Chapter 12
Bill and Sonya Gallagher set their swift little craft down on Mars within five minutes of the landing of the great liner bearing Ramona and her new pet, Debbie. The long journey was over; the three-way sex fun was over, and Ed Royse had work to do. Giving Bill a slap on the shoulder and Sonya a slap on the ass, he ran. A frantically waved taxi sped him to the bigger spaceport.
Ed didn't see Simon, but he certainly saw the big woman, Ray, who had been there with Simon the night they performed their horror on Linda. Ramona was with a girl. She saw him and must have figured out who he was and why he was here. He saw the flare of her eyes as she gazed into his, across a lapping lake of people.
By the time he fought his way through, she had
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vanished. Damn! And Simon Rawledge was nowhere to be seen. Ed began to wonder about his wisdom in this whole half assed interplanetary pursuit. Maybe he should've turned it over to the police after all, and let them . . .
But there she was, the girl he'd seen with Ramona. Surely they had been together, leaving the ship like lovers. And she was looking around like crazy. He smiled. Yeah . .. she was looking for Ramona, same as he was! The bitch had seen him and taken off! He narrowed his eyes, thinking. Surely they'd have decided where they would stay, long ago. So ... even though the girl had been abandoned by her Ed-fleeing, uh, friend, she would know where Ramona could be found.
He had followed a man and a woman across space. Now he would follow a girl across town—to get to the others. With a tight grin, he made very sure he kept her in sight. That was not too difficult, once they left the spaceport area and moved through the enormous airtight bubble that housed Ares, the planet's only city wormy of the name—the rest were tiny towns here and there, some of them not even bubble enclosed, so that the inhabitants had to wear respirators.
He was right beside her in the lobby of the Marsside Hilton, and seeing what she printed on the reservation card was not at all difficult. Her name was Debbie Sellings. That was enough. And the clerk handed her the electrokey to room 387. Pretending to see someone he knew, Ed left the desk. He watched the girl—a doll, b the way; Ramona's taste was excellent, at least so far bodies went—enter the elevator with her bags. T doors closed.
Despite the frantic pounding of his heart, the hi excitement and the throbbing of blood at his temples
being so close at last, Ed took the stairs at a deliberately slow pace. He wanted to be certain the bellboy was gone before he rapped on the door of room 387. He wanted Miss Debbie Sellings to be very alone.
When he knocked, she was.
"Who is it?"
"Bellboy, ma'am. I forgot something," he said, standing before the closed door. And, of course, she came to open it. Her mild eyes went wide and she gasped when she saw the little pistol in his hand.
i4Not a sound," he said, gesturing with the gun. "This needier won't kill you, darling. But a needle in you ... say in one of those nice tits of yours ... will sure sting like crazy. Then you start getting sick when the needle dissolves and the herthabrine goes into your bloodstream. Very sick."
"Who ... what... who are you?" She was backing away, automatically, because he was advancing. He kicked the door shut behind him, heard the lock click.
"That's not too damned important Who I am and who you are doesn't matter. If s where that interests me, bitch. Where's your friend off the ship?"
"My ... what? What friend?"
He described Ramona precisely, including the clothing she'd worn as they disembarked, so that Debbie couldn't play any more games. "She saw me, and she took off," he finished. "Where'd she go?"
"I... I don't know."
Ed waggled the nasty little pistol. She stared at it. "You're lying," he said. "She's probably in this hotel. I want her."
"You want. . . why?"
He gazed at her a moment. "All right, Debbie Sellings, I'll tell you." He gazed past her, remembering
the awful scene back on Earth. "She and a man named Simon Rawledge trapped two girls on Earth. Call it kidnap. One of them was a masonymph, and they beat the hell out of her. Even beyond what she really digs, I mean. But the other one wasn't. I don't even know what they did to her. It doesn't matter. The important thing is that they left her unconscious, in a basement, and they started a fire. And locked her down there."
She gasped. He had watched her brittle expression change to one of sympathetic horror.
