"The Polaroid club book II" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis William)

CHAPTER TWO

On the Friday afternoon following that wild, orgiastic weekend at the Taylor's mountain retreat, Cindy was reading a woman's magazine in the living room of their small cottage and thinking about Howard.

She wished he were home now, wished he had not gone to Los Angeles with Ralph for a three-day automobile dealer's convention. But Ralph had insisted Howard accompany him as representatives of Auto Circus, to meet certain important people and see how the administrative end of the automobile business was handled, and he had eagerly agreed; it was what he had hoped for, he'd told Cindy, the break that meant Ralph and the powers-that-be at Auto Circus were considering him for loftier positions than the head salesman's job he now held.

Cindy, of course, had been excited for her husband and had wanted him to go to Los Angeles for the convention. But still, she harbored faint misgivings about Ralph's influence on Howard; she didn't want the Taylors to implant any more ideas in his head, ideas that went beyond the Polaroid Club and her emancipation into oral love with the man she had married. She was grateful to Ralph and Norma for what they had been strongly responsible in promoting, for she felt a new and freer woman, a more fulfilled woman, now that she had been initiated into sexual games she had always previously thought were degrading and sinful. And, too, she was grateful for them having assisted her in pleasing Howard to the very best of her abilities, giving him all that he wanted from their relationship – and, she hoped, even more than he expected.

The young wife sighed, smiling secretly, as she remembered that night in the darkened bedroom when she had first allowed Howard to kiss her between her widely spread thighs, when she had first tasted his hard, bittersweet masculinity. A ripple of pleasure coursed through her body at the recollection of that moment – and of the recalled joys she bad experienced the remainder of their stay at the mountain cabin and the nights which had followed it in hers and Howard's marital bed.

Oh, things were so wonderful now! They were making love two and three times a night, every night, and finding new and exciting and wild pleasures each and every time. Why, only last night they had lain in the classic sixty-nine position for over an hour, their lips and tongues giving spiraling joy rides to the other as they made oral love. Howard's tongue had sent her whirling to incalculable orgasms during that time, while she had sucked and milked his prick of sticky, hot, delicious loads of sperm twice, never allowing that marvelous penis of his to escape her lips… even when it had deflated, she continued to nibble and suckle it until it once more grew to its monstrous proportions in the soft cushiony folds of her mouth…

And the pictures, too, had been an aphrodisiac for both of them. She had allowed Howard to set up the Polaroid and the timer on more than one occasion, and had posed in lewd positions before its all-seeing eye; had posed with Howard's penis inserted in her vagina astraddle him, alongside him, beneath him… but she had not allowed him to take photos of them enjoying oral love. No, that was a private thing, too private for the camera, and it was there she had gently refused Howard's insisting pleas; she just wasn't ready for that, yet, she had said (if she ever would be ready for it). At first, he had been a little put-out, but after she had showed him in every other way how much she loved him and wanted to please him, he had no longer been angry. They had looked at their pictures together, of them making love – and they had looked at the pictures of Ralph and Norma, which the Taylors had let them keep; then, when both were highly, erotically aroused, they had inverted their positions on the bed and licked and sucked one another to climax after wonderful climax…

Cindy shifted slightly on the couch as spirals of passion began to flow through her, and she could feel her nipples harden beneath the plain cotton housedress she wore. Lord, but she wished Howard would be home tonight! She had never known she possessed such strong sex drives until now; she couldn't seem to get enough of her husband and his mouth, tongue, and penis.

The beautiful young wife sighed again, resignedly, and turned another page of her magazine. Well, she would just have to wait until Howard got home to satisfy her desires. (No more masturbation for her! Not with what she and her husband had together!) Boy, she giggled inwardly, would she give him a homecoming reception when he got home on Sunday night…

The telephone rang.

Now who can that be? Cindy wondered, rising. She went into the hallway where the telephone was located, picked up the instrument, and said, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Jamison?" a thick voice asked. "Mrs. Cindy Jamison?"

The young wife frowned, for the voice seemed vaguely familiar to her. And yet, it was not the most pleasant she had ever heard, with its raspy quality. "Yes?" she finally answered hesitantly. "This is she."

"Steve Samuels here, from the post office. You remember me, Mrs. Jamison. I was the man who waited on you when you rented your post office box about ten days ago."

A little shiver of apprehension raced along Cindy's spine as the image of the wizened, gnome-like little postal clerk flashed into her mind. What did he want, calling her at home like this? Oh, God, had… had something happened with those pictures she'd sent…?

"Y-yes," she quavered. "I… I remember you, Mr. Samuels."

"Good, good." A pause, during which Cindy had the impression the man on the other end was smiling. "The reason I called, Mrs. Jamison, is that I have a large envelop here, addressed to you, from a certain couple in Chicago…"

The young blonde wife stifled a fearful gasp. "Chicago?"

"That's right, Mrs. Jamison," the grating voice told her. "This couple is on the department's watch list as possible purveyors of pornographic material through our mails, and consequently the envelope must be opened in front of one of the post office personnel before delivery can be completed."

