

"Alright," he said, "You asked for it. Yesterday I finally got a name. Not 
just any name, but the name of the head of this organization that you don't 
think exists." 

Pamela looked at him attentively, though she didn't really care about the 
so-called syndicate because she had made up her mind that there was no such 
thing. 

"Ready for a shock," he continued. "Try Wade Jackson." 

Pamela uttered an audible gasp and for a moment was stunned. Then it came to 
her; he was only joking, and she began to laugh. 

"Think it's funny?" he asked, his brow furrowed in growing anger. 

"But Jeff, he's no criminal. Why-why Wade Jackson donates thousands of 
dollars to charities each year. I ought to know, I'm on enough committees. 
Wade Jackson, really!" 

Just like a woman, Jeff thought. Totally illogical, and won't believe 
anything she doesn't want to. 

"He's not the only one," he told her. "Why do you think none of the money in 
town will give me any support?" 

But Pamela wasn't listening. If Jeff was going to behave like this, then she 
wouldn't hear a word he said. After all, men like Wade Jackson don't give 
money to the needy and helpless, then turn around and operate prostitution 
rings. It was too ridiculous to even consider. 

But Jeff had started, and nothing would stop him until he was finished. 
"Most of your precious society friends who have any political or business 
control don't want me to stop Jackson. I've seen every one possible, and 
only one will help. Of course, they won't say no, but they won't help 
either. 

"If you have any idea of how much tourist money flows through this city each 
week, you wouldn't believe it. But that's not all, damnit. Jackson is raking 
off millions each year from his girls and gives a pittance to the right 
people and a few charities, justifying his position as a man of good 
standing. 

"Miami could live more than well enough off of legitimate tourist money and 
taxes, but people like Jackson are ruining it. And I'll be Goddamned if I'm 
going to raise my kids in a town that will turn to filth if it isn't 
stopped!" 

At Jeff's "children" Pamela awoke from her dreams of the winter ball. She 
and Jeff both wanted children, but the problem for her was the sexual 
intercourse. Pamela thought she enjoyed it with Jeff, but surely not as much 
as he did. Her mother had told her all about the ugly things that men had 
done to women, and Pamela had subconsciously hidden the words, but not the 
feelings. She felt that more than once a week was excessive, even though 
Jeff demanded more. She knew that once they had a baby they could cut down 
on their sexual activity and he wouldn't object. 

"I just wish you would come out of the clouds and try to understand," he 
almost pleaded with her. "Too many people have ignored the problem for too 
long, and if they continue there's just no telling what might happen." 

"Jeff, I do try to understand, but are you sure you're on the right track?" 

Jeff sighed and shrugged his shoulders. It's no use, he thought as he got up 
from the table and went to the closet for his jacket. It's not her fault she 
doesn't understand, but for Christ's sake... 

"Have a good day," she said as she kissed him softly on the cheek, her right 
arm holding his waist. 

"You, too," he replied and walked out the door toward his car. 

Why can't they all understand, he thought as he pulled out of the driveway. 
The city's businesses and a few money hungry men are either too afraid or 
too greedy to do something about Jackson, and the rest of them are like Pam. 
If she and her friends at the country club could see some of the things I 
have seen at night, they might change their minds. 

Jeff kept driving toward the office where he would put in an appearance 
before continuing to follow more leads that he had gotten the night before. 
He thought about his wife and her archaic idea that no one with money could 
be bad. If only he could convince her without shocking her too much. The 
conventions could be the answer, and the most important of all conventions, 
the National Republican Party Convention, was in town. If he were to take 
Pamela with him that evening she could see what happens afterwards in hotel 
rooms, or at least in the bars. But then, it might be too much too soon. 
There must be something to make her see, but what? 

Chapter Four 

"Paula Moore," Sammy said aloud as he sat in his car in front of one of the 
larger hotels. He was to meet her in the cocktail lounge and wait if she 
wasn't there. 

She's probably like the rest, he thought as he walked through the revolving 
door and headed toward the bar. Sammy had seen twenty-four girls during the 
week, and none of them were beautiful, though some were attractive. He 
wondered how they got the prices they asked for. Even the better looking 
ones wouldn't be accepted in any beauty contest, that was for Goddamn sure, 
he thought. 

In a moment he entered the lounge and waited for his eyes to adjust to the 
blue darkness. There were two men sitting at one end of the long bar, 
glancing at a single girl who sat near the center. Their conversation was 
half whispered, but anyone could tell they were talking about the 
dark-haired girl. Eager to get this last confrontation over with he walked 
toward her swiftly, hoping that she was the one. 

"Paula Moore?" he asked, expecting to see another thirty-year-old woman who 
had been through too much. 

Sammy barely heard her say, "Yes?" 

Even in the half-light of the cocktail lounge he could see that she was the 
most beautiful girl he had ever met. She wore no more make-up than a normal 
woman, and had accented every feature of her near-perfect face. He could see 
the straight line of her finely chiseled nose and the outline of her soft, 
almost glowing cheeks. 

"Yes," she said again, "I'm Paula Moore. What do you want?" 

Sammy could hardly speak as he watched her lips stop speaking and close in 
puzzled silence. His eyes followed her chin and the sleek line of her neck 
before he caught hold of himself. 

"I'm S-Sammy Wynn," he finally said. 

"Are you sure," she said sarcastically, pleased with herself. 

"I'm from Wade," Sammy said immediately, wanting to slap her back for being 
so quick with him. 

He was almost pleased with himself until he saw her face drop its smiling 
mask and almost tremble. 

He didn't want to hurt her, not a girl as beautiful as this. 

"Don't be afraid," he told her. "Come on, let's sit in a booth." 

Paula obeyed as if she were a well-trained puppy, and quickly followed him 
to a nearby booth. She nearly gasped aloud when he stopped and offered her a 
seat before sitting himself. None of Wade's hoods had ever been polite to 
her. Most of them treated her like a common streetwalker, and in fact, had 
all taken her services at one time or another. It was in their unspoken 
contract, and she could do nothing about it. 

Paula watched him curiously as he called to the cocktail waitress and 
ordered two scotch and waters before she could protest. As soon as the 
cocktail waitress left she told him that she couldn't drink anything but tea 
while she was on duty. 

"Don't worry about it," Sammy replied. "I'm not going to tell anyone about 
it, if you won't." 

This is too much, she thought, but then, he is awfully young, almost as 
young as I am. Her mind wondered about Sammy as they waited for their 
drinks, which were delivered shortly. Neither of them spoke, each waiting 
for the other to make a move. Sammy, his eyes glued to the sensuous woman 
across from him, had nothing to say. He only wanted to look, while Paula, at 
the same time, was curious about Wade's new hireling, but was unsure of 
herself. Tonight was pickup night for her money, yet the young man had said 
nothing. He seemed polite, she thought, and much too young to be working for 
Wade, besides, she seemed to see a glimmer of intelligence behind his eyes. 
Finally she spoke: "Did Wade send you to tell me something?" 

"You're beautiful," he answered in his South Chicago accent. 

"Wade said that?" she burst out laughing. 

Sammy flushed and a broad grin spread across his handsome young face. He was 
embarrassed by his awkwardness, but pleased that she laughed, and he joined 
her laughter. 

"N-No," he finally managed through his laughter. "I mean, I think you're 
beautiful." 

Pamela stopped laughing and looked at the young man, one hand resting on her 
half-exposed full breast. He's really serious, she thought. I'm a prostitute 
sitting in a bar waiting for a customer, and he's serious. 

"Why, thank you," she said in astonishment. 

If he were any of the others, she thought, he would just be on the make, 
wanting her body, and willing to pay for it. But he's different, and she 
knew she was right. 

She raised her glass and toasted, "To you." 

Sammy couldn't stop smiling, pleased that she seemed to like him, and that 
she didn't think he was like the rest of Wade's henchmen. Wade crossed his 
mind, and he remembered why he had come. If she's going to like me, he 
thought, I'll have to be honest. 

Paula put her drink on the table and was surprised when Sammy said, "I'd 
better tell you right now that I'm here for the collection." 

"Oh," she said, pretending that she was sure of it all the time. So maybe he 
was like the rest of them after all. 

Quickly, before she could open her purse to give him her week's take, he 
spoke again. "I-I don't want you to think I'm like the rest of Wade's men," 
he said, almost pleading for acceptance. "I just need the money right now, 
and as soon as I make enough, I'll quit." 

"I understand," she said, wanting to believe him, but sorry that he was so 
naive. 

"No you don't," he said, almost angrily. "You don't understand Chicago, or 
slums, or what happens to people who never have anything. I never wanted to 
be working for someone like Wade. I never wanted to have anything to do with 
crime. It's just that, well..." 

And Sammy continued to talk for almost an hour, stopping only long enough to 
order more drinks. He had never been able to talk to anyone before, 
especially a girl, but this one seemed different. She listened, and he 
thought that she understood as he poured out the years of bitterness, the 
years that he spent pretending to be a hero because he had stolen a case of 
beer once. He told her the whole story, his voice angry at times, sad at 
others. No one had known Sammy Wynn before, but he wanted her to know him. 

"... And so," he continued, "I never finished school, never had a chance to 
go to college. But I suppose, even if I had finished high school, I wouldn't 
have had the money to go to college." 

Paula stared at him, no words coming from her lips. She could feel the salty 
tears that had formed in her eyes. Here was someone who shared something 
with her. She knew his pain and felt his losses, losses that, though not 
exactly like hers, had had the same effect on his life. They were two people 
who had not been masters of their own lives. Circumstances beyond their 
control had brought them together, under Wade Jackson, to sit together in a 
dimly lit cocktail lounge and communicate like human beings. 

"Oh, Sammy," she whispered, and put out her hand to touch his. "If only I 
could tell you..." 

"You can," he said, knowing that they had found something together. "Try it. 
I just found out that telling someone you trust helps and I'm glad I told 
you. Go ahead and try." 

Slowly at first she began to speak, afraid that he might not understand as 
she had. She began with her father's death, the job, and then faltered when 
she started to talk about Jed Dearborn. But, when she looked at Sammy, she 
stopped hesitating and told him the whole story, right up to the present. 

"Well," she said when she had finished. "What do you think?" 

"Not, what do I think," he said, "But how do you feel?" 

Paula thought for a moment. How do I feel? The hate was gone. That's right, 
the hate is gone. When her mind pictured Jed and Wade, she could only feel 
pity for them, sharpened by a tinge of disgust, but at least no more hate. 

"I feel like a weight has been taken off me," she told Sammy in amazement. 
"It's almost too good to be true." 

More than two hours had passed since they had ordered drinks and began 
talking. Sammy's eyes had roamed over every inch of her that he could see, 
savoring the fine smooth skin of her breasts that lay half-exposed from her 
low-cut dress, displaying their firm fullness. He had heard every word she 
had said, but his mind could not refuse his imagined pleasures of her 
luscious body. He watched, listened and learned more about her, feeling more 
and more emotion for her until he could no longer stand it. 

During a pause in their conversation he finally blurted, "If you weren't... 
I mean... If I had the money... I'd," he groped for the words, "I'd like to 
make love with you." 

Paula looked up from her drink, surprised that he would say such a thing, 
but when she saw his blushing face, she knew what he meant. How else, she 
thought, could he tell me he cared for me. His talk had mentioned girls only 
casually. He's probably never had a steady girl friend, so how would he know 
how to tell me, a whore, he cares? 

"Why, Sammy?" she asked, wanting to see if he could answer to satisfy her. 

"I don't know," he replied. "I mean, it's not like you think. I don't want 
you like all..." 

"Like all those other men, Sammy?" 

"Yeah, I mean, no, not like them. I know I haven't known you very long," he 
said, not knowing that she thought his little speech was cute, "But I think 
I know you pretty good and, well, I like you." 

Sammy stopped talking and looked like he had been deflated from the effort. 
He had never told any girl that he cared for her before, and the commitment 
had been almost too much for him. He was afraid she would react differently, 
either thinking that he was just looking for a piece of tail, or that she 
didn't like him, really, and would reject him. Silently he watched for her 
reaction. 

"You look like you've just been busted," she said smiling at him. 

Sammy sat up a little, not sure if she were teasing him or not. He was too 
unsure of himself to know that she did care, and was touched by the way he 
had blurted out his confession. 

"Are you afraid I'll turn you down," she asked him. "Don't be ridiculous. I 
may be in for trouble for it, but I think that after talking with you for 
the last two hours I should be able to judge not only you, but my own 
feelings." 

Sammy's face became all grin as she talked. He wasn't going to be rejected. 
They would be able to make love, maybe on her day off, which wouldn't be 
until the convention was over, but be could wait. He could wait a long time 
for a beautiful girl like her. 

"And, well," she continued. "We're spending too much of your money buying 
drinks here. Let's drive over to my place." 

Unbelievable! She wanted him too, and tonight, not in a week. His eyes 
gleamed with satisfaction and a hint of desire. He wanted her, and wanted 
her badly. Maybe this was his fresh start. 

Misunderstanding his expression she said, "Don't worry about the syndicate. 
I make a hell of a lot more money than they think I do and it'll be no 
problem at all to take a few bucks extra and tell them I worked all night." 

"No," he interrupted. "I didn't think that, I just..." 

"Paula!" a voice from the bar yelled. "Telephone." 

She started to stand and Sammy got up with her, picking up her coat. "No, 
wait," she said. "I'll have to answer it, they know I'm here." 

Sammy knew exactly what she meant. Each girl who worked for Jackson had a 
specific area of responsibility, a place where she would work from and could 
be contacted if not at home, or wherever she took her customers. It reminded 
him that she was, after all, still a hooker, no matter how beautiful, or how 
wonderful he thought she was, she was still a prostitute. But for the 
moment, he didn't care, he cared for her more than he had for any girl he 
had ever met, and what she did for a living could be either ignored or 
changed. His thoughts raced as he watched her firm sensuous buttocks move in 
perfect rhythm as she walked to the telephone. 

"Hello," she said into the receiver, "This is Paula." 

"Hi, Baby, Red." 

Red, she thought, big ugly Red, one of Wade's "in crowd". She remembered him 
from the first, always hanging around, guarding Wade's precious body, and 
when Wade had turned her out, Red had been one of the first of the gang to 
take advantage of her new business. He had been rough and surly with her, 
and left her in a great deal of pain. But she couldn't hate him either, not 
since meeting Sammy. He was just another blob among the many blobs in her 
life. 

"How's business tonight," he asked, wanting her to remember his superiority. 

"Fair," she answered, wanting to say as little as she could to him. 

"Well, I'm gonna make it better for ya," he continued. "We've lined up a 
helluva trick for ya. He's willin' to pay two bills for just an hour, so put 
on some fresh makeup and be down here right away." 

Not now, she thought. "But, Red, I've got another big one right here, and I 
don't want to turn him down." 

"I don't give a rat's ass," he said. "These is orders from the boss!" 

"Alright," she said, hoping to hang up immediately. 

"One more thing, Baby. Has that new collector been around yet?" 

"He just left," she lied. "He said he had to check on something before he 
could get back to turn the money in." 

"Good," he said, sure that he had a good worker in the young Sammy. "See ya 
in fifteen minutes," and he hung up. 

Paula stood for a moment with the phone still at her ear. When Red told her 
to be somewhere she had to be there, or suffer a beating like she had when 
she refused one time before. She remembered they had caught her at the 
airport and taken her back to Wade's where after four of them had used her, 
they beat her so badly she couldn't work for three weeks. If they found out 
that she would refuse to be with Sammy, especially for nothing, it could be 
worse, maybe for both of them. 

"Who was that," Sammy's voice said from behind her. 

"Oh, Sammy," she cried, turning to bury her head against his strong 
shoulder. "That was Red," she said starting to cry. "He said there's a 
customer for me, one that I have to see..." Her voice broke off, choked with 
emotion. 

There's no way out, she thought, trying to find a way to explain to the 
first man who had moved her in a long time that she must go, or face the 
consequences. She knew that she had done the right thing to tell Sammy, 
though she didn't want him to be hurt, and didn't want him to remember that 
she was still nothing but a prostitute. 

If he could only understand what they would do to me, she thought. If he 
could only see what I had looked like when they had finished with me before. 
I can't lie to him, her mind rationalized through the veil of tears. We've 
got to start off right. 

"Are-are you going?" he asked, his own throat tight, trying to hold back a 
choking sob. He knew the answer before he had asked, but one last ray of 
hope held him, pleading with an unknown force to change what was happening. 

"Oh, Sammy," she cried again, not seeing that the bartender stood nearby, 
listening to every word. 

"Come on," he said roughly. "I'll drive you over." 

"You're so sweet," she said. "But it would be better if I took a cab. I'd 
better just go alone." 

Sammy knew that she didn't want to go, but knew also, that she must. He was 
too new in town, and she meant too much to him to be hurt for disobeying 
orders. His heart went out for her and her plight, more than for his own 
temporary loss, but he held himself back. 

"I'll walk you out then," he said, controlling his voice. 

Without answering she allowed him to help her with her coat, all the time 
thinking of what she must go through. She remembered the fat ugly man from 
the night before, the one who had sodomized her for the first time, forcing 
her to do things that went against her very nature, degrading her in her own 
eyes. A tool, that's what I am, she thought bitterly, nothing more than a 
fucking machine for terrible old men who can't get a girl any other way. I 
might as well have never been born for all the good I've done myself. How 
stupid! Why couldn't I have met Sammy a year and a half ago? Why did it have 
to be now, as a whore peddling her wares in a bar? 

Sammy knew what she was thinking as they walked outside and he hailed a cab, 
but couldn't find words to console her. If there were only a way to be free, 
a way to control my own life as well as hers, he thought. Then it would be 
different, and we wouldn't have to bow to anyone. 

Paula got into the taxi he had called with a shrill whistle and gave the 
driver an address. She didn't want to look at Sammy, or say goodbye, but she 
couldn't possibly leave without something, she thought. 

"Will you wait for me," she asked. "I know it's too much to ask, but..." 

His voice cut her off, "Of course, I'll wait," he said, controlling his 
feelings, trying to make her feel that it would be alright. 

He recognized his anger, but contained it, not giving her the slightest idea 
how he felt. If she really wants to come back, he thought, then she will. 
But he couldn't get the picture of her being with another man out of his 
mind, no matter how well he tried to rationalize the situation. 

Sammy stepped back from the curb as the yellow cab pulled away. He could see 
her tears as she turned and waved back at him, blowing a small but 
meaningful kiss at him as the taxi turned the corner. 

Well, fuck it! he thought and turned back toward the bar. She's gone and I 
couldn't change it, so what the hell, I'll just get drunk, he declared 
silently to himself. 

"Double scotch and a water back," he called to the bartender as he 
re-entered the cocktail lounge. 

The two men sitting at the bar watched him with interest as he stumbled past 
them, already half drunk from the previous two hours drinking. If I'm gonna 
get drunk, he thought glancing at the two men, I'm gonna do it right. 

The drink went down fast and hard and he chased it with a large gulp of ice 
water, trying not to think of the girl he had just seen drive away. 

But in the taxi just a few blocks away, Paula fought with herself in mute 
anger and frustration. She kept thinking of what Wade's henchmen might do to 
her, knowing that it would be much worse than the beating she had received 
months before. But her mind could not free itself from Sammy's grip. He's so 
wonderful and kind, she thought. I know he's afraid for me, and he doesn't 
want to see me hurt. Oh, God, I just can't! 

"Driver," she said, urgency straining in her voice. "Driver, take me back to 
the hotel!" 

There, she thought, I've done it and God help me, she added in silent 
prayer. She knew she wouldn't back out now, not after feeling the relief 
that was flooding through her firm round breasts. She had made the decision 
and would stick with it, and stick with Sammy. I'll do anything for him, she 
thought as the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel. 

She nearly jumped out, throwing a five dollar bill on the front seat and not 
waiting for the change as she ran through the revolving door and headed for 
the open door of the cocktail lounge. 

"Sammy!" she cried as she burst through the door into the darkness. 

Sitting at the bar hunched over his third double scotch in almost as many 
minutes, Sammy was startled to hear her unexpected voice. For a split second 
he thought he was hearing things, but he had to turn around to be sure. 

It was true! 

Paula stood silhouetted in the doorway, tears streaming down her face. Sammy 
looked only long enough to be sure that he wasn't seeing an alcohol fogged 
mirage then jumped off the stool and ran to her. 

"Oh, Sammy, Sammy!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. 

She felt complete, and sure that she had made the right decision as she felt 
his closeness. It was so good to feel a man who cared, a man who could love 
her for herself and not just her body, she thought ecstatically. 

Wanting him as she had no other man, Paula held him tighter and pressed her 
lips to his, tasting the heavy sting of scotch in his mouth as she plunged 
her eager tongue into his mouth and brushed the wet insides of his lips, 
trying to tell him that she was his. Paula and Sammy, she thought. No, Sammy 
and Paula; that was better. 

After a long extended kiss, Sammy pulled back and held her soft face gently 
in his cupped hands. 

"I can't believe it," he said. "It's too..." 

"Don't say anything now," she interrupted. "I want you so badly. Please, 
take me home." 

Their arms around each other, they walked slowly out of the bar, knowing 
that they needn't hurry now, that they would have all night. They didn't, 
however, know that every word they had said had been carefully overheard by 
George, the bartender; every word that he would later remember when asked. 

*** 

The key clicked in the metal lock and the door swung open. Sammy stood back 
and let Paula enter. He followed her in, carefully looking at the decor, 
surprised that her apartment was decorated in Early American, neat and 
expensive. 

"I'll be just a minute," she said without turning around. "I want to change 
first, so fix yourself a drink and one for me too." 

He did as she asked and then walked around the apartment, examining 
everything carefully, curious about the things that she hadn't told him, 
things that he must learn for himself. 

"Like it?" she asked, coming back into the room in a bright red robe. "I've 
decorated everything myself." 

"It's nice," he said, hesitating to say anything more. 

Sammy could not help thinking that this was where she had had so many men in 
her bed, the same bed that he was going to make love to her in. 

Sensing that something was wrong Paula walked to him and put both arms 
around his neck, and drew his whole body to her, at the same time inserting 
one leg between his. She could feel his tight, muscular thighs and the bulge 
of his penis, still soft, yet slowly filling with blood, growing with each 
breath. 

He could smell the soft aroma of her hair as she crushed her lips to his. It 
had been so long since he had had a woman, and never before had he wanted a 
girl as much as he wanted Paula. He inhaled deeply, then let go of his grip 
on her. He couldn't help thinking that this was where she did her work, just 
beyond the bedroom door. There were too many thoughts running through his 
head each contradicting the other. He wanted to climb into bed with her and 
make love as wildly as he could, and yet at the same time he couldn't forget 
all the others, the others who had paid her for screwing her. 

"Let's have some coffee," he said suddenly. 

Surprised, Paula let go of him and agreed to make some. Her intuition told 
her that he was being reserved, but she didn't know why. Perhaps, she 
thought, he's got a sex problem, or maybe he's just afraid. She giggled 
slightly, thinking how nice it would be if he really were afraid. 

"What's funny?" he asked, thinking that she might be laughing at him. 

"Oh, nothing," she replied. "You're just sweet, that's all." 

Sammy smiled and followed her into the kitchen, watching the graceful 
movements of her sleek young body as she walked, almost bouncing. She's 
really somethin', he thought, trying to remember if he had ever made love to 
a woman as beautiful and sensuous as Paula. 

Minutes later she poured hot black coffee from the ceramic pot. "Black?" she 
asked, turning to face him. 

"That's fine," he answered, trying to think of something to say to her, 
something that would relieve the tension he felt both in his mind and 
between his thighs. 

"Come on," she said, breaking the momentary silence. "I've got to wash all 
this makeup off, and I don't want to leave you even for a minute." 

Sammy obeyed and followed her through the bedroom to the large white 
bathroom that she had decorated with prints of movie stars. He stood 
quietly, looking at the prints while she turned the water on in the basin. 