"I pulled her out, or her body. She was so black with smoke I couldn't tell how badly she was burned. But she was burned. They did it so they could make a movie. That's all. Because movies like that sell and rent well, especially here on Mars. It was my girl they did that to. And I have followed them all the way here from Earth. Think about it; you know why. Now I didn't see Simon Rawledge get off that big spaceliner, but I sure as hell saw you and Ramona. Now, Debbie my dear, tell me where she is."
He saw that she wasn't going to, even before she said it. What he'd told her had horrified her, yes. But something bound her to Ramona. A share of the take from the movie, maybe. Love, maybe, or sex; Lesbian empathy banding together against a man.
"I . . . can't," she said.
"You mean you won't."
"I can't tell you where she is."
"All right," Ed said, sighing and raising the gun. "Strip."
"Whaaat?"
"I said get your clothes off, you stinking little bitch," he snapped, and the tone and the look in his eyes made her jerk, shivering. Slowly, chewing her Up, her eyes
flicking from his gun to his cold eyes and back to the gun, she began to strip. He watched dispassionately. But he didn't feel dispassionate, not when those pretty white tits bounced out and her navel crinkled at him when she bent. Not while he watched the dangling sway of those firm breasts while, after a little hesitation, she bent to remove her last article of clothing. He paid litde attention to her red-lipped, tight looking cunt. A slash was a slash, although they were different inside, in degrees of tightness or flaccidity. What called a man to a woman in the mute but eloquent voice of sensuality was her secondary and tertiary sexual characteristics: her breasts, her hips, her buttocks, the shapeliness of her calves. All of them were markers on the path that led to the furry little nest between her thigh, but that was the goal, the destination; it was the scenery along the route that attracted a man and drew him on to the final goal.
But the soft, possibly unprobed vagina of this Lesbian lover of his quarry was not Ed Royse's goal.
She stood watching him with her teeth in her lower Up, an excitingly naked girl who was obviously very averse to being naked—at least in front of a man. Ed walked to her, watching her flinch. Then he stepped past her and shot out a hand to grasp the back of her neck. She jerked, starting to squeal, and he let her feel the so-slender snout of the needle gun in the yielding side of her breast.
She hushed and stayed hushed as Ed shoved her to ber knees facing the bed. Then he swung around to sit | :n its edge. Again he prodded the swollen side of her :sast with the needier. (He had lied about it. Needlers :uld fire explosives, or hollow needles filled with poisons, or emetics or even laxatives. His did not contain the nauseous herthabrine. He'd spent hours, on
Bill and Sonya's little ship, sneaking several needles of the mind-con trolling drug "Zombie" out of their hold—and into his gun. But he hated to waste them on this little nothing.)
Her eyes went even wider when he opened his pants and the granitelike erection snapped out to quiver before her face.
"No!"
"Where's Ramona?"
"I won't tell ... I mean I can't tell you! No!" She twisted, grunted when he jabbed her breast sharply with the little gun, then shuddered violently. "No! You're not going to stick that fuckin' thing in my mouth!"
"Yes, I am," he said quietly. "Needle in your tit or cock in your mouth ... take your choice."
Her entire body writhed in a frantic attempt to escape as his hand on the back of her neck drew her face closer to his fully erected prick. Through clenched teeth she whined, "No! No!"
Then the warm tip of the fleshy prod touched her hps and his thumb pressed into her jaw muscles. Suddenly the strength went out of her. Her mouth opened wide. Her shoulders slumped in defeat—and Ed gasped in pleasure—as his cock slid into her mouth. She wlumpered, staring at the tangle of pubic hair so close to her nose. He heard her little gagging sound, knew she felt it, really felt it, as it extended to the back of her throat. Her tongue wriggled, pressed down by the thick shaft. Her saliva flowed, and he saw her lurch and knew she was close to throwing up. He withdrew, but just a little.
"Better fight it back," he said. "You'll strangle if you vomit. You've got a throat full of cock, lez. Eat it" She moaned around the impaling prick. He timed the
movements of his crotch to the press-relax rhythm of his hand on her neck, and slid himself in and out of her tautly rounded hps. And carefully, he kept the gun against her breast, a constant reminder that she'd better not consider biting. He did not put it into words. He was sure that she had considered the possibility, sure that she knew he'd sink a dissolving needle into her tit the moment her teeth started to sink into his penis.
