PATRICIA
By V.P. Viddler
Part One
The midnight flight was not crowded, but still she would have not thought that
the rows all around her would be empty-- about six rows in front and behind, and
across the aisle--nobody at all sitting in them. It gave her a sharp chill of
apprehension. Could it- -but no. Impossible. Maybe it was the non- smoking
section or something. All the other passengers drowsed or sat silently in the
dim reaches of the cabin, and the isolation she felt was not conducive to the
security she had thought would engulf her as the plane took off. But it was
going to be all right. She was safe now. Nobody could know, nobody could find
her now. Safe. Wasn't she? But why--
And suddenly her mouth was dry, her stomach twisting, her throat tight with
terror. As two men sat down, one right next to her as she sat by the window,
another in the seat facing her.
For a long moment, no one spoke. She didn't have to say anything, ask anything.
She knew. With no question at all. She tried to stop her body from shaking, to
stop the instinctive moan that gathered in her mouth. She closed her eyes,
trying to wish them away, biting her lip to keep from making sounds of fright.
"Miss McKnight," the man next to her said. "My name is Tiny."
Tiny. She didn't know him, but from his name and from the sound of his voice she
knew he would be big and fat. Opening her eyes at last, she saw she was right.
The man across from her was small and bald.
"This is Matt," the big man said.
Then nothing was said for a while. She waited for her heart to stop jumping and
racing, for her throat to allow her to speak without gasping in fright. "How did
you find me?" she said finally. But it wasn't important. How they had found her
didn't matter now. What mattered was what they would do with her.
"You know who we work for, Miss McKnight," Tiny said.
God, of course she knew. And she knew what their task was. What she must do
now--any way she could--was to stop them from doing it. At any cost, she told
herself.
At any cost.
"Look," she said, swallowing but trying to make her voice calm. "Look, you can't
take me back to him. You can't."
"But that's why we were hired, Miss McKnight," Tiny said.
"I know. But look. Please. If you take me back to him, he'll kill me. You must
know that. He'll kill me. Slowly. Oh god. Look. We can make a deal. All right?"
I don't think so, Miss McKnight," Tiny said.
"Yes we can," she said. "I know we can. Listen. Anything you want. Do you
understand? Anything. Anything at all. Whatever you want. Do you know what I'm
saying to you?"
"Mr. Galli said you'd say that," Tiny said. "He told us all about it. How you'd
say just what you said. But see, Mr. Galli told us not to worry about that.
First, he said how he's got a lot more money than you do, so you couldn't give
us as much as he will if we bring you back. Then, he said, you'd offer us your
body. But he said we could have it anyway. He said we could have it even before
we brought you to him. As long as we don't bust you up too much.
And later on, Mr. Galli said, we could have a lot of fun with you. And there
won't be any limitations then. So you see, Miss McKnight, I don't think you've
got anything much to deal with, do you?"
She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg. But she didn't. She said, "If you do that
you'll have your fun and it will be over. I'll be dead. But if you don't take me
back you could have me as long as you want. For the rest of your life, if you
want. Always. Any time you want. Any way you want."
"No," Tiny said. "I don't want to die either, Miss McKnight."
"What if I scream?" she said.
"I wouldn't do that," Tiny said.
"Why? I know you probably have a knife or something, right? But so what? If you
kill me now at least I'll die quickly. I'd rather go that way than go back to
him."
"Okay," Tiny said. "What if I say I'll think about what you said. About a deal."
"Will you?"
"I'm not saying that. But let's say I will. Maybe. If you keep quiet. No matter
what."
"What do you--"
"See, Miss McKnight, that fun we talked about? That Mr. Galli said we could
have? With you? It's a long dull flight, Miss McKnight. We might as well start
now."
"Oh god--" "Now if you fight us, or scream or anything, we'll just have to hurt
you, and I don't want to do that, okay? But, like I say, if you think maybe we
could still not take you back, you wouldn't want to do anything to make things
difficult for us, would you? You know what I'm saying, Miss McKnight?"
"But--but you don't mean it--you won't really--"
"Who knows?" Tiny said. "You may be right. But you don't want to take any
chances, do you, Miss McKnight? Even if it's just a little bit of a chance.
Hardly likely at all. But you can't tell--we might want to accept your offer
once we've gotten--familiar. You know?"
She swallowed. "I won't fight," she said. "I won't scream."
"Matt," Tiny said. "Get a blanket for us. I don't think anybody can see us too
good, but let's be cautious, okay?"
Matt got a blanket from the rack and put it solicitously across her body,
covering it from shoulder to knee, as though to tuck her in for the night. Tiny
pushed the back of her seat to a half- reclining position, and his also.
"Now nobody will see what we're doing," Tiny said. His right hand slid under the
blanket, and involuntarily she stiffened. "Now you just hold still, Miss
McKnight," Tiny said. "You'll get to like this, just wait."
And his hand slid onto her breast, beneath the blanket. "Nice," Tiny said. "Damn
nice, Miss McKnight." And his hand began to knead the bulging flesh.
She bit at her lip, trying to hold still. His hand made her feel ill. "You--you
won't take me back to him?" she said. "Will you?"
"It doesn't matter," Tiny said, moving his hand to her other breast. "See, Miss
McKnight, it doesn't really matter, because if we do or if we don't, I still can
do this. I can do anything I want with you, like I said, as long as we don't go
too far. For now."
"You didn't mean it," she said, trying not to squirm under his squeezing hands.
"Did you? You'll take me back anyway. You bastard."
"I'm not saying that," Tiny said. "You just don't know, Miss McKnight." His hand
was moving now, sliding on her body.
"I hate you," she said. "I hate this. Why must you do this? Why this way?"
"I like your body," Tiny said. "It's a terrific body, Miss McKnight. I want to
appreciate it. And I want it to appreciate what I'm doing with it. Okay? I want
this body to love me, Miss McKnight. I want it to go crazy for me. I want it to
do tricks to show me how much it likes what I'm doing to it."
"God," she said. "You're crazy."
"That's not a nice thing to say, Miss McKnight," Tiny said, his hand sliding
over her stomach.
Until now his hand had touched her through her clothing; but now it was worming
itself under the waistband of her skirt.
"Don't," she said now. "Stop. Stop this. I don't cae what you do, I'm not going
to sit still for this. You'll bring me back anyway. So I don't care. Stop or
I'll scream."
