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Collected by Djian

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The Abducted Bride
{Unknown} MF, M+F, NC, Rape, Slavery, Drugs [2/2]

DISCLAIMER:
All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to anyone either living or
dead is purely coincidental.
*****************************************************************************

The Abducted Bride
by Jon Reskind

The Arab sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to her bare thigh,
running his long fingernails along the inner softness. He suddenly pinched,
making a red whelp rise beneath the fingers.

"When Shalla asks a question, you must answer. You belong to him now, at
least for the moment."

"Oooh, Nooo, Please-e, Please don't," Jean pleaded, "It hurts. It hurts."

"Then do as Shalla says, and things will be much easier. You will enjoy it,
Shalla shall teach you how to enjoy it."

"My husband is coming, Kevin is coming, he'll kill you if you touch me," she
whimpered in desperation.

"Yes," the Arab cooed softly, "he's the one you spoke of the other night when
we made such beautiful love."

Jean's heart stopped for a moment as the words sunk into her awakening mind.
The dream!

"I see you remember just as I thought you would," he taunted, reaching over
with one hand to stroke at the nylon covered mound at the base of her rapidly
rising and falling belly. He could feel the crisp dark pubic hair through the
thin material, and the sudden jerk of her hips at the unexpected probe to her
secret parts. Her eyes fluttered open in disbelief.

"No, no, it's not true. I had a dream," she half screamed at him, her mind
unable to accept his vile accusations Her hips screwing down against the
mattress to escape his indecent stroking.

Shalla reached in his pocket with his other hand and brought out the small
dark curl, dangling it above her face. "I think you lost this. Have you
wondered about it."

His evil grin widened in triumph as he detected the horrified impact of
recognition on the thunder-struck girl's face. Her mouth gaped open
helplessly as the thoughts of that evening rolled through her mind: the taste
of mint, the smell of garlic, the rumpled bed in the morning!

It was true! He had raped her in her sleep! It hadn't been Kevin, it had
been this filthy beast who was daring to touch her again!

"Get away from me! Get away from me! It's not true, it can't be," in spite
of the certainty, her dazed mind fought on against the acceptance of the
grotesque thought.

Shalla slipped a finger under the elastic of the leg band between her
clenching legs and moved his finger up and down the sweat moistened slit.

"Remember this," he taunted, "remember my fingers opening your cunt and finger
fucking you?"

"No, no, I don't remember," Jean lied, her torso squirming against the
horrible indignity.

"And I fucked you with my cock, remember, I fucked you until you screamed for
more," he hissed at the tortured girl. "I fucked you good, admit it!"

"No, no, you didn't, it was a dream," she groaned. "It was a dream!"

He dug his finger cruelly into her dry unready cunt, bringing a moan of pain
from Jean's tortured lips. Her inner thighs relaxed involuntarily to ease the
excruciating hurt.

"Admit it, admit I fucked you good!" he breathed, digging the fiery finger
deeper.

"Yes, yessss, you did, you did," she whimpered to escape the cruel hand
ravishing her vagina.

"I did what?" he demanded lewdly. "Say it!"

"You fucked me! You fucked me good!" Jean spat out the words in pain, the
shame and humiliation, too much to bear. She clenched her eyes tightly shut
again to close out the sight of his perverse triumphant smile leering over
her. Oh God, if only Kevin would arrive or Monique would hear them to save
her from this awful man and his tormenting words. She thought of the
thickness of the walls and screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping it would
penetrate through as it had last night.

Her vagina received another cruel thrust from the Arab's finger, choking the
scream back down her throat.

"No one can hear you, my little pigeon," he gloated. "The French lady has
gone. You are now Shalla's slave for the day and shall do his bidding. We
shall make much money together today, you and I. If you perform well for my
friends perhaps I shall buy you something nice. Don't you think that's
fair?"

"You wouldn't dare to touch me again," Jean gasped, between squirms against
the finger still inserted deep in her vagina. "My husband will kill you."

"If he comes," Shalla chided.

"He will come, he will! I just know he will!" she spat at him. He loved her
and he wouldn't leave her alone if he knew where she was and she had told him
in the cable. He just had to come in time to save her from this maniac who
had already violated her pure clean body once. He was her only chance and if
he didn't arrive in time, she would never be the same. She might recover in
time from the horrible rape of the other night because she was hardly
conscious when it occurred but if she had to submit again with her full senses
aware of it, she Flew it would destroy her self respect forever. She would
never be able to face the world again. The thought nauseated her and she
suddenly felt as though she would throw-up. It took all of her remaining
control to keep from it.

Shalla slipped his now moistened fingers from her cunt. It had become
slightly wet from its natural reaction to the pain. He pressed it under
Jean's nose. He felt like taunting her again and couldn't pass up this last
remaining opportunity before he threw her on the open market.

"Does that smell familiar," he asked, wiping the viscous fluid against her
upper lip. Jean moved her face from side to side to escape this further
humiliation, the familiar smell seeping into her nostrils.

"Oooohhh, don't, don't please," the odor blocking out all other thoughts but
of the other night. Horrible memories streamed back of her body bucking
against the mattress the shadow of this beast hovering over her like a hugs
bird of prey and--and she had thought it was Kevin and had given herself
completely. She had begged him, begged him, and the memory of the hot searing
eruption in her stomach nauseated her. He had emptied himself in her,
shooting his sperm into her every open pore, sperm she thought belonged to her
beloved Kevin--Oh, how could she ever face her husband again, the memory of
that would always be with her. He must never know, he must never know--

There was a sudden rapping on the door. The Arab quickly reached over and
drew Jean's skirt down over her exposed thighs. He straightened his robe and
leaning his head against the door asked in a quiet voice:

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Madame DuFour, open the door."

He slid the bolt back and allowed it to swing open, letting the woman enter.
Monique took one look at the bed and rushed to Jean's side.

"My dear, my dear, what has this horrible man done to you? What has he
done?"

"Oh, Monique, thank god it's you," the bereaved girl sobbed. "He was going
to--to--" The remainder of the sentence was drowned in the tears that flowed
profusely down her cheeks.

"You filthy Arab, I told you not to harm her," Monique almost screamed at him.
"Now you get out of here, right this minute." She grabbed him by the arm and
shoved him toward the door, winking slightly as she pushed him outside and
closed it.

"Oh, my dear, Jean. If I had known they were going to hurt you, I would never
have left this morning. They promised they wouldn't touch you." She rushed
over to the bed, stroking Jean's perspiring forehead.

"You--you knew they were going to do this?" Jean mustered the strength to say
through her sobs.

"It isn't what you think, my dear," Monique said in a low confidential voice,
sitting beside Jean and wiping the tears with her handkerchief.

"You must listen carefully to every word I say, it will mean both of our
lives."

"But--but where is Kevin?" Jean interrupted, "he should be here by now. I
told him the name of the hotel in my cable."

"They sent me with another man to meet him this morning but he didn't arrive.
Instead, he sent this note with the porter on the train." Monique drew the
note she had Kevin write a few minutes earlier from her purse, holding it so
that Jean could read it from the position in which she was lying. She watched
with a secret satisfaction as she saw the stunned look of hopelessness flicker
across her eyes.

"How--how could he do it? I thought he loved me," Jean's body broke into
tortured sobs again. She couldn't believe it. The note was in Kevin's
handwriting but someone must have forged it. He wouldn't desert her. He just
wouldn't!

"Dear, remember, he doesn't know we are in this trouble," Monique said as
though anticipating her thoughts. "He's probably met some pretty French girl
in Paris and has decided to teach you a lesson. I'm sure he would have come
if he had known we needed him so desperately."

"Then untie me, please, before that man comes back. We must get out of here,"
Jean pleaded to Monique.

"Dear, I can't. They are holding us both prisoner," she said in a whisper,
holding a finger over her lips for quiet. "They're white-slavers who followed
us to the hotel from the restaurant last night. They saw we were alone and
decided to kidnap us. They've hired this desk-clerk to watch you."

"But what about you? He can't watch us both, can't you get away and call the
police?"

"No, they are watching me closely with another man. I told them if they would
give us our freedom, I would give them ten thousand dollars but it's only to
stall for time. I don't have that much money."

"Kevin could help, my father would gladly pay it."

"I hope so, dear. I have cabled him this morning when he was not at the train
station and told him it was urgent for him to come here. He is to contact me
the moment he arrives. Until then, we must do everything they demand of us
or they will kill us. You will never see Kevin again."

"Oh Monique, there are some things I just can't do, even if they do kill me.
I had rather die than to have another man touch me," the poor girl
whimpered.

"It may not come to that. I'll tell that desk-clerk to keep away from you,
but it might raise suspicions if I untie you. You must have faith in me,
Jean, it's our only chance."

"I'll try, but please hurry. Please," she moaned, "I can't stand it much
longer."

"I promise I'll have us out of here tonight, my dear," Monique smiled
confidently. "Now you just be brave. I must go and see if I can't really do
something about that money in case Kevin doesn't arrive before tonight."

"Oh, no!" Jean cried, "please don't leave me alone. Something awful will
happen if you do. I just know it will. I can feel it."

"Nonsense, my dear, you must not get hysterical and show your weakness. I
told you I would talk to that Arab and tell him if he touches you, no money.
He won't dare risk offending his superiors."

To Jean's horror, Monique rose and went to the door. She was going to leave
her alone.

"Remember now, chins up," she smiled confidently as she closed the door
behind her.

Jean had never felt so alone in her life. Monique was her only chance to ever
see Kevin again and make up for all the awful things that had happened to her.
It would never be the same, she knew that. He was probably with some French
girl in bed now as he had threatened to do when he left her that morning. But
she had made a mistake too and now all she had to depend on was Monique. She
would forgive Kevin when she was with him again, he had no way of knowing
what she was going through. It was all her fault now, and all she had to depend
on was Monique--she had to get them out of this.

The Arab had no intention of letting this chance of making fast money escape
him. He had the girl completely under his control and he could turn that into
quite a sum in a matter of hours if he kept the customers turning over fast
enough. By tonight when he had to deliver her to the address the French woman
had given him, he could have amassed a small fortune. He smiled to himself
when he thought of the French woman's warnings to him about not hurting the
American girl.

Great ghost of Allah, didn't she know it was impossible to wear it out!

She could perform just as well tonight after a hundred fucks as she could
after one. Perhaps even better. She would be more experienced. He, Shalla,
would see that her education was carried out properly.

He had planned it well. As soon as the Madame had left, he called his cousin.
Mufta, and promised him one dollar for each customer he brought in. He warned
him to be careful in those he chose and make certain they were foreign sailors
and would keep quiet as it might be dangerous with the police if one of them
talked about it afterwards.

Shalla was happy and pleased with himself for his cleverness. At least, he
would have the days profit if anything went wrong with the rest of the plan
tonight. He did not like to place all his eggs in one basket. Besides, he
would not have to share this with the French lady. All of it would be his,
except of course, the commission to his cousin. He might even take part of
that back at the end of the day by selling him a turn.

Mufta should be coming back with the first customer soon, he thought happily,
he had better go up and prepare the girl. There were not many hours for this
little side business and he couldn't afford to lose time by any of her
childish objections.

Jean's body jerked to life as she heard the rattle of the key in the door.
This was the moment she had been dreading. The moment she would have to face
the Arab again. She was totally helpless like this and she knew from the
cruel eyes that no words Monique might say to him would stop him if he really
wanted her. She had remembered his reference to her and his friends this
morning. It had almost been forgotten but during the period in which she was
alone she had time to ponder their entire conversation. He had spoken of her
performing well. What did he mean by those things? She didn't like the tone
of them and she hoped Monique would be back before the afternoon. Perhaps she
could hold him off for that length of time. Well, she would fight as she had
never fought before if he did try anything. She still had her feet to kick
with and she vowed to herself she would use them with all her strength.

The door opened and the Arab entered, locking it behind him. His eyes
flickered over Jean's form stretched down the length of the bed. Her body was
tense and some of the bravado she had seen building up deserted her as she saw
the cold business-like look on his face. He walked to the foot of the bed and
looked down at her.

"Well my pigeon, we must open shop. Our first customers will be coming soon
and we want to be ready for them."

"What--what do you mean?" Jean whispered in a low unbelieving voice.
"You--you mean someone else is coming here?"

"Why, of course. I told you we would make much money together today," he
answered walking around the bed. "But we must hurry. Mufta, my cousin, will
bring our clients in a few minutes."

Shalla reached down, lifting her dress and began pulling it up her full
thighs. Jean had lain motionless in a momentary state of shock from the
horrible things he had just said, but as he reached down, her body reacted.
She lifted one leg back suddenly and kicked up, catching him full under the
chin. Shalla, caught by surprise, let out a sick gasp and tumbled backwards
against the wall. He slid slowly to the floor, dazed and with a slight
trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. He sat still for a
moment, his mouth hanging open as though not comprehending what had happened
to him.

Jean watched him, her heart in her throat. Then she saw his eyes flicker
slowly up to meet hers. She had never seen such cruel hatred registered in a
human face before. She knew by his expression that any compassion he may have
had for her as a human being was now totally destroyed. Deep fear gripped her
body as she watched him bring his hand slowly to his mouth and wipe the blood
away. His gaze dropped to the smeared streak on the back of his hand and
then quickly back to her.

He stood up slowly, not taking his eyes from her. His hands went under his
robe and withdrew a long black belt from his pants. Without a word, he
advanced on the bed eyeing her like an animal trainer advancing on his prey.
Jean huddled frozen in fear, her legs drawn up in a tight ball in the center
of the bed, her arms held tightly by the ropes above her head. She stared in
wide-eyed terror as he raised his arm and cracked the belt through the air,
the tip biting into her left breast with a sickening slap. She groaned from
the sudden excruciating pain, kicking her legs out in automatic reaction.
The belt sang through the air again, this time catching her full between the
open thighs. She groaned again, this time deeper as the cruel leather cut its way
into her flesh again and again, leaving tiny red welts rising on her skin
behind its cruel path

"Aaaaggg! Aaaggg! No! No! Please! No more, no more, I'll do anything!"
she blurted out after several minutes of the sickening torture. The pain was
unbearable and she knew if he hit her again she would faint dead away. Her
mind was beyond logical thought, the only thing that mattered was to escape
this horrible punishment. She couldn't stand it again.

"Has Madame had enough?" Shalla glared down at her, the whip raised for
another blow.

"Yes, yes, oh please, don't hit me again!" Jean cowered into the mattress,
tears streaming from her eyes.

"Shalla shall not be so gentle the next time. Let's hope you remember well."

He placed the belt on the table and came to the bed again. Jean closed her
eyes tightly as she felt the humiliation of his hands moving over her,
stripping her clothing away. He didn't bother to untie her hands, but ripping
her thin summer dress from the neck down to the hem, peeling the pieces away
roughly and throwing them haphazardly to the floor. She clenched her teeth
tightly together, fighting off waves of nausea as he drew her thin nylon
panties slowly down her rounded full thighs, lifting her buttocks with his
free hand to let them pass. Her brassiere came last as he took each cup in a
hand and tore it away brutally, her firm full breasts popping out like ripe
succulent grapefruit ready for harvest. The tiny red tips hardened
involuntarily as they hit the cool air and stood up like dainty pink buds of
a spring flower ready to quiver into bloom.

