Chapter 8
"Mr. Roscoe Snyder to see you," came the secretary's voice over the intercom.
Lance Gregory reached across his desk, flicked the switch on the small speaker and said, "Send him in."
In a moment Roscoe Snyder's huge frame appeared in the doorway. He paused, uncertain, then coughed politely-like a bear growling.
"Come in, Roscoe," Lance snapped. "Sit down. I have something special for you this time."
The huge man settled into the easy chair opposite Gregory's desk. He nervously ran one of his paws over his face, waiting. "Uh-somepum different, huh?" he growled.
"Yes," Lance replied. "There's a man I want you to beat the shit out of." Gregory smiled, awaiting Roscoe's response.
Roscoe grinned, baring his yellow teeth, and began nodding his jowly head. He looked like a chimpanzee about to be fed.
Lance watched his collection man for a moment, then held up his hands to cut off the enthusiastic, primitive demonstration of loyalty and desire to do bodily harm to his fellow man.
"Well, perhaps I don't really want you to beat the shit out of him. Mostly, I want you to scare him. I don't want a lawsuit on my hands, but you can rough him up as much as you want as long as you don't hospitalize him." Gregory grimaced, realizing he probably wasn't communicating with the "goon" who sat before him. He knew it was unwise to give Roscoe complicated instructions. Now he had given him, seemingly, contradictory instructions for dealing with Vern Shipley and he had the unfortunate task of clarifying his instructions. It was, unfortunately, a bit like explaining ethics or morality to a male hound about to mount a female in heat.
"Roscoe I want you to hit Vern Shipley in the stomach area a lot, but I-I don't want you to break any bones. Uh-when you leave him, make sure he can still walk, okay?"
Roscoe nodded, frowning. His lips moved, and finally he spoke. "Who's Vern Shipley?"
"I'll give you his address and describe him to you in detail. I don't want any mistakes like that time you beat up the wrong guy, all right?"
"Sure," Roscoe said, smarting from the implied criticism. I'll get the right guy this time. Don't you worry, boss. When? Where? Yeah, when do you want me to nail the rotten bastard?"
Roscoe always got enthused about his assignments. "I'll leave the where to you, Roscoe, although I suppose you should get him either outside his girlfriend's place or in the parking lot behind his office. He sometimes works late. I mean, I want you to get him in the dark, understand?"
Roscoe nodded. Gregory hoped Roscoe knew why dark was important, although it was dangerous to assume anything with Roscoe. Hell, Vern thought, if Roscoe weren't so loyal and willing to work for small money, I'd get somebody who had a brain.
"Why the dark?" Roscoe asked.
Gregory ran his well manicured fingers over his face and shook his head. Roscoe was unbelievable-literally (no, virtually) an ape posing as a human being. "I want you to take him in the dark because then you're less-likely to be seen. Understand?"
"Oh," Roscoe said, nodding, scrunching up his snout. "Yeah, you don't want anybody to see me and you don't want this Vern Shipley to see me either." He smiled, pleased with his reasoning powers.
"Precisely, Roscoe," Gregory said, then added, "Good boy!"
"Why-uh-why you want him roughed up, boss?"
"That's my business, Roscoe," Gregory said firmly. "This isn't a collection problem, however. I shall have the victim informed by phone why he was beaten-"
Gregory broke off then, thinking. No, he decided, perhaps it would be best to let Roscoe utter some primal grunt that would give Vern Shipley a clue. Yes, the fear aspect just might be heightened if animal "Roscoe" were to blurt out something. The only danger, of course, would be that Roscoe might utter too much. Could he be trusted? If carefully instructed, with much repetition, Gregory decided the oaf could deliver perhaps one line. No more...just one line.
"On second thought," Gregory said, "I would like you to say to Mister Shipley a little something. Let's see...."
"How about 'fuck you, lousy bastard,'" Roscoe volunteered. Grinning, he nooded, pleased with himself.
"No, no, Roscoe," Gregory said. "We want something informative."
"Informative?" Roscoe asked, confused.
"Yes, information," Gregory said. "I want you to tell him why you're beating him up. But don't knock him unconscious and tell him when he can't hear you, understand?"
"Yes, understand," Roscoe said. "Talk to him while he's awake."
"That's the idea, boy," Gregory said. "You're getting this just fine. Let's see. Tell him to lay off Maria Reese. Say it just like that. Say 'lay off Maria Reese or this is just a taste of what's going to happen.' Repeat that back to me, Roscoe."
Roscoe did, and he got the message just fine.
"Good," Gregory said, "and say nothing more. Just that."
