The Abducted Bride
(MF, FF, wife, bond, prost,
intr, white-slavery, drugs, dwarfs)

The smooth trim express burrowed its way 
swiftly through the clear night of the French 
countryside.  A large pale summer moon hung low in 
the distance.

Kevin Taylor watched its shimmering light moving 
against the darkened ceiling of his sleeper 
compartment.  It flickered hypnotically in unison 
to the rhythmic roll of the train beneath his bunk.  
Cool air from the open window played across his 
naked well-built body, which covered the whole of 
the narrow bed.  He was alone.

Damn, he thought miserably, what a hell of a way to 
spend a honeymoon.

He drug deeply on the almost finished cigarette 
squeezed tightly between his thumb and forefinger.  
His brow was wrinkled in deep thought.

He had reason to think.  Ahead of him in Marseille 
his bride was waiting after running out on him 
their first night together in Paris.  Utter, utter 
stupidity, he grimaced, the details of their last 
hour together flickering through his mind like the 
reel of an old silent movie.

Perhaps he had been a little rough, but by God she 
had it coming to her.  He had fought with her the 
entire year of their engagement about giving in to 
him and had tried to explain that virginity had 
gone out of style.  Two people in love just didn't 
wait anymore for marriage, they relied on their 
love and trust and not some legal magic a ring was 
supposed to bring.  She had not listened to him 
then and had even refused to discuss the matter 
though they had come close to making it together 
several times in the backseat of his car.  She had 
always drawn the line just at the last minute.  

This was the part that had driven him crazy.  He 
had come so close to possessing that luscious body 
so many times and had been left in frustration so 
many times that his control had been destroyed 
completely.  He had even stopped parking with her 
when they had gone out on dates for fear of what he 
would have done.

With her conservative New England upbringing, she 
would never have consented to marry him if he had 
resorted to force and that's just what he would 
have done sooner or later.  He did love her very 
much and didn't want to destroy their relationship 
by some uncontrollable act that he may have 
committed in the heat of passion.  She was too fine 
a girl for that.

He had to admit, in her favor, that he had nothing 
else to complain about. She was almost perfection 
personified in all other respects.  In fact, it was 
that perfection and his piled up frustrations that 
caused all the trouble back in Paris.  That damn 
body was too perfect!

Things may still have been all right that first 
night if she hadn't insisted on taking a plane to 
Paris right after the ceremony.  He would have 
preferred to stay in New York for a few days and 
take their time in getting to know each other.  

But, Jean had insisted on Paris immediately.  That 
had meant sitting next to her on that fucking 
airplane for another seven hours.  All that ran 
through his mind during the entire trip was, where 
he should hare been at that moment.  After all, she 
had been stressing the ceremony all these months 
and that was over.  She was legally his now and he 
still couldn't touch her.

It had just been too much.  By the time they 
arrived at the hotel in the center of Paris he was 
almost out of his mind-and then-she had appeared in 
the bathroom door in that flimsy hip length nighty.  
He had gone crazy.

He could still see her standing there in the 
doorway, her body a lovely thing of art.  He had 
seen her before in a bathing suit, but never like 
this.  Every sensuous detail of her nakedness was 
lucidly clear, from her tiny rising nipples down to 
the soft triangle of pubic hair that nestled 
mysteriously below her white virginal belly.

Suddenly, nothing else had mattered but ramming his 
hard cock into that teasing flesh.  She had become 
just a woman, a woman that he had to have right now 
at any cost.  All else was forgotten.

"Like me, darling?"  He could still hear ringing 
from her lips though now it seemed to have occurred 
centuries ago.

There had been no verbal response from him, he 
remembered dryly.  He had just reached for her, a 
deep animal-like groan erupting from his throat, 
and pulled her roughly to the bed.  Her soft 
covered negligee had ripped away like so much 
tissue paper.

"Be gentle, Kevin!  Be gentle, please!  P-Please!"  
Her voice had resounded through the room in terror 
as he held her down with one hand and ran the other 
greedily over the lush contours of her resisting 
young body, kneading her ripe succulent breasts 
cruelly beneath hands he no longer controlled.  

Tight fists of flesh protruded painfully in white 
bloodless ridges between his straining fingers.  
His head had dropped to the young budding nipples 
and chewed hungrily at their tips until he had felt 
the soft resilient flesh give way and the sweet 
taste of blood seeping onto his lashing tongue.

"No, darling, N-Nooo, please, not this way, not 
this way!"  She had pleaded, but the words had 
rolled unheeded from her tortured lips.

He still had, in his madness held her wildly 
straining body tightly to the bed.  She was 
imprisoned there by his heavy tensed chest that 
weighed upon her like a giant stone.  Her long dark 
hair had begun thrashing helpless from side to side 
on the bed, her face contorted with terror.  He 
could still remember bitterly, her dark eyes 
flashing wide in disbelief that this was happening 
to her.  She had pleaded more until the sounds 
became nothing but incoherent mumbles of jumbled 
words.  It was then he had fucked her the first 
time.

Ignoring the low moaning pleas, he had rolled on 
top her, catching her body as her long slim legs 
had scissored out in one last desperate effort to 
escape his brutal assault.  His hips had fallen 
heavily between the full wide-splayed thighs, 
pinning her jerking buttocks tightly to the bed.  

The soft down of her pubic hair brushing teasingly 
against his throbbing cock, inciting him to 
incoherent mumblings of crazed uncontrollable lust.

The slow motion pictures of Jean's ravishment 
flickered on through his tortured mind as the 
express tunneled on ceaselessly through the 
night...  His knees were holding hers wide apart 
now and he was grinding his pelvis hard into her 
squirming defenseless crotch.  The spasmodic 
jerkings of the hollows of her soft inner thighs 
drove his hand between them; he was searching to 
place himself, striving to reach that goal that had 
eluded him for so long...  and suddenly, without 
warning...  he had brutally found it.  He had 
jammed the blood-filled head between the fleshy 
moist lips and with a groan, shoved it all the way 
forward into her quivering cunt.  She had squealed 
like a stuck pig and kicked her legs out wildly in 
the air in a futile attempt to escape the cruel 
impalement.  It had only worsened her position and 
he could still hear the guttural screech of further 
pain that had come tumbling piteously from deep in 
her throat as his rock-hard cock battered deeper 
and deeper into her warm yielding flesh.  At last, 
his pelvis had smacked hard into hers, signaling 
the end.  His rigid fleshy column lay sunk all the 
way down inside of her quivering belly, the warm 
wet walls of her cunt wrapped tightly around it.

He didn't stop.  He didn't even give her a chance 
to adjust to his sudden presence deep in her womb.  
He just began to fuck, ramming in and out of her 
like a dog gone mad.  He had only thought of one 
thing and that was to spew that hot sticky load of 
cum deep inside of her where it belonged and where 
it had belonged for a year now.  He vented his lust 
against her groaning body time after time, flooding 
her belly again and again with the hot white liquid 
of a year's frustrated waiting and hoping...  
until-finally...  it was all gone.

How long or how many times he had fucked her, he 
couldn't remember.  He had been an unconscious 
being in another world of complete madness.  But, 
he did remember, after the first great gush from 
his sperm inflated cock had emptied into her, a 
feeling of helpless guilt flooding over him.

He had become gentler with the sobbing body beneath 
and had babbled soft apologies in her unhearing 
ears as he had rocked over her.  He had tried to 
bring a response that would wipe away the terrible 
guilt he felt for letting his unbridled lust 
overcome the patience he knew he should have had 
with her.

It had been useless.  She had lain motionless 
beneath him, her eyes open wide, staring coldly at 
the ceiling above as he had tried time after time 
to awaken some response that would show she felt 
something other than pain and disgust.

The contemptuous eyes had not wavered from the 
ceiling.

Kevin remembered rolling from her still body, and 
unable to speak what he felt, had merely lit a 
cigarette and gazed silently down at her.  He had 
finally mustered the courage to say something.
"Jean, can you forgive me?"

"Please cover me, Kevin," she had spoken coldly 
after a long seconds delay, her eyes still refusing 
to look at him.  He pulled the sheet up over her 
body and tucked it gently under her chin.

He waited, but there was silence.

"Darling, I know it must have been awful for you.  
I-I just couldn't control myself."

Silence.

"You were beautiful standing there."

Silence.

"Perhaps if we hadn't waited so long.  Remember?  I 
told you we should have tried before."

Silence.

"Damn it, Jean," he had finally blurted out in his 
frustration.  "You've got to understand a man's 
feelings about these things.  I'm not some robot 
that can stand being next to a woman like you and 
not feel something.  It's been building up all this 
time and it's your fault for being so almighty 
righteous and virtuous."

Kevin had known he had treaded too far when this 
had slipped out, but it was too late.

Because he had wanted to fight back, to recoup his 
lost vanity, he had become cruel.  He had blamed 
his own failing on Jean and accused her of being 
cold and unfeeling.

"Christ, I might as well have married a statue.  It 
could satisfy me as much as you have."  He had 
shouted in guilt and anger.  "I don't think you'll 
ever be able to Brake a man happy.  Not until you 
learn to get off that pedestal you've put yourself 
on.  Or, at least, that your old man's put you on."

Kevin had seen her move and glance toward him with 
the deepest hatred he had yet seen in her eyes.  He 
knew he had hit a sore point and was glad to see 
some reaction from her, even though it was of hate, 
it was better than nothing. Besides, he felt like 
hurting her now the way she had hurt him.

"I'm going out and get myself some little slut off 
the street.  I need a good grind.  It'll be a long 
time before I get one at home."

With this, he had gone to the bathroom and dressed.  
He left, slamming the door behind him, not pausing 
for even a side-glance at Jean.

That had been his big mistake, he thought bitterly 
as he flipped the cigarette butt out the open 
window of the racing train.  Jean had been in no 
condition to be left alone at that moment.  He 
should have swallowed his pride and not let his 
male ego take over.  They wouldn't have this mess 
now if he had done what he should have and not run 
off into the Paris streets to walk off his own 
guilt feelings.

He had not gone out after a woman that night.
He had spent several hours just walking and 
stopping periodically for a cognac.  He had thought 
long and hard about their relationship.  It had 
been a good one and still could be in spite of his 
miserable failure on their wedding night.  The cool 
Paris night air had settled his mind a bit and he 
had worked out an apology and explanation of sorts.  
It might take a while, but he was sure she would 
get over it.

When he had returned to the hotel the Concierge at 
the desk had handed him an envelope.  It had been a 
simple note from Jean saying she was leaving.  She 
needed a few days to think things over and for him 
not to try and contact her.  She would let him know 
when and where to meet her so they could discuss 
things rationally.

That is why he was on this damn train.  The cable 
had come this afternoon for him to meet her in 
Marseille.  She made up her mind and wanted to talk 
to him.  He didn't have the slightest idea what the 
decision had been and was a bit apprehensive, 
though he was certain they could work something 
out.

One thing he knew, he could not let her go.  He 
loved her more than anything in the world and could
not leave her under any circumstances.

 He fell into a deep but troubled sleep, anxious for 
the morning to arrive.

Jean Taylor had been on this same train two nights 
previously.  She had lain in the same bunk that 
Kevin Taylor did a few nights later, but he had no 
way of knowing it.  Her thoughts also ran over the 
events that had occurred in the hotel, her eyes 
seeing them in a different light.

How could he have been so cruel, she thought, what 
had turned Kevin so suddenly into the raging animal 
he had been?

She ran her hands over the raw tips of her swollen 
nipples that were so sore she could not bear to 
wear anything over them, even to sleep.  Her 
shoulders trembled when she thought back to the 
horrible rape of her body and the way he had used 
it as a tool solely for his own gratification 
without even the slightest thought of her desires 
or pleasures.  He had used her like an animal-his 
own wife the thought sickened her and tears brimmed 
her eyes.

She had actually looked forward to the first 
evening with him and had been preparing herself 
mentally for weeks before to make certain she 
entered the marital relationship with the correct 
attitude.  She knew he had resented her not giving 
herself to him before marriage, and she also knew 
that most of her friends had not saved themselves 
for that first night either.  But, she had vowed 
that theirs was going to be a classically perfect 
marriage, in the old fashioned sense.  She had 
wanted, so much, for them to have a mutual respect 
and understanding for each other from the beginning 
and for him to never be able to doubt that he, and 
he alone, was the only man to possess her.

Perhaps she had made the mistake of quoting her 
father too often in this matter when Kevin had been 
overly persistent about having her before marriage.  

This was why she had cringed when he had thrown it 
at her back in the hotel room.  It was true, 
perhaps, that he did place her on a pedestal, and 
also that he was perhaps over-solicitous toward 
her, but he had a right to be.  He was of good 
conservative New England stock, and as a God-
fearing man, had expected his family to be also.

She had been tempted many times, she had to admit, 
but had always summoned up her courage and 
resisted, even {bough the easy thing to do would 
have been to give in to Kevin's demands.  She had 
come so close sometimes that if he had just had the 
persistence to continue, he could have broken her 
down.  In fact, she was certain that she was as 
anxious for the consummation as he was and it would 
have been so beautiful if he could have just shown 
a little understanding and could have prepared her 
gently for the final assault on her virginity.

She had read so much about how important the first 
night was in marriage and how beautiful it could be 
if both partners were understanding of each other.

Well, she had been, she thought to herself, and all 
she received for it was a broken and bruised body 
bestially raped like she was a whore off the 
streets.

Jean clenched her eyes tightly shut at the memory 
of his last statement.  She could still hear it 
ringing in her ears as the sound of the train 
lulled her tortured mind to sleep:
"I don't think you could ever make a man happy.  
I'll get a good grind"

She was awakened the next morning by the knocking 
of the porter on the compartment door.

"Breakfast call, breakfast call," he repeated in 
his broken English several times.

Jean opened her eyes hesitantly.  It just had to be 
a good day.  She needed some sun; the weather 
always seemed to dictate her mood of the day and 
she had enough problems to think about without 
having that dismal French overcast.

It was shining beautifully.  She could see its 
warming rays streaming over her head and touching 
the compartment wall, flooding the tiny cubicle 
with a lovely radiance that made her forget her 
problems momentarily.  She was famished and brushed 
her teeth and dressed rapidly.  She wanted to make 
the first breakfast call so she would have time to 
do some thinking before arriving in Marseille.  The 
train wasn't due for another two hours or so and it 
wouldn't hurt to try and organize herself mentally.  

She still had to worry about a hotel when she 
arrived there.  She had not wanted to let anyone at 
the hotel in Paris make reservations for her as 
Kevin may have bought the information from them and 
she would not have the time she needed to come to 
grips with herself.

Jean settled herself back in the chair in the clean 
white dining car.  She had ordered fried eggs and 
bacon, which had surprised her when she had seen 
them on the French menu.

"Ah, une dejeuner, Americain," the waiter had said 
smilingly.

"Oui, dejeuner, Americain," Jean had repeated, 
smiling back.  She was glad she had at least 
remembered some of the words from her College 
French course.  She supposed that any French waiter 
would know the word for breakfast, but it was nice 
to be able to say some things in the language of 
the country in which you were traveling.

"It was a beautiful day," she thought, as she 
watched the green rolling French countryside roll 
by.  Quaint small sharp roofed farm houses could be 
seen in the distance adding to the beauty of the 
setting.

If only things had not happened the way they had in 
Paris, she might have been enjoying this with 
Kevin.

She was almost beginning to regret her hasty 
decision to leave before he returned when her 
thoughts were interrupted by a feminine French 
voice speaking excellent English.

"Excuse me, you are American, aren't you?"  a 
stately, well-groomed woman asked, smiling 
pleasantly.

"Why, yes I am," Jean answered, surprised by the 
sudden intrusion upon her thoughts.

