Chapter 3
Dr. Ralph Ramey gave Lee Farr the cunt-refill she wanted and then some when they got to New York. They registered at a swank hotel in the East Sixties, just off Fifth Avenue. This was the happy hunting grounds of most of Manhatten's psychiatrists-rich screw-ball patients abounded in the "Gold Coast" as the area is known. Ralph hoped he'd soon be getting his share, money was beginning to get low.
The phone rang just then and a hoarse voice questioned, "Dr. Ramey? Dr. Ralph Ramey?"
"Yes."
"There's something very important I've got to talk to you about. Can you come down to the lobby for a few minutes, or shall I come up? It's urgent!" the hoarse voice said.
"I'll be down," Ramey said tonelessly.
The man who approached him in the lobby was as thin as lath. Yet he gave the impression of power. He didn't carry a gun. Ramey knew this because the straight-up-and-down figure would have shown the bulge of a lead pencil in his pocket.
Ramey withheld any cordiality. His tone was cold as he said, "I'm not in the habit of being called into hotel lobbies. People make appointments when they want to see me."
The bean-pole dropped down on a sofa. "Okay, this is your office. I come on business. A man wants to see you."
"Then let him come and make an appointment."
"AD right," the man said. "My name's Joe Toder. I work for the man that wants to see you. And you got a choice. You can come with me or you can get thrown into the can for registering as man and wife with the dame you got off the plane with."
Ramey readjusted swiftly. He sat down beside Joe Toder on the lounge. "You seem to have become interested in me and my affairs. What else do you know about me?"
"I guess we might as well get it over with," Joe Toder sighed. "Your real name is Ralph Scofield. That's the one you were born with in Columbus, Ohio, forty-five years ago. You graduated from high school there and went to a one-horse college in Illinois where you got thrown out for fucking around with a local broad. You worked as an attendant in a hospital in Chicago until you learned the whole medical bit and then forged a diploma and hooked on at a private mental sanitarium in Kansas. You've got a talent for hypnotism like out of this world and you've been using it ever since they threw you out of that nut factory. But you operated like a schmoe, because you aren't really very bright. You kept doing penny ante grifts and headed out after each caper."
"You were Mark Kirby in the last one. A couple of days ago. A broad jumped out a window on account of maybe you got careless."
Joe Toder raised sad, deep-set eyes. "And so here we are. Now do you want to get bagged here and sent back to explain why the broad jumped, or do you want to see my boss?"
"I guess I'd better see your boss, but there's a favor I'd like to ask."
Toder shrugged. "Ask it."
"I have no love of my multiple-titled background. I'd like to be known as Doctor Ralph Ramey."
"That's O.K. by me, Doc."
"Thank you."
"About the broad. You want to shake her?"
"She's an old friend. I owe her the courtesy of explaining my absence."
"You don't owe her the time of day," Joe Toder said wearily, "but if she's good and you don't want to lose track of her, give her a ring and tell her you'll be back sometime."
"I'd like to go up and tell her personally."
"It might take all day. Tell her on the house phone."
Ralph Ramey went to the house phone and got Lee. "I'm leaving for a little while, baby."
"Like hell you are."
Ramey felt he had enough troubles without doing battle with Lee. "I said I was leaving. I'll be back."
"That's what you said three years ago."
Ramey wondered what thread of weakness there was in his otherwise strong character that made him put up with this. "Lee! We're not married, you know."
"What difference would that make to you? Where are you going?"
"I don't know. A man wants to see me on business."
"That business you were running away from? I didn't get a chance to ask you about it."
"It has nothing to do with this."
"When will you be back?"
"I'll call you."
My God! he thought. Did I say that? It looks as though I've really been trapped! "How soon?"
"Damn it, Lee! Will you mind your own business? I've got something to do. I'm going to do it!"
He slammed the phone down, and as he returned to Joe Toder, he marveled at the deep compulsion for Lee that had been latent all these three years. In a matter of hours, her grip on him was firmer than ever....
And so here he was-riding with the taciturn Joe Toder beside him. Joe had pulled his hat down over his eyes and apparently gone to sleep.
