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CHAPTER ONEThe girl was no stranger to the house on the hill above the ocean. She had been there a couple of months earlier, and she remembered. On this cool, drizzly September evening, she was there again and she didn't like it at all, any more than she had during the warm summer. It was money that brought her back to the sleek modern building with the baronial interior. The money was very good, and she needed that kind of money, needed it enough to overcome her revulsion at what she would do to earn it At first she vowed that she would not come to the house again, but her needs became greater, and even as she fought with herself, she knew that she would come back. It had taken her two months of self-torture and struggle before she knew that she could not make it any other way, that here at this house was the best money in town.As before, she found the door open to the lobby. There, in the dark paneled room under a yellow light bulb in a wrought-iron and leather lamp she found the note with specific instructions. She was expected to follow those instructions to the letter, beginning by stripping off all her clothing in the lobby. Somehow she knew she was being watched, but this part of her performance she didn't mind. She had stripped naked before many men, many times. No, she didn't fear this part of the night's work. This was perversely pleasurable for her, removing her clothing and carefully hanging it over the nearby chair. The thought of someone watching her from an unseen vantage point did not bother her. The audiences in the strip-shows she had worked were unseen, too, made invisible by the glare of the footlights and the spots.She was a tall girl, perhaps five-foot-eight in her stockings, and she carried herself erect, proud of the height and the way she could look down on smaller people. And yet that was a painful thing, too, for all the tall men she desired never seemed to desire her because of her height. And the short-statured men who purchased her talents for the night or longer never quite made her feel tall and proud. It was almost as though they deliberately humiliated her to compensate for their lack of height.Yet she stood tall even in the dark lobby and even knowing that she would be subjected to strange things during her evening's work. Afraid, yes, but anxious too for there was all that money and, yes, there was a certain fascination in working for him, doing his bidding and being close to his power, his naked lusts, and his weaknesses. Had she been a more clever girl she would have known that the lusts and the weaknesses were one and the same thing. But she was not; she was ungifted intellectually and was considered lucky to have developed enough sense to make the most of her physical beauty, which was considered almost boundless.Even when a child, strange men often stopped to watch her cross the street, her heart-shaped face, open and softly molded, making even hard people comment, if only to themselves, that there went a beautiful child. By the time she was eighteen, she had developed fully as a woman, her breasts high and full, firm-fleshed globes that became the delight of her high school teacher and many others before she was eighteen. The blond hair hung to her shoulder blades and would have charmed Rumpelstiltskin or been the envy of Rapunzel. Her long legs were strong without being muscular and blossomed beautifully into round haunches.She discovered from her high school teacher that lying back and spreading her legs was a source of immense pleasure. Later she discovered that lying back, spreading her legs, and getting money for doing it was still more pleasurable-and even better when, through her five years of experience, she found that certain refinements in the art of love could command yet greater rewards. That she was a prostitute and that what she did was illegal only made her cautious; morality was a foreign word and she would have been confused by any definition of itThere was a full-length mirror beside the door to the other parts of the house, and she stood there for a moment, gazing admiringly at herself, entranced by the sight of her own smooth white flesh with its dark gold triangle reflected in the antiqued gold veining of the big mirror. She turned then and tapped lightly at the heavy oak door, waited, and then turned the knob and walked into the huge room."You are vain, aren't you?" The voice didn't frighten her so much as the man behind it. He was sitting in a low armless chair at the far end of the long room. A half-smoked cigar rested lightly between his fingers and he drew on it once as she advanced across the thick carpet to stand before him.She saw then that he had been watching her on a small monitoring television which still showed