"Matt," Tiny said.
Matt got up and slid his small body onto her seat, on the other side, pushing
her away from the window and closer to Tiny, pushing her so that she half-lay on
her side, facing Tiny, with Matt at her back. So swiftly that she hardly was
aware of what was happening, Matt had his arms around her and was holding her
breasts in his hands, clamping his fingers hard around that vulnerable flesh
with surprising strength, clamping her breasts brutally with his hard fingers.
Her mouth opened to cry out in pain, but the sound was muffled against Tiny's
free hand pressing against her mouth.
"Now, don't be that way, Miss McKnight," Tiny said. "It can only make things
hard for you. Just be a good girl and we'll all enjoy this a lot more. Okay?"
Whimpering sounds came from her crushed mouth as she writhed with the agony of
Matt's hands hurting her breasts.
"Just nod," Tiny said. "That's all you have to do, Miss McKnight. Just nod to
say you won't fight us any more, and I'll take my hand away, and Matt will let
you go, and we'll all have fun."
Tears of pain fell from her eyes. She couldn't stand it. She nodded.
"That's a good girl," Tiny said, and took his hand away. "All right, Matt."
Matt took his hands away too. She was gasping, but softly. Not to attract
attention. Matt's hands frightened her. Not as much as the thought of what Galli
would do to her. Could she still--
Tiny said, "Matt," and Matt now took hold of her arms, pulling them behind her,
and pulling off his necktie, used it to bind her wrists in back of her.
"Oh, god," she said in fright. "Why?"
"I like it that way," Tiny said, and now the hand on her body slid slowly under
the waist of her skirt.
"You disgust me," she said, unable to stop it. "I can't stand you. Damn you."
"Now, now," Tiny said. "I'm going to change that, Miss McKnight. Right now. I'm
going to show you how much you like me. I'm going to send you out of your mind.
I'm going to send you right over the top. And I'm going to watch as you do it.
And so is Matt."
"You son of a bitch," she said. "I can't stand the sight of you, the sound of
you, and you touching me makes me want to vomit. Okay? So don't think you can
get your kicks with me and make me like it. Just do what you have to do and get
it over with. You sick bastards. Filthy scum, both of you."
Matt's hands closed again on her breasts.
"No, Matt," Tiny said. "No pain now. Let's show Miss McKnight how to do tricks
for us. Let's show her what this sexy body really wants." Tiny's hand now slid
downward, under her skirt, and then under the waistband of her panties, moving
onto the bare skin of her lower belly.
She shrank from him instinctively, but Matt was pressing against her back,
crushing her bound arms between them, with his arms about her and his hands now
holding her breasts lightly, his fingers rubbing slowly against her nipples.
This friction brought the nipples up into stiff points, throbbing with
stimulation. Tiny's hand was moving slowly, slowly around her belly, touching
her thighs, caressing the soft, smooth skin.
"God," she said. "God, you slime." In spite of her disgust, her breath was
coming more rapidly. She tried to control it. Tiny's hand was rubbing at her
thighs, up and down, touching lightly, then heavily, circling, moving back up to
her stomach, circling. Matt was still holding her throbbing breasts, touching
her hard nipples.
"Oh stop," she said. "Don't." She could hear that her voice was not steady.
Tiny's hand slid to the inside of her thighs, insinuating his fingers between
them. Automatically, she clamped them together.
"No," Tiny said, digging his fingers with hard viciousness suddenly into her
soft thigh flesh. She moaned--too loudly, god, if anybody found them would they
kill her, would they--and resignedly relaxed her legs. Tiny's hand was on the
buttery soft flesh of her inner thighs, moving up and down, rubbing, sliding,
circling, and always, slowly, moving toward his goal.
"No," she said, moaning it. "Don't."
Her wrists hurt but that pain was now part of an overall aching like that aching
in her nipples, and Tiny's hand was touching her now, his fingers probing, not
cruelly, but probing, moving, they were inside her.
"Oh no," she said softly. "Stop, god--"
"It's nice, isn't it?" Tiny said. "You want this, don't you, Miss McKnight?"
"No," she panted. "No. Please don't. Stop."
Tiny's fingers probing, digging, finding--
"God." A loud gasp. "Christ, what--"
And Tiny's hand moving, fingers moving.
Matt's hands.
No. She wouldn't let this happen. She wouldn't do this. Not this way, not for
them. Please. Please. No.
"Stop," she said, pleadinglyh now. "Please stop."
They didn't stop.
Tiny was watching her.
No. It couldn't be.
His fingers. Moving.
"Ahh," she said, gasping. "Oh god, oh, please, no, ahh, ohh, ahh, god you can't,
you can't not like this, no..."
"Not too loud," Tiny said softly, his fingers moving.
"Ahh," she said, and now she was crying with shame, with humiliation, with
hatred for them. "Ahhh!" And now she turned her head to bury her face in Tiny's
shoulder, hiding her face from him and also muffling the sounds she was making,
that wouldn't stop. "Ohh," she said. "Hahh. Hahh. Ahhh. Don't ohh unnhh. Ahh
unnhhh. Nnnooo. Annhh. Hunh. Hooh. No please. I can't. Stop. Please. Ahh. Ohh.
Huh. Hunnnhh. Aughh. Ahhh. Hahh! Hanhh! Haughh! HAUNNH! AUGGH! Augghhhh! Huh.
Huh. Huh. Ohhhhh Chrrrristtttt." Body jerking. Spasming. Twisting. Writhing.
Squirming, and finally shuddering to a stop.
"Nice," Tiny was saying. "I told you you'd do tricks for us. Want to do it
again, Miss McKnight?"
She was crying and panting against his shoulder. "Bastard!" she gasped.
"All right," Tiny said. "Then you do something for me now. Okay?"
"I won't," she said, not thinking, not caring, shaking with humiliation and
horror at what they had brought her to, her body giving in to their hands, just
like a dumb animal, putty in their hands.
"Matt," Tiny said, and Matt clamped her breasts again. Tiny saw her scream
coming and with a swift hand in her hair held her mouth against his shoulder.
Rasping, shaking breaths of pain came from her mouth, as he took that hand away
now, knowing she couldn't--why couldn't she--rasping from her throat, Matt's
crushing fingers--
"Matt can be first," Tiny said. "I think Matt would like his cock sucked. Would
you, Matt?"
