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Chicago Scheherazade, Part 5
by pamela

Click here to start with Part 1

[Author's Note: I wish to acknowledge and pay tribute to all those hard-working, obscure (and mostly pseudonymous) sex writers of years past whose work is quoted in this story, and is, in fact, its inspiration and reason for being: Geoffrey Bocca, F.E. Campbell, Chaucer Cartwright, John Cleve, P.N. Dedeaux, Herbert del Toro, Frank Earnest, George Feller, Don Holiday, Monica Jordan, Paul Lawerence, Alan Marshall, Arthur Melville, Marcus Miller, H.B. Randolph, Andrew Shaw, Blake Tremaine, Marcus van Heller, Henry Whittaker, J.X. Williams, Turk Winter, and "Anonymous".]

November 22

As soon as she saw Farelli's face, Nina began to tremble inside. She tried not to let her trepidation show as she quickly undressed. Farelli watched her without a word, but the fierceness in his eyes and the rigidity of his posture spoke quite plainly.

When she was naked Nina moved to pick up the book she had placed on the bed when she came in. It was titled "Don't Spare the Rod." The only illustration on the cover was a particularly phallic-looking drawing of the Eiffel Tower in the lower left corner.

"Forget the book," Farelli said. His voice was low, but with a dangerous edge. "I don't want any more damn books. I'm tired of that shit. What happened last night?"

"Well, you...you were a little..." Nina began.

"I was drunk," Farelli said. "I know that. I passed out, right?"

"Yes," Nina said.

"What happened before that?"

"Don't you remember?" Nina said.

"I remember some if it. I remember I was too pissed to fuck you." He glared at her. "Don't count on that happening too much, girl. I can handle my liquor just fine. I just had too damn much. Probably because of you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you, you smart-ass bitch. But no more. No goddam twat makes a fool out of Dino Farelli. You understand that?"

"Of course," Nina said. "I don't--"

"Shut up. Now tell me what happened."

"Well, when you...when you were too...too tired, you...you said you wanted to see me...doing it with somebody, so you...you called Charlie, and he sent--"

"Oh yeah. Yeah. Right. That clown, that whatshisname, the nervous guy."

"Burt."

"Burt, yeah. He fucked you, right? I remember now." He shook his head. "Shit, he couldn'ta been very good, couldn't even keep me awake."

Nina said nothing.

"Well, now I'm sober," Farelli said. "And I don't want you fucking a lot of other guys. Who else are you fucking, when you're not down here. During the day. You still fucking Charlie?"

"No," Nina said. "I don't see much of Charlie these days. I'm not fucking anybody but you, Mr. Farelli. And the men you tell me to fuck."

"Keep it that way," Farelli said.

There was a pause. Nina stood waiting. Farelli was still glaring at her balefully, but there was something else in his eyes as well.

"Damn, I'd really like to whip you right now," Farelli said evenly. "That would be something to see."

Nina said nothing.

"Frank and Rick are still away," Farelli said then.

There was another pause.

"All right," Farelli said after a minute. "Tell me about the book."

Nina looked at him in surprise.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what I said, bitch. Screw it, just do what I tell you, okay?"

Nina sat down and picked up the book. "This takes place before the Civil War," she said. "When there was slavery and all. It's all about this Southern girl--she's a white girl, but she gets forced into slavery to pay off her father's debts after he dies. I don't think that kind of thing really happened, but it's a good excuse to show her getting whipped and brutalized and whatever. She's on this big plantation in Louisiana, and there are other slaves who get punished too. This one girl,Tanya--she tries to escape, so to punish her they not only whip her, they put her on a treadmill and--well, that's the part I've picked out for you, Mr. Farelli. Shall I read it?"

"Start it up," Farelli growled. "I'll stop you if it gets boring."

Nina found her place.

Not unlike a small mill wheel in appearance, the treadmill was constructed of stout timbers and was surrounded by a high platform which was reached by a flight of steps on each side....

A buxom red haired woman hung by bound wrists from a tall pillar. The woman was stark naked and Margaret's eyes softened with pity as she saw how the gleaming whiteness of the woman's back and ass was vividly striped with the crimson welts of an extremely severe flogging....

Now, after being unfastened from the post, she stood swaying weakly on her feet while Daisy fastened a heavy brass-studded dog collar around her slender neck. A length of thin chain was attached to the collar and Daisy grasped the free end of this in her fist as she prodded the sobbing woman forward in the direction of the treadmill.

Daisy halted the woman as she reached the foot of one of the flights of steps leading up to the platform of the treadmill. Fayelle stood glaring at Tanya for a moment, a malevolent expression on his handsome face as he slapped a heavy riding whip against the side of his leg.

"Alright, Tanya," Fayelle said at last, "you are very fond of exercising your pretty legs, it seems. You've made good use of them during the past three months in a stupid attempt to escape from me. Well now, we'll give you yet another opportunity to use those same legs....only this time you won't enjoy yourself quite so much....Up those steps with you."

Margaret watched with a kind of horrified fascination as the naked woman silently mounted the wooden steps as soon as Daisy had unbuckled the heavy collar from around her neck. Tanya walked around the platform until she was facing the wide periphery of the heavy wheel with its thick slats spaced a good two and a half feet apart. Daisy came up behind her and sternly ordered her to lift her arms straight up. Agile as a cat, Daisy clambered up the wheel, using its slats like the rungs of a ladder. She reached inside her blouse and drew forth a length of thin cord which she used to tie Tany's upstretched wrists to a thin bar set above the treadmill in a pair of adjustable brackets. As her limbs were lashed securely into place against the bar, Tanya was forced to rise on tip toe for her arms were being stretched to the fullest extent.

Margaret could see the splended white titties pouting into greater prominence with the pull of the shoulder muscles. Daisy grasped the bar now and pushed it well forward before dismounting from her perch on the slats of the treadmill. With a sharp jerk Tanya was dragged forward, in such a way that she was leaning forward over the barrel like steps of the treadmill, her trembling body inclined at a sharp angle from the wrist as her feet remained planted upon the platform. The purpose of this maneuver was at once apparent to Margaret....While the unhappy woman would be free to plant her feet on the endless succession of slats as the treadmill revolved, her naked asscheeks would be jutting out in an idea manner for whipping....

Walter Fayelle signalled to the two field slaves....With a slight creaking, the treadmill began to turn very slowly, its weight revolving easily as it bore the burden of Tanya's naked form upon one side.

Her ordeal had started. Slowly, relentlessly, the succession of wooden slats curved downwards for her to plant her feet on. Endlessly, inexorably, she clambered on and on, mounting step after step yet never rising any higher. The steps were set so far apart that each individual movement of the woman's legs demanded the very maximum of physical exertion on her part....The high steps the captive was taking as she stepped up onto the slats as they revolved downwards to her caused her to expose her cunt quite clearly each time.

"Cute," Farelli said. "So do they whip her like that or not?"

"Yes," Nina said. "And then they--"

"Well, get to it," Farelli said.

It was half an hour before Fayelle and Daisy reappeared upon the scene and by that time Tanya was gasping and crying in distress. There was no respite for her from the exhausting exercise of stepping upwards and upwards. To pause, however briefly, upon one of the slats as it sank downwards under her weight, incurred the painful penalty of having her legs, insteps and feet struck by the revolving slats until the skin was shredded away in bloody tatters while all the time she hung suspended by her wrists from the bar.

Nevertheless she was visibly reaching the limits of her endurance....Several times she faltered and then slipped, too drained of strength for a moment, so utterly leg weary as to be incapable of saving herself. Fayelle eyed the struggling, weeping woman for a moment and then glanced at his youthful assistant.

"It looks as though she needs to be spurred on a bit. She's not trying hard enough, to my way of thinking. Get up there with your whip, Daisy, and give her a dozen of the best across her naughty ass. That should liven her up."

"About fucking time," Farelli said.

Horror-stricken, her heart aching with pity for Tanya, Margaret had to watch the cruel punishment which now took place. Despite the livid welds already scored so prominently across the smooth white flesh of Tanya's back and asscheeks, Daisy laid on with all her strength in administering another dose of inhuman punishment. The whip hissed and cracked through the still air and made an audible 'thuck' as it bit deep into the flesh of the struggling, toiling woman.

Tanya screamed as if demented as the first wicked cut hissed stingingly across her buttocks....She strove to please her torturers by making a supreme effort to correct her flagging steps. But it was of no avail. Fayelle had ordered a dozen cuts of the whip and...nothing would deter Daisy in her task.

Shrieking and howling as the whip slashed its burning furrows across her already sore and aching body, Tanya was still compelled to try and concentrate on mounting the endlessly revolving slats. To falter for a second, to slip and hang suspended from her wrists, was to earn not only the bruising punishment which the apparatus would itself mete out to her lower limbs, but also additional strokes from Daisy's viciously flailing whip.

"There you go," Farelli said, a bit hoarsely. "But why let the broad do it? The guy should have done it himself. Guys can hit harder. But it's a nice picture anyway. Okay, you show me now." He grinned briefly. "I don't have any goddam girl around to whip you while you're on the goddam treadmill, so I guess I'll have to do it myself."

"But there's more," Nina said quickly. "They put this dildo up inside her, and she has to--"

"Save it," Farelli rasped. "I wanna see you doing what she did. That's your thing, right? So do it." He pointed to a spot on the floor in the center of the room. "There's the treadmill, right there. Now show me."

Laying the book down, Nina got up and moved to the spot he had indicated. She raised her hands high over her head, then bent forward as best she could, sticking out her backside while trying to keep her arms in place. In this awkward position she began slowly to raise and lower her legs, one at a time, as if she were indeed mounting the steps of a treadmill. Slowly at first, and then faster, as if the mill were speeding up. Her breasts swung from side to side with her movements, and the strain of the effort in that uncomfortable position soon had her breath coming hard.

Farelli, watching her, began to undress. "Step higher, girl," he told her. "Those steps are steeper than that. And faster."

Nina made an effort to raise her legs higher as she increased the rhythm of her steps. Perspiration was beginning to break out on her body, but she didn't slacken her pace, although she straightened her upper body a little, making it slightly easier to breathe.

"Arms higher," Farelli demanded. "It said she was on her toes, remember?"

Nina strained her body, going on tiptoe. But to balance herself that way while continuing her high, rhythmic stepping was nearly impossible, and she soon reverted to landing on the balls of her feet. Farelli didn't correct her again. He was nearly naked now, his eyes never leaving her juddering body. Her mouth was open and panting, the labored breathing rapidly turning to gasps.

"Faster," Farelli said.

She forced herself to move faster. Her legs were starting to ache, and she found it harder to keep her balance as they rose and fell. Each foot hitting the floor sent a kind of shock through her body. Still she kept on. Soon she was making little sounds in her throat with each gasping breath. The sounds became louder. The sweat was pouring off her now. She couldn't keep up the pace, and finally her exhausted body forced her to slacken it.

"No!" Farelli barked. "Don't slow down, bitch. That treadmill is still moving. You slow down and I'll whip your ass off, you hear me?" He was standing in front of her now, and she saw that he was hard.

Summoning all her remaining will and strength, Nina picked up her pace again. Her thighs were on fire, and she gulped desperately for air as she ran on. Farelli moved around behind her and she cried out between gasps as she felt the sudden sharp smack of his hand on her buttocks. "That's the whip," Farelli said hoarsely, and he smacked her again, harder. "Whipping the shit out of you. Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

Nina would have screamed for him, as though actually under the whip, but she had neither the breath nor the strength to do so. But she had no need to simulate pain and torment; these things had taken over her body, so that the impact of his hand on her ass was the least of it. She knew she could not go on much longer. Her upraised arms were numb, and every other part of her was shouting out for mercy.

"I can't..." she gasped desperately out at last. "I have to stop...I..."

"No!" Farelli smacked her again. And she went on. Until she couldn't any more. Her body simply gave out, and she fell to the floor with a cry, totally exhausted, her breasts heaving, her legs twitching uncontrollably, her mouth gulping and panting in a frenzied effort to take in air.

And then Farelli was on the floor with her, turning her onto her back, spreading her legs with his and pushing himself into her vagina. Kissing her gasping mouth and squeezing her breasts and pumping away at her heaving, depleted body. She was still struggling for breath when he shot triumphantly inside her.

November 23

The pair of pliers he took from his belt was solid and shiny. They felt cold on her skin. The cringing skin of her slightly bent, quiveringly fatted right buttock sphere. With finger and thumb of his left hand he plucked out a bud of flesh, held it, then pinched it in the pincers.

"Waaaaa..."

At first he did not use undue pressure. Then gradually Carol rose to the tips of her high-heeled shoes. Pressing shut the pliers, he gave her right cheek a long screwing pinch, twisting and turning the flesh in his grip from one side to the other, till she fought at his hands with her own, clenching her teeth forcing back the blood-curdling scream.

"Why didn't he tie her hands?" Farelli said. He was wearing only a robe, having just had a massage, and was seated in his usual chair as Nina read to him from the book she had brought. It was titled "Carol's Tribal Custom." The cover featured a black-and-white drawing of a scantily clad woman with her arms tied to an overhead pipe, while two bearded, bare-chested men looked on. "Tie her damn hands, she can't fight him that way."