Shalla stood back from the bed a few feet, viewing his handiwork. This should
be a most profitable day, he thought happily, as his gaze wandered over the
voluptuous body spread naked and defenseless before him, its spirit broken.
She would cooperate now, he thought, or he would have to teach her a real
lesson. He couldn't risk any of his customers being dissatisfied. He knew
the brutality of the seamen that came into port here and if they paid money
for something, they expected to get every penny's worth. He could not afford
to have trouble with them. They might ruin the hotel.

Jean lay docile in the center of the mattress. Her thoughts were a jumbled
mass of humiliation and helplessness. Monique had promised she would keep the
Arab away from her but she had not. He was now going to turn her body into a
receptacle for any man that was willing to pay for it. How could she live
through this? How could she ever face Kevin or anyone again after she had
been used as a common whore with the dregs of the earth using her young
almost untouched body to satiate their warped desires. She had no idea what to
expect but her imagination ran wild. What would they do to her? What would
they expect her to do? Great tears of self-pity swelled through her clenched
eyes and rolled silently down her cheeks. Her mind suddenly rebelled again,
the pain of the belt was forgotten. She couldn't go through with it!

"I won't do it," she suddenly screamed, opening her eyes and looking
straight at the Arab. "You can beat me, but I won't do it."

"Shalla has other ways, Madame," he said looking at her coldly. He did not
intend to have his plans spoiled now. He had not really wanted to harm her
too much as he would have to argue later with the French woman but it was
beginning to appear that he had no choice. Time was growing short and he
couldn't risk an outburst from this little bitch if one of the customers
were there.

He calmly lit a cigarette, watching her from the corner of his eye as he did
so. Jean stared back at him arrogantly, refusing contemptuously to drop her
eyes from his almost amused gaze.

"Madame realizes, of course, that the belt is an orthodox way of convincing
ones property to do its bidding. We Arabs are noted for the more subtle
methods of gaining obedience. Do you wish to test them?"

Jean glared at him through hate filled eyes, refusing to speak. She was
afraid her voice would crack from the fear that dwelled underneath. She was
determined not to show it. He might conquer her body but he would never
conquer her spirit again as he had the other night with drugs. She would
never consciously submit no matter what he did to her.

"You leave me no choice, my pigeon," Shalla said, as he unlocked the door
and disappeared down the hallway.

Jean's spirits sagged and she felt her body shaking violently. What horrible
thing was he going to do? She had heard of the terrible tortures they used on
each other in their wars and her faith in her resolution to fight him at all
costs began to falter. She prayed that her strength would hold up against
whatever it might be. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of total
submission. She would resist if it killed her.

The Arab returned, carrying a cage in his hand with a huge black carnivorous
rat squeaking inside, his long monstrous nose sniffing inquisitively through
the wire bars.

Jean felt her stomach turn and a deep piercing scream escaped involuntarily
from her throat. It was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen, it's evil
little eyes darting about the room as though searching for something to fasten
its tiny needle-like teeth on and rip to shreds.

"I see you like my little pet," he chuckled harshly. "He likes meat but only
if it's flavored to his special taste."

As Jean cringed tightly into the mattress, the grinning Arab took a small
piece of raw meat from his hand and dropped it into the cage. The rat
scurried for it, sniffed it carefully and then backed away without touching it.

"You see, not to his liking."

Shalla took another piece and rubbed a liquid from a small bottle on it and
dropped that into the cage. The rat leaped upon it, gulping it down greedily
and then stood on his hind legs against the side of the cage squeaking
wildly for more.

"You see, my dear, he is well trained in his tastes."

Shalla advanced on the prostrate girl who was frozen into immobility by the
horror of the sight she had just seen. She tried to move but couldn't. Her
body refused to answer. Shalla rubbed small droplets of the liquid smoothly
around the nipples of her upturned breasts as she watched helplessly. Then,
he opened the cage door and pulled the evil little animal from it, attaching a
string around his neck. He dropped him on the bed, holding the loose end of
the cord in his hand. The rat struggled against it, sniffing his way on the
mattress along the side of the fear-frozen girl's body. She jerked
spasmodically as Shalla gave him a little more line and he leaped to her naked
belly, his tiny feet making slight imprints in her soft yielding flesh.

Jean shrieked in terror as suddenly the rat smelled the liquid. She could
feel the horrible creeping claws dig suddenly into the flesh of her stomach as
he struggled to get at her scent covered breasts. He squeaked wildly,
fighting with savage desperation to crawl his way to the coated tips of her
quivering nipples. Jean could see his tiny evil eyes down between the valley
of her breasts, his teeth bared like a giant snarling dog. She wanted to
scream out again but the paralyzing fear held her motionless, her flesh
crawling in abhorrence from the touch of the vile little animal. Her body
struggled to sink keeper into the mattress in escape but it was useless, there
was no sanctuary from the cruel defilement. Shalla, taunting her proud full
body, loosened the string again and she could feel the warm nose sniffing
hungrily at the underside of her left breast, the sudden moist contact
bringing back her voice without warning. Low whining pleas droned almost
incoherently from between her clenched teeth.

"Ugggggg, get him off of me! Get him off of me! Please, please," her head
churned from side to side, her wrists fighting against the bonds, "Oh God, get
him off of me!"

"Say fuck, shit, cunt," the grinning Arab demanded. He would break her
spirit completely before he let her go this time.

"Ooohh, fuck, shit, cunt," the words spat from her mouth without hesitation,
there was no thought of resistance left, only the revulsion of this horrible
beast struggling to devour her unprotected breasts.

"Say it again," he smirked, loosening the cord another hair.

"Ooohh! fuck! Ooohh! shit! No-Nooo, Aaaahhhhggg! Cunt!" she shrieked,
feeling the wet sniffling nose touching farther up the underside of her
quivering breast, the sharp tiny nails straining against the flaccid skin of
her ribs.

Shalla held the string tight, keeping the squeaking black rat less than an
inch from the throbbing nipple for what seemed an eternity, and then, pulled
him slowly from the churning girls body.

Jean was next to unconscious when she felt the vile hairy animal withdrawn
from her flesh and the liquid wiped from her breasts. His hand dwelling
longer at the task than necessary. Her body shuddered. She knew she was at
his mercy. She could fight against pain or even humiliation-- but not
this--not this horror--it was asking too much Only death would be better and
she would gladly have killed herself this very minute to escape the
degradations she knew were to be heaped upon her helpless body now, but there
was no way. There was only hopeless submission or the rat and she knew her
body would betray her again if she were subjected to those horribly cruel
teeth straining to tear viciously at her flesh.

There was something else, something else that would help her through the
grotesque ordeal coming, it had helped before--it was the only hope of
coming through it sane.

"Shalla," she said lifelessly, her voice steeped in resignation. "Give me
some strong tea."

"Madame is learning well, I see," he answered. "I will get some."

He had wanted her to have nothing, as seeing her conscious humiliation and
submission meant almost as much to him as the money he would make but it was
getting late. The first customers may be coming through the door downstairs
even at this moment. He would leave out the sleeping potion when he mixed it
and add some extra aphrodisiac. This would be almost as good, at least she
would be fully conscious. Her drugged enjoyment of it might even be as good
a
show as her being forced to subject herself to it out of fear. It would
certainly please the clients better. Perhaps he should have done this from
the beginning and saved himself all this trouble.

He added the extra pinch of the lust producing powder, whistling softly to
himself. It was a bit much but he hoped for many customers today and she
must please them all. After all, what man wanted a limp piece of meat under him,
especially when he had paid good money for it This would put some fire into
that proud little white ass. It would shake as it never had before or
probably ever would again

He returned to the room and presented the glass to the naked girl, loosening
one arm so that she might drink.

"We shall leave "Chiga" here just to make certain Madame. I want him close
byin case we need him hurriedly. He is very hungry. I have not fed him in
three days," he chuckled.

Jean shuddered again, looking at the horrible creature with unabashed loathing
and took a deep swallow of the dark mint tea. Its warm refreshing flavor
coursed through her emotion scarred body, a welcome sedative to the pain and
soul searing torture her mind and flesh had been subjected to. It was almost
a relief this feeling of surrender. She had done all that was humanly
possible to avert the inevitable and now the burden of responsibility was
lifted from her. She had no other choice and when one has no other choice
their responsibility does not exist. Unless, of course, one is made of the
stuff that martyrs are and there aren't many of those left in the world.

"Cover him please, Shalla," she said simply, taking another long swallow
from the glass. "I'll remember he's there."

Shalla covered the cage with a towel from the rack in the bathroom. He could
already detect a note of fatalistic acceptance in the girl's voice. The tea
and the presence of the rat were working better than he had expected. He had
anticipated some further form of resistance but it hadn't materialized. Now
it was too late. With the amount of aphrodisiac he had put in the drink, she
would be a churning mass of raw lust in a mater of a few minutes. He wanted
to see that. He would like to stand at the foot of the bed and watch her go
into heat. He had seen it before with others and it was an inciting thing to
see an unwilling woman turned into a raging sex-crazed mass of flesh in a
matter of minutes. He would, besides profiting well, also enjoy the day
ahead.

Jean drained the glass and lay back against the mattress waiting for the
conscious-killing sleep that she remembered from before. It did not come.
She waited expectantly, praying the dream producing drug would begin its
work before Shalla's cousin returned. She couldn't bear to be conscious and face
the man who was to possess her body for money.

The Arab hovered over her suddenly.

"We have a long day, Madame, and Shalla does not want his investment ruined.
We must make certain you do not tire." He took her free wrist that she had
been drinking with and retied it to the top of the bed and then pulled a small
jar from his robe pocket, holding it above her face. She recognized it as a
Vaseline type substance. He removed the cap and took a swab on his middle
finger. Jean automatically clamped her thighs tightly together as he looked
down between her legs.

"Open them," he commanded.

Jean lay still, the fear rising again.

"Would Madame prefer "Chiga!" he nodded impatiently toward the covered cage.

Her eyes widened at the mention of the loathsome name and she drew her legs
quickly apart, closing her eyes tightly to hide the shame of her exposure.
She jerked abruptly as his hands came in electrifying contact with the fleshy
lips of her vagina. He pulled them gently apart, until the hair-lined slit
was wide-open, exposing the tightly clasped entrance to her cunt. He inserted
his finger, massaging the lubricating salve all around inside the walls and
opening. Jean's shame knew no bounds as his finger circled around inside
her, unhindered by any resistance on her part.

"Oh God, if I could only fight," she groaned incoherently to herself. "If I
only had the courage."

Shalla's humiliating rummaging between her legs was suddenly interrupted by
a knock on the door.

"Mufta is here," he said, excitedly, looking down at the stricken Jean as
though she should share in his joy. "He has our first client."

Shalla's face sobered for a moment and he placed his hand on top of the
covered cage, casting a menacing glance at the prostrate girl.

"Remember, if there is one complaint from a customer, then I shall give
"Chiga" your left breast. You have my word by Allah."

There was absolutely no doubt in the cringing girl's mind that he would do it.
There was no such thing as mercy in his animalistic world, and she was fully
aware that her survival as a whole human being depended on how well she
accepted the hopelessness of her situation. Kevin had deserted her, and now
Monique, she was alone and defenseless.

Jean cowered in the center of the bed, her arms still bound tightly above her
head. She felt her nakedness as a great shame covering her like an evil
blanket. One that couldn't be dislodged no matter how hard one struck out
against it. And now, that blanket was going to be replaced by something even
more evil, the bodies of strange obscene men. Men, who would not even know
her name or that she would not know, except as great shafts of indecent flesh
drubbing into her helpless body. She would be the receptacle into which they
would spew their lewd sperm as they had into thousands of other whores in
other places at other times.

The vile squeak of the rat penetrated through her thoughts into her inner
conscious mind. It too was part of the evil picture. It was the conqueror,
the thing against which she could not fight. She knew she would have
submitted to any demands, no matter how depraved, to keep that evil creature
away from her, to keep its monstrous teeth from tearing at her body. This she
would have done with or without the deadening potion she was now awaiting to
lift consciousness from her tortured brain. It would only make it bearable,
like Novocain when one had a tooth pulled, it didn't eliminate the horrible
tearing at one's flesh, only hid it from the mind of the patient.

The door opened.

Oh God, she thought, Not yet. I'm not ready. I can still feel. Wait, wait
please!

She prayed in fevered anguish for the drug to work, to cover her nakedness
with the invisible cloak of unconsciousness.

But it didn't.

"Remember, my friend, fifteen minutes for your two dollars, no more," the
voice of the Arab reminded cheerfully from the hallway. "And do not mark the
girl."

The squeak of the rat resounded through the room as it heard its master's
voice from the distance. It was hungry and the harsh scratching sounds of its
paws clawing against the side of the cage silenced a cry building deep
within Jean's fear-quaking body.

A short fat man, dressed in the sweat-soaked clothes of a dock- worker,
entered and closed the door behind him. His eyes flickered in appreciation
when he saw the delicious young feast spread defenseless on the bed. Jean had
hoped, somewhere deep in her mind, that the bonds tying her to the bed would
stir his conscience and he would call the police. One look at his lust-filled
face dispelled this hope. The Arab was too clever. He would not bring men
who say eye to eye with the law. He would choose his clientele well, probably
those wanted by the law themselves. The quarter around the hotel was filled
with them.

The dock-worker removed his shirt, silently staring at her with undisguised
rapaciousness visible in his eyes. His huge barrel chest covered with
ape-like hair, rose and fell in short puffing gasps as he dropped his pants to
the floor. His short fat cock jerked into view beneath an overhanging roll
of fat from his white belly.

Jean's eyes bulged in terror. The tea! The tea! Why didn't it work?"

And, suddenly, it did, but not the way she had expected.

The first piercing warning of Shalla's betrayal came as the man leaned
gleefully over the edge of the bed and began running has rough callused
hands over her smooth cringing flesh.

Her reaction was violent!

A deep indescribable electrifying shock shot through the frayed nerve-ends of
her body like a thousand tiny sharp needles. Laughing red devils danced
wickedly along the inner softness of her thighs. Her buttocks ground
desperately into the mattress to quench a searing hot flame suddenly licking
hungrily at her nakedness. It was futile, the fire roared headlong out of
control. She lay immobile for a moment, her mind struggling hopelessly
against the pin-pricks of sensation following the path of the course fingers
digging into her flesh

He played cruelly on, unaware of the hopeless battle raging within the
tortured girl beneath his kneading hands. He placed his thumbs on the fleshy
lips of hair lining the outside of her cunt and pulled slowly apart. Jean lay
holding her breath and fighting with all her moral strength

It was not enough, her resistance shattered.

She groaned, the exquisite feeling of air rushing over the rising bud of her
exposed clitoris. It rippled up her now quivering belly and out into the
nipples of her throbbing tits, drowning out the debasing humiliation of the
strange hands roaming over her nakedness. The straining muscles of her thighs
relaxed loosely, her white ivory breasts rose and fell heavily with her
labored breath.

The man's tongue licked nervously at his thick mouth, small beads of sweat
formed over his upper lip as he watched the gradual transformation of the girl
beneath his stroking fingers. He did not understand and did not care, he
would not question a gift like this--only a fool would.

He could not wait. He pushed her unresisting thighs wide with the rough palms
of his hands and crawled eagerly over between their lush fullness. The devils
danced faster around the rough pink edges of Jean's naked cunt as she felt the
bed sag from his weight. It felt like a wet hot tunnel, and it had to be
filled. Her eyes locked greedily on the fat thick cock dangling from his
kneeling body above her. Suddenly forgotten was the evil animal lurking in
the cage on the table; forgotten were the fears of humiliation. She needed
but one thing now; she needed that cock! More than anything else in the
world!

