Chapter 10
Daphne started back up the stairs to her room, but Gloria caught her and pulled her into the study. "So'd you see him?"
"Who?" Daphne said warily.
"Your main man, who else? Don't tell me you really left to go after some damned identification and credit cards?"
"And you don't think I left here for some cock, do you? Isn't there plenty of that right here?" Gloria shook her head. "I just don't believe you," she said coyly. "You had other things on your mind. Ain't a high class hooker in the world don't want better cock than what she's gettin' paid for." She suddenly reached out and pulled Daphne's bag from her shoulder. Daphne dove after it, but Gloria turned around and held it close to her chest, away from her.
"What do you want with that?" she asked.
"Just checkin' to see if you got your ID. back," Gloria said, laughing. She unzipped the bag and pulled Daphne's wallet out, and fended off Daphne's efforts to retrieve her property.
"Calm down, girl, I'll give it back. Just checkin' out your story." It had all been in fun, but the fun ended when Gloria read the driver's license.
Her face fell, the smile eroded from her lips. "Hey," she said.
"What is it?" the voice came from across the room, and they both whirled to see Jennifer standing by the door.
Gloria looked at Daphne, then at her license, then at Jennifer. She made up her mind. "Candy ain't who she's supposed to be," Gloria said, and Daphne felt her bowels turn to ice. "This here license says she's named Daphne Rogers, and there's a card here says she's a legislative aide for Senator Will Roland."
Jennifer's head snapped over to look with horror at Daphne. Then her expression calmed. "Well, well," she said.
Daphne bolted, headed toward the door, but something caught her by the arm. It was Gloria, and the Amazon black woman pulled her back and locked her arms around Daphne's waist and held her. No matter how she struggled, she could not escape the woman's grip.
Jennifer walked over to her and stood before her, staring contemptuously at her. Then she unleashed a slap that filled the room, and left a dark red spot on her left cheek. "You bitch," Jennifer said. "For this you will pay dearly. Oh, yes you will." She looked up at Gloria. "Don't let her go." And then she left the room.
"God, Gloria, please. Let me leave. I swear, I won't say a word to anybody."
"Sorry, honey," Gloria said venomously. "We got ourselves a real cozy setup here, and ain't nobody gonna put old Gloria back out on the streets. Not even nice white cunt like yourself."
They stood there, Gloria squeezing the life out of Daphne. "I won't run," Daphne said. "Just please loosen up a little. I can't breathe."
"If I guess right, that don't matter much in the long run," Gloria said. "You won't be breathing a lot longer anyway." She thought for a moment. "But you're a nice chick. You been nice to me." She relaxed her grip a little, but Daphne still could not break free if she tried.
After a while, the doors to the study opened and Paul and the large black man followed Jennifer into the room. 'Take her," Jennifer said, and Daphne felt herself being roughly grabbed by each arm and hauled out of Gloria's warm embrace. She put up no struggle, but they dragged her mercilessly up the stairs anyway, not giving her a chance to get on her feet. They took her down the hallway past her own room, down another hall and then into a room she had never seen before; the one Greg had wanted information about, she knew. They threw her in and closed the door, and switched on the light.
It was a stark room, with only three wooden chairs and a mattress on the floor. No pictures adorned the walls, no light came in through a homey window. The two men looked at her with leering, hungry eyes.
"She look good, Mike?" Paul said to the black.
Mike nodded slowly, his eyes drinking her in. "She is good," Paul said. "I've had her once. Think I'd like her again."
"Doesn't matter to her," Mike said. "She's a dead cookie anyway."
They wanted her, she could see, but they did not make a move toward her. Instead, they simply stood, each to one side of the door, their arms crossed over their muscular chests.
Eventually, the door opened and Jennifer entered with a short, stocky man with a harsh face and a brutal moustache. "Daphne, this is Dr. Utzall," she said. "He's in charge of our operation, and now he's in charge of you." Her face showed discouragement and unhappiness. "It's such a shame you weren't what you said you were. You could have been so happy here. God, what a waste."
Then she left the room, leaving her alone with the three men.
Dr. Utzall carried a small black bag, and he opened it and extracted a hypodermic. He said nothing to Daphne, didn't even look at her as he filled the syringe from a clear bottle, then stepped toward her.
But Mike stopped him, putting his hand on Utzall's shoulder. "Before you do that," he said, "we want her." He indicated Paul, and grinned sadistically.
Utzall shrugged, then studied the figure of Daphne, who was cowering in the corner on the mattress. Her heart crashed against her ribs, and the sounds of her pulse echoed like thunder inside her skull.
"Indeed, she is an attractive woman," Utzall said. "Perhaps I should join you."
"You're welcome to," Paul said. Utzall put the syringe down on a small shelf over one of the chairs, and Mike advanced on Daphne. She huddled into the corner, wishing she could evaporate into it. Knowing what they had on their minds, she wished Dr. Utzall would simply stick her in the arm with his hypo, and get the whole thing over with.
