Young, titian-haired, angelic-featured Sally Reagan sat apprehensively squeezing a handkerchief between her small hands in the back seat of a taxi cab as it sped across Morriston. Her slender, high-breasted body was rigid with the foreknowledge of what was about to happen, and a nauseous feeling eddied in the pit of her stomach.
Oh God, she prayed to herself, please don't let it be as bad as the last time. Please, don't. I… I don't think I could stand it!
She twisted the handkerchief convulsively, and an almost inaudible moan of despair burst past her soft, moistly red lips. In her mind's eye she could picture the almost obscenely ugly postal clerk, Steve Samuels, with his slobbering, rubbery lips and his claw-like hands and his… his horribly huge penis! She moaned again, loud enough so that the cab driver glanced up into the rear-view mirror, frowned, and asked her if she was okay.
She quickly replied that she was and sank lower in the seat, twisting the handkerchief into a twisted rope in her fingers. Why, oh, why, had she consented to come tonight? When Jack had telephoned her from work, and told her of Samuels' call to him and what the weasly blackmailer wanted, she had almost become sick as all the disgusting perversions of that last time flooded instantaneously back into her conscious mind. She couldn't go through the same hell again; she couldn't! And yet she had known that she had to, knew that now as well. If she didn't… submit to Samuels' demands, then the depraved postal clerk would have Jack fired, would ruin him completely through some evil stretching of the truth. And Jack's was a specialized job, which would make it very hard for him to get another. Too, there was the baby – little Jimmy – to think about, and the fact that they'd just bought a small, modest home and had to meet the payments on it promptly or risk losing their equity…
No, she was doing the right thing. She could endure another night of horror at the hands of the lust-insane civil servant, if it meant saving her home and her husband's job – and if it meant that those… those photos which Samuels possessed would never be exposed to nationwide gutter distribution.
Those damnable photographs! Why had she ever allowed Jack to take them of her, with the Polaroid his brother had let him borrow? She should have known better, but she had done it in a moment of passion, wanting to please the man she loved and that, too, was the reason she had decided to send them off for exchange, with Jack's eager approval, to members of the Polaroid Club whose newspaper Jack had somehow found. God, if she'd but known Samuels was going to find out about them, get his hands on them, blackmail the unsuspecting Reagans in such a perverted manner… But she hadn't known, and now it was too late; she – and Jack, too, although he didn't have to suffer the indignities she did – was completely at the mercy of the warped postal clerk.
Sally, distraught and helpless, looked up then through the window at the black night outside. Let this be the last time, she prayed. Please, God, let this be the last time.
She rubbed at her damp eyes with the handkerchief, peering out through the window. The surroundings were now familiar – an old, dingy, run-down section of Morriston and a shudder coursed through the frightened, tormented young wife's warm, vibrant body.
They were almost there.
Sitting in the front room of his ramshackle house, his wizened hands busily working among the contents of the wooden coffee table before him, Steve Samuels grinned in drooling anticipation of the arrival of the tender young Sally Reagan. Oh, he was going to fuck her good tonight! He was going to subject her to every trick in the book, Goddamned right he was!
He would do to her, he reflected, the same things he would do to that uppity Mrs. Jamison… sort of a preliminary to the main event. And Mrs. Cindy Jamison was a main event, no doubt about that. His cock throbbed with aching desire as his fingers worked almost independent of his mind, with practiced ease, for his was a task he had performed many times before.
On the coffee table were a small cigarette-rolling machine, several packages of wheat-straw papers, a scarred wooden cigarette box, and a large cellophane bag filled with a dark brown, shredded leaf that resembled tobacco but wasn't tobacco at all.
It was Acapulco Gold, the best marijuana money could buy.
The weaselly postal clerk chuckled lewdly as his dexterous fingers fashioned yet another pot stick. He'd been damned lucky to get grass as good as this, and he'd had to pay a premium for it, too; but it was worth it, every penny. Good stuff like this really turned them on, these young bitches like Mrs. Sally Reagan (and yes, like Mrs. Cindy Jamison as well); it made them forget their inhibitions, their fear and hatred of him, so that they were his complete slaves to subjugate and to do with as he would. They never forgot a session with Steve Samuels, the perverted government employee boasted to himself; and they were never really the same afterwards…
His huge German Shepherd, Ringo, came bounding in from the kitchen, where Samuels had put out a large bowl of raw meat. The great animal, sleek and bright-eyed, its long red tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth, sat on its haunches next to its master, tail wagging. The postal clerk chuckled again, finished rolling one last cigarette, and then leaned back on the sofa, reaching down to pat Ringo on the head.