Even as her mind fought the repulsive sight of the kneeling fat body hovering
between the slimness of wide-stretched thighs, her legs kicked out
uncontrollably and her heels curled around his hips. She jerked forward
wildly, pulling him with a grunt, heavily on top of her writhing body. He
guided the thick blood-filled head straight into her throbbing cunt, his heavy
weight smashing her with a deep moan far down into the mattress. He levered
up, ramming his rod as deep as it would go into the hungry clasping pussy.
His balls smacked heavily against her upturned ass, his fat hairy stomach
bored hotly into the yielding softness of her belly.

Jean strained against the ropes but they held, cruelly cutting into her wrists
and causing her teeth to gnash tightly together to drive back the pain of her
tortured muscles. She wanted him deeper. She wanted to pull him deeper into
her hot quivering cunt but the bonds held her back.

"Fuck deeper, Fuck deeper!" she screamed at him in desperation.

He grasped her ass cheeks in both hands and drove his cock to the hilt. It
was too short!

She groaned in frustration, splaying her legs wide out over the bed to give
him greater access. But it did not help.

As if in apology, the sweating fat man rammed his tongue deep into her
wide-open mouth, the saliva drooling down into her throat. She sucked at it
in wild frenzy, her body caught up in a whirlpool of naked raw lust that she
had never known before. His jerking cock pistoned into her mercilessly,
bringing gasps of pain as his pelvis smacked against her crotch, a brutal thud
resounding through the room with each pile-driving thrust. She moaned again,
he was bringing her to the peak with the brutal pounding of his body alone.

Then--suddenly--as she bucked uncontrollably beneath him, she felt his
plunging cock stiffen without warning and spew its white-hot liquid far into
the hidden recesses of her tortured womb.

Jean groaned in frustration. It was too soon, too soon. She was almost
there, the peak was but a hair away. She strained crazily for it, but the
man's dead weight collapsed heavily across her still driving body. The
useless deflated prick hung spent between her churning thighs.

She buffeted her wet crotch up against it angrily, tears of frustration
running down her passion inflamed cheeks. But the soft rubbery tube gave way
limply before her anguished last upward thrusts. He rolled from her body,
breathing heavily in satiation, he had gotten his two dollars worth. He
smiled happily.

The fire burned on in Jean, even as the man left the room, she was waiting for
the next, grinding her buttocks into the mattress in anticipation.

Oh God, she sobbed, the hunger coursing through her like a narcotic. I'm
going crazy, crazy. Send me someone! send me someone!

Shalla's head appeared through the partially open door, a grin of satisfaction
on his lips as he saw Jean's drugged body writhing out of control on the bed.
He must raise his price and cut the time to ten minutes. Mufta had many
clients waiting downstairs and the potion would last for hours. The girl was
beyond objecting to anything now. In fact, he thought happily, she would
welcome it.

Jean's eyes were glazed in frightened uncontrollable desire. The thoughts of
unconsciousness had faded. She wanted to feel. She wanted to feel the
deliciousness of a man fucking her. She wanted her belly filled by great
pools of cum and feel it shaking around wetly inside her--

Hurry, Shalla, hurry, her mind droned drunkenly. Bring me one, bring me one
or I'll die!

She did not have long to wait. The door opened and an old man on crutches
hobbled in, his eyes shining in lust. He had only one leg and his clothes
were those of a street beggar. They looked as though they had not left his
body in months. Jean's passion was beyond caring now, he was a man! A man
with a cock that could slice into her burning pussy. That was all that
mattered.

Hurry, you bastard, hurry, raced through her mind desperately. She opened her
legs wide, pointing the dripping hair-lined slit of her cunt directly at the
lewdly grinning cripple, grinding it up with her tightly clenched ass in an
equally lewd invitation to spur him to speed.

He lost no time in tearing his ragged clothes from his unwashed body. He
hadn't believed the Arab on the street when he had described this women he had
for sale. Nor the price. All that would buy on the street was a fat old hag
who had been used up years before and who would lie drunkenly under you
thinking of the wine she could buy with the money from this trick. But this
was different. The Arab had spoken truly. She was young and her flesh was
firm. It had been many long years since he had fucked anything even
approaching this. He could not afford the young ones in the houses and even
if he could they would turn him down because of his nauseating appearance.
He could not believe his luck with this one, begging him for it with her
obscene gestures and groans. He would use his ten minutes well.

He hobbled to the bed and without ceremony, threw the stump of his missing
leg over Jean's squirming body. He straddled her stomach heavily. The soft
whiteness of it brushed tantalizingly against the wrinkled sac of-his
dangling balls causing his ancient prick to jerk in anticipation He moved forward
along her writhing torso, laying his still semi-soft penis between the valley of
her full fleshy tits. He cupped a hand on either side of the quivering mounds
and pushed them together, trapping his awakening cock softly between them. He
had always wanted to do this but none would ever let him. Now with the girl's
hands tied over her head she could not object. Besides, the Arab said
anything as long as he didn't mark her.

Jean, beneath him, could feel the bones of his thin buttocks pressing
painfully into her ribs as he rocked forward. He had straddled her so
suddenly that she had been taken unaware. She needed him in her--not like
this. She tried desperately to wriggle up the bed under him but he rode with
her body.

"No, no, please, not that way, not that way," she cried in frustration as she
looked down her nose and watched the red bulbous head growing between her
tightly held tits. She could feel it begin to throb against the sensitive
tissue of her skin, sending further sheets of hot licking flame racing down to
the quivering slit of her palpitating cunt.

"Oh God no! Fuck me, please! Please!" she begged as he began a rocking
motion, sliding his blue veined cock faster and faster between her straining
breasts. Spit dripped from his puffing lips, moistening the narrow valley and
making the passage easier for the rampaging instrument that ignored her
pleas. He continued his desperate thrusting--faster-- faster--his breath coming in
quick labored gasps, until before her horror- stricken eyes, its long stored
cum began spurting in sticky hot streams over her naked breasts. It ran down
over her shoulders and throat in wet white rivulets, soaking the mattress
beneath.

"Get in me. Get in me. Now! Now!" she raved, her head thrashing from side
to side in bitter defeat.

"Why didn't you? Why didn't you?" she shouted up at him through hate-filled
eyes, her arms straining at the binding ropes like a mad woman. She cursed
his impotency with all the foul words that came to her lust deranged mind.

"Send me a man! Shalla you son of a bitch! Send me a man!" she screamed at
the top of her lungs. Her cunt was a steaming hot cavern now that twitched
like a nerve out of control. Her body was going to explode into a million
fiery particles if someone didn't stuff a cock into her soon--she sobbed
hysterically, crying out for deliverance.

The crippled dressed and hobbled hurriedly from the room, fearful that this
lunatic might break loose from her bonds and do him bodily harm.

As Jean watched him disappear through the door, she suddenly gasped and held
her breath. His form was replaced by the shadow of the biggest man she had
ever seen. He stooped as he entered to keep from hitting his head against
the frame.

He was jet black!

Her pleadings froze in her throat. Desire, suddenly replaced by fear,
withered in her body. He would kill her!

"I've brought you a man, my pigeon," Shalla's voice cooed from behind the
giant Nubian. "I've given him a discount to let some of the others watch.
You must perform well," he chortled happily. "They are paying one American
dollar each for a good exhibition and we can't disappoint them, can we?"

"Ohh, please, no," Jean whimpered, a battle raging between her mental
revulsion and the fire raging inside her drugged body. "I can't, I can't,
not in front of other people. N-not with h-him. Ohh, Please, please, Shalla!"

Without speaking, he reached for the towel over the caged black rat and
withdrew it slowly, his cruel grin directed straight into her eyes.

"Chiga would like to watch also. I'm certain you would not like to
disappoint my little pet. He offends so easily."

The starving rat clawed and struggled against the restraining wire of the
cage, his beady eyes hungrily searching the room for some sign of food to
quell his ravenous appetite. Jean shrank back into the mattress, the terror
again crawling over her as his tiny wicked eyes locked on her naked white
flesh

Shalla watched the servile acceptance register on her terrified face. He was
contented that she would not give trouble with the threat present of her
breasts being ripped from her body. He patted the top of the cage lovingly
and motioned for Mufta to herd the crowd into the room.

Jean was dimly aware, through drug glazed eyes, of the leering faces crowding
into the small closed room. Would they ever stop coming? They were lining
the walls and hanging over the iron rail at the end of the bed, packing the
small chamber until the air became hot and almost unbearable from their
sweating unwashed bodies and heavy excited breathing. They were horrible
grotesque faces peering down at her. Some toothless and unshaven, some
marred by terrible diseases, but all wide- eyed and eager for the cruel ravishment
of the quivering white body staked out before them to begin

When the room was jammed with at least twenty straining men, Shalla motioned
for Mufta to lock the door, cutting off the last entrance for air. The odor
was heavy and pressed down on Jean like an invisible musty cape. She
struggled for breath, her lungs sucking in great gasps, fighting to maintain
consciousness.

Shalla nodded his head at the painting Nubian who began eagerly stripping
his clothes from his glistening black body. His pants fell to the floor causing
a murmur of fevered approval to ripple through the excited crowd. His giant
ebony cock reared out from his black muscular stomach like a third arm with
a huge tightly balled fist at the end. It was at least ten inches long and two
inches wide and the two great sperm inflated balls hanging at the base gave
it the menacing appearance of a cannon ready to fire.

Jean jerked her tightly clenched eyes open at the ripple of noise running
through the room, her shocked gaze locking on the monstrous shaft pointing
directly at her. She gasped in terror, drawing her thighs tightly together in
anguished fear, her mouth dropping loosely open in astonished disbelief.

It couldn't be true. He would split her open! Horrible visions of her ripped
torn body flickered wildly through her cringing mind. They couldn't do it.
They couldn't do it!

The Nubian stepped to the bed, the crowd closing behind him to get a closer
look at the unbelievable spectacle about to take place before them. Helpful
hands from the sides of the mattress grasped harshly at Jean's tightly clasped
ankles, pulling them brutally open. Her delicate pink slit nestling in the
soft pubic hair burst into full view of the spectators at the end of the bed.
The others strained closer around the bedside to get their look at the
palpitating treasure of the struggling girl. Over-anxious hands reached out
to pinch quickly at the white full tits above, digging harshly for a stolen
moment, and then disappearing anonymously back into the crowd.

The giant black climbed between her wide-spread legs. The restraining hands
on her ankles levered them up off the bed and back over her head until the
soles of her upside down feet were touching the headboard in a great vee about
four feet apart Jean's face contorted in anguish, every muscle in her body
felt as though it were stretched beyond all human endurance. The flat plane
of her soft hair covered pussy was presented up to the kneeling Nubian in
defenseless sacrifice. It was his, his to plunder at will.

He grinned down at it, his lips bared back over the white ivory of his teeth
in unbridled lust. He stroked his immense cock with both hands in greedy
preparation for the assault on the helpless up-turned cunt in front of him His
body swayed on his knees like a stalking cobra, the glistening ebony skin
shining in the dim light of the single bulb hanging above. He shuffled
forward slowly, his pelvis and great bulging black cock shoved out and
quivering like a savage limbo dancer caught in the hypnotic throes of a
primeval jungle ceremony.

Jean, up through wide-split thighs, watched in awed terror, the writhing torso
advancing toward her helpless aperture. She could not turn her eyes from the
vile instrument that was in a moment to cleave through her warm body in
vicious rape. She was mesmerized into abject stillness.

Suddenly, without warning, the swaying Nubian jerked his pelvis back and his
head came forward and down in a dark blur, his gleaming ivory teeth fastening
into the soft flesh of her belly. A tiny nip at her navel and his tongue
began a slow tantalizing exploration of her whiteness, following the soft path
of light fuzz down into the flanges of her cringing pussy. He spread its
young fleshy lips with his fingers and with a maddening liquid suck of the
lips, drew the tiny pink bud of Jean's throbbing clitoris wetly into his hot
moist mouth. He nibbled at it with the sharp tips of his teeth, feeling it
jerking back to life from the softness that fear had brought.

Jean clenched her eyes tightly shut against the whirlpools of sensation that
were shooting out of control again through her loins. She fought with all her
inner strength against the betrayal of her body. Thoughts of Kevin and the
life and children they would have after this nightmare was over coursed
through her mind. No, No, she must not let them win. She mustn't! She
mustn't!

But suddenly, the Nubian's tongue snaked forward, burrowing up her straining
cunt like a racing lizard. The shock rippled crazily up her spine to the base
of her skull where it shattered in a cascade of wildly shooting colored stars.
The hot meteors rained down tauntingly over her whole body. Her crotch
jerked involuntarily forward, burying the flicking tongue to its roots. Fire
replaced fear and all else.

She was that cent! Oh God, she was that cant!

Her entire being was suddenly a great open cavern that had to be filled,
that had to be gorged and stuffed with hot fiery flesh. Nothing else mattered
now; not Kevin, not principles, not humiliation, just the flicking reality of the
probing tongue that had crawled from between her hot steaming furrow and was
tracing tiny round wet circles up her body.

"Ohh, ohh, yes, yesss, suck my tits, yes, like that, like that! Bite me!
Aaaaagggg!"

It moved on up over her throat, licking at her nose and eyes and cheeks, the
hot thick saliva soaking her skin. She rotated her lust contorted face around
searching with her open mouth for the wet fleshy mass. She found it and
sucked it deep into her throat with a low animal moan. His saliva gushed into
her in unimpeded torrents, she swallowed greedily, mewling for more.

Her crotch ground frantically around below, searching with her gaping hot
pussy for that monstrous pole that was going to rip her belly asunder. The
lust incited crowd around the bed gasped as the great bulging head found its
pulsating opening. It jostled for a moment against the pink ragged edges of
flesh, insinuating itself gently between them. Then, with a flick of the
hips, the grinning Nubian forced the blood-filled tip brutally into the
throbbing lips of the hair-lined cunt, stretching the resisting rubbery
flesh almost to the bursting point.

Jean threw her head wildly to the side and screamed

"Aaaagggg!"

It sunk a cruel inch, the struggling girl trying desperately to kick her legs
free and escape the punishing impalement. The eager restraining hands held
them tightly back against the bedstead. In her wild passion a moment ago she
had overestimated herself. The cock was too big. She could never take it in
a million years. It was splitting her cunt lips terribly, the pain
unbearable, rocketing through her stretched body like tiny sharp probing
needles.

The Nubian levered up on his hands in the push-up position and flicked
again--his grin widening--the relentless monster sliding another
excruciating inch.

"Uuuuuugggg!"

Another inch--

"Aaaagggg!"

Hot stale breaths coursed over her naked sweating body as the men crowded
closer. Their faces hung over the bed within inches of her straining nudity,
watching hypnotically this young white beauty being fucked and skewered like
a medieval slave by the giant glistening Nubian. She was dimly aware of hands
tearing at her breasts from the leering crowd and fingers clawing over every
part of her flesh until it felt as though she were covered with tiny crawling
animals trying to enter every pore of her helpless body. The room had become
a giant octopus with thousands of grasping tentacles reaching out obscenely
to crush her in her helplessness.

"Nooo... Noooooo!" she sobbed hysterically, tears gushing like fountains
from her open but almost unseeing eyes.