Matt may have nodded. She suddenly, through pain and shock (why shock? Why--)
thought of how Matt had not said a word from the beginning. Was Matt dumb? What
did it matter?
"No," she said. Why did she say that? Oh god, they were going to bring her back
to Galli, who would watch her in agony and listen to her scream for four or five
or six days, and then kill her. What did it mean what they did to her now? But
they had shamed her. Made her body do what they wanted it to do. What could they
do now? "No," she said. "I won't." Through the growing pain. "Go to hell."
And now Matt's hands moving away. Clutching at her blouse. Ripping. Ripping it
apart. Pulling, tugging at her bra. The straps pulling away. Matt's hands now on
her naked breasts. His fingers at her nipples. Pinching. Hard. She was moaning.
Now his fingernails, digging at her nipples. Digging hard into that throbbing
flesh as Matt clamped his fingers together, digging, puncturing, merciless,
cutting into her, and she was twisting, bucking, whining shrilly in her throat,
wracked with agony, and Tiny's hand was in her hair, dragging her head back,
looking down into her rolling eyes.
"All right!" she gasped, rasping. "All right! Don't!"
"Tell me," Tiny said. "Tell me you'll suck Matt's cock for him, Miss McKnight."
"I will!" she sobbed. "I will."
"What?" Tiny's hand pulling viciously at her hair, Matt's nails digging brutally
into her nipples.
"I'll suck his cock!" she said. "I'll suck his cock! I'll suck his cock!"
"That's nice," Tiny said, letting go. "All right, Matt."
She was limp as they manipulated her body, laying her down on her stomach, lying
across Tiny's lap, with her face above Matt's crotch. Matt had his tool out,
bigger than she had thought it would be.
Tiny's hands were sliding up her legs under her skirt. Matt was just sitting and
waiting. Tiny's hand was moving higher. "Oh don't," she heard herself moan.
Tiny said, "Do it, Miss McKnight," and she opened her mouth and took Matt's
thing into it, and did what they wanted.
Matt didn't touch her at all. It took a long time, and at last Matt came in her
mouth, and she swallowed it without being told.
As she did, Tiny was pulling her panties down and off, and as she finished, Tiny
pulled her up and drew her thighs across him, adjusting her until she was
straddling his lap. Unzipping, he quickly found her and, following his guiding
hands, she sank down on him.
"Do it to me, Miss McKnight," Tiny said, and she did it for him, slowly, rising
and falling.
Tiny put his hands on her breasts and Matt was lying on his stomach and licking
at her legs, and she was moving up and down on Tiny's stiff tool, looking over
the back of his seat at all the dozing or reading passengers in the rows far
away. And Tiny came into her.
And then Matt and Tiny played with her body. They made her climax again, but she
didn't care now, it was all shame and degradation, she had no will, no brain,
nothing but fear. If she could only get away, not go back, survive--
"Always," she gasped. "I'll be yours always. I'll go with you, I'll be your
slave, your toy, don't bring me back to him. What do I have to do, I'll do
anything."
"Okay," Tiny said. "Show us."
"How?"
"Go to the bathroom."
"What?"
"Just as you are."
"As I--" Her blouse was gaping open, her bra falling off, her skirt askew. And
her hands bound in back of her. "I'll be raped." "Good," Tiny said. "If you do
it, and don't say anything to anybody, and get back in one piece, we won't bring
you back."
"But I'll have to stay with you."
"That's right."
"All right," she said. And got up.
It was dim, but not so dim that she couldn't be noticed. The bathroom was all
the way in back. She had to walk past all the people. Her blouse showed half of
her breasts, which thrust out with the position of her bound arms. She was
walking up the aisle with staring eyes upon her, and she had to turn around to
open the bathroom door, and when she was inside it opened again and a man came
in.
"Christ!" the man said, looking at her.
"What do you want?" she said.
He slapped her.
"All right," she said. "All right. Don't hurt me." She sank to her knees.
He took out his penis and stuck it in her mouth. "Slowly," he said.
She did it slowly. Swallowing.
"Keep it there," the man said, and began to piss into her mouth. She swallowed
it, crying, sobbing, swallowing it all. "Please help me," she said. "I'll stay
with you, I'll do anything, please don't let them...those men..."
"Kiss me," he said. "Get up." And when she had trouble getting to her feet, he
put his hand in her hair and pulled her up that way. "Kiss me," he said.
In desperation she thrust her body against him and put her mouth on his and slid
her tongue into his mouth, kissing him with passion, crying.
After a minute he thrust her away. "Over the toilet," he said. "I want to fuck
your ass."
She lowered herself onto the tiny toilet seat, her hair falling to brush the
floor, her balance precarious, her behind high. She felt her skirt being raised.
"Ask me for it," the man said.
"Please," she gasped, sobbing still. "Do it, do anything, just please help me.
Those two men--"
"Oh," he said, "you mean Tiny and Matt."
Startled, she twisted her head to look up at him, and he laughed at the horror
in her eyes as she realized the truth.
And then his hands were spreading her buttocks and he was plunging into her, and
her scream shook the bathroom walls with its inexpressible burden of agony,
terror, and utter helpless despair.
Part Two
They brought Patricia back to him bound hand and foot, and tightly gagged.
But as soon as they were alone, Galli took away the gag and ropes. Patricia sat
still, knowing there was no way she could escape now.
"Hello, Patricia," Galli said softly. "How good to see you again."
"If you're going to kill me," Patricia said, "I wish you'd just do it and get it
over with."
But she knew he wouldn't. He would make her pay for running away from him. He
would want her to suffer as long as possible. he would want to watch her as she
did. Patricia tried not to think of it. But she knew.
It would be pain and horror and torture. As only Galli could think up. For days,
probably. Days of agony and screaming and unimaginable torment. With John
enjoying it to the hilt. Until she finally died of it. Slowly. Patricia knew.
And what she saw in his eyes now was not reassuring.
"Kill you?" Galli said as if surprised at such a notion. "Why would I do that,
Patricia? After all we've meant to each other."
"Don't play with me, John," Patricia said. "I ran away. I got caught. I know
what that means. I saw it with Cathy, remember?"
"Cathy was just a whore, Pat," Galli said. "You're not a whore. You were my
woman. My girl. My baby." "All the worse," Patricia said. "Look, John, I'm
sorry. That's all I can say. I know it doesn't mean anything. I did it. I'd
probably do it again. Still, I'm sorry. I know you'll kill me. Slowly. I just
wish it could be quick. But I can't do anything about it. So do what you're
going to do."