"Have a seat," she said gaily, pointing to the toilet with a dramatic 
gesture. 

Sammy grinned and sat down, feeling awkward at being in her bathroom while 
she was there. 

"Those a hobby?" he asked, pointing at the pictures. 

"No, not really. I got them on sale, and couldn't think of any other place 
to put them." 

Sammy said nothing as he watched her bend over the washbasin and begin 
soaping the makeup away from her face. His eyes took careful note of her 
features, trying to think of someone to compare them to. She was so natural, 
so free, he thought, suddenly remembering that she wasn't really free. His 
eyes caught the front of her robe as she bent, exposing her breasts from 
beneath the open front. They hung gently without a bra, and yet retained 
their perfect shape, almost staring back at him from the tips of their 
sensitive pink nipples. 

Paula looked up from between her soapy hands and saw him staring at her. She 
knew that he was watching her breasts, and somehow felt a little embarrassed 
at having him look at her naked breasts, even though so many men had seen 
her completely nude, and used her. But she knew that Sammy wouldn't use her 
like they had. He would make love to her, not just fuck her like the others 
had. 

"How much did you collect this week," she asked, wanting him to talk to her. 

"Huh," he said, surprised at the sudden sound of her deep sensuous voice. 
"Oh, about twenty-five grand." 

She whistled. 

"Yeah, it's a lot of dough, alright. I wish it were mine instead of Wade's, 
but that's the story of my life." 

"I didn't know it was that much," she said, still amazed by the vastness of 
the sum. "Just think how much the girls could make by themselves if they 
didn't have to give him half or more." 

It was coming out into the open, Sammy thought as she spoke. If he was going 
to make love to her, he would have to let it out. He would have to know if 
this was where she screwed all those men for money. 

"I remember," he said softly, "How much you gave me tonight. But, well, how 
much do you charge everybody." 

Realizing now what was bothering him, she answered, leaving enough room for 
him to continue later. "Well, it all depends. Usually it's a hundred for a 
short-timer," she said, immediately regretting that she had said short timer 
so lightly. "Sometimes the prices are higher, like the one Red called me 
about tonight. But then other times I even go as low as fifty backs if I'm 
having a slow night." 

Sammy could hardly believe his ears. She was talking about it just as if it 
were a regular business and not prostitution. He felt sparks of anger and 
the ache of disappointment as he listened. He wanted her so much, but she 
seemed to be ruining everything. 

Still washing her face, Paula waited for Sammy to say something. If they 
were going to have anything at all between them, she thought, then he would 
have to understand that she was a prostitute, and nothing else. If he could 
accept that for the time being, then later on there would be no problems. 
Please, she thought, say it now, and get it over with. 

"How, uh, how many guys do you usually have a night," he finally asked, 
shrugging his shoulders as if he were ashamed of the question. 

"Generally about four," she said quickly. 

Now the clincher, she thought. If he can take it, now will be the time. 

Sammy's voice cracked, "Do you, I mean, where do you do it?" 

"Oh, Sammy," she cried aloud and turned from the basin, putting her arms 
around him and sitting on his lap. "I couldn't, I just couldn't even think 
of making love with you in a business bed. No, my Darling, I've never 
brought anyone else here. This is my home and my refuge, and if you want, it 
can be yours, too." 

Thank God, he thought, completely relieved. He knew suddenly why she had 
talked so matter-of-factly about her business. She was so natural, so 
beautiful, and now that he knew this was her own home, she did seem almost 
free to him. 

He pulled her more tightly toward him, feeling her breasts crush in their 
softness against his chest. Accidentally his elbow pressed against the 
chrome handle behind him and the room filled with the sound of running water 
as the toilet flushed beneath them. 

Paula began laughing uncontrollably as Sammy's face turned beet red. What a 
way to start, she thought, laughing almost hysterically. A prostitute and 
her collection man sitting on the toilet about to make love, it's too much. 

Sammy had joined her laughter, his embarrassment easing away. He was holding 
her so that she wouldn't fall, when suddenly he felt his hand firmly placed 
over her round smooth breast. He knew that there was no reason to remove it. 
His fingers luxuriated in the softness, and felt as if they belonged on her 
round white flesh. He wanted to hold her and protect her against everything 
in the world outside. 

Paula, too, had become aware of the warm hand on her hardening breast. No 
other hand had touched her like that, she felt, so gently and firm, yet not 
demanding, not wanting what all the others had wanted. Instead of tensing as 
she had done with so many other men, she felt herself relaxing at his touch, 
while at the same time, recognized for the first time in her life, a 
tingling in her breasts as her nipples quickly filled with warm desire until 
they were tight and hard, demanding something that she had never felt 
before, not even with Jed. 

"I've never loved anyone," he said breaking the silence between them. "But 
if it's what I imagined it to be, then I feel it now." 

She wanted to believe him so badly. If it's true, she thought, if it's 
true... But she was afraid to finish the sentence in her mind. Her thoughts 
were changing to colors instead of pictures, and she could not reply or 
adjust the strange desires that were growing within her. 

"Is that too quick for you?" he asked, suddenly shifting his weight. "Maybe 
we need more time." 

He made a motion to get up, but she stopped him, bending down and gently 
touching his lips with hers, as if it were the first time. She needed him to 
know that she felt the same, even though she couldn't find the words, and 
she let her lips rest on his, softly inhaling his breath through her moist 
open lips. This has got to be right, she thought. She wanted to kiss him out 
of love, cleanly and gently, and not with the contrived manners of sex she 
had learned so well over the past months. 

They stopped for a moment staring into each other's eyes. 

"I never felt like this before," she said. "No one could have said that and 
meant it as much as you do." 

There was no need for another word, he thought, as he kissed her again, this 
time eagerly, showing her that he wanted her now. He trapped her lower lip 
between his and sucked it into his mouth, feeling her tongue, hard and wet 
slip in behind, probing at the insides of his mouth. They embraced more 
tightly, almost crushing each other with urgent strength as a fire began to 
build between his legs. 

"Let's move," she said almost breathlessly as she stood up. 

Sammy got to his feet, but was uncertain about what he should do. He knew 
what he wanted and what a man would do in a normal situation. But she was a 
prostitute and had already had other men tonight. Maybe she wouldn't be 
ready, maybe she wanted to wait. 

"Sammy, I want you," she said almost pleading. "I want you and you alone, 
more than I ever wanted anybody!" 

She turned and he followed her, but his mind couldn't rest. Why did she have 
to say something like that, always referring to other men. Maybe it was all 
the same to her. Maybe all men were alike, and she would be just performing 
again. He tried to put it out of his mind as he came up behind her beside 
the bed and looked at her, feeling his penis now hard and pressing inside 
his trousers. 

As they sat on the bed silently, he started to kiss her again, lightly 
touching the soft clean skin of her cheek. No one else has screwed her here, 
he thought, but Goddamn it, why has there ever been anyone else ever? It 
angered him to think of all those other men. Men! She had no right, he 
thought. She's mine, and mine alone. 

His hands moved over her robe to the open front and traced a path to the 
single large button that fastened it. Easily he opened it and ran his hand 
up the smooth white skin of her naked torso until he got to the top, then 
eased it from her arms and watched it flop onto the bed in a silent pile. 
His fingers roamed over her trembling breasts and across her belly exploring 
every tingling inch of her nakedness, wanting to tear at her and make love 
to her savagely until the pressure in his loins was drained. 

As she lay back onto the bed he leaned over her and began caressing the 
tight pink tip of one nipple, playing with it gently and biting it just 
enough to make her groan. He sucked the hard round end of her breast into 
his mouth and felt her tremble as she ran her hands through his hair. 

Panting through his nostrils he wanted more for his hungry mouth and began 
to move his head lower across, the soft skin of her belly. Someone else had 
made love to her tonight, he thought, but he had only fucked her. I'm gonna 
make love to her like no one ever had. She'll never want anyone else, his 
mind continued as his head moved toward the soft brown triangle of her 
loins. 

His tongue slid through the silken pubic hair that covered her vagina and 
found the pink lips that had parted in anticipation of his tongue. He turned 
his head back and forth for a moment, whiffing the honeyed smell of her 
vagina, then slipped his tongue into the warm waiting slit and ran it 
teasingly along the quivering pink flesh. 

He heard her moan as he expertly sought out her clitoris with the hard, wet 
tip of his tongue. He took it between his lips and pulled at the tiny erect 
bud making her whole body tremble as she moaned out her passion again. 

There was no guesswork now, he thought, as she trembled beneath him. He 
could feel her urgency, her need for him to fill her aching pussy with his 
swollen cock. He stood up and removed his clothing quickly, freeing his 
straining penis from its imprisonment, letting it spring up and jut straight 
from his body, pulsating in the air. It hung over her body, and he watched 
her as he removed his socks. She was the most sensual, beautiful woman he 
had ever seen, and she was his now. 

Slowly he got back onto the bed and traced a path with his lips from her 
ankle all the way along her lean supple body until he touched her mouth. As 
he kissed her his hands sought every part of her body that he could excite 
with his touch, teasing and taunting her lust-incited flesh. 

Needing him so badly she could almost scream, she sucked his tongue deep 
into her mouth, trying to pull him into her. 

"Please, Sammy!" she gasped. "Please, now!" 

Had she said that to the others, begged them like she was him, he thought. 
His jealousy only incited him more and he could feel his throbbing cock 
aching to get between the hair-lined lips of her pussy and fill the hot damp 
cavern with his sperm. 

Expertly he sought the quivering wet lips hidden in the silken hair. His 
fingers toyed for a moment with the throbbing bud of her clitoris, then 
slipped along the pink flesh to the wet opening of her cunt. 

"Oh, God!" she moaned as the tip of his probing finger slipped wetly inside. 

He knew how much she wanted him, and the thought of all the other men who 
had fucked her seemed to slip into the back of his mind as he toyed with the 
burning flesh of her pussy. 

For the first time he felt her move her hand, slipping her fingers between 
his legs and grasping his rigid cock. He felt her urge him toward her aching 
pussy as she gently stroked the rock hard cock that pulsated with every beat 
of his lust-maddened heart. Even before his massive prick touched the pink 
lips of her cunt he could feel the burning fire that was torturing her 
inside. 

"Mmmmm," she groaned softly as the smooth rubbery head touched the waiting 
opening. 

For only a second he paused, gently rocking back and forth on his knees, 
teasing the trembling opening, then suddenly he thrust his rigid cock deep 
into the burning cavern between her open thighs. 

"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped as he filled her with his pulsating prick. 

His mouth spread to a wide ecstatic grin as the wet slippery walls of her 
vagina enfolded over his throbbing cock, sucking at it with the clenching 
muscles of his desire. He sighed, his mouth wide open as he slid deeper and 
deeper into her fiery pussy until he completely filled her. 

He could feel her whole body twitching underneath him as he began to stroke 
rhythmically, feeling the hard contact of her pelvis smacking into his as he 
drove his prick in and out. 

She moved in perfect time with him, pushing and dropping her hips as his 
light groans of ecstatic pleasure spurred her to higher and higher plateaus 
of passion. 

"Never. Oh never before!" she cried gasping as she drove herself toward a 
frenzy of sexual excitement, using every straining muscle in her tortured 
body to meet the demands of his huge cock as it sank in and out of her 
aching cunt. She dug her fingernails into his back, drawing blood as she 
tried to pull him deeper into the already stretched cavern that ached with a 
crazed desire for more and more of this man who had suddenly become her 
life. 

He heard her words, but why had she said it, he thought. How could he ever 
forget all the others if she kept saying things like that. How could he ever 
forget the picture of fat hairy men mounting her like an animal and driving 
their hard, fat cocks into her cunt, making her beg for more. Had she told 
them the same thing? 

Why? he thought, unable to control his anger. Wanting to hurt her he 
suddenly drove his massive cock deep into her, using his buttocks as a 
piledriver. His huge prick was a weapon and he could punish her with it... 

"Oooooh, God!" she moaned at the savage thrust. "Don't stop!" 

Beg! Did she beg them too, he thought, and drove his lust maddened cock 
deeper, using all his strength to smash into her, feeling the red rubbery 
tip push hard against her cervix. 

"Oh, oh, oh," she cried in masochistic pleasure. 

Wanting to drive his cock deeper, he moved to reposition her, using his 
hands to lift the quivering flesh of her smooth round buttocks, and she 
responded by wrapping her legs around his back and locking her ankles tight 
together to hold him in her. 

As he drove into her again, his fingers spread the clenching flesh of her 
quivering white bottom, stretching the tight red ring of her tiny twitching 
anus. 

She kept moaning as he moistened his finger with the hot juices that flowed 
freely from her clasping pussy and slid it along the tender flesh between 
her cunt and her anus. Lightly he rubbed across the rubbery opening, feeling 
it give as he probed it, making her cry in ecstasy at the strange, obscene 
sensation. 

Suddenly he slid the finger all the way into her warm damp rectum and she 
cried out, half in pain and half in pleasure. He knew she was no virgin 
there, and angrily rotated his finger back and forth, scraping at the soft 
flesh, punishing her for having done it before. 

She could hardly stand the fucking she was getting in both burning holes. 
The swollen walls of her pussy could hardly bear the fantastic excitement of 
his rigid cock driving back and forth inside, while his rotating finger 
pulled at the very center of her being. She bucked harder as he fucked her, 
clenching him tightly with her long, slim legs straining to draw him deeper. 

Her face contorted in a lewd mask of ecstatic pleasure and pain as she threw 
her head back and forth on the bed, unaware of anything but the roaring fire 
that burned throughout her sex-crazed body. 

Her moanings and spastic twitchings were becoming too much for him as he 
thrust his throbbing prick harder and harder inside her clenching hair-lined 
pussy and ravaged her burning rectum with his fingers. Something else, he 
thought, and suddenly jerked his finger from her anus and slid it into the 
quivering pink lips of her burning cunt beside his driving cock. 

Once inside, he sank another finger next to the first, stretching her 
opening until she could stand it no longer. 

"Oh," she cried. "Oh God. Oh, I'm cumming, I'm cumming now!" 

He could barely stay on as she suddenly bucked like a wild horse, filling 
her pussy with her own orgiastic juices and lathering his still-stroking 
cock with its burning wetness. 

"Oh, yeah!" he gasped as she came and started driving into her harder. It 
had lasted long enough. The dam would hold back no longer. 

There had been so many other men fucking her, filling her with their cum, 
but none could have ever made her cum like this... 

He had only seconds left, and grabbed her quivering flesh as hard as he 
could, thrusting again and again, unable to control his animal-like gaspings 
until his balls suddenly exploded, shooting his cum along the underside of 
his thick cock until it burst free into her cunt, joining her juices deep in 
her quivering belly as he screamed aloud: "Ooooohhhhh!" 

He reared back, almost standing on his knees as the last jets of hot sperm 
filled her, making her his forever. 

Slowly, he lowered himself, completely depleted. Nothing had ever been like 
this, he thought, as he lay on top of her, too weak to speak. 

Gently, he finally rolled off of her sweating body and lay beside her, his 
breathing still heavy. 

"Sammy," he heard hazily through the distance of his happiness, "I love 
you." 

He couldn't believe his ears. She really did love him. Now, now that he had 
been avenged, now that she really loved him, he would never have to think of 
all those others again. She was his, and they could never have any more or 
any less than each other. 

As he turned to tell her he loved her too, he felt her long slender fingers 
slide between his thighs and tenderly touch his half-hard cock. 

"Let's do it again," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Make love to me 
again, my Darling. I don't want you to ever stop." 

Chapter Five 

"Thank you, Mr. Lee," the uniformed policeman said with a nod. "Do you know 
your way around?" 

"Yes, thanks," Jeff answered and walked through the turnstile. 

Jeff didn't really mind the red tape required to get onto the convention 
floor. The Republicans didn't expect any trouble, but they still had to keep 
outsiders from butting in, after all, political secrets are political 
secrets, he thought. 

There had been no trouble obtaining a valid delegate pass earlier that 
morning. Jeff's fight against organized crime in Miami had one backer, a 
very influential Republican. Even with all his power and influence he hadn't 
been able to recruit any more support for Jeff, but he did easily arrange 
for credentials that would allow the editor to wander around the convention 
hall without being known as a member of the working press. 

If Pam could talk to him, Jeff thought, then maybe she would believe what I 
say. His wife's lack of concern was constant concern for Jeff. He wanted her 
to believe in what he was doing, and pay much less attention to her social 
engagements and ridiculous charities. If those hens wouldn't cackle so much, 
and try talking about important problems, he thought, they might be able to 
persuade their husbands to help me. Christ, that'll be the day. Until then 
I'm strictly on my own. 

"Hartford's the name," a loud voice said beside him. "Iowa," he added 
proudly. 

"Jeff Lee. I'm local." 

"Just call me Bill, Jeff," he said. 

One of those, Jeff thought. He'd met many men like Hartford during the last 
twenty years and had never been impressed with any of them, except perhaps 
by the excess weight they always seemed to carry around the middle. It was 
almost a badge of honor for men like Hartford to be fat, he thought. 

Jeff looked right past Hartford's head as the overweight delegate talked to 
him. Full of information, Jeff snickered to himself. Probably doesn't do a 
Goddamn thing but talk. Probably talks to his hogs, too. Jeff didn't care to 
hear anything that Hartford said. He was too intent on spotting familiar 
faces of Wade Jackson's henchmen, all of whom he would know on sight, though 
none of them had ever seen him. 

"Excuse me for interrupting, Bill," he said, grabbing the big man by the arm 
and shaking his hand. "But one of my fellow delegates has just waved at me. 
I think we have a caucus coming up." 

"Yeah, I know how it is..." 

But before he could finish Jeff had already left. 

Across the room he had spotted Carl Pearson, Wade Jackson's right hand man. 
Seeing Carl, he knew that there was something lined up for the delegates 
already, and if he wanted more evidence he would have to find out where and 
when. 

Keeping his eye constantly on Carl's bald head, Jeff shoved and wormed his 
way through the vast crowd of delegates who mingled around the main floor, 
talking, dealing or just plain standing. The way they make crowds, he 
thought, they must be doing it through a prearranged signal. 

Suddenly breaking into the open Jeff watched Carl shake a man's hand and 
turn to leave. There's my contact, he thought, pulling a cigarette from his 
half empty pack. Well, here goes nothin'. 

"Gotta light?" Jeff asked the man as he started to walk away. 

"Oh," he said, surprised by the sudden intrusion on his private thoughts. 
"Sure, somewhere," he laughed, searching his pockets for a phantom book of 
matches. "Here." 

Jeff took the pack and started to light his cigarette, reading the club name 
from the cover. 

"This is a good spot," he asked, pointing at the name on the cover, a club 
he knew that Jackson owned. 

"Hey, let me tell ya about this place," the man said, winking his much 
practiced sly old fox wink. "I was there last night, and Jesus, you shoulda 
seen the broads. Say, you aren't here with your wife, are ya?" 

Lotta good that'd do me, Jeff thought wryly. "Nope, she's out of town." 

The man looked at Jeff's delegate tag, surprised at the city. 

"Hey, you're from here, huh? I'll bet you know a lot of good places." 

"No, not really. I can never get rid of my wife long enough to catch any 
action." 

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, making his "you" sound like "choo". 
"But she's gone tonight," he continued, punching Jeff lightly in the ribs. 

Jerk! 

"I'm looking for some action," he said, trying to get irritated. "Maybe I 
should try that club on the matchbook." 

"Oh, no," he said drawing out the words. "Tonight! Tonight there's gonna be 
some real action." 

Jeff nodded showing his interest. 

"I was just talking to a friend of mine, one of the guys who runs the club, 
and he's got a big bash set up for tonight. I mean booze, entertainment and 
girls, girls, girls," he finished, making an Eddie Cantor face. 

"Sounds good," Jeff said, fishing for an invitation. 

Jeff listened while the man gave him instructions, where to meet him, what 
time, etc. 

Just before they parted he said, "We ought to get to know each other. I'm 
Jeff Lee." 

"Right, Jeff. Bob Ferris," he put out his hand. "See you at nine, huh?" 

"Great," Jeff answered, hoping this might be the break he was searching for. 

*** 

At nine thirty the two men pulled up in front of a sprawling white mansion 
that housed thirty rooms. Jeff could hear the loud pounding of a drum as he 
got out of the car. In another minute he would be inside and could lose this 
creep. How the hell a guy like him ever got to be a delegate, he thought, 
I'll never guess in a million years how anyone could trust him with the 
political future of their country. 

A butler in black tie waited for them at the open door and in a second they 
were inside. Without any trouble at all Jeff lost his companion and headed 
toward the music. 

Before he opened the door to the room, he could tell that there was a 
striptease going on, or coming off, he thought with a sarcastic grin. The 
drum was beating the universal stripper's rhythm, a pounding monotonous 
beat. 

Jeff slipped in unnoticed and walked through the dim red room to the 
opposite wall, where he sat on a large cushion as had the rest of the 
guests. Looking around he noticed a few familiar political faces, some of 
them women. Obviously the party was well planned, he noted as he searched 
the room. A lot of the older men were accompanied by strikingly beautiful 
young girls in their early twenties. 

For the first few minutes he hadn't looked toward the center of the room 
where a magnificently built Cuban girl, about twenty was stripping. My God, 
he thought as he saw her. She's stolen Pam's body. A small wince of pain 
flashed through his chest when he thought of his wife. She had the same 
legs, the same hips, the same firm perfectly shaped breasts as the dancer, 
but never in a lifetime would she be able to lose her inhibitions and 
perform like that for him. 

Jeff didn't like to think about Pamela's sexuality mainly because it was 
almost non-existent. Christ, he thought, what ever happened to her. He could 
remember the first time they had made love, a few weeks before they were 
married. He knew at the time that she was a novice, but he wrote it off to 
her being a virgin, something he thought strange, since she was twenty-seven 
at the time. 

They had only made love once before they were married, and Jeff realized 
that something was wrong, but couldn't pinpoint it until a month after the 
wedding. Frigid, he thought. It was the only word that fit her. During the 
last three years he had done everything he could think of to help her 
change, but nothing had worked, and finally they had just stopped talking 
about it altogether. 

But a man's a man, and he sometimes needs it any way he can get it, he told 
himself silently as he watched the stripper. She was about five-foot-three 
and dark, but other than that, the physical similarity between her and 
Pamela was a carbon copy. He watched her breasts quivering as she moved 
subtly around the circle in the center of the room, her hips in perfect 
unison with a slow, excruciatingly desirable act of sexual intercourse. 

He tried to remember that she wasn't his wife, that she was a professional 
prostitute earning her living by taking her clothes off in front of a 
multitude of men and women. 

Moving her eyes from man to man she continued to dance, undulating her hips, 
gesturing with her arms in such a way that every muscle in her long dark 
body would seem to twitch in unison. Her black hair swayed as she leaned her 
head backward, but all eyes were on her hands and not her head as she 
slipped her black half-slip from over her hips and exposed a tiny pair of 
panty briefs, smaller than any bikini Jeff had ever seen. She dropped the 
nylon to the floor and continued her dance, turning so that everyone in the 
room would be able to savor every inch of her sensuous flesh. 

Jeff looked at her buttocks as she turned her back toward him, clenching the 
muscles in rhythm to the music as if she were conducting the drummer. 

Just as she turned again to face him she slowly removed the two black 
pasties that covered her chocolate-brown nipples, completely exposing her 
rounded full breasts to his eyes. She looked directly at him as she danced, 
her hands toying for a moment with her breasts, then sliding down her torso 
slowly, stopping at her hips only long enough to grasp the brief panties and 
slowly ease them down her long firm thighs, revealing the small black 
triangle of soft pubic hair that covered the dampened lips of her vagina. 

Pam, Jeff thought, replacing the stripper with his wife. If Pam could only 
be like you, for God's sake, what's your secret. 