"Am I permitted to know the name of the man who wants to see me?"
Joe's jaw moved. "Mike Moratta."
Ramey smiled wryly. "His real name?"
"It's what he goes by."
Ramey turned silent and watched the passing scene and it was Joe Toder who spoke next. "This racket of yours-this hypnotism bit. I understand your specialty is making broads fuck for guys."
Ramey almost responded hotly. Then he caught himself. "I'll explain hypnotism and the results it achieves if you'll give me a little information."
Toder thought that over. He pushed his hat back off his eyes. "Depends on what the information is."
"How did you assemble that file on me?"
"That what?"
"The personal file. How did you get all your information?"
"The boss knows the right guys. Anything he wants, he gets. The boss don't say good morning to anybody knowing where they were born and what jails they been in."
That hardly answered the question, but Ramey answered it himself by conceding that all information is available to someone and all someones are available at a price. Obviously Mike Moratta was a man who had money to pay for what he wanted. That in itself made him interesting.
"Very well, what did you want to know about hypnotism?"
"What's it all about?"
"Hypnotism is the term used in definition of-?"
"Nuts to that," Joe Toder said. "Is it true you can make a broad strip for you?"
"It's possible."
"What about the caper you got thrown out of Topeka for-making two naked broads shit and piss around on the floor ... Did you really do it, or was it some kind of a frame?"
"Such things are possible."
"I didn't ask you that. Did you make these two broads do it?"
The misdirection in that case had been quite simple for a hypnotist of Ramey s talents. He'd merely discovered and played upon a compulsion in the two girls-a need to be degraded. They'd subconsciously thought of themselves as worthless and had self-destruction psychoses.
"Yes," he said.
"There's a little broad I'd like to go for me," Toder reminated, thus proving that abstract looking bean-poles are, after all, human beings.
"Why don't you let her know how you feel?"
"You think I ain't done that?"
"She doesn't respond?"
"Sure-to the damned butler. Last week he fucked her out in the bushes behind the garage and she came back smiling."
"Is a girl of that type worth the effort?"
"I didn't ask for a sermon. I asked could you make her fuck for me?"
"It sounds as though she'd fuck for anybody. You shouldn't have much trouble."
"I can see where you're going to be a big help," Toder growled.
Ramey pried for more information. "Is Mike Moratta looking for a practitioner to condition a girl for humping?"
"How the hell do I know what he's looking for? That ain't my business."
They lapsed into silence and Ramey drifted into self-analysis. This mood was brought about mainly by Joe Toder's reference to the Topeka affair. How, Ramey wondered, had Moratta gotten wind of that incident?
But he was more interested in his own weaknesses and motivations that the sordid escapade highlighted. He had always believed in facing himself squarely and had tried to do so. This was no doubt an admirable trait, but in his case it had amounted merely to admitting that he had dedicated a remarkable talent to the shoddiness of expediency. He had wasted a rare gift by always taking the easy way.
Aware that he had a power over other human beings, he had excused wasting his days and his years by telling himself as soon as he had a substantial bank account, he would settle down and use his gift worthily.
But that time never seemed to come. There was always another quick dollar to be made the easy way. The new man of integrity would always emerge tomorrow, the day that never arrived.
The conditioning of women for fucking had begun on an entirely worthy basis. He sat back and closed his eyes and remembered the actual experience that had shown him the vast possibilites open to him in that direction....
A man named Hank Tremaine came to Ramey he was calling himself Dr. Fuller at the time-while he was in Lansing, Michigan, making a bare living as a lecturer to small female groups who thought hypnotism "too exciting for words."
Tremaine was in trouble. His wife and he weren't hitting it off and their marriage was headed for the rocks. Would Dr. Fuller talk to her if Tremaine sent her in?
Dr. Fuller talked to her on the basis of twenty dollars an hour and felt extremely ethical about it.
Freda Tremaine was a beautiful girl. One look and Dr. Fuller didn't blame Hank for wanting to hold onto her. He also understood how maddening it must be to lie in bed beside that exciting cunt and generate no response in it whatever.