"Such a brave girl," Galli said softly. "Such a good brave girl. And so
frightened. You're scared, aren't you, Patricia? Really scared."
"Yes," Patricia said. "If that gives you satisfaction. Yes, I'm scared. Now
what?"
Galli looked at her for a long time.
"No," he said finally. "I don't think I'll kill you, Pat. Now that I've got you
back, I want you around. You'll be all right. As long as you're a good girl."
Relief clashed with suspicion. This was ominous. "John-- what-- "
"I know you want to be my lady again," Galli said. "Just like it was. Don't you,
Pat?"
"John--for god's sake--"
"Rather than be killed?" Galli said.
"Rather than be killed? Of course," Patricia said. "But--"
"I'm giving a dinner tonight," Gotti said. "For the big boys. They'll all show
up. I want you to be my hostess."
"It's a trick," Patricia said. "You want them to see you torture me."
"Why, Patricia," Galli said. "I won't hurt you at all. I won't lay a hand on
you. As long as you don't do anything foolish." "I won't," Patricia said. "I'll
do just as you say. Is that what you want?"
"Good," Galli said.
"Is this a formal dinner, John?" Patricia said. "I'm afraid all my clothes got
lost when--"
"Don't worry about that," Galli said. "I have all the things you'll need, up in
your room. I'm sure it will all fit perfectly. Shall we go up now?"
"You're coming with me?" Patricia said.
"Well, of course, Patricia," Galli said. "You're my girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, John," Patricia said.
They went upstairs.
At the door of Patricia's room a man was standing. "You know Sid, don't you,
Pat?" Galli said.
"Of course," Patricia said. "What's he doing here?"
"Sid will be your--bodyguard," Galli said. "I'm posting him outside your room
from now on. So nobody will bother you."
"And so I won't run off again," Patricia said.
"Now, Pat," Galli said, "as I told you, your clothing for tonight is in your
room. So you might as well get rid of that stuff you're wearing. Sid will take
care of having it cleaned for you. Just give it to him."
"All right," Patricia said. "I'll bring it out to him after I change." "No,"
Galli said. "Why make him wait? Just give it to him right now. All of it."
Patricia stared at him.
"John--"
"Right now," Galli said.
Now she saw. With sickening clarity. In the past it would have been worth Sid's
life to even look at her too lustfully. Not that he hadn't. Patricia had always
known of his lust for her body. Ironically, she had always felt safe from that
evil grin of his because of John.
And now--
"All right," Patricia said finally. And standing there in the hall, she took off
her clothes. Almost defiantly, though her throat was dry and her hands shaking,
she turned to face Sid as she stripped herself. Blouse and skirt. Shoes.
Stockings. No pause. Head up. Brassiere off. And panties. Off.
She stood, as Sid looked up and down her body, unafraid now. This was what John
wanted of her. Patricia stood still until John Galli said, "Good girl. Come
now," and opened the door of her room. Patricia walked in, Galli following,
closing the door with Sid on the other side.
Patricia turned to him, trying to keep her voice steady. "Did you tell Sid he
could have me?"
John smiled. "Not in so many words. I allow him, however, to live in hope."
"I see.." "I will leave you now," Galli said.
"You will?" Patricia was surprised.
"Dinner will be at nine," Galli said. "Sid will call you when you are to come
down."
"What about my gown?" Patricia said.
"Your clothing for the night is in your closet, Patricia."
Patricia looked. All that was in her closet was a pair of black high- heeled
shoes sitting on the floor.
"There's nothing," Patricia said. "Just a pair of shoes."
"That's right," Galli said.
Patricia's stomach sank, but she kept her manner calm. "Oh," Patricia said. "I
see."
"Good," Galli said. "Until nine, then," and went out.
Promptly at nine o'clock Sid knocked on her door. "Mr. Galli says for you to
come down now."
"All right," Patricia said.
Sid was gone when she came out. He would be downstairs, with John, with the
others, waiting for her to make her entrance. Stark naked, but for the
high-heeled black shoes.
Patricia moved to the stairs, stopped, took a long breath, pulled herself up.
Then, slowly, head high, she started down the stairs, which led directly into
the dining room. She knew her body was flushed. That her nipples were stiff and
firm with her-- what-- embarrassment? Humiliation? Shame? Degradation? All of
the above. Which, of course, was John's motivation. That her breasts bobbed and
swayed enticingly as she walked. That her hips swayed and her buttocks flexed
and that her legs did sexy, sinuous things with each step.
And mostly that she was naked. That as she came down the stairs, the men--it
would be all men, she had no doubt--sitting around the long dining table would
react with astonishment and lustful appreciation of her nudity, staring as her
luscious legs first came into view, then the curving thighs, then the rounded
hips and her dark, promising patch of pubic hair, proclaiming unmistakably her
total bareness to them all, to the world.
The mouth-watering shapeliness of waist and stomach, the salacious- looking
navel. And then the bare, bobbing, high, firm, beautiful breasts. And finally
her face. Patricia's face, in some ways more exciting for them in this situation
than her naked body itself.
Patricia deliberately kept that face a blank, as expressionless as she possibly
could, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and walked into the dining room.
A dozen or so men sat around the table. Looking at her. She stood. Looking only
at John. Head high. Body straight. Arms at her sides. Still. Naked.
John said, "I think you all know Patricia."
A murmur of greeting around the table.
"Gentlemen," Patricia said.
Sid, standing at the foot of the table, now pulled out the chair for her. John
was at the head. Patricia moved to the chair and, as gracefully as she could,
sat down. Now Galli stood up. "Gentlemen," he said. "Thank you all for coming
tonight. This is a special occasion, in a way, because, as you can see, Patricia
is back. Patricia, stand up and take a bow."
In spite of all she could do, Patricia felt herself flushing again. But she did
as she was told, standing up and bowing to right and left, her breasts swaying,
as all the men applauded; then sitting down.
So this is what John had in mind for her. To degrade and debase and humiliate
her. To make her do it to herself. To show her--and the world--that he still
owned her, still had her in his power. To grind her into the dust in punishment
for defying him. But for how long would he be satisfied with that? Patricia knew
that this particular ordeal was only the beginning.
She swallowed inadvertently as she thought of it. Most probably, she thought,
all these men had not been invited tonight just to savor the sight of her body.