The stripper continued looking at the graying editor as he watched her, her 
muscles tense with desire as his eyes traced a path around her breasts and 
down her tummy to that tiny triangle of black curls between her legs. He was 
imagining his tongue in place of his eyes, but Goddamn it, he thought, I 
won't even get the chance. 

Not taking his eyes from her, Jeff heard a voice say at his head, "Would you 
like a drink, sir?" 

Jeff didn't answer. 

"Perhaps there's something else," the too sweet voice of the young man said. 

Mesmerized, Jeff still said nothing. 

"The girl," the voice said. "Is that the one you want tonight?" 

Jeff nodded. 

"She's booked," the voice whispered, "But for the right price I can arrange 
her for you. You've obviously found what you want." 

Jeff turned to him for an instant. "Fix it," he said and looked back at the 
girl. 

He hated prostitution and anyone concerned with it, but Jeff had lost his 
battle. He had to have that girl to know what his wife could really be like. 
He had to have her! 

She had turned her back to Jeff when he spoke to the waiter, and was slowly 
revolving in a small circle, tantalizing every man she looked at. But when 
her eyes met Jeff's she slowed almost to a stop, moving only her hips and 
holding her breasts out for his approval. There they were, two perfect 
nipples waiting for him to suck into his mouth, and pinch with his teeth. 

His hands rested on his lap, gently touching the large bulge of his swollen 
penis, stroking it slightly. He felt it twitch as she leaned back, her head 
touching the floor, then with her free hands, running her fingers over her 
torso, along the insides of her long dark thighs to the pink open lips of 
her vagina. His throbbing cock was ready to burst as he watched her spread 
the moist lips through the soft pubic hair and open her pulsating vagina 
with both hands, and insert two fingers. 

Jeff could hardly breathe as his hand gripped his thick cock. He watched her 
as the two fingers began to stroke in and out of her soft, finger-stretched 
pussy, one against the other. No person in the room made a sound, as they 
watched, the men with their hands underneath their companions' skirts, and 
the women gently stroking swollen cocks. 

Slowly, to everyone's disappointment, she removed the two fingers and slid 
their long nails along her skin, around her buttocks to gently whisk her 
tightly clenched anus. 

In a few moments it'll be over, Jeff thought to himself, relieved that she 
was going to stop before he went mad. Quickly, almost ashamed, he moved his 
hand from the swollen penis. Why do it myself when she can, he thought, and 
got up from his chair, looking about the room for the young waiter who 
signaled him that everything was ready. 

Fine, he thought, and made his way through the crowd to the door. Pam can go 
fuck herself, he rationalized. For once since he had been married, he, was 
going to have a real woman. 

*** 

"Hello," she said through bright red lips. "I'm Carmen." 

"I know," he answered her, anxious to get her away from the crowd in the 
large living room. "Is there somewhere we can go now?" 

"You're in a big hurry," she told him, her Spanish accent slipping through 
each word. "I've got a room upstairs, but we can only stay for a while." 
Seeing his expression she offered an alternative, "But if you want me for 
longer, I can do that too, at my apartment." 

"Fine," he said, not wanting to talk until they were away from the house. 

"But it'll cost you more," she said coyly, "Much more." 

"Let's go," he said looking at her eyes. Except for the color, they had the 
same shape and size as his wife's eyes. 

*** 

Twenty minutes later he inserted the key into her lock and stepped into her 
apartment. She does well, he thought as he looked about the room. 

"In here," she pointed toward the bedroom door and walked in. 

It's not real, he thought as he followed her into the large bedroom. She 
even walked like Pamela and he couldn't decide whether it was going to be 
easier or harder for him to climb into bed with her. She possessed every 
sexual quality that his wife lacked, but the resemblance was so great... 

"How old are you?" he asked as she kicked off her shoes. 

"Twenty, why, are you a cop?" 

He told her no, but the word cop had reminded him of the job he had to do. 
Wade Jackson must be stopped, but oh God, what a price to pay, he thought, 
not wanting to wait. 

"I'd like a drink first," he said as she began to unzip her dress. 

"Whatever you say," she answered him in her sexiest Cuban voice. 

They went into the living room and she fixed them both a drink, bringing his 
to him where he sat on the couch. 

"You haven't even asked me how much," she said, wondering if he might be a 
very wealthy man. 

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised, indicating a question. 

"Three hundred," she said hesitantly. If he was rich, he would pay it. 

"Three hundred dollars would have to buy a lot more than just a night in 
bed," he told her. 

Oh brother, she thought, another weirdo. I wonder what tricks he likes? 

"You're the boss, big man," she said trying to be cute. 

"Where're you from," he asked without hesitating. 

What's he gonna do, talk all night? 

"I'm from Cuba," she answered, thinking that he wouldn't care what she said. 
"I've been in the States for a year." 

Jeff continued questioning her for the next hour, and she slowly began to 
trust him, talking more freely as the drinks increased. She had barely 
escaped Castro's assassins three years ago when they had murdered her 
father. Hiding in the mountains she had gotten involved in an underground 
railroad operation and finally been able to escape to Miami. 

But things for her in the United States hadn't been much better. All of her 
friends were educated people, but none of them could get jobs suiting their 
professional ability. Even her brother, who held an engineering degree, had 
to work in a service station. She had gone to work as a prostitute to help 
her family, all of whom were now in Miami, except for her parents, both of 
whom were dead. 

"I remember," she said thoughtfully, "That we were a very rich family when I 
was young. But that gangster Castro and his thieves took everything, then 
killed my parents." 

Her voice was sad, but no tears came to her eyes. This man liked to listen 
to her, she knew. Maybe he could do something to help her exiled people if 
he is a big politician like the rest of the men at the party. 

Before she could say any more he interrupted, "Who do you work for now?" 

The question caught her off guard and she answered immediately, suddenly 
afraid when she did. One of the basic rules of the girls who worked for 
Wade, was never to reveal his identity. 

"You won't tell anyone, will you," she pleaded. "If you knew what would 
happen to me for telling you that I would be in very beeg trouble." 

Jeff looked at her, trying not to see his wife. "We can help each other if 
you want to," he finally said. 

Not understanding, Carmen just stared at him. 

"It's very simple," he explained and began to tell her his story. 

She said nothing as he talked, taking in every word. He explained that he 
was a newspaperman and what he was looking for with Wade Jackson. If she 
would cooperate with him, he would use his influence to advertise the 
problems of her friends in Miami, and help arrange suitable jobs for them. 

For a moment after he had finished she only looked at him, then suddenly 
jumped across the couch and threw her arms around his neck, showering him 
with kisses. 

"Oh, gracias, gracias," she exclaimed again and again in a sudden reversion 
to her native language. 

Embarrassed at her display of affection for his offer, he tried gently to 
push her away, but the aroma of her smooth dark skin and the warmth of her 
breasts as they pushed against his chest brought back the tingling between 
his legs. Suddenly she was again the sensual creature that had nearly driven 
him mad when she stripped completely in front of all those people, then had 
used her fingers like he wanted to use his swiftly rising cock. 

She kissed him again with a resounding smack and jumped off the couch and 
began dancing around the room on her toes. No one had ever offered to help 
her before, but this man would. She could feel it as she danced. Then, 
without his seeing it, she pulled at a pullaway zipper and suddenly stood 
holding her dress in her hands. 

Jeff's mouth went dry as he gave up the battle. His wife could never be like 
Carmen, and right now he didn't give a damn. The tingling in his trousers 
had become a small blaze, and his swollen cock needed release from its 
imprisonment. 

"A private dance just for you," she said with her eyes twinkling, and 
twirled around again. 

Downing his drink and getting up to pour himself another, he watched her 
closely. What the hell, I can find out what I need to know later, he thought 
as he swallowed his drink and reached to pour another. He remembered her 
body from before, though he had known one exactly like it for three years, 
though his wife had never allowed him to see all of it in the light before. 
She was too much, and would probably drain him, he thought, but if it's 
going to be fast, then I'd better be able to do it more than just a few 
times. 

Watching him, she reached behind her back and easily unsnapped her bra, 
letting it drop to the floor between her widespread legs. Her breasts 
jiggled in their freedom, displaying already taut nipples rising high and 
hard from their brown encirclement. They quivered as she slowly pulled her 
hands upward and covered them with her palms, rubbing small circles over the 
titillated flesh making her whole body tingle. 

"You want?" she asked, still holding her round firm breasts with her hands. 

"I want," he answered, feeling the animal fires burning in his loins. 

There was no more Pamela, no real Pamela, he thought as the brandy and naked 
girl added to his sexual insanity. Carmen seemed to have his wife's face to 
go along with the body, but not enough so that he didn't know who was 
standing before him, offering him a sensual feast of sheer lust that he 
would not forget for a long time. 

"Pants too tight?" she laughed, looking at the large bulge. 

Without a word he began to strip, never taking his eyes from her as she 
quickly pulled her black half slip over her hips, exposing another brief 
bikini, carefully fringed with coal-black, silken pubic hair. He followed 
her fingers as they teased their way under the elastic leg band of her 
panties, moistening the tips between the damp pink lips of her pussy. 

God I can't wait, he thought as he literally tore his shorts off freeing his 
massive swollen prick. It sprang up and bounced for a moment, then twitched 
uncontrollably, aching for the hair-lined pussy that waited for it five feet 
away. He was ready to burst, to come right now, but he had to wait, he had 
to get into that fiery cunt. 

"Oh," she gasped when she saw his throbbing cock jutting out from his body. 
"It's so big, bigger than I have ever had," she lied. True, it was big, but 
not the biggest that she had had. 

"Come here," he commanded, knowing that he could never say the same thing to 
his wife. 

But his wife could not excite him like this girl could. His whole body was 
flushed as he waited for her, his breath short and strong. The second that 
she was within reach he grabbed her and pulled her to him, almost crushing 
her with his strength. She didn't resist, but molded her trembling body to 
his, wrapping one warm slim, well-tapered leg in between his and pushing the 
moistened black panties against his thigh. For the first time she too could 
feel the fires of desire rising between her legs. 

"Ooohh," he moaned nearly delirious with passion as he touched her. 

His cock rested tightly against her smooth flat stomach as they stood there. 
She could feel the boiling heat from the rubbery head almost burning her 
tender sensitive skin. White drops of warm semen leaked from the slit on the 
tip, moistening her body and she started to brush back and forth against it. 

"Mmmmmm," she moaned as his hands searched her back, sliding to her buttocks 
and grabbing both cheeks hard, so that they quivered like firm jelly. 
Eagerly he jiggled them slightly, sending chills through her heated thighs. 

His wife would have never submitted to even being touched on the ass, he 
thought, but you, you hot little bitch, you love it! She was his to do with 
as he pleased, and he would. He would fuck her and make her cry for more, 
then fuck her again. This was a woman! 

"Ooohhh," she breathed as he slid his hands inside her panties and ripped 
them off her quivering buttocks. She could feel her heart beating in her 
bare bottom as he touched it, spreading and kneading the pliant flesh with 
his large hands, sending sharp tingling shocks through her abdomen. 

Eager and hungry for her sex he slipped the fingers of one hand between the 
two soft round orbs of her backside, along the crack and down over the tight 
clenching ring of her anus until he slipped them into the wet trembling lips 
of her vagina from behind. Quickly they ran back and forth across the small 
hair-lined opening and through the quivering pink lips, reaching as far as 
they could until they tipped the hot erect bud of her aching clitoris. 

"Oooohhhh, buena," she hissed through her white teeth. "Muy buena!" 

Unable to hold back any longer she pulled back from him quickly and fell to 
her knees, immediately burying her face in the soft furry hair above his 
swollen balls. She kept murmuring as she kissed him again and again, excited 
by this man she had only just met. She knew she could please him by sucking 
his throbbing cock. That was the greatest submission ever for a woman and 
submit to this savior of her people she wanted to do. 

Never before, he thought, as he felt her eager wet lips caressing the base 
of his pulsating shaft. Never before had anyone made him feel like this as 
he stood in the living room. His wife would never have thought of it, and no 
other woman he had ever known had even attempted to put her mouth on his 
massive cock. 

"Oooohhhh," he moaned aloud as her hungry lips parted to allow her hard, 
pink tongue to lash out at the veins on the bottom of the throbbing prick, 
sending flashes of white hot electricity through his aching loins. He could 
hardly stand the ecstatic passion that she was causing as she gently licked 
the long rigid cock along its sensitive bottom until suddenly her mouth was 
nibbling at the very tip. 

Holding it in one hand, eager to please, she parted her lips and placed the 
throbbing head against her teeth and lapped up the drop of burning sperm 
that hung heavily at the tiny, slit-like opening. She had sucked many men 
before, but none that she enjoyed, and this one she wanted to suck until he 
filled her mouth with his cum. 

Slowly, spurred by his moaning, she eased the pulsating head into her mouth, 
while he nearly cried the delight, feeling like razor blades were slitting 
him open, and exposing his cock to eternity. 

"Oh, God, you little bitch," he wailed. "Don't stop, don't stop, just keep 
sucking." 

Incited by his shouting the lust-maddened young girl sank more of the 
swollen cock into her wet sucking mouth, stabbing at it with her tongue as 
she went and hoping that she would be able to swallow all of it. Her wet, 
burning pussy was ready to explode too as she felt him suddenly push his 
hips forward and grab her by the hair, forcing the entire throbbing prick 
deep into her throat. 

"Ooooohhhh," he moaned again as the pressure in his balls strained to the 
breaking point. 

Racing like wildfire, his tortured lust-ridden mind screamed for more; for 
her sucking mouth and for the fiery liquids that were flooding from her 
overexcited cunt. He could hear her moaning, and knew that he had to get 
down there, that he had to bury his face in the soft downy fur that covered 
her cunt and shove his tongue inside her. 

"Up!" he commanded, but she didn't hear. 

His hands still in her hair, he yanked her head away from his burning prick, 
scraping it with her teeth. But she didn't want to stop and tried to get her 
mouth back around the massive red head. She had been driven to sex-maddened 
heights and had no control over herself. 

Suddenly she was in the air, looking at the floor. Thinking he was through, 
she started to fight him, wanting him to finish her before she died from the 
anguish. But a moment later she was sailing through the air and bounced onto 
the bed, followed right behind by the lust-crazed newspaperman. 

He gave her hardly a chance to move as he grabbed her and rolled her soft 
brown body onto its back, then climbed upside down on top of her, his 
massive, tortured cock pulsing directly over her head, and buried his face 
in the hair-lined lips of her fiery cunt. 

"Ooooohhhhh," she shrieked in ecstasy as he shook his head back and forth 
savagely. She felt as if his tongue and chin were tearing her to shreds, his 
chin rubbing her swollen red clitoris, and his tongue lapping at all the 
warm, sweet juices that flowed from her aching cunt. Faster and faster he 
shook his head, unable to control his desires, incited by her sexual 
screaming. 

Her hips bucked and twitched while she screamed, her face contorted in a 
lust-crazed mask. Her body was slick with sweat as she fought for a climax 
that waited deep in her wet slippery pussy, waiting for release. 

Above her head the pulsating blood-filled cock twitched in eager 
anticipation of her lips. Quickly she raised her head and grabbed it with 
both hands, scraping the tender skin with her fingernails. Without 
hesitating she opened her jaws as wide as she could and plunged the whole 
massive prick into her mouth at once, nearly choking. Tears of joy flooded 
from her cheeks as she sucked at the throbbing shaft, sucking each drop of 
seeping juices that trickled from the tip. 

"Oh, oooohhh," he gasped, lifting his head as her tender red lips and hot 
hard tongue went lasciviously back and forth along the full hardened length 
of his huge twitching prick. 

He held his head up and began to match her bobbing head with short strokes 
of his own, sinking his cock deep into her hungry throat. He dropped his 
head and looked back at her ovalled red lips, excited even more by the 
picture of the twenty-year old Cuban prostitute sucking voraciously at his 
jerking cock as he thrust it in and out of her saliva-filled mouth. 

Panting in short hard breaths he lowered his head back to the juices that 
flowed from between her legs. His tongue shot out in search of the ragged 
pink mouth of her pussy, running quickly along the soft, hair-lined slit 
until he found the entrance and suddenly thrust the entire length of the 
hard wet shaft into her aching cunt. Burying his teeth against the quivering 
flesh of the pink lips he simulated a cock driving unmercifully in and out 
of her pussy. 

"Oooooohhhh," she cried as the tongue drove into her fiery vagina, rotating 
in small circles inside, then withdrawing and driving in again. She had only 
seconds left as she felt the first spasms of climax building to release. 
More! she thought as she thrust her hips upward to meet the tongue and the 
bite of teeth. More! More! More...! 

He could hear her moaning as she sucked at his twitching cock. He was ready 
now and didn't want to wait any longer. Quickly he ran one hand around her 
trembling buttocks and searched for the clenching ring of her tight little 
anus. His balls were about to burst, but with one final effort he found the 
tiny hole and teased at it with his finger. 

That did it! 

She could stand no more as the teasing finger at her rectum forced her into 
a spastic clenching rhythm that set off her climax, and she threw her hips 
high into the air and screamed, her lips still wrapped tightly around his 
thrusting penis. 

"Oooohhh! I'm cummmmmiing...! Ooooooh Dios, I'm cumming!" 

Too much, he thought wildly as the underside of his cock suddenly jerked 
spastically and he felt the first rush of sperm explode in his balls. No 
Pam, his mind screamed, no wife can do this, she can't, Pam can't do it! And 
he suddenly bellowed from the deepest part of his belly, "Auuugghhhhh, I'm 
cummminnngg too!!! Suck Baby! Suck!" 

Like a huge firehose his wildly jerking cock pumped load after load of hot, 
gushing sperm into the young girl's mouth and she swallowed it as quickly as 
she could, wanting all of the burning liquid to fill her whole body. She 
would save it for later and give it back to him so that she and this savior 
of her people could wallow in each other's flesh all night long. 

Exhausted, he fell upon her, his head still buried in the soft black hair 
between her widely splayed thighs. Well, Pammy, he thought. You'll never 
match that, never in a million years. 

Chapter Six 

A shiny bald head poked through the open door, its nose hawklike between two 
pure blue eyes. 

"Boss, ya gotta minute?" 

"Not just now, Carl, Goddamn it! I've got too much to do this afternoon," 
Wade Jackson's polished voice answered. 

Carl didn't want to wait. "It's important!" 

Wade Jackson sat at his desk, small stacks of papers and accountant sheets 
spread before him. Even though he had a small army of accountants, he always 
took pains to check their work over every week. "No one cheats Wade 
Jackson," he had once said, and so far during the last twenty years, no one 
had even tried. 

"Christ!" he said, pausing for a moment. "Come on in." 

Never one fucking minute to myself, he thought, trying to feel sorry for his 
executive image, an image he lived up to. 

"Alright, what is it?" 

Carl Pearson entered the room dressed like a typical East Coast company 
vice-president. His expensive three button suit fit perfectly, accented by a 
matching vest and blue button-down collar shirt with a carefully selected 
tie. He dressed his part well, always appearing to be a businessman, which 
he was during the day, but his nights were spent in search of new and 
exciting perversion, fed by an ever-growing number of young prostitutes 
owned by the syndicate. 

"It's bad news," he said with a scowl. "We're getting trouble on two 
fronts." 

That's all I need, Wade thought, something else to throw a Goddamned wrench 
into the works. 

"Well, Goddamn it!" he practically yelled. "What is it this time?" 

"Your friend Paula," he paused waiting to see if Wade would recognize the 
name. "Yeah, that's the one. She turned down a trick last night after Red 
called her. She said that she already had one lined up, but Red told her to 
come anyway." 

"That's not so bad. What gives?" 

"Sammy Wynn is what gives, or gets, depending on how you look at it. Paula's 
watchdog, George, said that Sammy and Paula got pretty thick when he came to 
make the collection last night, and finally left together after she had 
talked to Red." 

"Shit," Wade whispered. "What else?" 

"This is the bad one," he said taking a deep breath of reassurance. "That 
editor, Lee. We got a tape of him and Carmen last night. They got real 
chummy at the house, and she took him to her place, making her think he was 
a regular john. 

"I suppose I could say Carmen didn't know better, but when they got to 
talking he convinced her to spill the beans about our organization. They had 
one helluva wild screwing, four times in as many hours. But afterwards she 
told him everything." 

Wade sat silent for a moment, his hands covering his eyes. Then suddenly he 
slammed his fist onto the table. "That son of a bitch," he yelled. "We 
should have eliminated him months ago. Now he knows too much; probably wrote 
everything down last night." 

Wade paced the floor while Carl stood patiently, waiting for orders. 

"Send Red in here," he said finally. "I think we can fix everybody up with 
the right medicine." 

Half a minute later Red came through the door, his bulk nearly filling the 
entire entranceway. At six-foot-six-inches he weighed two hundred and 
sixty-five pounds without an ounce of fat on him, except between the ears. 
His physical prowess and cruelty were his only assets, but good enough 
assets for Wade to have kept him for ten years, running hundreds of dirty 
errands and using his muscle wherever needed. 

"Ya want me, Boss," he asked, a sheepish grin on his face. 

"Of course, I do. Why do you think I called you?" 

"I'm sorry, Boss," he whimpered. "I didn't think." 

"You're not paid to think, right," Wade said, pausing for the big man to 
nod. "We've got a job to do, so I want you to listen carefully." 

Wade stopped while Red settled himself in a large leather chair. If he were 
going to remember everything, he would have to be comfortable with nothing 
to distract his attention. 

"You remember calling Paula last night?" he asked rhetorically. "Well, she 
didn't show for the trick. Do you remember what we did to her the last time 
she tried that?" 

Red nodded again, pleased with himself that he understood everything that 
Wade had said. He remembered, and hoped that he could do the same to her 
that he had a few months ago. 

"O.K., now listen: I don't want you to do the same thing with her this time. 
I want you to feed Jocko well today. Do you know why?" 

Red knew Jocko but he couldn't see the connection between feeding the giant 
St. Bernard and punishing the girl. 

"You're going to take Jocko and Carl over to Paula's this afternoon and do 
some training. Get the picture?" 

Red still wasn't sure, but a wide grin spread across Carl's face. He knew 
exactly what Wade had in mind. 

"I'm putting you in charge, Red, so that you can teach the girl how to screw 
with the dog." 

Immediately Red's face flushed with pleasure. He remembered that the dog had 
been trained before to perform sexual intercourse with another girl while a 
group of high paying customers watched. Red had enjoyed the training before 
the show, because he had taken turns with Jocko, each of them screwing the 
girl until she had finally collapsed from exhaustion and humiliation. 

Wade's face turned very serious. "I don't want you to trade off with the 
mutt like you did the last time, dammit." 

Red felt a pang of disappointment, but Carl knew it was only temporary, and 
Red would do whatever he pleased with the girl. 

"You almost killed her," Wade continued, "So you can't do the same thing 
this time. Understand?" 

Red held his lips tight, trying not to pout, and nodded his head. 

"I won't do it, Boss. Whatever you say." 

"Good!" 

"Can I fuck her once, Boss?" Red suddenly asked like a child. 

"Sure, Boss, why not," Carl intervened. "That way he can soften that warped 
little pussy of hers up so that she'll be more ready for the dog." 

Red looked at Wade and saw that he was going to say no. 

"What if I just have her suck me off, Boss," he pleaded, hoping for some 
sort of consent to torture the young prostitute. 

"Hey, Boss," Carl said again. "She's gotta suck the dog off for the show, so 
why not let her practice with Red. Hell he oughta get something out of it. 
It was his order that she refused." 

Wade thought for a moment longer, then opened a drawer and took out a cigar. 

"O.K., Red. You can let her suck you, but Goddamnit, you better not hurt 
her, not like the time you beat her up. She is one of the best I have and I 
don't want her put out of work for another month. We got a busy season 
ahead." 

"Hey!" Red exclaimed, jumping out of the chair, totally pleased with 
himself. 

But Carl interrupted, "What about Sammy?" 

