TWO FOR TORMENT 1 "The agony of a beautiful woman," John Collins murmured hoarsely, "is the most exquisite sight in the world." Whip in hand, he stepped back a few paces and let his gloating eyes take in the details he found so stimulating. Long blonde hair, somewhat darkened and matted now with sweat, but still glorious, cascading down over the creamy back and shoulders, now partially obscuring, now revealing the tormented face; hands tied cruelly together at the wrists high above the head, the fingers clutching helplessly at the air; arms stretched to the limits by the unendurable weight of the hanging body; lovely, defenseless breasts pulled upward and outward, their bruised red nipples pointing towards him; taut-skinned stomach, once a flawless expanse of luscious flesh, now rendered even more attractive by a series of red welts; similarly welted thighs, breathtaking in shape, and sensuously molded calves, dangling, writhing, jerking reflexively; small, beautiful feet, six inches from the floor, reaching, straining futilely in a desperate effort to find a support that wasn't there; the pain-contorted but still pretty face; the open, gasping mouth, from which had recently issued those terrible piercing screams which made his heart beat with fierce joy and his cock stiffen and throb achingly, and from which now came hoarse, inarticulate whimpering noises, piteous and lovely to hear; the eyes, normally a vivid and sparkling blue, now dull and glazed with suffering, wild and unfocused in their torment, until, as he watched her, they came slowly and gradually to focus on his face, begging in a mute and hopeless despair, pleading silently and desperately with him to desist at last, to stop her relentless and unbearable torture. He smiled, and raised the whip again.
2 In a small apartment on the other side of town, Avery Childs was pissing on his sister. Avery was twenty-five; his sister Lisa, seventeen. She was a sweet-faced and beautifully developed girl with long lustrous black hair. At the moment she was lying fully dressed on the floor of their bathroom and crying, as her brother loosed a strong, odorous and seemingly unending stream of urine up and down her body, soaking her dress and her skin. But she knew better than to try to move away from the yellow jet. Having saturated every inch of her body, Avery now carefully aimed his penis to send the flow of piss directly onto her face. She closed her eyes tightly, the tears sqeezing out from beneath them, but kept her head still as her face and hair received the noxious liquid. She heard Avery chortle. "Open your mouth, Sis," he commanded. "Wide." She obeyed. Helplessly, she opened her lovely mouth as far as she could. Gasping, choking noises mingled with her sobs as he poured the rest of his prodigious stream of urine straight into her throat. She swallowed as much of it as she could, knowing that was what he wanted, but most of it flowed out of her mouth and down her cheeks and chin. When he finally finished, Avery zipped himself up and left the bathroom. She heard the door click as he locked her in. Still sobbing, she slowly sat up in the midst of the slimy puddle on the floor. She knew what she had to do now. Clean up the bathroom. Wash her soiled clothes. Then take a shower, wash out her hair, get herself all cleaned up. A friend of Avery's was coming over tonight, and Avery was going to make her ball him. Or do whatever else he wanted her to do.
3 John Collins coiled up his whip and stepped back once more from the naked, dangling body of the woman. He was perspiring heavily from exertion, but he felt fine. His cock was so hard and stiff it was threatening to burst through his trousers. Almost absently, he unzipped his fly and let it out. He fondled it gently as he gazed at the hanging figure. Worn out by agony and fatigue, she was unable to twist and writhe as she had done so beautifully at the beginning of her ordeal; but the limp body gave an occasional involuntary jerk or shudder, and the low tortured moans which escaped almost continuously from her slack mouth added to his pleasure. How sweet it was! He recalled her as she had looked when she had walked into his office only the day before. An attractive and successful young woman, lovely, proud, intelligent, and extremely confident. She was wearing a turquoise-blue buttoned sweater which matched her eyes and set off her long straight golden hair, as well as outlining in mouth-watering detail the proud thrust of her shapely breasts; and a light grey skirt which stopped well above her knees, exposing most of her bare, lusciously curved legs. When she sat down at his invitation, the skirt pulled up even higher on the sensuous thighs, and he couldn't surpress a quick mental flash of how it would be to lay his whip across them. Nothing of this showed in his face, however. He smiled at her charmingly and said, "How nice to meet you, Miss Gordon. It was good of you to come." His voice was smooth and friendly. Her clear eyes were level on his. She did not return his smile. "I was surprised to hear from you," she said. "Surely not." "I've been trying to get in touch with you for weeks. You never returned my calls." He made a deprecatory gesture. "That was before your story appeared this weekend. I get so many calls... and I didn't know who you were, or--" "I clearly identified myself as a reporter for the JOURNAL." He waved a hand. "Still, I--" "You felt no obligation or responsibility to talk to the press. I know. You and the Council have gotten away with everything for so long, you felt invulnerable. Until my story came out, and now you're squirming." For just a moment John Collins's eyes went hard as black diamonds. The moment was brief; then the smile returned. "That's putting things a little harshly, Miss Gordon. You have made some very serious allegations--" "All proved. All backed up with facts, figures, dates--" "That is a matter of opinion," Collins said. "The City Council is a group of highly distinguished men--" "Highly currupt men. Seven high-placed swindlers, who have been bilking this city for years. I've proved it." Collins went on as if she hadn't spoken. "These men have asked me, as attorney for the Council, to see that the record is set straight." "I'll be glad to report what you have to say," the girl said, taking out a notebook and pen. "I would have done it when the story appeared, if I'd been able to reach any of you. But I don't see how you can deny the facts." "The members of the Council, Miss Gordon, would like you to print a complete retraction." She looked amused. "I'm sure they would, but--" "And an apology." The amusement turned into a frown. "Are you serious?" "Very serious." He paused briefly. "And there's more." "What do you mean?" He leaned back in his chair. There was no smile now; he gazed at her intently. "You see, Miss Gordon, the Council members--along with myself--are extremely disturbed at this... this slur on their reputations. They are angry. They wish you to tender your apology to them, not only in print, but also in a... personal way." Now he smiled again; the smile this time was not charming in the least. "A MOST personal way." She stared at him. "I don't understand." "Since your story appeared, I have done some checking on you, Miss Gordon, on the Council's behalf. The Council was very gratified to learn that you are an extremely attractive young woman." "Now look--" "The members are partial to attractive young women, you see. And they have decided to make your apology an occasion for... satisfying that partiality." There was a dead pause. Then the girl shut her notebook with an angry snap and stood up. "If you're saying what I think you're saying--" she began furiously. "I am indeed," Collins said. She whirled and headed for the door. "You watch the papers tomorrow, Mr. Collins," she hurled over her shoulder. "It's locked, Miss Gordon," he said calmly. She stopped at the door, hesitated, then tried the knob. The door would not open. She turned to face him, her cheeks burning. "Let me out of this room," she demanded. "Not just yet," Collins said. "You see, I have been delegated to persuade you to accede to the Council's wishes." Her expression was scornful, but her voice was just a trifle less steady. "And how do you intend to do that?" Then he showed her the gun.
4 When the doorbell rang, Avery Childs carefully folded the newspaper he'd been reading and looked over at his sister. "That will be David now, I expect," he said. Lisa said nothing. He rose. On his way to the hall to answer the door he paused and looked her over carefully. He nodded, smiling. "You look fine," he said. "I'm sure David will be pleased." He went out. She heard the door open, heard Avery say, "Hello, David. Good to see you again," and another voice reply, "Avery, how are you?" "Fine, just fine. Come on in." "Thanks. I'm really anxious to meet this sister of yours." "She's right in here. Just waiting." The two men entered the room. David was light-haired and burly, in direct contrast to Avery's slim dark elegance. He wore a shaggy mustache and his eyes were grey and narrow. "David, this is my sister, Lisa," Avery said. Lisa was seated in a straight wooden chair. She was secured to the chair by a rope tied around her waist. Her wrists were tied together behind the chair's back, her ankles tied separately to each of its front legs. "Hello, Lisa," David said. He showed no surprise at her circumstances. His eyes went over her swiftly and thoroughly. "Very nice," he said to Avery. "Very nice indeed." "Isn't she?" Avery smiled. "The ropes are not necessary, of course. As I told you, she's quite pliant. She has to be. But I thought it would be interesting for you to see her this way." "Yes, it is," David murmured. "I thought of having her naked for you... but then I thought I'd leave that in your hands. And of course the anticipation can be--" "Yes," David interrupted. "This is fine, for now." He was watching the bound girl. Her eyes were lowered. She was not happy. Perhaps she was frightened. Her breasts rose and fell with her uneven breathing. He could make out the tantalizing shapes of her nipples beneath the cashmere sweater she wore. A blue skirt covered her shapely legs above the knee. "Perhaps a bit more leg..." David said. "Of course." Avery, at his sister's side, reached down and pulled the skirt up over her thighs. They were good thighs, white and bare and trembling. "Would you like me to uncover her breasts?" Avery asked. "No. But I would like her to look at me." Avery gathered a handful of Lisa's long dark hair and gave it a painful tug. The pressure brought a loud gasp from her mouth, and pulled her head back so that she was forced to look up into David's face. She knew better than to close her eyes. David looked deep into her eyes. "Very pretty," he said. "A very pretty girl," he said. And then he said, "How does she scream?" Avery said, "She screams beautifully." "I would like to hear her scream," David said. "That can be arranged," Avery said. Lisa began to cry.
5 Collins had seated himself in a chrome and leather chair, the whip on the floor by his side. He was stroking his cock with unhurried precision, feasting his eyes on the dangling, tortured body and his ears on the agonized sound of her labored, uneven breathing, and remembering... She had reacted well to the gun. She had spirit, no doubt about it--that's why breaking her was so enjoyable. She had paled, but composed herself almost immediately and looked at him steadily, a kind of challenge in her eyes. "What are you going to do?" she said contemptuously. "Shoot me?" "Only if necessary, Miss Gordon," Collins replied. "I'm sure it will not be. You are a highly intelligent young lady, and I know you would not force me to such a regrettable action. The Council would be disappointed too. They want you alive. But if I must..." "My editor knows I'm here. Other people too." Collins smiled. "Of course." He pushed a buttton on the intercom on his desk. "Derek, come in please." He leaned back in his chair. "For your information, we have prepared a letter from you to your editor explaining what a terrible mistake you made in writing that article--how all your information turned out to be false, etcetera, etcetera. Also that you feel so upset about this enormous error that you feel you have to go away for a while, and are taking an indefinite leave of absence. The signature looks quite genuine, I assure you." "You can't think you can--" "It's not ideal, of course, and again, we won't use it unless we have to. We intend to have you tell him these things personally. But--" There was a knock on the door. Collins pressed another button, a buzzer sounded, and a small man slipped into the room, shutting the door quickly behind him. He was a meek-looking middle-aged man with greying hair and wire-rimmed glasses behind which his eyes peered with a quick furtiveness. "You called me, Mr. Collins?" "Yes, Derek. Tell me, did you see Miss Gordon arrive here this afternoon?" "Yes, sir. She had an appointment with you for two o'clock, and she arrived promptly." "Did you see her leave?" "Yes sir; she left about fifteen minutes ago. She looked a bit despondent, I thought." The girl was staring at the small man. Collins smiled. "Derek is my most loyal assistant," he said. "I can trust him absolutely. So, you see..." He shrugged eloquently. "I can't believe this," the girl said slowly. In a kind of a daze, she returned to her chair and started to sit. "Please don't sit down yet, Miss Gordon," Collins said, in a voice so suddenly sharp that it kept her on her feet. He resumed his normal tone. "You see, in return for Derek's loyalty and trustworthiness, I occasionally give him a small bonus--over and above his considerable salary--in the form of little favors which I know he will appreciate." He paused. "I have promised him one concerning you." Again he paused, a bit longer this time. His eyes glittered and he watched her face closely as he spoke again. "I told him he could see you naked," he said.
6 Avery, Lisa and David emerged from the building in which the Childs' apartment was located. Lisa walked between the two men. They looked like any three normal young people out for a stroll. The weather was just beginning to turn chilly, and Lisa wore a light spring coat. The coat was draped cape-style over her shoulders and held together in front by one button at the top. Thus no one looking at her could tell that her hands were tied behind her, wrists lashed together with strong cord. "This is really exciting," Avery said to his friend as they made their way innocently down the street. "I've never dared to take her out in public like this." "The possibilities are limitless," David said. "Of course, I'm taking your word that she won't try to attract somebody's attention in order to be rescued." "She'd love to," Avery grinned. "She'd just give her ass to be able to do that. But she knows she can't. No way!" "You must tell me why sometime." "Maybe later," Avery said, watching Lisa. The girl turned to him in alarm. "Avery..." Her voice was pleading. Avery grinned again. "See, she doesn't want me to tell anybody. It scares the shit out of her." "I see," David said. "In that case, I'll let Lisa tell me herself. I'm sure she will if I ask her... under the right circumstances. It will be more pleasurable that way anyhow." Lisa made a soft involuntary noise. "You're a devilish little bastard, aren't you?" Avery said. There was admiration in his voice. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," David said wryly. After walking a few blocks, they stopped in front of a small restaurant fashioned to look like an old-fashioned ice cream parlor. David looked through the window and nodded approvingly. "Let's stop in here and have some refreshment." He held the door open for Lisa with mocking politeness, winking at Avery as the bound girl passed through. They found a table at a semi-circular booth at the rear of the restaurant. They had Lisa sit between them. Avery looked carefully to see if anyone suspected anything out of the ordinary. Lisa was certain to attract glances; she was a very pretty girl, and her hands being pinioned behind her made her bra-less breasts stand out most attractively. And she definitely did not look happy. But the looks she got seemed to carry only admiration, not suspicion. David ordered. Sundaes for Avery and himself, a Coke for Lisa. With a straw, of course. Avery struggled to keep a straight face. When the orders came, David and Avery dug into their ice cream with enjoyment, but Lisa made no move. "Drink your Coke, Lisa," David said. "My wrists hurt," Lisa whispered. "We'll be going home soon," David said. "But not until you drink your Coke." Obediently, Lisa bent her head to take the straw into her mouth. She sipped slowly. David watched her. "Lucky straw," he murmured. Lisa colored at the remark, and David's eyebrows raised. "Modest, isn't she?" he said to Avery. "Yes, she is," Avery said. "It's funny, too, after all the things I've made her do." "Like suck your cock, you mean?" David said, watching Lisa. She blushed more deeply and looked around apprehensively, but no one was close enought to overhear them. "Among other things, yes." "Is she good at it?" "She has to be," Avery said. David seemed to be enjoying the girl's discomfort. "Tell me, Lisa," he said to her. "When did you last suck Avery's cock?" Lisa stopped sipping her Coke. She looked down at the table in front of her. There was a long pause. "Look at me, Lisa," David said. She didn't move for a moment; then, slowly and reluctantly, she raised her head and met his gaze. "I asked you a question," David said. "When did you last suck Avery's cock?" The girl swallowed and looked away. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. "Yesterday," she breathed. "I can't hear you, Lisa. Tell me again. And look at me when you speak to me." Her dark, unhappy eyes returned to his. "Yesterday," she repeated, a bit louder. "Tell me about it." "... Please..." the girl whispered brokenly. "Listen to me, Lisa," David said. "You're in for a bad night, you know that. But I assure you it will be worse--much worse--if you don't cooperate with me. Do you understand that?" Lisa nodded slowly, biting her lip. "Good. Now tell me all about it." "I... He--he woke me up. It was the middle of the night. He--" "Tell him how I woke you up," Avery interrupted. "He... kicked me out of bed." She was forcing the words out. "I was--I was naked, and my hands were tied. Like now. He sat on the edge of the bed and told me to kneel on the floor and... do it..." "Do what?" "Suck his cock," she whispered. "So I--I did." "I like the picture," David said. "Kneeling like a little slave girl and sucking your brother off... Do you like to suck him?" "No." "That makes it better. Did you swallow his come?" "... Yes." "When you suck me off, Lisa, I'm going to come all over your pretty face." "I want to see that," Avery said. "Shall we go now?" "Not just yet," David answered. "Lisa hasn't finished her Coke--and I want to try something." "What's that?" David was sitting on Lisa's right. He slipped his left hand down between them, under the table, and placed it on her leg, just above the knee. Lisa tensed, but said nothing. The table hid David's actions from sight as he moved his hand to the inside of her thigh, and then slid it slowly upwards, pushing her skirt up with it. "You have nice soft legs, Lisa," he murmured. "Move your legs apart a little more. That's it." His hand had slid up her inner thigh almost to her panties. "The skin is really smooth up there, too. Tender, I'll bet." He patted that skin, then removed his hand, leaving her skirt bunched up in her lap. "Don't close your legs," he ordered. "What are you doing?" Avery asked. Before answering, David took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, shook one out, and lit it deliberately. "Well, you see," he said finally, "I've been looking forward, as you know, to seeing how Lisa screams. But I think it would make that even more interesting if we first see how she...DOESN'T scream." Avery looked puzzled; then he began to smile. Lisa looked frightened. "Now, Lisa, this is a public place," David said quietly. "So we want no disturbance; no noise, no fuss... nothing to call attention to ourselves. Understand?" "What--what are you going to do?" the girl asked fearfully. "Just give you a little burn," David said, and placed his left hand under the table again--with the cigarette in it. Lisa's eyes widened, and she caught her breath. "No," she protested, in a voice which strained to stay under control. "No, don't--please!" "A little exercise in self-control," David went on. "No, don't close your legs, Lisa. Keep them apart--that's right. I want to put it right up here on the inner thigh. Remember now--control yourself." Lisa was shaking her head slowly and squirming slightly, as if trying to pull her hands free of their bonds. Avery was watching avidly. "Don't!" the girl pleaded again. "Here it comes, Lisa," David said, and he pressed the tip of the cigarette firmly against the smooth flesh of her upper leg. She drew in her breath with a loud, sharp hiss, and her entire body stiffened reflexively. She bit her lip hard to keep back any further noises as David's hand reappeared, bringing the cigarette to his lips. None of the other people in the restaurant seemed to have noticed anything. Lisa was obviously doing her best to keep her face expressionless, but there were tears of pain in her eyes. "Smile, Lisa," David said. She attempted to obey. The result was not very natural-looking, but David smiled back at her. "That wasn't too bad, Lisa. Not perfect, but not bad for a first try. Eventually--" "Let's do it again," Avery said. Lisa's face paled, and she shook her head rapidly. "No," she said in a strained voice. "No more. I can't." "I don't really think she's ready for--" David began. "Once more," Avery insisted. "I want to do it this time. I want to do it to her myself." David hesitated, then shrugged. "Be my guest," he said, and, flicking the ash from the tip of the burning cigarette, passed it across to Avery. Lisa turned frantically to her brother. "Please, Avery," she begged. "Please don't. Not now. I'm afraid I can't take it again. I--" "Sure you can, Sis," Avery said, grinning. "You know you can. Because you have to. Right?" "Avery, PLEASE. Please don't. Please!" "I'm afraid your pleading is only whetting his appetite," David told her. "It's certainly whetting mine." Avery's hand dropped, found the girl's bare thigh, caressed it. "Oh God," Lisa whispered. Watching his sister's face closely, Avery ground the cigarette out against her skin. Lisa went rigid again. Her face twisted, and sweat broke out on her forehead. She kept her lips tightly compressed, but she could not hold back a soft, high-pitched, nasal whine, which would have burst into a shriek if she had allowed herself to open her mouth. The tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. David reached over and wiped the tears away with a napkin, as Lisa slowly relaxed, choking back a sob. At that moment a passing waiter stopped at their table. "Anything wrong, miss?" he asked curiously. "No," David said smoothly. "Everything's fine. The young lady just had something in her eye. It's all right now, isn't it, Lisa?" Avery's hand lay on Lisa's thigh like a warning. The girl swallowed hard. "Yes," she said, her voice shaky but under control. "Yes, it's all right now." The waiter hesitated, then went away, though not without a quick glance at Lisa's prominent breasts doing interesting things to her sweater under the influence of her agitated breathing. David turned back to the girl. "Very good, Lisa. You've done fine, just fine. This part is all over. You won't have to hold back any more." His eyes were glittering. "Now finish your Coke like a good girl, and then we'll go home, where you'll be able to scream your little heart out."
