Blackmailed Navy Wife
(M+/FF, nc, size, anal, blackmail)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org



The brilliant California morning sun streamed in through the large open window. A slight, cooling breeze was blowing outside, rustling the rose bush that sprouted up over the hill. Its leaves cast small, dancing shadows against the far wall of the room.

Claire Bachman turned on the bed, squinting and shielding her eyes from the brightness that played over her face. Her long, satiny blonde hair cascaded over the pillow, forming a soft cushion for her head that lay heavily back against it. A thin sheet shielded her body from the breeze that blew gently in from the open window. She had the body of a lush young Venus de Milo which an invisible observer hovering over the bed, could have traced in detail through the clinging sheet. It barely hid the high-set, rounded, heavy DD-cup breasts whose rose-tipped nipples clearly showed through the thin fabric. The sheet tapered down over a slender, girlish waist to round, luscious hips, a flat, smooth stomach and long full-swelling thighs; breathtaking curved calves tapered down to thin, well formed ankles. It was a body that would attract admiring attention from the most discriminating men... and envy from women.

The honey-blonde hair on the pillow framed a heart-shaped face that would cause any male to turn his head when she passed. Her hazel eyes were set slightly apart, she had a dainty, almost classical Greek nose, a full ripe mouth with the lower lip protruding slightly in an almost perpetual little-girl pout, a round dimpled chin, and a soft slightly tanned ivory complexion. But her eyes were perceptibly puffed around the lids and tiny lines had begun to thread out from the outer corners reaching toward the temples. The thick, pancake makeup, to cover these tell-tale signs of premature wear, was smeared and had rubbed off on the pillow during the night. Her hazel eyes blinked painfully at the sunlight. She had a bad hangover. A bell was ringing in the distance, reverberating down the hallway from the living room. It had awakened her, but in her heavy stupor, it seemed to be a great distance away and not part of reality at all. Suddenly she realized it was the doorbell and after several moments of waiting and hoping whoever it was would go away, she resignedly arose, threw on a robe carelessly, forgetting to tie the belt, and walked down the hallway to open the door.

"Express telegram for you, Mrs. Bachman," a smiling Western Union boy said, with a slight smirk at her condition.

His eyes blatantly traced the contour of her throat down to the cleavage between her full breasts under the thin negligee.

Claire drew her robe around her tighter, grabbed the envelope, and closed the door abruptly without a word or even tipping the boy. But the bell immediately began to ring again.

Oh, damn, she thought, I forgot to sign for it! She opened the door again and the boy arrogantly pushed his book at her. He held out his pencil and when Claire reached for it, flicked it slightly with his thumb so that it flipped down the front of her robe and lodged between her breasts.

"Get it for ya, Mrs. Bachman," he said with a cockiness to him.

"You get out of her, you little beast!" she scolded, "or I'm going to report you to your company!" She slammed the door shut, not bothering to return the pencil, which had fallen to the floor.

Claire slumped down on the couch and held her head in her hands. My God, she thought, have I gone so far down that a delivery boy doesn't even respect me in my own home? Recently the remarks and looks she got were not just innocent flirtations, they were outright lewd offers to go to bed. She had been almost manhandled in the street several times in the last week. Had she really come to look that easy? Too much was being demanded of her and she had vowed she was going to see Melinda and put a stop to it.

She suddenly remembered the cable she had wadded up in her hand. She opened it and read it slowly.

     "War's over for me darling I'll be home in ten days.
      Can't wait to get at my neglected wife!
                                                     Love, Dave"

Claire's eyes were welling with tears. This was what she had been waiting and praying for, so long. He had been gone over a year now, flying in Vietnam and each day had been a new dread that she would receive notice from the Department of the Navy that he was a casualty. She had not even been able to read the newspapers because there was always news about the number of planes shot down.

"Oh, thank God, he's safe and coming home!" she kept mumbling over and over to herself between sobs, "Thank God!"

This would end all of her problems. She would be free of Melinda and could become her old self again. She knew she could never recover the self-respect she had lost but she would be a good wife to Dave and they could have their children now as they had planned before he left. She would try so hard, she would love him almost to death. He would like that; he wrote about it all the time in his letter what their life would be like when his tour of duty was over and he was out of the Navy. Now it was all coming true, Melinda had promised to return those awful pictures of her as soon as she knew Dave was coming home. This would release her hold on her and she would be free.

She felt like calling Melinda right this minute and telling her but it was only nine o'clock in the morning and she knew Melinda would be angry with her for waking her. Claire hummed all the way through her shower, and stood nude in front of the mirror to admire her voluptuous body. She placed her palms under her full, well rounded breasts and lifted them slightly until they stood out in full bloom. She held the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, tweaking them gently into erection. It was exciting to know that soon Dave would possess these again and that his love would wash from her the degradations she had been forced to submit to in the last few months. She could enjoy his 8-inch cock, a cock that always made her feel so good. The very thought of Dave's love excited her and her hands moved down from her breasts to her smooth stomach, through the soft golden down at the chevron and across her full, well rounded thighs.

She felt like a kitten, rubbing herself this way and she could notice in the mirror that some color had returned to her cheeks already. She knew it would be good for her to get Dave back. If just the thought of him coming home did this to her, his real arrival should be absolute heaven.

She shuddered from the movements of her hands across her body and forced herself suddenly to stop the warm stroking. I must save all my feelings for Dave now, she thought happily to herself.

She toweled herself dry and went to the closet to choose her dress for the day. After rummaging through several, she chose one of the new orange color. It was the latest mini-thing and she had just bought it only a few days before. It made no pretense of hiding her charms and she almost thought it too daring, but she remembered that Dave had always told her not to be ashamed of the gifts that God had given her.

"Just don't show too much of it to these lechers around here while I'm gone," he had added jokingly, "they'll eat you alive in this Navy town."

She had intended to save it for his first day home but felt so gay today that she convinced herself it needed breaking in. She left off most of the make-up she had been resorting to lately to hide the results of her late evening dissipations with Melinda and her crowd. It seemed that just the news of Dave's coming had taken away the puffiness from her eyes, her facial lines had softened, and her youthful freshness had returned.

Later, on her way to the market, she noticed the looks she was getting. They had changed to reverent admiration. She could always tell when a man felt something was unattainable. The spring in her walk helped, they knew when a woman was confident of herself, and they could tell when she belonged to someone else.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bachman," Pete, the grocer said beaming. "My, don't we look pretty and fresh today."

"Thank you Pete," Claire blushed slightly. It had been a long time since he had complimented her.

"It's a mighty fine day," he said, "and maybe a little tiny bit of special too," he added with a twinkle. "Seems I detect a little rainbow curving over your head."

"Seems you're right, Pete," she answered. "You seem to read me, pardon the old expression, like a book. Are you psychic by any chance?"

"Naw, nuthin' like that, Mrs. Bachman, just been in this Navy town a long time and can spot your disease a mile away. A look like that can only mean two things, either HCH or PFT."

"HCH or PFT! What on earth can those be?" Claire laughed.

"Hubby comin' home, or pregnant first time," Pete quipped philosophically, "and I know yours can't be PFT, Dave's been away too long."

"Why you're marvelous, Pete!" Claire clapped her hands together in surprised amusement. "I just received his cable this morning. He'll be here in ten more days. I just can't believe it," she said excitedly, glad to have someone else share in her happiness.

"I'm glad Mrs. Bachman! He's a mighty fine boy! I don't think I've ever seen two people so happy together as you two were before he left. My wife used to say she had never seen two people so made for each other. She'll be happy to hear he's made it through. I sometimes think she worries as much as the wives do."

"What's all this laughin' I hear out here?" A small, round-faced Irish woman of about fifty-five was coming out of the back of the store.

"Hello, Mrs. Leary," Claire said shyly. She had been trying to avoid Mrs. Leary who could sometimes be too blunt. Claire could sense she knew something was wrong.

"Well, hello, Claire," Mrs. Leary said. "We haven't seen you for awhile. Where have you been, child?"

"Well," Claire stuttered, not knowing really what excuse to use, "I - I haven't been feeling too well."

"Poppycock," the old woman snorted, "you've been drinking too much of that rotten whiskey. That's what's wrong. I've seen it happen a thousand times in this town. Husband goes away to sea and the wife gets to frettin' about his not coming home and the next thing you know, she's on the bottle. Happens to all the women."

"Now, Mary, you just stop that," Pete cut in. "Let the poor girl alone!"

"You don't tell me to shut up, Peter Leary," the old woman snapped at him. "I ain't sayin' anything Claire don't know... she's like a daughter to me they all are here - besides, I heard you say Dave was comin' home; she'll be all right now."

Mrs. Leary came over and put her arm warmly around Claire, who seemed on the verge of tears.

"Don't you take what I'm sayin' to heart, child. It's just the truth and what I mean is, don't feel bad about it now. It happens to all of us - Lord, I know! - Pete was in the Navy for thirty years before we opened this store. He would have stayed in forty if I hadn't made him leave. I was downright alcoholic when he was away but when he came home, everything was fine. It's those that don't snap out of it and feel guilty when their man comes home that I worry about. The way you look today tells me you'll make it. Don't be ashamed of a few drinks you had when he was gone, honey, that's what it takes sometimes to keep a woman whose worryin' about her man from becoming a bloomin' maniac."

"Thank you, Mrs. Leary," was all Claire could say. "I guess you know what I've been through."

"Of course I do, honey!" the old woman said softly. "When your man gets home just act like nothing happened and take up just where you left off."

Claire pondered these thoughts on the way home and decided Mrs. Leary was right. Claire hadn't changed in her love for Dave and she was still the same person but it wasn't as simple as Mr. Leary thought; not just a case of giving up drinking. It was breaking with Melinda and her crowd. She would call as soon as she got home and tell her about Dave's coming home and make her keep her promise to give Claire those pictures to destroy. It had all seemed so simple this morning. Melinda had promised faithfully she would give Claire the pictures if Claire helped her while Dave was gone. But, then, Melinda had promised before, and had always had some excuse to delay it. But this time she simply had to give them back. Claire vowed she would make her live up to her promise this time; she had to... she just had to.

Claire listened dejectedly to the ringing on the other end of the line. It had been ringing for about ten minutes this time. It was the fifth time she had tried to call since arriving home four or five hours ago. It was nearly dark outside and Melinda still didn't answer. The longer she waited, the more worried Claire became. She went to the kitchen cabinet and reluctantly got down a three- quarter full bottle of Scotch. She had promised herself this morning that there would be no more of this, but she was so nervous now from the waiting that she just had to have something to soothe her frayed nerves. She poured half a glass, put the bottle back up in the shelf and returned to the living room.

Though it was now dark outside, she didn't bother to turn on the light. The streetlight in front of the house gave her enough light to move around in without falling over the furniture. Somehow, she didn't feel like facing the brightness just this moment. She had to come to an understanding with Melinda on the phone before she wanted to see anything again. She picked up the phone by the couch and dialed again; she had done this so often, she could do it in the dark without a mistake. She let it ring for what seemed an almost eternity: no answer.

Damn it, she muttered under her breath as she took a long drink from the straight Scotch in her glass and felt the soothing warm liquid hit bottom. She had eaten nothing all day and the impact was immediate.

The warmth crept through her body, causing a slight tingling sensation to ripple across her skin; she raised the glass again and finished it. It felt good; she could see the smoke in the dim light from her cigarette curling slowly up to the ceiling - it was funny to watch - almost seemed to have a purpose - it knew where it was going for a moment - up - and then it seemed to waver and diffuse into funny little wisps in all directions, finally disappearing into nothingness. She giggled from the alcohol. I might just disappear into nothingness, she thought.

She returned to the kitchen and filled her glass again. And after reaching up to put the bottle back she changed her mind, carried it with her back to the living room and placed it on the coffee table in front of her.

She started to call Melinda again but decided against it for awhile. It had only been a few minutes since the last attempt. She drained another glass of Scotch instead and then leaned back on the couch, lighting another cigarette. The alcohol had a soothing effect on her.

It was rather warm and she opened the housecoat she was wearing to expose her body to the slight breeze that came in through the open window. She could see its contours stretching down in front of her. It was beautiful, she had to admit. The rounded peaks of her firm breasts stood up defiantly and she could look through the canyon between them down to the soft golden triangle that proved she was really a natural blonde. She was proud of it - and yet, she mused, it was the reason for all of her troubles now. If she had just been a plain-Jane none of the sordid things that had been forced on her in the last few months would ever have occurred. On the other hand, she probably would never have gotten Dave either; if she hadn't been beautiful she thought as she took another drink of the stinging liquor

She wondered if there couldn't be a middle-ground somewhere, something in between, that must be where real happiness lies.

So many of her almost, but not quite plain, girl friends from school were settled down and happily married with children. They would never be bothered by the curse of being wanted just for their striking beauty, they had to give something else to attract; something that came from within them. How she wished that had been true for her, but it would be now, she vowed. The hazy effect the liquor was producing seemed to simplify things. She pondered the plus points of having a beauty like this.

She had been elected campus queen of her high school when she was eighteen. Of course, she had been chased by all the young cocky males in her class but they had all seemed so immature and had not really appealed to her. Nevertheless, she had gone out with several of them and had engaged in the usual back seat petting with some who appealed to her a little more than the others.

She had even on occasions let them brush their hands over her full ripe breasts, but despite their pleadings she had never let it go farther. It had aroused her somewhat, she admitted to herself, but she had always overcome this by strict concentration on the moral values her mother had drilled into her.

Her mother was extremely religious and had made Claire attend church with her without fail each Sunday when most of her other friends had been running off to the beach on picnics. Her mother also gave persistent warnings on the evils of petting and had instilled into her the idea that a girl should at all costs save herself for her wedding night. Claire had accepted this and deported herself accordingly.

She had met Dave at the Rose Bowl ceremonies in Pasadena. He had been a junior at UCLA and in charge of arranging the float processions for the Rose Parade. As delegate of her school, she was to be assigned to one of them. He had given her one of the best positions on the most beautiful float in the procession. He had called her several weeks later for a date and they had gone to his annual fraternity dance at the University. She had caused quite a stir among his fraternity brothers and more than one had tried to get her off into the corner and get her phone number or a quick kiss. She had detected also the envious looks she had received from the other girls.

Dave had been considered to be one of the best catches on campus. He was tall and handsome and very wealthy. His grandfather had left him a trust estate of several million dollars which he would get on his thirtieth birthday. He had done this, according to the will, in order that his grandson would learn to support himself before being spoiled by the money. He was a wise old man and Dave had admired him very much. Claire had learned all of this long after she had fallen in love with Dave so it had not even been a factor in their relationship.

She had never gone all the way with him during their courtship, but several times it had been close. On more than one occasion, it had been all she could do to hold herself back.

Often, in compromise, she had let him reach under her sweater, unfasten her bra, and massage her exposed breasts while they were petting in the back seat of his car. Once they had gone to one of the fraternity dances and she drank too much. Afterwards, when they were parked at the beach and he had massaged her breasts into maddening hardness with his fingers, he had taken one of the nipples in his mouth. The gentle playing of his tongue around it had driven her to near madness and she had hardly noticed when his hand had slipped under her skirt and begun caressing be tween her creamy white thighs.

"No Dave, No!" she had gasped, sensing that she might not be able to hold him back this time.

But his hands had kept on stroking her, roving the full length of her body, over her flat white stomach and on down to the nylon covered softness of her pubic hair. He stroked her there slowly, insinuating his middle finger under her soft nylon panties into the moist virginal split of her pussy. It started a tingling sensation that she had never known before and she squirmed around on the car seat beneath his hand. Their heavy breathing in the car fogged the windows.

"Dave, not now, darling, not now," she had gasped into his ear.

He had paid no attention to her and she had heard the metallic sound of his zipper opening, and suddenly a blunt fleshy pressure against the top of her thigh. It was his prick! She had never felt one before and the muscles of her body contracted involuntarily at the strange touch.

She had been ready to pull away when suddenly his finger between her legs had probed into her wet pussy. It had sent an electric shock of rippling pleasure up through her that froze her to the seat. She could not move for the moment as the pleasure raced around inside her and he had taken this to mean she had succumbed.

He moved her hand over his cock and with his own fingers wrapped hers around it. She clenched them tight, hearing his answering groan of pleasure through her own gasping breath. She had never expected it would be so enormous. It seemed her fingers could barely go around it. Without thinking, she began to massage the thick outer skin back and forth up and down the hard shaft. Nothing else in the world had ever felt so good or so complete. He was digging his single finger deep into her cunt that was wet from the juices excitedly seeping from its lips. It was stretching the tiny ring of her still intact hymen and she was afraid it would split and end her virginity on the spot but there was nothing she could do about it. The thrills he was giving her were racing too wildly through her to resist and she relaxed her inner thighs to give him greater access to her and at the same time increased the speed of her own stroking. With each gentle push she could feel Dave's prick jerking into greater hardness though a moment ago she would hot have dreamed that possible.

He had suddenly tried to roll over on top of her and, at the last minute she had clamped her thighs tightly together, trapping is rock hard penis between them. Dave had struggled like a madman to lift it up and get the tip into the opening of her wet, throbbing pussy but she knew she must wait even though she wanted it as badly as he did. She struggled with all her strength against him and inadvertently her grip tightened around his straining cock. Just as he had forced the head under the legband of her panties, and the throbbing nose was poised between the splayed open lips of her cunt, she felt it begin to jerk out of control. Dave gasped and she felt a hot, thick stream of liquid spurt from it, until her pubic hair was drenched with the warm, sticky sperm. It covered the insides of her thighs wetly and dripped down between her legs to moisten the car seat beneath her asscheeks.

Dave emitted a final groan and collapsed over her body. He was mumbling abject apologies into her ear for his failure, seemingly unaware that she had resisted. He must have thought he had let her down. She stroked the back of his neck tenderly, consoling him with soft whispers of love while he continued gasping for several long minutes. Finally, he had sat up on the seat, helping her to rise beside him. He had held her hand silently for a few moments and then fixed his clothes, acting sheepish.

She had scolded him afterwards when she was smoothing down her skirt and had made him promise never to do that again; she reminded him that she was just flesh and blood also and that it was just as much his responsibility as hers to not let themselves go too far before they were married. He had apologized and had never made any real attempt on her virginity after that.

Upon graduation from UCLA, he had gone to Pensacola to take his flight training and afterwards, they were married. It had been a wonderful wedding night and she felt a complete woman to be able to give herself freely to him. He had been an accomplished lover and Claire had suspected that he had not come to their marital bed as pure as she, but it didn't really matter as long as he was faithful after they were married. Besides, it was a man's place to teach the woman in the arts of love and how else could he learn? She had heard the boys laughing sometimes together in the fraternity house about their trips over the border to Tijuana on holidays and suspected that this was where they were all gaining their experience.

They had moved to San Diego to set up house-keeping after Dave had received his orders stationing him there and had joined the social life with all the other officers and wives. The Friday night dances at the officer's club was about the extent of their going out other than bridge games at friends' houses and they settled down into the routine of married life. It had been wonderful and Claire had never been happier any time in her life.

Dave had proven to be the perfect husband in almost everyway. There were rumors about most of the other couples on the base but Claire and Dave had been able to stay aloof from this. It would have been difficult to even fabricate gossip about these two devoted young lovers. Claire remembered Mrs. Leary saying once they certainly typified her vision of what the Adam and Eve relationship must have been. That was before the serpent entered the garden, Claire thought, bitterly, and sipped more of her glass of Scotch.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. How long had she been lying here thinking? She swung her legs over the edge of the couch and reached for the phone on the table next to it. She could feel the Scotch now and almost knocked over the lamp trying to turn on the light. She finally reached it and flooded the room with brightness. She looked at the clock on the mantle as she picked up the phone. It was almost midnight, she had been lying here for over five hours.

"Hello?" she said into the phone.

"Hello, Claire?" a familiar feminine voice answered at the other end, "This is Melinda."

Claire's heart skipped a beat and she said quickly, "Oh, Melinda, I've been trying to reach you all day, I have the most wonderful news..."

"Yes, you sound like you've been celebrating, how much have you had to drink?"

"Not much," Claire answered guilty, "I've just had a few shots while I've been lying here thinking."

"Well, don't think too much," Melinda told her, "I called to remind you about the party out at Max's house tomorrow night."

"That's why I was trying to call you," Claire answered quickly, "I can't go, I got a cable from Dave this morning and he's coming home in ten days." She paused for a moment and then said, almost pleading, "Remember what you promised when he came home?"

There was a long pause at the other end of the line Claire held her breath silently praying. Those pictures could destroy hers and Dave's happiness, for the rest of their lives.

Finally Melinda spoke, "Now, dear, he won't be home for ten days, we can talk about it tomorrow night at the party."

"Oh, please, Melinda, please," Claire pleaded, "I can't go again! Not just before Dave comes home. I just can't!"

"Nonsense, dear, it won't hurt, what does one more time matter? He'll never know. Remember, I've always told you that what they don't know doesn't hurt them."

"I know what you said," Claire replied, "but I just can't do it to him, I've done too much already. Please, please, Melinda. You promised."

"That's enough, Claire," the voice became harsh on the other end of the line. "I told you we would discuss it tomorrow night after the party, you wouldn't want those pictures to be waiting for Dave at the base when he returns, would you? Particularly not the one of you and that fat Mexican. You remember that one, don't you, my dear?" There a mocking tone to Melinda's voice now.

"Melinda, please, please!" Claire was whimpering into the phone and tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I'll do anything you say, just please, please give me those awful pictures before Dave comes home."

"See you tomorrow night, dear, and then we can make some arrangement. Don't you be all messy from crying, either. We have some important people down from Hollywood and Max wants to impress them; he's counting on you and if you're nice to his friends you may get them back."

There was a click at the other end of the line. Melinda had hung up. Claire sobbed softly into the dead line for several minutes before she dropped the phone back into its cradle.

She fell limply back on the couch, reached for the half-full glass of Scotch and drained it straight down. Droplets ran loosely down the edge of her mouth. The burning sensation dulled her senses and she poured herself another... and later another... trying to forget she would have to go tomorrow night for Dave's sake if nothing else.

She couldn't bear for him to know the depths to which she had sunk and the degradation she had been forced to endure while he was gone. It would destroy his love for her.

She poured the last of the Scotch, drained her glass and slumped over on the couch. Her loose robe fell open to expose the lush, ripe beauty that was the cause of all her troubles. Unconsciousness swept over her, blocking out the horrible memories. But, it was not long until the dreams came - dreams she had endured for what seemed an eternity and yet had been only a few short months... even in her sleep she suffered from the curse of beauty.

"Oooohhh, not so deep, Max, not so deep!" the slim, well built woman moaned from the thick rug in the center of the floor.

"You'll become accustomed to its my dear," the fat, insipid-looking man sitting in the chair above her gloated, "I remember a few months back when you could only take half this much."

He leered down at her spread-eagled form with a sadistic light in his eyes. This was the way he liked his women, lying at his feet, completely under his domination. She was doing well, this one, and she enjoyed it almost as he did, though of course the favors he heaped upon her such as a luxury apartment, sports car, and whatever else within reason that she might want, did help to keep her under his control.

He flicked the long pole slightly harder sinking the large rubber phallus on the end of it half an inch deeper into her wide-open cunt, bringing another low moan from her lips. His beady, searching eyes studied the expression, half pleasure, half pain, on her face and traveled down the length of her slim, ripe body to her upturned crotch that was presented to his view so beautifully.

She was holding both legs back with her straining hands, her knees pressed tightly back into her firm, rounded beasts. He could see the moist, red flesh of the lips of her pussy clasping tightly around the huge rubber cudgel he had buried deep up inside her. It was at least two inches in diameter and stretched the hairy slit wide until the tiny, rosy bud of her clit could be seen clearly, glistening and standing out just above where the instrument was skewered into her cunt.

It was a sight he relished, seeing this woman take such a monstrous cock inside her. He had brought her along slowly, stretching it a little each day until now she could take the largest size he had in his collection. Perhaps, he gloated, he should have one made that was just a little larger. He could really subjugate and defile her with that. Ah, but that was for the future, the woman was ready now for the final drive to completion. He could tell by the way she raised her asscheeks up when he withdrew the rod that she was near orgasm. He switched the vibratory button to the "on" position and the small electric motor attached to the handle whirred into life, moving the pole in short, quick jerks into her moist, throbbing orifice. She groaned wildly and thrashed her head from side to side on the rug as he continued the long hard strokes in and out, leaving it sunk all the way inside for a few seconds on the in-stroke so that she might feel the full of effect the pulsating vibrations deep in her quivering belly. Her body bucked beneath the mechanical lover as though it were on fire and he watched with undisguised glee as her firm, fleshy breasts jiggled and shook as they jerked into contact with her up-held knees. Her body quivered and shook as though some demon had entered and taken complete possession of it.

He leaned forward and down in the chair bringing his face close to the artificial cock that he was thrusting into her, watching with lewd delight the tiny ridges of the moist pink flesh of her cunt around the edges of the thick cudgel with each thrust he made.

"Harder, my dear?" he purred above her, playing upon her body as though it were a puppet and he were the master holding the strings.

"Ooohhhh, yes, harder, fuck it harder," she groaned as she twisted and turned wildly on the rug, small rivulets of sweat rolling down from between her bouncing breasts.

"Deeper, do you want me to fuck deeper?" he grinned evilly, his eyes locked greedily on the instrument cleaving into the parted hair of her throbbing pussy.

"Hell, no, you'll split it, you'll split it," she gasped painfully as he shoved forward again in spite of her pleas, leaving it sunk completely to the hilt inside her hot, lubricated passage. He turned the vibrator to full force and could see the full rounded cheeks of her ass quivering tantalizingly from the force of its motion.

She suddenly gave a low piteous moan and brought her hands down to hold the thick, vibrating rubber dildo hard into her belly, screwing her quivering ass up tight against the round hard rubber ring that kept it from going deeper. She opened her mouth wide and let out a low animal- like gasp that signified her approaching orgasm. Max could see the cheeks of her ass begin a strong hard clenching against the invading dildo as though it were trying to nibble it away. Small gushes of her orgiastic fluid seeped out hotly around the edges of the vibrating penis in spite of its tightness and ran in glistening tiny streams down the wide-stretched crevice of her asscheeks. The tiny puckered ass clenched and unclenched below in the moistness of the crack in tempo with the grunts of her spending passion.

Max gloated, as he watched her body jerking to a halt from the final spasms of the orgasm she had just experienced. Her groans subsided slowly as he slowed the vibrator bit by bit to coincide with her completion. Finally he switched it off. She lay spread-eagled and still, the huge rubber cock still embedded deep in her wide-stretched cunt. Max, grinning in satisfaction from the spectacle he had just watched, slowly began working it out from between her legs. He pulled gently, concentrating his vision on the pink moist flesh working its way out around the edges with it, clasping to it as though it didn't want to let go. He gave a quick tug, and with a wet sucking noise it suddenly slipped out all the way. The woman groaned and rolled over on her side, one arm covering her eyes from the light.

"Melinda, my dove, that was beautiful," Max cooed, reaching down to lift the still form from the floor.

"Ohhh, don't move me," Melinda moaned. "One of these days you're going to kill me with one of those machines of yours."

"Ah, but you like them, I can tell." Max grinned lewdly, "Don't tell me you don't."

"Mmmmm," she groaned again, softly this time as she rose to one elbow on the rug. "I haven't seen a man yet that could keep up with them."

"My dear, you are perfect," Max laughed appreciatively. You'll never know how much you have brightened my dull existence this last year. You are by far the best secretary an executive could possibly have."

"I think I earn my money," Melinda laughed with him pulling herself exhaustedly up off the floor to the standing position. "And speaking of that, I think I had better get dressed and get down to see that new young thing you've got on your mind these days. I want to make certain that trip to Mexico we fixed for her benefit doesn't peter out. It should save some of the wear and tear on me for awhile. That is, until you get tired of her."

"Ah, my dear, you know I could never do without you for very long. I like my little diversions but they tire too quickly. You're probably the only woman in the world who is as lusty as I am." He patted her on the ass playfully, pausing to jiggle the soft resilient flesh for a moment. "She is a tender young thing, though, and I don't need to tell you how important it is to me. I want to see her crawl after the way she's ignored me. She must be taught a lesson."

"I'd like to see the proud little bitch get screwed good, too. She even thinks she's too good to have a drink with me. I've been trying to set you up a long time but all she does is moon over that Navy husband of hers. That's what comes from too much love."

"Yes," Max agreed, lighting a long black cigar, "You have taken longer than usual with this one. I was beginning to think, my dear, that perhaps you were jealous and wanted to keep me to yourself."

"Oh, I do, I do," Melinda kidded along with him, "but that mink coat you've offered as a reward for that little piece of tail appeals to me more."

"Well, don't fail me this time, my pet," Max urged, "I'm growing a bit inpatient."

"Don't worry, I've set things up in Tijuana so that even the virgin Mary herself couldn't get away. She'll get screwed all right, and screwed good." Melinda, fully clothed now, brushed down her hair and started for the door.

"Good luck, my dear, I envy you getting to watch her breaking in. Don't let them bruise her up too much."

"I promise, my sweet," Melinda blew a kiss back at him as she closed the door behind her and left the fat sweating man. "There'll be plenty left for you to play dilly-dally with."

The powerful Jaguar sports car purred smoothly along the highway, going south out of San Diego. Claire Bachman relaxed back in the passenger seat and let her long golden hair flow out into the cool refreshing slip stream of the car. She felt completely relaxed and at ease for the first time in six months.

She gazed over gratefully at Melinda, the driver. She had been the one who had lifted this veil of self pity she had thrown around herself when Dave had left for fleet duty in Vietnam last January. This trip was going to be wonderful for her and Melinda had convinced her she should forget everything and leave her troubles behind for the weekend.

"Let's pretend we're eighteen again," Melinda had said just before they had left, "and we don't have an attachment in the world."

She had explained to Claire while they had several martinis in her sumptuous apartment overlooking the harbor at San Diego. "We've won this trip from the office for two, all expenses paid for three days to Tijuana and the bull fights, so let's make the most of it."

After the third martini Claire decided it might be fun. She needed some kind of diversion to keep from going mad.

Melinda had warned her that they would have to watch themselves as there were some pretty unsavory characters down there who would like nothing better than to take advantage of a couple of good-looking and fancy-free gringo girls, but if they were careful and watched their step they could have a good clean weekend of fun. Claire had thought it a wonderful idea and had agreed to try and not think about her loneliness. For the first time since Dave left, she was going to enjoy herself.

Claire had met Melinda several months ago when she had taken a job as a secretary in one of the large department stores in San Diego to relieve the boredom while Dave was away. She had written to him about her plans and he had answered that he thought it was a good idea for her to keep herself busy. She had been expressing her depression to him too much lately in her letters and he had good-naturedly admonished her about this - saying he didn't want a worried looking old hag of 22 years old for a wife when he returned.

Melinda was the first real friend she had made since her husband's departure. She was Mr. Schroeder's, the store owner's, private secretary and also had a husband who was away at sea. That gave them something in common right way.

