Chapter 11
The London trip of Carol and Quincy was cut short by the news that his wife had taken a turn for the worse. Less than two weeks after they had hurried back to California, the illness that had kept her bed ridden for so many years finally took its toll.
Immediately following his wife's burial, Quincy returned to London-but this time he went alone.
Carol understood. But, at the same time, she couldn't help but be concerned. Nor could she close her ears to the gossip that traveled throughout the office. Now that he was free, would he want to marry again, after his first wife divorcing him and his second wife dying? And if he did remarry, would he choose someone in his own social sphere as his first two wives had been, and perhaps keep Carol as his mistress?
Quincy stayed in England for almost a month. Of course he wrote and cabled the office, but always it concerned business, never was there any hint of their continued romance. Then on the very night that he returned home, he and Carol dined alone together at one of the city's smartest and most exclusive restaurants. She knew that he had something very important on his mind, something that he wanted to say to her. Curious as she might have been, she knew that when the time came, he would tell her what it was.
After dinner, they returned to her apartment.
Carol had tried to make herself look as attractive for him as she could in a poetic gown of white satin with an empire bodice, little cap sleeves and a deeply-cut V-neckline. It created a charmingly innocent, yet, at the same time, startlingly seductive picture.
Quincy put his lips to the deep cleavage between her glorious breasts. With just the slightest dip of her left shoulder, the strap slipped down to expose her braless left breast almost in its entirety. The heated perfume of her body excited him further and with a nudge of his chin, he bared her left nipple, pink and wrinkled and hard.
Goose bumps sprouted from all over her trembling body as he put his mouth to the nub and ran his fiery tongue over its pebble-grained surface. A flame licked at her loins and she wanted him even more desperately than she did that first night aboard ship.
"I love you, Carol," he whispered quite simply, reaffirming what he had told her that night in the cabin. "That's why I went away by myself. I had to know, I had to prove to myself how much I really did love you. Carol, my darling, I want you to be my wife."
With both hands on his cheeks, she tilted his face upward and brought her fevered lips down to meet his, digging her tongue deep into his eager oral cavity. "You'll know how long, how much I've wanted to hear you say that," she whispered as ecstatic sensations danced along her spine. "Oh, darling, I want you ... want you so much!"
He started to get up and move her backwards toward the divan where he could grant her wish. But with her hands on his broad shoulders, she kept him there in place and told him, "Sit still, darling, please. You've made me feel as wonderful as any man could make a woman feel. Now I want to make you feel the same way."
With one quick yank, she opened the long zipper at the back of her gown. Then she leaned forward so that the gown slipped down to her waist, baring her bountiful breasts to his suckling mouth. Without interrupting him, she slipped off his dinner jacket, then unzipped his trousers. The next moment she could feel the delightful warmth of his swollen penis against the bare flesh of her thighs above the tops of her hose.
Whipping off her gown over her head, she straddled him, a bent knee at either side of his hips. Her vagina was wet and ready for him and he slid into her with ease as she slowly kept lowering herself to him until her damp pubic hand was entwined with his and she had swallowed up his entire throbbing length. Then, with that tiny band of muscles deep in her interior, that both Mr. Lecheur and Zina Allen had so painstakingly showed her how to manipulate to full advantage, Carol gave the man that she loved a mild sampling of what was in store for him when she became his wife.
Centering her attention on the ever-expanding tip of his huge cock, she brought him a succession of thrills with that ring of muscles that built to a new high in sensations for him-until the passion bottled up inside him exploded with a violence that threatened to shatter his nerve centers, sending the boiling liquid of his relief thundering into her own spasming interior.
As she continued to sit there straddling him, clinging to him tightly, Carol wished, as she had so many times in the past, that she could tell him all about herself-what she had been, what she had done. But she knew that now, more than at any time since she had known him, wasn't the appropriate time to bare her soul to him, even if she had bared everything else. This was all far too beautiful to spoil with any confession. But she was determined that she would tell him before they were married. However, it must be done at a more propitious moment and explained carefully, judiciously, in small doses at a time-else, like more than any other man, he just might not understand.
