When Connie and Johnny Walker stepped out of the Glass Onion and into the quiet darkness of One-Hundred-Eighth Street, a light rain was falling. One of those midsummer New York drizzles which seem to fall up and sideways as well as down. The stagnant air was filled with a mist of fine droplets that made it smell almost clean. The street and sidewalks shone with moisture, reflecting the light of the streetlamps.
Although the air wasn't cold, Connie shivered, suddenly afraid. This assignment was turning out to be more dangerous than she had anticipated. Her fear had been forgotten in the crowded activity of the Glass Onion, but now that she and Johnny were out in the street, she realized that she was alone. And at his mercy! What if he decides to rape me the way that awful man in the warehouse did? she thought.
But then Johnny spoke to her, and his soft and gentle voice put her at her ease. "My car is up this way," he said. "Shall we walk? Or would you rather, wait here and I'll pick you up?"
"I don't mind walking in the rain," she answered. "It always makes me feel so clean."
"All right, then," Johnny said. "Let's go." He took her gently by the elbow and led her up the street toward the bright lights of Queens Boulevard. Connie could see taillights and headlights flashing as the evening traffic whizzed along the busy thoroughfare. It gave her a strange feeling to realize that although the past week had brought a dramatic change to her life, business was as usual for the rest of the city. "Here we are," Johnny said softly, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up to see a shiny white Lincoln Continental parked next to the curb. Although it was parked in a bus stop, there was no parking summons on the windshield wiper…
"How do you get away with parking in a bus stop!" she asked naively.
Johnny smiled, flashing his gold-capped tooth. The white heart-shaped cutout seemed to twinkle at her. "Oh, I don't ever have a problem parking," he said. "The police all know my car."
Connie looked at the car. It had a white vinyl top with a pattern of faint gold lines running through it. Painted on the front door in delicate swirling lines of gold leaf was the monogram JW. Each letter was about three inches high. Johnny opened the door for Connie and assisted her into the front seat. The upholstery was black leather. As she sank into the comfortable softness of the seat, she ran her fingers gingerly along its surface. The leather was smooth and buttery soft.
A moment later Johnny opened the door on the driver's side, and slipped into the seat beside her. "Would you like some music?" he asked.
"That would be nice," Connie answered. Johnny selected a tape cartridge from a leather-covered box built into his armrest. He inserted it into a slot on the dashboard and a moment later the sensuous voice of Tina Turner filled the car's interior: "I'm a honky tonk woman. Gimme, gimme, gimme a honky tonk man."
"Do you like Tina?" Johnny asked. He made it sound as if he knew her personally.
"I don't think I've ever heard her before," Connie answered guardedly.
"Then you're in for a treat," Johnny answered. "I won't say anything for a while. Just let you enjoy the music."
Connie was grateful for his promise of silence. She leaned back, letting her head sink into the softly padded headrest behind her. She was glad for an opportunity to be alone with her thoughts and to be free of the need to guard her speech and actions. She was certain that she had passed Johnny Walker's informal examination in the Glass Onion, but realized that a criminal like him would always be alert to anything which might give her away.
As the car sped west along Queens Boulevard, she thought about the events of the past few days. First there had been that dreadful scene at Lionel's apartment. Although he had overpowered her, she knew that he really wasn't to blame. The drinks which she had that night had weakened her powers of resistance. Her actions had probably been misinterpreted by him as signs of her willingness to submit to his will. He had probably seen her last-minute protest as a coy act of coquettishness.
She couldn't really blame him for that. He was a man! And that meant that he had nothing but sex on his mind most of the time. She shouldn't have gone to his apartment without first making it clear that she was interested in nothing more than talking about drugs. And then she shouldn't have had the drinks. She would know better next time.
But the incident in the warehouse with Foxy had been another story, altogether. Although Connie had searched her soul, she could find nothing in her own conduct which had justified Foxy's actions. He was a vicious perverted beast and had apparently been motivated by nothing more than his own lust. The memory of his thick red cock pushing past her lips and into her throat disgusted her and made her want to gag. She tried to block it out of her mind but found that the best she could do was replace it with a vision of the girl on the stage at the Glass Onion.