"May I join you?  I haven't the chance to speak 
English so often anymore, it would be nice while we 
are having breakfast," she said nodding at the 
empty chair across from Jean.

"Yes, please do," Jean replied, a bit perplexed at 
having her solace interrupted so unexpectedly.
The annoyance only lasted a moment, however, as she 
turned out to be one of the most pleasant women she 
had talked with in a long time.  Perhaps it was 
good to talk to someone else and get this thing off 
her mind for awhile, she rationalized to herself.

Madame DuBois had immediately monopolized the 
conversation, but in a pleasant manner.  She was 
from the south of France and told Jean many little 
stories and anecdotes about the area they were 
passing through that brightened her spirits 
perceptibly.  She seemed to be an amazing woman.  

She was married to a wealthy art dealer in Paris 
and was going to Marseille to look at some 
paintings for him that one of his underground 
contacts had discovered in an old shop.  She was 
certain she could pick several Renior's for almost 
nothing.  The shop owner thought they were copies 
and Madame DuBois was going down to discreetly 
check before they bought them.

Jean felt herself extremely fortunate to have met 
her.  She solved her hotel problem.  Madame DuBois 
said she usually stayed at one of the more chic 
places in Marseille, but did not want any of the 
other art dealers to know she was in town.  It was 
a dirty business and if it was known she was there, 
one of them was certain to have her followed to see 
what she was up to.  Therefore, she was staying in 
a small third class hotel in the lower part of town 
where she would not be seen or reported to be in 
town.  She had assured Jean it was clean and had 
all the facilities of the more grandiose but just a 
little more French.

Jean was happy with this.  She was afraid Kevin 
might call the police and they would send out an 
alert to the hotels.  It would take no time at all 
to find her, as they were very efficient about 
this, but with a small hotel it would be almost 
impossible.  This was luck and her spirits rose 
immediately.

Breakfast finished, Jean had rushed back to the 
compartment and put her things together.  Marseille 
was coming up.  They had talked so long together 
that both had forgotten about it being so near.

It was also nice to have an interpreter.  Madame 
DuBois handled all the baggage and porters and got 
them into a taxi without the usual difficulties a 
tourist to such a place has.  Jean was certain her 
high school French would not have done her much 
good here.

The ride to the hotel was pleasant.  Monique, they 
were on a first name basis now, had made the driver 
go along the waterfront drive so Jean could get a 
good view of the city.  The blue of the 
Mediterranean looked so inviting that she could 
have jumped into it that very moment.  She almost 
wished now she had taken a beach-side hotel outside 
the city, but still it would be nice to have 
Monique around for company and perhaps she could 
help her with some advice.  She seemed so much more 
worldly wise than herself.

Jean would have been happy with any solution now 
and perhaps she would confide in Monique later this 
evening when they had gotten to know each other 
just a little better.  She was certain the older 
woman would understand the problem.  She knew she 
would go back with Kevin, but the only problem was 
how to do it with honor, and more important, how to 
erase away the horrible memory of night before 
last.

The taxi turned off from the waterfront drive into 
the old sector of the city and the streets became 
more narrow and crowded.  Open markets selling 
everything imaginable lined the narrow alleyways 
the driver was picking his way through.  It was 
obviously the sailor quarter for the port as Jean 
could see every nationality of seaman imaginable, 
and even at this hour of the day, vulgar, gaudy, 
looking women were parading the sidewalks plying 
their age-old trade.

Jean became a bit apprehensive when the car stopped 
in front of a dirty doorway marked, Le Pension 
Afrique.

"Is this it, Monique?"  she asked, obvious concern 
reflecting in her voice.

"Yes, it is, dear," she answered, an assuring smile 
on her lips, "but don't worry, the outside means 
nothing.  You Americans are all the same; you 
expect the Hotel Ritz everywhere you go.  Now come 
on in and stop worrying."

She paid the driver and signaled to a boy standing 
in front of the door to take their bags.
Monique led her down a darkened hallway to the 
stairway and up to the second floor where the desk 
was located.  She checked them in with the desk 
clerk, who was obviously pleased to see her.  Jean 
didn't like his looks.  He was Algerian with a 
short clipped mustache and looked as though he 
belonged behind a bar rather than working as a desk 
clerk.

"Jean, this is Shalla," Monique said, introducing 
the clerk.  "He speaks English very well and takes 
care of all of my needs when I stay here.  You'll 
find him useful."

"How do you do Madame," the clerk bowed toward her 
with the natural Arab obsequiousness.

She nodded back to him apprehensively.  She didn't 
like the looks of this place at all but perhaps 
Monique was right, Americans did expect a lot. 
Anyway it was quiet and the neighborhood quaint, it 
may be just the place to reflect on her problems 
for a few days.

Shalla led them up to the third floor and gave them 
adjoining rooms.  There was a connecting door, 
which made Jean feel a little better.  The lock for 
it was on her side so if she needed anything in a 
hurry she could always get into Monique's room.  

She didn't like the way the Arab desk clerk was 
looking at her.  She knew they were an extremely 
polite people and overly solicitous at times but 
still made her nervous the way he looked her up and 
down lustfully with his sharp penetrating eyes.
"Well, here we are, my dear," Monique said as the 
clerk placed Jean's baggage next to the wrought 
iron double bed.  Jean had thought these beds had 
gone out with the horse and buggy.  She surveyed 
the rest of the room and it looked as though it 
hadn't been renovated since that time either.  A 
single uncovered light bulb hung down from the 
center of the ceiling and was the only light source 
in the room.  There were no lamps on the table.  

The cheaply painted plaster was cracked along the 
walls and small blotches had fallen out of the 
ceiling, leaving irregular shaped holes that showed 
through to the lathe work beneath.

Thank God, Monique is here with me, she thought.  
She seems to know what she's doing.

"Do you stay here often?"  Jean had to ask.

"Oh yes, my dear, my husband and I always stay here 
when we want peace and quiet and, it is quaint."

Jean felt foolish that she had to keep asking 
questions like this.  Monique had assured her 
several times that everything was all right.  She 
would just have to accept it.  After all, who knows 
a country better than a native.  Besides, she liked 
her and was looking to her for some moral support 
these next several days.  They would be difficult 
ones and she knew she wouldn't bear to face them 
completely alone.

"Jean, dear," Monique said, "I've got to run and do 
a few things before I unpack.  Why don't you put 
your things away and rest up a bit.  I think a nap 
would do you good.  I'll be back around six and we 
can have dinner together."

Jean agreed to this.  She was happy to be left 
alone for a few hours to get settled and take a 
bath.  She felt gritty from the trip and hadn't 
been in a tub since her hurried exit from the hotel 
room in Paris.

"I'd love it," Jean replied, "you wake me up when 
you finish your business.

I'll probably be dead to the world."

As soon as Monique was out of the room, Jean 
finished her unpacking and drew a cool refreshing 
bath.  She couldn't wait to get into bed, as 
squeaky and uncomfortable as it looked.  She 
scrubbed herself a bright clean, feeling as though 
she hadn't touched water in weeks.  Afterwards, she 
rubbed herself with lotion from head to foot, 
rubbing gently over the bruises left from Kevin's 
childish assault on her.  She closed her mind 
tightly against the memory for the time being and 
decided to think about it later.  Right now she was 
too tired to do anything but sleep.

She chose a short hip-length nighty, purposely 
pushing the torn one she had worn the other night 
with Kevin into a far corner of the drawer where 
she had put her things.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Who is it?"  Jean asked lightly, concluding that 
Monique had forgotten something.

"Iced tea, Madame," she recognized Shalla's voice 
through the door.

"But, I-I didn't order any tea," Jean answered, 
surprised and a bit upset about the unexpected 
intrusion.

"Madame Monique ordered it for you, Madame.  She 
said it would help you sleep.

It's a special mint tea to relax you."

"Oh, all right, just a minute," Jean threw on her 
thin robe and opened the door to allow him to 
enter.

Shalla stopped for a moment as he brought the tray 
through the door.  Jean caught his sharp quick eyes 
as they glanced the length of her body.  She 
automatically drew the top of the robe tightly 
around her throat and stood holding the door open 
waiting for him to put the tray down and leave.

"If Madame needs anything else, just ring the 
buzzer and Shalla will come." He bowed as he slowly 
backed out the door, his penetrating eyes boring 
straight through the robe Jean was wearing.  She 
gave him a cold stare and shuddered as she drew its 
flimsy material more tightly around herself locking 
the door behind him.  She was glad Monique would be 
returning in a few hours. She knew she was safe 
here with the door locked but still felt a little 
insecure.  She didn't like the clerk and the way he 
had looked at her.  He had stripped her bare with 
his glances and she knew it wouldn't take much 
carelessness on her part to have him get out of 
line.  She had never seen such a raw animal lust in 
a man's eyes before as they had locked on the 
cleavage showing between her large ripe breasts.  

Her hands inadvertently covered them as she 
trembled repulsively at the thought of his hands on 
her.

She picked up the glass of tea from the table by 
the bed and sipped it thirstily.  In spite of the 
lewd appraisal of her body by the clerk, she was 
glad Monique had sent the tea.  It was cool and 
refreshing, though it had a slight bitterness to 
it.  Must be from the mint, she thought, as she 
stretched her long smooth body down the length of 
the bed, draining the last drop from the tall 
refreshing glass.

She stretched languidly, relaxed sweetly by the 
hypnotizing bitterness of the drink and pressed the 
switch by the bed that turned off the light hanging 
above her.  The room faded into a pleasant semi-
darkness as her eyes fluttered closed into a 
strange floating half-sleep.  Her mind seemed to 
remain in an almost waking state as she could feel 
the nerve ends of her body floating below her into 
a deep, deep, softness that seemed like a gentle 
fleece-lined cloud beneath her.  The pleasant 
intoxicating mint odor curled strangely through her 
nostrils bringing dreams of sun and roses and Kevin 
the deepest warmth she had ever known, descended 
from somewhere above, and dropped gently the 
alluring veil of near sleep over her.

From a broom closet next to the room of the 
American girl, the Arab peered hungrily through the 
small hole bored through the wall.  He could see 
her slowly remove the thin robe she was wearing, 
exposing the flimsy night gown that covered her 
firm luscious body only down to the tops of her 
full well-rounded thighs.

He smiled in anticipation when he saw her lift the 
glass of tea to her lips and drink deeply from it.  
He held his breath as she winced slightly from the 
initial bitter taste; then breathed freely again as 
the puzzled look disappeared from her face and she 
drank again.  Small beads of perspiration broke 
from his forehead as she reclined back on the bed, 
her feet facing directly at the hole through which 
he was observing her.  The sparse nylon gown snaked 
its way up over the white flat plane of her belly, 
exposing the dark soft silkiness that covered the 
junction of her slightly spread legs.  The thin red 
hair-lined slit was temptingly visible running the 
length of her open crotch.

His bulging eyes followed the contours of the hips 
up over the rising and falling rib-cage to the 
large white rounded spheres of her breasts.  They 
were set slightly close together and through the 
thin covering, he could sec their turgid nipples 
rising into tantalizing little buds.  His month 
watered He could hardly wait to get his hands and 
mouth on those and to twist and churn them into the 
rock hardness of passion.  He had never had an 
American girl before and he had heard they were 
passionless haughty things who ruled over their men 
with an iron-hand.  He would see soon.  His potion 
never failed.  He had used it often on the women 
Madame Monique had brought here and not one had 
been able to resist its maddening aphrodisiac 
effect.

He would show this proud little American bitch who 
had everything and who had dismissed him as so much 
dirt when he had tried to be friendly.  It wouldn't 
be long now as she had turned the glass up and 
drained the last lethal drops for it.  He clenched 
his fist tightly as she squirmed around on the bed 
before him and pushed the light switch, plunging 
the room into semi-darkness.  It took his eyes a 
moment to adjust to the change but he could still 
see her slim form stretched sensuously down the 
length of the bed.  Her thighs had fallen apart a 
little more now and he could make out dimly the 
dark wisp that covered the mound of her lower 
belly.  His tongue ran inadvertently around the 
moist edges of his lips as he fingered the master 
key in his pocket.  He would have to wait a few 
more minutes.  He wanted no crying out, the potion 
must have time to reach its full effect.  His body 
was soaked in a sweat now from the thought of that 
haughty young bitch squirming in helpless surrender 
beneath his excited body.  The seconds of waiting 
ticking by seemed like hours...  till finally he 
could stand it no longer.  He returned to the 
hallway, carefully tiptoeing down to the room and 
fitting the key quietly into the door.  He opened 
it slowly, pushing his head into the darkened room, 
to see if there was any sound.  There was none but 
the soft breathing of the motionless form on the 
bed.  He closed the door softly behind him, locking 
it to insure there would be no disturbing them.

The Arab looked intensely through the darkness at 
the bed.  The head of the sleeping girl was facing 
straight ahead at the ceiling.  Her eyes were 
clenched tightly shut as if in a deep hard sleep, 
yet she moved slightly from time to time as though 
dreams were coming to her from the haze of the 
other world she had slipped into.

He moved cat-like around the foot of the bed, not 
taking his gaze from the reclining figure sprawled 
limply back on it.  She had drawn one knee up flat 
on the bed even with her hip, the smooth white 
flesh of the inner thigh gleamed faintly in the 
darkness.  The soft dark hairs covering the 
exposed, still tightly closed lips of her vagina, 
were plainly visible now to his beady eyes as they 
adjusted themselves to the darkness of the shaded 
room.

He involuntarily drew in his breath at the 
unbelievable sight before him.  He had fucked many 
drugged young women before on this same bed, but 
never anything like this.  Never anything so pure, 
innocent, and proud.  Never anything that he would 
enjoy humiliating so much.

The thought of helpless mewling grunts of pleasure 
coming from those untouchable lips, that had 
scorned him before, goaded his organ into rock-
hardness.  He could feel the blood throbbing 
painfully into its large expanded head, tiny 
droplets of thick white seminal fluid had already 
begun to seep from the sensitive contracting gland 
at its tip, smearing wetly against his thin thigh.  
He silently opened the fly of his pants, easing the 
pain slightly.

He slowly massaged the heavy thick foreskin back 
and forth over the jerking head as he advanced 
around the bed toward the proud young bitch who now 
lay totally at his mercy.  The drug had done its 
work well and he now intended to teach this haughty 
young American to scorn him as she and all of her 
kind had when he tried to be nice to them.  This 
rod he held in his hands was the great equalizer 
and he'd see if she treated him like a cur dog when 
rammed deep between those open thighs and buried 
the head far up inside her aristocratic little 
belly.

His pants dropped heavily to the floor as he opened 
the last button at the top and fully exposed his 
long thick member.  It stood out in proud menacing 
erection over the spread eagle body on the bed 
beneath.  He slowly unbuttoned the soiled sweat 
covered shirt and threw it to the chair in the 
corner.  He left his shoes and socks on in case the 
French woman, Monique, returned and he had to get 
out in a hurry.  He had locked the downstairs door 
so she would have to ring to get in.  This would 
give him plenty of warning.  He didn't intend to 
leave this delicious young bitch until he had 
drained them both dry of every ounce of strength in 
their bodies.

He stood for a moment longer over her motionless 
body, stroking himself into a rigidity that 
threatened to explode into streaming white hot 
spurts at any moment.  For a second, he considered 
it.  It would be a beautiful sight to see his hard 
penis throbbing out its load into the helpless 
girls face and down over her soft white tits.  He 
lewdly pictured it dribbling down over her chin to 
the hollow of her throat and forming warm sticky 
pools between those lush soft breasts.  But no, he 
had better not.  He had to clean it all up.  She 
must never know she had been fucked.  If she did, 
and told the French lady, he would lose his job and 
maybe his life.  She was connected with the big 
boys in the racket and they might not like his 
sampling the merchandise every time they brought it 
in.