"Okay, boss," Roscoe said, clenching and unclenching his furry fists. "Gotcha, right..."
"I think it best if you nail him tomorrow night. Wait behind his office and get him there if it's dark. Otherwise, follow him to either his girlfriend's place or his own place." Gregory handed Roscoe a slip of paper with the necessary addresses typed on it, and Roscoe put the paper in his pocket.
Then, Gregory handed Roscoe a photo of Vern Shipley-a photo that had been taken by the disguised camera in Dream-Date's reception room on the day Vern Shipley had first visited Gregory.
"That's your man," Gregory said. "Don't make any mistakes. Just tell him what we said and get the hell away."
Roscoe Snyder examined the photo carefully, nodding and snarling at it. He seemed to do everything but sniff the photo for a scent of Vern Shipley.
Gregory could not help laughing, nor could he prevent the comment that now came from his lips. "Good boy," he said. "Now go...go get him...Beat him up tomorrow night...when it's dark!"
Nodding, Roscoe rose and trotted for the door.
There he stopped. "Money?" he said. "When do I get the money?"
"As soon as you've completed your assignment," Gregory said. "When you've beaten him up in the dark without getting caught, I will pay you-same as always, okay?"
"Okay," Roscoe said. "Yeah, same as always." He turned to leave.
"Wait a minute!" Gregory called. "Who is it you don't know? Who is it you never even heard of?"
Roscoe grinned. He knew the answer to the question and he proudly said, "You...I never heard of you...or Dream-Date."
"Good boy, Roscoe. So long," Gregory said. "Do a nice job and I'll introduce you to a nice girl."
Roscoe nodded, beaming, and left.
Gregory sat contemplating this idea of introducing Roscoe to a female. He had made the promise as a joke, but it occurred to him now that sicing Roscoe on Maria Reese might be an interesting situation. He sat up straight then, shaking his head. But no, he thought, Maria is just freaky enough to enjoy a baboon like Roscoe!
Still it would be fun to watch the two of them going at it-or better yet-it would be fun to watch Roscoe raping Judy Thor! After all, Judy Thor had been just as disobedient and conniving in this Vern Shipley business as had Maria. Yes, it would be interesting to give these possibilities some thought.
Gregory dismissed the thought for the moment, however, and let his mind wander over these past few weeks. Vernon Shipley...Maria's increased involvement with the man despite the fact that he, Lance Gregory, president of Dream-Date Incorporated had broken the contract with Shipley....
Just two weeks had passed since he had slapped Maria around for working "fee-free" deals with Shipley. What the hell was wrong with Maria, anyway? He had educated her, paid her good money, made what seemed to be a lady out of her. And now she was repaying him by cheating Dream-Date out of its rightful fee. Did she really believe a man of Vernon Shipley's caliber would marry her? Did she really believe Vern could not see through the facade after a few weeks and detect a girl of low upbringing-a girl of the streets? Scowling, Gregory pondered this. Perhaps Maria had fooled him, or perhaps she had not fooled him, but he did not care. She certainly was one helluva lay.
And then Lance Gregory felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Goddamit!" he cursed aloud. He had allowed Maria Reese to get to him. He had permitted one of Dream-Date's girls to do to him what he had sworn would never happen! Yes, he felt certain he was in love with Maria-trite, syrupy, saccharine 'love."
Angrily, Lance Gregory slammed his fist down on the desk top. It infuriated him that the girl he would award his love to could cheat on him, could secretly meet with a client and assist him without charging him the customary fee. For weeks now, Maria and Judy Thor had been servicing Ralph Reardon and Randolph Hendricks and even that old man, Wyatt-of Wyatt Enterprises. He had slapped Maria around, secured her promise to break off with Vernon Shipley, and still she chose to rendezvous with him. Christ, could Shipley be a better lay than he was?
This thought frightened Lance Gregory. It seemed incomprehensible to him that the girl he had tutored so carefully in sex acts designed to appeal to her innermost nature could enjoy sex more with another man. Well, he decided, he would wait and see what effect Roscoe's little visit to Vern Shipley would yield before he took more drastic punitive action.
But he would not wait much longer while Maria continued allowing her body to be Vern Shipley's-for free! No, if Roscoe Synder's beating did not put an end to their affair, Maria Reese would meet with an abrupt and permanent end. Permanent and painful...
It was late in the afternoon when Lance Gregory's secretary informed him that Judy Thor had come in. "She's gone back to the waiting room," the secretary informed her boss.