In deference to Quincy's late wife, it was decided that, even though they announced their plans to marry, they would wait a respectful time of six months before holding the ceremony.
Apparently, Roy Ferret, Quincy's stepson by his second wife, hadn't taken his stepfather's affair with Carol very seriously because he had stayed in the background all this while, according the girl his utmost respect, even during Quincy's brief stay in England. But with the announcement of their forthcoming marriage, he came crawling out from under his rock, with poisonous stingers bared.
As Carol had suspected all along, he wasn't the type to let anyone, especially a girl like her, step in and do him out of hog's share of his inheritance and maybe even threaten his ascent to the presidency of the firm. But in her wildest imaginings, she never suspected that he would go to the vicious extreme that he did.
He bided his time, carefully. He waited until his stepfather was away on a business trip, then invited Carol to have dinner with him, under the guise of congratulating her and welcoming her into the family. But they had barely downed their aperitifs, when Roy laid his cards face upon the table to show Carol how very carefully and precisely he had dealt himself a winning hand.
He had investigated her background with amazing thoroughness. He had compiled a dossier of facts and figures that dated all the way back to West Allis and her first sexual encounters with Mr. Lecheur, through her harrowing experience with Joe Papadosos, climaxing it with the two years that she had spent as one of Zina Allen's high-priced call girls. It was all there, in black and white-names, places, dates-so that it was impossible for her to even attempt to deny it.
He smiled contemptuously, while he told her about all this information on her that he had gathered together, concluding with the staggering proposition that was to ultimately bring her to his apartment. "I'm not an unreasonable man, Carol," he told her as he reached across the table and patted her hand, affectionately. "In fact, I think that if you'll just take the trouble to find out, you'll discover that I'm quite human, with all the frailties and desires of a man. Now, if I were to pass on this information I've acquired on you, to my beloved stepfather, I'm sure he would have second thoughts about your forthcoming marriage." He licked his lips and surveyed her luscious breasts. "However, I just might be persuaded to shelve all this damaging evidence, if you'd go out of your way a little and, shall we say, allow me to sample some of your favors that my stepfather seems to find so exciting."
Normally, Carol would have reached across the table and slapped his sneery face, and then left him. But everything she had aimed for, worked for, dreamed of, depended on her being "nice" to him. Whether or not he would keep his part of the bargain, Carol had no way of knowing. But for her there was no alternative, except to do exactly as he had suggested....
Now Carol's reminiscence of her past was over and she was there in his apartment, nude, except for her wispy black garter belt and full-fashioned, sheer-sheer black hose that made her a symphony in black-and-white with crimson-tipped breasts. She had finished her enforced masturbation and her climax had receded. But her cheeks still burned with humiliation, her insides seething with anger that he had made her commit such a vile, intimate, humiliating act in his presence. She was no longer seated in the easy chair, however. He had told her to get up and move to the divan.
Watching her autoeroticism seemed to have made his already enormous, thick-veined cock expand to even greater proportions, its bludgeon-like length glistening with the slippery secretion that ran down from the slit in its breathing head. There was no question that he was hot and eager to get into her cunt as he stepped alongside the divan and pushed her sprawling backwards until she was flat on her back. With both hands, he spread apart her legs and had another look at her unwilling pussy. It was open and sparkling with the dew left by her own finger exercises. He threw off his green robe and got down onto the sofa between her parted legs.
Carol guessed that he must have envisioned himself as some great, irresistible lover by the way that he slobbered over her tits, kissing and licking all the way down to her navel. Then he began wagging his cock over her belly and along the insides of her filmy thighs, coating her with his precoital cum. Then he teased along the raw, pink rim of her cuntal opening with the bulbous knob of his prick, and she felt the rubbery, purplish head of his rigid erection spread the soft fleshy lips of her cuntal mouth.
As much as she despised him, dreaded the thought of him taking her, she knew that it would be pointless to struggle, or argue against him. It would only prolong the misery. Better that she cooperate and let him fuck her and get it over with. But in spite of her intentions to hide her true feelings, she shuddered and muffled a sound of revulsion as she felt the bulbous tip of his hot prick slip deeper and deeper between her pussy lips. She managed to bring herself to look up at him and saw his face twisted into a grotesque mask of pleasure, triumph and lust.
