Tim Huntley sat back against one of Judy's big overstuffed pillows, thumbed absently through the morning paper. Never any news worth reading, he thought, always the same old crap: wars and bombings and riots and murders. It seemed that his whole life had consisted of bad news and violence; he didn't need to know about the greater violence going on in the world at large. He had never been happy, he thought, never in his life until now, until he met Judy.
Judy, he thought, yawning and stretching, laying back against the soft pillow. His body was tired, pleasantly tired – they had made love practically all night, falling asleep only in the last few minutes before dawn, when they were completely exhausted, completely filled with one another. They had slept then, for a few hours, locked in one another's arms, then had awakened and made love yet again. Now Judy had gone off to the store, to buy eggs for their late breakfast, and Tim had nothing to do but relax and contemplate their new love.
What a woman she was! Tim smiled as he thought back over the course of the previous evening, remembering the greasy barbecued beef at the Taco Nito, his depression and feeling of hopelessness. It had all changed so suddenly, from the first moment he had seen Judy's face in that bar. He smiled as he recalled the conversation that had started at the Gay Paree and then continued in her apartment, felt his prick stir to life at the recollection of their fiery lovemaking. Yes, he thought, I've finally found it, finally found the woman who can make me happy, and now that I've found her you bet your sweet ass I'm going to enjoy her.
Tim heard footsteps sound in the hall, the clicking of the doorknob as the door opened. "Hi, baby," he called out.
"Hi yourself," said a deep masculine voice.
Tim turned his head sharply to see Steve Paul and Slackjaws standing over him, grinning. Jay's men. He had forgotten almost entirely about Jay, forgotten that he and Judy still worked for him – the gangster had seemed so far away last night. Fear rose in his throat as he looked at these two grinning hoods, the one smooth and polished, the other massive and brutal-looking. Judy had disobeyed Snyder's orders, he remembered, had turned down her boss' friend in order to spend the evening with Tim. Were these men here for revenge?
"What do you guys want?" he said, his voice trembling.
"Nothing much," said Steve Paul. "We just want to have a little talk with your girl friend, see what she thinks of our new pet. Mr. Nelson," he said, turning to the muscleman, "why don't you call for Ambush?"
Slackjaws let out a whistle, and the biggest dog Tim ever seen came bounding through the door. He looked like the dogs you see in cartoons, wading through the snow with little barrels of wine tied around their necks. Tim backed away as the dog came toward him.
"It's all right, Timmy-boy," said Steve. "He's perfectly friendly. See?" The gangster began scratching the dog's head, and the dog responded by rolling over on his back, his legs in the air, his huge tongue lolling on the carpet. "Quite a tongue," grinned Steve. "Don't you think?"
Tim nodded, crept cautiously over to the dog, began to rub his stomach. The immense animal lay perfectly still except for the steady swishing of his tail, submitting himself to Tim's touch. Well, thought Tim, the dog seems friendly enough; I guess there's no harm here.
"Listen, Timmy-boy," said Steve ingratiatingly, "we'd sort of like to talk to Judy alone, you know how it is. Anyhow, Jay wants to talk with you, give you some friendly advice."
Tim's eyes widened with fear. What did Jay want with him? What did Paul mean, "friendly advice"? Was he going to be fired for being with Judy; fired, or something even worse? And what were they going to do to her? He knew the dog had something to do with it, but he couldn't imagine exactly what; surely they were not here as dog-lovers.
"Does Jay want to see me right now?" Tim said.
"Right now," said Paul; his voice turning hard. "Immediately."
"OK," Tim said, standing up. "I'm on my way."
"Good boy. You know Jay doesn't like to be kept waiting. Oh, and Timmy," he called as Tim started out the door, "do me a favor and tell Jay you ran into us, will you?"
"Sure, Mr. Paul," said Tim. He closed the door behind him and walked down the hallway, making as much noise as he could. When he reached the end of the hallway he took off his shoes, tiptoed back to the door of Judy's apartment. He put his ear to the door, straining to hear the voices inside.
"… forget the gun," Steve Paul was saying. "That kid's gone. He's not dumb enough to come back and try and give us trouble. He's just a little errand boy – did you see how he jumped when I mentioned Jay's name?"
"Yeah," said Slackjaws, "I saw. I guess you're right; I just like to be ready, that's all."
"Well if you want to be ready," said Paul, "put the gun away and concentrate on Ambush. He's the one who's going to be doing all the work."
"Not all the work," said Slackjaws. Both men laughed.
"Right," said Paul. "Not all of it. This is going to be quite amusing." Already he was thinking ahead, savoring the thought of Judy spread-eagled on the bed with the dog between her legs, lapping at her cunt with his long tongue. Yes, this would be quite a scene.
"Yeah," said Slackjaws. "First we'll warm her up real good, get her ready for the dog, and then Ambush'll take over. Boy, this oughta be something!"
"Take over," agreed Paul, "and how!" He could hardly wait to see Judy writhe with pain as the dog's huge prick tore into her, split her apart. Other people's pain, particularly womens' pain, was Steve Paul's laughter. "Then when Ambush is through," he said, delighted, "we'll go over and take care of that other bastard, that cop, Kramer."
"Right," said Slackjaws, his small cruel brain racing with anticipation. "What a day, huh?"
"What a day indeed," said Paul. "Two major problems taken care of, and both so simply." He chuckled. "OK," he said, lowering his voice, "let's shut up. She'll be back any minute, and we want to be sure to surprise her."
Tim stood at the door, paralyzed with fear and rage. He wanted to smash down the door and charge those two hoods, throw them both out the tenth story window, but he knew he could never pull it off. He would just have to warn Judy, then get someone to help them. It was the only way.
He would have to hurry; she should have been back already. He ran to the elevator, saw that it was waiting on the ground floor, decided that it would take too long to get there. He ran to the exit, took ten flights of stairs three steps at a time, burst through the front door and out onto the sidewalk. Desperately he strained his vision in both directions, looking up and down the street, but Judy was nowhere to be seen. He thought of leaving a note in her mailbox, realized he had no pencil and no paper. Then he saw a small boy sitting on the front steps of the next building, playing with a yo-yo. "Hey kid!" he yelled. "Want to earn a dollar?"
"Sure," said the boy, getting up and coming over to where Tim stood. "What do I have to do?"
Tim gave the kid a dollar, described Judy and told him the message. "Whatever you do," he said, "don't leave until she gets the message. Make sure she gets it, OK?"
Good, thought Tim, that's taken care of; now to get some help. That cop, he thought, Kramer, that's the guy I need. I can warn him about Steve and Slackjaws, then I can get him to help me get us out of this. Kramer, he thought, Kramer: he's the man.