7 When Collins told her of his promise to Derek, the blonde girl had stood quite still for a long moment, her face expressionless. Then she had swiftly turned a deep red. "You dirty bastard!" she whispered furiously. Collins' eyebrows rose. "My, my," he said in a mocking tone. "Such language, Miss Gordon." He leaned back comfortably in his chair, his hand resting on the gun which lay on the desk before him. "I always keep my promises," he went on. "Take off your clothes, please." Her eyes flashed defiantly. "You go to hell!" Very suddenly, all trace of amusement vanished from the seated man's face. He straightened in the chair and raised the gun, pointing it directly at her heart. "You are in no position to defy me," he said harshly. "I have said I do not wish to kill you, but that I will if necessary. Do not make it necessary. It would be such a waste. Remove your clothing." The girl swallowed hard, but did not move. She had begun to tremble, but her voice when she spoke was clear. "If you kill me, you won't have kept your promise, will you?" Collins' eyes blazed. For a moment it seemed as if he would shoot her; but then he relaxed. "Miss Gordon," he said softly, "it is going to afford me great pleasure to tame you." He lowered the gun slightly. "But you are right. It is not necessary to kill you. Suppose I simply shoot your kneecap off--just for example. You wouldn't feel much like resisting me then, even if you could. And not only would it be terribly painful, but you would never be able to walk properly again. That would be a shame, with legs as beautiful as yours." The gun lowered further, pointed steadily at her bare knee below the hem of her skirt. But his eyes looked hard into hers. "I will do it, Miss Gordon, unless you do as I say. That is my promise to YOU. Do you doubt me?" Her eyes looked back at him for a long moment, expressionlessly. Then they dropped. "No," she whispered. "Good. Then you will do what I asked you to do?" She bit her lips. "I--I--" Collins sighed. "I am getting impatient, Miss Gordon," he said. "I will count to five. At five, if you have not begun to undress, I will shoot. One." The girl gulped audibly. "Look," she said hurriedly, with no defiance in her tone now, "be reasonable. You can't expect me to just--" "Two," Collins said. "I can't... I... Listen, can't we--" "Three." "Oh, please..." There were tears in her eyes. "Please..." "Four." "Oh my god," she whispered, and her hands went to the buttons of her sweater. Collins smiled. She kept her eyes on the floor as she began to unbutton the sweater. She opened each button in turn. When there were no more buttons, she hesitated for a moment. Then, with an obvious effort of will, she pulled the sweater open and took it off. The white brassiere she wore was filled with the abundance of her lusciously swelling breasts, their exposed upper slopes rising and falling provocatively with her agitated breathing. She stood awkwardly, the sweater dangling from one hand, caught between shame and a conscious attempt to retain her pride. Pride won momentarily as she raised her eyes to the face of the man behind the desk. "Just drop that, my dear," Collins murmured. "And take off that skirt. I've been admiring your legs ever since you came in here. Let's see all of them." Her hand went to the waistband of her skirt, fumbling with the catch at the side. Her eyes were stil on his, trying to maintain a vestige of dignity; but as she released the catch and pushed the skirt down over her hips, they fell again. The skirt dropped to the floor, leaving her a breathtaking sight in bra and panties only. "Beautiful," Collins said. "It would certainly have been unfortunate to have had to put a hole in one of those legs." The hand holding the gun was resting on his desk now, but the weapon was still pointing at her steadily. "Continue, Miss Gordon. Or perhaps--now that we are on more...familiar terms--perhaps I should call you by your first name. Joyce, isn't it? Very pretty. Continue undressing, Joyce." The girl's face was a deep red as, after a second's hesitation, she slowly reached up behind her to open the clasp of her brassiere. Collins' eyes glittered. The breathing of Derek, who had been standing silent and immobile to one side, was suddenly audible in the room. The brassiere came off. Derek gasped. Collins leaned back in his chair, feasting his eyes on the magnificent naked breasts, relishing the perfection of their form and the delicate coloration of the aureoles and nipples. And he allowed himself just one swift visualization of the whip smashing across them... The bra dropped from the girl's trembling fingers. She still kept her eyes on the floor. She made no sound, but two small tears trickled down over her cheeks. Moments passed with no sound except for Derek's breathing. Collins deliberately refrained from ordering her to remove her last garment. He knew she was half-expecting the order, but he wanted her to have to do it on her own. He waited. Finally the girl's unwilling hands went to the waistband of her panties, and started to push them down. Then he spoke. "Joyce, dear, since this lovely little show is, among other things, by way of fulfilling my promise to Derek, I think he should have a fuller view. Face him, please." Derek had a perfectly good view from where he was standing, and would never have thought of complaining; but for Collins this was another way of reveling in his power over her. He could see that she knew it, and for one brief moment she looked at him with a flash of defiance. "Bastard," she whispered. Collins raised the gun. She looked at him a moment more. Then she bowed her head, and turned to face Derek. She took the panties off. Again there was silence while the two men gazed at the naked girl. Her body was flawless. The sparse blonde hair at her crotch set off the smooth sensuality of her flesh. "Joyce," Collins said finally. "Turn around. All the way around. Slowly." The girl's hands clenched into fists, but she obeyed. Her body made a complete turn, and she ended facing Derek again. "Well, Derek? What do you think of her?" Derek's throat worked. "She's--she's--" "Yes, indeed," Collins said dryly. "I'm glad you enjoyed your little bonus, Derek. I'm sorry I can't offer her her to you for your further pleasure, but that is not in my power now. Perhaps when the Council has finished with her..." "Yes, sir," Derek said hoarsely. "I understand. Thank you, sir." The girl turned a deep, fiery red. She whirled on Collins, bringing her hands up to cover her breasts. "Now just a minute," she said in a trembling voice. There were still tears on her cheeks. "I don't know what you think--I--Look, all right, you've intimidated me into--into taking my clothes off, but... I-I don't want to get shot, I admit that, but if--if you think you can get me to go along with some crazy, perverted... No. No! I won't!" She was crying now, and her body began to shake visibly. "Go ahead!" she sobbed. "Shoot me! Kill me! I won't! I won't!" Collins watched her calmly. "You will," he said softly. "I promise you."
8 Lisa's body was drawn tight as a bow. She was kneeling on the very end of Avery's bed, facing outward into the room. The wooden bar connecting the bedposts at the foot of the bed was at her back, just below her shoulder blades. Her arms were drawn back over this bar and were stretched tight, due to the fact that her bound wrists were attached with rope to her ankles, which were also bound. This arrangement also caused a strain on her legs, forcing her thighs back sharply and pulling her lower legs upward, so that only her knees remained on the bed. Thus her immobilized body was a taut arch, of which the foremost part, the most prominent and accessible part, was her outthrust and marvellously curvaceous bosom. Which was exactly what David had intended. He stood as few feet in front of her, his eyes resting on those bold young breasts whose shapes were so gloriously displayed by her position, and by the wooden bar at her back which pushed her chest forward. Every curve was outlined by her tightly stretched sweater, and the shapes of the nipples were clearly revealed beneath the material. The sight was rendered still more appealing by the exciting rise and fall of the thrusting globes caused by the girl's rapid, apprehensive breathing. "Lovely," David murmured. "Just lovely. Look how frightened she is." Avery, standing to his left, smiled. "All right," David said. "I think we can unveil them now." "Right." Avery went to the bed and sat down behind Lisa, in order not to block his friend's view. He reached around her and began to unbutton her sweater. Lisa turned her head away, closing her eyes. "No, Lisa," David said softly. "Look at me. I want to see your face, as well as your tits." The girl raised her head and looked at him helplessly as her brother continued unbuttoning her. When he had finished, he pulled the sweater open and drew it back over her shoulders. David smiled into the girl's anguished eyes, then let his own eyes drop to her naked breasts. For several moments he said nothing, his gaze devouring the luscious, sensuous perfection of her exposed and jutting bosom. "Magnificent," he breathed at last. "Aren't they, though?" Avery had come around to join him in staring at his sister's body. He looked now at his friend, moistening his lips. "What are you going to do to them?" he asked. David reached into his breast pocket and drew out a small, slim wooden case. Curious, Avery came closer as his friend opened the hinged lid. Inside, resting on the velvet lining, were about a dozen thin, sharp needles, each perhaps two inches long. On one end of each was a tiny ball, making them look like miniature hatpins. The needles glinted as the light struck them. Avery caught his breath. He looked from the case to the helpless girl on the bed. His eyes shone. "Wicked-looking things, aren't they?" David smiled. "Actually, they're quite harmless when used properly. Stuck into fatty tissue--such as the breasts--they do no actual damage, if one is careful to avoid the veins. They hardly even provoke bleeding. But--" His voice softened. "But they cause the most terrible pain. Unimaginable pain. Beautiful, screaming pain..." A sudden gasp of terror came from the bound girl. Her eyes were wide and staring. "No!" she cried, her voice a strangled moan. "Oh, no. God, no. Please. Oh god, please, no..." David shook his head in mock-sadness. "She doesn't learn, does she?" he said. "Don't you understand, Lisa, that your begging and pleading just make this all the better for us? I enjoy it almost as much as I'm going to enjoy hearing you scream for me." He turned to Avery. "I assume the noise won't disturb any sensitive neighbors or passers-by." Avery shook his head. "This room is completely soundproofed. She can scream as loud as she wants to, nobody will hear a thing." "Good. I'd hate to have to use a gag, although that can be stimulating sometimes also. But I'm looking forward to enjoying Lisa's beautiful screaming, unhampered." A helpless moan came from Lisa. David stepped closer to the tautly bound body, which now began to tremble all over. "Look how frightened she is," David murmured again. "Isn't it beautiful? So helpless, so vulnerable, and so scared... You're really turning me on, Lisa, darling. Your fright, your helplessness, your sweet naked body... Tell me how scared you are, Lisa." Lisa could only moan. "Yes," David said. He was close enough to touch her now. Carefully, he selected a needle from the box in his hand, holding it up to the light to inspect it. Satisfied, he handed the box to Avery to hold. Then, slowly, he lowered the needle toward the girl's quivering left breast. She tried to shrink away from it, but the wooden bar at her back gave her no leeway. David brought the needle in contact with her breast, but for the moment just let it rest gently on the trembling mound. Holding it firmly by the little ball, he drew the tip slowly across the soft skin, tracing invisible patterns on the smooth, luscious flesh, randomly at first, then circling idly around the nipple area, gradually drawing closer to the pink nubbin, taut and throbbing now with fear. "How lovely," David said. "The contrast of hard, sharp, merciless steel against that tender, vulnerable living flesh. How exciting." The tip moved slowly over the delicate aureole, then touched the nipple, prodded it gently. Lisa began to make short whimpering sounds in her throat. David smiled at her. "Yes, Lisa," he said. "Right into the nipple. Right through the center. All the way in. It's going to hurt, Lisa. It's going to hurt like hell." She was panting harshly now, her body straining at the ropes with futile desperation. "Please," she got out, mewling it. "Please..." David positioned the tip of the needle at the center of Lisa's nipple. He paused for a moment, smiling into her terrified eyes. Then, slowly but firmly, he pushed it in.
9 "Derek," Collins said, "before you go I'd like you to help me secure Miss Gordon for the next stage of her... persuasion." "Yes, sir." Collins reached beneath his desk and pushed a hidden button. In response, a panel in the ceiling rolled back, revealing a winch-like device set into the exposed beam. At the touch of another button, a metal hook attached to a length of cable began to descend slowly. Startled by this development, Joyce was not immediately aware of Derek approaching her. Before she could avoid him he had seized her wrists in his hands. Though she struggled, the small man held on to them with surprising strength, while Collins rose from his chair and came toward her, holding a small coil of rope. Joyce kicked out at him desperately, but between the two of them they overpowered her, though she fought so hard they had to force her to the floor. There, with both men using their bodies to hold her down, Derek held her arms while Collins managed to tie her wrists tightly together in front of her. The ceiling cable had played itself out, and the metal hook dangled only a few feet above the floor. The two men raised the girl's arms and attached the hook to the ropes binding her wrists. Then Collins, panting a little but smiling triumphantly, went back to his chair. Again he pushed a button., The cable began to wind back up. Joyce cried out as the slowly ascending hook pulled her arms high in the air. The pressure forced her into a sitting position; then, as the gradual but inexorable ascent continued, she was compelled to clamber to her knees, and then to her feet, to alleviate the strain on her arms and shoulders. But still the hook rose, stretching her arms tightly over her head. Her body strained. Her breasts rose, tautened. Her face twisted with pain. She went up on tiptoe. "Stop it!" she cried at Collins. "Stop it!" He did not stop it. The ropes bit cruelly into the flesh of her wrists, and the girl gave a loud shriek as her struggling body was lifted clear of the floor. Her legs flailed, her feet stretching in a vain attempt to maintain contact with solidity. Her shoes fell from her writhing feet. Collins watched the helpless body rise until her feet were a good six inches above the floor. He then pressed the button, and the mechanism stopped. Still he gazed with rising triumph at the incredibly exciting sight of the squirming, groaning, naked girl hanging in front of him. "You may as well stop struggling, my dear," he said, a bit hoarsely. "It will only exhaust you prematurely. And it will do you no good." He turned to his assistant. "That will be all now, Derek. Thank you." "Yes, sir. Thank YOU," the small man said. He went out quickly, closing the door behind him. The girl had stopped her futile struggles and was laboring to catch her breath. "Let me down," she gasped. "Let me down! Please! It hurts!" Collins smiled at her. "Oh no, my dear Joyce. You're going to be up there for some time, I'm afraid. Until you're tamed, in fact. Until you agree to do exactly as I say. From now on. No matter what." "Oh please..." Collins went on as if she hadn't spoken. "Of course, just agreeing isn't enough. That will be easy. But I must be convinced--completely convinced--that you are ready to cooperate. That you will be utterly acquiescent. Because, of course, that is how the Council wants you." The girl's eyes closed, as though to blot out what was happening to her, and tears rolled out from beneath their lids. But at the same time she summoned up from somewhere a reserve of stubborn strength, for she whispered tightly: "You... go to... hell." Collins' eyes were bright. "As I said before," he murmured, "it is going to be an exquisite delight to break you." He opened another drawer in his desk and took out the whip. "And we shall start right away," he said. Her eyes opened, then widened with shock as she saw him approaching her, the whip in his hand. The blood drained from her pain-distorted face; the dangling body began to tremble. "What--what are you--" she gasped. He unfurled the black whip, holding it by the handle and letting the wicked length of it hang down to the floor. "What I am going to do, Joyce, is to give you more pain than you ever imagined to be possible. I am going to hurt you so badly that you will wish you had never been born. And, when you are absolutely certain that no one in the world has ever known, or could ever know, such suffering--then it is going to get worse." A tiny, involuntary sound escaped her; but she said nothing more. "Here we go," Collins breathed. He raised the whip. He was an expert with it. He swung it back as far as he could, and then with astounding speed and all of his strength lashed out at the hanging girl. The thing whistled sharply through the air, and then landed with a loud, savage crack across her uplifted and defenseless breasts. Her first scream almost made him come in his pants.
10 "You were right," David was saying, over the inhuman howling sounds that were coming from Lisa's mouth. "She screams beautifully." "Yes," Avery said. "But Christ, I've never had her screaming like this. Those things are wicked!" "And I've hardly started yet," David said, his eyes devouring the twisting, writhing body of the girl, who seemed to be nearly out of her mind with torment. She was still tied as before, her straining arms and legs pulling frantically and futilely against the ropes that held her helpless body arched tautly against the bed rail. She still wore her short skirt, but otherwise she was naked. Two of David's needles were embedded in her breasts, one in each nipple, pushed in until only the little ball on the hilt was exposed. Lisa had screamed herself hoarse, but still she went on screaming continuously, pausing only when lack of breath made her gasp desperately for air, choking and sobbing. In one of these intervals David, aroused by her suffering, took a fistful of her long dark hair, bending her head back forcefully, and leaned down to mash his mouth to hers. Her lips were twisted with pain, and she panted heavily into his mouth. David lifted his head, but kept his hold on her hair. Looking down into her wild, pain-fogged eyes, he deliberately pressed his body close to hers, crushing her tortured breasts, with their buried needles, against his chest. Lisa began to scream again. David held himself in position for several moments, watching her eyes, and then moved away from her, but still kept his grip on her hair. When she paused for breath again, David said, "I want you to kiss me, Lisa. Do you hear me? I want you to kiss me nicely. And sexily. If you don't, I'm going to put more needles in your breasts, right now." Lisa made a frightened, mewling sound. David brought his mouth to hers again. The girl was gasping and crying and moaning, but she did her best to comply with his demand. Her panting, quivering mouth pressed itself to his and she met his probing tongue with her own, fearfully trying to please him through her pain and terror, keening into his mouth, her breath wheezing loudly in her nostrils. David kissed her for a long time, occasionally touching his body to hers as before, pressing against her breasts to make her scream down his throat. At last he stepped back from her, his own breathing none too steady now. Lisa was sobbing and gasping with agony. "Please. Take them out," she babbled. "Please. Please take them out. God it hurts. Oh Christ it hurts. Please. Please take them out. Please." "Poor suffering Lisa," David said. "Put the others in," Avery said. Lisa screamed. "Look at her," David said, reaching out to touch the twisting body. "I have to have her, Avery. Right now." "With the needles still in her?" Avery said, his eyes gleaming. "Yes." "No!" Lisa shrieked. "Oh god, no, don't... please no, please no, please, please, I'll do anything..." "Lisa," David said. "You remember I said I'd like to have you suck my cock for me?" Lisa moaned. "If you do that for me, Lisa, and do it really well, then I'll take the needles out. All right?" "Oh god... take them out... now... please..." "No, Lisa. Afterwards. If you do it well. If you give me the best sucking I've ever had. Then I will. All right, Lisa?" "Yes..." "Avery," David said. "Get her down from there for now." Avery cut the rope connecting Lisa's bound wrists and ankles. When he did, the girl immediately fell forward, tumbling off the bed to the floor, where she lay twisting and writhing, her wrists still lashed behind her, her ankles tied together. "That's fine," David said. "Leave her like that. Lisa, get on your knees." Slowly, awkwardly, every movement adding to the terrible agony of the needles in her breasts, the girl managed with great difficulty to get herself into a kneeling position. David now began to take off his clothes, his eyes on the crying, keening, shuddering girl. Naked, he stepped up to her, his cock large and throbbing with lust. "Do it, Lisa," David said. "Be a good little cock-sucker, Lisa baby. Open up." Lisa opened her mouth and took his cock into it. Still sobbing and groaning loudly with pain, she began to suck him. "That's nice, Lisa," David said hoarsely. "That's good. Nice and slow, Lisa, that's right. I know you're hurting, Lisa baby, I know you can hardly keep from screaming, and it's so nice. It makes it so nice for me, Lisa. Keep it up, now. Take it deep, Lisa. All the way, that's the girl. Lick it too, Lisa. Let me feel your tongue. That's it. Oh, that's so sweet. Oh, you fine little suffering cock-sucker, you. So good. You hurting little thing, you sweet... aching... pain-wracked little thing..." "You said you wanted to come in her face, David, remember?" Avery said. "Oh yes," David panted. "I remember. I'm going to do that all right. You hear that, Lisa? I'm going to come all over your pretty little face, just like I said. And then... Oh yes, do it, Lisa, it's so beautiful..." The kneeling girl was trying to control herself, but she couldn't hold back the cries and howls of pain that she let out around his prick, couldn't stop the agonized shuddering of her body or the gasping sobs that transmitted themselves to the fleshy rod in her mouth; but still she sucked him, steadily and deeply, her desperate obedience adding immeasurably to his pleasure. At last, with a great groan, David pulled himself out of her mouth, reaching down to grasp her hair again, holding it cruelly so that she couldn't move away from him, and shot jet after jet of spurting gism directly into her face. The stuff shot into her eyes, up her nose, over her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, her hair, until it seemed as if it would never stop. The white viscous liquid dribbled down her face and dripped from her chin. "Wonderful!" Avery cried. "Fabulous! My turn now!" "No! Take them out!" Lisa screamed. "Please god take them out now!" David smiled at her. "As soon as you do that for your brother, Lisa," he said as the girl collapsed, sobbing, to the floor. "Then I'll take them out. For a while."