"Well, they're at her office," Nina said. "He's got her in thls broom closet or whatever, and I guess he can't do anything too elaborate."

Farelli snorted. Nina went on reading.

She staggered back, breathless, realizing it was only after he had released her that the true white-hot fire of pain consumed her. She hopped miserably in front of him--"Christ! You don't have to do that to me, Bron."

But his gesture told her--the other cheek.

Wretchedly she leaned, to get it over with. This time he placed the pliers flat to her cheek and took a longer stretch of skin in its appalling grip.

"Hhhhh...aiiieee!"

She flung a hand to her mouth. She tugged heself out of his grip, moaning with the tearing burn of the terrible pinch....

"All right, now you've marked me, as you put it..."

But her knees went to water. His held-up fingers said--Two. Two more!

"No!" She was almost panicking by now. "Bron, you don't...I can't be expected to take any more. Don't you know I'm a respectable secretary." She half-sobbed the protests as her disobedient body obeyed him, turning, slowly bending, further over as he indicated, hands behind her back. Shudders rippled the insides of her thighs as she offered her bare ass to him, parted, aching, perfect.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Farelli broke in. "Why is she letting him? She doesn't like it, right? I mean this is not one of those damn masochists, she really hates it, right? So why the fuck is she doing what he wants? Why is she there in the first place, for Chrissake?"

"Well, you know, I guess sometimes a person has so much power over another person that she'll do what he wants whether she likes it or not. Even if it hurts her. You remember that woman in--"

"Nuts," Farelli said. "The broad is fucking nuts. But what the hell, at least she doesn't get off on it. Go ahead."

"Right under the cunt," he muttered behind her.

"No!" she whispered in a disbelieving plea. "I'll scream."

He paused, went to a shelf. A wet rag was stuffed into her mouth. And afterwards, recollecting the horror, she knew it was a cleaning rag.

"Nice," Farelli said.

He held her hands in his left, in the same viselike grip in which he had first held her; she was bent ignominiously over, with her head by her knees, unable to straighten, unable to collapse. The pliers in his right hand probed.

"Nnnngg!"

She tried to close her thighs--too late. The serrated jaws had taken a deep bite of her right labia; it squeezed her to a flame of sheer agony there, until she kicked and stamped. Then the screwing wrench began.

"Uinnnng!" She really thought she was going to vomit.

He drew it out for an endless minute, two, while a whine came from the depths of her gag. Then he let go and took her on the left, even closer to the quim.

When the waves of shattering pain had drawn their purple curtains from her eyes, she realized she was writhing like a cut worm, kneading her injured chubbies like so much molten dough.

"That's sweet," Farelli said. "How about her tits? Does he get her on the tits too?"

"No," Nina said. "But then he--"

"Why the hell not?" he demanded. "Christ, if he's gonna use pliers on her, the tits are the best place. Squeezing her nipples? Damn, she'd scream then all right. Gag or no gag."

"I'm sure you're right," Nina said. "But she--"

"Come on over here," Farelli said.

"You don't want me to--"

"No. Get over here, damn it."

Nina put the book down and went to stand in front of him. His robe was open now, and she could see that his cock was stirring. "Spread your legs."

She did so. His hand went between them. "Right here," he said, his fingers tweaking the skin high on her right thigh. "This is where he did it first."

His fingers were not painful, but Nina drew in a sharp, hissing breath and threw her head back. "Oh Christ!" she cried. "That hurts!"

"Yeah?" His hand slid highter. "This is where it really hurt," Farelli said, catching one of her cunt lips lightly between his fingers. "Right there."

"GAAAHHH!" She twisted her body, bending forward and clutching at his shoulders as if in agony, continuing to writhe until he released her.

"That's the girl," Farelli said. His penis was hardening now. "But you ain't seen nothing yet. Get on me. Come on, right up here."

His hands guided her as she climbed onto the big chair, straddling him with a knee on either side of his thighs. Reaching down, he held his still growing cock steady for her as she took it inside her and settled down onto it.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Now." A hand went to her breast, rubbed over the nipple. "This is where he shoulda done it," he muttered. The hand slid to her other nipple. "And here. Crushed the shit out of them. Then she'd--"

"No!" Nina exclaimed. "Oh god no, please, please don't do that to me, please. Please!"

Farelli grinned. He was completely hard inside her now. "Oh yeah," he said. "Oh, that's gonna hurt, girl. You're gonna hate this." His other hand rose, approached her breast. "Here's the pliers, right here."

Nina shrank back. "No," she whimpered, tensing her body to make herself tremble. "Oh Jesus no, don't do it, please, I'm begging you, I'll do anything, please..."

"Remember you can't scream too loud," Farelli said, scissoring her right nipple lightly between his index and middle fingers. "All those people right outside in the office and all." And he brought his fingers together around her nipple. The pressure was negligible, but Nina clenched her teeth, a high-pitched, keening whine forcing itself between them. She went stiff all over, the tension causing her body to rise slightly, though not far enough to dislodge his cock. He moved his hand to her other breast, and her eyes went wide as she let out a fearful-sounding moan.

"No!" she pleaded frantically, her voice hoarse and rasping, as though trying not to shout out the words. "No more, for god's sake, please no more, ohhh noooo..." And as Farelli closed his fingers her words turned into a shriek of simulated agony, which she again tried to contain behind her gritted teeth; but as he twisted his fingers slightly her mouth gradually opened and the shriek became louder and shriller. She jerked and twisted about wildly now, her body bouncing up and down on his cock. She flung herself backwards, as if trying desperately and vainly to get away from the punishing pliers; then screamed more loudly than ever and lunged forward, pushing herself against him and howling, babbling, pleading into his ear, until Farelli emptied himself inside her with a cry.

"Shit, girl," he laughed when he had regained his breath. "You must've woke up the whole damn office. You're really in for it now."

"Why?" Nina said. "You think I'll get fired?"

"Nah, you'll probably fuck the boss to keep your job. But every guy in that place will be jealous. They'll all want to do what I did."

"But you wouldn't let them, would you?" Nina said.

"Hell no," Farelli replied. "Nobody gets you from now on. Nobody but me. From now on. You got that, right?"

"Oh yes," Nina said. "I've got that."

November 24

"Actually there are three stories in this book," Nina said. "There's lots of whipping, but there's other stuff too, especially in the second one. I know you like the wooden horse, and this girl gets put on one, and then she gets--"

"I don't give a shit," Farelli said. He seemed to be in a particularly sour mood this evening. He had been naked when Nina came in, sitting in his chair, a bottle of whiskey on the table. He reached out and took the book from her hands. "Bride of the Lash," he read, and snorted. "How do they come up with these things? And what's this for, is this supposed to be in France or something?" He indicated the small drawing of the Eiffel tower at the bottom left corner of the book cover.

"No, I think that's just a sort of symbol that company used, it was on one of the other books too. The one about the treadmill, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember that one," Farelli grinned.

"No, I don't think it says where the story actually takes place," Nina went on. "It's about this young girl who's sent to some kind of discipline school, only she's the only pupil there, and this man subjects her to all kinds of--"

"Yeah, I get it, I get it," Farelli said. "And you're gonna read it to me, right? And then you're gonna act it out, and I'm gonna get all hot and bothered and fuck the shit out of you, and won't wanna whip you anymore. I got the fucking routine memorized, okay? And then what, you go back to Charlie and the two of you have a big laugh at how you bamboozled the big boss again? Is that it?"

"No, Mr. Farelli," Nina said. "No, that's not it at all. First of all, I don't laugh at you, I would never do that. And as for Charlie, I told you I don't see him much these days. He's avoiding me because he feels guilty about giving me to you. He doesn't know anything about what goes on here, and he doesn't want to. He certainly doesn't know that I've been rummaging around in his books and stuff. And--"

"All right, all right, shut up already," Farelli broke in. "Jesus, you talk a lot." There was silence for a minute, and then he said, "How's Charlie gonna feel about me taking you with me when I leave?"

Nina took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. "As you've said, Mr. Farelli, Charlie is a very loyal person. And he knows you're the boss. He'll go along with whatever you want, you know that. You told me that yourself, very graphically. remember?"

"And what about you?" Farelli said.

Nina said nothing. Farelli waited. Finally she met his eyes. "I think you know the answer to that, Mr. Farelli."

"Yeah," Farelli said, glowering at her. "You think--" He stopped. He said nothing for a long time. "Yeah, well, tough titty," he muttered finally. "Now get the fuck out of here."

"But don't you want me to--"

"No. I'm tired of the fucking sight of you. Get the hell out."

Nina put her clothes on and went to the door.

"Fuck you!" Farelli called after her. "I'm through with you, you fucking bitch. I'm gonna let Rick and Frank have you from now on!"

Nina had her hand on the doorknob, but something in his voice made her turn around. And something in the way he was looking at her made her bold enough to speak. "I thought you said you didn't want anybody else to have me but you," she said.

Farelli got up out of his chair and started toward her. Nina didn't move. "Yeah, well I changed my mind," Farelli said. "That's what you fucking deserve, a couple of animals like them. I'm gonna tell them to be rough with you too. No holding back. Anything they want, that's what I'll tell them. You think that'll be fun, huh? You think that'll hand you a laugh, you smart-ass cunt?"

"No," Nina said. "No, I don't. Are you going to let them whip me too?"

"Damn right. And I'm gonna be there to watch. I'm gonna watch it all. Watch them fuck you in every goddam hole you got, fuck your fucking brains out, both of them at once. And if that's not enough for you, I'll call in some more guys. Dozens of 'em. They can fuck you till you're fucking dead." He was standing in front of her now. "That's what you deserve, you cold-cunted whore!"

"And you'd enjoy that, would you, Mr. Farelli?" Nina said. She was quivering, but she looked him straight in the eye. "Watching me being gang raped? Would that really give you pleasure?"

"Hell, yeah!" Farelli snarled. "Watching them banging you, man after man, screwing you two and three at once, on and on till you go crazy with it. Yeah, you wouldn't be such a clever smart-ass then, would you, you bitch?"

"No," Nina said. "I guess I wouldn't."

"No. You'd be screaming and crying and begging them to stop. Fucking begging them. You'd be--"

"But they wouldn't," Nina said.

"Goddam right they wouldn't. They'd hold you down and fuck you till you were too weak to fight back and they wouldn't have to hold you anymore. But they'd still hurt you plenty."

"And I'd be screaming," Nina said. "Struggling and fighting and screaming, but it wouldn't be any use. And you'd--"

"Goddam you!" Farelli spat out. He reached out for her and with one violent movement tore open her blouse. His hand went back, and for a moment Nina thought he was going to hit her face or her breasts, but he didn't. Instead he grabbed her with both hands and pulled her to the floor, falling on top of her, frenziedly pushing her skirt up out of the way, ripping off her panties. His legs were between hers, spreading them, and then he was pushing into her, his cock as hard as she had ever felt it.

"Fucking you," he gasped out, moving now, plunging in and out of her. "Fucking you now, you bitch. You whore. You sweet fucking cunt. Fucking..."

Nina wrapped her arms and legs around him now, moving with him, matching his rhythm. 'Yes," she panted. "Fucking me. Rick and Frank and all those men. Fucking me and I'm fighting and screaming and there's nothing I can--"

Farelli raised himself up for a moment and swunt his right hand, slapping her face hard. "No!" he rasped out. "No! It's me. Me! I'm fucking you, me! Me! Dino Farelli! Me!"

"Yes," Nina moaned. "Yes. You." She moved harder then, plastering herself against him, clutching him hard. His mouth came down on hers and she opened her mouth, taking his tongue, sucking on it, moaning around it.

"Sweet...fucking...bitch..." Farelli gasped out a moment later, and shot into her, his breath rattling in his throat. He collapsed on top of her and lay there for a long time, his lungs heaving, until Nina began to worry. But he crawled off her finally and sat down on the floor, leaning against a wall.

Nina sat up slowly, pulling down her skirt. Her blouse and panties were ruined. Farelli was not looking at her. He was staring ahead of him, still panting heavily. Nina waited, but he said nothing.

"Shall I go now, Mr. Farelli?" she asked finally.

"No," Farelli said.

She waited. There was nothing more.

"Would you like me to--"

"Shut up," Farelli said.

She waited.

After a few minutes, when his breathing had returned to normal, he looked over at her as if seeing her for the first time. She waited.

He took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "Read me from the fucking book."

"Now?" Nina said, surprised.

"Yes, now, goddam it."

Nina picked up the book from where she had dropped it when Farelli had attacked her. Finding the page she wanted, she said, "This man, the headmaster of the school, has this sexy maid, Jeanette, who helps him tie the girl up and--"

"Fucking read."

Nina read.

"Sit yourself astride," commanded Jeanette, and helped the naked girl to place herself upon the angle of the boards, with a leg hanging down each sloping side. Cynthia winced as the not inconsiderable weight of her own body caused the hard edge to dig into the softness of her ripe, young cunt. She braced herself with her hands to ease the strain, but this was not allowed!

"Hands behind your back, mam'selle," commanded Jeanette. Reluctantly Cynthia obeyed and quickly her gloved hands were handcuffed behind her. There was no chance of relieving herself now...