"So you're eager, too, eh, my friend?" he chortled. "Well, don't worry. You're going to get your share of young Mrs. Sally Reagan tonight – just like you've gotten your share of the others. And you're going to get plenty of young Mrs. Cindy Jamison, too, of that I promise you. She's going to feel your prick jammed all the way up to her hot little titties, Ringo, don't you worry."
The lewd mental image of the beast's speckled red cock buried in the tight, warm, clasping pussy of the haughty Cindy Jamison caused Samuels own prick to leap into erection. Damn, he was horny tonight! He was going to really fuck little Miss Sally, all right – but first, there would be games to play. Games he had perfected with a half-dozen other unsuspecting housewives in Morriston, housewives who had foolishly attempted to send lewd, pornographic items through the United States mails. Games which left them slavering and begging for his mammoth cock to rip their cunts wide and fill them with hot boiling cum…
The evil clerk began to rub his erect prick through his pants, slowly, tantalizingly, his wizened face split into an animalistic grin of lust. It had been a fine day, The Finest Day, when the government had passed the new Postal regulation allowing the Department to open anyone's mail without them being present, under the guise of checking for obscenity or subversive activities or even upon the slightest suspicion of anything illegal or immoral. And the most beautiful part about that regulation was, he could do it himself, on his whim, without asking permission of his superiors!
Oh, it was a grand day, the day of the passage of that regulation! He had complete access to the entire mail input and output of the city of Morriston; he could open letters, packages, registered envelopes at will – and he had. Intuition and the illegal directory of names had led him to suspect certain ones, and at least half the time he had found some kind of incriminating material. He had several mild photos and some letters that were written by respectable wives in the community that, on the surface, were seemingly innocent; but turned over to the wives' husbands, they would be damning. And, of course, he had found some juicy items as well, like the photos Jack Reagan and his wife, Sally, had taken together. They were really something! But all he needed to open negotiations with the erring wives was one small indiscretion, just enough to use as a threat and as a fulcrum to lever them into his house and his bed. His list of names was ever-growing, too, and his insatiable cock, his perverted, insatiable brain, had at long last began to reap their rewards. Some day, he might have as many as twenty-five or thirty young, beautiful Morriston wives at his beck and call, for as long as the Postal regulation allowing him to indiscriminately open the public's private mail was in effect, he could never be thwarted. He had power, power, POWER!
Faster and faster the wickedly-grinning clerk's hand rubbed back and forth over his swollen prick as he gazed into the future, planning impossible orgies with a dozen women and more, planning games and perversions which boggled even his imagination. His glazed eyes sought and found the old wall clock.
Hurry up, Mrs. Sally Reagan, he thought. Hurry, hurry, hurry!
The taxi cab stopped in front of the dingy, clapboard house – the place which beautiful Sally Reagan, in her own mind, had dubbed The House of Humiliation. She shuddered again, her trembling fingers digging inside her purse.
The cab driver turned to look at her over the seat. "You sure this is the place you want to go, lady? Looks like an opium den, or something." He laughed.
"Y-yes, this is the place," Sally quavered, convulsing violently at the driver's innocent comment about "an opium den"; if only he knew what went on inside that house! She found a dollar bill, shoved it into the driver's hand, and then got out of the cab.
She stood on the cracked sidewalk a moment as the taxi meshed gears and pulled away from the curb, trying to compose herself. How should she behave this time? Not like the last – whining, piteous, obviously fear-wracked, obviously filled with hatred for her tormentor – for that only made things worse, only made Samuels do more foul things to her helpless body. No, this time she would be like ice, like a mannequin; she wouldn't plead with him, curse him, scream at him. She would let him use her as he would, and in that way get it over with as quickly as possible so that she could go home to the safety of her own house, where baby Jimmy slept in his crib under the watchful eye of the babysitter, where Jack would come to comfort her in the night.
Straightening to her full height, the long-legged, slim-hipped, black-haired young wife walked quickly up the tangled, jagged path to the front door of the house and rang the bell.
It was opened almost immediately, and the evilly-leering countenance of the postal clerk, Steve Samuels, materialized only inches from her own face. In spite of herself, Sally gasped and took a faltering half-step backward to see once again, up close, the ugly, twisted features of this mentally deranged man.