11 John Collins remembered that first scream with particular pleasure. There had been pain and agony in that scream, of course, and that had been magnificent, but there had been plenty of that, and worse, in the screams that had issued from her again and again and again, as the whipping had continued. What set that first scream apart was the sheer shock at the horror of it--shock at the unexpected intensity, the unimagined awfulness of the unbearable pain; astonishment at the sudden knowledge that such pure animal agony could exist in the world, could be experienced by any one person without being immediately followed by unconsciousness, or death; horror at the realization that this was happening to her, that it would go on happening to her, this torment that she had never dreamed possible, and that there was nothing she could do to stop it. John Collins had paused to savor all this, as he was savoring it now in his mind. Then he had whipped her again, and had gone on whipping her, steadily, mercilessly and with all his strength, relishing the inhuman shrieks and howls and cries and strangled, inarticulate pleas for mercy; enjoying to the utmost the struggles of the writhing, squirming, twisting body, which plunged and kicked and flailed wildly as he circled it, lashing the whip across her back, her buttocks, her breasts, her legs, her stomach, never stopping until his arm ached with fatigue and she hung limp in exhaustion, gasping and moaning. Then he had stopped to rest. And after a while he had started again. Now he continued to stroke his exposed cock idly as he gazed at the dangling woman. Her head drooped, her hair was lank with perspiration, her face streaked with sweat and tears. But the fine breasts, held high and taut by the position of her upraised arms, were not diminished by the marks of the whip that crossed them. The long, shapely legs were still perfect, the body still arousing--more so because of the agony it was suffering. She had not lost consciousness, and though she had no more strength to twist and scream, that agony was expressed in every twitch and quiver and moan that came from her. Now, slowly and painfully, she raised her head once more, peering at him through glazed, tormented eyes. He smiled at her, still playing with the stiff pole of flesh that stuck up through his open fly. "How do you feel, Joyce?" he said mockingly. "Not too well, I take it. Being whipped is quite a humbling experience, isn't it? Rather changes your outlook on things, I would think. How's your outlook, Joyce? Feeling a bit more docile, perhaps?" "Please..." Joyce gasped out. She was barely able to whisper. "Please, I can't... stand it... for god's sake..." "You don't want to be whipped any more, is that it?" Collins said innocently. "Oh god..." The words ended in a terrified gasp. "Would you like me to take you down now, Joyce?" "Yes... oh god yes... please... please..." "And if I do, will you be a good girl? Will you be good to me and do as I say? Think about it, Joyce. I don't want to have to take you down and then put you up there again. That would make me angry. Do you understand, Joyce?" "Yes... please..." "Will you, Joyce?" "I--yes... I will... I will... oh god..." "We'll see," Collins said. He pushed a button. The winch in the ceiling began to turn, and the cable slowly began to unwind, lowering Joyce gradually toward the floor. When her feet touched the solid surface she gave a hoarse cry of relief; but she was unable to stand, and still sagged in her bonds, until her knees touched the floor. At that point, Collins touched the button again, stopping the cable. Joyce was kneeling now, her arms still stretched upward by the ropes on her wrists, her body upright, her breasts thrusting. She gave another cry as the cable stopped, and looked fearfully at Collins. He rose and walked around his desk, then came toward her, his rigid cock poking out before him. He did not stop until he was quite close to the kneeling girl. His prick loomed at her face. He took one more step, touching her lips with the throbbing tool. "Show me, Joyce," he said harshly. "Go on. Show me what you'll do, girl." Distressed and startled at this unexpected demand, Joyce instinctively turned her head away with a cry of horror. Collins stepped back, his face hard. "Just as I suspected," he said softly. "You're not ready yet, after all. But that's all right, Joyce, darling. I'm rather glad, actually. It gives me more time to enjoy taming you. And it makes it all the better when you finally break." As he spoke he moved back to his desk, sat down, and once again pushed a button. The cable began to wind back up. Joyce gave a sudden shriek as she felt her arms being pulled up again, then continued to moan with terror and pain as first her knees, then her feet, left the floor. In a minute she was hanging as before. "No!" she cried out. "No! Please! Don't! I--I will... I'll do it... I swear it... oh Jesus, I'm begging you..." "Dear Joyce," Collins said. "What you will do with me is nothing compared to what you will have to do in order to make amends to our friends on the Council. I have to make absolutely sure you will do whatever they want you to do. Without hesitation, without argument, with nothing but utter and complete obedience. Do you understand?" "Ohhh... dear god... help me..." "And only when I have made absolutely sure of that," Collins said, "will I let you down from there again. And I suspect, Joyce, that it's going to take a while." "For god's sake..." the girl whispered. "Don't. I--I can't take any more. Don't whip me again. I'll do what you want. I'll do anything. I can't... Don't whip me any more... please..." "Oh no, Joyce," Collins said, smiling. "I'm not going to whip you any more. No. There are too many other pleasurable things I can do to you to make you into the docile slave I know you can be. It's time now to try some of those." Still smiling, he took a pack of cigarettes and some matches from his pocket, pulled out one of the cigarettes, and lit it. Then, taking it from his mouth, he blew gently on the tip of it, watching it glow redly. His gaze moved from the burning tip to Joyce's dangling, helpless body, and then, slowly, up to her bulging, terrified eyes.
12 "I did it," Lisa gasped, still choking on Avery's gism. "I did it, please, you said you'd take them out, please..." She was naked now, because David had pulled off her skirt and her panties, making sure she continued to suck Avery's cock as he did so. "Of course I will, Lisa," David said. "But look, watching you suck your brother off has made me all hard again. And the only thing that's going to help me out is to be inside that luscious, pain-wracked little body of yours." Great sobs burst from the girl's throat, mixed with gasps of pain. She writhed helplessly on the floor, her bound and suffering body doing nothing to decrease David's hard-on. "Please..." she sobbed out, her desperation forcing the words through her labored breathing. "Please, I'll be good for you, I'll do anything you want, I'll make it so good, I swear, oh god please just take them out... I'll be good... I promise... oh Jesus help me..." "Roll over," David said. Lisa's eyes widened with terror. "Oh no... I can't... no..." "I have more needles, Lisa," David said. "Lots of them. I wouldn't mind sticking a few more of them in those breasts of yours. Then a couple in your stomach, and then maybe--" "NO!" the girl cried. "Oh god, don't!" "Then do as I say," David said. "Roll over. Now." The moaning girl, tied as she was, managed to roll herself onto her side, and then, fearfully, onto her front. She screamed as her breasts touched the floor, the hard surface driving the needles harder into her flesh. With her hands behind her, she was unable to raise her upper body, and twisting from side to side only added to the pressure. Cries of agony came from her straining throat as her body squirmed helplessly against the carpet. "Look at that ass wriggle," David said softly. "It's a great ass, Avery." "Are you going to stick pins into it?" Avery asked eagerly. "I'm going to stick something into it, all right," David said, lowering himself to the floor and putting his hands on Lisa's writhing buttocks. "I imagine it will be painful enough." "Especially with her like that," Avery said. "Want me to untie her legs?" "I don't think that will even be necessary," David said. He placed his hands on Lisa's hips and pulled them upward, until she was half-kneeling. The position put even more of her weight on her breasts, causing her to shriek more loudly. Then he found her buttocks again and pulled them apart, positioning himself against her. "What a sweet little baby," he said, and pushed himself into her. It was Avery's turn to get hard again as he watched his friend fucking his sister's ass, lunging at her again and again, each thrust crushing her breasts harder against the floor, driving the needles mercilessly into the tormented nipples, while Lisa emitted a continuous, inhuman, high-pitched howl as she was driven nearly out of her mind with the unrelenting, horrible, all-consuming pain...
13 After he had lowered the girl once again, and removed her manacles, John Collins had to wait a long time before he was able to speak to her with any assurance that she was able to hear him, let alone to pay attention. He wasn't bored, though. Quite the contrary. He sat happily in his chair, watching the naked, quivering body curled up into a writhing ball on the floor, and listened with intense pleasure to the sounds she was making, to the gasps and the whimpers and the deep animal moans, to the repeated retching, to the continual wracking, choking sobs. He watched and listened for quite a while, and his eyes were very bright. "The proud Miss Gordon," he said at last, over the diminished but still quite audible sounds of her suffering. "The oh-so-confident Miss Gordon who walked in here ready to defy the whole world. Look at you now." Joyce retched. "I told you I would break you, Joyce. And I have. Haven't I?" Sobbing from the girl. "Say yes, Joyce," Collins said. "I want to hear you say it. I want to make sure you know it. I've broken you, now and forever. You'll never be the same again. And right now you're mine. I'm your master. You're my slave. Now say it. Say yes, I've broken you. Say it." With great effort, she choked out the word. "Y-yes..." "And I've enjoyed every minute of it," Collins said. "And I'm going to enjoy the fruits of it even more, and very soon. Because now you're going to do whatever I say and whatever I want. Aren't you, Miss Gordon?" "Unnhhh... yes..." "Yes. But first I'll tell you what you're going to do for the Council, which after all was the main purpose of this little exercise. First, tomorrow you're going to call your editor. You're going to explain to him that you've made a terrible mistake, and that all the data you gathered for that story was false, planted by unscrupulous political enemies. You were too gullible, you were so eager to get a big story that you didn't check deeply enough. But it was all lies, and you feel terrible about your part in it. You'll tell him you're writing a retraction of the story which you will send in to him, and then you're going to take some time off. Two weeks, at least. Are you listening, Joyce?" "Oohhh... god... I... yes..." "Then I'll take you to meet the Councilmen. Now listen carefully, Joyce. Here's what you're going to do..." He told her in great detail what she was going to do, and what she was going to say, and how she was going to act, and what was going to happen to her afterwards. The girl sobbed and whimpered and retched, but when he asked her if she understood she said yes. "Good," Collins said. "And now, Joyce, it's time for me to collect my reward. After all, I have to make sure that the Council will be getting its money's worth, don't I? I'm sure you know how to use that beautiful body to give pleasure to a man. Very great pleasure. In any way he wants it. I'm going to find that out, Joyce. And if there's any particular aspect in which you're deficient, we'll soon have you trained to do it properly. Won't we, Joyce?" "...yes..." "Yes. Come to me now, Joyce. Come here to me. No, you don't have to get up. Just crawl over here. Crawl to me, Joyce." She crawled.
14 Avery lay stark naked on the bed, his erect, throbbing cock standing straight up. David was standing a few feet away, looking down on Lisa kissing his feet. He had untied the rope binding her ankles, but her wrists were still lashed in back of her. The needles were still buried in her nipples. She was crouched on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, kissing and licking his bare feet in a desperate, frenetic efffort to persuade him to release her from her torment. "Come on, David," Avery said. "I want her again." "Poor Lisa wants her needles taken out," David said. "You want to take them out for her?" "I'd rather put some in her," Avery said. "Oh, no," David said. "Only I can do that." "Are you going to?" "Yes." Lisa screamed, her eyes wild with horror. "NO! NO!" "Don't worry, Lisa, I'll take those out first," David said. "Or Avery will. Avery wants you now, Lisa. I think you better get up there and fuck him." "Please..." the girl moaned. "Oh god please, don't do it again, please, I'll do anything..." David sighed. "I enjoy your pleading, Lisa, but this is getting a little tiresome. And I don't like being disobeyed. I told you to get on the bed and fuck Avery. Unless you want to start looking like a pincushion, you'd better do it." The sobbing girl struggled to her feet. She had some trouble doing so, since she was unable to use her hands, and every movement of her body added to the inescapable pain in her breasts. David did not help her up. Neither man helped her as she climbed awkwardly onto the bed next to her brother. "This is going to be fun," Avery said. "Just get on top of me, Sis. You're going to do all the work. Here, let me help you." He helped her by clamping his hands over her breasts and pulling at them, his fingers digging hard into the flesh and his palms pressing cruelly against the needle tips where they protruded from her nipples. Shrieking out her torment, the bound girl moved as he directed, straddling his body. Avery released one breast to reach down and adjust his cock. "Okay, Sis," he said. "Get right down on it now. All the way down." When she had taken him all the way inside her and was sitting astride him, Avery let go the other breast also. For a moment he just lay there, grinning up at her. She was crying less frantically now, but her eyes were glazed with pain, and every breath from her panting mouth was a hoarse, unearthly groan of inexpressible suffering. "Those things look real good on you, Sis," Avery said. He raised a hand again toward her breast, and Lisa flinched. "Stay still, Lisa," he said, and putting thumb and forefinger together, he snapped hard with his fingernail against one of the needle heads. The girl screeched, and he did it again. "Now fuck me, Lisa," he said. "Fuck me good and hard. I want to see those titties bounce. Go on, that's it. Faster, Lisa. Oh yeah..." Lisa's breasts indeed bounced up and down as she obeyed her brother's commands. Her bound, useless hands strained futilely at her bonds, her fingers clutching at nothing. Her shapely thighs pumped, her body rose and fell, and her breasts, impaled by the agonizinag needles, rolled and jiggled and jounced and bobbed, until she was again yelling and howling, her whole body twisting with pain, which only added to her brother's pleasure. Only the fact that she had so recently sucked him dry prevented him from shooting everything he had into that deliciously squirming body. Lisa was forced to pause at last, exhausted by pain and exertion. Avery slapped at her breast to encourage her to continue, but David spoke up. "Let her rest for a moment, Avery," he said. "Why don't you pull those things out of her now? You should enjoy that. If you do it slowly, they'll be nearly as painful coming out as they were going in." "Not yet," Avery said, as his sister moaned with despair. "Not just yet, David. Come here, Sis." Reaching up, he grabbed a handful of Lisa's dark hair and pulled hard, bringing her body down atop his. Lisa screeched loudly as her breasts were crushed against his chest. Her body writhed frantically on top of him. Avery's cock was still inside her, and he groaned at the ecstasy of it. "Kiss me, Lisa," he grated, and still clutching her hair he turned her squalling, gasping mouth to his and jammed his lips against it. He held her there for a long moment, relishing the squirming friction of her cunt, the writhing torso, the tortured breasts mashed against him, her twisting lips as she cried and yelled and panted into his mouth. He held her that way until he felt on the verge of climax again, and then let her go. "Now," he said when she was sitting astride him again, struggling for breath, and his pussy-sheathed pole, while still stiff and throbbing, was no longer poised to explode. "Now I'll take them out of her." "Slowly," David said. "Of course," Avery said. "We don't want her to enjoy it, do we?" As he brought his hands to her nipples, Lisa bit at her lip, torn between the desperate desire to be rid of her present agony, and fear of further pain. Avery pulled the needles out one at a time, as slowly as he could, turning them in his fingers as he did so, while Lisa shook and shrieked and twisted on his cock. Lisa's relief was short-lived. "Give them to me," David said, stretching out his hand for the needles. Avery did so. "Now," David said, "if you'll position her the way you had her before, Avery, we'll see what else we can do with them." Lisa's face contorted with fear and horror. "NO!~ she shrieked. "No more! You can't! No!!" "Can't I, Lisa?" David said. "Do it," Avery said, reaching up once more to grasp his sister's hair tightly, and pulling her down on top of him. David was standing behind her, and now he sat down on the bed, his eyes on Lisa's round, shapely buttocks, which in her present position stuck up and out enticingly, the skin taut over the luscious curves. David reached out to touch them. "Beautiful ass," he said softly. "So firm. So tender. So vulnerable." "NO!" Lisa yelled. "No, please, don't, oh god oh jesus for god's sake don't, please I can't--no, no, I'll do anything, no--" David was running the tips of the needles lightly over the curving flesh, as if searching for the ideal spot. He paused finally, needles poised, one in the exact center of each quivering cheek. "Right here, I think," he murmured. Lisa made a great, desperate effort to speak calmly, to make herself understood. "David, please," she panted, her voice quivering badly. "Listen, please, I'm begging you, I can't stand it, please don't, I'll do anything you want, anything you say, for god's sake, please..." "Lisa," David said. "Yes." "You'll do anything I want anyway. Whether I put these needles in you or not. You have no choice. Isn't that right, Lisa? Be logical. I can hurt you all I want, and you're still going to do what I say. Isn't that right, Lisa?" "Oh, god..." "Answer me, Lisa." "Yes..." "Of course," David said, and he pushed the needles into her buttocks, slowly but firmly, both at once, and Lisa went crazy with the pain. Her screams seemed to shake the walls; she squalled and howled and flailed her body wildly against Avery, who at last could not hold out any longer, and who gave a great cry of his own as he spurted explosively over and over again inside his sister's bucking, jerking, agony-wracked body.
