Chapter 8

It was a year after Bart finalized his ownership of Cathy that it happened. He had a stable of twenty girls working for him by then, a stable that was constantly growing. The girls were always trying to find new recruits for him, so they could earn a little money, get some relief from the debt to him that was constantly growing. And Doug, joined now by two other boys equally attractive, were out scouting too, trying to make enough of a "commission" to pay for their habits. Bart's bankroll was growing day by day. He had begun to look forward to the time when he would be able to get out of the business. There wasn't any use pushing his luck. A girl might be picked up sooner or later. He kept them working with safe Johns, and they had been warned by him against cruising on their own. Also, he made certain their monkeys were fed all the time, so they wouldn't be spotted as junkies in need of a fix. And so they wouldn't get desperate. They were pretty safe, as junkies and hookers went. Still, there was just no way to be certain with junkies. When a man made the decision to work with them, he had to realize there was a risk involved, above and beyond the normal risk of engaging in an illegal business. These girls and boys could go crazy at any time, decide to do something stupid. Or they could easily misjudge someone, try to bring in a new girl who wasn't about to have any, and the girl could go to her school principal with the story, or something similar. That could mean the end of the whole show, and prison for Bart.

Still, things were going so well now he couldn't see any reason to call things off prematurely. He had a quarter of a million bucks salted away in a bank in Switzerland, and it was growing faster all the time as the girls multiplied. Another two years, he had decided, and he'd be able to call it quits and spend the rest of his life enjoying himself. Switzerland, the whole of Europe, and anywhere else he wanted to go. By then he should have a million and a half put away, probably more. Enough for any man.

He was working with the hypos on the day it happened. The girls would be coming in for their fixes, and their assignments, in an hour or so. When Bart heard a knock at the door, he thought it was probably one of the girls showing up early. Trying to remember whether he had told any of them to show up early, he put down the needle he had been inspecting and walked to the door. Any time he felt a little horny he just told one of the girls to come a little early. It was necessary to handle things that way, now that there were so many of them. Otherwise, if he wanted one of them to go to bed with him it was like having the waiting room of a doctor's office right outside the bedroom. But he couldn't remember telling any of them to come early tonight. Maybe it was one of the guys, wanting to tell him about some new broad he had lined up for the kill. With a smile of anticipation on his face, Bart opened the door.

He only had it open a half inch when something hit it from the other side. The door shoved inward with so much force it hurt Bart's hand, still on the knob, and the door was driven against him, knocking him back on his heels. Bart almost lost his balance and fell back, trying to find something to hold onto. He did a little dance to keep his feet.

Two men came in through the door. They were both big, and they were both wearing overcoats. It was like something out of an old movie. Bart knew what they were there for the moment he saw them, but before he could even gather his wits together, much less do anything, he saw one of them come to him in two big strides. The guy took his hands out of his overcoat pockets, and he was holding a sap in one hand. He brought it up and around. Bart managed to move his head a bit, and deaden the blow, but it was still enough to make his head burst with sudden pain. He fell to his knees. The man with the sap grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, then kneed him in the solar plexus. Bart let out a grunt and reached up and grabbed for the man's balls, thinking to grab them in a crushing grip. But the guy was wearing a jock, and Bart's fingers slipped off harmlessly. The sap came out of nowhere this time, and struck him on the side of the head. He tried to remain conscious, but it was no good. The darkness flooded in, driving consciousness away.

He came to feeling something hitting his face again and again, first on one side and then the other. It made him mad, and he gave a hell of a twist, trying to break away from the slapping.

"He's comin' around," a voice said above him, and Bart opened his eyes and saw one of the two men, the one who had used the sap on him, standing over him, holding onto one of his lapels. "On your feet, pal," the man said, and gave him a tug. The tug showed a lot of strength. Bart climbed to his feet and stood shaking his head. He looked around the room and saw the other man sitting in his big overstuffed chair. There was a sawed-off shotgun across his lap. That was the reason for the overcoats, of course. It wasn't that cold outside.

"All right, what's the beef?" Bart asked. "Who put you gorillas up to this?"

