Chapter 8
Cheryl was taken to the same room where she had been held before. Again, after the blindfold was taken off, she was left alone behind a bolted door. As she sat on the bed, memories of that first night of debauchery came flooding back into her mind, making her head spin with fear and disgust. She made herself collect her wits-she was going to need them. At least now there wasn't the total disorientation. She knew why she was here, and she knew what she was supposed to do.
That was the part she was trying to avoid thinking about. If she just thought of herself as an actress-carrying out a role-maybe that would be best. What would this French dope smuggler want of her-why was she so important? Why had so much trouble been taken to provide her for him? It seemed that even Frank, with all his power, was acting as a lackey for this Frenchman.
There was a soft tap on the door, then the door opened and a girl walked in. She was a stunningly beautiful girl with soft, brown hair and incredibly white smooth skin, which was revealed to advantage by the softly draped silk minidress that she wore.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Sandy. I brought some dresses for you to chose from."
She deposited an armload of clothes on the bed.
Cheryl noticed that she had not bothered to close the door behind her. For just an instant, the wild thought came to her of running-of trying to find her way out of this house-out of this nightmare. But she knew it was hopeless. She turned and eyed the other girl with curiosity. Was she also a prisoner-recruited for the special needs of Frank and his business associates? She seemed more comfortable in her role than Cheryl did, if that was the case.
No, it was more likely that she was one of them-that she was here willingly.
She shuffled sullenly through the dresses. None of them were what she would ever have chosen to wear-although they were all very expensive. One of them was black satin-but it dipped down in front all the way to her navel. She finally chose an orange minidress that barely came down to her crotch, but at least covered her breasts.
Sandy scooped up the others and started for the door.
"Try to be dressed and ready in a half an hour -that's when we're having dinner," she said. "Is there anything else that you need?"
Cheryl looked at her in astonishment. The girl seemed friendly enough. But what amazed her was the way she was being treated. It was as if she were a guest rather than a prisoner. She started to ask the girl about Rene, but she decided that it would be a bad move. She didn't know what she was supposed to know and not know-and she decided that it would be best to just take things one step at a time.
Sandy smiled and left. This time, however, the door clicked behind her, and Cheryl knew she was locked in again. There was a limit to how much they were going to trust her. It was an elaborate charade. Apparently Rene didn't like to feel that girls had to be brought to him against their will, so an effort was being made to make the whole thing appear natural and cordial. It was bizarre-a case of highly stylized rape, but rape nevertheless. If it only worked--if Bobby could only do what he was trying to do and end this whole nightmare.
But her confidence waned once she was dressed and waiting for someone to come for her. What kind of hope did Bobby have against people like this. He wasn't stupid-he was sharp and tough, but these people had all the cards. She suddenly felt a deep despair, a blinding hopelessness. They would kill him if they found out what he was up to-who he was. And, they would probably kill her too. She tried to put those thoughts aside, but it was hard to have much confidence in such a situation.
At last there came a knock on the door.
It was Sandy again.
"Come with me," she said. "It's time for dinner."
She kept her face expressionless as she was led into the dining room. She only recognized a few of the men at the table. There was Frank, of course. And, there were the two men who had abused her the other time. Then her eyes fixed on a man seated at one end of the table, and somehow she knew that he was Rene.
He was very dark and very intense. He was watching her with unmistakable interest. There was a strange magnetism in his dark eyes. Cheryl could not look away. There was something horrible, yet fascinating about his chiseled features. He radiated power-it surrounded him like a halo. Cheryl was suddenly more frightened of him than she had ever been of anything in her life.
She was seated next to him. He sat staring at her as he would stare at an expensive piece of merchandise. Finally, she had to look down, away from his terrible, probing eyes, afraid that he would see the hate and the fear in her face.
"You are quite beautiful," he said softly, in perfect English, with only a trace of an accent.
She paused and drew a deep breath. "I'm glad you like me," she forced herself to say. She had to play her part-it was her only chance.
Dinner was served.