"Well, well, it's about time, Mrs. Reagan," croaked Samuels, opening the door wider. "My cock has been hard for half an hour, just thinking about you and your fine young body, heh heh. Come in, come in."
Sally's eyes inadvertently dropped to the front of his pants, saw the bulge there, the stain on the material, and she shuddered again. But then she composed herself and stepped past him, careful not to touch him, and walked proud and tall into the cluttered living room.
Samuels, licking his rubbery lips, followed her and said, "Sit down on the sofa there, Mrs. Reagan. In front of the coffee table there." He laughed obscenely. "As you can see, I've set out a few photos from my album for you to look at. And you're in them. You and your husband, Jack. I know you'll be interested in seeing them again, even if you have seen them before."
Sally closed her eyes, blinked them open, and crossed to the couch, sitting down as Samuels had directed her. She didn't look at the pictures displayed on the corroded surface of the table.
The wizened clerk crossed to her and stood in front of the table, looming over her, looking down at her silky black hair, at the full swell of her rich, creamy breasts, at the taper of her soft downy thighs. His cock leapt violently, and his balls ached with the buildup of his semen.
"Take your dress off, Mrs. Reagan," he husked. "It's warm in here. Make yourself comfortable."
Like a marionette, the evil clerk's voice its strings, Sally stood woodenly and pulled the simple cotton shift she wore over her head and tossed it aside. Then, quickly, she sat down again, clad only in a thin, wispy bra and panty briefs. She wouldn't look at Samuels at all.
His breath quickened as he saw her half-naked before him, and his eyes traveled like hungry beetles over her firm, resilient flesh. Her breasts were high and proud, good breasts, but not as good and as voluptuous as those of Mrs. Cindy Jamison, he reflected. Still, he wanted to see them in all their splendor, nakedly presented to his lusting eyes.
"Take your bra off, Mrs. Reagan," he commanded, his hand dropping down to his bulging pants and stroking lightly.
Obediently, the tormented young woman reached behind her and unhooked the fasteners of her gauzy bra. She let it fall away, leaning back a little to pull her firm, pinkish-red-capped breasts up high as she knew he wanted her to; there would be no need for him to tell her lewdly what to do on this night.
"You have nice tits, Mrs. Reagan," wheezed Samuels, rubbing his swollen cock. He had unzipped his fly now, and his fingers were traveling eagerly over the surface of his shorts. "Very nice tits. I like them, Mrs. Reagan. I like them very much."
Sally stifled the low groan which threatened to escape her throat, and remained sitting there almost like a statue. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. Oh, God, what kind of filthy things its he going to do to me tonight? No… no, I can't think about them, I can't think ahead… have to make my mind a blank, a blank…
Samuels came around the coffee table, still massaging his huge prick with his fingers, and sat down next to the beautiful, almost completely naked young wife. His rubbery lips were parted wide, and thin rivulets of saliva coursed out at their corners. His eyes were fever bright. "Won't you have a cigarette, Mrs. Reagan," he said gratingly. "It will relax you while you look through the pictures. These are good cigarettes, Mrs. Reagan; you've had them before, remember?"
Pot! Her mind screamed. Oh, no, not more marijuana! She remembered the last time, how he had forced her to smoke one of the little brown cigarettes, and another, how she had become giddy and light-headed, responding to his commands almost eagerly as the fear and disgust left her body under the influence of the drug. But wait… maybe that was the best thing now… yes, for if she allowed herself to become high under the emotion-numbing drug the evening would go quickly and she would not be fully cognizant of the certain perversions he would perform upon her unwilling flesh. Yes, she had to get high, very high… pretend it was Jack touching her body as Samuels would surely touch it, pretend that her loving husband's penis was being thrust inside her when the time came instead of the grotesque monster of this gnome-like fiend… yes, that was what she would do, that was how she would survive this night…
Almost eagerly, Sally Reagan's fingers sought the scarred humidor on the table next to the pictures and next to an odd looking, black-cased, slender thing she had never seen before. She opened the box, extracted one of the crude brown cigarettes, and placed it between her soft, moist lips. Beside her, Samuels snapped a lighter into flame with his left hand, his right still stroking his blood-heavy penis, and lit the cigarette.