Her sobbing, struggling protests and resistance brought a sudden crushing
thrust from the Nubian that plowed the giant black cock deep into her tight
resisting passage, pushing great ripples of pink soft flesh in rolling waves
before it. Jean jerked convulsively as the huge rod raced into her belly like
a runaway freight train smashing all resistance. It was an uncontrolled
monster crawling around inside her, filling her every crevice and pushing her
inner organs into tiny tight balls that could not breath or move. It was
coming out her throat, out her mouth, curling around her shoulders and neck
to crush her life away. It was ripping her soul from her body and devouring it
in great gulps of depraved sensuality.

Suddenly, it stopped. With an earth-shattering jolt, the Nubians pelvis
thudded heavily into her upturned crotch The monstrous sperm inflated balls
insinuating themselves with a smack into the wide-split crevice of her ass.

The huge ebony cock lay imbedded to the hilt inside Jean's shivering cunt
like an ancient impaling torture device.

The Nubian held still above for a moment until the bereaved girl beneath him
adjusted to the presence of the huge member planted in her white soft belly.
He watched as her pain contorted face began a slow relaxation, the tightly
gnashed teeth opening in surprised adjustment.

"A-Aaaaah," her lips breathed in welcome relief.

He flexed the giant head, bringing a deep groan from her lips, her teeth
re-clenching. He flexed again--another groan again--a lesser groan, as her
hot passage grew accustomed to the increasing size. Then he began a slow
revolving motion with his pelvis, grinding his cock tightly into her naked
crotch, expanding the still cringing walls of her vagina until it fit like a
well tailored glove.

Unbelieving eyes peered lustfully within inches of the huge buried member,
amazed that the tight tiny cunt they had seen before was capable of swallowing
the whole of it Hands from the crowd rubbed lewdly over the moon-shaped
cheeks of her skewered buttocks. From both sides of the bed, fingers pulled cruelly
at the fleshy hair covered lips surrounding it. A fingertip probed under the
dangling balls at her tiny puckered anus, flicking teasingly at it like
another tongue. She winced as it suddenly popped Rough the tight surrounding
nether ring and dug deeply at the soft rubbery flesh inside. It moved around,
expanding the tight tiny hole until the palm of the intruding hand lay flat
against her ass cheeks, the whole finger sunk safely inside the dry throbbing
tunnel.

Now the Nubian began a painful sawing motion in and out of Jean's moist
stretched pussy, thrusting forward mercilessly from the apex of his withdrawal
and battering her pain-wracked body back hard against the mattress. The
finger imbedded in her ass joined the slowly pistoning cock in a rhythmic
fucking duo that brought groans of pain and gasps of pleasure gushing from
the lips of her moaning mouth in time to their simultaneous tempo.

The pain was easing and a weird sensation of happiness tingled through her
helpless body. The outrageous debasement and subjugation brought strange
masochistic pleasures flooding through her blood stream. Her hips began
unconsciously gyrating in an abandoned rhythm with the increasing speed of
the cock and finger fucking into her. A thousand helpful hands groped at her
from the leering faces surrounding them.

"Ohhh yes, yessss, fuck me like this. Oh shit yes, fuck me like this," she
crooned, squirming her body lewdly around among the myriad of hands and
fingers that crawled over her tingling flesh. She opened her eyes. Cocks
were everywhere. The men around the bed had pulled them out and were
stroking them over her in time to the black and white flesh smacking together before
them. Long ones, short ones, fat ones, she was in a great cock heaven,
surrounded by them--a prisoner of them--and all the time while the great
black glistening pole fucked into her, expanding with each stroke like a giant
balloon, the finger drubbed into her asshole like another cock--she was a
prisoner, a helpless prisoner to the delicious rape of her cunt and
asshole--trapped between them like a helpless insect.

"Oh god, don't stop! Oh fuck, don't ever stop!" she grunted into the thick
stale air, gyrating her upturned ass faster and faster, trying to keep up with
the monstrous poles of flesh and finger that drubbed into her like tireless
fucking machines. She felt long fleshy objects dropped into her tightly bound
hands on either side of the mattress and other hands press her fingers tightly
around them. She knew they were cocks and began a hard vicious stroking in
time to the communal rhythm, as she felt the shaft of flesh pummeling into her
throbbing cunt expanding almost to the bursting point.

"No! No! Wait, wait," she chanted in desperation, but it was too late. The
Nubian's eyes rolled around helplessly in his head and his great balls began
pumping spurt after spurt of hot white cum deep into her contracting belly.
She ground her naked crotch up tightly against his pelvis to stop the flow for
a moment but her very eagerness defeated her desperate purpose. The nibbling
clasp of her pussy milked it clean, the last drop of his hot load sloshed
around deep inside her dilated womb.

The giant rolled useless and drained from her still squirming form, helped by
a hundred eager hands clawing to take his place. A thin string of white
sticky liquid trailed from his cock over her leg to the floor where he
collapsed in exhaustion.

"Three dollars, my friends, three dollars," she could hear dimly through the
muffled confusion of the noise and caught a glimpse of Shalla desperately
reaching over heads for the freely offered bills like an excited circus
barker.

Her hips jerked up automatically to receive the hurried thrust of a short fat
man who had replaced the Nubian between her legs. He rammed into her like a
jack-hammer, needing no fore-play to incite him. The spectacle had been
enough. They raced wildly together for the climax Jean had been so cruelly
deprived of when the Nubian had deserted her. It hit her suddenly, like an
angry fist in the stomach. Great waves of searing indescribable joy coursed
through her fanatically aroused body with the power of a thousand lightening
bolts, curling the tips of her toes and fingers like burning twigs on a
bonfire. The fat man's cock spat uncontrollably into her as the palms of her
bound hands were flooded too with the hot sticky fluid simultaneously. Great
pools of cum clung stickily to her as she saw other cocks spurting at her body
from the sides of the bed. She wallowed lewdly around in it, punishing and
debasing herself in maniacal arousal, the odor rushing through her nostrils,
as her own cum gushed hotly from between her legs, soaking the mattress
beneath her wildly grinding buttocks.

The bodies came on and on, spurred by her screaming supplications for further
and further humiliation. Her hair was matted thickly with the pungent fluid
now and her body was covered from head to foot. She squirmed wetly on her
back in it as she was buffeted up and down the mattress by one rampaging man
after another. It seemed it would never stop.

Suddenly, Shalla grinned to himself. It was going too slow. There was a
better way to handle this volume of business. After all, the American bitch
was screaming for it. He would make sure she got more.

He held back the next men in line and reaching over the bed, cut her bonds.

"Turn over," he commanded.

Jean rolled her battered body over in the slippery pools of cum, resting
heavily on her stomach.

"Now kneel," he commanded to the half conscious girl again. He grabbed
impatiently at her hips and helped her to her knees. She rested panting for a
moment on all fours, her buttocks high in the air and her face pushed into
the bed. Her eyes were glazed thickly from the ravishment her body was enduring.

Shalla directed the waiting traffic like an experienced policeman on a busy
intersection

Jean felt heavy hands on her hips from a nameless body suddenly kneeling
behind and between her open thighs. She waved the stretched moons of her
buttocks back at him, feeling the blunt end of his cock pressing into the now
dripping slit in her crotch. With a grunt, he shoved cruelly forward, burying
the long thin instrument deep up her crevice, causing her to jump forward in
surprise at the sudden lunge. Her face ran head on into another waiting hard
erect cock that rammed without warning into Jean's gaping mouth. The man was
kneeling on the bed in front of her grasping both sides of her head vice like
between his strong callused hands and holding it firm. He sawed into her face
viciously, like it was a second delicious cunt. Jean gagged, as he rammed it
half- way down her throat, the full length disappearing into her ovaled lips
almost to the hilt. His balls slapped harshly against her chin, the soft
fuzz covering them tickling like a light airy feather. She struggled to breath,
catching small gasps of air on the out-stroke.

"Oh God," she groaned as they buffeted her back and forth like a rag doll
between them, using her helpless body as a great receptacle into which they
would pump their burning sperm. She was no longer human but a great mass of
flaccid flesh, unable to think or feel.

But then, the very helplessness of her position flickered through her mind.
The mental picture of her body being fucked between two excited men incited
her. The hunger in her belly began raging out of control again. She began to
undulate her buttocks in tiny circles, squeezing with her cunt muscles at the
fleshy staff boring into her. She wanted to milk it dry, to fill her belly
again until more of the hot sticky fluid ran down her already thickly
covered thighs. She wanted to wallow in it again. She sucked voraciously at the cock
in her mouth her cheeks hollowing and filling with his cruel thrusts. She
had never tasted a cock before and she explored its every pore. Her tongue
licked wildly at the blood-filled head, the tip probing hotly into the gland on the
end. She wanted it to shoot in her mouth. She wanted to swallow it and feel
it running down her throat until her stomach was filled as her cunt. She
wanted it to run through every pore in her body in great torrents of joy.

Her wish came true a moment later.

Simultaneously with the rising tide of her building orgasm, she felt the cock
fucking into her from behind, inflate and begin spewing its white hot load
deep up her clasping cunt. It ricocheted wildly around inside and dripped
from the hair-covered lips into the matted hair of his belly. His balls
pressed tightly against her exposed clitoris, causing her body to jerk
convulsively forward, burying the rod in her madly sucking mouth to the hilt.
It too exploded, flooding her throat with the delicious pungent liquid, her
cheeks expanded like a balloon to keep from choking on the great gushes that
spurted without stopping deep into her throat. She swallowed in hungry crazed
gulps fastening her lips like an elastic ring tightly around the ejaculating
rod, fearful of losing even a drop of the precious fluid. Small droplets ran
from the corners of her mouth as he collapsed in front of her and his deflated
penis flopped lifelessly from her still sucking mouth, thin narrow sticky
strings of cum hung from her lips connected still to the deflated cock
several inches away.

She screwed her buttocks back tightly against the still squirting cock in her
cunt and with a scream from between clenched teeth felt her own body explode
into what seemed a thousand tiny sparks. Her strength was suddenly gone and
she collapsed on the bed as the cock slipped limply from her drenched pussy,
gushes of cool air rushed refreshingly into the unplugged opening.

Time, after that, became meaningless and merged into a blur of strange and
different cocks, fucking her as they would and where they would. Jean was
beyond emotion. Her body still reacted with orgasm to several of the more
inventive males that bent her to their will but her strength was gone and she
followed mechanically the directions Shalla would scream at her when she
lagged in her duties to the clients.

"Get those legs up! Move that ass! Suck harder!"

She was nothing now but a robot at his command and weakly moved her limbs to
comply with his shouts.

Many long hours later, the room was finally emptied and she fell into a deep
exhausted sleep on the soiled sticky mattress that was forever to be her
shame.

Monique smiled sweetly across the table at Kevin, lifting her champagne
glass in a toast.

"Well, here's to the conquering hero. Honestly Kevin, she was absolutely
crushed. You should have seen her face when I showed her the note. She
couldn't believe you would turn into a tiger like this."

The words eased Kevin's worried mind. He had walked about the city all day
worried to death about Jean's reaction to the note he had written for Monique.
Several times, he had almost gone over to the small hotel she had indicated in
her cable and begged her forgiveness but each time, he thought of Monique's
advice about being strong and had desisted. It had taken all his courage but
now it seemed it had all been for the best. He would have blubbered out
something stupid if he had seen Jean and probably made things more of a mess
than they already were. The champagne was relaxing him now and he felt better
than he had since walking out of the hotel several days ago in Paris.

"I owe you a lot, Monique," he said warmly, "I honestly didn't know what to do
when I arrived here. Jean's such a funny conservative girl that I had no idea
what to say to her."

"Believe me, my dear boy, you'll never have that problem again. By tomorrow
she'll be chomping at the bit wondering what you're doing in Paris. Women are
like that. I know, I'm one too, remember?"

Monique was pleased. Things had gone much better than she had expected and
this naive young American had swallowed her story, hook, line and sinker.
She had spent her day arranging things with Gamal for one of his usual parties at
his villa and tonight she would clench the sale to him Kevin didn't know it,
she smiled to herself, but he would play a great part in it. He probably
would raise the price on his own wife by at least one thousand American
dollars if things went the way she had planned it. And knowing Gamal's taste
for the unusual, she was certain it would work.

"I've planned a surprise for you," Monique said, interrupting his thoughts of
Jean. "Remember the experience we discussed this afternoon? Well, I've
arranged for us to attend a very special party tonight."

"A party, what good will that do me? I've been to thousands already and it's
never helped yet."

"I said a special party, Kevin, and I mean a very special one. Men and women
do things to each other. Good things," she grinned slyly, waiting amusedly
for his reaction. It certainly would be one of indignation at first, until
she convinced him otherwise. Lord, what one had to go through to teach these
youngsters about life!

Kevin's reaction was exactly as Monique had predicted. He blushed heavily
and lowered his eyes from hers.

"You don't mean one of those French exhibition things do you?" he said
quickly, "I've heard they're pretty raw."

"No, no, my dear boy. This is not a cheap exhibition. This is a very special
affair given by a very wealthy man. You can watch--and participate if you
wish," Monique lowered her voice on the last sentence, an unmistakable
invitation hidden subtly in it.

"I couldn't do that, Monique. What would Jean think of a man that got his
kicks from watching others?" Kevin said, a flat note of refusal apparent in
his voice. But Monique knew him better than he did himself and her appeal to
his weak point began.

"Well, it isn't important. It's just that you may have learned something
about lovemaking. Jean will expect that after your supposed good time in
Paris. I don't think you want to disappoint her." Her eyes watched his face
change slowly from stern objection to thoughtful consideration of her
statement. She pushed him further.

"Remember also, a woman doesn't expect faithfulness from her husband as he
does his wife. You've already seen her reaction to the little fiasco in
Paris. She would have had a great deal more respect for you if you had known
how to control yourself. I'm certain she wouldn't have bothered asking
herself, or you for that matter, where you got your experience."

She could feel Kevin weakening, just as she had anticipated. Like all others
in the world, if you could justify something to their conscience, then it was
all right, even though it had been latently present all along. No one ever
did anything they really didn't subconsciously want to do from the beginning.
Just supply the excuse, that was all that was necessary.

"You make these crazy things sound so logical, Monique," he said, looking at
her with resigned acceptance.

"I was right about today, wasn't I?" she said, smugly. "If I hadn't headed
you off and talked some sense into you, you would have been groveling at
Jean's feet right this very minute."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he admitted, "we can go and take a look, at
least that much can't hurt."

"All right then, it's settled. Tonight, young man, you're going to get an
education you'll never forget." Monique beamed, chuckling to herself at the
double meaning that could be placed on her statement had he known the actual
state of things. "Let's go have our dinner, the party starts about
midnight."

They entered the door to the villa a little before one o'clock. The dinner
had been long and pleasant. Monique had purposely drawn it out to make
certain Kevin got enough wine and after dinner drinks to deaden his
inhibitions. She didn't want him too alert tonight, particularly in the
beginning of the party. Her timing had to be very good to pull this thing off
and she couldn't afford to have him get too moralistic on her and want to
leave before she could put her little plan into action.

An attendant took their coats at the door and Kevin followed Monique into the
large salon. As he adjusted his eyes to the light from the large crystal
chandelier hanging from the frescoed ceiling, he could make out a small crowd
of people gathered around a bar in the corner. There couldn't have been over
twenty or twenty-five in all. It was evident that it was a fairly wealthy
group as the men were in black tie and coats and the women, all young
voluptuous girls around twenty, were in long evening gowns. Certainly they
were not the wives of these men, as they were at least thirty years their
juniors in most cases.