Cheryl forced herself to eat-grateful for something to do with her hands to hide the trembling.
There was talk among the Frenchmen-mostly in French. Cheryl didn't understand what was being said, but she had the feeling that it concerned her. She was, after all, the only woman in the room-with the exception of the girl called Sandy, who had seated herself beside Frank.
The dinner was strangely delicious. Partly, it was the fact that Cheryl had not eaten-really eaten in a long time. Then, too, it was the only thing standing between her and-God knew what kind of debauchery. It was an illusion of normality, and even though she knew it was an illusion, she clung to it eagerly.
But then, somehow dinner was finished, and the dishes were being cleared from the table.
Frank stood at the head of the table.
"Gentlemen," he said, in English. "If you will all follow me . . . " His eyes glanced quickly toward Cheryl. "Excuse me . . . gentlemen and ladies." There was the faint hint of a sardonic smirk on his lips. "I have some very special entertainment arranged for your enjoyment."
Rene stood quickly, and-in perfect continental fashion-helped Cheryl with her chair. Then he guided her toward the door at the far end of the room, with one arm lightly touching her waist.
It was all she could do to keep her knees from collapsing under her. What was going to happen? What was the entertainment that Frank had arranged?
The room they entered was spacious. There was a thick-napped carpet on the floor, and the furniture had all been arranged to face the far wall, on which was suspended a large movie screen.
Rene guided her to a couch, which was centrally located. She sat down, and he sat beside her, his arm still cradled around her yielding waist. Her short skirt rode up along her sleek brown thighs. She wanted to tug it down, but she restrained herself. If she wanted to be convincing, she couldn't act like a demure little schoolgirl.
The others seated themselves, and Frank's voice resounded clearly from the back of the room.
"I know that you French have had quite a reputation for a long time in the fields of film making, particularly films of a special sort. I think that you'll agree, after seeing what I'm about to show you, that we Americans are moving up quickly in the field. This was one of my first tries as a director. I hope you enjoy it."
The lights went out, and a projector at the rear of the room began to whirr.
A young girl appeared on the screen. She was no more than fourteen or fifteen years old-a slim blonde girl, with hardly any breasts at all, and slim legs. The film was in color, and the blue of her eyes was striking as she looked with obvious fear into the camera. She was completely naked, and she seemed to be making a hopeless effort to cover herself with her hands. There was a chuckle from the spectators at her predicament, and suddenly there was a tenseness of anticipation in the room. It seemed, for a moment like everyone was holding their breath.
A man appeared on the screen. He was a massive Black man-with slabs of muscle like sheet-rock on his broad body. He was naked and his skin was so black it was almost blue. His penis was huge and fully stiff-like a thick wrought iron poker between his meaty legs.
The girl saw him and tried to back away, her eyes registering absolute shock, horror and bewilderment. He moved quickly and gracefully, like a great panther, seizing her frail body and mashing it up hard against his own-lifting her off her feet and rubbing her smooth naked blonde skin against his throbbing erection.
She squealed and tried to fight against his overpowering hold on her, and Cheryl became aware, for the first time, that there was sound with the film.
Beside her, Rene reached down casually and slipped her skirt up around her waist, leaving her naked except for her panties. She went stiff, and tried to wiggle away from him, but his arm around her waist was firm and unyielding.
On the screen, the Negro was chuckling and shaking the screaming girl up and down against his enormous, perpendicular shaft. Cheryl watched with horrified fascination, feeling a sick dizziness at the stark brutality of the scene. Was the girl someone like her? Someone who had been snatched out of a normal life by these monsters-just for their perverted amusement? Certainly she wasn't acting-her terror was genuine, there could be no doubt of that.
Then another man appeared.
The second man was also Black-almost as huge as the first man-of a slightly lighter skin color. His penis was also fully erect, curved upward slightly-like a thick brown scimitar. The first man laughed and replaced the struggling, screaming girl on the ground.