He couldn't resist one thing before he climbed on 
her.  He knew the risk was great of losing his 
load, but he had to see those proud little ruby 
lips around it just for a moment.  He had thought 
so much about it while he was downstairs waiting 
until she was alone.  He kneeled down on the edge 
of the bed by her head and turned it gently toward 
his erected penis.  When it was several inches 
away, he pushed his hips slowly forward toward her 
upturned face, laying the wet sticky underside of 
the throbbing head between the small valley formed 
by her closed pink lips.  He placed one thumb under 
her nose and the other on her chin, pulling slowly 
out until the underside of the heavy head dropped 
slightly through the stretched lips and rested 
against her white bared teeth, the soft flesh of 
the pink puckered lips forming a furrow along its 
length.  He flexed his hips slightly back and forth 
until several small droplets of cum oozed from his 
throbbing gland, and lubricated the mouth that was 
half surrounding it.  He could feel the warm air 
from her nostrils pushing hotly against it as she 
breathed in and out restlessly.

Looking down directly into her face, he could see 
small rivulets run slowly down the corners of her 
mouth on either side, dribbling like tears down the 
sides of her cheeks.  God, he would like to shoot 
his hot stream down that soft palpitating throat 
and see the adams-apple bob up and down as she 
gulped it into her.  Maybe later, if she was left 
alone again and he was sure he had more time.

He reached one hand down to the hem of the flimsy 
negligee, pulling it up slowly over her rounded 
snow-white belly, over the large globular 
magnificence of her tits, until her whole naked 
body was exposed.  He had seen it through the 
peephole when he was watching her undress but it 
hadn't excited him nearly as much as having it here 
now, spread helplessly beneath him, where he could 
touch and fondle it to his hearts content.

With the thumb and forefinger of the right hand he 
reached over and pushed her lips tighter against 
the purple veined member between them, gently 
continuing the slow sawing motion.  The other hand 
moved over the magnificent breasts tweaking the 
nipples between his fingers until he could feel 
them mechanically hardening under his caressing.

The girl shifted slightly beneath him, moaning 
softly as though aware of his presence.  He held 
still-frightened for a moment that the potion had 
not done its work completely.  His rod fell from 
between her loose lips down over her chin, leaving 
thin threads of warm white stickiness trailing 
behind it.

"Kevin, darling," she mumbled thickly through the 
fog of the drug.  "I've been waiting, waiting so 
long.  My darling husband-come to me-come to me."

Jean had been aware of the movement in the room and 
Kevin's shadowy figure coming to her.  She felt as 
though a great weight had been lifted from her and 
that now things would be all right.  He would be 
gentle with her now and take her as she had always 
dreamed he would.  She could feel her blood begin 
to stir deep within her body.  A body he would 
possess in a moment.  She wouldn't fail him this 
time.

The Arab smiled to himself above her.  The mixture 
had worked its magic as it always did.
The bitch thinks I'm her husband, he chuckled 
lewdly to himself, she'll see the difference before 
I'm finished.

He stroked the giant throbbing penis slowly, 
reaching down and running his other hand over the 
awakening mounds of her tits and down over her 
belly to the soft fleshy folds of her cunt below.

"Ohhh, darling, darling, I'm sorry," the girl 
droned beneath him.  "I didn't want to leave, I 
didn't want to leave.  Be gentle with me, Kevin, be 
gentle with me."

Jean dreamed on, her body becoming alert now to the 
caresses of the magic hands that were stroking her 
flesh into a hot sheet of desire.  Tiny goose-bumps 
sprang out over the whiteness of her sensitive 
flesh.

God, how she wanted him, her body ached to be 
touched gently and with understanding as he was 
doing it now!

She pushed the mad rape he had subjected her to 
from her thoughts and just wanted to make up for 
all that time she had denied him and herself the 
joys of merging their bodies as one.  She wanted 
him to crawl up inside her, to possess her and 
quiet the thunder that was building up deep, deep, 
inside from his maddening fingertips playing over 
her defenseless nakedness.

Maybe he would understand her now, understand that 
she had suffered as much as he had and that she had 
wanted him too.  Now it was different, her thoughts 
flickered on hazily, he was here with her and they 
were married and she could give herself to him 
without fear of guilt or God's punishment.  God 
would understand now, they were man and wife.

Her tongue ran slowly around her moist lips, 
savoring the sticky pungent taste of the strange 
moisture that covered them-the odor wafted through 
her flared nostrils, breathing it deep inside her 
body.  It did strange things to her, the odor and 
taste coursed through her entire being like a sweet 
soothing balm lighting tiny fires in her growing 
nipples and causing a throbbing in the nerve ends 
inside her tight hot vagina.  She could feel dew-
drops of moisture rising there between her open 
legs as the exposed hair-lined lips began a slow 
spasmodic contracting, throbbing wetly against each 
other.

"Ohhh, Kevin, Kevin, darling, take me now, touch 
me, rub me, Ohhh, yess, yessss, like that, like 
that," she moaned, helplessly caught up in the 
sharp deep pricks of lust that were dancing through 
her.

The Arab grinned, his yellow teeth showing through 
the unshaven stubble around his lips---his greedy 
eyes feasting lewdly on her unconsciously squirming 
nakedness.

He moved around on the bed, crouching on all fours 
over the white moving body, pushing her unresisting 
milk-white thighs wide apart.  He crawled between 
them, his knees pressed between her ankles and his 
face panting a few inches above the hair-covered 
vee of her open crotch.  His mouth watered as his 
eyes looked down at it rotating sensuously, 
expectantly, just below his lips.  Saliva dripped 
from his open mouth, mingling with her juices in 
the delicious narrow split that started at the 
bottom of the smooth white belly and trailed down 
through the rounded creamy spheres of her buttocks 
pressed tightly against the mattress.

Through half slit eyes, Jean could see the shadowy 
form of her husband crouching between her open 
legs.  She could feel the flat palms of sweating 
hands pushing against the softness of her inner 
thighs, holding them wide apart.  Her secret 
treasure was open to him to do as he willed.  She 
watched with baited breath as his head lowered 
slowly-slowly-slowly-then!

"Ohhhhh!"  she jerked, as his hot moist lips closed 
over the soft mound at the base of her belly.  His 
hazy face disappeared from her view into the soft 
fleece as he planted wet tickling kisses on the 
still closed aperture, his tongue flicking lizard-
like at the quivering opening.

Her own hands moved sensuously down over her 
throbbing breasts and slid slowly down her smooth, 
flat stomach, coming to rest on either side of his 
lips.  Her fingers stroked softly for a moment at 
the flexing hollows of her inner thighs-then, 
slowly spread the fleshy hair-lined lips of the 
moist wet furrow apart, allowing his hungry 
devouring lips complete access to her moist secret 
being.

Her elbows pressed tightly against her ribs and her 
head lolled uncontrollably from side to side on the 
pillow as the hot searing tongue shot out, its soft 
flicking tip circling the quivering erected 
clitoris- the lips sucked, drawing the warm soft 
folds deep into the hot cavern of his mouth, the 
tongue continued its maddening licking against the 
straining pink bud of her sex she groaned huskily 
from deep in her throat as the hot probing tip 
worked its way up and down the length of the narrow 
wet slit, starting at the lower belly and 
pressuring its way dowel, down over the elastic 
rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and into the 
crevice of her flexing buttocks where it stopped 
momentarily to do a wet probing homage to the tight 
brown throbbing hole.  Her hips ground 
uncontrollably into the squeaking bed now, soft 
mewling animal sounds escaped pitifully from 
between her passion clenched teeth.

'The Arab worked hungrily, feeling the soft wet 
pubic hair brushing tantalizing against his cheeks.  
A feeling of power was in him.  Never in his 
wildest dreams had he ever expected to have such a 
proud pure bitch like this squirming under his 
tongue and completely at his mercy-and she was 
loving it-her groans drove his tongue faster as it 
worked its way up and down the steaming hot crotch.  
He wanted her begging for it when he was ready to 
ram it to her and she was almost there.  He had 
never seen anyone so hot, even with the potion.  

She needed it bad and she was getting it-and this 
was just the beginning.

He knew she was too far gone now to fight anything 
he did to her and his mind began to form weird 
erotic pictures of the positions he could put her 
in and the things he could do at will to her limp 
desire wracked body.

He chuckled obscenely as he felt her hands 
desperately clawing at his greasy black hair, 
guiding his face to the palpitating opening of her 
cunt.  He ran his tongue into the soft rimmed 
flesh, flicking at it for a moment-and then quickly 
withdrawing it to tease again around the ragged 
pink edges.

He let her force him this time pressing his mouth, 
directly over the tight little hole in her 
squirming crotch.

As his lips rounded and covered the clasping 
viscous opening, he thrust his tongue deep down 
into it, bringing a low guttural groan from the 
girl whose soft warm thighs closed convulsively 
around either side of his moving head.  He could 
feel the wet flesh slip moistly around his long 
extended tongue as the walls of the invaded vagina 
opened and closed in a sucking motion, attempting 
to pull it deeper and deeper into it.  It felt as 
though the nibbling hair-lined mouth would pull his 
tongue out by the roots, devouring it alive. Her 
heels pushed down against his back pressing his 
body into the flesh trap until he couldn't breath, 
his nose was smashed tightly against the tiny hard 
clitoris above, breathing in the pungent odor of 
the lust juice that was now flowing in abundance 
from it.  It incited his penis to a hardness that 
he could no longer control-he had to fuck this 
little bitch now or he would explode all over the 
mattress.

Jean's body was lost in the fire of the moment.  
Every muscle in her body was tensed as she strained 
her hips upward toward that maddening probe between 
her legs.  Kevin was a god.  She had never expected 
it could be like this, that he could bring such 
things from her body.

Her love for him incited her further.  Her up-drawn 
legs opened and closed around the tormenting head 
that was licking gluttonously at her flame seared 
hole.  The cords of her neck stand out as she 
pulled with all her strength against the tangled 
hair of his head.

"Oh!  Ohhh!  Aggghhh!"  she moaned, splaying her 
legs wider and wider to give him greater access.
The Arab could stand it no longer.  He grabbed her 
flailing legs behind the knees and shoved them 
roughly back against her shoulders, slithering up 
her sweat soaked body at the same time.  His rigid 
stiff cock brushed against the wet dripping pubic 
hair.  He planted his hands on either side of her 
shoulders, her ankles locked tightly behind his 
neck.  He could look down between their bodies and 
see her upturned ass completely exposed to him.

The expanded narrow cunt-slit was visibly throbbing 
its lips in invitation, the wet moist furrow held 
wide apart by the pressure of his thighs pressed 
tightly up against hers.

Jean could see Kevin hovering over her through her 
passion and drug dimmed eyes.  She could feel the 
hugeness of his fleshy hardness lying the full 
length of her quivering open slit.  The jerking 
head of his cock rested throbbing between her wide-
spread buttocks; insinuating itself up and down, up 
and down, in a maddening tease that caused her to 
twist her hips down toward it, her hungry cunt 
searching desperately for its hard blood filled 
tip.

She had to have it in her!  Her belly screamed for 
it!

She reached her hands in panic down underneath the 
grinding cheeks of her ass and grasped the full 
length of the stone-hard member.  Her tightly 
closed fists stroked it softly in reverence.  She 
could feel the spasmodic throbbing against her soft 
palms and the sticky fluid that oozed in driblets 
from the blood inflated head.  She guided it up the 
valley of her buttocks, not letting it lose contact 
with her flesh until it was poised between the 
mucous covered flanges of her vagina.  She held it 
there with one hand and placed the other on her 
husband's buttocks, drawing with all her strength 
to pull it into her and let it drown the gnawing 
hot heat that burned out of control in her belly.

The Arab grinned obscenely above her.  It was all 
he could do to keep from shoving forward now and 
impaling this squirming little bitch on his aching 
cock, but the desire to punish her and her kind for 
all the times they had shit on him by their 
disdainful looks when he had spoken to them, 
overcame the desire.  This one typified them all, 
she was everything he wanted to humiliate. Proud, 
innocent, spoiled by the condescending young men of 
her kind who did her every bidding.  If one ever 
needed punishing, this one did.  Well, he would do 
it, he would fuck her till she couldn't walk.

He received ever greater satisfaction from the 
knowledge that he would know afterwards and she 
wouldn't.  She might treat him the same as she did 
before but he would know that he had plowed her 
good and left his white hot sperm deep in her cunt.  
He might even make her pregnant.  This though 
excited him even more, a lowly immigrant Arab, 
refugee from his own country, desk clerk, making 
this proud haughty bitch pregnant.  Filling her 
belly with a child and she wouldn't even know the 
father.  The lewd thought caused him to 
involuntarily flick his hips forward.

Jean felt the lips around her throbbing vagina 
pushed open.  The elastic rimmed tightness resisted 
for a moment, then gave way before the hard cruel 
pressure. The pain was harsh and she mechanically 
resisted for a moment, emitting a long low groan 
from deep within her throat.  He liked that, he 
liked hearing her hurt.

He shoved again-a deeper groan-he wanted to hear 
her scream for mercy.  And suddenly, he could stand 
it no more.  He rammed forward with everything he 
had, sinking the lust inflated cock all the way to 
the hilt.  He could feel his balls slap tightly 
against her jerking anus that screwed itself deep 
down into the mattress attempting to escape the 
cruel sudden impalement.  Her legs jerked out wide 
on either side of his thin emaciated body, splaying 
over either edge of the beds kicking futilely into 
the air.

"Kevin!  Ke-Kevinnn!  Nooooo!  Nooooooo!"  she 
screamed, her impaled form pinned helplessly to the 
bed.  With each jerk, the huge head seemed to 
burrow deeper into her.  The Arab's outstretched 
arms pinned her shoulders tightly to the mattress, 
his wide-spread knees held her thighs split far 
apart.  She felt as though her body was being torn 
down the middle and that she would be ripped in 
half from this giant instrument imbedded deep in 
her middle.  The fiery plunging rod felt as though 
it was coming out her throat as its blood-filled 
head pressed hard against her cervix, buffeting her 
head back harshly against the headboard of the bed.

He watched her from above with a lascivious grin on 
his lips.  Her face was contorted with the pain of 
that first vicious stab.  Her lips curled back from 
her teeth, pleading, incoherent whimpers coming 
from deep in her throat.  Her arms were 
outstretched, palms against his hips, attempting to 
hold back the blunt hard head pressing against her 
womb like a great hard stone.

She's never had it this deep, he gloated to 
himself, as he held her pinned in the lewd 
humiliating position.  He looked down again and 
could see his curly black pubic hair tangled 
tightly with hers, the base of his thick fleshy rod 
buried deep into the pink throbbing furrow that his 
tongue had licked to moist receptiveness a moment 
ago.  He could see the tight lips of the cunt 
stretched almost to the bursting point, the rubbery 
outer pink rim clasping tightly around the dark 
skinned base of his cock.

He held her there for a moment, savoring the 
spectacle of this proud little bitch impaled 
helplessly under him, with his huge rod buried deep 
in her white little belly.  He wished her husband 
could see her now, spread-eagle this way with a 
lowly Arab servant making her scream and yell.  He 
was going to give her a fuck she would never forget 
as long as she lived.

Jean squirmed helplessly beneath him.  She could 
feel the hot searing pain of his sudden blunt entry 
tearing cruelly at her insides.  She flexed her 
crotch muscles tightly together to attempt to ward 
off the huge invading cudgel, but the throb of her 
internal sinews seemed to incite it more and it 
plowed its way deeper and deeper into her vainly 
resisting passage.  The walls of her cringing cunt 
clasped around it like a glove.  She could feel its 
every fleshy ridge as her nerve ends transmitted 
its monstrous form in minute detail to her muddled 
mind like a telegraph line.