"Shut your mouth, punk," the man in the chair said. There was another shotgun lying on the couch. The one who had used the sap on Bart stood between Bart and the couch now. "We're going to be asking the questions, and you're going to answer them. And if we don't like the answers, we're going to show you we don't like them. You understand the rules now, buddy?"

"All right, ask," Bart said sullenly.

"How many girls you got in your stable?"

"How many what? What are you talkin' about? What's a stable?"

"Oh, shit," the man in the chair said, and something hit Bart alongside the head. He reeled, almost fell. Hands grasped his lapels and held him up until he regained his balance. "That kind of shit bores me, friend. Now I'll ask you one more time. How many girls you got in your stable?"

Bart started to play dumb again, but he saw the one with the sap coming at him again, and he thought better of it. "Just four," he said. The one with the sap came in close again and hit him. He did go down this time.

"Put him in that chair over there," the other man said, and Bart felt himself being pulled along the floor. There was a grunt, and Bart was lifted and thrust into a chair. "I didn't like that number," the man in the other said. "Try again."

"All right," Bart said. "I have six girls." The sap hit him again, this time on the neck just above his shoulder. Bart felt a deep, sudden pain. He almost passed out from it. When his vision cleared, the one with the shotgun was looking over at the needles and bottles spread out across Bart's desk.

"That's a lot of stuff for six girls," he said.

"That ain't for-" The one with the sap started forward again. "All right!" Bart said suddenly. "All right, I have twenty girls." The man came toward him again. "Goddamn it, that's the truth! Twenty girls are all I have!"

"We believe you, buddy," the one with the shotgun said. The other one stopped. "You see, we always believe the truth. Just stick to it from now on, and you won't have any trouble."

"Would you mind telling me who you guys are?"

"Nobody important. But we represent some important people."

"All right. Who do you represent?"

"The Company you work for."

"You're crazy. I don't work for any-Oh."

The man with the shotgun was grinning. "Yeah. From now on you work for the Company. It ain't bad. There's all kinds of benefits. Like insurance from the kind of treatment you've been getting for the past few minutes. As long as you keep up your end of the bargain, of course."

"And what's my end of the bargain?"

"Well, you see, the Company doesn't like free-lancers. Not very efficient. The Company feels you and it should be in business together. That means you get girls together, and you get them tamed down using junk you buy from the Company-"

"At what price?"

"Well, naturally, the stuff is a little higher than it is on the regular market, but it's only the best grade."

"Sure."

"Then you turn in fifty percent of everything you get from your girls."

"Fifty percent! You're out of your goddamn-" The sap hit Bart again, just grazingly this time. But it hurt. Bart shut up.

"Of course, if you don't like the idea of working for the Company, you can always refuse. In that case, we'll just have to eliminate you as competition. And take over your stable ourselves. You think it over for a few seconds, and I'm sure you'll come up with the right answer. It comes to fifty percent of a whole lot, or a hundred percent of nothing."

"You said eliminate-?"

The man fondled the shotgun in his lap. "You know."

"I don't seem to have much choice."

"No, you don't."

"Okay, so I work for the Company."

"That's the boy. I knew you'd have enough sense to pick the right alternative. Now remember, you buy all your stuff from the Company from now on. And don't try to hold out on the take, boy. That ain't healthy."

"I have some boys working for me as scouts. They get a commission."

"Any commissions you agree to will have to come out of your half. And as for the boys, they'll have to be passed by the Company if they're going to keep on working for you. We don't want anyone around who might fuck things up."

"All right."

"And don't think this is all loss on your part. There really are some advantages in working for the Company. Like free legal advice. If you get busted. Also, there's the matter of discipline."

"Discipline?"

"Sure. Don't tell me all your little junkies love you so much you don't ever have to worry about discipline?"

"No, but the habit's usually enough to-"

"Well, when it isn't enough, and it won't always be, you just report any girls who get out of line to the Company. And we'll straighten them out for you. You'll be amazed at how cooperative and obedient they get after we reason with them a little bit."

"I'll bet."

When they were gone, Bart rose and walked unsteadily to the bar. He tossed off a straight shot, and then another, and the shaking began to subside a bit.

