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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The contemptuous eyes had not wavered from the ceiling.

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

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

He waited, but there was silence.

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


"You were beautiful standing there."


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'll probably be dead to the world."

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

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

There was a soft knock on the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ooooohhhh-Darling, darling."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It drove her insane!

She couldn't let it stop!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She recognized Monique's voice and suddenly panicked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You mean your husband is coming here tomorrow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted her to submit to him!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shalla reached for the bottle and poured her another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shalla felt the victory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Arab gloated above, he had ignited it!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were no dreams for Monique tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then her heart leaped into her throat!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pictures in her mind of their locked bodies drove her on and she rocked back on her knees against her fingers, screwing them deeper into herself. She could see his huge thick glistening cock ramming its way into Monique's clasping cunt, sinking through the soft pubic hair like a greased telephone pole. Her hands became faster and her gasps began to match that of the racing bodies in the adjacent room. She wanted everything Monique was getting, she wanted to be split too, she wanted to be fucked. Oh, how she wished Kevin were here now pumping his own cum filled cock into her hot searing passage. The fingers weren't enough as her thoughts centered on the thick member ravishing Monique, she had to have more but there was nothing, nothing but the fingers. In desperation she reached up over her buttocks with her other hand, searched the wet crevice, and rammed a finger deep into the puckered asshole between her moon- shaped buttocks. She gasped as in her haste a fingernail dug into the soft fleshy walls sending a sharp jolt of pain through her quivering body. She stilled for a moment and then took up the rhythm of the bedsprings again, her upper body braced against the top of her head digging into the mattress. Her white full tits hung down, the nipples brushing sensuously against the sheet as they swayed beneath her kneeling body. Electric tingles of darting pleasure raced through her nerves as she pictured herself under the nameless pounding body with the dirty socks. Her face colored crimson as she felt it coming-coming with a great roar-she hung for a moment teetering on the edge of release her whole body vibrated and then the white hot juice gushed from around her rummaging fingers covering her hand and ran onto the mattress below. She could feel it running in tiny prickly rivulets down the inside of her quivering thighs to her bended knees. A piercing scream reverberated through the wall followed by a low male groan signaling that the fury of the couples savage orgasm had matched her owns Then, there was utter silence.

Jean stayed on her hands and knees for a while, her buttocks still swaying in the air. She couldn't bring herself to withdraw her fingers from herself until the last dying throbs had stilled her body. At last, she heard the door slam next door jarring her back to almost consciousness. Her fingers slithered wetly from her satiated cunt and she rolled limply over to her side, the ever-present feeling of guilt crawling over her. Tomorrow, tomorrow, Kevin would be here to take care of her.

Thank God, the way she was now, she didn't know what she might do. Her spent body curled into a tight womb-like ball and welcome sleep glided smoothly through her tortured and confused mind.

"Monsieur Taylor, Monsieur Taylor," the loudspeaker blared through the shouts of the porters and the cacophonous noises of the crowded railway station. "Message for you at the information desk."

Kevin motioned for the porter carrying his bags to follow him and walked toward the booth displaying the "Information" sign in English, French, and German. Kevin identified himself, and the small squat Frenchman behind the desk pointed toward a woman standing about fifteen feet away.

"The Madame standing there has requested we page you, Monsieur Taylor. Would you please speak with her."

Kevin thanked the clerk and quizzically walked toward the woman waiting for him. She obviously did not know who he was as she glanced past him without recognition as he approached her. This was strange, to be met by an unknown person in a city where he had never been before. It must be connected with Jean and he felt a lump of fear rising in his throat.

Had something happened to her, an accident, had she taken ill? He was almost afraid to speak to the woman for fear of being confronted with news of some horrible disaster. It just couldn't happen. He had raised his hopes so much on the train that things would straighten themselves out between them in Marseille and it frightened him to think that something may have happened to prevent their getting a second chance at it. He had a lot to make up to her and found himself praying silently now that she was all right.

He spoke hesitatingly to the woman. "H-Hello, I'm Kevin Taylor, the man at information said you had me paged."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Taylor, I should have recognized you from Jean's descriptions but then you Americans are all so handsome," the woman said, smiling at him as though she had known him all her life.

"Th-then Jean did send you?" he asked hurriedly, anxiety apparent in his voice. "Is something wrong? Where is she?"

"Just a moment, young man, don't get carried away. Jean is fine and waiting for you," she assured him. "I'll explain it all to you on the way to the hotel. A crowded train station is no place to discuss the problems of newlyweds."

Monique instructed the porter to get them a taxi and they followed him out of the station. After they were comfortably settled in the back and wending their way through traffic toward the hotel, Monique spoke.

"Please let me introduce myself before I explain why I'm here to meet you. I am Monique DuFour, a friend of Jean's. We met on the train coming down from Paris and took a liking to each other so I have been staying with her. She certainly needed someone to look after her after your little mistake in Paris," she gave Kevin a friendly reproachful look, indicating she was teasing and for him not take her admonishments too seriously.

"Has-has she told you everything?" Kevin asked, unbelieving. He just couldn't accept the fact, so suddenly, that Jean had run to a complete stranger and told her that her own husband had raped her on their wedding night.

"Yes, you naughty boy," Monique chided, "She has done just that. And you are the one to blame for all this so don't look too harshly on her for discussing your short-comings with me. You should be grateful that we met. I've been able to convince her that it is a common thins among newlyweds to go through this. That's why she cabled you to come so soon even though she didn't want to at all."

"Well," Kevin answered, looking at the woman with a new found warmth. "I appreciate what you've done. I've been worried sick sitting in that hotel room not knowing where Jean was. I would have gone to the police if that cable had been another half an hour. I was afraid she may have done something desperate. She was quite upset when I stormed out of the room the other night."

"Don't you feel she had reason to be?" Monique said, turning to him in the seat. "It seems I detect a self-righteous tone in your voice. Or is it one of wounded pride?"

"I don't think that is important, Madame DuFour," he answered defensively. "The important thing is not who is right or wrong in this matter, but that we get together and solve it. I've done a lot of foolish things and so has she. We should be about even on that score now."


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