15 The room in which the City Council gathered on this particular evening was not the large, ornate chamber in which they usually conducted their business. That was considered too public, too accessible for their present purposes. The room into which Collins led Joyce was a simple meeting room, curtained and carpeted but relatively plain. There was a long table at one end of the room, and behind it sat the seven men who made up the Council, with Alex Trifford, the Council president, in the center. Their ages ranged from forty to sixty, and they all had the look of men who knew what they wanted and had few scruples about how they got it. This was not the way they looked when they were in public; there they appeared friendly, or jovial, or serious, or concerned--whatever the situation demanded. They were, after all, politicians, and shrewd ones. But here, now, they could be themselves, and their faces were hard and showed little expression, except for a certain amount of irrepressible anticipation at the sight of the full-figured blonde girl as she came through the door. "Gentlemen," Collins said, somewhat triumphantly, "this is Miss Gordon." She was wearing the same sweater and skirt she had worn in Collins' office. This was because she had not left that office until this evening. Collins had kept her there for several days, locking her in at night, having food sent up when necessary. During most of that time she had worn no clothes at all. The delay had allowed the marks on her body to fade somewhat, and had allowed Collins time to train her. She had learned a great deal about how to please a man. Not that she'd exactly been inexperienced, but he had taught her things she'd never dreamed about. Some of them were disgusting, some were painful, but she did them. If she expressed the least bit of reluctance, just the threat of being put back up in the air--just the suggestive lighting of a cigarette--would set her shaking and moaning, and she would do what he wanted. So she crawled for him, and she debased herself, and she learned, and she listened when he told her exactly what she was to do when he took her before the City Council. And when, finally, he let her get dressed again, he made her leave her bra and panties off. So she was wearing nothing under her outer clothes. The sweater molded her breasts tightly as they rose and fell with her rapid, frightened breathing; the shapes of the nipples, hard with fear, could be plainly seen against the straining cloth. "How do you do, Miss Gordon," Alex Trifford said. His voice was pleasant, but his eyes were hard. "It's certainly a pleasure to see you. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we have been looking forward to this. Yes, indeed. We've certainly been looking forward to this. Haven't we, gentlemen?" There was a murmur of assent along the table. Every eye was focused on the girl, who was trembling visibly. "All right, Joyce," Collins said. "You know what to do." She hesitated for just a moment. Then, very slowly and rather unsteadily, she walked to the middle of the room and stood facing the council table. She did not look at them, but kept her eyes cast down. She was very pale now, but the pallor did little to distract from the loveliness of her face. She darted a quick, nervous glance at Collins, who nodded his head to her, his eyes hard. She swallowed, and then went down on her knees. She knelt there before them on the floor, her eyes still down, and then her mouth opened and she tried to speak, but could not. She had to swallow again, and when she tried again her voice was barely audible. "Gentlemen," she said faintly, "I--I wish--" "Louder, Joyce," Collins said. "We want the council to hear every word." This time her voice was louder, though it quivered and faltered. But she said what she had to say. "Gentlemen--I'm--I wish to apologize to you for--the things I've written. I know--I know they were false, and I most humbly beg your pardon. I know that--" She began to choke, but cleared her throat and went on. "I know that I've done you a great wrong, and--and that no apology can make up for it. I--I will do anything I can to--to compensate you for--for what I've done. Anything you wish. I am--I am at your service. My body--my body is yours to do with as you will. I give it to you. I--you may use it for your pleasure. At any time, in any way, and for as long as--as--" She was crying now. They watched her crying as she knelt there. "All right, Joyce," Collins said. "Now show them." Slowly she got to her feet. And slowly, still facing them but not looking at them, she took off her clothes. She pulled the sweater up over her head, and several of the men gave low whistles at the sight of her naked, perfectly shaped breasts. Then she opened her skirt and let it fall, and stood naked in front of them. "Gorgeous," one of them said. "Absolutely gorgeous." "What are those marks on her breasts?" another man said. "Looks like burns." "As you know, I had to do some severe training," Collins said. "It took a great deal of--persuasion--to prepare her properly for you gentlemen." "That's no problem," Trifford said. "They don't take anything away from that sexy body. In fact, I like them. They give me some terrific ideas." Joyce shuddered visibly, and made a tiny moaning sound. "She's all yours, gentlemen," Collins said. "We've arranged for Joyce to take a two-week vacation from her paper. For that time she has nothing to do but to serve your pleasure." "Excellent," Trifford said. "Why don't we start right now?" Nobody objected. Some of the Council members wanted her to suck them off first, all of them, one by one, just to degrade her as much as possible, this uppity woman who had dared to try to expose them, show her what kind of a crawling slave slut they could make of her, now that she was in their power. Others wanted to start by fucking her, spreading her right across the long table and taking that luscious body there and then. So, like good politicians, they took a vote. Sucking won. So she got down on her knees again, and she crawled to one end of the table, as they opened their trousers, and she sucked them off, one by one, moving down the line under the table; and she did it well, because she knew she had to do it well, because Collins had made it clear to her that if there were any complaints about her, if she performed badly or objected to anything she was told to to or showed any sign of rebellion, he would have to take her back to his office and start training her all over again, only more severly this time. She couldn't imagine what could possibly be more severe than what he had already done to her, but she had no desire to find out; the only desire she had now, the only thing she knew with absolute certainty, was that she had to avoid any more of his punishment. She couldn't endure it again; the very thought of it made her start to shake and sweat and feel sick. So she did it well, she made it good for them with her mouth and her lips and her tongue, and when they came in her mouth she forced herself to swallow it all, just as Collins had told her. When she finished with one she crawled to the next, and when she felt like gagging on their come she took deep breaths through her nose and suppressed the instinct. And when she had finished the last one, she stayed there on her knees and waited for further orders. Tears ran down her face, but she couldn't help that. Besides, they wouldn't mind her tears. They would enjoy seeing her cry, it was part of their vengeance, their debasement of her. When they told her to get up and climb onto the table and stretch herself out on her back, with her legs spread wide, she did it. The men she had sucked first were ready again, and the others soon after. Some of them took off most of their clothes, some of them didn't bother. But they all took her there, crushing her body under them, squeezing her breasts roughly, pushing themselves hungrily into her softness. Some of them kissed her tired mouth as they battered eagerly at her, some grunted obscenities, some just grinned with evil triumph into her tear-filled eyes. Through it all she felt Collins' eyes on her, and again she did what she had to do. She arched and squirmed, she met their thrusts, trying to match their rhythms, she kissed them back with passionate tongue, she wrapped her legs around them, she did everything she could to give them pleasure. And she never stopped crying. "The bitch is good," Trifford said to Collins, when they had all finished with her. "You did a good job on her." "Yeah," one of the others said. "But this is just the beginning. We've got a long way to go before we're done with her." "I don't think she'll give you any trouble," Collins said. "But if she does, just give me a call. I guarantee I'll take care of it." Joyce started to shake. "That's good," Trifford said. "But I think maybe we'll be able to take care of it ourselves, you know? I wouldn't mind putting a few marks on her myself, if necessary." "Sounds like fun to me," another man said. "Well, I'll leave her to you now. But remember--when you get through with her, I want her back. She has a date to keep with my assistant. Right, Joyce?" "Yes, sir," Joyce said.
16 Avery and his sister were spending a quiet domestic evening at home when the unexpected visitor showed up. They were, in fact, watching television. Avery was enjoying it immensely, Lisa somewhat less so. What they were watching was a videotape made by Avery's friend David only a few days before. It showed David sitting in a chair, naked, with Lisa, also naked, sitting astride his lap, with his cock inside her. Avery was standing behind her, whipping her across the back with his belt. There was no sound with this particular tape, but it was obvious that Lisa was howling loudly at each blow, and her violent jerking and squirming under the repeated lashing was giving David great pleasure. As he watched the tape, Avery was receiving great pleasure also, not only from the sight of his sister's torment, but also from her mouth as she sucked his cock. She was crouched beside him on the sofa, and because he had insisted she watch the tape also, she was keeping one eye on the screen as her head bobbed up and down. Slowly, the way Avery liked it. When the doorbell rang, Avery scowled. "Who the hell can that be?" he muttered. "Shit!" Pushing Lisa away, he stood up and tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up and trying to push down his hard-on. The girl sat up, straightening her clothing. Avery went to the door. The visitor was a middle-aged, rather rotund man wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a black briefcase. "Good evening," he said, when Avery opened the door. "Is this the--" He took a piece of paper from his pocket, looked at it, put it back. "--the Childs residence?" "Yes," Avery said. "I'm Avery Childs. Something I can do for you?" "Ah, Mr. Childs," the man said. "Forgive me for calling at this unconventional hour, but we have been trying to contact you for some--Oh, excuse me. I'm Henry Donaldson. I'm the student liaison coordinator for the local school district. I believe you have--" "Student WHAT coordinator?" Avery said. "Liaison," Donaldson said, smiling rather apologetically. "That's what the school district likes to call it nowadays. It used to be called a truant officer." "Oh," Avery said. "Our records show that there is a person, a student, residing at this address by the name of Lisa Jane Childs. Is that correct?" "Well, yes," Avery said. "She's my sister." "Ah. I see. Yes. Well, Mr. Childs, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but according to our records, Miss Childs has not been attending school recently. In fact, at appears she has not attended at all for a period of several months." "Well," Avery said. "Actually, Mr. Donaldson, we've decided to take Lisa out of school. She won't be coming back. So you can close the case. Thank you for--" "But--Just a moment, Mr. Childs. I'm afraid it's not as simple as that. You see, the law in this state requires that a minor child be enrolled in a certified educational institution, and attend it regularly. Perhaps if I could speak to the girl's parents..." "Our parents are dead, Mr. Donaldson. I'm Lisa's guardian." "I see. Well, let me explain--" "The fact is, Lisa is being educated at home. She's a very bright girl, you see, very intelligent, and she's perfectly capable of pursuing her studies on her own--with the proper supervision, of course. So I don't think you have to--" "But unless the girl is under the instruction of a licensed, certified tutor... And even then, the circumstances would have to be approved by the school board. I'm afraid, Mr. Childs, you'll have to--" Avery sighed. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Donaldson. Perhaps the best thing would be for you to meet Lisa and see for yourself how well instructed she is. Why don't you come in?" "Well, I'd be happy to meet the young lady, of course, but I'm afraid it won't make any difference. The law is very clear on this point, and the board must conform to it, of course." "Of course," Avery said, ushering the other man in and closing the door behind him. "But I think you may find this a special case. Right in here, Mr. Donaldson." He led the way into the living room. Lisa was sitting demurely on the sofa--as demurely as she could, given the fact that she was dressed the way Avery liked her, with her very tight sweater clinging to the curves of her breasts and outlining clearly the little bumps of her nipples, and her short skirt revealing most of her sweet young thighs. "Mr. Donaldson," Avery said, "this is my sister, Lisa. Lisa, this is Mr. Donaldson. He's from the school district." "How do you do, Mr. Donaldson," Lisa said dutifully. Her eyes were apprehensive and somewhat fearful as she looked at Avery, as if to discover what it was he had in mind. But Avery was watching Donaldson intently as the other man looked at the girl, searching his face for the signs he hoped to see there. And he was rewarded. Donaldson's eyes widened a bit, and his mouth seemed to soften as his gaze took her in, and for a long moment he was unable to keep himself from staring. Avery smiled. Donaldson, with an effort, forced his eyes away from her body. "How do you do, Lisa," he said, a bit hoarsely. "Pretty, isn't she?" Avery said. "Please sit down, Mr. Donaldson." Donaldson sank into the proffered chair. "What? Oh, yes--yes. Very pretty. Now, Lisa, according to our records--" "Sexy-looking too, don't you think?" Avery said. Donaldson looked startled. "I--Well, I--I don't think that's really..." "Oh, come on, Mr. Donaldson," Avery said. "I saw you looking at her. Not that I blame you. She's really something, isn't she? Would you like to get a better look? Stand up, Lisa." Lisa stood up. She didn't look at Donaldson, nor at Avery. Her face was expressionless, if a bit pale. "You see how well trained she is?" Avery said. "She has the best instruction in the world." "I don't--I don't understand what--" Donaldson said. "Look at those breasts," Avery said. "Don't they make your mouth water? You can tell she's not wearing any brassiere. That's because I don't let her. I often don't let her wear any underwear at all, in fact. That's part of her schooling." "Mr. Childs, I--Now look, I--" "You can see how round and firm they are, even with that sweater on, can't you? But wouldn't you like to see them naked? You can if you want. I can just tell her to take the sweater off for you, and she will. She'll do anything I tell her to. Anything." "But--but--Mr. Childs... this girl is your SISTER!" "She's also my student," Avery said. "And I've taught her well, as you can see. Would you like her to take her clothes off?" "I--Jesus." Donaldson was sweating. His eyes traveled again, compulsively, up and down the girl's body. "I don't--Lisa--" He cleared his throat. "Lisa, what--what do YOU think about all this?" Lisa hesitated. "Answer him, Lisa," Avery said. She did not meet his gaze. When it came her voice was low but clear. "I do what my brother tells me," she said. "You see?" Avery said. "Take your sweater off, Lisa." Her hands trembling only slightly, she took hold of the bottom of the sweater and pulled it off over her head. A small sound came from Donaldson. "Gorgeous, aren't they?" Avery said. "Would you like to touch them? Or do you want her to take her skirt off first?" Donaldson's eyes didn't leave Lisa's bare breasts, but he made some kind of effort to pull himself together. "Now, look," he said gruffly. "I don't know what you're--if you think you can--can bribe me in some way with--with this girl..." "That's just what I think, Mr. Donaldson," Avery said. "I think you want Lisa in the worst way, and I think it won't be a big deal for you to just adjust your records a little bit, so we won't have any more interference from the school board. That's not asking much. Not for this. And when you see what Lisa can do, I'm sure you'll agree that she doesn't need to learn any more. Not after you find out just how educated she is--and how well trained. She's got a hell of an educated mouth, I'll tell you that. And a damn well-educated pussy, too. I'm still educating her asshole, but it's coming along fine. Maybe you'd like to help me with that, would you, Mr. Donaldson?" "Oh, Christ," Donaldson said. He swallowed. "Take your skirt off, Lisa," Avery said. "And show Mr. Donaldson your sweet little ass." Lisa looked at her brother quickly, then away. She pushed the short skirt down over her hips and let it fall to the floor. She then stepped out of it and turned around, showing Donaldson her back and buttocks. "Is that a great little ass or what?" Avery said. "I--" Donaldson cleared his throat. "Christ," he said again. "Lisa," Avery said, "go over to Mr. Donaldson and let him touch you." Lisa, turning again, walked slowly toward where the man was sitting, her eyes lowered. Donaldson watched the slight sway of her breasts as she approached. She stopped just in front of his chair. Donaldson's hand reached out reflexively for her breast, then stopped and fell back. "I can't do this," Donaldson said hoarsely. His breath was coming faster. "I shouldn't--I could get--" "Nobody will ever know," Avery said. "I promise you that. Whatever happens here will never leave this room. Touch her." "I shouldn't," Donaldson said again. "But it's--she's so... so..." "Touch her," Avery said. "Oh, god help me," Donaldson said, and put his hand on the soft tempting curve of Lisa's thigh. A small sound came from his throat. "Feels nice, doesn't she?" Avery said. "Christ," Donaldson said, his hand moving upward over the naked flesh. "Christ, she's so smooth. So young and smooth. Such a young, lovely girl..." His hand slid around to clutch at her buttocks. "Lisa," Avery said. "Ask Mr. Donaldson if he would like to fuck you in the ass." Donaldson caught his breath. Lisa's eyes closed for a moment and she bit at her lip. Her voice was very low. "Mr. Donaldson, would--would you like to--to fuck me?" "In the ass," Avery repeated. "In the ass," Lisa breathed. "Oh, good Christ," Donaldson said breathlessly. "I can't say no to that. I'll probably be damned all to hell, but I--she's--I can't say no to that." "Good," Avery said. "Where would you like her? How about we have her just bend over the sofa arm here. I find that's a pretty convenient position." "I don't care," Donaldson said. He stood up and took off his jacket. Without bothering to undress further, he opened the zipper of his fly and pulled out his penis, which was fully erect and surprisingly well developed. "I want her. I just want her now." "Over the sofa, Lisa," Avery said. "You know the position." The girl, trembling slightly, moved to one end of the couch and lowered her upper body onto it, face down, her hips bent over the raised leather arm. The position thrust her buttocks up provocatively. Her feet still rested on the floor, imparting a certain tension to her lovely outstretched legs, while her breasts were crushed beneath her as she hid her face in the sofa cushions. Avery watched with satisfaction as the sweating Donaldson approached the girl and bent over her, his hands pulling her firm rounded buttocks wide apart. A tiny fearful whimper came from Lisa. Donaldson positioned his eager cock against the small, crumpled opening of her anus, and then, with a hoarse groan, plunged himself into her. Lisa's head came up and she gave a shriek of pain, and then continued to cry out as the man forced his way more deeply into her narrow passage. "Noisy, isn't she?" Avery said. "Let me help shut her up for you." Following Donaldson's example by unzipping his trousers and pulling out his ready cock, he moved to the sofa and sat down, lifting his sister's head by the hair so he could slide beneath her, then lowering it to his crotch so that her open, squalling mouth was forced down over his cock. "That's better," Avery said. He kept his hand in her hair as a kind of warning, but Lisa didn't need to be told what to do. In spite of her continued sobbing and moaning, she proceeded to suck Avery's cock while Donaldson moved still deeper into her tender asshole. "Jesus, she's tight," he panted. "Well," Avery said. "Lisa's young." "Oh, yes," Donaldson said, gasping now as he began to move back and forth, his movements accelerating, his words coming in breathless spurts, accompanied by the girl's stifled cries. "Oh yes, she's young... God, she's so young and tight and gorgeous... A sweet young girl... A lovely little slut of a girl... Take it, you slut... you gorgeous fucking slut... fucking young girl... Oh Christ Jesus... Take it... Soft young slut of a girl... fine young girl... sweet fucking slut whore of a girl... I'm... I'm fucking you... Fucking your ass... god help me... sweet young girl... sweet... gorgeous... fucking... slut... of a giirrrrlllll..." And Donaldson came, his words fading into a rasping, rattling sound as he collapsed over the girl's body. His weight forced Lisa's mouth down hard over Avery's cock, and her cry of pain was choked off by her brother's sperm, which at that moment shot powerfully and repeatedly into her throat. All she could do to keep herself from strangling was to swallow desperately, gulping the stuff down while trying to breathe through her nose. At last Avery's cock slipped from her lips and she lay gasping, panting and sobbing, still trapped under Donaldson's heavy body. At last the man had recovered enough to get to his feet. He stood looking dazed, still breathing hard, and shaking his head. "Christ," he wheezed. "Jesus H. Christ. That was something!" "You see?" Avery said. "I knew you'd enjoy it. I did too. She's got a great mouth, our Lisa. Want to change places?" "Oh, my god," Donaldson breathed. "That's tempting, all right, but I'm not as young as you, boy. I think she ruined me for the night." "Oh, I doubt that," Avery said. "I'd bet anything that we can find a way to get you ready again. Don't you think so, Lisa?" "I... Yes, Avery," Lisa got out. "Of course, I'm sure you're going to fix up those records for us now, aren't you, Mr. Donaldson?" Avery said. "Oh, hell, yeah," Donaldson said. "I'll just say she died or something. I guess it was worth it." "Great," Avery said. "Now let's see, what can we do to give you some inspiration? I know. Lisa, why don't we show Mr. Donaldson that tape we were watching. That ought to put him in the mood." "Avery..." Lisa said. He looked at her sharply. "What?" "Nothing, Avery," Lisa said quickly. "I'm sorry. Nothing." "Good," Avery said. "Go turn it on for us, Lisa." Donaldson joined Avery on the sofa as Lisa obeyed. The tape did indeed put him back in the mood, just as Avery had predicted. He caught his breath and leaned forward attentively at the first sight of what was happening on the screen, and after a while his breathing became audible as he watched the silent spectacle of the girl's torment. When the tape ended, Donaldson turned to Avery, his face red, his eyes glittering. "I want that," he said. "I want her like that. Fucking me while you--" "Why not?" Avery said. After Lisa, shaking and moaning with fear, had gotten into position, straddling Donaldson's lap with his revived cock deep inside her, Avery played the tape again. And as he plied the belt steadily and mercilessly across his sister's naked back, Donaldson was able to look over her squirming shoulder and watch the same thing happening on the screen; as he savored the ecstatic pleasure of the girl's body twisting under the pain of the blows, as she jerked and bucked and pressed her writhing breasts hard against him in a frantic, futile effort to get away from the punishing belt, as she plunged dutifully and agonizedly up and down over his now steel-hard cock, he could watch the girl on the screen going through the same contortions, suffering the same torture; and though on the tape her screaming and howling and shrieking could not be heard, now, in actuality, those sounds resounded through the room, ringing loudly, abundantly, beautifully, in his ears.