Patricia had the distinct impression that John was planning to make her the
dessert at this dinner. If not the main dish.
John, as he had with Sid, would show his friends that she, Patricia, once the
untouchable property of John Galli alone, was now a common slut. A toy, a
plaything, which he could toss to anyone he chose, give her to them, make her do
what they wanted. Anything they wanted. And that she would crawl to them and
obey.
What was it to be, Patricia thought, trying to stay calm with her heart
pounding, her skin crawling. Would John have her lie on top of the dining table,
flat on her back, with her legs apart, as each man in turn climbed on top of her
and took her, with all the others looking on?
She had witnessed that done with other girls. It was not a pretty sight. Or
would it be her on her knees on the floor, the men lining up in front of her,
and she forced to take their cocks into her mouth and suck them off, man after
man after man, all of them coming in her mouth, having to swallow it all--
except for the ones, there were always a couple, who liked to shoot all over her
face--sucking, licking, swallowing, man after man after man after--
Patricia had seen that too. Had seen girls throw up after swallowing so much
gism, and paying for it by being forced to eat their own vomit off the floor.
Patricia felt séck. Or John might decide on a variation-- making her go under
the table, crawling from man to man, taking out their cocks and sucking each one
in turn, as they ate. Or it could be a combination of any of these things, or
all of them.
Or worse.
But John had said she would not be hurt. As long as she was a good girl. As long
as she continued to participate docilely in her own degradation.
Patricia had no choice. She could recall other scenes at other dinners--dinners
at which the centerpiece of the dining table consisted of a girl, spread-eagled
and bound; or standing on the table with arms high over her head, wrists bound,
ropes stretching to a ceiling beam, body taut and straining; or lashed to a
pole, slowly turning for the full delectation of all; and all of them screaming.
Screaming in agony.
Patricia could hear those screams all too clearly. Could visualize the twisting,
writhing girls, and the things that were being done to them to elicit such
screams. All night long the howling and shrieking would go on, as John and his
friends watched, listened, enjoyed. And finally sated their lusts in one way or
another upon the pain-filled, squirming, exhausted but horribly obedient body of
the tortured girl. Anything was better than that. If dragging herself through
the mud of John's commands was what it took to keep her from being in that
position, she would go on doing just that. But how long would that suffice? And
when John got tired of toying with her that way-- what then? Patricia shuddered.
Galli was going on. "Now, in honor of Patricia's return, I've put together a
little show, a film, I should say--the show will come later--with Patricia as
the star. I'm sure you will all enjoy the film immensely. It will show you just
how talented our Patricia is--and how she was able to win my heart. All right,
Sid-- show them."
The room darkened, and a large screeen slid down from the ceiling just beyond
Galli's chair at the head of the table. Patricia was facing it directly, and the
others could watch it easily from their seats. And--of course--could watch
Patricia also, as she watched it. The screen lit up, and Patricia's stomach
flipped over.
It was her on the screen. She was naked. She was kneeling, no, crouching, on all
fours, on the floor, with her breasts swaying beneath her slightly moving body.
She had a man's cock in her mouth, and she was sucking on it. Avidly.
Voraciously. Lovingly. Assiduously. With lips and tongue and all of her mouth.
The cock, of course, was John's, but that was not obvious. Whoever had run the
camera had not cared much about the man's face or his body. He had cared, most
obviously, about Patricia's face. And Patricia's body.
At first the camera showed all of her, crouching there, body moving so slightly
back and forth, thighs flexing, as she took that cock in and out of her hungry
mouth; then, slowly, it moved in on her face, finally resting in a close-up view
of that lovely countenance and that open, sucking mouth sliding up and down
around John's cock, kissing, licking, swallowing, sucking.
Patricia sat stricken, watching. As the men around the table goggled and stared
and began making sounds of appreciation and lust. As they stole occasional looks
at her to see how she was reacting to this new humiliation. Patricia knew her
face betrayed her astonishment, and her shame; but right now she was helpless to
control them.
She hadn't known John had ever had such films; had not been aware that any
pictures were being taken. But John had evidently made quite a hobby of doing
that; for after this first scene--after Patricia had watched in horror as she
saw herself taking John's gism down her throat, watched as that eager camera
caught the unmistakable movements of that throat, swallowing, swallowing, to the
hoarse, happy roars of the watching men--a parade of further scenes filled the
screen.
Patricia lying across a bed with her thighs spread wide, John lying above her,
taking her, as she wrapped her long luscious legs about his waist, fucking him,
tossing underneath him, moaning-- oh yes, there was sound too-- and
color--moaning and whimpering and sobbing in ecstasy as she climaxed, body
writhing and thrashing. The men around the table looking at her again, Patricia
now unable to meet their gaze. Her head was swimming, her body numb with an
awful, inescapable shame as now the film showed her crouching above John's body,
taking him inside her, straddling his hips and moving slowly, langorously,
sensuously up and down, up and down, fucking him.
Now crouching on hands and knees as John took her in the ass-- a great roar
greeted this one-- driving all the way into her ass as Patricia shouted with
pain and pleasure, pounding on the bed with her fists, kicking her feet,
squirming, twisting, yowling, sobbing, and then coming, coming, coming, coming,
again and again and again and again.
And the lights went on. Patricia was crying now, softly, but uncontrollably,
unable to stop her sobs as all the men turned to look at her, watching her with
new eyes now, recalling those images of her, sucking and fucking and twisting
and coming. John was looking at her now with undisguised triumph in his eyes. He
had broken her.
"All right, gentlemen," Galli said. "I told Patricia that, as long as she was a
good girl and did as she's told, she wouldn't be hurt. So I must ask that no one
do anything to cause any actual physical pain or damage. Aside from that
proviso, gentlemen-- she's yours."
And so they had a ball with her.
All night long.
To add to their stimulation, John had the film run all night.
Patricia did everything they wanted.
They plundered her body all night, in every way they could think of. She was on
her knees for hours, sucking them one by one. And she did throw up at last, and
was made to eat her vomit, and she did, and threw up again, and ate it again.
She licked out their assholes, gagging and retching, but there was nothing left
to bring up.
She lay in the bathtub and let them piss on her, and when told to open her mouth
for their piss and to drink it down, she drank. When they lay sated and limp,
she dragged herself around the room on hands and knees, sucking them to life
again, fucking their recumbent bodies, performing all the acts John could come
up with to make them climax inside her or on her body or down her throat one
more time.