It was alive inside her!  The hard rubbery tip 
pressing against her cervix, the thin folds of 
flesh along its length, the tickling hairs of the 
balls dangling in the crevice of her ass were part 
of her.  She was one with it and in spite of her 
pain her tongue began a wild licking at the wetness 
of her lips.  He had smeared them well with his cum 
and her nostrils flared again, drawing the pungent 
odor deep into her body, mingling it in strange 
marriage with the feeling of the throbbing cock 
lodged deep in her white soft belly.  It all seemed 
to roll together into one great fiery ball of 
aching hunger for more. Her cunt contracted 
involuntarily as the lascivious thoughts raced 
through her mind.

The Arab felt the slight throbbing pressure exerted 
against his buried penis.  He had waited for it, 
hovering motionless over her prostrate form 
patiently until she became accustomed to his thick 
presence rammed so deep in her belly.  He flexed 
the member gently, expanding it inside her, but 
still not moving his body.

"Oh," she whimpered, through bared teeth, fighting 
the fine line of pleasure-pain.

He waited a moment, and flexed again, watching her 
contorted face below.  The mouth hung limply open, 
the eyes clenched tightly shut.

"Oooooohhhh!"  She held her breath as the buried 
cock expanded more, stretching the narrow passage 
walls farther apart.

He flexed again, this time setting a slow teasing 
rhythm to his throbs.  He watched her nostrils 
begin a slow hesitant flaring in time to the beat.  
Soft mewling sounds of pleasure came from her open 
mouth in time to his gentle ministrations.

"Ooooohhhh-Darling, darling."

He could foil her urgent answering throbs began 
around the head of his penis.  The wet clasping 
cunt flesh began a soft opening and closing around 
his pulsating member.

He did not move, but continued the slow rhythmic 
throbs into the skewered girl beneath him.  He 
could hardly contain himself as her grunts of 
pleasure resounded through the otherwise still 
room.  Her head lolled from side to side 
unconsciously on the pillow as her hips began a 
slow involuntary roll beneath his impaling rod.  He 
clenched his teeth tightly together as he felt her 
hungry nibbling crotch screwing itself up tighter 
against his hair-covered pelvis.

Jean's body felt itself coming to life now.  The 
pain was receding and was slowly giving way to a 
maddening electric tingle that began deep within 
her womb and seeped relentlessly through the raw 
nerve ends of her flesh.  It rippled through her 
cunt and out the fleece-lined lips, dancing like 
fire across the milky-white thighs, up the full 
length of her splayed legs and circled around 
inside her toes, curling them tightly against the 
bottoms of her feet.  It worked its way up from her 
contracting belly through her rib cage and out to 
the tips of her pink palpitating nipples, which 
peaked into hard tiny buds, sensitive to even the 
touch of the stale close air about them.  Thin 
rivulets of sweat rolled down the sides of the full 
pulsating mounds, wetting the mattress beneath her.
She rotated her hips from side to side around the 
fleshy impaling member, her vagina, dilating in 
time to its rhythmic beating.  It felt as though it 
had a heart imbedded in the palpitating head whose 
heat against her inner passage was becoming a part 
of her being.  She was one with it.  She and her 
darling Kevin were one fleshy mass of sensation, 
merged magically together by their love.  He had 
crawled into her!  He was a part of her!

The Arab could hardly contain his glee as he felt 
her pelvis begin screwing up against the length of 
his rock hard penis.  The tiny contracting muscles 
inside her cunt were nibbling hungrily at the 
inflated head.  The dilated lips between her hair-
lined pink slit pulled tantalizingly away, sliding 
moistly down the rod for several inches and then 
nibbling slowly back up buffering her soft down 
tightly against his pubic hair embedding the full 
length of him deep into her warm white belly.  He 
stayed immobile, resting still above her with his 
hands on either side of her shoulders, his knees 
pressed tight against the mattress.  He let her 
quivering body pump up and down at will on his 
rigid piston that fused them together.

He could see its slow withdrawal between them 
pulling thin soft ridges of her pink flesh out with 
it as she screwed her pelvis down into the mattress 
and the entry-pushing the soft folds back into her 
and the moist shiny length was swallowed whole back 
into the salacious opening.  He let her strain 
against him for a while, watching the utter abandon 
of her labors, a half-crazed ecstatic smile playing 
across her lips.  Her motions became faster by the 
second, the tempo of her thrusts up against him 
became more urgent-her teeth bit hard into her 
lower lip.  He knew she was straining to come-the 
juices of her milking vagina were beginning to flow 
and he could hear the wet sucking sound of the in 
and out sawing movement as she suddenly thrust 
sharply up his cock, burying it deep inside her, 
her back arched a foot off the squeaking bed, her 
feet planted flat on either side of his knees 
tightly against the mattress. She bucked against 
him wildly.

"Oh, God, yes, yes.  I'm coming darling, I'm 
coming, Aaaggh!"

Suddenly, with a deep throated groan, her body 
began vibrating uncontrollably-wet white cum oozed 
from the throbbing passage, drowning his impaling 
member with its sticky warmth and trickling down 
the crevice of her white globular buttocks over his 
balls that pressed hard against the tiny brown 
puckered anus.

The Arab went berserk as she grunted out the last 
of her juices against his matted pelvis, her body 
still jerking spasmodically up against him.  He 
reached back, grabbing her ankles and pushing them 
brutally back over her shoulders until she was 
rolled up into a tight round ball of helplessness 
beneath him. Her knees were pushed back tightly 
over her shoulders against the mattress on either 
side of her head, the wide-spread split between her 
legs completely open to his desire.

He withdrew the deeply imbedded instrument until 
just the tip of the head rested in her.  Then, he 
rammed forward with all his stored up bitter 
strength. He had waited to destroy this little 
bitch.  She had had her fun and now it was his 
turn.  The full throbbing length of the incited 
member sunk cruelly into her helpless exposed 
vagina.  He could hear the wet flat smack as his 
belly thudded against her crotch.  His body dropped 
down heavily on her, mashing her full ripe tits 
tightly against his chest.  He locked his saliva 
covered mouth over hers, thrusting his wet dripping 
tongue deep in her throat, stifling the low animal 
grunts fanning there.  His shoulders pushing 
against the backs of her full rounded calves kept 
her locked in that helpless position as he rammed 
it to her.  Reaching around beneath them, he forced 
his hands between the mattress and the white full 
cheeks of her ass, cupping them in his spread 
fingers and palms, kneading the warm soft flesh, 
pulling the white rounded cheeks far apart.

He began long hard strokes into the streaming 
passage that was now wet and slippery from her 
climb withdrawing the head until just the tip was 
inside the hot clammy opening and then thrusting 
forward hard with his hips until his balls were 
screwed tightly against the wide split crack of her 
buttocks.

Jean groaned helplessly as her exposed cunt was 
plundered again almost beyond endurance.  He was 
driving her head hard back against the headboard of 
the bed with each jack-hammer thrust and she 
couldn't fight from her hopeless position.  Her 
arms were pinned down at her sides by her own up-
drawn legs.  She could feel the giant head sliding 
up and down inside her warm viscous passage like a 
feathered piston and the hot slap of his soft hair-
covered balls against her anus as he jerked forward 
on the down stroke.  Cool mad rushes of air rushed 
between her thighs as he withdrew.

Her womb flared and the resisting lips of her hair-
lined furrow flowered open to receive the delicious 
rape of her secret genitals.  Her hands forced 
themselves desperately from under her legs and 
snaked around his back.  The nails clawed a red 
streaked path down to his flexing buttocks.  She 
pulled him deep and thrust her fleece covered belly 
up hard to skewer herself deliciously on the 
driving hot flesh of his pumping rod.  She sucked 
voraciously on the thick wet tongue that was shoved 
deep in her throat through the yellow teeth of the 
Arabs obscene grin.  She swallowed greedily the 
droplets of his saliva that ran down it in her lewd 
excitement.  The foul pungent odor of his breath, 
incited rather than repelled her drugged senses.  

Her body began to match his pounding lunges with 
her own rhythmic thrashing.

The rusty bedsprings squeaked loudly in time to the 
two tightly entwined bodies struggling wildly 
against each other.  The sounds of deep straining 
grunts and groans filled the hot stifling air of 
the room, mingling with the noise of sweat soaked 
flesh smacking sharply against sweat soaked flesh 
and the wet viscous slurp of his pile driving cock 
going in and out of her mucous lined cunt.

"Hot bitch, hot bitch, hot bitch," the Arab mumbled 
over and over to himself as he ceaselessly rammed 
the blood filled cudgel deep into her white round 
screaming little belly with long cruel jabs.  He 
could feel the hot white cum building up inside his 
heated balls as they beat hard against her upturned 
ass.  It was ready to explode.  He wildly shoved 
his tongue far down her throat and with harshly 
kneading hands pulled the wide-spread cheeks of her 
white little buttocks hard up against his grinding 
pelvis as he rammed his spewing cock all the way to 
the hilt in her soft unresisting cunt.

Jean could feel her insides splitting painfully as 
the head of the deep sunk tormenting instrument 
suddenly flared into a hugeness that threatened to 
tear her womb wide asunder-it began to spurt-and 
she could feel the delicious hot white liquid r 
hooting into her like burning fire, ricocheting 
around inside her dilated stomach like streams of 
molten lava.  The pores of her cunt clasped around 
it, erupting in answer and again spilling her own 
white hot cum into the already drowning cavern of 
her pink quivering passage.

It drove her insane!

She couldn't let it stop!

She reached frantically around under her squirming 
buttocks with both hands and began to desperately 
milk at the balls pressed into the split of her 
behind.  Her legs kicked out, quivering uselessly 
in the air on either side of the bed.  The huge 
member continued to jerk its completion-white hot 
spurts still spewed from its head, filling her womb 
and foaming out the contracting fleshy lips around 
the base of his cock, soaking the soft matted pubic 
hair it was buried in.

"Oh, fill me, fill me, darling," she groaned 
incoherently around the swabbing tongue still sunk 
deep in her mouth.  The hot walls of her jerking 
cunt sucked at the throbbing cock hungrily, until 
it gave one final spasmodic jerk, the last drop 
sucked from it.

The Arab collapsed across her body, feeling her 
insides still gushing forth around his deflated 
limp prick.  It seemed endless, until she too 
suddenly gave one last jerk and quivered to a limp 
stillness, her legs protruding lifelessly out on 
either side of his fatigued body.  Her arms 
outstretched, one dangling doll-like over the edge 
of the beck Her belly was filled to the bursting 
point with the mixture of their hot sticky- white 
cum.

He lay still for a moment to recover his strength 
and then slowly pulled himself off the unconscious 
girl's still form, his cock sliding slowly out of 
her battered cunt.  He could see the wet matted 
hair of her well fucked furrow glistening wetly in 
the faint light.  The insides of her thighs were 
smeared lewdly with the white-sticky juice.  It 
dripped in tiny rivulets down the crevice of her 
ass, forming a dark wet circle on the mattress 
beneath.

The Arab smiled down at her, pulling his clothes on 
quietly.  He'd like to fuck this hot little bitch 
again right now, but he knew he had better not.  He 
had been there for over two hours now and he knew 
the French lady would be coming back soon.  He 
couldn't take the chance now but he promised 
himself he would get her again later.  He couldn't 
let this hot little American off this easy.
He took one last look at her lewdly splayed form, 
her mouth hanging loosely open in contented sleep.  

She must still be dreaming of the fucking he had 
given her, he smirked obscenely to himself.  Maybe 
I had better help.  He reached over her body 
between her still wide-spread thighs and ran his 
middle finger up the glistening cunt-lips 
moistening it with the mixture of both their cum.  

He rubbed the finger then around her open red lips 
and under her nostrils.  This should give her 
something to puzzle over when she wakes up.  The 
thought amused him and he laughed softly to 
himself.  How he would like to see her face when 
she awoke, trying to figure out what happened.

The thought of his hot full load sloshing around 
deep in that unknowing little belly stirred him 
again as he closed and locked the door behind him.
"God, I hope she's pregnant," he muttered half 
aloud to himself as he descended the stairs to the 
reception desk, his steps a bit unsteady.  He could 
hardly wait to look her in the eye later tonight, 
knowing that he had fucked her silly for over two 
hours.  That would be revenge enough for the 
scornful looks she had given him but he hoped he 
would have the chance again.  Next time he would 
really throw it to that hot little body.  He 
whistled happily to himself.

**

Monique smiled complacently to herself as she had 
entered the taxi several hours earlier in front of 
the hotel.  She had reason to be satisfied.  After 
all, she mused, this was the fourth girl she had 
brought to Marseille in the past month and the 
market for them was good.  Since the tourists had 
stopped going to Algiers because of the Arab 
takeover, the demand for young white girls to fill 
the Arab brothels was almost unlimited.  They were 
bringing up to two or three thousand American 
dollars each, particularly the young fresh unused 
ones like the girl she had back at the hotel.  She 
was certain she could get a premium for her.  She 
was her best catch so far and she had to play her 
cards just right and get the right buyer.  She 
thought she had him in Gamal.  He liked the 
innocent ones and was willing to pay well for them.  

He would get his personal pound of flesh and then 
ship them off to Algiers for the Arab market. She 
almost hated to see this sweet young American 
turned over to a sadistic beast like him but money 
was money and his perverted depravity should be no 
concern of hers.  She had to be cold and calculated 
about it, after all, she was a business woman and 
if she played her cards right could retire in a few 
years on a substantial income from her earnings.
The cab followed the Rue Marriane outside the city 
along the coast for several miles and pulled into 
the grounds of a large ocean front villa.  The iron 
filigree gate was guarded by several dark Algerians 
with pistols strapped to their sides.  Upon 
recognizing her, they waved the car through without 
trouble. She was well known by them as a frequent 
visitor so did not have to go through the usual 
formalities required to get into the fortress-like 
walls.

The cypress drive leading to the main villa was 
almost half a mile long and they passed several of 
the familiar patrols that roamed through the 
estate.  The patrols all traveled in twos and had a 
pair of viscous looking black Alsatian dogs with 
them.  They were trained to kill and Gamal had 
confided to her that they had done so several times 
when Interpol agents had tried to penetrate the 
grounds.  They, of course, had disappeared without 
trace and Gamal had allowed the local police to 
enter and search the premises.  This was a token 
search and all evidence of the various illegalities 
he was engaged in had been removed to a secret 
subterranean cellar.  Besides, he had also confided 
that the police chief of the area was a frequent 
visitor of his and kept him dutifully informed of 
any official action that might be brewing against 
him.  The system had obviously worked well as Gamal 
had been doing this since the end of the war and 
had become a very wealthy man.  It was rumored that 
he had connections in the higher ministries in 
Paris and even among the staff of Interpol itself.  

Monique believed this, due to the immensity of his 
operations.  No one could exist so long and on such 
a scale unless he was receiving important political 
protection from somewhere higher up than the local 
police.

The cab rounded the curved drive and pulled up in 
front of a huge white stucco house.  It had a 
typical Mediterranean red tiled roof and was 
surrounded by the most beautiful tropical gardens 
Monique had ever seen.  She enjoyed doing business 
with Gamal just to be able to pay these periodic 
visits to this fabulous villa.  It must have cost 
him at least five million new francs to build it in 
the old days.  At today's prices, it would be 
impossible to calculate the true value.

Monique was met at the door by one of his burly 
guards and escorted to Gamal's study.  She knew she 
wouldn't have to wait to see him as he was always 
anxious when she came.  She had made it a point 
early in their relationship to bring him only the 
best of the young females she lured to Marseille.  