a very wide-angled view of the lobby facing the front door. Her clothing, she saw on the screen, was where she had left itHis name was Carl Christian Denger. He was rich. He was powerful. He was awesome to her and therefore very attractive. Still she shook ever so slightly as she stood in front of him, looking into his dark blue eyes, trying to read something that was not there in them. She read only the perpetual scowl that was more a result of the heavy dark brows that framed his eyes than any particular mood he was in. Her eyes drifted down to his sensuous lips and to his thick chest-covered with dark gray hair, she remembered from the first time, but now concealed by the ' black silk robe he wore.He, in turn, studied her as carefully as a man buying a horse, as indeed he was buying her only for the physical pleasures she would bring. He had remembered her from a party during the summer, remembered her white flesh and firm breasts. Mostly, however, he remembered her total abandon as she enjoyed herself in an almost manic way. She had been, for Carl Christian Denger, almost too perfect a sensualist. What she had lacked that always made him more perfectly satisfied was not her complete inhibition over any act of love; she had no inhibitions and had seemed to find great satisfaction for herself no matter what she was doing or what was being done to her. No, what she lacked was the tiny element of fear, and Carl had almost been ready to dismiss her until he discovered it. For Carl Christian Denger, the shriek of a beautiful woman locked in a state of primal terror brought him to his most fulfilling climaxes."You seem nervous," he said after a long time, his eyes still tracing her body possessively. "Would you like a cigarette? It's very good grass." She nodded and accepted a light from him, inhaling deeply on the thick joint. "Here," he said, holding out a black velvet-covered dog collar, "put this on and sit here at my feet. I have some calls to make." She sat between his feet, her back to him as he had directed. He patted her blond hair and reached for his chair-side phone.She understood little of his conversation, only enough to know that it was not business and that it concerned her. She had no idea of where the call was made to, but it was not outside. He had not dialed. She touched the collar she had fastened around her throat, played with it idly and tried not to think of how it would imprison her sooner or later. The marijuana helped calm her, raised her feelings of otherness until she knew that she would be all right, no matter what Denger had in mind. When she finished the cigarette, she snuffed it out and felt his big hand turn her towards him. She knew then that it had begun and there would be no turning back.Denger replaced the phone and looked down at the gut "Open the robe and use your mouth," he said quietly before taking a long puff on his cigar.She twisted into a kneeling position between his legs and spread open his black silk robe to reveal his hard-muscled thighs and flat belly. She ran her fingers through the thick hair on his legs and up and through his chest hairs before settling her cool fingers around the' base of his limp cock. She lowered her head then and caught the soft fleshy stem between her lips, wetting the thick head thoroughly with her tongue before sucking the whole thing into her hot mouth.Denger smoked and closed his eyes from time to time, opening them to watch the spectacle of this beautiful woman blowing him. He was hard and ready. He could feel that first orgasm build quickly in his loins, and he let himself go. Let that first release be hasty, he thought, that the following may be drawn out, lingered over and fully appreciated.The girl was very talented with her mouth and tongue. She formed her tongue into a chute or a whip or a tantalizing hot wet cloth that covered his cock, wrapped it up, slid up and down over it and finally drained him dry. She sucked the juices from his penis, her tongue now silent as his manhood slowly softened in the wet confines of her head. Still she held him lightly between her lips and she rested her head on his thigh.She was going to turn her head when she heard the door open behind her, but Denger's hand held her where she was, her mouth still clinging wetly to him limp cock. She listened to the rustle of movement cross the floor and could feel the presence behind her."Was she very good?" It was a woman's voice, soft and deep and businesslike. "Let's see if she's as good with pussy. May I?""Go ahead. That's what she's here for," Denger said, pushing the girl away and standing up."She's very pretty," the woman said when the girl turned around. "Does she cost very much?"The girl looked at Denger, who shrugged. "Money is relative. You want to try her, take her. Do