John didn't touch her. Nor did Sid. But both watched it all. All night long.
It was the following afternoon that Sid knocked at her door. "I just want to
talk," Sid said. "Can I come in?"
In her room, Sid said, "You know he's going to kill you. Sooner or later. You
know that."
"Yes," Patricia said. "I know that."
"I can get you out," Sid said.
"What?"
"Not like last time. That was dumb. But I can fix it so he'll never look for
you."
"How could you do that?"
"I'll fix it up," Sid said. "I can do it. You try to escape, okay? I stop you.
You fight. I shoot you. And there's a fire. Okay? And a body. Supposedly you.
Burned beyond recognition. But it's you, okay, because I say so, and I say I
shot you. Only it's not you. But he thinks you're dead. He doesn't look for you,
you're dead. And you get away. For good."
"Why--why would you do this? If you get caught--"
"I won't."
"But why?"
"He's never going to let me have you," Sid said. "He says he will, but I know.
He'll give you to anybody else--to strangers-- but not to me."
"Oh," Patricia said.
"I want you," Sid said.
"I know. So you'll help me get away if I--"
"It's not that easy," Sid said.
"Oh," Patricia said. "Of course not. All right. What do you want?"
"A month," Sid said. "I want a month of you. A month of your life. One full
month with you as my slave. Okay?"
"A month," Patricia said. "And then--"
"And then you'll be rid of me for good," Sid said. "But during that month you'll
be all mine. You'll do anything I say. Always. I'll do everything to you. And
you'll do it to me. Any time I want. Any way I want. With anybody or anything I
want. A slave. You understand? A slave."
"A sex slave," Patricia said.
"That's right."
"All right," Patricia said. "I will do that."
"That's not all," Sid said. "There's something else."
"Oh," Patricia said. "Something painful, I'm sure."
"That's right," Sid said.
"What is it?"
Sid brought out his cigarettes and lighter. "This," he said. "Oh, Christ,"
Patricia said.
"Three of them," Sid said. "One on each nipple. One between your legs. That's
it."
"Damn you!" Patricia said.
"That's the deal," Sid said. "That, and one month. Take it or leave it."
Patricia swallowed. "It--it's better than dying, I suppose. Especially the way
John would do it."
"This happens right now," Sid said.
"Right now?" Patricia was pale.
"And you get out tomorrow," Sid said.
Patricia took a long, shuddering breath.
"All right," she said. "Do it."
"Take your clothes off," Sid said.
And Patricia stripped for him again.
"On the bed," Sid said. "Put your arms over your head and grab the rail. And
hold on."
Patricia obeyed.
Sid lit up a cigarette.
"Christ," Patricia said.
"This is one," Sid said, stroking Patricia's breast. "Are you ready?"
"No," Patricia said unsteadily. "Do it. Go on, you bastard. Do it."
Sid's eyes were bright. He brought the cigarette close to Pastricia's breast.
Patricia was panting. Sid touched the burning tip to her right nipple, and
slowly, slowly, ground it out, pressing it into her flesh. Patricia's body
stiffened, arching from the bed, straining in pain. And Patricia screamed
loudly. Once. Twice. Started to scream a third time, but Sid put a fist in her
mouth.
"God," Sid said. "That was great. Jesus."
"You bastard," Patricia said, sobbing. "You're sick, you son of a bitch."
"Two more," Sid said.
"I can't," Patricia said.
Sid just waited.
"All right," Patricia said.
"Hold on," Sid said. "Don't scream so loud this time."
"God damn you!" Patricia said. "How can I--"
"Here." Sid put a pillow by her face. "Bite on that."
Patricia's breath was rasping in her throat as Sid lit another cigarette, slowly
brought it toward her left nipple. Her body shook. Her eyes widened with fear.
"God," Sid said. "I love this," and carefully and methodically ground the
red-hot tip against the stiff nipple.
Patricia turned her head and bit into the pillow, stuffing her mouth down onto
it to stifle the horrible animal shrieks that tore from her throat, her body
spasming and jerking and convulsing.
Sid now tore off his clothing. His cock was stiff and throbbing with lust.
"Spread your legs," Sid said. Lighting a third cigarette.
"Oh Jesus," Patricia said, crying hard, moaning, whimpering. "Oh god please,
wait, wait, please, Sid, no--"
"Do it," Sid said.
Patricia opened her legs for him.
"Wider," Sid said.
Patricia splayed her thighs, sobbing.
Sid put out the cigarette slowly. Right on her clitoris. And as Patricia went
out of her mind with pain, Sid took her, flattening his body onto her, ramming
his cock brutally into her agony-filled vagina, and fucking her hard, hard,
hard, into her writhing, convulsing, spasming, twisting, bucking, squirming,
thrashing body, mashing his mouth onto her screaming mouth, kissing the howling
lips, taking her screams down his throat.
And John was standing by the bed, laughing and saying, "You fell for it, Pat.
Right into the trap. Do it to her, Sid. She's your reward. You can burn her
again later." And Patricia, in pain and horror, struggled vainly as Sid fucked
into her, kicking and scratching, but only increasing Sid's pleasure. And that
night, in front of all those men around the dining table, Patricia hung by her
wrists, her hanging body turning, twisting slowly in the air.
Part Three
"You'll kill that lady, John, you don't stop that whipping pretty soon."
It was Rocky Palumbo, a capo from Brooklyn, one of a very few who could approach
Galli's position.
"I know that," Galli said, smiling thinly. "That's part of why I'm doing it,
Rocky, as I'm sure you know. This--lady--is in disfavor, all right? Having
broken her as far as I want to, I am now ridding myself of this trash. Any
objection?"
"It's your business, John," Rocky said smoothly. "But, hell, it's just that it
must be a frightful waste. Such a gorgeous young thing as that. Such a body.
Shit, I could sure find a use for her, if you can't."
"Too bad," Galli said. "This girl is through. The filthy cunt bitch."
"Now wait, John. Wait just a moment. You don't want her any more, how about we
make a deal?"
"What kind of deal?" Galli said suspiciously. "Look, you want the bitch again,
I'll cut her down and you can go at her, okay? For friendship's sake, okay? And
as soon as you finish, back up she goes and we can watch to find out how long
the twat can last. Whip her again, guys."
