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                     CHICAGO SCHEHERAZADE

                          Prologue

     "I gotta tell you something," Charlie said.

     "What's that?" Nina pulled on her blouse. Charlie was still naked on the bed, sweating a little from his recent exertions, his rounded paunch rising and falling. He was forty-nine; his hair was graying, his face jowly, but his small dark eyes were sharp and piercing. Nina was twenty-two. She had long, very dark hair which set off her oval, cream-complexioned face. Her lips were full and sensuous, her eyes large and dark. She gave the impression of being taller than she actually was because of her rather stunning figure, which, while not voluptuous, was excellently proportioned and generously curved.

       "Dino Farelli is coming to stay here for a while," Charlie said.

       Nina stopped in the act of pulling on her skirt to stare at him. "Are you kidding?" she inquired. "Dino Farelli? The big boss?"

       "Yeah. Capo di tutti capi. You remember, you met him when we were in New York last year."

       "Yes, I remember. He's coming here?"

       "Yeah. Him and a couple of his boys. He's going around to the various cities, checking things out, you know? Making sure nobody's trying to cheat or getting funny in some way."

       "Well, you don't have anything to worry about, right?"

       "Hell, no. I've always been on the up and up with Dino, and he knows it. I'm his boy. Everything's great."

       "Well, that's good," Nina said. "Because from what I hear, that sadistic son of a bitch can be almost as nasty with guys he doesn't like as he is with girls. Not in the same way, of course, but still..."

       "Oh, come on," Charlie said, shifting on the bed. "That stuff about the girls is just rumor. Probably all bullshit."

       "The hell it is," Nina said. "You know it as well as I do. You remember what that woman in New York told us? About the whippings?"
       "Come on, she was just pissed off at him for dumping her," Charlie said. He wasn't looking at her. "You can't believe all the crazy stories you hear."

       "It's not just her, Charlie. Come on. You know it's true. Everybody knows it. Sometimes girls just disappear after he's done with them. Some of them, they say he keeps them like slaves or something. And that guy that ratted out to the cops before he was killed--he told them all about the whippings and the torture and the gang rapes and all that. Christ, that Farelli's just a sick, twisted bastard who gets his kicks from hurting people. Especially women."

       "Shit, he's an old man," Charlie muttered. "He's not gonna--I  mean--hell, he probably can't even get it up any more. He just wants to--"

       "Wants to what?" Nina said.

       Charlie shrugged.

       The girl peered at him. "What's wrong, Charlie?"

       "Nothing, why?"

       "Come on, Charlie. What's going on?"

       "Look," Charlie said. "Dino did me a lot of favors. I owe him, okay? I owe him a lot."

       "Yeah, so?"

       "So if he wants something from me, I got to give it to him. That's how it is. That's all."

       Nina sat slowly down on the edge of the bed. "What are you saying, Charlie?"

       Charlie looked toward the window, saying nothing.

       "Charlie?" Nina's voice was very controlled, as if she were making an effort to keep herself calm. "What is it, Charlie? Tell me now."

       "He wants you," Charlie said.

       There was a long pause.

       "What?" Nina said.

       Charlie took a breath. "He wants you. While he's here. He liked you when he met you in New York. He remembered you. He asked me if you were available."

       Nina closed her eyes, and then opened them again. "He asked you if I was available," she repeated. "And what did you tell him, Charlie?"

       "Look, it wasn't exactly a question, you know? It was more like a command. Dino Farelli asks you if something's available to him, you say yes. That's it."

       "You," Nina said carefully, "are planning to give me to Dino Farelli while he's here? Just like that? To be his whore? Is that it, Charlie?"

       "Fuck," Charlie said, turning to look at her. "What the hell. It's only temporary. And what's this whore shit? You're so high and mighty all of a sudden? You been my whore for two years now."

       "You son of a bitch!" Nina said. "I thought it was a little more than that, Charlie."

       "Well, whatever," Charlie said. "Dino wants you, he gets you. Make the best of it."

       "Like hell!" Nina said, her voice rising now. "I'm not giving myself to that goddam sadist bastard to get myself whipped and god knows what! No way, Charlie. No fucking way! I'll leave first!"

       Charlie suddenly leaned forward and slapped her across the face, a swift vicious slap that sent her off the bed and onto the floor. With surprising quickness he slid out of bed to stand over her and, swinging his hand downward, slapped her again, this time backhanded. Nina cried out and covered her face, cowering away from him.

       "Now you listen up, bitch," Charlie said, glaring at her. "In the first place, you're not going anyplace. I'm telling the guys not to let you out of here, not for anything, unless I say it's okay. And if you do go anyplace, out shopping or whatever, I'm sending one or two or them with you to make sure you come back. Clear? Now you fucking well do as you're told, you hear me? I promised Dino he could have you, and he's gonna fucking have you if I have to fucking tie you up and drag you by your hair. You got that?"

       Nina was gasping for breath, her eyes fearful. "Charlie, for god's sake--"

       "Yeah, for god's sake and for your own sake. You go to Dino and you be real nice to him. You got that? Real nice. You do whatever he tells you to do. Anything. And you let him do whatever he wants to do. You got that, bitch?"

       Nina had to swallow. "How long..." she whispered.

       "He's gonna be here a month," Charlie said.

       Nina went pale. "A month?" she choked out.

       "That's what he's doing, spending a month in each city. This is his last stop, I think. He's gonna be here for the month of November. But don't worry, he'll be taking care of business during the day. He'll probably only want you at night."

       "A month," Nina whispered, almost sobbing. "Christ, Charlie, he'll kill me in a month."

       "He's the boss," Charlie said.

                            November 1

       Nina knocked on the door. She was trembling inside, but she didn't show it. Her head was high, her mouth firm. She wore a simple sweater and skirt combination.

       "Come in," came a voice. She opened the door and walked into the room.

       Dino Farelli was lying on a massage table, face up, naked except for a towel draped over his loins. He was being massaged by a very large, thick man with tattoos on his arms. Farelli was thin, almost emaciated. His sparse hair was pure white, his eyes pale. The skin of his face was lined and sallow-looking. His mouth was a narrow slit. The pale eyes lit faintly as Nina came in.

       "Ah," Farelli said. "Nina, right? Good to see you again. I met you last year in New York, you know."

       "Yes," Nina said. "I remember. How are you, Mr. Farelli?"

       Farelli shrugged. "Old," he said. "But seeing you makes me feel younger. I was pretty impressed with you, you know. I asked Charlie especially if I could get to see you during my stay here."

       "I know," Nina said. And then, after a pause, she added, "That's very flattering."

       "Good," Farelli said. "Take off your clothes, okay?"

       Nina blinked once, but her expression didn't change. She glanced at the large man, who hadn't stopped his massaging.

       "Don't worry about Rick," Farelli said. "He won't touch you--unless I tell him to. I'm sure you're not the modest type, right, Nina?"

       "It wouldn't make much difference if I was, would it?" Nina said flatly, and began to remove her clothes.

       She did it slowly and deliberately, but not teasingly. She made no effort to hide herself, but stood squarely before them and took off each garment in turn, until she was naked.

       "Very nice," Farelli said then. "Yeah, really nice. Don't you think so, Rick?"

       "Hell, yeah," the large man said.

       "All right, Rick. That's enough. You can go now. Tell Frank to get things ready."        

       The large man left immediately.

       "Yes," Farelli said to Nina, his eyes running over her body. "That's nice all right. Even nicer than I imagined."

       "Thank you," Nina said.

       "It's gonna be a real pleasure to whip that body," Farelli said.

       Nina stood very still.

       "You do know that I mean to whip you, don't you, girl?" Farelli said.

       Nina swallowed. For a moment she said nothing, taking a deep breath. Then she said, simply, "Why?"

       "Why?" Farelli smiled faintly. "Because it'll give me pleasure. At my age, you gotta take pleasure wherever you can get it."

       "I can give you plenty of pleasure," Nina said boldly. "You don't need to whip me for that. I can give you all kinds of pleasure. All you can handle, in fact. Would you like me to show you?"

       Farelli smiled again. "I like your brass, girl," he said. "But you see--" He sat up then, sliding his legs over the edge of the table and allowing the towel to fall from his crotch. "This goddam old thing," he said, indicating his shriveled penis, "takes a lot of persuasion to get hard these days. It needs a lot of inspiration, you might say, and it has to be the right kind, you know what I mean? Maybe you've heard stories about what I like to do to girls. Hurt them and all. Well, it's true. I like hurting women. I like making them suffer, and I like making them scream. I'm not saying that's a good thing, I'm just saying that's how it is. That's what gets me hot. It always did, but nowadays it's about the only thing that does. Nothing else can get this useless son of a bitch to stand up. So if I'm gonna fuck you--and I sure as hell mean to do that--I'm gonna have to give you a little whipping first. Sorry, but that's just how it is."

       "I'm not so sure about that," Nina said. "Let's just see." She moved to the table and stood in front of him, almost touching him, and then went down on her knees. Her face was on a level with his crotch. She stuck her tongue out and touched it to the limp penis, then flicked it softly back and forth. Slowly, she licked at the flabby member, while brushing it with her lips. Nothing happened.

       She inserted her tongue behind his penis and lifted it, tickling the underside with her tongue tip and rubbing her lower lip over his scrotum at the same time. She then brought her tongue to his balls, licking and caressing them lightly, while she bent her head so that her long dark hair brushed back and forth across his cock. Finally she took the head of his shrunken member between her lips, drawing on it, licking at it as she slowly took more of him in, until she had all of it in her mouth, her lips rubbing it, her tongue sliding around and across and back and forth. And still it stayed limp.

       "That's real nice, Nina," Farelli said from above her. "I like looking at you that way, on your knees to me, with my cock in your mouth. It's a real sexy sight, actually. But you can see that it doesn't do anything to make me hard. And neither does that terrifically talented mouth of yours. The only thing that's gonna do it for me is to hear screams coming out of that mouth. Watching your pain. Seeing you struggle when you're tied up for the whip. Listening to you screaming and crying and begging. Seeing how helpless you are while we whip you. Yeah. That's what I want, and that's what I'm gonna have."

       For the first time, as he said those words, there were faint signs of life in the flaccid tube of flesh that Nina still held in her mouth. It gave a tiny twitch under her tongue, and as he finished speaking, it even seemed to grow a little.

       "Tell me more," Nina said, taking her mouth from him long enough to utter the words. "Tell me how you will whip me." And she took him between her lips again.

       He seemed only too glad to comply. "My boys, Rick and Frank, are setting things up right now," he said. "I always carry the equipment with me, makes it easier. I like to do it two ways. One is with the girl just hanging there. Hanging by her wrists, with her body dangling and her feet off the floor. That's really painful all by itself, you know? All that weight on your arms and shoulders, being stretched out by your hanging body. And the more you struggle and twist the worse it gets. But you can't keep yourself from twisting and struggling and kicking, especially once the whipping begins. Yeah, that's really a beautiful sight."

       Now his penis was definitely stirring, though sluggishly. Nina encouraged it by circling her tongue all around it, then slowly sliding her lips off it long enough to murmur, "And the second way?"

       "The second way," Farelli said, his voice breathier now, "is with you stretched between two posts, all stretched out like spread-eagled, you know? Your wrists and ankles attached to the posts. That way you can't struggle so much. That's the down side. The up side is that it makes it easier for the whip to connect with a particular target, you know? Like your tits."

       "My tits," Nina said. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, though her voice was muffled by his cock.

       "I especially like whipping a girl's tits," Farelli said. "It hurts like a son of a bitch, and they scream so loud it's like to burst your eardrums."

       Nina's head was moving now as the cock in her mouth slowly lengthened. She slipped it from her lips but kept her mouth close enough to it so that he could feel her breath as she said, "How long will you whip me? How many lashes?" Her tongue moving on him. Her hands, too, now stroking his thighs.

       "Oh," Farelli said. He was breathing more heavily now. "Oh, there's no telling about that. There's no limit. It could go on and on. Oh yeah. On and on..."

       "Even as I scream and beg you to stop," Nina said, and enfolded him in her mouth again.

       "Yes," Farelli grated. "I'm an old man, my arm's not as strong as it used to be. But if I get tired, my boys will take over. They're young and strong, they can whip you harder than hell, and they can go on forever. While I sit and watch. Sometimes I let both of them do it at once."

       He was stiff now. "Both of them whipping me," Nina said, sliding her mouth from him again, caressing that stiffness with one hand while using the other one on his balls. "The whip slashing into my flesh. Into my back and my breasts. While I scream and cry and beg for mercy."

       "Yeah," Farelli said. "Oh god, yeah."

       Nina rose now, and with a swift motion lifted both of his thin legs and slid them onto the table. Farelli made no resistance, but lay back as Nina climbed onto the table herself, straddling him, lowering herself as she crouched above him, her hand finding his now fully erect cock, guiding it to her crotch. "Oh god, it hurts!" she whispered, sinking down on him. "Oh Jesus, stop. Please stop! Oh god, I can't stand it. Please make them stop. Please!"

       "You little bitch," Farelli panted, reaching up to clutch at her hips as she took him all the way into her.

       "Please, no more!" she moaned as she began to move up and down. "Please, I'm begging you, I'll do anything, please make it stop, please!"

       Farelli was almost gasping. "If you think...this is gonna...stop me from..."

       Nina bent down over him, still moving, her breasts flattening against his chest. "I'm screaming," she panted into his ear. "I'm in agony, and I'm screaming, the whip is crashing into me, again and again, and I'm screaming my guts out, twisting and sobbing and begging and screaming, it's pure agony, and they won't stop and I'm screaming..."

       "Oh Christ!" Farelli shouted, and his body spasmed weakly as he exploded inside her.

       "You see?" Nina said a moment later, climbing off the table. "You don't need to whip me, Mr. Farelli. Your imagination works just as well."

       "You're a real clever little cunt, girl," Farelli said. "But if you think that little trick is gonna keep you from getting the real thing, you're in for a big surprise. I'm not gonna do it tonight, because once a night is just about all I can manage these days. But you come back tomorrow night, girl. I'll whip you then, but good."

       "All right," Nina said. "Tomorrow."

                             November 2

       Farelli was alone when she came to his room the next night. The massage table was gone, and he was lying on the bed, completely naked. Nina was again wearing a sweater and skirt, and she was carrying a small paperback book.

       "I been waiting for you, girl," Farelli said. "I been thinking about you too. I can't wait to whip the shit out of you, especially after last night. The equipment is already set up, and the boys are waiting in the other room. Strip down."

       "May I just say one thing, Mr. Farelli?" Nina asked.

       "No. Take it off."

       "All right." She held out the book toward him. "Would you just hold this for me, please? You might want to look at it. I brought it especially for you."

       Farelli glared at her. "If this is another trick--"

       "It isn't a trick, Mr. Farelli," Nina said. "It wasn't a trick last night, either. I just showed you that the power of your own imagination was able to make you potent. You fucked me, Mr. Farelli, and you did it without having to hurt me. Except in your mind."

       "Yeah, because I was thinking about whipping you all to hell, and now I'm gonna do the real thing, which will make it even better."

       "But I should think you would want to explore this further," Nina said. "I mean, you thought you couldn't get it up without actually hurting a woman. Now that you know that isn't true, why not find out what else would--"

       "Oh Christ, this is bullshit!" Farelli said. "You just don't want to get whipped. Well, that's just too bad, lady. And the more you stall, the worse it's gonna be. Now you gonna strip down, or should I get Rick and Frank to do it for you?"

       "Of course I will," Nina said. She dropped the book onto the bed, and Farelli glanced at it. It was obviously an old book, though the front cover was vividly colored. It featured a lurid painting of a young, long-haired blonde girl, her arms above her head, hanging from a rope fastened around her wrists. She was wearing a lacy bra and panties, but the bra had just been cut open in front by a large knife, held by a man unseen apart from his hand and arm. The title of the book was "Gutter Girl."

       "Nice picture," Farelli said sardonically. "Is that supposed to turn me on?"

       Nina was taking her clothes off. "I've been looking over some of Charlie's old books," she said as she unhurriedly stripped. "You know, Charlie never throws anything away. And he's got all these old books, these old sex books that he used to buy when he was a kid. He never got rid of them. Well, a lot of them have parts that might interest you. Stimulate you. I thought if I--"

       "Jesus Christ!" Farelli exclaimed. "You're gonna show me some fucking stroke book to get me off, like some horny kid? You think that's gonna--"

       "All I'm saying," Nina broke in, removing her bra, "is that I think you'd like some of these stories, and they might even help you. Take this book, for instance. This is--"

       "You are one crazy cunt," Farelli said.

       "Just give it a chance," Nina said. She took off her panties. "What can you lose? I mean, we have all night, and you can always whip me later. Let me just tell you about this one part, okay? That's all I ask."

       "Who the hell are you to ask anything?" Farelli demanded. Then he snorted. "All right, go ahead, knock yourself out. But make it snappy."

       "Okay," Nina said. "See, this book is about a young girl who runs away and gets involved with a street gang. That's not her on the cover, though. I mean, it looks like her--blonde and fair-skinned and all--but that's really misleading, because actually the girl that this happens to is a Puerto Rican girl that the gang captures in a rumble or something. They're enemies with the Puerto Ricans--just like in 'West Side Story,' you know? So now they've got one of them, and they're gonna do all kinds of nasty things to her."

       "Just like I'm gonna do to you," Farelli said. He reached out and took one of her breasts in his hand, squeezing it hard enough to make her wince.

       "Yes," Nina said, sitting down on the bed beside him. "In fact, they do do some of the things you said you wanted to do to me. Like hanging the girl up by her wrists. And having two guys whipping her at the same time, front and back. But they do other things too. And the runaway girl, Donna is her name, she's trying to get in good with the gang, so she has to do some of the whipping too. She likes it, but not as much as the guys do."

       "I bet," Farelli said. His hands were on her body, and hers had found their way to his crotch, fingering his quiescent penis. "It takes a man to really appreciate a woman's suffering." His hands moved to her head, tangling in her hair, and pulled it down to his crotch. "What else do they do to her?"

       Nina adjusted her position on the bed so that she could more comfortably nuzzle at his loins. She caressed him with her lips and slid her tongue over his cock and balls. Her voice was muffled as she spoke, and her words were squeezed out in between the more active ministrations of her mouth and tongue. "Well...they have her tied up...and they cut her clothes off...and hang her up...and when she...when she kicks a lot they...one of them breaks her toe..."

       "No shit," Farelli said. His penis was responding now, to her mouth or to her words, or both. "And then they fuck the hell out of her, right?"

       "Oh yes," Nina murmured. "But not till afterward....But first...one guy takes this cigar..."

       "A cigar, huh? Tell me about it."

       Nina had his cock in her mouth now. She sucked on it a few times, then released it slowly. "Let me read some of it to you," she whispered. "Just a little bit. It'll be better that way than if I just tell you about it, you know?"
       "But I don't want you to stop what you're doing," Farelli objected.

       "It'll be okay," Nina reassured him. "I'll stop whenever you want. And you'll like it, I promise."

       "I'm still gonna whip you tonight," Farelli said, grabbing at her hair again and making her look up at him. "Don't think I'm not."

       Nina tried to nod, but his grip was too tight. Her scalp burned with the pull on her hair. "All right," she gasped. "Just let me read you a little first."

       He let go of her and she sat up, reaching for the little book. She opened it and swiftly found the page she wanted.

       The girl was terrified,

Nina read.

       She was trying to struggle but her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles were lashed together and her movements only made her breasts bounce.

       "This is our present from the Spics," Johnny said. "Let's have a ball with her."

       "Hey, I like it so far," Farelli said jokingly. "Who's this Johnny?"

       "He's the leader of the gang," Nina replied, turning a page as she skipped forward a little. "So they hang her up by her wrists, okay, and she's hanging there with her weight dragging her down and she's sweating and scared out of her mind, right? Now let's see...

       Johnny reached out a hand, stroked the Puerto Rican girl's throat. She drew back her head, frightened now, and he laughed softly and slapped her across the face.

       "Spic whore," he said savagely.

       Nina held the book in her left hand, and as she read her right hand returned to Farelli's crotch, moving over his twitching, slowly growing cock, stroking and caressing.

       He tugged the red sweater loose from the waistband of the black chinos, eased it up around her neck. She was wearing a lacy black bra that was straining with the massive weight of her breasts. Johnny took out a knife, clicked it open. He used it neatly, slicing the sweater to ribbons. Then, just as neatly, he cut the strap joining the two cups of the bra. It fell back exposing two perfect golden brown breasts, each tipped with a ruby nipple. He cut the shoulder staps and the bra fell to the floor.

       The girl writhed in an awful combination of shame and terror. Her ankles were still tied together and her body swayed to and fro, breasts bobbing like ripe fruit from a tree. All of the Counts were staring at her now, eyes hungry.

       "The Counts, huh?" Farelli said. "What kind of stupid name is that for a gang?"

       Nina leaned down and gave his cock a swift suck, then straightened up, her hand still moving on him.

       The chinos came next. He popped the button with the knife blade, then yanked the zipper all the way down. The girl had a small waist and very wide hips and it was hard to get the pants over her buttocks, but he managed it, pushing them until they were down around her knees. Then he cut the cord that had been holding her ankles together and pulled the chinos off the rest of the way.

       The girl writhed again, kicked out savagely. Johnny caught her foot, bent one of her little toes back until it broke with a snapping sound, like a twig that someone had stepped on. The girl screamed softly and fell back limp.

       "Christ!" Farelli breathed.

       Johnny laughed. The Counts were with it now, happy, excited. They were whistling at the girl, shouting obscenities. Johnny put his hands under her arms, then ran them downward slowly, stopping briefly to catch hold of the firm mounds of flesh and pinch the red nipples. The hands moved downward again, catching hold of the black panties and pulling them down and off.

       "Okay, so now she's naked," Farelli said impatiently, but his voice was hoarse. "When do we get to the whipping?"

       "It's coming," Nina said. "Don't rush it." She bent down again and took him in her mouth. He was almost completely hard now. She sucked him slowly, her tongue working. She could hear his breathing above her.

       After a while she raised her head. "You like it, right?" she whispered. "You like it when I read to you."

       "I'm gonna like it when you scream for me too," Farelli said. "Get on with it."

       She sat up and picked up the book again. "So now they're ready to whip her," she said. "And Johnny tells Donna, the runaway, to start it off. It's sort of like a test for her. He gives her his heavy black belt and tells her to make the girl scream right through the tape. Oh yes, I forgot to say that she has a big piece of tape over her mouth. And Donna's afraid that if she doesn't do a good job, she'll be strung up and whipped too. So..."

       She raised the belt and lashed out.

       The girl writhed horribly, arching her back and flailing out with her legs....

       She raised the belt again, slashed it across the girl's breasts with all her strength. It made a mark, left a pair of huge sore red welts on the golden brown skin. She swung the belt again and again, beating the girl viciously. At one point the tape gag came loose and the girl got out a shriek that filled the whole room...

       Donna whipped, lashed, flailed away. When her arm was tired two of the Counts took over for her. One of them stood in front of the girl, the other in back. Each used a heavy garrison belt.

       "Goddam, yeah," Farelli breathed. "That's it. That's what's gonna happen to you, baby. Keep going."

       "Now comes the cigar," Nina said. "Johnny takes out this big fat cigar and lights it up." Her hand was cupped around his hard penis now, slowly moving up and down.

       He showed the cigar to the girl.

       "You know what this is, you PR bitch? This ain't a cigar...

       "This is a Spic, bitch. This is your Spic boy friend. See what shape it is? See what color it is? This is your boy friend, and you love him."

       He spun around. "Skin," he said. "Angie. Grab this twist's legs."

       Each of them took an ankle. They backed away, holding the girl's legs wide apart. She knew what was coming next, the terror was glistening in her almond-shaped brown eyes. The sweat was pouring from her face and throat, merging with the blood on her breasts and belly. Johnny moved closer to her, took a final drag on the fat cigar and grinned at the girl.

       "Your goddam Spic boy friend," he spat. "This is the guy you want so bad you can taste it. Well, you can have him."

       Donna put the book down.

       "Yeah, go on!" Farelli demanded. "Don't stop now. What does he do?"

       "That's all it says," Donna said. "But I'm sure you can imagine."

       "Yeah. Jesus." Farelli reached for her. "I want you, girl. I want you now. Come on."

       She didn't resist as he rolled her onto her back and got on top of her, pushing her legs apart urgently. Her hands went to his stiff penis and guided him to her as he pushed himself forward. With a low cry he entered her, shoving himself all the way in with one thrust.

       "Christ," he panted. "He stuck it right into her, didn't he? The burning cigar. Right into her twat."

       "Yes," Nina said. "That was the idea all right."

       "Yeah." He was moving now, slowly at first, in and out of her, and she moved with him, matching his rhythm. "Jesus, they pulled her legs apart while she hung there and he ground the thing right into her cunt. I bet she screamed at that one, all right."

       "Oh god, yes," Nina moaned into his ear, wrapping her legs around him. "Screaming like an animal. Such pain. Such agony."

       Farelli moved faster. "And then they fucked her, right?"

       "Yes," Nina said. "It tells about that. They cut her down and all of them raped her. Till she couldn't even struggle any more. Raping her one after another. All of them."

       "Yeah. Oh yeah. Fucking her right up her twat...right into her burned pussy...banging the shit out of that burned hurting tortured cunt...on and on..." He was panting and gasping, his hands clutching her ass as he pounded at her.

       Nina fucked him back, stroke for stroke. "Oh yes, it hurts so much!" she cried out for his benefit. "Ahhh...Aaaagghhh... AAAAAAIIIEEEEE..."

       He was gasping and choking so hard when he shot his come inside her that she feared he was having a heart attack. But finally he rolled off her and flopped onto his back, panting heavily but still very much alive.

       "You did it again," he said when he recovered his breath. "Tricky little bitch. But what are you going to do tomorrow?"

       "I'll bring another book," Nina said.

       "Bring a fucking library," Farelli said. "It won't help you. Tomorrow you get whipped."

       "Tomorrow," Nina said.

                        November 3

       Farelli was naked again. He chuckled when he saw the book in her hand.

       "Another book, huh?" he said. "Won't help you this time, girl. Let's see it."

       Nina handed him the little red-covered paperback. He glanced at it briefly and snorted. "'Chain and Ball,'" he read. "Stupid fucking title. Shit, there's not even a picture on this one." Disdainfully he threw the book over his shoulder, and it flew through the air and landed in a corner of the room. "Forget the book, baby, that's not gonna work this time," he said, grinning at her. "Skin out of those clothes and we're gonna go inside and have some fun. The guys are waiting."

       Once again Nina stripped for him. "I think you would like that book, though, Mr. Farelli," she said as she opened her bra. "It's just chock full of women being tortured and raped and brutalized. It's all about these two men who--"

       "Save it," Farellin interrupted. "I don't even want to hear about it. Get those panties off."

       Nina did. "Let's go," Farelli said. He got up.        

       Nina took a slow step toward him. "Can I just tell you about the spikes?" she asked.

       "No," Farelli said. Then he said, "What spikes?"

       "The ones that go into the nipples," Nina said. "See, they put them on the floor, in this block of wood or something, and then they make the girl lie down--"

       Farelli reached out suddenly and grasped one of her nipples in each hand, clamping them hard and pulling her toward him that way. Nina cried out as she was forced forward until their bodies almost touched. Farelli did not let go. In fact he twisted the nipples in his cruel fingers until Nina cried out again, then began to gasp with the pain.

       "In the nipples, huh?" he grunted. "I'm gonna twist these damn nipples right off you, girl, if you try to bamboozle me again. You got that?"

       Nina nodded jerkily, unable to speak. Little moans came from her mouth. Farelli untwisted the nipples and eased up the pressure a little, but still kept them trapped in his surprisingly strong fingers. "You're getting whipped tonight no matter what," he said. "You understand that, right?"

       "Yes, sir," Nina breathed.

       "Okay. Now tell me about the spikes."

       The pain was less, but it was still there, the fingers unrelenting. Nina forced herself to speak through it. "These two men," she began, panting a little, "Buck and Stanley, they have a whole house full of women they've captured, they make them slaves and they do all kinds of things to them, all kinds of torture and--"

       Farelli squeezed hard with his fingers, and Nina squalled. Her knees went weak and she almost collapsed, but his grip kept her upright. "Get to the spikes, bitch," Farelli demanded.

       "I am. They--one thing they do is they have these two sharp spikes, a couple of inches long I guess, set in this base that they put on the floor, and then they make the girl lie down on her stomach with her nipples right over the spikes. They--they make her go right down on it, and it--it's--"

       "Yeah," Farelli said. "It sounds nice." He released her nipples, but kept his hands on her breasts, stroking them. The nipples throbbed, stiff with pain. "Right in here," Farelli said, his fingers running over them. "All the way in. Christ, that would hurt all right, wouldn't it?"

       Nina snuck a look down at his cock. It was flaccid, but stirring a little. "Oh god, yes!" she said. "The poor women nearly went insane. May I just read you the part where--"

       Farelli squeezed again, harder now, and when he let go Nina did collapse, sinking down to her knees and moaning softly, her arms cradling her throbbing breasts. When she raised her head she could see his penis, twitching now, still not hard but visibly growing. Her pain was doing it for him. She moved her head forward, opening her mouth to take him in, but he raised his foot and placed it against her shoulder, pushing her away so that she sprawled on the floor.

       "Not this time, girl," he rasped. "You're too fucking clever for you own good. But whatever you do, you're gonna get whipped tonight. You got that?"

       "Yes, sir," Nina said chokingly.

       "Say it."

       "I--I'm going to get whipped tonight."

       "Just so we understand each other. Okay. Now you can read to me."

       Nina rolled over onto her hands and knees and crawled the few feet to the corner where Farelli had flung the book. Her nipples still ached, throbbing with every beat of her heart. Picking up the book, she turned over and sat down on the floor, leafing through it. Farelli sat on the bed.

       "Okay," she said. "First they use it on this girl Linda, who has been there for a while and has gone through all kinds of terrible torture, but this is probably the worst yet. Then later they take this girl named Wendy, who they've recently captured, along with her boyfriend Bill, and..."

       "Jesus Christ," Farelli interrupted her. "You gonna tell me the whole fucking story? Just read already, and get it over."

       She licked her lips. "Okay." She quickly found the page she wanted. "They've already tortured her a lot, and now they lay her down on this board, see, with the spikes sticking through it, and they can fasten her hands to it so she can't--okay. Okay." She began to read.

               "Lie down, with your titties on those," Buck

       commanded... "I want them right in those big red nipples,"

       he ordered. "I want them all the way in."

       "Then he makes Bill, her boyfriend, who they've got tied up, he makes him sit down on the floor in front of her. He says,

               "It's about time Wendy treated you properly. We're

       going to put your cock just out of reach so that she's

       going to go all the way down on those spikes, just to touch it with both hands. She's going to pierce her poor little pink nipples just to get at your lousy cock."

       "What the hell," Farelli said. "First he says she's got big red nipples, then he says little pink ones. Which is it, for Christ sake?"
       "Well, I don't think it matters much, do you?" Nina said. "I mean, they're down in the basement, maybe the light isn't too good down there." 

       "Yeah, and maybe the guy who wrote this was a stupid asshole. Okay, get on with it."

       "So Buck ssys,

               "If she doesn't get to it right away, within a couple

       of minutes, you'll get a nice hot soldering iron in you,

       complete with solder. You can imagine where."...

               "Give it to him," ordered Stanley. "Give him your

       nipples. On those." He pointed down to the spikes. She bent down, reaching forward, her ass bobbing up and down.

       "Who the fuck is Stanley?" Farelli demanded.

       "I told you, he's Buck's friend, the two of them are--"

       "Oh yeah. So they're both making her do this, and she's gotta jerk her boyfriend off or something with the spikes in her tits, or they'll burn his ass."

       "And torture her too. Remember, they've already been whipping her and making her do things, and she can't take much more, so..."

       "Yeah, well how come you're not reading me about that part? It sounds good."

       "I just thought you'd like this part best, Mr. Farelli, but if you want me to go back and--
       "No, no, forget it, this is taking too damn much time already. Just get on with it, for Christ sake."

       "Okay.

               She reached forward, her breasts approaching the

       spikes. Buck bent down and made sure the nipples hit the

       sharp points dead center, but he allowed her to sink down

       on them at her own tormented speed. Her breasts sank further and further onto the spikes, those beautiful and rock-hard nipples that sprang out so arrogantly when she walked now crushed in. Her hands eked their way toward their target. She cried out in pain, then reached forward and sank still further. She was about an inch away from him. She hesitated, overwhelmed by the complete agony that made her whole body yield to the sensation in her breasts. Then she let go and dropped with her full weight on her breasts.

       "Jesus!" Farelli muttered. She took a quick look at him. His cock was growing. She reached for it slowly with one hand. He made a gesture as if to push her away, but did not. Her fingers caressed him very lightly as she quickly read on.

               Her hands could just barely reach to the tip of his

       prick, touching and stroking it desperately...She was prostrate on the floor now beneath the three men. Buck jammed a finger in her ass.

       "Yeah," Farelli breathed. "Christ." Nina still stroked him.

               She jumped, scraping against the spikes and nearly

       losing her grip. They made her caress Bill like that until

       he became hard in spite of himself. Then Buck ordered Bill

       to get up while Stanley secured the wrists and shoulder

       straps to hold the girl tightly in place. They left her

       there, the pain growing worse and her screams and moans

       more intense as the spikes penetrated ever deeper. Buck

       placed his foot on Wendy's back and deliberitely drove her

       down on the points.

       "Holy shit!" Farelli whispered. He was almost fully hard now. Nina put the book down and, without taking her hand from him, turned over and lay flat on her stomach.

       "Like this," she said. Her other hand reached for him now. "Like this, flat on her front with the spikes in her nipples. Pushing all the way in. Oh god, think of the pain." She began to writhe, her lower body twisting slightly, her upper body immobile. "God, it hurts," she moaned, both hands stroking him lightly. "Oh Jesus Christ, oh shit, it hurts so much...please..."

       "Little bitch," Farelli said, his voice hoarse now. "You're doing it again. If you think..."

       Nina began to sob, as convincingly as she could. Her movements became convulsive, her legs kicking spasmodically. Her moans got louder. "Oh god, I can't!" she cried frantically. "Please make it stop, please god, please..."

       Farelli got up abruptly, his hard cock slipping from her fingers. For a moment she thought he was going to call in his men, but instead he stood over her, raised one foot and placed it on her back. Just as Buck had done to Wendy. Pushing her down still further onto the spikes. Making them dig deeply, agonizingly into her tender, tortured flesh. Nina could hear the sound of Farelli's quickened breathing.

       She screamed as loudly as she could. Her breasts were crushed beneath her, but though she could feel the weight of him, the pressure was not that much. Still she screamed with all her might, thrashing her legs and jerking around, as if her nipples were truly impaled. Her screams didn't diminish until Farelli removed his foot, and even then she only lowered the volume slightly, her shrieks interspersed with frantic, half-crazed moans and pleas.

       Now Farelli was lowering himself on top of her. "He put his finger up her ass," he gritted in her ear. His upper body was pressing down on her back, and she continued her frenzied howling, squalling and sobbing. "But I'm gonna put something else up your ass. You hurting, bitch? You feel those spikes in your tits?"
       "Yes, Christ yes!" Nina howled. "Oh Jesus please, please let me up, please!" She felt his hands on her buttocks, pulling them apart. She was truly apprehensive, knowing he was going to hurt her now, taking her that way, without preparation. But it was better than getting whipped. Anything was better than that.

       She felt his cock pushing at her tight anus, and her next scream was genuine as he brutally rammed his way inside her. He was lying on her full out, his panting breath in her ear, his body crushing her, and even through the pain of his ruthlessly marauding cock she made herself react as though the worst part of that invasion was the added agony he was bringing to her horribly tortured nipples. But the true pain made it easier; she just had to intensify her suffering, and the tears she shed were real now as he battered away at her twisting, howling body.   

       "Bitch!" he gasped out. "Take it, bitch...take the spikes...up your tits...ripping them...ruining them...Christ..." He raised his upper body to get more leverage in his strokes, and to support himself he laid his forearms across her back, leaning on them, pushing her body down hard as he moved more forcefully. Her ass had become somewhat adjusted to his cock now, but still she screamed and howled and pleaded almost dementedly, kicking her legs and twisting as much as she could beneath him, until she heard him groan and felt the stiffening of his body as he came inside her.

       After a minute he rolled off her and lay on his back, breathing hard. "Bitch," he panted. "Think you're so fucking clever...Well, we'll see...how damn clever...you can be when...you're getting the shit whipped out of you. Tomorrow," Farelli said.

       "Tomorrow," Nina repeated, panting.

                           November 4

       When she showed up the next night, carrying another book, Farelli's two henchmen were waiting there with him. She had met Rick, the large man with the tattoos, the first night, when he had been giving his boss a massage. The other man was not as big, but just as tough-looking. He looked her up and down with a salacious grin. Farelli did not bother to introduce them.

       "Forget the book, honey," Farelli said, grinning at her. He was not naked this time, but dressed casually in an open shirt and neat gabardine trousers, as were his men. "There's no reading tonight. We're going right into the next room, and my guys are here to help you along if you try to stall. So drop the book and let's go."

       Nina tossed the book onto the bed, and Farelli glanced at it. The title was "Leather & Lashes," and there was a small oval picture showing the face of a woman with long brown hair, her eyes closed, her lips pursed as if in ecstasy. "Shit," Farelli said. "At least that first book you brought had a nice sexy picture of a broad getting her clothes cut off. If you're gonna bring me books, girl, at least give me something hot to look at, for Christ sake."

       "I'll try to do better next time," Nina said. "But I think you'd like this book, Mr. Farelli. It's all about this high-class girl who gets involved with this motorcycle gang, and--"

       "I don't give a shit what it's about," Farelli said harshly. "No bullshit tonight, girl. We're going inside, right now. You can strip down first. Or do you want Rick and Frank to do it for you?"

       "Of course I will," Nina said, and she began to do so. "You know, it's funny," she said as she unbuttoned her blouse. "This reminds me of a scene in that book where the gang leader makes the girl take her clothes off in front of him and his buddies." She was moving slowly, pretending to have trouble with the buttons. "That's not the part I was going to read to you though," she went on. "I thought you'd like the part where they whip her with a motorcycle aerial, and then make her fuck a bunch of--"

       "Shut up," Farelli grated. "I don't want to hear this shit. Just get your fucking clothes off, and quick."

       "That's what Lance says, kind of. He's the guy in the book, the gang leader." Nina took her blouse off. "See, the girl, Clarisse, has really fallen for him, so when she comes to--"

       "Jesus Christ," Farelli said. "There's no shutting this one up. Okay, girl, you want to run your mouth, fine, as long as you keep stripping. Not that it's gonna do you any good. Tell us about the aerial."

       "That comes later," Nina said, opening her skirt. "When they're initiating her into the gang. They call it an initiation, but it's really just an excuse to hurt her a lot. They let the girls do it, the gang girls, and they hold her down and whip her with a belt, and then with the aerial." She let her skirt fall. "On her breasts," she added.