"Leave the kid to me," Wade said. "He's a nice kid. It's just that he 
doesn't know all the rules yet. If he hasn't run off with the take, then 
send him to me and I'll have a little heart to heart talk with him. He'll 
understand." 

The matter was settled and Red went for the door, eager to feed his dog and 
get over to Paula's. He knew that the dog only performed well on a full 
stomach, so he would be sure to give him plenty of good red meat. "Hold it, 
Red," Wade said softly. "I've got another surprise for you." 

Red turned and looked for a sign from Carl. He wanted to know if the 
surprise was going to be good or bad. He immediately broke into a grin when 
Carl nodded and motioned him toward the chair. 

"You remember that newspaperman who's been snooping around so much?" Wade 
asked, almost sure that he didn't remember, even though Red's head nodded 
immediately. "Well, he's found out too much, so I want you to teach him a 
lesson he'll never forget." 

Red's grin grew as he pictured himself working Lee over with his huge fists 
until the man would drop dead. He'd done it before for Wade and enjoyed it 
almost as much as beating up the girls he would rape. 

Wade pulled a folder from the middle drawer in his desk. It was complete, 
except for a picture, but he was sure he could get one soon. For months he 
had a detective follow Jeff's every movement and dig into his past. He held 
in his hand a complete dossier of the editor's life from the time he was 
twenty-five. 

"Right here," he said smiling, "Is how we're going to get Mr. Lee. His wife, 
gentlemen, is a beautiful, but according to the report, sexually inactive 
young lady." 

Red smiled at "sexually". 

"Carl, women are really your specialty. How would you handle it?" 

Pleased that he had been asked, Carl immediately developed a plan. 

"If we're gonna get the husband through the wife, then he's gonna have to 
know all about it. You listening, Red?" 

The red-headed bodyguard nodded. 

"I can see her now," Carl said. "She'll be at home when we get there. It 
won't be hard to get in, and as soon as we are in, we'll give everything 
we've got." 

"Fly, Carl," Red asked, hoping that he had contributed to the plan. 

"Good idea! We'll fix her with some Spanish Fly, let it settle for a few 
minutes, then fuck the hell out of her?" 

"Hey!" Red exclaimed, excited by the mental picture of what he could do. 

Wade said nothing, listening all the time and enjoying himself. Jeff Lee had 
bothered him once too often, and now he'd take care of him for good. It 
sounds so good, Wade thought, I might even try a bite of the action myself. 

"But the best part," he continued, pausing for a moment. "The best part is 
when we call her husband on the phone." 

"Why do ya wanna do that?" Red asked, screwing up his nose in a puzzled 
look. 

"Because, stupid, when we call her old man, we're gonna be screwin' her, and 
he'll hear it all." 

"Then he'll come over, right," Red asked, sure he had guessed the answer. 

"Right! But when he does, we don't mess him up," he paused for dramatic 
effect. "We make him watch instead." 

"Hey!" Red shouted again gleefully. 

Wade chuckled. "With all that fly in her the little bitch will be wilder 
than a fuckin' nymphomaniac. Yeah, Carl. I like that!" 

"Yeah, Carl, me too!" Red added. 

Chapter Seven 

Sammy Wynn walked into the living room of Paula's apartment with a glass of 
milk and some cookies she had baked an hour before. Careful not to spill the 
milk, he set the glass on the coffee table and then searched for a magazine 
to read. 

He was humming an unfamiliar tune, unaware that he made any sound at all. 
His first night in bed with Paula had ended at eight o'clock that morning 
and they had not slept at all. Sammy had never known a woman like her, and 
knew he could never find another. She had made him happy for the first time 
in his life, and could barely remember feeling any other way. 

Picking up a copy of Life he settled back into the big easy chair and picked 
up his glass of milk. He had nothing else to do until Paula came back from 
the store except read and relax, and by God, I will, he thought. 

He leafed through the magazine until he found a story that caught his 
interest and started to read, when suddenly a key clicked in the door. The 
noise startled him and he started to rise. 

"Hi, Honey," he called out as the door opened inward. 

"Hi, Honey, too, Sammy," Carl's voice said sarcastically from behind the 
door. 

The syndicate! Sammy stood still, almost in shock. He had forgotten about 
Wade and the collection money he was supposed to turn in the night before. 
But how did they know he was here? 

"Uh, hi, Carl. How are ya this morning?" 

Carl was pleasant in his reply: "Fine, boy, and how are you?" 

Sammy relaxed slightly at the tone of Carl's voice. Maybe they aren't mad 
after all, he thought. 

"What brings you here?" he asked, anxious to hear a friendly answer. 

"Just a friendly little call." 

Sammy wasn't sure whether or not he should believe the bald-headed hood, but 
for the moment there was no other choice. 

Suddenly Red came through the door tugging a leash. Sammy watched, his mouth 
open, as the biggest dog he had ever seen came following in behind Red. They 
were meant for each other, he thought, noting both their sizes, and apparent 
looks of complete ignorance on their faces. If Red grew his hair longer, 
Sammy thought, they could almost be brothers. 

"Hi, Sammy," Red said smiling. "Come here and say hello to my stud friend, 
Jocko. Come on, he won't hurt ya." 

Cautiously Sammy walked over to pet the dog, and saw immediately that it was 
friendly. As the young collector scratched behind the dog's ear Carl 
suddenly startled him. 

"Haven't you forgotten something, Sammy?" 

"Hey, no. It's just that, well I got hung up last night, but I've got all 
the collections here, right over there on that table." 

"Good! In that case I suggest that you gather it all up into one nice little 
bundle and go down to see Wade. He wants to talk to you." 

"I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" Sammy asked, afraid that he might lose 
his job, or worse. 

"No, Kid, he just wants to make sure you don't make any real mistakes, not 
like Paula did." 

"What do you mean?" Sammy asked, his mind afraid for his girl. 

"Never mind, Kid, just get your coat and the money. We'll talk to Paula when 
she comes home." 

Sammy nodded and went into the bedroom for his coat. He paused for a moment 
thinking that he should write her a note, but that would be useless. He 
could wait for her outside, but Wade was waiting for him, and he might get 
into real trouble if he didn't show up this time. 

Walking through the living room toward the door, Sammy nodded to the two 
hoods and said he would get right over to Wade's. He opened the door as they 
smiled at him and walked down the corridor, pausing for a moment to see if 
they would check on him. 

Feeling safe, Sammy tiptoed back to the door of Paula's apartment and put 
his ear to the keyhole, hoping to find out exactly what they wanted with his 
girlfriend. At the first words he heard, his fear grew: "Put the gun away, 
Red," Carl's voice boomed through the keyhole. "Sammy's not going to come 
back and give us any trouble. He's a smart kid." 

"I was just checkin' it, Carl," Red explained defensively. "Ya never can 
tell when some jerk might try to bust in and ruin it for us." 

"No one's gonna wreck this job for us," Carl said, his thoughts racing 
furiously as he pictured the girl strapped to the bed while the huge St. 
Bernard's tongue licked obscenely between her wide-spread legs and built her 
up to a fever-pitch of unwanted desire. 

"Yeah, you're right," Sammy heard Red answer. "We'll get that hot little 
whore in here and let the dog fuck her 'til she can't stand it. She'll pay 
for not doin' what we tell her, huh, Carl?" 

"You'd better believe it," Carl said absently, still thinking about what 
would happen. He loved to watch women suffer, especially women he knew. 
"After we're finished with that little whore Wade'll take care of Jeff Lee." 

"Ya mean the newspaperman," Red asked, sure that he knew the answer in 
advance. 

"Right. But now, Goddamn it, take the dog into the bathroom and stay there 
with him until Paula gets here. We want to surprise her, don't we?" 

"Right, Carl. We'll surprise her; and Jocko'll surprise her." 

Outside the door Sammy Wynn could hardly keep himself from charging through 
the heavy wood and smashing their faces in. But he knew he wouldn't stand a 
chance against Red's pistol. The only way was to warn Paula, then get help. 

Quickly he ran to the bottom of the stairs and pulled a pen and paper from 
his pocket. Scribbling a note of warning to Paula, he stuck it in her 
mailbox, and ran down the steps to his car. Jeff Lee, he remembered. It 
shouldn't be hard to find a newspaperman, especially if he's the kind who 
can make trouble for the mob. Yeah, Jeff Lee, he'll help me get those 
bastards, he thought as he sped away from the curb, racing through 
midmorning traffic for the offices of Miami's largest newspaper. 

*** 

Twenty minutes later Paula Moore walked happily past her mailbox and into 
the apartment house. Her arms were laden with two large paper bags filled 
with groceries and a gift for Sammy. I'll get the mail when I come back 
down, she thought, and pressed the button for the elevator that would take 
her to the second floor where the two perverted hoods awaited her. 

Standing at her apartment door she fumbled for the key in her purse, trying 
not to spill the groceries, then opened the door. 

"Hello, Sweetheart," Carl's sarcastic voice greeted her. "We've been waiting 
for you." 

Paula froze in terror as she stood in the doorway. Oh God, she thought, 
another beating, or maybe even worse. Where was Sammy? Her full lower lip 
trembled as she pictured her boyfriend badly beaten and laying somewhere in 
a nameless alley, unable to call for help. 

"Where-where's Sammy," she stammered. 

"Don't worry about lover-boy," Carl sneered. "We had a little talk and he 
understands everything. He's with Wade right now, getting some more 
instruction in our organization's ethics, so you don't worry about him. He's 
not in trouble, but you are!" 

"Carl, I..." 

But before she could finish her sentence the bald-headed man had grabbed her 
and pulled her into the room, throwing her to the floor and slamming the 
door shut with his free hand. He craved the touch of female flesh, 
especially flesh as smooth, soft and ripe as Paula's. Red had needs, Carl 
thought, but nothing like mine. I'll fix her for fucking that kid, and 
turning her soft little pussy away from me like she's done so many times 
before. Cold little bitch, I'll fix you good! 

"Get up!" he yelled at her as she lay, half sitting on the floor. "Get your 
hot little ass off the floor and into the bedroom." 

So that's what he wants, she thought, as she got to her feet. Paula knew 
that she would be able to take any fucking that old baldy had to offer. She 
remembered one time he had screwed her before, his stubby little prick 
trying so hard to get inside her, then suddenly cumming all over himself. I 
can take that form of punishment from any of these thugs, she thought, even 
after loving Sammy. He'll understand. 

"Strip, bitch," Carl ordered, an obscene smile spreading across his face. 
"You've disobeyed orders, and now you'll have to pay for it." 

Paula smiled as she started unbuttoning her blouse slowly. She would put on 
a show for him, make him feel just like a customer. Customer! she thought. 
Poor Sammy, if only she never had to have any customers, then they would be 
free. But hell, for right now, she could put up with it for just a little 
longer, even though she despised Carl and his impotency. He was tall, but 
his shiny bald head made him a hideous man, though his features weren't 
really ugly, only sharp and harsh, like a Nazi Colonel's might be. 

She glanced up as she bent and pulled her stockings from her long tanned 
legs. Her eyes caught the protruding bulge of his hardening penis as it rose 
beneath his trousers, eager to break free and soak itself in the luxurious 
juices between her legs. Paula could barely stop herself from snickering at 
the thought of the stubby cock as she had seen it once before. 

"Something funny," he asked, his voice sounding suddenly dangerous. 

Paula felt a tingle of fear slide up her spine as she answered him, telling 
him that nothing was funny, nothing really. 

Once she undressed and stood naked in front of him, Carl ordered her to lie 
on the bed. He could hardly control himself as he spoke, the ache in his 
groin throbbing through his tensing thighs. But, he would control himself, 
he thought, and he would control her; he'd control her until the little 
bitch was kneeling down on her knees begging for it. 

It doesn't matter what he wants, she thought as she lay back naked on the 
bed and arranged the pillow under her head. I've got Sammy and no one can 
change that, no one, not even Carl. 

Paula closed her eyes and waited for him to undress, all the time thinking 
about Sammy and the pleasure they had shared together in bed. She could 
remember his rock-hard erection stroking in and out of her burning vagina, 
filling her with ecstatic desire. 

However, as she lay on the bed dreaming Carl was not undressing. Instead, he 
had pulled four nylon cords from his suit pockets and was arranging them in 
noose-fashion, one for each limb. 

"What are you doing," she cried suddenly and sat up as Carl grabbed her 
ankle and looped one noose around her right leg, fastening the other end to 
the bedpost. 

"You'll see in a minute," he sneered at her, wanting to slap her for lying 
there, wanting to thrust his stubby little penis into the soft succulent 
hole between her legs. "Just lie back and keep your Goddamned mouth shut!" 

Paula did as he commanded, tiny tears of sudden fear forming in her eyes. He 
can screw me, she thought. I'm a prostitute and he can screw me. Why does he 
have to tie me up? Why? 

Carl felt a burning rage building inside himself as he tied her wrists to 
the other posts. He wanted to see her ravaged by the St. Bernard, then he 
would have his turn, too. It didn't matter what Wade said, and Red would 
never tell if he could have a little of her pussy, especially if the girl 
could be forced to suck him. No, no one would know but the three of them, 
and none of them would dare tell Wade they had gone against his 
instructions. 

Slowly he got off the bed, running his fingers along the tanned smoothness 
of her sleek, naked thigh, pausing for a moment by the warmth of her dormant 
vagina. Yeah, he thought. She'll be ready when the dog finishes with her. 

"Red," he yelled at the bathroom door. "Come on in here!" 

Paula gasped as the door opened and she saw the two hundred pound St. 
Bernard come sniffing into the room, straining at the long black leash that 
pulled Red along behind. 

"Oh, God, no," she whimpered as she suddenly knew what they had in store for 
her. 

She tugged at the nylon cords that held her arms and legs, trying 
desperately to free herself from the impending doom, but it was no use. She 
could twist her body, but she was tied so tightly, that it did her no good 
to move at all. She twisted her head, trying to look at the knots that held 
her, each one tied with a hangman's professional care. There was no way for 
her to move, but she tried again anyway, hoping against hope that she could 
escape. She lifted her body and with all her strength pulled against the 
nylon cords, but nothing would give except her skin as it burned against the 
ropes, while trickles of blood ran down her arms from her wrists. What kind 
of men were they? Were they men at all? Why would they do this to her for 
one mistake? She panted for breath and closed her eyes hoping they would all 
go away. The unmistakable sniffing of the giant dog grew louder and she 
prayed to heaven for help. Don't let them. Oh God, don't let them do it! 

"What's the matter, Paula," Carl sneered. "Are you afraid of the little 
puppy?" 

Paula looked up at him to see Red standing beside him, handing Carl the 
black leash. 

"I'm gonna watch for a while," he said, his yellow teeth showing from 
between his lips. "And then I'm gonna take my turn just like I did before. 
You're gonna get a fuckin' today like you've never had in all your whorey 
little life." 

Red snickered at his own obscene thoughts as he lifted himself onto the 
dresser and settled into a front row seat. 

"You shoulda seen him with Phyllis," he giggled. "He fucked her until all 
she could do was beg for more and more. Goddamn, she really liked it." 

You perverted bastard, she thought. Why don't you shut up and get out of 
here, both of you! 

"Yeah, Jocko," Carl said talking to the dog. "You screwed her so good, 
she'll never go back to men, nope, never." 

Paula couldn't believe what they were saying, talking like two horrid 
perverts, men like she had never met before. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Leave 
me alone!" 

But it was too late! Terrified she trembled as the huge St. Bernard lifted 
his head onto the bed and began sniffing at her shapely calves. She strained 
to escape, but her struggles did nothing but further the dog's interest as 
she fought against the nylon bonds that held her legs spread wide apart. She 
was open and completely vulnerable with no escape left to her. 

She shuddered as the dog's long pink tongue lapped at the salt of her 
sweating skin. The St. Bernard began to nose forward toward the honeyed 
scent of her soft hair-lined pussy as she fought to break free, lifting her 
thighs high into the air in a last effort to escape, but it was no use. The 
dog had discovered the scent he had been searching for and climbed onto the 
bed completely, drooling his hot saliva onto her thighs as he nosed forward 
searching for the smell he had found on Phyllis not so long ago. She twisted 
her pelvis again and the soft velvet fur of her pussy caught the dog's eye 
and he knew where the hot smell was coming from. Quickly he brought his head 
to the dark apex of her thighs and sniffed at the warm wet hole. He had 
found what he had come for. 

It was like a dream, unreal and unbelievable. She tried to turn her head, 
but she was too weak from fighting. It's not real, she thought frantically 
and closed her eyes to stop the nightmare, knowing that there would be no 
stopping until the dog had finished with her and left her ravaged body to 
the mercy of the two leering hoods. 

Carl's perverted eyes watched the girl in glee as he held the dog by the 
leash, controlling its movements. They were both under his control, and he 
loved it. He watched as the dog pushed at the silken pubic hairs in 
preparation and felt the growing ache in his swollen testicles as the girl 
twisted back and forth in agony, trying to escape. She's mine, he thought 
gleefully as he unconsciously slipped one hand to his groin, trying to 
relieve the ache that rose to his stubby cock. He forgot that he had to 
control himself as well, and began to rub the rigid little cock more 
frantically, bringing it to an ever harder erection as it strained against 
the confines of his tight ivy league trousers, begging for freedom. The dog 
would be first to warm her up, but he would be next. He'd fuck her this 
time, and not shoot his wad of sperm too fast like he had done before. He'd 
show her. His eyes were glazed with obscene desires as he watched the 
reddish-brown and white dog sniff at her frightened tightening pussy. He was 
delighted that she was frightened, especially when the dog nosed at the hot, 
wet lips of her open, pink cunt. Hang on Baby and wait for the real thing, 
he thought. Wait until he slips his tongue all the way inside your hot 
little pussy, then you'll be ready for me. His perverted mind raced with 
impatient obscenities as he took his swollen cock in his hand and stroked it 
through the woolen trousers. It won't be long now. 

Big fuckin' Carl, Red thought, as he watched from his seat on the dresser. 
He may be Wade's favorite, but I'm the best fucker. Carl's a nut, him and 
his runty little cock. Christ, he don't care about the dog fucking her, or 
even care about seeing her naked pussy staring him in the face. Never seen 
anyone like him. He just wants to see her scream and cry and beg for mercy. 
Not me, though. Nope, I want that tight, little pussy wrapped around me. 
Fuck Carl and his bag. I'll do it my way. 

"You turnin' on, Baby?" Red asked her, his face a lewd grin of desire. "Does 
that big dog with his nose in your cunt make you wanna fuck a real man?" 

Red nearly fell off the dresser as his glazed eyes watched the dog suddenly 
flick out his tongue, part the soft sparse pubic hair, slip wetly along the 
pink quivering lips of her trembling pussy. 

"Yeah, Jocko, make her beg for old Red. Yeah," he urged the licking dog. 
"Get her ready for your old buddy, Red." 

Yeah, she'd be ready, he thought. But ready for him and not for Carl. Carl 
just wanted to see her suffer, but not Red, no, not Red. He climbed off the 
dresser and walked to the bed. His sex crazed eyes watched the dog as he 
cautiously slipped his tongue along the fear trembling lips. He bent and 
looked at the girl's horrified expression, her hips grinding defensively 
down into the mattress, then he took one firm breast in his hand and began 
kneading the pliant flesh slowly as he felt his long cock start to rise in 
his pants. He saw the long pink tongue lap from the dog's dark mouth and 
devour the juices that had begun to flow from the helplessly writhing girl's 
cringing cunt. She was starting to turn on, and he knew it wouldn't be long, 
because the dog was beginning to grow frantic, like a hungry child. He could 
smell the growing fire that brewed in her open crotch, defying everything 
that she thought was right. Red pulled his half-hard cock from his pants and 
began stroking it. His hand moved slowly as he imagined his own tongue 
licking the dark dampness between her legs. As soon as that dog was done, he 
thought. As soon as that bastard's done I'm gonna get mine. Man, she don't 
want it now, but she will, and then by God, she'll really turn on, no matter 
what she tells herself. She'll really turn on. 

It didn't matter what Wade had said about fucking the girl. Every time he 
watched the St. Bernard start licking a girl he could hardly control 
himself. Eagerly as he continued stroking his rigid cock he leaned forward 
and watched the dog as it lapped up the juices that were flowing like a 
river from the hair-lined lips of her cunt. God, she don't want to, but 
she's really turning on, he thought as he saw the pink bud of her clitoris 
standing taut, luxuriating in the long, hard lapping of the excited dog's 
tongue. Man, if I had a tongue like that, he thought, no bitch in the world 
could turn me down. Not one! Dogs had the advantage of the long rough 
tongue, but old Red could still do better he thought, as he looked up at 
Carl, his eyes glued to the girl's contorted face. 

Paula clenched her teeth as tight as she could. She couldn't fight any 
longer but she had to resist. Her throat was tight with fear and humiliation 
as she tried to commit mental suicide. Nothing could be so bad, so 
perverted, yet here she was. Her eyes burned from the salt of her sweat, but 
her hands couldn't reach to wipe them clear. She strained again against the 
nylon cords, but it was no use, her physical strength to resist was 
practically gone. 

Oh, God, she thought as she felt the panting dog's hot breath burning 
against the tender flesh of her wide-spread thighs. The hot tongue ran 
roughly against the quivering pink lips, brushing against the tiny bud of 
her clitoris, forcing it to respond. No man can do it, her tortured mind 
screamed. How can a beast like this make me so hard? Only Sammy could do 
that, not the dog, Goddamnit, not the dog! The harder she tried to resist, 
the harder the little bud became, growing with each rough brush of the St. 
Bernard's animal tongue. For God's sake, don't bite me, don't bite me! her 
mind whirled crazily. He would ruin her if he bit, and then what use could 
she be to herself or Sammy. She waited, her jaws clamped tightly shut, but 
instead of the huge canine teeth tearing at the erect little bud, a soft 
rising pleasure began to kindle in her loins. The long pink tongue continued 
to lick at her trembling slit until the quivering flesh of her hair-lined 
pussy began to involuntarily fill with warm flowing desire. 

Her jaw released its pressure as her body began to submit to the perverted 
desire. Her arms and legs stopped straining at their bonds and relaxed, 
letting her body nuzzle slowly into the softness of her mattress. Her hips 
stopped fighting and slowly lowered themselves into the softness, followed 
by the drooling pink tongue of the dog, lapping at the quivering slit. Paula 
gasped as the rough wet tongue suddenly slipped inside the soft tight flesh 
of her aching vagina and sunk far down into the liquid depths, tasting the 
long awaited juices that boiled inside her. She couldn't resist, and relaxed 
slightly, allowing the tongue to thrust further inside the soft, quivering 
lips, lapping at the clasping hot, wet walls of her vagina and turning 
constricted circles inside. The giant dog was teasing the hot dark confines 
of her pussy, forcing it to submit. She wanted to fight it, but her breath 
was beginning to come in short gasps and she opened her mouth and sighed 
while she tried to moisten her dry hungry mouth. 

There seemed to be no escape from the burning desires that built inside her, 
but she knew that she had to get away. Even in her half-conscious state of 
sexual excitement, she realized that she had to stop the dog, or she would 
no longer be able to control herself. What if Sammy saw her? What if he knew 
that deep inside her burning body the desire was building; desire created by 
an oversexed beast that was bringing her closer to climax with every wet, 
teasing lick of his long pink tongue. How could she face him if she 
succumbed to the pressure of the hot lapping tongue and ended the beastial 
scene in climax, cumming like an animal and filling her burning pussy with 
the white hot juices of climax. She would be no better than an animal, a 
wild bitch in heat with no human compassion whatever. 

It was her body that was responding, she wanted to think. It was only the 
pure physical response, a response that she couldn't control. There was no 
shame in that, no shame in having a healthy sexual body that could respond 
to stimulation, but one side of her mind had already told her differently. 
It wasn't her body alone that wanted to be fucked. It was her own mind that 
drank the pleasures of the dog's tongue. She wanted it to continue because 
she liked it. She LIKED IT! No, no! She couldn't! she screamed silently as 
she looked helplessly down between her upraised breasts and watched the dog 
bury his nose in the dark fur between her legs. Make him stop, all of you. 
For God's sake make him stop before it's too late, but deep down she knew 
that even now it was too late as she looked pleadingly into the lust-crazed 
eyes of her two captors. It was too late! 