She had never disappointed him yet and did not 
intend to now.  She knew he would be overjoyed with 
this tender young Jean because of her almost 
unbelievable innocence and the fact that she was an 
American.  There was something about Americans that 
seemed to appeal to the Arab nature.  Perhaps it 
was because they were so much more naive than 
European women and always seemed to have such an 
untouched clean appearance.  This gave them 
something to soil and humiliate.  They all seemed 
to enjoy this and gave them something upon which to 
unleash the full vent of their natural base nature.  

Monique was only too familiar with the degradations 
they would force upon their own women much less a 
poor foreigner that was completely defenseless.  
She had seen some of the poor wretched girls she 
had sold them after a few months in their hands and 
had she not been so desperate to be financially 
independent, she could not have had the stomach for 
the business.  In fact, as of late, she had found 
herself becoming more and more like them.  Perhaps, 
she would make it a condition with Gamal that she 
would get to see the initiation of this Jean into 
her new life.  This thought coursed warmly through 
her as the guard held the door open for her to 
enter.

"Hello, my dear Monique," the short fat obsequious 
looking man said, rising from behind the large 
oaken desk.  "It's so good to see you again.  You 
haven't paid me a visit in such a long time."

"Oh, Gamal, you silly man, it's only been a month 
since I've been here.  You know it takes time to 
find the right ones for you.  Your tastes are so 
special and refined that it takes a lot of 
screening.  You wouldn't want me showing up here 
with just anything I run across, now would you?"  

Monique flashed her warming coyish smile at him, 
fluttering her eyelids slightly in a mock scolding 
manner.

"Of course not, my love, I understand your concern 
for my welfare," the Arab said, drawing his arm 
around her waist in a friendly hug, his dark 
balding head reaching barely to her shoulders.  "If 
I didn't know this so well, I would think it was 
just my generous presents to you that caused your 
deep concern."

"Now, now, Gamal," Monique admonished as she pulled 
his creeping hand from behind her buttocks, "save 
yourself for the little bird whose wings I've 
clipped for you.  She's just what you've been 
after."

Gamal's eyes lit up perceptibly at the mention that 
Monique had something for him.  He knew her well 
enough by now to know that she, unlike most women 
or people who had something to sell him, didn't 
exaggerate.  If she was enthusiastic about it, then 
she was worth listening to.

"Come, my dear, let us sit down with a small 
aperitif and discuss this little bird.  I've tired 
of the last one you sent."

"Gamal," Monique kidded, "you mean you didn't like 
her?"

"Oh, yes my dove," he cooed.  "I liked her very 
much, but one month with the same girl is a little 
too much.  You know they tire so quickly when left 
in my care.  A pity too, just when I have them 
trained well to appreciate my little playful 
sessions, they seem to lose their fire.

"I suppose you have passed her on to your playmates 
in Algeria as usual," Monique said.

"Yes, she went rather reluctantly, but I am a 
businessman and can't let my investments sit too 
long without making a return on them.  Must keep 
the money moving, you know," he said slyly.  A 
secretive grin directed at Monique.  "I have some 
excellent movies made of her that will go well on 
the British market though, you'll have to see them 
later."

"I'd love to some other time, Gamal," Monique 
replied, sipping at the whiskey he had poured her.  

"Right now, I think we had better discuss my new 
little donation to your pleasures.  I think you 
will be very interested."

"Tell me about her, my dear.  When I see so much 
enthusiasm in your eyes, I know it must be 
something special," the Arab chided, his face 
brightening at the thought of what was in store.

"First, Gamal, you know I only bring you the best, 
correct?"  Monique asked, looking at him over the 
edge of her upraised glass.

"Yes, I feel you do well for me, but I have had 
problems with some of them," he added the last 
sentence quickly, sensing that the bargaining was 
beginning.  "You know, they are young and so 
unworldly, I must do much training to prepare them 
for my clients."

"Why you old lecher," Monique laughed, "you know 
very well that's why you're in this business, so 
you can sample the merchandise before you pass it 
on to your friends."

"My dear, my dear," the Arab objected, raising his 
hands, "it is not for I, Gamal, that I do these 
things.  I must do them to make certain my 
reputation as a businessman is respected.  My 
clients are the wealthiest in Algiers and I dare 
not send them something that I myself have not 
trained to perfection."

"Yes, Gamal, you train them until they lose their 
fire, you said?"  Monique chided, raising an 
eyebrow toward him.

"Ah, but there are ways of restoring that to them.  
This is where my drug business assists me."

"Like doping race horses, my dear," she replied.  
"They have enough for one last dash and then 
useless."

"Monique, my dear, you are unkind.  Let us stop 
this silly bickering," he said sadly.  "You know I 
am a sincere man and honest.  I am in a very 
competitive business and profits have not been good 
for the last several years.  Do not take advantage 
of my helpless position, I beg you."

"There, there," Monique consoled in a motherly 
tone, laughing inside at the show the Arab was 
putting on.  She knew him well by now and knew she 
would have to sit through his weeping sessions each 
time she came.  All Arabs are the same, she mused 
to herself.  They never grow away from the rug-
sellers mentality.  It doesn't matter if they, are 
dealing with one franc or one million, their 
approach is always the same.  Business is bad and 
your price is too high but because you are a friend 
they will sacrifice and give you half the price you 
ask, even though they cry it will drive them to 
bankruptcy.  Well, Monique knew enough by now to 
ask exactly double the price she expected to get 
and many tears later they would arrive at that 
figure.  Strange that they weren't more original 
than this, but they weren't.  Perhaps the practice 
was instilled too deeply in their heritage to ever 
change.

"Gamal," Monique paused after speaking his name and 
then said casually, "She's an American."

There was a moment's silence as she let the thought 
sink into his mind.  She observed a slightly 
perceptible twitch in the corner of his mouth as he 
grasped what she was saying.

"Ah, that is too bad, my dear, I thought you had 
something special for me.  You know they have no 
native abilities for the finer passions.  It is a 
long expensive process to train them well.  My 
investment would be tied up for several months.  It 
would mean such a strain on my meager finances."  
His face had contorted into its usual piteous plea 
and he had placed his hand against his forehead in 
classic sufferance.

"Gamal, my love," Monique purred, "This is no time 
for theatrics.  You know as well as I do that you 
could buy the Eiffel Tower and it wouldn't dent 
your purse in the slightest.  Besides, you must 
think of the expenses I have incurred and the 
danger in bringing her to Marseille."  This was all 
part of the game and they played each time she 
came.  The Arab knew she hadn't spent a franc and 
would only have to pay the hotel bill when the poor 
unfortunate girl disappeared, but he had respect 
for the protocol of bartering and played his part 
with her.

"I know, my love, and I am willing to help you in 
this matter but I must watch my expenses.  The last 
one cost me a great deal and I did not receive 
nearly as much as I paid for her.  It was a 
sacrifice."

Monique knew that he had at least doubled his money 
after taking a months pleasure for himself and 
including all expenses of smuggling her out of 
France and into Algeria.  She also could detect 
that when she had dropped the statement about her 
being an American it had won her battle.  She would 
get her price and perhaps more.  A plan began 
forming in her mind as she watched the concerned 
look on Gamal's face.  He wanted this girl and 
Monique now just had to put him in the position 
where his decision would be made under more 
emotional circumstances.  She knew his weakness of 
desire to humiliate and if she could arrange it so 
that the girl would be in a helpless position 
defenseless against his lust, she could sell her on 
the spot for a goodly sum.

"I understand your concern, nay dear Gamal," 
Monique said, still turning the thought over in her 
mind.  "One should never buy without seeing the 
merchandise first.  I think I can arrange this."

This was a new approach and the Arab suddenly 
sensed that this clever French woman was up to 
something.  He changed his tone and spoke more 
softly.

"Now, now, my sweet Monique, we needn't go to all 
that trouble.  You know how valuable my time is to 
me.  We can just settle for the same amount we did 
for the last one, even though she was rather weak.  
I trust your judgment explicitly."

"No," Monique said, sensing his eagerness, "I want 
you to make the decision after you see her.  She 
may not be worth that much to you and I want only 
your happiness.  I won't accept a franc more than 
you think she is worth.  Unless, of course," she 
added slyly, "your opinion does not suit the true 
value, but I don't think a man with your good eye 
will make that mistake."

Gamal knew the bargaining was over for the day as 
he detected a note of finality in Monique's last 
statement.  He knew she had something this time or 
she wouldn't be so certain of her position.  He 
knew also, that he would probably have to pay 
dearly for whatever it was she had.  Well, he would 
take a look.  He had been doubling his investment 
on the others she had brought him and perhaps he 
could do even better with this one.  He might even 
get her down to a lower price than before.  At any 
rate, he gloated to himself after Monique had left, 
he could hardly wait to get his hands on an 
American bitch.  He hadn't had one in almost a year 
but he could still remember the pleasure he had in 
converting her reluctant mind to accept his 
perverted acts.  In fact, he had been forced to 
almost destroy her mind first.  He hoped this one 
would not be so difficult.

The voluptuous young girl stirred restlessly on the 
rumpled bed.  Her eyes fluttered open and fought 
with the darkness that permeated the thick stale 
air of the shabby room.  Strange odors wafted 
through her nostrils, causing her brow to wrinkle 
slightly as though in deep concentrated thought.  

Her tongue circled her lips, tasting the slight 
pungency of a sticky moistness around them.

Her eyes adjusted quizzically to the darkness and 
followed her form lying on the bed below.  It was a 
strange position she thought to herself through the 
haze that still dimmed her half-sleep mind.
Her negligee was bunched almost around her neck and 
she could see the twin peaks of her breasts lying 
loosely between her eyes and the rest of her body.  

Her legs were spread wide apart as though in 
invitation to some phantom lover standing at the 
foot of the bed.

After a moment it came to her through the dimness.  
The dream!  The dream she had; it had seemed so 
real!

The vividness of it began flickering across her 
mind as though she were watching a slightly out of 
focus television screen.  Her body ached terribly.
She smoothed her hands carefully up to her breasts, 
touching them gently in guarded exploration.  Ohhh, 
she moaned, they were tender.  Her hands explored 
farther, coursing their way down over her stomach 
to her still open thighs.

She groaned again, as her fingers touched tenderly 
the slight bruises lining the soft edges of her
vagina.  Her finger probed carefully around the red
sensitive opening, the tips becoming moist from the 
white sticky liquid that oozed viscously from it,
wetting the split of her buttocks and the bed beneath
Had Kevin really been here?  The shadowy form that 
remained in her memory and had probed and tasted 
every secret part of her being had seemed so real.  
It had all seemed so real.  Had she done it to 
herself?

Thoughts raced through her mind one after another.  
It was possible that she had.  She had done it 
before in extreme moments of frustration but never 
like this.  She had never gone to this extreme even 
in her wildest moments of desire.  Could her own 
hands have probed so deep into her stomach and left 
this hot wet pool that seemed lodged there now?  
Could they have made her gush forth so many times 
in climax to soak the bed beneath her the way it 
was now?  It had to be.  There was no other 
explanation.  She had gone completely out of her 
mind in her dream and had fondled her own body to 
the point of believing it was actually Kevin.  She 
had done those things with her own hands and her 
body had reacted like that of a dirty animal in 
heat.

A feeling of shame came over her.  She had denied 
her own husband the right to do those things to 
her, a right that was his, and then sought her own 
release by her own hands playing upon her body.  

How selfish she had been.  If she hadn't left Paris 
perhaps the dream would have come true, perhaps 
Kevin wouldn't have gone insane the next time.  She 
had been too prudish in their sexual relationship 
she now realized and his brutal attack on her had 
been brought about by her lack of understanding of 
his needs.  The dream had proved it.  Hadn't she 
herself turned half animal, even to the point of 
wantonly satisfying herself with her own probing 
fingers and hands.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a gentle 
knocking on the door.  A voice called softly from 
outside.

"Jean, Jean dear, time to wake up."

She recognized Monique's voice and suddenly 
panicked.

"Oh, my God," she mumbled to herself, stumbling to 
her feet.  "I mustn't let her see me like this.  I 
just mustn't."

"Just a moment, I'm getting up now," she called 
back.

"Never mind, dear, I'm going to my room and get 
ready.  I'll see you for dinner in an hour.  Dress 
pretty, I've a surprise place for dinner tonight."

"Alright, Monique," Jean answered in relief.  "I'll 
knock on your door when I'm ready."

Jean turned on the light and looked at the rumpled 
bed.  Well, she thought, as her eyes saw the large 
round wet spot where her buttocks had lain, I 
really had myself a time.  I guess there's no need 
in crying over spilled milk.  I did it and I can't 
change that.  After all, it was only a dream, I 
shouldn't feel guilty about something I couldn't 
control.

The warm spray of the shower felt good cascading 
down over her body.  She washed carefully the 
insides of her thighs and buttocks, almost 
reluctant to wash away the sticky still-warm fluid 
from her soft pubic hair.  As her fingers moved up 
and down the warmth of the narrow slit between her 
legs, cleansing it of the viscous almost dry 
liquid, the visions of Kevin's shadowy face smashed 
tightly between her yawning thighs ran through her 
mind.  Her middle finger duplicated his lashing 
tongue that had flicked through her throbbing cunt 
lips so many long minutes before.  Jean had to 
catch herself with her strength to withdraw her 
probing finger from between her legs.

The feeling of guilt returned.  Good Lord, she 
thought to herself, what's happened to me.  One 
small dream about sex and I'm turning into a 
shameless nymphomaniac.  I do need Kevin, and 
badly.

She combed out her long dark silken hair before the 
mirror, letting it drape loosely down over her 
shoulders.

"Mmmmm," she mused to herself, that looks 
provocative enough.  Monique said to dress well, 
and after my little self-inflicted orgy, I guess 
this is the best I can do.  She noticed suddenly 
that the curl that usually hung down on her left 
shoulder was missing.  What a careless nit, she 
scolded herself.  How could I have cut that off?  I 
thought I had been careful when I trimmed my hair 
last night on the train.  Before she could pursue 
the thought any further, she heard Monique's 
familiar voice outside the door, calling to her to 
join her downstairs at the desk when she was 
finished.

"Well, dear, you look just ravishing tonight, I 
must say."  Monique beamed at her as she descended 
the steps a few moments later.  This made Jean feel 
wonderful.  She needed something as a morale 
builder now and a compliment from another woman was 
just the thing.  She always felt it was more 
sincere coming from another woman as they had 
nothing to gain by lying to you.  It was good to 
start an evening with this kind of feeling.  She 
handed her key to the obsequious Arab clerk, not 
even looking at him.  The look he had given her, up 
and down her body, when he had brought the tea had 
not been forgotten and she decided that ignoring 
him completely was the best way to handle this.

The Arab grinned to himself as the American girl 
disdainfully passed the keys to him.  The last time 
he had seen that pretty face, it was contorted in 
passion and she was begging him to fuck her.  He 
wondered, smiling to himself, how those lipstick-
covered lips had tasted when she had awakened.  
Arrogant bitch, she probably hadn't ever sucked a 
cock so didn't even know what it was.  Well, he 
would take care of that little oversight before she 
got out of the hotel.

I wonder what she would say now if she knew she was 
carrying my hot load in that untouchable little 
belly of hers, he mused as he watch them descend 
the stairs to the street floor.  She might just 
come back for more, he laughed to himself, 
fingering the curl of hair he had cut off as a 
souvenir just before leaving her room earlier.

