Midnight.
Crystal walked her apartment alone in an apprehensive mood. Her nerves felt tight. It was not the same thrill as the dangerous game she'd played in San Diego, across the continent, years before. This time she had a sense of dark foreboding. Some of the brightest computer minds in the world were right here in New York. Her company, A-C, might have some security checks she didn't even know about. If they ran an inventory on the entire memory of Domino's 1100, they might get curious about the "Starshell" tape.
She'd sent Leaf and Sydney out on the town to get better acquainted. Sydney had eyes for her, of course, but was smart enough to leave the sex decisions in her hands. He'd probably take Leaf to his empty apartment for the night – and to work the next day to start her on the payroll as one of his secretaries. He knew if he did what Crystal wanted that he'd get more sex from her, but not otherwise.
Crystal stood on her terrace, staring out across the city. Most of the time the city exhilarated her with its bigness, its boldness, and its quickness. It was a place worthy of her own superior brain. But some nights, especially late like this, she felt like a scared little girl in the embrace of the giant beast that the city was. The streets were also a place of aggression, robbery and sometimes even quick death. She shivered in the fall, night air.
An orange light burned in one of the apartments almost directly across from hers. This late most of the lights in the banks of windows were out giving the impression of blank, staring eyes, but that one apartment light seemed always to be on. She wondered who lived there.
She turned quickly from the terrace and went to bed. It wouldn't do to acquire nerves and dream fearful fantasies at the beginning of this most important adventure that required her utmost attention… She had rested only a few moments when her computer terminal came to life with a ghostly clatter of typewriter keys. She heard the sound faintly in her living room. At the same moment a red warning light lit at her bed and an ominous soft bell chimed.
Crystal always slept naked. She didn't bother to put anything on as she bounded out of bed and raced to the living room. She certainly expected no message in the middle of the night. Were the technicians working on the Domino this late? She had programmed the memory so that she'd receive a warning if there were ever a question about "Starshell".
She flipped on the side light and stared at the yellow roll of paper in the typewriter roller.
"Hello, Starshell…"
She almost fainted right then and there. Her heart pounded. There was only one human in the universe who knew about "Starshell" and that was she. If anybody else ever used that term she was in deep trouble.
Ding, ding, ding. The keyboard shifted the roller down several spaces. Another message was about to come in. Then the type head clattered as if a ghost figure, invisible, sat there and typed.
"Wake up, Starshell. We need to talk."
Absolute panic gripped her body. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rush out of her apartment, rush out of the city, run, run, run, as she'd run once before. She stood there, sickened, shattered, swaying. She froze for long moments. There was only the sighing of the nightwind on her terrace outside.
She got hold of herself. She had to find out who was talking to her. They already knew who she was and where she was, so it was too late to run and hide.
Domino had turned on her machine.
"Who?" she typed and waited. Then she realized she had to sign off the message for the computer to handle it. She wrote: "Starshell".
"Darkstar" came the reply. The message went on. "I know about a brilliant woman computer scientist from San Diego, Christine Lockwood. She stole one hundred thousand dollars from the Westair CORP. They are still looking for her. Does this interest Starshell?" She sat there transfixed for long moments. It was the end of the line, doom and disaster. Somehow she'd been traced all the way across the continent. Her insides knotted and tears came to her eyes. For her it was not the beginning, but the end – prison – disgrace…
She sat there completely destroyed. At last she typed.
"Starshell is interested." What else could she do?
Then her telephone rang. "DarkStar" wanted more intimate contact with "Starshell" than through the Domino computer. She answered, listened, and gave her replies in monosyllables. Then she hung up and walked, stunned, uncaring, still weeping, to her big glass doors. She threw them back and stepped through, going out onto her terrace, naked. She turned on the small spotlights and stood exposed, staring at the apartment across the street with the orange light, with a bitter gall in her throat, showing off her body to him and anybody else who might be looking out at this hour, for long moments.