Melinda had invited her out for coffee the second day she was on the job and they had hit it off immediately, even though she was six or seven years older than Claire.

Melinda was a little different in many respects and Claire recognized this, but at least, she was someone she could talk to and unburden her frustrations on. She hadn't seen much of Melinda after office hours but had gone out with her several times in the evening for a quiet drink when she had been overly persistent. Claire had much rather go home and read a good book or compose her nightly letter to Dave which usually took up four or five pages. This alone took two or three hours.

She hoped he had the time to read them, though she sometimes wondered. His answers would ignore some of the most important points, and he hadn't been writing much lately, in fact, his last letter was over a month ago. This was beginning to hurt Claire and she sometimes had difficulty in sleeping at night, wondering if he still cared as much for her. Her concern gradually turned to frustration and then to anger with him for neglecting her this way.

Perhaps, as Melinda had suggested, she had just let him take her too much for granted - perhaps she should go out once in awhile and let off some steam - maybe it would teach him a lesson.

Claire was not quite so certain that Melinda was the devoted wife she made herself appear to be. Her husband was a Commander who was making a good income but this didn't seem to be able to satisfy the expensive tastes that Melinda had. Her apartment alone must have taken his entire salary per month, even without the minks, the sports car, and club memberships. Claire wondered about these things but never really discussed them. Melinda had mentioned once that her husband had inherited some money so this could be the answer. Claire couldn't quite put her finger on it but she knew that Melinda wasn't worrying the way Claire herself did. She also felt that Melinda might be just a little jealous of her. She had caused quite a stir in the store when she had first gone to work and had taken away much of the attention that Melinda was receiving from the male employees herself. She knew this hurt Melinda as she throve on attention and was quite a beautiful girl.

Her figure was almost as perfect as Claire's and her face was a chiseled perfection that would have been the delight of a Greek sculptor. Her hair was a silky jet black and always in the latest hairstyle.

Claire wondered sometimes how she found so much time to have it done when working as the owner's secretary. But somehow she did, and this was perhaps the thing that Claire admired most - her efficiency and self-reliance.

Melinda didn't seem to worry about Bob, her husband, as much as Claire did about Dave - and, seldom mentioned him. She took things as they came to her and she didn't appear to suffer as much as Claire or the other wives did.

Claire suspected that there was something between Melinda and Max Schroeder, her boss. He was notorious for the parties he gave at his palatial estate and Melinda often attended these. But Claire had nothing concrete, no reason to think Melinda was going to bed with her boss.

Melinda tried to get Claire to attend some of these parties, saying it would relieve her boredom and she owed it to herself not to be so tense and worried all the time. She also had tried to get Claire to go to Tijuana for the weekend with her several times but Claire had always managed to find some excuse; in reality, she had no interest in these things and for entertainment would have preferred a quiet movie. She had never really liked to drink, except for one or two daiquiris before dinner when Dave was home.

She had the feeling that Mr. Schroeder was interested in her and that might have been the reason Claire was hired. Many of the other Navy wives had tried to find jobs but said it was impossible. They had almost succeeded in convincing Claire not even to try.

She had gone to the Schroeder store and been interviewed by the woman personnel manager who had informed her that there were no job openings at present and probably would not be in the near future but would keep her application on file. Mr. Schroeder had walked in during the interview and Claire could see him take more than casual notice of her. Nothing was said at that time but several days later she received a call to come to work, and at a very good salary.

Since that time she had caught the boss watching her several times, she could detect in his looks more than just an appreciation of her beauty; it was an outright lewd appraisal. He had made many invitations but Claire had always coldly refused.

She shuddered just thinking about him and could not understand how Melinda could stand to be close to him. He was short, bald, had a huge stomach and was always perspiring, even in the air-conditioned store, he always chewed a large, fat cigar between his heavy lips. He was absolutely repulsive to Claire. It was inconceivable to her that Melinda was receiving money to live the way she did by going to bed with him.

This was one reason Claire had always refused the invitations to go to parties at Schroeder's estate. But Claire still trusted Melinda implicitly and felt it was none of her business what Melinda did.

She was so understanding and nice to talk with, that Claire couldn't help feeling Melinda had a real interest in her welfare, that the invitation were really a good-natured attempt to get her out of the shell of self- pity into which she had withdrawn. For this, Claire was grateful to her and had often explained that she didn't really need gay parties to keep her mind from Dave's absence, that her books and letters from him would keep up her spirits until he returned.

Melinda had seemed to accept this explanation after a while, and did not bother her with further invitations, except for the occasional drinks they had together after work.

This time it was different, there had been a contest at the store for the best slogan to use during the spring sale. Every employee had been required to submit one. She had not thought much of hers, which she had turned in at the last minute, but somehow she and Melinda had tied for first place and had each won a prize of an expense paid weekend to the bullfights in Tijuana.

She hadn't really wanted to go, but under the circumstances, it was difficult to find an excuse not to, besides, she felt she needed it now. Dave had been gone for six months and was flying missions over Hanoi and Claire was almost going out of her mind with worry.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Melinda's voice, "Mexico coming up, border's right ahead."

"Wonderful, I can't wait!" Claire replied. She had been down only once before, with Dave before he left, and the girls had made reservations at the same hotel.

"Pull your skirt down," Melinda suggested laughingly. "If the Mexican border guards see a knee they'll keep us here an hour checking everything in the car just so they can look."

Claire did as she was told and they passed through the customs station with just the usual quick questions, though she did notice the admiring look one of the young border guards cast in their direction. Looks of this kind she didn't mind. In fact, she appreciated them.

The scenery across the border changed immediately It had shocked her the first time she had seen it and it still did. The clean, neat buildings and houses of California changed to the decrepit and decaying buildings of old Mexico. Even those built within the last six months seemed to have a sense of shoddiness about them. They always looked the same way from the time they were built until they collapsed or were torn down.

The same smell was there too, that of burning meat in the streets from the vendors who cooked their hot tacos on the corners. Noise was everywhere, horns were blowing and people were screaming at each other for no apparent reason. Children were selling everything imaginable on the sidewalks, and running up to the car to thrust chewing gum, cashew nuts, and souvenirs right in their faces.

One boy not more than twelve, reached into the car and squeezed Claire's right breast tightly. She jumped in surprise and slapped at him but he ran off into the crowd, laughing.

"Did you see what that little, little, brat did?" she choked disbelievingly to Melinda. "He... he grabbed my breast!"

"Honey, you'll be lucky if that's all that gets grabbed in this town. You've got to watch them every minute and use all four of your hands for protective covering," Melinda said, laughing it off.

"Well, it wasn't funny. I've never been so insulted in my life," Claire pouted, still unable to believe it had happened. "They had just better not try that again. Don't they have any respect for a woman at all?"

"Only when she's flat on her back on a bed, dear," Melinda replied, "but we're big girls, we can take care of ourselves. Don't worry about it."

Claire was upset and furious all the way to the hotel and was relieved when they arrived. She felt safer now, away from the clanging noises and cries in the streets. It would give her a chance to adjust a little more slowly to this sudden change in tempo.

The hotel was beautiful, and immediately memories of Dave flooded her mind. If only he were here, she thought, everything would be perfect.

It was called the El Cortez and the architecture was typically Spanish, with low curved arches for doors and beautifully colored tiles on the walls and floors. Lush green plants in large ceramic pots in the lobby gave the place a tropical atmosphere.

They checked in and followed the bell-boy up to their suite. It was on the seventh floor, at the top of the hotel, and commanded a view from the terrace of the patio with a lovely Spanish tile swoons pool surrounded by palm trees. Colorful umbrellas were scattered about the edge of the pool, looking like giant mushrooms. Being in such plush surroundings made Claire feel more relaxed than she had in months. "Well, what do you think of the suite?" Melinda asked.

"It's just gorgeous!" Claire answered looking around at the beautiful living room and terrace that had its own table and umbrella, "I can't believe its ours for the weekend!"

"Well it is," Melinda quipped, "Would you have believed that slogan of yours would win you something like this?"

"Certainly not! I wouldn't even have entered one if it hadn't been required by Mr. Schroeder. I've never won anything before in my life."

"We each have a bedroom, too," Melinda said, throwing open one door and showing Claire the interior of one beautiful room with a king-sized bed that looked as though it could hold ten people. "Which do you want?"

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Claire said gleefully, "but you choose, I just can't."

"All right," Melinda said, "you take this one. They're both the same."

They had their bags put in their respective rooms and unpacked their things. Claire had been buying new and exciting lace bikini lingerie for the time when her husband would come home and decided to wear them this one time. She had wanted to make it a lovely weekend and thought these few concessions to her vanity wouldn't matter. No one else would see them, anyway. She stacked them neatly in her drawer, humming contentedly to herself.

She finished her unpacking and freshened up a bit. It wasn't a long drive from San Diego but with the top down it was pretty dusty and she had that traveler's grit feeling about her.

"Ready for some lunch?" Melinda called from the living room.

"Yes, I'm famished," Claire answered, "I'll be right out."

The girls decided to eat on their own terrace and take a short siesta before the bullfight. The Toredo didn't start until five o'clock so this gave them plenty of time. The lunch was delicious and relaxed Claire so much that she dozed off as soon as she hit the bed. The excitement had really taken its toll of her. Her eyes fluttered shut as the sweet cloak of sleep enfolded her.

The stands were completely jammed by the time Claire and Melinda arrived at the bull ring. Fortunately they already had their tickets so didn't have to stand in the long lines outside the ticket booths.

The crush of the people in the long corridors was maddening. Claire held tightly to Melinda's hand as they were jostled along the passageway.

Suddenly they emerged from the darkness into the stands and Claire gasped in surprise. She hadn't expected the colorful spectacle that suddenly burst upon them. Two Mexican bands were playing on each side of the arena and they were surrounded by the most colorful costumes she had ever seen.

This was a special Fiesta and all of Tijuana had turned out in typical old Spanish dress. The women wore lovely white and black lace mantillas draped over their shoulders. The crowd overflowed the stands with their multi-colored gaiety. The men wore the black, tight-fitting gaucho pants, short jackets, flat-brimmed Vaquero hats with small tassels dangling down from brims.

"Why, it's like another world!" Claire exclaimed to Melinda. "I didn't imagine it would be quite so beautiful."

"This is one heritage the Spanish left the Mexicans that I'm really thankful for," Melinda said. "Wait until the fight begins, then you'll really see something."

Their seats were on the shady side of the ring and in the first row below the Presidente's box.

"We can get a good look at the matadors here," Melinda explained while they were getting settled. "They all have to come to the Presidente and request permission to kill the bull. They'll be right in front of us."

Claire didn't tell Melinda, but she had read Hemingway's "Death in the Afternoon" last week when she had found they had won the contest. It was about the bullfights in Spain and had stimulated her interest in seeing one. She was just a bit nervous about how she would react to seeing an animal killed in cold blood but Hemingway had explained it in such poetic terms that she had succeeded in justifying it to herself. It certainly would not be more cruel than the methods used in the slaughter houses. From his descriptions she gathered that if they were really good bulls, the matador was in almost as much danger as the bull.

Claire was snapped back to the present by the sudden blast of trumpets. The noise from the crowd slowly subsided. The trumpet's piercing notes reverberating across the arena sent chills of anticipation running through Claire.

The gates on the other side of the ring swung open, and the opening procession began. The three matadors, dressed in their magnificent "Suits of Light," led the parade. They were followed by their assistants, who later would be stationed around the ring to draw the bull away in case the principal matador happened to be in trouble. The picadors followed behind. They rode horses that were padded on the side and in front and carried long spear-like poles that had short sharp points on the ends. These pics would later be stuck into the bull's shoulders to weaken him for the kill.

The bull fighter proceeded directly across the ring and stopped immediately in front of where Melinda and Claire were sitting. From this position, the girls could get a good look at the beautiful suits the matadors were wearing.

The matadors bowed gracefully to the presidential box which was high up behind the girls on the top row of the stand.

Melinda pointed out a slender, graceful-looking boy on the right side, saying he was Paco Camino, one of Spain's greatest fighters. He was dressed in a white silk costume with brilliant gold designs embroidered beautifully onto the material. Claire remembered reading that these suits cost at least five hundred dollars each. She could understand why, after getting a close look at them.

The matador in the center, Melinda told her, was Curro Giron from Columbia. He was short and moved with a proud walk like a cocky bantam rooster. His suit was blue and had the same type of gold designs set into it as Paco Camino's. He looked older, though not by much.

The third fighter, Jose Rascon, according to the program, was one of the most handsome men Claire had ever seen. He was tall and moved with the grace of a ballet dancer. He was not as dark as some Mexicans but had a light bronze skin that made him appear like a well tanned and healthy Norteamericano. He had jet black hair smoothed back from a narrow forehead and a straight classical nose, that reminded her of old silent films she had seen of Rudolph Valentino. He was built in the classic style of bullfighters, with strong, broad shoulders that tapered down to thin graceful hips. It seemed to Claire that he hardly touched the sand of the bullring when he walked. He carried himself with a fatalistic pride, knowing he might die today but resigned to it if he must.

Claire caught an admiring glance from him as he bowed to the presidential box above. Their eyes had locked for just a moment, but she felt something stir in her that she hadn't felt since the first time Dave had kissed her. It was a delightful yet frightening feeling and she was ashamed that it could happen. She shook her head slightly and regained her composure.

How stupid, she thought of course I'm going to have feelings like that, every woman does, particularly when her husband has been away for six months and she has been accustomed to having him in bed with her every night. Some men just bring the feeling on, she mused, but decided she had better watch herself, temptation can be a difficult thing to fight sometimes. The opening ceremonies being over, the fight began.

Paco Camino had drawn the first bull and made some beautiful passes with his cape. The crowd was enthusiastic over seeing one of Spain's great matadors in action and shouted "Ole!" each time the bull made a pass.

Claire was glued to her seat with anxiety; she couldn't remember when anything had affected her so much emotionally. When he had taken several passes at the bull with his red cape, he turned and faced the Presidente and requested permission to pass the bull over to the new matador for the kill. This is when the alternativa ceremony is performed. Melinda explained to her. An old established bullfighter takes his turn with the bull and then donates it to the new matador for the kill. The new matador then dedicates the bull to someone in the crowd.

Jose Rascon chose to dedicate his first bull he killed as a matador to Claire. He walked up to the barrero behind which she was sitting and bowed, then turned his back and threw his hat over his shoulder to her. She caught it. This is supposed to be good luck for him and, as it turned out, it was. He gave one of the best performances of the afternoon. The crowd shouted and applauded after the kill until the Presidente had awarded him two ears and a tail. This was the greatest honor that could be bestowed on a matador. Claire was proud. She could feel the whole crowd staring at her as Rascon was being carried around the ring on the shoulders of some enthusiastic fans who had jumped into the ring after he had made the most beautiful kill they had seen in years.

"You've made a hit, dear," Melinda kidded Claire. "Just watch yourself and don't get caught outside the ring with one of these bull fighters, he might get your tail, too!"

"Oh, Melinda!" Claire laughed, "I'm an old married woman, and a faithful one too, he wouldn't even look twice at me if he knew that."

"You don't know men, my dear girl," Melinda replied. "With a body like yours he wouldn't care if you had six husbands!"

"Oh! Be quiet! You've got plenty to offer too, Mrs. Taylor, so you had better watch yourself and stop worrying about me."

Claire was warming up to Melinda now and felt she could talk frankly. Melinda seemed so worldly wise. Claire was sorry now that she hadn't been more friendly with Melinda before, perhaps she wouldn't have been so lonely and Dave's not writing wouldn't have upset her so much.

"Mmmmm," Claire smiled, "This Martini is heavenly. I'm glad you talked me into having one."

The two girls were sitting at the Patio Lounge out by the pool. The cool breeze blowing through the garden was refreshing after the hot, dusty afternoon in the Plaza de Toros. Claire felt absolutely in heaven. It had been a perfect day. She was ravenously hungry, which was a good indication of the elation she felt.

"Roberto mixes the best Martini this side of the border," Melinda said.

"They're a bit stronger than Daiquiris, I must say," Claire said, grimacing in jest after a sip. "I think I might get to like them, they make my toes tingle," she giggled.

"Well, don't let them tingle too much just yet," Melinda said suddenly, looking over behind Claire's shoulder. "I think we may have a heavy date for the evening."

Claire looked around at the two men who had just entered the lounge. They appeared to be in their late thirties or early forties and not too bad- looking.

"Melinda, you don't mean you're going to pick them up?" Claire said, shocked at the thought.

"Don't be silly, Claire," Melinda chided. "I know one of them. We can get them to take us out to dinner and dancing. You know we don't dare go anywhere in this town alone at night."

"But we're both married women. We can't do that!" she protested, "what if we see someone we know?"

"Oh for heavens sakes, Claire, no one we know is down here," Melinda admonished. "Pete's a nice guy I've known for years and the best protection we can have. Remember, we're here to see the sights and we can't sitting in this dead hotel."

Before Claire could protest further, Melinda waved the two men over to the table.

"Well, hello Doll, what are you doing here?" the ruddy-faced man of about forty bubbled to Melinda.

"Same as you, Pete, trying to relax for a weekend," Melinda answered, smiling and extending her hand. "Sit down and join us."

"Sure thing, we'd love to," Pete said elated. "I'd like you to meet my friend Carlos. He handles my business here in Tijuana."

"How do you do, Carlos," Melinda said and introduced Claire to them.

From a distance both had looked rather nice, but up closer, Claire had her doubts. The one Melinda called Pete, appeared a type likely to be in some illegal business. Carlos was too good looking, in fact, almost perfectly so. He wore heavy cologne that didn't seem quite masculine to Claire. Something about him was not trustworthy though Claire couldn't spot it. She supposed if Melinda knew them, it was all right. Claire thought she'd probably been seeing too many old gangster movies on television lately.

Carlos sat by Claire and his heavy cologne surrounded her, obviously he spoke little English which made her uneasy.

"Hey there buddy," Pete said, thickly, "I think you've hit the jackpot tonight. Where'd you come from honey?"

"Don't mind Pete," Melinda broke in, "he's always popping off. You be easy on Claire, Pete, she's a lonely navy wife too, and it's hands off."

"I was just being friendly," Pete feigned mock indignation. "I wouldn't want to scare the little girl."

"Don't worry," Claire said bravely, not wanting to embarrass Melinda with her innocence, "I've been around a bit."

Pete's remark irked her. She was tired of being treated as a babe in arms. She knew Melinda was older and a great deal more experienced but this didn't justify what she was doing. She could take care of herself.

"Well, Carlos and I have been invited to a party tonight that is a party and no kids allowed. Are you chicks game?"

"Well, I'm for good, clean fun, but Claire likes to go to bed early," Melinda chided.

Claire was infuriated at this. The third martini had gone to her head a bit. Melinda was treating her like a three year old and she was sick of it.

"Why, I'd love to go," she said decisively. "We're here for a good time aren't we?"

Underneath, she felt perhaps she shouldn't have spoken so soon, but it was too late now. She had committed herself and couldn't back down.

"Okay, let's move it then, I'm hungry," Pete said. "We're late already."

They had a delicious dinner at a lovely Spanish restaurant outside Tijuana that served the most wonderful lobster Claire had ever tasted. More Martinis had preceded dinner, and then two bottles of Chablis with the meal that was delightful.

By the time the after-dinner coffee arrived with black Russians, Claire was feeling absolutely in heaven. It gave her a wicked and worldly feeling to be out with another man, even though it wasn't really a date. They were friends of Melinda. Maybe she would even write Dave about it, she mused, it might make him jealous and write more often.

Pete turned out to be all right. He was funny and kept them laughing at his off-color jokes. Claire found herself blushing at some of them. She'd never heard such language in mixed company before, but laughed as hard as any to be a good sport.

Carlos was nice also. He danced divinely, though he held her a little tight and several times the slight pressure of his hand was where it shouldn't be, but this just added to the wickedness. She knew it couldn't go farther if she didn't let him get her into a compromising position.

If Dave didn't think enough of her to return her daily reminders of her love, then perhaps she deserved an innocent diversion like this. Melinda had said the boys had always had a good time when they were fighting a war and not to think that Dave was lying around, moping on the carrier when they went into Hong Kong or Manila.

"Why, he's probably balling everything he can, like all the others do," Melinda had teased.

Claire had scoffed at first, until the time began to grow between his writing, and she happened to remember his trips across the border before they were married. If he could be unfaithful while they were engaged, why not while they were married?

The suspicion had begun during the last several weeks. Well, she would have herself a time this weekend and worry about it again Monday morning back in San Diego.

"You girls are really going to get a treat tonight," Pete was saying as she returned to the conversation, "we're taking you out to the circus."

"To the circus!" Claire blurted in surprise. "Don't tell me they keep them open this late?"

The men burst into laughter and she blushed as she realized she had committed some kind of "faux pas" but didn't have an idea what it was. Melinda looked amused but didn't laugh with them. "You boys leave Claire alone, I told you she was innocent and I don't think it's fair for you to make fun of her."

"Haven't you ever seen a strip show, honey?" Pete asked, laughing under his breath.

"Why, of course I have," Claire answered defensively. She remembered seeing one with Dave in Los Angeles before they were married but had thought them disgusting. "I enjoy a good one," she lied to make up for her prior error.

"Good girl," Pete said. "We wouldn't want to sit through one of those things without some good female company. Would we Carlos?"

Carlos nodded in agreement, and after the men paid the bill, they left and headed back to the city.

Pete, despite the drink, maneuvered his long black Cadillac skillfully through the streets of Tijuana and out on the other side of the city. They had left the pavement and were following a dirt road to a large Spanish style hacienda. It showed up clearly, in the moonlight that flooded Baja California, even though it was still over a half a mile away.

The Martinis, wine, and black Russians left a comfortable glow on Claire. The black Russians in particular were delicious after dinner. It was a new drink that Pete had picked up somewhere and consisted of half vodka and half Kahlua.

Claire was at peace with the world. She hadn't minded when Carlos, had put his arm over the back of the seat and gradually let it down to rest across her shoulders.

On one bump he let his hand slip down cupping her left breast, but she had quickly moved to keep it away, not certain if it had been an accident or not. It did bother her, and the uncomfortable feeling she experienced at the bullfight returned again.

Strange, she though, what one contact with her first man in six months did to her. She could feel the nipple of her breast leap erect when he touched it and she was sure he felt the reaction as he nestled her just a little closer and more confidently immediately afterwards.

His leg pressed tightly against her thigh was also disquieting, and she tried to squirm away but he had followed her with each move she made. She didn't like the feeling this close contact with a man aroused and had started to push him away but had seen Melinda slide next to Pete in the front seat and rest her head on his shoulder. His arm was around her and his hand was obviously somewhere in front. It hung over Melinda's shoulder and Melinda was enjoying it. Her head moved against him, kissing his ears and neck teasingly. Claire had been watching this little love- play too intently to completely ward off Carlos' innocent little advances. When the car finally pulled up to a large iron gate, Pete blinked his lights and the guard opened it.

"Buenos Noches, Senor Robinson," the guard smiled, waving them through.

"Buenos Noches," Pete responded; wheeled the car into the court-yard.

Claire was surprised; there must have been twenty cars parked inside and not a light anywhere. When they got out she could hear music coming from inside, the only indication, other than the gate guard, that anyone else was present.

Pete guided them to a large oaken door which was opened to them by a short, fat, obscene-looking Mexican in a tuxedo. Pete handed him two crisp one hundred dollar bills. Claire blinked in astonishment; she had never heard of a night club costing a hundred dollars a couple. Her misgivings arose again but she squelched them as they entered the large salon and bar. She was determined to show Melinda that she wasn't a child and could be a good sport as well as Melinda could.

It was the most lavishly decorated room Claire had seen; done in red velvet and gold embroidery from ceiling to floor. Long low couches were arranged in a broad semi-circle that faced a stage.

Most of the men present were middle-aged and obviously wealthy. Most of the women were quite beautiful and much younger than their escorts. They were exquisitely dressed. Claire was certain they couldn't be the wives of these men.

She also noticed several middle-aged women with handsome young Mexicans. She doubted these were their husbands. Whatever their reasons for being here, it was certainly a pretty exclusive and elite group.

"Put us close to the back tonight, will you Ramon!" Pete asked the short Mexican who had ushered them in. "We've got a new girl with us and I don't want her crawling up on the stage and interrupting the performance." He winked at Claire and for the first time she detected a certain lewdness not apparent before. She hoped she hadn't gotten in over her head, but thought nothing can happen to me here, not with all these people around.

If it got too rough she could always demand they call a taxi and send her back to the hotel. The logic soothed her and she followed Melinda as Ramon led them to one of the large couches in the rear.

Two silver buckets of iced champagne were ready. Ramon popped the corks and poured them each a bubbling glass.

"Well, here's to a good evening, kiddos," Pete toasted, raising his glass to them. "Let's hope we get our money's worth tonight."

Claire tipped her glass up with the others and the cool bubbly liquid felt wonderful going down. She loved champagne but on Dave's navy pay they had never been able to afford it except on very special occasions.

Claire noticed she was getting the most covetous glances from the men. She felt Melinda didn't like this and caught her jealous glances when the men looked at Claire rather than her. Claire didn't want to offend Melinda but her vanity was pleased with this attention. She was glad to have some small triumph over Melinda because Melinda made her feel so immature in other ways.

Claire had begun to recover from the drinks at dinner during the ride but the first two glasses of champagne again relaxed her inhibitions. She found herself laughing again at Pete's and Carlos' jokes. Claire wished that she spoke Spanish and could communicate better with Carlos. He seemed such an interesting person now that she knew him better.

She still didn't know what business they were in but assumed it must involve trade between California and Mexico. Pete had mentioned he handled the Los Angeles operation, and Carlos handled Mexico but had never really specified what it was. It was none of her business, she decided; she would never see them again so what difference did it make? She did gather that Melinda had met Pete on one of her Tijuana trips and they had been out with mutual friends from L.A. It all seemed innocent enough. Claire didn't feel it was her place to question it. The champagne continued to flow and Ramon replaced the two empty bottles with new ones. Claire liked the sound of the cork popping and found herself giggling from the bubbles tickling her nose. She was having fun trying to carry on a conversation with Carlos, half talk and half sign language. She had never met anyone who couldn't speak English fluently and being in another country in such an exclusive private club was exciting.

Claire was thoroughly enjoying herself, but beginning to wonder when they were going to see this great strip-tease show they had been talking about. She had to admit to herself she was anticipating it and it shouldn't be like that shoddy thing she and Dave had seen. Not with this kind of crowd. She would bet it would be beautifully staged like shows she had heard about in Las Vegas. It had to be for the price. As if reading her thoughts, Ramon suddenly appeared on the stage holding his hands up for silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he repeated several times until the conversation stilled among the forty or so people present. "We have a special treat for you tonight," Ramon continued as people began to return to their assigned couches from the bar and conversational groups. "We have just received our first summer shipment of hashish from the Middle-East. The boys have spent all afternoon preparing it and there is ample for everyone. Please be seated while we pass it among you. The show will begin in fifteen minutes."

There was a murmur of delight and within minutes all had returned to their seats. The waiters, in white uniforms, were putting small trays of thin brown cigarettes on the tables.

Pete picked one out of the tray and smelled it from end to end, critically.

"Boy," he said admiringly, "this is the real stuff."

"What on earth is it?" Claire whispered to Melinda next to her. She didn't want to show her ignorance after the mistake at dinner.

"Oh, nothing but a strong cigarette," Melinda reassured her. "Just take the first few puffs slowly so you won't choke."

"Is it safe, I - I mean, it doesn't make you not know what you're doing, does it?"

"No, of course not," Melinda answered impatiently. "Just try a few drags and if you don't like it, stop."

"All right," Claire answered hesitantly. She had heard about marijuana at wild parties but didn't know what hashish was. Not wanting to appear a prude, she bravely took the lit cigarette Carlos offered her.

"Slowly, slowly," Carlos instructed in his broken English as he took a drag from one. Claire watched him and inhaled very gently. It had a strange but not unpleasant taste. She inhaled deeper on the next puff and held it down a few seconds at Carlos' instructions before exhaling.

After three or four inhalations, Claire could hardly feel it going down, it was so smooth. She watched Melinda holding her breath as long as she could and then took a deep drag herself holding it deep until she just had to exhale.

"I don't feel a thing," she said in a voice that didn't seem to be hers. She looked at Carlos and Melinda on either side of her and they suddenly looked miles away. "Do you feel anything?"

"Yes, darling, I feel the world," Melinda answered. It seemed a logical answer and suddenly Claire did too. She had never felt the world before, how strange. She liked the taste it was leaving with her... it was a slight bite at first, that gradually changed into an unimaginable softness. The longer the smoke was held down the softer she felt. Claire noticed the lights dimming around them until the great room was in complete darkness.

She could feel the pressure of Carlos' leg against he thigh but the thin, brown cigarette had dulled her fears of anything. It felt good and she returned the pressure slightly to let him know she didn't mind and that she was his friend... she didn't mind anything now with the delicious warmth of the cigarette in her... she could feel it tingling deep inside... deeper than she had ever felt anything in her life.

The pungent sweetness of the hashish smoke hung heavy in the room. Claire could see the burning tips of the cigarettes in the darkness. The room was perfectly quiet now except for the occasional sound of deep inhalation or exhalation. A cough could be heard now and then from a smoker who pulled too deeply on the conscience killing weed.

Dim lights appeared behind the thin curtains that covered the small stage. A large bed was visible in the center of a set dressed as a bedroom with a small dressing table to one side with a large mirror near it. Quiet music began from a stereo in the room. It was a beautiful setting, Claire thought.

Another glass of champagne was put into her hand, she had lost all sense of proportion and wasn't certain whether it was from Melinda or Carlos. It didn't matter; the hashish had made her thirsty and she poured the cool liquid down her parched throat gratefully.

It was filled again, and she could see this time that Carlos was pouring it for her.

It's nice to have someone look after me again and take care of me, she mused through the happy, relaxed feeling, and smiled her appreciation in the dim light.

Carlos smiled back, squeezed her shoulder lightly and nodded toward the stage. The curtains were opening slowly and a young innocent-looking Mexican girl appeared by the bed. She could not have been over seventeen and was the most lovely thing Claire had ever seen. She had a melancholy look on her face that reflected deed loneliness. It touched Claire to the depths, as she felt much the same way with Dave gone. She identified with the girl at that moment and concentrated completely on what she was doing. Her emotions seemed inextricably bound to those of the lonely creature and she felt tears of sympathy begin as they did often when watching an exceptionally sad scene in a television movie.

The girl picked up a picture from the dressing table, looked longingly at it for a moment, and then pressed it tenderly to her full breasts, outlined clearly beneath the tight, black dress she wore. She placed the photo graph gently on her pillow and began to undress.

She slipped the long gown slowly upwards, exposing the high-set calves- -then the full, well-rounded thighs. The black of her long silk stockings, held in place by a dainty, lace-trimmed garter belt, contrasted sharply with the creamy ivory of her exposed flesh.