17 One of the members of the Council was in real estate, and he supplied them with an apartment where they could keep her for the two weeks in which they were to have the ownership of her. She was not sure what her status would be after that, and she was afraid to ask. The apartment was large and luxurious, a penthouse duplex. They stocked it with plenty of food and drink, and with Joyce. She could not leave. There was a guard outside the door, twenty-four hours a day, whose sole duty was to see that no one but the Council members went in, and that she did not go out. There was no telephone. And there were no clothes, not even the ones she'd worn that first night. They kept her naked, all the time, naked and ready to receive them whenever they appeared. She never knew when one or two of them might drop in during the day, demanding her services. She might go the whole day without visitors--although this only happened once or twice--or she might be kept busy all day long, servicing five or six of them as they dropped in whenever they had the chance and the inclination. But the evenings were the worst. In the evenings they would gather together, most if not all of them, and stage a repeat, with variations, of the scene in the meeting room, until she was so exhausted that she could hardly move. But she had to be good for them. If she showed the slightest sign of slackening, of not putting everything she had into her performance, they would punish her. Not that they did to her what Collins had done; although the threat of that, or of their calling him in to deal with her if they weren't satisfied, was always in the air, and kept her obedient. But they had no qualms about being rough with her, and some of them seemed to get especially aroused by spanking her, or hurting her while they took her. They never forgot why they were doing this to her, never lost their anger at her for trying to destroy them by exposing their dishonesty. One day near the beginning of her period of servitude, Trifford had appeared at the apartment, along with another councilman, George Kalinkos, the real-estate man. Trifford was surly and scowling, evidently upset because of some business deal that had gone badly. He dropped moodily into a chair and ordered Joyce to fix him a drink. She did so, self-consciously, feeling the eyes of both men on her naked body. Even after all the things she had done, she could still not escape the feeling of shame at having her nakedness so casually exposed to the gloating, lustful eyes of the men. Kalinkos sprawled on a sofa as Trifford sipped his drink, his gaze travelling over the girl's enticing body. She stood waiting for orders, knowing she would have to do it with both of them, the only question being which way they wanted her this time. Which openings they would use. In which position. And whether they would take her separately or together. But Trifford was looking at her now with something more than plain lust in his eyes, something that made her fearful. "You're a real sexy piece, all right," he rasped. "But you're too smart for your own good. Women like you should stick to fucking and making babies, not go around messing in things that are none of your business. You damn near ruined us, you little bitch. You tried to take us down. We've been so busy fucking you, we haven't really dealt with that, now have we?" Joyce swallowed. "I--I apologized," she forced herself to say. "I'm sorry. I--I retracted the story. I'm sorry." "Maybe that's not enough," Trifford said. He put his drink down and stood up. "Come here, Joyce." She was trembling, but she made herself move toward him. She was within arm's reach of him when he told her to stop. "You fucking busybody whore," Trifford snarled. "That's what you are. A fucking busybody whore. Aren't you?" "I--I--" "AREN'T YOU?" Trifford demanded loudly. Joyce looked at the floor. "I--Yes." "Yes, what. Tell me. Come on, tell me. Say, 'I'm a fucking busybody whore.'" "I--I'm--" She swallowed hard. "I'm a fucking busybody whore." "Right," Trifford said, and raised his hand and slapped her hard across her left breast. She screamed and reflexively brought her hands up to cover her bosom. "Put your hands down, Joyce," Trifford said. "Down, I said. That's right. Now. You're also a dirty nosy cunt. Isn't that right, Joyce?" "Please..." "Tell me, Joyce." "Yes... please..." "Yes, what, Joyce? Say it." "I'm a--a dirty nosy cunt." Trifford slapped her with his other hand this time, hitting her right breast. Again she screamed, and again her hands came up automatically. "I told you to keep your hands down, Joyce. Didn't I tell you that?" "Yes," Joyce said. Slowly, she lowered her hands. "Please..." she said. "Please what?" Trifford said. "Please don't hit me any more." "No, Joyce, you don't understand," Trifford said. "If I want to hit you, you don't ask me not to. Because if I want to hit you, that's what you want, too. Isn't that right?" "I--" "Isn't that right, Joyce?" "Y-yes..." she whispered. "Right. So don't ask me not to hit you, Joyce. In fact, what you should do is just the opposite. You should be asking me to hit you, because that's what I want to do. So do that, Joyce. Ask me to hit you." Her eyes widened. She looked up at him, then down again. "I'm waiting," Trifford said. Her voice shook badly. "Please... please hit me..." He did, slapping her left breast again, even harder this time. Her legs buckled, and her hands came up on their own before she could think to stop them. He slapped her face. "You don't listen, bitch," he snarled. "George. Come here and hold her hands for her." Kalinkos rose from tbe couch and came over. Standing behind the girl, he seized her wrists in his hands and pulled them sharply backward, holding them tightly and twisting her arms up just hard enough to make her cry out. The position arched her back and thrust her shapely breasts outward toward Trifford, as if inviting his punishment. "That's better," Trifford said. "Now ask me again, Joyce. Ask me to hit you again." "Oh god..." she moaned, and Kalinkos twisted her arms harder. "Aahh! No! Hit... P-please hit me again..." Trifford did. Her breasts were red with the marks of his hands. "So," Trifford said. "We agree you're a fucking whore and a nosy cunt. What else? How about a shit-eating slut. Are you a shit-eating slut, Joyce?" "Yes..." she gasped as Kalinkos twisted her wrists again. She was sobbing. "Tell me." "Ohh... I... I'm a shit-eating slut..." Whap! across her breast. She shrieked. "And a slimy little cocksucker," Trifford said. "Say it!" "And a--" She could hardly speak. "--a slimy... little cocksucker." Whap! "AAAHHH! Stop! Please stop! Please!" "And a piece of rotten shit," Trifford said. "Say it!" "I can't! Oh, Jesus... AAAAHHHH!" Kalinkos had pulled her arms high up behind her back, until she was forced up onto her toes to relieve the pressure. "All right! All right! I'm--a piece of rotten shit!" WHAP! Joyce was screaming and sobbing hysterically, her body twisting and jerking in Kalinkos' tight grip. Trifford watched her for a few moments, until she had quieted enough to hear him. "Now, cunt," he sneered at her. "You get this straight, you hear? When you go back to that rag you work on, you write nothing but good things about us. Right? All about what great civic-minded guys we are, how good we are for the city and all that stuff. That way we won't have to deal with you again. You got that, Joyce? You understand?" "Yes..." she gasped out. "Yes... yes..." "Good. Now I want you to do something for me right now, Joyce baby. I feel like having my ass licked out. I want you to do that for me. I want you to lick it out real good, get it all clean and shiny. You'll do that for me, won't you, Joyce?" Her face twisted with a mixture of disgust and despair which she could not control, but her hesitation was brief. Not only was she at the mercy of the two men and their punishing hands, but somewhere out there was Collins, with his whip, and his cigarettes, and-- "Yes..." she choked. "Yes... anything..." She ended up doing it for both of them. They both stripped, and they took her into the bedroom, and Trifford knelt on the bed and Joyce knelt behind him. Trifford reached back and pulled his buttocks apart to expose his anus. "Now do a good job, Joyce baby," he said. "I want to feel your tongue right up in there. I want to feel you swabbing me out like a Roto-Rooter. Let's go." With Kalinkos looking on, ready to twist her arms again if she didn't perform satisfactorily, Joyce forced herself to do what she had to do. Bending down, she brought her mouth to the hairy cheeks in front of her. Her quivering tongue crept out, touched the waiting flesh, licked reluctantly, and then, at his urging, began to probe. She did a thorough job. He kept demanding that she push deeper, until her tongue ached at the roots. She jammed it in as far as she could, and then followed his instructions as he commanded her to twist her tongue, to lick him out, to thrust back and forth as though her tongue was fucking his asshole. All the while she felt sick, and tears ran down her face. But she did it. After a while he ordered her to reach around him and stroke his pulsing cock at the same time. She tried to do that well too, and at last he pulled away from her and turned around. "Keep playing with me, baby," he panted. "And use both hands. No, keep your face right where it is." Her face was just in front of his cock, and she realized what he wanted to do, but she didn't move away. Her hands stroked him and caressed him, faster and faster, until he stiffened and groaned, and strong jets of come spurted from his cock and splashed onto her face, hitting her eyes and her mouth and her cheeks, spurt after spurt until it was over. He wouldn't let her wipe it off. Then it was the other man's turn. Kalinkos was not as clean as Trifford, and he smelled. The odor from his unwashed anus nauseated her, and when she began to lick him, the taste of him was too much, and she had to run into the bathroom to throw up. She was afraid they would punish her for that, but they just thought it was funny. They just made her continue where she had left off. She gagged and she retched and she had to work very hard not to throw up again, but she probed and licked and finally tongued him cleaner than he had probably been for a long time. She stroked his cock too, and when he was finally ready and turned to her, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face to him, ramming his cock into her soiled, gasping mouth. He exploded almost immediately, and she retched again as she was forced to swallow his filth-flavored come. Then they were finished with her--for the moment. "By the way," Trifford said as they were dressing to leave, "we'll be coming back tonight, with the rest of the boys. All of us. We'll be coming over kind of early, so we'll want something to eat. There's plenty of food here, you can cook dinner for us." He grinned at her. "You can be dessert," he said.
18 When Avery told David about the visit from Donaldson, and how he had persuaded him to forget about Lisa as far as the school board was concerned, David laughed and laughed. "Wonderful," he said. "Your sexy little sister has her uses, all right." "No man could resist her, I bet," Avery said. "Not the way I've got her trained." David looked thoughtful. "I think you're right," he said. "You know, Avery, we might just be able to profit from that. In all kinds of ways." "What do you mean?" Avery asked. "Well." David looked over at Lisa, who was standing stark naked in the middle of the room, her hands tied behind her and her long dark hair hitched up to a hook which dangled on a rope from the ceiling. Her hair was fastened to it in a manner calculated to keep Lisa on her toes, since if she tried to stand flat-footed, it would tighten and pull painfully at her scalp, threatening to rip itself out by the roots. The two men enjoyed watching the constant struggle between the girl's need to rest her cramped and exhausted toes, and then to relieve the awful pulling at her scalp. That struggle had not yet reached the crucial point, but as time went by it would become unbearable. They were looking forward to that. They also enjoyed the way her precarious balance on her toes caused her body to turn this way and that, giving them a constantly changing view of that fine body from all angles. "Well," David said. "For one thing, we could get all kinds of favors and so on from a lot of people, if we played our cards right. Like you got from Donaldson. The possibilities are endless." "I see what you mean," Avery said. "Interesting." "And also," David said, "we could make a lot of money." "You mean--" "Oh, they would pay for that body, don't you think? Especially, as you say, since you've got her so beautifully trained." A sudden gasp came from Lisa. "Oh, my god!" she cried. "Oh, no! Avery!" "Well, yes..." Avery said slowly. "It's something I hadn't thought of--I mean, up to now I've enjoyed just keeping her for myself, and a few friends like you..." "And Donaldson," David pointed out. "Right. But she could certainly bring in a lot of money, no doubt about that." "Avery!" the girl gasped. "You can't! For god's sake! You'll make me a whore!" "Well, yes," David said dryly. "That is the general idea." "Oh god, no!" Lisa said, struggling on her toes to keep her body still enough to face them. "No, please. Avery, please. I don't want to be a whore. Oh, don't do this, please. Avery, don't make me a whore. I'll do anything..." "She doesn't want to be a whore," Avery said to David. "What a shame," David said. "And if she doesn't want to be one, I guess there's no way we can make her, is there?" Avery smiled. Lisa moaned. "But maybe we can change her mind," David said then. "How about it, Lisa? Maybe if you think about it, you'll find you want to be a whore after all. Don't you think?" "No," Lisa said. "No. I don't. No." David sighed. "That's the wrong answer, Lisa. The right answer is yes. So let's not waste time. Tell us you'd like to be a whore." "No!" Lisa's voice was unsteady, and there was fear in her eyes. "No, please. Please. I don't... I can't. Please." David smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. It was the box containing the thin, sharp needles which he had used on Lisa the night he had met her. He didn't open the box, but set it down on the table. Lisa's face went deathly pale and her body began to shake. An involuntary moan came from her throat. "No," she whispered. "Oh Jesus, no. Please. Oh dear god..." She began to sob. "Come on, Lisa," David said. "Tell us you want to be a whore." "I want to be a whore," Lisa said.
19 She had never cooked for seven men before, and she was no gourmet cook to begin with. But fortunately their culinary demands were not overly elaborate. They told her to just fry up a bunch of hamburgers. Food was not the main reason they were there. As Trifford had said, she was to be the dessert. They never seemed to get their fill of her. Aside from the obvious lure of her body, and the fact that she was freely available to them, the idea of taking their revenge with her continued to fire their lusts and add to their pleasure in her enforced submission. They sat around the kitchen table and watched her as she cooked. She was naked, of course, and she moved self-consciously under their leering eyes. And she soon found that frying hamburgers, though simple, had a distinct drawback--as the grease in the frying pan sizzled and bubbled, hot little droplets would spatter out of the pan and land painfully on her breasts and body. She asked--she begged, humbly, respectfully--if she couldn't please just put on an apron, something to protect her from the burning grease. But they said no. They wanted her naked. Period. And they enjoyed watching her predicament as the burgers went on frying; they got a kick out of her unsuccessful efforts to avoid being spattered, and they laughed each time she jumped and cried out as her breasts were scorched by the flying drops. The breaking point came as she had finished one batch of burgers and was about to start another. She was turning down the burner when something crackled in the hot pan, sending up a small shower of grease which splashed onto her right breast. The accumulated pain and humiliation momentarily broke down her fear. "No!" she cried, turning to the watching men. "I can't take this any more! I want to put something on! Please!" There was a brief silence, and then Alex Trifford slowly rose from his chair, with an expression on his face that made her instantly regret the force with which she had spoken. "Are you complaining, Joyce?" Trifford said softly. "Are you arguing with us?" She had to swallow hard, but she tried to hold on to some of her purpose, even as she backed down. "No," she said quickly. "No, I'm--I'm not. It's just that... the grease burns, and... it's hard to..." She trailed off as Trifford came around the table toward her. She wanted to back away, but her back was to the stove, on which the hot pan still sizzled. "Burns, does it?" Trifford said. "Well, that's too bad, Joyce. I guess those gorgeous tits of yours are just too damn precious to get a little burn, is that it?" "I--I just--" "Let's just see," Trifford said, and he suddenly reached out for her, grabbing her arm and twisting it hard up behind her back. He turned her to face the stove, and before she realized what was happening she found herself, to her horror, bending over the smoking frying pan, her arm forced so high on her back that she was unable to straighten up, was in fact being pushed further down toward the surface of the stove, her dangling breast hanging just over the spitting, bubbling liquid. "NO!" she screamed. "No, please! Oh my god, don't! No! No!" The liquid was splattering onto her breast, and she could feel the searing heat from the pan, dangerously close to her swaying nipple. Trifford increased the pressure on her arm until she thought it would break, forcing her body still further down. "Now you'll REALLY know about burning," Trifford said, his voice husky with his exertions. "Maybe we'll have some fried tit for dinner, okay, Joyce?" "PLEASE!" the girl shrieked. "Oh god, don't! Let me go! Please! I'm sorry! Please!" She was struggling now against the pain in her arm, fighting to keep her breast from actually making contact with the surface of the pan. Trifford now brought his free hand up to her head, grasping the hair at the back of her neck, and pushed downward. Joyce shrieked frantically, babbling wild pleas as her body was forced inexorably downward, until just the tip of her breast touched the bottom of the scalding pan. Her screams nearly shook the walls as the hot metal and the sizzling grease seared her nipple, and her body bucked and twisted desperately. Trifford, exerting all his strength, held her where she was for one long, deliberate moment, and then let her go. She fell to the floor in front of the stove and curled her body into a ball, sobbing loudly and cradling the injured breast. "All right, Joyce," Trifford said. "Now that wasn't as bad as it could have been, you know. I could have burned your whole tit right off for you. But I guess you got a taste. So you're not going to complain any more, or give us any more demands. Are you, Joyce?" "N-no," she sobbed out. "No. No." "Good. Now you can get up and get on with the cooking." Which she did. They didn't let her eat with them at the table. When she had finished serving them, they made her get down on the floor on her hands and knees, and from time to time one of them would toss bits of food at her, which she then had to eat off the floor. Without using her hands. Though she was hungry, she would have preferred to go without than to undergo the humiliation of scarfing her food from the dirty floor like a dog. But she had no choice. The men demanded that she eat every scrap they threw down, as they chortled in lascivious triumph at her degradation. A couple of them ordered her to suck them off while she was down there. ("You can wash down your dinner with my come, honey," one of them said.) The kitchen table was much smaller than the table in the Council office had been, and she had to crawl carefully among a cluster of legs and feet to position herself in front of the recipient of her ministrations. As she sucked, the man across the table stretched out his legs and rested his feet on her back, and the man in the next chair did the same. She had a sudden sharp realization of how she must look at this moment, and she thought with horror of what her friends or co-workers would think if they could see her right now--her, Joyce Gordon, the smart, sophisticated, self-confident professional woman, naked, crawling, debased, using her mouth for the pleasure of a fat, unpleasant stranger, while half a dozen others looked on, waiting their turn to use her however they wanted... The pain of it was in a way greater than the pain that still burned at her breast. Sudden tears stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks, but she did not stop her slow, accomplished, obedient sucking. When they had finished eating, they allowed her to get up in order to make coffee for them. A few of the men, she saw, had become so aroused by watching her on the floor that they had opened their trousers to release their erect cocks. One of them, a sallow-faced man named Calley, reached for her and pulled her over to him, his hands searching her body. "Let her go, Calley," one of them said. "I want some coffee, god damn it!" "Hell with the coffee!" Calley grunted. "I want this cocksucking bitch now! Come on, baby, come and sit on me. Right here." He pulled the girl onto his lap and positioned her so that she was sitting astride his legs, with her back to him. His hands went around her and squeezed her breasts hard. "Come on, sweet tits," Calley said, "Raise up and let me get into that pussy." He pulled her back against him, and she managed to lift herself enough for him to put himself inside her. "Oh, yeah," he gasped as she sank down over his eager pole. "Oh, that's beautiful, honey. Now fuck me nice." Joyce, with some effort, was able to shift her legs so that her feet could get a purchase on the rungs of the chair, giving her enough leverage to raise and lower her body as Calley desired. The others watched avidly as she moved herself up and down, her thighs rippling sensuously as she worked. "Faster," Calley demanded, squeezinag her breasts harder. "Faster, damn it!" Though she did her best, the position was awkward for her and she was unable to move as rapidly as he wanted. Calley suddenly released her breasts, and with his right hand picked up his fork from his plate. "Maybe this will get some action out of you," he rasped, and he jabbed the fork hard into her right buttock. She gave a sharp cry and her body jerked spasmodically, bringing a hiss of pleasure from Calley. "Hey, that works real good!" he said, and he jabbed her again. Again she jumped and cried out. Now he began to poke her repeatedly with the sharp instrument, and to vary his jabs from her right buttock to her left. The men around the table watched with glee, laughing as her body jerked and spasmed and jumped, her breasts bouncing wantonly with her enforced movements. At last her contortions made Calley shoot up into her with a triumphant shout, the fork dropping from his hand. A few of the others wanted to try the same thing, but now they were shouted down by the majority, anxious to get their coffee. Joyce set about the chore as efficiently as she could, but the evening had taken its toll, and she could not keep her pain-wracked body from trembling with strain and exhaustion. She fumbled with the coffee things, and once or twice she had to pause in her task to get herself together. She was afraid to look at the impatiently waiting men. When the stuff was ready, she brought the pot over to the table to pour it out for them. Trifford, at the head of the table, was first. Her hand was shaking as she poured, and some of the coffee splashed from the cup onto the saucer. This made her shake harder, and a few drops missed the cup entirely and rebounded onto Trifford's lap. He jumped up immediately, rage suffusing his face. "You bitch!" he shouted. "You fucking goddam bitch! Look what you've done!" Joyce was trembling so badly she could hardly hold the coffee pot. She managed to set it down on the table, backing away from him. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I--it was--I didn't mean to..." But Trifford wasn't listening. His eyes were blazing now, his face working, and when he spoke he no longer shouted. His voice was soft and deadly. "You've got to learn, Joyce," he said. "You stupid fucked-up cunt. You've got to learn." "Please..." she said faintly. "Get on the table," Trifford said. "W-what?" "Get on the fucking table!" His voice was loud again. The thought came to her that he was crazy, really crazy. Fear clutched at her throat as he cleared the dishes and utensils from his place with one angry sweep of his hand, sending them crashing to the floor. "Put her up here!" he said to the others. Several men moved to carry out his order, and Joyce found herself seized roughly and lifted onto the table top, a number of other dishes being swept away and demolished in the process, until she was lying in the middle of the table, surrounded by men looking down on her and waiting to see what their leader was going to do. "Stretch her out," Trifford said. "And hold her down. Hold her down good." Her arms were pulled tightly above her head, her wrists held in a strong grip by one of the men at the end of the table. Calley, at the other end, held on to her ankles. Her body was stretched taut, her breasts pulled up, her legs straining. "Now, cunt," Trifford said, staring down at her. "Pour coffee on me, will you? Well, how about letting ME pour some for YOU? Would you like that, Joyce?" He picked up the coffee pot. Joyce's eyes went wide with fear. She shook her head wildly and tried to speak, but she could only whimper. "What's the matter, Joyce?" Trifford said. "Don't you want some nice coffee?" "No!" she choked out. "No! God, no!" "I think you should have some, Joyce," Trifford said, holding the coffee pot over her face. "Open your mouth." She turned her head away. "Please! Please!" "Joyce," Trifford said, "if you don't open your mouth and drink this coffee, I'm going to pour it on your tits. All of it. Now open your mouth." Slowly, she turned her head back so that she was looking up at him, her eyes wild with terror. Tiny mewling sounds came from her throat. With fearful reluctance, she opened her quivering, panting mouth. Trifford tilted the pot and poured a slow stream of the steaming coffee down her throat. He stopped pouring as Joyce choked on the hot liquid, turning her face away violently, retching and gasping. Her breath came in great gulps as she tried to cool her scalded throat, gasps interspersed with hoarse, rasping moans. "Now that's not very polite, Joyce," Trifford said. "Spitting out my coffee that way. I guess we'll just have to teach you some manners." And with deliberate care, he poured some of the burning, steaming liquid directly onto her left breast. She howled with agony, her body arching and straining against the hands that held her wrists and ankles. "Jesus," one of the men said hoarsely. "Look at her squirm!" Trifford, still holding the coffee pot, waited until her body was quieter, though wracked with painful gasps and great, shuddering sobs. "Now, Joyce," he said, his eyes glittering. "Will you drink your coffee like a good girl, or do you want it on the other one too?" She was unable to speak, but her eyes pleaded with him frantically. With a terrible, unearthly moan of despair she opened her mouth. Trifford poured coffee into it. She made a desperate, heroic effort to swallow the stuff as it poured into her raw and blistered throat, but the more she managed to get down, the faster he poured, until at last she gagged and it spilled out of her mouth and ran over her face, still steaming. "All right, Joyce," Trifford said. "If that's how you want it." And as her burning mouth twisted in a horrified attempt to forestall him, he lowered the pot and poured the remainder of the coffee over her right breast. She screamed and screamed, and her taut, outstretched body flailed and writhed and bucked, every muscle and tendon straining futilely and standing out against the smooth, luscious flesh. Her shrieking and struggling went on and on, as the men watched avidly, until she had exhausted herself and lay there crying and whimpering, still held helpless in their grip. "Oh, shit," one of the men said. "Oh man, I want this bitch now! I mean now!" There was a chorus of excited assent around the table, and most of the men began rapidly stripping themselves of their clothing. The man who had spoken, a heavy bald man with bad teeth, climbed up on the table and lowered himself eagerly on top of her. She screamed when the weight of his upper body came down on her scalded breasts, but he only laughed in her face. Now her ankles were separated and pulled widely apart, her legs held painfully open, while the man at the head of the table continued to pin her aching wrists. The man on top of her adjusted himself and plunged deep inside her with one mighty thrust. He then happily, piggishly pleasured himself on her helpless, agonized body. When he had finished, another man swiftly took his place, battering at her as he mauled her breasts and pinched her abused nipples until she screamed again. After him there was another, and then another. Their appetite for her now, in her pain and suffering, was unassuagable. After a while they turned her over. And the evening went on...
