Chapter 8

"Irene, please return to your room at once. Irene, please return... "

Irene has wandered out onto the grounds after breakfast.

She has decided to spend as much time as possible outdoors.

Whether because, unlike her room, the others are kept locked except at certain hours, or because they are somehow busy doing other things, nobody but her is out and about this morning.

But now, she is being summoned, told to go back to her room.

Useless to ignore the booming voice, coming from a speaker above the entrance to the grounds.

They will merely come looking for her.

So she goes back to her room, as bidden, where she sees, reclining on the bed, this huge, naked man with shaved head, his heavy cock draped over one massive thigh.

On her nightstand, a pile of rope.

She sees him through the viewing glass in her door, through the imbedded wire mesh.

So she is not surprised.

And does not hesitate.

He looks at her as she enters, face expressionless.

She simply stands there, motionless, as he removes her gown from her body before lifting her up and throwing her onto the bed.

Promptly, deftly, he binds first one wrist, then the other to the uprights in the metal headboard.

And Irene watches his heavy cock with its massive, rounded knob swinging back and forth as he works.

And the warmth is on her once again, her pussy juices already starting to flow.

And she knows now, or thinks she does, a little more about herself.

Because she has not been drugged, unless very subtly, in her food.

But it would have to be a very selective drug indeed, to cause her to respond only upon outside stimulation, such as the presence of this bald, beefy behemoth.

Because she was not feeling particularly sexy this morning.

Even a visit to the site of yesterday's adventure with the lesbian failed to stir her prurient interest, summoning the image only as historical fact.

And yet now, she is excited, aroused. Helplessly so, she realizes.

And the realization of this helplessness, a helplessness born, not of manipulation, not of victimization, but of her own inner lust, of that rampant desire, that fire within herself which flares up unbidden.

And now, as she sees the bald head, looking like some kind of muscle, tanned and flexed, working away as he eats her pussy, she comes to yet another realization.

She should not have gone to the Baroness.

She panicked and did the wrong thing.

And this, this... monster, this new employee, according to the white coat who spoke with her yesterday, is probably the help sent by the Baroness.

She knows, can see the monitor watching them now, watching and undoubtedly listening as well, a small directional microphone undoubtedly a part of the assembly up there.

But she has to get a signal to him, has to let him know that she doesn't want to be rescued, that, whatever kind of an ogre Randy Buck may or may not be-and she believes the Baroness's tales of horror- he was telling the truth when he told Irene that her sexual tastes were entirely her own idea.

True, they are very convenient, very well suited to his own personality, are in fact the perfect complement to his own sexual tastes, but nevertheless, they are her own.

He indulges himself when he indulges her, no question.

But still, the fact remains that it is to her whims that he caters.

And this drug theory of hers?

Nothing more than a denial of her problem, a transference.

She is normal, she is all right, there is nothing at all wrong with her, but he, he! is gas lighting her, is manipulating her, has caught her in the coils of his vile machinations, will eventually even kill her.

And it was, is bullshit. Most of it, anyway.

Probably.

But there is enough of it that isn't that causes Irene to urgently want to erase her visit to the Baroness.

Because, should Randy discover what she has done, she would have been the cause of whatever befalls her, even as she is the cause of her present predicament.

So then how, how to convince this, this... plant of the Baroness that she is all right, that she doesn't need, or at least doesn't want her help.

Only one way.

And, ironically enough, one which requires no effort at all on her part. All she has to do is-let go.

That's right, she need merely release her mind to her body totally, well before the advent of the ultimate pleasure within herself as a result of this big bruiser's attentions forces her to do so.

Which will serve to convince this guy, the doctors and Randy Buck-for she has no doubt but that he will review in intimate detail whatever records are made of her visit here-what she herself is now convinced of, which is that this is indeed her scene.

As now the big guy sucks her tits, chewing on the nipples, kneading the big boobs, rolling them round and round.

As now he takes another length of rope and ties a loop around one knee, passing the rope behind her head, then tying the other end around her other knee, similar to the manner in which Randy Buck ties her up.

Maybe, she thinks, maybe this man is not from the Baroness after all, but is one of Randy Buck's employees, associates, whatever.