"Yeah, Baby, yeah," Red hissed through his yellowed teeth. "Get with it, 
Baby. You know how good it is." 

Red, still sitting on the side of the bed leaned over and bit her nipple as 
the dog continued to sink his tongue into the trembling pink flesh of her 
aching pussy. 

"How's that?" Red asked. "Jocko'd bite ya harder, but what the hell, little 
bitch, you don't wanna be bit, do ya. No, Baby, you want that long red cock 
of his shoved as far into your cunt as itll go, don't ya." Red hung his head 
over hers and bent to kiss her, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Paula 
didn't respond at all, not feeling anything but the long wet tongue licking 
the clasping walls of her quivering cunt. The St. Bernard shoved his nose 
harder against the hot wet opening, pushing the tip into the trembling dark 
hole. He sniffed hard and long, trying to drag the honeyed, hot smell deep 
into his lungs. "Yeah don't that feel good," Red sneered at her. "When he 
takes his nose out and stuffs his prick into your pussy you're gonna scream 
like hell. Why, shit, he's bigger than any customer you ever had." 

Red crushed his mouth against her full lips again and sucked at her tongue, 
but she suddenly became aware of him and wouldn't do as he wanted. 

"The tongue, bitch," he commanded. "Give me your tongue, just like the dog." 

Slowly she obeyed, letting him take her tender wet tongue into his mouth. It 
was just like a cunt, he thought, as he sucked at it, pulling deep into his 
throat and sucking harder all the time. He wanted to tease and torment her 
until she would beg them to stop, but the real show was between her legs, 
and he stopped sucking and started to watch the big dog as he too was being 
overcome by obscene desire. 

Carl watched her fear-contorted face as Red lifted his mouth from hers. He 
knew that the girl couldn't suffer much more of the indignities and still 
fight her own rising desires. The lusty hot smell from between her legs 
incited Carl as well as the St. Bernard. The huge dog wanted to lick the 
never-ending well of hot juices dry, and started lapping furiously. She was 
a bitch ready for fucking and he would give her everything his animal 
instinct had. Carl could see the dog was ready as he bent forward to see the 
rigid shaft pointing forward from the beast's hairy belly, banging like a 
giant spear, twitching and throbbing with lust as it waited for the command 
to sink its massive head into the dark wet hole where his tongue now 
intruded. 

But Carl wouldn't give the command, not yet. He knew that Paula was near the 
breaking point, that she was responding physically and mentally to the 
tongue's probings. It was only a matter of moments until she would beg for 
the big cock, and then he would give the order to the St. Bernard; the order 
to drive his pulsing cock deep into her vulnerable hot pussy like a 
battering ram until she shrieked with pain. Christ, it'd hurt her, but she 
deserved it. She deserved to be fucked by a dog, fucked until there was 
nothing left of her proud bitch-like pride. Yeah, he thought, the dog'll 
hump her hot little pussy until she passes out, and he'd make sure that 
Jocko wouldn't stop until he gave the order. With all that cock he would 
tear the walls of her cunt apart. That'd teach her, that'd teach her just 
like he had taught so many other women who had laughed at him. They could 
laugh all they wanted, but Carl would always have the last laugh. 

"Ready, Jocko," he teased the big dog. "Yeah, you're ready, big boy. Get her 
now, fuck her, boy, fuck her 'til she screams for mercy!" 

Red grinned as his partner gave the command. He could see Carl's stubby cock 
pushing against his trousers, spilling drops of cum as it waited for final 
climax. His own throbbing cock jutted straight out from his fly. It twitched 
spasmodically as he too waited in lewd anticipation. But my time'll come, he 
thought as he watched the huge animal lift itself up, move his front paws up 
beneath her armpits and hover the huge red cock over her thighs, getting a 
firm grip on the bed so he could ram his aching prick into her fiery cunt. 
If I had that cock, Red thought, I'd be king of the world. 

Clumsily the dog probed for her aching pussy, pushing the swollen red tip 
into the soft smoothness of her thighs again and again in a vain effort to 
find the pulsating wet hole, but he would not be as fast as she was. It was 
too late for the girl as the first flashes of climax began to run through 
her body. She was aware of only a huge hot form hovering over her sweating 
body. The dog didn't exist, only the twitching red cock that poised over her 
cunt. Her orgasm was building and she had no control over it as it grew like 
a huge ocean wave coming down fast on a rocky coastal cliff. She groaned 
softly as the dog poked at her and the electric shocks that began her climax 
began shooting through every pore of her tortured skin. She wanted to grab 
the giant cock and stick it into her trembling pussy before it was too late, 
but her hands were still bound and there was no amount of straining that 
would free her. She pushed her hips upward in an effort to grab the 
throbbing cock, but failed, and started clenching her buttocks in one final 
effort to reach her orgasm. She had to cum, she had to release the terrible 
aching want in her fiery, wet cunt. 

Red's eyes were glued to the girl's undulating loins as they strained up 
desperately for the giant cock. He had to see them cum, he had to see the 
dog fuck her before she came. Quickly he reached down and grabbed the St. 
Bernard's twitching cock with his strong right hand. The dog jerked forward, 
thinking that he had found the hole, then realized that he was being guided, 
and temporarily relaxed. Red easily guided the throbbing cock forward and 
put the hard red tip at the clasping opening of her burning cunt and pushed 
it forward. It was ready now, he thought, and released the rigid shaft, 
leaving the first half-inch inserted in the clasping hole. 

"Yeah, Baby," he cooed to the dog. "You're ready big dog, now fuck her 
hard!" 

The lust-filled dog had never known such excitement. The clasping pussy 
nearly sucked him in of its own volition before he suddenly took control and 
drove his massive swollen cock deep into her aching cunt, filling her with 
what seemed like all of his two hundred pounds of animal muscle. 

"Aaaaagggghhhhhhh!" Paula wailed as shocks of pain shot through her tortured 
body. But it wasn't pain, it was pleasure, luxurious pleasure that filled 
her body and scraped the wet yearning walls of her cunt. There was no 
stopping now, it was too late. Suddenly every muscle in her ravaged body 
twitched at once and sent wild ripples of electricity smashing through her 
body as her final wave of climax flooded through her abdomen spilling the 
hot juices into her cunt. "Aaahhhh, aaaahhhhhhh, aaahhhhh, I'm cumming!" she 
wailed like a wild uncontrolled animal, her naked body twisting and writhing 
like a crazed mannequin in the last untamed throes of her orgasm. 

Suddenly she relaxed, completely exhausted. It was then that she realized 
that a gigantic cock was still thrusting in and out of her ravaged cunt. She 
felt it thrusting and pulling, in and out, as she lay on the bed, her eyes 
closed as the massive prick continued driving inside her. Carl, she thought, 
bald ugly Carl, could it be Red. She was too tired to look. Neither of them 
had fucked her for so long before. Neither of them had been able to turn her 
on before, not until that huge dog had licked her into oblivion. It was 
almost... Oh God, no, not... Not... THE DOG! Her eyes flashed open in horror 
and stared at the lust-maddened form of the panting dog that continued 
humping her with all its animal fury. 

"Oh God, noooo!" she screamed and tried to pull away from the sex-crazed 
animal. It was too much for her. It wasn't just a cock that was driving with 
brutal force deep into her aching cunt. It was a dog. A giant St. Bernard 
that was fucking her like a bitch in heat he had found on the street. This 
was the final defeat, the final degradation. She had come from somewhere in 
the world to the perverted bed of a dog, to be fucked at will. There could 
be no turning back for her, no Sammy, no life in the future. She had been 
beaten, destroyed by the horrible ravishing of a lust-crazed animal. Her 
eyes began to bulge wide and roll about in her head as she watched the 
animal continuing in his last breaths before orgasm. 

It was too much, watching the panting animal. She could see that he was 
still excited, too excited to be stopped. He was a huge cock, that's all. A 
cock that no man could ever possess, and if she didn't stop him now, she 
might succumb once more to the massive prick which rammed again and again 
into her hair-covered pussy. 

Already she could feel the juices starting to flow again from her ravaged 
cunt and knew that she must stop them or she would cum again. She couldn't 
stand it. She had to stop them! 

"For God's sake," she begged, her voice punctuated by the animal panting of 
the huge dog. "Get him off of me, please, get him off!" 

Carl towered above her, a lewd grin on his face. The proud little bitch was 
begging just as he had predicted. 

"What's the matter, Paula?" be sneered. "Is Jocko too much for you, or too 
little?" 

Red laughed as he watched Carl holding the leash out for the girl to take. 
Goddamn! Carl just loved to humiliate them until they didn't have a grain of 
pride left, he thought. That stubby little cock of his can't handle a woman, 
so he makes them pay for his own impotence. Christ, what a guy to have for 
an enemy. 

"Oh God, Carl..." she moaned. "Please make him stop!" 

But Carl had no thought of making the big dog stop. His eyes were glued to 
the girl's tortured face and his hands were both glued to the stubby little 
bulge in his trousers, rubbing and pulling at his leaking cock. His hot 
sperm was dripping freely, soaking a large wet spot beside his fly, as his 
hands massaged the cock to its fullest length, each stroke in perfect timing 
with the St. Bernard as he continued to plunge his giant swollen cock deep 
inside her fiery pussy. 

Red smiled at the obscene spectacle before him. He watched first the huge 
dog pummeling the girl, then Carl's hands as they stroked his twitching 
little cock toward climax. Carl had tried every trick in the book to fuck a 
girl, but he never made it last long enough to get inside her. Red 
remembered with a grin all the times he had watched Carl get all worked up 
watching the dog screw different girls, then suddenly, when he finally had a 
hard-on, shoot his wad in his pants. The stupid bastard, Red thought as he 
watched, he'll never learn. In a few seconds he'll start to twitch, and then 
it'll be over before he can get to her. Tough shit. Let Carl watch all he 
wants to, and when the dog's done I'll be ready. 

Red had long ago decided that it was all a big show for him, to get him 
ready to screw. Carl was no better than a two-year-old when it came to 
women. Let old Red do the real screwing, that was better anyway. He slid his 
hand over his rock-hard throbbing prick and massaged it as it twitched up 
and down slowly in the cool air conditioned room. Let some nut like Carl 
watch all he wants. Pussy was for the real men, the men who could fuck it as 
well or better than the big dog. That's what women really want. Red smiled 
to himself as he stroked his massive throbbing cock in his clenched fist. 
Man, I'll be ready he thought as he pulled the reddened foreskin over the 
tip and stroked excitedly at the rigid muscle, God, I'll be ready! 

Paula had lost sight of the men and the dog. Her head was rolling back and 
forth as her attention centered on the giant pulsing cock that rammed again 
and again into her tender, fiery cunt. The ripples of excitement were 
growing again, trembling through her entire body as her obscene animal 
passion grew and grew. There was nothing else but the red hot cock that 
filled her with rigid muscle, a cock that would fill her again and again as 
so many had in the past and so many would in the future. Her tortured mind 
was on a psychedelic sex trip that would send her running through hundreds 
of kennels on all fours, searching for bigger and bigger dogs, trying them 
all for size; fucking them as hard and as fast as she could. They were 
purple dogs, red dogs, weird green dogs, all of them with long black teeth 
and gigantic foot-and-one-half-long cocks driving into her tortured cunt, 
none of them able to satisfy her completely. She tried to shut out the 
maniac ramblings of her tormented mind. It was all a dream, a bad dream, but 
it wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop until she had fucked the St. Bernard to 
his last ounce of strength. There was nothing for her at this moment from 
his gigantic throbbing prick, driving and pummeling her mercilessly, exactly 
the way she wanted it. 

Her passion had won the battle as she raised her hips to meet the smashing 
thrusts of the great dog, fighting to defeat him, to cum again and again 
until neither of them could move. Her legs strained at the nylon cords so 
that she might have more strength to fuck. 

"Oooooohhhhh, oooooooohhh, ooooooohhh," she moaned deliriously with each 
thrust. "Now my Darling doggie, I'm cumming nowwww! Please, more, further, 
more, more!!" 

The muscles seemed to begin exploding as she started to cum, her body 
jerking high to meet the dog's driving cock. The St. Bernard had come to the 
end of his endurance and began squealing like a puppy as his sperm shot 
through his red twitching cock deep into her clasping wet cunt. He was 
fucking her with a cock twice the size of any normal man's, yet she was 
dying for more, crying out in short gasps of pain and pleasure as the 
explosions grew and her orgasm reached its climax hurriedly. She was coming 
and she would out-fuck him, yes she would do it! She had to do it! 

"Aaarrgghhhh," she wailed from deep within her throat as the final whiplash 
of orgasm reached for her aching pussy and snapped it like a whip. 
"AAaarrgghhh! I'm CUMMMINNNGGG!!" 

*** 

As soon as her climax had slapped her into unconsciousness she collapsed 
back onto the bed, unaware that the dog was still spastically thrusting his 
quickly deflating cock into her lust-spent pussy. 

The St. Bernard didn't know that his last minute was almost over as he 
continued to screw into the girl, each thrust becoming shorter and shorter 
as his massive cock shriveled from exhaustion. He pushed at her with all his 
two hundred pounds, jerking her body back and forth on the mattress like a 
lifeless ragdoll. 

He had done it! Carl Pearson had made her his slave. Now she could no longer 
laugh at him, he thought as he watched her unconscious form being jerked 
back and forth on the bed by the dog's driving loins. She had laughed at him 
and had paid the price of shame and humiliation which she deserved. She had 
defied him and had defied the mob, but now she could become one of them 
again. There was nowhere else for her to go. Carl Pearson was the victor. He 
moved his eyes from her unconscious face to her ravaged crotch where the 
giant St. Bernard's shriveling prick fought for one more entry into her 
savagely raped vagina. Finally it fell free and he hovered above the girl's 
body waiting for the command to get down. He had done his job well, and 
satisfied his every animal instinct. 

But Carl's animal instincts had not been satisfied. He suddenly realized 
that he had only seconds left. His stuffy cock was throbbing for release as 
his swollen oversized balls screamed for him to cum. He looked up at the dog 
hovering over the girl's still body. It was too late to try to move him, and 
frantically he fumbled with the leash, trying to pull the dog away with one 
hand, while pulling at his zipper with the other. God, he had to hurry 
before it was too late. Now, now, he thought, and jumped onto the bed, 
oblivious to Red who sat beside the girl's head watching with a sardonic 
grin spread across his rough face. She wasn't done yet, Carl screamed to 
himself while whimpering out loud. One more triumphant act of degradation 
and debasement, his piece d'resistance. Yeah, he thought as he pulled the 
stubby erection from his pants. I'll make her suck it until the juices fill 
her hot woman mouth. Carl Pearson, woman conquerer, I'll... I'll... 

But it was too late! Even as he pulled the short fat cock from his pants the 
first spurts of cum started to shoot from the vertical slit on the end. He 
couldn't do it now. He couldn't make her suck him, he thought as tears 
filled his eyes and rivulets of sperm shot into his palm, covering his hand. 
No, no, he cried silently as the twitching little cock shot burst after 
burst of white hot juice into his upraised palm. He had almost made it. He 
had almost made it! "Oh God," and a sob broke from his tight retching 
throat. Crying like a baby he got off the bed, staring all the time at the 
juices in his palm. He had come so close, he thought as he stumbled toward 
the bathroom. Mommy, I almost did it! 

Red snickered to himself as Carl stumbled toward the bathroom, crying. He 
had seen Carl do the same thing so many times before that he was no longer 
sorry for him. He says I'm stupid, he thought, but stupid or not, I can fuck 
any woman, and he can't fuck one. I don't need any of that mean crap to get 
me hard. All I have to do is look at a tight little pussy in pants and I get 
turned on. But this baby, he thought, looking at Paula's unconscious form 
beside him. This Baby don't have no pants on at all. She's got nothing on, 
just ready and willin' for ol' Red, and by God, I'm gonna have some of that 
pussy. I've never seen one fuck like her, and I'm gonna get me a big piece 
of it. 

He still massaged his massive prick as it stuck out from his pants. Everyone 
had his turn, and now Red would get his, he thought as he reached over and 
pulled at the girl's upraised breast. 

"Come on, bitch," he said softly, proud of himself for being the last one 
left. "It's old Red's turn to get some of your action. Now come on and wake 
up, Goddamn it. A whore's never got time to sleep, you know that!" 

Paula didn't move and he slipped his fingers to the soft bud of her nipple 
and pinched it hard, thinking it would revive her. 

"Come on, Goddamnit!" he snarled. "Nap time is over!" 

Slowly Paula rolled her head toward him and opened her eyes, trying to focus 
on where she was and what she saw. He was kneeling on the bed and she could 
see the red pulsing tip of his cock as it hovered near her head. She could 
feel the burning pain of his fingers as he pinched her tender breasts. No, 
it wasn't the dog. 

It was... Red! Big hairy Red! 

She forced herself to focus on the waving head of his massive prick in front 
of her eyes and realized that he wasn't through with her yet, that he had 
something else for her to do. 

"Please," she whimpered in her mental agony. "Leave me alone. Haven't you 
done enough?" 

Red said nothing, but inched his throbbing prick forward toward her red 
lipsticked mouth. 

Instead of accepting his massive, jerking organ, she cried in anguish and 
pulled with her last bit of strength at the nylon cords. 

"Come 'ere," he snarled at her, frightening her by the roughness in his 
voice. 

She knew that he meant business, that there was no escaping. Carl had 
already degraded and humiliated her more than she had thought possible, and 
now, Red! Red was going to make her suck his own pulsating penis. She fought 
with herself in anguish, not knowing what to do, not knowing what she 
wanted. 

"You really think you're hot stuff, don'cha? You think because you fucked 
that lousy dog half to death that you're the greatest little piece of ass in 
the world. Christ, you whore, you're nothin' but what I say you are. Any 
bitch who could enjoy an animal's cock like you do doesn't deserve anything 
but what she's told to deserve!" 

Paula could see that he was angry with her, but his voice was more mocking 
than angry. Everything he had said was true. She had fucked the dog twice, 
and worse yet, she had enjoyed every inch of the foot-long animal cock as it 
had pummeled her so viciously. He was right, she was nothing but a whore, 
and would always be nothing but a whore! How could she ever forgive herself? 

"Yeah," Red sneered at her. "I'm right and you know it. You gave that dog 
every fucking thing you could, and now, Godamnit, it's my turn and you won't 
say no!" 

Suddenly he grabbed her head and pulled it toward his throbbing cock. 

"That's it, Baby!" he whispered. "That's what you're gonna suck." 

Paula pulled away from his grip and strained at the cords. 

"Bitch!" he howled and pulled her hard, nearly yanking her hair from her 
head. She could feel the searing pain run through her scalp as his thick, 
strong hands held her firmly. 

"Nooo, please," she wailed. 

Hearing the girl's cry, the St. Bernard looked up and whined. She was his 
and he didn't want to see her hurt, but Red was his master, and the decision 
was too much for the dog to make. He couldn't choose between the two. 
Instead of acting, he bent down and continued licking his deflated cock, 
soothing the harsh soreness she had given him by fucking him so hard. 

"What'sa matter, Jocko," Red asked the dog in his friendliest voice. "Don't 
cha know who's boss around here?" 

The St. Bernard looked up questioningly. 

"Come 'ere, big dog," he commanded. 

Eagerly the St. Bernard got to his feet and walked to his master. He paused 
when Red pointed to the girl's dark furry triangle, and turned his head to 
sniff the still hot scent of his sperm mixed with her juices. Vaguely his 
animal memory recalled the wild fucking that he had had from her fiery 
vagina, and he nuzzled close to the hair-lined lips of her pussy trying to 
recall the sensation. 

"Maybe he wants some more," Red quipped. "You gave him the real treatment." 

"Please, Red, stop," she sobbed as tears filled her eyes. She could never 
forget what she had done with the dog, the fantastic wild sexual passion. 
Never again could she be the same. But... "Please, Red, I'll do anything you 
say. Just make him stop." 

Red looked at her, pleasure spreading across his face. Now he knew what Carl 
felt when the girls begged him. It did feel good, in fact, it felt great. 
He, too, had become a master, able to make beautiful women do as he wished. 
He looked at the girl, and shooed the dog away, slipping one hand at the 
same time back to his throbbing penis. Yeah, he was a king now, and she knew 
it. He continued stroking the swollen organ. For once in his life he knew 
what power was, and he was enjoying it. 

"OK, Baby, we'll even make things comfortable for you, if you're good." 

"Please, Red," she begged, looking at the bonds that held her tightly, 
cutting into her wrists and ankles. 

"Sure, Baby, sure, but first we'd better get something straight." 

"Red, really, I'll do anything you say, anything just untie me." 

"Fine, as soon as you tell me you'll suck me off." 

Paula couldn't believe her ears. He wasn't going to treat her any better 
than Carl had. How vulgar, how ugly. Hadn't they had enough after watching 
her being mercilessly ravished by the dog? Why did he have to say that, why 
did he have to be so cruel? 

"O.K.," she murmured, in hopeless defeat. There was nothing else she could 
do. 

"What," he said, putting his free hand to his ear. 

"I said, O.K.," she whispered. 

"That's not what I mean, bitch," he growled. "You're gonna suck me off, then 
we're gonna fuck. Now Goddamn it... say it like you mean it!" 

"Ohhh..." she started, but controlled herself. "I'm-I'm going to suck your 
cock, then we're going to fuck," she whimpered hoarsely. 

"Right!" he said gleefully in triumph. 

Paula looked at him with disgust but said nothing. 

"O.K., Baby," he said as he began to untie the nylon cords. "I'll do 
anything, you say. If you wanna suck me off and then let me fuck you, I'll 
be glad to." 

Red hummed to himself as he quickly untied the knots. Yeah, he thought, 
she's my slave and I'll do what I want. If she's as good at suckin' as she 
is at fuckin', I'm gonna have a ball. 

"How's 'at," he said proudly as he undid the last nylon cord. 

Paula didn't answer as she sat up. Her ankles and wrists burned from the 
terrible pain where the cord had cut through her skin. Slowly she started to 
get up, but as she did, Red's heavy hand pushed down on her shoulder and she 
obeyed the pressure and got to her knees. 

"That's better," he murmured. "You'll have a better shot at it from down 
there. I hope your mouth's big enough." 

He grasped her hair in his hands and pulled her head to the rubbery head of 
his swollen cock, probing her half open mouth with the wet tip. 

"Come on, Baby," he said obscenely. "You're about to earn your freedom." 

His massive hands moved her unwilling head from side to side, making the 
drops of hot sperm smear across her lips. She didn't want to do it, but what 
else was left. She had suffered the worst possible humiliation and felt that 
she wasn't worth anything, anyway. 

"Mmmmmm," she moaned between her teeth as the fiery tip pressed against her 
lips and she started to part them. 

"Let's see ya do it like ya did it to Sammy," he ordered. 

Poor Sammy, she thought as she hesitantly opened her mouth and allowed the 
first half inch of smooth raw flesh to enter her tender passage. Slowly she 
opened wider as he pushed his hips forward until almost three inches of the 
throbbing cock rested in her mouth, teasing her hard wet tongue. 

"Hot, isn't it," Red said eagerly, his breath becoming short. "I'll bet you 
haven't sucked one like that in a long time." 