It was deeply humiliating, like being made to perform a strip tease. She knew that hot eyes through binoculars drank in every aspect of her womanly charms. If his binocs were any good he could count her pubic hairs, she knew. Then she had to turn and present her naked, rear. That was even harder because she had a deep fear of anal sex interests.
Tits and her ass. He got the whole show. She went inside again, still following instructions. Moments later, wearing only a thin robe which her tormentor insisted had to be "sexy", she rode down to the ground floor of her apartment building in the service elevator, stopped it, and sneaked to the lobby, which was unattended. When a dark figure from the outside buzzed, she rang him in and returned to the elevator. She turned out the lights and stood facing the rear of the elevator, as instructed.
DarkStar came up behind her and whispered: "Keep facing the rear." He started the service elevator up and then turned. He left the light off. He stood behind her, gave a soft chuckle of triumph, and felt under her arms to squeeze her breasts. She gasped and started to struggle.
"Just stand still, Christine," he hissed. "It's a lot better than five years in prison and a lifelong felon's record."
"I won't be fondled," she shot back. His hands were hot and heavy on her breasts, through the robe.
"I think you will, Christine. I've got you dead to rights. I went to prison on account of you, and I've been looking forward to this meeting for a long time."
She knew who it was then and her heart sank. The programmer from WestAir, Gunson – no Gunnar Strand, the Swedish young man who – who…
Ohmigod!
"I'm a little tougher than I was back then four years ago, bitch. Back then I was hypnotized by green eyes, big tits, and long blonde hair…"
His fingers dug inside the robe to fondle her naked tits.
"I wanted your sweet young body and let you play circles around me, Christine. I never got your body. I got a year in jail and a felon's record. They thought we were in it together. How does that scratch you?"
She just couldn't handle this, those hot hands squeezing and manipulating her breasts. The body signals were all wrong, feeling the good shots of sex desire against the shattered destruction of her nerves.
"My name's Crystal," she snapped. "Crystal Locke, not Christine Lockwood." Then she gasped as the fingers dug into her breasts. "I'm sorry, Gun – Gunnar. I did it for my father. He was dying of cancer. You know…"
"I know all that sad story. There's my sad story. A year in prison – and trying to get a job as a convicted felon later. Then I got smart and did what you did. Changed my name, hid out across the country. Then I got smarter and looked for you."
"How did you find me?"
Anything to get her mind off her misery, mental and physical. Those hands gave her nipples pleasure-torture.
He chuckled. "Used the computer, what else. I used some of the latest work on information theory, specifically probability statistics. I asked the computer: 'Mr. Computer, given this girl, with these characteristics running and hiding from the law – where would you go, what would you do?' The computer answered – and here I am."
The elevator stopped at her floor. He swung her around and lifted her easily onto his shoulder. He was a big man, about thirty-two, strong and determined. She gasped as he slung her on his shoulder like a fireman saving a fire victim.
"Don't pick me up!" she squealed. "I'm a person, not a child."
"You're a luscious fuck I never had," he grunted.
Gunnar Strand had changed a lot, indeed, since she'd first known him. Become bestial. There was nothing she could do but allow herself to be toted down her hall on his shoulder, naked in the thin robe like some girl slave of an ancient Roman.
A couple came out of one of the apartments and strolled down the hall to stare at her on Gunnar's shoulder in astonishment.
"Oh, h-h-hullo, Crystal," said the man.
"Hello, Mr. Donaldson," she answered, blushing and furious.
The elegantly dressed Gunnar tipped his felt hat and marched right on by, enjoying her humiliation. She would've kicked her leg and screamed, but that would have only emphasized her helplessness and made it better for him. The other couple went on, with New York tolerance of human foibles.
In her apartment, Gunnar threw her on the bed and calmly tied her wrists to the headboard.
"You say there's nobody here. That nobody's coming. That the girl I've seen staying here is out for the night. I plan to check first. And to make sure you don't grab a weapon and sneak up behind me."