Claire could hear sounds of delight from the males as the dress snaked its way over the girl's head and her beautifully-rounded torso emerged. Her bra fell to the floor with a flick of her fingers and the full beauty of her firm, ripe breasts swung into freedom. They stood high and proud in the stage light and their quivering, turgid nipples, stood out on the luscious half-spheres; peaked higher as the girl raised her arms high over her head, pulling the long, black hair up, then releasing it to cascade softly over her alluring shoulders.

She was almost naked, now, in just high heels, long, black hose, the garter belt, and the thin wisp of sheer panties. She turned and bent over slowly, her back to the audience; drew the silk panties tantalizingly down over her curved hips and asscheeks, brushing them sensuously against her smooth thighs and calves, and discarded them at her feet by the dress. She stretched languidly and teasingly turned to the front. All her delicious nudity was exposed now - from her high rounded breasts - to the soft dark triangle of her womanhood.

Claire shifted nervously next to Carlos. She had never expected anything like this. In the show she and Dave had seen, the girl had left on a "G" string, ineffectual as it was, but this exposed all the girl had to offer; she was making no attempt to hide it either.

The girl lay back on the bed now, the picture of her absent lover in her hands, looking at it with a deep longing that could mean only one thing. She was aroused and needed release!

Claire almost gasped aloud as the girl's free hand massaged her own breasts in tiny teasing circles, tweaking the soft nipples into sudden throbbing hardness. Her legs scissored open and closed slowly, exposing the thin slit of her pussy, nestled teasingly in the soft dark hair between her thighs. Her feet were pointing directly at the heavily- breathing audience watching the girl slowly work herself into a burning passion. Her asscheeks twisted against the mattress as though she were trying to bury herself in it. Sheer, wanton desire reflected in her eyes. It seemed so real, Claire couldn't understand how the girl could act such a part unless she really felt it. She remembered lying in her own bed recently and thinking about Dave and how she had almost gone insane until she had relieved herself with her own fingers. She blushed slightly at the guilt flicking through her conscience. She squirmed her own asscheeks nervously, feeling the edge of the cushion brush electrically against the soft swelling of her vulva. She jumped at the unexpected contact and the more unexpected shock it had brought. Her breath quickened.

Carlos, in his concentration on the girl, had forgotten the champagne and Claire reached forward and hurriedly poured herself one, her eyes on the stage. She downed the refreshing liquid quickly, attempting to cool some of the warmth the girl's passion had transmitted to her own body.

While she was pouring, Carlos lit two more thin, brown cigarettes and passed her one. Without thinking, Claire pressed it to her lips and pulled deeply, perhaps hoping it would still the unfamiliar ache beginning deep within her belly.

With each drag, Claire could feel herself mentally unwind. This one heightened the feeling from the first cigarette. She didn't feel she was the same person she had been a moment ago. She was someone else and it frightened her a bit but she couldn't think about it now. The heat and excitement of the room was beginning to stimulate her hotly against her will. She squirmed down against the couch again, feeling the round edge of the cushion push dress and panties into her crevice; she rubbed herself gently against it, working the corner of the cushion between the moist lips of her vulva. Her body rocked on it in almost indiscernible rhythm, in concert with the writhing girl on the stage. She could feel the wetness spread between her thighs and she spread them slightly to gain greater contact with the cushion. The roughness brushed soothingly against her tiny, rising clit through the sheer panties.

She looked guilty out of the corner of her eye at Melinda and Pete next to her to make sure they hadn't noticed; but they were so engrossed that they had paid no attention. Melinda lay back against Pete, dragging heavily on another hashish cigarette, and Pete had his hands inside her bodice. Claire could see it move tantalizingly under the thin material covering her breasts. Her dress had slipped up so that the white thighs were visible above the stocking tops; her legs were slightly spread. In the dim light, Claire could see the white band of her panties between them. Melinda seemed unaware of the exposure. Her mouth was open in intoxicated rapture as both watched the stage intently in expectation.

Claire leaned against the back of the couch, careful not to break contact with the edge of the cushion pressed into the crevice between her fevered thighs and found Carlos's arm behind her waiting. Without thought, she relaxed against it and made no protest when his hand came to rest heavily on her left breast.

His arm feels good, she thought to herself, and it doesn't hurt anything. She pulled again at the cigarette in her lips. The musky odor of Carlos' cologne filled her nostrils, stimulating her more. It had a rich, suggestive odor that caused her to snuggle closer as the excitement of forbidden naughtiness rippled through her.

It seemed an eternity since she had last looked at the stage but it was only moments. The sweet, pungent hashish had warped her time sense. The girl on the bed writhed more lasciviously now as though being attacked by some unseen lover. She had placed the picture on the bedside table and both her hands were running over her body as though out of control, her fingertips dancing over the flat, ivory belly and coming to rest, together, at the chevron of her soft, down-covered crotch. She groaned on the stage at the sudden contact of her hands with the moist slit between her thighs and pulled her knees up, her toes on the mattress. Then, she straightened the legs like two beautifully carved ivory columns above the bed; with a deeper groan, she let them fall wide apart exposing to the excited onlookers the moist, glistening furrow between. Her fingers crawled to the soft hair covered lips and spread them slowly apart until the wet pinkness was fully visible and the mouth-like orifice opened hungrily. The half-moons of her rounded asscheeks shone in the stage light, divided by the hot, avid crevice between them. Her tiny ass nestled mysterious and inviting below the swollen and agitated lips.

Claire gasped in disbelief as the girl slowly inserted a middle finger into the glistening pink, stroking the tiny bud-like clit. Carlos's hand squeezed her breast tighter as she heard and felt his breathing becoming heavier. She was afraid to look at him; was hypnotized into immobility as the sensuous movements of the girl on the bed increased and her probing fingers worked themselves inside the pink edges of her contracting cunt, slowly widening the lips. She slipped her index finger in and out smoothly between the lubricated lips. Her legs jack- knifed back, knees against her breasts and the soft rounded asscheeks rose and fell in response to the inquiring finger. The girl's facial muscles tightened as she joined two fingers with the first and, clenching her teeth, pushed all three into the hungry, pink folds. They disappeared with a soft, sucking noise and a soft moan of pleasure purred from the girl's lips.

Claire tensed in momentary shock at this indignity and only Carlos' firm grip on her now-throbbing breasts kept her from running from the room. She sensed that she had better go, before it was too late and her own excitement ran away with her.

This desire lasted only a moment before the effect of the cigarette lulled her again. She waited in anticipation and nervous fear of her own emotions to see what would happen next. Claire felt too closely identified with the girl writhing in desire before her and knew there was a danger point from which there was no turning back. She took another sip of champagne and another pull at the hashish. The warm, relaxing smoke curled deliciously down into her lungs relaxing and easing her mind of fear at the passion raging through her own body. She snuggled back again against Carlos, foggily determined, somehow, to keep her guard up.

The girl on the bed had become possessed. Her eyes and teeth were clenched as she writhed beneath her own driving fingers in uncontrollable passion. The rapid rhythm drove grunts of pleasure from deep in her throat as the fingers sunk into the tight, pink openings, making moist, sucking sounds as she withdrew them to push them in again. Her face was red, straining for climax. She groaned in frustration as her own fingers thrust harder and deeper. They were not enough. Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow, her long dark hair flying in frustration at the inability to bring herself to climax. Still she tried, her hand beating a wild staccato against the spread, straining asscheeks, the grunts faster and louder with each passing second.

Suddenly, a giant St. Bernard dog ran onto the stage and jumped up on the bed. The girls eyes widened in terror and she jerked the back of a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. She moved to lower her legs and roll from the bed but the dog stood and growled viciously in warning. The young girl froze in the position of masturbation, thighs spread and with her knees drawn up to her chest. She didn't dare move as the huge dog growled menacingly over her, his great panting head just above her defenseless, upturned crotch.

Claire jumped when the giant animal bounded onto the bed. She grabbed Carlos' arm tightly; her nerves were on edge before; the sudden rush almost frightened her out of her wits.

"My God!" she whispered, voice quivering. "What's he going to do to the poor girl?"

"You will see," Carlos answered with a grin through the dim light. "But do not frighten, the girl is never in show before. Ramon did not tell of the dog. He is trained well and the more young, the more better he likes."

Claire knew she should leave now to keep from going to pieces herself. But somehow, the helplessness of the girl lying, shaking with fear beneath the snarling dog sadistically fascinated her. She couldn't look away. The lewd thought of this monstrous dog raping the naked and defenseless girl quaking on the bed, sent shivers of revulsive curiosity tingling through her, and goose-pimples erupted on her sensitive skin, as for a moment she felt strangely cold. She took the champagne Carlos pressed into her hand eagerly and downed it with one nervous gulp. The chill passed and she relaxed again in Carlos' arm, eyes glued on the stage. She could not resist as his hand moved beneath her bra to cup the softness of her large, firm breast, trapping the tiny nipple gently between thumb and forefinger. She knew Melinda was there and that he couldn't go any farther without forcing her, besides, it felt good as the nipple stiffened and swelled under his massaging hand and tweaking fingers. She squirmed tighter into the seat feeling the cushion beneath her asscheeks pressing deeper into her wet crevice. Her panties were soaked and she squeezed her thighs together to hold down the tingling sensation beginning to grow there. She was on dangerous ground and knew it but could not bring herself to leave. The evil fascination of the impending ravishment held her glued to the couch. She squirmed downward again, the cushion edge forcing the set band of her panties deeper into the split of her crotch. Its smoothness excited the sensitive, pink lips of the pussy. She felt tiny throbs pulsing in the tiny bud of her clit and she bit her lower lip tightly to hold back the forbidden sensations that were throbbing between her legs.

Her thoughts jerked back to the stage. The giant St. Bernard lowered his head to the helpless girl's soft hairy crotch and was sniffing it. His tail wagged and trembled as though he had found a bitch in heat. The girl moaned in terror as the cold nose suddenly made contact with her tiny, puckered ass. She tensed as his tongue snaked out and licked wetly up and down the crevice around it, the tip burrowing slightly into the outer fleshy anal ring.

For a moment, she tried to squirm away but the dog raised his head and growled again and began greedily lapping the narrow pink slit between her thighs. He ran his tongue wetly the full length of it, from the tight-closed little pucker, up over the fluted, pink edges of her cunt and over the tiny sensation-bud atop her public mound. His great tongue spread through the soft, hairy swelling like a knife through soft butter. It flicked relentlessly between the girls widespread legs, stopping sporadically to curl its way deep into her. She jerked spasmodically as she squirmed under the St. Bernard, lapping and sniffling at her loins.

Claire shuddered and chilled from the sexual stimulation that indulging in something forbidden gives, even against one's will. She gasped at the change coming over the writhing young girl on the bed. The frightened moans that had come from the girls terror-contorted face changed to soft mews of involuntary pleasure, pleasure that she did not want and had set her mind against but that slithering, thick tongue, licking at her had forced her to enjoy. She raised her hands, holding them in indecision for a moment above her squirming body, then dropped them to grasp the dog's ears.

With a deep animal sound she kicked her legs back over her head and pulled his nose forward, into her well-lubricated vulva. His giant tongue thrust up the moist passageway like an attacking lizard, ravishing her up thrust crotch without mercy. Wild incoherent shrieks streamed from her lips; pleading and encouraging dumb animal salivating between the writhing, upturned asscheeks. He worked like the savage beast he was, the rutting lust of the wild driving him...

Claire heard a groan next to her, and in surprise, tore her eyes from the obscene spectacle on the stage. The shock was even greater. Melinda had both legs spread wide, her dress over her hips. Pete's hand was inside her white panties, cupping her mound. Claire shuddered as the outline of his fingers moved under the sheer material. He was stroking in rhythm, sinking them deep into her pussy. Melinda, unaware of anyone, was grinding her pelvis, asscheeks off the cushions, in rhythm to the fingers screwing into her. Both she and Pete had their eyes locked on the lascivious exhibition.

Claire looked around, other couples were in lewd embraces, indistinct but showing by their writhing motion the obscene exhibition was affecting them, they were losing control over their passions. A warning bell sounded again in Claire's subconscious. She knew she should run, now, before her own body succumbed to the lewd urges pulsing through it. But then, a groan from the stage pulled her drugged mind from logical thought. The dog lifted his head from the pleading girl's crotch to nose her over on her stomach in servile surrender; her resistance gone under the maddening tongue which had so mercilessly lapped her pussy. She was enslaved by the huge beast panting over her; her quivering body spread-eagled, face down on the bed. The huge head lowered again, the thick tongue slithering in the exposed crevice between the moaning girl's asscheeks.

She twisted them back toward him lasciviously, reaching to spread the ivory globes and give full access to the tiny, brown ass. The tongue lashed her for another long, avid moment as Claire felt the aching hunger inside her spread from her abdomen up to her passion-swollen breasts. She labored, gasping, for breath and squirmed harder against the cushion, pushing the wet, swollen lips of her organ against it to try to put out the fire burning there. Carlos' hands palpating her swollen breasts, thrilled her and frightened her. She tried with all her might to pull his hand away, but her own hand moved only as far as Carlos', and then fell back, uncontrolled, into her lap. It would not obey her mind's commands, lying limp and useless as she turned her glassy eyes back to the stage.

The St. Bernard now was nuzzling under the lust-paralyzed girl's crotch, pushing his massive head between her pelvis and the mattress. Claire's eyes widened in amazed disbelief as the head lifted, raising the girl's asscheeks. What he wanted was plain - and the girl obediently knelt, elevating the spread asscheeks, bending before the huge animal in abject surrender. The relentless tongue had lashed her to servile defeat; crushed her resistance with its vigorous and unremitting attack on her sensitive organs for interminable minutes.

The girl was on all fours and the huge dog mounted the spread rounds of her asscheeks, paws on her back. It was then Claire saw that white fur mitts had been lashed to the dog's forefeet to prevent his claws wounding her. The glistening, scarlet penis slipped from its huge sheath, dripping; the tapered point slipped and danced in the hot, wet crevice as the animal trembled and jerked, trying to bury the tapered point and the thick shaft in her body.

Sobbing, the girl looked back, shifting her round asscheeks to try to capture the lengthening shaft; like a bitch in heat, she strove to sheath the long, scarlet organ in her voracious, grasping vulva. The sharp tip missed, slid up to find the momentarily-relaxed ass, attempted to enter. With a cry, the girl tensed, evaded the bending, up-sliding prod in fright but the dog returned immediately to the attack, having tasted success. However, mindlessly, he thrust blindly, the thin point sliding unsuccessfully beneath, into the soft, hairy crevice, rubbing against the clit. The hot scarlet of his jabbing penis contrasted startlingly with the fevered pink of the girl's passion-inflamed cunt, spreading the lips wider as his still unhoused shaft rubbed between them. Claire held her breath with the other spectators who'd stopped to watch the huge dog, bucking madly behind the moaning girl, attempting to skewer her on the still-lengthening taper of the huge, dripping penis. Out of control, the dog growled in frustration as the girl, in desperation, reached back and, grasping the slippery organ, guided the point of it into the pink red slit, spreading it apart wider and wider with each forward thrust. Claire was holding her breath.

Groans of disbelief rippled through the room as the giant St. Bernard jerked forward and buried his huge cudgel deep up the squirming girl's pink, grasping hole. It slithered forward with a wet rush until it was sunk to the hilt, his hairy balls swinging below her wet pubic hair. A moan of relief came from her contorted lips as she began to move rhythmically backwards to meet the thrust of the panting dog. As the forelegs trapped her waist, she began to undulate her body and move her asscheeks in lewd circles, abandoning herself to the delicious animal fucking she was receiving from behind. Her face turned sideways toward the excited audience and they could see fully the effect it was having. Her face was contorted in rapture from the delicious screwing the dog was giving her. Her large, taut breasts danced tightly beneath her writhing torso, moving in time to the skewering cock of the dog as it slid deep into her from behind, a relentless, hot poker of glistening flesh burying itself in her belly.

Claire's breath was coming in tight gasps and the burning sensation bubbling in her belly grew in maddening intensity with each moment she watched the girl being ravished. Her body was beginning to perspire in the warm, close room. The excited heat of the audience acted as a giant heater and Claire could feel a trickle of sweat running from her navel down her belly into her pubic hair. Its slow, teasing trail caused her to squirm against the cushion, the edges rubbed sensuously against the moist, hairy flanges of her warm throbbing pussy. She bit harder on her lower lip to keep back a groan of frustration.

Her forehead was covered with tiny beads of sweat from the feverish bodies around her. Another trickle ran down the valley between her full, ripe breasts that Carlos had massaged into hardness, his hands slipping over the nipples and his fingers nipping them sharply, causing a nervous jump each time he did it.

Her nerves were shattered and her mind whirled in indecision. She knew she should demand that they take her home. Melinda's crowd was just a little too fast for her and this wasn't being true to Dave. She owed him faithfulness and had already gone too far by letting Carlos squeeze and knead her naked breasts this way but she still wanted to show Melinda that she was not a child. And perhaps it was all right. This petting didn't hurt anything so long as it didn't go any farther. She could always stop Carlos if he tried to do anything other than touch her breasts. Surely, Melinda wouldn't go any further with Pete. She had gone far enough as it was and Claire's face crimsoned as she thought of Pete's fingers digging wetly between her girl friend's thighs. The lewd thought sent another electric tingle deep into her belly and she could feel the seeping wetness between her own thighs increasing. Her heart pounded like a tom-tom. She was sure Carlos could feel it beneath her tight breast in his hand. She would stay, just until the show was over and then they could go. She would insist... she just had to; she had never intended things to go even this far.

Her mind strayed back to the obscenely swaying body of the girl kneeling before the hunching St. Bernard on the stage. She had gone completely out of her mind now and was shouting lewd encouragement to the dumb beast through clenched teeth. She was begging him to fuck her harder and faster and to spew his cum up her cunt. She wanted to be filled with the animal sperm in her drugged madness and that was all that mattered. The girl was no longer human but a quivering mass of sweating, lust-deranged flesh that begged to be subjugated. She was reveling in humiliation at being screwed by this panting beast in front of the crowd and ground her asscheeks back against his hairy jerking body like another animal. Claire watched in abject fascination. Tiny rivulets of moisture were building in the crevice of the girls rotating asscheeks. They glistened in the lights of the stage and tiny droplets ran slowly down the backs of her thighs, soaking the hose on her straining thighs.

Claire could feel Carlos becoming more restless; certain he could feel her occasionally grinding her own asscheeks into the couch. She tried to make it appear she was just changing position but it was becoming more difficult by the minute to conceal her frustration. Carlos' hand was kneading her breasts more vigorously now making her tiny, bud-like nipples throb in guilty pleasure. She snuggled down closer to him and put her hands over the front of her dress to hide his actions from Melinda. She wanted to convince her companion she wasn't a prude and could watch a show like this; but she didn't want Melinda to know she was letting another man touch her intimately even though Melinda herself was succumbing disgracefully to Pete's caresses. She could see out of the corner of her eye that Pete's hand was still probing under the panties between Melinda's loosely spread thighs, thrusting more rapidly now. Melinda's eyes looked glazed through the darkness and she was grinding her pelvis up with greater determination against Pete's fingers as they flicked in and out of her widespread pussy.

Claire suddenly squirmed down hard against the seat. Carlos had turned toward her and dropped his other hand to her bared knee, slipping it up toward the fullness of her thigh. She had frozen momentarily at the unexpected contact crawling insect-like over her sensitive flesh. Carlos was pushing the hem of her dress; was half way up to her panties before she reacted and dropped a hand to her lap. She restrained his wrist tightly not daring to look at him. Her eyes remained on the panting, unnatural coupling on the bed; darting quickly to the side to see if Melinda had spied Carlos' hand moving on her thigh. She obviously had not as she was totally engrossed in the fingers probing at her own genitals and the exhibition working toward a climax before them. She gradually forced Carlos' hand back down, pushing the dress with it, until she was covered again.

Carlos' hand came to rest on her lap as she lifted it from her knee and kept hers over it. She tried to hold it but it moved by force kneading the softness of her belly under the thin material of her dress. Teasing at the light sprinkling of hair at the base of her abdomen, his fingers rotated against the mound of her crotch unable to go lower because of her tightly pressed thighs. Claire pressed harder against the cushion, knowing he would think she was trying to escape his fingers and not suspect that secretly she was pressing the cushion into her own wet vaginal slit. The flood between her thighs was wetting her dress now and she could feel the warm wetness on the soft cheeks of her asscheeks as she pressed down harder to feed the pleasure building there. As his fingers worked more firmly at her crotch, indecision arose again but the pleasure rationalized away the danger. Carlos could not - without forcing her - get beneath her dress. With Melinda at hand, Claire didn't think he'd try. It felt wickedly good... only pleasure and no danger. She grasped his wrist tighter but it did not stop his hand. It was still able to move about freely, teasing her pussy and lower belly mercilessly through the thin material of her soaked dress and panties. Claire closed her eyes tightly for a moment and resigned herself to the rolling sensations of pleasure coursing through her body. It was almost as though he were touching her nakedness but still she felt safe. Surely he could go no farther with the others around like this. But suddenly, she gasped in surprise. Carlos removed his hand from her lap, moving it gradually under her asscheeks from the side. He still peered at the exhibition as though completely unaware of his left hand now thrust between her asscheeks and the seat. His hand searched like a mouse in the crevice between her asscheeks. Claire hesitated, not knowing what to do. If she moved to push him away she would have to drop the hand hiding her breasts in Carlos's kneading fingers, from Melinda and Pete. The struggle would certainly attract attention. Anything she said to him would be overheard in the silence that had fallen over the room.

Slowly she dropped her other arm to grasp his wrist tightly, but that didn't stop the hand. It continued its ruthless teasing under her crotch, probing at her moist slit through the thin dress and panties. There was no more she could do without creating a scene, so Claire resigned herself, almost with relief to Carlos' sneaky probing of her already-wet genitals. She squirmed slightly away from it as his middle finger began a gentle stroking motion, pushing the folds of her dress moistly into her suddenly throbbing crevice. A gush of shame washed through her at the sudden waves of indecent pleasure overcoming her desire to resist. Carlos' hand under her asscheeks became bolder as it sensed her tacit surrender to its probing. He hooked his middle finger to slide her dress up the backs of her thighs so that he could penetrate the moist softness underneath. She could feel already the light tickling sensation of the material sliding from between her thighs and the cushion.

Oh God, what should she do? This was sheer lunacy; allowing herself to be used like this, and worse, enjoying it! What was happening to her?

Claire bit hard on her lower lip, glancing to see if Melinda showed any signs of awareness. But she was still concentrating on the stage as Pete's hand continued its stroking.

She could feel the dress rising faster now, though still not apparent from the lap. She lifted inadvertently as a fingernail scratched the softness of her thigh, as the dress slid upward more rapidly in response to Carlos's hooking finger. Suddenly, she gasped aloud. There was no more dress. Carlos' hand covered all of the wet band of her panties and was snaking under the elastic leg-band and worming into the moist walls of her soft pussy. She squirmed against it, holding her breath for fear some tell-tale sound might escape her lips. Her whole torso quivered until her impaled pussy became accustomed to the invading finger probing at the lubricated softness of its tender walls. She could feel its moisture covering the palm of the hand beneath her asscheeks as it ground imperceptibly into her crotch. Carlos' fingers moved in circles inside her, expanding her tight little hole with each teasing rotation. Claire was almost out of her mind, now. She didn't think she could stand this maddening teasing of her genitals another moment. She was ready to crawl the wall to quench the fire raging through her contracting pussy. The sight of the girl on the stage being buffeted into the squeaking mattress by the St. Bernard and the long thin finger, fucking into her cunt without mercy, were just too much! Something had to give!

It did.

Suddenly there was a loud cry from the stage. The girl was twisting her head from side to side wildly, her long dark hair churning on the mattress. She was in the beginning throes of an orgasm and screwed her asscheeks greedily against the dog like a she-demon gone insane. The giant animal's tongue hung from his mouth as he fucked into the waving asscheeks from behind. Saliva dripped from it, onto the sweat on her back. She screamed suddenly and rammed back against the dog wildly just as he jerked forward and his cock began spitting its sperm in hard spurts deep in her clasping pussy. Claire watched in fascination as the girl's round asscheeks began contracting uncontrollably. signaling her own orgiastic upheaval deep in her quivering belly. Thick white liquid oozed from her tight cunt squeezing the prick of the dog; thin trails of the sticky white ran down the ivory columns of her thighs. Her backside glistened, displaying soaked pubic hair and pink flesh as she pitched forward on her face, unconscious; the rapidly deflating cock of the dog slipping from her mauled passage-way with a sucking noise that echoed lewdly through the stunned silence of the room. The girl was out cold and the dog stood above her wagging his tail in obvious appreciation. In a last act of obscene depravity he dropped his head to her widespread crotch and licked at the white sticky liquid oozing from her still quivering cunt. He gulped at it hungrily until at last there was no more and lay down contentedly between her open legs, his giant head nuzzled gently into the soft chevron of her ravished pelvis.

The curtain closed slowly, leaving the depraved scene, the subjugated girl and her animal lover lying in satiated sleep, imprinted deeply in the minds of the breathless crowd. The room was filled with the stale air of excited breathing that had accompanied the passion-inciting exhibition. No one present had not felt the sensations of lust at that final climax, including Claire Bachman. It was with relief and regret that she felt Carlos' finger slip from her tortured pussy and his hand slide from beneath her. She was close to her own orgasm and in a few more moments, would herself have been as helpless a victim of passion as the girl unconscious on the bed in front of them.

Claire's eyes were still on the stage her breath coming in gasps as the curtain closed. She had never been so excited, sexually by anything and it frightened her. To actually see a beautiful young girl subjugated by an animal was far beyond the scope of her imagination, and for the girl to enjoy it the way she did with the St. Bernard was beyond anyone's imagination. Claire was a nervous wreck when Ramon announced that the lights would be turned on in three minutes. There was a bustle of clothing being straightened and she guilty pulled down her own dress under which Carlos' hand had been probing into her moments before. She felt the wet between her thighs as she lifted herself slightly off the seat and smoothed her dress beneath her asscheeks.

She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Melinda reluctantly forcing Pete's hand out of the front of her panties and pulling her dress down as the lights Licked on. Claire was crimson at having to face all these people after the lewd exhibition on stage, but there was nothing she could do but look as nonchalant as possible under the circumstances.

"Boy," Pete said, wiping his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief. "That was some hot little bitch up there. Did you see the way she gave that hound a ride? Bet he'll never be happy with another she St. Bernard again."

Melinda and Carlos laughed at the joke and Claire forced a smile. He knew she had been on the verge of losing control of herself and for this reason, she could not look at him. She had never felt so humiliated and ashamed in her life and could not understand how Melinda could sit here so calmly after letting Pete do the things he did to her while the lights were down. She just did not understand it and a sudden wave of revulsion came over her when she remembered her own behavior and how she had allowed Carlos to take so many liberties with her own body.

God, what had come over them? They were both married women and had husbands away at sea and here they had acted like two whores picked up on the street, which is just what had happened! They had been picked up!

"Well, let's have a drink everyone," Pete said, wiping his flushed face with a handkerchief. "I need it after that exhibition of bedroom gymnastics. Come on, I've arranged a private room for us to cool off in; then we can continue where we left off, eh baby?" He patted Melinda playfully on the asscheeks as she rose from the couch. Claire was shocked and the sudden impact of what he was suggesting caught her unaware. She refused to move when the others got up.

"Well come on, Claire," Melinda smiled down at her. "I think you need a drink too." She directed a knowing smile at Carlos who had also risen and was waiting with the others.

"I-I'm not going. I want to go home now," she stammered, looking at the floor. Tears of humiliation were forming in the corners of her downcast eyes.

"Oh, for God's sake, baby, don't keep giving us that innocent act," Pete blurted suddenly. "I saw you rubbing against that seat like you had a short fuse under you, who do you think you're kidding?"

Claire gasped at the realization that Pete had been watching her shameless submission to Carlos' probing hand. She dropped her head into her hands sobbing, unable to believe it. They were watching her all the time!

"Pete," Melinda admonished, "leave the poor girl alone. I'll handle this. She's my guest down here."

"Well, hell, who does she think she is, Miss Untouchable?"

"Now you be quiet. Claire, darling, let's go freshen up, shall we? We'll meet you gentlemen in the room for a drink in a couple of minutes."

"Well make it fast, baby, I'm hot as a firecracker," Pete cracked as he and Carlos headed toward the stairway. Melinda took Claire's hand, and pulled her gently from the couch, leading her out of the room and down the hall to the ladies room. Her arm was draped sympathetically over Claire's shoulder consoling the sobbing girl. Other couples eyed them curiously on their way upstairs to the various bedrooms.

In the bathroom, she took a cold wash cloth and pressed it tenderly to Claire's forehead.

"There dear, does that feel better?"

"Oh yes, it does, Melinda," Claire groaned in self pity. "I - I feel like such a fool for behaving this way but I just can't take much more of this. I love Dave so much and I just can't do anything that might make me sorry for the rest of my life. I just can't."

"There, now. No one's asking you to do anything you don't want to. I just can't understand why such a lovely girl wouldn't like to enjoy herself a little on the side. After all, no one would ever know."

"I don't care. I would know and that would be enough," Claire protested. "I could never face my husband again if I went any farther. I've done enough as it is."

"Claire darling, this is the twentieth century you know and women do have some rights. Must I remind you that Dave, like all the other pilots, has probably got his own little girl tucked away in an apartment in Hong Kong and may be shacked up with her right this minute. I know that no-good husband of mine has and I don't intend to let him get away with it. I'm going to get my kicks too."

"Melinda!" Claire suddenly rebuked her, anger in her voice. "You don't mean you're going to bed with that horrible man!"

"Of course I am, dear. What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Remember that."

"Well, you can do what you want, but I'm not going to let anyone touch me. It's not right and you should be ashamed thinking about such a thing. I want to go home right now."

"Now, now, Claire darling. Don't give up your precious morals for my sake. You can sit quietly with Carlos and have a nice drink while Pete and I go play naked games. The way I feel now, it won't take too long."

"But you can't leave me alone with Carlos," Claire wailed. "He might try to do something horrible to me."

"What's horrible?" contempt in her voice. "Who are you afraid of Claire - Carlos or yourself?"

"That's not funny," Claire defended, straightening to reassert her composure. "I can take care of myself."

"All right then show me," Melinda chided. "You're a big girl now. Momma can't watch over you all the time."

Melinda started toward the door, leaving Claire still standing in front of the mirror. She hesitated for a moment, and then followed, angry now. Melinda was back on the kid routine and Claire had had enough of it. She was a grown woman and could take care of herself. She didn't need a nurse maid.

Her courage wavered as she followed Melinda upstairs to a door at the end of a long corridor. Claire knew she shouldn't go in and flushed again at the thought of having to face Carlos after the things she let him do in the darkness downstairs. But it was too late now, Melinda had opened the door and entered and Claire couldn't just stand here in the corridor like a fool.