Cindy closed her eyes, feeling terror creep through her breast. The exchange photos from the couple in Chicago to whom she had sent the snapshots of her and Howard! She knew that was what was in that envelope the ugly postal clerk had, knew it beyond any doubt at all. Dear God, what was she going to do!

"Mrs. Jamison? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I… I'm still here."

"Would you like to take care of this matter personally, Mrs. Jamison, or shall I…" – a meaningful pause – "contact your husband?"

"No!" blurted Cindy. "No, I'll… I'll take care of it." She swallowed deeply. "Should I come down to the post office now?"

"That won't be necessary," crooned Samuels smoothly. "Tell you what I'll do, Mrs. Jamison. I'll bring the envelope out to your house tonight, on my way home. That should be around eight or so, since I have quite a bit of work to take care of first. All right?"

"I… I guess so, yes."

"Fine," the wizened postal clerk husked. "And don't worry, Mrs. Jamison. This might not be anything of a serious nature at all. For your sake, I hope not." Abruptly, he rang off.

The upset young wife stood holding the dead receiver in her hand, her eyes staring glassily at nothing. What would happen when that dirty-eyed little clerk brought the envelope to her tonight? When he opened it and found photographs similar to those she had sent of her and Howie, Polaroid Club photographs? Would he arrest her? Did postal clerks have that power? She didn't know, and confusion reigned strong in her lithe body – confusion and a growing fear of discovery and exposure, of newspaper headlines linking her with a nationwide pornographic picture organization, of Howard losing his job and everything he had worked so hard to build…

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! Why had she done it, why, why? She should have known better than to send those lewd snapshots of her and her husband through the mails. She should have, but she hadn't; and now, she was going to have to pay the devil his due…

She flung the receiver down in its cradle and ran into the kitchen. She needed a drink, badly! In the cupboard under the drainboard, she found a half full bottle of vodka and in the refrigerator some quinine water. She mixed herself a strong vodka-and-tonic, without ice, and drank it down in two swallows. The fiery warmth of the liquor raced through her bloodstream, causing her face to flush. Another, mostly vodka this time, and she returned to the living room, aware only when she sat down on the sofa that she had brought the vodka bottle with her.

The rest of the afternoon, and the early part of the evening, was a torment for young Cindy Jamison. She finished all of the vodka in the bottle, becoming very high but seemingly not high enough to take the edge off her fear and apprehension. She kept glancing nervously at the clock; time appeared to crawl. She chain-smoked the nonfilter cigarettes she had been smoking since high school. Finally, eight o'clock approached and Cindy began to pace the living room like a sleek, lithe panther, her head swimming from the vodka and the imagined possibilities of what was to come.

The doorbell rang at four minutes past eight.

The sudden sound startled the distraught young wife so much that she seemed to stagger forward, in danger of falling. Her heart hammered crazily in her chest. Have to compose myself, she thought blurrily, stubbing out her latest cigarette. She took a deep, shuddering breath and then went into the foyer and opened the door.

Steve Samuels stood on the porch outside, smiling his wicked, leering smile. He held a large manila envelope in his right hand. "Good evening, Mrs. Jamison," he breathed.

Cindy repressed a tremor of dread at the sight of the postal clerk. She had not liked him that day in the post office, feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable under his beady stare, and now that she had seen him again face to face her discomfiture grew by leaps and bounds. She was completely repelled by this gnome-like man, and afraid of him in the bargain. But there was nothing she could do now, under the circumstances, except admit him to her home.

She managed, "Won't… won't you come in, Mr. Samuels?"

"Thank you," he said, and stepped past her, his right arm brushing casually over the swelling bosom of her housedress, feeling to Cindy like a reptile's touch on her clothed flesh. She almost gasped with revulsion. Had the contact been accidental? Or had he…? She shook her head, trying to clear away some of the vodka swirl, and closed the door. No use thinking such thoughts, she told herself, no use at all…

She led the way into the living room, uncomfortably conscious of the clerk's eyes on the swaying motion of her voluptuous young buttocks. She turned abruptly once in the room and said, "Please sit down, Mr. Samuels."

Samuels nodded, grinning, and sat in the middle of the couch, his eyes moving restlessly over the nubile flesh of the young wife as she seated herself in the armchair some feet away. They feasted on the soft, warm satin of her exposed thighs where the housedress had pulled up. Goddamn! he thought. Oh, Jesus, but she's a hot looking little piece! Oh, this little Mrs. Cindy Jamison is going to be the best one yet… the best of all of them! I can't wait to put my cock in that sweet tender mouth of hers… in her clasping little asshole, too! I can't wait to fill her up with loads and loads of my hot sticky cum…

Cindy became aware of the direction of the civil servant's eyes and hurriedly tugged her dress down low on her knees, pressing her columnar legs tightly together. She said tremulously, trying to pretend as if she was totally sober and in complete command of the situation, "You said something about this envelope for me being from a couple in Chicago who were on the postal department's watch list. What exactly does that mean, Mr. Samuels?"

"It means," Samuels explained with a gap-toothed smile, "that we at the post office have a book which contains the names and addresses of known pornographers and subversives. This box number is on that list… as the senders of dirty, lewd photographs through our mails in the past."

"But… but such a book is illegal!" protested Cindy.