Jean sipped contentedly on her second martini.  She 
was happy, sitting high above Marseille overlooking 
the lights of the bay in the delightful restaurant 
Monique had chosen for them.  She had wired Kevin 
before they left the hotel to come down 
immediately.  The upsetting dream she had so 
realistically experienced this afternoon had made 
up her mind for her.  It had even given her a 
feeling of confidence.  She knew now she could 
enjoy bodily pleasures and if Kevin could ever 
become the kind of lover he was in her dreams then 
a whole new world was open to them.  She took 
another deep sip from the smooth martini 
contemplating excitedly the full complete life they 
could have sharing each other.

"You look preoccupied, Jean," Monique said, smiling 
at her across the table.

"I hope my company isn't boring you."

"Oh, no, no, Monique," Jean said apologetically, "I 
love being here with you.  In fact, you may not 
know it but this trip with you has changed my whole 
thinking about life."

"That's quite a statement, my dear," the older 
woman replied, an amused tone in her voice, "I 
think you're being a little dramatic about it."

"No, no, I'm not.  I mean it.  I truly do," Jean 
defended.  She didn't want to hurt Monique's 
feelings.  She had done so much for her just being 
around to help.  The small things she had done, 
like getting her to a hotel and being there to talk 
to on the train, had taken her mind off her problem 
long enough for her to relax and look at it again 
with less prejudice than before.  And, of course, 
leaving her alone this afternoon had been the 
turning point.  If she hadn't been in such a 
relaxed mood, she probably would never have had the 
dream and consequently never realized just how much 
she did need her husband.

"Then you must tell me about this great change that 
I've brought about without even knowing it," 

Monique said lightly but with understanding.  "My 
impression is that you've everything already that 
life could offer someone so young and pretty."
Jean was grateful for the sincerity in the older 
woman's voice and felt that she did owe her an 
explanation.  Besides, she was bursting to talk 
with someone about it and there just couldn't be a 
more understanding person in the world than 
Monique.  She felt so close and so dependent on her 
at this moment.

Jean hurriedly gulped the rest of her drink, 
wondering how she could explain without going too 
far.  After all, she didn't want even Monique 
knowing everything.  It was too embarrassing and 
made her feel like such a child.

"May I have another martini," she asked.  "I think 
I'll need it to be able to even tell this silly 
story to you."

"Of course you may, I'll join you."  Monique 
signaled the waiter who returned within moments 
with their refills.  Jean took a large sip, feeling 
the smooth liquid hit bottom and bolstering her 
courage.  They were beginning to have their effect.  

She could feel the light-headed sensation calming 
her inhibitions even before she had finished the 
last one, otherwise she would not have had the 
courage to even mention her problem.  This last sip 
had dampened them completely and she was feeling as 
though she could at least tell Monique a few things 
about the ridiculous mess she had gotten herself 
into.

"Dear, you seem hesitant," Monique said, reaching 
across the table and touching her hand warmly.  "If 
it's something you had rather not talk about then 
don't.  I just thought I might be able to help."

"Oh, no, it's not that important," Jean said 
blushing slightly, not knowing quite how to begin.  

"It's just about a dream I had this afternoon while 
you were gone."

"Well then tell me, Jean, you know it sometimes 
helps to talk to someone else about your problems.  
I think we know each other well enough by now to 
share our burdens."

Jean began from the beginning, telling Monique 
about her courting days with Kevin and how she had 
sometimes hoped he would force her into submitting 
to him but would never encourage it.  About her 
father and his instilling the ideas of purity until 
marriage into her young mind and the guilt complex 
it had left her with about sex even now that she 
was married.  The horrible rape she had been forced 
to submit to in Paris by Kevin, though she made 
excuses for him to Monique, blaming herself for her 
puritan attitude toward intercourse.  Finally, 
toward the end of the dinner, she had come to the 
dream.

"It was beautiful, Monique.  If making love were 
always like that, I know I would never feel guilty 
again.  It just seems as though everything he did 
to me was right and I felt so wonderful and so free 
to return his love.  I gave him everything I had 
and I still wanted to give more."

There was a long pause, until Jean finally said 
with a shrug of her shoulders, "Well, that's all, 
you've heard the story of my whole love life.  I 
guess it seems so silly to a woman like you who's 
lived as much as you have."

"Quite the contrary, my dear, I think it's a 
beautiful story and I hope it turns out the way you 
think it will."

"I just know it's going to be wonderful, Monique.  
When Kevin arrives tomorrow, everything will be 
alright again."

"You mean your husband is coming here tomorrow?"  

Monique asked, concern suddenly showing on her 
face.  This could drastically interfere with her 
plans for this naive little American.

"Why, yes, I sent him a cable before we left the 
hotel.  He'll be taking the train tonight and 
arriving tomorrow.  Is there anything wrong?"  Jean 
was afraid Monique had suddenly become ill, she 
looked so strange.

"No, no, my dear," Monique choked, "just a slight 
wave of nausea, it happens sometimes when I eat 
rich food this way.  Don't you worry.  I'll be 
alright in just a moment."

It was difficult for Monique to finish her dinner.  
She knew she had some fast thinking to do if she 
was to save her investment.  She had not counted on 
this complication even though she had known the 
American had been married.  It was going to be 
doubly difficult to accomplish her purpose with 
Gamal.  Somehow she had to destroy this little 
innocent in the eyes of her husband and at the same 
time incite Gamal to the point where he would be 
willing to pay almost anything to have her at his 
mercy.

They finished dinner almost in silence.  Jean said 
a few words of consolation to Monique about her 
discomfort but also could see she did not feel like 
talking at the same time.  It appeared as though 
she had problems also and she would have given 
anything if she could have helped the woman as she 
had been so kind and understanding to her.  She did 
not want to bring it up as she felt so young and 
helpless compared to the maturity of Monique and 
knew that if there was anything she could do, 
Monique would tell her.

Later, in the taxi on the way back to the hotel, 
Monique apologized.  "I'm so sorry, my dear, that I 
feel this way.  I had intended to take you out and 
show you some of the night life of Marseille after 
dinner but I just couldn't do it now."

"You've been so kind already, Monique," Jean 
answered, still feeling helpless that she could not 
help the older woman.  "Perhaps if you feel better 
tomorrow night, we could all go together.  You 
would love Kevin and I know he would like you."

"Yes, I think that would be better.  I'm certain I 
can get away tomorrow evening.  These spells seldom 
last more than one night.  But we had better go 
now."

Jean noticed the obsequious grin of the Arab behind 
the desk as he gave them their keys for the room.  
His look had a knowing familiarity about it that 
she didn't like.  Worse, he had rubbed his hand 
closely over hers when he had given her the key and 
his beady eyes appeared to undress her again as 
they had when he had delivered the tea that 
afternoon.  She shuddered thinking about his greasy 
dirty appearance as she bid Monique goodnight and 
locked the door of her room behind her.  How awful 
it would be to have those oily dark hands crawling 
over your body, she thought to herself.  How do the 
women he makes love to stand it.

She thought about the cleanliness of Kevin and how 
good his smooth, well developed body would feel 
against hers tomorrow night.  She had thought about 
their moving to a better hotel when he arrived, but 
had changed her mind.  It would be good to have him 
here where the dream had occurred and on the same 
bed that her body had come to know for the first 
time the joys of physical union, even if it had 
only been in her mind.  Besides, what could be more 
romantic than spending a few days in the old part 
of Marseille.  She fell into a deep and dreamless 
sleep, looking forward with all her being to her 
husband's arrival tomorrow.  It was going to be 
good for both of them, she just knew it would.

Monique had formed a plan.  She had thought 
carefully about the things the American girl had 
told her during dinner, particularly the part about 
the dream.  Several other of her young initiates 
had told a similar story about such dreams.  They 
always occurred when she had left them alone at the 
hotel.  That bastard Shalla has been sampling my 
wares, she thought angrily to herself.  Under 
normal circumstances, she would have reported him 
immediately to Gamal or another of her contacts and 
they would have taken care of the matter by quietly 
dumping his body in the bay, but with this new 
development of the American girl's husband coming, 
she would need his help.  He wouldn't dare refuse 
when she confronted him with her knowledge of his 
assaults on her girls.  She might even let him have 
a little more fun with her.  That should keep him 
happy.

She pressed the service button by her bed and 
waited patiently until she heard his light knock at 
the door.

"Can I help, Madame?"  he said as she opened it 
wide, motioning for him to enter.

Shalla sensed that something was wrong when the 
French lady invited him inside.  She had never paid 
much attention to him before and he stepped into 
the room reluctantly, taking the seat she pointed 
to.

Monique stood in the center of the room looking 
down at him for a long moment.

The Arab lowered his eyes.  He did not know how to 
deal with such a woman.  She was far above his 
class and her very presence unnerved him.  She must 
know about his little afternoon parties with her 
friends.  This would be the only reason she would 
be looking at him like this.

"Was she good this afternoon, Shalla?"  she said 
coldly, still staring straight down at him.
There was a long silence and the Arab did not 
speak.  He was frightened.  He knew the people she 
was connected with and what could be done to him if 
she just gave the word.  He would have no one to 
turn to, he was just an immigrant without friends.  

He kept his eyes lowered to the floor, afraid to 
sneak.  There was no one to defend him.

"I asked you a question, Shalla.  Was she good?"  

Monique repeated, almost enjoying watching the Arab 
squirm.  He deserved it, the bastard, having such a 
good time with her property.  He might have damaged 
it irreparably playing his little games.

"I-I do not know of that which Madame speaks."  he 
finally answered slowly, raising his eyes slightly 
from the floor but still not looking directly in 
her eyes.

"You sniveling little, cochon," she spat at him 
vindictively, "you know very well of which I 
speak."

"But I do not understand," Shalla defended, "why 
does Madame become so angry and talk this way.  
Have I not always been of good service?"

"Yes, yes, you have," Monique's tone changed to one 
of soft understanding.  She knew she would have to 
be gentler with him or he would never admit to 
anything.  She was frightening him too much and 
this would never do, she didn't have much time to 
put her plan into operation and this would require 
his help or she would never succeed before the 
girl's husband arrived.

"I'm not angry with you, Shalla," Monique 
continued, speaking slowly; and addressing him now 
in respectful tones as she would another business 
associate.  "In fact, I need your help."

The Arab looked up at her, not certain whether he 
had heard correctly.  Surely this was some kind of 
trick she was playing on him to get him to confess.  
Then she would turn him over to some of the toughs 
who worked for her and he would be finished.

"Madame, Shalla knows his place, he does not do the 
things of which you speak.

I have my duties to perform here, I have no time 
for other things."

"Shalla, my dear man, you must understand that I am 
not going to have you harmed in any way.  I just 
need your help.  How would you like to have the 
little American girl again?"  Monique smiled at him 
and said this last sentence slowly so that it would 
sink into his mind deeply.  She was certain he had 
enjoyed it, otherwise, Jean would not have given 
such glowing descriptions of the sensations she had 
experienced in her so- called dream.

"How do I know that Madame does not play a trick on 
me, to get me to confess to something I have not 
done?"  Shalla also spoke slowly.  His Arab 
intuition told him that this proud French lady 
really did need his help and she needed it badly.  

Otherwise, she could turn to any number of very 
important people here in Marseille to do the favor 
for her.  She must have to keep it a close secret 
that was not to be known outside the hotel.  

Perhaps, just perhaps, if he played it right, he 
could benefit well from her obviously difficult 
situation.  He was a lowly immigrant, but not a 
fool.

Monique could see the change of expression on his 
face.  He had looked up at her and studied her 
eyes.

He knew she was in desperate trouble and needed his 
help.

This was bad.  She knew the Arabs well by now and 
if they knew they had an advantage they would press 
it for everything they could get.  They were the 
best hagglers in the world and quick to perceive a 
weakness in their adversaries.  Perhaps she had 
just better put her foot down now before he got too 
far out of line.

"Listen you desk clerk!  I can have you thrown to 
the fish anytime I desire.  I know now what you've 
been doing to these poor defenseless girls while 
I've been away from the hotel and I think you had 
better admit it to me before I lose my temper."  
Desperation was apparent in her voice and Shalla 
sensed this. Whatever it was that she needed was 
extremely important and she needed him to help her 
accomplish it.  He eyed her more confidently.
"Madame is wrong," he spoke with feigned hurt in 
his voice.  "I think I must leave."

"Shalla, stay where you are," he could almost 
detect a pleading note in the tone of her voice 
now.  "I need some assistance and can make it well 
worth your while to help me."

"What does Madame wish me to do?"  the Arab asked 
slyly.  He would find out how important this favor 
really was and then negotiate the price.

Monique outlined to him briefly the part she wanted 
him to play in her little scheme, leaving out the 
most important factors that would give away the 
true reason for her plan.  She didn't dare to 
divulge it all to him.  She knew he would demand a 
price that would cut her profit down considerably, 
and she envisioned quite a sum from Gamal if her 
plan worked well.  It had to work, it was her only 
chance.

Shalla listened intently to the outline of his part 
in this venture of the French lady.  She tried to 
sound casual as she described to him the details of 
the actions he was to perform but he knew now 
beyond all doubt from the discernible concern in 
her eyes that there was so much more to it than she 
was divulging to him.  She was going to a lot of 
trouble to merely humiliate this girl.  There must 
be something else to it, it sounded much more 
complicated than she described.

"How much will this man pay to see her raped?"  he 
asked, attempting to draw more of the story from 
her.

"He will pay a great deal if you and your friend 
follow instructions well.  He likes this kind of 
thing and is willing to pay for it."

"But it is dangerous and if the police find out, it 
will mean a long prison term for myself and the 
friend I will need to help.  We also will have a 
witness in the girl.  She will know who all of us 
are and be able to identify us for the 
authorities."

"Don't worry about the witness, my dear Shalla, our 
friend who wants this little exhibition will take 
care of that part later.  All you and your friend 
must do is to hold her here tomorrow and then 
deliver her as I instruct-but your timing must be 
absolutely perfect-and, of course, you may have 
your little fun like you did before, but no rough 
stuff, I want her fit tomorrow night."

"And how much does Shalla receive for this?"  the 
Arab asked, knowing in advance that whatever figure 
she first offered would be a pittance compared to 
what she would receive.  He knew she was selling 
these girls and that the correct timing had 
something to do with a sale.

"You will get half, and the gentleman is willing to 
pay two hundred American dollars.  That would be 
one hundred for you which is more than you make in 
a month working here."

"A girl like that is worth three thousand American 
dollars to some in Marseille."  Shalla watched her 
expression change as he made this statement.  He 
knew by the sudden frustration that crossed over 
her face that he could almost name his own price 
now.  She wanted this done tomorrow night and he 
knew it would be impossible for her to arrange it 
with someone else in that time.  He had sent the 
cable for the American girl and knew when her 
husband was arriving.  This would mean the plans 
would have to be completed tonight or he might take 
her away with him.  Obviously, the French lady had 
already arranged the sale and this would destroy 
her plans completely.

Monique had been afraid of this.  Damn Arabs, they 
would take the very clothing from an honest woman's 
back if they had the chance.  She also knew she was 
in no position to argue with him too much and that 
speed was of the very essence if the plans were to 
be completed before the husband arrived.

"All right, you bastard Arab, five hundred American 
dollars and no more." Monique spat at him in 
desperation.  "This is my final offer and you had 
better accept or I'll make you wish you had stayed 
in Algeria and let the revolutionaries string you 
up!"

Shalla smiled to himself as he heard the 
frustration rise in her voice.  He knew the price 
was open now and that he had gained the upper hand.  
This may be the chance he was looking for.  He had 
worked as a lowly hotel clerk too long already 
after losing his family shop in Algeria during the 
revolution.  It was time he became a business man 
again and this was an excellent business.  He had 
to play his hand carefully in order not to upset 
the fine balance of things as they stood.