Monique led him over to the bar and ordered drinks from the dark appearing
bartender. Kevin couldn't place his nationality but it appeared to be Arabic
of one form or another. He marveled at his quiet efficiency in handling the
group of people without complaint. Some of them had obviously been there for
several hours and were beginning to get a little noisy. Kevin could not
understand one word of the French and had to content himself with watching
their animated gestures with their hands.

"It seems those two are coming to blows in just a moment," he confided to
Monique over his drink. He was watching two men violently shaking their
fists at each other.

"Oh, no. Not the French, it's just that we use our hands a lot like the
Italians," Monique laughed, "they are just discussing whether or not it will
rain tomorrow."

He laughed with her, now understanding why he thought he had seen so many
"almost" fights in Paris but never the real thing.

"They'll scream and shake their fists until you are certain they are going
to kill one another, but I have never seen one yet with the courage to strike,"
she added. "They will quiet down in a moment when things begin. Just watch."

"Just what exactly is this place," Kevin asked in a low whisper, still not
certain he should have come. He would have preferred going back to his hotel
and getting some rest for his meeting with his wife. He still needed to
build up some courage in spite of Monique's assurance that she would melt like
butter into his arms.

"It's a private club," Monique answered in a confidential tone. "The members
are all nationalities and just fly in when a special party is being given.
It's very exclusive and always has some extremely unique entertainment for
them."

"What do you mean by unique?" he asked, his curiosity rising slightly now
that he had finished another scotch.

"You'll see, my boy, you'll see before much longer. I guarantee you'll get
quite a kick out if." Monique smiled to herself again. She could hardly wait
to see this pup taken down a peg or two. Innocence bored her, particularly
from those who had it made all their lives.

"Oh, you must meet Gamal," Monique said suddenly, interrupting something
else she was going to say. "He's coming now."

Kevin turned his head and saw a short dark fat man approaching them from the
center of the room. He disliked him immediately. He looked like just the
type to be running a place like this. Kevin's stomach recoiled as Monique
introduced them and Gamal pressed his small well manicured hand into his,
shaking it like a limp handkerchief. He could smell his thick over-sweet
perfume hanging heavily in the air immediately surrounding his presence. It
was sickening.

"Welcome to our little get together," Gamal smiled to them. "You could not
have picked a better companion. Our little Monique is always welcome here
with her friends."

Kevin reached for another drink from the bar as the fat insipid little man
took Monique by the arm and squeezed tightly as though he owned her. He felt
like pushing his fist straight into his flat oily little nose. He had never
met anyone who repulsed him so much at first sight.

"You will be participating in our little games tonight, Mr. Taylor?" Gamal
asked with a sly wink, nudging Monique in the ribs at the same time. "We have
never had an American here before. I'm certain you would be quite popular
with the ladies of the crowd."

"No, I don't think I will," Kevin said, an indignant tone apparent in his
voice. "I prefer my love life to remain private."

"Ah yes, a moralist, I see," Gamal said with a subtle mocking smile.
"Perhaps you will change your mind later. Now if you will excuse me, may I talk
privately with your charming escort for a moment."

"Be my guest," Kevin replied coldly, turning back to the bar. He was
beginning to feel his drinks and decided as soon as Monique finished talking
with that slime they would get out of here. He didn't like the setup at all
and right now had no desire to see a trumped up exhibition with paid actors.

"Your little package arrived a few minutes ago, my dear," Gamal whispered
with a delighted smile when they were out of earshot of Kevin. "You have done
well, I must say. I will add one hundred dollars to the usual price in
reward for your excellent taste."

"My dear Gamal you have not taken a close look at the young lady or you
wouldn't even consider such a ridiculous offer. She is worth double the
usual price if she is worth a franc. Come, let's go take a quick look at her. I'm
certain you have missed a great deal of the quality."

"If you insist, my love," Gamal said with resignation. He knew he was not
going to get this voluptuous young thing as cheaply as he had the others,
but perhaps with luck, he could keep the price within reasonable bounds.

Monique followed him down the hallway from the Salon and into a room that
had a guard on the door. Jean was lying fully dressed on the bed, her eyes
closed in sleep. Her dress had hiked up over the tops of her stockings and the
smooth white flesh was tantalizingly visible up to her panties. She was the
absolute picture of helpless innocence. Gamal liked that, Monique could
tell. Her battle was almost won.

"Your desk-clerk friend gave her something to make her sleep during the trip
here in the car. He says she will awaken in a half an hour or so," Gamal
explained as Monique purposely registered concern on her face. She had
actually instructed Shalla to give her the light sleeping potion so she
would make no great fuss when she was transferred from the hotel. She just hoped
that stupid Arab had not given her too much. She had to wake up soon or her
plans would be ruined.

"Oh, the poor dear, I do hope they handled her gently. She's so sweet,"
Monique poured the compliments on, she could tell by the slight beads of
perspiration breaking out on Gamal's forehead that he was very eager to get
his hot little hands on Jean's young body. It was just a question of the
price now and she was ready to put her plan into operation.

"Why don't you strip her down completely, Gamal, you can get a better idea
of the true value that way," Monique slyly suggested, certain that he had
already lifted the sleeping girls dress and peeked underneath. The slight guilty
blush that passed over his face confirmed her suspicions. She smiled to
herself in satisfaction. "I'll get us a drink while you are doing it and then
we can discuss the final price with all the merchandise laid out before you.
Business should be done like that," she smiled sweetly.

Gamal advanced eagerly on the bed as Monique left the room and made her way
happily back to the Salon. She was going to enjoy the evening. It was nice
to be happy in one's work, particularly when the work was lucrative and
presented a challenge as this one did. Yes, tonight should be an evening to
remember.

She circled her arm through Kevin's, who had not seen her approaching from
behind. "Such a sad face for such a handsome young man. Give me a drink and
I'll cheer you up," Monique squeezed his arm playfully.

"What did that creep want? He looks like he should be running a whore house
in Tangiers."

"Do I detect a bit of jealousy, my love," Monique cooed, squeezing his arm a
little tighter.

"Not of that fat little grease ball," he said gruffly, handing her another
scotch.

"Come now, Kevin, that's our host you're insulting. Besides, Gamal can be
rather pleasant at times. He does mean well."

"So what was he so secretive with you about?" he demanded, the alcohol
putting him in an impatient mood.

"Oh, just to advise him on some new drapes for one of his guest rooms. He has
no need for me, dear boy. He has one of your young American girls for the
evening. At least that's what he said."

"An American girl. How did he get her here, kidnap her?"

"No, not Gamal, silly boy. He wouldn't do that kind of thing. She's
evidently here because of frustration. She asked her desk-clerk where she
could get some action, pardon the Americanism," she laughed with her pun,
"and he directed her here. There are many like that, you know. Their husbands
don't keep them happy at home, so they play when they come to France.
Frenchmen do have a reputation as lovers, even you must know that."

Kevin pulled deeper on his drink. "Well, maybe she needs it badly, but I
can't understand any woman coming to a place like this."

"You'd be surprised how a woman needs it sometimes too. We're all flesh and
blood, even we females," she laughed. "You'll see."

"I think we had better get out of this place," Kevin said impatiently. "It
depresses me."

"Oh, nonsense. Finish your drink and order us another," Monique said,
draining her glass. "I want to show you around a bit and then we can leave.
It's quite an interesting house. You might even enjoy it. Gamal is very
clever."

Monique took Kevin's hand after their fresh drinks had arrived and led him out
of the Salon. He was amazed at the splendor of the rooms through which they
passed. Arab mosaics and inlaid ivory panels abounded through the house. It
must have cost a fortune just for the interior of the rooms. No expense had
been spared.

Monique led him down one hallway into a theater-like chamber. It had couches
arranged in a circular seating pattern around a large round bed, the largest
Kevin had ever seen. It must have been twenty feet across and had a strange
circular post about six inches across coming right up through the center of
the mattress. It stood up about four feet from the surface of the bed and
had a short rope with manacles hanging down that was attached through a ring on
top of the post.

"This little room, as you can see, is the theater. Quite a nice stage don't
you think," Monique joked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes," Kevin answered grimly. "I see by the handcuffs and rope that your
sneaky friend Gamal has many unwilling actors too."

"Yes, they are sometimes, but for the most part they enjoy it, even if they so
resist at first. I've seen some fantastic changes come over girls who are
being ravished at first against their will."

"Well, certainly no one with the correct upbringing could ever enjoy making
a public spectacle of themselves. I think he has them fake it."

"You'd be surprised, my boy, at what hidden devils lurk beneath most of us,
even the most conservative. We're still not too far removed from animals,
you know."

"I can see your friend isn't, but I think you're wrong about the majority,"
Kevin objected. "At least, I hope you're wrong. Otherwise there isn't much
hope for the future of the world."

"I think you're being a bit melodramatic, Kevin. After all, what harm does
it do if a group of people want to privately amuse themselves this way? Perhaps
it's a better solution than you Americans with your bottles upon bottles of
tranquilizers or stuffed psychiatrists offices. You people go to your
headshrinkers and say; "Doctor, I'm sick, I have dreams of seeing people
making love, I can't get it off my mind. Then he tells you about some far
distant event that occurred when you were two years old that's supposed to
explain it and cure you. That kind of thing never cures, it merely gives one
the justification they need for thinking about sex without guilt. Here, when
we feel like seeing an exhibition, we go see one. It's a simple and
practical solution. Satisfies everyone. No doctors or tranquilizers."

"And what about the poor people on stage," Kevin said, speaking a little
more harshly. "There are better occupations to earn ones living."

"Like a chimney sweep? No, my dear young man, for every voyeur that likes to
watch there's an exhibitionist that likes to show it to him. Most people end
up in the occupation that most suits their talents whether they will admit
it or not. If it happens to be less than their aspirations they blame it on bad
luck or circumstances. A slight change of aspiration is much more
practical."

"Well, regardless, I think it's a rotten business and I think that pig
friend of yours should be shot."

"Let's not fight about it, Kevin," Monique retreated. She didn't want to get
him too upset. His state of mind was perfect now for her next step in the
plan. Gamal would be quite surprised at their little interruption. She was
looking forward with extreme delight at the confrontation that was now ready
to take place. "Come I'll show you some of the other rooms before we go.
Perhaps you'll change your mind about our host."

Kevin followed her through a series of smaller rooms. They were equipped with
every known perverse device Kevin had ever hard of and then some. He was
growing rapidly more ill with each new disclosure. Each seemed to be worse
than the one before. He could not comprehend how anyone could enjoy having
relations with some of the devices. He just wanted to get out of this sick
place as quickly as possible and followed Monique more with a sense of duty
for her assistance with his problem than anything else.

They stopped before the door with the guard. Monique had entered with Gamal
before so the guard made no move to stop them.

"This is the room where the American girl was to be entertained. She didn't
want to join the crowd outside for her first experience," Monique explained
to the listlessly following Kevin. He stepped through the door and adjusted his
eyes to the dim light.

Suddenly, Kevin's heart leaped to his throat!

In the dim light of the bed lamp was a completely stripped girl lying on the
bed. Her head was turned away from the door groaning and the fat Arab had
his face buried deep between her wide splayed thighs licking at her cunt like a
hungry pig. He was completely dressed and his black suit contrasted
distinctly with the whiteness of the weakly protesting girls skin. Kevin
instinctively stepped back to leave the room when the still groaning girl
turned her face, eyes closed tight, toward the door.

The shock shot through him without warning, like a thunderbolt! His knees
sagged momentarily.

It was his wife!

It took seconds for the full impact of the spectacle to hit him. This dirty
Arab had his young wife down on the bed slobbering over her naked body lie
an animal! His muscles coiled, and Kevin threw himself at the hated figure like
a wild bull, knocking Monique out of the way like a store dummy. She
screamed just as Kevin landed on the totally unprepared Gamal, sending his fat body
rolling across the bed like a bowling ball. He landed on the floor with a
thud knocking the table and lamp over with a crash and Kevin was right on
him, fists flailing like a windmill. He could feel the soft flabby flesh of the
oil face giving way beneath his driving knuckles like so much putty. He
wrapped his hands around the stunned Arabs throat and began beating his head
against the floor with all his strength. He was a man gone mad and there was
no reasoning left in him. He wanted to kill this vermin more than anything
else in the world, to destroy him for daring to touch his helpless wife this
way.

The guard rushed through the door and leaped across the bed, swinging wildly
at Kevin's head with the club he carried. He connected with a sickening thud
and Kevin slumped over on the floor with a dizzying blackness enveloping
him, the light of the room faded painfully from his eyes. There was nothing but a
great churning dark sea and he was sinking helplessly down into it, until
even that disappeared--

"Want to buy her for the show tonight, my love," Monique cooed down at the
Arab who was trying to rise dizzily from the floor.

"Are you mad," he spat at her. "Who is this crazy fool anyway?"

"He's her jealous husband, luv. He might enjoy watching her perform,"
Monique suggested coyly. "That would be sweet revenge and would give you something
different for your clients. They are quite particular, I understand."

Gamal rubbed his throbbing head. What the woman was saying made sense for
his clients and it would be a welcome revenge. No one ever touched him and this
young punk had dared. Yes, it would be sweet. He obviously was the wildly
jealous type. It would be good to make him squirm.

"Done," he said. "It shall be a pleasure to pay such an intelligent woman the
additional amount this little trick obviously costs."

"You're sweet to do business with, my dear Gamal. I was going to charge you
two thousand American more, but it will be only one thousand if you will give
me a car to take me to Paris now and put out of the way a certain desk clerk
named Shalla, at the Pensione Afrique. Do it slowly, please."

"Both shall be done, my dear," Gamal answered with new respect for the
business acumen she had presented. He liked people that could think well. "I
see we shall be doing much business together in the future, your imagination
impresses me greatly."

"Thank you, Gamal. I promise to keep your stables full with the best of the
young foreigners I can find. Now, if you'll give me the money I shall be on
the way. I want to reach Paris before tomorrow noon. A new group of British
girls are coming through on tour. Perhaps, I will have something else for
you soon."

"Wonderful," Gamal smiled, peeling the bills from his wallet. "We shall be
waiting."

"Oh," Monique turned back as she started out the door, the money placed
safely in her handbag. "Don't worry about the young girl not giving a good
performance. She has received a good dose of aphrodisiac. It should last for
several hours after she is fully awake. You won't need the manacles."

Gamal licked his lips in anticipation of the coming spectacle as he waved
goodbye. Yes, this Monique was clever. Who else would have ever thought of
such an original, yet simple idea. He would enjoy it too. This little
bastard, who did he think he was? He deserved everything he was going to
get.

The room was blurred a dark gray and out of focus. A low hum of voices
surrounded him. Kevin groaned, and shook his head to clear the cob-webs that
kept his thoughts from coming through clearly. He tried to move. He
couldn't. It felt as though he were wrapped tightly in a cocoon and the glazed
picture of a colorful butterfly escaping and bursting forth into the air to
freedom flickered through his mind. He was somewhere whirling in a great
vacuum, but where, he didn't know. A dulling ache grew at the side of his
head as the whirling slowed and his vision cleared slightly. He could see
the white shapes of faces now that seemed to be peering right at him from all
around a room.

A room that he suddenly recognized!

It was the room with the round bed and it was filled with people staring at
him. The picture became more clear by the second and he could see amusement
in their eyes. He tried to move again but still was held tightly in place.

"Welcome to our little party, Mr. Taylor," Kevin heard a voice sneer softly at
his side. He painfully turned his head toward the sound and saw the fat, now
leering Gamal, smiling directly into his eyed He had a white bandage plastered
above his left eye and his nose was swollen slightly. An evil grin lined his
lips.