"Not as far as we're concerned," said the wizened clerk. "We have to look after the interests of the American public, and preventing the wanton use of our mails for filth is in those best interests. A new postal regulation has been passed recently, allowing us to open mail at will if we suspect it contains harmful or subversive material."

"How can there be a law like that?" Cindy found herself becoming righteously angry. "It's unconstitutional! It's… almost Communistic! This is a democracy, not some… some dictatorship!"

Samuels drew himself up indignantly, his eyes flashing. "That's right, Mrs. Jamison. This is a democracy. And it's our job, as public servants, to see that it remains a democracy! If we allow filth and disgusting Fifth Column propaganda to be freely distributed throughout this great land of ours, what will happen to the foundations upon which our government is built? They will collapse, that's what! Filthy Commies will take over, as they're trying to do right now all over the country. They've got a toehold in our colleges and universities already, trying to subvert our education system, but they won't succeed in the government agencies, mark my words! We'll stop them, dedicated men like myself, empowered by our great Congress with the authority to crush subversion and drug shipping and yes, pornography, for garbage such as that is rotting the minds of our clear-thinking youth. It's all a Communist plot, Mrs. Jamison, every last bit of it!"

His eyes glittered almost maniacally, and the young housewife drew back in fear and trepidation. What kind of man was this Steve Samuels? Spouting rightist-extreme policy and belief, and yet having a position of authority in the post office. And, most terrifying of all, he seemed to possess an evil expression that forewarned her of the presence in his brain of the self-same lewdness against which he spoke so vehemently. She trembled violently as a possibility entered her mind: what if this little, ugly man who sat across from her was… insane?

"So don't talk to me about illegality and Communism, Mrs. Jamison," Samuels continued. "This country is at last coming to its senses, and none too soon, let me tell you." He paused, swinging the manila envelope out in his hand, extending it to her. "Now then, let's see what this little parcel contains, shall we? Let's see if there is any sickness and evil inside that must be crushed."

Cindy took the envelope with trembling fingers, handling it as though it were a bomb which might explode in her hands. "If… if what you say is true," she managed to quaver, "if you can open the public's mail at will without their knowledge, then why did you call me and tell me this had to be opened in front of a postal employee?"

"A good question, Mrs. Jamison," chuckled the civil servant. "And the answer is simply that I find myself feeling benevolent at times, when I suspect that something demeaning is being sent to a person who might deserve a second chance. In other words, Mrs. Jamison, a person who is not a leftist Commie or a sick perverted soul; a person who has made one mistake, and should, because that person is basically good and honest, be given a second chance. I think you're the kind of person, Mrs. Jamison, and I want to help you. I wouldn't want to see you exposed as a Commie, or a sex degenerate."

The lovely wife shuddered, for there was an oily, frightening quality to Samuels' voice that contained the consideration of things unspeakable. And his eyes… his terrible eyes… they seemed to be stripping her of her clothes, boring through her naked flesh underneath…

"Now then, Mrs. Jamison," Samuels said. "Let's open that envelope, shall we? Right now. I want to see what's inside."

Cindy willed her quaking fingers still, and managed to tear the top off the manila envelope. She reached inside, withdrew the contents partially. As she did so, Samuels suddenly leaped up and took two long strides across to her and jerked the contents out of her hands, causing her to gasp and draw back in fear against the cushions of the chair.

Samuels limped back to the sofa and sat down with the material which had been in the envelope. His fingers rifled through it, and his smile grew wider, more venereous. "Aha!" he cried. "Just as I expected!" And it was: photos, six of them, bound together with a paper clip – and if the top one was any indication, they were some of the best he had ever seen in sharpness and detail. There was also a typewritten letter, and another typed sheet.

Samuels' fingers were palsied with excitement. He had known intuitively that these were what was in the envelope when it had come into the post office this afternoon, and he had had to resist an immediate impulse to open the envelope. Better, he finally decided, to bring it out here to this young bitch Mrs. Cindy Jamison, have her open it; it was the chance he had been waiting for! But he had to make sure her husband wouldn't be home, so he could have her all to herself, and thus he had called the automobile agency were he had learned Howard Jamison worked – Auto Circus – and asked to speak to him, thinking to find out surreptitiously what time Jamison quit work for the evening so as to plan his attack accordingly. His elation had been huge when he learned that Howard Jamison was out of town for three days, in Los Angeles for some kind of convention. He had immediately, then, called this haughty bitch and made his appointment for tonight; as he had hoped, she had become nervous and frightened by his call, and had been partaking of more than one glass of liquor. She was nice and high now – and he had something in his pocket which would make her even higher. Oh, everything was working beautifully! He was really going to fuck this beautiful young wife tonight! Fuck her like he had never fucked anyone before in his life! His cock throbbed with anticipation and excitement.