He began the interview by getting a few things straight. "Mrs. Tremaine, are we both clear on why you've come to me?"
She sat on the deep sofa in his hotel room, her oval face troubled, her gorgeous legs crossed, the knees high and gleaming through nylon.
She nodded.
"You are here at your husband's suggestion then not necessarily because of his urging?"
"I want to be a good wife."
"And why do you think you aren't a good wife?"
"I-I can't let Hank put his penis in me. I love him and I want to and it would break my heart if we separated. But I freeze up."
"Taking your husband's pecker doesn't sound like too much of a problem."
"It may be small to you. It's big to me."
"I didn't mean it in that sense. Correcting the situation shouldn't be too difficult."
He really hadn't the least idea how it could be corrected or if such were possible. But instilling confidence was the first rule.
He was rewarded by a look of hope that made Freda Tremaine's face positively radiant. And made him think: what a cunt to be wasted in a hick town!
"As your husband probably told you, I am a specialist of mental therapy. I use hypnotism as a device for opening your mind and getting to the cause of your trouble."
"Hank said it had something to do with suggestion."
"Yes, but one thing is important. The patient must cooperate. No one can go into the necessary trance if he resists."
That seemed to frighten her. She clasped and reclasped her hands, crossed and re-crossed her gorgeous legs. "Is-is it dangerous?"
"Not in the least. Now please think over what I've told you and if you wish to go ahead with treatments, be here at three tomorrow afternoon. Then we'll proceed further...."
He used the first twenty to pay his hotel bill and hoped for a second. There were five visits in all and he could have made more except that he had to leave town rather hurriedly when a private investigator turned up from Detroit looking for a man who flim-flammed a druggist there for advance payment on a shipment of antibiotics that never arrived.
But his last session with the alluring Freda Tremaine was memorable. He'd had a rather difficult time getting her to accept the trance state; not that she didn't want to or that she didn't try. She strove to relax and obeyed Ids simple orders and suggestions but never went into more than the shallowest of trances.
Then, that last time, all the signs became apparent. When she finally reached deep trance, it was the most natural thing in the world for her.
And now he had a problem. What to do with her? He'd achieved the trance but he hadn't solved her problem and he wasn't very clear on how to go about it.
Then the same instincts that made him outstanding as a talent who played it by ear inspired him and he pierced Freda Tremiane's trance with:
"You know who I am, don't you? I am Hank Fuller, your husband."
Her answer was doubtful. "You are-Hank?"
"I am Hank-your husband. I have something to tell you."
"Yes-you are Hank. Hank I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" This prize piece of ass wasted on a goof like that, he thought. But it was merely a mental observation as he realized how deeply the girl longed to satisfy her husband's cock.
The thing to do here for course-what a professional psychiatrist would have done-would have been to probe carefully, over a long period, and discover the girl's block.
But he didn't have time for that. He said, "I always tell you the truth, don't I?"
"You always tell me the truth, Hank."
"All right. Now I'm telling you that I'm going to leave you."
She tightened, became rigid.
"I am going to leave you, Freda."
"Why? Why are you going to leave me?"
The reason was clear in her subconscious and he realized she could not face it. He realized also that he was lumbering around in dangerous territory. But the recklessness that later sent a girl hurtling from the twenty-first floor of a hotel, drove him on.
"I have found another girl, Freda. A girl who knows how to fuck me the way I like!"
"No, Hank! No! I love you! Don't leave me!"
"You don't know how to fuck me!" He spoke clearly and ruthlessly, half-expecting her to come out of her trance in protest.
But she did not. She was in too deep. She was trapped. Probably afraid to come out and face reality.
"I'll fuck you, Hank. I'll do anything you want me to."
"That's not true."
"I'm not lying, I'm not!"
"You aren't able to fuck!"
"I am! I am!"
He was standing about three feet from her and he was amazed when she sat up, her eyes open but transfixed and dropped to her knees in front of him.
"Hank. Let me make love to you. Please!"
"I have a new girl. You are no longer attractive to me. You are cold and unresponsive."
"No. Hank, no!" She got to her feet and looked like a sleep-walker as she stood there. "I am beautiful. You said I was beautiful. You said that!"