The girl had sucked the other performer's cock greedily, a lewdly satisfied smile on her face. Connie remembered the slurping sounds that the girl had made with her oral cavity as she sucked him off. She couldn't understand how anyone could do such a dirty thing willingly. Much less in front of people.
And then the two performers had lain together on the floor with their faces buried obscenely in each other's crotches. She shuddered at the thought.
"Are you cold?" Johnny asked.
"No," she answered, "It was just a sudden chill. It passed."
But she couldn't blot the horrible images out of her mind. The girl performer had sobbed and moaned when her partner's tongue had found its way into her pussy. She had actually sounded like she was enjoying it.
Connie shifted her weight from one buttock to the other in an attempt to scratch the tingling itch which had begun in her own pussy. It felt just like it had at the Glass Onion earlier, when she was watching the show. She crossed her legs and uncrossed them, rubbing one thigh against the other in a vain effort to stop the sensation which was beginning to spread throughout her loins. It was a warm fluid feeling, as though some kind of thick liquid was oozing from between the lips of her cunt. She wondered if her recent sexual experience had done some damage, in there. Maybe when this whole thing is over I should see a doctor, she thought.
She had never been examined by a gynecologist. Momma had warned her that most of them weren't to be trusted, having entered their profession because of a perverted desire to touch and handle the naked genitals of their female patients. But now that she was no longer a virgin, Connie thought that it might be necessary. Maybe she could find a woman gynecologist. She could say that she was married so that she wouldn't have to make excuses for her ruptured hymen.
"Well, here we are," said Johnny, bringing her back to the present. He had turned the Continental into a driveway leading to a parking garage in the basement of his apartment building. Just before the car was swallowed into the bowels of the building, Connie glimpsed its marble, chrome, and glass facade and the name Silver Towers emblazoned across its entrance doors. Who says crime doesn't pay, she thought.
Johnny wheeled his car along a curving underground driveway, pulling up in front of a small glass-enclosed office. A young attendant sporting a sparse black goatee and wearing a greasy beret scrambled out of the office to open the Black gangster's door. "Evening, Mr. Walker," he said. "Wash your car tonight?"
"Sure, why not," Johnny said, tossing him the keys and walking to Connie's side of the car. He opened her door and took her arm as she got out.
They walked in silence toward a bank of elevators at the rear of the parking garage. When one of the elevator doors opened, Johnny gestured toward it with a wave of his arm. Connie stepped inside. There was soft music playing in the elevator.
Johnny stepped in beside her and stabbed a button marked, "PENTHOUSE". The door closed and they were whisked upwards so quickly that there was no sensation of motion. A moment later the doors opened onto a carpeted hallway. The corridor was wide but short. Two doors broke the smooth clean line of the wall opposite the elevato. Both doors sported the same JW monogram that Connie had seen on the doors of the Black racketeer's car.
Johnny opened one of the doors and reached inside, flipping a silent mercury switch on the wall. The room was suddenly illuminated by soft lights which highlighted the bright splashes of color decorating the floor and walls. The molded plastic furniture cast long dark shadows across the floor. Looks like a den of seduction, Connie thought. Well, I've learned my lesson. I won't even let him get near me.
"Come on in and make yourself comfortable," Johnny said affably. "There are a couple of people I'd like you to meet." Then turning towards the back of the apartment he called, "Cobb! Edward! Come on out. I want you to meet a friend."
So there's more than one crime boss in Forest Hills, Connie thought. Good, I'll get them all. A tall man walked into the room. His skin was cafe-au-lait tan and his head was completely shaved. It shone in the soft yellow light of the room. He smiled, revealing two rows of perfectly even white teeth. He was thin, but muscular, and clad only in a long, multi-colored dashiki which reached almost to the floor. His dark feet were bare. "Good evening, Mr. Walker," he said.
"Hello, Cobb," Johnny answered.
A moment later another man followed him into the room. He was shorter than Cobb – about five-foot-ten – and heavier. He was Caucasian, but his skin was a bright pink, as though he had just stepped out of a hot tub. His hair was red and shaggy, reaching almost to his shoulders, and his face was freckled. There was a vacant look in his eyes. But he didn't look drugged so much as he looked stupid.
"Howdy, boss," he said. Even his voice sounded like that of a moron. Connie concluded that Johnny kept him around more for his brawn than for his brains.