But she had not finished. The maid now attached to each ankle a weight...of 5 lbs on each leg. The nude girl felt the extra burden on her pussy quite distinctly...

Edward, meanwhile, had seated himself in an easy chair, in the shade, only a few feet from the naked Cynthia, and contemplated the spectacle before him as Jeanette finally departed. The lovely flesh was already moist with sweat, it gleamed as she moved and quivered. Little gasps came from Cynthia's lips; already her slit felt as though it were slowly splitting...

Cynthia groaned with anguish...The naked, sweating girl was writhing, she raised her stiffened legs as far as the limited movement of their weight shackles permitted, but nothing she could do could bring any ease to her stretched cunt. Her bare body seemed to be baking in the hot sun as it beat down on her.

"They're out on some kind of balcony," Nina said. "Then they put more weight on her legs. Twenty pounds."

"Good," Farelli said, but his tone was listless. His head was back against the wall, his eyes looking at the ceiling as he listened to Nina's voice.

Cynthia held in her anguish as much as possible, but it became too much, so she began to sob and whimper, tears coursed down her cheeks, her bare tits heaved to her gasps and sobs. Edward nodded appreciatively.

"It wouldn't be the worst fucking thing in the world," Farelli said suddenly.

Nina looked up, puzzled. "What?"

"If I take you with me. You could do a hell of a lot worse, you know."

"I don't--"

"You said Charlie keeps you in comfort, well I can keep you a hell of a lot better than he can. I can give you any damn thing you want."

"If I live," Nina said.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" He looked at her then, his eyes flashing momentarily. Then he leaned his head back again. "Go on, read more."

"Mr.--"

"Read, damn it! So the guy is sitting there watching her, right?"

"Yes. That's what he does. He sits there enjoying her pain and torment. Drinking it in. I don't think he ever actually fucks her. Oh wait, yes, I guess he does, come to think of it. But I think he enjoys watching her suffer even more."

"Get on with it," Farelli said.

"Well, the next day they do a variation of the horse," Nina said, turning the page.

Cynthia saw that the wooden horse had disappeared. In its place was a low stand upon which she could see a yardbrush lying. She observed that the bristles had been cut the same shape as the wooden horse.

Jeanette took charge again. "Stand upon the platform, with a leg each side of the brush-head," she commanded. Reluctantly the naked girl obeyed. Once she was in position the maid bent down and began to turn a handle. Cynthia felt the yardbrush begin to rise up between her legs...

"Up on your toes, mam'selle," came the order and, as she obeyed, the brush-head followed her up, until it came to rest touching the ripe lips of her cunt. She felt the first prick of her pussy as the bristles touched it...

The young Frenchwoman then handcuffed Cynthia's gloved wrists as before...and departed, leaving her with Edward, having anchored the girl's ankles to the support of the brush-head.

For quite a while Cynthia held her position on tiptoe, resisting the growing desire of her straining arches to sag, but at last her body began to settle, until she felt the touch and prick of the bristles on her still very sore gash. The bristles had been cut at an angle to form the shape of the wedge and thus were rather more sharp than would otherwise heave been the case. Gingerly she tried to let herself down upon them...but as her body sank lower her full weight pressed her cunt upon the spiky bristles and a gasp of pain left her lips. With a convulsive effort Cynthia jerked herself up again...

Cynthia's arches could support her weight no longer. Again the soft, tender flesh of her ripe twat settled upon the bristles and this time she could not summon forth the strength to heave herself up. Whimpers of pain came from her lips as the throb grew down below.

` Satisfied as to the effect of this cruel discipline, Edward lay back in his armchair, admiring the voluptuous spectacle that the totally nude girl presented, writhing and trembling in pain and once more glistening with sweat in the hot sun. As time passed he drowsed off, while poor Cynthia groaned and cried and from time to time lifted her raw slit off the spiky bristles, only to settle down on them again as her feet tired once more.

"I don't need your damn permission," Farelli said. "I don't need Charlie's damn permission. I don't need anything. I want to take you I'll take you. You understannd that, right?"

"Of course I do," Nina said. "You've made that abundantly clear, Mr. Farelli."

"Can the Mr. Farelli shit, for Christ sake. Call me Dino, okay? Christ, you fucking know me well enough by now."

"All right," Nina said.

"I know you don't--I know you think--"

Nina waited.

"Shit," Farelli said then. "You done reading now?"

"Well, there was just one more part i thought--"

"Read it."

Nina turned a few more pages.

Jeanette led Cynthia out onto the balcony where Edward was waiting.The girl was completely naked...

"Stand with your back to the wall, mam'selle," commanded the maid..."Now, arms above the head, full stretch." Cynthia obeyed in silence. The young Frenchwoman... secured them by straps to two rings that hung from above...before bending to turn a crank fixed into the wall. Almost immediately, the naked beauty felt an upward pull on her raised arms and she rose on tiptoe to avoid being wound up as a dead weight.

Jeanette wound slowly until she was satisfied that Cynthia was fully stretched, even though she was now on tiptoe...The long-limbed girl was seemingly very tall in her tip to toe stretch, while the fine sculpture of her splendid torso was accentuated by her upstraining posture. The muscles of her belly showed hard and firm, while her lovely erect breasts were even more prominently displayed.

Edward seated himself in his low chair, almost directly in front of the naked beauty...

Cynthia was a strong girl, and this...enabled her to avoid undue fatighe for some time, especially as she introduced a method of standing on one foot while she flexed the other and bent the leg to delay the onset of cramps...Edward watched this performance with pleased admiration...

However, her upstretched arms began to cramp and eventually as her arches tired, Cynthia's weight settled upon her upper limbs and armpits...Her gasping breathing became more open, sobs and moans began to leave her parted lips, while the vigor of her irregular breathing agitated the proud mounds of her lovely titties...

The pain grew to unbearable proportions. Cynthia was crying and sobbing bitterly and cries and whimpers where sounding steadily...

Edward watched her reactions and endurance closely, particularly as he was going to flog the girl well in a few days' time.

"Yeah," Farelli said. "I fucking bet he is. What the fuck is he waiting for?"

Nina said nothing.

"That's what you're scared of, right?" Farelli muttered. "Being whipped, being... whatever." He paused again. "Well, okay," he said then. "I know I been saying I'm gonna do it all along, and Christ knows I wanted to. But you--" He looked at her for a moment, then looked away. "Shit," he said. "I don't know what the fuck you did to me, but you did something. Not just because of those fucking books either." Another pause. "Okay, look. Suppose I say I won't. Just suppose. Suppose I say I won't whip you, I won't...you know, hurt you or kill you or anything. And my word is good, damn it, everybody knows that! If I give you my word on that...that makes things different, right?"

Nina said nothing for a long minute. She felt numb. "Are you saying that, Mr. Farelli?" she got out finally.

"Dino, damn it!"

"Dino. Are you?"

"If you...well...yeah. Suppose I am. Yeah. So you don't have to be scared of me anymore, right? So you might feel different about...being with me and all. Right?"

The numbness was replaced by a rush of confusing emotions. She was flooded by a vast sense of relief, almost of release, that left her weak. At the same time there was a new kind of wariness in her. A new kind of fear.

She swallowed. "I don't understand, Mr.--Dino. As you say, if you want me you don't need my permission. What is it you want me to say?"

"Shit," Farelli muttered. "Give me a break, okay? I just want you to...to not be scared of me. And...and not hate me, okay? To just...not make it like I'm fucking kidnapping you or something. I mean it might not be so bad, you know? If you...if you just give it a fucking chance."

Nina drew a long breath. "So you're making a bargain with me, is that it? If I go with you, willingly and--and uncomplainingly...then you'll promise not to torture me or hurt me. Physically. Is that it, Mr.--Dino?"

Farelli looked at her. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were bleak. He was silent for several moments. "Okay," he said flatly then. "Yeah. Fine. Put it that way. Yeah."

"And if I don't?" Nina forced herself to say.

Farelli slumped back against the wall, his head back, looking at the ceiling again. He said nothing.

"All right," Nina said finally. "All right, Mr. Farelli. It's a deal."

And she turned her face away to hide her tears.

November 25

When she entered the room, Farelli was lying on the small table receiving a massage from Rick, as he had been the first night she had met him. Automatically she began to take off her clothes, but Farelli stopped her.

"Hold on, damn it," he said. "Rick here doesn't have to see everything you got. I know he's seen it all already--and had it all too--but not any more, okay? Get the fuck out, Rick."

Rick left without a word.

Farelli sat up on the table, the towel that had draped his lower body falling away. "Okay, now," he said.

Nina stripped quickly.

"Gorgeous," Farelli said. "Fucking gorgeous. Why would I share that with anybody else? That's mine, damn it. It's all mine now. Bring it over here, girl."

Nina picked up the book she had put down when she undressed and began to move toward him.

"Forget the fucking book," Farelli said. Nina put it down again and crossed the room to stand in front of him.

"Now kiss me, girl," Farelli said.

Nina moved closer to the table, so that she was standing between his knees. She brought her head forward and placed her lips against his. When she felt his tongue she opened them and let it push into her mouth. After a moment Farelli drew away.

"You can do better than that, girl," he muttered. "I damn well know that. I want you to kiss me like you mean it, okay?"

Nina closed her eyes and kissed him again. This time she forced herself to put everything she had into the kiss, responding to his passion and utilizing her own mouth and tongue to maximize his pleasure. When it ended he was breathing heavily.

"That's better," he said then. "That wasn't so hard, right, girl?"

"It's funny," Nina said. "There's a scene in that book I brought that's--I mean, it's kind of like--well, I mean, this man is keeping this girl in his house, you know, and in this scene he comes in and tells her to kiss him, and she--well, she..."

"She doesn't want to, right?" Farelli said.

"But she does, because he's already hurt her, and she's--"

"She's scared of him. That he'll hurt her some more."

"And he does. That's the part I--"

"This guy is keeping her prisoner, right?"

"Well, yes, see she's a snobby fashion model or something, and she was nasty to him when he tried to hit on her, so he..."

"I get it. So she hates his guts but she kisses him anyway, because he scares the shit out of her. Just like you, right?"

"That's not what I--"

"Fuck it's not." Farelli stood up, shoving her out of the way and moving to his chair. He sat down and picked up the bottle from the small table beside him. He took a drink. "Didn't I fucking tell you I wouldn't hurt you?" he said, almost snarling. "Did I give you my fucking word or what? Huh?"

"And I believe you, Mr. Farelli. Dino. I didn't mean..."

"What the fuck did you mean then? And what the fuck was that phony kiss about? Damn, you can kiss me all right when you're acting out one of those fucking books. And it feels more real too. What's your fucking problem, girl?"

"I'm not sure just what it is you want, Mr.--Dino," Nina said after a pause. "If you--I mean, I can't feel--" She paused again. She took a breath. "Just because you've promised not to hurt me and all--it doesn't mean that you can make me love you, Mr. Farelli."

Farelli just looked at her, his eyes as hard as she had ever seen them. She forced herself to meet his gaze. Finally he picked up the bottle and took another drink. "Love me?" he snorted then. "Shit, I can't even get you to call me by my first name."

"I'm sorry, Dino," Nina said. "I'll try to remember."

Farelli put the bottle down. "Look, you don't have to love me, for Chrissakes. I mean, shit, I know I'm an ugly old fart, and even when I was young I was never a goddam movie star or anything. But--"

"That's not--"

"Shut up," Farelli snapped. "But you're coming with me when I leave, like we said. We're gonna be together. You and me. That makes you like my girlfriend. So you might at least--"

"No," Nina said boldly. "That makes me your whore."

"Fuck!" Farelli said. He drank again. "Call it what you fucking want. But you're mine. So you might as well try to like me a little bit, at least. Right? Fuck love, I don't know nothing about love, but you don't even like me. You're gonna come with me 'cause you're scared as shit not to, but you still can't stand me, right?"

Nina took a breath. "Whores don't have feelings, Mr.--Dino."

"Bullshit!"

He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild. For a moment Nina thought he was going to come out of his chair at her, but he didn't. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay, whore. If that's how you want it, fine. You're my whore. Okay, whore, now you can read me out of that book and then I'll fuck the whore shit out of you. Go on!"

Nina went to get the book, which was titled "Kerry's Keeper." The cover illustration showed the upper half of a reclining blonde woman, her breasts mostly exposed by a flimsy pink nightgown, with the partial figure of a man standing above her. Nina found the place she wanted. "This is just after--"

"Just fucking read it, whore."

Nina read.

He took a pair of leather wrist bands from the closet, and...strapped them on her. Then he pressed a button, and a chain descended from the ceiling. He attached the chain to the juncture of the cuffs. Then he pointed to a spot on the floor marked by red lines, and told her to place her knees on the lines. When she did, she was squatting on her knees, thighs spread apart in a wide inverted V, legs on the floor behind her. He pressed another button, and leather straps came out of the floor to imprison her legs at the calves and ankles. Then he pressed the button which regulated the chain attached to the ceiling, adjusting its height. When it was completed, Kerry was naked in the middle of the room on her knees, feet apart, her arms over her head to exactly the correct rigid point short of agony, her body pulled absolutely erect by the chain. He pressed the button and raised the chain another inch, just to make her scream and show her he could do it, and then he brought it back to its proper level again.