"The sons-of-bitches," he muttered. He poured himself another shot and took it back to the chair. Just when things had been going so well, they had to show up and fuck things up. Well, if they were really from some big outfit, there was nothing he could do but play along with them. It just meant that it would take a little longer to get where he wanted. And it would be smoother running, probably. Safer and all that. An outfit of that size wouldn't let people who worked for them go to hell. It wouldn't be good business. So maybe there would be some advantage to it. The only reason Bart had wanted to get out of the business was that it would get more and more dangerous as he gathered together more and more junkies. Now the Company could worry about that end of things. He could just keep recruiting girls and taking his cut, or the half of it that, was left, and the girls wouldn't have to know they were working for someone who was working for someone else. He could still be the big boss to them. And he could still enjoy their white little asses any time he felt like it. Hell, it wouldn't be so bad.

And he already had a quarter of a million stashed away in Zurich. Gathering interest. If worse came to worst, he could just pack up one day with no warning and leave. A quarter million wasn't as much as he had wanted, but it was a whole lot better than working for wages. The income from that much money could keep him in comparative luxury all his life. And he'd still be adding to the pile as time went by. Not as quickly as he had been, of course, and not as quickly as he had intended, but he'd be adding to it. In another year he should have at least a half million set aside. Maybe he should make that his goal, instead of the million. Sure. A half million should be enough for any man.

There was a rap at the door. A timid little rap. He knew how it was the moment the knock came.

He went to the door and opened it.

"Come on in," he said. Patty Lawson stepped in, brushing against him lightly as she went by, because he stood directly in front of the doorway and made her squeeze by him. Patty was his latest girl. She was a little thing with soft, light brown hair and big brown eyes that looked as pleading as a doe's. She had skin like a baby's, and her face, a tiny heart shaped one, was the kind that would make a man want to put his arms around her the moment he saw her. She had been a little harder than the others to trap, but now she was hooked as firmly as the others. She carried a fifty-dollar monkey, and she was finally realizing she was good and had, with no way out. She had given him a little trouble at first, but now she had gentled down, like a skittish mare who has finally grown accustomed to the bit. The nicest thing about her, he thought, was that she had been recruited by one of the other girls, so there wasn't anyone pulling down a commission from her. Not that the commissions were all that bad. The boys never looked at the books. They just took his word on how much their girls had brought in. And he charged them the same amount for their heroin as he did the broads themselves, so the amounts they made in commissions were fictitious. It only cost him about a sixth that much to keep their habits fed. Still, it was nice to look at a nice little package like Patty Lawson and know she was all his. Or half his now, he thought.

He closed the door and suddenly, without warning, took the girl in his arms. He pulled her up against him, and she went up on tiptoes automatically. Her little body was stiff as a board for a moment before she caught hold of herself and relaxed against him. Her breasts flattened against his chest. She wasn't wearing anything on them, he thought, under her dress. He let his hands move over the dress, feeling the supple little body under the cloth, while his tongue moved through her mouth freely, tasting the sweetness of hers. When he finally allowed the kiss to end, she looked up at him with those big deer eyes and managed a smile. She was still a little new at things like this, and had a bit of trouble pretending to like being pawed by any man who wanted her. But that was all right.

That gave her a virginal quality the Johns liked. Bart found that he liked it, too.

"Well, hello, Bart," she said breathlessly. "You're in a very friendly mood today."

"Yeah," Bart said. He placed his hand on her ass and pressed her against him, so that she could get a good feel of his cock, bulging against his pants. "You feel that? That'll give you an idea of how friendly I am right now."

"You want me to do something for you?" She sounded a little nervous as she asked the question. Things were still pretty new to her. Bart kneaded her ass luxuriously through the thin mini and kissed her again.

"The others will be arriving pretty soon. You stick around after they leave."

"Oh. You don't have a customer for me today?"

"No one who asked for you by name. Cathy can double up."

"Oh. All right." She sounded unhappy about things, as he had known she would. This meant that Cathy would earn a double fee today, and she would be fucking for free. Her debt would grow by a full day's supply of heroin.

"You got any objections to that?" Bart asked with a threatening edge to his voice.

"Oh, no, honey, of course not. How could any girl object to spending the day with you?"