what the lady asks," he said, looking down at the girl."I think the dog collar is a nice touch, Carl," the woman said. "Where are the bracelets? I think it would be fun to have her completely restrained."Denger opened a drawer and took out two matching leather straps. "Put your hands behind you," he ordered the girl who was still on her knees. "Don't be frightened of Sam, dear. She's really a pussycat"The girl obeyed reluctantly. She had been tied up by strange customers in die past. She never minded it so long as she wasn't hurt, and somehow she had never been hurt. Still, here at this place with Carl Denger she felt in danger. The bracelets were smooth and fit her wrists snugly. They didn't move, but they didn't cut the circulation either. Denger brought her wrists together and she could hear a sharp metallic snap as the two bracelets were connected and she was made helpless."Come here," the woman commanded and the girl turned around for the first time. The woman called Sam had opened the robe she was wearing and sat spread-legged on the sofa. She smiled sensuously and the girl had a good chance to examine her as she struggled to her feet.Sam was probably thirty-plus, the girl thought blonde with a very youthful shape. Only the eyes were cold and cruel. There was a hard edge to them, penetrating and wise beyond her years. She had the look of tenacity about her, a thin-lipped mouth that would ordinarily appear fierce but which was now softened with erotic expectations.The girl had met women like her in the past, hard and passionate, but passionate for their careers mostly, the passions of the flesh seemingly something that was in the way and using a prostitute only for quick release. The girl felt sorry for women like that although satisfying such women had often been very profitable and sometimes a very satisfying experience for herself. Women, she had found, were gentler for the most part than men. This woman called Sam was not one of those.Sam watched the girl walk slowly across the room, her smile hiding the real indifference she felt at being made love to by a whore. Whores, she knew, had better services to offer, like their firm-fleshed behinds for whipping. Sam shifted her ass forward to the edge of the sofa, pulling her feet up so that her bottom opened wide for the girl's mouth. This she did because it was what Denger had told her she had to do. Her own peculiar form of excitement would come later with the girl.Denger was behind the girl and already he felt himself getting excited as she knelt in front of Sam, her long hair brushing against Samantha Hall's beautiful long white thighs. The girl hesitated a moment as if questioning where to start her love play. Denger pushed her head forward. "Stick your tongue in her ass," he ordered, pushing the girl's head close to Sam's spread bottom.Sam winced at the shot of pleasure, her gray eyes flashing alarm at the strange sensation. She groaned and wriggled her hips, closing her thighs around the girl's head involuntarily. "Oh, stop it. Stop it." She pushed down the girl's head and made her move away. "Jesus! Eat pussy, you bitch. Eat, damn it."Denger laughed as he watched Sam's fingers entwine in the girl's hair and enjoyed the expression of desperate wanting in Sam's face.The girl's mouth fastened on Sam's clit and" her tongue danced wildly over it and into the hot slit Sam moaned with mounting pleasure, her belly heaving up and down with each new thrust of the girl's tongue. Faster and faster the girl's mouth sucked and licked at the hot orifice, mindless of the juices that trickled down her chin and helpless to push aside the hot walls of flesh that crushed her ears as Sam's thighs closed around them in a rising tempo of passion.After she had completed her final orgasm, Sam thrust the girl back on her heels and got up shakily. "I guess you can really pick 'em, Carl! The girl has a lot of talent."Denger laughed. "I suppose you'd like to whip her, wouldn't you? Well, I've got another idea, Sam, my dear snippy little bitch. I want you to eat her now.""You're a bastard.""Possibly. I never really knew my partners, but that's beside the point. Get up, honey," he said to the girl, "and sit on the edge of the couch, just like Sam. I think you should have some pleasure, too."The girl rose unsteadily and did what she was told. She was frightened, however, as she caught sight of the hate and loathing in Sam's eyes, even though the emotions were aimed at Denger and not at her. She spread her legs wide and waited patiently as Sam dropped to her knees and opened the girl's thighs wider.I'll get you, you son of a bitch," she said."Perhaps," Denger replied. "Stick your tongue in that slot When I use it I want it to be nice and moist from your mouth."Sam pushed a tentative tongue into the girl's