The young wife drew smoke into her lungs, holding it there as he had taught her that first time, releasing it finally. Then she repeated the process, and a third and fourth time.
"That's fine, Mrs. Reagan, that's just fine," Samuels croaked. "Now the pictures. Look at the pictures while you smoke. Look at them, now."
Already, after the first deep drag, the marijuana cigarette was beginning to have an effect on the tense young woman, relaxing her somewhat, making some of the fear and loathing and hate disappear, and she reached out and lifted the stack of photos. She held them up to her eyes, drawing on the stick again, then began to shuffle through them.
She knew them well, these snapshots. Jack and she had taken them together that night several months ago, with his brother's Polaroid. God, she wished she had never seen them, wished they had never existed! But she had seen them, and they did exist, and she looked at them, at one after another of them…
Jack and she, lying on their bed, with her hand circling his huge, erect penis while his middle finger was extended and half-buried in the warm, glistening folds of her wide splayed pussy… Jack with his lips pressed to one of her jutting breasts, while his extended finger tickled her erect, quivering clitoris… Jack with his mouth buried in her pubic hair, and her thumb rubbing across the swollen head of his penis… Jack with his head full between her wide-splayed thighs, his tongue pressed into the tingling flanges of her tenderly excited femininity and her face twisted grotesquely with the joy of the warm, wet contact… her, now, with her lips on his stomach while she stroked his organ and his testicles… her with mouth poised above the red, seminally-lubricated head of his member… her with her mouth closed over the head now, sucking as her fingers tickled his scrotum (God, she remembered the taste of his penis, the bittersweet flavor of his masculinity; she had liked it, because it was her husband and she loved him and wanted to please him, but now it seemed so revolting and obscene)… her with the full length of his great member pressed tight into her ovaled lips, her nose gently tickling his wiry pubic hair… the two of them on the bed, she straddling Jack, her buttocks raised to the camera, knees spread wide on either side of him, his penis inserted into the shimmering, petal-opened expanse of her vagina as she rocked back on it while kissing him full on the mouth… the same photo, only with Jack's middle finger teasing along and partly inserted in the tiny, rubbery opening of her anal passage…
"You like them, don't you, Mrs. Reagan?" Samuels intoned next to her, his fingers inside his under pants and wrapped around his trembling cock now. "You like them, and you're getting hot looking at them, aren't you?"
"Y-yes," Sally heard herself answer. "Yes, yes."
"Then lean back and put your hand down between your legs," commanded the postal clerk throatily. "Play with yourself like I'm doing, Mrs. Reagan. Put your fingers in your cunt, Mrs. Reagan. Ah, that's it… no, no, don't pull your panties down. Just pull them aside between your legs, and put your finger in your slit… yes, yes, now you've got it!"
Under his droning directions, the young marijuana-drugged housewife had begun to slide her middle finger slowly, slowly, up and down the moistening expanse of her tender young vaginal slit, feeling the juices of her femininity begin to flow in spite of the situation and because of her relaxed state of being. It's Jack's finger, not my own, she told herself over and over, it's Jack's finger, not my own…
Samuels, tremendously excited now by the sight of the sweet young woman slowly masturbating before him, removed the swollen, blood-engorged penis from his underpants, letting it jut high into the air as his claw-like fingers stroked it up and down. Goddamn, but this was really living! To have young married sluts like this at his mercy were the finest moments of his life, the things he really lived for… Jesus, Jesus, how he loved to torment the haughty Goddamned young bitches for his own pleasure!
"Another cigarette," he wheezed. "Here, I'll light it for you… no, no don't take your fingers out of your cunt, Mrs. Reagan! Keep playing with your clit while you smoke… good, good!"
The second marijuana joint relaxed the young woman even more, and she felt all her emotions go gently ebbing away, so that she was relaxed to a large degree and no longer apprehensive. And… yes, she was beginning to feel, in spite of her hopeless situation, a gentle tingling in her softly warm cunt. Jack's doing it, Jack's doing it, Jack's getting me excited like he always does, Jack Jack Jack…
She finished the second joint, and her head was swimming now, her finger moving with increasing rapidity in her cuntal valley, her eyes glazed over and her breasts heaving. The postal clerk, watching her and stroking his own burgeoning genitalia, snickered aloud as he saw the mounting sexuality in the young wife brought about by the marijuana and the pictures and her own manipulations. She was going to be fine tonight, a regular Goddamned hellcat; he'd teach her a thing or two, son-of-a-bitch if he wouldn't!