"Hold it," Rocky said. "John, my boy. Look. A quick fuck with this doll is not
what I had in mind, okay? You don't want her? I do. Okay? I'll buy her from you.
How much you want?"
"No," Galli said.
"Why no? Hey, John, you just want to kill the girl anyway, right? So what do you
lose?"
"My satisfaction," Galli said. "That's what. I want to watch the slut die.
Slowly. Painfully. And that's it. No deals."
"John," Rocky said slowly. "Name your price. What do you want? How much? Just
say."
"Fuck," Galli said. "No. Period."
"Anything you want, John. I know you must have a price. A million? Two million?
Just for a girl you don't want? How about it?"
"Why do you want her that much? She's built and all, but Christ- -"
"I want her. I want to own her. Just as you did. Own her. How much?"
"No."
"Damn it, John. Anything. At all. Anything."
Galli thought. "Yeah? Anything? Rocky? Anything I want?"
"Anything."
Galli grinned slowly. "Okay."
"What, John. What is it you want?"
"Dinah," Galli said.
And his look shifted to the girl at Palumbo's side. A tall, slim, sensuously
built girl, fashionably clothed, with long auburn hair and calculating dark
eyes. Who now was staring at him in astonishment. As was Palumbo.
"Dinah? What do you--"
"You said what did I want. I want Dinah. I'll swap you. Patricia for Dinah. You
take Patricia, I take Dinah. Even swap."
Dinah was still staring.
"You nuts?" Rocky said.
"No," Galli said. "No deal, Rock? Okay. That's what I thought. Okay, on with the
show, boys."
"Okay," Rocky said.
"What?" Dinah jumped up. "What are you doing, Rocky? Are you crazy? You can't--"
"Shut up," Palumbo said. "Cut her down, John. I'll take her with me right now."
"Wait!" Dinah said. "Rocky, for god's--"
"You beling to Galli now," Rocky said. "That's it, baby."
"Why you--the fuck that's it! I don't get thrown away just like that and traded
off to--Jesus, Rocky, you son of a bitch! If you think you can--"
Rocky hit Dinah hard across the face.
"Yeah, I can. And I am. So just shut up. You stay with Galli, you get that? And
don't give him no hard time. Or I think he's gonna put you up there where
Patricia is. So long, baby."
"No! Bastard! Filthy cocksucking shit! I won't! I'm not staying anyplace! I'll
kill you! I'll--"
"Harry," Palumbo said. "Hold her."
Palumbo's bodyguard took hold of Dinah's arms and pulled them roughly in back of
her, holding her still though Dinah was struggling and thrashing around. Finally
Dinah stood panting and twisting futilely in Harry's grasp, arms pulling tightly
back, body thrusting helplessly forward.
"Now, bitch," Rocky said, grasping Dinah's gown in front and pulling hard,
ripping it all the way down to her waist along with its built-in bra, so that
Dinah's breasts were bared. All the company gazed avidly at Dinah's high round
shapely naked breasts, swaying and bobbling as her body writhed. "Now, baby,"
Palumbo said roughly. "You going to do what I tell you? How about it? You want
to tell John how you belong to him? Huh?"
"Go fuck yourself, you filthy son of a bitch!" Dinah panted.
"Shit," Rocky said, and raising his big right hand he whipped it hard across
Dinah's breast. Dinah screamed loudly. Rocky backhanded her across the other
breast.
"Aaahh! Stop! Jesus!" Dinah said.
"How about it, Dinah?" Rocky said. "You want to say that to John?"
"Fuck off!" Dinah said, sobbing. "Shithead cocksucking--"
Rocky hit her breast again.
"Haughh! Don't!"
"Come on, Dinah, baby. Tell me you want to say that to Galli." Whap! Across the
other breast.
"Aaauughh! Please--Rocky--"
"Tell me you want to," Rocky said, and hit her again, forward and back. "Tell me
you want to, Dinah." Whap! Whap! "Tell me that." Whap! Whap!
"AARGGHH! All right! All right! You bastard! No!! Yes! I will! All right! I
will!"
WHAP!
"AUGGH NO CHRIST JESUS PLEASE I WILL YES I WANT TO YES I WANT TO PLEASE DON'T
PLEASE..."
"Okay," Rocky said. "So do it. Go over to John and get down on your knees to
him, okay? And then tell him what a dirty filthy slut you are and how you belong
to him now and how you'll do just what he says. Always. Any time he wants you,
any place, any way. Right, Dinah, baby?"
"Rocky--please--"
WHAP!
"AARRGHH! NO! All right. Yes. Yes, Rocky. I will. Yes."
At Rocky's nod, Harry let Dinah go. Dinah on wobbly but perfect legs walked
slowly to Galli, shaking. And got down on her knees.
And said, in a shaky voice, "I--I belong to you. I--I'm a dirty filthy slut.
I--I'll do anything you say. Always, any time, any place, any way." She was
sobbing.
"Thank you, Rocky," Galli said. "And Patricia will do the same for you. Won't
you, Patricia."
"Yes," Patricia said, still hanging from her wrists.
"You should," Galli said. "Palumbo is saving your fucking worthless life. Cut
her down."
Patricia's wrists were still bound as she knelt in front of Palumbo, body aching
horribly with the pain of the whipping. "I am yours," Patricia said. "Any way,
any time. Thank you."
"Kiss my boots," Rocky said, and Patricia did.
"Patricia," Rocky said, "I didn't want Galli to kill you because I want to own
you. But I might make you wish I'd let John kill you anyway. I'm going to hurt
you worse than John did. You don't think that's possible, right? You think you'd
go through anything to stay alive. You're wrong, Patricia. I'm going to treat
you like a dog-- only a dog can't scream in pain as you will, Patricia, and a
dog can't suck cock as you can. But you can suck a dog's cock, Patricia. Did you
ever do that, Patricia?"
"No."
"You will, Patricia. In between screams. Now you can say you want to be mine,
Patricia. Say it."
"I want to be yours," Patricia said.
"Sid," Palumbo said, "I need an assistant for this lady. To train her,
discipline her, put her in her place. You want that job, Sid?" "Oh no," Patricia
said. "Not him. Not that. Please. Please not him. Please. Oh god please."
Galli smiled. "Patricia darling, you just brought Sid down on yourself. I wasn't
about to allow him to go anyplace. But as it gives you so much fright and
horror, it's naturally what I want to happen to you. Go on, Sid, with my
blessing."