Then he extended his hand, palm upward, and -laughing-the two men exchanged a "soul brother" handshake. Cheryl watched and felt a profound shame and disgust, but there was general laughter in the room at the gesture.
Meanwhile, Rene's hand was moving on Cheryl's naked thighs, pushing her little skirt even higher around her waist-stroking her silken skin, feeling between her legs.
Cheryl bit her lip to keep from screaming.
On the screen, the first man was holding the girl again-this time from the back-forcing his thick black pole against the pert little apples of her rump-offering the entire front of her body to the other man.
The second man, the lighter skinned man, took advantage of the offer. He reached out slowly and moved his hands gently over the girl's two little nubs. Then he bent down and sucked her nipples-one at a time until they were wet and shiny and hard, like pink little snails. Meanwhile the other man held her arms tightly. The girl's eyes were half closed and glassy. She looked as if she was about to faint.
Rene wormed his hands between Cheryl's thighs, and she groaned as he fingered her pussy through her flimsy panties.
"No," she crooned softly, not taking her eyes from the screen. "No, please."
But he persisted, rubbing his thumb up and down in her damp gash until she began to feel weak and funny in her belly at his touch.
On the screen, the man in front of the blonde girl reached down and stroked her little fluff of hair between her legs. The girl cried out in a high-pitched childish voice and tried to close her slim thighs, but the man pried them apart and kept his hand in place. The man was smiling faintly-being exceptionally gentle-but his gentleness was almost brutal in the circumstances. It was obviously a prelude-a teasing. The contrast of the child's milky-white skin and the dark skin of her tormentors was stark. She looked so small and frail-like a doll, a plaything. Her voice was so weak and girlish, contrasted with the deep chuckling of the two men.
Then the man stuck his finger up the child's little blonde pussy.
She screamed, and her eyes rolled back into her head.
The two men laughed, and the one behind her reached down and shoved his hand between the taut little globes of her ass. She was caught securely between them-pinned, like a butterfly to a collector's mat-and the more she struggled, the more she succeeded in impaling her young slim body on their strong black hands.
From the expression on her tear-stained face, it was evident that the little girl was near the edge of hysteria from the mauling she was getting at the hands of the two powerful black men.
Cheryl, who was not normally conscious of her skin color, felt a hot wave of shame at the sight before her. Why did they have to use Black men ? It was as if their blackness symbolized savagery, animal brutality.
But she was primed to a fine edge by the treatment she had already received in this house -as well as by her morbid expectations of what was to happen next.
She risked a glance at Rene.
He was reclined beside her, his hand still stroking languidly across her naked thighs-brushing his fingers lightly over her nylon-covered pussy.
His eyes were half-closed. He was breathing deeply and evenly. He almost seemed to be in some kind of trance.
Suddenly his fingers were gone.
"Take off your panties, Cheryl," he whispered, a little hoarsely.
She felt a wave of nausea and shock at the suggestion. It was the tone of his voice as much as the actual words. He had not even deigned to look at her. He had said it so casually-and yet, it was unmistakably an order.
She hesitated.
On the screen, the first man was still holding the girl in a vicelike grip. But now the second man was kneeling before her, prying her slender white legs apart with his strong hands. She was whimpering and biting her lip-trying feverishly to twist away from him.
Then he grinned and pushed his face right up between her legs.
There was nothing servile about his position. He was raping her with his mouth-devouring her like a raw clam, while she moaned in terror and submitted to his brutal kiss. He was sucking at her soft, downy cunt hard, chewing at her soft, pink cuntlips as if they were salt water taffy.
"Take off your panties, Cheryl," Rene repeated beside her. This time, there was a slight edge in his voice. Cheryl was close to the edge of tears. With shaking fingers, she skinned the tight panties over the full, brown curve of her hips and pushed them down around her ankles.
Rene began to explore her body again with his hands-never taking his eyes from the screen. From somewhere in the back of the room, there was the soft whimper of another woman. Cheryl realized that Sandy was still in the room-and was probably in a similar position to her own.