He tore the paper clip off the pictures, and looked through them. Lewd, disgusting… good, good, just what he had hoped for! He glanced through the letter, his mouth salivating slightly, and then looked up at the fear-immobilized young wife. "Mrs. Jamison, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, allowing yourself to be duped by these filth peddlers. You're very lucky I've decided to take pity on you and want to help you; very lucky. Listen to this: Dear friends," he quoted from the letter, "Many thanks for your photos, which we've just received. They weren't bad, although some of them were lacking in detail; the camera angle seems to be wrong. You might try using closeups more often. We've discussed them at length, my wife and I, and have decided you're probably new at this so if there's any help we can give you, don't hesitate to ask us. We've been exchanging photos with other couples for some time, and have quite a bit of experience. Enclosed are some of our best shots, to give you an idea of what we mean. Hope you like them, and will be sending us others in the future of yourselves. Welcome to the club. All best. Signed, Tom C."

Grinning obscenely, the postal clerk cast the letter from him. "Filthy, isn't it, Mrs. Jamison? Disgusting!"

Cindy could only nod her head numbly, staring out of rounded eyes at the man who sat on her sofa. The vodka was causing her temples to throb, and she tried to will her mind clear, so that she could think what to do, what to say. But it was useless; she had drunk too much, and the forceful, depraved nature of Steve Samuels appeared to have put her into an almost trance-like state.

Samuels picked up the second typed sheet from his lap, and read through it salaciously. It was a description of each of the return pictures, with side comments of a lascivious quality; the comments were numbered, and the venereous government employee saw that a corresponding number had been inked into the upper right hand corner of each photo.

He glanced up, licking his lips, his eyes fixing on the fear-whitened face of Cindy Jamison. "Come over here, Mrs. Jamison," he commanded harshly. "Come over here and sit next to me on the couch and look at these photos. That's part of your lesson Mrs. Jamison. You must look at them and listen while I read these lewd, filthy descriptions to you. Do you hear me, Mrs. Jamison?"

"No!" she heard herself cry out. "No, I… I won't! Oh, God, I can't!"

"The hell you can't!" Samuels' wizened face turned more ugly. "You'll Goddamned do what I tell you to do! That is, if you want me to go on being kind, Mrs. Jamison. If not, then I'll take these to my superiors, I'll report you, I'll make out like you've been sending these dirty things for months and months now. I'll ruin you, Mrs. Jamison, maybe even have you put in prison for violating our postal laws! I can do that, don't think I can't!"

Cindy stared in abject horror at this… this monster who sat across from her. Could he… could he actually do what he had threatened? Could he have her put in jail? Well, why not? He was in a position of authority, and if he lied and perjured himself, they would still take his word over hers – especially with that letter and these photographs. Oh, God, then she was completely at his mercy! Completely at the mercy of a man who was surely insane!

Quaveringly, the fearful and tormented young housewife stumbled to her feet and groped blindly to the couch, sitting next to Samuels fighting down the dread which rose in her throat at his nearness. His eyes feasted on her flesh, and he repressed a desire to grab her, throw her down, rape her right here and now; slowly, must go slowly, better that way, he told himself, oh, am I going to fuck you tonight, you snooty young bitch, I've thought of nothing else for the past week…

Cindy's hands would not remain still, and she didn't want him to know the extent of her fear. Something to occupy her fingers, yes that wax it. She reached out for the package of her cigarettes on the coffee table.

Samuels put out his hand, claw-like fingers touching the back of her soft wrist and causing her to pull back as if she had come in contact with a snake. The venereous postal clerk smiled. "Won't you have one of mine, Mrs. Jamison? They're very good, a special blend…"

As he spoke, he removed a slender brown, crudely formed cigarette from the inside pocket of his sports coat and handed it to her. She took it automatically, perhaps suspecting in her liquor – and fear – fogged mind that it was more than just a plain cigarette but beyond any rational consideration of the fact at that moment. She placed it between her lips, allowed him to light it for her with a battered Zippo.

She inhaled deeply, tasting harsh, acrid smoke and coughed instantly, even though her lungs were accustomed to unfiltered cigarettes. "Draw slowly on it, Mrs. Jamison," Samuels' voice intoned authoritatively. "Then hold the smoke in your lungs awhile before releasing it… yes, that's it. Now you've got it. Again, Mrs. Jamison. It will relax you," he intoned hypnotically. "Again, again… yes, and again…"

The smoke no longer burned her throat and lungs, and Cindy began to experience a subtle relaxing of her muscles, of the edge of fear and near-hysteria which the vodka she had consumed had only brought into sharper focus. From somewhere in her subconscious a single word fought its way into her drugged conscious: marijuana. And, in that moment, she knew what the brown cigarette was, knew fully and completely. And yet, instead of frightening her, she felt only gathering relaxation, as if it didn't matter that she was smoking pot. It was the liquor combined with the narcotic effects of the marijuana and the mind-numbing fear of the weaselly little civil servant which brought about this state of mind; young Cindy Jamison, as she finished the joint, was in a state of almost hypnotic submittal.

Samuels, realizing this, smiled salaciously. "Here," he commanded as Cindy put the roach butt out in the ashtray. "Here's another." She accepted it, almost gratefully, and he lit it for her; this one would really do the trick, he thought exultantly, she won't have an ounce of resistance left in her when she's smoked this joint down.