Kevin suddenly remembered! That horrible scene with Jean on the bed and this
pig touching her naked body. His full senses roared back to him and he tried
to lunge at the smiling face but discovered that he was bound tightly to his
chair from his shoulders down to his ankles. He tried to shout, but the
sound
was choked back by a thick cotton gag held in place by a white scarf. Kevin
was completely helpless. The bonds held him fast.

"We are happy to have you Mr. Taylor, after your disgraceful little show a
while back," Gamal smiled to him from the next seat. "We have arranged
something to teach you the etiquette of sharing. You Americans really are a
bit selfish, you know. Your sweet little wife doesn't object nearly as much
as you do. In fact, she rather seems to enjoy it. I did try it after your
silly interruption and I must say, with a little training, she has excellent
possibilities."

Kevin strained harder against his ropes until they were cutting into him
like wet rawhide. He pictured with anguish Jean's white virginal body squirming
helpless beneath this filth. He would kill this son-of-a-bitch if he had
harmed her. What had happened to her? What had happened to Monique? His
first question was answered a moment later as he still struggled in his
chair.

An announcer stood up from his seat, raising his hands for silence. A hush
fell over the room as those present leaned forward to hear his introductory
remarks about the evenings performance.

"Tonight my friends," he smiled intimately, "we have a special treat. You
know we always strive for the unusual so that you, our members, receive the
superior entertainment you deserve. We have had many variations of shows, all
of which I think you have appreciated. But tonight--tonight, I believe we
have the most interesting of all. We have seen many rapes here, both male and
female." He paused a moment to give his speech more effectiveness, "but we
have never had the interesting situation of a young bride ravished before
the
eyes of her new husband. Particularly one as possessive as this. We have
decided to substitute her in the act as his fair punishment for the
unwarranted attack upon our benefactor." A slight ripple of amused laughter
ran through the room at this statement. "And she is certain to enjoy it,
even if he doesn't. We have chosen an exceptional partner for her tonight. You
have seen him perform before and is one of our favorites. I would like to
re-introduce to you, "Pierre," our little French friend."

The crowd broke into a light restrained applause in keeping with the social
positions of most present. It was apparent they were pleased with the
selection. Kevin's eyes bulged in disbelief as a short dwarf-like man of not
more than four feet tall entered the room by the side door and bowed before
the crowd. His eyes were small and sunk deep in his ugly over-sized head.
There was unmistakable cruelty registered in them, the look of a man who had
been teased an his life and who enjoyed taking it out on others more
helpless than he when he had the chance.

The dwarf, without further fanfare, stripped the robe he was wearing from
his small deformed body and handed it to a waiting attendant like a barer
preparing to go into the ring. The crowd gasped at the size of his cock. It
was huge relative to the size of his body and hung down almost below his knees
even in the soft state. He was obviously proud of it as he took it in both
hands and walked around the edge of the circle displaying it to the
spectators. He stopped in front of the straining Kevin and with a small
teasing grin, stroked it into a semi-hardness. Kevin could not take his eyes
from the growing fleshy rod, unable to believe that it was going to be the
instrument that would ravish his helpless wife in front of this depraved
crowd. At last, he clenched his eyes tightly shut to close out the horrible
sight.

The dwarf moved close to him, his grinning mouth a few inches from his ear.
"I understand she is very young and tender, my friend. They are my favorite
kind. Pierre will show her what a lover is like. You know you must treat them
as dirt or they will not respect you. Have you done that to her?" He reached
up and pulled Kevin's ear in a teasing manner that was pleasing to the crowd.
Snickers of amusement raced through Kevin's ears above the taunting voice of
the dwarf. He could not believe this was happening. It was a nightmare and
he would awaken soon and Jean would be lying peacefully next to him in bed.
That was the way it had to be. This couldn't be real, things didn't happen
this way in the civilized world.

The hissing face of the taunting deformed little creature moved closer to
Kevin's, his foul breath nauseating him.

"Have you ever fucked your wife in the ass, my friend?" the dwarf raised his
voice so that the crowd could hear him better. Kevin's desperate shout came
through the gag as a mumble, his eyes flashed hate at the taunting face.
Gamal was almost rolling in laughter next to him, tears streaming from his
eyes as the teasing continued. "No, you wouldn't, not you. I can tell, you
have absolutely no imagination. I must teach you things about controlling a
woman," he laughed, turning his short over developed body toward the bed.
"Bring me the little cunt. I think lesson number one should begin."

With this, the side door through which the dwarf had appeared, opened again.
An attendant came into view, leading Jean by the hand behind him. Kevin was
startled into immobility. He froze, unable to move, his eyes bulging from
their sockets like fisheyes. He watched his wife being led unresisting
toward the dwarf and the bed like a lamb to the slaughter and he could not help.
Tears began to stream from his eyes and he strained against the ropes, but
it was hopeless. They had made certain he could not interfere.

He tried to close his eyes as the attendant stripped the robe from her,
exposing her luscious naked body beneath it. He moaned as he saw the horrible
little dwarf reach up, his hands high above his head, and knead her full
exposed tits with his gnarled little fingers. He waited for Jean's scream.
None came. Instead, her mouth dropped open in a dazed rapture. She looked as
though she was hardly conscious and yet she moved. Her eyelids appeared
heavy and her eyes glassy, a slight mewl escaped from her lips as the dwarf
pinched the nipples hard and moved his head forward. His face was even with her
smooth white belly and his tongue snaked out and teased into her navel,
bringing another mewl from her open mouth Kevin watched in transfixed horror
as the slobbering lips traced a path down the smooth flat plane to the soft
pubic hair guarding her secret parts. The dwarf's hands dropped and placing
a thumb on either side of the fleshly lips of her cunt, he pulled them gently
apart. The great slobbering tongue leapt forward burying itself in Wee
exposed slit with a wet sluicing sound.

Kevin could not believe the sight before him. Instead of fighting with all
her strength against these humiliating acts, his wife had instantly turned
into a groaning mass of passion. She moved her feet far apart on the floor
like a native dancer and tangled her hands in the dwarfs hair pulling his face
tight into her crotch. She ground her hips sensuously in time to the darting
tongue that probed hotly up into her wide split pussy. Her eyes were closed
and her mouth hung open in undisguised ecstasy.

It couldn't be Jean! It couldn't be the young virginal bride he had just
married several days ago!

Kevin's mind whirled in utter confusion as his eyes remained glued to the lewd
spectacle taking place in front of him. Monique's words drifted hauntingly
back to him--American girl--wants to try it--frustrated--God!-- is that what
happened? She couldn't be here of her own free will, she just couldn't.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong! The words screamed through his
tortured mind. Monique couldn't be right, she just couldn't!

The scene belied his thoughts. It was Jeans It was his bride of a few days
but not the one he knew, not the cold frigid girl he had wrestled with in the
back seat of cars so many centuries ago. This was a new creature, one that he
did not know. She was goading the deformed little man on with her hands and
pumping hips like a nymphomaniac gone wild. Her muscles strained under the
tightness of her skin and Kevin could sec the cords of her inner thighs
standing out like taunt ropes ready to snap against the pressure as she thrust
her pelvis forward again and again against the munching face buried deep into
her already throbbing cunt.

"You see, my young friend, she does not need your assistance. She does well
by herself," Gamal's amused voice spoke beside him. "Relax and enjoy the
show. Your bride has just begun to exhibit her talents."

Kevin's resistance was crushed. He had fought with all his strength against
the ropes holding him to the chair. He had wanted to tear the vicious little
animal attacking his wife to pieces, but it was now she who was attacking.
She had pushed the dwarf back to the bed, still holding his face tightly
between her crotch and sat full down on it with her squirming buttocks. She
was straddling the whipping tongue, grinding his head back down into the
mattress until it was only half visible, his hair protruding bushily from
between her full thighs, his legs kicking back toward the edge of the bed to
catch his breath. It was she who was doing the ravishing, animal grunts of
lust coming in torrents from her lips. It was obvious to the crowd, half of
whom were now stripped of their clothing, that she was racing for a climax
already, her body completely out of control.

The dwarf was helpless in her desperate grip. He was trying with all his
strength to throw her from his suffocating body but to no avail. He would
have choked in another second had not helpful hands from the assistants pulled
the jerking girl's body from him. She screamed in protest, her legs kicking
futilely out into the empty air.

He sat up choking and sputtering, his face beet red from the lack of air.
"Turn her over, turn her over," he half shouted, "I'll show the fucking bitch
who's master here."

His face was blue with rage. He had lost control of the situation. The crowd
was laughing at him and too many crowds had laughed at him. He had to show
them. He had to make this bitch scream and scream good.

Kevin sickened, as he watched Jean's flailing body twisted about on the bed
until she was lying flat on her stomach. Her belly ground into the mattress
still striving hopelessly for the near orgasm just out of reach.

The dwarf took her by the ankles and spread her long slim legs wide apart. He
crawled up on his knees between her full thighs and spread the cheeks of her
ass with his hands. From Kevin's position, he could see clearly the tiny
tight ass hole nestled in the crevice. He thought he could see it throbbing
as it anticipated the dwarfs next move. His hand ran up the inside of her
thigh all the way to the wetness of his wife's open cunt and his head dropped
to kiss the smooth oval ass cheeks, his tongue trailing down to lick the
crevice between then

Kevin could see the skin straining around the hole as the thumbs of the dwarf
pulled at the flesh around it. His fingers probed at the puckered little red
inlet like teasing needles. His wife groaned beneath him

"Spread 'em wider," the dwarf commanded.

Jean's legs opened until her toes were hanging over the rounded edges of the
bed behind her. They were almost at right angles with her body. Kevin
thought she would split. The dwarfs finger probed and he could hear her groan
as it entered. She jumped forward slightly from the unexpected pain, her
mouth wincing in unheeded protest. She strained back at the intruding finger
as the rubbery flesh closed over it in forced acceptance. A flicker of
surprised pleasure passed over her face as it dug to the first knuckle.

He moved it around in the tight expanding hole in preparation of what was to
follow, sawing it in and out expanding the tiny anus more and more. Jean
wriggled her hips back against it, her hands clawing at the mattress in front
of her. He dug another finger in, this time it hurt. A short muffled squeal
escaped from her lips as she buried her face into the covers. But the dwarf
persisted, placing one hand in the small of her back and pinning her to the
mattress. He screwed both fingers into her mercilessly, stretching the tiny
puckered anus until she grunted in pain each time he twisted his hand. She
was being skewered like a helpless animal on a spit.

Kevin watched in horror at the cruel subjugation of his wife by the deformed
little monster. His mind registered disbelief as her flushed face, the hair
strewn down over it, began to register joy. Her mouth opened and began to
pant and mewl as the cruel fingers worked around and around deep up her
wide-stretched rectum. The ugly dwarf grinned as he prodded at the
defenseless asshole like an avenging angel. Jean squirmed beneath his cruel
probes in total surrender.

"Fuck me there!" she suddenly screamed, turning her head to the side so that
he could look down on it. "Screw my ass! Screw my ass!"

Kevin's stomach sickened as the dwarf pulled the fingers out of his young
writhing wife. They seemed to come out reluctantly, the pink clasping skin
clinging to them until they withdrew with a wet vacuum-like sucking noise.

He pushed the cheeks apart again with his hands and dropped his face into the
crevice. His tongue licked at the quivering hole teasingly until the
squirming girl couldn't stand it another minute.

"Oh God, fuck it! Fuck it, please!" she breathed in a thick passionate plea.
"Quick, quick, or I'll die!"

"Kneel, you little cunt," he ordered from behind her.

Kevin watched in horrified stillness as his wife struggled to her knees,
presenting the rounded white orbs of her buttocks up to the now wildly aroused
dwarf. He stood up between her wide-spread thighs directly behind her, his
huge cock standing straight out with the head resting in her split crevice.
He was just the right height with him standing and her kneeling.

"Tickle my balls, you slut," he commanded gleefully. She was at his mercy and
he intended to take full advantage of it. He was at his best when he could
humiliate. His eyes roamed over triumphantly to the tortured face of Kevin
who watched his helpless bride reach back under her body like an automate and
gently stroke at the hairy testicles dangling down between her spread thighs.
She stroked at them hungrily, as though they were sacred eggs that shouldn't
be broken.

"Now put it in, bitch," he commanded roughly. Her hands moved hesitantly from
the softness of the balls and grasped his huge rock-hard cock. A sudden
expression of fear flashed through her eyes as her fingers wrapped around it
and perceived for the first time the enormity of the throbbing instrument.
She stroked it experimentally, indecision apparent on her tortured face.

"Put it in, I said," he snarled again, digging his fingers harshly into the
tops of her thighs.

Jean submitted to the cold command and pressure of his hands and placed the
tip against the tight hairless opening. Kevin could see it begin probing and
working against her anus, the muscles of the dwarfs stomach standing out as he
strained forward. It was worming its way into her, looking like a giant
battering ram trying to force its way into his bride's quivering behind. He
clenched his eyes tightly shut as the straining nether ring suddenly gave way
before the pressure and the huge head popped inside with a sudden rush. A
slight hiss of escaping air could be heard as it entered.

He watched her hopelessly trying to pull away but the dwarf, grinning
lasciviously behind, held her tight.

"Ooooohhh," she groaned from the pain, her face contorted tightly from the
first ravishment of her defenseless anus. His pressing thighs forced her
forward and she began slipping away.

"Shove it back, shove it back!" the dwarf shouted.

Jean hunched back suddenly in automatic obedience to the loud command. Tothe
bereaved Kevin her body looked like that of a pet dog straining back on all
fours against his master's leash. The dwarf, spittle now drooling from his
lips, hugged her waving hips tight and pushed with all his strength against
her futile screams

"Oh God, it hurts, it hurts, it's too big, too big!"

But the hard fleshy rod surged forward battering the rubbery resistant flesh
before it without mercy.

"Oooohhh, Oooohhh," she groaned as his pelvis suddenly smacked loudly
against the softness of her twin white buttocks. The rampaging instrument was buried
to the balls in her nearly split anus. She was hopelessly impaled.

Now gasping with arousal at the voluptuous white body skewered on the end of
his stiff fleshy rod, he began sawing rhythmically deep into the pink
inflamed passage.

And before the unbelieving eyes of her husband, Jean began to move backwards
to meet the forward thrusts of the dwarfs body. She was reveling _n the lewd
sodomizing of her backside like a slave of old bending before her cruel
master. The dwarf rammed into her with hard cruel thrusts, watching the pink
flesh follow the probing cock out on the backstroke as though it were fighting
its withdrawal. The pain suddenly seemed strangely pleasant to her and she
turned her head from side to side, her hair thrashing against the bed so that
the audience could follow her feelings by the reflection in her face. Her
teeth were bared back over her lips in a masochistic joy that pictured to the
hypnotized onlookers the feelings of the giant cock boring into her.

Kneeling above her, the dwarf watched with sadistic delight his cock pushing
and pulling at the pink flesh surrounding her clasping asshole. His eyes
locked on Kevin's evilly and he began a series of brutal hard thrusts that
sent the still growing member sinking to the hilt in his wife's wide-split
crevice. His balls smacked rhythmically against her cunt below bringing
further mewlings of pleasure hissing through her clenched teeth. Her glazed
eyes stared unseeingly around the room. Kevin thought he saw them stop on him
and a flicker of puzzled recognition pass through them, but with another hard
jolt from the dwarf sawing into her anus, they jerked away in reflex to the
sudden pain. She had forgotten him. There was nothing left for him. Monique
had been right. Jean had come of her own free will. Her wild uninhibited
exhibition with this deformed monster in front of him proved it. And she was
enjoying it so much that she didn't even recognize her own husband. Small wet
tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he watched his bride's total
subjugation to the dwarf.