"Johnny," came a voice from across the street, "Johnny! Get over here this minute!"
The boy stopped his yo-yoing, looked up and spotted his mother. "I can't, Ma!" he yelled. "I'm working!"
"I'll work you," screamed his mother. "Get over here, now!"
Johnny reached into his pocket, felt the crinkly dollar bill. Well, he thought, I've already got the dollar. I guess I can watch from the window, catch the girl before she gets into the building. He got up, looked down the street. No girl.
"Johnny!" yelled his mother.
"OK, Ma, OK," he replied. "I'm coming."
A few minutes later Judy came down the street, carrying a carton of eggs and some cigarettes for Tim. She stopped to look up at the sky, at the two puffy white clouds that were drifting past the tops of the buildings. It was so beautiful, she thought. Everything had been beautiful since last night, since she had met Tim; now she could hardly remember a time when she hadn't been happy. Maybe it was true, maybe they could get away from Jay and go off somewhere, to Italy, or even just to San Francisco; anywhere but L.A. or Bisbee, Arizona. And even if they couldn't get away just now, still working for Jay wouldn't be so bad as long as she had Tim. Yes, she thought, everything was different now.
She went into the building, pressed the elevator button, rode to the tenth floor. There was a mirror in the elevator; Judy carefully brushed the hair from her eyes, tucked her blouse in. She wanted to look nice for Tim, always.
The elevator stopped. Judy got out, walked down the hall to her apartment, her heart starting to beat faster as she thought of Tim waiting for her inside. They would have some breakfast then make love again, maybe all day long. Oh, it was going to be good!
She unlocked the door, walked into the living room, saw that Tim was not there. Oh well, she thought, he's probably in the bathroom. "Tim?" she called, but there was no answer. Maybe he's gone back to bed. They hadn't had much sleep last night, it was true, she thought, smiling to herself; he's probably tired.
"Tim?" she called again, but there was still no answer.
She walked into the bedroom and froze with terror as she saw the grinning faces of Steve Paul and Slackjaws. They were sitting on the edge of her bed, between them the biggest dog Judy had ever seen, heaving and panting, spit dripping from his tongue. What were they doing there? Judy had heard stories about how Jay "punished" any girl who disobeyed him, and she could think of no other reason for their being in her apartment. But her fears for herself quickly subsided as she realized that Tim was nowhere to be seen. What had they done to him? Was he even now lying on the bathroom floor, beaten unconscious, or worse?
"What do you want? Where's Tim?"
"Now Miss Burton," said Steve Paul, his mouth contorted in a vicious grin, "is that any way to welcome your friends and associates? You haven't even said hello to us."
"Never mind that crap," said Judy. "You guys aren't here to pay a social call, I know that. What have you done with Tim? If you've hurt him, I'll…"
"You'll what?" snapped Steve Paul. "What will you do, Miss Burton, slap us? Pull our hair?" Slackjaws snickered. "No, Miss Burton," continued Paul, his voice becoming milder, "I don't think you'll do anything to us. We're your friends, after all. We've only come to share a little pleasure with you."
"Yeah," said Slackjaws, grinning, "a little pleasure."
"As for your young friend," Paul went on, "he's perfectly fine. As a matter of fact, he's on his way to see Jay right now, to receive a little fatherly advice. Jay just loves to give fatherly advice, doesn't he, Mr. Nelson?"
"Yeah," said Slackjaws, without the slightest idea of what Paul was talking about.
Judy didn't know whether to believe them or not. What did they mean, fatherly advice? Was Tim going to be fired, or as they said, only warned? It might not be so bad if he was fired, she thought. Then I could quit too and we could get out of here, go someplace else to live. We'll find some kind of work, she thought; we'll make it somehow. It might be rough, particularly at first, but we'll make it.
Slackjaws coughed, jerking her thoughts back to the present, to the two thugs sitting in her bedroom. She was going to be punished, she knew that, and probably punished brutally – Steve Paul's imagination was something of a legend, as was Slackjaws' strength – but she felt she could take anything they could give her so long as Tim was all right. Then, when they were through…
"All right," she said. "Get on with it." She had no idea of what they had in mind, but she wasn't going to make it any worse by putting up a struggle. They would have no help from her.
Steve Paul was disappointed. She was too passive, too tractable – he much preferred his hobby when the objects of his cruelty put up some sort of fight. Besides, they usually fucked better when they were scared, he thought. Shocks of sex began to move through his body as he recalled the many girls he had tortured, how they had screamed and begged for mercy, and how finally they all succumbed, excited much more by the violence being done to their bodies than they ever could have been by normal foreplay. Steve looked hungrily at Judy, taking her whole body in with one avaricious stare. This was a lovely girl, he thought, one of the loveliest he had ever seen, second perhaps only to Cindy, and even then… His passion began to rise as he imagined her tied on the bed, whimpering with pain and fear and lust, begging them to fuck her, to fuck her some more. Yes, he thought, this was going to be quite a party, quite a party indeed.
"Did you hear that, Mr. Nelson?" he said. "The young lady requests that we, as she so quaintly puts it, 'get on with it'."
"Yeah," said Slackjaws. "I heard, all right."
"Shall we comply?"
"Awww," said Slackjaws, terribly disappointed. "Come on, Steve. I thought we were gonna, you know…"
"You fucking idiot," said Paul. "What do you think I meant?"
"Oh," said Slackjaws. "Well…"
"Oh," mimicked Paul, "well." He looked at Slackjaws in disgust, then turned to face Judy. "Miss Burton," he said softly, "would you step over here a moment?"
Judy tried her best to blank out her mind, to use her old trick and leave her body, but fear prevented her from doing it. Although she wasn't sure what they were going to do to her, couldn't figure out why they had brought that big dog along, she knew this would be no ordinary fucking. She took a halting step toward the bed.
Steve Paul reached out his hand. "Come along, Miss Burton," he said gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all."
When Judy had nearly reached the bed, Steve Paul suddenly stood up, reached out and grabbed her by the hair. "You little bitch," he snarled, "get over here!" He threw her onto the bed face down, turned her over, and took both her wrists in his hand. "Slackjaws, get the rope," he said.
The muscleman brought the rope, quickly and expertly tied one of Judy's wrists to each bedpost.
"No, please," she whispered. "I'll do anything you say, whatever you want, but please don't tie me up."
"Shut up!" snapped Paul. "We're calling the shots, not you." This was getting better, now that she was complaining a little – he liked a woman with spirit. She'd be complaining, all right, she'd be complaining plenty as soon as that dog started to work on her, but she'd be loving it too, the little bitch. They all loved it, no matter what they said; and they all looked the same when it was over: exhausted, sweaty, and beaten, completely defeated, completely under his control, and oh, so satisfied!