"Well, little Miss Virtue has decided to have a drink with us after all, huh? I figured she'd have run with her tail between her legs by now." Pete chuckled as Claire followed Melinda into the room. A lewd, half- drunken smile covered the better part of his ruddy, heavy-jowled face. "Has she given the royal consent to play 'pussy' with your friend Carlos here, too?" he continued, laughing at his own obscene cleverness.

Claire gave him a cold stare in answer and sat stiffly on a chair in the corner of the room, ignoring the empty seat on the couch by Carlos. Her eyes assessed the furnishings apprehensively. It certainly was designed for an orgy. There was an over-sized double bed against one wall and two couches with matching chairs scattered about. A small dressing table with a large gold-framed mirror over it intimated it was a bedroom. Claire nodded a reluctant thanks when Carlos put a tall Scotch in her hands. She appreciated that he was being a gentleman about the whole thing and not acting like a complete idiot as Pete was doing. One would never have known by Carlos' demeanor that he had been touching her so intimately a few short minutes ago. Claire closed her thighs in automatic reaction to the thought as it flickered through her mind momentarily. A deep sense of shame still pervaded her entire being and she had no desire to defend herself against Pete's remarks. She just hoped he and Melinda and had their little fun and returned quickly so she could get out of this evil place back to her own world that she could understand.

Pete poured himself another quickly and handed one to Melinda whose eyes were shining in expectation. Claire had never seen her this way before. It must be the combination of the exhibition (that Claire had to admit left warm tingles in her body), and the hashish cigarettes earlier. They still hadn't worn off and Claire's mind still felt a fuzzy and her body sensitive even to the touch of the chair when she sat down.

"Come on, sweetie," Pete said, reaching over and patting Melinda's thigh, "bring that drink along and let's go play games. My pecker's so hard it's gonna break off in a minute."

"Pete, you don't have to be so crude. After all, we do have a guest," Melinda admonished him, watching Claire's face crimsoned under her needling. "I'm tempted to take both of you on. Carlos looks like an excellent lover. That would solve all our problems."

Carlos remained silent under the compliment, but it was apparent he was pleased with the reference to his masculinity.

"Baby, you won't be able to take on a tom cat when I'm finished with you," Pete laughed. "Now come on that big bed's waiting."

He rose and took Melinda's hand, pulling her to her feet.

"I wish you a lot of luck, Carlos my friend, I think she might be a hot little piece once she gets going. I'll leave these and you two can see what you're missing."

Pete pulled an envelope from his inside coat pocket and opened it, drawing out a stack of black and white photographs. He shoved them brusquely under Claire's face and when she refused to take them, let them fall to her lap. She caught a glimpse of the top one and almost dropped her drink. It was woman's face; her mouth in a strained circle around a man's hardened penis. Claire froze as Pete laughed aloud at her shocked reaction and led Melinda through the door into the adjoining bedroom.

"Have fun, kids. Them dirty pictures oughta loosen her up Carlos." Pete laughed as he closed the door behind them, his hand already loosening his tie, a lewd, expectant smile on his face.

Claire and Carlos sat in silence for a moment. She gazed straight ahead afraid the sight of the obscene photographs lying on her lap might nauseate her and force her to run for the bathroom. She took a big swallow of the drink, feeling her composure returning as the warm liquid hit her stomach. She still had not looked Carlos in the eye since she had entered the room but the drink gave her a little more courage.

"Carlos, please don't think I have anything against you. It's just that I'm a happily married woman and wouldn't think of doing anything like this with anyone other than my husband."

"I understand, Claire. Don't pay any attention to Pete. He is just a loud Gringo who doesn't know when he should keep quiet," Carlos answered, understandingly.

"I-I apologize for letting myself get out of hand downstairs. That's the first time any other man has ever touched me. I-I don't know what happened."

"That was pretty exciting, down there. It would be difficult not to be affected by it. Besides," he joked, "it shows you are human in spite of what Pete says."

Claire laughed in spite of her guilt. It was nice talking to Carlos. He seemed to understand her more than the others and she began to relax for the first time since they entered this place. Carlos was so pleasant, he seemed almost like a brother rather than someone she had to fear. He fixed them more drinks and returned to his seat on the couch, making no move toward her. This increased her confidence in him and her fears diminished. They talked at random for a few minutes and then Carlos excused himself for a moment to make a phone call. As soon as he closed the door, Claire's curiosity got the better of her. She had never seen two people making love before and her hand went to the pictures still lying in a heap on her lap.

She studied the one of the woman sucking the man's penis carefully. She had heard of women who did this and when she had been in high school she had heard some of the other girls joking in the toilet about it but she had never expected to see anyone doing it. The woman's mouth was stretched so wide she wondered how she kept from choking on the enormous shaft. It was huge, and her lips were locked on it as though they would never let go. A ripple of sensation coursed through her as she pondered its massive size. It was much bigger than Dave's 8-incher and she clasped her legs tighter together as she wondered what it would be like to have something that big shoved between her thighs. She flipped guilty to the next one and gasped as it proved to be just the opposite. The same woman was sitting on a couch with her feet flat on the floor and her legs spread wide apart. A man was kneeling between her thighs and Claire could see clearly his tongue curling into the spread lips of her open pussy. Her mouth gaped at the obscene sight. She had also heard about men doing this to women but never thought the sight of such a depraved act could excite her against her will as this photograph was doing. She could feel a slight moistness again between her tightly pressed thighs. She reached for her drink on the table by the chair and took a long sip of it. It burned going down and she could feel her hand holding the pictures begin to shake as the emotions reflecting on the girl's face in the picture transmitted themselves to her own body.

She jumped as Carlos entered the room unexpectedly. She did not hear him coming and her face flushed again. It was too late to hide the fact she had been looking at the pictures and she could see the amused expression on his face as he looked at her.

"Caught with a hand in the cookie jar, eh?" he laughed good-naturedly.

"Well," Claire's lips curved into a pout. "I was curious. Anyone would be that has never seen things like this before."

"Yes, I think you are right," he agreed, filling both their glasses again. "Even I enjoy sometimes, it's good way to learn."

"You don't mean you do the things these people are doing, do you Carlos?" Claire asked incredulously.

"Who can tell, Claire. Even you be surprised some times at some things you do in passion. It's a very, how you say? - strong thing."

"Well, I don't think I would. It's like an animal, some of the things they're doing."

"What things," Carlos asked unexpectedly, a slight smile crossing his lips.

"Well-ah-ah," Claire stuttered for a moment and suddenly burst into laughter when she saw the amused look on Carlos's face. "Why, you, you did that on purpose. You can just look at them yourself. I'm not going to sit here and explain the details."

Carlos picked up his drink and moved to the arm of Claire's chair, resting one arm lightly across the back.

"All right brave girl, let's see these things you talk about."

Claire's courage faded with Carlos sitting so close to her. She took another swallow of the Scotch to bolster her strength.

"This one for example," she blurted, "how could any self-respecting woman make love to a man like that. I think it's disgusting."

"Your husband is a young man is he not?" Carlos questioned.

"Why, yes, he is, but what brought that on? Dave is very good at making love and he doesn't have to resort to these horrible things to make me happy."

"Yes but do you make him happy?" Carlos answered. "Making love is two people, not one."

"Of course, I do. I'm not frigid. I like it too."

"Yes," Carlos reminded softly, "I know you do. I've felt you, remember?"

"Yes, I know you have," Claire answered slowly, reflecting on what took place on the couch downstairs a few minutes ago. "But please don't remind me of that Carlos. I want to forget it ever happened, if I can."

"But not something you think to forget," Carlos objected softly. "It was thing you needed, Claire. I could feel when I touched you. That's why I not stop when put hand on mine to hold back."

"Carlos," Claire said. "Please don't. I know, I know I may have felt like it. But that gives me no right to go around acting like a common street walker. I do have my husband to think about."

"Of course," he agreed. "But perhaps it better if you learn a few things. Someone may take him away..."

"You mean like this," Claire said grimly, holding up the picture of the woman sucking the enormous cock.

"Well, I think she make this man very happy."

Claire was becoming confused again. She knew she shouldn't have had that last drink. She felt she was right and shouldn't even be discussing these obscene things but the correct arguments weren't coming to mince She blinked, heavily, trying to clear her vision that had blurred slightly. Thoughts from the first days of her marriage flickered hazily through her mind. She did remember Dave putting gentle pressure on her head several times trying to push her down his body, but she had not responded. She had not even been aware of what he had wanted. He had done it so subtly. Was this why the letters weren't coming now? Did he have someone else over there who would do these awful things for him? He had always seemed happy with her, at least outwardly, but she did have to admit that she was a prude in certain respects. Did it take these things to hold a man?

Another time fluttered into her mind when Dave had trailed his kisses down her body to the soft flesh of her stomach and kneeling between her open thighs had begun planting moist kisses on the soft flesh and hair surrounding her pussy. She had almost screamed for him to stop and sobbed that it was evil and had pulled him up over her again. He had taken her in the normal way but without the fire he had had before and she had wondered why. Was this it? Was it because she didn't really know what a man wanted or what sex really was? Was it really the animal thing she had seen on the stage downstairs? She had never - in the year of her marriage to Dave - experienced it like the girl with the dog nor had she ever been worked up to the peak that Carlos's hand brought her to, perhaps she was frigid and Dave's almost casual attitude in making love to her was the result of this. Had she been kidding herself, what should it be like when two people make love? The thought raced through her mind, what should it be like what should it be like? Carlos put her glass into her hand and she drank deeply again. She felt the lewd stirrings that had churned her body to such a fever pitch on the couch downstairs, return.

"I can teach about love, Claire," Carlos said softly, dropping his hand slightly from the back of the chair to her bare shoulder.

"No, I don't need it," Claire said, squirming away from the brushing fingers. "I've told you I can't and I won't. It, it's just not right."

She could feel the moisture begin again between her tightly pressed thighs and she involuntarily moved her asscheeks against the seat to quiet the lascivious tingle.

"Look on this girl's face," Carlos said, pulling another picture from the packet. "She's enjoy it. Don't you think?"

"Yes, yes she is," Claire breathed, as her eyes locked on the photograph of a girl on a bed with her legs wide apart and a man between them, his enormous cock sunk all the way between her up-lifted legs. The camera angle showed clearly his white thick member disappearing into the soft, hairy folds of her pussy. It was almost to the hilt; only a tiny stretch of it was left showing, wet and glistening. The girl's face was contorted into the most depraved picture of ecstasy Claire had ever seen.

God, how she must feel, she thought. And I've never felt that way.

Claire had never seen a picture of two people making love before and it looked so strange, almost crab-like with two long tentacles of the girl's legs waving wide apart in the air above them; she wondered if this was the way she and Dave looked, and the thought caused her to squirm slightly and press her thighs together to hold down the fire mounting against her will deep in her loins.

Carlos had dropped his hand to her shoulder again but she hardly noticed it as she concentrated on the lewd position of the couple in the photograph. The now-familiar aching hunger inside her was beginning to grow and spread from her stomach upwards to the nipples of her hardening breasts. She shuddered as Carlos's fingers teased down again toward the chevron of her dress and sliding beneath her bra, cupped her bare left globule and massaged it gently into greater hardness, she could feel her breath coming in short, labored gasps now and she twisted against the seat again and again attempting to extinguish the fire that was again growing mercilessly between her legs.

Carlos shuffled the photographs one after another teasingly before her face with his free hand, describing in lewd, lust-inciting terms, the actions each of she couples were performing. His lips had dropped to her ear and he was whispering moist entreaties into it, using words she had not heard since she was a school girl, but now suddenly strangely exciting. Claire pressed her thighs tightly together in one last determined effort to overcome the temptation building within her. In her passion-and alcohol-distorted mind, she knew she had to go right this minute or she would not have the strength to fight off again the lust that was tugging at the very core of her quivering belly.

"Carlos!" she whispered almost hysterically, pulling his hand from inside her dress. "Where is Melinda? We must go, we must... right now!" she pleaded. "I can't stand it, please, please help me!"

"We should not interrupt," Carlos answered. "They be very angry."

"I don't care? I don't care, we're going to leave. I can't stay in this awful place another minute!" she quavered, tears suddenly filling her eyes.

"We can look what they do," he said slowly, letting the thought sink into Claire's tortured mind.

"You-you mean watch them," Claire gasped. "Wh-what if they're still doing something."

"They not know," he laughed softly. "Besides, you learn, maybe and hurt nothing."

Claire's heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. It was different looking at pictures but actually seeing two people tangled in intercourse was another thing. Even the exhibition downstairs had been different - more obscene - but different. This would be like peeking in a window into the privacy of a home. In spite of her revulsion to the idea she felt her curiosity rising. That did it look like? Was it as she imagined it would look?

Carlos gave her time for no further thought. He placed the stack of photos on the table by the chair and taking Claire's hand, pulled her after him.

"We're not going in that room, Carlos! We can't."

"No, we watch here in special way," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he led her to the dressing table. "Just here before mirror. I turn out light. Better take big drink too, before see what amiga Melinda really like."

Claire lifted her glass in obedience and took a few swallows. She needed courage now, her heart was beating like a runaway express in almost terrified anticipation. Her will to flee faded and she stared at her image in the mirror seeing a girl with a puzzled, yet frightening look staring back. A shudder of alarm flickered momentarily through in thoughts but animal curiosity glued her feet to the floor as the lights suddenly went out and she was left in darkness.

Claire heard Carlos adjusting the mirror after he had turned off the lights. She heard the click of a switch and received the shock of her life. Where she had seen her own image another room appeared.

"A two-way mirror," Carlos explained in a low whisper. "We can see everything, they not see us."

A large double bed like the one behind them was up against the wall right next to the mirror. Claire's heart skipped a beat Melinda was lying spread-eagled in the center of the bed, completely nude, not five feet away. Claire felt she could reach out and touch her. Melinda's head was rolling back and forth on the mattress, her face contorted in a ecstasy.

Pete was kneeling between her naked, widespread legs running his lips and tongue moistly up and down her body. He had sucked her heaving breasts into quivering hardness and then traced a wet hot path down to the flat plane of her jerking stomach and inner thighs. Melinda writhed beneath his flicking caresses like a woman possessed. Her hands were tangled tightly in his hair pulling his lips greedily to her tingling slain.

Claire leaned forward gripping the corners of the dressing table until her hands ached. She could not move. It was different with someone you didn't know like the people in those pictures, but this was Melinda! Claire tried to blot out the shocking picture but couldn't. She had to look, the obscene spectacle was mesmerizing her. Her mind rebelled, to watch a man toying with the naked, squirming body of a woman who was your best friend was depraved and lewd. She knew she should turn away.

Carlos, behind her, pressed a lit brown cigarette to her lips and she drew deeply without hesitation. She was beyond noticing it was more of the conscience killing hashish. The sweet, acrid smoke curled into her lungs like a soothing syrup, sweeping away the revulsion she had felt a moment before. Her head lightened and she pulled at it heavily, closing her eyes tightly as each drag burned heatedly into her lungs. Then, after several deep, deep inhalations, she found herself wickedly enjoying the scene before here; watching with studied detachment the pagan ritual that was as old as man himself.

Melinda was beautiful, she thought, as she gazed in intoxicated rapture at the enchanting figure spread in sacrifice on the bed before her. Pete had worked her up to a fever pitch and Melinda's mouth hung open wide in ecstatic rapture, her glassy, lust-smoked eyes staring up into nothingness. Pete placed himself in position over her rapidly rising and falling belly. His face hanging within inches of the soft pubic mound below. His hands were pressed down on the smooth flat plane of her stomach and his thumbs lay pressed into the fleshy outer flanges of her cuntlips. Claire sucked in her stomach with a gasp as his thumbs massaged for a moment, and then, pulled outward slowly, parting the soft pubic hair and exposing the moist red slit of Melinda's pussy. The dainty bud of her clit was clearly visible throbbing into hardness just above the stretched elastic opening of her cuntal entrance.

Pete's head dropped, his long wet tongue snaking out to flick teasingly at the quivering little nub of raw nerves at the top of the slit. Melinda's body jerked as the electric contact was made and her legs clamped tightly together around his head, the soft inner thighs imprisoning his ears in a vise-like grip. Her hips began a slow up and down movement in rhythm to the probing of his slavering tongue. Soft mews of animal pleasure came from between her clenched teeth. She was caught in a mindless fit of uncontrolled lust and her upper torso writhed like a belly dancer's, back-down on the mattress.

Claire's mouth gaped in disbelief as she watched Melinda twisting lustfully to the depraved sucking of her loins. Claire drew deeper on the hashish, feeling her mind opening like a budding jungle flower. She wasn't certain now whether the two writhing bodies on the bed were real or a figment of her imagination. It felt as though they were dancing in her head. Time and distance had suddenly become indefinable nothing existed in the world but the scene before her. Somehow she was mystically connected to them.

Her own torso began an involuntary swaying in time to that of Melinda's as her body squirmed in lewd surrender to the nerve-shattering lickings of the lips and mouth glued to her crotch. Carlos had moved behind Claire now and she could feel the length of his body pressed into her back. His arms extended around her and he was massaging and cupping her breasts in a teasing circular motion that caused her to squirm her asscheeks back, hard against his loins. She could feel a stiffness growing there under his pants and when he pressed forward she could feel the full thickness of it pressing through her dress into the crevice of her asscheeks. The thin folds of bunched material grated against her tiny, sensitive ass sending small warning spasms of pleasure rippling up her belly to the rising nipples of her breasts.

The last shattered remnants of her vow to run faded into nothingness as she felt a hand lease her breast and gently lower the zipper that ran down the back of her dress to her upper asscheeks.

Carlos hands slipped into the opening from behind, curling around her bare mid-section and rising to push the tight restricting bra up and away from her swollen, ripe breasts. His hands cupped the resilient mounds greedily as they came free, trapping the hardened, sensitive nipples between thumb and forefinger; squeezing until a tiny, excruciating sensation brought a gasp of surprised pleasure from her open lips. He pushed forward with his pelvis sinking his covered hardness deeper into the split of her involuntarily contracting asscheeks.

Claire watched in wide-eyed wonders her own asscheeks now pushing back against Carlos, as Pete's lips began crawling up Melinda's squirming body. They worked their way up slowly, pausing now and then at soft sensitive spots for a quick flick of the tongue that would bring further groans of delight and frustration from Melinda s tightly clenched teeth. It was then that she could see clearly his thick fat cock protruding from his crotch. It looked as hard as the thick stump of a tree stanching from the thick, curly, red pubic hair covering his slightly rounded belly. It was enormously thick and Claire shuddered as she saw it pause momentarily over Melinda's still side-spread pussy. Claire thought that Pete was going to ram it into her then but he didn't. He slid slowly all the way up her slippery, sweat-soaked body and straddled her breasts. Claire could see the tight bulges squeeze out under the cheeks of Pete's fat asscheeks as he sank down on them, pushing them down onto her chest. Pete's thick, fat cock stood straight out from his belly, with the rubbery, scarlet head but a few inches above Melinda's gasping mouth. Pete reached one hand back behind him and with a quick flick of his wrist, shoved his middle finger deep between Melinda's wide open legs, skewering it into the pink moist flanges of her cunt up to his flat palm. She jerked as he rotated it around inside, teasing the wet sensitive walls until Melinda panted and gasped, breathing a moan of surrender to the lascivious plundering her body was undergoing.

Claire could see her try to squirm away from the teasing torture but Pete's knees were holding her shoulders and arms pinned tightly to the mattress. She was completely at his mercy. A lewd sadistic grin lined his lips as he reached down with his free hand and rubbed the underside of the head of his thick cock in a slow teasing circle around Melinda's open lips. Her tongue flicked hungrily out from between her teeth, licking at the tiny opening in the head. A thin string of the lubricant seeping from it stretched across her open mouth. She strained forward, the cords in her neck standing out trying to suck the teasing instrument into her mouth. But Pete laughed above her and kept it just out of reach, allowing only the tip of her tongue to lick up and down the underside on the semen-soaked ridge beneath. Melinda grunted and strained until Claire could feel herself struggling with her.

Claire's breath came in time to Melinda's gasps beneath the teasing cock. The muscles in her own body were as taut as how strings as she reacted involuntarily to the maddening fondling of Carlos' hand on her. She jerked as one of his hands left her breasts to trail a slow, teasing path down the soft, unresisting belly and insert itself into the elastic band of her panties, teased thrillingly at the pubic hair raising from the chevron of her crotch. It played for a moment and suddenly curled down into the moist, ready slit between her legs, the nail scraping gently at the tiny bud of her clit sending it springing into quivering life. Claire jerked forward slightly as the hand curled further under her crotch, parting the soft lips of her pussy to teasingly snake its way inside the tight elastic opening of her cunt sending wild electric shocks of pleasure stabbing through her. The rigid hugeness of his cock was now pressed deep in the sweat-moistened crevice of her ass behind, throbbing as though it had a life of its own. She ground back against it, imprisoned licentiously between it and the thrusting finger teasing deep in her pussy.

Carlos began a gentle rocking motion to which her own body responded in time to the jerking hand of Pete fucking into Melinda's rotating pussy in front of them.

Suddenly, there was a deep gurgling from Melinda's throat on the other side of the mirror. Pete, the sadistic grin on his face widening had taken her brutally by the hair, pulled her head up off the mattress, at the same time thrusting forward to ram the thick, turgid head of his cock deep into her gaping mouth. Claire held her breath. She was certain Melinda was going to choke from the sheer size of the organ buried between her puckered lips. But she didn't. She sucked at it hungrily as though she had waited through all eternity for this magic moment.

Pete raised to his knees and with one hand holding Melinda's head up by the hair and the other sunk deep into her wide-split crotch, he began buffeting her body cruelly up and down on the mattress, between his legs. Claire watched with horrified fascination as Melinda's elastic lips sucked with all their might on the instrument fucking into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowing on the out-stroke and expanding obscenely on the instroke. Her eyes were glazed with a wild, ecstatic film of animal lust that Claire had never dreamed existed. Its very rawness brought a moan to her own lips, her tongue circling them nervously as she felt the juice of her own pussy increase its flow between her legs, drenching Carlos' thrusting palm with its sticky moisture.

Carlos had seen the thick cock slither into Melinda's mouth and Claire could feel his cock jerking under his pants against her in uncontrolled excitement. It was inciting him as it was her and she gasped as he leaned forward slightly pressing his moist lips against her ear and whispered, "Bend downward, I going to fuck you behind."

"Oh God, no, I can't, I told you I can't," she panted between clenched teeth unable to stop the rocking of her body against his hand.

"I fuck you good, and we see at the same time," he whispered again. The lewd words excited her strangely through the drugged hashish haze and she groaned in surrender as he pushed her upper body forward over the dressing table. Her muscles were like rubber and she almost fell, coming to rest on her elbows, her face resting inches from the mirror.

Her asscheeks wavered in the air behind her and she shuddered as she felt Carlos hands lift her dress above her hips, bunching it around her wasp-like waist, and draw her thin white nylon panties down over the rounded white cheeks of her ass leaving them to hang at her knees. A cool rush of air hit her backside and she suddenly flushed in shame. Her whole rear end was exposed to him, waving back in lewd invitation to any humiliation he might want to inflict on it. A last thought of Dave flickered through her conscience as she heard the metallic sound of a zipper behind her as Carlos opened his fly and his long thick 10-inch cock burst into welcome freedom. There was no time for further thought. He dropped to his knees behind her straining asscheeks and licked moistly down the entire length of her sweating crevice stopping abruptly to flick the tip of his tongue into the tight puckered ring of her ass.

"Oh God," she groaned as the tantalizing licking invaded her whole crotch, teasing at her like some demon from another world. She quivered back against it, screwing her asscheeks in small circles around and around to feel deliciously its complete rape of her helpless exposed loins. There was nothing in the world like this feeling. She had never known it before, it was different, it was wicked, it consumed the whole of her being and there was nothing else in the world now but the lashing tongue licking at her from behind. Wild thoughts of the dog downstairs ran through her mind and of his great slobbering tongue slithering over the naked genitals of the squirming girl. She knew what it was now and wildly reveled in its lewd tingling joy until she thought suddenly her entire body was going to explode in a thousand fragments.

Carlos stopped just in time. He slithered his tongue up the moist crevice again, over her back and to the base of her spine, following the tiny bony ridges up her back until this progress was halted by the flimsy bunched dress around her narrow waist.

He stood, and Claire suddenly quivered in fear as she felt the hugeness of the tight-swollen head of his penis press into the split between her widespread asscheeks.

Ohgod, he's too big... way too thick! the thought raced through her suddenly fearful mind. He'll split me open, and I'll never be the same for my Dave! I don't want to be stretched for him and not be able to feel his wonderful 8-inch cock again. She hated well-hung men now, and hated the thought that this despicable Carlos was going to stretch her to his size forever so that she would never enjoy sex with a smaller man, a lesser man, her Dave, that is.

Her asscheeks involuntarily cringed forward drawing away from the rubbery tipped cock pressing into her from behind, but it followed. Her forehead pressed tightly against the mirror. There was no where else to go! Her cringing body was trapped between the glass and the searching monster behind her.

He was going to impale her! Oh Christ, he was going to split her!

She felt his hands close around the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, his fingers digging harshly into her soft white flesh.

"Reach behind, put it in," he panted.

"Oh, no, no, I can't," Claire whimpered. "I just can't, it'll hurt."

"Put it in, I say!" he commanded again, digging his fingers tighter into her flesh.

"Ohhhh," Claire groaned as she felt the flesh of her thighs being squeezed into painful tight balls. She couldn't stand it. In desperation, she reached back between her legs and closed her hand over his penis. It was enormous! Even far bigger than she had imagined! She could never take it all!

He squeezed again, this time bringing a louder sound of pain from her tortured lips. She tearfully placed the blunt, throbbing head against the tight, elastic opening of her pussy, biting down hard on her lower lip to hold back the tears of fright that were beginning to brim her eyes. She felt it begin a slow prodding and working against the set open lips, parting them and forcing its way inside the tight restricting ring of flesh that jealously guarded the entrance to her secret passage. There was a great stretching feeling in her loins as though the tender lips of her pussy were being pulled asunder, then suddenly she felt her thighs swept apart and Carlos's long thick cock slithered into her hot throbbing passage like the trunk of a tree. The heavy weight of his loins crashed hard against her asscheeks, pushing her face brutally against the mirror.

"Aaagggh!" she strangled through clenched teeth. Her vaginal passage was on fire. The great penis penetrating it felt like a great drill tunneling deep into her belly. Claire struggled and swung her asscheeks in vain to escape the cruel impalement; it was no use. Carlos had skewered into her up to the hilt, she was a hopeless prisoner, stuck on the end of his rock-hard cock like a mounted insect. Claire's lips opened and closed in sensation and torment. Her cunt walls were afire from the unaccustomed size of the instrument imbedded in her belly. It felt as though he had penetrated all the way to her breasts. She moaned against the mirror, small circles of fog arising from the heat of her breath.

Through the daze of her pain, she saw Melinda's soft lips on the other side of the mirror, clasping hungrily the growing white penis sawing into her mouth. The thin, elastic rim of her lips clung to it as though held there by some unseen fingers. Pete grinned lewdly above her as he fucked her mouth and watched Melinda's lust-contorted face suck and lick at it like a child devouring a sucker. She had freed both hands now and had placed them behind Pete's swaying asscheeks, one cheek in each hand, and was pulling them demoniacally to her. Claire could see fluid dripping from the corners of her mouth and running in tiny rivulets down her hollowing cheeks. Melinda was reveling in the cruel humiliation Pete was subjecting her to, a masochistic light shining strangely in her glazed eyes.

Behind her, gasping and panting with delight Carlos began to rock rhythmically and gently in and out of the soft confines of her pussy. Gradually the pain eased and Claire, too, began to feel a strange masochistic pleasure ripple through her. Watching Melinda succumbing to the depraved sucking of Pete's thick prick, coupled with the ravishment of her own cunt by a strange man was sending unfamiliar thrills of wicked pleasure coursing through her entire being. She began to undulate her asscheeks lasciviously in circles in rhythm to the long thick cock fucking into her from behind.

"Oh God," she breathed suddenly back at him, "I like it, I like it, go on, go on."

Standing over her bent body, Carlos gritted his teeth and fucked in and out with long, hard lunges that seemed to receive their momentum from the very tips of his toes. A feeling of absolute power rippled through him as he held her hips down in total subjection to the rock-hard cock skewering relentlessly into her. He could feel the soft fleshy ridges deep inside her giving way before the merciless onslaught of his piston-like cock.

His fingers gripped her harder, squeezing the soft, unresisting thighs with sadistic strength, hurting her, squeezing groans from her tortured throat as she struggled helplessly beneath his mastery of her mind and body.

He stretched the quivering moons of her asscheeks wide with his fingers, watching in the dim light coming through the mirror, the pink folds of wet glistening flesh clinging tightly around his rampant instrument. He levered forward suddenly on the tips of his toes sinking the plunging shaft the last remaining inch, he could feel the fleshy resistance deep inside spread before the sensitive, engorged head of his prick, bringing a soft, explosive sound from her lips as though the wind had been knocked from her. He sensed she had never been fucked this deep before and he routed the head around deep inside, enlarging the virginal end of her channel and feeling its squeezing clasp gripping his rigidity like warm elastic. The soft enveloping tightness brought a tingle of delight shooting through his balls. His prick encased in the warm clasping sheath pulsated with lewd pleasure.

Claire's eyes opened and closed in a lost glaze of passion. She spread her thighs wider, moving her feet apart stretching with difficulty the flimsy silk panties still hanging at her knees. She lowered her asscheeks, forcing Carlos, behind her, to alter his position and follow her grinding asscheeks to a shallower level. She could feel with obscene delight the cool metal of his zipper pressed tight into the cheeks of her asscheeks as he strove deep inside her, the rough material of the pants pressed harshly against the backs of her thighs. The bushy, springy pubic hair around the base of his prick brushed tantalizingly against the soft inner edges of her ass. She dropped from her elbows to the flatness of the dressing table so that her breasts were squashed tightly against it and began to slowly rotate her upper torso. The hardness of the surface stung her tiny nipples into a greater hardness as she felt the tunneling instrument behind her embed its full length inside her. The distended, spongy head grazed against the flat hardness of her cervix, probing deep, deep where no one had before. Forgotten was the humiliation of bending like a slave while a stranger fucked her from behind, venting his lust in her delighted crotch, forgotten were the ruined panties hanging at her knees a lowered flag of her surrender, panties she had bought for Dave's homecoming. All that mattered, now, was the obscene pleasure coursing through her like a fire out of control. She wanted to be fucked like this, she wanted to be subjected to any lewd demands placed on her pleasure wracked body.

Melinda before her eyes was sucking at Pete's white expanding cock like a wild woman. To Claire's lust-glazed gaze, the thick, pummeling instrument seemed to disappear into a strange, lengthened fusion of Melinda's face as Pete drove with hollowing asscheeks forward like a pile-driver, sinking far into Melinda's mouth until the course red hair of his loins brushed the tip of her nose. His balls dancing beneath, slapped in unison with his thrusts hard against her upraised chin.