"Cobb, Edward," Johnny began. "I want you to meet a friend of mine. She's here to make a score. This is Connie Dresden. Officer Connie Dresden."
Connie's blood ran cold and her smile froze to her face. How can he know? she thought. And how do I get out of here? "Wha… What are you talking about?" she asked, hoping to brazen it out.
But the Black gangster ignored her completely, addressing himself to his two henchmen. "Imagine her thinking that she could put one over on me," he said. His voice dripped with venom. "Smart-assed little white bitch." He spat the words as though they burned his tongue.
Then, regaining his composure, he continued, his voice once again soft and modulated. "I want you to teach her a lesson," he said. "A real good lesson! Do whatever you like. But don't kill her. Leave something for me." Without another word, he turned and left the apartment.
As soon as he was gone, Edward began jumping up and down like a little boy on Christmas morning. Connie's knees were trembling. She was alone with these two monsters. It seemed certain that they would hurt her. And the moronic one was acting like he would really enjoy it.
"Oh, boy. A lady cop," he said, an excited giggle in his voice. "Can I hit her, Cobb?"
Cobb had walked to the blue plastic bar in the corner and was mixing himself a drink. The ice cubes clinked incongruously in his glass. "You heard Mr. Walker," he said softly. "Anything you want."
Suddenly the moronic smile left Edward's face. Without another word, he walked up to where Connie stood and punched her hard in the stomach.
Connie screamed when his fist hit her, and went reeling across the room, doubled over in pain. As she fell to the floor, tears began streaming from her eyes. For a moment her lungs were paralyzed and she opened her mouth for a gasp that wouldn't come. Finally she managed to inhale a little air into her burning lungs.
Edward grabbed her by one of her braids and pulled her roughly to her feet. Then, holding the braided tress high over her head so that she couldn't turn away from the blows, he slapped her hard, first across one cheek and then the other. Her head rolled from side to side with the burning stinging pain of his contact.
Connie whimpered. She knew that her expressions of pain would please this sadist, and she hated to give him the satisfaction. But she simply couldn't help herself. He hit her again, this time with his fist full in her face. She groaned as she felt a trickle of blood begin at her nostril and work its way down across her upper lip. Edward let go of her hair and she slumped to the floor, crying quietly.
But Edward wasn't through with her. Grinning, he swung his leg back and kicked her hard in the ribs. Connie was certain that she felt one of them crack. Her face was already beginning to swell and her scalp ached from where he had pulled her hair. She was sure that he was going to kill her, and was already beginning to hope that the end would be swift.
Edward reached down and filled his hand with the cloth at the front of her blouse. He yanked her to her feet, tearing it in the process. Connie felt the warm air of the room washing over her bare shoulder. She reached for the torn material automatically, trying to cover herself. But Edward slapped her hand out of the way and tore her blouse from her completely. A sob left the young policewoman's lips as she felt the garment being torn from her body. She realized her true helplessness, and knew that killing her was probably the least of what these animals would do. "Nice pair of titties for a lady cop," Edward said, the grin returning to his face. "Shame to keep them covered like that." He reached out and inserted his right index finger under the tight material which separated the bra cups. Connie could feel his fingernail scraping at the resilient flesh of her breasts and tried to pull away from him. But he pulled her sharply forward, tugging on the material of the bra. She felt the clasp open and heard, more than felt, one of the shoulder straps snap.
"Please," she began, her words punctuated by the sobs which were ripping uncontrollably from her throat. "Please, I'm not a cop. I…"
Edward dropped the torn brassiere to the floor and slapped her sharply across the mouth. She felt one of her teeth tear into her lip and experienced the warm salty taste of her own blood. She tried to cover her naked breasts with her arms, but Edward slapped her face again.
"Put your hands down," he said angrily. "I want to see what you've got."
Hot tears of shame and humiliation were rolling down Connie's face as she silently complied with his command. When she dropped her arms to her sides, her tits quivered, bobbing up and down in rhythm to her sobs. She felt completely exposed, even more so than she had with Lionel or Foxy. This moron was defiling and humiliating her while the other one – the one called Cobb sat calmly sipping a drink and enjoying the spectacle.