He kept easing his thickness into her, spreading apart the clinging walls of her cunt, until his lust became too strong for him to hold back and he collapsed with his full weight upon her naked body, driving his massive prong all the way into her with sadistic enjoyment.
With a lewd smacking sound, his belly and his sperm-laden balls began slapping against her flesh as his passion-incited cock sloshed in and out of her flooded vagina. She didn't give him the satisfaction of letting him know that she, too, was enjoying it.
With his blood-distended cock buried to the hilt inside her impaled cunt, he began fucking her. She held out against the sensations that he was awakening inside her as long as she could. But the demands of her body, the fierceness of her impending ejaculation proved to be too much. With a sudden impulse, she grabbed his hips in both hands and encouraged him to pump faster, harder. "Fuck it!" she shrilled in a sort of delirium. "You wanted it, you son-of-a-bitch! Now fuck it!"
Her clenched teeth showed white against her drawn-back lips. Her hips pushed and ground up at him, encouraging deeper and deeper thrusts of his skewing prick. Her whole body twitched and groveled beneath him and a low continuing moan of passionate pleasure came unwilling from her panting throat. She began scissoring her legs around his humping hips, doing lewd and lascivious things with her wildly burning cunt and tits and belly, as he continued to hammer his lust-glutted cock into her feverish, audible sucking vaginal slit.
His assault grew more vicious as she thrashed convulsively beneath him. He knew that she was about to orgasm and he wanted to cum with her. His lust-filled cock was really whopping her now, reaching relentlessly up into the ravished depths of her cunt.
Carol began a chant of passion, her face twisted in anguish and wanton ecstasy. Roy was grunting loudly, his cock making obscene noises as it battered its way in and out of her tightly grasping cuntal depths. Her breasts were heaving and her eyes were closed as she sucked in gobs of air ... and then she let out a wild scream. "OOOOHHH ... AAAHHHH ... I'M CUMMMMINNNNG!"
Her cunt suddenly opened like a greedy mouth as his battering cock swam in a flood of her hot juices. He banged ever harder. She was cumming-he wanted to cum, too!
Carol could feel the waves of her orgasm break over her like an angry surf. It was very strong, but not nearly as beautiful and strong as when she came with Quincy.
And then he was cumming! He began shooting his sperm into her. Thick globs of white hot semen splashed against the entrance to her womb, coated her ovaries as it sought out every nook and crevice inside her spasming guts.
It would have been merciful if when Roy had pulled out of her and lifted himself from between his legs, it had ended. But unfortunately, it was only the beginning of her ordeal, because Roy Ferret didn't even begin to understand the meaning of the word "mercy."
Carol turned her head just enough to watch him cross to a door that led into an adjoining room, his limp meat slapping against his naked thighs and leaving drips of his spent lust behind him on the carpet. When he got to the door, he opened it and mumbled something that Carol couldn't decipher. She tightened a little as she saw two men emerge from the next room and walk with Roy toward the couch.
"This is Bruce," Roy said to Carol by way of introduction, indicating to the taller of the two men, as they halted beside her. Then pointing to the shorter man, he added, "And this is Aram."
Carol paid little attention to their names or what they looked at. What concerned and alarmed her was that both men were as naked as Roy and both of them had huge cocks that curved up rigidly and menacingly from their masculine bellies.
"Bruce and Aram are my buddies," Roy said with a maniacal gleam in his close-set eyes. "I've been bragging to them what a terrific piece of ass you are. Now I want you to demonstrate."
"No!" Carol yelled as terror streaked through her brain. In a flash she was off the divan and heading toward the doorway that led into the hallway. Where she would go without a stitch of clothes on, she had no idea. It didn't matter anyway, because Bruce caught her arms before she had gone half-a-dozen steps. He maintained his hold on her and brought her back close against his sweaty, nude body; his huge stiff prick sandwiched perpendicularly between the cushions of her young ass.