He squatted on the floor in front of her. "Now, my dear, we will conduct our little experiment."...

Then he put a hand on her armpit, groped with his fingers until he found the nerve, and pressed.

Had the room not been soundproofed, Kerry's scream would have been audible for blocks.

He did the same thing under her other armpit. The scream was not quite so loud this time, because the first one had weakened her.

Then he placed his hands on her breasts, gently and teasingly at first, then gradually increasing the pressure until the pain drove the color from her face and she screamed again. He did not stop at that point, but increased the pressure again, ever more and more, until Kerry gave a hoarse little gurgle, and her head slumped down on her chest. She had fainted.

He went over to the closet, and took out a fine old bottle of brandy. After he had taken a sip for himself and decided that it was perfectly good brandy, he pulled her head back and poured some down her open throat until she sputtered awake.

"Fucking waste of good liquor," Farelli muttered.

Nina went on reading.

"I don't know whether or not you enjoy drinking so early in the day, my dear," he said, "but it's really not much fun unless you participate."

Then he put his hand on the inside of her thigh, and let it slide insinuatingly up, past the smooth, supple muscles he was so fond of watching, until he found his target. He clutched and squeezed then, suddenly, shockingly, remorselessly. Her screams were louder than before, and would have terrified anyone who heard them. He kept it up until she started to spasm, retching huge dry gasps of air up out of her stomach, and then she fainted again, a thin trickle of brandy coming out of the corner of her mouth.

He waited this time until she came awake naturally. It took nearly twenty minutes. She stared at him out of dead, hopeless eyes.

"You really disappoint me, my dear," he said. "I would have thought you'd have much more stamina than this. Especially when you consider that we've hardly started yet. There are so much more inventive things that can be done with...instruments. Shall we try?"

It all came out as one word: "...pleasenomore..."...

He took the chain away from her wrist bands, and she slumped over onto the floor...

He had pressed another button, and a large steel ring had come out of the floor not quite six feet behind her. Taking her by the wrists, he bent her back, her calves and ankles still chained to the floor, so that from the knees up, her body formed one sweet, taut, perfect bow. Her wrists were still imprisoned over her head. Her weight rested on her shoulders and the back of her head. He attached the wrist bands to the ring on the floor and there she was. Totally helpless, totally vulnerable. She was one lovely arc, her supple belly the highest point, her breasts, full but stretched to flatness by their position, interesting little hillocks on the downward slope.

"You're not going to...?" she managed to start to say.

"Of course I am, my dear," he said conversationally, and then he fell on her.

He found the method eminently gratifying. She was strong, she was resilient, she was stretched near to breaking. She could not, in her oddly manacled position, touch, caress, kiss, could not initiate any action. She could only twist and writhe and make interesting little side shunts. It was, he found, like making love to a coiled spring. You pushed the spring down, and it bounced back. You scrunched it down into the floor, and it snapped back up at you. The whole experience had the shape of loading a single-action Red Ryder B-B gun. With differences, of course. Red Ryder B-B guns did not yell or scream or moan or holler or shift suddenly from side to side or balk or swear to do anything if only that single-action were stopped. With those possibly significant differences, it was like a Red Ryder B-B gun. Not to mention that a Red Ryder B-B gun, after having been loaded, seldom leaves its loader spent and exhausted in a pool of sweat on the floor.

"Red fucking Ryder?" Farelli snorted. "Who the hell remembers Red Ryder anymore? Who remembers B-B guns, for that matter. How old is this damn book anyway?"

"I don't know," Nina said. "Do you want me to go on, Mr. Fa--Dino? There's another part where--"

"No," he cut in. "Fuck it. Enough already. I'm tired of this shit. I don't need a fucking book to fuck you, you're my whore, right? I want to fuck you I'll fuck you. Come over here and give me a blow job and then I'll fuck your whore brains out."

Nina put down the book, went over to his chair and got down on her knees in front of him. His cock was flaccid. She took it in her mouth and worked it over with her lips and tongue. It hardened a bit, but not much. After a few minutes Farelli pulled away from her. "Shit!" he snorted. "What the fuck kind of whore are you, can't even get me fucking hard?" He reached for the bottle again and took a drink.

"Maybe if I was the girl in the book," Nina said. Still on her knees, she spread them apart and straightened her body, kneeling upright, her arms reaching high over her head, her breasts pushing out toward him. "You have me tied this way and I'm at your mercy," she said, looking into his eyes. "You can hurt me all you want, find my pressure points and make me scream, squeeze my breasts until I pass out. I'm helpless, you can do anything you want to me."

Farelli's cock stirred a little, but he did not move. "Make you fucking scream," he muttered.

"Yes. Make me scream for you. All you want."

"Okay, whore," Farelli said. "Scream for me."

Nina screamed.

Farelli laughed.

"Shit!" he snorted. He took another drink. "Forget it, girl. It's not working anymore. Show's over. Get the fuck out of here."

Nina did not give up. Slowly and carefully, she leaned back and lowered herself to the floor, until she was stretched out in the final posture of the girl in the book, her body in a painful arch, her lower legs bent beneath her, thighs wide apart, arms still pulled far above her head, nipples pointing upward, all of her taut, straining, open and helpless.

"Oh god, no!" she gasped out. "No, please. Please don't!" She shifted her body slightly, straining upward as though trying to pull against her imaginery restraints. "No, please! NOOOooooo...."

"Oh, you're good, girl," Farelli rasped, his eyes moving over her. "Yeah, you're good all right. Little whore." He slid out of his chair then and lowered himself on top of her. Nina did not have to feign her cries and whimpers as his weight came down on her, but she put as much fear and anguish into them as she could muster up.

Farelli brought his mouth to her breasts and sucked on them fiercely. She felt him rubbing his cock against her thighs. It was still less than semi-hard. He positioned himself between the open thighs and pressed his groin against hers. Nothing happened. Finally, with a roar of rage and frustration, he pulled away from her.

"Fuck you!" he shouted. "Get the fuck out of here, you bitch! You fucking got me all screwed up now, you conniving little cunt! Get out! Get the hell out!!"

Nina grabbed up her clothes, but he continued to scream for her to get out with such ferocity that she rushed out the door still naked, and had to dress in the hallway. Through the closed door she could still hear him shouting with rage.

November 26

She was a little apprehensive when she entered the room the next night, but to her relief Farelli seemed fairly calm. As she undressed he picked up the book she had brought in. The cover was another black and white drawing, this one showing a naked woman crouching on her hands and knees on the floor, while another woman in a corset and stockings stood above her holding a riding crop.

"'A Degraded Heroine,'" Farelli said, reading out the title. "That sounds good. But why just the two broads?"

"Don't worry," Nina told him. "There's a man too, you'll see. This is about a gorgeous young actress who plays superheroines in the movies. She's taken prisoner by a former movie star who's all jealous and bitter, and who has abducted several other young actresses too. She and a couple of her friends--including this guy who works for her--tie them up and do a lot of stuff to them, but I'll just concentrate on our heroine, because--"

"Fuck that," Farelli growled. "I wanna hear it all."

"I don't think you want me to read the whole book, Dino, or even this whole chapter. It would take too long, and besides--"

"You'll read what I fucking tell you to read!" Farelli growled. "I'm not going any fucking place, are you?"

Nina allowed herself a soft sigh. "All right, Dino," she said. "Do you want me to start from the beginning and just--"

"Oh shit," Farelli muttered. "Okay, read what you want. Christ, I don't know why I put up with this. But listen, girl," he added more sharply. "I never in my life let any broad cut my fucking balls off, and I'm not starting now. Don't go too far, because I could still--Oh Christ, read the damn thing."

Nina opened the book to the page she had marked.

When Jill recovered consciousness, it was to discover that she was the central figure in an ugly basement tableau.

She was painfully spreadeagled on the cement floor, arms and legs drawn out and secured to four of the rings set in that cold surface. Her eyes looked up at the beamed ceiling through a glaze of pain. Her arms throbbed, felt prickly, and cold....

Jill tightened her muscles, but there wasn't a millimeter of play in the ropes securing her in a great human X to the metal loops....

Margo came immediately to stand over the supinely bound Jill...

"Judith, slip that board under the small of her back, crosswise," she said, like a general preparing for battle. "Vic: when we lift this dumb cunt, you slip the jack under the plank. All right--now!"

The plank was a 2 X 6 a foot and a half long that protruded on either side of Jill's back. Judith and Margo each caught one end and lifted, bringing the bound girl painfully up off the floor with her bonds dragging mercilessly at her wrists and ankles. Squatting, Vic wedged the jack under the board. Now there was not a hint of slack in the cords; Jill's arms and legs--her entire body--were stretched as taut as the ropes. Her shoulder sockets, her ankles, her hips where her tensing thighs joined her body--all were one angry throbbing pain.

"Yeah, I like the picture," Farelli said, grinning. "You're gonna show me how that looks later, right, baby?"

"Of course," Nina said.

"Yeah, and what if I tied you that way for real?"

"I guess I couldn't stop you, Dino," Nina said. "But I hope you won't do to me what they go on to do to her. After all, you--"

"Yeah, yeah. Well I don't have a damn jack here. Keep going."

Vic bent enthusiastically to his task. Inserting the handle into the jack, he locked it and pumped once, twice, three times.

The pain was excruciating. A simple thing, nothing ornate or uncomplicated. Just a helpless young wooman secured tightly to the floor by her X-splayed limbs, with a common bumper jack under her board-protected back--inexorably lifting....

A shriek ripped from Jill's lips against her will, for she had vowed not to cry out. The pitiful sound lashed back from the basement's stone walls. There was no slack in the ropes. No stretch. None in the rings mounted in the floor. Certainly there was no give in the cement floor itself. There was one yielding, resilient, stretchable factor.

The exquisite litheness of Jill Saxon's body.

It bowed upward from the pressure of the jack under the small of her back, dragged down by the ropes now tearing viciously at her leather-encased wrists and ankles. Her arms popped, her legs cracked. Tendons stood starkly out and hollows formed where none had previously shown. Every rib fought against skin that tightened like sailcloth in a tempest, each individual rod trying to burst free of fleshly confinement. Bones strove to wrench free of their sockets. Flesh threatened to tear. Muscles strained and nerves and blood vessels threatened to burst asunder, all signaling their unbearable stress with awful, flaming pain....

"She's...fantastic," Vic whispered with unconcealed admiration....

Margo chuckled."Sexy, Vic?"

"Dear...god...yes!"

"Then...then take her...dear boy...split the stupid slut up the middle!"

A great shudder ran through the young groundskeeper ....When he used both hands to tug down the zip of his jeans, his bulbously ripe cock sprang free and jerked convulsively, ramrod stiff and intimidating....

"Uh--unnnnngh...uhmm," Jill groaned, totally unable to move, as he began to pressure the broad plum of his cockhead into her.

Her position and his height brought their loins into perfect conjunction--but also tightened her up, compressing and down-turning the narrow cavern of her cunt so that it was tighter than a virgin's...and she felt every agonizing moment of his entry....

Like it or not, she could not help her moans. They were all she had, she could not tense up--she was already taut in every tendon and centimeter of her skin. She could not writhe, for the same reason.

She could only take it, her arms and legs dragged down, her head falling back so that her long, black-dyed hair swept the floor--and the luscious pink hillock of her mount thrust up as if seeking what it got, a slow, deep, and painful distention, and then a thorough reaming.

"Christ, I hope she's not gonna start enjoying it!" Farelli said.

"No, don't worry," Nina told him. "Not this one. She's not enjoying it a bit."

"Well thank God for that," Farelli said.

The bound beauty's narrowly-pressed sheath was slowly and forcibly distended by the big bar of hot flesh seeking a home in her.

Standing between her obscenely parted thighs and thus able to move with all the power of his legs, her rapist ground his crotch into hers, abraded her pussy-mound with the zipper of his jeans, jarred the body so that the bondage increased her agony, and sleeved his hard huge cock to its hairy hilt in the liquid subterranean folds of her vagina.

She groaned and shuddered. Even that tiny movement added to her discomfort. With him now straining against her, every millimeter of that depredating skewer was crammed into her, forced downward by the position of her body and the enforced tightness and grotesquely changed shape of her cunt.

The fully-clothed rapist groaned and grunted... piledriving his big tumid tool into her with strong surges of his hips.

His hard thumping of her up-bowed body filled the dungeon-like basement with sweaty sounds, the creaking of ropes, and sent agonizing tingles surging through the recipient of the brutal fucking.

The taut-stretched girl's entire body was bathed in perspiration and anguished moans tore from her soft, quivering lips....

As his crotch pounded hers, toothy zipper biting her cuntlips and darkening their pink hue, the succulent curves of her tits quaked and quivered incessantly....

Constant groans and gasps of ineffable pleasure poured from Vic's mouth, mingling with the pained moans of the unwilling recipient of his driving dick.....

He grunted and shuddered, actually feeling pain, for the super-sensitive head of his hard-on was cramming into the spongy head of her cervix, far, far down inside her.

Now he began really working on her and in her, pumping her agonized body with his thick stave completely buried in her intimate sexual regions. Ropes creaked tautly. Her body vibrated like a hammered drum.

"O-o-ohh shit!" he gasped out. "I...may never be able...to stand balling a willing chick...again!"