She felt like a freak on display at some perverted Roman orgy. She found herself wishing that she could die, but knowing that she wouldn't be so lucky. Not for a while, anyway.
Edward grabbed roughly at her tits, squeezing one and then the other. She could feel his powerful fingers digging mercilessly into her soft flesh. Then be pinched one of her nipples viciously. It hardened under his rough kneading.
"Hey, Cobb," Edward said with a grin. "Look at that. I think she likes it. How about it, police lady. You like that?"
Connie looked away.
Edward pinched viciously at the other nipple, squeezing it between his fingers until Connie's lips turned white in her effort to contain her scream of agony.
"I asked if you like that," he said through clenched teeth. "And if you don't answer me, I'll twist the fuckin' thing off."
Connie's chin trembled in despair. They weren't content to just beat and humiliate her, they wanted her to play word games with them as well. "No, I don't like it," she said. "I hate it. I hate you. All of you." She was screaming now, unable to control herself any longer.
Edward slapped her again. "You're kind of fresh," he said, "I never talked to my betters that way and my mom would have tanned my hide good. I think maybe you need a good tanning." He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her black jeans and pulled downward. The material strained to hold together but finally yielded, tearing apart with a loud ripping sound. A moment later Connie stood naked except for the pale-blue bikini panties that she was wearing.
Edward could see her furry tuft of pubic hair peeking through the diaphanous blue material. He felt his cock beginning to stir. She was a good looking woman, all right. And seeing her cry in pain and terror was really turning him on even more. Well, she would cry plenty before he and Cobb were through with her.
He was about to tear her panties from her as he had done with her pants when he suddenly thought better of it. He remembered the way that she had tried to cover up her naked fits a few minutes before. Giggling, he said, "Take down your panties now, so I can give you a tanning."
A look of horror flashed across Connie's, delicate face. That was the look that Edward enjoyed most. The uncontrollable fear of what was to come.
"But take them down real slow," he added. "Like a stripper."
Connie was horrified at what he was ordering her to do. When Foxy had forced her to strip in the warehouse, he had allowed her to do it quickly and unceremoniously. But this was horrible. He was going to beat her and probably rape her, but first he was making her perform for him. He was making her entertain him with a perverted striptease show. Well, she just wouldn't do it.
But Edward's burgeoning hardon was making him impatient. A look of contemptuous hatred came to his face and he raised his clenched fist for another punch to Connie's nose. She flinched at the sight of his cocked arm and said, "Don't hit me. I'll do it."
Connie felt sick. She didn't know how she could comply with his command. It went against everything that she had ever been taught and everything that she had ever believed in. But she knew that if she didn't do as ordered, he would beat her unmercifully.
She hooked her thumbs under the elastic waistband of her panties and began working them slowly down over her hips. As she did so, she swayed her hips from side to side and turned slowly around in place.
With her back to Edward, she pulled her panties down over her softly rounded asscheeks, hearing his sharp intake of breath as she uncovered the crevasse between the two firm ripe mounds. Then, still singing, she turned to face him. Her pubic hair was exposed to him now, and he licked his lips at the lascivious sight of the dark dense forest. She pulled her brief panties down a little further, feeling her thick cuntlips pucker out as they, too, were exposed to his lewd gaze. Finally she dropped the wisp of cloth completely, letting it slide slowly down the smoothly sculptured length of her shapely legs. She felt the nylon caressing the skin of her feet and ankles, and stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor, another splash of bright color in the garishly decorated room.
"Now it's time for your spanking," Edward said. "Get up on your hands and knees over there." He pointed to the black vinyl platform in the center of the room. Connie, by now nearly numb to her own degradation, did as he had instructed her. She walked to the platform, feeling his gaze on her luscious naked ass with every step. Then, trying not to think about what she was being forced to do, she climbed onto the platform and posed on her hands and knees.
She knew that her asshole and pussy were completely exposed to his visual examination and felt hot tears of shame welling up in her eyes once again. Her tits were hanging straight down, the nipples pointing toward the foam mattress which covered the platform. For some strange reason, they had puckered and were hardening to erect little points. The pain of Edward's mauling was almost overshadowed by a tingling itch which had started at the tips of the pointed pink nipples and was spreading rapidly through her tits and even beyond.