On the screen, the man took his mouth from between the child's slender, captive thighs. He was grinning broadly-his face slick and shiny with her juices.
He stood. His cock was an enormous truncheon -sprouting like a young oak tree from between his massive, knotted thighs. He grinned and poked it, like the barrel of a gun, against the blonde girl's flat, squirming little tummy. She drew in her breath and closed her eyes, but she was powerless to pull away.
Rene found Cheryl's damp, hot cunt with his fingers. He slipped his finger up inside her, and Cheryl couldn't hold back a little groan. She felt her body reacting to the sight on the screen -as well as to Rene's expert titillation. He slid his finger quickly over the stiffening little mushroom of her clit, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Despite herself, she felt her hips squirming-her naked bottom rubbing sensuously against the rough material of the sofa. It felt so perverse to be fully dressed except for her panties-naked to the hands of a strange, foreign man who was feeling and fingering her like a living plaything. That was what she was exactly, a plaything. She realized, with a shudder, that if these men thought it would amuse them to kill her, they wouldn't hesitate.
Then the man standing in front of the blonde girl bent his knees-nosed his blunt, hard tool up against the hair-covered lips of her slick young orifice, and pushed his cock all the way up into her wiggling body, while she screamed-a high-pitched wail of profound agony-and the other man held her immobile.
Cheryl felt a tight hard knot of hatred in her belly. But her breath was quick, and her skin felt hot. She hated Rene for making her body respond with his fingers-he was manipulating her like a puppet-and even while she hated him with all the strength of her soul-she felt her pussy moistening, growing warm against the relentless stroking motion of his manicured fingers.
On the screen, the girl was limp. Now the man in front of her was holding her and . . . Cheryl thought she would faint-the man behind her was nosing his long black dick into the tight little crack between her plump white buttocks. God, they were going to split the poor child in two.
The girl opened her eyes, feeling the new assault. Her blue eyes revealed a profound terror as she realized what the man behind her intended to do. He teased her-probing with his long prick against the little puckered ring of her anus, while she tried-unsuccessfully-to wiggle out of his way. But the more she struggled, the more she succeeded in impaling herself on the first man's hard, jabbing spike-to his obvious pleasure. She was crazed with fear and pain-reduced to an animal.
There was the hiss of a zipper beside her.
"Put your hand in my pants," Rene whispered huskily. "Feel me . . . feel how hard I am."
Rene shuddered, her eyes unable to take themselves from the sight before her. The man behind jabbed quickly, and the child screamed-a long, drawn-out trembling sound that sent chills up and down Cheryl's back.
Rene grabbed Cheryl's wrist and suddenly she felt his prick-warm, smooth and hard as a diamond beneath her soft fingers. She tried to draw away, but he held her hand firmly in place in his lap.
"Play with me," he muttered.
Cheryl was tense with fright, but her body was responding to his fingers, buried deep in her gooey, hot gash. She was grinding her hips against his hand with increasing urgency. She felt her hand circle his nude cock with a will of its own and begin to slide around and around on the hot, smooth knob of it. She felt him sigh, and she squeezed him a little. She felt a little crazy. If she didn't make him happy-they might do something even worse to her than was being done to the sweet-faced young girl on the screen.
The two Negros were humping quick and hard against her-slapping their bodies back and forth with perfect rhythm. The little girl was suspended between them, crying and moaning-spit running down her chin-her feet not even touching the floor. They were panting, grinning lewdly-brutally fucking the little girl-while their strong black hands moved all over her frail white body -squeezing and pinching the little nubs of her breasts, palming the trembling plane of her belly.
"Do it faster," Rene urged throatily.
"Oh, God," Cheryl groaned, her hand racing up and down his long white pole, while he masturbated her steadily. What was she doing? Why couldn't she control herself? She was sick with a perverse excitement as she watched the vile scene of degradation on the screen before her. Why couldn't she stop her hips from shimmying up and down on the couch. Her long brown legs were scissoring back and forth. The orange velvet miniskirt was just a pool of cloth around her supple waist. Her panties were a tangle at her feet.