       "Yeah, that would hurt," Frank said, grinning.

       "Yes, it would," Nina said. She was standing in her underwear now. "And then they make her have sex with them, the girls, and then with this guy she can't stand, who has this great big--"

       "Take the rest off, damn it," Farelli interrupted.

       Nina reached behind her to open the hooks of her bra. "Just like Clarisse," she murmured. "Earlier in the book, when she comes to be with Lance and he makes her strip in front of his friends, and then he tells her if she wants to--"

       "Stop stalling!" Farelli snarled. "You need some help, Rick here will help you, right, Rick?"

       "That's not necessary," Nina sad, and took off the bra. Rick had seen her naked before, of course, that first night, but Frank had not. He made an appreciative sound.

       Nina made a deliberately ineffective attempt to cover her breasts with her arms. "I feel just like Clarisse," she said. "Can I just read you the part where--"

       "No!" Farelli said. "No reading, damn it. Take off those fucking panties and let's go."

       "Well at least I won't have to go as far as she did," Nina said. Her hands went to her last remaining garment and pushed it down slowly. "See, Lance told her anything she did for him she had to do for his friends too, and she was so crazy about him that she couldn't stop herself." She slid the panties down her legs. Frank was staring at her body, still grinning. Rick was looking too, but he also seemed interested in what she was saying. She stepped out of the panties and again made a gesture toward covering herself. "It was so shaming for her," she went on. "He made her crawl for them and suck him off, and in the meantime his gang buddies were--"

       "That's enough," Farelli said. "Let's go inside."

       "What?" Rick said. "What were his buddies doing?"

       "Never mind," Farelli said sharply. "Take her--"

       "If I could just read you that part, I'm sure you'd like it," Nina said, talking to Rick now, who seemed to be her only chance. "It won't take long, and--"

       "No," Farelli said flatly.

       "Aw, why not, boss?" Rick said pleadingly. "It sounds good. And then we can whip her afterwards, right?"

       Nina was surprised that Rick would question his boss's orders even in this subservient manner, but instead of lashing out at him, as she expected, Farelli seemed to look upon him like an indulgent uncle with a rather slow-witted nephew. "Use your fucking head, Rick, for Christ sake. You see what she's doing, it's what she's been doing all along. If she starts reading and doing her tricks there'll be no whipping. Don't worry, if you want her to read the damn book she can do it afterwards. If she's conscious. Isn't that right, girl?"

       "I won't have a choice, will I?" Nina said.

       "No, you damn well won't," Farelli answered.

       "Did they screw her in the book?" Rick inquired.

       "Well, not exactly. Not right then, anyway. Because while she was using her mouth on Lance, they were--"

       "Oh Christ," Farelli said. "All right, read it already. But make it snappy. And no tricks. Understand?"

       "I understand," Nina said. She moved to the bed, sat down and picked up the book. "Let me find the place," she said, flipping the pages.

       Farelli made an impatient noise. "Here it is," Nina said. "Clarisse comes to this kind of pinball joint, where Lance and his motorcycle gang are hanging out. Because she can't get him out of her mind, this rough outlaw type who doesn't really give a shit about her. He knows what she wants, though, and he takes her out into the alley, and his gang comes with them. She's so humiliated, but she can't stop herself, and he--"

       "Fucking read the damn thing if you're going to," Farelli demanded. "Or just--"

       "Okay," Nina said. "I'll have to skip around some to make it shorter, but I'll--" She stopped as Farelli made a growling noise, and began to read.

               They formed a semicircle around Clarisse, who stood

       facing Lance as he leaned back on a stack of packing crates, his mouth twisting slightly as a small grin cracked the coldly handsome mask of his features.

               "Okay, princess, what's on your mind?" he asked. And

       Clarisse knew, without further thought or hesitation. that

       he wanted to hear her say it, that if she was going to

       give herself to him, it would have to be absolutely, wholly, even to the incredible point of sharing the sickness which drove her to sacrifice every last iota of self-esteem before his mates....

               "I, I," she started, screwing up all her courage to

       master the weakness that was holding her back from her

       salvation, "want your cock!"

               "Then come and get it," Lance replied laconically...

               Clarisse took a deep breath...She unbuckled the

       trenchcoat and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it

       fall to the muck of the concrete patio.

               "Faaar out!" another male voice commented, speaking

        on behalf of the male circle who were devouring the promise of her sveltely-clad body....

               For no particular reason other than her helplessness,

       she pulled down the bodice of her dress...And then the

       low-slung brassiere, baring her delectable pale boobs to

       the welcome cool of the night air.

       Nina glanced up. Rick was listening intently, obviously fascinated. Frank was standing with arms folded, still grinning a little, his eyes never leaving her naked body. Farelli stood impassively, a slight scowl on his face. "Meanwhile the gang guys are making remarks and saying things about her body," Nina said. "I won't read them all, but naturally it just adds to her humiliation. And that's when Lance says..." She went back to the book.

               "Take the rest off, princess, what you do for me you

       do for any of my buds here," he told her, letting the message sink in...that if it happened to be his pleasure, she would crawl to any of these filthy gloating strangers just as she was now crawling to him.

               Staring into his face, feeding on his eyes with the

       blank, dutiful look of a child who reinforces his subservience by keeping his attention focused on the figure of authority, Clarisse pushed the dress down, automatically ruining the expensive apparel by letting it fall to the encrusted concrete. She unclasped her bra and was going to drop that, but one of       the spectators snatched it from her hand...She worked her half-slip down over her hips, stooping to push it off her thighs, her breasts swinging forward, nipples dancing duskily in the naked light. She stood up, excitingly naked but for the scanty armor of her panties, the sheen of her stockings, her shoes, earrings, and jewelry.

               Lance looked impassivley at her body...Quickly...

       blushing horridly from a lifetime's habit of modesty...she

       shucked off the silk triangle of her panties and her hose,

       standing up naked before her potent god, her feet curling at the contact with the rubble of glass and crud on the cold concrete.

       "Man," Rick said. "Stark naked, huh, right out there in front of all those guys."

       "Just as I am now," Nina said. "I know how she felt."

       "Well don't stop now," Frank said, although his voice was still laconic.  "What does she do next?"

       "Well, she's standing there, and the guys are whistling and calling her a nympho and a pussy, and Lance is just standing and waiting, and she knows what she has to do."

               Clarisse crouched down awkwardly, hands feeling her way in the filth, hunkering like a dog...

               Kneeling in the grit and raising her body upright, in a position of homage made all the more dramatic by the clothes strewn around her...She looked up and Lance seemed to tower above her...looking down bored, as if even this were not sufficiently degrading a ritual. Flustered, she worked at the buttons of his jeans...and she pulled them down inch by inch, exposing the horny groin...

               "Suck it, baby!" It wasn't Lance who had spoken.

               "Suck him off, bitch. C'mon!" the next voice was

       strained, demanding.

               Clarisse looked up and around at the ring of faces,

       each bent closely over her...But Lance's hands were on her shoulders now, drawing her closer to the vault of his hairy crotch...His penis looked enormous...The pressure of his hands on her shoulders were unmistakable, vise-like grips guding her to the position in which, surrounded by strangers and a nauseating environment, she was expected to baptize herself in the most bestial rite she could conceive a human being succumbing to.

       "Christ, this guy writes fancy, don't he?" Farelli said. "Too much hifalutin' language. She's supposed to suck his dick, why doesn't he just say so?"

       "Well, his friends use plain language, all right. They're standing around watching what he's making her do, just like Rick and Frank here, and they say...

               "Open up, sweetheart!"

               "Suck cock! Get it on!"

               "Man, I can't stand it! I'm gonna come any minute now!"

               "What a bitchin' body!"

               "Eat the meat, rich bitch!"

               The cracks and laughter swirled about her. Lance's thumbs were pushing at her jaw, forcing it open, making her part her trembling lips and form her mouth for him. Shutting her eyes, the sinking, sick feeling meeting the still fiery heat rising from her body, Clarisse bent her head to his demand.

       "All right!" Rick said.

       "Shut up, Rick," Farelli said. "Or she'll never finish."

               The limp thick shaft of his member brushed her cheek

       and then she felt the soft bulb of the foreskin flick against her lips...Groaning... she let the head of the resilient organ penetrate the uninitiated orifice of her mouth.

       "Wait a minute," Farelli said. "Uninitiated orifice? Fancy talk for saying she never sucked cock before? I don't fucking believe that, for Christ sake. How old is this girl?"

       "I don't remember, nineteen or so I think," Nina said. "But remember she's led a sheltered life. I mean, she's fooled around with her boyfriend and so on, but the way she's been brought up she probably--"

       "Yeah, yeah, I still don't believe it," Farelli said. "But go ahead, get it over with."

               Lance's hands clasped around the back of her head,

       pressing her face to his groin, her nose in his pubic hair, as the whole of his rubbery meat buckled  and then snaked into her oral cavity. She gagged momentarily, panicked as the dome of the cockhead settled in the top of her throat...

               She had a flash of the phrases shouted at her by the

       other cyclists, several of whom were so incensed by the

       picture of the kneeling slender body burying its head in

       their leader's genital region that they had extracted their own tools, fondling and gripping them. And she suctioned, straining her head back against Lance's grip to avoid sucking the penis down her windpipe...

               Slipping and sliding in the cool clasping suction of 

       her mouth, it stirred. She felt it. Her mouth had to open

       wider...A growing bulk shaping her mouth to an obscene oval, a pressure against the back of her throat...She was driven back, the breath whistling through her nostrils, excited now that she had crossed over the abyss of unimaginable degradation...

               Up she came, stretching her body to accomodate the

       forceful elevation of the now incredibly long, thickened

       prick, letting it rasp against the roof of her mouth as

       she glanced upwards in a signal of compliance and, as Lance let go his hands, began bobbing her head even faster than he had suggested.

               Not hearing the lewd exclamations...from the others,

       or seeing the way several of the cyclists were standing

       over her, their fists flying up and down over their

       twitching blood-filled cocks...Clarisse gripped the backs

       of his thighs, then his buttocks, holding onto him as her

       head jerked up and down in a blur, her hair flying...her

       chest heaving, flanks running with glistening sweat, knees

       grinding painfully in the muck and rubble....

               At last, when her breath was whining through her

       nose, her chin dripping wet, her mouth raw, her tongue

       aching from the very root, she felt his body stiffen...

       Lance yelled something, wound his fists in her hair, and

       jammed her head down on his mottled meat with savage force...

         The jerk of his penis sent a tremor through her entire body..Jolt after jolt pumped into her and then there was another yell, a chorus of shouts all around her. Something splattered square on her back. Something hot and viscuous. And then, too, on her side. And from close by, right at her face, splacking against her cheek. From every side, the beaten exploding rods of his companions erupting in carefully aimed jets of masculine seed, burning like tar against her naked body, covering her with mixed effusions of ejaculated lust as Lance held her and held her, keeping her bent and beaten until her mouth had received the last drops his volcanic balls had to offer.

       "Holy fucking Christ!" Rick breathed. "They all jerked off on her while she was sucking him!"

       "Yeah, that's pretty hot," Frank admitted. "Gave me a hard-on all right, listening to that. How about you, boss?"

       "It takes more than that to give me a hard-on," Farelli said.

       "Well, shit, I wouldn't mind jerking off on that body," Frank said. "Would you, Rick?"

       "Hell no!" Rick replied. "Especially while she was--" He caught himself, looking at Farelli. "That is, if it was okay with you, boss," he finished lamely.

       "No!" Nina exclaimed, before Farelli could reply. "No, don't let them do that. Please. Not that." As the three of them stared at her, she stood up, again covering her body with her hands as well as she could. "Please," she said to Farelli. "Tell them to go away. I'll do anything you want for you, but not in front of them. For god's sake, please..."

       "What the hell?" Frank said.

       "It's a trick," Farelli said. "Don't you see? She's trying to get us all hot, so she can get us off without being whipped. Well it's not gonna work this time, girl. Take her inside."

       As the men took a step toward her, Nina fell to her knees, making a sound like a sob. The men hesitated. "Oh god, please don't make me do this," she moaned. "Please..." And she sobbed again as she got on all fours and slowly crept toward Farelli as he stood at one end of the room.

       "Damn, she's good, isn't she?" Farelli said. "You should be in the movies, girl. You're getting these guys all worked up, right, guys? Well, if you want to jerk off on her, that's fine, but you can do it later, okay? Now take her."

       Nina was still crawling, but she stopped when Rick stepped in front of her, while Frank moved up behind her. Rick indeed had a noticeable bulge in the front of his trousers. As he reached down for her, Nina raised a hand and placed it on that bulge, stroking it gently and causing Rick to catch his breath sharply. Without hesitating, sensing that Frank was reaching for her too, she found the tab of Rick's zipper and pulled it quickly down, freeing his cock, which sprang out as if of its own accord, hard and thick and veiny. This stopped both men in their tracks.

       Nina's face was close to Rick's burgeoning erection. She made a fearful sound in her throat, but did not move away. Rick stood as if frozen, though his suddenly rapid breathing was audible in the room. Frank was not moving now, nor was Farelli. For a long moment it was as if time had stood still.

       Then, with another little mewling sound, Nina moved her head closer to that twitching phallus, as if being compelled by some invisible force. Her mouth opened. Rick gave a little gasp as he felt her breath on him.

       "Hey!" It was Farelli, who now suddenly moved toward them, his face raging. "What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch?" He reached down and seized a handful of her hair, pulling her head back sharply so that she was forced to look up at him. Her cry of pain this time was not artificial. "I didn't tell you you could suck anybody else's cock, you whore!" He yanked her hair cruelly, and she cried out again. He still held her that way as he turned to Rick. "And I didn't tell you you could do anything with her, did I? Did I?" he demanded.

       Rick swallowed. "No, boss," he said apologetically. "I wasn't--I mean--I mean she just--"

       "Shut up," Farelli growled. He turned to Nina again. "You belong to me, girl, understand? You don't fuck anybody or suck anybody or even talk to anybody else unless I tell you to. You got that?" He yanked her hair again.

       "Yes!" Nina said. "I'm sorry."

       "Fuck that. Now I'm gonna let these guys have you, all right, but only when I'm ready. You'll be sucking their dicks till their jism comes out of your ass, but not until I tell you to. You got that?" Again his hand twisted in her hair. Her shriek filled the room. And then her hands were at his zipper, pulling it down, sobs escaping from her mouth as she pulled out his cock, which now was more than half hard.

       "Yes," she panted, her lips against his stiffening flesh. "Yes, darling. But please...please don't..." Her lips traveled up the length of him, her tongue trailing. "Not with them..." she whimpered. "Oh god..." And another sob issued from her as with every show of reluctance she took him into her mouth and slid it down over him all the way to the base of his pole.

       His hands were still in her hair, and now he pulled down on it, keeping her mouth where it was. She breathed heavily through her nostrils as she felt him stiffening further in her mouth. She made whimpering noises in her throat, but her tongue brushed the underside of his growing cock, moving in little circles. His grip slackened temporarily, allowing her to move, although he still clutched her hair tightly. She slid her lips upward around him, still making sounds of distress but making it as good for him as she could. He pulled downward on her hair again until he filled her mouth, then held her more loosely, but still threateningly. Her head bobbed up and down, slowly, up and down. She could hear his breathing now.

       "Oh Christ," Farelli rasped, panting a little. "You're doing it again, you bitch. You're too...too fucking clever for your own good...Oh Jesus...that mouth...faster, girl...yes...Christ...but you can't...you can't get away with this forever..."

       Nina kept sucking, a little faster now, still whimpering, giving an occasional stifled sob around his cock. She heard movement now as Rick and Frank stepped closer. One of them stood on either side of her as she knelt there on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, when she glanced that way, she could see that Rick's penis was still out, and still hard. She moaned around Farelli's cock, as if in shamed reaction, and shook her head, even pulling her mouth off him against the pressure of his hands in her hair, but he forced her back with an oath. 

       Rick's breathing was now audible as well. His hand was on his cock. "Can we, boss?" he panted, clutching himself as if holding back a straining animal. "Can we do it? Like in the book? Can we?"

       "Yeah," Farelli grunted. "Do it, for Christ sake. Why not? Have a fucking ball."

       Rick made a little gasping sound and his hand now started to move. On the other side of her, Nina heard the sound of Frank's zipper. Glancing over, she saw him too pull out his cock and begin to stroke it. She intensified both her sounds of distress and the pace of her sucking.

       "Oh, shit!" Rick moaned. "Look at her! Just like in the book. I can't fucking stand it!"

       "She's sweet, all right," Frank chimed in, his hand moving faster. "Sweet little cocksucking cunt. I'd like to--"

       "Shut the fuck up!" Farelli panted. "God, you little bitch...do it...yeah...clever fucking cocksucker...ahhhh..." He was close now, and Nina brought her hands into play, stroking his balls, then clutching his ass as if to pull him still deeper into her suctioning mouth. Suddenly Rick gave a loud cry and she felt his jism hit the side of her face, several spurts splashing onto her cheek and running down to her chin. She cried out around Farelli's cock as if in horror, and a moment later Frank came too, his sperm hitting her higher, almost in her eye, the subsequent shots spreading over a wider area, some of it dripping onto her breasts. Sobbing sounds came steadily from her busy mouth now as she swallowed Farelli's cock, her swirling tongue finishing him off, taking his come down her throat, swallowing and swallowing as his two henchmen milked the last drops out of their cocks and then swiftly tucked themselves in, as if to hide the evidence of how they had been carried away.

       Nina slowly released Farelli's cock and dropped back onto all fours, her head hanging, panting for breath. Her face was still dripping with come on both sides.

       "Goddamit!" Farelli exclaimed, but then he chuckled in spite of himself. "Damn, I gotta hand it to you, girl, you're one smart bitch. But it ends now, understand? Tomorrow you get what's coming to you."

       "Tomorrow."

                      November 5

       "You said you wanted something hotter to look at," Nina said. "So I thought you might like this one."

       Farelli snorted as he glanced at the cover of the book Nina held out to him. "Christ, you don't give up, do you?" he grated. But he took the book from her and looked at it more closely. "Yeah, that sort of jumps out at you, don't it?" he chuckled. The title of the book was "The Sado Swappers." Against a lurid orange background, the painted cover featured a spectacularly developed woman with long blonde hair, naked but for a pair of brief pink panties. She was hanging upside down, swinging from ropes tied around her wrists and ankles, in such a way that her body was pulled into a tight arch, almost a semicircle, her overgrown breasts, or at least one of them, surging toward the bottom right corner, where a man with a mustache and goatee was pointing a pistol at her face.

       "Okay, that's an improvement over the last one," Farelli said. "I hope that guy's not gonna shoot her, though. Be a hell of a waste with a body like that." 

       "Actually it's a fake," Nina said. "There's no scene like that in the book. Not with a girl in that position, I mean. But there's a lot of stuff you'd like in there, Mr. Farelli. It's all--"

       "Yeah, yeah, I know," Farelli said, tossing the book onto the bed. Rick, who had been sitting on one end of the bed, picked it up to look at it. Frank was lounging against a wall. "But not this time, girl," Farelli went on. "I'm getting tired of this shit. I wouldn't mind seeing you hanging like that, though. Your tits aren't as big as that, but with them hanging down that way they'd make great targets. You want to try it?"

       "Not really," Nina said.

       "I bet, not really," Farelli said. "But you'll hang any way I want you to hang. You understand that, right?"

       "Of course," Nina said. "But--"

       "But nothing. No tricks now. Okay, guys, let's go."

       Rick had opened the book and was peering at the first pages, his lips moving silently as he read. "Hey, listen to this, boss," he said now. "This book starts right out with a broad getting whipped." Then he began to read.

               The girl was screaming.

               She stood with her arms stretched over her head. Her

       wrists were bound together with heavy rope. The rope was tied to an iron ring suspended from the ceiling. Her feet just touched the floor.

               She was a fairly young girl, about twenty-five. Her

       hair and eyes were brown. Her skin was white. Her figure was full, rounded, and exciting. She was naked.

               A man stood nearby. He was a medium-sized, rather heavy man of about forty. He was well dressed, his trousers sharply creased, his tie expensive. His jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up.

               He was beating the girl with a whip.

       "Yeah, well he's having better luck than I am," Farelli growled. "Now put down the damn book and let's--"

       "Jesus, they got a bunch of people sitting around watching this," Rick said, his eyes still on the page. "Listen."

               They watched avidly as the man swung again and again

       with all his strength; as the whip cut repeatedly into the

       smooth skin of the naked girl's back. Her body jerked with

       each blow, her tits bouncing. At each blow she screamed

       loudly.

       "Sounds good," Frank put in.

       "Yeah, it sounds like just what I'm gonna do to you," Farelli said, looking at Nina. "I don't need a book to inspire me to do that."

       "But that's only the beginning," Nina said. "What it's really about is these three men who take over--"

       "Not interested," Farelli said. "Take your clothes off."

       Rick's attention wandered from the book to Nina as she began to comply with Farelli's order. Frank moved to him and took the book out of his hand. "Let me have a look at that," he said, and began leafing through it, only occasionally glancing up at the now familiar sight of Nina unbuttoning her dress.

       "Yeah, there's a lot of crazy stuff in here all right," he chuckled. "Damn, here's a place where they're burning some chick with cigarettes. Far out!"

       "That's Natalie," Nina said, opening another button. "See, when these men get there they find--"

       "Hey, I said we're not interested, okay?" Farelli interrupted. "Just finish stripping and we'll all go into the other room, nice and easy, okay?"

       "Jeez, boss, can't she just tell us what it's about?" Rick said plaintively. "I mean, I'd really like to know. It sounds hot."

       "Yeah, it looks hot too," Frank put in. "I didn't know they had books like this back then. How old is this thing anyway?"

       "Who the fuck cares?" Farelli said impatiently. "Christ, you guys are morons, both of you. This bitch is twisting you around her little finger. Shit, if you're not interested in whipping her I can get plenty of guys who are."

       "We're interested, boss," Rick said hastily. "Only why can't we do it after she tells us the story?"

       For a moment there was rage in Farelli's face, and Nina saw Rick turn pale. Then Farelli seemed to make an effort to control himself, and the anger turned into a kind of comical despair. He shook his head and flapped his arms as if giving up on a hopeless cause. "All right, fine," he muttered. "Tell us about the damn book." Then he whirled on his two underlings. "But listen up--if this cunt doesn't get whipped tonight, you assholes are going back to New York tomorrow. You got that?" He turned back to Nina. "Okay, go ahead, but make it short, damn it."

       The top part of Nina's dress was gaping open now. "Well, it's about this guy who likes hurting women, okay? So he gets two other guys to go with him to this house where there's three women, a mother and her two daughters. The father is away. So they rape and torture the women in all kinds of ways, and later on this other couple comes--"

       "What kind of ways?" Frank broke in. "We want details, girl."

       Farelli shook his head, chuckling in spite of himself. "Playing right into her trap," he said. "Dumb fucks."

       "Well, they start with Natalie," Nina said. "That's the older daughter."

       "The one gets burned with the cigarettes," Frank said.

       "Yes. If you look a couple of pages before that, it tells what leads up to that. After they break in, they tie up the women, tie their hands behind them, but Natalie is a feisty one and she yells at them to get out and stuff, so--"

       "Yeah, I got it," Frank said.

       "Come on, Frank, what does it say?" Rick said impatiently.

       "Okay, okay." Frank began to read.

               Jerry turned slowly to face her. His face was tight. His hand shot up suddenly and he slapped her, hard, with the palm of his hand and then the back. Then, as she staggered backward, he made a fist and hit her with all his force in her unprotected stomach.

               She doubled over and fell to the floor, gasping for breath and retching. The other women screamed. Jerry watched the girl squirming and gurgling on the floor.

       "See, they've got her hands tied behind her, so she can't protect herself," Nina said. "Think how that must look." She put her hands behind her and kept them there as she sank down to the floor, rolling and twisting, gaping and moaning as if in pain. The skirt of her dress rode up over her thrashing legs.

       "Damn!" Rick breathed.

       Farelli had sat down on the bed. He was watching her, his eyes narrowed.

       "What then?" Rick demanded.

       "Then they rip her dress off," Nina said.

       "Yeah, that's right," Frank said, turning a page. "Well, the top part anyway. And her bra too."

       "This broad's not wearing a bra," Rick said.

       "Rip it anyway," Nina said. "I can't stop you."

       Rick put his hands on the lapels of her dress, then hesitated. He turned to look at Farelli. "Boss?" he inquired. "Is it okay?"

       Farelli shrugged. "Do what you want," he said disgustedly. "I don't give a shit. Do what you want with her, both of you. Then get the fuck out of my sight."

       Rick hesitated again, but then turned back to Nina with lust in his eyes. With one strong tug he ripped the flimsly dress right down the front, leaving her naked.

       "No panties either," Rick breathed.

       "Then they take her upstairs," Nina said. "To her bedroom. And they tie her to the bed, spread-eagled. All stretched out. Like this." She brought her arms from beneath her and spread herself out, her legs open, arms and legs straining as if tied, her body taut. "Right, Frank?"

       "Yeah," Frank said.

       "Jesus!" Rick breathed. "Then they fuck her, right?"

       "Yes," Nina said. "Well, two of them do. First Jerry, he's the main guy, so he goes first." She looked over at Farelli, who was now watching impassively. "Poor Natalie is pulling at the ropes, trying to twist and squirm." She suited her actions to her words, straining at the imaginary bonds holding her wrists and ankles. "But she's tied so tightly she can barely move. Right, Frank?"

       "Yeah," Frank said, his eyes on the book. "He rips the rest of her clothes off."

       "I already did that," Rick said, and he started pulling off his own clothes as he spoke. "Then what?"

               His passion cried for release as he watched her futile struggles,

Frank read.

               He sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand over her breast. He looked into her eyes.

               "I'm going to rape you, baby," he said.

       "Yeah," Rick said, his eyes gleaming. He crouched down on the floor and put a hand on Nina’s naked breast. Frank went on reading.

               The girl's eyes closed. She shook her head. "No," she whimpered helplessly. His hand closed hard on her breast once again, and her whimpers were cut off by a cry of pain.

       Rick grinned and squeezed her breast hard, and Nina's outcry this time was genuine.

               His excitement at fever pitch, he took her without       preliminaries, thrusting strongly.

       "Hell, yes!" Rick said. He placed himself on top of her and found her opening with his large, hard cock. Nina caught her breath as he pushed himself inside her. She kept herself spread out, but did her best to pretend to struggle, twisting and bucking under him as he plunged fiercely in and out of her. Frank continued to read from the book, but his words were drowned out by the sounds of Nina's simulated cries, sobs and pleas.

       It didn't take Rick long to come inside her, and as soon as he did Frank put down the book and stripped himself naked. His cock was not as large as Rick's, but it was at least as hard. "Jones fucks her next," he said hoarsely, as Rick pulled away from her. "In the book. But I don't want to be Jones. I want to be the other guy. Ritter."

       "What the fuck's the difference?" Rick said, still panting.

       Frank picked up the book and moved to them, crouching down by Nina's head. "Here," he said, handing the book to Rick and indicating a page. "Read this part, man."

       Rick held the book close to his eyes. Nina continued to maintain her tautly stretched position. Her eyes sought out Farelli, who was still watching the scene impassively, and stayed on him as Rick began to read.

               When Jones was finished, he went to take the gun

       from Ritter, who was now undressed in his turn. But he had

       a different idea. He went to the bed and knelt on it, beside Natalie's head.

               "Open your mouth, baby," he said.

               The girl made a terrified sound and turned her face

       away. Ritter started to reach for her hair, but Jerry stepped forward, motioning him to wait. Without warning, he jammed the tip of his cigarette into her stomach, just below her navel.

               Natalie screamed with sudden pain. Her eyes snapped

       wide open and she stared at Jerry in horror.

       Nina screamed as loudly as she could, startling the two men. Rick looked up from the book as she arched her body sharply, twisting and gasping as if in agony. Her eyes stayed on Farelli, who only smiled slightly.

       "Jesus!" Rick said.

       "Keep reading, Rick," Frank panted. Rick found his place again.

               Jerry relit the cigarette. "That's for not obeying,        Natalie," he said. "You have to learn to be good. Obey

       the man."

               "Please," the girl moaned. "Please."

       "Please," Nina whispered.

               Jerry sighed. He brought the cigarette down again, this 

       time toward her leg. Natalie twisted frantically in a vain attempt to avoid it; but he ground the cigarette out, slowly now, high on her inner thigh.

       Nina screamed again, and then again, and her body went into convulsions, although her arms and legs remained spread wide and stretched out. After a moment she subsided into what sounded like terrified sobs. Rick went on reading.

               Her scream was louder this time, and longer, and her

       body arched convulsively in agony. She collapsed, moaning;

       but as she saw Jerry light up once again, she gave a

       frightened whimper and turned her head toward Ritter. He was       kneeling above her and to the side, and she had to raise her head to find him. He let her come to him. She strained desperately to reach him, her mouth wide. Finally she made contact. He stiffened as her lips caressed him.

       Nina suited her actions to the words. Sobbing and moaning, and without breaking her spread-eagled pose, she raised her head, straining her neck, her mouth open. Frank, evidently less patient than Ritter, moved forward a bit to allow her to reach him, but it was still a stretch. Finally her panting mouth found his cock, her lips touching the hard flesh, then encircling it. She moaned around it as her head moved with difficulty back and forth. An inarticulate sound came from Frank. Rick went on reading as Nina continued to suck his friend.

               He made no move to help her, but allowed her to

       continue to service him that way, her body taut, her neck

       muscles straining. For some minutes there was no sound in

       the room except for Ritter's heavy breathing and    occasional soft gasps. Jerry watched Natalie's head moving steadily, the tears running down her face.

               Finally Ritter gave a last loud gasp, his body

       jerked and he pulled away. Natalie fell back to the bed,

       coughing and sobbing.

       Frank's hands clutched at Nina's hair. He gave a hoarse cry and his head went back as he shot off into her mouth. Nina had no difficulty swallowing his come, but she pretended to gag and choke as Frank finally released her head, which sank back to the floor, her mouth wide open as she gasped for air. And still she kept her body in its taut position.

       "Oh Jesus!" Frank panted. "This broad is something else!"

       "Yeah," Farelli put in disgustedly. "So are you two assholes. Now if you're done having your fun, get the hell out of here. You're no damn good to me any more."

       "Hey, we could still whip her, boss, that's what you want," Rick protested. "No problem, right, Frank?

       "Yeah, sure," Frank agreed.

       "Forget it," Farelli said. "Your hearts wouldn't be in it, the cunt has got you wrapped around her little finger. Get lost."

       Rick started to say something more, but Farelli's eyes suddenly hardened. "I said screw off," he grated, and the two men hastily gathered up their clothing and left.

       Farelli got up and approached Nina, who still remained stretched out as if tied to the imaginary bed. He looked down at her naked, straining body. "You put on a great act, girl," he said. "But you gotta know it won't help you forever."

       "What about now?" Nina said, looking up at him. "Didn't it excite you, Mr. Farelli? The cigarettes and all? Think of the pain I must be in. They left Natalie that way, you know, after she sucked Ritter off. Lying there in her agony while they took the others into another room. Oh god, it hurts so--"

       "The mother and the other daughter," Farelli interrupted. "The younger one, right?"

       "Yes. And then later on another couple--"

       "How old is she? The girl."

       "She's seventeen."

       "Nice," Farelli said. "I like them young. A virgin, right?"

       "Well...no, she's not, actually. But she's only--"

       "What do they do to her?"

       Nina now slowly lowered her arms and drew her legs together, turning herself onto her side and leaning up on one elbow so she could address him more naturally. "Well, first they take her and her mother into her parents' bedroom, and they tie her standing up to one of the bedposts. Then they force the mother to do what they want by telling her that if she does they won't hurt Judy--that's the daughter. The mother ends up sucking and fucking one of them, or two, I don't remember. But of course they fuck Judy anyway. Jerry--well, would you like me to read you that part, Mr. Farelli? I think you'd enjoy it."

       Farelli laughed sharply. "I can still whip you, you know, bitch. I don't need those two fucks. I don't even need to tie you up. I can whip you right here and now, and I'd damn well enjoy that, for sure. You understand that, right?"

       "Yes, of course," Nina said. "I just thought--"

       "Yeah, I know what you thought. Okay, read. About the girl."

       "Okay." Nina scrambled to her hands and knees and reached for the book where Rick had dropped it on the floor. She quickly found the page she wanted. "Yes, here it is. She's tied to the bedpost, like I said, and they make her watch her mother being taken on the bed. Then...

       Jerry was now more interested in the naked girl tied to the bedpost than in the couple on the bed. He stepped up to Judy and pressed his naked body to hers. She made a whimpering sound and tried to wriggle away, but he only pressed more tightly against her. Her breasts flattened on his chest. He knew she could feel his aroused passion. He made a teasing, side-to-side movment of his hips against hers.

       "Scared, Judy?" he said softly. She did not answer him. Her face was turned away. He grabbed a handful of her long brown hair and jerked sharply, so that her head was pulled back, and she was forced to look up at him.

       "I asked you a question, Judy. Are you scared?"

       She nodded.

       "Good," he said. He jammed his mouth down on hers.

       Farelli moved to sit down again as she read. His eyes stayed on her, but he showed no reaction.

       "Okay, now the other two guys are both doing the mother," Nina said. "But it's a big bed, right, and they're only using half of it. So Jerry says,

       "All that space going to waste. I think we should make use of it, don't you, Judy?"

       The helpless girl's eyes pleaded with him. He undid the rope securing her to the bedpost, but left her hands tied behind her. He pushed her backward onto the empty portion of the bed. She squirmed and kicked, but he held her easily.

       Ann now caught sight of them. She screamed and attempted to reach her daughter, but she was trapped between the two men. "No!" she cried. "You promised!"

       "Never trust a stranger, Ann," Jerry told her. Ritter laughed as he continued to plunge over the struggling body. Ann began to sob.

       Jerry put his hand on one of the girl's heaving breasts, kneading it roughly. "This is it, Judy baby," he said. He tried to get his knee between her thighs, but she had her legs tightly pressed together, her ankles locked.  He attempted to pull them apart, but she resisted.

       "Open those legs, Judy," he told her.

       She didn't move.

       He sighed. "I'm going to have to make you, Judy. I can, you know. Want to see? Watch."

       He grasped her nipple between his fingers and twisted sharply. She stiffened and gasped loudly. He reached for her other breast and twisted both nipples at once, squeezing them at the same time. The girl shrieked and her body flailed. He twisted harder.

       "The legs," he grunted.

       Unable to bear the pain, Judy released her ankles and her legs reluctantly parted. "That's better, Judy," he said. He let go of her breasts and adjusted his cock.

       He penetrated her slowly, gradually, savoring his power, enjoying the shame in her eyes. When at last their bodies were fully joined, he paused.

       "You weren't a virgin after all, were you, Judy?" he said.

       The girl said nothing.

       He slapped her hard across the face. "Answer me!"

       "No," she whispered.

       Farelli laughed. "Damn right, no," he said. "You can't hardly find a young chick who's a virgin nowadays. They start at twelve, thirteen years old, for Christ sake. Too bad though. This guy would probably like it better if she was cherry, I bet."

       "Is that what you'd like, Mr. Farelli?" Nina said. "If you were in his shoes? I could be a virgin for you if you like."

       He laughed again. "Yeah, right. You're fucking Mother Theresa. Just keep reading, girl. I wanna see what he does to her."

       Nina read on.

       "Of course not," he said. "Seventeen-year-old girls aren't virgins these days, are they?"

       "There you go," Farelli said.

       He began to move, again with a deliberate slowness, watching her suffering face. "So you've done this with boys before, Judy."

       She nodded.

       "Did you like it?"

       She did not answer.

       He slapped her again, harder than before. "Did you?"

       "Yes," she breathed.

       "Little whore," Farelli said.

       "But you don't like it now?"

       "No."

       "No," he repeated. He continued moving at the same calm,  humiliating pace. "Because this is rape, right? I'm raping you." He moved a little harder to emphasize what he was saying. "I'm raping you, Judy. I'm raping Judy. Tell me that."

       When she said nothing, he slapped her viciously, forward and backward. "Tell me!" he raged. "Tell me what I'm doing to you!"

       "You're raping me," she gasped.

       "Again!"

       "You're raping me!"

       "That's right," he said, more calmly now. He was panting, and moving faster. "That's right. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it, is there, Judy baby? Not a damn thing."

       His passion was mounting rapidly. The girl was crying now. Her bound arms were crushed under her. Her legs flailed uselessly on the bed. Jerry's hands explored her soft body as he moved. She moaned as his fingers brushed roughly over a sore nipple. He brought his mouth down to hers. Instinctively she jerked her face away. He put his hands on her breasts again.

       "NO!" she yelled fearfully.

       "Then be nice, Judy," he panted, his fingers tweaking her nipples threateningly. "Kiss me nice. Give me your tongue."

       She allowed him to kiss her. At a slight pressure on her nipples, her tongue moved hesitantly into his mouth. He drew it in deeper, caressed it with his. Then suddenly his teeth clamped down on it, capturing it. She made a muffled sound of pain and tried to withdraw it, but he only bit harder. She yelled into his mouth. Her body went taut.

       "Nice," Farelli said. His voice was a bit hoarse.

       His head pounded. He bit down still harder on her wriggling tongue, glorying in her half-stifled shrieks, her lips writhing against his mouth, her body arching and bucking under him in her pain. He felt his control slipping away. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and let that twisting body bring his passion to a frenzied climax.

       Nina closed the book as Farelli stood up and began to undress. When he took his shorts off she saw that he was semi-hard. She smiled. "Did you like that, Mr. Farelli? I thought you would. You know, there's a lot--"

       "Shut up," Farelli said. "So you're her now, right? The girl. What's her name, Judy. Seventeen fucking years old. Right?"

       "Yes," Nina said, and then added in a small voice, "Only I'm a virgin. I've never had sex, ever, and I'm so scared. I'm so scared, please."

       "Yeah. Because I'm gonna rape the shit out of you, right?"

       "Oh god," Nina whimpered.

       Naked now, Farelli approached the bed. "Your hands are tied behind you, you stupid cunt."

       "Yes." Nina lay down on her back and slid her hands beneath her, crossing them at the wrists, the position causing her naked body to arch slightly. She was pleased to see that Farelli's cock was twitching, getting harder. "Please don't do this to me," she moaned. "Oh god, please. I'm--I never--oh please..."
       "Sweet," Farelli said, and lay down on top of her. Quickly Nina crossed her ankles, pressing her legs together. Farelli laughed. "You want to play it out all the way, huh?" he grated. "Well, I can do that." And his hands moved between their bodies to her breasts, his fingers curling around her nipples. "Open your legs, girl."

       Nina felt a tinge of apprehension, but she stayed as she was. "No, please, no!" she cried piteously, adding a sob to her voice. Don't... don't rape me, please! Please, I'm begging you, oh god..."