20 "There's a problem," Avery said. He was sitting comfortably on the couch with a drink in his hand, his feet resting on the naked body of his sister, who, exhausted, had fallen asleep on the floor. "What's that?" David said. "If we hire her out to somebody else, the minute she's alone with them, she's going to start spilling her guts, and pretty soon all hell will break loose and we'll wind up in jail." "You don't think we could persuade her that that's not a good idea?" "Would you want to trust her? Once she's out of our clutches..." "All right," David said. "Then we don't leave her alone." "What, you mean stay with her while she's making it with other guys? Who would pay for a girl who brings another man along?" "A lot of people," David said. "Look, Lisa's not going to be just another hooker, okay? She's got a specialty. She's a slave." "Damn right," Avery said. "But she's a slave with a master. And wherever she goes, her master goes with her to keep her in line. There are plenty of men who go for that kind of thing. Some women too. We can put her through her paces for them, get them all heated up, then let them do whatever they want with her. Hell, we'll clean up, Avery! Your luscious little sister is going to be the most popular whore in town." "Sounds good," Avery said. "As long as you know where to find these people." "Don't worry about that," David said. "I know everybody. And word will get around mighty fast. I'll bet we can charge five hundred an hour for her." "Jesus!" Avery said. "Your feet are resting on a gold mine, Avery. I'm surprised you haven't thought of this before." "Like I said, I liked having her all to myself," Avery said. "But then I kind of got to like the idea of showing her off. And now I guess it's time to let the rest of the world hava a crack at her. As long as it's going to make me rich." "And you still own her, don't forget," David said. "And you can have her for free. Any time, any place, any way." "How about right now?" Avery said. "All this talk about money is making me hot." "Me too," David said. "Wake her up."
21 It wasn't that they were tired of fucking her. Her fine, sensuous body, marked and bruised though it might be, never failed to stimulate them, and her cunt, her asshole and her mouth were in constant use. But as the days passed their sexual abuse became almost routine, while their appetite for her humiliation seemed to grow stronger and more demanding. Her humiliation, and her pain. There was a limit to the pain they could inflict if they wanted her to remain functional--even Trifford realized that--but they could shame and debase her all they wanted. They enjoyed thinking up new forms of degradation for her, coming up with perverse acts for her to perform for their entertainment. They brought in instruments for her to masturbate with while they watched, they made her lick their feet clean after walking barefoot around the apartment, they used her as a urinal and chortled when she threw up on the floor. Also, they took pictures of her having sex with them. Still pictures and videotapes. This was part of their insurance, they told her; if, after they were through with her, she ever had the notion of reporting any of this, or going to the authorities, the pictures and tapes would be spread around. With the proper editing, it could easily be made to seem that she was doing all this quite willingly. Nobody would believe her story. Besides, they told her, if she did anything like that she would soon be dead. She didn't doubt them for a second. After a while, when they had all had her body in every way a dozen times, and had made her do everything they could think of to humiliate herself, they started bringing in other men--only their most trusted acquaintances, of course--and making her perform for them. She was surprised at how much shame she could still feel. After serving as a sexual plaything for seven men, being used and abused repeatedly in every possible manner, she would have thought that nothing they could do could increase her feeling of degradation. But she found that with each new man her shame and humiliation was as intense as ever, as the Councilmen forced her to display her naked body, and then to service the stranger in whatever manner he desired, as well as to perform some of the tricks they had thought up, for his entertainment as well as theirs. It was near the end of her allotted period of servitude that someone suggested they bring in another woman. A thoughtful silence greeted this proposal. "For us or for her?" somebody said, bringing a round of laughter. "For both," said the man who had made the suggestion, who happened to be Calley, the sallow-faced man who had first used his fork on Joyce's buttocks. "Listen, we could have the two of them put on a girl-girl show, you know what I mean? And then we could screw the shit out of both of them. Hell, nothing wrong with a little variety!" "You know, I like that idea," Kalinkos said. He happened to be fucking Joyce in the ass at that moment, as she bent over the arm of a couch with her head buried in the crotch of a seated man. He reached out to grab her blonde hair, pulling her head back sharply and bringing a painful cry from her mouth, as well as a mild protest from the man whose cock that mouth had been pleasuring. "How about that, baby?" he said, not pausing in his movement. "You ever make it with another gal?" "No..." Joyce gasped out. "Would you like to?" "N-No..." "What?" He pulled viciously at her hair, forcing her head back as far as it would go. "Aaaahhh!! Yes. Yes!" "That's the girl," Kalinkos said, releasing her head, which the seated man promptly guided back to his crotch. "It ought to be a lot of fun. What do you think, Alex?" "I think it's a fine idea," Trifford said.
22 "Anything I want?" the man said. "Within reason," David said. "We don't want her permanently injured or disfigured, of course. But within reason..." "She's very beautiful," the man said, looking at Lisa. "Yes," David said. "And very young." "Yes." "And very frightened." He was not complaining. "Yes." "And," the man said. "Very expensive." "And worth it," David said. "I am very wealthy," the man said. "I can get any number of beautiful young women." "But not women to whom you can do anything you want. Not without trouble." "No." "Do we have a deal?" "Anything?" the man said again. "Anything," David said. "Within reason." "She will have to be gagged," the man said. "Why not?" David said. "I want her gagged." "Of course," David said. "You understand," the man said, "it is not necessary. I have a special room, completely soundproofed. It is not that she might attract attention by making noise. That's not it." "All right," David said. "It's the way they look," the man said. "I like to see it, do you understand? I like to see them gagged. It excites me." "I understand," David said. "Their mouths, their lovely mouths, stopped up," the man said. "Unable to make a sound. Unable to say a word. They try to talk, try to beg, but they can't. They can't. Then, later, they try to scream, to cry out; their eyes pop and their throats strain and they struggle and fight to scream out their agony, their suffering, but nothing comes out. Only whimpers, tiny little mewling sounds, and their bodies--" He broke off. "David..." Lisa said faintly. "Be quiet," David said. The man was breathing harder. "I want to gag her myself," he said. "Of course," David said. "David, please..." Lisa said. David slapped her across the face. "Good," the man said. "Discipline. Good." His eyes were glazed. "Anything?" he said again. "Anything I want?" "As I said," David said. "Within reason." "Reason. Yes." The man paused. "Come with me," he said. The house was large and ornate. The man led them to a small elevator, which took them down into the basement. There he unlocked a thick black door with an old-fashioned key and ushered them inside. It was a classic torture chamber, complete with stone walls. Manacles hung from the walls and the ceiling. There were whips and branding irons on display. A small cage stood in one corner, a huge St. Andrew's cross in another. In the center of the room was an object that looked like a large wooden bed, and which, on closer inspection, turned out to be a stretching device, or rack. The man led them to this object and touched it reverently, running his hands over the smooth wood. "My pride and joy," he said softly. "It cost me a fortune. An authentic, working rack. See how beautiful it is! You see, the victim lies flat. Her arms are pulled over her head; her wrists, strapped together, are held by these chains here at the top. Her legs, spread apart, are held by straps, here and here. And then--" he indicated a winch at the top of the device-- "this is turned. Tightening the chains, you see. Stretching the body. Stretching it painfully. Agonizingly. Unbearably. Until the victim is pulled so taut that she is unable even to writhe in her agony. Until every bone, every tendon, every muscle in her body stands out in relief against that tightly pulled flesh. Until she feels that one more turn of the winch--one more notch--will literally tear her apart, ripping her flesh, sundering limb from limb..." "Oh my god," Lisa breathed in a quivering voice. "David... for god's sake..." "Why, what's the matter, Lisa?" David said. "It really sounds quite exiting. I'm looking forward to seeing it myself." The trembling girl made a bleak, despairing noise. "Of course," David said to the man, "there must be no permanent damage. Pain and suffering to any extent you please, but no actual sundering or anything like that." The man's breathing was quite loud now. "And then--" he said, "we can enjoy her body. That, you see, that is the beauty of this type of instrument, that's why it's so much better than the old-fashioned rack where the victim is stretched over a wheel. How can you possess a woman who is bound to one of those?" "Not very comfortably, I should think," David murmured. "But with this..." The man's eyes were gleaming as he again caressed the polished wood. "Ah, with this, the victim is beautifully available, beautifully accessible. One simply mounts her as she lies there on her back, legs spread wide, helpless in her agony. Mounts her taut, pain-wracked, straining body. And takes her. Takes her and takes her. Plundering that defenseless treasure between her legs. Looking into her eyes, her frantic, horror-filled eyes as one's weight presses down on her, as each thrust adds unspeakably to her terrible torment. Listening to the beautifully muted, stifled, desperate sounds that emerge from her gagged mouth as she tries to scream and howl and beg for mercy. As one takes her and takes her and takes her..." Lisa fainted. Neither of them made a move to help her. The man's voice had gotten thick, his words tumbling out until they became hard to understand. He paused for breath. "You think I'm crazy," he said to David. "Yes," David said. "But aren't we all? I take it we have a deal." "Yes," the man said. "You understand that I stay with her all the time." "Yes. That's fine. When she's there--" He caressed the rack. "When she's naked and gagged and stretched in agony--I can have her, and then I'll watch while you have her. And then Simmons can have her." "Simmons?" "My butler. I always let him participate in these things. He enjoys it nearly as much as I do. It keeps him happy." "We'll have to charge extra for Simmons," David said. The man sighed. "Keeping good help is so expensive these days..."
23 "They'll be here any minute," Kalinkos said. "They?" Trifford said. "How many did you get, for Christ sake?" "This is a special kind of deal," Kalinkos said. "Her manager comes with her. He stays with her, too. At least that's how it's supposed to be." Trifford frowned. "What the hell kind of shit deal is that? We don't want some strange prick in on this. Why did you set this fucking thing up, anyway? We could've got--" "I'll tell you why," Kalinkos interrupted. "First of all, this girl is supposed to be good for anything. I mean, they've got her in some kind of bind, see, so we can do anything we want to her, and she can't complain. You know what I mean? Anything we want. Okay?" "Well, that sounds good. But--" "Second, she's young and she's damn good-looking. I've seen her. And third--" He grinned. "Her manager is in for a little surprise tonight. I brought a couple of my guys along. They're outside. We'll have the girl all to ourselves, don't worry." "I don't want any trouble, damn it!" "There won't be any. Believe me. Where's Joyce?" An anguished cry was heard from the bedroom. "There she is," Trifford said. "Entertaining the guys. Calley brought some new toys along." The doorbell rang. "There they are," Kalinkos said. "I'll take care of this." He went to the door and opened it, but not all the way. David and Lisa were standing in the hallway. "Well," David said, "Here we are." "Okay," Kalinkos said. "The girl comes in. Just the girl." "Now, wait," David said. "I told you I stay with her. If you want her, that's how it is." "Not this time, sonny," Kalinkos said. "Just her." "No way! I told you--" Kalinkos gave a signal. Two men stepped out of the shadows and took hold of David's arms, pulling him backward. He tried to struggle, but one of the men produced a gun and shoved it into his ribs, and he stopped fighting. "Keep him quiet," Kalinkos said. "Come on, honey." He pulled Lisa inside. "Don't try anything, Lisa!" David yelled as the door closed behind her. "Don't say anything! You know what will happen!" Inside the apartment, the startled girl looked around like a trapped animal. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Kalinkos said. "We're not gonna hurt your boyfriend. We just want you all to ourselves for a while, okay? We're gonna have a good time, right?" He turned to Trifford. "Didn't I tell you she was a ripe one?" "What was that all about?" Trifford said. "What did he mean, don't say anything? Don't say anything about what?" After the impact of her initial fright at what had happened, Lisa suddenly seemed to realize that for the first time in months she was free from the presence of both David and her brother. She looked with dawning hope at the two men, her gaze shifting wildly from one to the other. "Please," she said frantically. "Please help me. You've got to help me. Please!" "Relax, sweetheart," Kalinkos said. "Everything's gonna be just fine." "No, listen! Please. Listen! You have to help me. They--my brother, and--they're keeping me prisoner. They--they make me do--they make me a slave, and I--I have to--oh god, help me get out, for god's sake, help me!" The two men looked at each other in astonishment. "Wait a minute," Trifford said, approaching the girl. "Wait, let's get this straight here. This guy out there--he's your brother?" "No, he's--he's my brother's friend. The two of them, they--they make me--" "These two guys are keeping you prisoner?" "Yes! Please get me out, please!" "What do they do to you?" Kalinkos said. "They--they make me have sex with them, and--and they hurt me. Oh god, they hurt me! And they made me into a... a whore, and... oh, god..." "This is quite a story," Trifford said. "How do they get away with it? Don't you have anybody else?" She shook her head. "My parents are dead, and--and my brother got me out of school, and--there's nobody... Please... help me... call the police, or--or something... please..." Trifford frowned. "What did he mean--you know what will happen?" The girl looked at the floor. "I--" She hugged herself, shivering. "My--my brother knows about something I did to somebody. If he told, I--I could get killed." She raised her eyes to him, blinking away tears. "But I don't care any more!" she cried. "I can't keep on this way! I can't! I don't care what happens! For god's sake, help me!" Again the two men looked at each other. The same speculation was in the eyes of both. Trifford signaled to Kalinkos, and the two of them walked to the far end of the room, where they conferred in low voices. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Trifford said. "This chick's got nobody to miss her, she's young and juicy, and all that's between her and us is this brother of hers and that punk outside." "So maybe we should just take her over," Trifford said. "Sort of a permanent replacement for Miss Hotshot in there. What do you think?" "Sounds damn good to me," Kalinkos said. "Get rid of the punk," Trifford said. "Make it look like an accident. We'll take care of the brother later." "Right." Kalinkos went to the door and stepped outside, where he spoke briefly to his two associates. In a moment he was back. The two men went back to the girl. "Now," Trifford said, smiling at her. The smile didn't seem to reassure her. "What was your name again, honey?" "L-Lisa." "Lisa. Pretty name. Well, Lisa, good news. You don't have to worry about your brother and his friend any more. You won't be going back to them." "Oh, thank god! Thank you, oh, thank you! I--I'll have to get away from here, go someplace else... Will you help me?" "No, that won't be necessary either, Lisa. Nobody's going to kill you, we'll see to that. You're going to be staying right here. With us." "W-what?" "We're taking you over, Lisa darling. There are seven of us, and we're all going to share you from now on. You'll make a sweet little toy for us to play with. It's nice that your brother broke you in for us, but you're not his slave any more, Lisa. Your ours." With a terrified cry, the girl rose from her chair, shrinking away from them. "No!" she gasped, her face twisting with fear. "No! Oh god, no!" Instinctively, she broke and ran for the door. Kalinkos stopped her easily. She pulled away from him and turned to see Trifford coming toward her, his mouth set in a hard line. She shook her head automatically, but tears of despair were in her eyes. "Don't--oh please, you can't do this to me... You can't..." "We can do anything we want to you, Lisa," Trifford said. "And you must never say no to us. You might as well learn that right now. Never say no to us. Never." With startling swiftness he raised his hand and slapped her viciously across the face several times, forehand and back, forehand and back. As she shrieked and stumbled backward, he came after her, and as her hands came up to protect her face, he hit her with his fist, and with all his strength, in the pit of her stomach. She doubled over and fell down, writhing on the floor, choking and gagging and struggling for breath. The skirt she was wearing pulled high up over her thighs as her shapely legs flailed helplessly. The two men watched her attentively as she slowly recovered, taking air into her lungs with eager but shallow gasps, retching and sobbing. "Get up, Lisa," Trifford said finally. She tried, but she was too slow. Kalinkos reached down, took a handful of her hair in his fist, and pulled. She came up howling. Releasing her hair, Kalinkos now clamped both hands over her breasts, pulling her back against him. "Nice," he said, squeezing the breasts hard through her flimsy blouse. "This is really nice. Try some." He let her go, then gave her a hard shove in Trifford's direction. She cried out as the force of it sent her stumbling helplessly toward the other man. Trifford's hands went over her rapidly. One of them slid down under her skirt and went between her legs, where it probed roughly as she squirmed and whimpered in his grasp. In a moment he shoved her back to Kalinkos. The noise had attracted a few of the men from the bedroom. "What's going on?" one of them asked. "We got a new toy," Kalinkos replied, grinning. "Here, try her out." And his hard shove propelled Lisa across the room to him. "Jesus," the man said. "This is fantastic." His fingers scrabbled at the buttons of her blouse. "Don't take her clothes off," Trifford said. "I want Lisa to strip for us. After that you can do anything you want with her." "Let me have a look at her," another man said, and Lisa was shoved over to him. "Real pretty," the man said. "Let's have a kiss, honey." He pulled her against him and kissed her. Lisa did not resist, but neither did she help. "Shit," the man said. "How about a little cooperation, honey?" "Yes, Lisa," Trifford said sharply. "Let's have a little cooperation." Lisa looked over at him, a flicker of fright suddenly replacing the blank despair in her eyes. "Kiss him back," Trifford said. Lisa kissed him back. She did it very well. "All right," Trifford said. "Now Lisa's going to take off her clothes for us. Aren't you, Lisa?" She did not look at him now. Her head was bowed, and her body was trembling. "Yes," Lisa said. They called in the rest of the men from the bedroom, and all seven of them lined up to watch, as Lisa stood in the center of the room and stripped herself naked. They made her turn around, and they made her walk up and down for them, and then they dispersed to various parts of the room and for a while they played games with her, pushing her around from one to the other, each one making free with her luscious body, kissing and squeezing and stroking, until finally they were all aroused, even those who had satisfied themselves earlier with Joyce. Lisa had never had seven men in succession before. She had been had by two men at once, but never by three. She had been used and abused to the point of exhaustion, but never for five hours, non-stop, over and over again in every way there was. That night she learned what it all felt like. "Shit," Kalinkos said, when the long orgy was over and they were lounging, lazy and depleted, with Lisa lying naked on the floor before them. "This was a hell of a lot of fun, but Christ, we forgot why we wanted another chick in the first place. We were gonna have a show, remember?" "That's all right," Trifford said. "There's no hurry. Joyce will still be here tomorrow. And Lisa's going to be here for a long, long time."