"Dammit, Gunnar, we're civilized! You don't tie a woman up like some bitch dog, and…"
Gunnar said: "Brilliant, yes. Sophisticated, yes. Civilized, no. Not me. Towards you."
She got her first look at him and what she saw made her shiver. He did look like some citified Dracula, impeccable in Bill Blass coordinates, but a leering savagery showing underneath. There was something altogether Nazi about the glitter in those moody blue eyes. His prison time had surely brutalized him.
He left the room. She heard him searching the apartment carefully, and it took him a long time. When he returned he'd mixed himself a drink.
"Well, Gunnar, what do you plan to do with me," she said. She was beginning to react to this disaster, thinking up plans…
He was drinking a Scotch and soda. He took out an ice cube and tossed it on her navel, exposed in the robe. She jerked and twisted and tossed it off. He merely flicked a second ice cube on her belly. The ice burned.
"Oh, Gunnar, dammit," she protested. She dared not get rid of the second ice cube, or he might dump the whole bucket on her. Oh, but it did burn her belly. He was torturing her, humiliating her…
He sat there like the computer brain that he was, pondering a mathematical solution. She knew he was as bright as she was, and, since prison, probably dangerous.
"That poor kid I used to be. All brain, no body. Married to a nice girl, who divorced me of course when I went to jail. That poor bright-stupid kid, victimized by green eyes and big tits that he never got to fuck. What do you think I should do to you?"
"I suppose you would fuck me," she said with a shudder. She would be lucky if that was all he did to her. "May I be untied?"
"No, not right away." He took the ice cube off her belly, where it had melted a little, and frozen a cold spot. He shoved it in her cunt while she squirmed and gasped.
"Oh, now, Gunnar, this is absolutely ridiculous. Oh, Gunnar, my cunt. Oh, Oh, Oh."
"Happy Birthday to you, dear Crystal."
"Oh, Oh, Oh."
It was so cold that she felt the opposite. It burned her like a hot fire in her soft, tender sex passage. She twisted and squirmed.
"How about six more."
He wanted her to beg. She begged. "Oh, Gunnar, don't, please don't."
"Fuck me, Gunnar, please fuck me," he said. "I'm a worthless girl, but I'm crazy for you to fuck me."
She hastily repeated the message, word for word: "Fuck me, Gunnar, please fuck me," she said. "I'm a worthless girl, but I'm crazy for you to fuck me."
He rewarded her by taking the fire out of her guts. She sighed in relief as he fingered the cold cube from her body.
"Are you turning me over to the police, Gunnar?"
She knew that WestAir would have her extradited to California and push the trial, too, if he turned her in. If he did, she'd had it.
"Why would I do that, dear heart?" he said. "You're a computer crook, unconvicted. I'm a computer crook, convicted, though innocent. We're both under aliases and a long way from the last job. This suggests that the next theft be much bigger and better."
She gasped as she strained at her bonds. "Gunnar, the only reason I'm setting up Domino is to pay back the hundred thousand. There are ways that won't hurt them much. I want to return what I stole and clear my name with WestAir. I don't want to get in deeper."
"Well, well, such Disney sweetness from the ice blonde! Deeper? Let's see how deep you really are."
He leaned forward and plunged his fingers into her cunt.
She had to lift up her belly to this outrageous invasion of her sex organ and give a tremendous gasp at the friction of his fingers. It gave her a sexy if unwelcome thrill. At the same time she was smart enough to see that her luscious body saved her for the moment. He might've killed her or roughed her up. He might've simply sent the police to get his revenge from the distance. He'd been hung up on her good looks before prison, and he still was.
"Ah, now, Gunnar, that's no way to treat a fellow computer th-thief!"
"Thief? Huh-uh, not you, Crystal. Not an honest thief. You stole that money for your father and sent him off to one of the Scandinavian countries to live his last two years in comfort. You figured that WestAir took the last ten years of his life, and that's what you charged them."