It was incredible, he thought. That a woman like this could have much a compulsion for Hank Tremaine. Good lord! The man had an ingrown chin and you could have hoed beets with his front teeth using his neck for a handle.
He put his hand on Freda Tremaine's shoulder. She took the hand in an odd, quick, sleep-walking movement and put it to her bare breast. She accomplished this by pushing his fingers up under her jacket-she wore no blouse-and under her bra until he touched her nipple. It was large and well-formed, but it stayed soft.
"I'm beautiful. I'm more beautiful than your other girl. I am! I am!"
He was frozen in amazement. And. even more astounded when she withdrew his hand and reversed its direction. She drew in her stomach and pushed it down under the waist band of her skirt....
Now her voice fell to a whisper. "It's enough, isn't it Hank? The-regular things-they're enough."
And the true situation dawned on him. How it really was between Hank Tremiane and his wife.
She got to her feet and began to undress. "Anything you want, darling I love you."
She stripped off her clothing piece by piece until she stood naked before him. Then she began running her hands over his erecting cock.
"Like this? This is how it should start?"
She partially stripped him....
"This was the way you tried to show me?"
He felt her warm, searching lips on the head of his stiff prick and for a few moments, he was revolted. Then the excitement of it gripped him ... That rat!
That miserable louse! he said mentally. But there were two of him now. The decent psychiatrist who had contempt for Hank Tremaine, and the man to whom Freda Tremaine was demonstrating her new-found ability to please her husband.
She could not speak now because she was sliding her lips up and down the shaft of his cock.
And his pseudo-knowledge of psychiatry rationalized it for him by telling him that she really wanted to do this. Thus, for a moment, he sold himself on the same bilge he fed his lecture audiences; the cliche; the over-simplification. "She really wanted to give him a blow-job all the time. I'm helping her by letting her suck me off. I'm saving her marriage. I'm earning the lousy twenty bucks her husband is paying me."
She displayed the evil excellence of cock-sucking technique he would expect to find in the most experienced harlot. He began to tremble as she found sensitive nerve-ends ... Unable to control himself, he shot spurt after spurt of creamy, hot scum right down her throat!
He watched her for signs of revulsion but there were none. The desire to please her husband dissolved all else.
Love directed into pathways Of brutal degradation....
It was over. She sank into the couch as he got up from it. She began to cry softly.
"I love you, Hank."
"It's all right, darling. You're more beautiful than the other girl. I've forgotten all about her, now that you've given me such a marvelous blow-job!"
Freda Tremaine's mind was capable of accepting anything he told her as truth. She accepted this. Not with emotion, but as simple fact.
"You have forgotten her. Now we can make love," he said. "Now you know how to suck my cock. Remember that. Now you know to suck my cock. There is no doubt in your mind. You no longer are afraid. You can satisfy me."
"I can satisfy you."
And Dr. Fuller boldly decided to test Ferda's 'regulation style' as he caressed her two gorgeous breasts into nipple-hardening desire. Dr. Fuller stripped to be in tune with his patient, and his body felt real hump-desire as Freda's lips kissed his neck and chest. As he covered her soft body with his sturdy torso, he could feel Freda's cunt-heat. He felt her draw his pulsing prick within the warmth of her writhing cunt and buttocks. As his stiff prick thrust and plunged, she began a circular, wriggling cunt-rhythm under him. Her legs tightened around his middle like a vise suddenly, as she cried aloud, "Hank-oh, Hank! This is so good!"
The good doctor felt spurts of hot semen surge through as he joined his patient in the ecstasy of mutual orgasm.
He dressed and then implanted the suggestion in Freda's mind that she would always be able to fuck Hank beautifully any way at all. When she was dressed he brought her out of the trance state. She was completely unaware of what had transpired, told him she felt much better and paid his fee.
As he pocketed the money, the thought, I should be paying you for a delightful hump, Mrs. Tremaine!
When he got enthusiastic reports from Hank Tremaine about Freda's fucking later, he figured that he had something unique in his ability to influence a woman's love life through his hypnotic ability. Now to make it pay off....