"You know," she heard Edward say. "You're a lucky little girl. I've decided not to spank you after all. That ass of yours is just too damn pretty to spoil," And then she heard a sound that terrified her more than anything else that had happened since Johnny Walker had left her in the hands of these two monsters. It was the raspy sound of Edward's zipper being undone.
She didn't dare turn around to look at what he was doing. But she was sure that he would be upon her in a moment, jabbing her with his cock, tearing at the walls of her pussy. Like Lionel had done. She wished for a hole in the world – a bole big enough to crawl into and pull in over her. But there was no hole to crawl into. No place to hide.
Edward walked slowly toward the platform, his eyes never leaving the gently rounded curve of her ass. He had dropped his pants and shorts, but kept his shirt on. As he approached Connie, his cock swayed from side to side. It was long, thin, and pointed like a dog's cock. His balls hung below it in a wrinkled sac that swung to and fro as he walked. He stopped alongside the platform and rested his hand gently on Connie's smooth white back.
Then he began to slide it backwards, toward her ass, moving his fingers from side to side as be did so. Connie shivered involuntarily at the contact. She felt the downy hairs that lined the lips of her cunt bristling in a combination of fear and some other emotion. An emotion for which she had no name.
"Such a pretty little ass," Edward crooned, almost to himself. "Such a pretty little ass." He stroked the contours of the soft round cheeks, allowing one of his fingers to stray between them to the warm moist little nut of her anus.
With his fingernail he tickled the donut-shaped muscle which ringed its entrance. Then he moved his hand a little lower down.
Connie felt a wave of disgust sweep over her as he stroked her asshole. She found herself hoping that she didn't smell to bad there. She wasn't sure whether she had showered since the last time she had moved her bowels. The thought of this evil man probing her asshole was horrifying to her. That was the most private part of her body. It simply was unfair for him to invade and defile that last vestige of privacy.
Now his fingers were exploring the moist length of her tight young pussy, not venturing inside, but contenting themselves with stroking the pouting pink lips which were already coated with a thick honey like moisture. Connie wished that the tingling, burning itch would stop so that she could concentrate on hating Edward. But somehow keeping her thoughts clear and her emotions cold was beginning to require more and more of her will.
She pulled forward slightly as Edward gently began stroking her asshole once again. But she moved back immediately at his barked command to "stay put". His probing finger was becoming more insistent now, insinuating itself into the tight rubbery brown opening.
Connie felt her stomach turning at the thought of what he was doing to her. She wanted to beg him to stop, to promise him anything else. But she knew that it would be hopeless. His finger continued its relentless exploration of her tightly closed anus.
Then, suddenly, he jabbed it forward, forcibly separating the moist rubbery lips of her asshole. The anal sphincter opened to accept his finger as far as the first knuckle. Then the ring of muscle closed tightly around it. Slowly twisting his finger back and forth, Edward worked it all the way inside. By now his cock was so hard it ached, and he longed to bury it in the tight opening.
The pain of his finger's sudden entry brought a scream to Connie's lips, but she managed to keep it in. She was sure that this sadist would react to her suffering by hurting her more. So she did her best to conceal the pain that she felt. When he pulled his finger from her anus a moment later, she was sure that she had done the right thing.
But Edward wasn't finished with the tight brown slit. He climbed quickly onto the platform and crawled toward Connie's nude body, the scarlet tip of his swollen prick preceding him by eight inches. Without wasting any more time, he kneed his way up behind her and pulled her ass cheeks roughly apart with his hands. The sight of the brown eye winking up at him from between her soft round cheeks brought a sparkling drop of lubricating fluid from the tip of his prick. He rubbed it quickly over the satiny surface of his swollen purple cockhead and then speared forward, bringing it into electric contact with the soft brown skin of her rectum. With one swift forward he buried the first two inches of his hotly palpitating penis in the clasping warmth of the young policewoman's ass.
This time Connie couldn't contain the whine of pain and humiliation which tore from her lips at the sudden intrusion of her asshole. She had never heard of such a vile and disgusting act. And the pain was intense. It felt as though his cock – that vile obscene instrument of humiliating torture – was actually going to tear her apart, leaving her poor little asshole in tatters. She began to sob and moan as he sawed methodically into her.