"All right, then. Anyway, I should put you through your paces. Make sure you know how to please a man. Make sure you haven't forgotten anything."

There was a light tapping on the door, and Bart gestured curtly to Patty to answer it. Cathy and Angela were there, together with a couple of the newer girls. They came in and stood about looking nervous. They were in need of their fixes. Bart looked at them coldly.

"I thought I told you broads not to come here in groups. You want to make someone suspicious?"

"No, Bart, we didn't come together," one of the girls, a tall blonde, said. "Honest. We just ran into each other in the hall."

Bart stared the girl down, then looked at each of the others for a moment. They all looked at their feet, their eyes wavering away from his one girl at a time.

"Okay," he said. He kept his voice hard. "From now on I'll have you come at different times. All we need is for some damn cop to see you coming in here in bunches, and get nosy about it. Now let's get started. You first, Cathy."

He gave Cathy and Angela their shots. They were both mainlining, of course. When they had their fixes, he gave Cathy her assignment, the address written down on a piece of paper. She looked at it hard, looked up at the ceiling while she repeated the address to herself silently, then looked at the paper again. She took it over to the ashtray on the desk, held a lit match to it, then smiled at Bart a little vacantly, and, with a wave of her tiny hand, left the apartment. Bart handed another slip to Angela. Angela went through the same routine, burned the paper, and started to leave.

"Stay put for a while, Angela," Bart said. "Let Cathy get away from the place before you start. Christ, I have to do the thinking for all you junkies, don't I?"

Angela smiled apologetically and sat down on the couch. Bart remembered he had meant to give Cathy a double assignment today. He cursed to himself, wondered whether he should give the extra assignment to Angela. He looked over the girls who had shown up already, decided tentatively that Angela was the one. There was another knock at the door.

"Get that, Patty," Bart said. It amused him to treat Patty like a maid. Of all the girls in his stable, she had come from the best background. Her parents had quite a lot of money, and she was used to having someone open the door for her. The spoiled ones were always the most fun, he thought.

He turned to the big blonde. "You're next," he said. She came forward and held her arm out eagerly. Bart shook his head. "Not there. Hike up your skirt." He liked to give it to them in the ass as long as he could. After they were too hooked to be scared off by that kind of thing, of course. It made it less likely that they would be spotted as junkies. The blonde looked embarrassed, but she hiked up her skirt and pushed her panties part way down. Bart growled, "Get them down, damn it!" She pushed the panties farther down, revealing her cheeks completely. She held the brief skirt up with both hands. Bart took his time about getting the needle sterilized. This kind of thing was fun. He walked over to the girl, swabbed one round cheek with alcohol, and then laid the cotton down on a nearby table. He ran his hand over the smooth skin lightly, as though looking for the right place to stick the needle. Actually, he was just having some fun with the blonde. Finally, he stabbed the needle in hard enough to make the girl wince, and pushed the plunger.

"Okay," he said. "Here's your assignment." He handed her the note. She read it carefully, her eyelids already beginning to droop from the effects of the heroin.

There was a knock at the door. Patty opened it again, without being told this time. Nancy Morison came in. She looked a little breathless, as though she had hurried all the way from school. Bart looked her over with interest. She was really a knockout, he thought. One of the best in his stable. "Angela, you can leave now," he said. The little brunette jumped up from the couch and smiled at him vacantly, then left the apartment.

When Nancy's turn came he handed her two slips of paper, the one he had intended to give her, and the extra that would have been Patty's. "I got some extra work for you," he said. "A chance to make some extra money. Okay?"

"Oh, sure," she said.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, Bart."

"That's better." He gave one of her breasts a little pinch through her blouse, and she forced a smile.

When they were all gone, Bart heaved a sigh of relief and started to put the heroin and needles away. Patty came up to him and smiled tremulously. "Aren't you forgetting something, honey?" she asked in what came close to a whine.

"What's that?" Bart asked, pretending ignorance.

"My fix? I mean, you said you were going to put one on the cuff for me, didn't you?"