It was hot, she thought. It burned with the fires of hell from deep within 
his groin. The rigid shaft pulsed in her mouth, rising and falling 
spasmodically as it twitched against her tongue. She looked at the black 
curly hairs that surrounded the base of the massive pulsing prick and closed 
her eyes. Suddenly she was in a different world, it was no longer contained 
in the burning fires of hell. Instead it contained the relaxing heat of a 
sauna bath, soothing the insides of her wet mouth and moistening it with the 
white burning liquids that leaked from the slit on the end of the fleshy 
probing instrument. The taste and warmth suddenly became like hot milk to 
Paula, hot milk that she needed to warm her insides and nourish her ravaged 
body. She sucked at it harder to draw more juices, but for the moment they 
seemed to have stopped. She could feel the massive throbbing cock pulsing 
against the back of her throat and started curling her tongue, massaging the 
underside of the rigid shaft. It was growing harder and hotter and she could 
feel the warm milk coming again from the tip, flowing in small rivulets down 
the hot confines of her eager hungry throat. She pulled her head away 
slightly and grasped the huge cock with her hands, rubbing and stroking it, 
trying to milk it like a cow, forcing the hot juices into her mouth. She 
needed that milk, she needed it. 

Red could hardly control himself against the girl's sucking mouth. She was 
fantastic, better than he had ever expected. He felt her tugging at his 
pantleg trying to get a good grip so she could move her head back and forth 
along the lust-maddened cock. Her head bobbed slowly at first, her mouth 
sucking each time she moved. It was driving him crazy with passion, excited 
to the point where he had no control. Whatever she did was all right, 
whatever way she wanted to suck or fuck him was all right. 

As her head bobbed back and forth, sucking the huge throbbing cock, Paula 
could feel the aching walls of her trembling pussy suddenly helplessly 
crying for more, crying to be fucked by the pulsating prick. She knew as she 
sucked harder that if she let him cum in her mouth, it would be too late for 
him to fuck her, and she wouldn't get the satisfaction. He was the master. 
He had forced her to suck his aching cock, but now, now she had become the 
leader. She knew that she could make him do anything as long as she 
satisfied his lust-maddened desires. 

Slowly she pushed her hands against his belt and began unfastening it. She 
had to have his cock sunk deep into her wet hot cunt, she needed to be 
fucked again and he was the last one left. Easily she unfastened his pants, 
all the time, still sucking at the throbbing prick as it rose toward climax. 
She didn't suck quite as hard for a minute, trying to hold him back until 
she could wrap her cunt walls around the long hard sinewy flesh of his rigid 
prick. He was the master, but her need was greater. She had to satisfy the 
roaring fires beneath the tortured, swollen lips of her pussy. She had to... 

Gingerly she pushed him towards the bed only a foot away while his pants 
slid down his hairy muscular thighs. Red didn't know what she wanted, but 
took two small steps backward and felt his legs against the bed. Who cares 
what she does, as long as she doesn't stop the exquisite sucking at the 
throbbing tip of his cock. Suddenly she pushed him backwards again and he 
fell onto the bed unexpectedly. 

"No," he growled as if suddenly deprived. 

He felt her mouth slip off his massive cock with a loud sucking noise. It 
was crazy and exciting when her mouth came off, but she couldn't stop. "No, 
don't stop!" his mind screamed, but before he could protest again she jumped 
onto the bed like a wild animal and straddled him. The silken pubic hair 
between her open thighs hovering only an inch above his twitching cock. She 
looked down at him, knowing that he wouldn't protest, and slid her fingers 
over the moist trembling flesh of her pussy, spreading the wet lips for a 
moment, running a fingernail over the swollen bud of her excited clitoris. 

"Ooooohhhhh," she moaned at the exquisite feeling of desire that shuddered 
through her sweating body. 

Red looked up at her as her fingers passed along the open wet slit. He could 
see that she was turned on like no other woman had ever been. Small droplets 
of semen hung from her full red lips like cooling candlewax. He looked back 
at her trembling fingers just in time to see her spread the quivering 
hair-lined lips and lower her aching wet pussy over the rubbery head of his 
rigid throbbing cock. She gasped slightly as the tip touched the burning 
flesh of her cunt and lodged in the open wet hole. Involuntarily her aching 
cuntal walls clenched in muscular spasms trying to suck the massive cock 
deep up inside. Now she was ready, now she would be fulfilled her sex crazed 
mind screamed as she suddenly sank down upon the throbbing prick and filled 
her dark wet pussy with the rock hard flesh. She would fuck him just like 
the dog, fuck him until he couldn't take any more fuck him until she 
couldn't take any more. She was no more than a sex machine, a walking mass 
of sexual flesh that would fuck until she could never fuck again. 

"FUCK!" screamed her tortured lips out into the open air. "Oooooh FUCK!" and 
her smooth, hollowing buttocks began a wild uncontrolled, pumping motion up 
and down on the hard, rigid cock sunk deep up between her straddling thighs. 

"Do it to me, do it to me! Never stop! Never stop!" 

Chapter Eight 

"Jeff Lee, please," Sammy Wynn said hurriedly into the telephone. 

He listened as Jeff's secretary told him that her boss wasn't in the office 
at the moment. Goddamn, Sammy thought, he can't be out. If he wants the 
story he's got to see me. Sammy knew that he couldn't wait long because the 
mob would be after him. The two hoods at Paula's would know that he had left 
a warning for her when she didn't show up. He knew she was safe, but they 
would be hunting for them both. 

"Look," he said to the secretary. "Tell, him I've got the information he 
needs on Wade Jackson, but he's got to hurry. I'll be waiting at the bar in 
the Hilton Hotel. Tell him to hurry, because he might be in trouble." 

*** 

Sammy looked up from his drink at the grey-haired man who stood framed in 
the doorway. He waited as the distinguished looking young man entered and 
walked toward him. 

"Are you Jeff Lee?" he asked from his stool. 

"You wanted to see me," Jeff answered, cautiously. He didn't want to be 
caught in a trap. 

Sammy motioned toward one of the booths near the corner and they walked 
through the mass of convention delegates who were standing in the center of 
the room. Delegates had a habit of convening in bars before each session 
while they made sure their loyalties and plans were still in order. 

Sammy spoke first: "I work for Wade Jackson." 

A bribe, Jeff thought when the young man spoke. Wade must be getting pretty 
uncomfortable to send a kid to offer him a bribe. The mob underestimated 
Jeff Lee's integrity. As far as crime was concerned, he had no price and 
could not be bought. 

"I think I've got what you want on Wade Jackson," Sammy continued. "I've 
been with him for two weeks as a collector, and already I know about a 
fourth of the girls who work for him, and can name the other men that work 
with him. What do you think?" 

"Go ahead," Jeff said, his interest stirred. 

"First, we've gotta make a deal." 

So that's it, Jeff thought. Some punk who wants out of the mob the easy way. 

"No deals," Jeff told him. "I can't make any deal for the district 
attorney's office. If you want immunity from the law, you'll have to talk to 
them." 

But Sammy had another surprise for Jeff. 

"It's not the law I'm worried about," he whispered, not wanting any of the 
nearby convention delegates to hear him. "I want immunity from Wade 
Jackson." 

Jeff Lee was impressed. Here was a young man, he thought, who not only had 
realized his mistake, but didn't mind paying for it. He just didn't want to 
die at the hands of the syndicate. 

"What makes you think you'll need protection from them?" Jeff asked. "We can 
keep everything quiet enough so that they won't know it's you who gave me 
the information." 

That'd be great, Sammy thought, but impossible. He had a vivid picture of 
Carl and Red waiting furiously in Paula's living room waiting for her to 
return. After Sammy had already failed to appear at Wade's command twice in 
a row, they would all know why when they got their subpoenas in a few days. 
Sammy would need more than just a little protection. Besides, there was 
someone else for him to consider. 

"It's not just for me," he said. "There's a girl involved, and well, I don't 
want her hurt either." 

Always a woman involved, Jeff thought as he suddenly remembered his own 
wife. If Pamela were involved in this thing it would be better for me, 
easier, but Pamela wasn't the only woman that now occupied his thoughts. 
Carmen, the Cuban dancer had made him remember what a real woman was like in 
bed, wild and inhibited. Thinking of her as he considered Sammy's request, 
he felt a little guilty, yet justified in having screwed her. After all, he 
had done it in the line of duty, trying to get information on Wade Jackson. 
Although he couldn't use her for a witness she had provided him with almost 
all the links to the chain that would jail Jackson for good. 

But he had been unfaithful to his wife. He had gone to bed with a prostitute 
because his wife couldn't satisfy him. She couldn't give him the physical 
pleasures that he had found with the Cuban girl. His love of his wife was 
more of a spiritual thing than physical. She couldn't excite him with 
salacious talk or the obscene displays of her body that Carmen used to 
entice and arouse the deepest animal passions that lay in the minds and 
bodies of every man. Pamela just wasn't enough woman for him. She may as 
well be sexually non-existent. Jeff wondered if Sammy's girlfriend was as 
much a woman in bed as Carmen. 

"Who's the girl?" Jeff asked. 

"She works for Wade," Sammy replied defensively. "She's one of his 
prostitutes." 

Jeff stared at the young man for almost a minute before speaking. So Sammy 
did have a real woman, he thought. He wondered how Sammy felt about knowing 
all the men his girlfriend had been screwed by. Maybe it excites him, maybe 
he just doesn't care. That would have to be love, Jeff thought, knowing that 
he couldn't love his wife if she went to bed with another man, especially if 
she knew how to do all the things that Carmen did with her mouth, and with 
the furry little animal that breathed between her legs. 

"Who is she?" Jeff asked. 

"Her name's Paula Moore," Sammy told him. "She doesn't know I'm here yet, 
but she'll talk if I tell her. She's in big trouble with Jackson and his 
henchmen. That's the main reason I'm here. Two of his men came to her 
apartment this morning when I was there. They had a huge St. Bernard with 
them, and when I left I overheard them talking about how they were going to 
use the dog to punish her for the mistake that she had made." 

Jeff listened, amazed at the cruelty that Jackson and his hoods used to get 
their petty revenge. 

"... So that's how I heard about you," Sammy continued. "They're going to do 
something to you too, and I thought you'd want to be warned. That's why I 
wanted to tell you everything I know. If you're after them, then you can 
help me. There's no one else that I can turn to." 

Jeff sat for a minute thinking about what Sammy had said. He tried to 
picture the two hundred pound St. Bernard driving his hard pink penis in and 
out of the girl's crotch, but his imagination would not allow him to view 
the thought for long. He remembered hearing about such things when he was in 
the service, but he always thought it too far below him to even imagine such 
a thing, and now he had met a man whose girlfriend had almost suffered the 
same fate. 

"Do you know if she got the note?" Jeff asked him. 

"I'm not sure," he answered. "But she said she always gets the mail in the 
morning, so she must have. I told her to get a hotel room and call me here 
at noon." 

Jeff looked at his watch and back at the young man sitting across from him. 

"It's one-thirty now," he said. "Maybe we'd better find her before we go on. 
If they did get to her, she's going to need a doctor." 

Sammy looked at his own watch. God, it was late. He didn't realize that they 
had been talking for so long, but she had to be alright, she just had to. If 
Carl and Red had gotten hold of her she could be dead, or worse. That dog 
could have driven her insane. 

"Come on," Jeff said, getting up from his seat. "We'll split up and try to 
find her, then we'll talk." 

Just as Sammy nodded and started to rise, a waiter brought a telephone to 
the table and plugged it into the wall. 

"It's for you, Mr. Lee." 

"Hello," he said into the receiver. 

"Oh, Mr. Lee," his secretary's voice said. "I'm so glad I've found you. A 
man called. I think he said he was a doctor or something. You're supposed to 
call home right away. He wasn't very clear, but said that something was 
wrong and you should call home immediately." 

Pamela! he thought. God, what was wrong? She could be sick or hurt, or 
anything. 

"O.K.," he said. "I'll call her right away." 

Jeff hung up the phone and looked at Sammy. 

"My wife's sick, or something. I've got to call home. Look, you get started 
in some of the spots you know," he said. "Start with her apartment. I'll get 
in touch with my contacts as soon as I find out about my wife. Call me at my 
office later on." 

Sammy agreed and quickly left the bar, worried about what he might find at 
Paula's apartment. As he left the room, Jeff turned to the telephone and 
dialed his home number. 

The phone rang once, twice, then... 

"Hello Mr. Lee," Wade Jackson's voice came over the receiver. 

Chapter Nine 

Pamela Lee sat in her kitchen draining the contents of her tenth cup of 
morning coffee. It was nearly noon and she had spent the last few hours 
going over her proposed guest list for the Charity Ball that her husband 
objected to so often. 

Jeff always seems to make things harder for me, she thought as she got up 
from the table. Pamela knew that her social commitment was important to 
Jeff's career, but he would hear none of it. As far as he was concerned, her 
seven-day-a-week society schedule was a complete waste of time. If only he 
could understand that she was doing it for him, she thought. He was so 
intelligent and worldly, yet he would not give the slightest bit of ground 
when it came to social contacts. 

"Absurd," she said aloud as she walked into the large bathroom and turned on 
the light. Silently she reached over and turned on the bath water, checking 
for the right temperature. Her active mind stopped thinking about her 
husband for a moment and she turned her attention to her image in the 
mirror. She slipped her robe from her soft shoulders and automatically hung 
it on a hook. The bath water was heating the room and she took a deep breath 
of the steamy air, feeling it caress her lungs with its dampness. 

"Mmmmm," she moaned softly and stretched her arms high above her head, 
loosening her long supple muscles. 

Her eye caught her image in the mirror and she clinically examined herself. 
Not bad, she thought, not bad at all for a thirty year old woman. She ran 
her eyes along the graceful lines of her stretched body, observing the firm 
roundness of her breasts and the sleek sensuous curve of her hips. She 
lowered her arms and touched her hands to her breasts, tensing for a moment 
at the tingling sensation that shot through her thighs. 

It was always the same, she thought to herself as her fingers toyed with the 
pink buds of her nipples. Every time she touched herself there softly, the 
tingling would start in her thighs, and sometimes, when she weakened, she 
would hold her fingers on her breasts, caressing the nipples until they 
hardened and small droplets of warm moisture would form at the mouth of her 
vagina. It seemed so strange, and really, even good. But Pamela had listened 
to her mother for twenty seven years, and whatever mother said was right. 
She could remember the older woman telling her of the ugly grunting that men 
made when they made love with their big hairy bodies. 

Pamela could not understand why her husband would get so passionate, almost 
animal-like, she thought. She ran her fingers down her body, slowly stroking 
the soft skin while she recalled the last time she and Jeff had made love. 
He had been rough as always, consumed in his animal desire. He never hurts 
me, she thought, but he's never tender. He never touches me like this. 

As she thought about her husband's sweating body rocking back and forth on 
top of her, her fingers sought the soft silken hair that grew at the apex of 
her thighs, and experienced the same tingling that she had when she had 
touched her breasts. She remembered that her mother had told her that a 
woman's body was to be treasured, and cared for. Maybe it would tingle when 
Jeff touched her too, if only he could be more gentle and civilized, she 
thought as her fingers explored the trembling pink lips of her vagina. If he 
could be gentle I might even enjoy myself, too. 

This was the farthest that Pamela Lee had ever gone when thinking about sex. 
Always before her mother's words had had the power to curb the rising desire 
that she felt when she touched the soft roundness of her breasts. But this 
time her fingers had wandered between her thighs and were causing her 
mother's words to fade into the background. 

Suddenly her whole body trembled and she tried to shake off the rising 
desire that flooded her moistening vagina. Once before, ten years ago, she 
had felt the same passion rise in her loins. She remembered sliding her 
finger back and forth across the quivering lips until the tiny bud of her 
clitoris rose to erection. There had been no turning back that time, and she 
had fallen into a frenzy of masturbation, rubbing the finger harder and 
harder, until suddenly her whole body had shaken with convulsions, leaving 
her weak. 

As she looked into the mirror she saw that her jaw had gone slack, leaving 
her face in a mask of lust-incited desire. 

"Ooooohhh," she moaned aloud. 

She couldn't do it again, she just couldn't. Pamela remembered the 
tremendous guilt that she had harbored the last time she masturbated. It was 
wrong, wrong, but it felt so nice. Please, she begged herself, please stop 
this torture. She seemed to be like another person in the mirror, her face 
contorted with the need for orgasm and the terrible guilt that she felt. 

As suddenly as she had begun, she stopped. With all her willpower she 
removed her wet fingers from the warmth of the hair lined lips between her 
legs and breathed a sigh of relief. She had won, but still the embers of 
passion smouldered in her yearning body. 

The bath, she thought, the hot bath would soothe the ache that she felt and 
make her forget what she had almost done. 

Gingerly she lowered herself into the steaming tub, feeling the hot water 
slap at the white moons of her soft buttocks. The heat surrounded her thighs 
as she sank lower, surging between her thighs like ocean waves. 

"Mmmmm," she moaned aloud and allowed her sleek, firm body to sink into the 
tub, nearly submerging herself. 

She sat back and pulled a washcloth from beside her. Pamela looked at her 
breasts as they rose and fell above the water in slow even rhythm. It'll 
stop, she thought as she felt the hot bathwater mix with the warm juices 
that had lubricated her aching vagina. Here I am, a grown woman, and yet I 
can't enjoy sex. I have to sit in a bathtub and soak away the desire while 
my husband is out chasing prostitutes. 

I wonder what a prostitute looks like, she thought as she soaped the tips of 
her breasts. Do they look like a normal woman, or are they painted and 
sleazy. For a moment she tried to picture a professional whore, but the 
woman she saw in her mind was in bed with her husband, and she immediately 
erased the image. How can they stand to have all those men sticking their 
big brutal penises into them. 

She shook her head in disgust at the thought of hundreds of hairy men 
climbing in and out of her bed. God, not my bed, not ever, she thought. 
Prostitutes couldn't possibly enjoy it, they just couldn't. 

Pamela raised one leg and ran the lathery cloth along the trim tanned skin, 
nearly laughing out loud when she remembered what Jeff had said about Wade 
Jackson. Mr. Jackson was an outstanding member of the community, she 
thought, and would never resort to such a depraved thing. 

"Oh damn!" she said aloud as the doorbell suddenly chimed, breaking her 
train of thought. 

She pulled herself from the tub and reached for her robe as the bell rang 
again. 

"I'm coming," she yelled as she half ran across the living room, tying the 
belt of her robe as she went. 

"Oh!" she gasped as she swung open the door and stared into the face of Wade 
Jackson. "Why, Mr. Jackson, I was just thinking about you." 

"Really," he said. "I'm flattered." 

Pamela had never met Wade Jackson before, but had seen his picture often. 
She was impressed and pleased that he had come to her home, though she 
didn't particularly care for the looks of the two seedy looking men that had 
come with him. 

"Won't you come in, please," she said, at the same time opening the door 
wider and gesturing for them to enter. "I hope you'll forgive the way I 
look. You caught me in the bath." 

"No, you look fine," Wade told her, "Just fine." 

"Let me get you some coffee," she said hurriedly. "It'll only take a 
minute." 

Wade thanked her and walked to the sofa. His two companions stood by the 
door, their arms crossed over their chests like Roman Gladiators. Wade was 
holding himself back, wanting to find out just how much Jeff Lee's wife knew 
before he would order his bodyguards to take her into the bedroom and strip 
the robe from her back. He was pleased that they had entered the house so 
easily. Maybe she doesn't know anything, he thought, that would make it even 
better. It would make her more innocent, and therefore more shocked when the 
two men would throw her on to the bed and degrade her like a common whore 
with their long hard pricks. Yeah, he thought, she's really in for it. 

Jeff Lee's wife brought a tray of cups with a coffee serve into the living 
room and set it on the table by the sofa. 

"Cream or sugar?" she asked the three men. 

"I take sugar," Wade replied. "But I always bring my own. You ought to try 
it." 

His own sugar, Pamela thought as she took the packet that he handed her. She 
didn't want to of fend him, and so she poured the fine white granules into 
her coffee. 

Wade watched with delight as she stirred her coffee, then brought the cup to 
her lips and took a long sip. She's in for it now, he thought. Women are so 
damn dumb, she'd probably take poison if I offered it, but this is better. 
She's got enough Spanish Fly in that coffee to make her fuck a whole 
regiment. 

Pamela smiled at Wade as she sipped the hot coffee. "It's good," she told 
him. "It's different, but very good." 

While Pamela drank, Wade asked her about a few of her society friends, all 
of them acquaintances of his. He wanted her to finish her drink before he 
told her the real purpose for his visit. By the time she finished the hot 
drink the Spanish Fly would already be at work. 

"Put the cup down," he suddenly ordered, his voice hard and cool. 

Pamela obeyed, not understanding what had suddenly made him change his 
manner. She tried to shake her head, not knowing what was making everything 
so hazy, so unreal. She suddenly felt the electric tingling returning to her 
thighs and looked to see if her hand had slipped between her legs. Something 
was wrong she thought with sudden alarm, but what? 

"This is no social call," Wade said as he stood up and hooked his thumbs in 
his belt. "Your husband has made himself my enemy by snooping around where 
he doesn't belong. If he's not careful he's going to get hurt." 

"But I don't understand," Pamela said weakly. "I know Jeff's got some crazy 
ideas, but he's all wrong. I know he's wrong." 

"No Baby," he said, a sneer crawling across his face. "You're the one who's 
wrong, not your husband. And now he's getting too close for comfort, so 
we're gonna give him a little warning." 

"W-what do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling with a growing fear. 

"You'll find out in a minute," he told her and motioned to one of the men 
behind him. "You just sit tight and listen to this, then tell me what you 
think of your hypocritical husband." 

Pamela sat hypnotized with fear as the man set a small black case on the 
table and opened it. What could they possibly want, she thought as the man 
switched a tiny knob on the portable tape recorder. 

Suddenly she jerked her head as she heard Jeff's voice on the recorder. But 
he wasn't alone and he sounded excited, more excited than she had ever heard 
him. 

"The girl's name is Carmen," Wade told her with an ugly grin on his face. 
"Your precious Jeff was with her last night, in her apartment." 

Pamela trembled as she heard the grunting animal sounds that were coming 
from the tape recorder. This couldn't be Jeff, it just couldn't. He'd never 
been unfaithful to her, yet it was unmistakably his voice. 

"Oooooohhhhh," the Cuban girl's voice came through the speaker. "Push it in 
more, Jeff. It feels so good!" 

Pamela's eyes were filling with tears as she listened to her husband. 

"Oh, Baby," he grunted. "My wife was never like this. Nobody can fuck like 
you. Nobody!" 

Oh, Jeff! she cried silently to herself. How could you do it. It was her own 
husband in bed with a prostitute and enjoying it like an animal. She had 
never heard him even say "fuck" before, and now she listened as he muttered 
greater and greater obscenities at a strange girl in bed. 

"Suck me again," Pamela suddenly heard her husband's voice command and she 
felt the tingling between her thighs. It was so awful, yet, somehow, it 
almost seemed natural. She thought that he should be saying that to her, and 
not some stranger. But how ugly. That other woman was actually going to put 
a man's penis in her mouth and suck it! But worse, not just any man's penis. 
It was her husband who was getting sucked and milked until his sperm would 
fill the girl's throat. 

"Aaarrggghhhhh, fuck!! I'm cummmiinnngg," she heard Jeff's voice wail over 
the tape recorder. 

"Oh!" Pamela gasped. He had done it. He had really cum in that girl's mouth, 
swearing all the time. What kind of a brute had she married? What had gone 
wrong? She loved Jeff with all her heart, yet he had gone to a prostitute. 
She should have loved him more with her body, she thought as the tears 
streamed down her face. Now it was too late. She could never face him again, 
not after what he had done. 

"Like that?" Wade's voice suddenly broke in. "I thought you would. Your Jeff 
isn't what you thought." 

"It's not true," she defended. "That couldn't have been Jeff." 

"You and I both know different, Baby," she heard him say. "Lee's got a lot 
of hot cock. But, I can't understand why he had to go dipping it in some 
whore when he's got a broad like you." 

"Oh!" she exclaimed indignantly. "How dare you talk like that to me." 

"You won't be a lady for long, Sweetheart," he grinned at her. 