Maybe he will not do anything to her except create an instant replay of their bedroom scene- hers, Randy's and of course, Cranston and Eric's.

Because he certainly has all the qualifications of an all-in-one stud.

He has Randy's size and then some and his is all muscle, unlike Randy's.

He has Cranston's hugeness where it counts and Eric's height.

So that yes, he is like a combination of her three regular fuckers.

Sheer coincidence?

Could be.

Certainly, his newness militates in favor of his being the Baroness's spy.

And now- "Aaaah!"

This from her lips, as Ultimo shafts his huge prong, now massively erect, into her cunt.

And he rides away on her, her pussy sucking its welcome visitor.

And he is working out on her, pumping away, now pistoning in and out of her hot, drooling pussy, now rotating, going round and round, reaming her royally.

And the thrills, the surges of sexual electricity shoot through her, again and again, with each pump, with each rotation.

And yes, she is getting exactly what she always wanted.

And she feels both totally helpless and completely safe.

Because now she believes that he is indeed from the Baroness.

Because he avoids eye contact, does not look at her face, lest, forgetful that they are being observed, she say or do something that will give him, give them away.

He need not have worried, but of course he doesn't know this.

No, if he were from Randy, then he would not be so reticent, to evasive.

And yet, there is nothing held back in his fucking, in his servicing of her.

On the contrary, he seems as genuinely ardent as herself.

As he humps away.

And now, without breaking his stride, he reaches behind her and grabs the pillows from the head of the bed.

And places them under her hips.

So that, already doubled up, her ass hole is still more clearly exposed.

And now, he is down on it, rimming her roundly.

He sucks and chews her protruding bung.

He shafts his tongue in and out of the orifice.

And now, he sits back on his heels before her, polishing his throbbing knob with a blob of saliva.

And now, he is leaning forward, guiding his prominent prong toward its target.

"Unnngh!"

And he is pushing, spiraling, thrusting his way in, in, into her with the battering ram of his cock head.

And the mighty shaft stretches and fills her in a manner reminiscent of Cranston's great prod.

In and in and into her he goes.

And there is nothing, truly nothing between her and him now.

They are conjoined in the intimacy of the room.

Others may be watching, she realizes, may be, probably are.

But here, in this room, physically, there are only the two of them.

And they are in full sexual communication.

Her body, his prick.

Which he now jams in and out of her ass in full, hard strokes.

Ah, but now, he varies his technique.

Now he is in her ass hole, now in her cunt.

And he has slackened her back door to the point that he does both with equal ease.

And she has never had this from a single person.

So that he is a constant surprise, a constant thrill to her.

As he fucks her in either whole with equal enthusiasm.

Hotter and hotter, they become.

Higher and higher they rise, up, up, up the rainbow together.

And her twistings and writhings are so frenetic in the throes of her passion that it is just as well that she is tied down, or she would break out of even his mighty impalement in her uncontrolled wildness.

As Ultimo realizes that she may be in danger, but that her sexual appetite certainly doesn't suffer thereby.

Because this is not the action of a woman who is being raped.

Nor is it that of some actress putting on a show, the frigid porno star staging her act for the cameras.

Rather, this is a genuine enthusiasm for him, for what is happening, for both.

Because Ultimo knows the real thing when he sees it.

And he gets to see it quite a bit, with all that he has to offer the women.

And he knows that their association is by no means forced, not in any sense of the word.

So that here, now, she is quite content, is in fact happy, in a strictly physical way, with the way things are going.

She is no fool, not by a long shot.

So that she has to know that he is here to rescue her.

Except that he cannot; not physically, anyway.

He had not counted on the security being this tight.

And neither did the Baroness, he is sure.

The best he can do would be to report that fact.

They might stand an over-the-wall shot, given the right timing, the right equipment.

But as far as taking her out of here, that would be virtually impossible.

Hell, he cannot even, communicate with her without their being overheard.

So, there being nothing else for it, all he can do now is to enjoy himself.

And he is.

As he fucks her in her cunt, then in her ass, then back to the cunt and so on and so on.

Until, at a certain level of arousal, Ultimo decides to go all the way-in her ass.

He shoves his big baton brutally into her butt.