       "Open, bitch," Farelli demanded, and the sudden cruel pressure of his fingers on her nipples brought a genuine cry of pain from her mouth. She gasped and stiffened as he began to twist, grinning down at her. The anguished tears that gathered in her eyes were also real.

       "All right! All right!" she choked out, and slowly parted her legs.       Farelli laughed again. "That's the girl," he said. She could feel the hardness of him now, against her body. He released her nipples, but one hand stayed on her breast, while with the other he reached down to adjust himself. Then he pushed himself inside her with one thrust.  

       Nina gave a lood scream of simulated horror, agony and despair, as if he had indeed torn away her virginity. Then she began to moan and sob as convincingly as she could, turning her head from side to side, keeping her hands behind her as her body stuggled weakly. Farelli was breathing hard and moving in her, grinning down at her. Both nands were back on her breasts now, squeezing them as he moved, though not crushingly.

       "Yeah," he panted. "Raping you now, girl. Raping the shit out of you. Right, bitch?"

       "Yes!" Nina gasped out. "Yes, you're raping me. Yes. Raping me."

       "Yeah. Like in the fucking book. And what can you do about it, cunt?"

       "Nothing," she whimpered. "I can't--oh god. Nothing..."

       Farelli leaned down, licked her face. "How old are you, pussy?"

       "I--I'm seventeen," Nina moaned.

       "God," Farelli said, moving harder. "Seventeen. And never been fucked, right?"        

       "No..."

       "Sweet." He licked her again. "And your mama's watching, huh? Right here, right beside you. Watching her daughter get fucked."

       "Yes," Nina said, sobbing.

       "And getting fucked herself."

       "You...you made her...you told her...you promised..."

       "Tough titty." Farelli's thrusts slowed again, although he continued to move steadily inside her. Nina continued the pretense of struggling, although weakly, as though her strength was giving out. "And I fucked your sister too," Farelli went on. "Didn't I"
       "Yes. Oh God..."

       "Yeah. Burned her with my fucking cigarettes." He swiped his tongue over her face again, then mashed his mouth down on hers. She rolled her head away. One of his hands came up, tangled itself in her hair, holding her head still as his lips ravaged her moaning mouth. When he raised his head he was moving hard again. "Burned her right near her pussy," he panted. "Made her scream like hell. Made her suck off my pal. Right, baby?"

       "Yes..."

       "Ought to do that to you, pussy. Burn your tits for you. Burn your sweet young tits right off." His voice was choked, his breath coming hard. Again a part of her worried that he might have an attack of some kind. But he was moving forcefully, his eyes bright and glittering. "You want that, pussy? Would you like that, you sweet young bitch?"

       "No..." she sobbed out. "No...oh god please...no..."

       He kissed her again, briefly. "Open up, girl," he panted. "Kiss me nice. Give me some tongue. Come on."

       Nina moaned.

       "Come on, baby." Both hands were back on her breasts now. "Just like in the book," Farelli said. "Give it to me now."

       Nina swallowed. She was a little frightened now, and she hesitated. Farelli's fingers found her nipples, tightened around them. "Now," he repeated.

       "Wait..." Nina got out. "Wait, if..."

       Her scream was real this time, as he suddenly clamped her nipples between his fingers with all his strength. "Do it, bitch. Give me that tongue, come on." His mouth on hers again, his hands twisting cruelly. Nina cried out again.

       "All right!" she gasped. "Please, all right..."

       Farelli let up the pressure, but only slightly. Nina was panting and whimpering as, slowly and fearfully, she extended her tongue and slid it between his lips. Then she hesitated, but he twisted again, until with a strangled sob she thrust her tongue into his mouth as far as she could.

       Farelli bit down hard.

       There was nothing simulated now about the way she was suddenly bucking and flailing beneath him, or about the stifled sound of anguish that erupted from her throat. She could hear him grunting with pleasure as she writhed helplessly, her legs kicking, her body twisting against his. Forgetting that her hands were supposed to be tied, she pulled them from beneath her and tried instinctively but vainly to push him away. Tears flowed from her eyes. Farelli hardly had to move at all. He kept his teeth set firmly into her captive tongue and his hands clamped on her breasts, reveling in her frantic struggles until his shout of completion finally released her.

       "You didn't have to do that," Nina said. Her voice sounded strange. Her tongue was still throbbing badly and, she thought, bleeding in places. Her nipples ached too.

       Farelli was leafing idly through the book she had brought. "You asked for it, girl," he said, grinning at her. "You brought this book down here and gave me the idea. What did you expect?"

       "It's a fantasy," Nina said, trying to speak normally around her abraded tongue. "The idea was for you to be turned on by the fantasy, without having to actually do those things. And it was working, Mr. Farelli. You were already getting hard before you took me. You got inside me with no trouble whatever. Remember? You didn't need to hurt me, not in real life. Just thinking about it..."

       "It was a hell of a lot of fun, though," Farelli said.

       "But what I'm trying to--"

       "Yeah, yeah, I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to avoid getting whipped."

       "Yes, and also to show you that you don't really need to whip people to get turned on. Or hurt them. I think you can see that already, Mr. Farelli."

       "So what?" Farelli said. "I still get a kick out of it, and it turns me on even more. There's nothing like the real thing, girl. Want me to show you again?"

       "No," Nina whispered.

       "Then get the hell out of here," Farelli said. As she got up to leave, he added, "But what the hell, you want to bring me more books, go ahead. Might give me some more good ideas."

       "All right," Nina said. "I will."
       

                                November 6

       The painted cover showed the top half of a reclining naked woman with a mop of wild black hair, her nipples strategically obscured by the blade of a long knife held by a disembodied hand in the foreground. The title was "Lust Team."

       "Last time it was a gun, now it's a knife," Farelli said. "What's with these guys? I'm not into killing women, you know. Not unless there's a damn good reason, anyway. They can't suffer when they're dead."

       He was wearing only a robe, as if he had just emerged from the shower, and was seated in an easy chair at one end of the room.

       "Well, that's good," Nina said. "Because this time I'm hoping you won't want to actually do all the things that--that the man in here does to his victim. Not literally, I mean. I'm gambling on that, in fact. That's why--"

       "Kill you, you mean?" Farelli broke in. He snorted. "Don't worry about that, girl. Not before I whip you, for sure."

       "Not only that," Nina said. "In this one scene, the man does kill the girl at the end, but before that he breaks her arm. I don't think you'd really want to do that either, right, Mr. Farelli? See, that's one of the reasons I chose this book. To show you--well, to show you again, because you already know--that you can get turned on by imagining things without always carrying them out."

       Farelli laughed. "You didn't like it how I bit your tongue last night, right? Well, you ain't seen nothing yet, sugar. Imagination's all very well, but sometimes, like I said, there's nothing like the real thing. But break your arm? Nah, I don't think so. Not yet anyway. It'd make it harder to tie you up right for whipping. But don't push me too hard, girl, or I might change my mind."

       Nina took a long breath. "Another reason I chose this book is because the girl in this one scene, the one I want to tell you about, is very young, and you said you like young girls. She's even younger than Judy, from last night."

       Farelli frowned. "How young? I don't mess with kids. Not that I give a damn, I just don't like little kids. If they don't have anything to play with, they don't turn me on, you know what I mean?"

       "This girl is fifteen," Nina said. "A very developed fifteen."

       "Oh. Well, yeah, that's okay. A girl can be damn sexy at fifteen." Farelli glanced at the book cover again. "This broad looks older that that, though."

       "Well, that's probably not her," Nina said. "There are a lot of women in this book. It's all about this sadistic man who teams up with a lesbian, and the two of them go around raping and torturing and murdering people. But before they get together, the man goes on a little rampage of his own, and in this one scene he comes upon this teenage couple in a park, having sex. He kills--"

       "So this chick's no virgin either," Farelli said.

       "No, but she's not very experienced. Like, she's never given a blow job. The boy is supposed to be her boyfriend, but as soon as this guy shows up with a gun, he's ready to abandon her, just run away and let her be raped or whatever. So the guy kills him. Then he--well, why don't I read you some of it, okay, Mr. Farelli?"

       "Do it naked," Farelli said.

       "All right." Nina quickly took off her clothes. She had not bothered with underwear for this visit, and Farelli noted this fact. "The girl in the book is naked when he finds them," Nina told him.

       "Naked and fucking."

       "Yes." With her clothes gone, she picked up the book and started to sit down on the bed, but Farelli stopped her.

       "No," he said. "Come over here." He was seated in an easy chair at one end of the room. He spread his legs apart, letting his robe fall open, and indicated the floor between them. "Sit down right here. So I can play with you a little while you read."

       Her hesitation was almost imperceptible. She moved to him and sat herself down on the floor between his legs, facing away from him. She was nestled between his thighs, and when, on his instruction, she let herself lean back, she could feel his flaccid loins between her shoulder blades. Farelli put his hands on her shoulders and then slid them down to her breasts, cupping them firmly. "Yeah, that's nice," he murmured. "Okay, go ahead."

       Nina opened the book and found the page she wanted. "Well, like I said, this man--his name's Fallon--he comes upon this young couple in the park, doing it, and first the boy tries to threaten him with a knife, but when Fallon shows him his gun he finks out and tells him he can have the girl, but Fallon kills him with his own knife. Of course the girl is terrified. Fallon talks to her first, playing with her. She tells him she's fifteen, and her name is Linda. Finally he tells her he'll kill her too if she doesn't do what he wants. So she--"

       "Read already," Farelli said.

       "Okay.

       She was choice stuff. He stripped off his clothes and moved to her, and her body was smooth, and he touched all the secret parts of her sweet girlishness, and he took her fiercely and she did not struggle at all, not fighting him. He thought that she could really pretend, that she did a convincing job for a girl who obviously felt about as passionate as a dishrag. She would make a very fine hooker, he thought.

       If she lived long enough.

       But it wasn't enough to take her. He had to hurt her too, had to have her squirming and moaning.

       So he hurt her. First he gave her a kiss, and like a willing little tramp she stuck her tongue in his mouth, and he dug his fingernails into her breast with all his strength.

       Farelli's hands, as if reflexively, tightened on her breasts. Nina stopped, holding very still. Farelli laughed shortly. The grip of his fingers, though hard, was not unbearable. He held it for a few moments, then relaxed his hands. "Keep going," he told her.

       She gasped, and he gripped her harder and twisted and her body went rigid as the pain tore through her succulent flesh. He let go of her breast and grasped her little arm and bent it back, straining it, putting pressure against the elbow.

       And he went right on driving to her, thrilling to the sheer agony that dominated her body. He kept it up, faster and faster and faster, harder and harder, thrilling with his pleasure and taking extra measures of pleasure from the sheer luscious delight of her pain.

       More.

       More--

       At the precise moment of fulfillment, as he gasped out his lust, he put a tiny extra bit of pressure on her arm. Just a little added touch, a little extra bit of energy.

       Her arm snapped like a toothpick.

       "Jesus," Farelli said.

       She could feel his penis twitching, stirring a little against the flesh of her back. His hands moved on her breasts, rubbing over them, his fingers tweaking her nipples, which stiffened reflexively. "Yes," she said, shifting slightly so that her back moved against his cock. "Think of the pain. Think how agonizing, how unbearable it must be for her. Think of how she would scream."

       "Yeah," Farelli said. "And the guy coming into her while she's jerking and flopping around. Sounds pretty good." He was hardening slowly now, against her back, and she shifted again, increasing the friction. "Maybe he should have busted her arm before he fucked her, then he could have had that from the beginning. Probably she'd pass out, though."

       "Well, she did," Nina said. "I mean, she does, in the book. After he comes. But he's not through with her yet."

       "What, he fucks her when she's out of it?" Farelli snorted. "What fun is that?"

       "No, no. She comes to after a while, and he makes her give him a blow job. With her arm broken and all. And she--"

       "Okay, okay," Farelli said. "Read me that part."

       "Well, let's see," Nina said, turning the pages. "Okay, she wakes up, and of course she's in terrible pain and also scared to death that he's going to kill her."

       "Which he does, right?"

       "Well, not until later. First he wants her to suck him off, and he tells her he'll let her go if she does it. She tells him she's never done that before, and she doesn't know how and all, but he says he'll kill her if she doesn't, so she does."

       "Stupid bitch."

       Nina settled more firmly against his still only semi-hard cock as she began to read again.

       She moved toward him, slowly dragging her broken arm after her as though it had been tied to her with string. She raised herself onto her knees and knelt before him like a devoted follower before a sacred idol, and her good arm reached around him, and he looked down and saw her pretty little face.

       Her mouth opened.

       Her mouth closed.

       "Nice," Farelli said. "Is she blonde or brunette, this dumb cocksucking cunt?"

       "I don't know," Nina replied. "I don't think it says. So she can be anything you'd like her to be."

       "A brunette," Farelli said. "Like you." His hands tightened for a moment on her breasts, then one of them slid up to her neck, caressing. Nina read on.

       It was good. It was very good. It was excellent. She didn't know too much about what she was doing, but you couldn't expect much more when you took her age and her lack of experience into account. You had to admit that she was a natural, and that she had a hell of a lot of potential.

       "I bet," Farelli breathed. "Stupid young fifteen-year-old cunt, sucking him off and hurting like hell, Christ." The hand at her neck rose to grasp her jaw, and he turned her face as far as he could, bending down to mash his mouth against hers. Then he let her go. "Go on," he said, a little hoarsely.

       She drove him crazy, drove him wild. He was holding the knife at her throat just to make things better, but she was so good that he didn't bother and he let go of the knife and let it slide to the ground. He tangled his hands in her hair and he stroked the sides of her face and his passion mounted higher and higher, and he was tickled and teased and thrilled by the most extraordinary caress on earth.

       She didn't stop.

       His body shook, swaying back and forth, swaying from side to side. God, he thought, he was going crazy. He was honestly and thoroughly going crazy. This was nothing normal, nothing ordinary. This was the quintessence of thrills, the answer to every lustful question. This little girl, this young thing, driving him wild...

       Her lips.

       And more and more, and faster, and up and over the final crest, with the rivers flooding over onto the fields and deluging all they touched.

       She never stopped.

       "That's it?" Farelli said when she stopped reading.

       "Well, there's more, but that's--"

       "Does she swallow?"

       "Well, it doesn't actually say, but she gets sick afterwards, so--"

       "I bet she does." His hands were moving over her now, and he pulled her further back, until her head was nearly resting on his stomach. She felt his cock, almost fully erect now, against the side of her neck. Without changing position he lifted his hips slightly, so that it pushed forward, brushing her cheek. Turning her head as far as she could, she was just able to reach it with her tongue, which she did, flicking at it with the extended tip. He shifted again, and she was able to lick it more thoroughly. It strained her neck, but she kept it up.

       "Nice," Farelli said. "Juicy young cunt, with her arm busted, sucking him off. Yeah." His cock pulled away as he reached down and took hold of Nina's right arm. She felt a moment of blind terror as he pushed her slightly away from him so that he could bend it up behind her. But he didn't force it too far, just held it that way halfway up her back. It wasn't really painful, but it was uncomfortable, and it made her bend forward a little. She heard Farelli chuckle, a little breathlessly.

       "Yeah," he said then. "Little hurting slut, fifteen years old, better suck me off if you don't want to die, little cunt." He pushed upward on her arm, just enough to bring a gasp from her mouth. "That's what you're gonna do, right, girl?"

       "Please..." Nina moaned, making her voice smaller, trying to sound younger than she was. "I--I never--I don't--"

       Another push on the arm, and her sudden hiss of pain was genuine.

"All right!" she gasped out. "All right. I will. Just don't kill me. Please..."

       He let go of her arm. "Turn around." Nina, as if reluctantly, slowly swiveled herself to face him. "On your knees, baby," Farelli said, and she obeyed, letting out a whimper of fear, as little Linda might have done. Fear and pain.

       "Remember your arm's broke," Farelli said, and he reached again for her arm, the left one this time, and pulled it behind her, leaning forward so he could hold it there. He bent it further than before, and while the pain wasn't excruciating, it was definitely unpleasant. And it held a hint of menace. Again Nina marveled at how strong his hands were. If he wanted to, he really could break her arm. She knew that. She could only hope he wouldn't.

       "Okay, cunt. Suck me now. Suck me off with those sweet young lips. Do it good, bitch." And again he increased the pressure on her arm. Nina whimpered again as the force of it made her bend over him. It hurt a lot now. But it wasn't close to breaking. Not yet.

       She was fifteen-year-old Linda now, degraded and terrified and in agony. She made a sound like a sob as she lowered her head to him, making her lips quiver as they touched the hard flesh. Then, slowly, as if forcing herself, she let her mouth open, sobbing again as she took the head of his cock between her lips.

       She continued her simulated sobs, interspersed with moans, gasps and whimpers, all of them muffled around his twitching tool as she slowly took more of it into her mouth. Farelli kept his hold on her arm, pulling it just high enough to keep her aware of the pain, but even more of the threat. She didn't think he would actually break it, he had said he wouldn't, but still the threat was there, and the awareness of it added an extra bit of realism to her performance as she sucked him off as Linda would have done, with her arm already broken, terrified of dying, of further pain, trying desperately to assuage this man, this rapist, with an act she had never before attempted. Nina allowed herself to choke and gag as she took him deeper, as though she were unfamiliar with the technique of what she was doing, but forcing herself to try to please him. Her tongue brushed his flesh, retreated quickly as she mewled as if in distaste, then reluctantly returned, licking tentatively, then more steadily as her mouth began to move up and down, her sobs and moans and whimpers continuing, increasing with her tempo. Farelli was breathing hoarsely now, one hand still bending her arm up behind her, the other in her hair. "Yeah," he panted. "Yeah, that's it, sweet hurting cunt bitch girl, take this now, Christ... nowwww..."

       Nina easily swallowed most of his jism as it shot into her mouth, emitting sounds of horror even as she did so, and when he let her go she retched and bent over as if to throw up, still playing out her part. Farelli slumped back in his chair, breathing hard.

       "Nice," he croaked after a minute. "That was real nice, girl, I gotta say." He chuckled. "Yeah, you're something else all right. But how long do you think you can keep this up?"        

       "I don't know," Nina said.

       "I don't either," Farelli said. "I sent those two clowns away for a few days, Rick and Frank. Something I wanted them to take care of for me. But they'll be back. And anyway, I don't really need them if I want to whip you, you know that."

       "Yes," Nina said. "But you don't need--"

       "Yeah, yeah, I know all about it," Farelli broke in roughly. "But I'll decide what I need to do and what I don't. Understand?"

       "Of course," Nina said.

       "Don't fucking forget it. Okay, you can get out of here now."

       Nina got up and swiftly put on her blouse and skirt. She picked up the book as she prepared to leave.

       "So he kills her, right?" Farelli said as she turned to go. She stopped and looked at him inquiringly. "In the book. After she sucks him off, you said he kills her in the end. The guy."

       "Yes. He makes her--"

       "What, with the knife?"

       "No, actually, he uses his gun. But he has some fun with her first, and he makes her take the gun in her mouth and suck it and stuff. Then he--"

       "Shit." Farelli laughed. "Mean son of a bitch, isn't he?"

       "Yes," Nina said.

       "And the girl is--Jesus. That sounds good. Why didn't you read me that part?"

       "Well, I thought you--"

       "Read it now," Farelli said.

       "Now?"

       "Yeah. Now. Come on, read it. Just for the hell of it. I want to hear."

       "All right." Nina moved to the bed, sat down, opened the book again. "Okay, here it is. See, after she sucks him she gets sick and all, and then she puts on her clothes--just her shirt and slacks--and she figures he's going to let her go. At least that's what she hopes. But of course he doesn't. He says, let's see, okay, he says...

       "You're great," he said, raising the gun. "I wish I didn't have to kill you, sugar."

       She started begging, pleading, telling him it wasn't fair. She backed off and tried to run and slipped over a rock and fell on her hands and knees, and he came up behind her and ripped her blouse off. She tried to crawl away and he kicked her in the breast and she moaned. He grabbed onto her pants and dragged them off her, and she was nude again and crying like a baby, absolutely hysterical with terror, because she knew that now she was going to die and there was not a thing she could do about it. She had done everything, everything he had asked her to do, and it still wasn't enough. He was going to kill her anyway.

       "Trying to crawl with her arm busted," Farelli said. "Damn, that's a picture, all right. Wouldn't you look good doing that?"

       Nina didn't reply. She read on.

       She was still trying to crawl away. He walked alongside her, kicking at her, and when he tired of that he caught hold of her long hair and held her back so that she could not crawl anywhere. He held her hair in his left hand, and with his right hand he reached around and shoved the gun in her face.

       "Come on, now," he told her. "Open up your pretty little mouth, Linda. Open up your mouth and kiss the gun."

       "Kiss the gun," Farelli repeated. "Kiss the gun that's gonna kill you, bitch. Oh yeah, I like that. Go on."

       He got the gun into her mouth. She kept fighting, aware of the inevitable, but unable to accept it. He rammed the gun deep into her pretty mouth and stretched out beside her, kissing her and caressing her and jabbing the gun into her mouth, and just as he thought the whole world would split apart at the seams, he squeezed the trigger and blew off the top of Linda's pretty head. The noise was tremendous but nobody heard it and nobody came and Linda was dead.

       "God damn!" Farelli said. "That fucker is something else. I wouldn't've killed her though, I'da taken her home with me and had some more fun with her. But what the hell, that thing with the gun was kind of hot. And her crawling and him kicking her and--damn." He stood up then, and Nina was surprised to see his cock twitching again. "Do it, girl," he demanded. "Do it for me, come on."

       "You--you want me to--"

       "Yeah, crawl for me. You like to act these things out so much, get down and crawl like her, with her goddam busted arm. Do it."

       Nina slid off the bed and went down on all fours. Then she raised one hand, held it against her body and began to crawl that way, like a dog with an injured paw, an awkward, lopsided progression. Farelli walked beside her. She could hear his heavy breathing. He did not kick her, but at one point he did reach down and tear off her blouse, ripping it down the back and pulling it free with a couple of strong tugs. This left her with only her skirt, and when he pulled at that a couple of buttons popped, and she found herself crawling out of it.

       "That's the girl," Farelli said hoarsely. "Trying to crawl away, 'cause you know I'm gonna kill you." Nina made a sobbing sound, then whimpered as if in terror. "Yeah, that's nice. So fucking scared. Christ, I'm getting hard again!"

       Nina glanced at him quickly. His cock was indeed semi-hard. She went on crawling and whimpering, until Farelli said, "Okay, bitch, let's get this over with." He moved to a closet near one corner of the room. Opening the door, he rummaged inside until he found what he wanted. When he turned around she saw that he was holding a pistol. The sight brought a sudden gasp of fear from her mouth. Genuine fear.

       "Yeah, I'm gonna kill you all right, sugar," he said, grinning at her as he approached her crouching figure. Nina stifled the urge to plead with him to put the gun away. She knew he didn't mean to actually kill her. She didn't think so, anyway. But what if it went off by accident? She was definitely apprehensive, but she forced herself to stay in character, to plead with him as Linda, not as herself, to beg him to spare her life. Which she did, crying and moaning and promising him further delights if he would only let her go.

       It all seemed to add to his arousal. He crouched down in front of her and stuck the gun in her face. His eyes glittered as he brought it to her mouth and ran the tip of the barrel over her lips. "Kiss it," he said. "Kiss the gun, baby."

       Nina kissed it.

       "Now open up. Open that pretty little mouth and take it in."

       Moaning piteously, panting, she did so.

       "Christ," Farelli said as he slowly pushed the gun barrel into her mouth. "Oh shit, yeah. That looks great, baby. Suck it now. Suck the goddam gun."

       Nina sucked the gun. She moved her head back and forth, and her wide, terrified eyes looked into his, and she knew he wouldn't pull the trigger, but what if he did?

       "Oh Christ, I love it," Farelli said. "Suck it off, sweet scared little bitch, and make it come. Make it shoot off right down your throat, that's the girl." He was almost panting now. "Don't stop," he comanded. "Keep your mouth on the gun." Now he lowered himself from his crouching position and lay down, stretching himself out on his back, doing it slowly enough so that she was able to move with him without taking her lips away from the pistol, which he continued to hold out in front of him, until she was bending over him as he lay there, still sucking on the gun barrel, still whimpering, still making herself look into his eyes.

       "Get on me," Farelli rasped. "Don't stop sucking, girl. But get on top and fuck me while you're doing it."

       Moving very slowly, keeping the gun in her mouth, Nina brought one leg over him and got into position. She was breathing hard through her nose, her breasts rising and falling. His cock felt fully hard now against her thigh.

       "Put it in," Farelli ordered. "Put me inside you, girl, and fuck me nice and slow, because when I come this gun is gonna come too."

       Nina moaned, her eyes pleading, shaking her head without dislodging the gun barrel. "Yeah," Farelli grinned. "This is your last fuck, cunt, make it a good one. And keep sucking."

       She found his stiffness with her hand, placed it at her entrance and sank down over him. "Oh yeah," Farelli breathed. He pushed the gun deeper into her mouth, and she had to pull away to avoid being injured, but quickly took it back in again. His free hand rose to clamp over one of her breasts. "Do it, girl. Do it good. Make me come. And say goodbye, baby."

       Nina fucked him. Slowly. Her body moving up and down over his surprisingly thick penis as her head continued to bob over the hard, unyielding metal of the gun. Panting through her nostrils, sobbing and moaning and whimpering, playing out her role as fifteen-year-old Linda, knowing her life was about to be snuffed out, forced into prolonging her agony by pleasuring this stranger in a way that would inevitably lead to a bullet blowing away the back of her head. And at the same time hoping, praying, that Farelli would not get carried away and, accidentally or deliberately, actually pull the trigger.

       Farelli was panting harshly, but he kept the gun steady with one hand while his other hand moved from one breast to the other, then up to her throat, caressed her face, then moved back to her breast. "That's it, sweet cunt," he husked. "That's the girl. Make me come. Make me shoot you. Faster, baby. Not too much. That's it. Oh yeah. Oh Christ yeah. Suck the gun, baby, it's coming. Me too. Don't stop. Here it comes, sweet fucking bitch baby, don't stop, here...yeah...don't stop...now...don't stop..."

       Nina didn't stop.

       "Oh Jesus!" Farelli cried, and as he exploded inside her he pulled the trigger. The gun clicked harmlessly. Three more times he spurted his sperm up into her vagina, and with each spurt he pulled the trigger again. Click. Click. Click.

       Relief flooded through her as his body went limp, the gun pulling away from her mouth as his arm dropped to the floor. His penis slid out of her and she rolled herself off him, lying beside him, gasping deeply in the aftermath of her tension, her breathing almost as loud as his.

       Farelli looked over at her and laughed wheezily. "Hell, you didn't think that thing was loaded, did you, girl? I told you I didn't want to kill you, didn't I? Gave you a scare though, right?" Before Nina could answer, he went on. "But Christ! Twice in one night! Holy shit." He sat up, shaking his head. "Jesus, I haven't been able to do that for fifteen years! You're really something, girl. You and those goddam books of yours. Twice in one night! Un-fucking-believable."

       "Well," Nina said, still breathing hard. "There's plenty more where that came from, Mr. Farelli. Charlie must have--"

       "Yeah, well, that's fine," Farelli said. "You keep bringing them. I got time. I'm gonna be here a few weeks yet. I'll get around to whipping you sooner or later. Don't think I won't, girl. Meanwhile I'll see you tomorrow."

       "Tomorrow," Nina said.

                              November 7

       "They tie her up in this very torturous manner to this contraption, this frame, and then they whip the hell out of her, and in between they all...they use her, and then--"

       "They fuck her, you mean," Farelli said.

       "Yes. In her ass and her vagina, both. And then--"

       "Hold it," Farelli said. "They tie her up how?"

       "Well, first kind of like this." Nina moved to a staight chair by the wall. She was already naked. She placed herself on one side of the chair and bent over the seat, lying across it, her legs spread wide apart on one side, her head hanging down on the other. Then she raised her arms straight up, holding her wrists together.

       "Something like that," she said.

       "Looks good to me," Farelli said.

       "Only it's much worse, because it's not a chair, it's some kind of sawhorse thing, and she's tied so cruelly, and they just keep whipping her and fucking her and buggering her until--"

       "These are guys doing this, right?" Farelli said. "Because this--"

he was looking at the book Nina had brought, the title of which was "The Prefects,"--"this looks like a lesbian setup or something."

       The photograph on the cover showed a booted, black-clad, bespectacled woman with long blonde hair, sitting in an elaborately carved wooden chair and holding a long whip, while another woman crouched abjectly at her feet, bent over and clutching her head with her hands.

       "Well, there are women there too, but in this scene it's mostly men doing the punishing." Nina said. She lowered her arms and started to stand up, but Farelli said, "No, stay that way."

       She got back into position, lowering her head and raising her arms even higher than before, showing him the strain, the discomfort. "But that's not all," she went on. "The best part is when they--"

       "Tell me the best part later," Farelli said. "Right now I like this part. How many guys?"

       "I don't really know," Nina said. "There are several officers, and there are soldiers, and there's at least one servant who--"

       Farelli snorted. "Too bad Frank and Rick aren't here. They could be the soldiers, or the servants or whatever. We could all fuck the shit out of you. Just for a start. But fuck them. These guys are what, Nazis, you said?"

       "No. No, they're Germans, but it's supposed to be the eighteenth century or something. It's this old German girls' school where the teachers punish the students, and also each other, and there's a lot of whipping and caning and stuff all through it. But after--"

       "So what's with the soldiers?" Farelli asked.

       "I don't know, I didn't read it that closely. It's like the army is in charge of the school or something, and in this scene they're punishing some of the female teachers for whatever reason, mostly because they enjoy it, I think. But that's--"

       "Good enough reason," Farelli said.

       "But can I please tell you about what happens afterwards, Mr. Farelli? They take her--"

       "No," Farelli said. "Save it. I like this, right here. You look good that way. Too bad you can't read in that position though. I wouldn't mind hearing about it, but I don't want you to move right now. Maybe I should make up my own story."

       That sounded ominous to Nina. Her arms were tiring rapidly, but she kept them as they were, and even stretched them more tautly. "You could read it yourself, Mr. Farelli," she suggested.

       "Me?" He gave a bark of laughter.

       "Why not?" Nina said. "I've marked the passages I thought you'd like. You can read them instead of me. You'll find the scene near the end of the book, you can see the markings. You can read it out loud, or just to yourself if you want. Or--"

       "Is this another goddam clever trick, bitch? You think if I--"

       "Mr. Farelli, if you'd like me to--"

       "All right, all right. Shut up and don't move. Let me look." There was a pause. "Fuck, I gotta put my damn glasses on for this." Another pause. "Yeah, okay. I see it. This better be good." He cleared his throat and started to read.

       Wedell was obscenely spraddled and spread. There was a form of frame ringbolted to the floor, something like a common sawhorse in design. Her legs were widely spread and tied to the rear legs of this at ankle and knee; her body was bent forward and belted to the central strut but, to assure proper cambering of hips, and arching out of the pelvic area, her arms, strapped at the wrists, were hauled high, to straining pitch, to a ring in the ceiling.

       Farelli glanced over at her. "Yeah, I see what you mean. That would be a lot less comfortable than you are right now."

       "It doesn't feel very comfortable," Nina said, forcing herself to keep her tired arms up in the air. "But I'm sure you're right."        

       "It says it's like a sawhorse. I've seen things about women being made to sit on a sawhorse, you know, a plain wooden one, sit right down on it, on the narrow edge, with their legs spread. Shit, that would hurt all right, wouldn't it? Hurt like hell."

       "Yes it would," Nina said. "I bet there's something like that in one of Charlie's books. I'll try to find it for you."

       "Yeah? Maybe I can find a real sawhorse first," Farelli grinned. "Okay, let's see what else we got here." He went back to the book. "What the hell," he said then. "The way you got it marked here, you're skipping a lot of stuff. Some good stuff too, looks like. What's the deal?"

       "I just wanted to give you the highlights," Nina said. "And stick to the main story. There's a lot of extraneous stuff there, and I didn't want to bore you or anything. Besides, I really wanted to read you the last part, where they--"

       "Yeah, great, but since I'm reading this now,I get to read anything I fucking want. Right?" Farelli snarled.

       "Of course," Nina said.

       "Okay." But when he resumed reading he seemed for the most part to follow her markings anyway.

       The stable-boy Kurt...returned from a side table with a dollop of grease on his fingers. This he smeared round the hungry cunt, ran up the buttock furrow and finally daubed into the anus itself, turning his two fingers round and round until the woman gasped in protest. Then producing the infamous choke-pear he inserted it deep into her mouth, releasing the spring so that her jaws were widely distended.

       Nina gave an open-mouthed groan, as if receiving the device herself. Farelli read on.

       The Grenadier advanced, unleashing his manhood...It was a monstrous erection...The guardsman...gave a muscular thrust that sent him home, sqatting slightly, right to the balls. Ulrike Wedell tensened in a stiff tremoring spasm of protest, uttering a gargled "Nnnngh!"

       "Nnnngh!" Nina mewled.

       The man fucked her so solidly he seemed to lift her buttocks off the trestle strut. Maria stood--

        Farelli looked up. "Wait a second. Who the fuck is Maria?"

       "Another teacher. They do her too, in between. I told you, there's a lot of--"

       "Shut up," Farelli said.

       She saw also the look of revulsion on Wedell's broad flat face, its jaws bursting in their sockets as she strove for breath under the assault...

       The guardsman had been thumping Wedell's hips hard, and now his grunts began to echo each squishy plunging in the silence. The stable lad put finger and thumb round the root of the rod as it emerged and without further ado drew the man out of his lodging by a firm grip on his balls. The granadier's muscular cylinder dribbled, as if disgustedly, then was aimed at the velvety bung-hole...

       Wedell threw back her face, frozen in horror. Her inner cheeks cringed in. Little moaning sounds came from her distended mouth.

       Nina, still holding herself in her strained position, threw back her head and made the fearful moans the story called for. Farelli read on.

       Suddenly, to a drawn-out whine from Wedell, about a third of it slid in. Hugged by the rectal ring the humid tube slid in and out for a thrust or two, then the guardsman jammed to the balls, shaking woman and trestle too. A mewling cry escaped the 'pear' in Wedell's mouth. She turned and twisted frantically, panting and moaning as the rhythm of her buggering began.

       Nina turned and twisted as well, shaking the chair she lay across, still holding her arms in the air, matching her sounds to the imaginary buggering she was receiving.

       Wedell was lurching her upper body, her face was crimson, suffocated sounds escaped her whinnying mouth, her toes tattoed, she squirmed and writhed up the trestle. With a short barking roar the granadier thudded into her, creaming...And when the man withdrew to an ignominious plop, Wedell hung slackly in her fetterings, a mucal or seminal ooze dripping to the floor between her legs.

       "No more," Nina whined, panting hard. "Oh god please, no more..."

       "You can't talk, bitch, you've got a gag in your mouth. And yeah, she gets more all right. Here's another guy comes up for his. Oh yeah, and he's gonna whip her first. About fucking time.

       There was the rattle of the cane being taken down and the singleted Sergeant came forward, flexing it...The cane-tip touched and joggled her flaccid buttocks, in the midst of which the sphincter still dribbled, winking. Then in a pracing rush--

       "What the hell is a pracing rush?" Farelli demanded.

       Nina only moaned, remembering the gag this time.

       ...the man thudded the stick across the outstretched fat, into which it bit pitilessly, lifting the mounds and leaving a black band athward them.

       "NNNNNNNGGGG!"

       Nina replicated the sound as best she could.

       Twice more she was lashed...

       "Another," proclaimed the Count. And then he said, "Another still."

       Nina shrieked horribly at each imaginary blow, thrusting her body forward helplessly, panting and sobbing in between. "Christ, yes!" Farelli said. "This is getting me hard all right. That's what you want, right, girl? Well, take it." He stood up and moved in front of her, unzipping his fly with one hand, still holding the book in the other. He reached down to grasp her hair and pulled her head up by it. Nina caught her breath sharply. His hardening cock was pointing through his fly at her mouth. "Get me wet," Farelli demanded.

       "They didn't--" she started to say, but her words were cut off as he pushed himself deep into her open mouth. Textual faithfulness was not the point here, obviously. Nina gagged, but she got him wet, and harder in the process. After a minute he pulled out, dropped her hair and moved around behind her.

       Nina steeled herself and tried to relax as she felt his hands spreading her buttocks, his hard cock probing her asshole. "Slicing her open with that cane," he grated, and thrust forward. "Ass-fucking her and caning her. And there's more." He was panting now, thrusting. Nina kept her position with difficulty, her straining arms throbbing, her breasts crushed beneath her against the chair seat. Farelli pushed all the way into her, then held himself there. "Then more guys," he panted. "They fuck her and they whip her." He started moving again, slowly. "Fucking her ass and whipping her and Christ...

       Then he stopped again. "Wait a minute. Holy shit, then they do it to that other girl. Maria. They truss her up and cornhole her and--shit, why didn't you mark this part, bitch?" Farelli thrust himeself sharply into her as hard as he could, as if giving her a blow. "Huh?"

       Evidently the gag was forgotten. "I could...I couldn't include everything," she panted. "And I wanted to get to the part where...where they hang her up...Wedell...they hang her up and make her--"

       "Jesus," Farelli said, "listen to this."

       Maria beat her fists under his buggering...The smack of his thighs on her hips as he thudded into her drew stifled wails that turned to gusts in her belly. She was going to be sick, she was going to vomit. The vicious ramming was too much...Then she tasted the first fluid of her bile. She began to retch. Helplessly, hopelessly.

       It was as if it drew the gism out of her adversary physically. The syrupy stuff surged deep into her, filling her with misery as her mouth overflowed, past the gag, with her own hot filth.

       Nina heard the sound of the book dropping to the floor, and then Farelli's hands were digging into her hips and he was moving faster, faster. "They fucked her ass till she fucking threw up," he panted. "And then they whipped the shit out of her. And they...they...ohh Christ!"

       Nina closed her eyes as he spurted into her backside. When he was finished she slowly and carefully lowered her arms, which had fallen asleep but still ached terribly. Then she held still until Farelli was ready to pull out of her.

       "You got a great ass, girl," he said as he did so. "I wouldn't mind seeing it with a bunch of stripes across it. Never went in much for caning myself. I prefer a real whip. But I'm willing to try."

       Nina was still breathing hard. "You never let me tell you about the best part, Mr. Farelli," she said. "Maybe we can get to that tomorrow. I can leave the book here and you can look at it overnight if you like. There are lots of--"

       "Tell me about it now," Farelli said.

       "But you--"

       With a sudden movement Farelli raised his hand and smacked it down hard on her ass. Nina cried out. "Do what I tell you, bitch, or you'll be throwing up too," he snarled. "I came twice yesterday, didn't I? You think I can't do it again if this is so damn good? And it fucking better be. Now let's hear it."

       Slowly and a little stiffly, Nina raised herself from the chair and got herself into a sitting position. "Well, they put her on this pole thing," she began. "It's a little hard to explain, but--"

       Farelli picked up the book and handed it to her. "Don't explain then," he snorted. "Just read it, for Christ sake."

       Nina found the place.