Dimly, Claire thought, God! he's going to strangle her! He's going to cum in her mouth until his hot sticky fluid floods into her mouth in torrents. He'll kill her! He'll kill her!

And as she watched, horrified, Pete jerked his cock suddenly from Melinda's sucking lips, holding the huge, red gland about two inches away, and with an expiring groan from his wet, red lips, it began spewing hot, sticky cum directly into her wide-open mouth. The thin, quick spurts streamed from it like milk from a cow, filling her mouth to the brim. Melinda swallowed voraciously, trying not to lose a drop of the hot, lust-inciting fluid as her Adam's-apple bobbed up and down rapidly trying to keep up with the wildly ejaculating penis spewing its lewd sperm into her face. Claire groaned at the obscene picture of Melinda's self-inflicted humiliation, as Pete's cock throbbed out its last remaining spurts of liquid and thin strings of the hot sticky fluid ran down from the tip of his penis to her glistening wet lips, liking them in an obscene spider web of sexual connection.

As she watched Melinda desperately lift her head off the bed to take the deflating penis between her lips Claire felt Carlos's hands pulling at her hips from behind. She limply allowed her body to be pulled away from the dressing table and the passion-stimulating sight of her friend's ravishment through the mirror. He had turned her body now and with his hands on her back kept her in a bent position as he forced her to waddle, stiff-legged before him, toward the bed faintly visible in the dim light that came through the mirror. Carlos moved slowly, joggling her still-impaled body on the end of his extended cock. The strength of his fingers gripping her hips and upper thighs kept her from slipping off him and losing the lustful coupling of their bodies. He paused at the edge of the bed.

"Crawl up," he commanded from behind her. "Despacio, so he not come out."

Claire's resistance was completely crushed now and she complied obediently, lifting first one knee and then the other to the resilient mattress. Then, she was kneeling on the bed; Carlos stood behind her with his huge cock still buried deep in the crevice of her pussy. "Go forward," he whispered again.

She tried to, but lost her balance and fell face down on the bed dragging him with her. His weight crushed her smaller body into the mattress and his penis, from the force of the fall, rammed forward to jab painfully against the blunt, solid end of her cervix.

Claire gave a sharp cry at the sudden, sharp pain. Her legs flung wide to alleviate the hurt, her toes digging fruitlessly into the soft mattress. She clenched her asscheeks tightly together in an attempt to keep his thick tormenting instrument from penetrating deeper. She couldn't stand the pain.

"Come up," he hissed from behind, "it's pulling out."

"I-I can't. Oh God, I can't. It's killing me," she whimpered into the mattress.

"We'll turn over, it's slipping out."

She could feel his sucking withdrawal between her legs and the cool rush of air to her tortured loins, suddenly freed from the weight of his body. She moaned in relief, but it was only momentary. The pain that existed before was replaced by a different pain... that of unsatisfied desire. The wild ache that had filled her while watching Melinda being skewered from behind, returned at the same time, only in greater force. Her body mindlessly followed the dictates of his hands as they coursed over her, removing her clothing. The remains of her torn panties, bought for her husband's homecoming were pulled hurriedly from her calves. She rolled over quickly to allow the thin summer dress to be drawn over her head. And she heard through the haze of the hashish cigarette, its soft rustle as it was thrown hurriedly to the floor. Magic hands snatched the bra away and she could feel the cool rush of air over her whole body now as the large, firm orbs were freed from their nylon-strapped prison. There was nothing else left, she was totally naked except for her black high heeled pumps, her quivering white nudity was completely at Carlos' mercy.

In the distance, she could hear the hurried rustle of clothing being stripped from Carlos' body as she trembled nakedly, half fear and half impatience, Then... a slight movement of the bed... hands searching over her, pulling her thighs wide apart... the mattress sagging slightly from a weight crawling between her spread legs... urgent hands parting the lips of her throbbing pussy... and suddenly the blunt stab of a fiery pole of flesh.

Her whole body twitched and writhed uncontrollably as she groaned in abandoned welcome to the deliciously-punishing instrument sinking deep into her cunt. Her face contorted with passion, cries of ecstasy escaped her tightly-clenched teeth

"O-Oh God," she gasped as Carlos' hands slipped under the rounded moons of her asscheeks, raising them and at the same time, straining his cock forward into her with all the strength of his hips and thighs. She was moaning incoherently and wound her warm and smooth legs around his hips as he thrust into her. The smooth, velvet folds of her pussy held him, squeezing tightly around his rigid column, until she could feel every inch of skin on his rigid, pulsing cock. This madness she had never known, total surrender to the lure of the flesh. Her drugged mind reveled in her wickedness and she screwed her asscheeks up tight against his pelvis until she could feel the tantalizing tightness of his balls pressed hard into the wet, wide-stretched crevice below her pussy. The soft, hairy skin danced teasingly against the sensitive outer rings of her tiny naked ass sending shivers of lewd delight surging through her fluttering nerve-ends.

There was nothing else in the world, no tomorrow, no yesterday, no Dave, nothing but this deep dark hole of lust and flesh, of belly smacking against belly, crotch grinding against crotch.

"Ooooh yes, yes, fuck it hard, darling, fuck it hard, Give it to meeeh!" she begged, gasping. She was approaching orgasm and her body had become something animal, no longer human as she twisted and contorted, spreading her legs wide apart and then pulling them up to her shoulders, bending them at the knees, spurring him on like a wild stallion with the heels of her shoes digging into his hard-muscled asscheeks.

Claire saw the flash of light as the lamps in the room flicked on and clenched her eyes tightly to block it out. Through the haze of hashish and passion she was vaguely aware of someone entering the room but nothing mattered except the body driving it into her from above.

"God damn," she heard a voice like Pete's breathe, "look at little Miss Frigid go."

"I told you to be patient, dear, the hashish would get to her," a Melinda-like voice laughed triumphantly. "Think you'll like having a little of that?"

"Man, is she tender! If Carlos don't fuck her to death, I will. Let's call Ramon and some of the others. We shouldn't leave our host out of something this good."

"That's fine with me," the Melinda-voice answered through Claire's haze, "I want to see the stuck-up little bitch screwed within an inch of her life. She's been Miss Bigstuff around the office too long. It'll be good for her to be taken down a peg or two."

The puzzling voices continued as the remarks became more lewd by the minute, but it didn't matter. Her body was white-hot. Her head flailed from side to side wildly, her mouth open in abandon. The onlookers were forgotten as she swung her thighs up and clasped Carlos' hips with the backs of her calves, winding her tapered legs all the way around his body. Her ankles locked tightly together high on his back, spiraling her ravenously hungry pussy up the full length of his slippery, plunging shaft.

"Jesus Christ, look at that tight little pussy climb!" the Pete voice gasped hotly as a bright orange flash filled the room. "Don't split it, Carlos boy, don't split it. Save some for big Daddy here."

Claire's body drove on unheeding. She was almost ready to cum and could not stop. Tiny relentless devils danced deep in her belly probing the hot, tingling walls of her oozing pussy with the fiery tips of their three-pronged forks. Sweat was pouring from her body as she strove wildly for the end, an infinitesimal second away.

And then, and then, it happened.

Carlos clamped his mouth tightly down on hers starting a long, low groan that swelled to shout as he began spewing his hot sperm deep up into her hot, slippery passage. She could feel it jet into her in great gushing torrents, deflating his jerking penis with each white hot spurt. She was still just seconds away.

"Nooo! Noooo! Darling, wait! Wait! Please, wait for me!" she sobbed her frustration into his mouth. But it was useless. She squeezed her asscheeks up against a softening penis which had lost its mastery over her seething emotions. Her spiked heels pounded desperately into Carlos' spent body. With an empty groan, he rolled from between her still gyrating thighs to lie exhausted beside her.

Claire was beside herself now, the end was so near and yet so far. She kicked her legs wide out in the air her own hands manipulating ineffectually the hairy slit between her thighs. She dug into herself greedily, trying to reach the impossible depths of the vanquished cock that had a moment before betrayed her to the demons of unfulfillment.

The bright orange Washes struck again as suddenly her ankles were grasped by heavy hands.

"Come on baby, Big Daddy's gonna show you what a fuckin' is like."

She gasped at the force in the powerful fingers and looked up through the narrow, hazy slits of lust-smoked eyes.

It was Pete! His flushed, jowled face leered at her from between her wide-held thighs, a cruel animal lust in his eyes that momentarily froze Claire's quivering body into stillness. She lay immobile as a cornered mouse before a stalking cat, stoically waiting to be devoured by it. He levered her unresisting legs up off the bed in an arc far back over her head, pressing the toes of her feet harshly into the mattress on either side of her shoulders. Her tortured body was bent back double, the pain of her strained muscles almost unbearable. The glistening, flattened plane of her crotch was presented like a bound maiden in sacrificial offering. He was poised over her in a push-up position, his hands holding her ankles back to the bed, his thick rejuvenated cock aimed straight at her helpless up turned split.

"Ram it to her, Pete." the Melinda voice spat venomously through her pain. "Jam it up to her tits. I want a good shot of this."

"What'll it be baby, suck or fuck?" he snarled down at her, cruelly.

Claire shuddered, torn between the hot desire scorching her still throbbing pussy and the quick twinge of shame and humiliation that flickered through her confused thoughts. She rolled her head from side to side, tears of frustration streaming down the edges of her cheeks

"Well come on, Miss Frigid," Pete taunted the squirming girl held in the helpless, lewd position. "Big Daddy wants to dip it now."

"Fuck me!" Claire hissed between clenched teeth, the fire licking through her loins spurred on by her sheer helplessness and the obscene position in which he was holding her. Through glazed, heavy lidded eyes she could see a faint form standing over them by the edge of the bed. It looked like Melinda... others were there too but she could not make out the faint, blurred images and now it wasn't important; the fire of unfulfilled lust raged out of control in her pulsating cunt and nothing else mattered.

Melinda smiled and tripped the camera she was holding again and again. A smile of triumph lined her lips.

"Go on! Fuck it! Fuck it, I said," Claire screamed again at Pete's leering form and wiggled her asscheeks at him in lewd unmistakable invitation.

He needed no further invitation. His heavy body dropped down on her twisting form like a sack of cement, smashing her full, tight breasts tightly back onto her chest. His thick pole plunged into her hungry waiting cunt like a battering ram, pushing the unresisting moist folds of flesh in rippling waves before its cruel searching head.

Claire cried aloud at the quick brutal impalement, surprised by its thickness. But it was only momentary, the greedy moist walls clasped around the fleshy cudgel hungrily, slithering up wetly to devour its length to the hilt. His balls smacked into the wet crevice of her asscheeks. She groaned in relief at the filling of her stretched passage as he began a heavy deep thrusting into her grinding cunt. Her head rolled wildly from side to side, her mouth opened in abandoned ecstasy. It didn't take long. She had been so close before and with the thick, expanding cock digging into her like a jack-hammer, the cords on her neck suddenly tightened in an unmistakable sign.

"I - I'm cumming! Oh God, I'm cumming! Fuck harder! Fuck harder!" she pleaded in a voice shrill with passion. "I'm cumming, aaaaaah!" Her hands darted behind his driving asscheeks, pulling him in maniacal frenzy deeper and deeper into her spread crotch. Her cum juice flowed wetly out around his still driving prick, flowing down the crevice of her asscheeks and flooding his balls as they rubbed rhythmically against her tight puckered ass.

"Give it to her, Pete," the Melinda-voice goaded excitedly from somewhere in the distance. "Shoot it in her."

Spurred on by Claire's twisting body below he dug more deeply into her, forcing her tortured legs farther and farther back over her head, doubling her in half, fucking into her like a pile-driving machine out of control. Bright flashes filled the room again as Claire, beneath him, continued to grunt out her climax, the juices still flowing in unrestricted spurts down the full quivering cheeks of her bouncing ass.

Above her, Pete groaned and she could feel the hot waves of his sperm shooting deep up into her dilating womb, mixing lasciviously with the pool Carlos had throbbed into her before. Her head whirled in depraved sensuality as the hot, powerful squirts surged wildly into her, filling her to the bursting point with its sticky whiteness. The hot, wet walls of her pussy clasped and unclasped desperately, milking at the jerking organ like a sucking, starving mouth. Claire's firm young body was drained of everything, her limbs collapsed loosely on the bed as Pete's grip on her legs was released. She lay spread-eagled as she felt the heavy weight lift from her and the cool rush of air over her sweat-soaked form. The Melinda-voice spoke in the distance as she faded to deep peaceful unconsciousness

"Take a turn Ramon, she's not dead yet and I need a few shots with some imagination. See what you can do."

The darkened room with the blinds drawn looked vaguely familiar and she knew she had seen it before somewhere. But what was she doing in it? This wasn't her apartment. Then she remembered. Of course, we came to Tijuana yesterday. It's my hotel room. Claire started to move in the bed, and then felt the excruciating pain.

"Ohhh," she groaned aloud. "What's happened to me?"

Her head felt strangely thick and it was difficult to think. Avery muscle in her body seemed to be tied in tiny knots. She lay still for a moment, then she recalled the horrible dream she had last night.

That obscene sickening show, all those men, Melinda's voice encouraging them on. The impact suddenly hit her. "My God, it happened!" In spite of the pain, she sat up quickly. Questions began to run through her head faster than her muddled mind would check them, how did I get home? Who dressed me?, it's my nightgown I'm wearing! Why did it happen? Why, why? She stumbled from the bed and lurched heavily to the bathroom mirror, looking into it quickly. "My God," she moaned, "it did happen, it wasn't a nightmare!" Heavy lines marred her fresh, young skin. Her eyes were sunk deeply into her head as though she had aged years since yesterday. She looked down. Her body was a mass of bruises that centered around her breasts and inner thighs. Her breasts were almost raw and even the soft nylon gown rubbing against the tips sent sharp waves of excruciating pain through them. She suddenly vomited, sobbing hysterically. "Oh, it didn't happen, it didn't, it just couldn't," she babbled incoherently over and over to herself, still hanging over the basin. "I'll ask Melinda, she'll tell me it didn't happen, she'll tell me it didn't happen."

"Melinda, Melinda!" she screamed hysterically, half staggering, half crawling to the living room.

There was no answer. She could see the door to Melinda's room was open and the bed immaculately made. The maid had already cleaned it.

Claire looked at the clock, it was five o'clock in the afternoon, she had slept the entire day!

She collapsed on the couch, sobbing hysterically. After a few minutes, she saw the envelope on the coffee table. It was addressed to her and she picked it up and hesitantly opened it. There was just a short note inside but it said a million words:

     Claire, darling I'm letting you sleep. I'll be back
     about six. Incidentally, you were the hit of the
     party last night. I didn't realize you had such
     hidden talents, dear.
                                       Love, Melinda

Then it was true, it hadn't just been a bad dream and it had been Melinda who had led her into it and encouraged Carlos and Ramon and God only knows how many others to do those terrible, depraved things to her. What possessed Melinda to do such a thing? What did she have against her? Claire had trusted her, accepted her as a friend and protector. True, she hadn't accepted many of the invitations Melinda had offered but that couldn't possibly have offended her that much...

Claire pondered these things, unable to answer any of the questions that still ran through her mind.

One thing for certain, she couldn't face Melinda or the others again She had to leave before they returned. She phoned the desk.

"This is Mrs. Bachman, can you tell me when the next bus leaves for San Diego?"

"Si, Senora, they leave every half an hour. You can take one anytime," the voice answered.

"Would you please send someone up for my bags in fifteen minutes, then. I'll be leaving," Claire said.

"Right away, Senora. Do you want a taxi?"

"Yes, please."

In spite of the pain through her body, Claire managed to dress and pack her bags quickly. She was spurred by the thought Melinda might return and Claire just could not be there to face her, she had to get away.

She made it, and with a sigh of relief she settled back in the soft Greyhound bus seat. She couldn't help but compare the difference in her feelings today and yesterday. She could remember the elation she had felt when they had arrived. It was her chance to relax and release a few of the tensions she had built up worrying about Dave.

True, she had been a bit upset with the boy who had reached in the car and brazenly squeezed her breast but that had passed quickly.

She had entered this hateful city a faithful wife, who loved her husband more than anything else, and was leaving it as a woman who had been used by other men, she didn't even know how many, to fulfill their obscene desires. Worse yet, she had been betrayed by her own body that had bucked and twisted in its own lustful fulfillment beneath its attackers.

She wondered what warped thing in Melinda's mind could have caused Melinda to lead her into that perverted party last night... and worse, stand by and encourage it while her drugged body had been subjected to the most depraved indignities.

Perhaps it was something in human nature that enjoyed seeing the humiliation of others, she remembered for the first time her own reaction when she had seen Melinda rocking in uncontrollable passion beneath Pete's slavering mouth and tongue. She had been repulsed at first, but then had stayed and watched in fascination, unable to tear her eyes away until her own unleashed desires had permitted Carlos to lift her away and take possession of her hungry body.

She tried to think more about it but the soft drone of the bus engine and her still-exhausted body conquered her mind. She would rest first and then try to make some sense out of the awful twenty-four hours she had just experienced. She slept heavily in the soft comfort of the seat, her mind quiet for the moment.

The laughing boy raced happily down the narrow sandy beach plunging headlong into the cool, clear water. His arms flailed wildly, splashing like a hooked salmon for a moment, then he stood up, knuckling the water from his eyes with his forefingers.

"Auntie Claire, Auntie Claire," he yelled at the tan blonde girl lying on the blanket not too far away. "Come on in, come on in and race me to the raft!"

"Okay, Jimmy," she yelled back slipping a white bathing cap over her long blonde hair. "Be right there, I'll bet you an ice cream I win."

She ran over to where he was waiting and jumped in beside him, splashing handfuls of water in his face at the same time.

"Don't, Don't" he cried, "I can't see to race you."

She stopped long enough for him to clean his eyes again and then said, "Okay, get ready, one, two, three, go!"

They both splashed off into the water and swam toward the raft anchored some one hundred feet out in the lake. Claire could feel her hands cutting cleanly into the cool clear water in front of her, pulling her body swiftly after them.

She had never felt better. She had been here in the mountains with Laura, Dave's sister, for over two weeks now and the scars of the ill- fated trip to Tijuana were gradually healing.

She had returned to San Diego and immediately packed her bags and left.

She never intended to see Melinda again, which of course, meant giving up her job at the store, but it didn't matter.

She had not even bothered to notify her supervisor that she was quitting. She still had several days pay coming but decided to sacrifice it for fear they would want a forwarding address through which Melinda could trace her if she had a desire to do so, though why would she? Melinda had her revenge or what ever it was she wanted. She couldn't humiliate her anymore than she already had. Claire had been more afraid that Melinda would try to see her to apologize and felt the whole, hideous nightmare had been a mistake, but she couldn't bear to face anyone connected with it.

After several days in the cool mountain air with Laura and Jimmy, the impact of the initial shock had worn off. She had been able to think a little more clearly and put the sordid affair into a more logical perspective.

Her first hysterical reaction had been to sit down and try and write Dave a letter admitting all that happened. This had not worked. She must have written it over at least twenty times becoming almost ill again each time from the bitter memories the words stirred within her. Each time she re-read what she had written, she had burned it in disgust. It just didn't say what had really happened, how she had been led on and deceived by Melinda, whom she'd trusted, led on until she'd gone too far... and her body betrayed her.

Dave would never understand, and she finally decided that it wasn't fair to him to suffer a momentary failure on her part. She still loved him as before, perhaps more with the knowledge that she had let her body betray her. She, alone, should suffer for this and she was determined to protect him from the secret, no matter how it might hurt her.

She knew she would never be able to curl up in his lap again and playfully nip at his ear with girlish innocence without thoughts of that horrible night. This would be her penance alone to bear and the scar would last as long as she lived. Time might dim the memory but could never erase it.

She and Jimmy finished their swim and returned to the cabin for late lunch with Laura.

"I think you need an afternoon rest, young man," she said to him as they were walking back.

"Aw, no I don't, Auntie Claire, don't say that to Mom," he pleaded.

"All right, I won't," she smiled. "If you promise to lie quietly on the blanket this afternoon if we go back to the lake."

"Okay, Okay, I promise," he said happily, knowing he had won without much of a fight.

Claire mused at the way he was able to twist her around his little finger anytime he felt like it. Perhaps it was because he was the kind of little boy she would want when Dave returned. They weren't going to wait any longer she vowed. If only he hadn't wanted to wait until he returned from sea duty, things would have been so different now.

Laura greeted them at the door with a smile. "Well, did you two have a good swim?"

"We sure did," Jimmy bubbled. "I beat her a mile racing to the raft."

"He's a good swimmer," Claire agreed, patting the top of his head as he rushed off to wash his hands for lunch.

"You look pretty bubbly, too," Laura said, looking at Claire. "I think your little vacation with us has been a good thing. You know, I was a little concerned when you first arrived."

"It has been wonderful, Laura, I just don't know how to thank you," she squeezed her hand gratefully. "I was awfully lonely and worried about Dave," she lied, "but I think I've recovered now."

"I know you were, dear. We're just happy to have the chance to help you."

They had lunch on the front porch and Claire was ravenous after the morning swim. Jimmy chattered incessantly until Laura admonished him for speaking with food in his mouth.

After lunch, Claire drove with Laura down to the village to do the grocery shopping. On the way back, they stopped at the village post office.

"I should have a letter from Bill," Laura said. "He's supposed to let me know if he can drive up on Friday. It's easier for him and gives him three full days here."

"No mail for you today, Laura," Mr. Green said from behind the window, "but got two for you, Claire. One from the navy and the other registered."

Mr. Green handed her Dave's letter and she signed for the other. It was a large plain manila envelope. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was post-marked San Diego. No one was supposed to know she was here.

"It must be pretty important if its registered, aren't you going to open it, Claire?" Laura said on the way home after she had read Dave's letter.

"No," Claire answered hesitantly, "it's nothing, just some papers I had been expecting from the store."

When they arrived back at the cabin, Claire went to her room quickly and locked the door, trembling. She knew it must be from Melinda. There was no one else but how did she know where to find her! She had not even left a forwarding address with her land-lady. She had even cabled Dave and told him to write her at his brother-in-laws' summer cabin for the next month or so.

Oh, it's probably nothing, she told herself and ripped the envelope open.

Claire was suddenly stunned, there lying on the bed beside her where they had fallen were the most shocking photographs she had ever seen. They were all of her and different men. The men were doing the most horrible things to her, and worse, she seemed to be enjoying it.

Claire groaned and fell back, her arm over her eyes, trying to blot out the sudden horrible reminder of that evening.

She lay there several minutes without moving; then sat up again slowly. There was a typewritten note attached:

"Sorry I missed you in San Diego. I wanted to give you the other copies to these. You can get them back next Wednesday night at eight-thirty at Max's house. Otherwise, Dave might like to receive them as souvenirs of the trip his darling wife won to Mexico. I'm sure that would help a fighting man's morale."

P.S. Your mother said you were enjoying your vacation.

There was no signature but there could be no mistake about who sent them.

Suddenly from deep in her sub-conscious, she remembered the bright orange flashes going off and the strange clicks in the background. Her passion-crazed mind had not related them to a flash camera at that time but it was unmistakably clear that's what they were

In horror, she picked them up and began to shuffle through them. She could recognize Carlos, Pete and Ramon, the sneaky fat little Mexican who had let them in the club that night, but there were others she had never seen before. All seemed to be having a contest to see who could heap the greatest indignity on her helpless naked body. They had turned her every way possible and in several of the pictures, she was between two of them, each using her defenseless body in a different way to satisfy their lusts. Her face, contorted in passion, was plainly visible in each of the photographs and she seemed to be pleading for more of what she was receiving.

Claire almost vomited again, but instead, vented her despair on the pictures, tearing them into tiny pieces and stuffing them back in the envelope. She put them out on her stone window sill and set a match to them, burning them to ash. The wind swept them away and for a moment it gave her a respite. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the ashes swirling away into the air

It was not until the last ash had vanished that the terrible impact hit her. What would they expect her to pay to return the copies? They knew she didn't have money

The pieces began to fall in place - pick them up at Max's house! - Max had always wanted her and she remembered his fat lustful leers when she had walked by him; his almost drooling down the front of her dress when he would stop her to talk in the store. It dawned on her then, Max had put Melinda up to this. When he couldn't get her to come to his parties, he had fixed it so she had won the trip with Melinda. Pete and Carlos weren't accidental meetings, Max wanted her badly enough to arrange all of this! All of it had been a plot to put her in a position where she couldn't refuse Max! Melinda was angry with her because Max wanted her more than he did her!

It was only five more days until Wednesday. She had to think... she had to, there must be another way out.

Claire returned to San Diego on Tuesday. She decided for Dave's sake she had to get the other copies of those pictures at all costs. Perhaps, she could make them understand, she was certain she could, if she could just talk to Melinda. She would explain about Dave and how he was and what their plans were for the future. She just knew she could make Melinda understand. She had tried to reach her by phone all Tuesday night and Wednesday but she was absent from the store and there no answer at her apartment. Late Wednesday afternoon, in desperation, she had gone over to her apartment, but Melinda was nowhere to be found. Claire was beginning to panic. It was seven-thirty and she still hadn't contacted Melinda. She would have to go to Max's house. She dreaded this more than anything in the world but she just had to be there. She knew they wouldn't hesitate to send the photographs to Dave if she didn't. She poured herself a glass of scotch and drank it down after she stepped from the shower. Then, the phone rang. Melinda's voice was on the other end.

"I'm glad you came back, dear. Max would have been most unhappy if you hadn't."

"Melinda, I've got to talk to you," Claire pleaded. "You don't understand my position.

"It's too late now, dear, but remember this, you had better be real good to Max. He has the photographs and he might give them to you if you please him, and don't be late, he won't like it."

"But Melinda..." Claire cried almost desperately.

"Another thing," Melinda interrupted, "Max likes brief, black underthings. Wear those new ones you've been saving for Dave."

With that Melinda hung up.

Claire was shaking violently after talking to Melinda. Now she was desperate to get the pictures back. She drank another shot of Scotch to give her courage; put on the panties and bra Melinda suggested. They were sheer and she wanted to wear them the night of Dave's homecoming, but now it would not be possible. Over these, she put on a thin clinging white silk cocktail dress that accentuated the tan she had been cultivating at the lake these past two weeks.

She took a last look at herself in the mirror and a last shot of Scotch. The sun had bleached her hair a more golden color then it had been in months and it contrasted beautifully with the healthy bronze of her skin.

She wanted to be as alluring as possible in hope she could convince Mr. Schroeder to give her the pictures without compromising herself too much. Melinda's words haunted her all the way to his house, "If you please him enough, if you please him enough."

Claire's taxi stopped at a beautiful spacious home built in Spanish style and reminded Claire disconcertingly of Mexico. It was quiet and there were no other cars around. She had a momentary sense of panic and wanted to tell the driver to take her back to the city but her desire to recover the pictures overcame it.

She gathered her courage and rang the bell. A white-uniformed butler answered and led her into the large sunken living room. Claire's breath was taken away for a moment; almost half the room was occupied by a large emerald-green swimming pool that extended into it from the patio. A waterfall cascaded down one rock wall and bubbled into the pool. This, coupled with the magnificent tropical plants about the room, gave it the appearance of an island paradise.

"Mr. Schroeder will be down shortly," the butler announced. "Shall I serve Madam a martini?"

"Yes, please," Claire answered. She wanted something that might still the nervous trembling of her body. She had expected others to be here, particularly Melinda, and she didn't know what to do to face Max alone. Her carefully-planned speeches to Melinda were useless.

She gulped at the large martini the butler brought her, hoping it might infuse new ideas and confidence into her to replace that destroyed by the sudden change of circumstances.

She had almost finished when heavy nasal breathing came from behind her. She almost jumped from the couch in surprise, but alcohol had slowed her reactions enough that she couldn't get up before he spoke.

"Well, my dear, you've finally come," he said mockingly. "I've waited a long time for you to accept one of my invitations."

"I, I just came to get those pictures, Mr. Schroeder," Claire blurted, trembling.

He walked slowly around to sit down by her, leering at her ripe young, body as he did, lips quivering in anticipation.

"Of course, my dear Claire, you don't mind my calling you Claire, do you?"

"No, no I don't," she said quickly, afraid.

"Then you call me Max," he said not taking his eyes from her body. "I think we shall get along well."

"Sidney!" he called to the butler. "Another martini for Mrs. Bachman and a soda and ice for me. I don't drink; ulcers you know, from the pressures of business."

The butler appeared immediately with the drinks and Claire took hers quickly. The first one, on top of the Scotch she had at home, had begun to dull her senses slightly, but she welcomed that. She could see already from the way Max's eyes roved over her hungrily it would not be easy to accomplish her purpose. She was going to need all the courage she could muster, from a bottle or not.

"Now, Claire, let's talk business," Max said softly. "I've got something you want, and you've got something I want. I think we should make a straight business trade."

"Mr. Schroeder," Claire said, the drinks giving her courage a slight lift, "you don't understand. Melinda said I just had to come here to get the pictures, and that's all I want."

"Young woman," Max's voice grew cool, "I spent a lot of money to get those pictures, you're going to work to get them back."

"What - what do you want of me?" Claire's voice faded to a whisper.

"You know very well what I want but perhaps not now. You see, I have very special tastes and it takes a very special kind of girl to fulfill them. I think you could be that special girl, Claire."

"Me, I-I don't know anything, I-I've never made love to anyone but my husband before except once. I-I just couldn't, Mr. Schroeder, honestly I couldn't," Claire stammered.

"You can try," Max coaxed, thick lips shining from licking them.

"No, please, I can't, I just can't, I won't do anything." Claire started to get up but he grabbed her arm tightly.

"Well, my pretty young innocent, let's just see what you will do and won't do." He pulled the package of pictures from his robe pocket and began shuffling them

"Let's consider what Lt. Bachman would like to see best," he gloated. "Here, what about this one?"

He thrust the lewd thing in front of Claire's face. It was one with she and Ramon. She was spread-eagle on the bed, her heels pressing tightly into the mattress. Her hands were tangled in his hair, pulling his face tightly between her widespread thighs where he was paying her ultimate homage with lips and tongue. Every sinew in her body was straining for the final physical achievement. Her mouth was open and her face contorted with crazed, raw lust.

"Or what about this one, how would he like this?" Max chuckled obscenely as he tormented the girl with one after another of the lewd photographs, describing in degrading detail Claire's actions in each. His breath was heavier now, apparent that the pictures and the humiliation he was inflicting upon her made him desire her even more.

He watched her grimaces of recollection closely as he described a particular picture, holding it before her to make certain she was following his commentary in detail.

Then he came to the one with two men.

"This is a real gem," Max tormented. "Melinda said you really enjoyed this combination. The lieutenant would be most pleased to know his wife is spending her time furthering her education and making new friends while he's away. Don't you agree, my dear?" He smiled lewdly at her.

Claire's head reeled from the humiliation of sitting here with this vile fat man while his beady eyes absorbed every action on the glossy prints. She was almost sick from the degrading monologue he uttered using the most obscene words imaginable in his lurid descriptions of them.