"Oh, Gunnar, your ha-ha-hands!" she gasped as he continued to jack her off.
"He was broke, miserable, suffering. Years ago WestAir was WestShip and he worked with asbestos. So did a lot of men during the war and after. He got lung cancer from the asbestos fibers, but the company disowned responsibility. You made 'em pay."
"It d-d-doesn't matter. Ohhh." She writhed at his fierce use of her box. "He's been dead t-t-two years now."
"But the statue of limitations hasn't run out on your theft, Crystal. They want to nail you. So does the government, because they're death on the white collar crimes these days. So you plan to steal a little here and a little there, money a big company won't miss. Then you pay WestAir. They'll drop charges to get their money back. That's the kind of thief you are."
"I have to – ohhh. I have to think of my future now."
"Not to worry, dear heart. I can take care of that."
He took out his hand, stood up, and began to undress. She lay there panting helplessly.
"Oh, now, Gunnar. This is wrong, to tie me up and just f-f-fuck me like some tart."
"Oh, ho! It's class you want!" He jumped onto the bed naked, his weight making it creak. "Does your vibrator have class?" He picked up the device that still lay there.
She was hot, sexed up, and yet it bothered her intensely to have this twisted, brilliant man use her.
"Gunnar, don't put a machine in me."
He merely smiled and turned on the vibrator, then ran it along her wet, pink cunt lips. It buzzed against her pelvic bone and the vibrations seemed to dig inside of her. She stared down her naked belly in horror and saw him violate her with it even as she felt it. The thrill of that big, artificial cock penetrating her tender vagina made her thrust up with a wounded sound: "Oh!"
It was one thing to use a vibrator for your own pleasure, another to have it used on you against your will. She felt it work up her cunt that was swollen and ready from his prior finger-plunging. When she'd taken its smooth thickness and the vibrations burned against her clit she just had to thrust up in fuck motions.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"Well, well. The Scandinavian Ice Princess is human after all. She gets as cunt wet as any silly high school frump."
"Dammit, Gunnar. Oh, meeeeee," she wailed. It felt so good, reaming in and out of her cunt, buzzing. As she took the action, she couldn't help but think of how she herself had used Leaf's cunt almost the same way a few hours before.
She thought she would only be getting a short reaming before he shoved his big cock into her body. It hung between his legs, hard and ready. With the heat and good sex feeling he'd already worked up in her with his masturbation and the vibrator, she almost wished he would.
But he merely used the vibrator on her, twisting it and using it expertly as she went out of her mind.
"Oh this is silly – that dumb th-th-thing. Ahhh, Gunnar, why? Ohhhhh."
"I worshipped you, punk kid that I was. I hardly dared think of you as having a cunt and an animal body. It pleases me to see your highness fuck a piece of plastic with a battery in it."
She went dizzy. She got hotter. She wailed and bucked and begged for mercy and fucked avidly on the vibrator as he continued to drive her up the wall with pleasure from it. There was simply no resisting that man-made prick. A pleasing slick of moisture covered her lovely, nude body while her platinum hair fluffed and floated in beautiful disarray. Finally the ecstasy was too much for her.
"Gunnar – I – I -have to – toooooo…" she sang.
"Give it up, bitch. Let's see your hot little belly waste itself on plastic."
She grunted and dug in her heels. She twisted against her tied wrists, lifted her butt, and paid off for him. She felt her cunt throbs strong and powerful on the vibrator. It was humiliating to be used this way, but she had to give up long, luscious throbs of excited girlhood in tribute. She finally tapered and fell back in relief.
"So I – I'm human, Gunnar. Now may I be untied?"
"Soon… soon…"
Through all of this exercise his hazel eyes had gotten a dreamy, faraway look. He planted two powerful thighs under her armpits and brought his cock in front of her face.
"Little girl want a lollipop?"