He stood over her, slowly began to remove her clothing as she squirmed under his touch. "What's the matter, Miss Burton?" he said. "Don't you like me?" He hoped she would say something insulting, giving him an excuse to bring his open hand down hard on her face or her breasts, but she didn't respond. This made Paul so angry that he slapped her anyway, cracking his palm across her face as hard as he could. "You little cunt," he yelled. "Answer me when I talk to you!"
Judy looked up at him, her teeth clenched, tears in her eyes. "You bastard," she whispered. "I hate your rotten guts."
Paul grinned. "Much better," he said. "Much, much better." Hard words and insults were all part of the game to him – the more hate involved, the better he liked it, the more aroused he became. He continued to strip her, whistling softly as her luscious breasts popped into view, revealing her soft, brown, silver-dollar sized nipples. "Mmmm," he said. "Little Timmy-boy sure found himself a pretty morsel here. Too bad he doesn't know what to do with it, eh, Slackjaws?"
"Yeah," said Slackjaws, his eyes wide with lust, "too bad, all right."
"But I suppose," said Paul as he peeled Judy's pants from her, "that we'll just have to show him how to enjoy this little playground. He should be here to watch, of course, but that's all right. I'm sure Miss Burton will have plenty to tell him later on, if she can still talk, that is."
Judy wriggled on the bed, forgetting her resolution to lie still and take whatever they had to offer. She wasn't worried about Tim – he'd understand, she knew, and it might even help him get the courage to leave Jay, and she wasn't too worried about herself either. She'd been had by each of these punks at least once before, knew exactly how much they had to dish out, knew she could take all that and more. Still, she'd never been officially "punished" before, never with Jay Snyder's knowledge and sanction, and she knew that Steve Paul was famous for his cruelty and perversion. And the dog, she thought: what the hell was that dog doing here?
Paul was still perched on his knees above her, fully dressed. Now he began to stroke her, starting at the base of her neck, moving his open palms down her chest, over her breasts, down her stomach to her abdomen, brushing the soft black mound of her cunt lightly before returning to her shoulders. Judy found herself aroused in spite of herself – she had expected anything from Paul except gentleness, and now she found that his light stroke was beginning to stir her body, to awaken the juices of desire that lay deep within her.
"Like that?" Paul cooed. "Well, there's plenty more where that came from. We're just starting, Miss Burton; we've got all afternoon. And a very long afternoon it's going to be."
He continued to move his hands over her in the same way as before, then altered the stroke slightly, using his fingernails instead of his open palm. The gentle scraping of his nails sent chills up Judy's back – she could feel the machinery of her cunt beginning to respond, beginning to manufacture the first squishy fluids of sex. She thought of Tim, of how he had excited her so wonderfully the night before, how she had been sure that no one could ever make her feel such desire. And now here she was, with Tim just barely gone from her apartment, being aroused all over again by the touch of someone she didn't even like, someone she hated, in fact. Is this what it means to be a whore, she wondered, to be a slave to one's own body and at the mercy of any anonymous man who touched her? How could love mean anything if one man's touch was just as good as another's? No, she thought, I have to fight this. I have to reserve my deepest self for Tim and Tim alone; otherwise I'm just a no-good whore.
She clenched her teeth, tried to close her mind to Paul's stroking, tried to turn her body off. She concentrated as fiercely as she could on Tim, on her love for him; but it did no good. Paul's expert hands were like firebrands; each touch seemed to sear at her flesh, seemed to carve their way inside her body to the deepest, most hidden place – there was no denying the excitement that this man created in her, no escape from the prison of her own aching desire. Oh Tim, she thought. If only it could have been different. If only you could have been the first to touch me instead of just an interlude between customers. Then I'd never know what it was to be excited like this by another man, and I could take all my pleasure from you, only from you. Now it's too late; now I'm already ruined. She began to weep softly.
"Why Miss Burton," said Paul, genuinely surprised. "Whatever could be the matter?" Usually his women didn't begin crying until later, until his play changed from gentleness to cruelty. Again he felt as if he were being cheated – this girl would simply not play according to the rules. But on the other hand, he thought, if she's crying already, what will she do when I really turn on the pain? Maybe this was going to be even better than he imagined.
This thought made Paul want to hurry, but he reminded himself that the longer he took with her, the more satisfying would be the result. "Patience is it's own reward," he told himself, laughing inside. Yes, he thought, patience. Patience and practice and time; he had only to follow his own elaborate instincts, and this girl would soon be reduced to a condition of abject slavery, exactly like Cindy and dozens of girls before her.
Paul shifted his position slightly to allow his fingers to reach the sweet flowery confines between her legs. He began to probe questioningly at the soft flesh, softly kneading her cunt-lips with his middle finger, lubricating himself with her spicy fluids. Judy moaned softly as he separated her lips, exposing her clitoris to the cool stimulating air of the room. She writhed helplessly, straining her wrists against the ropes that held her fast while her clitoris began to harden with excitement. Already her thighs were soaked with the hot thick liquid that leaked out from her most secret places; already the thought of Tim had begun to recede from her mind as she lost herself in the lush sensations that Steve Paul was creating.
Paul, meanwhile, was lost in sensations of his own. Judy's response had sent streaks of pleasure through his body, but the pleasure had seemed curiously abstracted, unreal. His dick was still as limp and unmoved as it would have been had he been watching a baseball game or making a peanut butter sandwich. The old familiar fear began to move in him: was he wasting his time again? Would his body once again refuse to respond to the urgent callings of his mind, refuse as it had done so many times in the past? No, he thought, please not this time. Please let me be a normal man just this once, just this one afternoon; let me satisfy this girl, this beautiful girl, the way a normal man would. But his body seemed to laugh at him. All right, Paul told his recalcitrant prick, have it your way for now, but I'm going to outlast you. In the end my patience will be too much for you; you'll come around, just wait.
Now Paul began circling the entrance to Judy's cunt with his fingers, exulting at the way her sweet feminine flesh yielded so willingly to his touch. Now she was moaning softly, moving her hips just enough to push her crotch gently against Paul's finger, in perfect rhythm with his circlings. Then, suddenly, he thrust deep into her waiting cunt with three fingers, causing her to gasp with pleasure. Oh God, she thought as she felt his fingers massage the pliant walls of her pussy, what this man is doing to me! She could feel her cunt expanding as her rubbed her, greedy for more of him, and yet more. It seemed as though a million flashbulbs were exploding in her brain, as though her body was a high-voltage wire taut with electricity. God, she thought, how long is he going to take? How much more of this can I stand?