Pamela stood up suddenly but began to fall. What's happening, she thought, 
as she tried to regain her balance. Nothing seemed real. The room was 
lopsided and Wade's voice seemed tinny, like the tape recorder. Carefully 
she grabbed the edge of the couch and held herself still. The obscene words 
from the tape were still coming from the machine. Pamela could hear Carmen's 
pleas to Jeff, begging him to eat her until she came. As repulsive as the 
lewd pleadings sounded, Pamela seemed to understand the Cuban girl's need, a 
need she had never experienced before. The rantings had triggered the nerves 
between Pamela's supple thighs and she felt warm wet liquids suddenly 
seeping from the hair-covered lips of her vagina. She suddenly imagined 
Jeff's head between her thighs, his tongue slithering over her swollen 
clitoris in agonizing pleasure. No, she thought, revolted at her own 
thoughts. Oh God, no! 

"Stop that sniveling," Wade ordered her as he motioned to his two men to 
come to the couch. "We've wasted enough time." 

Pamela suddenly cringed as a heavy hand grabbed her by the arm and started 
to propel her toward the bedroom. 

"W-What are you doing?" she cried. "Leave me alone." 

But the man who held her arm only laughed. Through her tears she could see 
his dark face covered with an obscene grin. No man had ever touched her so 
roughly before. Jeff would make him pay, yes Jeff would help her. But wait, 
she thought, Jeff's no longer my husband. I could never have him back. Oh 
God, what's wrong with me? Jeff, she pleaded silently. Jeff, please help me. 

"Baby, you're a regular wildcat," the man said as he threw her onto the bed. 
"You're fightin' like hell, but we both know you want some cock, don't we?" 

"Yeah," Wade interrupted from the doorway. "All of us know that you want 
some cock. And we mean to see that you get all you can handle." 

"Please," Pamela begged. "Don't do this to me. I've never hurt you. Oh, 
please!" 

"Christ," the third man said. "We ain't done nothin' yet, and she's already 
beggin'." 

Frightened, Pamela looked at the man's eyes and saw that he was staring at 
her. She grabbed at her robe and pulled it tight to her body. They all look 
so mean, she thought. They're all animals, just like Jeff said. Please, 
don't let them look at me like that. 

"Wow," he continued. "A chick like you oughta be a better fuck than your 
husband says you are. He just doesn't know how to go about it the right way. 
I'll bet you're the wildest little piece of ass in Miami." 

Pamela recoiled in horror at his obscene words. They couldn't talk to her 
like that. She was a lady, and part of Miami's high society, not just some 
common whore. 

"Stop it," she yelled, feeling stronger. "Get out of here, all of you, or my 
husband will make you pay for the rest of your lives!" 

"Sure, Baby," Wade said as he walked toward the bed. "You go right ahead and 
tell Jeff all about it, that is, if you can find him. He's probably in the 
sack with some other whore right now enjoying her hot pussy wrapped around 
his big prick. But don't you worry. He'll be calling in a few minutes to 
find out what the message is that I left with his secretary. You can talk to 
him then, if you can still talk." 

"You can't do it," she screamed, her voice shrill with fear. 

"Shut up," the man called Lefty shouted at her and slapped her hard across 
the face, knocking her onto her back. As her hand instinctively reached for 
the burning pain on her face, her bright red robe slipped from one shoulder, 
exposing the round firmness of her trembling breast as it fell free into the 
open air. She could see the man called Mac staring at the quivering orb, his 
eyes glued to the dark round circle that covered the rounded end of her 
succulent white breast. 

"Nice," the third man, Mac, said and bent over to touch her. "Any broad 
that's built like you has got to be a good screw." 

Pamela grabbed at his hand and tried to push it away, but he slapped her 
roughly on the other side of her face and she fell back onto the bed again, 
sobbing hysterically. She was going to become a rape victim of these 
depraved animals and there seemed to be no escape. If she had only listened 
to Jeff, this wouldn't have happened. She could forgive him for anything, if 
he would only come home. 

Mac's large hand suddenly pulled her toward him and with one motion pulled 
her robe completely off of her sleek young body. She tried to scramble to 
the other side of the bed, but the men just laughed at her. She was totally 
naked in front of strange obscene men who had her completely at their mercy. 

"Scared," Wade said. "You're scared now, but by the time I finish with you, 
you'll be begging for more. So knock off the act. We all know you're feeling 
it!" 

Lefty kneeled on the bed beside her and ran his eyes over her firm round 
breasts, tracing an imaginary path over her belly to the soft silken hairs 
that covered her trembling pussy. She was completely under their control, 
and the control of the Spanish Fly. She was beginning to feel the effects of 
the drug, and would be screaming for them to fuck her before the next five 
minutes had passed. Lefty's hand pushed at the growing bulge in his trousers 
and he waited for the command to begin, so he could free his swelling penis 
from its prison. 

Pamela wanted to escape, but there was no way. Somehow, through the haze, 
she could see the men who stood over her, one of them the leader of a 
syndicate, the other two, hired thugs. They were all intent on one thing, 
rape! They were going to spread her legs and sink their swollen pricks deep 
into the hot confines of her pussy and there was nothing she could do to 
resist. 

"Ready, Boss?" Lefty asked Wade. 

"Yeah," he said. "But first, I wanna make sure the fly's worked. And then, 
after I've checked out that hot little pussy, I'm gonna let you boys do all 
the work, and I'll just watch." 

"Hey, groovy, Boss. Are ya gonna do it now?" 

"Just watch," Wade said and leaned over the fear-quaking body of the young 
helpless wife that lay below. "She'll be so hot that even you guys won't be 
able to handle her." 

Pamela sobbed uncontrollably as Wade reached out to touch her. She held her 
thighs tightly together in a futile gesture of resistance, but felt too weak 
to fight. Somehow, the tingling had returned to her full rounded breasts, 
and was working its way down to her loins as the Spanish Fly continued to 
gain control of her trembling body. She was totally ashamed as she closed 
her eyes to the lust-incited gazes of the three men who were about to rape 
her. Wade's breath was hot and close and she knew that he was going to do 
something to her that no man had ever tried. He was evil and as depraved as 
Jeff had claimed he was, but it was too late to find that out. Within 
minutes she would be ravaged and spoiled forever by these maniacs. 

"Spread 'em," Wade commanded and lightly slapped one knee. "I'm gonna see 
just how hot you can get." 

Trembling with fear, she refused to spread her legs, holding them tightly 
together with every last ounce of her strength, but Wade's strong hands 
suddenly sunk deep into the supple flesh of her soft smooth thighs, forcing 
her to obey. 

"Please, don't," she pleaded, but her fear relaxed the firm muscles of her 
long legs and let them be pushed apart. 

"That's better. Now let's see if you're warming up yet," Wade said and 
lifted her knees as she whimpered for him to stop. The three men uttered a 
simultaneous sigh as they looked at the soft silken pubic hairs, wet with 
the hot juices that were flowing from the quivering opening of her 
vulnerable pussy. 

Pamela moaned and turned her head to the side as she felt Wade's fingers run 
along the soft inside of her thigh to the moist pink lips of her trembling 
cunt. Eagerly they toyed with the loose flesh, slipping along the wet 
crevice until they found the tiny bud of her clitoris. Then, with ease, the 
educated fingers pulled at the tiny red bud, massaging it back and forth 
until it filled with blood and grew erect, straining at its bonds of soft, 
pink flesh. 

"Wow," Lefty sighed while he massaged his swollen cock. "Listen to her moan. 
Man, that fly'll turn on any frigid little bitch." 

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Wade told him. "Wait'll she really gets turned 
on and if we don't fuck her, you'll see her tryin' to fuck herself." 

Just relax, and they won't hurt you, Pamela told herself. If she could just 
be calm, then they would hurry and get it over with. She tried to resist the 
finger without moving, but the tantalizing touch had salaciously lit the 
long dormant fires in her loins, and she felt the same rising desire that 
she had given herself in the bathroom. But no! She had to resist, she just 
had to! 

But... the cruel, relentlessly teasing fingers were becoming too much for 
her. She tried to hold her breath as she felt them slither across the 
trembling opening of her hair-lined cunt teasing the throbbing entrance 
between her legs momentarily, then moving again to the pulsating bud of her 
swollen clitoris. She had never felt anyone's hands, allowed anyone's hands, 
to do what Wade was doing, but she had to fight it. She turned her head and 
exhaled heavily through her full red lips, trying to ease the growing 
pressure that was building in her loins. 

"Yeah, Baby," Wade grinned at her. "Blow it out. Get your mouth ready and 
wet for old Lefty there." 

Lefty and Mac sat on the bed, watching first the obscene fingers, then the 
involuntarily contorted face of Jeff Lee's frightened young wife. Their 
necks were straining from their shoulders, stretching with anguish while 
they waited their turn with her firm, smooth flesh. Their boss would heat 
her up until the Spanish Fly would turn her into a raving nymphomaniac, then 
they would mount her and fuck her until they drained all their excitedly 
building sperm into her young, innocent body. 

His eyes red with lust, Wade slid his fingers back to the quivering opening 
of her aching cunt. Suddenly and easily they slid into the hot wet opening 
and Pamela moaned deep from her belly as the fingers rotated around the 
smooth moist walls of her burning pussy. She clenched the soft white moons 
of her buttocks together in an effort to resist, but as she did, the tiny 
elastic ring of her anus twitched involuntarily, sending ripples of 
electricity through her abdomen. No matter how hard she tried, she could not 
blot out the growing fires that were building deep in her trembling cunt. 
Her entire body was flushed bright red, and the tiny pointed nipples that 
adorned her breasts were jutting straight into the air. 

"Goddamn," Wade murmured, "She's gonna burn my fingers up with that hot 
little cunt. Christ, you guys are gonna get the fucking of your lives." 

"Yeah, and her old man said she was no good," Mac whispered obscenely. "Man 
will he find out different from us." 

"It won't be long," Wade whispered while he rubbed his swollen cock with his 
free hand. 

"Oh, oh, oh!" Pamela whimpered as Wade suddenly thrust two more fingers into 
her tight elastic pussy. She was losing her battle, and knew it, though she 
still clenched her buttocks together in a frantic effort to resist. 

But the probing fingers had become too much for her. As she clenched her 
anus again and again, the shocks of sex-maddened desire shot through her 
stomach and she began clasping her buttocks harder, increasing the passion 
that was building inside her yearning pussy. She had felt those shocks only 
once, the one time she masturbated. But now, a man was doing it for her, 
thrilling every inch of her flesh as his finger rubbed and rotated deep 
between the hair-lined lips of her trembling pussy. She wanted the fingers 
to go deeper, just like Carmen had wanted Jeff's cock to drive deeper into 
her ravaged cunt. Yes, oh, yes, deeper... deeper... 

"Wow!" Lefty exclaimed. 

"Yeah," Mac added. "She's squirmin' like a nympho. God, I can't wait to get 
my cock stuck in that wild little snatch. I'll fuck her until she won't moan 
no more!" 

Pamela could barely hear them through her drug-hazed mind. She was moaning 
incoherently unable to face the reality of the passion that raged inside of 
her aching cunt. It felt so good when she had fingerfucked herself, but 
now... now it was like ecstasy having a man run his fingers in and out of 
her trembling pussy. It was true! She couldn't resist any longer... she 
wanted to be fucked! She was ashamed and degraded, but she had to be fucked. 

"Oooohhhhh!" she moaned, but her voice was drowned out by the ringing 
telephone. 

Quickly Wade jerked his fingers from her throbbing pussy and reached for the 
phone, ignoring her plea for him to continue. He watched as Mac thrust his 
fingers inside her cunt, then picked up the phone. 

"Yeah," he whispered into the receiver, wanting Pamela's pleadings to be 
heard through the phone. 

"Who the hell's this?" Jeff demanded. 

"Aaaahhhhhhhh, please," Pamela groaned loud enough to be overheard by her 
husband. 

"This is Wade Jackson," the gangster announced as if he were proud of his 
infamous name. "We came over to keep your sweet little wife company while 
the big newspaper man's out snooping where he shouldn't be." 

"What are you doing to her," Jeff shouted into the other end of the line. 

"Right now," Wade replied matter-of-factly, "One of my men has his fingers 
in your wife's cunt and is finger fucking her silly." 

"You bastard..." Jeff started, but was interrupted by his wife's screaming 
for more. 

"Yeah, Mr. Editor, your wife is having a ball," Wade said, then changed his 
tone. "And we're having a ball, too. So I'll tell you what newspaperman. You 
get your ass over here right away and see for yourself. And don't call the 
fuzz or your hot little wife'll be dead before they can get in the door." 

Wade held the receiver close to Pamela's head and Jeff called to her through 
the phone. 

"Oh, oh, oh, Jeff," she cried back to him. "Please, Jeff, help me!" 

With that, Wade slammed the receiver onto the telephone. He looked at the 
lust-maddened girl with an obscene grin then turned his attention to his two 
henchmen. 

"O.K., boys, fuck her silly." 

*** 

Jeff Lee raced through freeway traffic to get to his home. Christ, he 
thought, what are they doing to her. His wife, sensitive and sheltered, was 
being raped by three thugs who don't have the right to even shine her shoes. 
Yet they were her captors and tormentors. 

As he neared his home, Jeff put his hand under his coat and felt the cold 
steel of the pistol he had stuffed in his belt. He knew that if he called 
the police Wade would carry out his threat and murder his wife. The only way 
was to try and overpower them with the gun. That way, at least he had done 
something to save her from almost certain death. 

Turning a corner, Jeff saw the white brick front of his home and took a deep 
breath. Well, here goes nothing, he thought. It had better work. 

Once out of the car, Jeff sneaked around the side of the house to look in 
the bedroom window, but could only hear his wife's continuous moans of 
pleasure. God, I've got to stop them, he thought frantically, and ran to the 
back door, letting himself in with the key. 

As quietly as possible he crept across the house, his gun drawn. He finally 
stopped at the bedroom door and listened again to the animal-like grunts of 
his wife. Then, with all his might, he kicked the bedroom door open, ready 
to start shooting at anything that moved. 

But as the door banged open, Jeff froze. 

There on the bed in front of him Mac was mounted on Pamela like a dog and 
driving his massive throbbing cock again and again into her clasping pussy. 
Horrified, Jeff watched his wife ramming her buttocks against the big man's 
hairy pelvis in a sex-crazed effort to suck his thrusting cock deeper into 
her burning pussy. 

The shock of the sight, as Wade had anticipated, was too much for Jeff, and 
he dropped the gun easily when Lefty hit him with a Judo chop from behind. 
He slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap, dragging with him the memory 
of his wife bumping back against Mac like a bitch in heat. 

"Put this under his tongue," Wade ordered as he handed lefty a small green 
pill. "It's the same stuff we gave his wife. When he comes to, he'll wanna 
join the gangbang right along with the rest of us." 

A few minutes later Jeff awoke to the shrill screams of orgasm as his wife 
came, her body jerking convulsively as she reached her climax. His vision 
was blurred, but he was able to see her collapse on the bed, panting with 
sexual exhaustion. 

"Too bad you missed the beginning," Wade said looking sardonically at Jeff. 
"But it ought to get better." 

"You bastard," Jeff yelled and started to lunge forward, but the blow and 
the drug he had been given had taken their toll, and he fell back into a 
chair. 

"Don't be upset," Wade told him. "You'll get to like our little party pretty 
soon. Why don't you just relax and watch for a while." 

Pamela had recognized Jeff's voice and turned her head to see her husband 
staring at her in shock. Oh God, she thought. He saw it all. He thinks I'm 
nothing but a horrible prostitute, just like the rest of Wade's women. She 
started sobbing, her naked body shaking with shame and humiliation. Her 
husband had seen her helpless naked body writhing and twisting under another 
man and her own lips moaning out their pleasure at his cruel ravishment. 
What could she do...? What could she do... her loins were still aflame... 
what was wrong...? What was wrong...? 

And even then, the thought of her own husband watching her masochistically 
began to excite the young wife, and she could feel the gut-searing fires 
returning to the hot confines of her ravaged pussy where Mac's sperm still 
burned in a hot white pool. Pamela could hardly think because of the Spanish 
Fly. The moment her thoughts had turned to sex, the tingling had begun to 
ripple through her body again. She turned her face into the pillow and began 
helplessly rubbing her thighs together, forcing the still-quivering lips of 
her hair-lined pussy to rub salaciously against her clitoris. Slowly, 
hypnotically, she raised to her knees so that her buttocks waved 
lasciviously in the air and her crotch lay exposed to the sight of the four 
leering men and began to undulate her hips in an obscene gesture of 
beckoning, almost begging any of them to climb onto the bed and thrust his 
cock into her clasping pussy. Fuck me, it seemed to say. Climb onto the bed 
and fuck me until I die. Low, soft moans of unmistakable desires crooned 
from her open lips. Her face was contorted grotesquely as though she were a 
lust-maddened maniac. 

Jeff watched helplessly as Lefty quickly climbed onto the bed, throwing his 
clothes onto the floor. The hood opened his hand and ran it along the pink 
slit of her lust-maddened crotch until a finger dug into the straining oval 
hole that flowed with her juices of unrestrained desire. Then, suddenly, he 
withdrew the finger and ran it quickly along the smoothly open crevice 
between her buttocks, over her tiny, puckered anus, then back again, until 
it poised at the tight little elastic hole that stared back into Jeff's 
bewildered and humiliated face. Once, twice, the finger probed at the tiny, 
momentarily resisting hole, then quickly wormed its way into her clasping 
rectum up to the first knuckle. 

Pamela panted in deep heaving gasps as she tried to relax her violated anus 
and allow the finger to go further. It hurt, but not as much as she had 
expected. The girl wanted to feel the whole finger inside her warm rectum, 
and at the same time wanted to be filled with the throbbing rigid cock that 
had rammed into her aching cunt a few minutes before. Oh God! she thought 
through her lust-driven mind, Jeff was there, watching, but it didn't 
matter. He had seen her fucked already, and she couldn't be more degraded. 
Besides she had to be fucked again! One climax had not been enough. She 
needed more! 

Jeff watched in horrified disbelief as Lefty skewered his wife with his 
finger. By now the whole finger was thrust into her rectum and he could see 
Lefty rotating it in small circles as Pamela moaned in short gasps. As she 
turned her head back and forth in sexual ecstasy he could see her mouth open 
wide and begging Lefty to fuck her. 

"Take her in the ass," Wade hissed and Lefty turned around, his eyes glazed 
with an obscene lust-incited stare. 

"Yeah, Boss," he chuckled, hoarsely, "I'll stretch her little asshole so 
wide we can all get in." 

Not there, Pamela suddenly panicked. No, my God, he'd split me open. 
Suddenly she began to panic. She wanted to be fucked, but not like that, not 
back them Jeff was watching and would never understand, even though he knew 
she had been drugged. She had become an animal, and knew it, but there were 
limits to everything. She had been degraded and raped already, but not that, 
not in the depths of her rectum. 

"Stop it!" Jeff shouted and tried to get up, but the dizziness hit him 
again. 

"Whatsa matter, Baby," Lefty asked Pamela, completely ignoring her husband. 
"Hasn't your old man ever fucked you in the ass?" 

"Oh, God no," she answered. "No one ever has. Please..." 

"Hey," he sneered. "Virgin territory. I'm gonna like that." 

Pamela screwed up her face in shame. She could see Jeff behind her, his eyes 
glazed with hatred. Here she was at the hands of sex maniacs and nothing 
could be done to stop them. She couldn't stop the strange, rippling shocks 
of desire that passed through her loins any more than she could stop Lefty 
from doing what he wanted. 

"You just take it easy, Baby," Lefty told her. "It'll hurt for a while, but 
before you know it, you'll be screaming for more, just like you did to Mac's 
pussy fucking." 

She moaned in protest to his words, praying silently that he would stop. But 
there was nothing she could do to make his worming finger stop violating her 
tight virginal anus. The Spanish Fly had snapped something in her body and 
awakened passions that she had not thought existed. But now she was about to 
pay for those passions. In front of her husband the young wife would have to 
submit to any cruel sexual aberration that they demanded from her, and what 
was worse was that she knew she would do it, and in spite of her revulsion 
and shame, would enjoy it. 

The sex drug had become her master and she would obey, even though her mind 
didn't want her to continue, she had become victim of her own body and its 
desires. No matter how she tried to resist, no matter how hard she prayed, 
nothing could stop the rising tide of obscene desire that ran through her 
body, spurred on by the rotating finger that wormed salaciously around deep 
in her damp dark rectum. There was no turning back, the time had come... 

Pamela sighed with a sudden gasp of relief as she felt the finger suddenly 
pull out of her quivering anus. Maybe he'll stop, she thought, but as she 
looked back at him she knew differently. Lefty's face was contorted with 
lust. He knelt behind her for a moment stroking his rigid throbbing cock and 
murmuring something to it like it was a pet. Then she saw Mac out of the 
corner of her eyes. 

"Well, now, bitch, it looks like Lefty's gonna get a better fuckin' than I 
did. I may just try again." 

Pamela tried to blot out his words, but they wouldn't go away. She could 
recall the terrible things he had said to her before, swearing with every 
filthy word that he knew, degrading her with his dirty mouth. And now she 
could hear the same again, this time with Wade chuckling to himself as the 
hood swore at her. 

But now a new danger threatened her. As Mac climbed onto the bed, Lefty 
suddenly grabbed her legs and jerking them back spreading her out flat on 
her stomach. Before she could move to protest, Mac had grabbed her hands and 
pinioned her arms. She groaned as she felt Lefty pressing the hot rubbery 
head of his pulsating cock tightly against the clenching muscle of her tiny 
elastic anus. She tried to wriggle free, clasping the soft round cheeks of 
her buttocks together, but it only incited him further and the sex-crazed 
hoodlum grabbed both cheeks and started kneading them in his large hands as 
his massive throbbing prick pushed at her quivering anus. 

"Lift," Lefty commanded while he pulled her hips higher. She tried to squirm 
away, but the drug that ravaged her body told her to do what he said, and 
reluctantly her hips rose to meet his rigid cock. 

Jeff watched her obey, lifting her hips while her face lay buried in the 
pillow. They were in his house, in his bed, and were fucking his wife. 
Nothing seemed real through the haze that the drug was laying slowly over 
his tormented mind. Pamela was undergoing the most cruel treatment ever 
imagined, yet she was enjoying it, or at least partly enjoying it. But to 
Jeff, she looked like a different woman. She had become sexual, sensuous... 
a far cry from the frigid wife he had left at home earlier in the day. She 
had become a woman, a woman that would be wild to have in bed... wilder even 
than the lust-oriented Carmen. 

Pamela stared at Jeff as he watched her. She didn't recognize the expression 
on his face, and thought perhaps he had gone crazy, and it was all her fault 
for not listening to him. If only she hadn't let Wade in the house, she 
would never have been induced to take the drug. But it was too late to look 
back now. She was about to be sodomized by the horrible gangster kneeling 
behind her naked buttocks. 

Jeff barely heard Wade's chuckling as he watched the hood begin to tease at 
his wife's tender anus. Too bad I had never tried it there, he thought, and 
suddenly recoiled in disgust, ashamed that he had had such a degrading 
thought. He could see the gangster's hands kneading the soft pliant flesh of 
her buttocks, toying with the rubbery red ring trying to loosen it further 
and stretch it wide for the greater entry that was to follow. 

"Oh God, please don't do it to me there!" she whimpered, but it was too late 
to fight. The drug had driven her body to the point of excruciating pain, 
needing a man's thick hard cock to turn it to pleasure. She could hear Wade 
laughing and telling his men... "You'll blow your fuckin' mind when you 
screw her in the ass... hell look at her, she's already like a wildcat. 
Wait'll ya get inside that tight little hole. It'll squeeze you to death." 

"Inside... inside..." Lefty panted while he spread the quivering ring with 
his thumbs and probed the oval red hole with the pulsating head of his huge 
throbbing cock. 