She attempted one last desperate act of bravado, hoping to frighten him into giving her the prints and letting her go. She looked him coldly in the eye, her courage spurred by desperation and alcohol.

"I'm leaving right this minute, Mr. Schroeder and I'm going to bring the police back with me. You know blackmail is against the law."

"My dear," he said after a short silence. "I would simply tell them you come here often and became angry when I wouldn't double your price."

"They - they would never believe you. I've never even gone out with another man," Claire said angrily.

"Don't be naive, Claire dear, if I give the word, prints of these pictures could be sold in every bar in San Diego by tomorrow. I could even make certain the Officer's Club had a few sets. I'm certain they would find a good market. It would then be the word of a respectable businessman against that of a girl who poses for dirty pictures."

"You wouldn't dare!" Claire said, standing up suddenly, "you wouldn't dare!"

Max leaped to his feet and slashed his heavy palm brutally across Claire's face knocking her back on the couch. Tears sprang to her eyes and a slight trickle of blood appeared at one corner of her mouth.

"Don't ever say I wouldn't dare anything, my dear," he shouted angrily at her, spittle spraying in her face. "If you want these pictures, I'll be waiting upstairs in the second room on the right. It's your last chance you little bitch and I'm tired of wasting my time. Sidney, bring Mrs. Bachman another martini," he called to the waiting butler.

Claire sat in a state of shock and watched him disappear up the stairs. She dabbed lifelessly at the trickle of blood with the wet cloth Sidney had brought her. What could she do? Melinda's words from the phone came back to her, "If you please him enough..." My god, she thought, what could be enough for a man like this! She had come to the bitter realization that she had no choice. If she didn't do as he commanded her, she would lose Dave and he would be humiliated beyond belief. Every pilot in the navy would have pictures of his wife engaged in un- natural acts of love with other men. With his fierce pride in himself and her, he wouldn't take it. Claire didn't know what he might do.

"Sidney," she called, "hurry with my drink."

The butler brought it with a knowing smile on his lips. He knows I've decided to go to him, she thought. I wonder how many times he's seen this happen? She downed the martini quickly and walked to the stairs. She wanted to get it over with quickly and get away with that envelope. Then, perhaps could she live a normal life again.

The door was slightly ajar, and Claire stood for what seemed an eternity before she entered. She had decided she had no choice but to submit. He had her exactly where he wanted her and if she had to degrade herself again to save her husband from humiliation, she would do so. She had created this horrible situation by her moment of weakness and there was no one to get her out of it but herself.

The last martini had braced her a little and she felt prepared to go through with it now in spite of her revulsion toward the vile, little man who had her at his mercy.

Max was lounging back in a white, ermine covered chair, a long black cigar hanging from his thick lips. He had the pictures in one hand, which he had obviously been looking at, and a glass of soda and ice in the other. Aim didn't speak but just stood inside the door with her arms hanging limply at her sides.

"I'm glad you made an intelligent decision about this, my dear," he purred, removing the cigar from his lips and running his tongue wetly around his lips. "After all, I'm not so bad am I"

Claire left the question unanswered and kept her eyes to the floor. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"I want the pictures first, Mr. Schroeder," she finally brought herself to say.

"Oh no, my dear Claire," Max said dropping them in a manila envelope and sealing it. "We'll play a little game, and if you're a real good little girl, you can pick them up and walk out. If not, then we'll just have to see what other arrangements we can make."

"How do I know you'll give them to me?" she cried.

"You'll just have to trust me my dear, you have no other choice. Now do you?" he said. "Come, we'll go to my special room. Would you like Sidney to bring you another drink?"

"Yes, yes I would," she answered quickly. She knew she was going to need as much fortification as she could get.

"What about something to eat, some roast pheasant, caviar?"

"No, I don't feel like eating," Claire answered. She could think of nothing more revolting than eating with him and didn't want to prolong her agony any longer than necessary.

He led her down the corridor to another room which had a heavy door and was secured by a huge padlock.

"This is my playroom," he chuckled, as though expecting Claire to laugh at his ill-timed joke. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the portal.

"Come in, my dear, and see what you think of my little chamber."

Claire followed, then suddenly froze in her tracks, shocked.

It was the strangest room she had ever seen. It was quite large, the entire ceiling and an entire wall were completely covered with mirrors. The other wall was painted with a mural, showing the lewdest sexual acts imaginable. It was a huge orgy; done so realistically, the tangled mass of bodies and limbs seemed to be alive. There must have been over a hundred figures in it, some in pairs, others in groups of three four, and five.

"It's a masterpiece," Max said when she noticed Claire's eyes were on it. "I had six of Mexico's finest artists working on it for over a year. It's probably their greatest work and they don't even know where it is." Max laughed. "I had them blindfolded each day and brought here from fifty miles away. You see my dear, money can do anything; it even has you here."

Sidney had arrived with the drinks and left a thermos of Martini's for Claire on the table. She could hear the click of the bolt in the door as he left.

She was glad he had brought her the Martini's, she would need them to go through this ordeal. Max poured her one and led her along the mural, explaining in detail, as with the pictures of her, the lewd actions of each group though they spoke clearly for themselves.

There was a thick, white fur carpet covering the floor that felt nice to Claire's shoeless feet. Max made her take them off - as he did - when they entered, explaining he never allowed shoes on the fur rug.

"And now, my dear, the work bench," he said with a sly grin. He pressed a button opening long, black drapes and revealed the hugest bed Claire had ever seen.

It was covered in the same white fur as the floor and it was surrounded by several large lounge chairs, similarly upholstered. Along the wall were large racks, filled with the strangest instruments imaginable. They ranged from cats-o-nine tails to long, thin rods with fluffy feathers on the ends. She had heard of such things but had never seen them before. They were ghastly and she felt fear rise at the weird collection. Only a madman could find pleasure in their use.

She sipped her Martini nervously now, deciding she had better humor him. There was no escape with the door locked; screams would bring no help this far out in the country.

Max led her into a little room off to the side. In it were racks of strange costumes in all sizes and colors, though most were black. Claire remembered Melinda reminding her that Max liked black.

"And here, my lovely Claire, is my prized collection." He opened a large closet and she could see at least fifty pairs of brief panties of every type and color.

"There are mementos of my previous guests," he explained. "Yours will add to it. I hope you have chosen them well."

He patted Claire familiarly on her asscheeks and she shrank away, repulsed by his touch.

"Now, now, my dear, don't be frightened," Max coaxed softly. "We're going to get to know each other very well tonight so we must start out on the right foot. You don't want me to get angry, do you?" He patted his robe where he had placed the envelope. "Come back to the playroom, and I'll explain the rules of our little game."

Claire followed meekly, her eyes glued to the envelope he was carrying in his hand. He opened a small door that looked like a wall safe and pressed a button. A thin nylon rope descended from a hole in the mirrored ceiling directly above the bed. He made her stand upon the bed on her tip-toes until she could just touch it with the tips of her fingers. He then made her get off and lowered it further, attaching the envelope to it with a clip. He pressed another button that drew it almost up to the ceiling again Claire could see a small clock within on which he turned dials carefully.

"There we are, my dear," he smiled, closing the small door and locking it. "The envelope will descend one foot every six hours. According to your height, you will be able to reach it when it has dropped four feet. When I'm unhappy, I'll turn it off until I'm pleased again. That will stop its motion completely. We can tell how much time you've worked off by this clock on the wall. Clever, don't you think?"

"But that's twenty-four hours," Claire cried, never expecting this. She knew she would be subjected to horrible indecencies and she had prepared herself to suffer them for Dave's sake, but twenty-four hours!

"You - you can't make me stay that long," pleaded Claire. "I can't do it."

"There, let me fill your glass, my dear, I told you that you would have to work to get them back. Remember, they are expensive pictures."

While he poured her drink, Claire could see the brown packet hanging teasingly above her, so close, but an eternity of degradation away.

She drained the glass immediately and Max poured her another, obviously anxious to lessen her inhibitions. The second went down almost as quickly and she could feel the dull conscience-killing feeling coming over her.

"I think its time to make the addition to my collection, Claire, don't you? I want to take them off, lie back on the edge of the bed."

Claire sat tipsily on the edge of the bed. The alcohol was beginning to affect her now and her muscles felt sluggish. She had a little trouble controlling her own movements and her head whirled. Revulsion shivered through her nerves as she felt his hands gently push her back on the ermine-covered bed. Her feet dangled, almost touching the floor. Through alcohol-glazed eyes she could see in the ceiling mirror her own figure lying below. The top of Max's bald head was bent above her feet. She shut her eyes tightly as she felt his fleshy palms slowly pushing her knees apart and slide hotly up the inner softness of her thighs under the dress. She jerked involuntarily as they passed the protective covering of her long hose and moved, butterfly-like across the sensitive, white flesh between her stocking tops and her sheer black panties. Max's breath was coming in heavy snorts as his fingers made light contact with the thin band between her legs. She groaned helplessly as his fingers rummaged on the outside, pushing the softness of the smooth material into the thin, quivering slit of her pussy. He played tingly, his fingers pulling gently at the soft pubic hair that protruded from the leg bands.

His index finger slipped suddenly under the tight elastic and flicked at the moist red opening beneath, bringing another protesting groan from her. The humiliation was awful. His face was even with the bed between her knees peering greedily up her dress. She could feel his eyes feasting lewdly on the secret parts between her legs that belonged to her husband and no one else. Parts she had protected just for him and which now had become her shame. Tears streamed in tiny rivulets as the helplessness of her position leaped through her confused mind. She struggled to her elbows, determined to stop the lewd outrages he was visiting upon her unwilling body but the sudden sight of the small brown envelope dangling above choked back the sounds of protest rising in her throat. There was no hope, she had gotten herself into this and there was only one way she could get out of it. That was to submit to his sick demands until the horrible pictures had lowered within her reach. She could only hope it passed quickly before she lost her control and did something that would make him angry. The thought of those pictures among the sailors in San Diego-and at the Officer's Club, caused her to fall back in helpless submission. She had no choice, she had to submit to the revolting violation of her body to protect Dave.

She shut her eyes again as his hands pushed the hem of her dress to her hips and hooked the elastic band at the top of her panties.

"Lift your ass," he commanded, using the blunt word to remind her of his complete dominance.

Claire arched her back hesitantly, feeling the smooth nylon drawn slowly over her voluptuous, rounded hips and thighs exposing the whole of her soft, down-covered crotch

"Mmmmm, a real blond I see," his fat lips smacked in appreciation. "You're the first I've had in quite a while."

The sheer black panties stuck at her knees. He pulled fruitlessly for a second and then commanded her to lift them. The panties slipped easily to the floor as her knees rose, taking the pressure from the backs of her thighs. Max picked them up quickly and eyes closed, she could hear him nuzzling and kissing them sickenly above her. He cooed over them as though they were some sacred object, rubbing their smooth softness over his cheeks and face, his eyes bulging at the tingling contact.

"You chose well," he purred, "they'll make a beautiful addition to my little collection. I don't get them all quite so easily you know. Sometimes they fight and I must use other means of persuasion. I'm so glad we understand each other."

As the full impact of what he was saying registered in Claire's mind he disappeared with her panties into his trophy room. She realized now that she was at the mercy of a hopelessly sick degenerate. God! What terrible things would he force upon her as the price for the return of the pictures? If she could only run, if there was only somewhere to hide! But there was none and she still had her price to pay. Before her thoughts could go any further she heard the soft approach of his feet across the thick carpeted floor.

"They fit beautifully into their place, my darling," he said, his voice taking on a softness toward her now. "I want to see the rest of you. Sit up and let me undress you."

Claire struggled to sit, quickly, her mind still on the envelope swinging above them. She closed her eyes again as he hurriedly unzipped her dress and lifting her asscheeks slightly, peeled it from her. Then came her bra and he whistled in admiration as the large, rounded spheres emerged. He kissed them hungrily and Claire cringed as the rubbery lips traced their moist path to the tips, hardening them in spite of her revulsion. Nervous beads of sweat began to roll from Max's face as his fat wet palms glided unimpeded over the firm contours, cupping and kneading them brutally until Claire cried out from the pain and humiliation.

Max dropped to his knees again and running his hands the full length of her slim well rounded legs playing indecisively for a few moments with the snaps of her garters.

"Let's leave them, shall we my love?" he said in an almost whisper, his eyes roaming greedily over her naked flesh. "I like my women with garter belts and stockings. They appear so much more sensual."

Claire was completely naked now except for the sheer black silk stocking and the garter belt that was only a thin wisp of elastic around her lower hips. She had never felt so exposed in her life and again the burning wave of shame crept through her in spite of her vow to regain the photographs at any cost or humiliation. Nausea rose as his pudgy fingers petted and fondled at her soft yielding flesh, the harshness of his digging fingers leaving white, bloodless prints in their searching trail. Tears welled her eyes as he pushed her back on the bed. She fell passively, beyond resistance now and thinking only of the lewd envelope descending slowly down with each cruel minute that passed.

Max pushed her unresisting body to the center of the bed and Claire felt her arms lifted above her head and a quick pressure first on her left wrist and then on her right, not realizing until too late that they were leather bracelets. She jerked forward but her arms were held loosely above her head by small chains connected to the upper corners of the mattress.

"What are you doing?" she screamed when she realized belatedly what had happened. "Please let me loose! I promise I'll do anything you like, I promise!" she pleaded, tears of fear streaming down her cheeks as she struggled helplessly against her bonds, her stockinged legs kicking wildly about the mattress.

"I'm not going to hurt you, my dear," Max chortled above. "Just relax and remember, the clock stops if I'm not pleased."

Claire stopped her struggles as the threat sunk into her alcohol-dimmed mind and lay passive as he pulled her slim legs wide apart and attached her ankles to two similar chains at the bottom of the bed. She was completely helpless now and could see her limbs in the mirror above, fastened securely to the four corners of the large mattress. She closed her eyes tightly to fight off her quivering fear.

She shivered silently in the center of the bed, listening with bated breath as Max picked up something in the corner of the room. She didn't dare to open her eyes to look for fear of screaming and having him stop the clock. She couldn't stand having the agonies of her humiliation prolonged any further. She just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Again, she heard his feet padding back toward the bed and she held her breath, waiting with apprehension for his sweating palms to close over the soft flesh of her body. They didn't come.

Instead, she felt a light flicking through the soles of her stockings. Something was grazing torturously over the sensitive bottoms of her feet. She jumped against the chains that bound her in sudden surprise, her eyes jerking open and staring wildly around the room. Max was leaning forward in one of the chairs at the foot of the bed grinning lewdly down at her spread-eagle nakedness. He had one of the long feathered poles in his hands stroking with the sole of her widely stretched left foot.

The tickling soon began driving her mad. She screamed at the top of her lungs for him to stop and her body thrashed wildly against the binding chains. It was of no use. He continued the lascivious stroking slowly up her calves pausing at the sensitive inner thighs to rotate the feather in small, titillating circles against the soft bare flesh at the top of her stockings. Claire jerked her feet, stretching the chains their full length in an attempt to escape the maddening circles. Max smiled lewdly at the position it put her in. The outside of her knees were pressed flat against the mattress and she had drawn her thighs as far up the bed as the restrictive chains would allow, opening her crotch wide in a crab-like stance that exposed the moist pink slit of her pussy completely to his greedy eyes. He giggled, and thrust the tip of the soft full feather directly into the slightly parted pubic hair, jiggling it lewdly in the plainly visible lips of her tight, pink cunt. Claire was going out of her mind and writhed and tossed wildly against her bonds attempting to escape the insane torture her body was being subjected to.

"Oh, oh, please, please, stop, please stop! I-I can't, stand it, can't stand it!"

Still the teasing feather played at the tender parts of her pussy working its way up the full length of the narrow palpitating slit to her tiny throbbing clit and flicking at it maddeningly until, with a sudden groan, Claire felt it begin a gentle involuntary jerking into hardness. She could hear Max laughing at the foot of the bed, her desperate pleadings driving him to manipulate the teasing feather faster.

He worked it slowly up over the mound of her genitals and across the flat white plane of her belly pausing for a moment and then up to the sides of her rib cage, playing tantalizingly with the soft, tender area under her arms. This almost drove Claire crazy and it was with relief that she felt it crawl up over her full ripe breasts and begin to gently caress the nipples into throbbing sensitivity. In spite of her revulsion toward the depraved little man subjecting her to these horrible indignities her feeling was slowly changing. Her cries of humiliation and torture tapered off into deep groans of forced pleasure. Her thrashing body quieted to slow helpless writhing of uncontrolled sensation. The feather slowed its flicking to soft gentle stroking that brought tingles of wicked pleasure to her body, exhausted from the struggles against the lewd torture. Small rivulets of sweat dripped from her torso wetting the softness of the ermine cover below her.

Tears of frustration again brimmed her eyes as she felt the control of her body slipping away. She had vowed she would never again allow it to betray her no matter how much temptation it might be subjected to, but the sheer hopelessness of her position and the feather in the hand of the master debaucher, violating all the sensitive, unprotected parts of her shackled form, were forcing her into helpless submission.

Against her will, her proud, firm breasts throbbed up into rock-hard roundness and the peaks tweaked up hungrily as the tantalizing feather made small delicious circles around the coral-white aureoles. As the maddening instrument began its downward journey again, she found to her fascinated horror her body reaching upward to absorb its soothing caresses. It dwelled long again on the whiteness of her belly and in the flexing hollows of her inner thighs, again causing a slow uncontrollable undulation of her rebellious hips and causing her again to draw her thighs back up into the crab position as far as the binding chains would allow. The split of her crotch was again wide-open to the leering, lust-crazed eyes of her tormentor below. With a lewd chuckle, he flicked the tip quickly without warning against the sensitive puckered ring of her ass, clearly exposed in the crevice between her full white asscheeks. The tight, rubbery orifice jerked in surprise and tried to screw itself down into the mattress to escape the cruel soft probe.

"Aaaaagggg," she gasped between clenched teeth, "D - Don't! Please, please don't. I can't stand it, I can't stand it! It's driving me crazy!"

A sadistic laugh answered as she bucked and squirmed against the teasing probe of her clasping ass. She tried with all her strength to close her legs, but the chains held her tight. There was no relief.

"Oh, p-please, p-please, ooooh, ooooh, stop, stop, stop!" she grunted, squirming as though being tortured by fire. "You're killing me, you're killing me!"

"Would you rather be fucked, my dear?" Max hissed softly, increasing the pressure slightly against her anal orifice.

"No! No!" She groaned piteously.

A quickening of the flicking feather.

"Aaaagggh, I - I mean yes! Y - Yessss," she hissed helplessly. "Anything, anything, but stop. Oh God, please stop!"

As suddenly as it began, the tortuous tickling lifted from between her legs. Claire's straining muscles relaxed in relief, her body exhausted from fighting against her bonds and a thankful gasp of grateful warm air rushed from her lips. But only momentarily, as the thought of what she had screamed in her mad attempt to escape the torture returned to her mind. Her body had failed her again, and now he was going to do it to her, too, like all those faceless men had in Tijuana. He was going to fill her belly with his lewd cum until she screamed in surrender. He would show her no mercy, she knew that. She knelt he would pick and pull at her helplessness until he had utterly destroyed her will to resist. He would crush her pride like stepping on a helpless butterfly fluttering in agony on the street. Her eyes looked with glazed longing at the small brown packet dangling a thousand miles above her tortured form and she fought back the urge to scream at him and curse his wickedness. She had to have that packet, she just had to. There was no other choice.

"I've a surprise for you, my dear," his voice suddenly broke through the barrier of her thoughts. "Remember, I told you my tastes were different. Well now you shall see after we have a drink to refresh us a bit."

Max, now dressed in a robe, pressed a buzzer and instructed Sidney over the intercom to bring a bottle of Scotch. He appeared a few moments later glancing only an instant at Claire's spread-eagled form. She blushed, wondering how many times he had seen this. Nothing seemed to affect the staid English butler, not even the nude girl stretched helplessly on the bed.

After Sidney had gone, Max released her ankles and wrists and Claire pulled herself painfully to the sitting position on the bed. She accepted gratefully the Martini Max poured from the thermos turning the glass up, drinking greedily of the cool liquid that he had poured over ice. She shook her head slowly, trying to regain some of the composure lost under the tortuous teasing of the feather.

Max sat by her running his fingers hungrily over the softness of her flesh He purred his appreciation of the beauty of her body. Claire did not resist but sat in servile acceptance of his obscene attentions to her breasts and thighs. She was beyond caring now. Nothing more could be done to her that hadn't already been done in Tijuana. One more time wouldn't matter. She had become a common whore and she stared blindly ahead wanting only to get the awful ordeal over with. There was nothing else she could do.

"You will enjoy my little surprise, dear. All my visitors do, though some not as much as others. But I think you will. You seem to have a special sensitivity that comes to the surface under certain circumstances. We will provide those circumstances for you. You will see, I will not disappoint you."

He licked his lips as he spoke and doubt again began to arise in Claire's mind but she quickly dispelled it. She closed her mind to thoughts of resisting and turned the glass to her lips. The soothing drink helped, replacing that partial numbness which had worn off during her ordeal on the bed. She could feel herself deadening the racing thoughts in her mind again and she finished the last of the glass, thrusting it loosely toward the fidgeting Max next to her for refill.

"My dear," he consoled smilingly, "I hope you are not building false courage. I have told you I will not disappoint you."

"Make it big," she answered, slightly slurring her words. It was affecting her again and she welcomed the deadening feeling coursing through her. She couldn't stand him touching her when the time came otherwise.

Max poured her another Martini, adding a few cubes of ice.

"Here, this should help you relax. I don't want you to fear me, my darling, I want you to enjoy my company."

Claire ignored him. She could not bring herself to talk to him. She was still afraid she might lose control of herself and say or do something that would spoil it all and she would never get the pictures back. She drank deeply, the alcohol burning into her throat like fire, but doing its job; providing her the oblivion she desired and she could feel its nerve-calming affect seeping deeper with each swallow from the glass. Her sight blurred for a moment and she was conscious of Max's beady eyes focused closely on her every move. She knew he was waiting until he thought she was ready.

Why, she wondered dimly through the alcohol, is he letting me get drunk when he knows I'm at his mercy. He must know I can't stand for him to touch me.

Max answered her question a moment later when he took her by the hand and pulled her limply to her feet. He led her to an alcove screened by black velvet drapes.

"Now, my dear, you shall have the experience of your life. There aren't many women who get this opportunity." He grinned evilly into Claire's face as he slowly drew the drapes apart.

"Voila," he smiled proudly. "There is your lover."

Claire's heart suddenly jumped to her throat in spite of the alcohol. In a space about ten feet square and totally covered with mirrors from wall to ceiling sat a strange, menacing machine that caused sudden chills of fear to ripple over her.

"W - What is it?" she stammered in disbelief.

"It's a loving machine, my dear," he answered proudly. "My own design."

"B - But what does it do?" the poor girl whimpered, her mind working rapidly. "I-I thought you w-wanted me."

"No, my dove. I'm what you might call a "voyeur." I prefer to watch rather than touch. Most of the time anyway. That's why I have had my little pet here constructed. Come, I'll explain it to you."

Claire held her breath and moved cautiously with him as he pulled her toward the evil looking contraption. She had never heard of anything like this and suddenly the bitter truth of the alcohol came to her.

This was why he had let her drink so much! He knew she would resist this inhuman demand that she submit to a machine!

Max began his explanation, noting with glee the rising fear in her eyes. He had seen it often on others of his little playmates forced into the same position. A little fear made it more enjoyable, particularly as he could follow it slowly turn to lust under the tireless ministrations of his machine. He was proud of it and considered it one of his greater accomplishments. It had all the necessary factors to make it the greatest lover in existence. It more than made up for his impotency. After all, is was his creation, and there, him in action.

"You see, my dear. I have learned something from our space program. This a contour couch," he smiled proudly, patting a soft, plastic-covered stand on the floor. "This has been molded perfectly to fit underneath a kneeling female body. Notice it even has foam rubber lining for comfort."

Claire's eyes widened as she followed his description of the obscene mechanism. It looked like some kind of exercise machine. The plastic form was formed perfectly to take the female body kneeling on all fours. It was complete, even to two openings at the chest for the breasts to protrude and straps on the sides to bind the occupant securely onto it. He could control the angle of legs and torso by movable parts. Just behind where the asscheeks would be, was a steel rod about two feet long, threaded so objects could be screwed on. The rod was connected to an arm coming up from a small electric motor on the floor.

"This, my dove, is the heart and soul of my little pet," he chuckled at his humor. "Here we attach the instrument of your desire. We have all shapes and sizes. Thick, thin, long, short, you just name it. I have had them molded from a special flesh-like rubber and they are true life in every respect, except they do not have the one weakness of man, they never grow soft. It is perfection and could make love to you through all eternity without tiring. You will love it, I promise."

Claire's heart skipped another beat. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This vile little man expected her to submit to the monstrous ordeal of being skewered by a machine while he sat back and enjoyed her humiliation. The thoughts of the pictures slipped from her mind and she turned to him with hatred in her eyes.

"I won't do it. It's sick, do you hear? I'm not an animal and that's what you need, an animal!" Tears streamed from her eyes as she spat her contempt out at him, her body quivering in shame and frustration.

"We have an agreement, my dear. Have you forgotten so soon?" he chuckled softly, knowing it was just a matter of time before he'd have her proud, voluptuous body stretched over the machine. He enjoyed the playing. It was so much more exciting when they fought first and later gave him the satisfaction of total submission. He'd soon destroy the pride of this haughty little bitch. She would plead with him for more by the time he was through. He had not devoted his life to sensual pleasures without learning something about human nature and he knew her well enough by now to know that her very pride would be her downfall.

"We shall just stop the clock for a few minutes to allow you to compose yourself. Perhaps another little drink would help also." He smiled vindictively.

"S-Stop the clock. Why you can't! Our agreement was for you to make love to me. N - Not something like this." She directed her eyes in horror at the instrument in front of them. Max ignored her, walking to the other side of the room to stop the clock. He poured her another drink and handed it to her while Claire stood immobile in the alcove. She lifted the glass and greedily poured the cool liquid down her throat.

"There," Max gleamed, "that should settle your nerves."

"Please start the clock, Mr. Schroeder," Claire whimpered, her eyes downcast to the floor.

"Max," he corrected.

"Please start it, Max," she whimpered again, her voice softening in surrender.

"You have offended me, my dear. You must first prove that you are sorry. The next hour shall not count and if you have not convinced me by that time, then our agreement is off and I shall have prints of the pictures on the streets of San Diego and off in the mail to your husband tomorrow morning. Now finish your drink."

His voice turned coldly and chills ran through Claire's body as the sudden recollection of her bargain returned to her. Max would not waver in his cruel demands and she was certain he would keep her here for a week if necessary. No one would miss her, she was hopelessly lost and her only salvation lay in seeing this through no matter what. She drained the glass, tears brimming to the corners of her eyes for the thousandth time today.

"That's a good girl," Max chuckled, enjoying the look of helpless resignation that crossed her face. "You shall have those pictures back in no time."

"Please start it now, Max, I beg you," Claire whimpered again, unable to bear the thought of an additional hour.

"We shall see, my love. We shall see how well you put your heart into the task at hand. Now be a good girl and come over here."

Claire hesitantly walked to the machine, resigned to her fate. Max took her hand and helped her onto all fours into the plastic mold. He fastened a leather strap behind her small waist just above where it flared into the broad, voluptuous curves of her hips. This held her torso tightly into the foam rubber pressed against belly and chest. Her ripe full breasts swelled through the apertures like ripe succulent fruit, the whiteness of their soft flesh contrasting sharply with the black of the smooth plastic. The fronts of her thighs were pressed tightly into the grooves molded for them and he quickly ran straps around the back of these just above the knees, locking them, into place. She could see herself in the mirrors surrounding them, held in the same helpless position as the girl with the dog in Tijuana. Max then took her arms and pulled them straight out to the sides, snapping them into two leather bracelets like those on the bed. They were held out as though she were doing a swan dive. Next he placed a tight leather band around the top of her head. There was a cord attached to the back of that he ran through a loop on the strap over her waist and drew it tight. It pulled her head up and back so that her face was looking straight ahead, her neck bent at a ninety degree angle with her body. She groaned painfully for a moment, until she finally adjusted to the bizarre position.

Her eyes grew wide in disbelief as she saw in the mirror what had happened to her in the space of a few short seconds. She squirmed against the straps holding her with all her strength but it was useless. She could not move. The humiliation and shame were too great as she suddenly sobbed in her frustration. The white rounded cheeks of her asscheeks stood high behind her, completely vulnerable. She felt a stab of fear at her total helplessness.

"Now my love, make your choice," Max said beaming with lewd delight at the poor girl bound before him. He opened a mahogany box before her horrified eyes. She gasped as she saw the lascivious contents. As he had promised, there were about ten rubber phalluses, each in its own slot. Claire was amazed at how realistic they looked, even to the color; equipped too with a set of huge balls that even had realistic hair growing from them. He teasingly pulled the largest from the box and held it close before Claire's tortured face. She groaned in anguish as the size of it became clear to her alcohol blurred eyes. It must have been at least nine inches long, with a head that was about two inches across.

"How's this one?" he gloated in front of her tightly bound form. "This should make quite a dent in your belly."

"Oh God, no please," she whimpered. "I can't take it. I can't take it."

He replaced it slowly in the box, an evil leer fluttering across his face.

"Then, let's try this one for a starter. This should stretch it a little."

He pulled the second largest from the box. It was smaller, but not much. Perhaps an inch in length and a quarter of an inch in diameter less.

"Oh, no, nooo!" Claire screamed as Max walked around the machine. She could see him in the mirror screwing the horrible instrument onto the steel shaft, pointed directly at the wide-open split of her crotch behind.

"Please, please don't do that to me."

"You'll like it, my dove. Remember, I promised you would. I still have some surprises for you."

He took a pitcher from the table where Sidney had left it earlier and Claire could see him pouring something into the rubber sac dangling beneath the huge menace of the penis. "Hot olive oil, my dear. I can squirt it into you anytime with the control button in my hand. This controls the speed and depth of the machine." He held a small box that looked like a television set remote control box. It was connected by several long wires to the base of the machine.

"We can make it do anything we want it to with this," he smiled. "All you have to do is ask me when the time comes - and - oh yes, I almost forgot something."

He bent over and quickly attached two rubber suction cups on the ends of long tubes, to the nipples of Claire's breasts, which protruded through the holes in the contour couch. She tried to pull back from the sudden contact but her bonds held her tight.

"W-What are you doing?" she moaned, the cool feeling of the rubber on her nipples sending chills along her spine.

"Just preparing you, my dove. We mustn't forget anything," Max answered gleefully, standing back and surveying the helpless girl with pride. "We must first prepare you."