Mike reached down and grabbed her wrist, the strength of his grip making her cry out. He yanked her up and smashed her against the wall, and pinned her shoulders there. Paul came over and, while Mike held her like a specimen on a microscope plate, he ripped her clothes off and tossed the shredded material aside. He tore her clothing strip by strip, enjoying the sight of one breast bouncing free, then tearing another allowing the other breast to join the first.
When she was naked, Mike continued to hold her savagely against the wall as Paul begain feeling her, running his big, calloused hands over her body. He put both hands on her feet and ran them up her legs, then forced her thighs apart, spreading her cunt lips open for him.
He took his middle three fingers and stuck them out, and then guided them up inside her pussy. She was scared to death, but the feel of his hand inside her still made her moisten, and she let out an unintentional moan. The moan changed to a scream, though, as he added his little finger and his thumb-in fact, his entire fist was now up inside her tiny, tight little hole.
He began pounding his fist inside her, and she thought her eyes would pop out of her head from the excruciating pain of it. But the pain tapered off into delirious pleasure, and soon her eyes were closed and her ass slapped against the wall in time with his thrusts.
Mike was no longer holding her shoulders; his rugged hands were mauling her breasts, squeezing and pulling them, and he encircled her stiff nipple with his thick lips and bit them hard, and she cried out.
Paul pulled his fist from her bruised cunt, and rubbed his hand over her face, making her smell her own genital scent. It served only to excite her, and that excitement mingled with the fear created by her certain knowledge of impending death. She wrapped her arms around Paul, and her hot breath gushed into his ear, arousing him. She reached down and unzipped his pants, pulling his familiar cock out and urging it toward her own raw, battered pussy.
Paul allowed himself to be guided, and he uttered a sigh when her cunt, spread out a bit larger than normal from his hammering fist, wrapped its warm flesh around his meaty shaft. He impaled her with it, lifting her practically off her feet. To her surprise, though, he turned around, so his own back was against the wall, and her back and her fleshy, firm buttocks were exposed to the room.
She dug her nails into Paul's shoulders, not sure what she was thinking or feeling other than a basic instinct to survive. Paul's blood-gorged member pounded into her, crashing violently against the top of her cuntal cavity, filling her and possessing her. She assumed it was Paul's hands she felt pulling her ass cheeks apart, but it occurred to her suddenly that Paul's hands were around her back. It must have been Mike.
Oh, God, she thought. No, not this, please.
Survive. Anything at all you have to do to survive.
The rubbery button of her asshole felt a poke, and she knew it was Mike's cock. She wished she could see it so she would know what she was faced with, but she could not turn her head. The rocky crown of his black penis spread the anus apart, and then he shoved, and she screamed, but Paul caught the scream with his mouth, plastering his lips over hers and filling her mouth with his hot tongue.
Her rubbery rectum burned as Mike's cock, thick with blood and lust, stuck her and pried her anal lips mercilessly apart. Paul continued jamming his cock in and out of her cunt, and his teeth bit hard into her lips, holding back the scream that was aching to come out.
Mike's cock continued sliding into her tight, never-before-invaded asshole, and tears welled up in her eyes. She felt the head of his cock far up inside her, and she thought the two pricks inside her would meet, they were slamming up her so far.
The three of them, inter-connected, toppled to the floor and lay on their sides, and Daphne felt herself being humped and pounded from both ends. In a minute the pain left her and she began to grind her hips in time with their syncopated thrusts, and a moan rose in her throat. Paul felt it and moved his mouth away, and the grumbling throaty sound exhaled from her, intense with lust and ardor.
She opened her mouth to moan again, but it was fruitless; something blocked her mouth, closing off the avenue of her sounds. She tasted it, and knew it was a cock. She didn't have to look; she knew it was Utzall's, stuffed hard and solid inside her mouth and pumping in time with the one up her sore butthole and the one stroking inside her tired, worn pussy.
Utzall came first, the hot jet of milky, sticky cum flooding her mouth and shooting down her unwilling throat. She gagged it down, and felt the flacid cock extracted from her mouth. Immediately she felt a flood of heat invade her bowels, and she knew that Mike had come. He pulled his stiff, black cock from her anus and rolled away.
Paul rolled her onto her back, and her buttocks sang with discomfort as her so recently fucked rectum made contact with the hard floor. But Paul didn't care; he jackhammered his cock into her, and she clawed at his back, her legs dancing in the air above him as Mike and Dr. Utzall watched, stroking their cocks back to a stiff, erect state.
Finally Daphne came, to her surprise, shuddering and shaking and quivering with the most intense orgasm of her life. She felt her cuntal walls contract, squeezing the cum out of Paul's cock, and he flailed atop her, crushing her against the floor as his penis unloaded its cargo into her pussy. Then he rolled away.