And hooks a thumb into her cunt, pressing heavily on her clit.

And, supporting himself on one arm, rolls his thumb around on her clit, in her pussy as he pistons in and out of her ass with ever-increasing speed.

And he sees it in her face, he feels it in the heat, the attitude of her body that she is right at the peak.

And now-they are coming and coming, both of them, the long, thick, powerful spurts of his hot jism injecting themselves into her bowels as her series of multiple orgasms cause her rectum to contract delightfully, even as the convulsions of her vagina milk his thumb of the ultimate pleasure.

Thus do they ride and ride together as they blow their safety valves.

Thus do they zoom and soar through their shared sexual paradise.

Thus to they transport themselves and each other through the rosy empyrean which is the realm of the ultimate pleasure.

So that now, they are floating above the earth in a world, a universe all their own.

And now they are descending slowly, gently, to land back on the bed.

And he does a long, slow withdrawal of his still fully tumescent meat monster from her ass hole, which leaks melting jism profusely, soaking into the pillow beneath her hips.

And now, he unties her legs, which descend slowly to the bed.

And now, he reverses himself in the bed, squatting on her face, rotating his hips, as she rims his ass hole.

And he continues to ride her face thus, as his mighty marauder, in mid-melt, finds renewed enthusiasm.

So that he is very quickly erect once again.

And he unties her hands.

So that now she is completely free to move.

But she does not.

Instead, she allows him to eat her cunt again, legs raised and spread.

And she allows him to shaft smoothly into her cunt once more, scooping up her legs with his arms, holding her doubled as his hands once again latch onto her breasts.

And now, he is sucking her tits as he fucks her pussy.

And he is inside and outside her, above and below and all around her.

He has enveloped her very being with his own.

And now, he is driving them both up the rainbow once again with his powerful engine, his heavy equipment.

As she gives herself to him totally, moans of genuine ecstasy escaping her lips.

As Ultimo throws her his version of a regular fuck.

As he brings her, physically, from her perversion into the world of so-called normal sex.

As she responds to this readily, avidly.

So that she has been, for all intents and purposes cured, so far as Ultimo is concerned.

So that anyone observing, taking notes, noting the trend of the action and reaction, could very well conclude that there has, in fact, been a breakthrough here.

Of course, to pronounce this a cure would be premature.

But, on the other hand, to ignore it would by transparently hypocritical.

As even now, they climax together again-a genuine, full-blown eruption of passion into the ultimate pleasure on both their parts.

"I know that guy," Randy Buck says, watching the tape with Eric and Cranston.

"That's Ultimo, right?" Cranston asks. "I remember him from the time we kidnapped Nancy.

"Never could figure out just whose side he was on, as I recall.

"That's why you wouldn't issue him a weapon, remember?"

"I certainly do.

"And I see now that I was correct.

"Let's assume worst case, gentlemen.

"The Baroness has infiltrated the Foundation.

"The first thing to do is to get Ultimo out of there.

"I mean fire his ass and right now."

Cranston reaches for the telephone and dials the Foundation.

"The nerve of her!" Randy Buck exclaims to Eric as, in the background, Cranston makes all necessary arrangements for Ultimo's dismissal.

Then, "And Cranston, get my wife out of there."

"The doctor here was just telling me that he would recommend the same thing, Randy," Cranston says.

"What? Gimme the phone.

"Doc? You telling me my wife is cured?"

"That's what the sequence of events would seem to indicate.

"She was able to respond to and experience climax with, regular, normal sexual intercourse.

"Listen, are you sure about Max, Randy?

"Because I gotta tell ya, the guy is really-"

"Just do as I say. His name isn't Max, all right?

"I believe he's a plant of some kind."

"Who-"

"Never mind, Doc. Just do as I say.

"Sign Irene out of there-now!

"And uh, congratulations."

"Grant's methodology seems to work, Randy."

"Of course it does, Doc! You think I pick losers?

"Oh and Doc? Make sure that uh, Max sees Irene leaving for home. Give him a complete report."

"But-"

"Tell 'im to take it with him, a souvenir of his stay at the Foundation."

"The tapes and everything?"

"A complete copy of the file, Doc.

"Oh and tell him one thing for me, will ya?"