Slippery with her saliva, it moved in and out of her mouth with more and more ease. He grinned, noticing the firming of her nipples and the increased tempo of her breathing. Whether by her conscious volition or not, her tongue began to meet the crown of his penis each time it thrust into her mouth, curling around the hard wet shaft in an equally wet, welcoming kiss. Little sounds emerged from her throat, and he could not be certain if they were of pleasure or not. He wondered. Was she really a Lesbian, or a bi, a girl who could swing both ways and had? Or was she just pretending with Ramona—or now, with him?
She did edge her knees forward until she was more deeply between his thighs.
She did meet the pulsing, sliding, jabbing movements abandoning all resistance.
She was fine, a good fellatrix, a good mouth-fuck, good head.
Surprised, he relaxed his hold on her nape and caressed the satiny skin of her perspiring shoulders while she took complete control. Moving her head in rhythmic strokes, she slid her mouth up and down his saHva-shppery shaft, pumping it in apparent oral rapture.
He felt himself building higher and higher toward a climax.
His abdominal muscles convulsed in anticipation, ad he held his breath, then gasped. His cock began to rk spasmodically in the warm cradle of her face. It aculated smoothly, in long spurts, into the warm wet louth that surrounded it so deughtfully. He lurched, iding her mouth down along the hard shaft until her ose was in his pubic hair. Her body trembled—in apture?—as the hot streams of liquid shot into the back >f her throat. She swallowed, again and again, with pparent pleasure, gulping audibly in her uninhibited icceptance of the delicious river he sent flowing into her tomach.
When the ejaculations ceased, she sucked contentedly it the softening shaft, sighing in what sounded like satisfaction. Her shoulders sagged in relaxation. Then they began to shudder and her breasts began to slap his thighs as she shook with sobs.
He slipped his spent cock from her mouth and turned her face up, watching the tears flow down her cheeks.
"Little late to cry, isn't it?"
"You son of a bitch! You ... I liked it! Strong man, making me eat it . . . you bastard! I even swallowed it, all of it! You made me like it... / hate you!"
"Sure you do," he said, grinning, shaking his head.
Why, he wondered, aren't I enough of a bastard to really torture her? Because I think she's just something Ramona picked up. to use and probably discard? Lord, I assumed I had done the worst thing I could to a Lesbian. Instead she enjoyed every second of it. And now she's blaming me because she enjoyed herself! He shook his head again. He'd probably botched any attempt at getting anything out of her without using one of the needles filled with Psychotranque-C: Zombie.
He sighed and shook his head. Well, we'll see. After years of handling the problems of whores, I should be able 'to take care of this kid! The male dream is to convert alez .. . have I? Well, I'll. ..
That's when she grabbed his balls with one hand and his cock with the other and squeezed and yanked, both at once. The pain was so sudden and sharp that Ed couldn't even cry out. He just grunted—and triggered a dissolving needle of the illegal drug called Zombie into the swollen outer curve of her left breast.
She yipped, jerking her hands away from his crushed genitals to clasp herself, feeling the bee sting of pain as the needle went in.
Half turning to lay the gun on the foot of the bed, out of her reach, Ed swung back to slap her hard across the face. She lurched sidewise, her hair flying, her hands leaving her breast in an attempt to break her fall. She thudded to the carpet, on her side, nakedly half curled in a fetal position, whimpering.
"Pinch your nipple," Ed said, cupping his still-pained testicles in a soothing hand.
"Fuck you, cocksucker," she snapped, which he thought was rather funny in view of the fact that she had just spent seven or ten minutes sucking his cock.
After another few seconds, when he was almost able to breathe normally again and felt as if he might be able to keep his scrotum with him awhile longer, he repeated it.
She trembled. Moaned. Whimpered. Her hand
quivered.
Then her hand rose and she began pinching her own nipple.
Ed's face almost smiled. Good, then. The stuff had
taken hold. She was completely under the influence of the drug. She would answer what he asked, do what he said. He experimented, just a little, to be sure, and it shook him. The stuff worked: no wonder it was illegal. The naked girl was his mindless slave.