"Sure. I'll leave one needle out, baby. And you can have your fix. Just as soon as you've shown me your stuff. I don't want to waste good stuff, you know. I want you to show me you're good at pleasing a man. Then I'll give you your fix. That's fair enough, isn't it?"

He could see she was about to object. She needed the fix, or would very soon. She had the nervous, skittish look of a junky who needs the stuff right away. Bart looked at her hard. "Sure, Bart. Sure, that's fair enough."

"That's a good girl. Go on in to the bedroom and turn the bed down, doll. I'll be in in a moment."

"All right, honey." She hurried through the door. Bart chuckled to himself. The little twat didn't dare give him any static. She knew better. Right there, in that needle, was something she needed more than food. And it was up to him to give it to her or say no, on a whim. He picked up the needle and carried it with him into the bedroom. It would be good for her to see it lying on the bedside table while she was doing her duty for him. It would remind her of what she was fucking and sucking for. It would keep her sharp.

Bart walked into the bedroom and stood for a moment looking at the girl. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed, when he came in. She stood up hastily and faced him, looking nervous. Bart walked past her and placed the hypo on the bedside table. When he turned to her again, she was staring at the needle, as he had known she would be.

"Take off your dress," he ordered her. She looked at him with a nervous expression, as though she were still a virgin and this her first time. But she took off the dress and then stood looking at him again, dressed in pantyhose and bra and shoes now. Bart sat on the edge of the bed. "Come over here and take off my shoes for me, will you?" She knelt before him and took off the shoes. "The socks too, for Christ's sake," he ordered. She took them off and put them in the shoes neatly.

Bart stood up, bumping into her with his legs, and she moved back on her knees hastily. He opened his belt and fly and let his pants fall about his feet. Then she took off his shirt and dropped it beside him. The undershirt followed, and then he shoved his shorts down and let them fall atop his pants. He stepped out of the clothes.

"Pick all that up and put it somewhere. Neatly," he ordered.

She did it quickly, without looking at him. Then she turned to face him again. She looked more nervous than ever.

"Come here," Bart commanded curtly.

She came to him almost at a trot. Bart gestured to her to turn around, and she did so. He began to work on the clasps of her bra. They came open one at a time, letting the bra forward a bit with each lessening of the pressure. She started to raise her hands to hold the garment in place, then stifled the impulse, obviously afraid that he might not like her doing that. The bra fell away from the firm thrust of her breasts, slid down her arms, and dropped to the floor with a little plop.

Bart threaded his arms under hers and encircled her, cupping her breasts with his hands. She trembled slightly, then throttled the impulse and held still. She leaned back against him reluctantly. Bart moved his lips over her neck and shoulder, feeling her softness, tasting the slight saltiness of her skin. Her hair brushed against his forehead and cheek. Bart felt his desire surge up, his belly heat with it, and his cock harden.

He released her and stepped back. She wavered a moment, regaining her balance, and then stood straight and still. She remained there with her back to him, waiting for orders. She seemed also to dread the necessity of turning to face him. Bart let her stew a few moments, enjoying the situation. He knew he was getting back some of the ego he had lost earlier when the two muscle men had broken into his apartment. He was taking it out on Patty. He knew that and he didn't care. What the hell was she for, if not to take things out on when he felt like it? That was what they all were for, he thought. Girls were to have fun with.

He took her by the shoulder and turned her around to face him. She turned willingly, glad to get the waiting over with. Bart stared at her tits with frank insolence, stared at them until she blushed with embarrassment. Then he reached forward slowly, letting her see it coming, and cupped one breast with his palm, to feel the nipple come erect. She was embarrassed, of course, and she was humiliated, and she was scared, and she would rather be anywhere else than right here. But she couldn't help responding. She was a hot little number, this Patty. She was a good moneymaker, too, he thought. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. The pressure of her tits against his bare chest was exciting. His cock thrust against her rigidly. He could feel the warmth of her body, and her breathing was coming faster and faster. Bart slid one hand down her back and let it dip into her pantyhose, cupping one round, warm cheek. She stiffened a moment, then made herself relax. He continued to squeeze the cheek for a moment, then slid his hand over to the other cheek and worked on that one for a while. He began to work the pantyhose down a little at a time, still cupping and squeezing the cheeks of her ass, and she began to tremble again. But now it was from desire. He could tell the difference. And perhaps there was a little of something else in it too. She was getting close to the time when she would need that fix. As though to drive that imminent need from her mind, she threw herself into the job of making love to Bart. Her body surged and bulged against his, and her pussy pressed against him, her hips thrusting hard. Bart worked his hand around to the front, working the pantyhose down there too, evening the level of the garment. He could feel the roundness of her thigh, the wisps of pubic hair, and then his hand came into full contact with her pussy. She gasped once, and her body thrust against his hand.