       Ulrika Wedell was attached to the ‘martyr's pole’ like the attendant Karl, with the exception that the pad had not been slid up under her pelvic region. She was--

       "Whoa," Farelli said. "What kind of pole? What pad? And who the fuck is Karl?"

       "Okay," Nina said. "See, this pole was described earlier when this manservant was put up and whipped. I didn't think you'd be interested in that part."

       "I'm not."

       "Well, this is like a whipping post, with straps attached to it, and the victim is fastened to it, his arms--or in this case, her arms--strapped at wrist and elbow, and her legs sort of go around it and are strapped at the knee. So she can kind of raise and lower herself a little bit. The pad is attached to the pole under the victim's ass, I think to keep it still for the whipping. But here, instead of a pad, they attach a kind of metal grille--a red-hot grille--right under her behind, and she has to--well, let me read some more."

       She was bared of buttock, legs gripping the upright, knees lightly bent, and face...thoroughly frightened. The whiskery Sergeant-Major stood to the left behind her. Dark weals crossed her hips horizontally...

       An upright iron frame was placed below Wedell's broad behind, centrally. From the brazier the youth Karl plucked out with a pair of tongs a glowing grille. This faded quickly but yet was hot enough, when he affixed it to the top rungs of the frame, some six inches under the mistress's base, to make her clench forward to the post in a trembling cry--"NOOOOOO!" A drip of curdled gism from her anus fell on a bar and spat, hissing there. She pressed herself, pleading, to the upright strut. The Count's streaked tom gave a jerk at these manifestations.

       "While I count three," he said pleasantly, feeling it.

       The mistress seemed to know what was required of her. Her face became a comedy of concentration, and tortured doubts, as slowly, very slowly, she flexed her knees, lowering her large rump still closer to the hot bars...

       Suddenly contact was made. The striped seat sat on the heated bars and Wedell straightened with a started jump, screaming. "Auuuu....!"

       The Count nodded.

       Huish! Huish!

       The long cane wrapped itself beltingly about the startled buttocks.

       "Jesus Christ!" Farelli said. "I get it. They're making her burn herself. She has to sit down on that thing till this guy counts to three, right?"

       "Yes. And if she doesn't she gets whipped. Or caned. Until she does."

       "Holy shit!" His tone was almost reverent. "That's hot, all right. That's really hot. Keep going."

       The mistress tried once more. This time she jerked off the inconceivably painful burn with four livid lines inscribed up her hams. Four cuts with the cane followed them. Wedell's bottom was becoming respectably tender.

       "I haven't even begun to count as yet," drawled the Count watching, his ramrod high. "Thrash her again, Sergeant-Major. I like my meat well done."

       "Wait!"

       With clenched teeth and starting eyes Ulrika Wedell lowered her buttocks the little allowed her by her fetters. With a grimace of agony she touched the bars, seemed to lift up, then held herself there. Slowly the Count said, "One."

       Her face screwed up with the effort of self-discipline, fighting down her riotous senses, her temples sweating.

       "Two," said the Commanding Officer gently.

       He waited an interminable period, then said, "Three."

       Ulrika Wedell fairly hurled herself in one strangled stifled yelp of agony upwards, her body crashing into the upright. Four fearsome blistered burn-marks criss-crossed her cane welts. Her bottom was a cauldron of white-hot coals.

       "Christ, I love it!" Farelli said. His eyes were alight, and his cock, still hanging out of his pants, had begun to stir again. "Making her do that to herself. Damn. I wouldn't mind seeing you burn a little bit, girl. Don't have any fancy metal grille, but I could put out a few cigarettes on that pretty ass of yours. Or on your tits. I could even make you do it yourself, just like--"

       "That's not necessary, Mr. Farelli," Nina said quickly. She rose and walked over to foot of the bed, taking hold of one of the corner bedposts. Then she bent her knees, lowering her body until she was crouching with her behind not quite touching the floor, her arms reaching up as her hands still clutched the bedpost.

       "Oh, god no..." she whimpered piteously. "Oh no, please, I can't..." Slowly, still whimpering, she brought her backside down further, until it barely touched the floor, and then immediately jerked herself upwards with a squall of agony. This was quickly followed by another yell as her body spasmed sharply forward, as if she had been dealt a severe blow. "PLEASE!" she cried loudly, and began to sob as she again let herself sink down. Her buttocks touched the floor for just a moment before she jerked up again, howling. "NOOOO..." she pleaded, but the plea turned into a shriek of pure anguish as she flung herself forward again, and yet another time, in reaction to the imaginary cane. "WAIT!" she gasped out, between convulsive sobs. "All right! Please! I--I will...ohhh..." And once more she bent her knees deeper, lowering her backside as she whined and shook as if with terror. This time when it touched the floor she kept it there, throwing back her head and howling with the supposedly unsupportable pain, her whole body straining, her arms stretched above her, her hands white as she clutched the post. Screaming.

       "One," Farelli said after a moment. He was fully hard now.

       Nina stayed as she was, shaking all over, mouth wide as she continued to scream. But her buttocks stayed pressed against the floor.

       Farelli moved toward her. "Two," he said, raising his voice so as to be heard through her screams. He came closer, then stood there, watching her with glittering eyes as her body shook harder, her own eyes begging him, pleading desperately with him to give the final word. But he didn't. Instead he stepped right up to her and plunged his cock deep into her wide-open, howling mouth. Nina choked for a moment and gagged, but then the screams continued. Farelli grabbed at her hair and fucked that screeching cavity, grunting with pleasure as he pumped himself against her vibrating tongue, until with a guttural cry he pulled out and shot his jism all over her agonized screaming face.

       "Three," he said.

                        November 8

       They sat upon a trestle, a naked girl and a naked woman...It was a very ancient punishment, hallowed by the centuries. But neither cared its antiquity. They were concerned only with pain. The vertical board of the trestle had a sharp edge. They sat upon it.

       Simple, as are all lasting concepts, it was called 'The Horse.' The naked girl in disfavor straddled it, her feet widely spread and tied down so that she was held immobile on the cutting edge. Her wrists crossed and bound behind her back so that she could not use her hands to support her weight. She simply sat and endured. All her weight rested on that small area of herself between her sex and the orifice between her bottom cheeks. As the minutes, and then the hours, sped by she wished she had not been born a girl.

       "Well, by god, girl, you said you'd find it and you did," Farelli grinned. "You're something, all right, I'll give you that. Old Charlie must have quite a collection, huh?"

       "Oh, you wouldn't believe all the old stuff he's saved," Nina said, looking up from the book she held. It was called "The Siblings, Part Two" and the cover showed a drawing of two bound and naked females, both with their hands fastened behind them. One, facing the viewer, had a ball gag in her mouth; the other, facing away, was on her knees, her ankles shackled to a long pole, the soles of her feet crisscrossed with whip marks. "Most of these old books, I don't think they could be worth anything, but some of them might be, you know, collector's items or something. But there sure are a lot of them."

       "And does Charlie know you been rooting around his old stuff and taking his books and all, to try to put off getting yourself whipped?" Farelli asked.

       "No, Charlie's kind of avoiding me these days," Nina said. "I don't think he wants to know what's happening."

       "Why not?"

       Nina didn't answer.

       "He got a thing for you, Charlie?" Farelli said shrewdly. "I mean aside from fucking you and all. Something serious?"        

       Nina gave a half shrug. "You'd have to ask Charlie that, Mr. Farelli."

       "Uhuh. And how about you? You stuck on him or something?"

       Nina was silent for a long moment. "I'm just a whore, Mr. Farelli," she said finally. "You know that. I give Charlie what he wants and he keeps me in comfort. If he wants to lend me to his boss, that's what he does. Whores can't afford to have feelings."

       Farelli nodded slowly. "He's a good man, Charlie," he said then. "Loyal. Knows what's right. Always kind of liked Charlie." He paused. "Thing is, a guy in Charlie's position can't afford to have feelings either. Not if he wants to keep that position, you know? His boss tells him to do something, he damn well does it. No questions, no whining, that's just not healthy. Charlie knows that. Like, when I told him I was interested in you, he never blinked. Never said a word but yes. 'Course I thought you were just another piece of ass to him, and maybe you are, I don't know. But I'll tell you this--Charlie could be crazy in love with you, I mean head over heels crazy, but if I decided to hang you up and whip you bloody, whip you till you died, and I told Charlie to stand there and watch, that's just what he'd do. You understand that, right?"

       "Yes," Nina said. "I understand that."

       "Okay. What the fuck are we talking about this for anyway? Get back to these broads on the sawhorse. A girl and a woman, it said. What's that all about?"

       "Well, actually they're both young women," Nina said. "But one of them, Clare, she's a long-time captive of this group of men, these Irish revolutionaries. This is in Ireland, and it's all pretty complicated, and frankly I'm not too sure what it's all about, except that the women are always getting whipped and tortured and raped and so on. Clare is actually kind of resigned to it by now. Sometimes she even seems to like it, in a way. But the other woman, Corinna, she's just been captured, she's a journalist or something for the other side, and a feminist and so on, so they're really making her suffer."

       "Okay," Farelli said. He had already been naked when Nina came in, and now he was lounging on the bed, a bottle of whiskey by his side. Nina was sitting beside him, also naked, holding the book. He had had her strip right away. "That's what you do from now on, girl," he had told her. "Soon as you get in that door, the clothes come off. Quick. You got that?"

       "Yes, sir."

       "Okay. Now come over here by me."

       When she sat down on the bed his hand had immediately groped for her body, squeezing each of her breasts in turn and then moving down to rest between her legs, his fingers exploring. "Sweet little cunt," he muttered, and she wondered how much he had already drunk.

       "Listen to this, Mr. Farelli," she had said, opening the book. His hand had stayed where it was as she read to him about the women on "The Horse," and throughout their subsequent conversation, while with his other hand he took an occasional drink from the bottle.

       "Okay," he said now. "So these broads are crushing their cunts on this board with the sharp edge. It's a nice picture." The hand between her legs gave a quick hard squeeze and release, and Nina cried out sharply. Farelli laughed. "So what else?" he demanded.

       Nina's voice was a little unsteady. "Well, they torment both of them, these men, but especially Corinna. While she's all helpless and hurting that way, they play with her body, hurt her breasts, and

they--"

       "Like this?" Farelli said, and he raised his hand to her left breast and twisted her nipple.

       "Ahh! Yes!" Nina gasped. "Like that. Ahhh!"

       "What else?" Farelli said. She saw that his cock was stiffening now.

       "They--they torture her and hurt her until she has to beg them to stop, and they make her ask them to do things to her. This proud, intelligent woman," Nina went on, "who hates them and all they stand for, they make her kiss them and ask them to take her, and even to whip her, and then--"

       "Now there's a smart broad," Farelli said. "That's what you should do. Beg me to whip you. How come you don't do that? Huh?"

       "I will if that's what you want, Mr. Farelli," Nina said, and she let her hand go out slowly to touch his cock, her fingers stroking the gradually hardening flesh. "I'll ask you to whip me, to hurt me, to do anything you want. I'll beg you to." Her hand encircled him now and began to move. "Think about me begging for it," she went on. "Think about me sitting on that wooden horse and crying with pain and you hurting me even more until I beg you to stop, beg you to whip me instead, beg you to use my body, to fuck me, to do anything you--"

       "Cut it out!" Farelli said. Taking hold of her wrist, he jerked her hand away from him. He gave the wrist a sharp twist, and Nina was pulled sideways, crying out with the pain. She gritted her teeth as he held her that way, her breath hissing loudly in and out, until after several long moments he let her go. "Too damn cute for your own good, girl," he muttered, taking another drink from the bottle. "You think I'm gonna go for a hand job, like some horny high school kid? Who the fuck you think you're dealing with here?"

       "I'm sorry," Nina said, still panting slightly. "I was just--"

       "Yeah, you were just trying to get this over with before I get really rough. Well, you ain't seen nothing yet, girl. Nothing."

       Nina swallowed. "May I read you some more from the book, Mr. Farelli? There's a lot of--"

       "What else do they do to her? The broad on the horse? They whip her that way? Christ, that would be something, all right."

       "Well, no," Nina said. "Not then. But they brand her before they take her off, and then later on they--"

       "Brand her, huh? Where? On her tit?"        

       "Well, they think about that, but they actually do it on her thigh. They brand her with a T. For traitoress."

       "Nice," Farelli said. "Okay, read me that part."

       Nina found the place.

       Her attention was caught by Cully's firm grip of Corinna Winthrop's hair...He tugged the head back brutally.

       In spite of her attestation to the contrary, Clare watched...Riodan had contrived a metal "T" with an electrode. It was about an inch and a half long. It was beginning to glow red. He was waiting....

       "Think is ter get it deep," he said chattily. "Nice and clean and permanent. Takes a bit o' time," he added as though time was of small concern to a girl against whose flesh a white-hot metal was being pressed...His finger traced a mark upon his helpless victim's thigh.

       Clare recognized the plausibility of the place chosen. She knew that, no matter how it hurt, she could not move her own thigh at all. Stretched as she was, that part of her person was rigid. It would accept a brand with only the quivering of the nerves. The upper part of her torso could writhe to whatever degree agony might dictate, but the thigh would remain quiescent during whatever time the fiery kiss was prolonged.

       She watched...as Riodan's improvised "T" became white. Casually and with a firm hand he pressed it against the waiting skin. Cully pulled down on his handful of hair. Corinna Winthrop screamed and screamed and screamed.

       "Christ!" Farelli breathed.

       It smoked. You smelt burnt flesh! Clare watched, wide-eyed, as the metal sank slowly into the white flesh. Unconsciously she counted slowly to five before the iron was lifted. It left behind a neat incised initial burned black and deep. Its new owner's screams moved into a swift declension to inarticulate sounds that told of things too awful to contemplate.

       "Get on top of me," Farelli said huskily. "I'm the goddam horse. The trestle, whatever. Get on."

       Nina dropped the book and moved to sit on top of him as he lay back on the bed. His cock was hard enough to take inside her, and she held on to it as she lowered herself over it. When it was all the way in she put her hands behind her and held them there. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, splayed as wide as she could get them.

       "Oh God it hurts!" she gasped out. She sat still, as though immobilized. Not that she could actually move very much, with her legs that way rather than folded under her, as they normally would be in that position. She could do no more than rock a little, back and forth. But she sat still, moaning and gasping, letting the sounds increase in volume, putting into them all the pain and horror she could muster up. "Oh dear Christ, it hurts so much! Please, I can't stand it. Please! Oh please, dear god, I'll do anything, please!"

       "Nice," Farelli grated. "Yeah, you'd look great that way. The sharp end of the board digging right into your pussy. Yeah, I guess you would do anything. Right, girl?" He put the hand that was not holding the bottle on her left breast, cupping it, squeezing, then took her nipple between his hard fingers. "Ask me to hurt you, bitch. Ask me to twist your nipple and make you scream."

       The quaver of fear in her voice was not entirely simulated. "Please...please hurt me," she whispered.

       "Louder, girl." He gave the nipple a squeeze.

       "Ohh! Please," she got out, her voice louder now but unsteady. "Please hurt me, Mr. Farelli. Please...twist my nipple and...and make me scream. Please."

       Farelli grinned and did just that. She cried out loudly, her body jerking and squirming around his cock, which was quite hard now inside her. He let her twist for a few moments before letting the nipple go. When he did she was sweating and breathing hard.

       "That's good," Farelli said, his hand still on her breast. "But I'm not Mr. Farelli now, am I? I'm these two fucking Irish guys who put you up on that horse, who are gonna whip the shit out of you and brand you and make you ask for all of it, right? Fucking stuckup piss-elegant bitch." He squeezed her breast again.

       "Yes!" Nina yelled. "Yes, anything, yes..."

       "Then ask me to whip you, you traitorous cunt. You newspaper-writing bitch. Beg me to do it. Beg me to whip the shit out of that gorgeous body of yours. Probably never fucked a man with that body, right, bitch? Probably a fucking dyke. Beg me to whip you and fuck you. Both of us. Beg for it, or by god I'll leave you that way till you rot. Beg!"

       Nina took a long, shuddering breath. "Please, Mr.--please, sir," she got out. "Please...whip me, sir. I'm begging you. I can't stand any more. I...please whip me, whip me hard. Both of you. Whip me all over. As much as you want. Make me scream for you. And...and take my...my body..." She was sobbing now, making it good for him. And she began to rock her body back and forth. "Do...do what you want with me...F-f-fuck me...hurt me...I beg you...just let me up...please...ohhh god please..."

       "Nice," Farelli husked. Nina continued to sob, rocking steadily now. Farelli was panting a little. "Yeah, that's good, you hurting begging bitch. And now I'm gonna brand you." Nina let out a little scream. "Yeah, that's gonna be something to scream about, all right. Right on the thigh. Right here." He touched her leg with his free hand.

       "Oh god, not that, please..." Nina babbled through her sobs, straining her body as though trying vainly to shrink away from him. "No, don't burn me, oh dear Jesus, I'll do anything, no..."

       "Yes," Farelli said. "And the other guy, what's his name, Cully. Pulling your head back. Like this." The hand rose from her leg and reached up and around to take hold of her hair and pull hard, forcing her head back so that she was looking at the ceiling. "Now," he said, and she felt something pressing against her straining thigh. It was the whisky bottle.

       She screamed for him then. She screamed and screamed, until he groaned and emptied himself inside her.

       Afterwards he offered her a drink from the bottle, and she accepted.

                         November 9                

       She was in a big old wooden rocker that he had in his living room. He had tied her with a certain amount of devilish cunning. She was tied to the back of the chair by her waist. Her wrists were tied to the rocker rungs themselves, so that her arms hung straight down at her sides. He had spread her legs wide, the edges of the seat chafing against the insides of her thighs, her sharp, pointed knees sticking up and out, her legs bent sharply back from that point to be tied at the ankles to her wrists. She was trussed up as effectively as a Christmas turkey, completely exposed and completely helpless.

       "Sounds good so far," Farelli said. "Christ, you'd think they'd show that on the cover, instead of just some guy with two broads. Okay, so he's got money falling out of his hand. Is that supposed to be sexy?"

       Instead of answering him, Nina continued reading from the book, the title of which was "Sintime Superman."

       He stood in front of her, still smiling.

       She demanded that he untie her.

       "Not just yet," he said.

       It was only then that she began to be afraid. "What are you going to do?"

       "I'm gonna make sure," he said, "that you understand that from now on, you understand that when I tell you to do something, you do it."

       He slapped her across the face then. It was the first time he had ever hit her. He hit her backhand and forehand five times as hard as he could, making her fine dark head whip back and forth. When he was done, her head lolled to one side on her neck, her golden hair hanging down the back of the chair.

    "Goddamit!" Farelli broke in. "It says ‘her fine dark head,’ and the next minute it’s her goddamn golden hair. Which is it, for fuck’s sake?"        

    "Well, she’s a blonde," Nina said. "But it’s in California, and she’s very tanned. I think that’s what it means. Her face is dark—-tanned-—but her hair is-—"

     "Fucking sloppy writing," Farelli said.

       He took her large, heavy breasts between his hands one at a time, and kneaded them with his horny knuckles until she screamed. Then he slapped them, and the sting of his open palm across the already punished flesh was agonizing.

       Her breath was coming shallowly, and her forehead, under the single lamp, was beaded with sweat.

       "You gonna do it?" he said.

       "I can't," she said. "I can't do a thing like that."

       "You'd be surprised what you can do.

       "If you love me, how can you ask me to sleep with another man?"

       "Lord, what a middle-class broad you are," he said. "Now I'll ask you one more time, you gonna do it?"

       "No. You can do whatever you want to me, but I won't."

       He laughed. "Well, you got fifty per cent on that quiz. I can do whatever I want to you, you're right about that. But you're wrong about the rest. You'll do it, sooner or later. It's just a matter of time."

       "Please," she said then. Please don't hurt me any more. I'll go away with you, I'll be yours whenever you say, don't ask me to do that and don't hurt me any more."

       "Who does he want her to sleep with?" Farelli asked.

       "With the hero of the story," Nina said. "He wants her to make him fall in love with her so he'll kill her rich husband, and she'll get lots of money, which she'll then share with him. The guy who tied her up."

       "So why doesn't he just kill the husband himself?" Farelli said. "Oh never mind, who the fuck cares. So what does he do to her now?"

       "We're about to find out," Nina said.

       "I guess we got to go on with this," he said. He reached over and took some small objects off the table.

       He showed them to her.

       Steel guitar picks. Small, rounded objects that fit over the fingers so that the fingers will not be hurt by an evening of strumming the strings. He took four of them, and put them over his middle and index fingers.

       She realized then why her legs had been stretched so cruelly apart.

       "Please," she whimpered, "oh please, don't do that. Not that, I beg you, please."

       But he did it. The pain was unendurable. Mara had never imagined there could be pain like that. She tried to buck, and could not. She tried to close her thighs, but they were trapped by the sides of the chair. She screamed and she begged and she promised unimaginable things. But he kept it up remorselessly. Then she passed out.

       When she awoke, she was broken.

       "Yeah, I'll bet," Farelli said. "Is that it?"

       "That's it," Nina said. "I thought you'd like the guitar picks."

       "I do," Farelli said. "Too bad I don't have any."

       "You can pretend you do," Nina said, and she spread her legs far apart, hooking them over the sides of the chair she sat in.

       "I'm getting tired of pretending," Farelli said.

       "But--"

       "And I'm getting tired of you pretending. You do a good job, girl, and I admit I been getting my rocks off like I thought I never would again, but all this play-acting only goes so far. I want some of the real thing,"

       "I'm real, Mr. Farelli," Nina said.

       "You know what I mean. Now Rick and Frank are gonna be back here in a couple days. Not that I need them, if I want to I can just tell you to lie down and spread out and whip the shit out of you that way, tying you up or not. Or whatever else I wanna do. You got that clear, right?"

       "But--"

       "Just say yes," Farelli said. His eyes were very hard.

       "Yes," Nina whispered.

       "Yeah. But I got a yen to do it right with you. To see you spread out in the air, pulled so tight that you quiver, which is all you'll be able to do when my whip starts slashing into that sweet body of yours. Or hanging off the floor with your arms pulling out of their sockets and your whole body stretching and straining, and then kicking and twisting and swinging every time that whip hits. Yeah, you'll be real then, all right. Your screams will be real. And so will your blood. You won't be pretending then, girl."

       Nina swallowed. "Your penis is hard, Mr. Farelli," she breathed.

       "Yeah, I know."

       "Just thinking about it."

       "Don't start," Farelli said.

       "I'm just pointing out that--"

       Farelli got up and came toward her, his erect cock pointing the way. "I know what you're pointing out, bitch," he said. "If I get hard just thinking about it, then I don't have to really do it, right? That's your thing. But that's bullshit, girl. Pure bullshit, and you know it. That's like saying if you put a hamburger in front of me, and I get hungry and I eat it, then I don't have to have steak any more. Now you--" He was standing in front of her now, and he reached out and dug his fingers into her hair, pulling her head down to his crotch. Nina opened her mouth and took him in. His voice got breathier, but he went on talking as she sucked him. "--you gave me an appetite for hamburger, which I thought I didn't have any more, and that's fine. But by god, I still crave that steak. And I'm gonna damn well have it. Well done, just how I like it. With gravy and onions and baked fucking potatoes." On the verge of coming, he released her hair and stepped back. panting a little, his cock bobbing. "What do you have to say about that, bitch girl?"

       Nina swallowed again. "What can I say, Mr. Farelli?" she got out. "I know I'm at your mercy. I've just been trying to...to show you..."

       "You been stalling, is what you've been trying to do," Farelli said. "You can't stall forever, girl, and you know that."

       There was a long pause. When Nina spoke, her voice was thin and quavery, on the verge of sobbing. "All right," she whimpered fearfully. "I'll do it."

       "Do what?" Farelli said.

       "I'll do what you want. I'll seduce him. I'll sleep with him, I'll be good for him, so he-he'll do anything for me. Then I'll get him to kill Lou and--"

       "You're crazy, girl," Farelli said. "Didn't you hear what I been telling you?"
       "Then we can get the money, and we can--we'll be rich, we can do anything--I'll give it all to you, Stan, I will, just don't do that to me any more, please. Please Stan please, I swear..."

       Farelli was shaking his head. But then he said, "You really hate that, don't you, baby? That thing with the guitar picks. Makes you nice and obedient. Maybe I should do a little more of that, just to make sure. What do you think?"

       "NO!" Nina yelled. She twisted in her chair as Farelli began to move toward her, flexing his fingers. "NO STAN NO PLEASE...I WILL I SWEAR TO YOU PLEASE...GOD NOOOO..."

       She shrank away from him as his hand reached out, her outstretched legs straining, the muscles and tendons cording as though pulling frantically at the nonexistent ropes. But they stayed as they were. Farelli's hand went between them, his fingers finding her opening, two of them slipping inside.

       Nina screamed and howled and twisted and babbled as his fingers played harmlessly inside her vagina.

       "You're really gonna do it, right, baby?" Farelli said.

       "YES! YES STAN YES I WILL YES PLEASE STOP PLEASE..."

       "You'll fuck the shit out of that creep, won't you, bitch?"

       "YES I WILL YES GOD I WILL PLEASE NO MORE..."

       "And you'll make it real good for him, right? You'll give him the best fuck he's ever had in his life, so he'll really be hooked. Right, cunt?"

       "AHHH! AIIEEEE! YES YES I WILL I SWEAR I PROMISE STAN PLEASE STOP AUUGGHHH..."

       Farelli took his hand from her pussy. His cock was very hard now. He lowered himself to the floor, and as he did so he reached for her and pulled her out of the chair, so that she landed on top of him. "Show me, bitch," he said huskily. "Show me how good you're gonna be to him. Show me."

       Nina showed him.
 

                       November 10

       "'Tender Buns,' huh?" Farelli said, glancing at the cover of the book Nina had brought in. He shrugged. "Dumb fucking title. Dumb fucking picture too."

       The cover picture was a rather crude color drawing, or painting, of an orange-haired woman seen from the back, so that her face was not visible. The dress she was wearing appeared to have been torn away from the middle of her back down. Otherwise she was naked except for what appeared to be transparent stockings and high-heeled boots. She stood slightly bent over from the waist, with one foot on the floor, the other resting on the seat of a small chair.

       "Maybe so," Nina said. "But you'd love this book, Mr. Farelli. Lots and lots of whipping in this one. All the men whip all the women all the time. I had a hard time deciding which part you would like best, but I--"

       "You know what part I like best?" Farelli said. His voice was almost a snarl, and Nina saw that he had been drinking again. There was a bottle of whisky on the table. "I'll tell you what part I like best. The part where you fucking shut up for once, that's what part."

       Nina said nothing. She had taken her clothes off after entering the room, as she did each time now, following his instructions, and she stood there naked, facing Farelli's chair. He was in his undershirt and trousers.

       "Fucking bitch," Farelli said after a minute. "Did I tell you Rick and Frank are coming back?
       "Yes, you did," Nina said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You did tell me that."

       "Yeah. Bet you can't wait for that huh?"

       "Mr. Farelli, can I tell you about--"

       "No!" With a sudden angry movement he picked up the book and flung it at her. Nina just managed to duck away from it as it came flying through the air. The next minute Farelli was out of his chair and charging toward her. His hand went out, grabbing a hank of her hair and twisting it savagely, bringing a cry from her as he forced her down to her knees and pulled her face into his crotch.

       Automatically her hands went to his fly and unzipped him. His cock was limp. She pulled it out and took it into her mouth, tonguing it skillfully. Farelli twisted her hair harder and pulled her head back by it so that she was looking up at him, gasping loudly, tears of pain in her eyes.

       "I told you I was getting tired of this shit, didn't I, cunt?" Farelli grated. "I told you what I wanted to do with you, didn't I?"

       Nina tried to nod, but she couldn't. "Yes, sir," she managed to get out.

       "Well, fuck it!" Abruptly he let go of her hair and walked away. Nina stayed as she was, panting.

       "What the fuck is going on here?" Farelli shouted. "Goddam you, I could fucking whip the crap out of you right here and now!"

       Nina said nothing.

       Farelli flung himself back into his chair. "What the fuck is this?" he said again. "Listen, bitch, are you Charlie's girl or not?"

       Nina stared at him. "I--I told you, Mr. Farelli, I don't--I mean, you'd have to ask--"

       "Don't give me that shit! I'm asking you, damn it, give me a straight answer!"

       Nina was silent for a long minute. Then she said, "I can't."

       His eyes glared, and for a moment she thought he was going to come at her again. But then he sank back in the chair. "Get the hell out," he muttered.

       "What?"

       "You heard me, girl, get the fuck out of here. I'm sick of the sight of you. I don't want to see you again until I see you hanging in the air. I'll let you know when that's gonna be." He snorted. "I'll let Charlie know too."

       Nina didn't move for a minute. Then she took a long breath. "You don't have to be mad at Charlie, Mr. Farelli. I told you, I'm just Charlie's whore. He doesn't--"

       "Then why didn't you say that just now? Fucking lying bitch, what if I want you for my whore, what then?"

       "But--but I'm that already," Nina said faintly.       

       "I mean permanent. When I go back to New York. You come too. What do you think about that, bitch?"

       Nina stared again. Then she went pale.

       "Don't like that idea, huh, cunt?"

       Nina struggled to speak. "I--I'm afraid you'd kill me," she got out. "Or--"

       "Or worse, right? What's the matter, you don't think you could keep conning me forever with those books of yours?"

       "They--they're not mine, they're Charlie's," Nina said.

       "I don't give a shit," Farelli said. "Anyway, forget it. If I want you I'll take you. Charlie's not gonna have anything to say about it. And neither are you. Now get out."

       Nina quickly got dressed and moved to the door.

       "Hold it," Farelli said.

       She turned. "What?"

       Farelli reached for the whisky bottle and drank. "Fuck you, you stupid fucking bitch," he said. "Take those fucking clothes off."

       Nina did so.

       "Now get the fuck over here."

       She started toward him.

       "Crawl, bitch."

       She got down on her hands and knees and crawled until she was crouching in front of his chair. His fly was still open.

       "Get me hard," Farelli said.

       Nina did her best, but with limited success. "You're losing your touch, cocksucker," he grated after a while.

       Nina lifted her head. "Maybe if you didn't drink so much, Mr. Farelli--"

       He slapped her. Hard. Her head spun.

       "I'm sorry," she whispered.

       Farelli deliberately reached for the bottle and took a long swig. "Don't tell me what to do, cunt," he spat out. "I'll drink as much as I fucking feel like it, and you're not gonna get out of here till you get me off. One way or another."

       "Then may--may I read to you from the book, Mr. Farelli? I really think you'd--"

       Farelli slapped her again. Then he said, "It better be good, bitch. It better be damn fucking good."       
       Nina turned and crawled over to the spot where the book had landed when he threw it. "I was--I was going to read the part where one of the husbands sticks a bunch of pins into his wife," she said, picking up the book. "He puts his initials on her backside with these pins while his friend watches. I thought it would... But maybe you'd prefer one of the whippings. There's some very--"

       "Hell, read 'em both," Farelli said. "I got time. And you're here for as long as I want. Read the whole fuckin' book. Read till your fuckin' eyes fall out. Then you won't be able to read any more and I'll have to think of something else to do with you."

       Sitting on the floor, Nina opened the book and leafed through. She had to wipe away the half-formed tears that Farelli's slaps had brought to her eyes before she could make out the print.            

       All Janice knew was the cane. All she could see was its shimmering menace. By now, apart from the leathering she had endured, she had had eighteen strokes across the backside with the cane, and she didn't want another. She would do anything to avoid another...

       When he spat this time he did so on the floor.

       "Lick it up, Slave."

       She crashed down to obey.

       He laughed again drily. When next he came into her vision he had in one hand a luscious downy peach.

       "Bite."

       It filled her mouth. The fruit was overripe. Her strong teeth bit into its soft flesh, holding it there as he instructed. The fruit was big and held wide her jaws....

       She was so intensely frightened that tears were pouring down her cheeks as desperately she held the wet peach in her teeth. Her legs were braced, her face flushed, her wrists caught behind her in the cuffs...

       "I'm going to give you seven," he said. "The magic number, Slave. Surely you can take seven? All I'm asking is that you hold that peach in your mouth while I do so...Over a little more."

       She threw him an absurdly imporing glance over her left shoulder and then, with a greedy hiss, the whalebone snicked into the skin.

       Zzzzzkkk!

       "Unh!" Janice gave a stifled grunt, her head going up, her forehead creased in pain. Her bottoms clenched hard. He paused till they relaxed and cut again, the black weal snaking out on impact. She danced quickly.

       "This is really a most satisfactory instrument," he said. "You've no idea how edifying you look."

       With tremendous tension she took the third, then the fourth. She was bending about, her thighs rubbing together, making a snoring sound. He administered the fifth and after the resultant contortions advanced to inspect what looked to be a ruby ooze from where the tip had bitten--when there came a thump, close followed by a wail of tears. Janice had dropped the peach and burst into frustrated sobs.

       "Please...Master...I t-t-t-tried...so hard."

       "Not hard enough," he said curty. "All right, put it back in the bowl over there.

       She dropped to her knees, panting, both breasts now fully on display before him. Her whole body was heaving.

       "Please...anything...I'll do anything rather than..."

       A swish of air answered her as with a steady, calculated stripe the switch seemed to cut through her rump. She yipped and seemed to jump from her knees a second before, speechless with pain, she bent over double. Marc took time and aim and lashed her again.

       "AAAAAAOOOOWWW!"

       "Hurry, bitch."

       Blinded, out of breath, she fought to find the peach, pick it up in her teeth, replace it in the bowl, and get back to him, still twisting in her bonds...

       He went to a wall and returned with a strap of thin, but stout leather...."Legs apart, Slave."

       "Oh..."

       He slid it in the furrow, drew it between her legs, up through the cleft of her buttocks, and secured it to the belt in back. He gave a final rough tug up, notching it tighter by a hole.

       "Aaow!" She was on tiptoe.

       "There. That ought to make you a little less rambunctious. Count yourself lucky it isn't studded inside...Lean forward."

       "Please...it's ag-agony..."

       Zzzzlkk!

       "Aaaah!"

       Zzzzlkkk!

       "Mercy!"

       Zzzzzlkkkk!

       "NO!"

       Zzzzllkkkkkkk!...

       He pointed inexorably. Her knees hit the boards before him. The whalebone sang into her thrice. At the third she screamed. It was like a razor, and she was sure that he had broken the skin in one place behind...

       "Too much noise," he pronounced. "I'll have to bit you, Slave."

       He went to a closet and came back with something clinking in his hand. She held her breath. First he greased the edges of her mouth, then he held her jaw open with his left hand, then he told her to raise her tongue. The steel bit was cold and hard, seemed to choke her a second, then he had secured it behind her head and drawn the single strap to which it was attached down her back to join that which went between her legs.

       "Perhaps that will hold your head up."...

       Looking up beseechingly, like a spaniel, she saw Marc expertly apprasinging the position. She caught a shocking glimpse in some mirror: a gagged woman with a purple face, her back arched so that her breasts were held out horizontal, enormous, the nipples plum-like.

       "Please...please...please," her imprisoned tongue was trying to articulate....

       Marc had vanished from view. She felt his fingers, then the wet rubber dong began to be inserted up her vagina. Serrated. God. It stopped there. Almost instantly her hips started writhing.

       A black line bisected her vision. Marc was standing over her, holding the whalebone. He lifted her breasts, letting them bounce back judderingly.

       Please...please...

       Anything but...

       "I think your committee women might appreciate you now," he said. "I'll start with six this side. The tip may make you jump a bit, on the left."

       PLEASE!

       The apprehension was getting out of control. Squirming, her pelvis spasmed; she could feel herself starting to come. Marc could see it, too, as she panted like a runner and he drove down with a whippy cut of the switch that left its tracery of black lace across her bubbies--One!

       "What the hell?" Farelli said suddenly. Nina looked up from the book and saw that his cock had hardened as she read. She felt a small surge of triumph. But he was scowling. "What do you mean, she comes? Don't tell me the bitch likes it!"

       "Well...she doesn't like it, exactly, but I guess she--she's got a masochistic streak, she--she responds to the pain in spite of herself..."

       "Fuck that! What the fuck good is that? She's not supposed to like it, for Christ sake! You don't like it when I hurt you, do you, bitch?"

       "No," Nina said. "No, I don't. But I guess some--"

       "Fuck that. Don't bring me any more books where the broads get off on being whipped, you got that? Or on anything else. Understand?"

       "Yes," Nina said. "I'm sorry. But I can see you liked it up till then, Mr.--"

       "Shut the fuck up. Get over here."

       She started to get up, but instead she crawled to him. He reached down and took hold of her hair, pulling her up by it. She gasped with pain as he guided her onto his lap. "Put me in, girl."

       Straddling him on the chair, she took him inside her. His grip on her hair tightened, and he pulled her head back. She moaned.

       "You don't get off on that, right, girl?" Before she could answer his other hand was pinching one of her nipples, twisting it. Nina cried out loudly. "You're not gonna come from that, are you, huh? No fucking masochistic streak in you, right?"

       "No," Nina gasped. "No, I--aahhh--I--no. I'm not--oohhh--no..."

       "Good thing." He released her nipple and let up on her hair, but his cock was hard inside her. "Fuck me, girl."

       Nina proceeded to do so. "Damn," Farelli said. "That sounded like some good whipping, too bad it was wasted on that masochist bitch."

       "But she didn't really like it all that much," Nina said, moving skillfully. "You know, she was screaming and begging and all, and really suffering. It was just that at the end she--"

       "Fucking bitch," Farelli said. He was sitting inertly, letting Nina do all the work, but he was still hard. "What about that other one you were talking about? The one with the pins in her ass. Or was that the same broad?"

       "No," Nina said. "That's another woman. She's kind of a slave to her husband--well, she's a willing slave, but she really hates being hurt that way, and she begs him not to do it, really begs him. Crying and everything. But he wants to show her off to this friend of theirs, so he makes her kneel on the floor, and her hands are cuffed, and--"

       She was moving a little harder now, squirming for him, and she pressed her body against him, breathing her words in his ear. "--and he has these long cruel pins, and as their friend watches he sticks them one by one into her ass. Oh god, it hurts so much!" She began to pant now, moaning softly, moving steadily up and down on his cock. "Oh god no!" she whimpered. "No more, please, oh sweet Christ, I can't--AAAHH!" she cried suddenly, and pushed hard against him, as if reacting to the sharp agony of a pin jabbed into her behind. "No, stop, please, AAAHHH!" Again she jerked forward, taking his cock all the way in. Now she was sobbing, still moving, as Farelli began to breathe harder, his hand tightening in her hair, his body starting to respond now, pushing up at her. Again and again she cried out and jerked sharply forward, interspersing these movements with frantic pleas, until Farelli gave a hoarse cry and shot into her.

       Nina stayed as she was as his cock softened and slipped out of her. "Damn," Farelli panted. Then suddenly his hands were in her hair again, both of them this time, and he pulled her head back away from him, his fierce dark eyes looking into hers. "Damn," he said again, and then he pulled her face to his, jamming their mouths together. He held her that way, kissing her, for a long moment, then let her go. "Get out of here," he muttered.