Then the Black men were climaxing-shuddering and spasming as they pumped their glistening cocks in and out of the frail, doll-like form that was being battered between them. The girl's face was transfigured horribly-almost beyond recognition by the savage punishment that she was taking. Her mouth lolled slack; her eyes rolled back into her head-her sobbing was a mindless, animal wailing of deep anguish and sexual hysteria.
The screen went blank.
The lights went on.
Cheryl looked around, startled. Rene took his hand from between her legs and pushed her hand away from his lap.
"Let's not get carried away, gentlemen," came Frank's voice from the back of the room. "This is only an appetizer-not the main course."
His voice was calm, poised-under perfect control.
Cheryl tried to control her breathing. She pushed her skirt hastily down, covering herself. She felt wild and distraught-torn between the mixed emotions of disgust and perverted, guilty excitement.
"For the next attraction. These two lovely young ladies have agreed to . . . perform for us."
It was several seconds before Cheryl realized that he meant Sandy and her. What in the world did he mean "perform?"
Sandy walked to the sofa and stood before Cheryl. Her eyes were bright, her lips were moist. She extended her hand in invitation.
Cheryl hesitated.
"Go on," Rene said huskily. "Go with her."
She looked around, confused.
The men were waiting, watching her with bright, expectant eyes. What was expected of her.
Sandy took her hand and drew her to her feet. Her knees were trembling. She fought back tears. What perversity was planned for her now? How much more of this depravity would she have to endure?
Sandy reached back and fumbled open the catch at the back of her slinky black minidress.
Instantly she was naked. She smiled warmly and slid her long, smooth legs back and forth, exhaling softly.
"Why don't you take off your dress?" she murmured. "You're very beautiful."
"No," Cheryl muttered. "No, I can't."
Even after all she had been through, the thought of standing naked before these leering monsters was too much to stand. She felt hot tears scald her eyes, and she blinked to fight them back. She felt like the girl in the film.
Sandy stepped close to her, and she could smell the sweetness of the other woman's body-she could sense the heat of her ripe flesh.
"Have you ever made love to a woman?" Sandy whispered.
Cheryl remembered the night with Annie. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Sandy smiled. "Just relax," she said softly. "Here let me undress you."
Cheryl felt the other woman's hands move to the clasp of her own dress. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, feeling her body stiffen in shame as her dress fell around her ankles, leaving her completely naked. There was an appreciate gasp from the audience.
Sandy moved very close-so close that the hard rubber tips of her breasts brushed against Cheryl's own throbbing nipples. "Just forget them," Sandy whispered. "Just think about me . . . I'll make you feel good all over."
Cheryl, with her eyes still closed, flinched when she felt the white girl's soft fingertips trace patterns up and down the sleekness of her arms. Then the girl was cupping her small tight breasts, hefting their delicious weight in her warm palms, as if they were hot water bottles. Cheryl felt a hot stain of excitement spread across her lower body. Sandy's touch was so soft, so knowing. She felt Cheryl's puckered breast tips slowly-took the nipples between her fingers and pinched lightly. Cheryl wanted to cry out.
Then she felt Sandy's hot breath against her face. She opened her eyes just as Sandy pressed her soft, sweet mouth-half-opened against hers, just as Sandy lanced her slippery tongue between her lips and grated it eelishly against her teeth. She moaned into her mouth, then gasped as she felt the full length of the white girl's body mash itself against hers-as she felt the incredible heat of Sandy's flat, firm belly, rubbing sinuously from side to side. She felt the soft, curling hair of Sandy's moist cunt rubbing insistently against the base of her belly, and she gave herself completely to the gentleness of the other woman's sensual caress.
She would just close her eyes and pretend that it Was Annie who was doing these deliciously shameful things to her. It was only Annie, and they were in the privacy of their own room. They were completely alone-and no one was watching. That was what she told herself.
Suddenly, Sandy's fingers clamped hard around her nipples-brutally, sadistically hard. She twisted and gouged her fingernails into the sensitive, puckered flesh.