The waiting room was a lavishly furnished suite with a sauna bath, Jacuzzi, stereo, color TV, everything. It was the place where the girls relaxed while waiting for interviews or new assignments. Lance Gregory entered the waiting room and found Judy Thor lying on the slant board, relaxing.
"Hi, Lance," she said, "Anything up? I just came from my luncheon date with Max Brawith. Went fine. I dazzled his clients."
"Good," Gregory said. "Say, kid, I'd like you to take a little drive with me, okay?"
Judy got off the slant board and looked at her boss quizzically. "Sure," she replied, looking surprised. "To what do I owe the special treatment?"
"Oh, you'll find out," Gregory said. "Come on, dear."
Outside, the two of them got into Gregory's Rolls Royce, drove down Wilshire, and then they swung off and started up Benedict Canyon.
"You live on Benedict Canyon, don't you?" Judy asked.
"Ummm-hmmm," Gregory said, not taking his eyes from the road as they rounded the mountainous curves.
"Are we going by your place?" Judy asked.
"Yes, I want to stop off there for a moment," he said noncommittally. "You don't mind, do you?"
Judy forced a laugh. "No, not at all. I've never seen your place from the inside." She giggled. "One of the other girls and I drove by once, though," she admitted. "I can hardly wait to see it. I hear it's really something-almost like the Playboy mansion."
Gregory laughed. "Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration," he said. "But it is nice. You'll see."
A huge metal gate flanked by two tall flagstone edifices guarded the entrance to the driveway of Lance Gregory's Canyon home. Gregory hit a switch on the dashboard and the metal gates parted. The car rounded several curves then came to a halt in front of what resembled, to Judy Thor, an English castle.
"Wow!" she said, then whistled. Suddenly she cringed. "But I-I don't understand," she said. "Maria's never been here. W-Why me?"
Gregory smiled mysteriously, then opened the door for her. "Come on, my love," he said. "I'll take you for a tour."
Inside, the house resembled homes Judy had seen only in the Home Section of the Sunday newspaper. There was everything luxurious imaginable-two enormous fireplaces in the living room, a huge bar, expensive oil paintings on the walls, chandeliers and exquisite sculpture-statues everywhere.
"All this from Dream-Date?" Judy asked.
"That and other enterprises," Gregory said, smiling his enigmatic smile. "Drink?"
"yes, I'd love one. Scotch, please."
Gregory fixed the drinks and then, ice cubes tinkling in their glasses, they continued their tour of the house. Finally, Gregory led her downstairs into a basement. When he closed the door behind her, Judy froze, terrified. "God, what is this?" Her voice echoed in the huge concrete room. "It's not a-a torture chamber, is it?" She forced a laugh.
"Of course not," Gregory replied. "But many of my friends do get their 'kicks' here when I throw my parties."
"Funny," Judy said. "It looks sort of like a-a torture chamber.
"That's just decor," he said, surveying the manacles on the walls-a few medieval pieces left over from the Spanish Inquisition. "It's never been used before."
They passed then into another, smaller room that was comfortable-looking. There were couches, chairs, pads on the floor. But there were what appeared to be wrist clamps alongside the pads. Judy began back-stepping. "I-I want to leave, Lance. I don't like this."
And then Lance Gregory's voice grew ominous. "That's true," he said. "You might not like it at all. We'll see. Judy, I've brought you here for justice."
"Justice?"
"Ummm-hmmm. I've brought you here to impress upon you the fact that you must never, never again be disloyal to your employer."
"I-I don't understand," Judy stammered.
"Don't you? Then why have you and Maria continued to work for Vernon Shipley-screwing those prospective clients of his-after I asked you to stop."
"We did stop, Lance. Honest," Judy said.
Lance slapped her hard with the back of his hand. "Liar! All right, bitch. Now we're going to give you a slight treatment that should cause you to break off with this fee-free after hours activity."
"Please Lance.... No! Judy screamed then, but it was to no avail. Lance Gregory quickly tore nor clothing from her and tossed her down on one of the thin pads. He clamped her hands in the restraints.
"Usually, my guests can take their pleasure leisurely here with one another-sexually-but today that pretty little body of yours is going to get a workout you'll not soon forget."
"Lance, noooooo," Judy wailed. "Please, I'll never fool around again. Let me go, Lance. This is insane!"
Now Lance Gregory had her wrists and ankles locked firmly into the manacles. He let her twist frantically while he fetched from a drawer the longest, penis-like vibrator she had ever seen. And then as he drew closer, Judy saw that he held several vibrators and a jar of what appeared to be thick lubricant. Yes, she saw that it was vaseline, or something like vaseline.