Paul was in no hurry. His dick was still cold and limp, still mocking him with its refusal to respond. He could feel the muscles of Judy's cunt clasping his fingers, could see the pinkish bumps of her nipples rising before his eyes, quivering and reaching for him, could hear his mind screaming, "Fuck her! Fuck her!" but there was no answer from his stubborn little member. On and on he went, massaging, rubbing, stroking the hot flesh inside her pussy, feeling her move, hearing her groan and whimper in anticipation of the climax that was already starting to mount within her, and he could feel at the same time the first faint stirrings of his own rising panic. Could he do it? She was coming on fast; would he be ready when she was, or would he once again be forced to watch, helpless, as the girl came? No, he thought, no, please no! I have to make it this time, I just have to!
Judy was beginning to wonder herself. How long was he going to take? What was he doing? Already she was nearly lost in the rising stream of her passion; would he never come to her? "Hurry," she whispered. "Please hurry. What are you doing? I need you now, NOW!"
Slackjaws was leaning forward in his chair, his face a parody of animal lust. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, his mouth was hanging open slightly, his tongue moving back and forth along his lips. It was nice of Steve to spend all this time getting her ready, but when was he going to let old Slackjaws take over? Jay had promised him that he could make the girl suck him off, and he hadn't said anything at all about Steve Paul, so what was going on here? Slackjaws was aching to feel this girl's beautiful mouth wrapped around his prick, to feel her tongue move along the underside of it. He wanted to thrust his burning prick far down her throat, to choke her with it, make her gasp and scream for more. He wanted to feel the hot cum escaping, hear her gulp as it slid down her open throat. Even now his prick was beginning to bulge in his pants as he watched Steve finger her; he wanted his turn, and he wanted it now! Jay had promised him, so what was Steve doing taking all this time? He could get her hot enough all by himself; he didn't need Paul's help. Look at her, he thought. She's just about ready to get her rocks and that guy's just dawdling along, not even slapping her around or anything. Still, he thought, I'd better keep quiet. I guess he knows what he's up to, and besides, he'll probably just get me in trouble with Jay if I butt in. God dammit, though! This Judy Burton was sure a hot little number, and Slackjaws was having difficulty containing himself.
Now Steve removed his dripping fingers from Judy's luscious cunt, backed off and lay down on the bed, lowering his head until it lay directly between her legs. He began to lap at her with his tongue, savoring the hot sweet juices that were now flowing freely from her pulsating cunt. Jesus, how I love that flavor, he thought. This was a real woman! Quickly he thrust his tongue between her lips, found the quivering hard ridge of her clitoris. He made a point of the end of his tongue, moved the tip slowly up and down the full length of that delicious mound. Maybe this will turn me on, he thought. Sometimes the tongue works better than the fingers. Up and down he went, up and down, as Judy squirmed and wriggled above him, pushing her juicy cunt harder and harder against his face until his nose was buried in the silken hairs.
"Ahhhhhhh," she groaned. "More; please more!"
Steve was glad to accommodate her. His tongue continued to slither along her pulsing clitoris. She was beginning to feel that he was glued to her, that their flesh had melted and joined, that they were a part of the same machine, her delicious flesh and greedy hips, his probing tongue, locked together, not to be parted until she screamed out with the explosion of her orgasm. Her pussy was beginning to vibrate now, twitching and wiggling as the marvelous feeling built up in her, filling her until she thought it would break her apart.
Suddenly Paul thrust his tingling tongue deep into her cunt, causing her to thrash wildly, her body totally out of control. He curled the tip of his tongue up against the warm moist roof of her pussy, feeling the voluptuous soft muscles quiver and pump as he touched them. Still there was no reaction from his stubborn prick, even though she had been transformed into a wild-woman, a savage beast, a pounding body that demanded total satisfaction and nothing less.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, God!" she screamed as her orgasm sprang up from deep within her aching body. "Fuck me, please fuck me! Fuck me with your cock, oh God please, fuck me now!"
Her words sent Paul into a fury of passion and anger. He jumped up on the bed, unzipped his trousers and began flailing at his stubby little prick, slapping it and tweaking it with his fingernails. "You little bastard," he yelled, tears filling his eyes, "what the hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck don't you do something?" He went on beating it and cursing; tears streaming from his eyes. "God damn it," he kept repeating, "do something.do something!"
"Please," cried Judy, her body trembling and heaving with unspent passion, "please, don't leave me like this. Please help me, please make me come. Use your finger, use your tongue, use anything; just don't leave me like this. Please, oh please, make me come!" She was going crazy. Never had she been so excited, and then to be left hanging like this, her body screaming and begging for release as her orgasm boiled, so close to the surface, yet so far away. Was this how he tortured his women? She could imagine nothing worse than to be trapped like this, out of her mind with desire, her climax dammed up, exerting a pressure on her that would certainly break her apart, and with no chance for release. "Oh, God," she whimpered again. "Please help me."
"You little cunt!" raged Paul. "Shut up! You'll cum when I want you to, not before. Now just shut up!" He began to beat her, slapping her on both sides of her face, first with his palm and then with the back of his hand. "Shut up!" he kept yelling. "Just keep your fucking mouth shut!" Steve Paul, the coolest of cool customers, was now completely out of control with rage and frustration. The beating now began to take on a vicious character; the open hands changed to fists as Paul continued to pummel the helpless girl. Already her nose was bleeding, and bruises were beginning to rise on her face.
Judy was so tortured with passion that she could hardly feel the pain of Paul's beating; in fact, the pain only served to arouse her still more. The climax that was still inside her, still pressing against her body with the strength of a dynamo, still waiting to be released from its prison, only took on added strength from the fury of Steve Paul's blows; now, Judy thought, now she would surely explode. Each time Paul struck her it was like the thrusting of a prick inside her, each blow rekindled the flames of her sexual frenzy.
Slackjaws Nelson could hardly believe his eyes. He had been with Paul on any number of these escapades and knew about his impotence, but he had never seen Jay's right-hand man so totally beside himself with fury. No matter how viciously and unmercifully he "punished" a girl, Steve never lost his self-control, never let the situation get the better of him. But this time Paul had finally lost it, had finally allowed his pent-up feelings to break loose and run away with him. He's going to kill that chick, Slackjaws thought. Maybe I'd better stop him. Anyway, it's my turn.
"Hey!" he said. "Mr. Paul! Wait! Hey, stop a minute, will ya?"
Paul stopped, turned to Slackjaws, his eyes glowering with rage. For a moment he said nothing, just stared at the muscleman as if he had no idea who this strange intruder was. Then recognition dawned on his face. "What did you say?" he whispered.
"You gotta stop," said Slackjaws. "Remember what Jay said, about how he didn't want her messed up, there was a convention coming up and everything?" Slackjaws was almost pleading with him.