"On the table, Mrs. Reagan," he droned. "The vibrator… yes, that. Now take it in your hand… good, good, there's a little button on the bottom… click it forward, now you've got it."
Vibrator? What… what did he want her to do with that? Sally thought in her torpor. It was an ugly thing, black-cased, resembling an elongated candle stick with a rounded head – almost phallic-looking, like a slender, ugly penis. It was slippery in her hand, and when she clicked the button forward as he had directed it began a gentle tingling against her palm and she saw that the rounded head was oscillating from side to side with a steady rhythm. Vibrator, vibrating against her hand… what did he expect her to do with…?
"Now," Samuels whispered hotly, "put it down between your legs, Mrs. Reagan!" She seemed to stiffen. "B-between my legs?"
"You heard me, you little bitch!" he flared. "Do what I tell you, Goddamnit, or I ruin that fine young husband of yours! Now put the vibrator down between those hot little thighs of yours… that's it, that's it… pull the band of your panties farther over so that you can get the head of the vibrator up your cunt… now you've got it! Move it up and down, up and down, up and down… ohhh, you're doing fine, Mrs. Reagan, just fine!"
The young wife felt the tingling vascillation of the battery-powered vibrator against the moist sensitive flesh of her vaginal region and her entire body began to shudder tremulously. Oh, God, oh, God, it… it feels good! It feels good, up and down, up and down, it's sick and disgusting with him watching me doing it to myself but it feels sooo good…
She was excited now, in her drugged state, and her hips began to move back and forth restlessly on the soft material of the sofa. Samuels watched with bated breath as she moved the slender black vibrator up and down between her widely spread thighs, holding the crotchband of her panties away from the glistening wet folds of her tight, hair-fringed young cunt.
"Shove it inside now!" he hissed excitedly. "Shove it all the way up your cunt, Mrs. Reagan! Do it, do it now!"
Sally's mind seemed to rebel for a moment to reject that totally alien concept of inserting a vibrating instrument, a mechanical creation, into herself. But the marijuana, mixed with her predisposition to obey and thus bring to a hopefully rapid conclusion this night of horror, finally overcame the objection of her morality. She let the oscillating head of the instrument move along each of the tender, softly pink lips of her pussy, back and forth, and then, slowly, she inserted a little more of the head of the vibrator inside, spreading her legs as wide as she could and drawing the band of her panties wide across her open pubic area. The machine tingled inside, tingled, and she felt passion begin to flow through her as the electrical device teased the buttery walls of her vagina.
"All the way in, all the way inside your cunt!" Samuels prodded breathlessly, his hand wildly stroking his exposed cock.
And she obeyed, thrusting the tingling vibrator deep, deep inside her until she could feel its oscillating head pressing maddeningly against her cervix. The sensations brought low moans from her throat, caused her to flair her head from side to side abandonly. Her high, rounded breasts were sheened with sweat, bobbing excitedly on her chest.
The evil civil servant could scarcely stand the excitement of witnessing the subjugated young wife thrusting the vibrator far up into her own belly. He was becoming so hot now that he knew his balls would soon burst. And yet, he had to hold out for just a little while longer… his own pleasure was foremost, of course, but there was one other thing to think about as well, his true and trusted friend to think about. He couldn't cum until his friend had had his fill of this black-haired little married bitch next to him.
He turned his head reluctantly from the salacious sight of the young wife masturbating herself with the vibrator, and looked in the direction of the kitchen, his eyes glinting wickedly and his slobbering lips parted wide.
"Ringo!" he shouted. "Here, Ringo boy!"
At once, the huge, furry form of the postal clerk's German Shepherd came bounding in from the kitchen, panting eagerly as if it had been waiting anticipatorily for its master's call. Chuckling, Samuels patted the animal on the head, still rubbing his erect penis. Then he said to the young housewife, "Take the vibrator out of your cunt now, Mrs. Reagan. Rub your breasts with it, make them nice and hard, make your nipples tingle. Hurry now!"
Slowly, obediently, and almost hesitantly she withdrew the oscillating device from her trembling vagina, moved it up to her quivering breasts. It was wet with her lubrications and seemed to glisten maniacally in the light from the naked overhead fixture. She pressed it to her breasts, in her drugged state not noticing because of her tightly closed eyes the presence of the great, panting German Shepherd.