"You may never be the same again after this," Gregory said sadistically as he began applying the lubricant to her rectum and vagina. "Try to relax, my dear. Who knows? You may even love this. Yes, you'd be surprised how many women do."
Judy let out a long scream.
"It will do no good," Lance said. "I assure you nobody can hear you. As a matter-of-fact, I rather like the screams. It enhances the pleasure. First I'm going to sit on top of your chest and make you suck my cock. Perhaps if you do a good job I shall spare you a little of the other-"
"Please, Lance...No. Oh please . .
"Will you suck my prick as you've never sucked a prick before then?"
"Yessss," Judy said. "Yes, anything!"
"You're goddam right you will, swindling bitch! You'll munch on my hard-on while I shove it half way down your throat."
Lance Gregory was astride her rib cage now, holding his dribbling, pulsing hard-on. He poked at her breasts for a moment, and Judy began to wonder just what she had been so frightened about. After all, this wasn't anything new to her. So what if she sucked his prick? It was big, sure, but she had sucked even bigger ones.
But then, as he slipped it between her lips, she knew this was going to be different. He was shoving it in to the hilt! She began gagging, and still he crammed harder, harder, mercilessly making her retch from the vicious probes of his bulbous cockhead. She could not cry out. She could barely breathe as the prick jabbed fiercely-actually beginning to slide down her constricting throat!
"I'm doing one of the worst things imaginable to you, my dear," Gregory muttered. "I'm giving you the aversion treatment. Yes, when I get through with you-you may never wish to suck a prick again. And that will be your downfall! No man will want you then!"
Gregory laughed crazily then, tossing his head back and roaring up at the ceiling as he stuffed his prick into the tight, constricting throat farther, farther.
Now, just when she feared she would choke to death, Judy felt the longest of the vibrators penetrating her vagina. The buzzing instrument entered easily at first, but then it continued upward, upward, until it began to inflict pain. Terrible pain...pain Judy had never experienced before. But she could not cry out. Her mouth was filled with the enormous hard-on that pressed and drove savagely into her throat.
Next, the smaller prick-shaped vibrator slid into her rectum, and it also pressed upward until she felt intense pain. She wanted to scream, but she could not!
"You will never cheat Dream-Date again, right?" Gregory suddenly asked. "Nod if you agree!"
Judy nodded.
"And you will never meet with clients without reporting those meetings to me, correct? Nod if you agree!"
Despite the intense pain that surged through her throat, her vagina, her rectum, Judy Thor managed to nod.
"Good," Gregory said, easing up on his penetration of all her apertures then. He withdrew the vibrators halfway so that they still buzzed within her lower orifices but no longer inflicted pain. In fact, now, in contrast, they seemed to be delivering pleasure, which amazed Judy. Had he planned this all along? she wondered. God, could pain, followed by a reduction of that pain, be followed by what seemed to be pleasure? Good God, yes!
Judy began pumping slowly with her hips, savoring the feeling of the buzzing instruments within her ass-hole and cunt. Lance Gregory had eased up on his thrusts into her throat with his prick now, too, and she found herself nursing hungrily on his tool. She did not know whether she was doing this to please him, so that he would release her, or whether she genuinely enjoyed it. The responses of her body, along with her normal thought processes, had been so distorted she was behaving in a manner that frightened her. But she did seem to be enjoying the ass-fucking and cunt-fucking at the same time with the vibrators. Yes, enjoying it...enjoying it very much.
Just then Lance Gregory withdrew his immense organ from her mouth and asked, "like it now, girl? How do you like it?"
To her amazement, Judy found herself saying, chanting really, "I love it...love it. Ohhhhh, don't stop, Lance. Spear me, fuck me...and please come in my mouth!"
Again, Judy Thor was not certain whether her response was one of fear. All she knew was that she was enjoying this tremendously-every bit of it. Had some primitive hope for survival caused her to enjoy this mistreatment of her body, so that Lance Gregory would spare her? She did not know.
"Swallow my come now, Judy!" Lance Gregory commanded.
"Yes, Lance," Judy heard herself sighing. "Ohhhh, yessss."
And then Lance drove his engorged shaft steadily between her lips until he climaxed so that she could greedily gulp down his creamy load. Judy drank deeply, affectionately, loving the tangy flavor of her captor's evil sperm-flow.
As he drove her back to Dream-Date Incorporated, Lance explained that he had given her a "mild treatment." To avoid what he described as the most horrible treatment a female could imagine, he suggested she refrain from further contact with Vern Shipley and his clients.
Her head on his shoulder as he drove the curving road, Judy swore she would remain loyal to her employer forever.