"I remember," said Paul. "So what?" He turned back to the girl, raised his arm as if about to administer another blow.
"Hey!" said Slackjaws. "God damn it, stop! It's my turn anyway, Jay said so."
Paul looked down at the beaten girl. The blood running from her nose made him even angrier and more excited than he had been before. "Well," he said, still looking at the girl, "Jay's not here, is he?"
"No," said Slackjaws, "but…"
"And when Jay's not around, who gives the orders?"
"You do, Mr. Paul," said Slackjaws, almost whimpering, "but…"
"Then keep your stupid mouth shut," Paul screamed.
This was too much for the muscleman. Over the years he'd taken a lot of crap from this guy, taken crap and always kept his mouth shut, but this time he wasn't going to get away with it, especially when Slackjaws knew he was in the right. He leaped up from his chair, ran across the room, and hit Paul across the jaw with all his strength. "There," he said as the gangster toppled off the bed and crumpled unconscious on the floor. "Stupid, am I? Idiot, am I? 'Slackjaws, do this; Slackjaws, do that,' just like I was some sort of trained ape. Well this here ape's breakin' loose, you hear? He's gonna get what's coming to him."
He turned to Judy, saw that her eyes were wide with fear. "Aw, baby," he said. "Don't be afraid. Nelson's gonna take care of you now, like a real man should; no more of this horse shit. So don't be afraid; I ain't gonna hurt ya."
Judy didn't know what to do. She couldn't help being afraid of this muscled monster who stood over her, grinning, but at the same time she knew that someone was going to have to take care of her or she would go crazy. Her climax still screamed within her; the pressure had grown to unendurable proportions. If he would just be a little gentle with her, she thought. If he would just be gentle, then maybe it would be all right.
"Come on now, baby," crooned Slackjaws as he began to unbutton his shirt, "let's you and me have a go of it. Let's you and me have a real good time." Now that Paul was taken care of, Slackjaws knew he wouldn't have to restrict himself to a hum job; he could fuck her all he wanted. Even if Paul came to before he was finished he wouldn't dare tell Jay, not after the way he'd disobeyed the bosses' orders himself. Yeah, thought Slackjaws, I got me a free ticket, and I'm gonna ride it to the end of the line.
He removed his trousers, began stroking his massive prick as he looked hungrily at the beautiful girl on the bed. She was sitting up now, her back against the headboard and her legs curled up against her body so that her chin rested on her knees. The expression on her face was curious, a mixture of fear, caution and desire. Slackjaws found it tremendously exciting. His prick responded to the massaging he was giving it, began to swell and throb with anticipation.
"Too bad he's got your hands tied up," said Slackjaws with a grin. "You should be doing this for me." He thought for a moment, then the grin on his face spread even wider. "He ain't got your mouth tied up, though, has he?" he said. "That'll be even better."
In spite of her fear, Judy found herself staring at Slackjaws' enormous cock. She had never in her life seen anything that size – not even Tim's could compare with it. And even though she was terrified of this thug, even though under normal circumstances she would have sooner died than allowed Slackjaws to touch her, now she found that she wanted that cock, that she had to have it. These, after all, were hardly normal circumstances. Her body had been whipped to such a fever pitch of excitement that no one, not even Tim, could blame her if she ached for relief.
Slackjaws saw her staring at him, grinned again. "You like that," he said, "don't ya, baby? Never saw one that big before, did ya?"
Judy shook her head, her eyes gobbling that incredible prick.
"Well," said Slackjaws, "you're gonna see all of it you want, and taste it too. It tastes even better than it looks." He laughed at his own crude joke. "So come on," he said, "let's get started."
He got up on the bed, knelt down in front of her so that his massive rod came to rest squarely between her breasts. She could feel the heat of it just above her heart, feel the drops of warm, oily semen run down her stomach. She put her chin against her chest, stared down her nose at the tip of his prick – it was so red, she thought, so soft and tasty-looking. Desire swelled in her as she thought of feeling that wonderful organ in her mouth, of sucking the thick hot juices from it until they slid down her throat and into her belly, filling her with their thick sweetness. Tim, she thought, forgive me. I don't know what I'm doing, why I'm thinking this way, and I'll make it all up to you, I promise. You're the one I love, but you're not here right now, and I have to do this or I'll go nuts.
She cupped her hands around her breasts, squeezed them until they formed a channel around Slackjaws' cock, began rubbing them up and down. Oh, the warmth of his dick felt so good against her, like a big, throbbing heater on a cold night; she wanted to go on rubbing it until it was red hot, until the heat of it seared her flesh and left her branded for life.
"Mmmmm," said Slackjaws. "Very nice. Very nice, baby. Just keep it up; don't stop. No, no, don't ever stop."
Judy slid her legs underneath Slackjaws' ass, began rubbing her shinbone gently along the crack in his anus, lightly grazing his balls at the same time. Wow, thought the muscleman as the shock of this new touch streaked through him, this girl really knows what she's doing. No wonder Jay doesn't want her messed up. Then he stopped thinking about Jay, stopped thinking about everything except the milky touch of her breasts on his dick, the exciting stroke of her skin.
Slowly, slowly he began to raise himself up, to move his aching prick toward Judy's hungry mouth; and slowly she lowered herself to meet him. She extended her tongue, and as the blood-swollen tip came up to meet her she lapped the semen from the tiny hole in the center. Slackjaws' body began to tremble at the gentle, insistent touch of her tongue. He could hardly stand it; he had to be inside her! Still she came down on him, rubbing her sperm-moistened lips along the head. Then suddenly, with a huge, sobbing gasp she took him in, thrusting her head down until she had half his outsized organ inside her mouth.
Oh, Lord, she thought, it tastes so good! The huge cock filled her, pulsed against the roof of her mouth, smoothed itself along her tongue, scraped gently against her teeth, the heat of it sending her into raptures of orgiastic excitement. She had to have more of it, more, more! Slackjaws responded with a powerful thrust of his hips, sending the swollen, throbbing prick halfway down her throat, nearly choking her. "Oh!" she gasped as the hot cock lodged in her throat, "this is too much! I can't stand it." Even so, she did her best to take more and more of him inside her.
Slackjaws had never experienced anything like this. He had his prick three-quarters of the way into her, and still she seemed willing to take more. He had to be careful, though she was having trouble breathing. Gently he began to withdraw, until only three or four inches remained inside her. "Suck it, baby," he whispered. "Suck it now."
Judy began to suck, immediately feeling the semen slide down her tongue, forming little rivulets as it dripped into her throat. This was not enough: she wanted him to pour enormous torrents of hot liquid into her, wanted to feel a river of gushing sperm stream through her mouth and into her warm insides. Slackjaws was moaning softly now: "Come on, baby," he was breathing, "harder now! Suck it harder. Come on."