"Keep the band of your panties pulled over, Mrs. Reagan!" ordered Samuels. "And keep your legs spread wide. All right, good… now, Ringo, now you can go!"
The massive dog went directly to the girl, its enormous jowls parted and its long, furled tongue panting wetly, redly. Then its cold snout pressed against one of Sally Reagan's thighs, and she froze, her eyes opening and staring down at the beast which sniffed hungrily between her thighs.
My God, my God! her mind protested. Not that dog again! Oh, dear Lord, please not that dog again!
But even as she thought this, she knew what was about to happen, knew she was about to be subjected once again to the most horrible of perversions, to the sexual attack of a dog! She wanted to leave, to leap to her feet and run, to get out of that House of Horror and yet she remained immobile, knowing that she must submit, that there were things of more importance than a single night of personal depravity at stake. She pressed the vibrator tight to her swollen breasts, rubbing it back and forth across her already throbbing, hungrily aching nipples as she watched in mesmeric terror the German Shepherd lowering its huge head down between her naked, defenseless thighs.
Tail wagging excitedly, Ringo sniffed at the trembling, moist-haired slit exposed beneath the pulled-aside panties. Then its tongue snaked out with a long exploratory lick on the fluted edges of the tender-cunt, causing the young housewife to shudder violently and her hips to begin to move reflexively. The dog ran its tongue wetly the full length of the young wife's exposed slit, up and down her pink vaginal lips from the wetly flowing entrance to her throbbing clit, then back again, then up again, flicking relentlessly the juices of her flaming passion. Mewls of shame and delight, the ambivalent mixture which coursed through Sally Reagan's body, burst from her lips as the German Shepherd continued to plunder her tender pussy with its long, glistening tongue.
"Wider!" shouted Samuels' lust-incited voice. "Pull your panties wider so he can get his tongue up inside your pussy! Goddamn you, do what I say, you little bitch! Spread those legs wide so Ringo can put his tongue into your cunt!"
She did as he bid, pulling the panties over as far as she could without ripping them, and the immense dog responded immediately by flicking its long tongue into the wetly pink opening of her vagina, its cold snout pressed tightly to her vulva as it eagerly licked at the juices of her desire. She moaned aloud now, tossing her head and her body, her free hand coming down in helpless surrender to convulsively grasp the great furry head buried in her hungrily clasping young cunt.
Oh, Jesus, oh, Goddamn son of a bitch! the wizened postal clerk thought. What a sight! That little bitch with her legs spread and Ringo's tongue flicking into her hot little cant, while she rubs the vibrator over her tits! I can't take much more of this before I blow my wad! Should I keep beating my cock while Ringo licks her pussy, and then cum all over her Goddamned sweet little face? That would be good… no, no, wait! A better idea! I'll have Ringo fuck her from behind and shoot his cum into her snobbish little cunt. And at the same time, I'll shove my cock into her mouth and fuck her face and blow my cum down her throat! Yes, yes, oh; God how exciting this is going to be!
Sally Reagan was almost insensate with passion now as she felt the fire-hot tongue of the dog licking wildly at her cunt. She was past all-caring, for her mind was controlled completely by the forces of lust and drug. Her pussy was on fire, her breasts were on fire, her brain was on fire… she knew nothing else, cared about nothing else… she was a helpless slave, a tool in the hands of the evil sorcerer who sat next to her, stroking his burgeoning penis and shouting obscenities and encouragements to the German Shepherd.
It was time, it was time! thought the lust-crazed clerk.
He leapt to his feet, his cock jutting blood-red out in front of him in the palm of his hand, and screamed, "Back, Ringo! Back, boy! You're going to get plenty in a minute, you're going to fuck this little bitch like I know you've been wanting to! Be patient, Ringo! Back!"
With apparent reluctance, the huge beast drew back from between the quivering thighs of the young wife, sitting on its haunches with eyes that seemed almost as glazed as its master's. Then Samuels commanded harshly, "Take your panties off, Mrs. Reagan. Make yourself naked, you hot little bitch! Then get down on the floor, by the table there, down on the floor on all fours like the little bitch you are! You're in heat, and we have to see that you're serviced, don't we?" He cackled with almost an insane lust.
The beautiful housewife, responding like an automaton, stood up and stripped off her last remaining garment, revealing the dog-saliva soaked expanse of her naked, softly hair-fringed cunt completely to the eager eyes of the postal clerk, then, in total surrender, dropped down on all fours on the floor.