"You are too kind, Madame, to a lowly hotel clerk.  
The price sounds too high.  I think we should wait 
until the deed is done before we make the bargain.  
I do not want to be overpaid for my services."

"Then I have your agreement?"  Monique asked, a 
smile of relief showing discernibly on her face.

"Yes you have my dear woman.  I will do your 
bidding, asking only that I be treated fairly after 
the affair is finished."

"Agreed," Monique beamed.  This had been easier 
than she had expected.  She would give him a small 
tip after it was over and if he gave her any 
trouble, she was certain Gamal would take care of 
him for her.

"A drink to seal our bargain," the Arab said, 
looking at her with his penetrating stare.  He knew 
exactly what she was thinking and counted on her 
overconfidence to reveal the entire set-up later on 
to him.  Right now, he had to equalize them.  It 
would be taking a chance with this haughty bitch 
who considered him slightly above the social level 
of a pig but he had to try now while she needed 
him.  There was only one way to do this, and that 
was to fuck her senseless before he left this room.  

There was no better equalizer in the world than to 
debase her by shooting a hot stream of his sperm up 
into that hot belly of hers.  That would convince 
her she was no better than he was.

Monique suddenly detected the other, more bold 
change in his voice.  It emitted a certain 
unmistakable suggestiveness that suddenly curled 
her stomach.  It took several seconds before the 
full impact of what this cur's voice had so subtly 
implied, but one look at his face and there was no 
question what he had meant.

He wanted her to submit to him!

This sniveling Arab wanted her, Monique DuFour, to 
submit to his base touch.  The thought of rubbing 
bodies with this filth sitting before her nauseated 
her no end.  His despicable pock-marked face and 
yellow decaying teeth sickened her stomach, and now 
he had the nerve to expect her to submit to him.  
She held herself back from screaming at him to get 
out.  He had agreed to assist her and she couldn't 
afford to lose him now.

"I'm tired, Shalla my dear, perhaps we can have one 
another time when we've completed our agreement," 
she smiled sweetly, hiding her contempt as best she 
could under the circumstances.

The Arab looked at her and she knew her ruse had 
failed.  She felt as though he were looking 
straight into her mind and was sensing every 
thought.  Perhaps she shouldn't have called him 
into this, she had misjudged him.  He was a clever 
one and she knew she wasn't going to get out of 
this as cheaply as she had thought.

"We had better have it now, Madame," he said, 
rising from the chair and pouring them two large 
glasses of the Courvoisier cognac she had sitting 
on the dresser.

Monique stood frozen in the middle of the room, not 
taking her eyes from him as he handed her the 
glass.

"Drink," he commanded, raising his glass to his 
lips that were now curled in a contemptuous half-
smile.  Monique found herself lifting the glass to 
her lips almost in a daze, her superior bearing 
lost.  She was shaking slightly, fully aware of the 
fact, that she had lost control of the situation 
and that she had to put up with his insolence or 
lose Gamal, her best customer, and this was 
impossible as all her future business plans rested 
upon his acceptance of her girls.  She drained the 
glass, feeling the hot liquid sear down her throat 
softening for the moment the impact of the sudden 
change of events.

Shalla reached for the bottle and poured her 
another.

"I think Madame will need this, we have many plans 
to make if we are to succeed in our little venture.  
It will not be easy without total cooperation 
between us.  Do not you agree?"  he smiled 
triumphantly.

Monique nodded numbly in assent, taking the glass 
as he passed it to her, and pouring another large 
swallow into her throat.  She felt as though she 
would scream in revulsion if this pig touched her 
but she knew it was coming and had to deaden her 
senses.  Things had gone too far now to turn back 
and she just could not afford to lose Gamal's 
loyalty as a client, in spite of what degradations 
she had to submit to in order to save it.  It meant 
her reputation and that was all one had in this 
business.  Either you delivered if you had promised 
to do so or suddenly found you had no customers for 
your girls.  It was that simple and she knew it too 
well.

Shalla knew at the moment she nodded her head that 
the battle was won.  He was going to fuck this 
high-class bitch and there was nothing she could or 
would do to stop him.  He had drained all fight 
from her because she needed him and would do 
anything he demanded in order to insure his help.  

He smiled lewdly as he stood in front of her 
unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop slowly 
to the floor.  His hardened cock stood out from his 
body throbbing straight at her.  It looked like a 
giant oak growing up through the black underbrush 
of his thick pubic hair, as with one hand he 
stroked the foreskin back and forth over the 
expanding head.  It grew jerkily in size each time 
it disappeared and reappeared through the thick 
flap of flesh covering it.  He watched the loathing 
in her face as her eyes remained involuntarily 
locked on his dark growing member.  His excitement 
flared as he saw the helpless fear rising in her 
eyes.  It would be more fun than with the American.
This one would be conscious of the things he was 
going to do to her!

It would be he who was bringing forth the moans of 
pleasure and pain this time and not some distant 
lover that would receive the credit for his 
caresses.  It was he, Shalla, who would be felt 
when he drove it deep into the soft unprotected 
belly of this desperate bitch.

"Strip," he hissed at her.  "Or should I do it for 
you?"

Monique moved, she couldn't stand the thought of 
this beast touching her yet.  She undid the buttons 
of her dress at the back, wriggled it off her 
shoulders, down over her lush full hips and stepped 
out of it.  She could feel the Arab's lewd eyes 
devouring her ripe mature body but she didn't dare 
look at him.  She was still well built and solid 
for a woman of forty and kept herself in good 
condition by daily exercises.  She pulled her slip 
up over her head and let it limply slither to the 
floor at her feet with the dress.  She suddenly for 
the first time in years felt extremely defenseless 
and naked.  Thank God, for the cognac that had 
deadened her nerves.

The Arab had removed his clothes except for the 
dirty green socks that had large holes in the 
heels.  His yellow pallor skin clung tightly to his 
thin rib cage; his long sinewy cock jutted 
menacingly out from his belly.

Monique shuddered visibly this time, thinking back 
to the horrors of another evening so many years ago 
when she had been ravished brutally by a gang of 
his kind in the same room where the broken body of 
her husband had lain grotesquely spread in death on 
the floor.  They had been farmers in Algiers before 
the revolution and had been caught in their home by 
surprise one evening by a roving band of Arab 
guerrillas.  They had tortured her husband to death 
before her eyes and then had taken turns committing 
every kind of indecency imaginable on her then 
young defenseless body.  Her mind still bore the 
scars of that night and its horrible memory had 
prevented her from ever having a man since that 
time.  Most young wives of the slain settlers had 
come back to France and out of desperation for 
money had ended up on the streets.  She had not.  

She had worked hard in developing her little trade, 
using the contacts she had with their Algerian 
friends that had survived the revolution.  She had 
prided herself in the fact that she had survived 
and had not given herself to anyone in respect for 
the memory of her dead husband.  And now, this.  

This horrible creature was standing before her 
ready to perpetrate the same indecencies on her 
helpless body again.  The thought revolted her of 
that thin emaciated body slivering across hers, 
using her for its own obscene pleasures.  She 
couldn't do it...  she just couldn't...!

Shalla stepped toward her, his mouth open, his eyes 
drinking in the long full roundness of her silk 
cover legs, the globular protuberance of her 
breasts that formed a fleshy valley above her 
brassiere, the whiteness of her flat smooth belly 
above the tops of the sheer nylon panties.  His 
gaze nauseated her and she gasped: "Don't touch me, 
you filthy animal!  Don't touch me!"

"It's too late, Madam," he slurred the "Madam" 
contemptuously, grasping her shoulders with his 
hands, the strong sinewy fingers digging harshly 
into her skin.  "We have our plans with this 
American girl to consider."

"I don't care, I'll find someone else!"

He loomed above her, his eyes void of pity.  They 
shone into hers coldly-lust, cruel and unyielding, 
boring into the very depths of her soul.  The 
pressure of his hands permitted no escape from his 
hateful gaze.

"No, no, I mean it," the helpless woman whimpered.  
"I can't do it, I just can't!"

Her pleas fell on unhearing ears as his arms 
enveloped her, his lips crushed tightly down 
against her.  The long thin cock pressed hard into 
her soft yielding belly below.  His tongue snaked 
its way between his yellow decaying teeth wetly 
into her mouth.  She tried to struggle but fear and 
the cognac had drained her strength to fight.  The 
thick probing tongue and the heavy smell of garlic 
and aged sweat gagged her into helplessness.  The 
thin emaciated body glued itself to hers tightly, 
arms and legs flowing over her like a giant spider-
web from which there was no relief.

"Please, please don't," she groaned, the savage 
rape of an earlier time whirling through her mind, 
the room spun crazily as he pushed her backwards 
toward the bed.  The edge of the mattress caught 
her behind the knees and the force of their 
momentum sent her sprawling flat on her back, his 
body pinning her tightly to the swaying bed.  She 
pressed her thighs tightly together, attempting to 
hold back the squirming body trying to lodge itself 
between them.  His cock was trapped there, forcing 
itself up and down against the thin nylon strip of 
her panties that covered her crotch.  She could 
feel the wetness of the hard thick rod sliding in 
its own lubricating fluid against the soft inner 
hollows of her thighs.  His head pressed forcefully 
against hers, suddenly dropped, and she felt the 
sharp excruciating pain of his teeth biting 
savagely into the lobe of her ear.  She kicked out 
automatically with her long smooth legs attempting 
to dislodge the painful teeth.  His body sank 
triumphantly between the legs as they splayed open, 
the fleshy instrument safely imbedded against the 
protective nylon band.  Its hungry head throbbed 
down between the white, round globes of her full 
white buttocks.  His knees held her thighs 
sadistically apart.

The battle was over, the thought somehow came to 
her dazed mind.  And now the pain and humiliation 
are all that's left.

The ceiling whirled above her until suddenly it too 
was blotted out by Shalla's leering face moving 
over hers, the mocking eyes laughing at the glazed 
look of defeat and hopeless acceptance of his 
victory.  His pelvis began a slow grinding motion 
against her upturned crotch, rubbing the sheer 
nylon band into the red slit of her cunt.  The huge 
rubbery head traced a sticky wet path up and down 
the length of the smooth wet nylon, pressing gently 
against it until the full outline of the fleshy 
hair-lined lips could be felt impressed clearly 
through it.  He ground slowly, slowly against the 
restraining band, watching the changing expressions 
on the face below him.  He knew she couldn't stand 
up to this torment forever.  She was the proud kind 
who could control her well as long as there were 
other external realities to guide her.  He had 
destroyed those other realities and now there was 
nothing for her but his body twisting above.  He 
had dreamed of having her like this since he had 
started working here several years ago.  She had 
always been cold and stone-like and was hiding 
something deep inside her that had to explode 
someday given the proper circumstances.  It needed 
some kind of spark to ignite that fire that lay 
buried mysteriously beyond the reach of the outside 
world. He was patient in his probing and gloated to 
himself that he would find this key, he was going 
to ignite this body as he had the others-only this 
time it would be he, Shalla, that did it and not 
phantom lovers that played upon drugged minds.
Monique felt as though she were suffocating.  Her 
long smooth form was pressed tightly into the 
mattress.  She could feel the hot rotating rod 
forcing itself against the flat smooth plane 
between her legs.  Silky tingling hair of the Arabs 
legs played against the tender backs of the up 
raised columns of her thighs.  It was beginning 
again as it had before, only more gentle this time, 
more real.  Her husband was lying on the floor 
again, a body was rocking over her as it did then, 
but there was no sudden ripping entry.  Instead it 
moved teasingly against her, probing and flicking 
at her like a giant bird of prey playing with its 
helpless quarry who has become so tortured and 
tormented that peace lay only in being devoured by 
it.

Her unconscious mind fought the torment of the 
teasing hot probe, fighting against surrender to 
it.  "Nooo, nooooooo, please," she groaned beneath 
the grinning yellow teeth, her hips suddenly 
betraying her resisting unconscious mind.  They 
moved in small circles, hardly perceptible at 
first, but moving.  Moving like they did before 
with the broken body lying so close by, but no 
longer a real thing.  The only reality was the 
searing fire that burned deep in her scorched 
stomach, the flames licking out between her legs, 
crying to be drowned by the tormenting monster 
slithering lewdly between their wetness.

Shalla felt the victory.

The thighs that had been pressed tightly against 
his hips in defense suddenly fell loosely away.  
Her heels hooked behind his knees and with a low 
animal-like groan her arms snaked around his neck 
pulling his mouth tightly down to mash wetly 
against hers.  She sucked his tongue voraciously 
into her lips, soft mewling sounds escaping through 
the wet sucking noise.  She ground her crotch 
tightly up his rock hard cock attempting to draw it 
through the thin flimsy material still guarding the 
wet moist entrance of her cunt.  It was hopeless 
and he lay for a moment savoring her frustration 
until he too was beyond delaying longer.

He reached between them, ripping the mucous soaked 
band viciously open and guided the throbbing head 
of his cock between the now unprotected fleshy 
folds of her cunt lips.  He could feel soft crisp 
pubic hairs parting before his unimpeded onslaught.  

The blunt tip met resistance for a moment at the 
entrance to the hot searing passage and then he 
felt the elastic mouth suddenly give and his long 
blood-filled member slithered deep, deep inside 
with a sudden fury that brought a scream from 
Monique's contorted face.  His balls slapped flatly 
against her upturned ass, she was wet and wide open 
for him and the impact of his thrust drove her 
thighs even farther apart.

She thought he was going to split her open and the 
battering instrument was coming up out her mouth.  
She gurgled crazily suddenly wanting it to hurt.  

She wanted to be punished like the dirty bitch she 
was for loving it this way while her husband lay in 
a pool of blood on the floor.  He had lain there 
for three days while they kept her tied to the bed 
and fucked her a hundred times or more and when 
they'd stop, she would scream for it again to blot 
out the ugly sight in front of her.  She could 
still hear their laughter and taunting remarks as 
her body bucked and rolled endlessly under one 
after another and sometimes two or three of their 
dirty perspiring bodies.  She could smell the same 
smell now, of garlic and ancient dried sweat and it 
brought back pictures of the degrading things the 
beasts had made her do when she had begged for more 
of the conscious killing ravishment.

She had done them all and more and the long 
rampaging cock that was now buried unmercifully in 
her belly, was all those cocks that had fucked her 
into madness, merged into one.  She screwed her 
cunt up and down it with wild vengeful strokes 
attempting to destroy it as it had her.  She pinned 
her legs back, her knees touching her shoulders, 
wanting to take it all the way to the hilt.  The 
maddening slap of his balls against her anus drove 
her to wilder frenzy.

The Arab gloated above, he had ignited it!

Whatever it was he had found the key.  He braced 
himself on his knees and elbows above the wildly 
thrashing body letting the hungry clasping cunt 
slither itself up and down the rigid length of his 
cock at will.  He bucked forward on her up stroke 
several times, driving the growing head almost 
through the walls of her womb.

"OOOoooh, OOOoooh," she groaned as the whole length 
fucked into her, the momentum of his thrusts 
driving her ass deep into the squeaking mattress.

"Aaaaagggg, Aaaaagggg," she screamed as Shalla 
reached back underneath her grinding buttocks and 
finding the wide spread crack open wide, thrust his 
middle finger up to the second knuckle in her 
puckered little anus, causing her feet to jerk 
erotically in the air above them, her toes curling 
spasmodically against the bottoms of her stockinged 
feet.  Through the thin wall of moist flesh 
separating her asshole from her cunt, he could feel 
the sperm bloated ridge of the bottom of his cock 
sliding smoothly in and out like a well oiled 
piston of a racing car.