       She got off him and reached for her clothes. "If I goddam want to take you back with me, then by god I will," Farelli said then. "Nobody or nothing is gonna fucking stop me. You got that, girl?"

       "Yes," Nina said faintly. "I've got that."

                           November 11

       "Charlie, I have to talk to you," Nina said.

       Charlie was seated at a desk, counting out some money. He looked up, scowling. "How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded. "Where's Burt?"

       "Burt's outside, don't worry. Charlie, you've been--"

       "Then how did you get in? Damn it, he's supposed to keep people out of here. What the hell?"

       Nina sighed. "I'm a whore, Charlie. Right? I gave him a blow job. I had to talk to you."

       "I'll kill him," Charlie said, starting to get up.

       "Oh, calm down, Charlie. He thought it would be all right, since it's only me. I guess he didn't know you've been avoiding me like the plague ever since Farelli got here."

       Charlie sat down. "That punk is gonna be damn sorry," he muttered. "Look, I'm kind of busy here, Nina..."
       "Bullshit," Nina said. "Look, we have to talk, Charlie. Please. It's about Farelli. He--"

       Charlie slapped his hand down on the desk. "Damn it, Nina, I told you there's nothing I can do about it. Farelli wants you while he's here, and he gets what he wants. That's it. Period." He took a long breath, looking at her. "Anyway, it doesn't look like he's been hurting you much, after all that stuff you said you were afraid of."

       "Oh, he's hurt me all right," Nina said with a touch of bitterness. "But not really seriously. He hasn't whipped me yet or anything like that. But he says he wants to. I've been distracting him, but I don't know how long I can keep it up."

       "Look--"

       "But that's not all, Charlie. The thing is, he--I think he--Charlie, he's talking about taking me back to New York with him. Permanently."

       Charlie was silent for a moment. "Well, I guess he likes you," he said finally.

       "Is that all you have to say, Charlie?"

       "What do you want me to say, Nina? What do you want me to do? You know what the situation is. Dino's the boss. That's it, that's all she wrote. What am I supposed to do? You want me to tell him, no, Nina's my girl, you can't have her? Shit, he can get rid of me with a snap of his fingers."

       "But he likes you," Nina said. "You're his boy, you told me that."

       "Well yeah, but that only goes so far, for god's sake. Dino can turn on a guy in a second. I've seen him do it. When he wants something bad enough, nothing stands in his way. Nothing. That's how he got to be the boss."

       "If he takes me with him, what do you think will happen to me, Charlie? I can't keep holding him off from torturing me much longer, and if he takes--Christ, he'll kill me, Charlie. You know that. Or worse, as he said himself. He said that. Or worse." Nina hugged herself. She was shaking.

       "No, look," Charlie said. "I mean, if he likes you that much, maybe he won't. You know, if he has these feelings for you and all. Maybe it won't be so bad. I mean--"

       "Oh shit, Charlie." She was struggling to hold back tears now. "Oh shit. What a fucking wimp you are. You act so tough, but you--Oh Jesus. Farelli was right. He said if he told you to watch while he whipped me to death you'd stand there and watch without a peep. And you would, wouldn't you? Oh shit..."

       Charlie started to say something more, but he didn't. After a minute he just got up and walked out, leaving her sobbing in her chair.

       "These women are about to torture a female prisoner in front of a man," Nina said. "The man is also--"

       "I don't give a shit," Farelli said. "Read it already."

       Nina read.

       The immense woman held Penny while Sheila, using what appeared to be about fifteen inches of fishing line, was attaching, with tight, blood-stopping knots, weights to the tortured nipples of Penny's large breasts.

       "You seem to like large tits, Charles," Essjay said evilly. "So I thought I ought to stretch hers for you."...

       Penny's face was a grimace of sheer terror. The whites of her eyes showed entirely around the rim. Her lips trembled and she tried to beg but fear allowed no more than guttural whimpers. Obviously Penny knew what was in store for her--even though Chuck did not.

       He watched with interest. Chuck could not deny that the sight of a pretty, young girl being prepared for torture turned him on.

       "Yeah, I know how he feels," Farelli broke in. "There's nothing like it. Seeing how scared they get. Listening to them beg. Oh yeah. it's real sweet. Can't wait to see you in that situation, honey. Just can't fucking wait."

       Nina made an effort to keep her voice steady as she continued to read, but her hands were trembling slightly as they held the book. It was titled "Training Trap," and the cover was a white on black relief drawing of a seated woman, bare-breasted and holding a whip, with other bondage equipment nearby.

       Connected wristcuffs of steel reinforced leather were fastened on her wrists, put over the hook of a pulley, and Penny was stretched upward on her tiptoes. The dangling weights swung to and fro, making her moan with the pain of the increased tension on her taut breasts.

       The door to a closet was slid open and a light, metal plate, three feet square was brought out. The plate was slid beneath the frightened victim's feet and connected to a small, electric train transformer. A metal bar an inch in diameter and four inches long was brutally rammed into her rectum. It was held there by a strap at its base. A third, hand held, probe with an insulated grip was attached to the transformer.

       "Now my dear Charles," Essjay spoke with a leer in her voice as well as a leer on her face. "you'll see how well Penny can wiggle. It might interest you to imagine her writhing like this with your prick in her. Anyway it's an amusing thought."

       Penny regained her voice and began to whine and plead. "Oh, no... please...I beg ou...Please Princess...don't give me the shocks...I didn't mean anything...please..." A quick slap by Sheila stopped the flow or words and Penny subsided into quiet, fearful sobs.

       "That transformer is the type that hobbyists use to operate two trains at once," Essjay pointed out. "With the main contact crammed in her butt, we can make her feel it all over by applying power to the plate or just hit her in sensitive places with the probe--or both at the same time."...

       Chuck sat on a couch next to Essjay. Penny knew that it was Essjay who would give the order for the current to be turned on. Her eyes, begging silently, followed every move that Essjay made. Sheila handled the dials on the transformer and Marge held the probe. Essjay, with an almost imperceptible motion of her hand gave the sign.

       Sheila slowly increased the electrical power, watching Essjay for the signal that she had applied enough. As the current began to course through her body, Penny went into a sort of comical dance as she tried to break contact by lifting her feet from the plate. Whenever she tried to hang by her wrists, Marge would touch with the probe.

       The more powerful, localized, shock--Marge preferred sliding the probe up between Penny's legs--would cause Penny to shudder and jerk violently. This, in turn, would set the weights to swinging around, adding to the agony in her swelling nipples.

       Soon all the resistance was gone from Penny. She could do no more than hang limply and let her body quiver with the involuntary spasms that the shocks produced. She had lost all control--even over her kidneys. The yellowish liquid poured forth in a steady stream.

       When the stream hit the plate while still pouring from her, Penny received that last and most painful jolt. It caused her to twist and squirm so sharply that one of the weights broke loose and clattered to the floor.

       "Holy shit," Farelli said, laughing. "Fantastic! She pisses onto the plate, and the piss conducts the shock back up into her body! Hell, I don't know if that's really possible, but it's a hell of an idea! Wouldn't that be something to see!"

       "It would," Nina said. Putting the book down, she rose and moved to an alcove, across the entrance of which was an overhead horizontal bar. Facing Farelli, she raised her arms and grasped the bar, her breasts lifting, her nude body taut. The bar was not high enough to bring her up on her toes, but she raised herself up on them anyway. Then she began to jerk and twist spasmodically. "NO!" she cried. "Oh god STOP! PLEASE!" She began to moan and scream realistically, her body shaking and convulsing. Farelli was not laughing now. He was watching her intensely. He was also naked--he had been since she had come in--and she could see him getting hard. She kept it up. Her body went stiff, arching tautly forward but still spasming. Her breasts bounced and quivered, her arms strained. Her cries became louder, interspersed with incoherent pleas.

       Farelli was fully hard now. "Oh yeah," he said softly. "Damn, you're good, girl. You smart little bitch." He stood up then and moved closer to her. Nina continued to shake and scream. "Okay," he said more loudly. "I'm turning the power off now."

       Nina's body immediately went slack. She retained her grip on the overhead bar, but she sagged, hanging from her arms, moaning and panting harshly. "No more," she gasped out. "Oh god please, no more."

       "Yeah, you're good all right." Farelli moved closer still, his hand reaching out to cup her breast. His other hand tangled in her hair and tugged her bowed head up so that she was looking at him. "But you didn't piss, girl. Like that bitch in the book. That's what I want to see. Shocking yourself with your own piss. You gonna do that for me, girl?"

       "I--" Nina stammered. "I--I--I don't--"

       Farelli's hand tightened on her breast. "Yeah, sure you are. You're so good at acting out all these scenes, you're not gonna stop now, right? Just do it right on the floor. Or wait a minute, wait, I think I saw something we can--" He released her and went into the adjoining bathroom. She heard him rummaging around. In a moment he was back, carrying a metal pail, the kind used for mopping floors. "Here we go, you can piss right into this, just pretend it's that electric plate." He placed the pail on the floor between her feet, then stepped back. "Okay, go ahead, bitch."

       Nina spread her legs apart, widely enough so that she now really was forced up onto her toes. She closed her eyes. Farelli waited. Nothing happened.

       "I--I can't--" Nina whispered.

       "You're not trying, bitch," Farelli said. "You want me to persuade you? I can get the whip right now. Or just give you a few swats with my belt. You think that'll help?"

       "Mr. Farelli--"

       "Shut up." He moved to the chair where he had placed his clothes and, picking up his trousers, pulled the thick leather belt out of the loops, holding it by the buckle and letting it swing from his hand. Nina made a small sound in her throat as he came closer.

       "Wait," she gasped. "Please. All right. I--I will. Wait..."

       Again she closed her eyes, her body taut. She took several long deep breaths, her face a mask of concentration. Half a minute went by. And then a small moan escaped her as her urine started to flow. She heard Farelli make a small sound of excitement, and she opened her eyes to see him watching her intently, his eyes glittering. "Power on!" he yelled as her urine rattled into the bucket.

       Immediately she was screaming again, writhing convulsively, harder than before, tossing her head back and forth, kicking her legs, her whole body shaking and jerking as if uncontrollably as the flow continued. On and on it went. "Yes!" Farelli shouted, staring at her straining, twisting body. "Christ, yes!"

       As soon as the flow stopped he was upon her, dropping the belt, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her down to the floor. "It's still going, bitch," he panted as he moved on top of her, spreading her legs with his. "The power's still on. All the way!" As he rammed himself into her Nina began to jerk her hips up and down as much as she could beneath his weight. And as he took her with all his strength she kept it up, her body vibrating as rapidly as she could manage, the imaginary shocks continuously jolting through her, making her clutch at him with arms and legs, jerking and straining and convulsing, screaming and sobbing and gasping for air, until with a loud roar he unleashed himself inside her.

       For a long time he lay panting on top of her, then slowly rolled off and lay beside her. "Christ," he said.

       Nina said nothing.

       "I'm not gonna let you go, girl," Farelli said then. "You're too good. You do things to me nobody can do any more. I don't know what I'm gonna do with you, but I'm gonna keep you for sure. For a while anyway."

       "For a while?" Nina said weakly.

       "Or whatever."

       "And...and what...what will you..."

       "Damn it, I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" Farelli snapped. "That's how it is, so shut the fuck up."

       Nina was silent.

       "Damn you anyway!" Farelli said suddenly. He got up and started putting on his clothes. "Listen, bitch," he growled after a minute. "Rick and Frank are coming back tomorrow. They did a good job for me out there, and I think they deserve a little reward, you know? So tomorrow, you find a book with something where they can participate, okay? Like that other one that time, so all of us can have some fun with you. Is that clear?"

       Nina closed her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "It's clear."

                             November 12

       "Burt, you have to help me," Nina said.

       Burt shook his head. "No way," he said.

       "But you don't know what I want you to do," Nina said.

       "Doesn't matter. Last time I helped you Charlie nearly killed me. Just for letting you in to see him. I'm lucky to still be around, let alone have a job. I'm not making that mistake again."

       "Burt, listen," Nina said. They were in the kitchen of Charlie's house. Burt was sitting at a small table, eating a sandwich he had made. Nina was seated opposite him. "Just listen to me, please. If  you--"

       She stopped because Burt was shaking his head again. He was a small squat man in his late forties with graying hair and a pot belly. She waited for him to stop shaking his head. Then she said, "Listen, Burt, you liked what I did for you then, didn't you?"

       "Hell, yeah," Burt said. "You give a hell of a blow job, sweetie, no doubt about it. But it's not worth gettin' killed over, you know?"

       "But the thing is," Nina said, speaking quickly so he couldn't interrupt, "Charlie wouldn't have to know about this, okay? We can make it so that he'll think it's all my doing, and--"

       "Forget it," Burt said.

       Nina leaned forward in her chair. "Burt, listen. That blow job was nothing. You hear me? I can do things to you that will blow your mind. You help me and I'll do anything you want, and I promise you you'll never forget it. I swear it, Burt. Anything."

       "Jesus," Burt said. He put down his sandwich. "I'll tell you the truth, honey, you're making my dick hard right now. But I can't take the chance, okay? I was crazy for letting you talk me into it before, hell, you're Charlie's girl, I don't know why he didn't kill me, for Chrissake."

       "Probably because he feels guilty," Nina said. "I'm not his girl really, he threw me away, Burt, you know? He gave me to Dino Farelli, and he knows what that means. But he doesn't give a shit about me. At least not as much of a one as he gives for Dino. But I've got to get out of here, Burt. I've got to. And you have to help me. Look, I've got it all planned out. If you just tell Charlie that I--"

       "Hey!" Burt said. "Read my lips, Nina, okay? No. Fucking. Way. Period. I shouldn't even be talking to you like this. And if you think any of the other guys are gonna say any different, well, go ahead, throw your body at them and see. But it's gonna get back to Charlie eventually, and then where will you be?"

       "Wherever it is, it can't be worse than where I am now," Nina said.

       Burt shrugged and picked up his sandwich.

       Frank and Rick were back all right. They watched her with avid eyes as she stripped off her clothes, standing just inside the door. Rick held the book she had brought with her as she did so. "'Circle of Sinners,'" he read, glancing at the cover. "What the hell, why is this chick pouring wine all over herself? What a waste."

       "I think the idea is that the man is going to drink it off her body," Nina said. "Didn't you ever do that, Rick?"

       "Nuts," Rick said. "I still say it's a waste. I like my wine in a glass, and my female bodies without alcohol. They taste just fine that way."

       "Rick is not exactly refined in his tastes," Farelli put in. He was sitting in his usual chair, while Rick and Frank were standing. "So what is this book about, girl?"

       "Well, it's kind of a hodgepodge," Nina said. "Because it goes from one character to another, and then another, and then another, and so on. And all of them have an active sex life, of course. But the part I think you'll find most interesting is where this woman, this lesbian, gets lured into a trap and is captured by this youth gang. They--"

       "Yeah," Farelli interrupted. "I told her to find something where you guys could participate in the fun and games. Sort of a welcome home present, okay?"

       "Hey, thanks, boss," Frank said.

       "Yeah, thanks," Rick echoed, grinning. "I could sure use some...recreation right about now, right, Frank?"

       Frank nodded, his eyes on Nina's body.

       "Okay, so we got a gang," Farelli said. "How many guys?"

       "Well, in the book there are eight," Nina said. "But it doesn't matter. It can work with three. That's just--"

       "Hell, maybe we oughta get a few other guys down here," Farelli said, grinning. "What do you think, boys?"

       "No need for that, boss," Frank said hastily. "We can take care of it just fine, just us."

       "Damn right," Rick said.

       Farelli laughed. "Just kidding," he said. "For now, anyway." He turned to Nina. "Okay, so what do they do to her?"

       "Let me read it to you," Nina said, reaching for the book, which Rick handed to her. She opened it and quickly found what she wanted. "See, one of the gang girls comes on to her on the street or something, and leads her to this basement room where the gang hangs out. They want to teach her a lesson because she's a lesbian, so...Let's see..."

       Then she saw them.

       Eight of them, all dressed alike in black leather jackets and skin-tight dungarees. Boys, sixteen or eighteen years old, with cruel mouths and bright eyes. They were looking at her and she was terrified.

       And the girl was saying, "Take good care of this bitch, Tony. The goddamned dyke kissed me on the way in. She's a real pig, Tony."

       Tony said, "Beat it."

       The girl opened the door, went out. One of the other boys went to the door and latched it. She looked at Tony. He was the tallest one, the heaviest one, probably the oldest. He had his hands on his hips, and there was a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

       "You rotten dyke," he said. "This time you're gonna catch it."...

       There was no place to run, no place to hide.

       "Please," she said.

       Tony laughed.

       "Please--"

       He advanced on her, eyes veiled. His hand shot out suddenly, fingers extended, stabbing into her soft belly. The pain was like a knife in her stomach and she doubled over in agony. He slapped her then, forehand and backhand, until she thought her head was going to come off.

       "Please--"

       He spun on his heel, pointed a forefinger at each of two boys. "Hold her," he said. "Grab the bitch by the arms and hold onto her. We teach this one a lesson. We work her over so she knows to keep her hands off decent young kids like Brenda."

       They held her. They moved toward her, one on each side, and they gripped her upper arms so tightly that her fingers went numb. And then Tony crashed a fist into her breast.

       She would have fallen if they hadn't been holding her. She would have fallen again when he punched her other breast. But instead she moaned, saw stars and flashes, finally screamed. He cut off the scream by sending his fist into her open mouth. A tooth fell out. She licked her lips and tasted blood, and her eyes began to tear.

       "Knocked her tooth out, huh?" Rick was grinning. "Hell, he oughta knock the rest of them out while he's at it. I hear girls without teeth give the best blow jobs. Nothing to get in the way, you know? I knew a girl once--"

       "Shut up, Rick," Farelli said harshly. "Let the girl read, for Christ sake."

       He put his hand into his pocket. He brought out a knife, flicked it open. The blade was six inches long and she srieked when she saw it....

       "Gonna strip you," Tony said. "Gonna cut your fancy dyke clothes off you."

       The knife popped the buttons from the suit jacket. One by one the buttons popped off, clattered onto the floor. Then Tony stepped back and the two boys holding her arms ripped the jacket off.

       Then the blouse.

       Then the bra.

       And Tony was saying: "Hey, the dyke's got breastworks! You catch that, boy? Go ahead--grab a feel."

       They touched her, squeezed her, pinched her. She felt their dirty hands kneading her flesh, tugging painfully at her nipples. Her breasts ached from the beating Tony had given her and the mauling was even worse. She wanted to cry.

       "That sounds good," Frank put in. "How about it, boss? Do we get to play with her now?"

       "Why not?" Farelli said. He looked at Nina as he spoke. "That’s what she's there for, right, girl? Yeah, you can play with her tits, but don't stop her from reading that damn book. You just keep reading, girl. I want to hear more of this."

       Frank and Rick moved to stand on each side of her. Their hands went to her breasts. Sometimes they roamed to other places on her body. They were not particularly gentle. Nina continued to read, only an occasional gasp or sharp hiss interrupting the flow of words.

       "Rotten dyke," he said. "I oughta cut 'em off of you."

       Instead he cut off the skirt and the garter belt and the panties. He picked up her feet one at a time and yanked her shoes off. She stood naked in front of him and he put the sharp tip of the knife into her navel. He pressed, slightly, and a bead of red blood appeared.

       "I oughta stick it in all the way," he said.

       She couldn't breathe.

       "Shank and Bobo and Kenny," he said. "Get her over to the bed and tie her up. Tie her up good. Use her bra and that garter thing and make sure she can't wiggle worth a damn."

       She tried to struggle but it dodn't work. They were stronger than she was. They dragged her across the rough wooden floor to the bed and they threw her down on the bed on her stomach.

       "Where'd the fuckin' bed come from?" Farelli demanded. "I thought this was a goddam basement."

       Nina couldn't answer.

       "Hell, it's probably like a gang clubroom or something," Frank said, his hands busy on Nina's body. "They gotta have something they can fuck on, don't they?"

       "Keep going," Farelli said.

       "Roll her over," she heard Tony say. "I want to work on her for awhile."

       They rolled her over. She was lying on her back and they were lashing her to the bed posts, tying her wrists and ankles so she was spreadeagled on the bed and could not move. Tony ripped friction tape from a roll, plastered it over her mouth. She tried to breathe through her mouth. The gag was airtight.

       "Somebody gimme a belt," Tony said.

       "'Attaboy," Farelli murmured. He stood up then and began taking off his clothes. Frank and Rick stopped mauling Nina long enough to follow his example.

       Somebody gave him a belt, a heavy garrison belt with a steel buckle. He swung the belt high over his head and she stared at it, eyes wide in horror. He brought it down with all his strength across her bare belly and she screamed into the gag. The belt went up again, came down again. She writhed like a snake and her whole stomach felt as if it were on fire....

       The belt came down on her breasts. She thought she was going to pass out from the pain but she couldn't black out. She remained conscious while he lashed at her again and again with the heavy belt until her breasts were two slabs of raw meat.

       "Jesus," he said. "she squirms nice."

       "You know it, Tony."

       "I wonder," he said thoughtfully. "Suppose I dropped a butt between those tits of hers and let her squirm. How long you figure it would take for her to squirm it off of there?"

       "Just a second or two," somebody said.

       "Maybe a minute."

       "Half a minute. Thirty seconds."

       No, she thought. No. Please, no!

       "I wonder," Tony said. "I think we should find out. Like a scientific experiment. So we beat the Russians and everything. Somebody gimme a cigarette."

       Somebody gave him a cigarette. She watched him snap a match to light it with elaborate ease. Then he grinned an ugly grin at her and held the cigarette an inch from her eyes.

       "Listen, dyke," he said. "We're having this experiment. I'm gonna stick this between those boobs, see, and then you gotta squirm. We'll see how long it takes. Somebody time this, dammit."

       No. No, no, no!

       He put the cigarette between her breasts. For a second she lay still with the shock. The cigarette was burning her, hurting her, and she started to writhe, twisting against the cords that were holding her to the bed. The cigarette slid downward to her stomach, went to the left, skidded back toward the center. She smelled her skin burning, and the tears flowed freely from her eyes now. It was horrible.

       "Damn!" Frank said softly. She looked up from the book and saw that his cock was hard. Rick's was too. Frank was partially blocking her view of Farelli, seated in his chair, so she couldn't see his.

       "Keep going, honey," Rick said.

       And then, finally, the cigarette was gone. "A minute and seven seconds," somebody said.

       "That ain't too fast."

       "Maybe we should let her try to break her record, Tony."

       "Naw," he said. "I got better things for this broad to do. Better things."

       She opened her eyes. It didn't take her long to guess what better things he had on the agenda. A mass rape....

       Tony, the leader, went first...

       It was worse than hell.

       It was worse than anything. She had never had sex with a man, had never had anything to do with men. It was awful. She felt her whole body being torn in two, felt herself writhing and twisting with pain. It went on halfway to forever. When it was over she closed her eyes and passed out.

       When she came to again, somebody else was in Tony's place.

       "That's enough," Farelli said suddenly. "Okay, so they all fuck her. Then what?"

       "Then they let her go," Nina said. "Tony thinks they should kill her, but--"

       "Hell, that kid's a nut case. He hates her just 'cause she's a dyke. That's why he did all that stuff to her. Shit, that's crazy. A girl doesn't have to be a dyke for a guy to get his kicks out of hurting her." He got up then and moved toward Nina as she sat on the bed. "Take you, for instance. You're not a dyke, are you, Nina?"

       "No," Nina said.

       "No. But you hurt just as nice, you scream just as loud, you beg just as hard as any pussy-loving lesbian, right?"

       Nina groped for an answer. "I suppose so," she said finally.

       "Damn right. 'Course, I haven't really tried you out yet. Not really. How do you think you would do in that cigarette test? Hmmm? You think you'd break her record?"

       Nina said nothing.

       "Well, why don't we find out?" Farelli said. "I mean, you like to act out these stories you bring down here, right? Let's do that with this one. You lie down there and spread out, just like in the book. And I'll provide the cigarette. Light me one, Frank."

       Frank swiftly found a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his discarded shirt. He took one out and lit it up.

       "Mr. Farelli--" Nina began.

       "Shut up," Farelli said, taking the cigarette from Frank. "Isn't this what you meant to do when you came down here? Have us act out the story in the book, just like you been doing since I got here? Well that's just what we're doing, okay?"

       "Mr. Farelli, if you--"

       "I said shut up," Farelli said. His tone was softer now, but more menacing, and his eyes were narrow. "Anyway, your mouth is taped shut, remember? You can't talk. And you're tied up. Now I told you to spread out and give us one of those great performances of yours. And you're gonna do it or by god I'll have these guys tie you up for real. Just for a start."

       Nina put the book down and lay back on the bed. She was trembling slightly. She spread her arms and legs out toward the four corners of the bed, stretching herself tight, just as if she were tied that way. A sound came from her mouth as Farelli dragged on the cigarette, making it glow red. But the sound was just a whimper which could well have come from a mouth sealed with tape.

       Farelli held the cigarette just above her body, which seemed to shrink away from it, though it remained stretched out. Her eyes were wide, and her breath was coming faster, the sound of it audible in the room as she pressed her lips together, panting through her nostrils. Her breasts rose and fell. Farelli held the cigarette above them for a long moment, looking at her. There was a glitter of anticipation in his eyes, but there was something else too, and for a second she thought he was going to change his mind. But then he dropped the cigarette between her breasts.

       She felt the burn, but only very briefly; her body bucked strongly once, and the cigarette flew through the air and landed on the floor in the middle of the room. The lighted end had barely scorched her skin.

       "Shit," Rick said. "That didn't work too good, did it?"

       Frank was laughing. "Ain't gonna break any records that way," he said.        

       Farelli said nothing. There was displeasure in his face, but there was still that other thing too. Nina wasn't sure what it was. She wondered if she really wanted to know.

       Rick moved over to the still-burning cigarette and stepped on it. "Maybe we should tie her up for real," he muttered.

       "Won't do much good," Frank said. "She could still bounce some anyway, unless we used so much damn rope on her there wouldn't be anyplace left to put the cigarette."

       "That's right," Nina said, sitting up now. "See, the story is a fantasy, and fantasy is always better than reality. In fantasy you can have things any way you want. Nothing goes wrong, nothing doesn't work the way you want it to. And you're always satisfied. That's what I've been trying to show you. And your boss," she added boldly, looking at Farelli.

       He scowled. "Yeah, well, sometimes reality works just fine," he muttered. "You're gonna find that out, girl, one of these days."

       Rick bent down and picked up the now extinguished and flattened cigarette, and walked with it to the bed. "Okay," he said. "Show us the fantasy then."

       "Let's just fuck her, for Chrissake," Frank said impatiently.

       Nina lay down again and stretched herself out, spread-eagled as before. "Do you still want me to have the gag on?" she asked.

       "Screw the gag," Frank said. "I want to fuck your mouth anyway."

       "But it should be the way it was in the book," Rick objected.

       "What's wrong with you?" Frank demanded. "This ain't the damn book, and she just told you--"

       "Jesus Christ, both you guys make me sick!" Farelli broke in harshly. "This bitch turns you into dumb little kids, for Christ sake! This is the last time for you, I swear. Now get on with it or get the fuck out of here!"

       "Okay, boss," Rick said. "Here it is, dyke." And he dropped the misshapen cigarette onto her body.

       Nina screamed. Then she began to contort herself wildly, twisting as much as she could while still keeping her arms and legs stretched to the limit, bucking and arching, straining hard at the imaginary ropes. The unlit cigarette bounced from her chest down to her stomach, and then slid over her crotch and fell to the bed between her outstretched legs, but she continued as if it were still there, as though she was unable to toss it off, as though it was burning her flesh as it rolled and skidded over her body. "OH GOD NOOO!" she yelled, convulsing, squirming, writhing frantically. "NO, OHH GOD PLEASE, GET IT OFF! AHHHH NO PLEASE GOD..." Sweat covered her body, her breasts bouncing and rolling with her exertions, her arms and legs taut with strain, eyes wide with simulated pain and horror.         

       "Christ!" Rick breathed, his eyes glued to the twisting, flailing body. "Too fucking much! I gotta have this now!" He looked quickly over at his boss, as if to check that he still had permission, and when Farelli said nothing, he swiftly got onto the bed and positioned himself between Nina's straining legs. Forgetful or uncaring that they were supposed to be tied, he pulled them up and placed them over his shoulders as he moved forward and without ceremony jammed his hard phallus all the way inside her with one strong thrust.

       Nina cried out, the sound clearly conveying a simulated horror different from the cries of agony and pleading she had been emitting up to now. She continued to emit those, however, and to squirm and wriggle as much as she could, although her movement was more limited now with Rick banging away at her body. "Fuck yeah!" he panted. "It's still there, baby, that thing is still burning you. Keep it up, you sweet bitch!" So she kept it up.

       Then Frank was standing beside the bed, his cock also hard and throbbing. Without a word he reached for her hair and pulled her head to it. Her scalp burning and her neck strained to the utmost, she took him into her open mouth, her moans and sobs now muffled around his flesh. She didn't have to make much of an effort to suck him; holding her by the hair, Frank virtually fucked her face, his hips moving back and forth steadily as he pumped his member into her throat.

       Rick shot into her within two minutes, and shortly thereafter Frank's come flooded her mouth, and she swallowed as much of it as she could. He kept her face where it was until she had taken it all, and then released her hair and let her fall back on the bed, gasping and panting. Rick was still bending over her, sucking on her breast.

       "All right, that's it," Farelli said then. "You guys get the fuck out of here, and from now on you can get your own damn women."

       Frank and Rick hastened to get dressed. When they were gone, Farelli came over and sat down on the side of the bed.

       "Real nice," he said. "But that cigarette thing was bullshit. Fantasy better than reality, my ass. I didn't need to drop that cigarette, and that's not what that guy in the story would've done in real life, either. He would've held on to it and ground it right into the bitch. Right there." And he placed the tip of his forefinger against her left nipple.

       Nina screamed, loudly and sharply. She had relaxed her arms and legs, but now she stretched them out again, her body jerking and straining.

       Farelli grinned. "Nice," he said.

       Her scream subsided into a moan, her head rolling.

       "Then another one," Farelli said. "Right there." And he touched her other nipple.

       Again she screamed, longer this time, her torse arching from the bed. "NO MORE, NO MORE!" she cried, sobbing, gasping. "PLEASE OHH GOD PLEASE..."

       "Yeah, more." Farelli's voice was hoarse. He moved his finger over her breast, then slowly down across her belly. "Burning you all to hell," he breathed. "Feel it, bitch. Feel the fire."

       Nina continued to scream, writhing and twisting as if in frantic desperation as the finger slid over her flesh. It moved down to her crotch and between her widespread legs.

       "OH GOD NO, NOT THERE!" she shrieked. "NO PLEASE PLEASE NOT THERE PLEASE..."

       Farelli pushed his finger into her vagina. Nina's howling echoed through the room, and the bed shook with the thrashing of her body, although her arms and legs remained tautly stretched.

       "Oh yeah, you're something," Farelli husked. "You got me again, girl, you got me good and hard now. But I'm not gonna take sloppy seconds after those guys. Turn over."

       And she did.

                              November 13

       "A goat?" Farelli said.

       "A goat," Nina said.

       "Jesus," Farelli said. "I've heard of girls fucking dogs--I've seen that, actually. Heard of them doing horses, but I'd have to see that to believe it. Down in Mexico there's supposed to be shows where they fuck a donkey even. But I never heard of a broad fucking a goat, for Chrissake."

       "Well, she doesn't do it by choice," Nina said. "Like I say, it's a prison, and it's on some island in the Caribbean or someplace, in the nineteenth century I think. These English people are in charge of the island, and they're a sadistic bunch. They love whipping the native women, and their own women too. But in this scene they go to visit this prison and see all kinds of weird punishments. They--"

       "Like what?" Farelli said.

       "Well, like this one with the goat. This woman--"

       "I'm not gonna be a goat," Farelli said.

       "Well, you don't have to--"

       "Forget it," Farelli said. "No way. You want a goddam goat, I'll get Frank or Rick to do it. I'm a man, not an animal, okay? For sure not a fucking goat. What else do they do?"

       "Well, in this scene, like I said, they witness a series of women being tortured in different ways. But--"

       "That sounds good," Farelli said. "Read that."

       "Well, okay," Nina said. "But I have to tell you, the language is kind of--what do you call it--abstruse?"

       "What the fuck is that?"

       "I mean it's a little fancy, that's all. But--"

       "Just fucking read," Farelli snarled. "If I'm too dumb to get it I'll fucking let you know, okay?"

       "I didn't mean--"

       "Read it, bitch!"

       Nina opened the book, which was called "The Tutor's Bride," and had a gauzy photograph on the cover of a young woman in a lacy white dress and white gloves.

       A blue-black beauty, barely beyond twenty years, stretched her legs to their fullest on the Prussian slats. The angled wedges sat in a horizontal frame, their upper edges eating fiercely into the young woman's calves, thighs, and substantial fundament. The twelve flat stones piled with care upon her lap aided the effect.

       Her thumbs had been wired to her gaudy brass earrings, allowing her elbows to reach protectively, like wings, over her gourd-heavy bosoms. A heavy perspiration ran from her face and throat, onto the mammary masses.

       An Army female warder with corporal's stripes menaced the teats with a willow cane, its last twelve inches split into four light wands...

       "She appears uncomfortable." Lady Morgan leaned forward...

       "Deucedly. The peeled stalk of the pepper plant is inserted, so." The magistrate gestured sparsely...

       "What was her crime?" The coffee-skinned warder had encouraged the elbows to part, exposing the twin globes, their nipples thick as black bullets. The cane flashed, its four tips carving into a ripe supper, humming their relish. Bubbies shaking, the woman blubbed, her sobs bouncing her upon the agonizing slats.

       "Crime?" Sir George considered the question. "Surely the sentence had some cause."...

       The split cane lashed the pectoral flesh in turn. Puffed tracks sprung up, bold and aching, as the nipples leaped and shivered...

       They passed on as the four ends caught the underside of a breast, lifting it on tines of flame.

       "Nice," Farelli said as Nina looked up from the book. "I like the thumbs wired to the earrings, that's real cute. And I love the tits being whipped to hell. But when I do that to you, girl, there's gonna be no elbows to get in the way. I can promise you that."

       Nina swallowed. "I thought you were getting to like me, Mr. Farelli," she said boldly. "I mean, you--you say you want to take me with you when you leave and all. It can't be just to torture me. If you like me, why would you want to hurt me like that?"

       Farelli just stared at her for what seemed like a very long time. When he spoke his voice was soft, but with an edge of menace that made her shiver. "Just who the fuck do you think you are, girl?" he demanded. "You watch how you talk to me, you understand? I'll do what I want with you, and if you try to go too far in this little game you're playing, by god, I'll whip those tits until they're nothing but bloody stumps, and that will be just the beginning. You get that?"

       Nina tried to speak, but couldn't. She just nodded.

       "Be damn well sure of it, bitch. Now go on."

       She had to take several deep breaths and clear her throat before she could continue reading. Finally she did.

               Her shoulders pressed on a fiber mat, an Anglo-Saxon woman held her long white legs and bottom in the air, kicking as if propelling an airial bicycle. Her blonde hair dropped loosely behind her. A loin covering of spiky red leaves crushed into tender areas as the thighs worked. The punitive garment extended between the legs, onto the raised buttocks. At frequent intevals, a battledore paddle encouragingly drove the thorned leaves into her soft skin.

       Setting aside the paddle, a bored matron picked a dipper of thick amber liquid from a glass jar. She poured it over the gaps in the leafy mesh, finishing generously between the thighs.

               The woman on the mat squirmed, her legs wide in pain's rictus.

               "Continue!" The paddle spanked her scratched and seared bottom.

               The sharp reek from the pepper oil stung Lady Morgan's wrinkling nose...

               The round paddle-flat punished the inflamed backside as heels tossed.

       Again Nina looked up.

       "That's it?" Farelli said.

       "For that one," Nina said. "There's more. The next woman is on one of those horse things. Remember we--"

       "I remember," Farelli said. "Go on."

       Hindquarers appeared to be the order of the day, Lady Morgan observed. Twin slabby buttocks, as if carved from walnut, strained upward futilely. Their owner rode the Spanish Horse. Her legs had been stretched wide by the triangular wooden body. Thoughtful iron weights added perhaps twenty-five pounds to each ankle.

       The shingle-thin upper edge offered an excruciating seat for even an immobile rider. This one rocked and bounced, her body in convulsive motion.

       A civilian armed with a long horse-hair fly whisk and a great highland vulture feather tickled mercilessly. Ribs, breasts, the spinal trough, the throat's hollow--the woman rippled with maddened twitchings.

       As she begged incoherently, the torment kept her grinding and writhing upon the cutting wedge.

       "I imagine she wishes those thumbcuffs bore weight." Lady Morgan observed the thin chains overhead, keeping the arms at zenith, but bearing no weight...

       Both horsehair and feather applied themselves strokingly to her loins, her leaping buttocks, her arms' fleecy cavities, her constantly wavering teats. Tears rolled from the woman's protrudent eyes.

       "Damn, I want to hear more about that one," Farelli said when Nina stopped. "Only I wish he was whipping her instead of just tickling her with fucking feathers. What else?"

        The plump, sun-burnished white woman hung in a classic Swing, a rod thrust behind her knees and ahead of her elbows. Her wrists had been cordoned across her shins.

       For the moment neither Lady Morgan nor Lesbia saw any reason for the felon's pop-eyed fury, her agonized twitchings exceeding those of the woman on the Spanish Horse.

       "The fire ant is a methodical little beast," the colonel explained. "It insists upon its marching column. Deprive it of its chain of command, its military raison d'etre, and it goes mad. I sympathize with the poor, mislocated trooper. Even though it sacrifices its own life, it bites any living creature until its jaws lock in the victim's flesh."...

       Two intense maidens used sticks to spot daubs of honey hither and thither upon their quondam patroness. The insects appeared as scuttling black spots, dodging between sharply peaked, bone white swellings. The honey blots pregressed along the buttocks and loins.

       The watching women could imagine the logical convergence of the ebony servants' efforts.

       "Yeah, that's--what did you say?--abstruse all right, but I get it. Great idea. Wonder if I could get me some of those fire ants? What do you think, girl?"

       Nina took a breath. "I'm sure if you wanted to get some, Mr. Farelli, you would find a way."

       "Yeah, I would. What's next?"

       "The last one is the one with the goat," Nina said. "Do you want me to read it?"

       "Yeah, what the hell, might as well hear it all."

       A high-boned, long-nosed woman with Southern French coloration knelt in the primordial posture of flight. Her long black maid's skirt had been split from waist to hem, leaving some variety of protection from the forelimbs of the goat now vigorously lining her....

       All could see the frequent diagonal slashes ribboning the coarse-spun blouse. A trainer's whip held by an Italianate man with a beard and glasses seeemed responsible.

       The lash licked suddenly, adding a ripping tear along the left deltoid muscle.