He watched with salivating lips as she inhaled the sweetish marijuana smoke and finished the second reefer. Then, his cock ever-hardening in his pants now as the moment of his conquest, his subjugation, of this proud, snooty young bitch drew near, he thrust the set of photographs into the young wife's hand. "Now look at these pictures while I read what it says about them to you, Mrs. Jamison. That's it. Look at the top one now, number one. Good, good…" On and on his voice droned mesmerically.

Perspiration blurred Cindy Jamison's vision as she focused on the first photo. Full color… sharp and clear detail… extreme closeup… Samuels' soporific voice, reading from the typed sheet of paper in his hand: "Here is one of our favorites, my wife and I in action. Note how she's lying on that waist-high table, with her legs raised up and ankles locked around my neck. You can see my cock half-buried in her cunt, the way she likes it. This is a good position, because it allows the camera to see all, even the pussy hairs, and at the same time gives the woman plenty of pleasure."

Cindy gasped at the look of sheer abandoned lust on the face of the young, full-breasted, brown-haired woman in the photo… at the intense, passion-sweating face of the tall, shaggy-haired man fucking into her with his immense penis. Then, at Samuels' direction, she flipped to the second picture. The wizened postal clerk read: "This one shows my wife and I sixty-nining. She's licking my balls, the way she likes to do, while I have my tongue shoved all the way up her cunt. If you look closely, you can see that I have my finger in her asshole…"

Another picture… another lewd, provocative pose… another detailed, salacious description read aloud by the sweating, salivating government employee, Steve Samuels. And as Cindy looked at the photos, heard the words ringing louder and louder in the room around her, she began to experience a rippling of excitement, of passion in her stomach and loins. She tried to will it away, tried to tell herself it was wrong, this wasn't the time, this wasn't the place… but the sight of the photos was too much for her. She had learned, with her husband Howard, the new stimulation of erotic photographs, had been conditioned now to them so that they brought about the same sexual upheaval inside her each time. She was powerless to prevent the flowering of her cuntal passage to secrete forth the juices of her passion; she had been excited earlier in the day, thinking about the previous night with her husband, wishing he were home so that they could make love, and some of that excitement had still remained in her body even with the apprehension at Samuels' call and subsequent arrival. The vodka and the marijuana had only served to heighten it, and the photos had brought it bubbling forth now.

The young wife squirmed restlessly on the couch as she stared at yet another photograph – this one of the handsome couple on a huge armchair, the girl with her legs spread wide over both arms and the man kneeling on the cushion between them, his cock pressed into the wide-splayed pinkness of his voluptuous wife's pussy. Cindy's nipples were hard now, under the housedress, and she began clenching and unclenching her thighs as Samuels' voice intoned hypnotically in her ear, repeating lascivious words over and over until they were the only ones she heard: cock… cunt… fucking… sucking…

Her dress had ridden far up on her thighs now with her convulsive movements on the couch, exposing the panty-covered mound of her slowly moistening womanhood. Further words caught in the depraved postal clerk's throat as he saw the tremendously enticing sight of the "V" between the beautiful young woman's thighs being exposed to his lusting eyes. His prick seemed to be throbbing madly in his pants, and he could feel drop lets of seminal fluid emanating from its unseeing eye. He had to fuck her – and soon now, before he blew his great buildup of semen into his underpants instead of into the alluring flesh of the passionate young wife next to him!

Samuels' hand trembled as he reached out with his claw-like fingers and settled his sweaty touch on one of her smooth, alabaster thighs, the digits clenching like talons as he squeezed the soft, resilient flesh.

The sensation of his reptilian-like touch penetrated the liquor and drug haze of Cindy Jamison's mind. Her eyes widened, pulled away from the picture and down to where the wizened clerk's hand now slid along her smooth inner thigh, climbing higher toward the target it sought… She emitted a low cry of terror, the spell of her desire momentarily broken, and threw the photo graphs down on the floor as she jumped convulsively to her feet. She stood there, trembling with anger and fear, the emotions which had been erased by the marijuana and the stimulating effect of the photos, but which had been brought back to the fore by the touch of this gnome-like man.

"Don't you touch me!" she screamed at him, her voice slurred and tremulous. "Don't you ever touch me again, you… you pervert!"

A fiery flush of anger turned Samuels' face the color of eggplant. He jumped to his feet, his own body shaking with anger and with desire, the front of his pants bulging obscenely with the girth of his immense penis.

"You Goddamn fucking little bitch!" he screeched. "You can't talk to me like that! You'll do what I say, and you'll like it, or I'll see to it you go to jail for ten years! I can do that, I told you! You bitch, you bitch, what right have you got to call me names? You little whore, you've been sending lewd, filthy pictures of yourself through the mail, and don't think I don't know it! I saw you fucking like a mink with your husband, legs spread out with his cock up your cunt, so who are you to act so high and mighty around me! I'm a public servant, a man watching out for the best interests of the people, and you're nothing but a lawbreaking little bitch exhibiting your hot little pussy to anyone who advertises they want to see it!"

Cindy recoiled as if struck. She stared at him, confusion returning to her mind to reign supreme. "You… you saw the… the pictures I sent?" she faltered.