It was eerie and highly sexual to see the big prick loom, to feel her chin grasped, and then to taste the cock meat of that huge blade. It was dark and powerful looking. He had dark good looks and his stiff prodder was as menacing as a blade of steel, a dagger, might've been. She sucked. His powerful body shuddered in exquisite delight.
Her thoughts followed his… Way back then, at WestAir, and later in prison, how often must he have dreamed of forcing his thick cock into her curving curling lips. Well, he had it now! Her spirits had revived. If she wasn't to be thrown to the police she still might save herself. She might be able to use her strong and beautiful body to burn the sex out of him and escape somehow. She was as smart as he – if she kept her head she could escape, find other cities…
He took his cock out of her mouth. It was covered with her silken saliva. He carefully rubbed the soft gloss on each of her cheeks and his cock felt like a flaming baton, he was so hot. His rod throbbed in pre-orgasmic ecstasy and he moaned.
"I don't know whether to fuck in your mouth or squirt it all over that beautiful face, the soft skin, those smooth shoulders," he told her.
She didn't care. She was getting hot again. It was a powerful cock, loaded for action, and her first orgasm made her hotter.
He pulled her up so he could reach down and palm her big tits as he fucked into her mouth. She felt his heat, smelled him, tasted his fierce cock bunting in her mouth a mile a minute. She could tell by his almost continuous throbs of pleasure that he relived a dream he'd had a thousand times.
"Oh, baby, you are sucking, sucking…"
She began to moan and keen, helping him get it off, aware of the fierce pressure in his groin. He came so fast it caught her by surprise.
"Oh… now… princess!" he cried softly.
He pulled his cock out of her mouth, red and gleaming, the dark prick hole expanding. Suddenly it blossomed white and his body hot jissum exploded in her face, simmering cum on her nose, lips, eyes, and in her hair.
On instinct she opened her mouth and swallowed the jerking, spurting prick, which acted like a live animal with a life of its own. He gave huge groans of pleasure and seeded her mouth and throat, jerking and keening.
"Right in your mouth, Crystal. Take it… drink it."
"Mmmmmmmm."
She felt his hot, creamy butter slide down her throat, coating it with his manhood. She could almost chew the powerful sperm-loaded semen. She'd never tasted such virile sperm. It set her cunt on fire. He held her head, strained happily, and shot it all off in gush after gush. She felt a tiny surge of triumph. He had not really wanted to spurt in her mouth. He was a perverse man who took pride in acting different from others. He would've preferred to wash her face in it.
She thought they would rest then, perhaps even talk. But he picked up the vibrator and used her cunt again, slowly, maliciously, crooning. No one had ever laid such a sex trip on her body. He seemed to know exactly what to do to bring her right up to her peak where her crazed belly died for relief of orgasm and then drop her back, only to tease and thrill her up to pre-orgasm once again.
At last she could stand it no longer.
"Please – let me cum. Oh, please, puh-leeze!" she begged. She was so hot that she wanted to fill her lungs with air and scream in hot-bellied frustration.
He suddenly shoved his head between her legs and gave her a furious bite right on her cunt, then jabbed his tongue on her clit.
"Yeeeeeeeeee!" she screamed and thrust her belly up and exploded with incredible fervor, throbbing, gasping, slobbering, twisting, a half-mad creature of turned-on sexuality who could hardly stand the sweet stabs of ecstasy that burned in her as she gave up powerful cunt spasms.
"Ah, oh, ah, ah, ah," she moaned, and reached total surrender.
He started on her breasts that he'd all but ignored up until now.
"Don't do that. Now, Gunnar, don't," she insisted.
She was all but fucked out, yet the continuous sex merely made her hotter and more sensitive. Her tits, her nipples, were virgin grounds. He wisely knew that some women could orgasm from breast stimulation alone, if their bodies were already hotly sexed up. Some women could glow and burn for hours, to exhaustion, and she was one of them.
He was too smart to overload her exquisitely sensitive beauties. He gave her the gentlest of tongue play, the most insidious of teeth-nibbling, and used his saliva as a silken, slightly stinging honey to keep her nipples bathed, and stroked until they almost literally throbbed.