"Move your knees apart and get your ass higher up in the air!" directed Samuels. "Open that cunt up! Now you're in the right position, aren't you, Mrs. Reagan? Answer me!"
"Ye… yes!"
"You want to be fucked, don't you?"
"Yes, yes!"
"You want dog cock inside you, don't you?"
"Yes, oooohhhhh yes!"
"You heard her, Ringo!" screamed Samuels. "Fuck her, boy! Climb on her ass and fuck her like the bitch in heat she is!"
The dog seemed to need no further encouragement. It ran in one graceful jump to the quivering buttocks of the girl, sniffed the moistened expanse of her pubic exposure a single time, and then climbed up on her from behind, its long, shining, wetly red penis coming into view from its concealment in the furry sheath of the animal's loins. The tapered head slid in and out of the wet covering as the German Shepherd fought to bury its cock deep in the waiting, subjugated young wife's cunt. The beast's forepaws sawed rhythmically at her waist, its long tongue lolling out on the smooth, textured surface of her back.
"He's ready, Ringo's ready!" Samuels was beside himself with fiery lust now, his hand beating his cock until it seemed to be a blur of motion, standing over the girl and the dog like some evil and perverted film director shouting arrangements for a new scene. "Reach back and take his cock in your hand, Mrs. Reagan! Put it into your cunt! Put my dog's prick in your pussy, Mrs. Reagan! Help him fuck you, put it in, put it in!"
Sally's hips rotated in mad anticipation and her mind told her it was her husband, not a dog her husband, not a dog. She reached back to grasp the slippery organ pressing against the back of her thigh, its redness contrasting almost ludicrously with her soft pink cunt lips. It slipped from her fingers, but she grasped it again, guiding the huge penis into her soft, hair-fringed slit, spreading the opening wider and wider until it seemed as if she would surely split apart. The animal bucked wildly, driving his immense cudgel deep into the young wife's squirming pussy, slammed home; its monstrous balls bounced against her defenseless pubic mound as she lunged backward reflexively to meet the panting dog's forward thrusts. Her face was contorted mindlessly now, and she buffeted back against the invading prick, thinking it was her husband's cock, Jack fucking her, as the monstrous animal drove its crimson penis faster and faster, deeper and deeper, into her moist, quivering vagina.
Got to fuck her face, now, right now, while Ringo is fucking her cunt with his big dog cock! the depraved postal clerk thought. Got to shove my prick into that soft, tender mouth of hers and fill it up with cum, choke her with my cum!
Feverishly, Samuels lay supine on the threadbare rug, twisting his body so that his loins were beneath the bobbing, jerking head of the young woman. He held his cock up to her, like some obscene offering of wonderment while Ringo, the German Shepherd, continued to thrust his great red cock deep into her cunt.
"Suck me!" he screeched. "Suck my cock, Mrs. Reagan! Take it in your mouth! Hurry, do it now!"
The young housewife obeyed, screwing her hips back hard on the thundering penis of the great dog mounted upon her, filled with uncontrollable lust and total subjugation. Her sweet, softly warm lips opened over the naked loins of the wizened civil servant, her tongue slipping forward between them so that it was poised less than an inch over the throbbing penile head. One hand came up to grasp his huge, swollen cock tightly, and then her head moved slowly downward, boring teasingly at the dilated opening. Samuels sucked in his breath at the electrifying contact, and he groaned aloud as the young wife opened her mouth wide and enclosed the whole of his smooth, fleshy cock with her hot, damp interior cheeks. Her mouth tightened, and her tongue began to swirl around the crown like some fantastic dervish; he raised his loins high, twisting his body so that he was lying almost parallel with her, his face near her churning hips and his eyes glaring feverishly up at the jerking German Shepherd's cock buried far up into the voraciously clasping channel of the insensate woman.
Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn! his warped brain howled as he watched the firm, resilient breasts of the young wife dance tightly beneath her writhing body as the huge dog drove his flailing hot cudgel deep into her cunt. Fuck her good, Ringo boy, fuck her good! Fuck her. Fuck her, oh, Jesus, I'm going to cum any second now her mouth is like warm honey around my cock and I'm fucking her face like I like to do to all these hot young bitches… oooooohhhhhhh!