She sucked harder, her entire body aching for his orgasm, aching to be used as a receptacle for his creamy white juices. The sperm was flowing faster now as he approached his climax, and each new spurt urged her to suck harder, and harder still.
"Eeeeeeeeyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaa," he screamed. "Now, I'm cummmmmmmminnnnng now!"
Judy sucked with all her might, her head jerking as Slackjaws bucked uncontrollably. The huge prick in her mouth lashed and rolled, sending great streams of hot cum rushing through her. On and on she sucked as the great torrent continued, spitting and gushing such an incredible volume of semen that Judy thought she would never be able to swallow it all. She gulped once, twice, three times, feeling the lovely sweet oil filling her throat and belly, and then, suddenly found her mouth empty as Slackjaws collapsed on the bed, groaning.
"Baby," he said, "you sure know how to suck a cock."
Slackjaws was exhausted, but Judy's body, stimulated beyond belief first by Steve Paul's foreplay and then by her session with the muscleman, was still a seething mass of unsatisfied desire. She had enjoyed sucking Slackjaws, she had to admit that, but she had not been able to share in his great release, except as a recipient – now she was even more tormented, even more desperate for climax, than she had been before. Was there no one to help her, no one to release her from this prison of lust? In desperation she began to finger herself, to rub her clitoris as fast as she could, but she knew that she could never give herself the relief she needed. She had to have a man, and quickly. Steve Paul sat up against the wall, rubbing his chin. He glowered at Slackjaws, hate pouring from his eyes. "You bastard," he growled, starting to get up, "I'll fix you."
Slackjaws raised his head to look at Paul. "You'll fix who?" he said. "Me? What're you gonna do, tell daddy Jay on me? No, you phony prick, I don't think you will, cause right after you get through with your story I'll be there with mine. Jay'd just love to hear about the pounding you gave our lady-friend here. Yessir, he'd get quite a kick out of that." He grinned at Paul, then suddenly became serious. "Now listen," he said, surprising even himself with the way he'd taken charge of the proceedings, "we came here to do a job, and we ain't through yet; we still got to put on the main event. So get your ass off the floor and bring Ambush in here."
Although still lost in the frenzied outcries of her body, Judy had a dim awareness of what the two men were saying, and she was quite confused. First, she felt a surprising pang of sympathy and affection for Slackjaws, she had always known him as a brainless muscleman, an animalistic brute who had not a shred of human feeling in his character; but today he had already shown her at least a small kindness by interceding when Paul was about to beat her silly. And he himself had been amazingly gentle with her, even stimulating. No, she could harbor no resentment against Slackjaws.
But what was this they were talking about: a "job to do", "not finished yet"… "the main event"? Hadn't they finished what they had come to do? Good Lord, what else could they have in mind, what further cruelty was she going to be subjected to? And who was "Ambush"?
All her questions were answered in an instant as the bathroom door opened and the huge St. Bernard bounded into the room. She had forgotten entirely about the dog, had even forgotten to wonder why he was there in the first place. Now the answer came to her with paralyzing suddenness – as if the humiliation already inflicted on her weren't enough; now she was going to be forced to mate with a dog. Judy cringed with fear, pulled her legs up against her chest, made as tight a ball of her body as she possibly could. She strained against the ropes that bound her wrists, thrashed her head wildly from side to side, saying, "no, oh God, please, no," but she knew even as she struggled that it was hopeless, that these men would show her no pity.
"Please," she cried as the dog leaped up on the bed, his enormous tongue lolling from his mouth and leaving puddles of drool on the sheets, "oh, please, no. I'll never do it again, tell Jay I'll always do whatever he says, always, I'll never cross him again. Tell him I'm sorry, tell him anything, just keep that dog away from me."
"Why, Miss Burton," said Paul, his cruel enthusiasm returning, "I'm surprised at you. I thought you liked dogs. Really, you know, you shouldn't talk that way – Ambush is a very sensitive animal, and if you were to hurt his feeling, why there's just no telling what he might do. Isn't that so, Mr. Nelson?"
"Yeah," said Slackjaws. "Ya know, I've raised that dog from a pup, and I still never quite know what he's got on his mind. Sometimes he'll be just as gentle as a lamb for awhile, but you say one thing that gets his goat and barn, he's at you hands and feet. Baby, I've still got some of the marks from his teeth, you wanna see 'em?" He began to unbutton his shirt.
"No," Judy whimpered. "Please, I can't stand this." By now the animal had been attracted to the musty odor of sex exuding from Judy's body, and he was sniffing curiously at her, touching his cold wet nose to her legs, searching out the origin of the intoxicating smell.
"Can't stand what, Miss Burton?" grinned Steve Paul. "Can't stand a little friendly sniffing? Obviously, Ambush thinks highly of you, wants to get to know you better. How could there be any harm in that? Just a little girl-meets-dog, that's all there is to it; certainly nothing to be alarmed about."
By now Judy was nearly hysterical with fear and humiliation. The dog Ambush was sniffing faster, more earnestly, as his mind filled up with the lusty aroma of Judy's unspent passion. The girl crouched against the headboard like cornered prey, sweating in terror, trying to keep her vulnerable ripe cunt protected from the animal. Still he came on, sniffing up her legs, parrying with his nose as Judy attempted to ward him off. She could not allow this to happen; otherwise how could she ever face Tim again, how could she give freely and sincerely of the love she felt for him once she had been had by this smelly beast? She tried kicking out at the dog's muzzle, but the dog snarled at her so viciously that she thought better of it. The beast's tongue was bad enough; she wanted no part of his teeth.
We'll just let this little fencing match go on for awhile, thought Steve Paul, let it go on until the girl was beside herself with fear and the dog raging with desire. Then we'll step in and get on with it, he thought. He laughed to himself as he imagined her spread-eagled on the bed, her ankles tied to the bedpost, writhing helplessly as the dog went at her, first with his tongue and then with his astonishing prick. Paul's good spirits were returning after the humiliation he had suffered from Slackjaws; Judy's feeble and comical efforts to keep the dog from her appealed greatly to Paul's perverted sense of humor.
Slackjaws, too, had returned to character. There was no kindness in him now, Judy realized as she saw him staring at her, his face contorted into an expression of pure, bestial lust. His mouth was open slightly, his tongue hanging out in parody of the dog, and he was panting – no, Judy thought, there would be no help from Slackjaws this time. If only Tim would come back, if only… But no, these men never went anywhere without their pistols; Tim wouldn't stand a chance against them. Thinking about that, she hoped that Tim would have the good sense to stay away, not to try anything heroic and foolish – she would suffer any degradation these men had to offer, endure any pain or torture rather than see her new lover hurt or killed.