"Yes?"

"Tell him to give my regards to the Baroness."

"Give your regards to the Baroness."

"Right.

"Uh, have Irene take a cab back here, okay?"

"Check."

"Okay, once again, real good job, Doc.

"And I'll be in touch with you real soon.

"Real soon."

A moment of silence.

Then, "Okay, Doc, make it happen. Ciao."

And he hangs up.

Roberta, Ultimo, Nancy and the Baroness look at the tapes.

When they have ended, "Randy Buck sends his regards, eh?"

"He does," Ultimo confirms.

"Did you get a chance to look over the Foundation?"

"Yes," Ultimo replies, "and you're not gonna like this at all."

"It's a candy store for perverts, right?"

"Exactly."

"It's a complete lending library of any shade of sadism, masochism, fetishism-anything a Randy Buck could ever want."

"You got that right."

"And nothing I can do about it, I suppose."

"Not 'til Randy makes a move using the inmates."

"You check the diplomas?"

"I ran the names Ultimo gave me through the AMA, the American Psychiatric Association and the schools themselves.

"All the genuine article."

"No quacks, eh?"

"I didn't say that. But if there are, they have the degrees to back them up."

"At least Randy has taken to buying them rather than killing them," the Baroness observes. "Progress of a sort, I suppose we could call it."

"I think Irene really did get cured," Nancy opines.

"Which simply means that she wasn't really all that sick in the first place," the Baroness completes.

"I think she's simply one of those women who are very, very-"

"Bendable? Shifting with whichever way the sexual wind blows? I think you're right, Ultimo," Roberta agrees. "I mean, just look at this report.

"Everything from S&M, B&D to lesbianism to the grand finale of a normal fuck.

"And no stumbling along the way.

"That's certainly flexible enough for me."

"And me too," Cynthia says.

Then, "The Foundation is trouble, ladies and gentleman."

"Oh, no," Nancy moans.

"Oh, no, as in here we go again?" Roberta asks.

"I'm out of it," Ultimo says. "My cover is blown, remember?"

"That's very true, Ultimo," Cynthia says. "Roberta, get Ultimo his check and he can be on his way."

Roberta leaves to do her bidding.

"You have a good time, Ultimo?" Nancy asks.

"You mean you couldn't tell from the tape?"

"No, no, I meant, were you at all uneasy in the place?"

"That's the odd thing, now you mention it, Nancy, I wasn't.

"I was pretty comfortable the whole time."

"Ah."

"Why did you ask?"

"Because," Cynthia replies, cutting Nancy off, "that means that there were no dark doings there as yet.

"The Foundation is corrupt, with Randy Buck calling the shots, with the late Gregory Grant's obscene methodology in full sway, but as of today, there is no reason to believe that Buck is using the place for anything other than a source of income, of course, but over and above that, as a source of casual, passive amusement."

"The tapes," Ultimo says.

"The tapes, the case histories, as I say, a regular candy store for him, it must be."

"But what you're also saying is that, sooner or later-ah!"

Roberta hands Ultimo his check.

"Sooner or later," Cynthia says, "Randy is going to want to do more than just watch.

"And when he does-well, people are going to. start getting hurt, getting killed-again."

"And the Baroness, of course, cannot allow that to happen," Roberta sighs.

"That's right, Roberta, of course she can't.

"You have a problem with that?"

"You know I do," she sighs.

"Me too, dammit!" Nancy adds.

"Ultimo, thank you very much, you've done an excellent job and should we require your services again, I'll have Roberta get in touch with you."

"Baroness. Ladies."

And Ultimo leaves.

"Now then," Cynthia says, "about the Foundation."

"It goes, right?" Roberta says.

"One way or another, it goes," Cynthia confirms.

"Do you suppose, just once, we could handle this through legal channels, Cynthia?" Nancy asks. "You know-qualified state agencies and such, legal information and complaint channels, instead of wearing ridiculous costumes and putting our asses on the line like comic strip heroes?"

"Quite possibly.

"Roberta, the first thing we need is full time surveillance of the Foundation and of Randy Buck.

"Got it," Roberta says, writing this down.

Cynthia continues, "And the next thing is, I want a luncheon meeting with Randy Buck."