"Goddamn right I did! I made copies of them, too!" screamed the half-crazed Samuels. "I have those copies in a safe place, Mrs. Jamison, and I promise you if you don't cooperate with me I'll take them and these here to the postal authorities! I'll fix you good if you don't play ball with me!"

Oh, God, oh, God! Cindy Jamison's tortured mind cried. For in that moment she knew that there was no recourse for her, that this ugly, toady little man had her completely at his mercy. And she knew what he wanted of her, what he meant by "cooperation" – and she would have to submit to his whim. If not, he would make good his threat to ruin her, ruin Howard, send her and possibly even her husband to jail just for using their privacy as they saw fit; she had no doubt at all that he would do as he threatened. She was backed into an impossible corner, and the knowledge was like choking bile in her throat in spite of the liquor and the drug to deaden the impact. She was trapped, trapped… there was no one in the whole world to whom she could turn for help!

Samuels was advancing toward her now, saliva running out of the corners of his cruel mouth, his face flushed and sweating, the front of his pants still bulging hugely. He extended his hand, and then he said, "I'm going to fuck you, Mrs. Jamison. I'm going to fuck you now, here, right in your own husband's bed. And you're going to let me do it; you're even going to join in. You don't have any other choice, Mrs. Jamison. If you don't let me fuck you, fuck you in any way I want you to, then I'll do what I said I would. Well, Mrs. Jamison? What's your answer?"

Cindy almost collapsed to the carpet under the staggering weight of his ultimatum. No place to turn, no place to run… trapped… at the mercy of this insane man… her mind chanted confusedly. I have to obey him, I have to save Howard… yes, and selfishly to save myself and our future…

"Please," she implored, her face going slack with her conviction and her eyes looking at nothing, lifeless. "Please, I'll do whatever you ask. But out here… not in the bedroom, not in my husband's bed. Please, you can't ask that of me…"

Samuels' laugh was ugly and obscene. "Can't I? Well, I am, Mrs. Jamison. I am. Now take me to the bedroom, or I'll pick you up and carry you. The bedroom, Mrs. Jamison, and be quick about it! My cock is about ready to explode with my cum, and I want to save every last drop for you!"

A cry of utter and complete helplessness tore from young Cindy Jamison's throat, and she spun on her heel and ran blindly down the short hallway at the other end of the living room. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she was sobbing uncontrollably as she flung open the bedroom door and threw herself on the bed. She lay there, moaning piteously for a moment, then she heard footsteps, heard the door close, and she swung around. Samuels stood there, and he had the fly of his trousers open, had his underpants drawn aside and the thick expanse of his penis was in the palm of his right hand, its huge, bulbous head seeming to point like a finger of doom at her.

"Take off your clothes!" he hissed. "Now, damn you, right now! Can't you see how my prick just aches for those soft little lips of yours to close around it?"

Cindy moaned again, a torture-wracked sound, but she obeyed with spasmodic fingers. She removed the housedress, pulling it over her head, then shrugged out of her bra and panties. She sat huddled like a defenseless child, naked and afraid, on the edge of the bed. Samuels' breath quickened to a harsh, nasal wheezing as he viewed for the first time in actuality the vibrant, bronze and white body of the beautiful young wife. Son of a bitch, this was going to be fine! Oh, he was going to ravage the shit out of that soft, tender flesh of hers… make her scream for him and his huge, quivering prick…

His palsied fingers tore at his clothing, ripping the garments from his thin body. At last he stood before her, naked, his huge venous cock oscillating like an arrow outward from his loins. He stroked it hungrily for a moment, then commanded in a wheezing voice, "Get up on all fours on the bed. I want you to suck my cock. Do you hear me, Mrs. Jamison? I want that soft, sweet mouth of yours licking all around my cock!"

"No-nooo!" wailed Cindy miserably. "No, please…!"

"Do what I tell you, Mrs. Jamison!" The wizened postal clerk flung himself onto the bed, spreading his legs wide, his great prick jutting upward and throbbing redly. "Now crawl like the bitch you are between my legs, Mrs. Jamison! Do it, and do it now! I'm not going to tell you again!"

I can't, I can't! the tortured young wife's mind protested. But she had no choice, no other alternative, and so her body obeyed his harsh instructions. She crawled between Samuels' open thighs like a whipped puppy submitting itself to further degradations at the hands of an inhuman master, and lowered her head almost to the tip of his upthrust cock.

Tears filled her eyes, and her tongue came out several times to moisten her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, not daring to look, and then told herself she was doing this for Howard, for their marriage, for all that the future now promised. And then, with one last moaning, piteous cry, she reached out and grasped his swollen rod between the fingers of her right hand and began to stroke the palpitating flesh lightly, further arousing the already lust-bubbling Samuels until groans of joy rendered from his lips.

"Goddamn you, hurry up and suck it! Suck my cock, suck it, suck it!"

His hips thrust upward, but she pulled back her head, out of reach in a reflexive abhorrence of the act she was being forced to perform. Samuels reached down and entangled his hands tightly in her soft blond hair, trying desperately to guide her head down to meet his forward-leaping manhood. His own head was lifted off the bed, so that he could watch the helplessly contorted features of her beautiful face, poised there above his loins, and his brain reeled with the mental image of his thick, pulsating cock burrowing in and out of her ovaled lips; he was excited beyond all recall now, he had to have her suck him off now! He could feel the semen boiling in his testicles, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it would come spewing out of his shaft like a flow of hot lava.