Cheryl screamed and doubled over, trying desperately to cover her vulnerable flesh.
"All right fellows," Sandy said in a hard, flat voice. "The little bitch is all hot and ready for you."
There was a rustling in the room. Through pain glazed eyes, Cheryl saw the three Frenchmen quickly slipping out of their clothes.
"No, please no," she moaned weakly, doubled over on her hands and knees on the carpet.
"I want her tied up," Rene said. "I want her tied up so that she can't move . . . I want her to hurt."
Cheryl was whimpering, struggling. Strong hands were pulling her to her feet.
"Take her upstairs," Frank said.
She screamed as she was lifted by Rene's two henchmen. She felt herself being carried effortlessly from the room. Sandy walked behind, smiling triumphantly.
"So you thought you were a great lady, eh?" Rene sneered. "You bitch . . . now you'll see what I think of your kind. You stupid bitch . . . I'm going to fuck you so hard you feel it in your throat."
Cheryl was filled with a nameless, screaming horror. She was completely out of control now. These people weren't just perverted or dishonest -they were insane, they were demented. She was not thinking now of playing roles-of her brother coming to her rescue.
Then she was in a room that made her blood run cold.
It was like a medieval torture chamber. There were ropes, straps, weird contraptions.
"Tie her up," Rene ordered sharply. "I want her completely helpless."
"Yes," Frank chuckled. "You always liked them that way . . . and I told her you were a real continental gentleman."
Cheryl was pushed down to the floor on her knees-by a man on either arm. They were bending her arms back behind her to the point where it felt as if they were about to break them off. She screamed at the pain, but nobody seemed concerned about the noise.
"Go ahead, sweetheart," Rene chuckled ominously. "Scream you head off. We're not where anyone is going to hear you. And, you're going to have a lot more to scream about. I promise you that."
Cheryl was held in a kneeling position while her hands were tied behind her, then raised up at an impossible angle and tied to a rope that was fixed to some kind of harness in the ceiling.
"A pretty picture," Rene chuckled, when she was secured. "A very pretty picture."
"Why?" Cheryl moaned, her face mashed into the carpet. "Why me?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Frank whispered. "Bring them in."
Cheryl forced her face back just in time to see one of the gunmen open the door. Bobby, then David and Annie were pushed into the room at gunpoint.
"Oh, no," she groaned. "Oh, my God, no . . . "
The thought that Bobby was discovered took away her last hope for some kind of rescue. The thought that she had involved her friends made her sick with guilt. But how? Why?
Annie was tense and scared looking. David looked like he was about to explode. She remembered the night he had rescued her from the mugger, and she was afraid that at any minute he might try something-something which, under the circumstances, could only lead to him being murdered before her eyes.
"I want them to have ringside seats," Frank said. "Bring some chairs."
David bristled, and for a moment Cheryl was afraid he would explode when he was pushed roughly into a chair.
"Do what they say," she sobbed. "They'll kill you."
"She's getting smart, the black bitch," Rene sneered.
"What is this all about?" David demanded, looking down at Cheryl. "Who are these people?"
"Oh, God, I don't know," Cheryl moaned. "Why did you bring them here?" she whimpered.
"Because I want them to see what happens to you."
Then Rene slowly unbuckled his belt and slipped it free of his trousers. He doubled it in his hand and swung it loosely back and forth a few times. Then he brought it down, brutally hard, across Cheryl's naked, quivering buttocks.
She screamed and doubled forward, her face pushed into the carpet. She felt like a great strip of skin had been torn loose from her body by the hissing snake in his hands. She moaned and bit into the carpet, and he lashed her again, with all the strength and weight of his body. The pain was terrible-worse than anything she had ever felt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw David get to his feet.
"No!" she screamed. "Don't." But it was too late. One of the hoods brought his pistol full-force across David's face, knocking him back into the chair. There was a groan and David raised his hands to his crushed face. Then the strap came down again.
Cheryl passed out.