Young Sally Reagan was now reduced to little more than a quivering mass of flesh between the pounding onslaught of the dog's cock in her pussy, the heaving girth of the sweating postal clerk's prick shoved deep between her ovaled lips. Her torso whipped madly from side to side and she rammed her buttocks with abandoned frenzy back against the animal, her mouth working voraciously over and around the palpitating cock of the toady man who bucked his loins into her face, licking and sucking his prick as if it were Jack's, her husband's, as if she were trying to please the man she loved…
And then, without advance warning, the panting, thrusting German Shepherd began to spew hot fire-torrents of sticky white animal cum from its flame-red cock, leaping like molten drops of lava into the very core of her body. Thick sperm oozed from her cunt as it clasped the jerking prick of the dog, began to trail down along the backs of her thighs.
Samuels saw the animal sperm erupting around Ringo's prick, and the sight triggered his own tremendous orgasm. He screamed high and loud, his eyes rolling in their sockets, bucking and heaving his buttocks upward to drive the full length of his huge penis into the mouth of young Sally Reagan, filling it, threatening to strangle her. Then his balls erupted their great buildup of semen, sent jets of white fire shooting the full length of his spasming prick to flow deep against the larynx of the wildly convulsed young wife, filling her mouth to overflowing so that his cum poured out around his cock locked tightly in her lips to flow down her chin as Ringo's cum was flowing down her thighs. She swallowed spasmodically to keep from choking, her lips and tongue nuzzling and licking the jerking cock of the wizened government employee, swallowing as much of his semen as she could as his testicles seemed to empty forth a never-ending stream of the bittersweet liquid.
Then, at last, it was over for the completely enslaved wife. She felt the dog's huge prick slid from her quivering passage to retreat back into its furry crevice, felt the cold snout nuzzle her as if in compliment and then retreat. And, too she felt the now-deflated cock of Steve Samuels slide from between her semen-glistening lips with a soft, gentle plopping sound. She collapsed forward in that moment, falling across Samuels' naked thighs, uncaring of that which pillowed her body, thinking in her drug-hazed mind, It's over now, it's over, Jack has cum, both Jacks have cum in my pussy and my mouth and it's over…
But it was not over, not by any stretch of the imagination. Young Sally Reagan had only begun to participate in an evening of such lewd carnality that it would leave her almost witless at its end. For Steve Samuels, with remarkable regenerative powers, had his huge, swollen cock half-hard again even as she lay exhausted over his legs and the dog, Ringo, was sniffing once again at her still throbbing cuntal region.
"Suck me again, Mrs. Reagan," commanded the civil servant. "Suck me to full hardness. I want to fuck your cunt next, fuck your cunt like Ringo just did. Come on, Mrs. Reagan, suck me some more with your soft, soft little mouth."
And Sally obeyed, mouthing Samuels erect again, so that he could fuck her – submitting to other, incredible injustices involving the perverted clerk and his insatiable German Shepherd on and on into the night, on and on and on…
And then, at last, Samuels allowed her to dress and called her a taxi. When it arrived, he led her child-like form to the door, reveling in the knowledge that he had made her this slavish zombie with his great cock and his huge dog. "Go home to your husband, now, you little slut!" he taunted. "You're nothing but a little whore, and you deserve that pimp of a husband of yours. Serves you right, serves you both right, for filling our mails with your lewd pornographic pictures!"
He cackled obscenely as she half-ran, half-stumbled down to the waiting taxi. He watched her practically fall inside, watched the cab speed away, and he thought: I did everything to her tonight that I wanted to do – except fuck her in the asshole. But that's all right, because I'm saving that exciting little game for someone else, for someone much more exciting than this little Reagan bitch.
I'm saving it for a one Mrs. Cindy Jamison.
He cackled again as he shut the door and went back to the living room, the German Shepherd Ringo at his side. Yes, this was only a preliminary, all right. Mrs. Jamison was going to be the main event, the new conquest. He could hardly wait until he saw the expression on her face when he first confronted her with her picture, because that was the one thing that really turned him on, excited him above all else.
He went to bed then and slept the sleep of the guileless, dreaming all the while of Cindy Jamison and what he would do to her, how he would fuck her and subject her to his every whim, how he would subjugate her as he had Mrs. Sally Reagan.
Oh, it wouldn't be long now, not very long at all.
And then Cindy Jamison, that stuck-up little whore-bitch, would be begging him on hands and knees for his mercy…