       "More hip action! Would you leave all the work to a servile brute?"        

       The servicing beast's full-jabbing thrusts showed no sign of weariness. His involuntary partner increased her own efforts, shaking her skirted posterior in a determined miming of coital enthusiasm....

       Some inner compulsion caused the French woman to fling her head back with a sharp, ecstatic ululation. Her unbound hair draped the goat's wide muzzle. It sneezed.

       "Och. She won't get that off her if she bathes in lye each day for a month."

       Sir George's active nose flared. "I comprehend your point."

       Two swings of the whip opened fresh rents in the shirtwaist. A flap of fabric peeled down, exposing scarlet welts. "No taunting my goat!"

       "All right, that's enough," Farelli said. "Get the fuck over here." Without moving from his chair, he pulled down the zipper of his fly and released his cock, which was semi-hard. Putting down the book, Nina walked over and knelt down in front of him. "All right, girl, your fucking stories got me started," he growled. "Now you can finish the job."

       Nina leaned forward and blew lightly on his penis, then stuck out her tongue and ran it slowly up along the length of the underside. "Which one did you like best, Mr. Farelli?" she murmured. "Who do you want me to be?"        

       "All of them," Farelli rasped. "Some of them, anyway. The one on the horse, I like that all right." Nina raised her hands above her head and began to moan, twisting on her knees. "But your tits are being whipped, hard, like in the first one." She gave a sudden spasm and opened her mouth to scream, then plunged it down over his member so that the cry was muffled around his flesh. "Christ, yes!" he panted. "And you got those fire ants eating at you too. And being fucked by that goat at the same time. You--"

       Nina raised her head to look up at him. "But how can I--"

       "Just do it!" He tangled the fingers of one hand in her hair and forced her head back to his crotch. He held her there as her mouth worked on him, making stifled sounds of simulated pain and agony as her body jerked and writhed. "Yeah," he husked. "Oh Christ yeah. The whip cutting into your tits, those fucking ants eating the hell out of your cunt, yes, feel it, girl, on the horse, yes, and all the time the goat screwing you hard, Jesus, yeah, oh fuck, scream for me, baby, yes, ahh, yes, unnnhh okay yes sweet screaming hurting suck me yes take it girl yes aaaahhhhh..." 

                        November 14

       "What the fuck?" Farelli said. "This girl is laughing like an idiot."

       "Don't pay any attention to that," Nina said. "It's a stupid cover anyway, and has nothing to do with anything." The title of the book was "Queen of Cruelty," and the painted cover showed a laughing woman, incongruously dressed in a brief bra and panties and an open fur coat, seated on the ledge of a window balcony, with a naked young man standing between her ankles. "The book is about a group of people who capture this girl and torture the hell out of her to get some information they need. But they fight each other also, and this one big rough guy, Junior, he's after this other girl who's a lesbian, so--"

       "Another lesbian?" Farelli interrupted. "Jeez, we're getting dykes all over the place here."

       "I think this is only our second one, Mr. Farelli." Nina said. "And of course she hates men, and Junior especially, so he has to force her. First he just beats her up a little and rapes her, but then when he wants her to go down on him he persuades her by breaking a couple of her fingers. What do you think of that?"

       "I think it probably works a hell of a lot better than flowers and candy," Farelli grinned. "More fun too."

       "Not for her," Nina said.

       "No," Farelli said. "That's the point, isn't it?"

       "Should I read it?"

       "Shit," Farelli said wryly. "I've never been able to stop you before."

       Nina found the place.

       Junior carried Nikki into Cynthia's bedroom, still pounding her tiny fists on his back and screaming. Then he released her legs. The movement was so sudden that she landed on the floor on her skinny rear.

       Junior walked over and closed the bedroom door. "Now," he said. "Let's get those jeans off."...

       "Not in a million years," Nikki said.

       "Now be reasonable," Junior said...."Do you really think that if I want those pants off, they're not going to come off?"

       "I'll scratch your eyes out," Nikki said. "You might get the jeans off, but you won't be able to see my legs, because you'll be blind."

       "That sounds like fun," Junior said. "Let's try it."

       Nikki scrambled to her feet...        

       "Honey," Junior said, "you're only going to get hurt...You know, this is going to be fun. I never had a dyke before."

       As he expected, the word enraged Nikki, and snarling like a little cat she came at him, claws out. He grabbed two wrists with ease, and with just as much ease, transferred them both to one hand. Nikki struggled to free herself, but it was impossible. He was far too big and too strong for her. She twisted and pulled, but his grip was like iron, and there was nothing she could do.        

       "Damn you," she said, "damn you," and started kicking him in the shins.

       That didn't hurt Junior much, because she wasn't very big, and anyway she was wearing sneakers, but what had been amusing was now rapidly becoming an annoyance. So he balled up his free hand into a fist and dropped it in her belly.

       She folded up like an accordian and sagged against him. She was, after all, a little girl, and not built to take that kind of punishment.

       As she leaned against him, trying to get her breath, and half-conscious, he undid her belt buckle and slid her jeans down over her thighs. In a moment, they were in a heap at her feet.

       Retaining his grip on her wrists, he turned her so that her back was to him, so that she was leaning up against him, and placed his other hand between her absurdly slender thighs.

       He knew that he could hurt her that way, could take the fight out of her, and that was what he wanted to do. This was a wise, arrogant broad, and he wanted to knock a little of that cockiness out of her, to make her a nice obedient little chick who wouldn't give him any more trouble. So he squeezed and he pinched and he poked, with twisting fingers and with stiff ones, and Nikki howled with pain and mortification.

       Junior laughed and kept it up. "How's that, honey? You still gonna rip my eyes out?"

       "Let me go and I'll kill you."

       ‘Oh, really,? Junior said, and he made his fingers stiff and stabbed her, suddenly and shockingly, in the most intimate place of all.

       She collapsed back against him then, most of the fight taken out of her, her howls of rage converted suddenly into a low, sad whimper.

       Then Junior slid his free hand up under her sweatshirt to pinch her breasts. She howled again, but Junior laughed....

       ?Okay, honey,? Junior said then. ?That’s enough playing around. Let’s get on over to the bed.?....

       Still holding her wrists, he began simultaneously to pull and push her toward Cynthia’s big bed. She struggled and kicked and screamed every inch of the way, but she was really wasting her energy. She had no chance against Junior at all. He got her over to the bed, and unceremoniously dumped her down on her back. Then he began to undress....

       She tried to scramble off the bed, but one of his huge hands hit her across the face, half stunning her, and she fell back on the mattress again....

       When he entered her, she screamed. She had known it would be bad, but she had never thought it would be this bad. And the initial shock was far from the worst of it, because he kept pounding against her with his huge dreadful weight, and she felt sure that her insides would be ripped to pieces, that he would tear her in half. He kept on and on for what seemed like forever, until she knew she would die if he kept it up any more, and then suddenly and mercifully he was done, and rolled away from her.

       ?So when does he break her fingers?? Farelli said. He had begun to undress slowly as Nina read to him. He was down to his shorts now, and she could see them tenting slightly at the front.

       ?Coming up,? Nina said. ?You seem to be enjoying it so far, Mr. Farelli.?

       He glanced down at his shorts. ?Yeah, I gotta admit it’s easier for me to start getting hard now, when you read me some of those stories. I never woulda thought it. I always said you were a clever bitch. But it’s still not like the real thing. Don’t think it is.?

       ?I don’t,? Nina said. ?But I think--?

       ?Yeah, I know all about it. It’s still bullshit. You ever see a real girl get punched in the stomach like that??

       ?No,? Nina said. ?But I’ve seen--’
       ?Well, it’s something to see, if you do it right. Hit her in the right spot, hard enough, and she really thinks she’s gonna die. She’ll go down and twist around on the floor like a goddam snake, choking and her eyes popping out, trying to get a breath. Damn, that’s a kick in the head!?

       The bulge in his shorts had grown bigger as he spoke. Nina looked away. ?You want me to do that for you, Mr. Farelli?? she said after a moment. ?Or should I keep reading??

       ?Read,? he said. ?I want to hear about the fingers.?

       ?We have one more thing to do,? Junior said....?Now if you remember, first you got that girl’s clothes off and then you made love to her....You made love to her--and then she made love to you. In a kind of special way.?

       Nikki tried to free herself from Junior’s grip, but found she could not. ?I won’t do that,? she said. ?I mean it.?

       ?Well, I’ll tell you, honey,? Junior said. ?I don’t intend to discuss it with you. I don’t enjoy your conversation that much. I’ll just hurt you until you change your mind.?        

       ?I’d die first,? Nikki said.

       ?Have it your way,? Junior said. He took her tiny hand in his two huge ones, and bent her little finger back until it snapped.

       Nikki’s screams would have made most people tremble with dread.

       But not Junior. Junior just smiled. ?Nine to go,? he said.

       Nikki said something to him that does not bear repetition.

       Again the snap.

       Again the scream.

       ?Eight to go,? Junior said.

       ?All right,? Nikki said, when she was able to speak. ?I’ll do whatever you want.?

       ?I thought so,? Junior said....He put his hand on the back of her head, and guided her where he wanted her to go. All the while, he kept heer shattered hand in his other one, as a reminder of what might happen if she rebelled further. Once she showed signs of balking, and he put a slight bit of pressure on her two broken fingers. It was enough to make Nikki nearly faint with pain, and it was more than enough to drive all thoughts of disobedience out of her mind....

       When she finally finished him, he found that he had really experienced true pleasure....He thought that after this was all over, it would be nice to see her again, every once in a while.

       He told Nikki as much.

       Nikki, who had just finished being sick to her stomach on Cynthia's bedroom rug, once again said something to him that does not bear repetition....

       Junior found it necessary to break a third finger, in order to impress upon her that she should not talk to him like that.

       So he did.

       "Yeah, well, he shoulda broken all her fingers," Farelli said. He was naked now, and fairly hard. "That's what I'da done. Break 'em one by one while she's sucking on him, man, that would be something. Or even better, while he's fucking her. Lying on top of her with his dick inside her and doing that to her, one finger at a time, giving her all that pain while she flops around, yelling and bucking, Christ, think how that would feel."

       Nina said nothing.

       "Lie down," Farella commanded.

       Nina went to the bed and lay down on her back, spreading her legs for him as he moved on top of her. Quickly he guided himself to her vagina and slid his cock inside. Lying full-length on her body, he reached for one of her hands. Holding it tightly by the wrist, he brought his other hand up to grasp the index finger, bending it back until she could feel the pressure. Then he pushed it a little harder. Nina gasped, as much from fear as from pain. Farelli looked into her eyes, smiling slightly.

       "I could really do it, girl," he said, still keeping the pressure on her finger. "Easy as pie. Just push a little harder and it'll snap like a twig. Why shouldn't I do that? Hmmm?"

       Nina swallowed. But she kept her eyes on his. "Because you don't have to, Mr. Farelli," she said. Her voice was a bit unsteady, but the words were clear. "You can just pretend to do it, and get the same result. And it'll be better then the real thing. I promise."

       "Bullshit," Farelli said. His fingers tightened around hers.

       She was still looking into his eyes. "And you don't want to, Mr. Farelli," she breathed. "You don't really want to do that. Not to me."

       His eyes blazed for a moment, and she stiffened in expectation of the sudden excruciating pain. But it didn't come. Instead, after a moment, he brought his mouth down over hers, kissing her hard.

       It was only the second time he had actually kissed her--not counting the time she had been playing a young girl victim and he had practically bitten her tongue off. But this was different. Although he still kept the pressure on her finger. But it was her he was kissing now, there could be no doubt about it, and Nina, after a moment's surprise, softened her lips to accept the kiss, opening her mouth for him and even kissing him back. She let his tongue explore her mouth, and when his body started to move she moved with him, until after a moment he stopped moving and raised his head. He was breathing harder, but she couldn't read the expression in his eyes.

       "Damn you!" he said huskily.

       Then with a sudden movement his hand squeezed even more tightly around her finger, bending it back further, though not all the way. "SNAP!" he barked out.

       Nina let out a loud, shrill scream and bucked up hard against him, twisting wildly as though crazy with pain. Farelli shoved himself forward so that his cock would remain lodged inside her writhing body. A second scream dissolved into a series of loud moans and sobs while she jerked and squirmed and tried vainly to pull her hand away.

       His left hand still clampng her wrist, Farelli moved his other hand to her middle finger.

       "NOOOO!" she howled. "NO PLEASE OH GOD NOOO...'

       "SNAP!" Farelli rasped.

       She screamed again, louder than before, and her body convulsed, arching in spasm after spasm, her legs flailing helplessly on either side of him. Now her moans and sobs were interspersed with incoherent pleas and sharp gasps as she struggled for breath.

       An animal cry came from her as he moved to the next finger. "NO CHRIST PLEASE NO MORE NO I'LL DO ANYTHING PLEEE....."        

       "SNAP!" And her words became a shriek of horror and agony, her body a dervish out of control. Farelli moved to her little finger.

       "SNAP!"

       And her thumb. "SNAP!"

       He was panting and groaning now as she went crazy beneath him, but when he released her hand he quickly captured the other one and continued with that, squeezing each finger and bending it back, but stopping short of the actual breaking point.

       "SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!"

       When he finished with that hand as well, he bent her right leg back, took hold of her foot and started on her toes. But he came inside her twisting, bucking body before he got to the left one.

                         November 15

       When she went to Farelli's rooms the next night she found Frank there alone. He was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper. He put it down long enough to say, "Dino said to wait for him. He and Rick are taking care of some business, but he'll be along pretty soon."

       "All right." She put the book she was carrying on a table. Then she hesitated, looking at Frank, who had gone back to his paper. "Should I get undressed now?" she asked him. "Or wait till he comes?"

       Frank shrugged. "Whatever."

       "Whatever," Nina repeated. "Right. It doesn't matter to you, Frank, right? You've already seen it all."

       Frank looked up now, surprised. Then he grinned. "Yeah, that's right, doll, but I gotta say it's pretty nice."

       "Well, thanks," Nina said. "And you've had it all too, haven't you?"

       "Guess so," Frank said.

       "Well, you're wrong, Frank. You haven't had it all. You haven't had the half of it. There's a lot more you could have. A lot more. You hear what I'm saying, Frank?"

       She had his full attention now. "Yeah, I hear what you're saying," he said slowly. "But what the hell are you doing?"

       Nina took a breath. "I'm scared, Frank, okay? And I'm desperate. This is how desperate I am. I know you might...I know you'll probably tell Farelli all about this. I can't help that. I can't get any more scared than I already am. If I don't get out of here some way, sooner or later he's going to kill me. Or worse. But if you could--"

       "Hey, there's nothing I can do for you, babe. Even if I wanted to. Dino don't listen to me about stuff like that. Anyway, listen, there's no telling what the fuck Dino'll do. And you know, it looks like you're not just another broad for him. You know? You're different, he's got kind of a thing about you. These games you been playing, you know, if it was any other chick you'd'a been whipped half to death a long time ago. With Dino there's just no predicting what's gonna happen."

       "I know," Nina said. "And yes, I know he's got some kind of...some kind of crush on me or something. But sometimes that seems to make him want to hurt me more. And anyway, I can't count on that lasting forever. And even if it did, what would I do? Go back with him to New York and be Dino Farelli's girl?"

       "Hell, you could do worse," Frank said. "Dino can give you anything you want."

       "Well, I know I'm a whore, but that's just too scary," Nina said. "I can't live my life waiting for him to decide it's time to kill me or whatever. Frank, listen. All I need is a little help, and I'll do anything you want, I swear it, I'll be so good..."

       "Goddammit, that's crazy!" Frank exclaimed. "You know what Dino would do to me? Talk about scary, Jesus!"

       "He won't know," Nina said. "Please, Frank, just listen to me. Please, I'm begging you. Anything you can think of, Frank. Anything. As much as you want. As long as you want. Frank, I'll--"

       At that moment the door opened and Farelli came in. "What's going on?" he demanded.

       "Nothing," Nina said. "I was just asking Frank if--if I should get undressed now or wait till you came back."

       "Oh yeah?" Farelli looked at Frank. "And what did Frank say?"

       Frank's hesitation was really very brief, but to Nina it seemed like a lifetime, as his eyes darted back and forth from her face to Farelli's. She found herself holding her breath. Then he shrugged, getting up and folding his newspaper. "I told her it was up to her. Hell, I've seen it all anyway, right?" And with that he went out.

       Farelli's eyes followed him. Then he turned to Nina, those eyes scanning her as well. His mouth smiled slightly, but the eyes didn't. "Trying to work on Frank, were you, girl? I could have told you that wouldn't work. He gets all the nookie he wants, and anyway, he wouldn't dare cross me. Hell, I would never've left him alone with you if I didn't know that."

       Nina started to deny it, but then stopped herself. Farelli was too shrewd. So she said nothing. Instead, she started to undress.

       Farelli walked over to the table and picked up the small book she had put there. The title was "Slaves of the Rising Sun," and the painted cover showed a woman with short brown hair, her hands tied behind her and her clothing torn to reveal her breasts, which like the rest of her body were wrapped in barbed wire. She was being hoisted by another strand of barbed wire which ran through her crotch and over a pulley set in the ceiling. She was gagged with a double string of rosary beads, from which dangled a cross, and some of her ripped clothing resembled a nun's habit. Several Asian-looking men stood around enjoying the spectacle.

       "That's cute," Farelli said. "A nun, huh? That's interesting. I used to have fantasies about some of the nuns when I was a kid in Catholic school. Some of them were so mean, I would have loved to do something like this to them. Especially the younger ones. Used to get hard-ons thinking about it. Maybe that's what gave me my taste for hurting women, wanting to get back at those nuns."

       "The rosary gag is a nice touch, don't you think?" Nina said. "That's not in the story, the cover artist must have thought that up on his own."

       Farelli snorted. "Jeez, imagine, some guy got paid to draw pictures like this. Nice job, huh?"

       "Some guys got paid for writing these stories too," Nina said.               "Lucky bastards." Farelli put the book down. "So what is this, World War II? These guys are Japs, right?"

       "Yes, the Japanese have invaded this island in the Pacific someplace, and they go around raping and torturing everybody. They find this hospital that is run by nuns, and they think there's a spy with a hidden radio, so they torture the nuns and the nurses to try to find out who it is. When they find out it's one of the nurses, they tie her onto a medical cart and...well, that's the part I want to read to you."

       "What about this nun hanging up there with the rosary and all?"

       "Well, think of her hanging there like that while this younger nurse gets tortured," Nina said. "I think you'll like this part, Mr. Farelli, they do some pretty brutal things to her."

       "Like I oughta do to you for trying to get Frank to double-cross me, right?" Farelli said, looking at her with his hard eyes.

       "I was--I wasn't--I was just--" Nina stammered. Then she stopped, looking down at the floor. She thought she was going to cry then, but she didn't. When Farelli didn't say anything for a long moment, she looked up at him. His face was expressionless.

       "Don't worry," she said in a low, somewhat bitter voice. "Frank's not going to cross you. Like you said, he wouldn't dare. Nobody's going to cross you. Nobody's going to help me. It looks like you've got me, Mr. Farelli. However you want me. So if you're going to whip me, go ahead. Get it over. Or get it started, or whatever." She was crying now, not sobbing, but tears were trickling down her face. "I'm tired of this," she choked out. "I'm tired of playing these games, trying to put it off, being so scared every day..." She broke off, unable to go further.

       "Yeah, well I'm not," Farelli said harshly. "I was ready to whip you from the beginning, girl, and you wormed your way out of it with these fucking books. Now you got me so I'm into it, I'm interested about what you're gonna come up with. Okay? I'll damn well whip you when I want to, and when I don't want to I won't, you got that? But one way or another, yeah, you're gonna be mine. I'm gonna hold onto you. You're scared of me, well good, you oughta be. If that's all you--" He broke off abruptly. "Fuck it," he said then. "Read the goddam book."

       Nina picked up the book. Wiping her tears away, she found the page she wanted.    

       Deng and Asako brought Amarao to the wheeled cart. They bent her forward from the waist, forcing her upper body down onto the table top of the cart.

       The Filipino's breasts were pressed flat against the cold metal. She stood with her feet on the floor, bending forward from the waist at a ninety-degree angle.

       Barbed wire was used to bind her arms to the vertical supports of the cart. Her chin rested flat on the table.

       Her legs were spread. Wicked barbed wire strands circled her ankles, the spikes piercing the flesh so that her feet were soon red with blood.

       Mr. Binta took off his coat, and handed it to Deng... He unbuttoned his fly and reached into his pants. He pulled his penis out so that it dangled outside the fly.

       His cock was thick and fleshy and wrinkled. He stroked himself, and fondled his balls. His cock quivered and stiffened.

       It jutted out from his hips. He stood facing Amarao's plump behind. He laid the cock along the crack of her ass, so that the underside of it rubbed against her plump buttocks.

       Amarao moaned and wiggled. Binta's cock was stiffer than ever. She was bound so that her hairy pussy was exposed and open to him.

       He gripped his cock and stepped closer. The cock head prodded her pussy lips. He guided it between them, and leaned into her.

       She whimpered as she was penetrated. Flickering lights glinted off Binta's glasses, giving him a crazed, maniacal apperarance.

       He gripped her buttocks and rocked back and forth, fucking her pussy. His chubby face was split by a broad grin.

       Mr. Dent found a container filled with needles. He reached under the nurse's chest, and pulled her breast to the side, so that her nipple was exposed.

       He found some clamps, and attached one to her nipple. He tightened the screw, which caused the small, twin metal plates of the clamp to squeeze tighter and ever tighter against her nipple.

       Amarao was screaming now. Mr. Binta continued to smile.

       The nipple was now swollen and jutting and turning purple. Dent took a needle and speared the nipple, driving the pin through it.

       He went around to the other side of the cart, and repeated the process with her left breast. He pulled it out from under her, clamped the nipple, and pierced it with a pin.

       By this time, Mr. Binta had reached his climax. He thrust deep into the nurse and gripped her buttocks.

       He sighed as he came inside her. Semen erupted from his cock. He smiled lazily as the last drops were forced out.

       He kept his still-erect cock inside her. He was given a delightful thrill by the threashings and convulsions Amarao made when Deng pierced her breasts with two more needles each.

       Binta pulled out of her. Her pussy lips and hair were smeared with semen.

       He walked around in front of her... He took a handful of Amarao's hair and wiped his cock clean with it...

       Asako drove some more pins into her breasts. He had an erection, and it bulged in the crotch of his pants.

       Deng was doing something about his erection. He took up a position behind Amarao, and opened his pants...

       He thrust his erect cock into Amarao, penetrating her. Mr. Asako pierced her with another pin.

       By now she was screaming constantly, and the non-stop noise began to grate on Binta's ears.

       He found a sewing needle and a spool of tough, surgical threat. He threaded the eye of the needle.

       He turned Amarao's head on its side. He gripped her lower lip with his thumb and forefinger and pulled it out from her face.

       He thrust the pin through the front of her lower lip, and pulled it out through the inside. He drew the tough, coated thread through her lip.

       He pulled out her upper lip and drove the needle through it. Then he returned to the lower lip, repeateing the proces.

       While Mr. Deng raped her pussy, and Mr. Asako pierced her nipples, Mr. Binta sewed her mouth shut.

       He did a nice job of needlework. Amarao's horrified shrieks were muffled by her laced-together lips.

       "Jesus Christ!" Farelli said. "Those guys don't fool around. Sewing her mouth shut, now that's something I never thought of." He was taking off his clothes as he spoke.

       Nina looked up from the book. "I thought you liked screaming, Mr. Farelli."

       "Yeah, I do, but damn, think of her trying to scream her guts out and she can't open her mouth. Giving herself more pain by trying to--Christ, my dick is getting hard already."        

       "You want me to--"

       "No, keep reading. Wait. Come over here and bend over this table. Bring the book."

       Nina got up and moved to the small table he had indicated. Standing against it, she bent over at the waist, lowering her upper body onto its surface, holding the book out in front of her. Her breasts flattened against the polished wood.

       "Yeah." Farelli pulled her legs further apart, as though her feet were bound to the table legs. Then she felt his cock rubbing against her buttocks, stiffening further with the contact. "Okay, little spy. Go ahead, read."        

       Deng shot his semen inside the nurse, and withdrew his cock. He pulled up his pants. His eyes were glazed and dreamy.

       Mr. Asako...cut a twelve-inch length of thin rope, like the kind used for clotheslines. He poured rubbing alcohol all over the rope.

       He parted Amarao's buttocks, exposing the dark crack. Her anus was wrinkled and puckered and tightly clenched.

       He thrust one end of the rope inside her rectum. She wiggled and writhed as her sensitive membranes were burned and seared by the alcohol.

       It would have been awkward and impractical to fit the straight length of rope into her, so he made a thick knot at the end of it.

       The knot was about the size of a fat walnut. It was saturated with alcohol. He stuffed it past her tight anus and into her rectum.

       The rest of the rope hung out of her twitching buttocks like a thin tail. Mr. Binta and Mr. Deng stopped torturing her breasts to view this latest amusement.

       Asako politely requested if he might borrow Mr. Binta's lighter for a moment. Mr. Binta readily loaned it to him.

       Asako flicked on the flame, then held it to the end of the rope hanging out of Amarao's bottom.

       "Oh, Jesus," Farelli said. His hands were roaming over Nina's bent-over body, his cock now poking at her crotch as he continued to rub it against her buttocks.

       The alcohol-saturated rope instantly caught fire. An intense blue flame climbed upward along the rope.

       Amarao's bush caught fire when the blue flames touched it. Then went up in a crackling burst of flame.

       The blue flames climbed the rope and went inside her, setting fire to the thickly coiled knot.

       Amarao screamed so frantically that some of the threads holding her lips together snapped. But most of them stayed shut.

       Farelli gave a hoarse grunt as he thrust himself inside Nina's vagina. He pushed all the way in and held himself there, his hands sliding beneath her to grasp her breasts. Nina gasped once, then went on reading.

       This experiment was so successful, that Asako repeated it. The only variation was that the second time, he stuffed the knotted rope in her pussy, rather than in her ass.

       "Okay," Farelli breathed, starting to move. "Okay, enough. You're her now, you lousy little spy." He moved harder. "Needles through your nipples and your mouth sewn shut. Little hurting spy bitch."

       Nina dropped the book and clamped her lips together. "MMMMMMM...." she keened as loudly as she could. "MMMMMM-MMMMMM! MM MM MM MMMMMMMMMM!!"

       "Christ." His hands clamped on her breasts, his body pounding at her now. "Sweet little hurting bitch...little Filipino spy...pulling at that barbed wire...cutting into you...so much pain...your tits...your mouth...can't even scream...shit...so fucking good..."

       Nina strained and twisted, keeping her mouth tightly closed while emitting sounds of horrible torment, screams and sobs and cries, which came out only as loud but stifled moans. "MMMMM! MMMHMMMMMHMMMMM! MMM! MMMMHMHMHMMMMM!!"

       "Yeah," Farelli panted. "Yeah. Yeah. Oh yeah!" One hand clamped harder on her breast, but the other slid out from under her. "But you're still making too much noise, bitch." He brought the hand to her nose and pinched it shut. This not only cut off she sounds she was making, turning them into nothing more than desperate grunts, but also cut off her air. Still she didn't open her mouth. Knowing he was close to coming, she bucked sharply, her body spasming as if desperately fighting for breath, until she had bucked him into climax.

        When he was done he fell away from her, gasping loudly, and staggered to a chair. "Christ!" he breathed. "You're gonna kill me, girl. But what a way to go!" He laughed. "Maybe that's what you're trying to do, huh? Kill me with sex? Then you wouldn't have to be scared of me any more, right?"        

       Nina straightened up and moved to sit on the bed, cradling her breasts, which still showed the marks of his fingers. "I'm not trying to kill you, Mr. Farelli," she said. "I'm just trying to keep you from killing me."

       Farelli snorted. "Never said I wanted to kill you, girl." He was still panting. "Whip you, yeah. Hurt you some, yeah. But I told you, killing women isn't really my style, unless there's a damn good reason." When Nina said nothing he went on. "You don't have to worry about that, okay? I'm not gonna kill you. You got my word on that." He paused again. "So if you know that, maybe you won't feel so bad about coming with me when I leave here, you know? Right?"

       Nina took a long breath. "What do you want me to say, Mr. Farelli? I don't seem to have any choice in the matter, so what does it matter how I feel about it?"

       Farelli's eyes hardened. "Well, you're right, girl, you don't have any damn choice. But maybe I just want to know anyway, okay?"

       "I think you know, all right," Nina said. "How do you expect me to feel? You say you won't kill me, but you're not saying you won't whip me after all. Or do anything else you might feel like. Are you, Mr. Farelli?"

       "No," Farelli said. "Damn right I'm not. Christ, I oughta sew that mouth of yours closed, just like in that story." He laughed harshly. "That would be something. Sew it closed and keep it that way, except when I want to put my dick in it. Then use it and sew it up again. How does that sound?"        

       Nina said nothing.

       "Could do the same thing with your cunt," Farelli said. He reached for the whiskey bottle on the small table by his chair and took a drink. "Now that would be cute." He laughed again. "You got a book where somebody sews a broad's pussy closed? That would be something to hear."

       "I don't know," Nina said. "I'll have to look. There's a lot of--"

       "Yeah, yeah." Farelli took another drink. "You think I'm disgusting, right?"        

       "Mr. Farelli, I--"

       "Shut the fuck up!" Farelli snapped. "You think I give a fuck what you think about me? I don't know why I don't just--Jesus. Just get out of here now. Get your damn clothes on and get out of here. Go!"

       And Nina quickly obeyed. 

                             November 16

       "I'm afraid I couldn't find exactly what you asked for, Mr. Farelli," Nina said. "I didn't find any stories where a vagina gets sewed up. I'll keep looking, though. But for now the closest I could come was somebody putting a few stitches in a girl's buttocks, then setting fire to the thread." She held up the book she was carrying. It was titled "New At It," and on the cover was a small, squarish, full-face photograph of a nude but very discreetly posed young woman, looking out at the camera.

       Farelli snorted.       

       "It's sort of like when they set fire to the rope in last night's book, only this girl is hung upside down and they sew her behind with a tough thread that's treated with sulphur or something, so it burns slowly. Then--"

       "Yeah, I get it," Farelli said. "Okay, but it's not the same. Hey, if you can't find it in a book, maybe I should try it in real life, huh? How would you like having your cunt sewed up?"

       Nina took a breath. "I don't think it would be a lot of fun," she said. "And I don't see that it would do you much good either, Mr. Farelli."

       "It would hurt like hell though," Farelli said. "And that might do me a lot of good." When Nina said nothing he waved his hand impatiently. "Fuck it," he said. "Go ahead, read."

       Nina opened the book. "There's another part in here that might interest you too," she said. "Not to mention there's an awful lot of whipping and stuff all through it. It's about these two young English girls in France who are picked up by the police for prostitution. Then for some reason they're suspected of spying and they get sent to Algiers, and they get fucked and tortured all over the place. Like I say, there's plenty of whipping, and I know you like whipping, Mr. Farelli, but I keep looking for something a little different to keep you interested."

       Farelli snorted again. "Yeah, well you must be running out of books by now, girl. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

       "Oh no, Charlie's got plenty of books like this. I think he kind of collected them when he was younger, and he never throws away anything. The trick is finding things in them that aren't just the same old thing. It's funny, but plain old whipping is starting to seem pretty tame, you know?"

       "It won't seem so damn tame if I do it to you, girl," Farelli said.

       Nina was riffling through the pages of the book. Now suddenly she stopped, and after a second she looked up. "If?" she breathed.

       Farelli frowned. "What?"

       Nina hesitated, as though she wasn't sure she should go on. But she did. "You said 'if,' Mr. Farelli. If you do it to me. Before now you've always said 'when.' Does that--are you--I mean--"

       Farelli's whole face darkened. "When," he snapped. "I meant when. That's what I meant. Don't get cute with me, girl. Or I'll do it right now, goddamit. You hear me? I'll call in Rick and Frank and we'll do it right now and put and end to this. Is that what you want, bitch?"

       "No," Nina said. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't--it's just that I--"

       "You're a smart-mouth bitch, and you're a pain in the ass, and I don't--" Farelli reached for the whiskey bottle and took a drink. "Are you gonna read the fucking book or not?" he demanded.

       "Yes, I am," Nina said. "I want to read you this other part, though, where they're in this torture chamber in Algiers and they--"

       "Just fucking read it," Farelli growled.

       Nina found the place.

       At first sight her friend did not appear in any unusual trouble. She was seated on a small steel typing stool, it seemed. True, her arms were held tight behind her, in leather cuffs that caught each wrist to its opposing elbow; and true, her legs were crossed at ankles and fettered to the seat below. Still, she had on her clothes. She even still wore the silly cloche hat.

       "Please, Vikki, please," came from the curiously woebegone face which not only looked about to cry, it looked as if it had cried a lot already. "Please tell him we did this on our own...he wouldn't believe me...and God how it hurts."

       "What does?" said Victoria.

       "See for yourself," grinned the dwarf....

       Joy was ooohing and aaahing, turning her face this way and that, her breasts thrusting, her mouth wide. Victoria noted that like a good Bennington girl, she had not sat on her skirt, but on the seat. Tentatively she lifted the golden glad lap-rag behind. The seat was shaped like a saddle, thus widely parting the magnificently beveled contours of The Bottom. They had taken off her panties. The thighs were trying arduously to gain some leverage on the frontal plates to raise that most darling derriere up a fraction. For the mighty arse-cheeks were spread to distension by the penetration of a monstrous meatus up the anus, also made of steel, slightly serrated and now a little greasy. It was affixed to the steel seat most stoutly.

       "She should have had it up the cunt," cried Gisy. "Hurts more than in the arsehole."

       "Even so, it made her jump a bit," said Maguy, "you must admit."

       "When she got that shot of hot oil, it almost spouted out of her nostrils," said Jany. "Just as well this room is soundproof."

       "Turn it on," said the pimp.

       "NAOOOHHH!" screamed Joy tensely....

       The small man said, "Such noises. We have all the latest gadgets here."...

       "I turn this knob to ten..."

       "To twenty," said Jany.

       "Thirty," bidded Maguy

       "NAOOOOOOOH!" wailed Joy, vanly trying to jump.

       The knob at the back of the chair-strut was turned, and the girl started moving and moaning on her seat and prick.

       "Oooh...ow...uuuuh...it's so...ough!"

       "Feel the plates," gently invited the smiling pimp. "With the current running through them at ten it's no more than a rather sharp prickling sensation, a sort of pins and needles on thighs and ass, not to mention up that lovely supple tunnel...now when I turn to fifteen..."

       "NOOOOOOOH!" shouted Joy.

       Victoria snatched her hand away. The steel was giving off a rapping stabbing sensation, like tiny daggers on the skin. What it must be like up the...but Joy's eyes were rolling like those of a driven beast. Her mouth gaped wide, gasping....

       "Put it up to thirty, Meme, and have done with the slut."

       The pimp approached. Slowly he fondled the dial. Joy's eyes went quite wild.

       "Nooooo...no more...stop him, Vikki, pleeeeeazzze!"

       "One shot then, sweetheart," said the dwarf gently, "just to let you know what this thing can really do. And don't forget to grab off a slice of the sun for me as you go sailing by." He flicked up the knob and held it there a second.

       The effect was, in every sense, electrical. With a strangled squeal Joy stiffened hideously, lifting herself as far off the chair as her bonds would permit. Under the uplifted tail of stuff behind Victoria saw the buttocks clench desperately up off the frightful pulsing metal prick; in this pose the dwarf held her his steady second, as she tried to lose more of the awful anal penetration, then slumped her back exhausted, making gargling sounds in her throat as the current was turned off.

       "Yeah, I like that," Farelli said when Nina stopped reading. "I guess that was before they sewed her ass up, huh?"

       "No, actually it's the other girl they do that to. Victoria. You want me to read you that part?"

       "Maybe later," Farelli said. He got up and approached the chair in which Nina was sitting, unzipping his fly. "Right now I want you to make like that girl in the chair. I bet if one of those guys had stuck his dick in her mouth while they were zapping her she would have bitten in right off. But you're not gonna do that, are you, girl?"        

       "No, I'm not," Nina said. She dropped the book and put her hands behind her, drawing her legs up to duplicate the girl's position as well as she could. When Farelli stood in front of her with his cock out, she had to bend over a little to take it in her mouth. She immediately began to make fearful moaning noises around the hardening flesh.

       "Okay," Farelli said. "I'm gonna turn the dial now. Up to twenty. How's that?"

       Nina's body stiffened and strained, and her moans turned into muffled cries, her lips clamping convulsively around his cock, though she was careful not to bite.

       "Yeah, that's good," Farelli breathed. "Let's try thirty now. There."        

       Nina opened her mouth and screamed into his crotch, while keeping her jerking tongue in contact with his phallus. Her body rose slightly from the chair, spasming realistically for a long moment, then settled back. Her quivering lips caressed him again as her scream subsided into a series of broken moans, sobs and inarticulate pleas.

       "Oh Christ, you sweet fucking bitch," Farelli panted. "Let's try forty now..."

       It took three more imaginary shocks to make him come, and when he did he took hold of her hair and jerked her head back by it, pulling her mouth from his cock and shooting his come into her face, holding her that way as several ropy jets of sperm landed across her eyes and mouth. As he let her go and staggered back, Nina raised a hand to wipe it away, but he stopped her.

       "Leave it there," he commanded. "I want to look at you that way. You can keep it there while you read me the next part." He sat down in his chair and picked up the whiskey bottle on the table. "Do it."

       Nina found the book, found the place and once again began to read.

       Suspended in an inverted Y Victoria looked most melodramatic, if scarcely victorious. Stripped naked her melon bosoms, grazed and abraded at their aureoles, stuck ridigly sideways, sweating and tense. Her belly clung to her backbone, while her marked arse clamped over wide-parted thighs. Ali adjusted all the pulleys until she was stretched like a bowstring, then he went over her again, pushing on her thighs for any slackening....

       "Along that lowest weal, Ali," instructed the Arab. "Three nice long stitches in the bottom of each chubbie." Ibrahim Mohamed came round in front of her. "This won't kill you, my dear. It will merely make you want to climb around the ceiling a bit and tear off your bottom. It's the next best thing to being bitten on the clit by a scorpion, and twice as good as the blow-torch up your secrets."

       "What is it? What's he doing...with that...needle. OW!"          

       The eunuch had come leisurely forward holding what looked like a large sewing needle threaded with a length of white wool. Perhaps Algerian sheep? Handling the right cheek with his left hand he inserted the needle into the skin....drawing the thread in and out through the integument there. Victoria cried out, but not loudly. The pain was bad, not impossible. She had always hated the hypodermic, however. She clenched defensively and Ibrahim said, "It will only go in deeper if you do that. Relax and enjoy it."...

       The thread was left dangling and another stitch was made....

       When the eunuch had finished she strained back her desperate head. The thread looped at each buttock. He had sewn it into each in three places, each stitch a good inch apart and with the thread drooping down. She was tasseled, behind.