"Yes!" Farelli said loudly. "Yes, damn it, that's right! This guy knows where it's at, all right. It's what I been telling you all along. Once you know what it's like to have a girl who's really hurting, who's screaming and crying and begging--for real, I mean--then doing it with some broad who wants it is like--"

"I know, I know," Nina said. "It's like eating hamburger instead of steak. You've told me that many times, Dino. But you still--"

"Yeah, I know, you can turn me on with your fucking books and stuff. But it's still not the same. You can act unwilling, and get me hot, but deep down I know it's still an act. And anyway, it's not just that now, it's...well, you know...it's that I go for you..."

Nina said nothing.

"But it's still not the same," Farelli repeated. "Damn it, I still want that damn steak! I need it. And I'll damn well be getting it, you gotta know that. Not from you, but from someplace. Okay, enough with the book. Show me how you'd look all atretched out like that. With a jack pumping away." He got up and began to undress.

"Wait," Nina said. "Do you mean--"

"Don't tell me wait, goddamit! I tell you to do something, you do it! I told you, I'm still the fucking boss around here. Stretch!"

"All right," Nina said. She took some cushions from the bed and placed them in a small pile on the floor. Then she lay down with the cushions under her back, causing her body to arch sharply. She spread herself out, arms and legs flung wide and straining, pulling her taut. Her breasts rose and tightened, and her upthrust hips put her vagina on blatant display, its lips parted as if in invitation between her wide-open thighs.

"Oh yeah," Farelli said, pulling off the last of his clothes. "That looks good all right. I'm gonna love fucking you with that jack going."

"Dino," Nina said, her voice a little strained with the effort of keeping herself stretched out, "do you mean you're still going to...to do those things...to women...after we...after I go with you? You'd still..."

"Shit, what do you think?" Farelli said. Naked now, he got down and positioned himself between her quivering legs. "You think you reformed me with all this bullshit? This has got nothing to do with you and me, girl. You don't even have to know anything about it. It's my business."

"But you--"

"Shut up!" Farelli growled, and she gave a little cry as he thrust all the way into her with one powerful stroke.

"But Dino, for god's--"

"Shut up, I said! Goddamit, I don't wanna hear any more about that! You got that? Never! I'm gonna do what I fucking want, and you got nothing to say about it. Now show me how it feels with that jack underneath you, and make it good, or by god--"

Nina proceeded to put on her act for him, screaming and straining and howling as though she were actually being torn limb from limb, until Farelli with a hoarse shout spilled his seed into her writhing body. But this time there was a different kind of screaming going on somewhere deep inside her, and that scream was not faked at all.

November 27

"'Pussy Island,' my ass," Farelli snorted. "Where's the picture?"

There was no picture. On the plain red cover, in addition to the title and the author's name, there were a few lines of prose blurbing the book's contents, but that was all.

"There's no picture," Nina said flatly. "You can't always have pictures, Dino. You have to take what you can get in this world."

Farelli looked at her sharply. "Yeah, you should know, right? That what you're saying?"

"I'm not saying anything, Dino. You want me to tell you about the book? Or just read?"

"Fuck the book. What's your problem, girl? Is this about--"

"I don't have a problem," Nina said. Her voice was toneless. "Why would I have a problem? I'm set for life, right? I'm the boss's... whatever. You're gonna give me the best of everything, right? And when you die I should be well enough off to get along fine. Right? So why should I have a problem?"

"Yeah, 'cept I ain't gonna die," Farelli grinned. "But yeah, you'll be fine. Anything you need, anything you want--well, you know, within reason. You got nothing to complain about. Shit, hundreds of women would--"

"All right, all right. I know. And I didn't complain, Dino, you started this. What do you want to do now?"

"Shit," Farelli said. "I should've never--" He stopped, and sighed. "Okay. Tell me about the book."

"Well, this plane crashes on a deserted island," Nina said. "And the pilot and some other guys with guns and stuff take over and force the passengers to do what they want, okay? Naturally most of the passengers are women, so there's a lot of raping and forced sex and lots of pain and torture and so on. Right up your alley, Dino."

Farelli shot her another look. There was no grin now; his eyes were hard and piercing. Nina ignored it.

"In this one part they take this Czecholsovakian girl, she tried to hurt one of the men or something, so they punish her by tying her to this ant tree and--"

"What the hell's an ant tree?"

"It's a tree with ants in it, how do I know? I'm not a damn tree expert or anything, I'm just telling you what's in the book. Okay?"

"Jesus," Farelli muttered. "You got a bug up your ass today. You on the rag or something?"

Nina took a long breath. "You want me to read it to you, Dino? Or not?"

"Yeah," Farelli said bitterly. "I'm really in the mood now. Yeah, go ahead."

Nina found her place.

While Bart stood by with the gun, Manuel unbound Jana's wrists, then used her bra to bind the right one securely to the ant tree. Helena's bra served to secure the girl's other wrist to the slim tree standing about four feeet away. She stood between them, arms drawn out but not quite taut.

"You're going to be pretty sorry, pretty soon," Bart told her...."Manny--why don't you waste just one half of one of those fruits and smear it on her? Might as well give the ants something nicer than Czech flesh to nibble on."

The girl sucked in a deep breath and stiffened, but she said nothing....

Manuel enjoyed his task, standing behind Jana, out of reach of her legs, wrapping his arms around her. He smeared pulpy fruit over her cunt, up her belly and over her right breast, and out along that arm to the ant tree. Chuckling, he slapped the smeary breast before he went over to join the others.

Nina flipped a few pages forward.

"Whoa," Farelli said. "What are you skipping over there? I want to know--"

"Nothing important, Dino, it's just that the story switches away from this girl for a bit, and then gets back to her, okay?"

Farelli grunted.

Jan Molnar screamed and writhed and stamped her feet as the red ants flowed from the tree along her arm, over her breast, down her quivering belly, and ate at the sweet pulp that had been smeared over her naked vulva.

Tears squirted from her eyes. Her face contorted in anguish. She screamed, pleading incoherently for release from the biting torment of her punishment.

"Hey, wasn't there another broad with ants crawling over her in one of these books awhile back?" Farelli said. "Yeah, the one with the goat, remember?"

"So what?" Nina said. "This is different."

"Yeah, how?"

"There's no damn goat," Nina said. "Anyway, those were black ants, these are red ants. Okay?"

"Jesus Christ," Farelli said.

She had held back the cries that clamored for release as the little ants crawled along her arm, stinging her again and again. She had moaned and grunted in pain, gasping in agony and shocked astonishment when they seemed intent on eating away her breast. But the others had been so avidly concentrating on the scene on the sand that they had not heard her.

"What damn scene on the sand?" Farelli demanded. "That what you skipped over? What am I missing here?"

"I can't read it all, Dino, you know that. I'm trying to stick with--"

"Shit, lots of good stuff in these books I'm not hearing about, right?" Farelli grumbled. "God knows what else is in there. I oughta--"

"You could always read them yourself, Dino. I could leave this one with you, if you like, and you can--"

"That ain't the same," Farelli muttered. "Maybe we should take them with us when we leave," he said then. "Then you'd have plenty of time to read them all. Every damn page."

"I don't know about that," Nina said. "These books belong to Charlie, remember?"

"Yeah, well, so did you," Farelli grinned. "But I'm taking you anyway, right?"

"Yes, right," Nina said flatly. "You do take what you want, don't you, Dino?"

"Damn right."

"I don't suppose Charlie would ever even miss these old books," Nina said. Then she said, "I wonder if he'll miss me."

Farelli shrugged. "Go on, read some more."

"Sure," Nina said.

She had jerked and danced and whipped her body, ignoring the pain in her armpits and back as she tightened the bonds holding her arms out and her wrists to each of the trees flanking her. Many more than one of the red insects had tumbled from her bouncing breasts, slipped and plummeted from her jerking arm. But as many came on to take their place, hanging on, and the fallen ones began climbing up her legs again. Despite her kicking and stamping, some clung and came on.

Now all of them seemed centered on the place where Manuel had rubbed in the most of the pulp from the fruit. Their continued crawling over her cunt lips, their repeated stings blurred her eyes with tears and brought a sudden terrible series of shrieks from her unwilling lips.

Screaming, sweating, shivering in pain and horror, she executed an insane dance between the trees to which she was bound. Her head jerked violently, and she made obscene fucking motions with her hips and belly in her efforts to hurl off the stinging little invaders. The brassieres binding her wrists chewed at them, but she hardly noticed. The skin became red and raw, but she was unaware of it.

Over her soft mound they crawled, stinging like a thousand fiery little needles, and then they began to gain the interior. Her screams became agonized yells. Her breasts leaped up and down before her, hurling off more of the tormentors, but never enough.

One foot slipped as she continued her insane dance, and she was suddenly hanging by her wrists between the trees, unable even to cry out. Moans wrenched forth from deep in her. She hung there, trying desperately to get back onto her feet while flaming pain raged through her arms and chest and back. The terrible stinging in her throbbing vagina continued, unabated. The ants were uninterested in her agony or her helplessness. Perhaps they enjoyed the juices they gained from within her body. Perhaps they were only blindly seeking more of the delightfully sweet fruit someone had so kindly provided for them on this strange jerky surface.

But they crawled into her cunt, and they stung and stung.

She groaned in low, animal grunts, whimpering and jerking her pain-filled body in futile protest. Her mouth hung open. Her hair hung loose. Her eyes were dull, streaming conquered, frustrated tears.

Her body shivered, convulsing as though stabbed through and through. A final husky groan escaped her tortured throat. Then her puffy eyes closed and she hung limp. Her head lolled in unconsciousness.

"Goddam!" Farelli said with a grin as Nina put down the book. "I hope they washed the damn ants off her before they fucked her."

"They'd have to, wouldn't they?" Nina said. "Even though she'd be in less pain that way. Still, I suppose she'd still be suffering enough to give them pleasure. Don't you think?"

Farelli looked at her sharply. "I don't know," he said finally. "Why don't you show me what it would be like?"

"Of course," Nina said. She got up and went over to the little alcove with the horizontal bar across the top. She reached up, spreading her arms, and grasped the bar with both hands. "Ants crawling all over me," Nina said. Her body began to twist. "Oh god, thousands of ants, they're biting me, oh Jesus make it stop, aahhh..." She writhed and jerked, her movements becoming more frantic, her cries louder. But her heart wasn't in it, and her act felt inauthentic. Farelli watched her expressionlessly. She tried harder, screaming and kicking, begging for mercy. But she wasn't doing it to save herself now. She had done that already. Saved herself and doomed herself as well.

"Fuck this," Farelli said.

Nina stopped moving, stopped screaming. "Oh god," she said softly, and then she began to sob. "Oh god. Oh god. Oh god." And she stood there, her head bowed but her arms still raised, holding on to the horizontal bar and sobbing harder and harder, unable to stop.

After a while Farelli got up and left the room without a word.

November 28

He said nothing to her at first when she appeared the following night. She thought it best to be quiet as well. She started to undress as usual, and she was surprised when he stopped her. "Hold off on that," Farelli said. "Show me the damn book."

She went to him and handed him the small book she was carrying. Farelli grinned as he looked at the cover. "Yeah, that's more like it," he said. "I like this one, all right. Only this chick should be naked and he should be burning her tits, not her damn shoulder."

The book was called "Lethal Lust" and the cover depicted a redheaded woman in a skimpy bra and panties, half-reclining against a louvered wall, hands tied behind her and ankles bound, while a half-naked man crouched beside her, burning her with a cigarette. There were red burn marks on her shoulder and upper chest.

"Well of course in the book he does," Nina said. "And a lot more too. I thought you might like something a little...a little rougher, maybe, and in this scene they take this--"

"Sure," Farelli broke in. "The rougher the better, baby. Only not with you, right? With you it's all pretend. Well, don't worry. I got it covered now. Tell me about the book."

Nina was puzzled. "What do you mean, Dino?" She still felt a bit uncomfortable calling him by his first name, but she was starting to get used to it.

"You'll see. It'll be a surprise. You gonna read or not?"

"Yes," Nina said. She wanted to ask further about the "surprise," but she dared not. "Well, this book is about a professional killer--a hit man--and this girl who falls for him and goes around with him killing people and stuff. Turns out she likes it. So in this one scene they go to see the girlfriend of a guy they're trying to find, and she won't tell them where he is, so they torture her until she does."

"Sounds good to me," Farelli said. There was something in his too-cheerful manner that worried her; but all she could do was wait and see what he was up to. She opened the book and found her place.

"So they go to this girl's house and they knock her out and tie her up and strip her naked. Completely naked, not like on the cover. And when she wakes up they ask her where her boyfriend is and she won't say. They try to scare her and so on, but she loves the guy and she won't give him up. So...

Bart turned to Joyce. "You see? She's not scared yet. It's not real for her, she thinks she can lie all night and nothing'll happen to her. Sit on her. I don't want her moving around."

Joyce sat on the girl's legs. Bart lit a cigarette and shook out the match and dropped it to the floor. He placed one hand over Sue's mouth and held it shut, drew on the cigarette, then poked it at the girl's left breast. Joyce felt the girl's whole body go rigid with pain. Sue tried to scream but no sound got past the hand that covered her mouth. She tried to kick, tried to move, but she was held in place and could not move at all. Bob jabbed again with the cigarette in a different spot and she went taut again, her muscles locked in knots, and he took the cigarette away and then let go of her mouth. There were tears in the corners of her eyes and she looked white as a sheet, paler than ever in the face.