24 When his sister did not return home that night, Avery became very worried. By the next morning, he was frightened. He called David's house repeatedly, but there was no answer. Something had obviously gone wrong. He had the address of the place to which David and Lisa were supposed to have gone, but no phone number. He was nervous about going there, but as the morning passed and Lisa still did not show up, he felt he had no choice. It was nearly noon by the time he had made his determination and set out. The address turned out to be a large, modern apartment house in one of the better districts. He had no trouble getting into the building, but when he had taken the elevator to the floor he wanted, he was met by a guard outside the apartment, who blocked the door and glared at him suspiciously. He didn't know what to do but tell the truth. He drew himself up and tried to look authoritative. "I'm Avery Childs," he told the guard. "I think my sister may be here." The guard nodded, as if he'd been expecting him, and rang the doorbell. He gave Avery's name to the man who opened the door. The man smiled and swung the door wide, extending his hand to Avery and motioning him inside. "Mr. Childs, how do you do? We've been expecting you. I'm Alex Trifford. Do make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?" "No, thank you. Look, is my sister here? My sister Lisa?" "Oh, yes," Trifford said. "Yes, she is indeed. Lovely child, Lisa. Just lovely." "And my friend? David?" "Ah," Trifford said. "No, David's not here, I'm afraid. I'm afraid David's met with a little accident." Avery frowned. "An accident?" "Yes. Most unfortunate. But your sister is fine, just fine. Would you like to see her?" "Well... yes." "Lisa," Trifford called out. "Would you come in here, please?" Two men brought Lisa out. They brought her out on her hands and knees, crawling between them. She was naked. One of the men held onto a leash that was fastened to a dog collar around her neck. When she saw Avery she looked surprised, but only a soft moan escaped her lips. "What's going on?" Avery said. "Where's David?" "I thought I made that clear," Trifford said. "David is no longer with us." Avery felt weak. "I--I don't--" "You see, Avery, we're taking your sister off your hands. She belongs to us now. As you can see, we're keeping up the training you gave her so well. I think she'll be every bit as unhappy with us as she was with you." "Wait--you can't--you can't just--" "Why not?" Trifford said. "Damn it!" Avery burst out. "What do you think you're--You can't get away with it! I'll go to--I'll--" "You're a fool," Trifford said, his tone suddenly changing. "Who would you go to? The police? And tell them how someone has stolen your sister, who you kept prisoner and abused and tortured, and sent out to whore for you? I don't think so." He shook his head. "I had hoped you would be more intelligent," he said. "A reasonable man would know when he's been outplayed, and would accept the situation. We might even have given you visiting privileges. But you're too much of a fool, and you could be dangerous." Avery was pale. "What--what do you mean?" "I mean you have to be gotten rid of, like your friend. But with you it's easier; we won't have to stage any accident. A brother and a sister, two orphans, connected to nobody, suddenly disappear--it'll be thought you just ran off someplace or something." "You--" Avery choked, swallowed. "You're--you're going to kill me?" Trifford smiled. "I have a fine idea," he said. "No, Avery, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to let Lisa do it."
25 "How about it, Lisa?" Trifford said to the girl on the floor. "Wouldn't you like to kill your brother?" Lisa's only answer was a soft whimper. "I asked you a question, Lisa," Trifford said sharply. "I want an answer. Think about it, Lisa. This is your brother Avery, who did all those terrible things to you that you told us about. Making a slave out of you. Tying you up, giving you to strange men. Beating you and burning you with cigarettes and sticking you with needles. Terrible things. You told me how much you hate him, remember? Well, now you have a chance to get even. Would you like to kill him, Lisa?" "I--I can't--No," Lisa said brokenly. "No..." "That's the wrong answer, Lisa," Trifford said. "Try again." Lisa looked up into his face, then down again. "Yes," she whispered. "I think that's a wise decision," Trifford said.
26 They had to wait for the rest of the men to show up. Trifford had called them, both because he wanted all of them to be in on it, and because he thought they'd enjoy it. Joyce was kept in the bedroom, where she'd been since Avery had arrived. They had tied Avery into a chair, with his hands bound behind it, his ankles tightly lashed to the rungs, and his body bound so that he was unable to move. Lisa was in another chair, facing him, about six feet away. She was similarly tied, except that her arms rested on the broad wooden arms of the chair, and were bound to them tightly from elbow to wrist. When everyone had arrived, Trifford arranged them so they stood well behind Lisa's chair. He then placed a loaded gun in the girl's right hand. Her bound wrist prevented her from turning her hand enough to aim at the men behind her. But the gun pointed straight ahead at her brother. "Any time you're ready, Lisa," Trifford said. Avery was sweating and shaking. "No!" he choked out. "Don't--don't, for god's sake! Lisa, you can't! No! No!" A sudden gasp was heard from the hallway, and they all turned toward the sound. Joyce was standing there, her startled eyes wide at the sight of the gun in Lisa's hand. "We told you to stay in the bedroom, goddamn it!" Kalinkos shouted at her. She shrank back. "I--I'm sorry. I was just--I heard--" "Get the fuck out of here, you bitch!" "Hold on," Trifford said. "As long as Joyce is here, she might as well join the party. Joyce, this is Avery. He's Lisa's brother. Avery, this is Joyce. Nice, isn't she?" Avery, in spite of his predicament, was staring at Joyce with obvious admiration mixed with suprise, his eyes avidly taking in the beautiful naked body, the high firm breasts, the luscious legs. "See, Joyce, we're having a little going-away party for Avery here. He was just about to leave us, but since you've crashed the party, I think we'll let you give him a nice sexy farewell present. Would you like that, Avery?" Avery couldn't answer. "Sure you would. Joyce, why don't you go over there and give him a good send-off. Use that talented mouth of yours. Oh, don't worry about the gun. Lisa's not going to shoot you. Unless I tell her to." His voice was suddenly harder. "Go on, Joyce. Suck him off." Joyce's face was red. She took a long, uneven breath, and drew herself up, as if preparing herself for what she had to do. Then she walked, somewhat stiffly, toward Avery's chair. She did not look at him. She stood in front of him for a long moment, then slowly went down to her knees. Her movements were almost mechanical as her hands went to the front of his trousers and pulled down his zipper. Her fingers sought and then pulled out his mostly flaccid penis. "Poor Avery is a little frightened," Trifford said mockingly. "You're going to have to work on him a little to get him going. But I know that if anybody can do it, you can. Right, Joyce?" Joyce worked on him. She kissed him and licked him and caressed him with her soft lips, and before long Avery was hard in spite of his lingering fear. Joyce took him into her mouth, and, under the gazes of her seven captors, as well as the naked girl with the gun, she used all the skill she had to bring him to climax. It took a long time, but she did it, sucking him unceasingly, varying her tempo, using her tongue and her throat and her warm, soft breath, until at last Avery stiffened in his bonds and gave a loud groan as he exploded repeatedly into her mouth. She didn't have to be told to swallow it all. They always loved to see her do that. "Very good, Joyce," Trifford said. "You can go back in the bedroom now. Close the door, and stay there until we call you." Joyce went. "See, Avery?" Trifford said. "We're not such bad guys, after all. Now we've wasted enough time. All right, Lisa. Shoot him." "Christ!" Avery tried to struggle. He started to sweat again. His cock still hung ridiculously from his fly. "Please. Don't. I--I won't tell anything, I swear! Please!" "Do it, Lisa." Lisa was almost as pale as her brother. The hand that held the gun was shaking. "I-I can't," she whimpered. "I-I can't do it. I can't." Trifford sighed. "Remember those needles, Lisa? The ones you told us about, that your brother and his friend stuck into you? Remember how painful that was? Think about that. Shoot him." "Please... I can't... I can't..." "Well, guess what, Lisa," Trifford said. "We found those needles in David's pocket when we... sent him away. He must have carried them around with him all the time. And I just happen to have them here." He took the little case containing the needles from his pocket. Lisa gasped sharply. Trifford selected two needles from the case and put it away. Then, holding one of the needles in each hand, he stepped up behind the bound girl's chair. Reaching around her body with both hands, he carefully held the needles against the sides of her naked breasts, their sharp tips just denting the tender flesh. The girl gave a frightened moan. "Don't..." she begged piteously. "Oh, please... don't..." "Think about the needles," Trifford said softly, pressing just a little harder against the soft skin. "How much they hurt. How Avery liked it. Shoot him." "I--oh, god... please..." "Think about how you screamed," Trifford said. "Screamed and begged and pleaded with them. And how they laughed. Shoot him." "I--" Trifford pushed the needles into her flesh. She screamed, and shot. The bullet smashed into Avery's chest. He jerked sharply and slumped in the chair. "Again," Trifford said, and pushed the needles further in. "OH GOD, STOP!" She shot again. This one caught Avery in the face. She shrieked with both pain and horror. "Again," Trifford said, pushing harder. Lisa emptied the gun into her brother's body. "Good girl," Trifford said.
27 It wasn't until that evening that they were all able to assemble again. Avery's body had been disposed of. Lisa and Joyce had been kept in separate rooms during the day, but now they were both sitting in the large bedroom with the Council members, while Kalinkos was explaining to them what they were going to do with each other, for the men's entertainment. Both girls were very pale. "I can't," Joyce whispered, when Kalinkos had stopped speaking. "What?" Trifford said. Joyce swallowed hard. She was trembling. "I can't--I can't do that. It's--it's sick. Please, you know I--I'm--I do what you want, but this--oh, god..." "Are you saying no to me, Joyce?" Trifford's voice was very soft. "Oh... please... not this... It's so..." "I'm sure you'll love it once we get started," Trifford said. "We'll let Lisa do it to you first. How about it, Lisa? You don't have any objections, do you?" Lisa was biting her lip. "I-I've never done it with another girl," she quavered. "I--I don't think I--" "You'll learn," Trifford said. "Let's get to it, all right? Joyce, lie down on the bed." When Joyce hesitated, four of the men put her on the bed and stretched her out, each taking a wrist or an ankle. They held her tightly, her body pulled taut, her legs wide apart. "All right, Lisa," Trifford said. "Get to it." "I don't--I--" "Would you like to do it with needles in your tits, Lisa? How about all over your body? There are twelve of them, you know. Did you ever have all of them stuck in you at once? Let's see, we can put four in your breasts, two in your behind, a couple in your legs, a couple in your belly, one in your cunt..." Lisa did it. Joyce shrieked and tried vainly to pull away as the younger girl crouched over her body. Both to prolong the entertainment and to torment Joyce further, Trifford had Lisa make love to her body before getting down to the main event. He told her exactly what to do, and the girl did everything he said. Under his instructions, she first played with Joyce's breasts, then kissed them. She licked the nipples, then took them into her mouth, sucking and nibbling. Joyce did not enjoy it. She cried out with revulsion, trying vainly to pull away from the hands that held her. Lisa, at Trifford's direction, left her breasts to kiss and lick her way down Joyce's body, her lips and tongue sliding softly and tantalizingly over the smooth flesh. Joyce's struggles had exhausted her, and she lay panting and sobbing. Lisa's obedient mouth traveled down to her legs, moving along her inner thighs, while her hands caressed the helpless body. And at last, with a certain fearful hesitation but too frightened to resist, Lisa licked her way all the way up along Joyce's widespread thighs until her mouth reached her open cunt, and stayed there. Trifford's voice cut through Joyce's horrified moan. "All right, Lisa," he said. "Do it good now. Kiss that cunt. Now stick your tongue into it, all the way up inside it, and move it around so she feels it. Now work on her clitoris. Suck on it, nibble it, lick it good. Faster. Now slower. Keep it up. Do it all, Lisa. We'll make a great little dyke out of you yet." Lisa did it all. She did it and did it, afraid even to pause without permission, although from time to time she was forced to raise her head and take in great gulps of air. At first Joyce's sounds of protest increased, and she again tried feebly to pull away. But as Lisa's ministrations continued, the quality of the older girl's moans began to change. Very gradually, and obviously against her will, she appeared to be responding. Her panting became hoarser, and her body began, involuntarily, to writhe with something like passion. "Hey, look!" one of the watching men called out. "She likes it!" "Keep it up, Lisa," Trifford said. Lisa kept it up. Joyce's face and neck were growing crimson with shame and self-disgust, and she seemed to try desperately to fight off the feelings that were betraying her, setting her lips tight and stiffening her body against them. But as Lisa's mouth and lips and tongue continued their work, she appeared to be losing the battle. Groans of unwanted desire forced themselves from her straining throat, and in spite of itself her tautly spread body arched and twisted. The men were chortling now. "No!" she cried hopelessly, piteously. "Oh, no! No! I don't want Tears of shame and horror spurted from her eyes, even as her traitorous body convulsed and spasmed in helpless orgasm. "All right, Lisa," Trifford said. "You can stop now." As they released Joyce's arms and legs she rolled over, hiding her face from them, and sobbed uncontrollably into the pillow. "Hell, what's she bawling about?" Kalinkos demanded. "She liked it fine at the end there." "Just so," Trifford murmured. "That's exactly why she's crying. Exquisite, isn't it?" "Well, shit," Kalinkos said. "Exquisite or not, what I want to see now is her doing it to little Lisa here. Then I want to fuck the shit out of both of them." "Of course," Trifford said, watching Joyce. "That's the next thing on the agenda. Turn about, as they say, is fair play. Isn't that right, Joyce?" Joyce, more suddenly than might have been expected, stopped crying. She sniffled a few times, then, using a corner of the bedsheet, she made a pass at wiping her face and blowing her nose before she turned to face them. At last, slowly, she sat up. There was something in her expression that kept the men silent. Though her face was still damp, there were no tears in her eyes now; they seemed very stark and hollow as she met Trifford's gaze. Her voice, when she spoke, was not quite steady, but it was clear. "I won't," she said. Trifford sighed. "Joyce--" he started. "I won't," she repeated. She was very pale; she was trembling; her arms were crossed in front of her, her fingers digging deeply into her own flesh; but she looked straight at him with her hollow eyes. "Listen to me," she said, her words forcing themselves past her constricted throat. "Just listen, please. I've done everything you wanted. Everything. I let you make me a slave. I let you degrade me and shame me in every way you could think of. I let you use my body, and torture me, and humiliate me, and make me do things that--" She stopped to swallow. "I've done it all," she went on. "But now--this--this filthy, perverted thing--I--I can't do it." She swallowed again. "I won't do it. I don't care what you do to me. You can't bring me that low. You can hurt me all you want. You can kill me. I don't care. I won't do it!" Trifford just looked at her for a long time. She shook harder than before, but her eyes didn't drop from his. Finally he turned away and spoke to Kalinkos. "Call Collins," he said.
28 "Where's Joyce?" said Dexter Burns, the business editor of the JOURNAL, to Roger Miles, the city editor. "I haven't seen her around for a while." "She's taking a little time off," Miles said. "She took that City Council thing very hard. She was really down on herself about screwing up on that story, so she just wanted to get away for a couple of weeks." "Poor kid," the business editor said. "That was a rough break. But hell, she'll snap back. Joyce is tough." "Yeah," Miles said. "Well, wherever she is, I just hope she's managing to enjoy herself."