He reached behind, rubbing his hands lewdly over the full rounded contours of her imprisoned asscheeks, stroking them greedily. He dug his fingers into the softness of the flesh for a moment as though unable to take his hand away, then with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, he gently spread the fleshy, hairy lips of her pussy apart. They were dry and unprepared and Claire clenched her teeth tightly together in fear that he was going to hurt her. Instead, he reached to the small table beside them and dug his fingers into a jar of Vaseline. He gently swabbed the lubricating jelly the length of her pink warm slit, inserting his index finger fully into the fleshy warmth of her cunt. He rotated it around and around, swabbing the Vaseline deep into the soft folds, preparing it for the entry of the poised rubber member on the piston-like shaft.

"You are too tight my dear. I didn't realize you had had such little usage. We must take care of that."

He loosened a bolt holding the sheaths enclosing her thighs and moved her knees much farther apart. Claire's legs stretched wider and wider until she thought he was going to split. She cried in protest as she felt her behind stretch, the walls of her narrow pink slit popping open wide from the harsh outward pull.

"That's more like it," he chuckled, pulling the huge waiting member forward and pressing the giant rubbery head between the lips of her cruelly stretched pussy until it was poised for entry. Claire tried to struggle forward as she felt the soft, spongy substance inserted into the sensitive, lubricated lips but, again, it was useless.

Max sank into the soft chair next to the machine. It was located just behind Claire's upraised asscheeks so that he could get a perfect view of the skewering of her helpless cunt. He held the control box tightly in his sweating palms, eager to begin the depraved ravishment of the innocent beauty bound before him.

Claire lay in hopeless dejection, so tightly bound to the rubber-lined contour couch that she couldn't move a muscle. Waves of shame and humiliation washed over her like some evil tide of foreboding. She was glad now for the alcohol or she could never have stood being stretched in this lewd position with the evil little man free to do with her as he wished. And the worst, she didn't dare to complain, he might keep that horrible clock off for another hour after this one and she would never get the photographs back. Her tortured thoughts were interrupted by Max's gleeful voice from the chair. She could see the nervous smile of anticipation crossing his lips in the mirror in front of her. With the reflections of the other mirrors around the alcove it gave her a complete view of all that was happening to her.

"First, my little bunny, we must get you in the proper mood for enjoying my love making. I have special effects for that." She watched in the mirror with horrified fascination as he pressed one of the many buttons on the control box and suddenly gasped at the reaction. A gentle sucking motion began at the cups connected to her nipples and the contour couch began, simultaneously, a slow almost imperceptible vibration beneath her torso. Her breasts involuntarily hardened slightly at the first weird tug at her nipples. Goose-bumps rippled along her skin. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. An exquisite sensation a thousand times softer than any lips that had ever touched her. A second later, she felt the tender rubbery penis at her rear begin a gentle up and down movement along the sensitive outside edges of her pussy, staying teasingly just inside the moist, pink slit of her wide-stretched crotch.

My God, she thought, it's inhuman! It's WAY TOO BIG!

She was caught unaware by the gentle probing of the machine. She had geared her mind to expect a harsher and more sudden attack on her helpless sex organ. But this, this was different, it was unexpected and subtle and she felt violent shudders coursing along her nerves, their intensity increased a hundred times by the rigidity of her position. Her toes squirmed beneath this soft attack helplessly, not able to resist it. She groaned, crying as she prayed her body would not betray her again. She couldn't give him that satisfaction too. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and fought it with all her strength, but the leering Max was not about to let her escape now.

"You like my love making, my dear. I can tell. I shall make you very happy," he crooned. Small beads of sweat were breaking out on his forehead now as his goal was in sight. He knew he would break her will to resist sooner or later and his eyes were alert for every slight twitch of her body for the first sign of weakness.

Claire moaned again as he increased the speed of the teasing machine. She could feel the tips of her nipples being sucked, titillated by the tubes, her ripe full breasts dancing as the machine vibration became faster. The long, thick cock teasing at the portal to her pussy, suddenly flicked forward on a signal from the box in Max's hand and she grunted from sudden pain at the unexpected intrusion spearing into her. She screamed for Max to stop, tears running down her cheeks. But the incursion grew and she felt her thighs being swept wider apart as the thick lubricated instrument bored forward into the tightly clinging canal of her cunt. Her vaginal passage felt on fire. She ached and her back ached from the cruel position she was bound in. She could only moan and plead for his mercy.

"Oh, oh, w-wait, p-please wait! You're killing me!"

The phallus stopped and began a gentle vibration inside the walls of her tightly-stretched cunt.

"See," Max smiled, "I told you it could do anything." zzz "But it hurts," she whimpered desperately. "It's too big."

"My dear, we have just begun. You haven't taken half of it yet," he taunted the stricken girl, flicking the button again and driving the cruel rod another half an inch forward.

"Ooooohhh," she cried in little screams. The walls of her pussy felt as though they were being pulled away. Max pressed another button and a warm jet of hot olive oil spurted from the tip of the rubbery head, lubricating her passage. The pain eased momentarily but the penetration increased and she felt as if someone were levering her thighs apart to split her tormented body all the way up to her vibrating breasts which were being sucked without ceasing. The huge, unbending cock throbbed on, not going any deeper, but expanding, patiently, the moist warm flesh wrapped tightly around it. It continued its nerve-shattering teasing for what seemed to Claire an eternity and her body was slowly changing to a mass of nerve-tingling sensation. Her eyes were still tightly shut as she fought the lewd sensations rippling through her helpless body. The familiar waves of pleasure began creeping forcefully into her. She fought against them with all her strength but the indecent machine pursued and tantalized her breasts and cunt relentlessly. A fire was building in her that she could not control and in the end it was the very thought of her helplessness that weakened her. An excited moan escaped her lips, betraying her submission to her tormentor. She was his to do with as he wished. His for the taking, but the slavering tyrant in the chair wanted more, he had waited too long to get this proud young bitch under his thumb and nothing less than total degradation would satisfy his sick lusts now. He would teach her to scorn him as she had before, he would show her what a real man was before he was through he would have her groveling at his feet, pleading for it. A lascivious smile flickered across his fat, wet lips as he saw the involuntary rotation of her white fleshy asscheeks begin. They were free to move several inches each way and had begun to clench and open in rhythm to the throbs of the mechanical cock shoved between her legs.

My God, Claire thought through the haze, What's happening to me? What's happening to me? I can't help it, I can't help it...

"No, no," she sobbed incoherently. "Let me go! Let me go! I can't let you do it! I can't!"

"No, you like it my dove, now don't you?" Max teased from the chair. "I can feel it. Tell Max how much you like it."

He flicked the button again, sending more forceful, spasmodic throbs through the cock imbedded thickly in her vaginal passage.

"Oooooh," she groaned helplessly.

All the while, the teasing tubes attached to her vibrating breasts kept sucking madly, toying with the now-tightly-swollen mounds as though bewitched by their soft white resilience squeezing and sucking, sucking as though they were alive, until it seemed the full rounded globes would burst from the softly exquisite pleasure tingling through them.

Claire tried to arch upwards, the cords in her strained neck standing out. She flung the long blond hair beneath the band holding her head, from side to side begging him to stop, please stop!

But the fat grinning man was a master at sensual torture and played on the screaming, struggling body as a master violinist would on a Stradivarius, producing sounds of pain and pleasure from it at will; a wail of joy from a sudden throb of the embedded cock, a whine of pain from an extra excruciating suck at a nipple. The symphony played on as the moans from the shackled girl became more desperate with each brutal, teasing probe He increased the intensity of the demon cords sucking and pulling at her breasts until they jerked below her body like quivering mounds of vibrating jelly. She tried to push back at the thick instrument digging into her from the rear, she wanted more, the hot lubricating juices of her cunt had begun to flow and eased the pain, inciting her to desire, a hunger for more. The straps held her tight, she could not move back and groaned her frustration through contorted lips. She could see his small beady eyes in the mirror locked in gleeful fascination on her twisted and bent form. He knew she had reached the point of no return and he would have her as he wanted in a matter of minutes.

"Tell me, my love, tell me what you want." The taunting oily face coaxed, moving his chair closer so that he could reach out touch the vibrating whiteness of her round full asscheeks.

"I won't, I-I can't, please, please," Claire's resistance ebbed with the exquisite maddening pleasures being lavished on her helpless naked form. But she couldn't bring herself to suffer this final indignation, knowing that this was the point of final surrender. The thought of begging him to drive the teasing rod into her and quench the aching hunger throbbing now like hot licking flames in her loins; was unbearable.

"Just say it, my dear, just say it and it's yours, tell me to fuck you and I will."

Claire's dazed mind sensed in horror his use of the word "me" each time he referred to the machine! He had made it to overcome his impotency and in the act of love he became the machine! He made it do the things he couldn't; he was sick! She was in the hands of a sadistic maniac and it was too hate to do anything about it, the teasing manipulations were driving her crazy!

"No, no," she moaned lolling her head as far as she could from side to side in almost unconscious hysteria. "I won't - I can't - I can't, please don't make me, please, pleeeeease!"

"Do you like that, does it feel good?" he throbbed the penis viciously.

"Ohhh, ohhh, yes, yes it does, it doesssss!" she hissed between tightly-clenched teeth.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I - I don't know, I don't know, ohhh. No, no, don't stop, don't stop!"

"Say it then," he commanded cruelly, "say it."

"Oooohhh, ooohhh," the helpless girl moaned, all resistance drained from her distorted mind. "Give it to me! Give it to me!"

"Not like that, my dear," he tormented, "you know the right words."

"Oh, no, don't make me, I won't," she wept uncontrollably, unable to bring herself to this ultimate humiliation.

"Say it," he commanded harshly, then added the ultimate cruelty as she sobbed in humiliated remembrance. "Beg me the way you did those men in the pictures."

He increased the maddening probing until Claire had no resistance left. The fiery hot ball deep in her belly screamed for release from its agonies. Nothing mattered anymore but to still this crazed hunger within her and she began blurting out incoherently all the vile filthy words she knew, pleading with him, the lust in her desire-wracked body driving her on.

"Oh God," she moaned in final surrender almost shrieking at him. "Fuck me, fuck me with it! Go on! Go on!

Max pressed the button with the glee of conquest sending the huge thick shaft racing up into her, pushing the soft ridges of the moist warm walls of her cunt before it like a rampaging bull-dozer, until it was buried the full ten inches deep in her wide-stretched cunt. He stopped it for a moment at the apex where the giant rubbery head throbbed menacingly against the hard flat end of her womb. Claire's mouth opened and closed in unexpected torment until gradually she became accustomed to the trunk-like rod imbedded n her. She could feel the huge skin-like balls brushing against her clit between the wide-spread thighs. A strange masochistic joy rippled through her. Even the pain was weirdly pleasurable and she waved her asscheeks back against it as much as the restricting belts holding her down to the stand would allow. The sight she made in the mirror incited her more. This was total subjugation, being bound helplessly on her knees this way, her arms straight out in the air, breasts jiggling crazily underneath from the weird ministrations of the suction Cups. She could see from the reflections in the mirror behind, the giant rod impaling her.

God, it was huge!

It appeared as though her asscheeks were stretched beyond all human endurance. And that monstrous instrument he had waved before her face was now sunk all the way between them. She could even see the tiny pink ridges of her moist pussy clasped tightly around the edges of it. God what a hole it made in her. The lewd picture of her humiliation made her squirm back at it again to punish herself more.

"Is it good?" Max panted, now stroking the white globes of her quivering asscheeks with one hand, sweat rolling Tom his face in profusion. "Do you like it?" He throbbed the instrument again.

"Oooohh! Yes, do that again! Oooohh, it's good, good!"

"Better than your husbands he drooled, slowing the throbbing of the impaling cock to hear her final admission of depraved submission. Claire suddenly moaned at the reminder of Dave, a battle raged within her. She just couldn't say it, it was all she had left.

"Do you want me to stop," he taunted lewdly.

"Oh, no," she panicked at the thought, "not yet, not yet."

"Then say it! Say, you are better than Dave, my darling," he throbbed the cock again.

"Oooohhh, yes, yessss!" she hissed between closed teeth. "You're better, you're better than Dave, my darling."

Max grinned an obscene grin of victory. He had her now. She wanted it with all her being and now by God he was going to give it to her. He flicked several switches on the box and the couch started an up and down motion, sending her white quivering asscheeks high up in air and then down again as a jockey riding a thorough-bred horse. The arm connected to the motor began a back-and-forth motion in time to the couch, the thick mechanical cock fucking in and out of her round-stretched cunt in thrusts that traveled its full ten inches of length. A moist, sucking sound of intercourse sounded through the alcove and the slap of the swinging balls against her soft belly joined it melodiously. Max licked his lips hungrily as he watched the reddish skin of the tight, little pussy draw back with the prick, clutching as it as if it didn't want it to come out and then disappearing inside again with each forward lunge.

Claire groaned out her submission to the lewd sensations racing through her mechanically-ravished body. Her toes curled tightly against the soles of her stocking feet as she was bucked up and down, sucked and fucked like a helpless slave by the great, driving machine. Max, the control box still in his hands, was kneeling down over her now coursing his palms over the sensitive skin of her sweating body. He pressed the asscheeks farther apart, spreading them obscenely and teasing at the red, puckered little hole of her ass with his fat thick middle finger. Suddenly, he thrust it forward into her ass just as the rubber cock rammed deep into her belly, impaling her like an insect.

"Ooooohhhhh," she grunted as he moved it around deep in her ass, expanding the tiny, tight hole in time to the fucking of the cock into her cunt below.

Oh God, how he was debasing her! Treating her like a common whore he had bought for the night. The strange masochistic pleasure rippled through her again. She wanted to be destroyed by it, she wanted to be fucked until she could never walk again. The lewd subjugation of her helpless, kneeling form was driving her wild with lust-incited sensation.

"Oooohhh, fuck me, fuck me good," she chanted through contorted lips, sweat dripping from her straining face, the rhythm of the machine and the skewering of her asshole and cunt egging her on.

The finger popped from her ass as suddenly as it had slithered in. A great gush of cool air pushing over the plundered hole. Max was kneeling suddenly in front of her, holding her cheeks between his hands, his short, fat cock standing up in erection under the heavy roll of fat hanging from his hair covered belly.

"Suck it," he hissed through her torment.

She resisted for a moment, sickened by the sudden sight of the short fleshy instrument. It couldn't be over four inches long, no wonder he relied on the machine. Her strange random thoughts were cut short as he rammed the thick rod of flesh in, crushing through her soft moist lips into the wet saliva of her mouth. She could feel the spongy bluntness of the head sliding the length of her tongue, lifting momentarily her concentration on the huge member ramming into her from behind.

Gloating above her tightly-strapped head, he began to undulate his pelvis, sliding the short fat prick in and out of her mouth, never quite withdrawing, leaving the hot, swollen head a half an inch inside the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. Claire closed her eyes tightly to block out the horrible sight of the graying pubic hairs growing at the thick base of the cock which rammed mercilessly into her contorted face. Moisture filled her mouth, puffing her cheeks wide as he shoved forward, burying the rod deep in her throat, keeping pace with the cock fucking ceaselessly into her widespread asscheeks behind.

Max looked down with lewd delight at the sweat-glistening body of the helpless, strapped girl, skewered between his cock in her mouth and the mechanical cudgel behind. He timed his thrusts at her contorted face to match those of the machine, ramming forward as it did, levering up on his toes thrusting with all his strength, trying to meet the head of the other deep in her belly. He held her head tighter as she coughed and sputtered below as the tip rhythmically brushed her tonsils on the in-stroke, watching her tender lips clasping tighter and tighter around it as her mouth became accustomed to the fleshy intrusion.

Claire suddenly felt the rising tide beginning deep in her quivering belly. The very hopelessness of her position and the debasing ravishment of her body brought tiny strange ripples of fire dancing through her tattered nerves. She licked and sucked at the fleshy hardened rod imbedded in her mouth like a demon, her glands slimy from the mixture of his lubricating fluid and her own saliva. She sucked for it to end as she felt her own insides erupting in great white flashes of fire tunneling through her veins in a ever ending stream of building pleasure. It suddenly burst and she groaned around the thrusting cock in her mouth as her orgasm flooded in great sensual waves of cum around the jack-hammering cock in her cunt, seeping in warm rivulets out of the vaginal lips clasped tightly around its base and down the insides of her quivering thighs. It was indescribable and the whole of her crotch felt wet and used beyond belief. Tears of unconscious joy rolled from her eyes.

At the same time she felt his loins crush into her face, the fleshy roll of his stomach pressing tight against her forehead. His hands gripped her behind the head pulling it forward as though he were trying to meet the cock thrusting deep in her belly. He groaned a soul-searing groan and flooded her mouth with his hot, thick cum which spurted thickly down her throat in great waves. She gulped automatically, swallowing the sweet, pungent liquid hungrily to satiate the abandoned feeling of self debasement that flooded over her helplessness. There was nothing else in the world except the heated throb of her wet passage behind and the spewing cock in her mouth. She wallowed obscenely in the pleasure of subjugation to the fat little man jerking into her face.

When it was over and he had flicked the machine off with the box in his hand a seeming eternity later, she still moaned and cooed, nibbling gently at the sticky, deflated cock in her mouth. He stroked her hair above, cooing, and pressed the button that slowly withdrew the giant cock from her forever-stretched cunt. It slipped out with a gentle sucking noise as a great cool rush of air filled it where the instrument had worked it to white hot orgasm a moment before. He stepped back, withdrawing the cock in her mouth with a slight plop, a thin string of semen following it away.

Claire lay panting in utter exhaustion. Her tortured body could not move as she watched him stagger back and collapse in the chair next to her still tightly strapped body. Her eyes fluttered closed and exhausted sighs of satiation escaped through her sperm covered lips. The shame of her surrender to has depraved rape seeped slowly back into her tortured mind.

"My dear girl, you've been wasting your talents working as a secretary," Max chuckled a little later as he unstrapped her still shaking body from the machine. "We should channel them into something that more befits your temperament."

Claire stumbled to the bed collapsing on it, arms and legs spread obscenely wide. She couldn't bear to move to even try and cover herself after the experience on that dreadful machine. The shame and humiliation of what had just been done to her was too much for the tormented girl. Not only had her body betrayed her shamelessly to this beast, but had also betrayed her deep love for Dave. She had turned into an animal herself and all thoughts of decency had deserted her in her wild quest for her own selfish sensual satisfaction.

She clenched her fists so tightly together her knuckles hurt when she thought of the depths of degradation to which he had brought her. The words he had made her use, and worse, that he had made her want to use. There was nothing she wouldn't do at this moment if she could just erase these last few horrid minutes from time forever and replace them with anything, anything but what had occurred.

"Here, my dear, I think you need this," Max interrupted her thoughts and handed her a drink and lighted cigarette. "But don't drink it too quickly, we don't want you to get too insensitive, do we?"

Claire lifted herself exhaustedly to one elbow and accepted the drink. She turned the glass up and almost drained it with one gulp to erase the dry thick taste of Max's semen in her mouth. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her drinking his soda and ice that he had fixed for himself and ran his hand languidly over Claire's full rounded hip that rose in profile as she lay on her side. She made no move to stop him or pull away from his possessive caress. She no longer cared, nothing mattered anymore. She had descended as far into the cesspool of depravity as one could go in her attempt to regain the pictures upon which her husband's future happiness rested, anything else that happened after this could not be worse so she resigned herself to suffer his humiliations, whatever they might be for the period they had agreed upon.

"You liked that, didn't you, my dove?" Max said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Claire's mind suddenly rebelled again at his possessive familiarity and she had to strike back at him. She sat up abruptly on the bed.

"Mr. Schroeder," she said, glaring at him coldly. "Please don't call me "my dear." I've agreed to your terms because you've forced me into it and I've no other choice but I won't give you my soul, Mr. Schroeder, and you can't make me, no matter what you do."

"Are you so certain, my dear Claire?" Max smiled, his small beady eyes staring straight back into hers.

"Yes, I'm certain," Claire spat at him, she wanted more than anything in the world to hurt this vile, little man because of the indescribable humiliations he had just heaped upon her helpless bound form. "Look at you, do you think anyone could even lie next to you, you fat slimy thing, unless you forced them to do it the way you did me, You're revolting and disgusting!"

Almost before the last words were out of her mouth, Claire was sorry. In her sudden desire to fight back and avenge her own weak surrender, she had forgotten the reason she was here. She almost reached for him to apologize and to say she didn't really mean those things but his hard cool stare cut her short.

"All right, Mrs. Bachman, if that's the way you want it, then that's the way it shall be."

Max rose from the bed and walked over to the clock, patting its face. He turned and looked at her crumpled form on the bed.

"Remember the rules, it doesn't start again until I'm pleased. And believe me, Mrs. Bachman, I can be very difficult to please once I have become angry."

He pulled his robe together, tying it with the terry-cloth belt and walked toward the door.

"I'll be back tomorrow when you've had time to think," he said, his small cruel eyes penetrating her. "I hope you'll be in a more receptive mood."

With that, the opened the door and left, bolting it behind him. Claire's eyes flooded with tears. She collapsed on the bed moaning to herself.

"What have I done? Oh God, what have I done now?" Her clenched fists pounded the bed beside her in frustration. She had never felt so alone and helpless in her entire life. She sobbed herself into a deep but troubled sleep, her mind dwelling on the envelope above, and wondering how much she would have to go through to start its slow, tortuous descent again. Her pussy felt stretched and used as it never had before and her last conscious thought was of the huge mechanical cock, drubbing ceaselessly in and out of her belly from behind while Max had emptied his evil cum load mercilessly into her mouth in front.

She awoke with a start. Sidney was standing over her with a large glass of orange juice.

"Mr. Schroeder said to give you this to keep up your strength, Madam," he said, maintaining his icy reserve.

Claire crimsoned when she realized that she was still nude. She vainly attempted to cover herself with her hands but there were just too many critical exposed areas to allow it.

"May I have some clothing, please," she asked in an almost whisper, attempting to maintain as much dignity as possible.

"No madam, Mr. Schroeder instructs that you are to have no clothing or food until he instructs."

"But-but I can't just stay here like this. I must at least have something to cover myself."

"No one will enter, madam, except me, and I'm just not interested. There is a bathroom with all the things you need." Sidney pointed to a door next to the dressing room Max had shown her last night. "Please don't feel any animosity toward me, Mrs. Bachman, I am only an employee and follow Mr. Schroeder's orders."

He left the room, again bolting the door and left Claire still sitting in the center of the bed, her arms ineffectually thrown around her exposed breasts and thighs. As soon as he was out the door, Claire tried the dressing room door. She remembered it had clothing in it. It was locked. She went into the bathroom and found on a dressing table, all the things a woman needs for her toilet. There were several packs of cigarettes and a small silver tray of the thin brown hashish cigarettes. She looked at them in curiosity. She had not really had the chance to study them in Tijuana, the room had been dark, but had wondered what they really looked like.

Such a small thing, she mused, and yet so powerful to dissolve one's will. She thought at first, of flushing the evil little things down the john, but decided against it, thinking it might drive Max to further anger. She knew now that if she was to ever get out of here she must not allow that to happen again. She left the cigarettes where they were and brushed her teeth, showered, and combed her hair. At least she could maintain the dignity of bodily cleanliness, if nothing else. This was important to her and snide her feel better in spite of her hopeless situation.

When she had finished her toilet, she returned to the large room and began to cautiously explore it. Last night she had been so upset emotionally and so filled with Martinis that she didn't really remember it clearly. She did remember the mural and all its details. How could she forget, she thought, the way Max had described it and the language he had used in doing so? The racks holding the long poles and whips were locked. Undoubtedly, to prevent her from fishing for the envelope with them. Not that it mattered, the door was locked and she had no clothes. What would she do if she was able to get them down anyway?

In one corner was a large bookcase that attracted her attention. It must have held at least two hundred books. The titles were strange and were not familiar to Claire. They were all bound in beautiful red leather covers with the titles in gold. No authors were listed. She pulled one out at random with the title, "History of Female Self-gratification, Illustrated."

She took the glass of orange juice Sidney had left, and a package of cigarette and curled up in one of the large, soft chairs that circled the bed with the book. She was ravenously hungry in spite of her anxiety and the orange juice helped to quell it a bit. She lit a cigarette and began thumbing through the voluminous pages.

It was the strangest book she had ever read and at first revolted her with its pointed language but as it progressed she became more fascinated with the subject. It explained in lurid detail the methods women used in bringing about sexual gratification without the aid of a man. Detailed photographs were interspersed between the pages of description. One such photograph showed a strange contraption upon which the woman could lie on her back and by turning a bicycle pedal above her could adjust the rate of speed of a mechanical lover below. Various sized instruments could be attached to the pistol-like device. There was another of a plain rubber instrument whose shape caused her to flush in embarrassment even though she was alone. It was obviously for hand use only. Along with the photographs were detailed histories of each. It described their uses, the pleasures they could bring, and even in some cases detailed drawings of how they might be constructed.

Claire went through several other books, all of which were illustrated and explained graphically the actions taking place in these illustrations. One had described and pictured all the positions of love with combinations of from two to five or six people involved. It was similar in detail to the mural but illustrated photographically. She was certain the artists had used some of these photos for their models when they had done the painting. They were similar in subject. Even some of the faces looked the sane.

Claire began to get restless, she had gone through both packs of cigarettes now and wondered how long she had been sitting there. It must have been quite a few hours though but she had no way of telling. There were no clocks, except the one marked off in 24 hours, and it was stopped after running only one hour and forty-three minutes though her ordeal had seemed it had lasted for days. There were no windows in the room so she didn't have the slightest idea whether it was light or dark outside. She was completely isolated from the world and this madman could keep her here as long as he wanted to as she had told no one where she was going.

Suddenly, she could hear the door opening. She tried to hide the book she was reading but it was too late. Max was in the room before she could get up out of the chair. Instead, she pressed it over her breasts to hide as much of herself as she could. This still left the rest of her exposed but there was nothing she could do about it.

"Well, my dear, I see you've found my little collection of erotic literature. Does it appeal to you now that you've tasted some of its secrets?"

Claire held herself back from cursing him as she felt like doing; she knew it would be a mistake and she wanted with all her heart to get the clock running again and leave this evil place with the incriminating photographs dangling over the bed, safely in her possession.

"Yes - I've I've enjoyed them," she lied in her anxiety to please him.

"I hope you've repented after your disgraceful outburst last night. I trust the time you've had to reconsider your position has enlightened your sense of logic."

"I-I'll do anything," Claire said, lowering her head in utter defeat. She had thought a great deal about it and there was no other way out but do his complete bidding.

"Good then, shall we have something to eat?"

"Oh, yes, please," the gnawing hunger in her sty mach was almost more than sloe could bear. She hadn't eaten a thing the day she came here because of her dread of the meeting. This would make almost two days since she had touched a thing but the orange juice.

Max rang for Sidney and he wheeled in a large table of delicious delicacies that caused Claire's mouth to water as she thought of tasting it.

"Just leave one chair, Sidney, Mrs. Bachman will be eating on the floor," Max said slyly with a wink to the butler.

"What-what-do you mean?" Claire stammered.

"Just what I said, my dear," as he sat down at the lone chair. "This is part of the game. Sit here beside me on your knees and I'll feed you. No hands," he chuckled, "if you do, no more food."

"Aren't-aren't you going to start the clock now?" Claire looked at him pleadingly.

"No, my dove, this is practice to see if you've really repented the way you say you have. Now crawl over here like a good little girl."

Claire slumped to the floor from the chair and began the seemingly endless crawl to the table. It was the most monstrous humiliation she had been subjected to yet. To have to sit on her haunches and beg for her food from this vile creature was worse even than physical abuse. Nevertheless, her hunger overcame her fierce pride and she made her way to him slowly. She could see his beady eyes playing with sadistic glee on her large breasts as they danced beneath her.

He cut into the pheasant and crammed his own mouth full with bite after bite. After what seemed an eternity to her, he took a small scrap in his greasy little fingers and threw it over on the floor some distance away. In her scramble for it, she could hear his lewd clucking in the background as he watched her exposed asscheeks swishing tantalizing back and forth in the air as she greedily lowered her face to the floor and quickly gulped the morsel down He continued this torment throughout the meal, making certain each time he threw a scrap that he had a good view of her both crawling after the bits of food and then crawling back beside him before he would throw another.

"I'm giving you practice, my dear, for a friend who's coming shortly. He likes his women crawling on the floor. As punishment for your uncalled-for outburst last night, I'm going to let him amuse himself with you for a few hours."

Despite her still unsatisfied hunger, Claire leaped to her feet beside him.

"You-you mean another man?" she blurted in horror.

"Of course, my love, I told you I would have to discipline you. Besides, I'm certain you want the clock to start again. Look, you haven't even begun to earn your little keepsakes back." He pointed to the envelope which had hardly begun its long descent down to where Claire could reach them.

"But I'm just supposed to please you," the stunned girl whimpered. "You promised, you promised if I just pleased you."

"Ah, my dear, but it does please me. You see, I'll be watching it all both for my own enjoyment, and also to make certain my friend is happy."

"You mean you're going to be in the room too?" Revulsion mushroomed inside her unbelieving mind.

"No, of course not. Nothing so crude. I'll be behind there with some other friends." He pointed triumphantly to the mirrored wall.

It was with a sudden shocking realization that Claire remembered the two- way mirror in Tijuana. He had them too!

"Oh no," she moaned sinking limply to her knees beside him. "Please don't nuke me do that, I just can't, knowing other people are watching. I just can't." She sobbed hysterically.

"Claire my dear, you did a beautiful job in Tijuana, there were at least ten people in the room when you performed so well."

"But I was drugged, that wasn't me, I didn't know what I was doing," she defended, tears streaming down both cheeks.

"I've left you some help in the dressing room. I'm certain you've seen them."

"No," she protested, "I won't ever smoke one of those horrible things again."

"That's up to you, my dear, I thought you just might appreciate the help until you get over these silly inhibitions you've been brought up with. I must go now and I want you to be ready in one hour. I can control the clock from the other room and when I feel you are earning it, I will start it. If you let me down then our little game is over for good and you can go home - without the pictures, of course - they will go in the mail," he added with an evil grin.

He left Claire crumpled on the floor in a sobbing heap and went out the door.

Shortly afterwards, Sidney came in, he stood over her shaking form for a moment and then gently lifted her to her feet by one arm.

"Mr. Schroeder has asked me to prepare you," he said, a little more warmth in his voice than usual.

"Oh, Sidney, I can't do it," she moaned as he led her into the small room with the dressing table.

"I don't think you have a choice, Madam," he answered as he sat her at the dressing table and began combing her long blonde hair out into its full length beauty again. He worked with her for about a half an hour, even applying her make-up for her, until she was presentable again and the marks of her crying had disappeared.

"Mr. Jason, the man who is coming enjoys this perfume, madam," he said as he dabbed it lightly over the critical places on Claire's body. She noticed that his touch was almost womanly and her nudeness didn't seem to affect him as it did most men. He maintained a aloofness that could only lead Claire to suspect that he had other tendencies than a desire for women.

"What - what shall I do, Sidney?" she asked, her own mind empty from the constant humiliations she had been subjected to.