"But she still won't tell them," Nina said. "She figures they're going to kill her whether she talks or not, so she holds out."

The hand went over her mouth again. The cigarette was pushed against her and left there until it went out. Her motions were terrible. Even with Joyce planted firmly on her legs, Sue English almost managed to throw herself off the bed.

"Bed?" Farelli said. "I didn't see no bed in that picture. Looked like she was lying on the floor or whatever."

"Well, obviously these covers aren't always that accurate," Nina said.

"Can't remember seeing an accurate one yet," Farelli said. "Keep going."

When he let go of her mouth she poured out a stream of curses. He told her to shut up and she swore again and he hit her backhand across the mouth, hit her full strength. Blood welled from her mouth. She coughed feebly and spat out a tooth.

"But she still doesn't talk," Nina said. "So he--"

"Shit," Farelli muttered. "She'da talked by now if I was doing her, I'll tell you that."

"She's very stubborn," Nina said. "So he tries something else."

Bart shrugged. "All right, I want you to know what's going to happen next. I'm going to untie your legs."

The girl didn't say anyhing.

"They're nice legs. Damn nice legs. I'm going to untie them, and then Joyce here is going to hold your pillow over your face, because you'll be trying to scream and we don't want you to manage that. She'll hold the pillow over your face, and I'll take your legs one at a time and I'll break them, both legs. You know what a broken leg feels like? You know how long you'll be in the hospital?"

The girl still didn't say anything. Bart looked at her and shook his head. "Suit yourself," he said.

He untied the wire around the girl's legs and she tried to kick out but he held onto her feet firmly and she couldn't move. He motioned to Joyce and she picked up the pillow and put it over the girl's face and leaned over the bed, holding the pillow down with both hands and leaning all her weight upon it. Bart lifted one foot and put it on top of the girl's knee, and he pressed with his foot and pulled on her ankle and there was a snap like a twig.

"The girl passes out," Nina said. "And he breaks her other leg too."

"While she's out?" Farelli said. "What for? She can't feel it that way."

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks it'll wake her up again. Anyway...

When the girl came to this time there was a gag in her mouth. She opened her eyes and Bart smiled at her and took one of her feet in each hand. He moved his hands so her legs flopped and the fractured ends of bone ground together. The girl screamed but no sound came through the gag. He had used strips of her shirt to gag her and she couldn't get a sound out.

"Now we're through playing," he told her. "When you're ready to talk you nod your head three times and the gag comes off. If this is a game, you can just see how much you can take before you're ready to talk. When you've had it, just nod. Want to talk now?"

The girl didn't nod.

"Fine," he said. He broke her toes one by one while Joyce sat watching him and watching the girl. He just snapped the bones in her toes with his fingers and she heaved and sweated but she didn't nod her head.

He used a cigarette again on her breasts and stomach. She took that somehow and didn't nod her head. He moved away from her and turned to Joyce. "She's a tough one," he said.

Farelli laughed. "Yeah, that's for sure. Real life, she'd be begging to talk a long time ago, boyfriend be damned. I've questioned a few chicks in my time, but I never had to go that far. Might be fun to try though."

"It gets rougher," Nina said. "You want to hear more?"

"Sure," Farelli said.

"Well, he's not having any luck, so the woman, Joyce, she asks him to let her try. She's getting really turned on by all this. She tells him to give her his knife, and he does.

He gave her the knife and she opened it and held the blade very close to the girl's face. She crouched over the girl, moving from the chair to the bed. She put her face closer to Sue's face and she told her that she was going to cut her to ribbons.

Then she went to work.

She drew little scarlet lines on the girl's breasts, little lines that dripped blood. She poked little holes at the girl's middle, and then the knife moved and the knife cut and slashed.

The girl nodded three times, her head jerking like a fish on a line, but Joyce couldn't stop, she went on, and Bart was saying something to her but she couldn't hear him, and Bart couldn't stop her from cutting and slashing and stabbing until her own pleasure peaked and waves of fire ran over her body and she fell, spent, beside the girl's aching tortured ruined wasted flesh.

When Bart took the gag off the girl sang like a canary.

"Yeah, that's hot all right," Farelli said as Nina put the book down. "Gets me all randy all right. Now all I need is a naked young girl and a pack of cigarettes, right? Be all set."

"You want me to undress now?" Nina asked.

"No," Farelli said.

"No? You want me to--"

"I don't want you to do anything," Farelli said. "See, I'm getting tired of pretending. You're damn good at it, and you got me hooked on it, and then you got me hooked on you, and that's okay. But making believe isn't gonna cut it forever, okay? I want the real thing, and since I'm too hooked on you now to get it from you, it's gotta be somebody else. That's all."

"Somebody else?" Nina said. "You mean--"

Farelli got up, moved to the door that led to the next room and opened it. "Okay, guys," he said. "Bring her in."

In the midst of her surprise, Nina realized now why Farelli had not wanted her to undress. As he had told her, given what he considered their new relationship, he was no longer willing to share even the sight of her body with his underlings, even though they had made free with it more than once in the past.

A moment later Rick and Frank came through the door. They were pulling a young woman between them, each of them holding one of her arms in a tight grip. The woman was a tall, short-haired blonde with a full figure, and she was completely naked. She was also trembling, and there were marks of tears on her face. Nina gave an exclamation of surprise.

"This is Ginger," Farelli said. "That's what she says, anyway. She's Carmen Stepano's girlfriend. Or she was. You know Carmen?"

Nina shook her head.

"One of Charlie's boys here in Chicago. Only Charlie shoulda been keeping better tabs on him. I found out he was skimming on us. On me. The son of a bitch. That's just why I'm making this trip, you know, sniffing out guys like fucking Carmen. And this bitch of his was helping him."

The woman named Ginger shook her had frantically. "No!" she cried out. "No, I wasn't. I swear, I didn't know he was doing it, I swear it!"

"Yeah, bullshit," Farelli said. "Now I already took care of Carmen, but this fucking cunt is in for a different kind of punishment. And you--" He looked at Nina. "--you get to watch, just to see the kind of thing you got yourself out of."

Nina's throat was tight. She took a long gulp of air before she could speak. "Dino, you--you don't--you don't have to--"

"Don't give me any more of that imagination crap, okay?" Farelli snapped. "I'm gonna have this bitch whipped within an inch of her life, but first I'm gonna try out some of that stuff you been reading me about. And I mean for real. So you don't have to act out what you read today, 'cause old Ginger here is gonna do it just fine."

The girl was moaning. She might have collapsed if Frank and Rick had not been holding her up by her arms.

"Dino, listen--" Nina began, but Farelli ignored her.

"Of course I don't need her to tell me where her boyfriend is," he said, grinning. "I already know that, which is nowhere now. But we can pretend that much, anyway. And we probably don't need to go as far as in the book, like cutting her up and stuff. I don't want to put her completely out of action. Not yet anyway. There's too much I want to do to her first."

The blonde woman started to sob. "Please!" she cried frantically. "I didn't know anything about what Carmen was doing, I swear on my life! Please, I'll do anything, please!" She continued to plead even as she choked on her sobs.

"Yeah, that's how they always beg," Farelli said. His eyes glittered. "Amazing, they all say the same thing, all the time. And it's always so pretty to hear. I never get tired of it. Okay, guys, tie the bitch up. Do it like this." He moved to Nina, who was still holding the book, and took it from her to show to Rick and Frank. Frank went into the other room and returned in a moment with some rope. They quickly tied the woman's hands behind her and bound her ankles together. She cried and begged the whole time, but didn't put up much of a struggle, obviously aware that it would be futile and would only bring her more pain. They laid her down on the floor, half-leaning against a wall, just as on the cover. Farelli crouched down beside her.

"Give me some cigarettes," he said, and Rick handed him an open package, along with a small lighter. Farelli took a cigarette out and lit it. The girl moaned in fear. Nina made one more try.

"Dino, please," she said. "Let me talk to you, okay? Just let me--"

"Shut up," Farelli grated. "This is how it is, girl, just be glad it's not you. You like to pretend so much, pretend I'm the guy in the book, and you can be the other girl, Joyce. You want to sit on her legs, like she did? Join in the fun?"

"No," Nina said. "Dino, for god's sake--"

"Okay then," Farelli said. "Rick, you be the other chick. Sit on her legs to hold her still."

Rick sat on her legs. The girl was moaning loudly.

"Okay, baby," Farelli said. "You gonna tell me what I want to know?"

"Yes!" the girl said frantically. "Yes! I'll tell you anything, please, I will, yes!"

"Too damn bad," Farelli said, and he pressed the glowing cigarette against her left nipple and held it there. The girl screamed in agony and her upper body twisted and jerked until Farelli drew the cigarette away.

"Yeah," Farelli said, sounding a little breathless. He looked over at Nina. "That's what a real scream sounds like. You do it pretty good, but there's nothing like the real thing. You wanna hear it again?" The cigarette had not quite gone out, and he put it in his mouth and drew on it until it was fully aglow again.

"No!" Nina said, and the girl echoed her, more frenziedly. "NO NO NO!" she yelled. "No please, no I'll do anything you want PLEASE..."

Farelli ground the cigarette out on her right nipple.

Again the girl's scream rang through the room, again her body spasmed wildly, almost throwing Rick off her legs. Her scream trailed off into horrible gasping sobs.

"Damn!" Farelli panted. "This is fun all right. I'm already hard as hell. How about you guys?"

"Damn right," Frank said, and Rick nodded. "You gonna let us fuck her, boss?"

"Yeah, after I'm done here," Farelli said. "Let's see, I think he gave her one more nice burn before breaking her legs, right, Nina?"

The girl gave a cry of indescribable terror. Farelli lit another cigarette. "Well, never mind that," he said. "We can save the leg breaking for another time. But let's finish off this part."

The third cigarette went right between the girl's breasts, and he held it there for a long time before grinding it out. The girl finally passed out in mid-scream.

"Okay, take the cunt away and do what you want with her," Farelli said. "Just don't kill her or anything." He was breathing hard. Rick and Frank picked up the unconscious woman and carried her into the other room. As soon as the door closed behind them Farelli was moving toward Nina, unzipping his fly. "On the bed, baby," he said hoarsely.

"Dino, I'm not--"

His cock was out now, and hard, at least as hard as she had ever seen it. Reaching her, he seized her upper arms and propelled her toward the bed, pushing her down onto it. He pulled her skirt up roughly, and almost with the same gesture literally tore off her panties. Then he was on top of her.

"Dino, wait, please...I'm not ready...Dino...wait..."

But he didn't.

November 29

Nina didn't expect to see the blonde girl again. But when she entered Dino's rooms the next night, there she was. She was tied to a chair, naked as before, with Rick and Frank hovering nearby. There were new, angry-looking marks and bruises on her body, in addition to the burn marks Farelli had inflicted the night before. She was moaning softly and steadily, but her eyes looked glazed and unfocusted. Farelli was in his chair. He grinned at Nina's expression as she took in the bound woman.

"Yeah, the boys and me have been having a little fun with old Ginger here," he said. "Haven't really whipped her properly yet, though. I want you to watch it when we do. But right now I wanna see what you got in store for her in that book. Hope it's something really good."

Nina closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Dino, for god's sake..."

"For god's sake what?" Farelli demanded.

She took a long slow breath. "Haven't you tortured that woman enough?" she said, trying to sound reasonable. "Do you have to--"

"No such thing as enough," Farelli rasped. "I told you, the bitch was helping her asshole boyfriend cheat on me, she deserves anything I want to do to her." His voice rose. "And besides, even if she didn't, so fucking what? I'll do anything to her I goddam want to, just because I fucking feel like it. Just be glad it's not you, baby. Because it damn near was, and maybe it still could be, you get me really pissed off. Now read the fucking book."

Nina swallowed hard. "I won't," she said, her voice trembling a little, but clear. "I'm not going to be part of this, Dino." She turned and walked toward the door.

"Rick," Farelli said, and Rick, moving with surprising swiftness, reached the door before she did and stood with his back against it.

"Read, goddam it!" Farelli said.

Nina turned back to him. "Dino, listen..."

"Read!"

"No!" Nina said. Her body was shaking, and she was almost crying now. "No, damn it, Dino, I can't--I--Oh Christ, I know you can think of enough ways to hurt this girl on your own, you don't need me to supply you with more. If you have to do this, just let me out of here."

"No way, girl. You're mine now, and you're gonna be with me all the way. That's how it is, baby. Now if you don't start reading that damn thing I'm gonna have one of the guys do it."

"Dino--"

"Frank," Farelli said. "Get the book."

Frank approached her and held out his hand for the book she was holding. When she didn't give it to him, he took it from her forcibly. The title was "Denise," printed in purplish letters on a light blue background. There was no illustration.

"Okay, Frank," Farelli said. "She's usually got some parts marked up, the parts she wants to read. Read them."

Frank sat himself on the bed and began looking through the book. "Yeah, okay, I got it," he said. "You want me to just read?"