       "You are now ready for the sewing machine, my dear,"  said Ibrahim, inspecting his minion's handiwork. "I shall explain the object of the exercise. This thick thread with which your heathen behind has been honored is a sulphurous fuse. It burns slowly, but not too. When Ali ignites it you will have a minute to reflect on your stubborn silence, then--well, have you ever had a hot oil-burn, rather prolonged? No? A bit worse than that, I fear. Thirty seconds or so between each burn, and a nice long interval while it changes sides...."

       Victoria had listened with gaping mouth and bulging eyes--in silence. Suddenly as the full meaning of what was about to happen to her dawned on her dazed mind she let out with all her breath-- "NAAAOOOOOOOWWWWW!"

       "What an octave," said Ibrahim, mock-holding his ears when she had finished. "I fear we shall have to gag this soprano. Ladija, use her panty-girdle, and a belt. Soil them unspeakably first. Have you any pee left in you, child?"

       "Yes, sir," said the secretary, rising promptly. "I think I might also, sir...if you would let me off the..."

       "Get them good and dirty. Fine. Like that."

       "Wait a second, hold it," Farelli broke in. "What the fuck is going on now? Whose this Letitia, and what the hell is she doing?"

       "Ladija," Nina said. "She's like a secretary who works for the Algerians, but they also use her as a whore and a slave. Now he's telling her to pee on the panties they're going to gag the girl with. She's scheduled for a whipping, so she's trying to get out of it by saying--I think--that she'll do better than that."

       "Shit on them, you mean," Farelli said.

       "Yes. And she does. I think that's what it is, anyway."

       "Nice," Farelli said. "Keep going."        

       Thus foully gagged, Victoria looked more impressive than ever. A tethered mustang. A caged cougar--the tan line on breasts and back vivid under the spots Ali turned onto her.

       "We'll ask her opinion afterward. This will serve as a good lesson to her to whore. Light up, Ali."

       The match was approached, the fuse hissed, climbing quickly upwards. Victoria, wrenching round her head, snorted snot above her gag. Her eyes widened uncontrollably. The flame was mounting to her flesh.

       Suddenly the pulleys creaked as if tugged at by some giant hand. The sturdy body lunged forward in a single scream-stifled spasm-- "NNNNNNNNNNGHHHHHH!"

       The fuse was burning through her skin.

       Clenched as in ecstasy, her body held its trance, her buttocks jammed rock-hard, till the burn emerged the other side and started its downward trail of the loop before remounting. The girl's body sagged, breathless, sweating.

       Joy was on her knees, her hands wringing. "Your torturing her. She doesn't know anything!"

       "Your turn will come, my beauty. She has five more like that."

       "NNNNNNGHHHAAAGH!"

       The fuse burned through again. The body spasmed like a puppet's.

       After the third the head lolled.

       "Christ, I'm hard again," Farelli breathed. "I don't fucking believe it."        

       Nina put the book down and stood up. His come was still on her face. "Would you like me to--"

       "Just get the fuck over here, girl."

       She went to him, and he pulled her onto his chair, kneeling on the seat, facing him, with her knees on either side of his legs. He was still fully dressed, with his fly open and his cock sticking up from it. She reached down and adjusted his hardness so that she could take it into her vagina, but when she started to slide down on it he stopped her. "No," he commanded. "The other way."

       It was more difficult, especially in that position, but she managed, hitching herself forward, placing the tip of his cock at her asshole and then slowly letting herself down, taking him inch by inch, little gasps coming from her mouth. As she did so his hand went to her face, his fingers rubbing over the streaks of drying come there, smearing it around. "You look good that way," he said throatily. "With my come on you. Like a brand. Take it all, girl. That's it. Just like that girl on the chair. Too bad its not electrified."

       "It is," Nina said.

       He grinned at her. "It is, huh?"

       "Yes, it is," she panted as she took the last inch of him inside her. "Don't turn it on, no please, no please don't, no...nooo...OHHHH CHRIST!" she screeched suddenly, clenching her spincter around him and vibrating her body as though in electric shock, jerking rapidly up and down, but not hard enough to dislodge his cock from her clutching back passage. "Oh god no more!" she sobbed out as her movements slowly subsided. She slumped forward against him, pressing her breasts to his chest, her arms going around him, her mouth close to his ear. "Please no more..." she gasped brokenly. "Please no, I'll do anything, please...Ohh god don't...NOOO I BEG YOU PLEASE...  AAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!" And once again her body stiffened and vibrated, writhing and convulsing as the imaginary current surged through her, yet not releasing his member from her tight, spasming anus. Then once again she fell against him, gasping hard, sobbing and whimpering into his ear. Her words were scarcely intelligable through her moans and sobs. "Please...don't do it again...please, I'm begging you...I'll do anything you want, I swear... anything...please stop, please...I can't...oh Christ, oh dear sweet Jesus, please...No...not again...NOOOOOO..."

       When she started screaming and jerking again, Farelli shouted out, "Oh shit!" and came inside her.

       As his cock swiftly shrank inside her ass, he pulled her head back by the hair and kissed her hard. The kiss was rough and tender at the same time, punishing and yet somehow loving. Nina took it passively at first, but after a few moments she found herself kissing him back.

                               November 17

       "Volume Two?" Farelli said. "What happened to Volume One?"

       "I don't even know if Charlie has Volume One," Nina told him. "I mean, these books are not exactly arranged in any logical order or anything. They're all jumbled together in old boxes and things, so if Volume One is there I don't think I've seen it yet."

       The thin yellow-covered paperback was entitled "The House of Borgia." Under the title was a small squarish sketch of a naked man and woman kissing, and under that was the designation "Volume Two."

       "House of Borgia," Farelli said. "Is that those guys back in the Middle Ages or something, went around poisoning people and killing off everybody?"

       "That's them," Nina said. "Only it was the Renaissance, and they were--"

       "Skip the history lesson," Farelli said. "I flunked history in school. Get to the good part."

       "All right," Nina said. "Well, Cesare Borgia is trying to conquer all of Italy, okay? And this one town is ruled by a woman, a countess, who is very proud and fierce, and they refuse to surrender. So Borgia's army destroys the town and they take the countess captive. Okay? That's the good part. Or one of them. Should I read it to you?"

       "That's why you brought it, ain't it?" Farelli said with mock resignation. "Go ahead, lay it on me."    

       Nina found the place.

       A great wood fire had been made in the dungeons. Its red and sparkling heat was fighting to keep the chill of the thick, stone walls at bay. Along one wall a couch had been placed on which Cesare was lying, eating the meat from a leg of chicken. On mats on the floor his four or five principal lieutenants were quaffing wine....

       "When are we going to get up this beauty, Sire?" one of them asked with a slight slur to his speech as he rose and crossed the dungeon. Cesare followed him with his eyes and his glance took in the defenseless form of the proud Countess. She was naked, now, stripped of all her austere covering. She was stretched out on the great wheel of a rack to one side of the gloomy, shadowed room.

       "When I've finished with her," he said....

       The eyes of the Countess were still able to give a feeble reflection of their earlier glitter, although by now she was hurt and exhausted and thoroughly humiliated....

       She was really a beauty. She could have taken her place in an elegant court as one of its prime beauties at any time....

       They had watched her writhe on the rack--and it had to be admitted she had borne her punishment like a martyr. They had humiliated her, her eyes wide with horror had revealed just how much, with their mauling of her breasts and the supple contours of her naked body....

       He grinned as his lieutenant took the leg of fowl he was munching and with a quick movement thrust it up between her straddled thighs. The Countess gasped and swore....

       Cesare swung himself off the couch and crossed to the rack. He stared at the inert body spreadeagled across it. The Countess glared back at him. All she wanted was a dagger, her eyes seemed to say, and he'd regret these humiliating tortures and liberties to which he'd subjected her.

       Cesare lowered his eyes over her body. He could see the small blue veins on her white breasts and on the taut flesh where her thighs ran into her hips. He reached out his hand and stroked it softly over her breasts, gently savouring the butteriness of the firm skin beneath his fingers. He could feel the lust rising in confined warmth at his loins.

       His eyes glittered and he looked up at hers again and saw something like fear in them for the first time.

       "Leave us," he commanded....

       "I'm skipping around a bit here," Nina said, looking up from the book. Farelli was sprawled in his chair, the whiskey bottle, as always, nearby. His eyes were half closed as he listened to her. "I just want to--"

       "Yeah, yeah," he muttered impatiently. "Just read, for Christ sake."

       Nina went on.

       Cesare almost raised a hand to strike her, but instead, with unerring instinct to humiliate her further, he stroked her breast instead and pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger....

       "Take your hands off me, you vile beast!" she flared.

       For answer Cesare bent and kissed a nipple and his fingers slipped into her crotch and penetrated her. He tickled, grinning into her eyes.

       She turned her face away from him. He saw a light muscle twitching in her cheek....

       Cesare gloated over her helpless body. Now, he felt just like it. But a mere fuck wouldn't be sufficiently humiliating for her. He could feel his penis, large, hot and pushing to escape. With an image of soft entry into her and the relief it would bring to his lusting loins, he began to unstrap her legs.

       She turned her face back to him, her eyes questioning.

       Her legs flopped freely in a few seconds. She seemed to have lost the use of them. He untied her wrists, which were stretched out above her head, and she slid down over the wheel and crumpled to the floor, her eyes open and alive, but her weakened body refusing to obey her.

       On the cold stone floor, she tried to move and stand up, but her ankles were stiff and dead, her arms numb, so she lay there where she'd slid, moving her hands weakly to restore the circulation.

       For a few minutes, Cesare allowed her a little respite. He wanted her to recover so that nothing was lost on her. Then, when she was able, rather stiffly, to move her limbs and sit up, he pulled her to her feet, letting her stand a moment to get used to the pressure. She leaned on him, helpless to pull herself away. He breathed heavily with the touch of her flesh along him and moved her over toward the rack again.

       She began to struggle weakly and with little gasps of pain as she realized that he was going to attach her once more to that instrument of torture, but, especially in her enfeebled state, she was no match for him and he pressed her face forward against the wheel while he tied her hands to it high above her head once again.

       Her body moved fleshily against him as she tried to escape and he felt the spongy warmth of her buttocks squeezing against him as he pressed into her to hold her fast.

       With her wrists firmly attached, he moved and caught one of her ankles, drawing it up around the side of the great wheel to attach it to the hub. She lost balance with the other foot and sagged down to the floor, held up only by her wrists as the wheel swung round with her weight.

       Dexterously, Cesare fastened one ankle to the hub and then moved round to the other side and fastened the other. Then he pulled the wheel back to its original position, fixed it with a prop of wood and stood back.

       The Countess was now in more or less a sitting position against and around the rack. Her body was held against it, her legs wide spread and wrapped around the wheel at an angle of something more than 60 degrees with the floor. Her hanging behind was the lowest part of her....

       Her eyes were closed, all the weight of her body on her fastened wrists. She was white and subdued, and said nothing.

       Quckly now, Cesare pulled off his clothes until he was standing naked on the cold floor. His penis was tingling. He held it with his hand for a moment and he could feel its throbbing desire....

       Around the fire, still blazing merrily, were the carpets and rugs on which his lieutenants had been reclining  He arranged them rapidly near the wheel under the Countess' behind, which hovered a couple of feet above the ground.

       He knelt down on the thick rugs and ran his hands down the smooth lines of her back until they flared out over the soft cushion of her buttocks. The skin was smooth and sweating slightly with the strain she was undergoing. He ran his fingers between her buttocks where a few, fine hairs straggled, and the skin was suddenly softer, more tender feeling, like a raw steak.

       For some minutes he played there, while she sagged, seeming almost lifeless; then he felt it give and she gave a repressed squeal as his finger penetrated, and moved like an animal. She gasped again as he dug farther. He squeezed in another finger, and she cried out and her head fell back from the rack and then swung forward against the wood again.

       Cesare moved his fingers around in her bottom, pressing out and up alternately, broadening, preparing the nether region that was to receive the issue of his lust. The Countess wriggled her ankles against the hub of the wheel, but was unable to escape. Her widely spread legs and widely spread buttocks prevented her totally from escaping that foreign invasion of her private domain.

       Easier and yet more easily Cesare's finger slipped and explored in the softening, yielding depths. His two fingers had easy access now and he thrust them right in to their full extent. In his loins there was a ferment of sharp, spiralling coils of sensation. He felt he could wait no longer.

       Carefully he lay down under her and moved into position so that she would descend onto his rearing mast. Then, with his foot he deftly kicked aside the prop, reached up to catch her hips as she swung down toward him and pulled her down onto his penis.

       The trembling arm of flesh battered in at first thrust and he felt her buttocks tense and try to close to him. She cried out in pain and struggled with her bonds, but could do nothing.

       Cesare pushed her upward gently and the wheel swung back so that all that weight was on her wrists again. Then she fell slowlly back with the turning wheel onto him once more.

       The breach was made and broadened. Cesare heard her moan and pushed up again with his hands. She slid off and was swung up a little and then wheeled back again. He was already half buried in her and encountering no resistance. Now he didn't push her up very far each time, but allowed the rocking movement of the wheel to do it for him, simply guiding her gently with his hands. His loins were in fiery turmoil and his knob seemed to itch with desire. He wanted to get further and further into her and he spread her buttocks with his hands and screwed in for all he was worth.

       The strain on the Countess' wrists when he pushed her up was so great that she was relieved each time she sagged back. She began to resist his efforts to push her up away from him and he let her rest on his loins while he wriggled around inside her and she gasped and moaned....

       She felt his hands clasping the fleshy rotundities of her buttocks, clasping them so hard that his fingers dug into her deeply and must have made deep weals on the soft flesh. His action was becoming more and more rapid; he was virtually pummeling her with thrusts and she could feel his hard belly, rising up, straining up to meet her downward rush so that they met in a clashing embrace and his spear tore in, making her shriek with the shattering advance of it.

       She heard him grunting and gasping, heavy masculine grunts with a certain savage brutality in them....

       She heard his gasping become a heavy whine of explosive breath, felt his body tense along her buttocks and press there. Then...she felt him relax on the floor under her and she rested, sagging on his stomach, as he lay for a moment motionless, breathing heavily....

       "Is that it?" Farelli asked as Nina paused.

       "Well, no," Nina said, a little hesitantly. "He whips her now. Do you want to hear that part?"

       "Hell, yeah," Farelli grinned. "A little whipping is always good."

       She had slipped down to the rugs and hung there, trying to take the weight off her wrists, with her legs up in the air toward the hub of the rack. She opened her eyes and looked sideways at Cesare Borgia. He had climbed to his feet and was looking at her with a smile of satisfaction.

       "How was that, my proud Countess?" he asked.

       She didn't answer....

       She heard him pad away to a corner of the dungeon and she opened her eyes, which she'd closed for a moment in an attempt to clear her head. She saw him, still nude, returning through the flame-stabbed gloom. He was carrying a short-handled whip with a dozen narrow thongs. Her eyes opened wider in fear and her throat felt constricted. She felt as if there was nothing of her left that was real; she was exposed and helpless in a way she'd never been before. She could only hope that this man in whose hands she was, would eventually spare her.

       "Yeah, you know how that feels, right?" Farelli said, his grin twisting a little. He took a swig of the whiskey.

       "Yes," Nina said. "I know how that feels."

       "Keep going, girl."

               Cesare replaced the wooden prop and she found herself again hanging in mid-air with the straps biting into her aching wrists, the muscles of her back aching under the strain. She could hardly move at all, only press her body into the wooden wheel as she prepared for the punishment he had designed for her.

               She heard the thongs swishing in the air, but nothing happened. He was tantalizing her. There was silence. She bit her lips and rested her head against the slats, which were hard and unfriendly.

               Suddenly she cried out and flattened involuntarily into the wood as the first lash of the dozen-thonged whip wrapped around her body, stinging it and leaping away again to leave an unbearable stinging in its wake.

               Her chest and stomach cringed under the pain and then she flattened into the wood a second time as the lash flicked all over her back and buttocks. No sound would get past her lips but a deflated "Ouff."

               The next lash was around her thighs, curling in a weal-tracing embrace with a pain that sickened and made her bite her tongue.

               Tears of pain forced their way from under her lashes, her belly felt like a void and down in her loins was a strange, frightened, tingling, tickling, sick, sexy reaction to the beating. The humiliation of being whipped like a slave was lost in the horror of the pain and an orgiastic reaction to it. She began to sob softly as the lash rose and fell, stroking her back, buttocks and thighs in flesh cutting caresses.

       Nina stopped again.

       "Hey, don't stop now," Farelli said.

       "That's really all there is about the whipping," Nina told him. "I don't think you'd be too interested in the rest of the scene."

       "Why not? What does he do with her?"

       "Well, the thing is, like it says, ultimately she has this reaction to the whipping, it turns her on. And you said you don't like it when that happens, right? You don't want to hear about women enjoying what's being done to them, so..."

       "Well yeah. But I wanna know what happens. Does he keep whipping her and she gets off on it or what?"

       "No, it's just that she's so turned on she wants him to take her again, and he does." 

       "Yeah, and then what?"

       "Then nothing. That's the end of the chapter, and I don't think we hear anything more about the countess after that"

       "Damn stupid way to write a book," Farelli muttered. "Okay, read some more, what the hell. I wanna hear how the silly bitch gets off on being raped up the ass and then whipped."

       Nina raised the book once more.

       When he'd stopped and she slowly became aware of the fact, she felt the individual strands of pain across her body and that unfinished symphony of aching in her loins which craved for fulfillment. In an unreal world of pain and longing and humility she was capable of strange reactions....

       "Fuck me," she croaked.

       There was a brief silence and then Cesare broke into peals of astonished laughter.

       "A disguised masochist of the first order!" he exclaimed. "Such ardent wishes should never be spurned--even though the spurning would make the torture greater."

       The act of flagellation had sparked off sexy-sadistic feelings deep in his core. He walked over to where she sagged with the think pattern of weals across her back. She looked exhausted. It was difficult to believe she would have the energy to make love. He untied her hands and then her ankles and she fell back onto the rugs, to roll over immediately onto her stomach away from the pain of the lashes....

       "So you desire a good length of male strength inside you, my proud Madam," Cesare mocked.

       His taunting brought no reaction but a nod of almost desperate agreement. She climbed painfully to her knees. The ache of anticipation had shifted from her loins and seemed to flame all over her.

       Cesare helped her to her feet. If her citizens could only see this, he thought, their proud, haughty tyrant begging to be upthrust by the enemy chief!

       She pressed hard against him, the soft flesh of her hips and the sinewy mound of her belly. She joggled against him and he felt the pricking or reciprocation swimming about in his long length of rigidity.

       He began to lead her to the couch....

       Cesare stretched out, tensed his buttocks and jutted his organ massively up toward the gloomy roof of the dungeon....

       For a moment the Countess looked at him. She ran her fingers softly up his hot tube of flesh, and then swung herself painfully astride him, poising, arranging her vagina directly above it. She leaned forward, resting her hands on either side of his face while she positioned herself. Her knees brushed his ribs. And then with a longdrawn moan of deliverance, she sank down.

       Her head rolled on her neck and she felt giddy and out of control as it raced up inside her and she sank down, until her buttocks met his thighs. Her movement was mechanical, dictated only by the feeling brain in his loins. She rose up and sank again with a broken sob of relief. She began to squirm and skewer her buttocks on his thighs. She rolled about on his body like a puppet crazed with human desire for the orgasm which was so agonisingly slow in coming....

       Her breasts swayed and jumped over her heaving belly and her mouth hung open, under flared nostrils and closed eyes. Her long, fair hair swung across her face each time she descended and with her uprise she shook her head so that it swung away....

       She clasped his hips with her thighs and squrimed her bottom from side to side as she fell. She had forgotten the pain of her thrashing. His penis was spreading and battering her belly. It hurt, it was wonderful, it was hateful, it was necessary to be over or she would die....

       The name of the man who had subjected her fused with her gasps of pain and love: ?Cesare Borgia, Cesare Borgia...?...In a maze of wild, swimming confusion in her head and loins, she heard his breath growing under her, recognized his climax trembling. With a great giving thrust down in which she contracted her loins and concentrated them on the pole down which she slid, she felt the fire within her burst out into a great conflagration as she moaned in delirium and seemed to die and die again....

       Her last thought before she flopped exhausted along the length of his hot, strong body was that she was his for as long as he wanted her.

       ?Damn right,? Farelli said. ?Now there’s a woman who knows her place. All she needed was somebody to show her good.?

       ?But I thought you didn’t like it when--?

       ?Oh, shut the fuck up,? Farelli said. ?What the hell do you know about it?? With that he reached down and unzipped his fly, bringing out his cock, which was semi-hard. ?So this time I liked it. So fucking what??

       ?No, that’s good,? Nina said. ?It shows it’s not just pain and torture that arouses you, Mr. Farelli. You see? You can--?        

       ?Yeah, yeah, don’t start with that now. I know what turns me on and what doesn’t, for Christ sake.? He took a drink of whiskey. ?It’s true I get hard easier now, sometimes anyway. That’s ‘cause of you, girl. And you know I’m not gonna give that up.?

       Nina said nothing.

       ?Get the hell over here,? Farelli said.

       ?You want me to be on the rack? I can--?

       ?Never mind, get over here I said."

       Nina went to him. He pointed to the floor in front of  him and she went down on her knees. His hands guided her head between his legs. She took his cock in her mouth. She heard the clink of the whiskey bottle as she licked and sucked his member, which grew slowly to full erection.

       "Yeah, I can see you on the rack, all right," Farelli said hoarsely. "Hanging there like that. Moving up and down with my dick up your ass." She tightened her mouth and moved it up and down slowly to simulate what he was saying. "Raping your ass," he husked. "Your highfalutin' countess ass. Thinking how I'm gonna whip the shit out of you when I'm finished." Nina gave a muffled moan. "Yeah, you hate it, you bitch, you hate the idea of what's happening to you, and it hurts like hell, but you love it too, right? It's getting to you, you can't help it. You can't help wanting it. Isn't that right, you high-and-mighty cunt?" Nina moaned again, her mouth still moving on him, her tongue working.

       Now he pushed her away. "Tell me," he demanded. "Say it. Say it, bitch."

       "Yes," Nina panted. "Yes, I want it. Oh god, yes!"

       Farelli got out of his chair, pulled her to her feet by her hair, and moved with her to the bed, where he lay down on his back. His pants were open, his cock sticking up, glistening now with her saliva. "Say it, countess," he said, grinning now. "Tell me what you want."

       "Fuck me," Nina moaned, as the woman had in the book. And as in the book, she proceeded to mount him, moving feverishly, straddling his body and reaching down to adjust his cock at her opening, then sinking down over it with a passionate groan.

       Farelli's hands came up to grasp her breasts as she began to move on top of him. "Yeah," he panted, squeezing them hard. "Yeah, you loved it, didn't you, cunt. High and mighty woman warrior, right? Helpless on the rack. Being raped up the ass. It got to you, didn't it? Didn't it, whore?"

       "Yes!" Nina cried. "Yes, oh god yes! Yes!" She moved harder now, twisting her body as his hands twisted her breasts.

       "Yeah. And then being whipped. The whip slashing into that body. Striping your skin. Making you scream. You loved it, didn't you? Tell me, girl. Say it."

       "Yes, yes! Yes I did, I loved it, yes..." Nina gasped out. She was moving faster, riding him hard, her buttocks making a loud slapping noise against his thighs each time she plunged downward. "Oh god, I can't help it, I need it, yes, please...please fuck me, I'm yours, I'll be yours always...Oh Jesus yes, I loved being raped, I loved being whipped, oh god yes...I love you...yes...yesssss...OHHH YESSSS!"

       Her body stiffened and strained as she came down on him one last time, and then began to jerk sharply. She threw back her head, and her shriek was long and loud as she convulsed strongly once, twice, three times. And as the convulsions diminished Farelli gave a hoarse cry, arched his body under her and spurted into her still spasming cunt.

       "Damn, that was good, girl," Farelli panted after a moment. "Shit, I could almost believe it was real. You shoulda been an actress, you know that?"
       "Instead of a whore," Nina said.

       "Yeah, well, I guess a good whore has to be an actress, right? But you're better than most of the real ones, I'll tell you that." His hands were still clutching her breasts, and now they slid down her body to rest on her thighs. "Damn good whore, too." He looked at her sharply then, still breathing hard. "I mean, that was an act, right? All part of the game. Right, girl?"

       "Of course, Mr. Farelli," Nina said.

                              November 18

       "There's these two couples," Nina said. "They're sadists and they live together, but they get tired of making it with each other, so they kidnap a few other people and hold them captive and rape and torture them, okay?"

       "Okay with me," Farelli said. He was sitting in his chair naked. He had showered when he came in, and had not bothered to dress before she showed up.

       "Well, it turns out that one of the women they capture has--well, some kind of masochistic streak, and she finds herself responding to this, even though--"

       "What, again?" Farelli was scowling.

       "Well, you liked that yesterday, remember? You thought you wouldn't, but it turned you on, and I thought we could explore--"

       "Explore my ass," Farelli snapped. "Don't tell me what I like and don't like, I told you that before.""

       "But I was only--"

       "I don't give a shit. Listen, girl, so far you've got me to hold off on whipping you, but that don't mean I can't still do it, you got me? You're a clever bitch, but you can only push me so far. You hear me?"

       "Of course," Nina said. "I was just trying--"

       "Stop trying. If I say I don't wanna hear something, that means I don't wanna hear it. Now what else you got in that book? Must be broads in there who don't like it, right?"

       "Oh, yes," Nina said. "There are several scenes where they whip and torment the women, and rape them and so on, and I guess you'd like those all right. It's just that this one scene is a little different, it's got a special feeling to it. It's arousing in a different way, you know? But if you want me to--"

       "All right, all right!" Farelli broke in. "Jesus. Okay, read it already. But I want to hear some of those other parts afterwards."

       "Whatever you say, Mr. Farelli."

       The book was called simply "Bruise." The title was large across the front cover, and at the bottom was a strip of an illustration, a dark, almost impressionistic painting of a nude or semi-nude woman, largely obscured by blackness. Nina found her place and began to read.

       "Yes, I liked it," Carole said.... "You could do anything to me, I know that. I would feel pain, and I'd probably scream and twist and beg you to stop. But I would enjoy it...And look forward to the next time."

       Philip smiled and pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling the tormented bud between his fingertips, not the nails. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and thrashed her head, but she did not beg him to stop.

       "Shall I stop?"

       "I...oh...uh...I..."

       She could say neither yes nor no. She could not tell him to stop, but could not bring herself to bid him to continue. He turned his wrist, twisting her nipple a little, then released it. It quivered, a tall red spire that dwarfed its counterpart on her right breast. She gasped and closed her eyes.

       "You're a slave," he told her. He was up on one elbow, lying beside her on the basement bed. He'd buckled a broad belt about her waist and securecd her leather-braceleted wrists to it. Other than that she was not bound. She lay beside him, naked and trembling--and quiescent. "A slave," he repeated. "I deliberately picked you up and doped you, to kidnap you and bring you here. You'll never leave."....

       He watched her lick her lips, watched her eyes close again, watched her shiver violently, hunching her shoulders. And she sighed....

       "You...can't...you can't do it! It's...it's impossible. This is America--this is nineteen--"

       "I am doing it," he told her quietly....

       "You--you're tormenting me. You said--you're just doing this to torment me."

       "You've admitted you like being tortured," he pointed out.

       Her eyes closed....

       After a long while he asked, "Would you like to be whipped?"

       "Don't ask me that. Please don't ask me."

       "I'm going to fuck you, Carole," he said, rising from his prone position. He stood astride her, opening his robe, watching her eyes spring to his sex. He knelt astride her, his hands on her breasts. "I'm going to fuck your face."

       He regarded the face he'd promised to enter.

       The lips were red, shinily moist, like a newly-flowered rose kissed by the morning dew. A moist flower, turned up to him; it was as if he were about to force a moist, delicate flower. But a flower with eyes, great brown eyes that gazed up at him submissively, expectantly, waiting, as if in a sort of stupor.

       He fondled her breasts, soft flesh that he could pull about on her chest....He moved forward, sliding the long shaft of his penis up between the flaccid white breasts with their very dark tips.

       "Open," he said.

       For a moment she gazed up at him. A little shudder ran over her, and the dark hair about her pale face trembled. Then she obeyed. The petals parted. Her lips budded open. Pursed a little, became an O. Smiling, he leaned forward to enter the rounded aperture. He watched the swollen head of his penis widen that little hollow, slipping between the damp-glistening petals into the warm calyx of her mouth.

       It clasped him firmly in moist warmth, her tongue soft and smooth and wet on the underside of his throbbing probe.

       Her eyes were less wide now. The extreme width to which the shaft of his penis forced her mouth squeezed up the flesh of her face, narrowing her eyes. The skin of her face stretched taut over the cheekbones, making it appear gaunt, sunken. She gazed up at him, unable to look down at the swollen invader thrusting into her mouth.

       Then her eyes flared wide, bulging, as he pushed deep into the pale rose. A muted moan slipped out around the immense plug in her mouth. He drew far back, slowly, without allowing himself to withdraw completely, leaving only the swollen, sensitive head within the soft heat of her mouth. Then he plunged back in, and out, and in again, fucking rapidly in and out of her face, six, seven, nine times.

       Then he was still, sitting, almost riding the softness of her breasts. Her nostrils flared as she was forced to channel all her breath through them; her mouth was stuffed full....

       "Suck it," he orderd.

       She gazed torpidly up at him.

       He bent forward, rolling his buttocks on her flattened breasts. "Suck it," he repeated, speaking quietly. "Or I'll have to pinch your nose. That will cut off your breathing and--ah, that's a good girl. Ohhh...yesss...a very...good girl!"

       He smiled down at her, watching her cheeks sink in still more deeply. He felt the pressure, the gentle pulling at his cock, the pressure that somehow traveled all along the shaft and gave him a drawing sensation in his balls, suddenly tight against her chin. He let her see the pleasure on his face, let her hear the groan he could have curbed.

       Her tongue glided along the underside of the soft column of glistening flesh filling her mouth. Wetly, softly, it caressed the big throbbing tube. Her nostrils flared as she drew deep breaths through her nose. Her cheeks sank deep. Her nearly-closed eyes remained on his face, watching his reactions. She could gain no air through her mouth; her sucking was confined to her jaw muscles, to the nmovements of her throat. Her sucking was that of a child.

       Yes. Her face looked childish, he thought, her mouth stuffed full, the thick base of his cock jutting from it like some great pacifier of firm rubber. He smiled at the thought, gazing down at the lovely, working mouth in which he had rooted himself.

       Now he began to move again. Not in and out, but back and forth, wagging his hips, twisting the shaft in her mouth. Her eyes widened still more as he added pressure to the stretched muscles of her face. A sound emerged, a tiny mewling sound, like that of a kitten in a paper bag discarded by the side of the road. A tear popped from the edge of one eye to roll down her cheek, glittering. Another seeped forth, squeezed out by the pressure on her face, on her lachrymal glands. Her head oscillated, forced to follow the steady vacillating agitation of his loins, back and forth, back and forth.

       His balls slapped her moistened chin as the smooth hardness of his cock filled her mouth to the bursting point, seeking her throat. And she sucked it, sucked it with infant hunger. He screweed further and further into the humid hollow of her face, feeling the tip of his urgent prick, like a length of hard plastic, thrusting against the smooth-skinned back of her throat, far back into that secret darkness. She ran her tongue around it, making delicate circles about the fleshy head. Her mouth was filled with the warm fluid of her saliva, creating a warm, wet sheath around the sticky rod of manhood he pummeled faster into her face.

       He sought the throat, sought to hurt her, to give her what he was sure she wanted: submission, debasement, pain. He crammed hard and pulled far back to cram again, then hunched over her and jerked and jerked his body, fucking into the hollow of her face as if it were a wet, juicy cunt. Then he groaned and stiffened and threw back his head.

       He shot his sperm far back into the hollow of her helpless face, creaming it down into the depths of her throat. Her lovely neck arched, contracting spasmodically, working down in wet, sticky gulps his gift of warm liquid.

       He sat there on her breasts...

       "Okay," Farelli said. "Okay, you bitch." He stood up. He was aroused, Nina saw. "On the bed," he told her. "Now."

       Nina rose and went to the bed, lying down on her back. Farelli without ceremony swung himself over her and sat down on her breasts, crushing them beneath his weight. She could not stifle a small sound of pain. Farelli grinned down at her. His cock was just above her face.

       "Okay, girl," he rasped. "You got me again. You and your fucking books. Now you be her. Tell me you want me to hurt you. Say it."

       Nina looked up into his eyes. "I want you to hurt me," she said, as sincerely as she could.

       Farelli slapped her face hard, bringing a small whimper from her mouth. Her head turned with the blow, but then she looked back at him again.

       "Say it again," Farelli said.

       "I want you to hurt me," Nina said.

       He slapped her again. She was more prepared this time, and made no sound. Again she brought her eyes back to his. A small drop of pre-come oozed from the tip of his cock and fell onto her forehead.

       "Now tell me you want me to whip you," Farelli said.

       Her hesitation was only momentary, but she knew he saw it. "I want you to whip me," she forced herself to say.

       Farelli grabbed her hair with both hands. She gasped loudly as he twisted hard, sending fire through her scalp. "I don't fucking believe that, bitch," he snarled. "You're falling down on the job here. You're supposed to be a masochist, right? You love the pain, right? You love being hurt. You crave the fucking whip. Right, you little cunt? Say it!"

       "Yes!" Nina screamed out. Tears stood in her eyes, tears of pain and other tears. "Yes, I want it, yes, I want you to whip me, I do."

       "Beg me," Farelli grunted. "Tell me all about how you want me to do it. Say it, whore."

       "Please whip me, Mr. Farelli," Nina gasped out. "Please, hang me up and whip me hard." The tears fell from her eyes. "Tie me so I'm helpless and whip my body all over, make me scream for you and beg you to stop." She was crying now. "Pleae, I want it, I want to be whipped, I want you to whip me and whip me and whip me..." Her sobs were strangling her and she could hardly get the words out between them.

       "Goddam you!" Farelli was still twisting her hair, and now he pulled her head up from the bed and jammed his cock into her open mouth. She gagged on it, but he held her by her hair and kept her still as he fucked her mouth brutally, pumping back and forth, with vicious rapid strokes, his breath coming from him in heaving gasps, until with a loud cry he rammed all the way into her throat and nearly strangled her with his come.

       He fell away from her, both of them frantically sucking in air, Nina choking and gulping down the remains of his come. Farelli sat on the edge of the bed, bent over, panting heavily. Finally he straightened and looked over at her. He seemed about to say something, but nothing came out. He reached toward her with one hand, but then dropped it without touching her. After a minute he got up from the bed and moved away.

       "No more fucking masochists," Farelli said.

                     November 19

       "Another dumb cover," Farelli said. "This dame is grinning like an idiot, and so is that jerk with the glasses. Looks like they're playing strip poker or something, for Christ sake. Having the fucking time of their lives."

       "Don't worry," Nina said. "The cover has nothing to do with anything. And there are no masochists in this book, okay?"

       "Glad to hear it," Farelli said.

       The painted cover in question showed a nude brunette stepping out of her nightgown, while a bespectacled and shirtless man knelt on a bed, watching her. The title was "Any Bed for Myra."

       "This is about a girl who's an up-and-coming movie star," Nina said. "Of course she's very sexy, and she uses her body to get what she wants, and she's a very scheming person, very manipulative and all. She gets involved with this publicity guy and uses him like everybody else. He's the one that tells the story--or some of it anyway. He's sexually obsessed with her, so she can get him to do anything. But finally he gets fed up, and when she goes too far he decides to take revenge."

       "About time," Farelli said.

       "He knows that the thing she's most scared of is water," Nina went on. "You know. drowning and all. So he--"

       "Shit," Farelli cut in. "The explanation is longer than the book. Fucking read it, for Christ sake."

       Nina found her place.

       I jammed my knee into the small of her back, grabbed her wrists in one hand, and with the other, pushed her face into the couch pillows. She was strong, and she fought me wildly...but in a moment I had her wrists tied securely behind her back with my necktie. All the time she struggled, she cursed me in the vilest gutter language I had ever heard.

       As soon as her wrists were securely tied, I yanked her to her feet by her hair. She came up like a shot, her face contorted with pain...

       I jammed her wrists high up on her back until she winced with the pain, kept the grip on her hair so that her head was held too far back for comfort, and shoved her, stumbling and cursing, ahead of me out of the living room...

       She was walking on tiptoe in a futile effort to avoid the pain, and I don't think she fully realized for a moment what was happening when I marched her into the bathroom and locked the door behind us.

       I forced her to her knees, and held her like that with one hand on her wrists, her pain-wracked head inches above her tense upper legs...

       With my free hand I put the stopper in the bottom of her tub, so the water couldn't run out, and then I opened the cold water tap all the way.

       I think that was when she realized what I was going to do. She fought like a tiger, but I rolled her over onto her back, her bound arms beneath her. I sat on her legs. One hand spread as in karate, I dug my fingertips into her throat just enough to let her know what would happen if she struggled.

       She was completely helpless. She stared up at me, bright points of fear in her eyes, but she didn't move a muscle...

       "When that tub fills up, Myra, it'll be about two feet high. That's more than enough, that's really much more than enough....How long do you think you can hold your breath? How long will it take you to get air back into your lungs before I hold you under again? You have time to think about it. Ten minutes, I'd say, before the tub fills up. Listen to the sound of the water, why don't you? I find it soothing."

       She twisted with the wild strength born of fear, but I pressed my fingers into her throat and she saw that it wouldn't do any good.

       "Please, Billy." It was a hoarse, croaking whisper. "Please, I beg you. I never begged anybody, but I'm begging you. I'll do anything. You name it, anything at all, anything you say. You just tell me. But don't do this to me, please, please don't do this to me."

       "Yeah, I love it when they beg," Farelli said. "Scared out of their wits, crying and blubbering. Sometimes they even piss themselves, they're so scared. Makes my dick hard every time. Even these days."

       Nina started to say something, then stopped. "Well," she said instead, "this girl is scared all right, and she begs him to untie her so she can show him how good she can be to him. But he doesn't, he leaves her hands tied and he takes her that way, and she makes it as good for him as she can, so he won't put her in the water. She hopes. But--"

       "Yeah," Farelli said. "Just like you do with me, right, girl?"

       "But of course he does it anyway," Nina said, ignoring the question. "All the time he's taking her the tub is filling up." She began to read again.

       The tub had started to overflow.

       I moved to shut the water off.

       Her voice was quick, nervous, crafty and sly. She was bargaining desperately to be free of what must have been an incredibly agonizing fear....

       I reached over and grabbed the tendons in the back of her neck between my fingers. I raised my arm, and the pain brought her scrambling up to her knees. I edged her, shaking and terrified, over toward the tub....

       "Billy, please, you promised. You said you wouldn't if I...and I did. I did what you wanted."

       "I didn't promise anything, honey. I said you could try to convince me, and you didn't convince me good enough."