29 "Make it stop," Joyce was saying. "Oh sweet Jesus, make it stop. Dear god in heaven, please make it stop. Please dear Jesus, oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph. For mercy's sake, help me. Somebody help me. Make it stop." She was stark naked and spread-eagled, as she had been when she had been subjected to Lisa's enforced attentions. But instead of a bed, she was lying on a large wooden table, and instead of being held by rough hands, her arms and legs were stretched wide by heavy chains attached to the manacles that imprisoned her wrists and ankles. A block of wood had been placed under her hips, raising her lower body a few inches from the surface of the table. Small clips, attached to wires, were clamped over her nipples and her clitoris. Another wire disappeared into her anus, where a small probe had been inserted. The other ends of these wires were attached to a device with several dials on it, which stood on a smaller table a few feet away. Next to this table stood John Collins, with his hand on one of the dials and his glittering eyes fixed avidly on the naked girl. Nearby stood his assistant, Derek, also watching eagerly. "Why, it's only on the moderate setting now, Joyce," Collins said, smiling at her. "I know it feels unbearable, but--have you forgotten what happens if I turn it up a little?" "No," Joyce said, panic seeping into her unsteady voice. "No, I haven't. Please don't do it again." "Just a little reminder," Collins said. He turned the dial. Joyce arched off the table, all of her quivering, straining so hard that the muscles and tendons stood out against the flesh of her arms, legs and body. Her head went back, her neck taut. She did not scream. She was beyond screaming. What came from her was a kind of choking, rattling, gurgling noise, but the sound of it chilled the blood. "Aagghhghhghhgghh," she said. "Aughhghhghhghhgg..." Collins brought the dial back to where it had been. He waited then, patiently, until Joyce could speak again. "Let me die," Joyce said faintly. "Dear sweet Christ in heaven. Stop it or let me die." "Not yet," Collins said. He turned the dial, but only slightly this time. "DEAR JESUS!" Joyce cried out. "No. No. Not like that, I can't stand it, no. Stop it. I beg you, Christ I beg you, stop it..." "You disobeyed, Joyce. Deliberately. You refused to follow an order. You said you couldn't do it. That you wouldn't do it." "I'm sorry," Joyce said. Her words could be made out, but her voice did not sound human any more. "I said I was sorry. I'm sorry. Please stop." "You mean you'll do it, Joyce?" Collins said. "I'll do it. Please stop. Please please stop. I'll do it. You know I'll do it. I'll do anything. Anything at all. Just make it stop." "You said that before, Joyce. You can't be trusted." "I swear it. I swear I'll do it. I swear. Please make it stop." "What is it that you'll do, Joyce?" "I'll do what they want. I'll--I'll make love to that girl. I will. Please stop." "You mean you'll eat pussy, Joyce. Isn't that what you mean?" "Yes... oh dear god..." "Then say that, Joyce," Collins said, his hand moving to the dial again. "I'll eat pussy. I'll eat pussy. I will, please. Please don't. I'll eat pussy, make it stop, Christ in heaven, I can't--stop it, stop it, stop it..." "You have to really want to do it, Joyce," Collins said. "I do. I do! I want to eat pussy, please, I want to..." "Then ask me to let you," Collins said, and he turned the dial. "Beg me to let you do it, Joyce." "PLEASE!!" Joyce cried, her body stiffening. "OH STOP please let me eat pussy, please, I'm begging you, oh dear god...Please let me eat pussy, DON'T NO PLEASE LET ME EAT PUSSY, PLEASE LET ME, PLEASE, PLEASE..." "All right, Joyce," Collins said. "Just one more little push now, so you'll remember." "You can't," Joyce said, quite helplessly. "You can't do that again. I'll die if you do it again." Collins did it again. "AAAARRRGGGGHHHHHH!" Joyce said. "AAAUUUUUGGGHHHGGHH!" Collins held the dial where it was for a long moment, then slowly turned it back again, but this time he turned it all the way down, to the "off" setting. "I think that should do it," he said smugly. Both men watched the writhing girl come gradually back to sanity, her taut body still quivering, her round, upthrust breasts heaving as she gasped and panted for breath. "Mr. Collins," Derek said hoarsely. "You remember... what you promised me... Do you think I could... now?" Collins smiled. "Why not? I don't think, at this point, that the Council would mind." He moved to the large table and swiftly removed the clamps and wires from Joyce's body. "Do you want to release her first? Or do you want her like this?" "Like that," Derek said breathlessly. "Just like that." "Fine, " Collins said. "Joyce, dear, I want you to ask Derek to fuck you. Ask him nicely." She had to make a strong effort to speak, but when she did her voice was quite clear. "Please fuck me, Derek," Joyce said. Derek had already torn his clothes off. He climbed up on the table, lay himself down on top of her, and took her for a very long and happy time.
30 When Collins brought her back to the apartment, they didn't even have to give her an order. As soon as she had stripped off the clothes she had worn for the transition, they took her into the bedroom. All the men were there, and so was Lisa, stretched out on the bed. Joyce's hesitation was almost imperceptible. She got onto the bed and crouched between the other girl's thighs, and put her mouth on her crotch. She was crying, but she did it. She did what Trifford told her to do. Twice she was sick, and had to hang over the side of the bed to throw up on the floor. The men only laughed and made her clean it up, and then she continued. Sobbing and retching, she continued as long as they wanted her to. Lisa came five times before they let her stop.
31 In the remaining days of Joyce's sentence, the men had a fine time with two women to play with. They delighted in thinking up ways in which to force the girls to compete against each other. One popular game was the cock-sucking contest, in which Joyce and Lisa, each kneeling on the floor before one of the men, and allowed to use only her mouth, would attempt to make her partner climax before the other. The loser of this contest would be punished, and the designated punishment was usually severe enough to cause them to use all their skills in a sincere effort to bring the men off, while the men tried to hold out as long as they could. The men's reward was a double one: the pleasure of having two luscious women frantically debasing themselves for their enjoyment, and the further pleasure of participating in the chastisment of the unfortunate loser. Once they varied this procedure by having both girls suck off all seven of them in succession, and comparing the time it took them. They did this on two separate evenings, to make it fair. That time Joyce lost. Her punishment involved being hung up by her ankles and learning how to suck cock upside-down. But more often the competition itself involved some kind of punishment. On one occasion both girls were tied down side by side on the big bed, on their stomachs. Each had her wrists lashed together, her arms stretched over her head and tied to the bedrail at the top, her ankles also bound and tied to the foot of the bed. The men then took turns whipping them across the back with their belts. The object of this exercise was to see how long the girls could hold out before starting to scream. The first one who screamed would be the loser. The loser would be turned over and have the front of her body whipped as well. So as the men, one by one, viciously lashed first one girl and then the other with their broad leather belts, Joyce and Lisa struggled to contain their pain. Each received only one blow at a time, but the men did not hold back; they went at it with all their strength, the wicked leather slashing across the naked flesh, causing the bound bodies to jerk and twist with the pain, bringing muffled cries and agonized whimpers from the tightly clenched mouths. Both girls held out until over a dozen blows each had seared their tortured backs. They sobbed and groaned and writhed in torment; they began giving out half-stifled yelps and awful, choking groans; but still they did not scream. The men began to strike even harder, the belts whistling through the air and smashing with terrible cracking sounds against the striped skin. And at last, just as Joyce felt she couldn't hold out for one more blow, Lisa, her body bucking under the latest slash of leather, lost it completely. Her mouth opened and gave out a terrible, full-throated, ear-piercing scream; a scream that seemed to express not only all her pent-up pain and agony, but sheer despair and horror as well. Joyce, released from the necessity of holding back, now screamed also, with pain and in sympathy with the other girl. But the men paid little attention; they swiftly untied her and pushed her off the bed so they would have room to roll Lisa over. The dark-haired girl screamed again as her tortured back made contact with the only slightly yielding mattress; and she sobbed with fear as the men, belts in hand, gazed with glittering eyes on her high, shapely and defenseless breasts. Those breasts made excellent, tempting targets. Her stomach and thighs were beaten too; but her breasts were by far the favorite. There was no need now for her to keep herself from screaming, and she screamed on and on and on... Of course, between and before and after these ingenious competitions, the orgy went on unabated. Eventually the guard who had done such a good job outside the door was rewarded by being let in on it, and so were the two henchmen of Kalinkos who had dealt with David. And when the men were satiated for the moment, they could always have the two girls put on a show for them. This activity may have lost some of its erotic novelty for them after a while, but they continued to demand it, mostly because Joyce hated it so much. And they always enjoyed that.
32 "Kalinkos thinks we should kill you," Alex Trifford said. Her two weeks were over. They had put her through a long, painful farewell orgy before letting her go. Then they had given her back her clothes, and now Trifford was driving her home. "He's afraid you'll spill the beans, as he puts it," Trifford went on. "But I don't think you will. You know what would happen to you if you spilled even a single bean, don't you, Joyce?" "Yes," Joyce said. "You'll die," Trifford said. "Slowly. And most unpleasantly. You'll be begging to die long before it actually happens. You believe that, don't you, Joyce?" "Yes." "So you're not going to say anything to anybody. Ever. Isn't that right? "Yes," Joyce said. "I mean, no. I won't." "That's good," Trifford said. "I really don't want to see you killed, Joyce. Because even though the Council may be through with you, I am not." Joyce stared at him, her body frozen, color draining from her face. "What--what do you mean? I--I thought it was over." "That part of it is. You're free now. But I can't let a girl like you just slip through my fingers. You can be very useful to me--just from time to time. It won't be so bad, as long as you cooperate." "Useful?" "An attractive woman is always useful. There will be circumstances where I'll ask you to use your... talents, to further my interests. For instance, there's a man right in your own backyard--on the JOURNAL. Do you know Dexter Burns?" "He's--he's the business editor." "Yes. He and I are negotiating a deal. And he likes you. I suggested he might find you... amenable. He'll probably approach you upon your return. I expect you not to let me down. And there will be other such situations, from time to time." Tears stood in the girl's eyes. "And I suppose I have no choice?" "Of course you have," Trifford said gently. "There's always that pretty little machine with the wires..." Joyce was sick.
33 "So nice to see you back, Joyce," Dexter Burns said. "You look fine. Hope you had a nice vacation?" Joyce looked at his smiling face. How much did he know? She couldn't tell. "Yes," she said. "Thank you." "Good," Burns said. "Say, Joyce, would you come into my office for a moment? Something I'd like to talk about." "All right." She rose and followed him. Her legs felt weak. He took her into his office and closed the door. Then he locked it. He sat behind his desk and looked at her for a moment. He looked at her body. He didn't invite her to sit down. "I believe we have a mutual friend," Burns said. "Alex Trifford. Do you know him?" "Yes," she said. "I know him." "He told me--" Burns cleared his throat. "He said that--" "I know what he told you," Joyce said in a dull voice. "Just tell me what you want." Burns sat back in his chair. "Well," he said, his small eyes bright with anticipation. "Why don't you start by taking off your clothes for me, Joyce." "All right," Joyce said. And she did. "Well, now," Burns said softly, when she stood naked before him. "Isn't that something. But say, they marked you up a bit, didn't they?" "Yes," Joyce said. "Tell me what they did to you." "Oh, god," she said wearily. "Isn't my body enough?" Burns's eyes narrowed. "Alex said you'd be cooperative." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she said. "I will be. What do you want to know?" "It'll keep," he said shortly. "Turn around." She turned. "You have a great ass, Joyce. I always loved looking at your ass, walking around here. It's even better than I imagined. I want that ass, Joyce. I want to fuck it. I want to fuck you in the ass." She took a shuddering breath. "All right," she said. Burns rose and unzipped his fly. "Bend over the desk," he said hoarsely. "Right here, that's it. Lean over, all the way. Oh, that's beautiful. That's just fantastic." She was bent forward over the hard edge of his desk, her legs apart, her buttocks thrust invitingly up and out, her breasts flattened against the desk's surface. Burns came up behind her, his hands touching those buttocks, kneading them, then pulling them apart to expose her tight anus. Stepping up against her, he adjusted his cock at the entrance to that small hole, then began to push himself forcibly and inexorably inside her. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out too loudly, but his brutal plundering of her unready asshole brought a series of moans and pained whimpers from her writhing lips. "God, that's great!" Burns grunted, as he thrust more deeply into her. "Oh, Christ! It's fabulous! Oh, shit, I've been dreaming about this ever since you came here!" His steady lunges crushed her hips against the sharp edge of the desk. Tears of pain and of hatred, both for him and for herself, dropped from her eyes onto the hard wooden surface. "Now," Burns rasped, when he had lodged himself fully inside her narrow passage, and had begun to fuck her with a steady, relentless movement. "Now you can tell me what they did to you. That should get me off, all right. Come on, tell me." Gaspingly, between sobs and pauses for breath, Joyce described some of the things the men had done to her. She told him about the frying pan, about the coffee, about the things she had to do with them and their friends. She didn't say anything about Lisa, or about Collins; she didn't know how much Burns knew, or how much she could tell him without incurring Trifford's wrath. But what she told him was quite enough to add to his excitement, and as she spoke his breath came harder and his movements speeded up. "Fantastic!" he grunted, his hands digging into the flesh of her hips. "I'm going to come now, Joyce, I'm going to come right up into your belly." He was pounding at her now. "Hey, Joyce?" When she didn't answer immediately, he whacked her hip hard with the flat of his hand. "Joyce?" "What?" "After I come, I guess you can clean me off, right? With your mouth. Right, Joyce?" Her voice was strained, but audible. "All right," she said. He laughed, and with a loud, savage grunt he gave one final shove of his hips and spurted his passion up inside her. When, after taking a moment to catch his breath, he pulled away from her, she slid down to her knees on the floor in front of him, and she took his soiled cock into her mouth, and she cleaned him off. "That was marvelous!" Burns said, still a bit breathless. "You can get dressed now, Joyce. But I guess we'll be doing this again, right? I guess I've got a kind of power over you myself now, don't I? I guess as long as I stay on Trifford's good side, I can have you any time I want. Like tomorrow. How about it, Joyce?" "You'd better check with Alex," Joyce said flatly. "He's the pimp, after all."
34 A few minutes later, upon leaving Dexter Burns' office, Joyce went back to her desk and wrote the whole story. They had counted on her fear--and they had been right. They had told her they would kill her if she tried to expose them again, that no matter what she did or where she went they would have her tracked down and killed. And she believed them. And if it had ended there, if she could have gone back to her old life and tried to put it all behind her, she would have kept quiet. But it hadn't ended there. She was still a slave to Trifford; he was still controlling her and degrading her, and he would continue to do so. As long as that went on, she had no life. She was not a person. She didn't care any more. If she couldn't be free, let them kill her. She would bring them down too, if she could. She wrote the story, and she told it all. Everything that had happened to her, and about Lisa, and about the murder of Avery and David. All of it. When she was finished she turned the story in to Roger Miles, and went home. As soon as she arrived the next morning, the city editor called her into his office. "This is an incredible story, Joyce!" Roger Miles said. His face was puzzled, and skeptical. She wasn't surprised. "It's true," she said flatly. "Every word." "Joyce--" Miles scratched his head. "Look, don't take this wrong, but you've been under a lot of strain lately, and--" "Stop it, Roger! I'm not crazy, and I'm not making anything up. It happened just as I wrote it." "You have no evidence, right? No confirmation. Nothing." "You want to see the marks on my body?" "Oh, come on, Joyce! Look, even if I believed this--which is pretty hard to do--I couldn't possibly print it. Not after what happened with your last Council story. You'd be laughed out of town, and so would the paper. Hell, no paper in the country would print this now." "Laughed at, hell. I'd be dead. But I don't care about that! I have to do this now. Christ, Roger, if you knew what these men are--" "Why don't you go to the police?" "Because they control the police, don't you understand? If I went to the police I'd be killed anyway, and nobody would know a damn thing. This way at least--" She broke off, because Miles was shaking his head. "Look," she said after a moment. "Just print it as my story, just one crazy lady's wild story. The paper doesn't have to stand behind it. Print a disclaimer, or--" "Joyce, that's no good and you know it. Look, maybe I'll put a couple of people on it and poke around a little--" "No! They'll know! It'll never get out unless you run it right now! Tomorrow!" "No way," Miles said. "I'm sorry, Joyce." Joyce was silent. But she had one more weapon. "Roger," she said, after a long pause. "Roger, look at me. You've always liked me, right?" "You know I have. But--" "You've always wanted to go to bed with me, haven't you?" He stared at her a moment, then grinned sheepishly. "Well, sure. Along with most of the other guys around here. But it's not just--" "You can," Joyce said. "What?" "You can go to bed with me. You can have me. Right now, right here if you want. Look." She stood up and started unbuttoning her blouse. "What the hell are you doing?" Miles demanded, but he made no move to stop her. She took the blouse off. She wore a white brassiere. He stared at the curves of her breasts and the tantalizing shadows of her nipples through the cloth. "My body is a little marked up right now," Joyce said. "But it's still pretty nice, don't you think, Roger?" "Joyce, look--" Joyce took her skirt off. His eyes slid reflexively down her body, clad only in brassiere and panties. He swallowed. "You can have me right here on your desk, Roger," Joyce said. "Or on the floor. Or in your chair. Any place you want. Any way you want." And she took off the brassiere. "Jesus!" Miles said hoarsely. "Joyce, what are you--" "I want you to print the story, Roger. That's all you have to do." "I can't! For god's sake, how can I--" She took the panties off. "Print the story," she said. "Oh, my god," Miles said. Joyce walked around his desk and approached his chair. She sat down on his lap and kissed him, a very long, very thorough kiss, during which his hands found their way to her legs and her breasts. "Anything you want, Roger," she whispered when she drew her mouth away. "Just print the story." "I--I don't--I--" She slid off his lap and sank to her knees in front of him. She pulled down his zipper and freed his cock, which was stiff and throbbing. She bent her head to it and touched it once with her tongue, making him gasp. She bathed it in the warm breath from her open mouth. "Will you do it, Roger?" she said, her lips just brushing his flesh. "Will you print the story?" His words were strangled. "Yes. Damn it, yes! All right! God... Joyce..." The words turned into moans as her mouth devoured him. After a while he pulled her up and took her on his desk. She made it very good for him, arching and twisting and wrapping her legs around him, matching his rhythm with hers. She felt nothing. She wondered if she would ever feel real sexual desire again. She doubted it. Miles had good staying power, and he enjoyed her body for a good long time before he finally shouted out his climax and exploded inside her. After a few moments he rose and began pulling on the clothing he had hastily discarded. Joyce got up too. "That was good, Roger," she said. "Now what about the story? It has to be page one, right? Are you goingto--" "No," Miles said. She stared at him. "No? No what?" "No story." Sudden tears of rage and frustration came to her eyes. "You son of a bitch! You promised!" "I lied," Miles said.
35 She ran. She couldn't stay around and be Trifford's private whore. She knew he might still track her down, even if she kept quiet, but maybe he wouldn't bother; and if he did, she would rather be dead than to be at his beck and call, giving her body as a bargaining chip to strange men, with no end in sight... She quit her job, she packed only what she could carry, and she left the city and flew as far away as she could get. She told nobody that she was leaving. In the new city she changed her name, dyed her hair, and found herself a job that had nothing to do with journalism. She found an apartment and kept to herself. For a long time she was nervous. She told herself that Trifford wouldn't come after her just for running away, but she didn't know if that was true. It took months for her to stop looking over her shoulder constantly, to stop jumping at every tiny noise. When six months had passed and nothing had happened, she was able to relax a little, but never completely. Slowly she started rebuilding her life, making a few friends, even seeing one or two men, though she never let it develop into anything serious. Then one day she saw a news story about a scandal in her home city. She caught her breath as she read about the secret investigation, initiated by the governor himself, that had been going on for some time into the activites of the City Council. All seven Council members had been indicted on various charges, including fraud, grand larceny--and murder. All had been convicted, and were going to jail. She cried for joy. The story didn't say anything about Lisa, and she wondered what had happened to her. She thought about calling a friend back home and seeing if she could find out more; but even though she felt relatively safe now, she decided it was best to just leave things alone. Another month passed. She was doing well on her job, and was getting more involved in the world around her. There was a man she was quite fond of, and though she had not gone to bed with him yet, she was happy to find that the sexual feelings she thought she had lost forever were gradually returning. She was becoming whole again. One evening in May she returned home rather late from her office, looking forward to a hot bath, a light dinner and a relaxing evening in front of the TV set. As she entered her dark apartment after unlocking the door, she heard a small sound from inside, muffled yet somewhat familiar. Puzzled, she reached for the light switch. A sudden, terrified cry of astonishment tore itself from her throat, and her body froze with fear and horror at what she saw. A gagged and naked girl hung by the wrists from the chandelier in her ceiling. The girl was Lisa. Before she could begin to absorb the shock of this discovery, there was another small sound, this time from behind her. She whirled around, and nearly passed out at the sight of the smiling man standing between her and the door. "Hello, Joyce," John Collins said.
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