Suddenly, Bart didn't want to drag things out any longer. His own desire was getting too strong for that. He'd have her all night, he thought. If he wanted to drag things out he could do it later, after he'd had one good fuck from her. Right now the thing was to get his cock into her before he came all over the front of her.

Bart pressed her into the bed, brought his weight onto her, drove her down. She gasped again, this time with surprise at the strength and ferocity of his approach. He drove his legs between hers, and after the first moment, after she had regained her sense, she widened her thighs for him. He lay on her, letting his full weight press against her tiny body. She fought for breath, not daring to complain, and he delighted in her discomfort, her fear of him. He ran a hand down between them, took his cock in his hand and inserted it in her pussy. There was another gasp, a mixed one this time, made up of the need for air, and the shock of knowing that it was about to reach that stage, the entrance, and the thrill of purely physical pleasure. He drove into her, pressing his cock deep inside of her all at once. She gasped again, and then cried out, and then she lay still under him for a moment. She lay very, very still, and then, gathering her wits about her, she began to pump her hips at him, slowly, mechanically, listlessly.

Bart slid his hand between them at the level of her breast, and, taking one nipple between his fingers, pinched it hard. She let out a squeal and then clenched her teeth.

"Put some life into it," he grunted in her ear, and she began to make the thrusts more lively, and at the same time more meaningful. She spaced them, timed them to his own movements. She was making love now, fucking, not just allowing herself to be fucked. Bart's cock was rock hard in her, almost painfully hard. He continued to massage her insides with the crown of his cock, driving and pulling, thrusting with greater force, while she worked hard at pleasing him, matching him, giving him as much as she got. She had learned a lot, he thought with a touch of amusement. This wasn't the little virgin he had fucked here weeks before. She had learned the ways to please a man, the ways to keep him turned on, to bring him up higher and higher, and then satisfy him totally. That was good, he thought with a touch of dreaminess as his own pleasure rose to a higher level. That was good, not only for his own use of her, but also because he knew it meant that when a man paid good money to fuck her, he was going to get the best that could be expected. That meant satisfied customers, and more money in the bank. It meant a quicker ride to Switzerland, more time to enjoy the good life there without anything to worry about, cops or district attorneys, or angry parents or any of the dangers that he could lose out to here. The quicker out of this business the better, and little junkies like Patty were going to buy him out soon.

Patty let out a little moan, and he knew she was going through a mild, preliminary orgasm. He slowed, letting things subside a little. There wasn't any sense in letting his own orgasm come too soon. He let her lie under him, gasping for breath, her body laced with sweat, her thighs spread around his to make entry for him easier, and he waited while things slowed a little. Then he began to pump again, more slowly this time, carefully, babying things along again.

"Uh," she said softly, answering the pleasure in her vocally. She grunted again and again, and then the sounds rose in pitch and volume, becoming squeals. Her arms tightened about his neck, and he knew it wasn't just because she knew she had to put on a goqd act. She was responding to him all right. She was giving now because she was caught up in it, and that was great. It was good when it was real, he thought. Always better than when she was giving him just a show.