With his friend holding her arms from behind, Aram came forward and cupped her voluptuous breasts. He lifted them, jounced them and then licked and suckled first one, then the other. Then gave her a thorough tongue bath, from her chin to her knees.
Carol looked at Roy, piteously, begging him to make them stop. After all, she had kept her part of the bargain. But he studiedly ignored her pleas and stood by watching with considerable amusement.
Finished with his tongue wash, Aram grabbed several pillows from the divan and made a bed of them on the floor. Then he lay down on them on his back, while Bruce made Carol straddle his friend's middle.
Carol felt Aram's short fat fingers reach between her parted thighs and spread the wet, pinkly inflamed flanges of her pussy lewdly apart. Then as he forced her to squat, Aram worked his fat cock up into her open cunt, until she was impaled on the unbending flesh. Unwanted sensations began coursing through her body, the same as they always had when she felt a strange cock inside her. On its own, her pelvis spasmed and the lips of her vagina palpitated, clasping and unclasping against the shaft of rigid meat that it sucked between her thighs.
And then she felt Bruce's heavy hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her forward and downward upon Aram, so that he could fit his large cock into her anus.
"Oh, no-oh, God, no!" she cried out in mild panic as Aram wrapped both his arms around her so that she couldn't get away, his mouth fastened on her tits. He gave a stab with his cock up into her belly that caused her buttocks to spasm back against Bruce's loins and her asscheeks to spread and make it easy for the taller man behind her, to spear his prick into her anus.
"Please! Please stop! Not this way! Not both of you at once! I can't take it-I can't!" Carol wailed as she tried to wiggle her buttocks and her cunt at the same time, hoping to free herself from them. But her squirming only made it that much more interesting and delicious for the two men.
Then, strangely, little by little, her twin holes began to adjust to the strangeness of both being plugged simultaneously and her body began to respond to the tremendous stimulation that they were bringing her. Weird sensations began to finger their way along her spine from her rectum to her brain and then down again through her belly to her vulva. The frenzy that she began to feel seemed contagious, spreading to the two men, and it was as if they were trying to give her a taste of unendurable thrills, to see just how much she could take.
Apparently, excited by this salacious spectacle, Roy insisted on getting into the act. Not until he grabbed a handful of her long black hair and cruelly jerked her head around to face him, did Carol realize that he had dropped to his knees close to her head. His cock had by now become hard again and now stood up stiff and straight in front of her face. With no other holes left, he ordered, "Suck it!"
Half-crazed with passion, scarcely aware of what was happening, Carol felt him rub the scalding wet head of his cock over her lips. He gave her hair another ungentle yank and she opened her mouth. The next instant he was pushing his cock into her mouth, making her feel as if it were one of three open wounds and that the three of them were stabbing her to death with their awesome weapons.
She felt the insistent flesh pound inside her mouth as it scraped over her teeth on its way into the depths of her protesting throat. The huge head of it felt enormous, making her gag. She was being used ruthlessly, thoughtlessly by these three lust-riddled beasts; used as she had never been used before.
"Let's hold back, let's see if we can all make it together," she heard Roy breath tensely as she began lavering the underside of his glans with her tongue, sucking hard to try to make him cum-and get it over with as quickly as possible.
Each of them did as he suggested, holding back, indefinitely prolong their ejaculations, maybe hoping to blow her mind in the process. How many skimming climaxes she experienced during the interim made no difference to them.
"Everybody count to twenty, real slowly," Roy barked. "Then we let go! Okay-start counting!"
Like a death-toll, the countdown started, because for all that Carol knew that was what might be for her. She didn't know whether it was humanly possible for her to take three discharges at the same time.
Everybody was more than ready when finally Roy reeled off, " ... twenty. Let it go!"
Carol choked and gagged as she felt Roy's load ricochet in her mouth and splatter down her throat. Aram came simultaneously in her vagina, triggering another orgasm for her. She guessed that Bruce must have climaxed at the same time in her anal canal. She never was sure, because, as she had guessed, the multiple eruption inside her proved too much for her frail body to endure-and she was swallowed up in merciful blackness....