Down he would reach to give her clit a few strokes. She was cuntsore now, and yet her clitoris was swollen with rich feeling from his total sex use of her.
"Ha. Hee. What are you doing to me? This is ridiculous. I won't… oh, I won't… ahhh. Oh, No, No, No," she went, moaning, tossing her head in her distress at the pleasure.
Her body now felt like one massive and aching clit, white hot, incredibly tender, fully open and crammed with girl juices to be harvested. When he pressed the vibrator, slick with her own cunt juices, into her mouth, she mumbled and sucked it just like it was a prick. Anything… anything to relieve that damnable, extraordinary pressure-pleasure on her stiff, sucked nipples.
When she thought she was surely going to faint dead away into a final orgasm as irritating to the over-used tissues as it was eager, he spread her legs and finally – oh, finally – fucked his big cock into her.
"Yeeee. Fuck me! Fuck me!" she begged.
If she could only die for him once more and be done with it. She felt they'd used up all the pleasure there was left in the world.
In and out, his big cock at last rocked into its ultimate target, bringing her so much satisfaction that she was sure he was boring a hole right up her backbone. Her slippery cunt began to cum almost from his first grunt-thrusts.
"Uh, uh, uh, fucking you, doll."
"I – there!" she gasped in gratitude.
Her cunt gloved on his cock, squeezing it, and she went dizzy and faint with orgasmic pleasure. She forgot who she was or where she was and gave up spasms of glorious pleasure as she felt a big, tight prick reaming her belly to happiness.
"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned.
She finished her orgasm run and hung under him in a strange, new erotic place. Her belly was totally used up from all the action, and yet it would not quit. No sooner had she finished than she felt a new thrill building behind the ones that had gone before.
Her eyes widened. She stared up into his face. He stared down into her face with a grimace-grin of ecstatic pleasure. It was like a man's face frozen in time as a roller coaster zips down its high fall.
He hugged her body and made her take cock and she began to cum again. She had reached that stage that you usually only heard about, a continuous female orgasm, from a cunt, clit and belly so – stimulated that every sex nerve and impulse was released.
"I-can't-stop!" she cried, fearing for her body and her sanity.
"Give it all up. Die with it," he ordered.
She shivered in pleasure and squeezed his cock like some dumb machine that turned on every few seconds. Her sensitivity in her cunt and breasts was unbelievable. His cock taught her what it was to be a woman in a way she'd never dreamed possible.
She fell off, sighing gratefully, pleasantly numb, euphoric and glowing, but finished.
His body, sealed to hers, was suddenly still.
"I lived for this," he said quietly, his face inches from hers. She felt him stiffen in pre-orgasm glazing. Then he gave a lion's roar.
"Seeding… youuuuuuu!"
The walls shook and the big prick spurted in her cunt. Flash after flash of boiling sperm inundated her belly and he sang in roaring joy, hugging her and exploding gush after gush deep inside her. She couldn't believe a man had that much spunk in him.
She whined. She felt a new shuddering rush. She lifted under him and went on with her continuous orgasm, throbbing once more, against the mighty, spending prick as it wasted her belly with savoring chunks of delight. He whined and cooed and gasped as his pleasure seemed to make him want to jump out of his skin.
"Take it… all…" he ordered.
She let it happen, no longer caring, letting his spunk run out of her cunt while he spun new juices inside of her. She felt there was nothing left to give but her cunt still throbbed as long as he spent.
It had to end. It ended. She sank into a dazed doze, so worn out she didn't mind the weight of his body still on top of her. She thought with amused irony as she sank down, "The sonofabitch never kissed me once!" and then she slept.
He moved like a drunken man, staggering up and off the fucked girl. He looked down at the bed. It looked like the morning after a wild honeymoon.
"To think I was once impotent," he chuckled, reaching for his clothes, his body glowing with good feeling in every pore.