"Thanks," Sid said. "I'm going to enjoy the shit out of this job!"
"And I'll take Harry," Galli said. "Tit for tat. Harry can assist me with
Dinah."
"Harry will love that," Palumbo said. "I always made him stay away from Dinah."
"Not Harry," Dinah said.
"How fascinating," Galli said. "Dinah, crawl over to Harry right now and ask him
if you can suck him off."
"I won't do that," Dinah said. "I don't care if you kill me."
"I won't kill you," Galli said. "But I will hang you up just as Patricia was
hanging, and I will ask my boys to start whipping you, just as hard as they can.
All over. And after ten lashes I will ask you if you will do it. And if you say
no, I will ask you again, after twenty lashes. And if you say no, I will ask you
again, after thirty lashes. And if you say no--"
"All right," Dinah said. "I'll do it."
"I know you will, Dinah," Galli said. "I never had any doubt. Go on."
And Dinah crawled on all fours to Harry, across the room, and said, "H-harry,
m-may I--may I--s-suck you off?"
"Any time, baby," Harry said.
Dinah was crying. Looking at Galli, she said shakily, "Do I have to?"
"Oh yes," Galli said.
And Dinah did. As all the company watched, panting.
"Patricia," Palumbo said then. "Did you ever suck Sid off?"
"Yes," Patricia said.
"How is she, Sid?"
"Fantastic," Sid said. "Fabulous. Especially if she's hurting like hell at the
same time. Nothing like that mouth when it's crying and sobbing and moaning with
pain."
"I can't wait to try that," Rocky said. "Dinah has a good mouth too. As I'm sure
you'll find out soon, John."
"I think all of us will," Galli said. "For I think I'll ask Dinah to do for all
of us, right now, what she just did for Harry."
Dinah shook her head, her eyes wild. "For god's sake!" Dinah gasped. "I can't!
Please!"
"Christ," Sid said. "I'd like to stick around for that. I wouldn't mind trying
out that fucking stuck-up mouth myself. How about it, Mr. Palumbo?"
"Ah, but Dinah's mouth is familiar ground to me, Sid. And I must say I'm most
anxious to have the beautiful Patricia to myself. But all right. I'll wait.
Perhaps Sid can go first with her, is that all right, John?"
Dinah was moaning and crying. "I can't do this," Dinah sobbed. "I can't do this,
please, I can't."
"But you will," Galli said. "Won't you, Dinah?"
"You'll whip me anyway," Dinah said. "I know it. You'll whip me and do anything
you want to me. I might as well die now. Why should I do this. So I can debase
myself for your fun. Why?"
"I'll show you," Galli said. "Harry?"
It didn't take long. It took a bit of burning flesh, a bit of skillful
manipulation, and quite a lot of screaming. Dinah threw up twice, and had to
clean it up. With her tongue.
And then Dinah was on the floor, retching and moaning and panting and gasping
and begging to be allowed to do what Galli wanted her to do.
And so she did it.
Sid was not first; Galli was first. Sid was next. And then all the others, men
and women, one after another. It took a long time, and at the end of it Dinah
threw up again. This time Galli had her clean it up with her hair.
And thus Patricia was still living.
For many days Palumbo did nothing but fuck her, hour upon hour. Using all of her
body. Usually she was kept bound on his bed, wrists lashed together and tied to
the top rail. If Palumbo was in a vicious mood, she would be spread-eagled to
agonizing tension, or bound on her knees with her hair lashed to her wrists,
pulling her head so far back that she couldn't close her mouth. But usually it
was just bound wrists above her head. That way Rocky could use any part of her,
fucking her cunt, or straddling her breasts to fuck her mouth, or turning her
over to fuck her ass. For hours.
And Sid did too. And many of Palumbo's friends and associates.
And also, as Rocky had said, his dog.
It was a big black slobbering beast and Patricia knew that nobody had ever known
such degradation, such defilement, such disgusting horror in the history of this
world. But if she didn't do as Rocky said he might send her back to Galli. That
was unthinkable. But so was this. And as Rocky's pals and acquaintances and
various hangers-on and girlfriends stood around to watch the show, to watch the
forcible degradation of this slave of Rocky's, this mouth-wateringly attractive
young woman, Patricia did what she had to do. Fucking the dog. And sucking him
hard again. And fucking him again. And sucking him again, this time bringing him
off with her mouth and swallowing his gism. Fighting, straining not to throw up,
for Rocky would punish her for that.
Rocky would hang her up by her hair and watch her swing, pushing her body with
his foot as it began to stop swinging, watching in delight and listening
contentedly to Patricia's loud, resounding howling, as another girl, crouching
at his feet, slowly, carefully sucked on his cock.
On Friday nights Rocky had a party for his pals. Men only. But for Patricia,
who, as guest of honor, was hung spread-eagled in the archway of the living
room. Stark naked. Tautly stretched. In agony. All night long. During that long
night, any man who wanted to could whip her with his belt. Or put out his
cigarette on her body. At times they played darts, with Patricia's nipples as
the bullseye. And as it got late, they would cut cards to see who got first
crack at her mouth, at her ass, and at her cunt. And finally Palumbo would cut
her down and for the rest of the night Patricia would fuck them, and crawl for
them, and do their bidding, and suck the dog for them.
On Sundays Rocky went away and left Sid to play with her. Sid always did his
tricks with his cigar. And after Patricia had spent hours screaming and twisting
and howling and begging and mewling and squirming and writhing and thrashing and
yelling and bucking and sweating and crying and moaning and shrieking and
kicking and flailing, Sid would make her do to herself the things he had just
done to her. Sid's face would light up with sick joy, watching Patricia, crying,
choking, burn her own thighs and breasts. Again and again and again.
And Rocky would return and make Patricia recount to him all that Sid had done to
her, and as she did that, crying, Rocky would fuck her slowly, joyously, and Sid
would fuck her ass, and with her mouth she would suck the dog.
But one day Patricia ran away, ran back to John Galli and said, "All right. Kill
me." But Galli only made Patricia suck Dinah's cunt, and then Dinah had to suck
Patricia's cunt.
Until the FBI man who had been on the plane arrested Galli. "It's you," the FBI
man said, and slapped Patricia's face hard. Patricia went to her knees. "Crawl,"
he said. "Both of you."
Patricia and Dinah had to fuck sixty cops and still didn't get away...