Still she continued to wriggle and squirm, still the dog came at her. She could see the tip of his huge pink dick beginning to poke out through the furry sheath, and the sight of it made her squirm all the harder. This in turn aroused the dog still more – he began to leap up and down on the bed, the weight of his two hundred and twenty pound frame making the mattress bounce and tremble. He was barking and squealing, his tiny mind excited beyond all bounds by Judy's furious thrashing.
Steve Paul was growing bored with this cat-and-mouse game: he was ready for some real fun. "Slackjaws," he said, "go get some more rope." The muscleman disappeared into the bathroom, came back a moment later carrying two long strands of nylon cord. Steve Paul stood up, took the rope from his henchman, walked slowly toward the bed, one length of cord dangling from each hand.
To Judy the cords looked like two snakes, two vicious snakes with their tails wrapped around a tree, just waiting for the moment when they could drop on her and sink their fangs into her soft flesh. So they were going to tie her legs too, she thought. Well maybe so, but not with her cooperation. As Paul approached she began to kick at him wildly, pumping her legs as rapidly and as powerfully as she could.
"God damn you, you little whore!" yelled Paul as her foot caught him squarely in the nose. He backed off for a moment, put his hand to his face, then smiled with delight as he saw the blood running onto his palm. This was getting good, he thought, the sight of blood acted on him more strongly, and in a more directly sexual way, than any amount of foreplay could ever have; finally, finally his prick was beginning to react, to swell with the first stirrings of desire. How could he have been so stupid, he thought. How could he have forgotten? It had always been blood and violence that aroused him when all normal means failed; he knew that and exulted in it, yet this time he had allowed himself to be carried away by that delicious little bundle of sex. She had made him impatient, had made him forget that there was only one way for Steve Paul to get his kicks, and that was through blood and violence.
"Mr. Nelson," said Paul, in a quiet but ominous voice, "the young lady needs some more assistance. Would you kindly help her out?"
"Sure," said Slackjaws. He walked over to the bed, easily took one of Judy's flailing ankles in each hand, slammed her legs down hard. Immediately Paul was there, wrapping the cords around her ankles so tightly that she screamed with pain, then tying the other end of the cords to the bedposts. He stepped back for a moment, grinning at the girl sprawled out on the bed, helplessly bound. Then he stepped forward again and slowly, almost lovingly, rubbed his blood-stained palm against her stomach, making a huge red smear on her skin. Judy had stopped struggling against her bonds, had begun to weep miserably, like a lost child, but Paul paid her no attention as he spread the blood all over her body.
"Now," he whispered, regarding his work with the delight of a true pervert, "now let Ambush have her."
The dog, seeing that Judy was open to him, crossed the bed in one triumphant leap. Immediately he pushed his nose into her tightly-puckered cunt, filling his brain with her wonderful spicy odor, driving himself half-mad with the sweet luxury of it. Years of careful training had twisted his instincts, had made him long more than anything else for the feel of a woman's tender skin. This was his favorite meal, and he would partake of it until his elaborate cravings were finally satisfied.
Judy had never felt so hopeless in her life, so completely vulnerable, so thoroughly shamed. How had this come to be, she thought desperately. For the first time in over a year she longed for the dirty streets of Bisbee, Arizona, for the dust that welled up from the copper mines, the smell of ocotillo blossoms in the springtime, the warmth of her parents' living room. She even missed the cramped cashier's booth at the old theater, the boring hot-dog-and-drive-in-movie dates with the sons of the copper miners. She would give anything to be back there, to have her innocence back, to be shocked at the fold-out pictures in the men's magazines at the drug store. If someone had told her then what was in store for her, that she would be lying here this day in her bed, a shameless prostitute about to be brutally fucked by a St. Bernard, she would have been either totally outraged or convulsed with laughter. Yet here she was, with the dog nosing at her most secret places – the craziness and terror of it would have been too much for her to digest had she not been aware oh, how aware of its awful reality. Yes, it was really happening, and there was not a thing she could do to stop it.
The dog's nose was shockingly cold against her tender pussy, and at first she tried to recoil from it. But Ambush only came back for more, and soon Judy found herself becoming accustomed to his chilly pokings. And no sooner did she come to tolerate the moist twitchings of the dog's nose against the dry, chapped outer skin of her cunt, than she began to actually enjoy it! No, she thought, this can't be. I may have to give in to this furry bastard, there's nothing I can do about that, but I don't have to like it, for Christ's sake! Still, she could not deny it: the dog was beginning to turn her on, to send little currents of pleasure up into her belly.
The St. Bernard immediately sensed her change of attitude, began to joyfully lick at her now-receptive cunt with the edge of his enormous tongue. The rough, sandpapery touch of it was like nothing Judy had ever experienced; far more titillating than the smoothness of a human tongue. Already Judy could feel herself beginning to turn to liquid inside, could feel the spongy walls of her cunt beginning to expand, to ready themselves for the dog's penetration.
"Oh, my God," she cried, half in amazement and half with pleasure, "what is this? What's happening to me?"
Steve Paul and Slackjaws looked at one another with little knowing smiles on their faces. They had seen the dog in action many times before, knew it was only a matter of time until the girl began to turn on. No matter how horrified they were at the beginning, no matter how much they begged to be released, eventually they had all of them, each and every one, been reduced to quivering masses of yearning flesh; had begged, each of them, not for release, but for more, and yet again more. This one would be no different, they knew, even though she had struggled somewhat harder than the others; probably her struggling in the preliminary stages would only serve to arouse her that much more in the end.
Paul was suddenly struck with an idea. Maybe, he thought, we ought to take Ambush with us when we visit that cop and his wife. There's no cure for prudishness like a session with a St. Bernard. He laughed to himself as he imagined the cop, Kramer, watching with bulging eyes as the dog hunched over his wife, ready to spear her with his huge red cock. What a scene that would be!
Meanwhile Ambush continued to lap at Judy's cunt, drawing the hot fluids out of her body until her thighs were gleaming with them. Eagerly he licked up each new outpouring, running his moist rough tongue along the inside of her thighs and up underneath her arms, then returning to the delicious little mounds of skin between her legs. He worked at her quietly, expertly, never hurried but never stopping, always the steady, insistent rubbing of his tongue against her, first in this place, then in that, always the huge, patient, inexorable tongue.