He saw the white vicious penis disappearing all the way up her gyrating ass
with each cruel stroke. Not a bit could be seen left as it buried itself into
the tight resistant passage, the straining cock reaching far into her
shaking belly. Kevin wondered when it was going to explode. He couldn't bear to see
that. That would be too much to see someone else shooting his cum far into
his wife's defenseless ass. The humiliation would be too great for him to
stand.

But even as the tears swelled in his eyes from the horrible thought, he
watched Jean's face flushing a bright red, her head turning from side to side,
her long black hair strewn down over her sweating forehead like a mad woman.
She was panting for more.

"Ooohh, fuck it, fuck it, on, on," she gasped as the dwarf pressed tight
against her soft buttocks and rotated the head around and around deep inside
her rectum. Her moaning was adding to his pleasure and his hands crawled over
her buttocks and back kneading the flesh like fresh dough. Bright red welts
followed his fingers as they dug into her tender milk white skin.

"Oh, yes," she panted, even at the pain, "keep it up, keep it up."

He pulled it out almost to the tip of the blood-filled head so that the
audience could see the giant inflated testicles ready to explode. It was
apparent to them now that he was just holding it back to torment the squirming
impaled girl longer. This was part of his pleasure, this was his ultimate
reward.

He reached down and pulled her ass cheeks wide apart beginning to drive his
pelvis into her soft yielding buttocks with hard vicious smacks that
resounded through the room. His sweating face dripped onto her lovely hollowing back
making it glisten in the light over the bed. His breath came in short
puffing gasps like a runner, his eyes locked down on the whiteness of her quivering
body that slipped over his plunging cock like a tight fitting glove. He had
lost control of himself as he felt his cock growing like a tire inflating.
His balls hung heavy from the sperm building there and they had to be
emptied soon or burst from the excruciatingly delicious pressure.

Jean mumbled incoherently beneath his pounding hips behind her. She waved
her ass salaciously back against his eager thrusts. She wanted him to cum. She
wanted him to shoot his great wad of sperm deep into her belly. She wanted
him to split her open and drown her in its loveliness. She could feel a
great wetness in the crevice of her ass and there was no longer any pain, only a
feeling of being filled, filled as she had never been before. Her shoulders
dropped to the mattress so that her ass was now sticking high up in the air
and the great plunging cock could fuck her at will. Her eyes gazed at the
side and a hazy figure came into focus for a moment. Was it Kevin? No, the
thought that she had been fooled before drifted crazily through her mind. He
was gone, gone forever. There was nothing now but this great fleshy mass
filling her with pleasure and pain and the pain was pleasure too. She ground
happily back against it as she felt it throb into a hugeness that could mean
only one beautiful thing.

He was going to cum! Kevin numbly watched the dwarf throw his head back and
groan as he thrust the cock's full expanded length into his wife's full
stretched rectum, his body jerking convulsively, his hands pulling at her
flesh like the talons of a hungry hawk. He screamed, uttering strange crazy
sounds that mixed wildly with the obscene insults he hurled spitefully at
Kevin's vanquished bride writhing on her knees beneath him.

"Ohhh, baby, ooohhh daddy's coming you little fucking bitch, oh, yes. Screw
back! Screw back!"

Jean, beneath his pounding body felt the first delicious waves of the hot
white liquid creaming into the depths of her rectum. It ran through her body
like the first warning shock waves of a great tidal eruption, smacking into
her belly and rebounding around like a great licking tongue sunk deep inside
her. She screamed her own release at the same time as it gushed from her
open
cunt, drenching the dwarfs hairy balls pressed tightly against the spewing
opening. His cum ran down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks and they
mingled together in a single stream of thick viscous fluid, attesting to the
animal joy of their unnatural coupling.

Gamal's revenge was complete as the dwarf pulled his wet shining cock from
the
still kneeling girls forever expanded rectum. This would teach this bastard
this bastard American to burst in on him when he was just beginning to enjoy
himself. He reached over and put his hand under Kevin's unresisting chin and
turned his face toward him. "I shall take her next in the privacy of my own
quarters. I think my little friend has broken her in to my liking. I want to
finish her education my way. I am not so gentle and understanding." His
beady evil little eyes gleamed at the helpless resignation in Kevin's look.

Tears still trailed down his cheeks from the humiliation of watching his
lovely young wife ravished cruelly before him and even participating in her
own humiliation. She did all this without even recognizing him. His spirit
was completely crushed by the horrible experience and he made no move to
resist when he was led from the room. He did not even look back at the bed
where Jean was just beginning to stir again. There was nothing left for them.
He would take the first plane home tomorrow.

There was nothing else he could do for her or himself. She had found her
place. Now he had to go home and find his in this rotten world if he could.
He had never felt so lost and useless in his entire life.

He was accompanied to the front door by several of Gamal's men and with his
hands still bound tightly behind his back put in the back seat of a long
black limousine and driven in a round about way back to his hotel. No one spoke a
word until the car pulled up at the curb and his hands had been released

"Monsieur Gamal said to give you this," the thick dark man sitting next to
him in the back seat said handing him a manila envelope. "You will have need of
it when you return to the States."

Without speaking, Kevin automatically reached for the packet and placed it
in his inside coat pocket as he stepped from the car. He stood for a solitary
moment watching it pull away from the curb and enter the heavy stream of
traffic still flowing along the wide boulevard even at this late hour.

There goes my last chance of ever finding Jean, he thought dryly as it
disappeared into the blinding cover of the oncoming sea of headlights a
block down the street. He half walked, half staggered to the door of the hotel,
too tired and emotionally upset to feel or do anything right now. He would worry
about it tomorrow when his senses returned and then do something--if there
was anything to be done. He had a lot of thinking to do before that plane left
tomorrow afternoon.

Kevin awoke the next morning to the loud medley of traffic and street vendor
sounds that carried up through his window from the street five storys below.
His head felt as though a pile-driver were crushing down on it and the thick
cotton taste in his mouth almost nauseated him. He groaned, and sat up in
bed, blinking his eyes at the full bright rays of sun that trickled in through
the breeze fluttering curtains.

It was a short moment before he could recall where he was and what he was
doing in this strange European looking room that had the washbasin right out
in the open next to the bed. Then, slowly the entire sordid nightmare of the
night before flickered back through his fogged mind. He groaned aloud and
fell back to the pillow as the horrid vision of Jean's body squirming down on
her knees in front of that dwarf who had sodomized her mercilessly bored
itself deep in his brain. He clenched his fists tightly together until the
whites of his knuckles showed as he recalled the ecstatic abandoned look of
joy on her face as she had let herself be screwed like a common whore in front
of all those people. And she had been loving it. He tried to the best of his
ability to understand, to make himself understand and find an excuse for her,
but there could be none He had seen her. He had seen her doing it, not once,
but twice if he included the fat Arab that had been licking her in that room
when he had walked in unexpectedly. Monique had said the girl was there for
some unusual kicks and she had no reason to lie to him, plus she did not even
know it was Jean until they entered the room. She had just been told by that
Arab Gamal that it was some American girl who wanted to taste the seamier side
of French night-life. It was just by their accidental rummaging around
through the place that they had burst in on those two.

Well, she had certainly tasted it and in first class style. He wondered how
many others present at that little gathering had tried it too after he had
been sent away from the place. Jean had looked like she might be in the mood
to show half the room a good time. It was just strange that he had never
recognized the nymphomaniac streak in her before or that it had never shown
itself during some of their sessions in the back seat of his car when they had
been dating or at least back in the hotel room in Paris where she had screamed
so convincingly at his advances.

Perhaps Monique had been right. Women are strange creatures and there is no
way of knowing what their reaction to a given situation will be until they are
actually placed in that situation. He could have never in his wildest dreams
have imagined that underneath the stiff upper New England facade of
respectability in Jean that such an uncontrolled demon of passion smoldered.
And what was more mysterious and difficult to understand, was how it was set
off so violently in the short span of a few days since she had run away from
him in Paris. There was so much he could not understand and so many questions
he wanted answered that it caused his head to throb more than it already did.
But, he had to know some of these things before he left Jean here even though
she had done so much to him in the last few hours. He would at least ask a
few questions to ease his own mind if he could find the right places.

Later, after he had pulled himself from his bed and shaved and showered, he
had coffee downstairs at the restaurant and planned out his days itinerary.
He had called the airline office and found that he could get the plane for
Paris with direct connections to New York at seven o'clock tonight. That
should give him plenty of time to go to the hotel that Jean had indicated in
her cable to him and ask a few questions. He could possibly find out whet
happened to Monique also. He had wondered where she had gone after he had
been knocked unconscious last night and decided she had probably gotten out of
the place. He couldn't blame her very much under the circumstances after they
had seen Jean lying under that Arab friend of hers, with her legs spread wide
open in invitation. She had probably been so upset with what she had seen
that she had gone on back to Paris. He couldn't blame her very much after all
she had done to try and patch things up between two juvenile young newlyweds.
He would at least like to let her know that he didn't blame her for the way
things had turned out. She had no way of knowing what Jean was really like or
that she would turn nympho overnight. Flow could she possibly know if even
her own husband didn't. He paid the waiter for the coffee and stepped out of
the hotel to hail a taxi clutching the address of the hotel in his hand. The
hall porter had said it wasn't too far away but had had a funny expression
on his face when he mentioned the district it was located in but Kevin shrugged
it off. Nothing mattered too much now anyway and he was just taking the trip
to satisfy a vague curiosity about Jean's sudden about face. Last night had
destroyed any love he felt for her and nothing he found out today would make
any difference in his plans to go home and file for divorce immediately.

Shalla, when he heard the footsteps on the stairs leading up to the second
floor desk leaped to his feet in excitement. He had been waiting for Monique
to return with his share of the price for the American girl since early this
morning. He had been counting with glee over and over again the money he had
made from her yesterday and it was a considerable amount considering she had
taken on between twenty and thirty customers not including the amount he made
for the exhibition she put on with the African. Now, with his share of her
sale to the syndicate, he could start his own business again and be on easy
street. He had hoped this time it was her coming up the stairs but as they
drew nearer a slight tinge of disappointment crossed over his brow. The steps
were too heavy. It was not a woman, just probably another tired seaman who
wanted a room for the night He was surprised suddenly when an American
appeared at the top of the steps looking as though he had just stepped from
the advertising section of one of those American men's magazines Shalla had
sometimes seen, old and used, in the barbershop. He must be wealthy and
perhaps looking for a woman for the day. Why else would he come down to this
section of town. Damn, if he only had the American girl here now he could
probably get four or five times the price he would have from the customers
he had sold to yesterday.

"May I help you, Monsieur," he purred in his best English, hoping to make an
immediate impression on him. He enjoyed speaking to them first in English and
always getting the query, "Why, how did you know I was American?" It was
strange that they didn't even know themselves they always looked so different
from Europeans in their neat looking ever- pressed suits and shirts.

Kevin looked at the desk clerk for a moment before answering. He was still
stunned by the appearance of the neighborhood when he had gotten out of the
cab downstairs. There were nothing but cheap looking bars, sailors, and
prostitutes for blocks. Why on earth had Jean chosen a place like this to
stay in unless she were really looking for a chance to wallow in filth. Had
she gone completely out of her mind. It certainly would appear that way.

"I--I wonder if you might answer a few questions for me," he managed to
stammer after an uncomfortable moment.

"Certainly," Shalla grinned, sensing that there was some money to be made here
if he played his cards right. Truly this was his week of "bonne chance" and
rebirth. "Anything that Shalla does not know about Marseille, Monsieur, is
not worth knowing."

"I would like some information about a girl," Kevin said softly, his voice
lowered in suspicion of the unsavory looking character standing in front of
him.

"Ah, but you have come to the right place," Shalla answered in a low
confidential voice so endemic to pimps. "I can arrange any type you want,
Monsieur, or any color. And it will not be too expensive. You have come to
the right man."

"I--I didn't mean that kind of woman," Kevin quickly corrected. "I mean a
woman that was registered here at your hotel. A young American one."

Shalla's grin suddenly faded as the recognition flickered through his mind.
He suddenly recalled the cable the American girl had sent to Paris. This was
her husband! Panic seized him for a moment as thoughts of the police
following close behind came to him. He had sudden frightening thoughts of
the
entire transaction being destroyed by an over-zealous husband and with that
the destruction of his profits from the deal. This would ruin him and his
plans for his business that he had spent the whole morning dwelling on

"H--Have you seen her?" Kevin's voice interrupted his thought. "Her name was
Taylor, Jean Taylor."

"I--I don't know, Monsieur, if I can help you," Shalla hesitated, placing his
finger against his chin as though trying to recall. "I am not always on duty here."

"It would mean a great deal to me," Kevin offered. "I will pay you well for
any information you can give me."

Shalla sensed that he should just deny any knowledge whatsoever of the girl
but the mention of money started his mind working again. He could kill two
birds with one stone by misleading the American and still take his money for
the information even if it was false.

"Perhaps if Monsieur could describe the young lady," he ventured cautiously,
"you see we have so many customers, particularly during the tourist season.
I don't know if I would recognize her."

"I think you would remember her if you saw her " Kevin said. "She was a very
pretty girl with long dark hair. Twenty-three years old and built very well."

The thoughts of the American girl's body thrashing under him in wild abandon
that first day drifted back to Shalla as Kevin continued his description. He
felt a slight tinge in his prick as he thought back on it. Yes, he mused
silently to himself, she did have a nice body and again a surge of secret
power rippled through him as he listened to her husband stand before him and
describe a being that he in all probability knew better than he did. He
wondered what his reaction would be if he knew that he had fucked her silly
not long ago and then watched while multitudes of others used her body for any
purpose they wanted for hours on end Yes, it did give him a secret sense of
power to listen to this poor fool here who probably was looking upon him as
nothing but a dirty illiterate Arab as his wife did when she first came into
the hotel. Perhaps he could make up a story that would be half true that
would bring him down a peg or two. He would enjoy watching him squirm.

"And, oh yes, she was traveling with an older French woman. Nice looking also
and about thirty-nine or forty years old," Kevin added as he finished
describing Jean to the apparently close listening Shalla.

"Yes," Shalla finally said after a long minutes thought. "I do recall such a
pair. What is it exactly that Monsieur wishes to know about them?"

"Nothing in particular," Kevin flustered for a moment. "I--I just wondered
if the young one had any v-visitors or went out much at night."

"Ah," Shalla's face brightened as though in comprehension. "Monsieur is a
detective, no possibly, for the young ladies husband?"

"Y--Yes I am," Kevin lied, thinking it might be the least painful way to ask
embarrassing questions. In fact he was glad that Shalla had made the mistake
as it wouldn't put him in the position of the jealous husband chasing after
an errant wife.

"Well then, if it is a business matter then I think I can he of assistance,"
Shalla grinned, proud of his cleverness in leading the American on to think
that he did not know he was her husband. "How does fifty American dollars
sound for my information?"

"Yes, that will do," Kevin said, matter-of-factly, and reached into his pocket
and pulled out his wallet. He carefully peeled five tens from it and placed
them on the desk in front of the grinning Arab. He didn't like the man's
looks at all, but this was the only thing that he had to go on so he had no
choice in the matter. His own personal pride dictated that he at least find
something out about Jean's activities the last few days before he went home
and filed for divorce. Even if it was all over he would like it verified by
someone else too. He still was having trouble believing what his own eyes had
seen last night.