"Hurry, hurry!" he grated. "Suck it, bitch, suck it!"

Suddenly, Cindy, realizing the complete hopelessness of her position, was seized with a tremendous need to perform the obscene task he demanded of her and get it over with as quickly as possible. She did not like the implications of the tingling, rippling passion which was once more seething in her genitals at the prospect of again taking a male member between her lips, even such a member as the one belonging to the blackmailing postal clerk. She was becoming aroused herself – the liquor and the marijuana were responsible, she prayed to herself – and she had to get this finished and over with before she became so excited that she began to enjoy her subjugation.

Her head plunged forward and down. Samuels felt the incredible, hot moist softness of her young lips close over the sensitive head of his cock, felt her firebrand tongue lick circles of liquid fire around and around it, flicking into the glans opening, drinking up the lubricating fluid seeping there. His hands in her hair tightened, and he thrust his loins upward, driving the length of his massive prick deep into the soft, warm folds of her mouth, feeling it slam hard against the back of her throat.

"Uuuuhhhhhhh!" mewled Cindy around the hardened, invading rod of flesh.

"Oooooooooooooooooaaaaahhhhhh!" Samuels cried in lust-crazed fervor.

Cindy twirled her tongue maddeningly faster around the blood-inflated head of his cock. Then she began to suck him rhythmically, with all the practiced expertise she had acquired over the past week. He watched her convoluted lipstick-rimmed lips working on his cock, watched the soft wet skin of her mouth pucker outward and then back in again as she sawed her mouth the full length of his rigid penis. The sight of her sucking him increased his arousal higher and higher, and his loins tensed and jerked upward into her face, all the fleshy expanse disappearing with each hard forward thrust, so that only a small stretch of it showed white and glistening with saliva wetness between her lips.

Her tongue, with a nerve-shattering lick on the outstroke, was like a separate entity, a thing gone wild with the desire to end this terrible subjugation, make him cum in her mouth and thus write finish to the whole sordid business. She sucked hungrily, making the cockhead jerk and convulse as though it, too, were a thing alive and with a mind of its own. Her rich, firm breasts danced wildly below her pumping head, adding to the lust-inciting view the wizened civil servant was viewing.

"Suck it, suck it, baby, suck it!" he urged her on, dropping his head back on the bed heavily. And still the young housewife slaved on, her body glistening from the tiny droplets of perspiration forming from her labor. The pressure grew and grew in Samuels' balls, and he shoved his loins up hard against her face, hearing her protesting mumble, not heeding it all as he neared the pinnacle of his release…

And then, suddenly, he did not want to cum just yet… did not want to eject his maddening buildup of semen into her mouth. No, he had a better idea, something he had wanted to do to her from the very first time he had seen her, something he had thought of several times since then. Now he was going to have his chance!

He was going to fuck her in the asshole!

He was going to shoot his fiery hot seed deep, deep into the depths of her virginal young bowels!

His hands entangled in her hair now pushed upward instead of forced downward, drawing his saliva-soaked cock from the young wife's soft, still sucking mouth with a smooth wet sound. Her eyes blinked open uncomprehendingly, her face glistening with sweat, her lipstick wet and shining with her spittle and the beginning droplets of the wizened gnome's semen.

"W-what is it?" she gasped dimly.

"Turn around and lean forward! Hurry, Goddamnit, I'm ready to cum any second now!"

"What… what are you going to do?"

"You bitch!" He grabbed her roughly, twisted her around so that her softly rounded buttocks were trembling before his gaze, then raised up on his knees behind her. His eager fingers reached out, fitted themselves into the smooth crevice between the twin white globes and slowly drew them apart, reveling in the wet, lubricious feel of her feminine emissions. His throbbing cock was pressed to the satiny soft surface of one of the defensively quivering moons.

Cindy tried to cry out as she suddenly realized what the man wanted to do to her, but he removed one hand from her buttocks and shoved her head down hard against the rumpled bedspread. Ripples of horror flooded through her. Oh, God, oh, God, not that! No, I won't let him, I won't, I could never forgive myself…

She tried to twist away, but his thumbs were like steel talons, imprisoning her, spreading wide the tiny puckered ring of her unused rectal passage. "Going to fuck your asshole, going to fuck your asshole, Mrs. Jamison, oh, shit, oh, Goddamn it!" he drooled, raising his loins, bringing the hard, rubbery head of his immense cock upward so that it teased along her naked rectal opening, poised at the tiny wrinkled ring.

"No!" she screamed in agonized protest. "No, no, you can't!"

"Just watch me, you bitch! I'll teach you to send filth and Communistic garbage through our mails! I'll teach you!"

And then, with a brutal, sadistic lust, the venereous postal clerk suddenly rammed forward, his cock soaring into her tightly virginal passage with savage, unmerciful force, never stopping as it tore through the membranous canal like some terrible instrument of exquisite torture.

"AAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!" screamed Cindy in helpless pain and subjugation, and then the cry changed to strangled gasps as Samuels again flexed his buttocks to drive his invading cock deeper into the softness of her anal channel. He clutched hard at her hips, flexing yet again as he thrust still deeper into her rectum, into the warm forbidden depths of her anal passage. The pressure pushed her forward, pushing her head down harder on the mattress. Oh, God, Howard's mattress! Samuels began heaving forward with long, sawing strokes now, the rubbery walls of Cindy's asshole expanding before his invading cock until, finally, with one last savage lunge he buried the last throbbing inch of his tremendously expanded penis into her warm, tight anus.

"Aaarrrrggghhhhhhhhhh!" the hopelessly impaled young wife wailed. "Oooohh, God, it hurts! It hurrrttttsssss! Oh, I can't take it, it hurts too much!"

You'll take it, and you'll scream for more! the postal clerk thought triumphantly. Before I'm through, you'll beg me to fill you up with my hot sticky seed, you damned aloof bitch! He flexed again, and again, and again…

And suddenly, in order to alleviate the terrible pressure in her rectum, to force him to cum there as she had tried vainly to force him to cum with his cock in her mouth, Cindy Jamison began to grind her buttocks back hard against his penetrating cock. Her anal passage was becoming accustomed to the great weapon imbedded there, and there were renewed tinglings of a horribly rising desire in her loins! It was impossible – how could she feel desire at a moment of degradation such as this? But it was true; her relaxing of her defensively clenched anal muscles in order to bring him to climax had unleashed a new torrent of unwanted passion in her body.

As much as the thought appalled her, she was beginning to enjoy this lewd, bestial sodomizing of her private secret passage!

She was sobbing in a commingled mixture of frustration and self-loathing and desire as she fucked in ever increasing rhythm back against the salacious invasion of Steve Samuels. She involuntarily rolled and flung her buttocks back against the forward-driving shaft, feeling it worming deep around in her belly, feeling his testicles slam resoundingly with each forward lunge down against her naked, well-lubricated vaginal lips.

She's gone wild, she's gone wild! Samuels thought exultantly. She's mine, all mine, I've conquered another of these haughty young bitches for my own private amusement!

The pressure in his loins was intense now, and he knew his orgasm was only seconds away now, only seconds… He heaved and bucked like a rutting animal, emitting snorting, drooling sounds of sheer lust as he fucked long and hard and deep into her, his fingers digging cruelly into the soft, tender flesh of her buttocks, drawing blood there.

And then…

He was there, oh, Jesus he was there!

The wizened clerk began to chant crazily, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" and his cock began to jerk out of control sunk deep in the warm softness of the young wife's bowels. Cindy felt the fire-hot semen erupt along his urethra tube from the swinging cauldrons of his testicles and fill her anus to overflowing, felt the searing liquid run down along the crevice of her churning buttocks, along the backs of her thighs, and pool on the bedspread beneath her flailing body.

It was over. At long last, it was over…

Or so she thought in that single, terrible moment of the climax of the rutting, wheezing man sodomizing her.

She collapsed forward finally, pulling his rapidly deflating cock from her anal passage with a painful wrench, and lay panting and sobbing, totally subjugated, totally enslaved, totally sick at soul. Samuels fell across her, cradling his head in the soft hollow of her back, his wet rubbery lips kissing the sweat from her smooth, satiny skin…

It was not long before the postal clerk's penis grew once more into erection, before he turned the limply yielding young wife over on her back and spread her legs wide and proceeded to fuck into her open cunt with long, hard, brutal strokes until he filled her aching cavity with more torrents of cum. He fucked her again, after that, first making her suck him to hardness once more while he probed her already widely stretched rectum with his middle finger. He performed other and still wilder atrocities on her flesh until Cindy, in her wildly churning mind, thought she would surely go insane with the knowledge of what he was doing to her, of her own enslavement to this evil, depraved man.

And yes, she thought she would go insane, too, from the fact that she had almost reached climax three times during this long, orgiastic night! For she was aroused by his ministrations, by his lewd teasing, by his ravaging penis, aroused and joining willingly in. At the beginning, she had tried to convince herself, as she had while he was sodomizing her, that she was only doing it to make him cum, to end this as quickly as possible. But then doubts began to linger, and she wasn't sure. Had she somehow become so completely subjugated that she was now a lover of the same sick acts as he? Oh, God, oh, God…

Finally, as the first rays of dawn drifted through the bedroom window, Cindy Jamison slept… slept with the terrible fear that she had lost something on this night, something good and innocent… and had gained something indefinable which would completely reshape her future life. Her dreams were nightmares, and she awoke groaning helplessly when the sun was up full later on and she was alone…

As he was about to leave, just past dawn, Steve Samuels had stood fully clothed over the naked, sleeping form of the naive young housewife he had just conquered and leered down at her. Look at her sleeping there, curled into a fetal position, he thought. She thinks it's over, that tonight is the end of me, that she's paid her price. He laughed triumphantly. But she hasn't, not by a long shot. There are plenty of things I can and will do to her – I and my faithful friend, Ringo. No, Mrs. Jamison, this isn't the end at all. It's just the beginning for you…