already damp crotch. She slashed her tongue up and down the girl's slot quickly, almost viciously, and yet there was a semblance of enjoyment in it for her. Sam, herself, she thought was enjoying being forced to do something that she didn't want to do. It was only a fleeting thought however, and she chased it from her mind and replace it with the thought that Denger must die.Out of fear or an innate perception, the girl hurried her climax and eased away from Sam's thrusting tongue. She dared not speak, the note had made that very clear, but when she was finished she looked up at Denger and almost mouthed the words. A flash of power crossed his brow and her words died in her throatSam sat back on her heels. "Well, there. Now, let me have some fun with her.""Beat her up? I don't think so, Sam. I just wanted you here to see you get something you dish out a lot About that new program schedule. I'll think about it. Why don't you go on home and I'll let you know in the morning."Sam stood up and pulled the robe around her. "I thought you said that after this little party, the program would be all settled. You lied to me, you bastard.""Okay, okay. I won't go back on my word. I was only teasing you, Sam. There's the new contract on the table. It's signed. You have to sign die copies. And then you can get out."Sam stepped over to the table, scribbled her signature on the three copies there and picked up the original. That's only half the pay increase.""One thing at a time, Sam. You've got the new schedule now. Perhaps after another party.""You son of a bitch," Sam said and stalked out of the room. Denger laughed and returned to his easy chair.The girl had dropped her feet down to the floor and sat quietly looking around the room, not so much interested in what was there as to avoid looking at Denger. She was still frightened, but not nearly so scared as she had been when Sam Hall was eating her. And it was that Samantha Hall, the gossip commentator on television and radio. The girl had finally recognized her.The bedroom door opened and closed and Sam walked into the room, pausing only long enough to glare at the man in the easy chair. "Have fun, you pervert.""Names, names. But you're right. Think about it, Sam. Now we have something in common, a couple of perverts."The woman gritted her teeth and turned on her heels, slamming the entry door behind her as she left Denger laughed and turned his attention to the girl sitting on the sofa. "My dear. Sam would have whipped your ass quite raw, you know. It's her bag. She--likes to see the flesh on young girls' behinds welt up from the strap. I've seen her almost faint with ecstasy doing it"He stood up and dropped his robe on the chair. His cock was rigid again as he walked over to the girl and helped her to her feet "Now, my dear, we're going to have some much better fun. At least for me. I'm afraid that if I'd let Sam work on you, the full impact of what I'm going to do would have been dulled. And I wouldn't want that to happen."The girl's eyes showed greater fear, but she went willingly with him into the bedroom. It was a dark room, heavy black draperies and red sheets and carpeting. The walls were covered with velvet and the girl was immediately aware of the stillness in the room, muffled stillness, as though if she had screamed the scream would not be heard. And it wouldn't have been heard outside the room, Denger knew, for he had designed it that way, and he had tested it many times in similar circumstances.He brought the girl over to the edge of the bed and told her to kneel there with her ass hanging over. She sighed relief and waited for his assault Getting screwed from the rear was one of her own favorite positions. It had saved her many a face full of sour breaths from her tricks.She sensed rather than heard Denger move away from her, and she waited, her plump rear poised over the edge of the bed. Now she was anxious for it to be over, almost excited at the prospect of his enormous organ filling her, ramming in and out of her body, punishing her for what she was. And then he was there.This, my dear," he said quietly as he put a covered box on the bed in front of her face, "is a little surprise. It's designed to make you achieve the ultimate in shock. Oh, don't try to move, dear. I won't show it to you just yet. We're not quite ready."She felt him move behind her and shuddered as he lubricated her anus. The protest in her was muffled as Denger's thick cock eased into her tight opening. She cried out as he moved in one inch, two inches, three inches. The cry could not be helped. He was stretching her small orifice until she imagined that it would split. "Relax, my dear, relax, and it won't hurt so much."He stopped and eased back an inch, stopped again and pushed forward another inch. Back and