"Good," Shalla said, tucking the bills carefully under his robe. "Now we
understand each other "

"Please hurry," Kevin asked "I haven't much time and I want to know all you
can remember about her movements while she was staying here "

"Well actually, Monsieur, there is not much to tell. She was just like many
of the other young tourists. She came here for a good time because evidently
she had a very negligent husband who could not satisfy her back in the States
or somewhere. It is a very common cause for the women who come here. They
have no fear that their little indiscretions will become known.

Shalla paused for a moment watching with secret satisfaction the blank
expression on Kevin's face. He knew this would get to him because he recalled
the groans of passion and relief from the American girl and knew she had never
been screwed the way he had given it to her before. There must have been
something lacking in the husband. Shalla had the knife in him, he knew, and
he twisted it further as he watched the color of Kevin's skin ashen slightly
as the words he was hearing sunk into his mind.

"She had several lovers here the first day and just did not seem to be able to
get enough. She kept going out into the streets for more. Do you believe it,
Monsieur, she even tried to get me into her room but I explained to her that I
am a business man and not for that kind of thing."

"The Arab was almost bursting inside now with the joy of watching Kevin squirm
before his words. It was all he could do to keep a serious expression on his
face as he described a few of the lovers that Jean had brought back into the
room with her. He had no way of knowing just how devastatingly effective his
lies were as he did not know that Kevin had watched Jean being sodomized in
apparent ecstasy last night and was at the point where he would believe
anything without question. Shalla had his final blow for the spoiled young
American now. He had been saving it for the last of the descriptions to make
certain it hit with the correct impact.

"And, Monsieur, the last she brought here was enough to make a man cringe.
He was a giant Nubian black from the south of Algeria. A sailor I think and he
must have been built big enough to kill any ordinary woman but she loved him
I could hear wild sounds coming from her room for hours after they went
inside. And it was disgraceful, the way they made noises like animals. I was tempted
to knock on the door and throw them both out. I was afraid they would
disturb the whole hotel, Monsieur, and we must protect our clientele from such
inconveniences. Do you not agree?"

"Do you not agree, Monsieur?" Shalla repeated, an indignant expression on
his face. He pushed the question to force Kevin to answer. He wanted him to have
to speak and show his emotional weakness. No wonder the girl had been so
hungry with someone so weak for a husband. It was unusual too, he mused. The
American sailors that came into Marseille had the reputation for being the
most insatiable men on earth and one didn't see the whores of the town out
working for days after the American fleet left. It was joked about the
quarter that there was not one left that could walk after such an ordeal.
Well, this one was different, he was not the common American stock. It would
be good for him to suffer a penance for his cowardice.

"Yes, yes of course, you could not let them make so much noise," Kevin said
slowly, his eyes misting. "And what of the older woman?" he queried after a
pause.

"Ah, Monsieur, that was the mystery. She was the tower of virtue, which is
most unusual for French women. She tried very hard to hold the young girl
down. They had just yesterday a loud argument right here in front of me
about the way she was acting but she would pay no attention to the French lady.
She just told her to mind her own business that she knew what she wanted out of
life now."

"And what did the French woman say?" Kevin asked. This must have been after
she had returned from picking him up at the station yesterday and he was
curious even in his grief about what she had tried to do.

"She just said to the girl that she has a surprise for her and for her to be
good tonight."

"And did she?" Kevin knew the answer after what he had seen last night but
wanted it substantiated again for some unknown reason in him that would not
admit Jean had turned so quickly away from him. "Did she ask you about going
to a special place or anything like that?"

Shalla paused for a moment. He could sense that this was a loaded question
and knew also that if the American knew about that special place and the fact
she may have asked about it, then someone had told him that he had directed
her there.

"Is there a particular reason you asked, Monsieur?" Shalla asked cautiously.

"Yes, there is," Kevin replied, innocent of what the Arab was thinking.
"Someone said she was directed to one of those exhibition and orgy places
last night and may have gone."

"Oh, why yes, I do remember her asking about one, but Monsieur, I know of no
such places and I explained it to her."

"Most probably in one of the bars on the street. They would all know about
them. I understand there are several around the city of Marseille. I am
certain she asked as she seemed determined to find something unusual and
bizarre in the way of sexual experience. She also said something about
finding a happiness she had never known before. We get many strange ones
here, Monsieur, and I would say she was one of the strangest. You must tell
her husband, Monsieur, not to expect her to ever come home. They always find
themselves a lover and stay. I have seen hundreds like her."

Kevin's heart sank. He had heard enough. It was obvious now from what the
Arab was saying and what he had seen last night that Jean had played him for
a complete fool all this time. He had been a child and nothing more in her
eyes. Well if that was the way she wanted it then there was nothing he could
do or wanted to do for that matter, it was her life and she had obviously
decided to go about it without him.

"Thank you for your assistance," Kevin mumbled as he turned and started
toward the stairs. "You've been very kind."

"It was nothing, Monsieur," Shalla smiled as he watched him disappearing
down toward the street. "I am glad to be of help to you."

He fingered the crisp ten dollar bills happily in his pocket. He could hardly
wait to place it with the amount he had collected yesterday from pimping for
the American's wife. It would make a handsome amount in itself and he would
be a rich man when the French lady came with the rest He was not worried that
she would not come. She needed this hotel to do her business in and even if
later she decided to try another he would still find her. Besides, she knew
he knew all about the operation and he could always threaten to go to the
police with what he knew. No, she would come back this afternoon and he might
even drag her back into the room and try a little more of his new partner. He
whistled happily to himself as he tidied up behind the counter preparing for
the days rush of prostitutes and customers that would want to rent the rooms
by the hour.

Kevin waved to the taxi from the sidewalk and entered it quickly when it
stopped at the curb. Small streams of tears had begun to run from the corners
of his eyes and he wanted to get off the street as quickly as possible so that
no one would see him It was ridiculous for a grown man to be crying on the
streets like this. As the cab drew away from the curb, he noticed two dark
looking men entering the hotel. They looked vaguely familiar from somewhere
but it wasn't important. In his grief everyone looked alike.

Shalla heard the noise on the stairs and for the second time that morning his
pulse quickened. It must be her this time, the walk was soft like a woman
tiptoeing. It drew closer up the stairs and sounded strangely like two women.
He lifted up on his tiptoes so that he could see farther over the counter and
down the stairs. Strange, he thought, two more men. Algerians this time.
What could they want at this hour unless it were women. Perhaps this was his
lucky week.

"Your name Shalla?" one of them asked casually as they advanced to the desk.

"Why, yes, it is Monsieurs," he answered slowly. "May--may I help you?"

The last thing Shalla saw on this earth was the silencer end of a snub-nosed
automatic that appeared suddenly in the hand of the man who had asked the
question. It puffed softly three times straight at his belly bringing a
surprised gush of air from his open mouth before he pitched forward stone-dead
across the counter. The man who had pulled the trigger walked behind the
sprawled body and reaching under the robe withdrew his hand filled with crisp
French francs and American ten dollar bills. He smiled toothily at his
companion, quickly dividing it in half and handing one pile to him before they
disappeared silently back down the stairs from which they had entered.

As Kevin finished packing his bags he picked up the suit he had worn last
night from the floor where he had left it and started to fold it into the
case. As he shook the jacket to straighten the wrinkles a packet fell from
the inside pocket to the floor. It was the manila envelope he had been given
by one of the men who had brought him back to the hotel last night. He had
forgotten about it in his anxiety today to get to the hotel where Jean had
stayed.

In feet, he thought dryly, I've forgotten almost everything about last
night. Almost.

He opened it carefully not wanting to tear the thin onion skin sheets of
paper inside. He unfolded the thin sheets and began reading a typewritten note on
the first sheet. It said simply:

Kevin,

I am sorry about everything and the mistake we have made in our marriage.
Thelast several days without you have shown me that there are better things in
life than the simple mundane existence we accept at home. I have fallen in
love with the life here and intend to stay forever. You will have to explain
to my family why I have not returned with you. Please use the enclosed
documents for that purpose and do not attempt to find me. I do not wish to
be bothered by anyone from my old life again.

Jean

It was her note alright. He would recognize the signature anywhere. She must
have written it last night after he had caught her with that Arab in the
room. Well, she couldn't have put it more bluntly and she certainly had fallen in
love with the life if her little exhibition last night with that dwarf was any
indication. The Arab desk clerk's little disclosures of her side activities
more than substantiated it. Well, if she wanted it that way, there was
nothing he could do about it.

He flipped the page to the first attachment. It was obviously a death
certificate from the Prefecture of Marseille made out in Jean's name. It also
had all the pertinent data about her. The information could have only come
from her. With it was attached a Certificate of Burial again certified by the
Prefecture of Marseille. Cause of death was listed as accidental drowning at
the local beach. Both were complete with official registration numbers.

Well, she certainly has thought of everything. He knew her old man would
raise a stink when he got back and have half the private detectives in France
here in a matter of hours if he just said she stayed here because she wanted
to be left alone. He knew he could never tell the real story.

He reached for the phone and instructed the operator to get the local
Prefecture office in charge of issuing death certificates. He also instructed
her to get an English speaking clerk on the line. After several minutes of
gibberish in French a thick accented voice boomed into the line.

"Can I be of service, Monsieur?"

"Yes, you can," Kevin answered quickly. "I want to verify the correctness of
a death certificate filed the last several days with your department. Can you
do it for me without much trouble."

"Why of course, Monsieur, we have the files right here. If you will kindly
give me the number of the filing or the name of the deceased I will fetch it
immediately."

"The number is M64589. Dated yesterday. Do you need more?"

"No, that is fine, Monsieur. Just one moment." There was a muffled noise at
the other end of the line as the clerk laid the phone on the desk and moved
away from it. Kevin reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of
cigarettes, taking out and lighting it while he was waiting. He would see how
efficient Jean had had her friends be. This would be the first thing her
father would have checked. If it was verified then he would do nothing else.
What could he do? One had to believe official documents He tensed for a
moment as he heard the phone being lifted back from the desk again.

"Monsieur?" the accented voice came back.

"Yes, I am here," Kevin replied.

"We have the number. It is for a Mrs. Kevin Taylor of the United States.
No?"

"Yes, it is," Kevin answered surprised. "What is listed as the cause of
death?"

"It is accidental drowning, Monsieur. A sad case. We do not like to lose
tourists. It is bad publicity for our city and France is suffering enough
from Monsieur DeGaulle's anti-American policy. Do you know Monsieur we have
lost over twenty-five percent of our tourists because they refuse to come to
a country that turns its back on its savior in two wars. It is a shame
Monsieur. It is a shame."

"Yes, yes of course," Kevin replied, cutting him off. He was in no mood for
a political discussion now. "Thank you for your help in this matter."

"Not at all, Monsieur, we are glad to be of service."

Kevin hung up the phone and walked to the window. He looked out over the
blue of the Mediterranean for a long moment, thinking back to his arrival here
yesterday and the optimism he had had about a reconciliation with Jean. It
all seemed an eternity ago and yet only a few short hours had passed.

He folded the certificates and placed them carefully back in the envelope.
Yes, he would use them as an explanation when he arrived home tomorrow. He
had no other excuse. No one would believe him if he told the true story and
besides it wouldn't be fair to Jean. She had a right to privacy if she wanted
it and he would help her get it. It was the least he could do after letting
her dowel in Paris &t night when it all began so long ago.

The girl dropped the soft clean white robe from her trim well tapered body on
the command of the short dark Arab standing in front of her. His name was
Mahguib and he controlled with an iron hand the sale of all the fresh young
European women that passed through the Algiers division of the organization.
He had just received a fresh shipment of four girls from France this morning
and already had them out on the platform for inspection by the prospective
buyers. He could not hold them here very long because of the pressure of the
authorities since the revolution. They did not forbid his trade completely as
they knew the tribal chieftains who now supported the government would take a
dim view of their supply of white girls being cut off and possibly revolt
again. But they did require that he do it more discreetly than it had been
done when the French were here. After all, this was one of the new socialist
societies and must protect their world image as such in the United Nations and
before the world press. One never knew when an Interpol agent might penetrate
the mother organization and blow the whistle. If this happened, then the
Socialist State needed a scapegoat and Mahguib knew very well who that
scapegoat would be. A firing squad was the only acceptable penalty for
disgracing the state and he did not have the slightest inclination for ending
his term here on earth in that brutal manner.

"Now turn for the Emir, my dear," he coaxed sweetly to her. "Let him see the
abundance of charms and treasures you have to offer."

Jean followed his commands as a well-trained show bitch. She had learned over
the last several months that life was much more pleasant for her if she
followed the orders she was given. Gamal had groomed her well for the role
she was now to play for the remainder of her life. She had resisted his
training the first several weeks, still hoping that Kevin would come to free
her from the horrible degradations to which she was being subjected nightly.
Finally, after a time, and seemingly endless doses of the aphrodisiac she had
been introduced to the drug hashish. That, plus the final acceptance of the
hopelessness of her position had made her a willing pupil for all the secrets
of pleasure Gamal had taught her. She had learned well and had quickly become
his favorite even up until the time he was forced to finally send her across
the Mediterranean because of police pressure on his operation.

She looked down at the Arab chieftain studying her and with a sudden deft
movement of her hands brought them up under her breasts, cupping them into
twin rounded peaks of firm white flesh as she had been taught. She tweaked
the nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and teased them into tiny hard
duds that captured his eyes immediately. She could see a gleam of desire
flicker momentarily through his face, and then turning to Mahguib, he raised
three fingers in offer, each finger indicating a thousand American dollars.
Mahguib shook his head in refusal.

"My dear, Emir, this is a fresh young American girl, almost a virgin. She is
worth at least ten thousand dollars the way things are today. Come take a
look here."

Mahguib led the old gentleman around behind the small circular stand on which
Jean was standing. It was about three feet off the ground which made her
buttocks even with the level of their eyes.

"Now, my dear, bend forward and let the Chief see more of your treasures."

Jean bent over, spreading her legs about two feet apart on the stand. She
could hear a slight gasp of approval from behind her as the Chief looked
straight up between her slightly spread legs.

"Now reach back and open it for him, dear. Let him see how tight you are."

Jean reached back with both hands around her buttocks, and looking back at the
Sheik with a sweet seductive smile on her face, spread the lips of her vagina
slowly and tantalizingly apart. The moist pink flesh of her tiny narrow slit
became visible slowly as she gently parted the soft dark pubic hair covering
the plane between her legs. Another gasp from behind and she saw the old
Sheik raise seven fingers. Mahguib nodded his head in agreement. Jean was
sold for the first time. She didn't realize it in the haze of the hashish
they had fed her just before the sale but it was only the first in many to
follow. Not all of them would be this easy or this pleasant and the price
would drop with each further sale. But now, at this moment she was happy.
She had fulfilled the first function she had been trained for, to be bought.
Now, she must fill the second, to please her master. This she was also
prepared for, the steady supply of hashish would insure that she remained so
prepared.

She stepped down from the stand, replacing the robe about her shoulders and
followed her new master from the room toward the exit. Mahguib had ordered
that her things be sent to the car to avoid delay. She winced slightly at the
bright desert sun that beat down outside while at the same time a thousand
miles north in Europe a woman named Monique smiled sweetly at another young
tourist boarding the Marseille Express. Soon, she too would be wincing in
the desert sun as she followed her first faceless master off into nowhere.

The End