Daphne curled up fetally and whimpered, but she kept one eye partially open, watching. When Utzall reached down to pull his pants up, she knew it was her last chance.
She jumped to her feet and grabbed the hypo off the shelf, opening the unguarded door in the same motion. When Utzall turned, she jammed the needle into his side, then rushed out and closed the door, turning the key from the outside. The hallway was empty, and she darted off seeking sanctuary, her body racked with waves of pain from the abuse she had suffered.
She encountered nobody, and she kept running. She didn't know that Utzall had already sunk to the floor, the syringe protruding from his skin, the life seeping out of him as the poison meant for Daphne coursed through his veins. Nor did she know that Mike and Paul had already knocked the door open, and were hot in pursuit of her.
She suddenly knew, by instinct, where to go, where to hide. She turned a corner and headed for Jennifer's office. Hopefully, Jennifer wasn't there. Nobody would seek her there.
She dashed into the office, without caring that Jennifer might be there after all, without regard to her nakedness, or the bruises that covered her body.
The room was empty, silent. She bolted home the lock inside, and leaned against the wall, giving herself a minute to get her bearings. Her breath returned to normal, and she looked around the room, trying to decide what to do.
Her eyes latched onto the telephone. Dear God, if only she could get an outside line. She picked the receiver up; her ear was greeted with a familiar dial tone.
She punched the Washington Tribune, and waited for someone to answer. Finally the switchboard came on, and breathlessly she asked for the city room. Somebody answered there, and she asked for Greg. Finally, Greg answered.
"Oh, God, Greg," she wept suddenly into the phone upon hearing his voice. "Help me."
"Daphne? What's the matter?"
"They're trying to kill me. They raped me and they're trying to kill me."
"Calm down," she heard him say. "What are you talking about?"
"Greg, they know. They know that I'm not one of them, that ... they locked me in a room and they were going to inject me with something. I ... I think I killed him."
"Who?"
"The doctor, Utzall. He's the man behind this whole thing. Oh, Jesus, Greg, please come help me."
"You try to get away, stall them, don't let them find you," Greg shouted, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation. "I'm on my way, with help."
"Please hurry," she said, and hung up.
She sat momentarily with her head in her hands. Then she surveyed the room more carefully. She found a closet, and pulled a robe on over her. That made her feel better.
She put her head in her hands again, and wept. She wept until she fell asleep.
Daphne had been almost right. Nobody thought of looking for her in Jennifer's office. Not until they had searched everywhere else, that is. Her head snapped up, forced out of her reverie, when she heard somebody working the doorknob. Her heart seemed to stop, and her voice froze in her throat.
"Daphne?" It was Jennifer's voice, but she sensed that Paul and Mike were with her, too. "Daphne, we know you're in there, and you might as well come out."
She said nothing. She couldn't.
"Daphne, please don't make me ask the help to break this beautiful old door."
"Go away," she tried to shout. It came out as a hoarse muttering. "I don't want to die."
"You knew the risks when you came here," Jennifer said. "Like I told you earlier, we play the game our way. You knew the rules."
"Please go away," Daphne said.
There was silence for a minute, then she heard a loud thump against the door; Mike or Paul smashing into it. With the next thump she saw it give just a little, and a little more with the next. They were both putting their shoulders to it, and she saw part of the edge of the door as a length of the frame splintered away.
Daphne crouched behind Jennifer's desk, her eyes closed so she would not have to see what was coming. The door gave on the next smash, and Paul and Mike piled in, looking for her. They towered over her as they advanced on her, and like before, each one took an arm and dragged her, more violently this time, out of the room.
She stopped crying. Dignity was what she sought now, above all things. She passed Jennifer, who looked victoriously at her. They whipped her around and began carrying her upstairs.
There came a sudden crash, and they whirled her around again to see what it was. The front door had been kicked open, and three men wearing suits with guns drawn rushed in. They announced themselves with a terse shout: "FBI!"
Greg followed them in. It was the last thing Daphne remembered.
She awakened in a soft bed that she did not know. Greg stood over here, wearing a terry cloth bathrobe and holding a hot cup of coffee.
"What happened?" she asked, feeling very groggy.
"You passed out. Jesus, the cavalry comes to save the day, and you passed out and missed it."
"It's over?"
"The whole gang's in jail. Boy, you wouldn't believe the immensity of the operation. And it was like you said, all for profit."
"Greg?"
"Huh?" he asked, sipping on his coffee.
"Do you ... care about me?"
He looked at her meaningfully. "Are you kidding? You think I rushed out there for a story? The story would've been there tomorrow. I came after you."
She knew it was true. She was at his apartment so he could watch her, and he had come after her because he cared. She felt better. A lot better.
Better enough to pull him into bed, and spread her knees for him the way she had only done it for her ex-fiance. And as Greg came inside her overused cunt in time with her own tremendous orgasm, Greg thought: Yes, I guess they were right.
And he smiled, thinking about his by-line.