Did this end her nightmare? Now, would Roy Ferret be done with her and let her go? If she thought so, it was wishful thinking. After it was all over and she came back to join the living, he told her that he would make no further claims on her, sexually. But as far as her ever becoming his stepmother, she may as well forget about it, because, as he showed her, one of the walls in his living room had a two-way mirror built into it and on the other side of the mirror was a movie camera that had recorded in vivid, living color and sound every detail of what had just taken place there in his living room. Every sexual act that she had performed with him and with his two friends was all there on film.
"And if you don't play it real smart and do a very sudden and lasting fadeout, I'll show the films to my stepfather and tell him all about your sordid background," Roy concluded. "As liberal-minded as the old boy likes to think he is, I don't believe he'd care to have himself a wife with such promiscuous talents."
It wasn't so much Quincy finding out about her past. After all, she had planned to tell him, herself. It was coming from someone else that she was sure that he wouldn't understand, or appreciate. It was her being so damned foolishly desperate as to believe someone like Roy Ferret and put herself in such a compromising position-and let him get every last sound and gesture down on film. Better that the film and her past stay buried and let Quincy think that she had changed her mind about wanting to marry him. She would even send him a note to that effect. She would rather have him believe that, than let him think that she had cheated on him and given herself to his stepson and his friends.
So, Carol packed what things she would need and checked out of the apartment. She could have her remaining things shipped to her later. Where she would go, she had no idea. But she couldn't stay there or go any place where Quincy could find her. After much deliberation, she finally decided to fly to New York, try to get a job there and lose herself in the crowd.
Everything went according to plan. She bought a one-way ticket to New York, checked her luggage and made herself comfortable in a seat next to the window. She was starting to fasten her seat belt when a shadow fell across her lap and a familiar voice asked, "Pardon me, but is this seat taken?"
Carol turned her head quickly and looked up. The air hissed out of her and her heart began to beat at a pace that she had never known it to beat before, as she saw Quincy Palmer standing there in front of her in the aisle. She couldn't even begin to form words to answer him, she was so taken aback.
"I guess it isn't taken," he said with a shrug and a straight face as he placed his one-suiter in the overhead rack and sat down beside her and began to fasten his seat belt. He waited until she had partly recovered from the shock of seeing him, then in all seriousness, he said, "I don't care particularly for these sudden flights, Miss Francis. I wish you had let me know, so I could have prepared for it, properly."
Carol knew that he was playing cat-and-mouse with her. She turned to face him as squarely as the seat belt would allow. She met his gaze waveringly, swallowed and with no small amount of effort, said, "There's-there's something I've got to tell you."
Almost as if he didn't hear her, he asked, "Have you ever seen three rolls of film go up in flame? It creates quite a conflagration."
She held her breath, "You-you mean-you saw the films Roy had?"
He shook his head. "No, I didn't see them. I couldn't seem to make my stepson understand that I simply can't stand watching home movies-especially when the plot concerns balckmail."
Carol held back a moment, then she reached over and squeezed his hand, appreciatively. "Thank you," she murmured emotionally. "But-but there's much more to it than just the film...."
"Oh, yes-there's a woman named Zina Allen," he interrupted. "And a man named Lecheur and a restaurant owner called Joe Papadosos."
"You-you know about them?" she asked in amazement.
"I knew about them long before I asked you to go to London with me, long before I asked you to be my wife," he replied.
Again she held her breath. "And...?"
A smile creased his ruggedly handsome face and he said, "They all went up in smoke along with those films."
She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. She wanted to unfasten her seat belt and crawl over into his lap and hug and kiss and do all the other things that a woman might want to do to show her appreciation to the man that she loves. But instead she glanced out the window and asked, "How long will it take to get to New York, darling?"
"About three-and-a-half hours."
"Golly, three-and-a-half hours?" she echoed as, with an impish smile, she began running a finger upward along the sharp crease of his trousers, discreetly stopping just short of the wonderful big throbbing lump that he was trying unsuccessfully to hide with the tail of his jacket. How, she wondered longingly, was she ever going to hold out for three-and-a-half long hours?
by the strangest coincidence, he was having the self-same thought!