"I would suggest that madam goes along with the desires of the gentleman, I would not risk displeasing Mr. Schroeder again if I were she."

"But I just can't, knowing other people will be watching. Does Mr. Jason know it too?"

"Certainly, Madam, Mr. Schroeder has brought him in to teach you a lesson. He uses him often to punish those who have been uncooperative. Mr. Jason is not a kind man. I would suggest that one of these might help," he said pointing at the tray of hashish. "The gentlemen is, to be quite frank, a brutal pig and madam may need the consolation."

With this intelligence Sidney completed her toilet and left her alone, reminding her that Jason would arrive within fifteen minutes.

Claire sat before the table for a long moment looking at the thin brown cigarettes and pondering Sidney's words. "The gentleman is a brutal pig... you may need the consolation," kept spinning through her confused mind until she reached slowly forward and picked up one from the small silver tray. She knew better than to stop and think about it, she would never be able to go through with it, she would suddenly give way to revulsion as she had done with Max last night and her last chance of getting that envelope would be gone forever and with that all her chances for a decent life again with Dave.

She lit one and took a deep, deep drag, feeling again the familiar sweet pungent taste, the biting in her throat, and the deep burning within her lungs. She held it long until the burning sensation gradually changed to one of soothing calm, slowly relaxing her tense, frayed nerves. She still sat before the mirror as she smoked, and with each pull from the thin, burning tube, she could see her own vision becoming more clear. Sidney had done her hair well and she studied the long soft strands that he had combed out to fall so loosely to her shoulders. It was fascinating to study it in detail she had never seen it quite so clearly before.

She had never really seen anything so clearly before except the last time in Tijuana. She could sense ecstatically the smoke going deeply into her when she inhaled. Her chest expanded to proportions she had never thought possible. She placed the cigarette in the ash tray and cupped her hands under her breasts. Pushing them up so she could see them closer, rolling the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, tweaking them into hardness in spite of a slight soreness from Max's attack. They were beautiful, more beautiful than she had really noticed before and her gradual massaging was causing them to rise into creamy white firmness that would not have looked out-of-place on a marble goddess. The nipples quivered before the attack of her rapidly teasing forefingers and protruded high and proud from the quivering orbs held into the air by her palms

She drew further from the tantalizing weed, holding it long, long, until it felt as though her lungs would burst from the delicious pressure being exerted upon them, glass on the table - a hairpin - she could feel within herself anything she concentrated upon, the evil weed again took its toll upon the logic of her mind.

Even the soothing effect of the two hashish cigarettes she smoked didn't prepare Claire for the shock she received a few minutes later when Mr. Jason entered the room. She had thought she was prepared for the worst. She curled up in one of the chairs to wait resigning herself, with the aid of the drug, to another round of humiliation and anguish. She had watched the envelope dangling above, still an eternity away. She had heard the key in the door and felt the fear rising in her throat as it slowly began opening. There were two of them. One, Mr. Jason himself, looked like a weasel, his eyes close-set, feral. Mr. Jason was a small man with the sharp, evil look of a Chicago gangster. There was a certain coldness in his eyes as though he didn't have a human emotion in his small, wiry body. His companion looked like the typical bodyguard and was one of the hugest men she had ever seen. He must have been six and a half feet tall and weighed at least two- hundred and eighty pounds. It was all muscle too.

"Well, what have we here, my boy?" Mr. Jason whistled at his companion, as his eyes roamed lustfully over the naked curves of Claire's young, full body. "Old Max can really pick 'em. This'll be the easiest job he's ever given us."

"Yeh, boss, he really can," the huge man answered in a thick eastern accent. "She looks like a tender one."

"She looks like just my style, Shorty," the small man said to the big one. "I don't know if there'll be anything left for you when I get through."

"Aw Boss, save a little. I can't pass this up."

"We'll see, boy, we'll see. Let's find out what she's made of first. Get me that long black flicker from the wall."

As the horrified girl watched, the big man went to the rack and unlocked it, taking a long black whip back to the other without saying a word to her. Jason made several trial cracks with it and then advanced on her.

"See this, dolly," he spat at her in his thick eastern accent. "I hope I don't have to use it too much. Max said you might be a little hesitant to play my kinda games."

Claire quivered in the chair, too frightened to move in spite of the inhibition-killing effect of the hashish. She knew she had to act the parts they desired or Max, behind the mirror, would never start the clock and she just had to get it going again and end this horrible ordeal before she lost her mind.

"Get on the floor and crawl for awhile, sweetie," he said, beaming a sly look at his eagerly smiling companion. "I wanna see it all shake."

Claire quickly slumped to the floor by the chair on all fours and began moving in the humiliating position across the softness of the rung, afraid of the long black whip held menacingly in his hand.

"Faster, faster, you little bitch, Max said we was to teach you a little respect and we can't disappoint him, now can we?" he snarled at her and suddenly flicked the whip cracking across the room to catch her with just the tip on her left buttock.

Claire groaned piteously from the stinging pain and jumped to follow his commands more quickly now. She was sobbing under the utter degradation she was being subjected to, and worse, the humiliation of knowing there were others watching her every move from behind the huge mirror. Melinda was probably there too, smirking with self-satisfaction in the knowledge that she had led her into this. God only knew how many others watched this subjugation to these two inhuman monsters Max had brought to humiliate her. She was moving as an automaton now, following the harsh commands as quickly as she could to avoid the singing lash that would snake through the air when she was just a little slow in carrying them out. Her asscheeks were raw from the welts that had been inflicted upon them and with each further move she could feel the unbearable pain grow greater.

"Hew, Shorty," Jason suddenly said after he had driven her around the room several times on her knees. "Sit down on the chair over there, I'm gonna let you stretch those little lips for me. They don't look big enough to take a real cock."

Shorty snorted eagerly, and taking off his coat, reclined back in one of the ermine covered easy chairs by the bed.

"Now come on, baby. Give Big Daddy there some of those sweet little lips." He grinned eagerly, motioning for Claire to crawl to him.

She hesitated for just a second and the cruel lash sung through the air landing on her back with a harsh whacking sound. She jumped and almost leaped toward him on her hands and knees. He straightened his legs and spread them apart so she could crawl between, sliding down in the chair at the same time so that just his asscheeks were resting on the forward edge. As Claire crawled between them he tangled his hands in her long blonde hair and pulled it down, grinding his crotch up at the same time against her face so that she could feel the hardness of his already-erect penis beneath the rough material of his pants. She closed her eyes in bitter submission, determined through her drugged haze that she would go through with it without a fight.

"Pull it out for me, chick," he hissed through leering lips, twisting her hair in his hands until Claire thought he would rip it from her head by the roots.

She reached forward hurriedly to do his bidding, anxious to escape the lash in the hands of Jason. She knew he was just waiting for the slightest excuse to punish her and she moved desperately to please them, fumbling with the zipper on his pants to release the giant throbbing cock underneath.

"Hurry it up, hurry it up," Jason shouted cruelly from behind her when she had difficulty in unzipping his fly. "Shorty's gonna cum in his pants before you even get there."

Finally, after she fumbled for another moment, the huge 11-inch fleshy instrument burst into the air through the unzipped fly. Shorty grabbed her hand and wrapped it around the thick cudgel skinning it back so that the giant red-fleshed head popped out from the thick foreskin a scant few inches from her bulging eyes. Then, Shorty's hands were at her lips, opening her mouth, and the soft spongy flesh of his cock rubbed lightly against her teeth. She could see down the full length of the rigid member. It must have far larger than the one on the machine, a full 11-inches long. She hesitated a moment, sickened by the thought of her mouth being used again as a receptacle of lust by a total stranger and of the lewd sperm he was going to pump down her unwilling throat but again the whip lashed through the air causing her to gasp for breath in pain. As her lips parted to suck in the cool air expelled by the sudden shock of pain in her quivering asscheeks the thick pole of flesh rammed forward into the moist saliva of her mouth. She could feel the gland of the giant head sliding wetly up the full length of her tongue inside, the tiny droplets of lubricating fluid seeping from it filling the warm cavern between her cheeks with its pungent salty taste.

The hips on the chair began a slow undulation, the thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth with a wet sucking sound guided by his large meaty hands gripped tightly in her hair.

Jason moved close to them to watch the puffing of her cheeks as Shorty pushed up between her clasping lips. His grin widened with each grunt the big man made ramming into her helplessly trapped face. He dropped the whip on the floor by her kneeling body and ran his small rough hands over the smooth ivory flesh, allowing them to rove beneath to her full round breasts that pointed to the floor, tweaking and twisting the small buds of her nipples into hardness; then, running them back up the sides of her body over the hour-glass curves of her waist and hips. His fingers kneaded her flesh hungrily as he watched his companion's thick sword of flesh sawing into Claire's wide-stretched lips. It was an exciting picture, the kneeling girl's helpless face being held tight between the two huge hands, and a giant penis forcing its way in and out between her red, straining lips as she groaned in submission between his legs below.

Claire could feel the fingers crawling over her naked body as her head rose up and down on the thick shaft protruding before her. She could see small tufts of dark pubic hair curling out around the base where it left the open fly. Her mind wandered in drugged semi-conscious thought- -nothing mattered anymore except to get this horrible ordeal over with and to get it over with she had to please her cruel tormentors and the spectators with Max behind the two-way mirror. She had to, she could never rest again until the packet of pictures still dangling high over the bed were safely in her hands and she had destroyed forever the lewd secret of her adultery.

She began sucking to please, running her tongue wetly around and around the slimy lubricated head and flicking the tip teasingly into the tiny open slit of the moist gland until she could feel it throbbing as though it had a life of its own and would erupt at any moment into a great gushing fountain of sperm that would Now into her mouth and throat in a never ending stream of memory. A memory she could never forget as long as she lived, it would stay with her forever and forever blotting out her chances for happiness until she died and her body had rotted in the grave, but she would not let it destroy Dave; he would never know the horrors she had gone through because of that one night of weakness and rape. She would protect him from it with all she had end all she had left now was her body. A body at the mercy of Max and whomever he chose to enjoy its secret pleasure. She would show them, drummed through her hashish hazed mind, she would show them she could please, she would make them start the pictures descending again no matter what they demanded of her. They wanted her to be a whore, she would be a whore! They wanted her to suck, she would suck! They wanted her to fuck, she would fuck!

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

Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick shaft of flesh now, sucking to end it, sucking to draw the thick milky semen from it until she killed him. Shorty groaned and twisted above her, raining obscenities down at the top of her bobbing, blonde head and watching with delight the oval shaped lips straining at this genital as though it were a stick of peppermint candy fed to a starving child. Jason played at her kneeling form like a sex-crazed fiend, running his hands brutally over the milky softness of her flesh, twisting and squeezing it until small red welts appeared behind the path of his hands wherever they touched. Groaning, the wetness of his lips dropped to her naked back, slobbering a path along her spine that sent shivers running to the tips of her laboring breasts quivering under her kneeling body. They descended down toward the crevice of her asscheeks which his hands had already pulled wide apart, his fingers curling down and rummaging in the wet slit of her pussy between the warm hairy lips that now throbbed involuntarily in time to the cock sliding in and out of her mouth.

He moistened the tip of his middle finger from the wetness of her cunt and slowly stroked it up the crevice toward her tight, tiny ass, mumbling incoherently in the excitement of having this young, voluptuous body twisting under the probing of his hands. The tip of his finger, slippery from her vaginal juices, circled teasingly around the tight nether ring guarding the entrance to her ass for a moment and then with a sudden thrust sunk deep inside.

Claire jerked forward from the unexpected digging pain and Shorty thrust up again, impaling her mouth deeper on the fleshy shaft until she felt as though it would choke her to death. She gagged slightly at the choking entry, struggling to regain her breath. It came in a great gasping sound as she sucked in her breath from the pressure of the long thin finger digging deep into her asshole. Grunts of protest escaped from around the tightness of her lips as he dug deeper and deeper expanding the tightness of her ass until she thought she would faint from the cruel probe.

Her concentration on her skewered ass was short-lived as she felt a sudden tightening of the hands holding her head down on the long thick cock. Shorty's pelvis began jerking wildly and ramming the fleshy member deeper and deeper into her sucking mouth She could feel it throbbing against the warm, slimy insides of her cheeks and tongue and she knew this was it. He was going to cum in her mouth, the ultimate humiliation was being forced upon her,

But she wanted to get it over with. She wanted to end the degradation that would take her one step closer to her goal of freedom from the evil pictures dangling over the bed. She sucked hungrily, her mouth salivating as it never had before as Jason behind stretched and pulled at the tight puckered ring of her ass, chuckling his obscene observations lewdly to himself as he played at will in the white fleshy confines of her wet upturned crevice.

Shorty groaned above her flailing head and rammed deep into her throat, holding her head in the prison of his heavy hands like a steel band. His cock began a sudden jerking motion and spewed with a vengeance the hot jets of his cum deep into her throat. Claire groaned as she continued sucking and her Adam's apple bobbed in rapid rhythm, swallowing the gushing sperm squirting hotly into the warm moistness of her mouth. She clasped her lips in a tight elastic ring around the jerking instrument, swirling her tongue around and around the throbbing head. She wanted to suck it dry, to hurt him, to punish him for the bitter humiliation he was forcing upon her. His groans of pleasure, mistaken by her for pain, incited her to greater effort. It continued for an almost eternity an she thought it would never end until finally the hands clamped at the sides of her head fell away and the giant throbbing cock gave one last hot spurt of its depleted seminal fluid and stopped. The finger in her expanded ass popped out and Jason pushed her forward.

"Lick him clean," he commanded hoarsely.

Claire followed his command quickly, anxious to end it. She began at the base where the tiny tufts of pubic hair protruded from his fly and began to lick around it twirling the tip of it her tongue into the thin sticky streams that had escaped the tightness of her lips. She could feel it jerking slightly under the easing ministrations and licked to complete her degrading task before it sprang to life again. A moment later, it extended clear of all escaped cum, glistening and wet from her saliva. She watched, her eyes inches away, as it slowly deflated and sank to softness.

"Man, that was something," Shorty breathed above, looking down at a trickle of semen down her chin. "Boss, you gotta try it."

Jason looked at him amused. There was an unmistakably cruel twinkle in his eyes that sent chill down Claire's spine. She no longer knew what to expect. These were no ordinary men and she knew now that Max had instructed them to subject her to every depraved and lewd act that came to their minds.

"I got better plans, Shorty. Get off your tail and pull 'er over to the bed. That tight little asshole looks like its never had any action. I think its about time."

Before she could resist or cry out in protest to the lewd proposal she felt herself grasped tightly by the waist and lifted bodily from the floor. Her muscles were so exhausted and cramped from the strain of the kneeling position that she would have collapsed had not she been supported on either side by Shorty and Jason who carried her unresisting body toward the bed. They flung her forward face down on it her limbs falling outward in a spread-eagle position almost as she had been before when Max had chained her down to the mattress

"Chain her hands," Jason instructed Shorty, who quickly pulled her arm up and clasped them into the same bracelets at the top of the bed that she had been bound with before. "She might get a little violent with this action. She looks like a cherry in that tight little asshole."

"W-What are you going to do?" Claire whimpered, turning her head back so that she could see Jason behind her.

"Just a little fun, dolly. Don't you worry," he grinned evilly as he unzipped his pants and dropped them to the floor. "You're gonna have the ride of your life. Old Jason here's a master at this rear end stuff."

Claire couldn't believe what he was proposing. She had prepared herself for anything now she had thought. She would give them whatever they wanted but this wasn't human. It wasn't right. He couldn't mean what he had said. He was just trying to frighten her, trying to make her crawl and plead with him. He wouldn't dare make love to her there, not like an animal!

She clenched her legs and asscheeks tightly together behind her in reaction to the horrible thought. Both his and Max's fingers had violated her ass before and it had hurt. They would kill her if they tried to make love to her there.

"Man what an ass," she heard Jason crooning from behind. "I'm gonna love this."

Through the haze she felt his small wiry hands opening her asscheeks, drawing the cheeks wide apart. She tried to hold them tensed together but the pressure of his thumbs inserted in the moist crevice was too great. They were cruelly stretched away from each other until she could feel the cool air rushing into the hot interior between her legs.

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

She could feel the tip of his finger again at the entrance of her naked ass and she clenched the puckered tiny lips tight in a desperate effort to stop the cruel penetration she knew was coming. He probed for a moment on the outer edges of the small elastic circle and then shoved forward with a grin, sinking the finger with a jerk up to the first knuckle again. Claire jumped from the anticipated pain that was not as keen as she thought it would be. It was still stretched a bit from his probing while she had sucked Shorty a few moments ago. She relaxed slightly until suddenly she felt the extra pressure of another finger ram unexpectedly in along side the first. It hurt this time and she jerked forward to escape its painful entry, her body moving a few inches up the bed, groaning as she did so.

"Oh, don't, please don't. It hurts." Tears of pain and humiliation ran from her cheeks again as the realization came to her that he had not been just talking. He was going to make love to her there. He was going to plant that long thing fully up her virginal ass in an un-natural act of love that she didn't know existed before. This was the ultimate humiliation and surrender and flickering images of the leering faces of Max and Melinda drifted through her confused and tortured mind as they must be watching from behind the mirror; as her unwilling body was being punished and used in the most obscene and degrading ways possible. She would never live through it, she could never face the world again after this horror and subjugator Surely she would die. She cringed her crotch away from him but it was useless, he planted the palm of his hand on the small of her back and pushed down tight, trapping her between the mattress, the fingers digging cruelly into her back passage, expanding it mercilessly as he twisted and turned the fingers in the tight, narrow hole preparing it for his coming assault.

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

"Kneel up," he suddenly commanded, eager for the ultimate subjugation of her shaking body.

She hesitated for a moment and felt his hand on her hips jerking them to the kneeling position her breasts still pressed tightly down on the bed. Her asscheeks were high in the air behind her, waving as in open invitation to the cruel ravishment about to begin. Her ass throbbed in abject helplessness.

"Man, she wants it, Shorty, look at that hairless little thing beg."

His knees behind her pushed her thighs wider apart, the hair of his legs brushing hard against the insides of hers. She was held wide and helpless, completely at his mercy and she bit down on her lower lip to keep back the tears of helpless frustration brimming to her eyes.

His hands grasped harshly at her hips, holding them steady in the air as she felt the long, thick cock impress itself in the moist naked split of her behind. She gasped from the first contact in surprise. It was huge! As big as the one she had been forced to so cruelly suck to completion a few minutes before. She hadn't expected it from such a small man. She could never take that in her ass without ripping her belly in half! She jerked forward again attempting to move up the bed away from it.

"Hold her shoulders down, goddamn it!" he shouted at Shorty still sitting in front of her. "The little bitch is slipping."

The big man's hands quickly dug into her shoulders, pressing them hard and flat against the mattress. She could not move. She was wide and helpless before the unnatural onslaught of the depraved man behind her. She could feel his hairy loins and his enormous searching penis probing hard into her upturned crotch. His hands coursed down over her asscheeks, his thumbs pressing on either side of the tiny puckered ass stretching it wide. Then, she felt a probing between the thumbs that was soft and rubbery at first and then grew into a hard unresisting bluntness.

"Ooooohhhh! N-No, pleaseeee noooooh!" she pleaded in a soul-shattering screech as she felt the tight resisting nether ring giving way before the unyielding pressure, the tip popping inside with a jerk.

"Hold her down, Shorty, hold her down!" Jason puffed from behind, "God, it's tight."

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

She groaned in anguish, hung on the end of the stone-hard cock like a pig on a giant roasting spit. She wanted to fart from the pressure but she couldn't, the huge cudgel blocking her stretched hole like the bung in a barrel.

Jason, muttering obscenities behind her and gasping with sadistic pleasure began to saw rhythmically and without mercy deep into the soft depths of her back passage bringing further sobs of pain and misery from her tortured lips. She had never felt so soiled and debauched in her life and her whole behind felt wet and used as Jason behind her levered up on his knees, and began to lunge the full length of his punishing rod into her with long smooth strokes. It pulled tiny ridges of her pink, clasping flesh out with the base of his prick as it withdrew for another vicious lunge inside. She was aware dimly of Shorty chuckling to himself and pushing back hard on her shoulders with each lunge the rampaging cock made into her behind, trapping her servile kneeling body between the skewering from behind and his hands in front. She was hopelessly held in the kneeling position, painfully bent like an errant slave before its cruel master.

Her body jerked and quivered and her thighs, released now that her resistance was broken, periodically convulsed as an extra hard thrust seared into her tortured asshole. She could hear his grunts of pleasure floating through the silence of the room around them and hated herself and her body for the joy it was giving him though there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to destroy him, to kill him for the degradation and humiliation he was heaping upon her against her will. In spite of her pain, she clasped tight her anal muscles trying to rip the plunging column of flesh from his body.

"Aaaaaggh," he groaned, "God, it's tight. I can't stand it," he groaned, throwing his head back in ecstasy from the warm clasping flesh enveloping it. She couldn't stand for the indecent sodomizing of her ass to continue much longer, even though the pain was lessening now. The humiliation was too great. Kneeling in total submission before the lewd eyes of the men slaving over her body and whomever else Max may have invited behind the mirror was too much for her tormented mind to absorb. She had to end it, she had to, she prayed for the strength to please them.

She began to move backward to meet the forward thrust of his cock, undulating her body and swinging her asscheeks in tiny rotating circles, clasping it tightly with the slight throb of her ass on the out- stroke. Jason above watched the reddish pink skin of the tiny round hole draw back with his cock and felt the sudden voluntary movements of her asscheeks before him.

"Let 'er go, boy," he chortled to Shorty, "she's ready to fuck."

Jason groaned again and surged into her with renewed power. He knew she was his to do as he wished now. She was a slave kneeling before him prepared to follow his every wish and command, there was no resistance left in this innocent young piece impaled on his cock He would give it to her now as she had never had it before and she would love it, she was loving it as he watched the movement of her asscheeks and the arching hollows of her back as she worked and ground back into him like a female demon, her long blonde hair falling over her face and around her neck and back as she squirmed lewdly in front of him.

Her face rolled from side to side on the mattress and he could see it flushing red from the intensity of her effort, her eyes wide in unseeing entrapment in the final quest for fulfillment. She bucked and churned her body beneath him, feeling he was nearing the end, she grunted and groaned with him, encouraging and pleading with the motions of her asscheeks for him to end it and fill her behind with the hot sperm of his orgasm.

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

"Aggggghhhhh!" she groaned piteously; he flicked again deeper. "Aaaaaaggggghhh!"

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

"Oh God, cum, cum, for God's Sake, cum!" she grunted in pain and masochistic pleasure and fucked back against him wildly.

He gasped above her, incoherent words sputtering, and shoved forward with a mighty thrust that almost tore through the walls of her quivering belly and shuddered his hot, thick cum in wave after wave into the depths of her ass. She knelt in front of him, asscheeks still waving high in the air and pressed tight back against his hairy loins as he poured his sperm deep inside her anal passage, filling her soft ass to the bursting point with warm, sticky wetness. He groaned with delight and collapsed over her body flattening her to the bed.

After awhile she felt his weight lifting from her and the softness of his deflated penis slip with a wet sucking noise from the confines of her flooded, expanded ass. She felt wet and a slight soreness there but nothing like the horror of the beginning. She was no longer a virgin anywhere anymore and there was nothing left for them to do to her. She had had it all. They had debauched and humiliated her in every way possible now and she could never forget it, but they still had not destroyed her soul and her love for Dave. She would do it again for him, a million times over, even though the blight and humiliation would live in her mind forever. But now, they wanted pleasure? - she would give them pleasure - what the hell.

"I wanna fuck her now, boss," she heard Shorty's half begging voice break through her thoughts.

"Sure, kid, go ahead, she's all yours."

She kept her eyes tightly shut, a faint smile playing across her lips and felt the chains released from her wrists. The huge meaty hands that had held her head so tightly before when he forced her to suck him rolled her over on her back.

"Spread 'em honey. Big Daddy wants to climb on board."

Claire, without hesitation, drew her legs up, her feet flat on the bed and her knees pressed together in the air. She let them limply fall apart in tantalizing slowness. She knew what they wanted now and she might as well give it to them.

"Man, look at that," Shorty gasped as he looked down at the young firm body spread waiting before him. "And she loves it."

She felt his heavy weight crawling on the bed and between her open and waiting legs. She curled them around his hips as he reached down and pressed the bluntness of his cock between the swollen pink edges of her moist and ready cunt. He drove forward with a grunt, impaling her again on the thick shaft of flesh. Claire groaned in justified surrender and tightening her arms around his neck pressed her open wet lips against his, and with a deep moan sucked his tongue deep into her mouth as she felt his huge driving cock hit bottom in her belly. Yes, she would please them, all they wanted. She contracted the muscles of her pussy tightly around the surging instrument and began a slow rhythmic rotation of her hips and asscheeks that seemed to last forever and ever. There was no longer reality, just the pleasure and animal grunts drifting down from the sweating weight crushing her into the softness of the mattress.

Claire had prepared herself for the worst. After receiving Dave's cable about arriving home in ten days, she had tried her best to convince Melinda that she shouldn't be forced to attend anymore parties but she had insisted she come tonight anyway. She had at last conceded that she and Max might give the photographs back to her. Both of them had promised her, several months ago, that she could have them back when she had either worked off the twenty-four hours, or, when Dave came back. She knew after the first few times with Max that she could never do it with that hateful clock. In the several months that had passed since he first hung the pictures up, (and God only knows how many visits), she had only been able to use up a little over three hours. He always found some reason for turning it off, despite all her agonizing efforts to please him or the many clients he allowed to use her.

Claire had often wondered about these clients. They always had eastern accents and looked almost like the characters out of old gangster movies. Max had some kind of dealings with them and she was certain it was not legal. He wasn't making all of has money on that store. It would have taken ten of them to support the way he lived. At any rate, this was none of her business. Her business was to get those pictures back tonight.

The taxi let her off in front of the now familiar house and Claire climbed the steps dejectedly for what seemed like the millionth time. She rang the bell and waited for Sidney's familiar face to answer. No one came. She tried again several times and could hear absolutely nothing from the inside of the house. She felt a momentary sense of panic. Suppose they had decided not to see her again until after Dave arrived and then demanded she make some excuse to get her out here. She had to get those pictures tonight.

Claire walked around behind the house to the swimming pool in hope the large glass divider separating it from the living room might be open. It was closed tight, and so were all the other smaller doors leading into the house from the back. She would just have to wait until someone did come, she had to talk to one of them tonight.

As she picked her way back around to the front of the house, Claire was suddenly frozen into immobility. The most blood-curdling scream she had ever heard pierced the cool night air! It seemed as though someone were being tortured horribly. Claire wanted to run but she couldn't, her feet were frozen to the ground in fear. Several dark figures stepped from the shadows surrounding the house and grabbed her. She was dragged kicking, into the house and up the stairs into Max's playroom.

Her eyes bulged and she had to place both hands over her stomach tightly to keep from vomiting at the horrifying sight that greeted her.

Max was chained to the wall next to the racks, his arms and legs stretched wide apart. Carlos was standing in front of him holding a glowing hot poker several inches from his stomach. Almost every inch of his nude body was covered with swollen black marks where the poker had seared into his fat flesh. The room stank of burned flesh. There was a pitiful pleading in hit eyes, not for salvation, but for death. He showed no sign of recognition when Claire was brought in, his eyes remained immobile, staring straight ahead as if seeing nothing.

Melinda was shackled to the bed where Claire herself had undergone so many degrading experiences the last several months. A Mexican was standing over her with the cat-o-nine-tails in his hand. Her body was covered from her face to her ankles with nasty open gashes that had been inflicted by the murderous instrument.

"Make them stop, Claire, please - please - please!" Melinda whispered through swollen lips.

Claire jumped as Melinda's pleas were cut short by the whistling smack of the multi-leathered whip biting deep into her bared breasts. A low, heart-rending groan replaced the pleas.

"Shut up slut," the Mexican spat at her. He was obviously enjoying the torture and pain he was inflicting on the helpless girl. The whip snaked through the air again, this time between her widespread thighs. Claire choked back the sickness that was building in her throat, as Melinda faded into unconsciousness.

"Well, well what have we here?" Carlos said in an amused voice when he saw Claire standing in the doorway. "Where did you find her, amigos?"

"Outside, Senor Gomez," one of the men answered. "She heard the screams."

"We should never have opened the door to let the smell from this rotten pig out. I forgot about his lung power when he doesn't have his friends around to protect him."

Claire suddenly fainted dead away, she could not take anymore of the sight of Max and Melinda, or at least, what was left of them.

She awoke several minutes later on the downstairs couch. Carlos was holding her head and making her drink some raw-tasting brandy that quickly brought her to her senses.

"Hello, Claire," he said in the thick accent she could still remember from Tijuana. "I'm sorry you see that, I know it messy."

"But why, Carlos, why?" Claire asked incredulously. "How could you?"

"Don't give sympathy, Claire, they not worth it. They die for steal money from organization. In this business, pay for thief is death. I am carry out penalty."

"You - you mean you're going to kill them?" Claire almost whispered.

"They already dead. We burn house in four minutes. I have to leave you in. I have no choice, you a witness. I kill butler for same."

"Carlos, please don't," Claire begged with all her heart. She had noticed the pictures were not over the bed when she was in the room and was afraid one of his men had them. If he ever let them out in San Diego, the entire base would soon have copies. She couldn't bear to come back and haunt Dave from the grave in that way. "I promise I won't say anything. Listen to me..."

Claire quickly related the sordid story to him, telling him about Dave and what their plans were when he returned. She poured her whole heart out in her last desperate attempt to salvage something from this awful mess. She knew her chances were slim but it was the only thing she had left to hold onto, Carlos had to understand.

"That like Schroeder," Carlos said. "He tell me it to keep you from tell about organization, what you know from store..."

"No, it wasn't, I swear I know nothing!" She was sobbing into her hands now, her voice out of control

Carlos looked at her for what seemed an eternity. She knew he was deciding between what he should do and what he wanted to do.

"Wait..." he finally spoke. "I be back."

He vaulted up the stairs and returned in a few seconds with the manila envelope.

"You love husband lots, Claire, to suffer to get this pictures." He held up the packet.

"I do, Carlos, more than you can imagine. All I want is the chance to prove it again."

"All right," he said after studying her for another moment. "I let you go!"

"And - and the pictures?" Claire asked, holding her breath.

"I give to you... but keep one. Keep honor among thieves when hold some security. Your husband important to you as my life to me. You go to police it mean - my life - it mean your husband too. Is this fair between us?"

"Oh, yes, yes it is!" She knew, with all her heart, she could trust Carlos and that they both would be bearing terrible secrets about each other. So terrible that neither dared to do anything. She leaped to her feet and gave him a warm kiss that she meant more than anything else she had ever meant in her life.

Carlos opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures. He shoved through them rapidly, taking one and shoving it in his inside coat pocket.

"You and I," he smilingly admitted. "I think much on that..."

Claire found herself grinning back at him and deep within her she was pleased with the compliment though she never admitted it to herself again as long as she lived.



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The End
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