"No, I want you to stand on your fucking head," Farelli snapped. "Yes, read, damn it!"

Nina bowed her head. She still felt like crying, but she didn't. Frank began to read.

Above the neck, the leather formed a close-fitting helmet that left her face uncovered. At the crown of the head lay a thicker disc of leather, from which sprang a stout metal eyelet....

This time, Martin clipped a thin wire into the eyelet and dragged Denise's head back till her pretty face was gazing, agonizedly, at the ceiling. The wire ran down her back, over the black leather pocket in which her arms lay imprisoned, down through the exact center of the heart-shaped cut in her costume, to disappear between the ivory cheeks of her lovely arse. The end of the wire ran to the center point of a light bar which lay horizontally under the two cheeks of Denise's arse, along the gluteal fold. Martin had drawn the wire sufficiently tight to pull Denise's head back till her neck muscles ached with the strain; so here, below, with an opposite reaction, the bar pressed firmly upward against the two ivory globes, raising them and compressing them into a delicious roundness.

But though this change of shape was quite delightful to the eye, the purpose of the bar was somewhat less aesthetic. Each "arm" of the bar carried four sharp spikes--not long, not more than perhaps an eighth of an inch, and not large, but painful enough when driven into the soft underside of the globe by the inexorable tug of the wire, and doubly so when any movement of her body rolled the flesh, however gently, to and fro upon the penetrating spikes. Denise screamed very loudly that time, when she saw that Martin intended to whip her as usual, even though sh was wearing the nasty spike-bar underneath her arse....

And whipped she was, very well whipped indeed.... Not unnaturally, he tended to concentrate on the naked portions of her body--the breasts, poking immodestly through their round "windows," the buttocks, shuddering deliciously in the frenzy of the dance, and up between the legs into the open cunt...

Then the firm breasts would dance madly under the cruel, cutting strokes of the whalebone switch, as Denise twisted her torso from side to side, screaming her agony full-throated as she strove in vain to free her arms from the constriction of the leather costume, till finally little trickles of blood appeared on the swollen, aching globes.

"Yeah, that sounds good, all right," Farelli said. "But we don't need the fancy costumes and stuff, screw that shit. And we'll get around to the whipping later. What else does it say?"

Frank turned a page or two. "Looks like she's skipping a lot of good stuff here," he said. "All about how he makes her--"

"Never mind, damn it," Farelli said impatiently. "Just read what she's got marked. We don't have all fucking night."

"Okay," Frank shrugged. "Here's something."

When Martin had whipped Denise enough...he would lead her to a corner of the playroom where ring-bolds had been set into the floor--two of them, lying a good yard and more apart...Denise could with difficulty spread her legs wide enough apart to span the gap between the rings, and when she did so, her cunt was stretched to the very limit...

Once her ankles had been imprisoned...Denise was made to bend straight forward till her torso was parallel with the ground. When she was immobilized in that position, Martin would run a wire from her helmet ring to a staple set in the wall immediately in front of her and cinch it tight... Her long slim legs...were pinioned far apart...above them lay the lovely globes of her arse...parted by the forward bend of her body...then the arms, fluttering feebly in their leather prison behind her back... The very rigidity of the helpless body was sexually exciting, but more lust-provoking yet was the way in which Denise was forced to make an outright open offering of her superb young arsehole.

Set in the floor beneath her breasts was a third ring, and through this Martin would pass a wire carrying at either end a little padded screw-clamp, exactly of a size to fit nicely over a pendant nipple. When the clamps had been installed and the wire drawn taut, Denise found she had no option but to sink her torso down toward the floor to ease the insistent tugging at her breasts--thus further opening the cheeks of her arse for Martin's easier penetration.

Then the eager prick...would press relentlessly forward to sheath itself in the soft tube of the girl's rectum...and her rhythmic jerking was laced with little gasps of pain as the involuntary movements of her body stretched the imprisoned nipples and the breasts above them, like soft india-rubber.

"Damn," Farelli said. "Now you're talking. I think that's something we could work out with little blondie here, right, guys? Frank, get her out of that chair."

"I'm not staying here," Nina said.

"Hell you're not," Farelli rasped. "Rick, stay where you are. No, wait, we're gonna need you. Listen, girl. Either you stay on your own or I'll have Rick tie you to the bed and you can watch that way. Now you know I'm serious. What's it gonna be?"

Nina bit her lip. "All right," she said in a low voice. "All right, damn you. I'll stay. But for god's sake, Dino..."

"Just stay and be quiet," Farelli said. Frank had untied the nude blonde woman from the chair. She was moaning and pleading incoherently. At Farelli's order, Frank tied her hands behind her back. Then, with Rick helping him, they spread her legs wide apart and bound each ankle with long ropes to a heavy piece of furniture on either side of the room. Farelli then got up and placed his chair just few feet in front of the helplessly begging girl, swaying precariously on her outstretched legs.

"Oh yeah, this should be fun," he said, sitting down again. He reached out with both hands for the girl's breasts and took her nipples tightly between the thumb and forefinger of each. She gave a loud cry. "These are the clamps," Farelli said hoarsely. "With the wire pulling them down. Like this." Squeezing the nipples still harder, he pulled at them strongly, and the girl screamed with agony as her upper body was forced forward and down. Farelli kept pulling until she was bent over all the way, and her head was nearly in his lap.

"Oh, this is nice," Farelli said, still holding the girl's nipples and speaking above her tormented shrieks. "This is a little wrinkle that's not in the book. The cunt can suck my dick while you guys fuck her in the ass."

"Christ, boss, she's liable to bite it right off!" Frank said.

"No, she won't." Farelli suddenly released the girl's nipples, and as she painfully straightened up he stood up to face her. Taking hold of her hair, he pulled her head back sharply, bringing another cry from her. She was sobbing softly. "You're not gonna bite me, are you, bitch?" Farelli said. He gave a tug at her hair. "No matter what the guys are doing to you. No matter how much it hurts. No matter any fucking thing at all. You bite me even a little bit and you'll think what we're doing now is a fucking holiday. You get that?" He twisted her hair hard, and the girl made a sound of painful assent amid her sobs.

"Good." Farelli sat down again. He unzipped his fly and brought out his cock. It was stiff. Again he reached up and took hold of the girl's nipples, and again he tugged at them, bending her sharply forward, holding her that way. "Suck me, cunt," he said to the screaming girl, and pulled harder. Though her sounds were muffled as her open mouth was forced down around his penis, she still she seemed to be doing more screaming than sucking, but Farelli didn't seem to mind. "Okay, guys," he said, addressing Frank and Rick. "Who's first?"

Frank went first. He too simply unzipped his trousers. Standing behind the helpless blonde, he quickly spread her buttocks and without ceremony forced his very ready cock into her exposed anus. Her howl of pain at his first penetration was terrible, even muffled as it was around Farelli's member. Instinctively she tried to straighen up, but Farelli's fierce hold on her nipples kept her where she was, the additional strain adding still further to her unbearable torment. Frank pushed further, forcing his way into that narrow passage, and the girl was in such a wild state that Nina wondered how she could indeed refrain from biting on the cock that filled her mouth, regardless of Farelli's threats. Yet somehow she did.

Frank made short work of it, fucking her ass fast and hard for less than a minute before finishing inside her. He pulled out and turned to Rick, grinning. "Your turn, buddy," he panted. "I stretched her out good for you."

"Fuck that," Rick said. "I'm not going in there after you. That sweet pussy's good enough for me." Replacing Frank behind the writhing girl, he unzipped in his turn and proceeded to ravish her vagina, the force and brutality of his strokes appearing to make his assault as painful for her as Frank's had been in her asshole. He took longer as well, but finally came and pulled away from her.

The woman was struggling for breath now around Farelli's cock. Each inhale was a sharp, ragged gasp, each exhale a moan of pain, in addition to her ongoing sobs as Farelli continued to pull down on her nipples. "Hey, you're not sucking me, Ginger," Farelli said now, giving them a vicious squeeze. "Get with the program, cunt."

Ginger gave a muffled shriek and then closed her mouth around him. Her head began to bob jerkily in rhythm with her gasps and sobs. "Oh yeah, that's it," Farelli sighed. He lay his head back and closed his eyes, but did not release his grip as the tormented girl worked on him.

Frank had drifted back to pick up the book again, and was now leafing through it. "Hey, boss," he piped up after a minute. "There's another part here that's marked. You want me to read it?"

"Fuckin' wait," Farelli said hoarsely. He was panting now. "Do it faster, bitch," he commanded, emphasizing his order by pulling harder on her nipples. "And you better swallow every drop, you hear me?" Ginger's squalling mouth moved more quickly up and down, and in a moment Farelli stiffened in his chair and gave a series of triumphant shouts as he shot again and again into her throat. She made an effort to swallow, but it was largely unsuccessful. Her continuing sobs caused her to choke and cough, and most of his jism came out of her mouth and fell onto his thighs.

"Stupid bitch," Farelli panted. He let go of her nipples then, but before she could move he swung his hand and slapped her swiftly and hard across the breasts. Ginger shrieked again, then slowly and painfully straightened up, bringing her legs together, but swaying unsteadily on her feet as her gasping and sobbing continued.

Farelli tucked himself back in his trousers. He looked over at Nina, who had been watching helplessly with horrified eyes. "What's your problem, girl?" he muttered. "You picked the damn book, for Christ sake. Just be glad it's not you, that's all."

"You want me to read the other part now, boss?" Frank asked eagerly. "Might give you another idea."

"Oh Christ, yeah, okay, read the fucking thing. I don't think I'm gonna get it up again tonight, but Ginger can always take a little more punishment. Right, Ginger?"

The girl began to make pleading sounds, but her words were incoherent, and there was no hope in her eyes.

"Listen to this," Frank said.

Martin put the scourge away and came back carrying a box of golden needles, very thin and very sharp. Aline moaned when she saw them; she shut her eyes tight and began to shiver violently.

"Wait, who's Aline?" Rick put in. "I thought this chick's name was Denise."

"Different girl," Frank said. "I guess this guy gets around."

"Shut up and read, damm it," Farelli said.

Frank resumed.

Then Martin stuck the needles into the reddened, swollen nipples, one by one, first one in the left breast, then one in the right; and at each sharp little prick the girl mouned a little louder and twisted a little more violetly in her bonds.

"Yeah, that's a good idea, all right," Farelli said. "Sound good to you, Ginger?"

Ginger just moaned. She was trembling.

"Wait, there's more," Frank said.

"That's enough already," Farelli said. "We get the point. Hey, that's a joke!" But he wasn't smiling. "We got any needles around here?" he asked. Rick and Frank looked at each other and shrugged.

"You guys are fucking useless." He turned to Nina. "Hey, you must have some needles someplace, right? For sewing and stuff? How about getting me a few."

"I don't sew, Dino," Nina said.

"Whatever. You must have some, right? Or you know where to get some."

"Dino, for god's sake--"

"Get me some, girl," Farelli said.

"No," Nina said flatly. "I won't. I won't be any part of this, Dino, I told you that."

Farelli got up and went over to her. He took hold of her arms and held her firmly, though not painfully. "Listen, girl," he said. His voice was low, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "Whether I fucking hurt you or not, you still belong to me, you understand? You do what I say, whether you like it or not. Now here's the way it is. Either you find me some damn needles or you can sit here and watch while we break every bone in this girl's body. And I'll do it, too. Every fucking bone. And if she passes out while we're doing it I'll wake her up so she can feel it when we break the rest of them. Is that what you want?"

"Dino--"

"Is it?"

"No," Nina said. There were tears in her eyes.

"Then get me some needles. Now."

"All right," Nina said.

She did have a small sewing kit, seldom used, in her room, but she had to search in several places to find it. It was in the bottom drawer of her bureau, buried under some outworn lingerie with some other nearly forgotten items. One of them made her stop short and freeze for a moment. It was a small revolver. Charlie had given it to her, over her protests, when she had first come to live with him. For protection, he said. Just in case any of his guys, or anybody else, ever tried to attack her or anything. Wasn't likely to happen, Charlie said; he would kill the guy himself, but just in case she needed to do it first... Nina had tried to refuse, not wanting anything to do with guns, but Charlie had showed her how to shoot it and insisted she keep it. She had put it away in her bottom drawer and forgotten it. Now it was staring at her. She shuddered and closed the drawer.

Farelli snorted when he saw the little sewing needles she brought back. "Shit, can't even hardly hold on to these things," he said. "Still, I guess they'll hurt all right. What do you think, Ginger?"

Ginger began to plead again, hopelessly. Farelli had Rick and Frank each take one of her arms to hold her still. He approached her trembling form, holding one of the needles between his fingers, and slowly raised it to her nipple, point first. The girl gasped and shrank back as it touched her flesh. Farelli pressed it forward, but the point barely pierced the skin. He pushed harder, bringing a cry from her, but he could not get much leverage, and instead of sinking into her the tiny implement slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

"Fuck!" Farelli grated. "That guy in the book must have had bigger fucking needles than this. Okay, listen, put her down on the bed, guys, so I can get a better angle."

They lay Ginger on her back on the bed. Frank pulled her arms up over her head and held them that way. This pulled her breasts up, flattening them slightly and exposing their entire surface. As Farelli straddled her on his knees, the nipples stared up at him from their centers. He eyed the quivering mounds, holding another needle in his fingers.