"Man, what a smooth hairless little hole," he panted teasingly over at Jeff. 
"It'll slide in nice and easy." 

Wade knew that he would have his revenge now. After the reporter would see 
his wife raped in the ass he'd never bother the syndicate again. Wade's hand 
had opened the fly of his pants and pulled his massive prick into the free 
air where he stroked it, milking the white hot fluids from the tip. 

"Come on, man, hurry up," Mac hissed. He could feel his balls tightening 
under the pressure of his erection and he wanted to release them, and fill 
the girl with his sperm. 

Jeff watched as his wife thrashed her head from side to side. He thought she 
was fighting, but in reality she had given up the fight. Instead she wanted 
Lefty to skewer her with his massive hot prick and sink the rigid shaft deep 
into her rubbery rectum and split her open. She wanted him to hurt her and 
punish her for what she had become. She wanted to be fucked and hurt at the 
same time. She had to be punished for her lewd, uncontrolled enjoyment of 
the salacious adultery she was committing right before her helpless 
husband's eyes. 

But Lefty wanted her to plead with him to fuck her: "Beg for it, bitch," he 
ordered. "Tell me to fuck you in the ass!" 

Oh God, Pamela moaned to herself. What else could they possibly do. Why do I 
have to beg? They know! They know I want it! 

"Tell me!" he demanded. 

Jeff listened as his wife moaned in agony, then began to plead with her 
attacker. "Please, yes, but in the front, please!" 

"I didn't hear ya, Sweetheart. What did ya say?" he egged her on, wanting 
her to use the words that he used, to humiliate her more than she had 
imagined. 

"I'll do anything," Jeff heard his wife say. "Just fuck my cunt, please, 
FUCK MY CUNT!" 

"Right idea, Baby, but the wrong hole." 

Jeff watched unbelieving as the man brutally tormented his wife with his 
crude demands. Pamela protested, but not hard enough. Yes, she did want him 
to give it to her back there, but she couldn't beg him, no, she just 
couldn't. 

"Stick me in that hot little hole of yours," Lefty ordered. 

Jeff saw his wife hesitate, not sure what to do. Then she slowly moved her 
hand around her buttocks and grasped the thick throbbing head of his massive 
cock and tried to put it at the hair-lined entrance to her trembling pussy. 

"The other hole!" Lefty shouted and quickly she obeyed, moving the pulsating 
prick to the clasping entrance to her rectum. Why wouldn't he do it to her 
the other way. She had even begged him to fuck her in the cunt, but he 
wouldn't. Now she was afraid that he would kill her with his massive weapon. 
She wanted to be punished, yet she wanted to be fucked first. The pain would 
be too much for her and she might pass out before her aching cunt could be 
fulfilled. 

Jeff looked on in horror as Lefty began to press his pulsing cock hard 
against the puckered flesh of her anus, slowly building a rhythm. Jeff could 
not understand why he no longer wanted to get up and tear the man off of his 
wife. He had no idea that he had been drugged and was frightened when he 
discovered that the first ripples of desire were twitching through his own 
loins. 

This was his own wife he was watching! 

It was his wife who was about to be sodomized, yet he could still feel 
distant rumblings of desire growing in his balls. His eyes wide, he winced 
as he saw the huge head of lefty's throbbing cock suddenly slip into his 
wife's rectum with a soft wet muffled sound. 

"Aaagghh!" she cried in agony as the head popped through the tightly 
resisting nether ring and filled her ravaged entrance. She was being 
punished already, and none of it was her own fault. 

Mac leaned over and grabbed her shoulders to keep her from trying to escape 
the impaling shaft that had thrust itself partway into her trembling anus. 
Spittle drooled from his mouth as he gleefully watched the girl's terrible 
agony. 

"Aaaagghhhhh!" she cried again. "Please don't! You're going to tear me 
apart!" 

Her tears and sobbings were not only for the torture she was going through, 
but also from the pictures of light that flashed through her mind... 
pictures of childhood and innocence. All those things were gone forever. She 
had been debauched and degraded too much to ever turn back. She might as 
well be dead. 

Then suddenly Jeff heard her scream as Lefty drove his entire throbbing cock 
deep into the dark wet confines of her rectum. Her body was racked with pain 
and she braced herself, waiting for his next lunge. But instead he waited 
for a moment, holding himself still. He rolled his head in a large circle, 
trying not to cum until he was ready. His balls were ready to explode, but 
he wanted to make her scream for more. He could feel the damp rubbery walls 
of her rectum slowly pulsing against the tender throbbing skin of his 
impaling cock. He wanted to drive deeper, but knew he couldn't when he 
looked down to see the hilt of his massive prick buried in the pink, 
hairless flesh of her anus. Maybe now... and he slowly pulled the pulsing 
cock halfway out, then started to sink it back into her ravaged anus... 

"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped as the giant prick began to move in and out picking 
up speed. Jeff's hand was rubbing at his crotch as he glared at his wife 
while she slowly began to rock back and forth against the pulsating cock 
that was sodomizing her like a common whore. He knew that she had found a 
way to relax her tender forever-stretched rectum and was beginning to enjoy 
the lewd fucking she was getting. His breath came harder with each stroke 
that she made as he watched the animalistic pair on the bed, fucking like 
two dogs in heat. 

Lefty was excited to the limits of his lust-maddened mind. He held her 
buttocks with both hands and watched his huge throbbing cock slide in and 
out of her ravaged anus as she slapped her buttocks against his pelvis, 
driving it as hard and as deep as she could into the hot damp passageway. 

Jeff looked to see her panting now, her full red lips moistened by her 
hungry tongue. She was aware of nothing in the world but the massive prick 
that ground into her backside time and time again. She was afraid that she 
might loose the rigid prick and fought to start each new stroke before the 
last one had ended. 

"Wow, man," Mac whispered. "She fucks like a Goddamned mink." 

Wade looked over at his henchman and then at Jeff. He was getting his 
triumph over the great righteous reporter, he thought as he watched Jeff 
stroking his swollen prick in rhythm with the couple fucking on the bed. 

"Mac," he said, "Stick it in her mouth. I'll bet she'll gobble you up." 

Jeff watched painfully as Mac got to his knees and placed his twitching cock 
in front of Pamela's red wet mouth. Mine, Jeff thought as the drug burned at 
his balls. She should suck mine, not his. Tears formed in his eyes as his 
wife suddenly open her mouth and eagerly enveloped the throbbing prick with 
her lips, sucking it quickly into her throat until she could feel it 
prodding against the soft, moist flesh of her working tonsils. She sucked 
voraciously at the leading fluids that had flowed from the open slit, then 
swallowed and began to suck some more. It tasted sweet, almost as sweet as 
the sugar Wade has given her. 

Grasping at her buttocks Lefty nearly screamed as he increased his thrusting 
to a fever pitch, the pressure in his balls nearly exploding as he panted 
and fucked harder. 

Jeff panted as he watched his wife's head rolling in circles, then bobbing 
up and down as she sucked at Mac's massive pulsating cock. Jeff wanted her 
to suck him, but there was nothing he could do... he watched as she slowed 
down and began to nibbled at the rubbery hot head, first with her lips, then 
with her teeth as a lewd obscene grin spread across her lust-maddened face. 
Eagerly she lapped at the underside with her tongue, rolling droplets of 
saliva around the purplish rim of his glans. Her body buffeted the ramming 
cock in her backside automatically while she focused her whole attention on 
the twitching prick in her mouth. She sucked voraciously like a baby at a 
breast. There was no other world but this one: a world inhabited by two 
massive driving cocks that were driving at both ends, one in her tormented 
anus and the other in her wet hungry mouth. She knew that there would be 
little time left until they both came, filling her throat and her rectum 
with their hot burning juices. She was no longer a sweet young wife, her 
husband no longer existed. Nothing existed but the wildly burning flames of 
lust searing through her bucking body. Nothing mattered but the two huge 
buffeting cocks that would give her the release and excruciating pleasure 
that she had to have. 

Suddenly she could no longer concentrate on just the one! 

While she sucked at Mac's throbbing prick she had excited her buttocks to 
new passion-driven heights and she found herself slamming her backside as 
hard as she could into Lefty's driving pelvis. There was no time left as she 
felt Mac's massive cock begin to twitch uncontrollably. She sucked harder, 
drawing the entire rock hard shaft into her throat, almost choking herself, 
but managing to stifle her panic, and continue sucking. As she moaned at the 
lascivious pleasure in her mouth, she heard Mac groan and push his body 
forward until his cock was buried to the hilt in her hungry, desperately 
sucking throat. "Now," he hissed through his clenched teeth. "I'm cummingg 
now!!!" 

Before she could pull away she felt jets of burning sperm shoot into her 
mouth like a roaring volcano spitting out lava. Her mouth was completely 
filled and she swallowed hard, trying not to choke on the burning juices. It 
was hot, but sweet, and she sucked harder trying to get every ounce of the 
torrent into her throat. Her husband looked on in pain as she sucked at the 
deflating cock, licking the sperm from her chin as the massive organ 
suddenly lost its rigidity and deflated to almost normal size in a matter of 
seconds. Jeff was nearly in a rage. It was his cock that she should suck, no 
one else's but his. 

As soon as the prick debated in her mouth she became aware of the terrific 
pummeling that was going on behind her. She groaned and hissed, praying for 
orgasm as she slammed her quivering buttocks against the frantic driving 
cock that was stretching the tender flesh of her anus wider and wider with 
each thrust. Deep in her belly she could feel the rumblings of orgasm as she 
slammed into him again and again. She had never imaged that fucking could be 
so animal and so consuming. She was completely free of the world, owing 
nothing except to the massive prick that was driving her to the breaking 
point. It was only moments away and she could feel the massive prick in her 
ravaged wet rectum twitching spastically as he neared his climax. 

Now, now, now, she begged silently as her body began to convulse like one 
huge wave about to crash on a rocky shore... oh, oh, yes... she was 
cumming... nowwwww! And it came, crashing through her entire body, freeing 
her from the torment she had known for thirty years. She was a woman at 
last! 

Dazed and dominated by her climax and the aphrodisiac that still coursed 
through her system, she lay completely still on the sweat soaked sheets. She 
felt Lefty pull his deflated cock from her aching rectum with a slight plop 
as the aching hole closed tight again and wiggled her buttocks as the warm, 
white cum seeped from her anus and flowed down the crevice between the two 
white resilient cheeks still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm. 

"What's the matter, Editor?" Wade's voice broke through the sudden silence 
in the room. "Does your little wife lying there turn you on?" 

Jeff glared at Jackson through his tear-filled eyes. He was too choked with 
desire to speak, and could only stare at the gangster as he hovered over 
him. 

"You couldn't even get up to help her could you?" Jackson sneered at him. 
"Well, get up now, you punk, and screw her. That's what you want, isn't 
it... to screw your own wife!" 

Numbly Jeff managed to pull himself out of the chair. The pill that Wade had 
put under his tongue had dulled all his senses, all but his instinct for 
sex. Right now his wife lay on the bed, her quivering buttocks in plain 
view, beckoning him to join her. He didn't even try to fight as Lefty and 
Mac quickly helped him out of his clothes and pushed him toward the bed. He 
saw Pamela look up at him and show a sign of recognition. But he didn't 
care. He had to have her and fuck her now. He would make her give him 
everything that she had given the others. He didn't care what had happened 
before. There was only now! 

As Jeff climbed onto the bed she rolled over to face him. This was her 
husband, but more than that, this was another man. She opened her arms and 
waited for him to slide his throbbing cock into her trembling pussy and fill 
the damp dark hole with all of his rock hard flesh. 

Crazed with lust he spread her legs further with his strong hands and held 
them off the bed so that her hair-covered, sperm-drenched pussy panted 
directly upward. Without any further hesitation he sunk the jerking head of 
his swollen cock past the open wet lips of her cunt and shoved the whole 
length of his cock deep into the burning opening. 

"Ooooohhhhh, Jeff!" she moaned as she felt the massive throbbing cock sink 
deep into her belly. 

They were both unaware of the three men in the room as they began to drive 
their pelvises against each other, smashing the dark pubic hairs in a wet 
tangled mass. Pamela pulled him closer and crushed her lips against his, 
sucking at his eager wet tongue. Methodically she clasped the aching muscles 
of her cuntal walls around his driving cock, massaging it like a hand. She 
felt his hands grasp the smooth white orbs of her buttocks and dig into the 
pliant flesh, kneading it like hot dough. She lifted her hips and began 
rotating them in slow salacious circles as she continued to hump her fiery 
crotch against the hairy base of his rigid twitching cock. She could feel 
his swollen balls slamming against her tender aching anus, making her wince 
and contract the stretched sphincter in greedy sexual response. 

Neither of them heard Wade Jackson as he and his henchmen left. He shouted a 
warning to Jeff, a warning to lay off the syndicate, but the sex-crazed 
editor could hear nothing. His balls were about to explode as he rammed his 
throbbing cock deep into his wife... his wife at last. Now for the first 
time she was a real woman, bred in passion and fury and fucking like she was 
born to do. He wanted her uninhibited fucking to go on forever... and they 
would. 

Time and time again during the night they had made love in a wild frenzy 
until they had both collapsed at dawn... husband and wife at last. 

Chapter Ten 

Jeff drove toward the county hospital along the freeway. He tried to 
concentrate on Sammy and Paula and their plight. 

Sammy had called an hour before. He had told Jeff that he had found Paula at 
her apartment the afternoon before. The hoods had gotten to her and used the 
dog. Jeff remembered that Sammy's voice had remained calm as he spoke. Paula 
would be alright, but she had suffered a terrible shock. The sedative had 
worn off and she was ready to talk, ready to tell Jeff everything she knew 
about Wade Jackson and his entire operation. With her testimony and Sammy's, 
Jeff would have Wade in jail in a matter of days. 

But Jeff couldn't concentrate on the couple he was to meet at the hospital. 
He couldn't help thinking about his wife, or rather his new wife, he 
thought. 

Jeff remembered from the moment he had heard her screaming over the phone 
that even her voice was different, more knowledgeable, and at last, more 
humble. Perhaps he should have taken the police with him, he thought as he 
drove. How Goddamned stupid to have thought he could have taken care of Wade 
by himself. As soon as he had gotten into the apartment they had grabbed him 
like he was a child and forced him to watch his wife's rape. 

It wasn't that so much, though. He knew she had been drugged, though he 
hadn't realized it at the time. It was after he left that he realized his 
wife was a new woman, a woman like Carmen, alive and sexually potent beyond 
his wildest expectations. 

They had made love for hours, and then, as soon as they woke up this morning 
they had done it again, though Pam was the aggressor, waking him and 
massaging his penis to erection. He thought of the sex-crazed look of 
ecstatic pleasure he had seen in her face as she straddled his huge cock, 
rubbing her soft, still sperm-covered pussy back and forth over his pubic 
hair while the massive organ tore mercilessly at her insides. She had 
climaxed twice before he did, her body racked with passion as she jerked 
spasmodically through the pains of orgasm. 

Wow, Jeff thought as he remembered. He ought to stop thinking about it 
because he could feel his penis already growing to erection by just 
remembering how his wife acted in bed. He had an appointment to keep, and if 
he kept thinking about Pam, he might turn around and forget about Wade 
Jackson. 

Jeff Lee had changed, too, in the last twenty hours. He knew that his wife's 
frigidity had been partly his fault, and not just hers and her mother's. 
Jeff had always allowed Pamela to stay on her pedestal; above the meager 
humanities that inhabited the world. But after seeing her raped, drugged by 
an aphrodisiac, he was able to talk to her. Now he could say words like 
cock, or pussy, or even fuck, to her. 

Inhibited, he thought, I was inhibited myself until last night. Now she's a 
real woman, suddenly, and I'm a real man, with real emotions and real 
feelings. 

Jeff couldn't deny that Wade had instigated the change in him and his wife, 
but some good must come from everything, he thought. Wade Jackson was an 
ugly and dangerous man and should be put away where he can't do any more 
harm to anyone. It's terrible, he thought, as he drove on, that we were not 
able to communicate until Pam was raped. Everyone has faults, there's no 
denying that, but no married couple should drift so far apart that they 
aren't able to take part in each other's lives. I'll just have to show 
interest in her society life, and in return, I know that she'll always 
listen to what I have to say about my work. 

As soon as this is over, he thought, we're taking a vacation. I owe it to 
myself and to Pam. Christ, what a bastard I've been, working all the time, 
treating her like nothing more than a maid... and even worse in bed. If I'd 
been more understanding, none of this would have happened. But that'll 
change. She'll see a different Jeff Lee from now on. I'll be a husband to my 
wife, and a lover, he added to himself with a smile. 

*** 

"Hello, Sammy," Jeff said as he entered the hospital room. 

Sammy sat on the bed next to his girlfriend, holding her hand. Paula was 
propped against two pillows on the raised hospital bed, her hair in curlers. 
The two of them had been talking about Jeff just before he arrived. Sammy 
explained everything that had happened and assured her that she would be 
safe from the mob, and the police. 

"You're Paula," Jeff asked, knowing that the question was unnecessary. 

Paula smiled and nodded. So this is the man who's going to help us, she 
thought. He looks like an ordinary john... probably hasn't ever had a 
tragedy in his life. She continued looking at Jeff while he and Sammy 
talked. He looked like the kind of man who was happily married with two 
children, two cars, two banks and everything that a normal American man 
should have. How sad, she thought, that he should get mixed up with us. 
We're just a couple of losers and nothing's going to change that. 

"... And so I've arranged for a private car to take you to my beach house 
where you'll be safe. With luck everything will be finished in a couple of 
weeks and you can come back here and start over." 

"I don't think we'll ever come back here, Mr. Lee," Paula interrupted. "I've 
seen more corruption here in the last year than most people see in a 
lifetime. I've been a prostitute for almost the whole year. That means going 
to bed with every kind of pervert on the face of the earth. I can only take 
so much, and I think I've reached my limit." 

Sammy took her hand and tried to soothe her. Paula had almost cried as she 
spoke, trying to tell Jeff Lee that she was so full of hate and despair that 
nothing really mattered any longer. 

But Jeff tried to reassure her: "You've got a lot behind you, Paula," he 
said. "But you've got a whole life ahead of you. No matter what happens, 
you've got Sammy, and believe me, I think he's one helluva guy. 

"Don't you realize that it doesn't matter where you live, or what you've 
been before. Your life is too important to give up because of the horrors 
that you've seen when you're young. You two people can really make something 
of yourselves if you want to. There are horizons just waiting for you to 
cross. All you have to do is take the first step." 

Paula sat looking at the greying newspaper editor for a moment. He's forty, 
yet he's still got hope for the future, she thought. And I don't really know 
what he's been through. 

"Yes," she said aloud, "Maybe there is some hope for us. I'm willing, Sammy, 
if you are." 

"Oh, wow," he exclaimed. "You'd better believe that I'm ready." 

Jeff looked at the couple on the bed and smiled. Jeff Lee is on the winning 
side, now he thought. I guess that can make a new man out of you. 

"Well, I guess that makes things a little clearer for you two," he said. 
"But I'd better fill you in on the rest. My campaign to jail Wade Jackson 
went into effect today. When the evening edition of the paper comes out, 
everyone will see it in print. I'll have to mail you a copy, though, because 
I want you out of town before the story hits the streets. Wade'll be in jail 
when you come back to town to testify, so please don't worry." 

Sammy and Paula grinned at the good news. Maybe they would get a fresh start 
after all. They could easily begin by wiping the slate clean when they 
testified as state witnesses in court. 

"... So," Jeff continued, "Pack your bags and a car will pick you up at 
three." 

"Jeff," Sammy broke in, his voice suddenly solemn. "I've got some bad news 
for you." 

The editor said nothing, but waited for the boy to speak. 

"The girl you got the information from, Carmen..." he paused. "She was found 
dead in her apartment about an hour ago. One of the other girls called Paula 
and told her." 

"Carmen," Jeff said reflectively. "How did it happen?" 

"She was shot through the head," Paula told him. "The police don't have any 
idea who did it, but I do. All you have to do is tell the police to pick up 
Carl Pearson and they'll have their killer." 

"I'll do that," Jeff said. "I'll be sure to." 

*** 

"Extra! Extra!" Jeff heard a paperboy yelling on the street corner. "Read 
all about it! Local millionaire exposed as arch-criminal! Extra! Extra!" 

Well, Jeff thought to himself. The convention's over and the story's out; 
now all I have to do is wait. 

Jeff didn't have to wait for very long. Twenty minutes later three members 
of one of Miami's commissions entered his office. They were older men, all 
three in their sixties, and all three were very wealthy, prominent citizens. 
Jeff knew why they had come, and wasn't surprised when the first one said: 
"Lee, you've got to retract that story!" 

"Go fly a kite," was his reply. 

"Now, listen," the second commissioner said, his tone more soothing. "What 
you've written about Wade Jackson is probably a misconception. If you really 
looked at the facts, you'd find that you've made a mistake." 

"No, gentlemen, I have not made a mistake. I believe that you've made the 
mistake. Your first error was to know Wade Jackson, your second was to play 
puppet for him, and your third was to come storming into my office in 
support of him. 

"This town or any other town doesn't need men like Jackson, no matter what 
your economics tell you. Wade Jackson is a despicable man, beneath contempt. 
His kind of corruption has ruined the lives of thousands of people in the 
United States and all over the world. He runs his empire with blackmail and 
brute force. But he, and all the others like him, will pay someday. I plan 
to see that Wade Jackson pays now!" 

The three men stood silent for a moment, each of them trying to understand 
what Jeff had said. Sure, there was truth in what he said about corruption, 
they thought, but not about Wade. 

"Listen," the second man said. "Wade Jackson pays enough taxes every year to 
buy and sell your newspaper. He's helped the city of Miami build 
playgrounds, recreation areas, churches, and too many things to mention 
here." 

"Money's not the answer," Jeff retorted. "People are what count. Just 
because Wade helps the community or the local churches doesn't mean he's a 
good man. Think of all the people, little people, who don't have the money. 
I'll bet you any amount of money that a thousand Wade Jackson's could not 
match the charity of heart that any one of them has. 

"No, gentlemen, Wade Jackson is finished in Miami, and anywhere else. He'll 
spend the rest of his life behind bars." 

The first man spoke: "Wade's going to sue, you know. He'll rock this 
newspaper right into the Gulf, by the time he's finished with you. You'll 
have to publish a retraction, or face complete ruin." 

"He can do anything he pleases," Jeff said, "... from a jail cell." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Wade Jackson is in the maximum security ward at the city jail." 

"Why, hell! He'll be out on bail in an hour," one of them said. 

"The charge is rape. He won't get out." 

"Rape! That's incredible... why that's impossible," the second man nearly 
yelled. 

"It's not incredible at all. I'm an eyewitness, and I'll see to it that he 
spends the rest of his life in jail for that, if nothing else." 

Suddenly the phone rang, breaking the silence that had swept the room after 
Jeff's speech. 

"Good day, gentlemen," he said and turned his back to answer the phone. 

"Yeah, Charley," Jeff said to his assistant editor. "I hope you've got those 
sworn affidavits from Sammy and Paula ready for today's edition." 

"I do, Jeff, but it won't make any difference." 

"Why not?" 

"Well," Charley said, hesitating. "The D.A.'s office showed them to Jackson 
this morning about ten o'clock. When the guard went back to the cell to take 
him his dinner he found Jackson dead on the floor. He cut his wrists." 

Jeff paused for a moment. 

"O.K., Charley, run an obituary." 

Jeff Lee hung up the phone and picked up his pipe. Wade Jackson had taken 
the coward's way out, and saved the state a lot of money. But Jeff's job 
wouldn't be over for a long time. Wherever a Wade Jackson lives, thriving 
off the misfortune of others, there will always be a job for men like Jeff 
Lee. Within a week someone will have taken Wade's place in Miami and Jeff 
will nave to start another investigation... but not until after his 
vacation... a long one with his new found Pamela... 


End