Connie's sobs were turning Edward on like he had never been turned on before. The fact that she was a policewoman, together with her obvious discomfort about anything sexual, had brought his cock to painfully swollen erection. He knew that it wouldn't be long before he popped his load into her writhing asshole. His only regret was that he wouldn't be able to see her face when he blasted off into her warmly caressing anal depths. But he could picture it. It would be distorted with pain and horror, like it had been when he was punching her around before.
The memory was bringing to a boil the pot of semen in the swaying sack of nuts that slapped against her flowered pussy lips with each instroke. He could feel the creamy moisture of her cunt coating his scrotum and he knew that in spite of her horror she was being aroused, too. The only one who didn't know it was the bitch herself.
He drove his cock rhythmically in and out of her, feeling his load of hot cream beginning its long tortuous journey through the coiled tubes of his scrotum and up into his swollen hardon. His fingers gripped her hips like the sharp talons of an eagle, making her cry out unabashedly with each stroke. Then, at last, he felt the first spurt pushing its way past the constricting slit at the end of his bludgeoning prick. It was followed by another and another.
Connie could feel the hot viscous liquid pumping into her ass and greasing the walls of her bowel as the rutting monster behind her drove his cock deeper and deeper into her most private and innermost depths. Her humiliation was complete. He was buggering her pitilessly, assfucking her as though she was a sheep and he a farmboy who had never seen a woman in his life.
The searing pain had subsided a little, eased by the soothing warmth of his thick juices. But the shame and degradation were more than she could bear. She wished that he would finish with her and leave her alone to die, her body hopelessly violated and her honor irretrievably tarnished.
But Edward kept driving his cock into her until it became deflated. Then he moved backwards, letting it pull from her asshole with a nauseating "plop".
Connie fell forward onto the foam cushion of the platform and then rolled over, staring unseeing at the ceiling. Tears streamed unchecked from the corners of her eyes, trailing across her reddened burning cheeks and pooling on the mattress alongside her face. Well, at least it's over, she thought. Now maybe he'll let me die in peace.
But she had forgotten about Cobb who now stood over her, a drink still in his hand. He was completely naked and his cock was at attention, pointing up at the ceiling and forming a forty-five-degree angle with his taut flat belly. His entire body was covered with a fine layer of curling hair, reddish-brown in color. It looked like the coat of some prehistoric fur-bearing animal.
His pubic triangle was thicker and bushier than the rest of his body hair, and its color was almost exclusively red. The thick curling hair even grew on the shank, of his massive prick, furring the inch of cockskin closest to his body. Connie found herself staring transfixed at the hairy organ. It was long and tan like the rest of his body, but the head was a palpitating purple color and was shaped like the cap of some giant mushroom.
The mammoth hardon throbbed as Cobb's eyes traveled up and down the length of the helpless young woman's naked body. Connie thought of his cock as a cudgel with which he was about to beat her. But instead, he sat down on the platform, pushing her legs gently out of his way. Then, still holding his drink in his left hand, he lifted her legs with his right and pushed them up, bending her knees and pressing them against the soft mounds of her tits.
Connie's entire cuntal plane was exposed to him now, the lips of her pussy flowering open like the petals of a rose following a summer rain. Her feeling of humiliation was becoming more intense. She had been beaten and buggered, and now she was being opened up for this monster's inspection like a piece of meat in the market. She turned her head to one side and closed her eyes, trying to spare herself the horror of watching whatever it was that he was getting ready to do.
Cobb leaned over, bringing his face close to the drooling slash of her pussy. He inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the aroma of her excitement. He knew women. He knew their cunts and how they smelled. This is one hot little bitch, he thought. And she doesn't even know it. He snaked his tongue quickly out from between his lips and touched it tentatively to the swollen flesh of her vulva, licking and tasting the exotic juices which were already beginning to flow.
Connie, startled by the sudden flash of pleasure that swept across her naked body, opened her eyes automatically, curious as to its source. When she saw Cobb's shiny shaved head working between her thighs, she realized at once what he must be doing. It was just like that couple on the stage at the Glass Onion. Although the thought disgusted her, she couldn't account for the warm rush of pleasure that seemed to be flooding her entire being.