Judy could not believe that the dog was actually doing this to her, actually inciting her to such an incredible frenzy. There could be no holding back now, no stopping – her body was nearly out of control with longing for this… this dog! The warm, rough stroking of his tongue was creating a fire inside her, a fire that would not subside until he brought her aching body to a blazing holocaust of consummation. Shame was irrelevant now, Tim and her love for him no more than a dim memory – nothing existed except her fierce desire, the mad callings from the very center of her aroused being; nothing but this and the St. Bernard's marvelous tongue licking at her, caressing her, thrilling her beyond her wildest fantasies.
Jesus, thought Slackjaws, this little bitch is really loving it. Seeing her excitement, he wished he had spent more time with her himself – this dog was getting all the really sweet action. Well, he thought, it's a long afternoon, and if she's not crippled or torn apart by the time the dog gets through with her, then maybe old Slackjaws will have another go at it. He glanced over at Steve Paul, saw the hunger in his eyes, even noticed the small but rising bulge in his pants, but Steve Paul's needs were no concern of his. Shit, thought Slackjaws, he's no problem; I'll just take care of him like I did before, then I'll have that hot little cunt all to myself. He began to rub his own swelling prick at the thought of what he would do to her this time.
By now Judy was nearing her climax. Her body was soaked with sweat, the sheets below her wringing wet with a mixture of perspiration and sexual fluid. Still the dog continued his steady, patient, lapping, occasionally running his sandpapery tongue past the opening to her pussy and up along the smooth, flexing walls inside; and each time he did it Judy screamed with pleasure. "Oooooooooooooooo, doggie," she cried, "do that some more. Do it more!"
Somehow Ambush seemed to understand her, for suddenly, just at the right moment, he shoved his tongue into her as far as it would go. Judy let out a moan that came from the very depths of her soul. This was an entirely new sensation to her, having something inside her pussy that was as long or longer than any human prick, yet at the same time soft and malleable, with a freedom of movement all its own; she was sure the touch of it, the long sweeping strokes against her cunt walls, would turn her inside out. She was closer now to her orgasm, and then closer still as the painful pressure built up in every part of her body, threatening to break her apart. Closer and still closer, the dog waving his tongue inside her faster and faster and faster until it felt like a piercing bullet, closer and closer and closer, and then…
The dam inside her finally burst – she was overcome by the most powerful climax she had ever experienced. A great storm of pleasure raged through her body, neglecting no part of her, reaching everywhere and touching everything, sweeping her soul and her life away with it, drowning her in pleasure. Her body bucked and pitched as she tried to ride out this incredible orgasm, but it was too strong for her. Finally she could do nothing but lie rigid in the bed, her eyes rolled back and her mouth wide open in a silent scream as the storm coursed through her, sucking every ounce of life from her veins, ruining her, ravaging her, washing her clean.
It was not until the storm had subsided somewhat that she was able to move, to make sounds, to finally scream: "Ohhhhhhh, my sweet Jesus, oh my God, Ohmygod I'm cummmmmmminnnnnnnggggg!"
But the dog had only begun. All this had been only part of a sequence, a sequence that would not end until Ambush himself lay exhausted and spent on the bed. His masters had found in training him that his full erection was far too big to fit inside any woman unless she had first been prepared for him by the expansive action of an orgasm. For the act to be timed perfectly, for it to succeed at all, in fact, Ambush had to penetrate his victim immediately after she came; otherwise he would be too late and the girl's pussy would be closed to him for at least another fifteen minutes, or until he could bring her to climax again. Ambush did not like to wait. The girl furious response had excited him as no bitch in heat ever could; his huge red prick had swollen out of its sheath and was even now throbbing in readiness. No, there could be no waiting.
Judy was lying on the bed, half-dead from exertion and release, and the incredible thrust of the dog's outsized prick took her totally by surprise. It was as if someone had driven a steam-shovel deep into the heart of her, as if a locomotive from hell had been called up to drive its way into her unwilling, exhausted body. This was something that no human could ever hope to match, this gigantic pulsing organ that was burying itself into her flesh, stretching and filling her until it seemed to become a part of her, as if a whole new piece of flesh had suddenly been grafted to her vagina. But this new piece of flesh, this new organ of hers, refused to lie still and melt into her, refused to behave like something that was truly her own; instead it drummed in and out, in and out, with the strength of a mighty, diabolical machine, sending her into uncontrollable paroxysms of pain and delight.
On and on it went, tormenting her, splitting her apart. She was lost now, in a world without sound, without voices, an unreachable floating universe from which all thought had been banished, a world that was at one and the same time a glittering heaven and a fiery hell, where there was no time, no waiting, no past or future; only the unendurable present, only the dog fucking her with such inhuman, brutal strength.
And then into that world came a sensation that Judy had never hoped to feel again: the first, faint electrical buzzing of approaching climax. She concentrated on the little hum as hard as she could, trying to close out all the tortuous pain that surrounded it, meeting the pain with the hard squeezings of her inflamed and dripping cunt, trying to choke the life out of the massive rod that was thrusting into her.
"Unnnnnnnnnhhhhhh," she groaned through clenched teeth, as she concentrated harder and harder on pressing into the dog, on maintaining and building the small but insistent buzzing that heralded her orgasm. Her hips were moving like ramrods, matching each thrust the dog made with an equally strong thrust of her own, driving the dog back and pulling him forward again.
Holy shit, thought Slackjaws, his eyes wide with disbelief, she's outfucking the dog. What an incredible little whore she is! She's actually outfucking the dog!
By now Ambush was squealing with terror and pain. Judy's cunt had become a prison, a terrible squeezing prison that held him fast and would not let him go, that clamped down on him, suffocating him, making him whine with fear. He began to wiggle back and forth, trying to pry himself loose, but Judy would have none of it: she simply clenched her teeth and clamped down all the harder. This little puppy was not going to leave her now, not when she was so close, so very close. He had been given to her and she was going to keep him, right to the bitter end – they weren't going to let her down again, no, not this time. She was going to cum and cum and cum and keep on cuming; this beautiful animal was going to be hers and hers alone.
Finally, with one great spasm of her body, one graceful arching of her back, she met her climax; and this one was even more powerful, more unimaginably thorough, than the first one had been. It erupted in her like a volcano, spewing out a torrential lava of flaming juices, burning her with the angry fury of a thousand exploding suns, searing her, melting the substance of her body and soul into a mighty caldron of nearly unbearable pleasure.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyaaaaaaa," she screamed, her body still arched and rigid, as if a million volts of electric current were passing through it. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaa!"
"Jesus jumping Christ," whispered Steve Paul as the dog slid off the bed, whimpering in agony. It was the only thing he could think of to say, so he said it again: "Jesus jumping Christ." Slackjaws could do nothing but stare.
"Well," thought Judy, just before she lost consciousness, "let's see what Jay Snyder has to say about that!"