forth, pulling out to her sigh of relief and then pressing forward until she felt the breath stick in her throat "Now, my dear, just a little faster and a little further up inside your tight little bottom. Ah, that's better," he moaned as he shoved another inch further into her rectum. "Soon, soon, my dear, and then the surprise. Yes, yes, I feel it coming. Ah, yes. Now," he fairly shouted, leaning over and whipping off the cover of the glass box. The girl shrieked and rammed her ass backwards, impaling herself on the full length of Denger's cock just as he orgasmed. She shrieked again and again, mindless of the pain in her rear, screaming, terrified only of the huge tarantula wriggling its long hairy legs behind the glass just inches from her face.Denger roared with laughter and dropped the cover back over the ugly sight. The girl was limp and sagged lifelessly on the bed as Denger pulled his penis out of her. She had fainted. He slapped her behind and let her legs fall over the edge of the bed before unfastening her wrists. He left her there and carried the box away.Later, as he smoked a cigar in his easy chair and looked down at the twenty-five twenty-dollar bills at his feet, the girl came out of the bedroom. Her face was ashen and she seemed to be shaking uncontrollably."Come here," he ordered. "There's your money. Kneel down and kiss my feet a little bit. Then you can have a little more. A bonus, huh? Another five hundred?"The girl shook her head. "Please, no more. Just let me go.""Come, come, my dear," he said soothingly. "I'm going to double your fee. All you have to do is lass my toes. See, I've already showered, too." He held up five one-hundred bills before her. "Just kneel down and take off the slippers and lick the feet."She looked down at him and at the money on the floor. Then she looked at the money in his hand. It was more than she had ever made in a single night, and she wanted the money desperately. She knelt, picked up the bills on the floor and stacked them neatly. Then she put them down and reached over and removed Denger's slippers. Her mouth closed over his toes one at a time, her tongue laving lightly over each. When she finished, she moved to his other foot and repeated the oral ministrations."Put the slippers back on," he ordered. "Here's your money." He tossed the bills at her and laughed as she scrambled around the floor to catch them. "You are really a slut, aren't you? I'm thinking how much you must hate me, how much you would like to hurt me, perhaps even kill me. Have you nerve enough, you spineless bitch? What shit you are, vermin, feet-licker, garbage." He roared with laughter again, turning to the drawer in the table. He pulled out a revolver and pointed it at her. "I could kill you and make your life worth something, make the world a better place because it would be rid of trash like you." He laughed again. "What a whore. I'll bet you'd take a whipping from Sam for the right price, wouldn't you? Say a, hundred bucks for ten licks? How's that? Ten bucks a stroke, and I'd bet you'd last for a thousand dollars' worth. Cunt, trash, garbage."More and more, Denger goaded her, waved the gun in her face and once pressed it against her temple, the cold metal chilling her into submission. And then he sat down, strangely smiling and groaning at the same time. He put the gun on the table and closed his eyes.She was quick as a cat, her reaction more instinctive than thought out, and the hatred and anger boiled in a blind rage as she reached for the gun and jumped to her feet. She clutched the money in one hand and squeezed off an ear-shattering blast from the gun with the other.Denger opened his eyes, his hand slapping against his chest. He rose from the chair, still clutching his chest, but his eyes looked glassy. He stumbled and she saw the pulsing river of red ooze through his fingers. She screamed and dropped the gun as Denger fell forward.Frightened, dazed, somehow she found control of herself, an animal instinct that told her to flee.CHAPTER TWOSamantha Hall sat behind the wheel of her car for a long time after leaving Denger's place. She couldn't stop the shaking anger that coursed through her body, her rage mounting with each thought of him standing over her and forcing her to do what she had done. She couldn't even bring herself to say what she had done, say the words that she licked the cunt of a whore in front of the man she hated with all her energies. He had gone too far this time, she swore.Her vision was blurred, but it was not from the bottle of brandy she sipped from. It was anger, and she knew it The air grew cooler, but she still sat in her car, heedless of the hour, heedless of the chill. She kept warm with the anger inside her, a red-hot coal of pure hate that burned inside like a live thing.