She sighed involuntarily as his tongue probed deeper. She couldn't understand why this man who held her prisoner and who could make her do anything that he wanted had chosen to do something which must be so unpleasant for him. He was rooting around with his tongue and nose in her vagina, undoubtedly tasting and smelling the remnants of her, urine and smearing his face with the strange juices that were flowing in such an unfamiliar fashion.
She closed her eyes in an attempt to blot the horrible sight out of her mind. But she continued to see it, even with her eyes closed. Superimposed on the vision of Cobb licking and sucking at her drooling pussy was an image of the couple that she had seen earlier that night at the Glass Onion. They were lying on the floor, slurping away at each other's loins, sipping, and apparently swallowing the hot pungent juices of each other's bodies.
She heard the same slurping sounds coming from her own crotch as Cobb wagged his tongue back and forth in a titillating, tantalizing, tickling motion. She heard a sound, as of someone moaning, "Oooooohhhhh!"
Opening her eyes, she looked around the room, trying to find out where the sound was coming from. Then, as the tip of Cobb's exploring tongue found the hardening little button of her clit, nestled snugly in its pink little hood of cuntflesh, she beard the sound again. And suddenly she realized that it was coming from her own throat. She tried to choke it back, hating herself for her weakness.
But she couldn't silence her pleasure. The excitement which had been building unsatisfied in her body ever since her adolescence was beginning to take control of her emotions. She knew that she was powerless to resist it any longer. And she knew that if the brown man were to stop and to offer her her freedom, she would be unable to walk out of the room.
The now-familiar tingling had become more intense. She felt waves of pleasure washing over her like an ocean that couldn't be stopped. His tongue tip was making little figure eights around her blood-engorged pleasure button, and her whole body was vibrating like the sympathetic strings of a sitar. Her hips began to move up and down in a rhythm as old as man – as old as woman. She brought her body up hard against his probing tongue, trying to drive it deeper between the soft folds of cuntflesh that enveloped it.
She was no longer conscious of the sounds that were coming from her tormented throat. "Ooohh. Aaaaahhhh. Mmmmmmmmm." She groaned and sighed, oblivious to anything but the heat that was building in her pussy and spreading to her belly. She could see Cobb's head bobbing up and down, like an apple in a bucket of water, as he whipped his tongue faster and faster, churning her juices to thick creamy butter.
"Ooooh. Noooooh. Pleeeeease don't stop," she wailed. "I think I'm going to explode. Oh, no. Please help me. Oh, sweet Lord, please help me. Oh please help me. I can't stand it. Oh, Loooord."
That was the moment that Cobb had been waiting for. She was going to orgasm any second. He quickly turned over his glass, the drink long since gone. Picking up the ice cube which remained, he brought it quickly to the mouth of her pussy.
Then, just as he began to taste the first flood of aromatic juices pouring out from between her cuntal lips, he pressed the ice cube gently against her slash, moving it quickly up and down the length of the pink pulsating slit.
"Ooooohhhh," she wailed. "I'm explooodiiing." Cobb continued to suck and lick her sex, bringing her to the top of a craggy tortuous everest of orgasmic delight. A series of colored lights were flashing on and off inside her head and she felt completely detached from the realities of the world around her. She was conscious only of the powerful forces which were carrying her off on the pink cotton-candy cloud of her first orgasm. She screamed and sobbed, panted and wailed, groaned and moaned, as wave upon wave of delicious ecstasy washed over her. Every cell of her body was alive. Every fiber of her being vibrated, undulating with the speed of light and the force of an atomic explosion. She was sure that the end of the world had come and that she was about to be destroyed in the cosmic explosion of some incredible super-nova.
Then, at last, she was past the peak and Cobb's still-slavering tongue led her, slipping and sliding, down the gentle slope of anticlimax. She lay panting and moaning, a willing subject at last for his oral ministrations. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, the agonizing ecstasy began to subside. Connie felt her consciousness drifting away on a cloud of relieved frustration and slipped mercifully into a deep and undisturbable slumber.
She was totally unaware of the uses to which Edward and Cobb put her unconscious body as she slept. Some of these she wouldn't have thought possible. But, of course, she had a lot to learn.