She began streaming words out at him between 
panting gasps from the pain in her rectum.
"Fuck me you Arab, bastard!  Fuck me good!  Split 
me!  Split me!"

Shalla gloatingly shoved a second punishing finger 
in, sinking both all the way to the palm of his 
hand.  He dug them cruelly into the soft fleshy 
anal passage.  Monique jerked up, her buttocks 
rising several inches off the bed, to escape the 
sudden second intrusion in her backside.  But the 
Arab had timed it well, and rammed his pelvis 
forward with a vengeance, driving his cock deep 
into her cunt.  As she bucked down to keep the rock 
hard instrument from ripping straight through her, 
she skewered herself down hard on the up-probing 
fingers.  She was hopelessly impaled between the 
fingers and cock and groaned helplessly as he 
ground them both deep inside her.  The juices of 
her dilating cunt ran down over his hand, 
lubricating wetly the fingers now sunk fist deep up 
her straining asshole.

Monique strained back under him, arching her loins 
against the grinding assault on her cunt and anus.  
She moaned incessantly, her head flailing from side 
to side on the crumpled bedspread, her body a mass 
of electric tingles that shot through it half in 
pain and half in pleasure.

Shalla moved the fingers around inside her, she 
jerked and then screwed her buttocks back on them, 
grunting incessantly as the pain slowly subsided.  
She gradually became accustomed to the dual 
ravishing of her genitals.  A masochistic pleasure 
slowly replaced the searing firebrands of pain that 
raced from her totally filled crotch to the top of 
her head.

"Uuuughh!"  she grunted as he began buffeting her 
in rhythm between his hand and giant growing cock.  

He could feel it expanding with each thrust down 
the wet hot passage, it's lust fed by the very 
hopelessness of the woman squirming incoherently 
beneath him.

Monique could feel the monster growing inside her 
battered vagina.  The giant head seemed like an 
unrelenting fist pummeling into her mercilessly.  

The fingers tore inhumanely at her raw torn 
backside, giving her no respite from the growing 
pleasure building-building-deep in her belly.

"Harder, harder, fuck harder, you pig, fuck 
harder," she chanted in rhythm to his long hard 
strokes.  She wanted to be torn apart.  She wanted 
to be ripped.  Great huge waves of delicious 
feeling raced through her.  Her entire body was 
like an expanding balloon, growing-growing-ready to 
burst.  Burst into a thousand colored pieces like 
it did before when two of them had fucked her 
simultaneously like they were now-they had 
sandwiched her between them like a piece of raw 
meat, one on the bottom and one kneeling behind her 
driving their hot red members into her at the same 
time and shooting their unclean sperm into her 
until her belly thought it would burst open.  They 
had filled her cunt, her mouth, and her raw pink 
back passage time after time with their white hot 
sperm until every inch of her body was covered with 
the pungent stickiness.  She sucked wildly on the 
tongue flicking into her mouth, she was filled 
again, every entrance to her tingling body was 
being raped again, driving away the horror of the 
sightless eyes staring up from the floor.  This was 
all that was real, there was nothing else, as 
suddenly with a grunt from deep in her throat, 
great floods of hot juice began throbbing from the 
walls of her vagina, streaming out in gushes over 
the balls and trapped hand skewering between the 
split of her ass.  It felt as though her very 
insides were coming out with the flowing liquid.  

Monique gave one long low scream, splaying her legs 
high into the air and as wide apart as they would 
go to give the still pistoning cock and hand 
greater access.  She thrust her loins at him with 
brutal force, screwing herself up hungrily on the 
still pumping rod.  Juices flowed still from the 
quivering vagina as her nostrils flared and one 
long last gasp of breath escaped raspingly from her 
lungs as though she had been hit in the stomach 
with a powerful fist.  She collapsed under him, her 
body quivering uncontrollably as the after 
sensations floated her down gently from the peak 
she had reached.

The Arab sensed her climax and drove his cock deep 
inside as her legs splayed out, waving on either 
side of his body.  He could feel the hot jet stream 
begin in his inflated balls and race headlong down 
the length of his pulsating member, spewing wildly 
out the glands into the depths of her womb, filling 
her completely and overflowing with her own juices 
out the hair covered lips of her contracting cunt.  

He gave one last low gasp as with a jerk he emptied 
the last of the sperm into her still quivering 
belly then he too collapsed across her spent body.

They lay still, a loose tangle of arms and 
intertwined legs, their breathing slowing after a 
long moment of quiet.

Shalla arose from the unmoving body of the woman, 
his deflated cock slipping with a sucking noise out 
of the liquid filled furrow between her open legs.

"You will make an excellent partner, Madame," he 
said simply, smiling obscenely down at her still 
lewdly spread body.  "We will discuss our plans in 
the morning."

He dressed quickly and left the room, turning at 
the door and directing a triumphant grin at her.  

Monique knew she was in no condition to consider 
anything now.  She would think of some way to get 
back at this Arab pig after she had taken care of 
the American girl tomorrow.  He would not escape 
punishment for the indignities he had heaped upon 
her tonight, she would pay him back a thousand-fold 
for every drop of his ugly sperm that lay in the 
hot pool in her belly She didn't even have the 
strength left to wash herself of this filth.  Sleep 
came quickly in the same position as she lay.  

There were no dreams for Monique tonight.

About an hour before the Arab had closed Monique's 
door and stealthily stole back to his bunk 
downstairs, Jean had suddenly bolted up in bed to a 
sitting position.  She had been awakened by a noise 
in the adjacent room.  It sounded like the muffled 
squeal of a pig being put to the slaughter.  She 
had been sleeping soundly and had thought at first 
it was a dream but it came again, jarring her to 
alertness.

Something was wrong in Monique's room.  Other 
muffled sounds were echoing through the thick wall 
also.  Sounds that were not familiar to her but 
seemed to be cries of terror and pleading.  She 
looked at her watch.  It was only a little after 
midnight.  She had not even been asleep an hour 
though it had seemed like a full night.

She sat still on the bed listening.  She didn't 
want to make a fool of herself if nothing was 
wrong.  It could be that Monique was having a 
nightmare.  There was silence for a long moment and 
then another sound, this time of movement.  It 
sounded as though something were being thrown 
bodily on a bed.  She could not be certain.  The 
walls to the room were of solid stone like all old 
buildings in Europe and the connecting door was of 
heavy oak.  It made them almost soundproof.

Without turning on the lamp, she groped her way 
through the darkness to the door, pressing her ear 
tightly against it to see if she could hear 
anything.  There was the unmistakable sound of 
movement making its way through the thickness of 
the wood.  She thought also she could hear 
whimpering but it was impossible to tell.  She 
hesitated for a moment, not certain what to do.  

Certainly if something were drastically wrong, 
Monique would scream.  She would certainly hear 
that.  Her hand was frozen on the door knob as she 
waited silently, unable to make up her mind what to 
do.

A long low moan suddenly was discernible from the 
other side.  This convinced her, Monique might be 
ill and unable to move.  She hadn't been feeling 
too well when they had returned from dinner and it 
might be serious.  She would just take a quick look 
quietly so as not to disturb her if nothing were 
seriously wrong.

She silently turned the key in the door and opened 
it carefully, just a crack.  She scanned the room, 
her eyes adjusting to the dim glow of the bedlamp.  

Then her heart leaped into her throat!

It was Monique-and a man was on top of her.
He was trying to rape her!  He had her pinned to 
the bed and was trying to pry her legs open.  Jean 
was frozen into immobility.  She almost let out a 
scream but choked it back with the palm of her 
hand.  It was unbelievable.  She started to shake 
uncontrollably and bit down hard on the back of her 
hand to keep from crying out in fright.  She was 
shaking too hard to close the door and just stood 
there helplessly trying to regain her composure.  

She knew it would do no good for her to attempt to 
help physically.  He might kill them both.

She watched horrified, unable to move, as Monique 
struggled beneath the man.  She had a good view of 
them.  Their feet were pointing almost directly at 
her, not more than fifteen feet away across the 
room.  She could not see who the man was except 
that he was naked and wearing only a dirty pair of 
socks with holes in the heels.  He was darker than 
most.

Monique had her ankles locked tightly together and 
he was trying to get his feet between hers, but she 
fought bravely.  The man's head suddenly bobbed 
down and a squeal came from Monique's throat, her 
legs involuntarily splaying out in the air.  Jean 
could see the man's body fall heavy between the 
long white columns, pinning them wide apart.  From 
this position she could see his huge hard penis 
insinuated tightly against the wide open crotch of 
the struggling woman and rub lewdly against the 
white band of her panties that she still wore.

It was huge.  She had never seen a man before, even 
Kevin.  She had felt him when he had brutally raped 
her but she had not seen his penis.  How could a 
woman take such a thing, it seemed it would split 
Monique open.  It lay menacingly like a great log 
along the slit of her crotch, the two round 
globular balls dangling down wickedly at the upper 
base.  She could see the foreskin slipping back as 
he slid it down along her wide-spread buttocks, the 
red blood-filled head bursting forth like some 
primeval monster crawling evilly from its lair.

Jean stood transfixed, she was unable to take her 
eyes from the lewd spectacle in front of her.  She 
could not understand.  Monique had suddenly stopped 
struggling so violently.  Her body was now churning 
in a different manner.  It almost seemed to be 
searching for the giant penis.  The man suddenly 
reached down and she saw his hand grasp the flimsy 
silk band of the protective panties, ripping it 
away like tissue paper.  She could see clearly the 
exposed hair covered furrow between her splayed 
thighs.  The narrow red slit glistened in the dim 
light and she could make out mouth-shaped lips of 
her vagina that seemed even from this distance 
stretched so cruelly apart.  She thought she could 
see it contracting, opening and closing like the 
mouth of a gasping fish out of water.

The man's hand reached down between them, grasping 
the long hard instrument and raised his buttocks 
high in the air, poising its bulbous head between 
the sucking mouth of Monique's cunt.  Jean watched 
horrified as the muscles of his behind suddenly 
tensed heavily and drove brutally downward, sinking 
the sinewed shaft all the way into the wet gaping 
channel until only a tiny little stretch of it 
showed, moist and glistening, beneath his balls.  

She winced as she heard the smack of his pelvis 
against hers it hit with such force.  Monique's 
unearthly scream pierced through her ears like the 
cry of a wounded animal, her stocking feet curling 
in pain.

Jean's heart pounded like a jack-hammer until she 
was certain they could hear it clear across the 
room.  She pressed one hand tightly to her breast 
as though to dull the sound.

The figures on the bed were still for a moment, 
that seemed to the entranced girl an eternity, then 
the man began a slow rocking motion over the 
impaled woman below him.  He withdrew slightly, the 
thick fleshy column sliding out for several inches 
then thrust forward again, holding it there.  He 
withdrew again until the underside of the head was 
visible to the hypnotized Jean.  Her mouth dropped 
open in disbelief as she watched Monique's long 
full legs wrap suddenly around his hips, her heels 
tight against the cheeks of his ass, straining to 
pull him back inside her.  The cords on the inside 
of her thighs flexed tightly as she pushed her soft 
down covered crotch back up over the glistening 
prick.  Her hollowing buttocks lifted several 
inches off the bed as she struggled upward 
desperately trying to absorb the entirety of the 
thick cock back into the fleshy pink folds of her 
hungry cunt.  A wet viscous sound drifted across 
the room as she slithered up its full length.  Her 
flexing buttocks began a rhythmic beat up and down 
the long smooth pole, the soft hairy balls slapping 
in time against the faintly puckered little anus 
below.

Monique mouthed obscenities at the man as she 
squirmed lewdly in the throes of passion beneath 
him, words that Jean had only heard spoken in 
whispers as a girl.  Forbidden words that still 
brought a guilty tingling to her as they did then, 
merely, because they were forbidden.  They drummed 
ceaselessly into the watching girl's mind who was 
beyond understanding the sudden change in the woman 
on the bed.  The quiet reserved Monique that seemed 
too aloof from this kind of thing, her friend who 
was her strength since they had met on the train.  
God, if it could happen to her, if she could be 
driven into insane submission to a man she had 
fought so strenuously a moment before, it could 
happen to anyone.  She felt a slight electric 
tingle dart menacingly between her own full thighs.

She watched thunder-stuck, as again the man's hand 
curled beneath Monique's pumping buttocks and the 
tip of his middle finger circled tantalizingly the 
rubbery ring of the tightly puckered anus.  It 
played there for a long teasing moment and suddenly 
brought another tortured groan from the twisting 
body beneath as it slipped through the protective 
fleshy ring and disappeared inside.  Legs kicked 
out again, another tormented squeal with toes 
curling, and then the legs locked again, pumping 
viciously against both probing instruments.

Jean was shaking violently now and with all her 
concentrated effort slipped the door closed 
silently and groped her way in panic back to the 
bed.  She pulled the covers tightly up over her 
head to attempt to shut out the depraved sounds 
coming now in streams through the thick walls.  It 
was hopeless, gasps of pain and pleasure filtered 
through, permeating her tortured ears.  The squeak 
of bedsprings merged with the pictures of the 
struggling tangled limbs in her mind, igniting 
again a tiny smoldering spark between her own legs.  
She clamped them desperately together trying to 
choke it away.

As if in a dream her own hands began to 
involuntarily massage the straining whiteness of 
her breasts, trapping the trembling nipples between 
her fingers, kneading and pulling it until it felt 
as though she would rip them loose from the white 
quivering mounds.  She groaned and turned over on 
her stomach, pressing the mound of her clitoris 
tightly into the mattress, attempting to relieve 
the fire that was suddenly raging out of control 
there.

Her hands, against her will, burrowed down between 
her body and the bed and groped at the throbbing 
mass of her pubic hair.  Her legs scissored open, a 
foot dangling on either side of the wide bed.  She 
could feel her own moist slit now palpitating 
against the tips of her fingers which drew the 
narrow furrow open, exposing the lips of her 
pulsating cunt to the warm air underneath the 
covers.  With a groan, she sunk one of her middle 
fingers deep into the viscous moistened mouth.  She 
held her breath, relieved for the moment, but it 
was only a short moment.  The fire burned more 
intensely, demanding more to feed its lewd hunger.  

She inserted another finger, drawing her knees up 
to a kneeling position, with her buttocks high in 
the air.  The squeak of the bedsprings became more 
violent through the wall and she crammed her 
fingers into the moistness of her vagina in time to 
the maddening rhythm of the couple fucking in the 
other room.

The pictures in her mind of their locked bodies 
drove her on and she rocked back on her knees 
against her fingers, screwing them deeper into 
herself.  She could see his huge thick glistening 
cock ramming its way into Monique's clasping cunt, 
sinking through the soft pubic hair like a greased 
telephone pole.  Her hands became faster and her 
gasps began to match that of the racing bodies in 
the adjacent room.  She wanted everything Monique 
was getting, she wanted to be split too, she wanted 
to be fucked.  Oh, how she wished Kevin were here 
now pumping his own cum filled cock into her hot 
searing passage.  The fingers weren't enough as her 
thoughts centered on the thick member ravishing 
Monique, she had to have more but there was 
nothing, nothing but the fingers. In desperation 
she reached up over her buttocks with her other 
hand, searched the wet crevice, and rammed a finger 
deep into the puckered asshole between her moon-
shaped buttocks.  She gasped as in her haste a 
fingernail dug into the soft fleshy walls sending a 
sharp jolt of pain through her quivering body.  She 
stilled for a moment and then took up the rhythm of 
the bedsprings again, her upper body braced against 
the top of her head digging into the mattress.  Her 
white full tits hung down, the nipples brushing 
sensuously against the sheet as they swayed beneath 
her kneeling body.  Electric tingles of darting 
pleasure raced through her nerves as she pictured 
herself under the nameless pounding body with t