"Yeah, this is better," Farelli said. He raised his arm and then brought it down sharply, plunging the needle with one quick jab directly into her right nipple. It sank deep into the flesh, leaving only the end, where Farelli had held it, sticking out of her. Ginger screamed loudly, and her body bucked, her arms pulling vainly against Frank's grip.

"Nice," Farelli said. "Gimme another one." Rick handed him another needle.

"No!" Ginger cried out. "No, please, don't--"

Farelli plunged the needle into the left nipple.

"Enough, Dino, damn it!" Nina cried out over the girl's shrieks of pain.

"Shut the fuck up or it'll be you, bitch," Farelli panted. "I'm getting the hang of it now. Gimme another." Rick handed him another needle, which he jabbed hard into the girl's breast, slightly above the nipple this time. There were half a dozen needles left in the pack, each of which Farelli plunged cruelly into the flesh surrounding her nipples, each time eliciting a louder cry and a more violent convulsion from the girl.

When there were no more needles Farelli swung himself off the bed and stood up. "Okay," he panted. "Either of you guys want to fuck this bitch again?"

"Damn, I'm fucked out right now, boss," Frank grinned. "But maybe later. She looks good with those things sticking out of her."

"Yeah, she does," Farelli said. "Leave them in there." Ginger moaned piteously. "Maybe you can pull them out while you're fucking her, that should be interesting. Get her the fuck out of here now."

Rick and Frank took Ginger away.

"You can go too," Farelli said to Nina. "I've had it for tonight, and I can't stand looking at that fucking sour expression on your face. You better get used to it, girl, because this is how it is."

Nina said nothing.

"And get packed up," Farelli added."Because my month here is up, and we're going back to New York day after tomorrow. Don't worry about taking a lot of stuff. I'll buy you anything you need."

Nina left without a word. When she got back to her room she sat on her bed and stared at the bottom drawer of her bureau for a long time.

November 30

She did not usually carry a purse when she went to Farelli's rooms, and she knew she was taking a chance; if he got suspicious she might suffer a fate worse than Ginger's. But in any case, her life as she knew it was over; whatever happened that night, she was doomed one way or the other. She knew that. But at least, if she got a chance, she would shape her own doom.

Of course that wasn't true either. Farelli was the one shaping her doom, no matter what happened. But she couldn't let herself go with him. And she couldn't let him go on.

The purse was small and not conspicuous. She carried it under one arm, and in her other hand she held, as always, a small paperbound book. This one was called "Angelface," and had a cover photo of a brown-haired young woman whose upper body, naked but with an arm covering her breasts, was reflected in the lens of a camera held to the eye of a shadowy face in the background.

Farelli was in his usual seat. Frank and Rick were standing on either side of Ginger, who sat in another chair. She was not bound now; there was no need for it. Her eyes were glazed, her face vacant. She quite obviously had no more strength nor will to try to escape, even if that had been possible. The marks on her body were more numerous than before, some red and raw, some faded. She made no sound except for an occasional soft, almost inaudible moan.

Farelli grinned when he saw Nina staring at the girl. "Believe it or not, we haven't actually whipped her yet," he said. "Not properly, anyway. Thinking of doing that tonight, since we're leaving tomorrow. Any whipping scenes in that book you got there?"

"No," Nina said. "What--what will you do with her afterward?"

Farelli shrugged. "Oughta kill the bitch," he said, and Ginger moaned softly. "If not, I got a couple places I can send her to work. Don't expect she'll like it much."

Nina took a breath. "In this book there's a scene with two women," she told him. "I think you'll find it interesting. You might want it to be just the three of us though, so I can play it out all the way."

At this point she wasn't really sure he would still have any compunction about letting Frank and Rick see her naked again, but evidently he did. "Okay, guys," Farelli said. "Take off. I'll call you if I need you."

Frank and Rick, with some evident reluctance, left the room.

"Two girls, huh?" Farelli said, grinning. "That's a first, right? Read me all about it, baby."

"Okay," Nina said. "This book is about a girl, a fashion model, who gets involved with this photographer who has some kind of power over her, and he gets her to do all kinds of things she's ashamed of, like making it with other guys so he can photograph her, and letting him tie her up and take pictures of her doing it that way, and doing it with him and his friends at the same time, that kind of thing. And the more stuff she does the worse she feels about it, but she can't stop."

"Don't tell me," Farelli grunted. "Another fucking masochist."

"No. No, she's not, really. She doesn't like doing those things, she doesn't get pleasure out of it, in fact she hates herself for doing it. She even goes to a shrink about it, but he's...she can't resist this guy, and it gets worse and worse."

"Get to the good part," Farelli said.

"Well, she's not the first girl he's treated that way, okay? And at the end of the book he brings in an old girlfriend, another model, just to show this girl--show them both, really--that he still has power over her too. He wants to photograph them together, and he gets a kick out of humiliating them both."

"Yeah, so?" Farelli said impatiently. "Is that it?"

"No, there's more. But let me read it to you, okay?"

"Well hurry up then."

Nina moved to the bed and sat down, placing her purse beside her. Ginger's eyes followed her movements dazedly, but Nina was not sure how aware the blonde girl was of what was going on. She still uttered the occasional soft moan at irregular intervals.

"Okay," Nina said, opening the book. "The old girlfriend is Angel--short for Angelface, her modeling name--and Jerry, the guy, has her--"

Farelli made a rumbling noise. "Okay," Nina said, and started to read.

Jerry looked at Angel. The girl was wearing a silk caftan that reached down to her gold slippers. She also had on a red half-cape that covered her shoulders and the top half of her body.

"Angel...You show us what you've got." The girl ...walked into the center of the room...The cape fell away and then the caftan. She was wearing only panties. She even stepped out of the slippers. "Come here, Angel. Show Norma how prettily you can get out of your panties." Angel moved in front of him and then slowly pulled them down with both hands in a fashion that made her appear to bow to Jerry. Norma could see the bulge of his phallus in his jumpsuit. He photographed Angel as she stripped them off and stepped out of them. "Give them here. You won't be needing them." She handed them to Jerry. "Now you, Norma. Come on...it's just for fun."...

The two girls stood naked, facing each other. Jerry reached over to Angel and began to run his hand over her buttocks. He reached in between her legs and his hand slipped through to cover her cunt... "Would you like Angel to eat you?" he asked...

"Jerry...please. Don't do this to her...to me. Don't you have enough pictures?"...

"Never enough. Come on, Norma, you know you want her to suck your cunt. She has a lovely, long tongue...Show her your tongue, Angel." the girl opened her mouth and let her tongue show flat. "Open some more, stick it out more." She obeyed. His hands still worked over her cunt....

Norma sat down on the sofa, opened her legs, and Angel came over in front of her. She knelt down on the floor. For a moment she looked at Norma and then she began to lick at her vagina, using her hands to pull back the wider, outer lips...Angel was very adept, and soon found Norma's clitoris. She worked at it with her tongue, held it gently with her teeth a minute, then continued to lick at it.

"Yeah, nice picture," Farelli put in. "You're gonna demonstrate that one with old Ginger here, right? That should be fun. You gonna be Angel, or you gonna be the other chick?"

"No, I'm Angel," Nina said. "She's the one he's humiliating most. Showing off his power over her, how he can still control her and all."

"Okay, what else does he do?" Farelli said.

"Well, after she makes Norma come he has her suck him. Still on her knees. He tells her to lean back and grab her ankles, and he uses her mouth while he talks to Norma and takes pictures and... You want me to read you that part?"

"You can show it to me later," Farelli said. "Get to where he hurts her."

"Well, he doesn't actually...I mean, he's hurting her by making her do all these things. Listen to this part."

He reached into the back pocket of his jumpsuit and pulled out her panties. With a quick movement, he flipped them across the room. "Angel? Since you're down on your knees...crawl over there and bring your panties back to me. All fours, baby." The girl put her hands down in front of her and faced toward the panties lying some feet away. She looked at Norma as if to say, What can I do? Tears began to stream down her face. Slowly, she crawled over on all fours to where they lay and bent her head down. She gripped them with her lips and started back. She cried quietly and then dropped them. She picked them up again in the same fashion and came the short distance back to where Jerry was sitting. He had photographed the whole scene and now was shooting directly at her face. He stopped and reached out his hand, palm up. "Give them to Daddy. Good girl." She let them drop into his hand. "Face Norma." She remained her her hands and knees. Jerry got out of his jumpsuit and took her from behind.

He worked silently while she continued to cry. Norma thought she had never seen such complete submission and degradation in her life.

"Okay, okay," Farelli rasped. "That's enough. Now show me. Start with Ginger here. Then we'll--"

"Wait," Nina said. "There's just one more part I want to read. Just a little part, okay?"

"Make it snappy," Farelli said.

"I will. This is what Angel does after he finishes with her."

Norma watched as Angel walked over to a cabinet area with many drawers. She went directly to one of he drawers and took out a small handgun...

"Jerry."... He turned and saw the gun. "You deserve this." She shot him three times in the chest.

It took a moment to register. Then Farelli's head snapped up, a bemused expression on his face. "What?" he said.

"Like this," Nina said. Her purse was open and with one movement she pulled out the gun and shot at him. Her first bullet missed him entirely, but then she recalled what Charlie had taught her and grasped her right wrist with her left hand to steady herself. As Farelli came out of his chair with a roar she shot again, and this time the bullet hit him in the upper body. She shot again and again, hitting his body and his face, continuing to squeeze the trigger until there were no bullets left, and still squeezing automatically after that. The sound of the shots was unbelievably loud, echoing through the room. Ginger was screaming wildly. Farelli's body was on the floor. Nina still went on uselessly squeezing the trigger until Frank and Rick burst into the room, their guns in their hands. Then she lowered her arm. She was shaking uncontrollably.

"Jesus Christ!" Frank exclaimed. He rushed over to Farelli's body while Rick lunged at Nina and pulled the gun from her hand. He held on to her tightly as if to prevent her getting away, but she was limp. Ginger was still screaming.

"Holy shit!" Frank said. "He's dead. The bitch killed him!"

There were sounds from outside now. The noise of the shots had aroused the whole house. The door of the room burst open and five or six of Charlie's men poured in, mostly with guns in.

For a long moment nobody moved. hand. They pointed them at Rick and Frank, who pointed theirs back. For a long moment nobody moved.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Now Charlie came in, also holding a pistol. His eyes widened as he took in Farelli's now bleeding body and Nina being held by Rick. "Jesus! What happened?"

Frank looked crazed. "Your lousy cunt killed the boss!" he yelled. "Fucking bitch, we should kill her right now!" He swung his gun toward Nina, but before he could discharge it Charlie swiftly raised his arm and shot him twice. His body crumpled and he lay still.

"Let her go, Rick," Charlie grated, pointing his gun at the other man. "And shut that other bitch up, for Christ sake!" Ginger was now screaming even louder. Rick released Nina and, turning to Ginger, slapped her very hard across the face, knocking her back into her chair. She stopped screaming and began to sob.

"Nina," Charlie said. "Jesus Christ, Nina, what did you do?"

Nina was still shaking. Her mouth moved, but at first she was unable to form words. When she did, her voice was so unsteady they were hardly intelligible. "I had to do it, Charlie," she quavered. "I couldn't...I couldn't be...I couldn't let him..."

"Fuck!" Charlie said. "Christ, you crazy--" In spite of his quick reaction when he had shot Frank, he now seemed almost staggered. But after a moment he drew himself together, his shock quickly replaced by determination.

"Okay," Charlie said. "Here's the story. Frank killed him. They had a fight, Frank shot him, and then Rick shot Frank. We'll take them someplace and fix it up so it'll look that way, and Rick here will take the fall for Frank."

"No way!" Rick said wildly, and with an unthinking impulse raised his gun. A hail of bullets came from the men surrounding Charlie, and Rick fell without a sound.

"Goddamit!" Charlie shouted. He turned on his men, his eyes wild, as if to berate them, but he simply let loose a string of expletives. It took him several moments to calm down again. "Okay," he said then. "We'll figure something else out. They all killed each other. Whatever. Just get them out of here!"

"Cops will be around for sure," Burt said. "They know Farelli was staying here."

"Cops we can deal with," Charlie said. "Nina, just to be safe, you better go away for a while. Couple of months, maybe." He indicated Ginger. "Give this one some clothes and take her with you. Come back when things die down."

"Charlie," Nina said.

The sound of her voice made him look at her. "Yeah?"

"I'm not coming back, Charlie."

His visage darkened, and he started to say something. But then he stopped, looking at her face. He looked at her for a long moment, and his body seemed to slump a little.

"Shit," was all he said.

-----

After Nina had gone, taking Ginger with her, the men set about moving out the bodies, cleaning up the blood and clearing the room of guns, stray bullets and anything else that might be incriminating. Within an hour the room showed no traces of what had happened. The only thing out of place was an old paperback book which at some point had been accidentally kicked halfway under the bed. Charlie spotted it as he checked the room one last time. He went over and picked it up. He looked at it in puzzlement, wondering where it had come from. Then he shrugged and dropped it into the wastebasket.

The End

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