       She started to cry then, soft, bitter tears.

       And I laughed.

       "Don't cry, sweet. Let's wash those tears from your eyes."

       She was still on her knees as I pushed her upper body over the side of the tub and held her head under. She writhed and thrashed, but I stood over her, holding her firmly, and it did her no good at all.

       I must have held her under for nearly two minutes, and then, when her struggles became less violent, I pulled her head out by the hair.

       She gasped, sucking air into her lungs, crying and moaning, more than half crazed with fear.

       I held her head back like that until her spasmed breathing became a little more regular, and then I held her head under again.

       Longer, this time. Just a little bit longer.

       Then a sharp jerk on the hair, and Myra's head came back up out of the water. I was afraid she was going to be sick, so I gave her a minute or so to rest. It took a little more time for the breathing to approach normality.

       "Like Basie says, Myra, one more time."

       And I held her face under the water again. In a little over a minhute, I was afraid her heart might stop, so I pulled her out. I let her go, this time, and she slumped down on the cold tile, weeping and gasping for breath....

       It took perhaps ten minutes before she was able to speak, and be spoken to.

       "How do you feel?"

       The words came out in a low, half-mumbled singsong. "No more...no more, Billy...anything...no more...anything only no more...just no more..."

       "Anything?"

       "...yes only just no more..."

       "Whatever I say?"

       "...whatever you say only just no more..."

       "There's one thing you could do for me, my sweet, if you don't think your lungs are too full of water."

       At that, she became a little more alert. "Not that, Billy. Anything else, only not that. I couldn't now. Another time. Ask me another time."

       "Okay, my love, whatever you say. It's back into the drink for the little lady."

       So she did that. She wasn't very good, because she was trembling, and she had a hard time keeping her balance with her hands tied behind her back. But she did that.

       "Afterwards he dunks her under one more time," Nina said. "Just so she gets the point. And then--"

       "Okay, okay," Farelli said. "Very nice. I got a tub in the bathroom here, think I should fill it up for you?"

       "I don't think that will be necessary, Mr. Farelli. If you--"

       "Make it more realistic, you know? I'd kind of like to try it out, I never tried that with a girl."

       Nina couldn't tell just how serious he was. But she got down on her knees, put her hands behind her and began to beg, like the girl in the book.

       "No, please," she whimpered, sounding as fearful as she could. "Please, not that. You know I can't stand that. Don't do that to me, please, I'll do anything you want...anything..."

       "Yeah, you'd be begging for real if I dragged you in there and actually filled that tub up," Farelli said. "You might not be as scared of water as that broad in the book, but once you start thinking you might drown you'll be scared all right. Want me to show you?"

       "No!" Nina cried. "No, god, please..." Then her eyes went wide, her face twisted as though with panic, and she began to yell. "NO...NOOO DON'T NO PLEASE NOOO PLEEE--" She cut off her scream suddenly and bent over, bowing her upper body from the waist, lowering her head to the floor, just as though she were being forced down. Her body began to twitch violently, her movements becoming gradually more violent, more convulsive, while choking, gurgling sounds came from her mouth. Her hands stayed behind her and her head remained still, while the rest of her flailed as if in desperation.

       After a some moments she straightened up abruptly, gasping convulsively, her breasts heaving as she gupled in air, panting and choking. "No more..."she pleaded breathlessly. "Oh god please god no more anything please..."

       Farelli sat silently, watching her. Nina tensed her muscles until her body was trembling, and began to moan and sob, still gasping heavily and babbling frantic entreaties between breaths.

       "Again," Farelli said then.

       "OHH NO...NO I CAN'T PLEASE NO..." Nina's cries turned into a piteous shriek as Farelli now got up from his chair and moved toward her. "Yeah," Farelli said. "In the drink, girl." He crouched down beside her and reached for her hair. Nina screamed shrilly, and again cut the sound off abruptly as he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head to the floor, bending her over as before and holding her that way. Her strangled gurgling noises were louder this time, and her bodily struggles still more violent. She fell off her knees, her legs kicking desperately, her torso spasming, her body flailing helplessly from side to side. But her hands stayed behind her.

       Farelli kept her head where it was for nearly a minute before he released her. Nina lay on the floor, gasping and heaving and choking, her body twisting and squirming blindly. Farelli rose to his feet, then reached down and pulled her to her knees again by her hair. With his other hand he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock. It was hard.

       "In the book she didn't do it so good," Farelli said hoarsely. "Being so out of breath and all, whatever. But not you. You're gonna be real good, right, bitch? You're gonna do it just fine."

       "Yes," Nina panted. "Yes, I will. I'll do it just fine."

       And she did.

                        November 20

       "They got like a pulley in the ceiling, you know?" Rick was saying. "They tie the chick's hands behind her and--she's on her knees, okay? And they throw the rope over the pulley so the guy she's sucking can pull on it and pull her arms up in back of her while she's doing it, and it hurts like hell. Damn, it would, right?"

       "Yes it would," Nina said, pulling off her panties. Rick and Frank were both there, along with Farelli, who was seated in his usual chair. Frank had watched the now familiar spectacle of Nina taking off her clothes, but Rick had picked up the book she had brought with her and started looking through it. It was titled simply "Auburn," and the cover was a close-up photograph of the face of an atractive blonde woman. Rick had been scanning the passages Nina had marked, and was now describing one.

       "Jesus, why don't you read it, Rick," Farelli growled. "I'm pretty damn sure the guy who wrote it can tell it a lot better than you can."

       "Would you like me to read it, Mr. Farelli?" Nina said.

       "No, let Rick do it. You come over her and be the girl while he's doing it. Save a little time that way. Come on, get over here."

       Nina hesitated barely a moment before she moved to him and knelt down in front of his chair. After another moment she put her hands behind her, crossing her wrists.

       Farelli shot a glance at Rick, who quickly began to read.

       Don Hernan tied her wrists behind her back with one end of the cord and held the other in his hand, then gave a little sigh of anticipation and sat down on the bed. He pulled the cord downward, and the other end drew Andrea's arms up behind her. When it began to hurt she winced and bent forward to relieve the strain in her shoulders.

       Nina raised her arms behind her and bent her body forward, her head hovering over Farelli's crotch.

       Farelli chuckled. "Shit, girl, I'm not even pulling on the rope yet." But he opened his trousers and freed his cock, which was slowly beginning to stir. Rick went on.

       As her wrists rose behind her Don Hernan's penis rose also; it parted the panels of his robe. He pulled harder. Andrea gasped, bent sharply into his lap and took his penis into her mouth. She began to fellate him with her tongue.

       Nina lowered her head to him, raising her arms as high as she could behind her, and took his cock into her mouth. It grew rapidly.

       "Yeah," Farelli gritted. "'Fellate him with her tongue.' In case you blockheads don't know, that means she's sucking his dick, and licking it too. Right, girl?"

       Nina made a muffled sound of assent around his cock and circled it with her tongue. Farelli growled with pleasure. "What else does it say?" he asked Rick.

       "Longitudinally also," he ordered, and Andrea began moving her lips up and down as well as using her tongue. He could see her eyes and brows work painfully with each downward stroke, since the movement twisted her shoulders. Don Hernon slowly increased the tension.

       Nina took him completely into her mouth and sucked him slowly, still using her tongue. "That's right," Farelli husked. "Do it good, girl. I'm pulling on that rope now. Pulling it hard."

       Nina whimpered around his cock. She bent further over him, trying to push her straining arms even higher, but she could not; her shoulder muscles ached with the tension.

       "Come on, girl, you can do better than that," Farelli insisted. "This rope is pulling so hard it's likely to break your arms right off at the shoulders."

       Nina increased her sucking speed, taking him as deeply as she could and using her tongue with all the skill she had. At the same time she began moaning and gasping as though in extreme agony. But her arms would rise no higher.

       Farelli was breathing harder now, but he was not satisfied. "I know what," he said, panting slightly. "Frank, you can be the fucking rope. You get it? Take hold of her wrists and pull 'em up when I tell you. Don't break her damn shoulders though. Not unless I say so." He grinned wolfishly.

       Nina whimpered again, this time with apprehension as Frank stepped up behind her. She felt his large hand circle her crossed wrists. "Okay," Farelli breathed. "Pulling on the rope."

       Nina gave a cry of genuine pain as Frank put pressure on her arms. "Don't stop sucking, girl," Farelli commanded. "This is your idea, remember? Acting out all those fucking stories to get me hot. I'm just putting some realism into it. More, Frank."

       Frank pushed harder at her wrists, and Nina screamed around the hard flesh in her mouth as her shoulders burst into flame. Frank held her just as she was, neither increasing nor lessening the pressure. She tried to raise her body to somehow relieve the pain, but she could not, and she was bent as far over as she could get. She was almost afraid to move at all, fearful that her bones might snap. But she continued to move her head, continued to pleasure Farelli with her moaning mouth. His cock was very hard now.

       "More, Frank," he said after a minute.

       Nina raised her head from his cock, her eyes wild. "No!" she cried pleadingly. "No! Please! He'll break--"

       "Shut up, girl," Farelli panted. "We could be whipping you instead. We could still do that, right now. That what you want?"

       Nina shook her head, moaning.

       "Suck my dick."

       She took him back in her mouth. She was quivering with fear and pain, but she went on sucking and licking him. "Read more, Rick," Farelli ordered.

       "That's all she's got marked on this page," Rick said. "There are a couple other places--"

       "Shit," Farelli said. "Harder, Frank. Pulling on the rope again."

       Frank, as though knowing she was near the to the breaking point, increased the pressure only a little, but it was enough to bring a loud though muffled shout from her around Farelli's cock. Desperately she tried again to push herself higher on her knees.

       "Nice view of her pussy from this angle," Rick said.

       "Shit," Farelli said again. His voice was strained. "And I suppose you'd like to stick your dick in it, right, Rick?"

       Rick shrugged. "That's up to you, boss," he replied. "I mean, you said--"

       "I know what I fucking said. I don't give a shit what I fucking said. Is it hard?"

       "Hell, yes!"

       "All right, get over here and do it. Get out of the way, Frank. But don't let her go. You're still the damn rope." Farelli was panting now.

       Frank, without releasing his grip on Nina's wrists, or slackening the pressure, moved to one side of her. Rick, unzipping his pants, swiftly approached and crouched down behind her. Nina was whimpering around Farelli's cock, but she did not dare to stop the movements of her mouth and tongue. 

       "Oh Jesus!" Rick cried as he pushed himself into her. "Christ, that's nice!" He began to thrust hard in and out of her, and each stroke added to the pressure on her arms and brought a new jolt of agony to her tormented shoulders, making her shout again and again.

       Fortunately Rick didn't last very long. "Oh, yeah!" he yelled as he emptied himself inside her, and then pulled away. Farelli was not far behind him. His lower body arched, nearly coming out of his chair as he gave a sharp hiss, followed by three hoarse grunts as he came in her mouth. Nina managed to swallow it all. Tears were running down her face.

       Frank kept his hold on her wrists. "Is it my turn now?" he said to Farelli.

       Farelli waved his hand weakly, still panting. "Be my guest, for Chrissake."

       Frank unzipped himself with his free hand and brought out his cock. Then he put that hand in her hair and tugged sideways, making her turn on her knees to face him.

       "Like to fuck you in the ass, but it's too much trouble," he told her. "Just suck me, baby. Suck me good, like you did for the boss, okay?"

       He had to slacken the pressure on her wrists somewhat to allow her to raise her head enough to reach him with her mouth as he stood before her. But he still held onto them, and as she commenced to suck him he began to pull them back and forth, not very hard but with a steady rhythm, controlling the movements of her mouth on his cock. With each tug forward her mouth went down, all the way down, with a whimper or a choked cry of pain; back, and her head rose again, though not high enough to release his phallus from her lips. Frank changed the pace according to his whim, slowing it when he got too close, speeding it up when he knew he couldn't hold out any longer. Nina's stifled shouts were almost continuous by the time he climaxed, and she choked on his jism, swallowing only a little. Frank held onto her wrists until he was fully drained, and when he finally let them go she collapsed in a heap, writhing and twitching and gasping with pain, hardly able to move her arms, her shoulders burning as with fire.

       "Okay, Rick," Farelli said. "Read some more now.?

                             November 21

       "She's a spy," Nina said. "And she's been captured by the enemy. They rape her and make her do all kinds of nasty things, and then they hang her up and torture her. Naturally. Right up your alley, Mr. Farelli."        

       "Don't get fucking smart with me, girl," Farelli said. His words were not very distinct. He was more than a little drunk. The bottle on the table beside him was empty. "Just read the damn book," he slurred, waving his arm.

       The book was called "Amanda in Germany," and the photograph on the cover showed a blonde woman in military gear hanging from a tree by her parachute straps. Nina found her place. "I'm just going to read like the highlights here," she told him. "I mean there's a lot of stuff going on that we don't have to--"

       A snoring sound came from Farelli. Nina's first thought was that this was his sarcastic way of indicating his disinterest in what she was saying; but a glance at him showed her that he had actually dozed off. He was slumped in his chair, his head tilted back at an awkward angle. Further faint snores came from his open mouth.

       Nina hesitated. She was reluctant to wake him, but she didn't think it was wise to leave. If he woke and found her gone he would probably not be pleased. On the other hand, he could be out that way all night long. She wondered if Frank and Rick were in the next room. Maybe they could advise her. She started quietly to get up, but her movement roused Farelli, who sat up with a start. "Read it, for Christ sake!" he said, as if he had been conscious all the time.

       Nina sat back down on the bed and opened the book again.

       Amanda stood in the center of her enemies...Before she knew what was happening, Nair had splayed a hand on her chest and pushed her roughly back against the wall. Ivanov took one wrist, Jenkins the other, hoisted them unceremoniously above her head, and shackled them against the wall, on which were fixed a series of metal clamps, designed to hold a bottle of wine upside down.

       "Yeah, wine," Farelli muttered. "Good idea. Hold a girl upside down too."

       "Well, Amanda's not upside down, she's on her feet, but her arms are stretched way up and she's--"

       "Yeah, I heard it, I heard it," Farelli said impatiently. "Get on with it for Christ sake."

       A harsh, white, oblique light shone on Amanda's face, and the red-brick floor grated on the soles of her bare feet. She struggled uselessly against the wall clamps. Through the haze of fear, the sweat blinded her eyes. She tried to blink the sweat away, but it made the laughing faces around her filmy, and in blurred focus...The baroness, who had said little throughout...incredibly resumed manicuring her nails. She paid them close attention, as though she were darning a sock. Ivanov was smiling in detached amjusement...Nair seemed almost to shake with excitement, a slight froth around his dark lips...Jenkins had unbuttoned his black tunic for comfort..His round, weak face was expressionless, the small pale eyes almost empty.

       "Lot of fucking people," Farelli said.

       "And that's not all," Nina said.

       Eulalie took Amanda's jowls in her hands, and although Amanda tried to turn her head sideways, Eulalie held her face tightly, pressing the lips open, as children do when they are imitating rabbits. She...put her face very close to Amanda's, rubbed her nose in hers, and suddenly popped her tongue into Amanda's open mouth. Amanda was helplessly constrained to permit the tongue to roam inside, touching her own tongue.

       Farelli grunted. "This broad a lesbian or what?" he demanded.

       "Amanda? No," Nina said. "But all these people are sex-crazy. I guess that's what makes it a sex book." She resumed reading.

       "Now," said Nair, "off with her clothes."

       "No!" God, no!" Amanda begged.

       "Yeah," Farelli said, and sniggered.

       Eulalie unbuttoned the blouse...and tore the arms away, with the loud sound of ripping. "Nail scissors, Baroness," Eulalie said with a snap of her fingers. The baroness peered myopically into her manicure box and produced them. With these Eulalie snipped the tapes attached to Amanda's brassiere, and Amanda shrank, closed her eyes tightly, as it came away, baring breasts that were immediately seized and kneaded by Nair.

       "At this point there's an interruption," Nina said, flipping pages. "Some other people show up, and there's some kind of a fight, but we can skip all that. Amanda stays tied up through it all, and afterwards they go on with her torture. Actually, the baroness takes over. You know, they say that women can be crueller than men, especially to other women. And the women here--"

       Farelli snorted. "Don't bet on it," he said. "Keep reading."

       "I propose to continue with the agreed intention," said the Baroness...Abruptlhy she held the back of her right hand in front of Amanda's face, and Amanda gave a harsh gasp of fear. "You are not going to put my eyes out!" she screamed...

       The baroness' voice became vague, almost philosophical. "In the old days of our Indian empire...the Suttee women flayed their prisoners alive with nails like these. The skin was left in ribbons, with only the pink underflesh showing."...

       The baroness...spoke to the contessa in a quite different voice. "Take her breast, Barbara, my dear. It does not matter which. Squeeze it to force out the nipple."

       "Why?" asked Eulalie. "Are you going to cut them off?"

       "Is there any point, Dagmar?" said Barbara, breathing past Amanda's ear, and giving little kisses on Amanda's cheek as she spoke. "Look at them. Her titty-bumps are as hard as marbles already."

       "That's fear," said Eulalie. "It always makes the nicon go hard. There is nothing they can do about it, but it always makes me laugh."

       "Yeah, that's right," Farelli said, his words still slurred. "Fuckin' nipples stick right out when they're scared shitless. Love it. Like to see yours that way."
       "You have, Mr. Farelli. Often."

       "Not the same," Farelli muttered. "Not scared shitless. Not shitless enough. Sometime, though. Sometime soon."

       Nina shivered and went back to the book.

       Amanda tried to struggle, but the sweat and pain debilitated her of what little physical strength she had left. The nail of the baroness' right index finger touched the nipple lightly, and Amanda's body gave a unconscious, galvanic spasm of terror.

       "Oh, this is thrilling," said Nair....

       The fingernail impaled itself slowly into the milk duct. The pain was so excruciating that Amanda was incapable even of screaming, but made harsh, rattling sounds in her throat. Her clenched teeth bared in the rictus of her agony, her head fell back on the countessa's shoulder. As the needlelike nail withdrew, the baroness turned it slowly in the wound, and made a slight corkscrew motion back through the gashed inner flesh, and its withdrawal was followed by a tiny globule of blood at the entrance to the nipple.

       Nina heard the sound of a zipper. She looked up to see that Farelli had opened his pants and was pulling out his cock. It was limp. "Shit," Farelli said. "Stupid fuckin' thing. Not workin' yet." He gave it a quick short slap with his hand. "Keep goin'," he ordered.

       Through the pain and all the incredibly evil circumstances surrounding it, Amanda felt a different sensation, a feeling of both moral and physical decay, as though her humanity had somehow rotted...Even should she survive, she could never be the ssme woman...Now her bare breasts, and before that her open mouth, had become the property of men and women more vicious than she ever believed existed. Nothing of her body seemed to belong to her anymore, and what she had was no longer worth giving.

       The breast was pulled upward by the nipple and felt as if it were suspended on a meathook. The baroness' nail entered at the rosette, just below the nipple itself, and cut slowly in a vertical line downward. Nair, excited, rubbed his phallus against Amanda's hip. Amanda, for the first time, shrieked, while Barbara, caressing her belly, nibbled the lobe of her ear.

       "Poor darling," she whispered, and laughed at the tension of Amanda's face. "I told you we would shrivel your eyeballs. You can hardly see them in their sockets."...

       "I have seen greater pain," said Eulalie. "But none that I have enjoyed more."...

       "Her stmach muscles are in knots," said Barbara. "And her rib cage is as tight as a drum. Her adrenal glands must be working overtime. I honestly don't think I have seen more sweat in a Turkish bath."

       A thin vertical line of blood stood out vividly on the lower part of Amanda's bosom. The needle inserted itself again at the same spot where it had entered before, moving this time horizontally to the left. The nail, after a twist, was removed, and the same horizontal line was repeated lower down, each time trailing blood after it.

       "What's she doing?" Barbara said. "I can't see from here, but there seems to be some kind of a pattern to it all. What are you doing, Dagmar?"...

       "I am so tired of anonymity," said the baroness, her eyes close to Amanda's breast, examining her handiwork. "'Baroness' this and 'baroness' that. Only Barbara here to call me by my name."...

       Barbara gave a yell of laughter. "Oh, this is too much!" she cried, her body heaving against Amanda's back. "Would anyone believe it! Dagmar is actually carving her initials on the bitch's tits. Now I have seen everything! That will give our Mandy something to think about on lonely nights!"

       "Nice," Farelli said thickly. His cock was still flaccid. "Carving her intials on her tits. Nice. Should be a man doin' it, though. Better with a man."

       Nina read on.

       Amanda's shrieking had finally lost all self-control. It dinned the ears and melded into one long, continuous echo. Her sweat sprayed, blinding her eyes and running into her mouth.

       "With her head thrown back like that," said Eulalie, peering at her from a distance of only two or three inches, "you can see right up her nostrils. You can also see she has had her tonsils out. I wish we had some electrodes to give her a shock. With all that perspiration, the effect would be simply wonderful."

       All four faces were as close to Amanda's as they could get to study her pain, like a group portrait. The baroness said, more briskly, "Hold the nipple firmly, my good Mr. Nair, and pull upward as far as it will go. It does not matter if you hurt her in the process. For the letter 'O' I need the flesh to be as taut and as unyielding as possible, otherwise the effect is ragged."

       Nair took the nipple hard between finger and thumb, so hard it twice slipped from his grip and fell. Once secured, the nail sank deeply into the jelly of Amanda's breast.

       "Most educational," said Nair, through the sceams of pain.

       Nina looked up. "At that point something else happens," she began. "There's a sudden--"

       "Oh, fuck it, that's enough," Farelli interrupted. "It's no fuckin' good. Can't fuck you tonight anyway. Drank too fuckin' much. Can't whip you either. Too damn tired. Too old. Drank too much. No fucking tonight. Get somebody else to fuck you."

       Nina got up and moved toward him. "Would you like me to try--"

       He waved a hand to stop her. "No. No fuckin' use. Drank too much. Fuck somebody else. Yeah. I'll watch. Prob'ly won't help, but what the hell. Be somethin' to see."

       Nina hesitated, not sure how serious he was. "Maybe I should just go then, Mr. Farelli. Tomorrow night we can--"

       "No, damn it! Told you I want you to fuck somebody. Who you gonna fuck?"

       Nina said nothing.

       "Fuckin' Frank and Rick aren't here right now," Farelli went on. "Tired of seein' them fuck you anyway. Get somebody else. Hurry up, dammit!"

       "But--but Mr. Farelli, I--I don't--"

       "Shit!" Farelli grated. "Do it myself. Gotta do everything myself. Shit." He reached for the phone on the table before him, picked it up and, peering at it blearily, managed to find the button that connected with the in-house phone system. "Hello?" he said into the receiver. "This is Farelli. Gimme Charlie. I wanna talk to Charlie. Now."

       There was a pause. Nina sat down again, waiting.

       "Charlie? Yeah, it's Dino. Now listen, Charlie. Want you to send me a good man. A good man, you got it? Yeah, right now. What for? Well I'll tell you what for, Charlie. I got ol' Nina down here, and I'm too fuckin' drink to fuck the shit out of her, so I wanna watch somebody else do it, that's what for." There was a pause. "Charlie? You there? You hear me? Yeah? You gonna send me somebody down? Okay. Okay. Hurry it up, Charlie. Yeah. Okay, Charlie. Seeya."

       He replaced the phone. "He's sendin' somebody," Farelli said.

       Nina took a long, slow breath. "Of course," she said flatly. "You talk, Charlie listens."        

       "Damn right," Farelli said.

       It was Burt who Charlie sent in response to Farelli's demand. Nina was only mildly surprised. She had not really expected Charlie to come himself, though perhaps a small part of her had wondered if he might. She thought it more likely he would send some big strapping young macho type, to please Farelli and give him a good show. But perhaps he thought pudgy, middle-aged Burt would be less of a threat. Probably he also trusted Burt not to shoot his mouth off too much. Or maybe, since Burt had already been the recipient of a sexual favor from her, Charlie felt it was somehow less injurious to his pride to allow him to enjoy her further, rather than someone new.

       Burt was obviously in awe of Farelli. Even the distraction of Nina's naked body did not alleviate his nervousness in the presence of the big boss, although his eyes widened when he first saw it upon coming in. His glance kept shifting toward her as he moved into the room, but his focus was on the man in the chair. He was almost bowing as he said, "Charlie said you wanted somebody for a job, Mr. Farelli?"

       "Yeah," Farelli said. "Not exactly a stud, are you? But I guess you'll have to do. What's your name, stud?"

       Burt blinked. "Burt," he said. "I'm Burt. I'm Charlie's--"

       "Okay, Burt. You see this girl over there?"

       Burt looked at Nina and nodded.

       "Fuck her," Farelli said.

       Burt stared.

       "Whassamatter?" Farelli said. "Didn't you ever fuck a girl before? You're not queer, are you?"

       Burt swallowed. "No," he got out. "No, but--"

       "But what? Look at her, for Christ sake! She not sexy enough for you?"

       "She's--she's sexy as hell," Burt said. "But I--you--I mean I can't just--"

       "Why the fuck not? You the bashful type? Shit, I told Charlie to send me a man. You a fuckin' man or not?"

       Burt drew himself up. "Yes, I'm a man," he said in a stronger voice. "And hell, I'd love to fuck her. But right here? In front of you? And with Charlie right--"

       "Don't worry about Charlie," Farelli said. "That's why Charlie sent you down here."

       "That's right, Burt," Nina put in. "You don't have to worry about Charlie. He's fine with it. He's fine with anything."

       "Yeah, well, last time he--"

       "Last time?" Farelli growled. He was frowning. "You fucked this guy before?" he demanded of Nina.

       "No," Nina said evenly. "I gave him a blow job. I wanted to get in to see Charlie, and that was the only way."

       "Jesus Christ!" Farelli exploded. Then after a moment he began to laugh. "Well, shit," he wheezed. "Now's your chance to finish the job. Okay, stud, take your clothes off."

       Burt didn't move. He started to say something, but Farelli's volatile mood shifted again, and his face darkened. "Okay, asshole," he snarled. "Let's put it this way." He got up from his chair and lumbered to the closet, coming out with his gun in his hand. He pointed it at Burt. "Do what I fucking tell you, dickhead. Right fucking now!"

       Burt turned pale. "Holy shit!" he muttered. And he began to strip quickly.

       When he was naked Farelli said, "Shit, his dick is limper than mine. Fuckin' guy's a queer after all."        

       Nina almost laughed. "I don't think holding a gun on him is going to do much to get him excited, Mr. Farelli."

       Farelli growled, but he lowered the gun and sat down in his chair again. "Well fuck, you do it then. Tell him about the book. Act it out for him, like you do with me. Go on."        

       Nina hesitated. "Burt may not have the same--" she began, but Farelli cut her of with a roar of rage.

       "Fuckin' Jesus Christ, I said tell him, bitch!" he yelled wildly. His arms waved drunkenly about, one hand still holding the pistol. Both Nina and Burt instinctively shrank back, holding their breath until his movements subsided and he flopped back in his chair, panting a little. "Listen, asshole," he said to Burt, squinting at him. "This little cunt's been tortured, okay? Fucking Germans or whoever, they strung her up and this old bitch split her nipple open, and then she carved her initials on her tits with her fingernails. Okay? Hurt like hell. Screamin' and cryin' and Christ knows what. Okay? That make you hot? She'll show you, she'll do it for you, right, Nina baby? Right?"

       "Jesus!" Burt said, but the look on his face was one of repulsion rather than passion.

       "I don't think that's the way either," Nina said.

       "Well, goddamit, I wanna see some fucking!" Farelli gritted. "If this pussy motherfucker can't do it, I'll get somebody else, but you're not gettin' out of here tonight till you fuck somebody!" He reached out for the phone again.

       "Wait," Nina said. "Wait, Mr. Farelli. Let me do it, okay?" She turned to Burt. "Come here, Burt. Come to me, come on."

       Burt slowly approached her as she sat on the bed. She reached out for him as he got close to her, taking his still soft cock in her hand.

       "I know you want me, Burt," she said softly. "You've always wanted me, haven't you? Especially since I gave you that blow job. You liked that a lot, right, Burt? You told me you did. I can do that again, and a lot more."

       Burt's cock began to stir a little in her hand. He gave a quick nervous glance over to where Farelli was sitting.

       "Don't worry about him, Burt. Forget about him. It's just you and me now. You and me, Burt. You remember when I told you about all the other things I could do for you? All the ways I could give you pleasure? You turned me down because you were afraid of Charlie, but now you don't have to worry about that. And now there are no conditions attached, Burt. You don't have to do anything for me. Just let me do things for you. Anything, Burt. Anything you want."

       Burt was breathing harder, and his cock was stiffening rapidly. Nina leaned down and licked it with her tongue, bringing a gasp from him. Then she took it into her mouth. As she sucked it gently she could hear Burt's heavy panting, and she could also faintly hear Farelli's breathing as he watched from his chair.

       Burt was fully erect by the time she took her mouth away, but his hardness diminished slightly as he again shot a glance at Farelli. "No, look at me, Burt," she whispered, and as he did so she looked up at him with melting eyes, her hand stroking his cock again. "What do you want to do to me, Burt?" she murmured. "How would you like to fuck me?"

       Burt licked his lips. "I--I just--Jesus, Nina--"

       "Come on." She lay back on the bed now,scrunching herself up so that her ass was close to the edge, and spread her legs wide. "Take me, Burt. Put it inside me. Give it to me. Please. I want it, Burt. I'm begging you for it. Put it in me and fuck my brains out, and it'll be so good, you know it will. Please, Burt."

       Burt was almost panting now. "Oh my god," he said breathlessly, and he moved forward, guiding his cock to her crotch. Nina moaned loudly as it entered her. Burt gave a little cry and pushed all the way in, and then immediately began to pump away at her, moving rapidly and hard, grunting loudly with each stroke.

       "Shit," Farelli said, laughing. "This fuckin' guy, first he can't do it at all and now he's gonna come in about two seconds. What kinda show is that?"

       Nina put a hand down between their bodies to inhibit Burt's wild thrusting. "Slowly, Burt," she murmured. "Take it easy. Let's make it last, okay? You'll enjoy it more that way." Pulling back, she turned her body and swung her legs up so she could lie full length on the bed. "Come on up here, Burt," she told him. "Get on top of me and let's do it right. Come on, baby."

       Burt, with another nervous glance at Farelli, got up on the bed and positioned himself between her open thighs. Nina guided him into her again. "Easy, now," she whispered. "Savor it, Burt. This is what you've wanted for so long. It's good, isn't it, Burt? Oh yes, it's so good. Kiss me, Burt."

       Burt hesitated, but when she pulled him down to her he mashed his panting mouth onto hers. Nina slid her tongue between his lips and explored his mouth with it, making him gasp. At the same time she began to raise and lower her hips, leading him into a slow, sensuous fucking rhythm. which he soon picked up on. After a minute she slid her mouth from his, kissing his face, his neck, running her tongue over his skin. Burt moaned and lowered his head to suck on her breasts, moving from one to the other.

       "Oh yes, that's so nice, Burt," she whispered. She wrapped her legs around him now, moving a little more strongly. "So good, Burt. Fuck me, baby. Oh yes, give it to me. Give it to me good."

       Burt brought his head up to kiss her mouth again. He was making little groaning sounds in his throat now. He was trying to control himself, to stay with the rhythm Nina was setting, but he was increasingly unsuccessful, his movements gradually becoming frenzied and erratic.

       Nina freed her mouth. "Let me get on top, Burt." she panted. "Okay? I want to ride on your cock, wouldn't that be nice? Turn over, baby."

       Burt seemed reluctant to stop even for a moment, but he acceded to her request. He rolled over onto his back, and Nina quickly got astride him and took him up inside her. He thrust upwards, but she brought her weight to bear and held him still. She could feel his cock throbbing dangerously inside her.

       "Wait, Burt," she said throatily. "Just hold it for a minute. Doesn't that feel good?" She twisted her lower body just a little, bringing another gasp from him. "Oh yes," she said. Then she leaned forward and down, bringing her breasts within reach of his mouth. He opened it and sucked eagerly on one of them. "Yes, I'm going to fuck you now, Burt," she murmured, and when she felt that it was safe she began to move, slowly, up and down. Moving up and down on him and twisting a bit, but slowly, carefully. Burt's mouth went to the other breast. Muffled sounds still came from his throat.       

       "Yes, I'm fucking you now, Burt," Nina said, moving. "Oh, your cock feels so wonderful! I could fuck you forever. You like that, don't you, baby? Oh yes. Oh yes. Fucking you all you want, Burt, I'll fuck you as much as you want, I'll fuck you and fuck you..."

       "Oh Christ!" Burt cried out. His hips bucked again, spasmodically this time as he thrust up into her. "I can't, Nina, I can't wait, I'm gonna...oh sweet Jesus, I'm...I'm gonna..."        

       "All right," Nina said. She could not prolong this any more; she could only hope Farelli had gotten enough of a show to satisfy him. "All right, Burt. Give it to me." And she moved with him now, bouncing hard and fast on his spasming cock until he shot up into her, crying out and spurting over and over until he was done.

       As he collapsed on top of her, Nina raised her head to look over at Farelli. He was sprawled in his chair, his arms hanging, his head tilted back. He had fallen asleep again.

                          November 22

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

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

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

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

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

       "Yes," Nina said.

       "What happened before that?"
       "Don't you remember?" Nina said.

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

       "Me?"

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

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

       "Shut up. Now tell me what happened."

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

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

       "Burt."

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

       Nina said nothing.

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

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

       "Keep it that way," Farelli said.

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

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

       Nina said nothing.

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

       There was another pause.

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

       Nina looked at him in surprise.

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

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

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

       Nina found her place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Well, get to it," Farelli said.

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

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

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

       "About fucking time," Farelli said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Faster," Farelli said.        

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                           November 23

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

       "Waaaaa..."

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

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

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

       Farelli snorted. Nina went on reading.

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

       But his gesture told her--the other cheek.

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

       "Hhhhh...aiiieee!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Nice," Farelli said.

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

       "Nnnngg!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Come on over here," Farelli said.

       "You don't want me to--"

       "No. Get over here, damn it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                             November 24

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "And what about you?" Farelli said.

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

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

       "But don't you want me to--"

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

       Nina put her clothes on and went to the door.        

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "But they wouldn't," Nina said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "No," Farelli said.

       She waited. There was nothing more.        

       "Would you like me to--"

       "Shut up," Farelli said.

       She waited.

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

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

       "Now?" Nina said, surprised.

       "Yes, now, goddam it."

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

       "Fucking read."

       Nina read.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Nina looked up, puzzled. "What?"

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

       "I don't--"

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

       "If I live," Nina said.

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

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

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

       "Get on with it," Farelli said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "All right," Nina said.

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

       Nina waited.

       "Shit," Farelli said then. "You done reading now?"
       "Well, there was just one more part i thought--"

       "Read it."

       Nina turned a few more pages.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Nina said nothing.

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

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

       "Dino, damn it!"

       "Dino. Are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       And she turned her face away to hide her tears.

                         November 25

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

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

       Rick left without a word.

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

       Nina stripped quickly.

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

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

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

       "Now kiss me, girl," Farelli said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "This guy is keeping her prisoner, right?"

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

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

       "That's not what I--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "That's not--"

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

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

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

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

       "Bullshit!"

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

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

       "Just fucking read it, whore."

       Nina read.

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

chain another inch, just to make her scream and show her he could do it, and then he brought it back to its proper level again.

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

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

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

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

       Then he placed his hands on her breasts, gently and teasingly at first, then gradually increasing the pressure until the pain drove the color from her face and she screamed again. He did not stop at that point, but increased the pressure again, ever more and more,

until Kerry gave a hoarse little gurgle, and her head slumped down on her chest. She had fainted.

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

       "Fucking waste of good liquor," Farelli muttered.       

       Nina went on reading.

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

       Then he put his hand on the inside of her thigh, and let it slide insinuatingly up, past the smooth, supple muscles he was so fond of watching, until he found his target. He clutched and squeezed then, suddenly, shockingly, remorselessly. Her screams were louder than

before, and would have terrified anyone who heard them. He kept it up until she started to spasm, retching huge dry gasps of air up out of her stomach, and then she fainted again, a thin trickle of brandy coming out of the corner of her mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

their position, interesting little hillocks on the downward slope.

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

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

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

to mention that a Red Ryder B-B gun, after having been loaded, seldom leaves its loader spent and exhausted in a pool of sweat on the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Nina screamed.

       Farelli laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                          November 26

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Nina opened the book to the page she had marked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Of course," Nina said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

       The exquisite litheness of Jill Saxon's body.

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

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

       Margo chuckled."Sexy, Vic?"

       "Dear...god...yes!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Well thank god for that," Farelli said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Nina said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "But you--"

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

       "But Dino, for god's--"

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

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

                          November 27

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "What the hell's an ant tree?"

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

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

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

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

       Nina found her place.

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

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

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

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

       Nina flipped a few pages forward.

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

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

       Farelli grunted.

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

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

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

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

       "Yeah, how?"

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

       "Jesus Christ," Farelli said.

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

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

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

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

       "You could always read them yourself, Dino. I could leave this one with you, if you like, and you can--
       "That ain't the same," Farelli muttered. "Maybe we should take them with us when we leave," he said then. "Then you'd have plenty of time to read them all. Every damn page."

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

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

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

       "Damn right."

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

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

       "Sure," Nina said.        

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Fuck this," Farelli said.

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

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

                             November 28

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Well, obviously these covers aren't always that accurate," Nina said.       
       "Can't remember seeing an accurate one yet," Farelli said. "Keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

       The girl didn't say anyhing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       The girl didn't nod.

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

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

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

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

       "Sure," Farelli said.

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

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

       Then she went to work.

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

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

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

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

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

       "No," Farelli said.

       "No? You want me to--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Nina shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Farelli ground the cigarette out on her right nipple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Dino, I'm not--"

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

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

       But he didn't.

                        November 29

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Read, goddam it!" Farelli said.

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

       "Read!"

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

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

       "Dino--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Listen to this," Frank said.

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

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

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

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

       Frank resumed.

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

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

       Ginger just moaned. She was trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

       "Dino, for god's sake--"

       "Get me some, girl," Farelli said.

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

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

       "Dino--"

       "Is it?"

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

       "Then get me some needles. Now."

       "All right," Nina said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Nice," Farelli said. "Gimme another one." Rick handed him another needle.  
         "No!" Ginger cried out. "No, please, don't--"

       Farelli plunged the needle into the left nipple.

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

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

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

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

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

       Rick and Frank took Ginger away.

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

       Nina said nothing.

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

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

                                    Movember 30

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

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

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

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

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

       "No," Nina said. "What--what will you do with her afterward?"
       Farelli shrugged. "Oughta kill the bitch," he said, and Ginger moaned softly. "If not, I got a couple places I can send her to work. Don't expect she'll like it much."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Get to the good part," Farelli said.

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

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

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

       "Well hurry up then."        

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Make it snappy," Farelli said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       "Charlie," Nina said.

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

       "I'm not coming back, Charlie."

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

       "Shit," was all he said.

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