He slacked off again for a moment, then began to thrust again, this time pushing all the way into her, all the way to the root, pressing their bellies together, and their abdomens, so that he could feel their pubic hair mingling and scratching. Her breasts were flat under the weight of his chest, and then she lifted her thighs and wrapped them around his waist tightly, holding him in an iron embrace, milking his cock, and then there wasn't any sense in holding back any longer, or trying to, because the juices were obviously about to spurt into her, and he accelerated his pumping, thrusting and pushing and pulling with greater and greater speed, getting the most out of the few remaining moments. Patty let out a series of cries as her own pleasure grew and grew, and he knew she was going through a series of orgasms, each more powerful than the preceding, and then his own orgasm hit, and his come spurted into her, driving with fire hose force, and he grunted and thrust, and the pleasure peaked deliciously, driving clear through his body, nearly blowing the top of his head off. He felt the puckering and gathering all along his skin, and knew that this was it, the peak, the top, and it was almost too powerful, almost more than a man could stand, and then it was over, and he lay on the girl, his body limp and sweaty, while she fought for breath.

He knew she was having trouble breathing, and that the exertion of her own climax had raised her need for air, and that she was wishing more than anything else for him to get off of her, so he lay there for a long while, his weight completely on her, silently daring her to complain. Her arms slipped from about his neck, and she lowered her legs, too, but she didn't dare go any further than that in signaling to him that she would like him off of her.

After a very long while, a lesson to her, he finally moved off of her body. She smiled at him in timid relief and gratitude, and her tits heaved and jiggled as she sucked air into her lungs in great heaps. Bart lay on his back for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her next to him, the nearness and availability of her tiny, exquisite body, and then he reached over and gave the nearer of her thighs an intimate squeeze.

"Go in and get me a drink," he ordered. She scrambled to her feet.

"Sure, honey." She looked down at the needle lying on the bedside table for a moment, obviously hoping he would take the hint and give her a fix now. But she didn't really need it now, not yet. In a little while she would start getting bad, and then he'd give it to her, but for the time being he wanted her on edge, alert, eager to please, frightened of his displeasure. All those things would be there to some extent when she had had her fix, but they would be lessened, blunted, and he didn't want that. Besides, he was enjoying her nervousness, her need, her little nagging fear that maybe he wouldn't give it to her this time. Of course he would. It didn't make sense to starve a junky. They could get you into all kinds of trouble that way. Unless you locked her up and kept her off the stuff just to teach her a lesson when she'd been bad. But Patty wasn't likely to be bad. This kind of time, this kind of session, was very helpful in keeping a girl in line, in reminding her of her place. Patty wasn't likely to forget her place.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" he asked, and she threw him a smile compounded of regret and cringing servility, and then went into the living room at a trot.

She brought the drink back in a moment, and Bart scooted back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and took the glass from her. He began to sip it while she stood beside the bed watching him nervously. Bart shifted the drink to his left hand and with his right patted the bed next to him. Patty crawled onto the bed obediently, moving with care to keep from spilling his drink. Bart took another sip.

"Ain't this nice?" he asked, and she nodded, forcing something like a happy smile onto her lips.

"Sure, honey, this is great." He enjoyed this part of things almost as much as the fucking itself, making them pretend to like what they had to do for him, making them choke down the bile and pretend to be fond of him, when he knew they would like to see him roasted over a slow fire, if they could only be sure of another source of junk when he was gone.

"You're a good girl," he said. "I'll give you your fix in a little while." He took a big pull of his drink and then reached across and placed it on the bedside table to his left. "I think I'll let you go down on me now," he said casually, wording the command as though he were doing her a favor. She blanched a little, and he knew she hadn't expected that to happen quite this early.

"So soon?" she asked, and tried to make her voice sound admiring.

"Shit, why not? I may not be able to get a hard-on just yet, but it's still nice having you lick it. It's just a nice feeling. I may even fall asleep. If I do, you just keep right on licking, Patty. You got that?" He made the edge in his voice obvious on the last command, and she swallowed hard before she answered him.

"Sure, baby," she said with a quaver in her voice. "Anything you want is fine with me. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. Get with it."

She forced another servile smile and then moved down on the bed, positioning herself over his abdomen. Bart sat there, leaning against the headboard, and watched her. She didn't dare stall, although he could see that she wanted to. She leaned down, kneeling and sitting on her own calves, and took his limp cock in her fingers. The touch of her hand was nice there. Her hair, long and silky, fell down across her face.

"Brush your hair back," he said. "You know I like to watch your face while you do that." He said it curtly, to let her know that she had goofed by not remembering, and she winced. Her tiny hand came up and shoved her hair back, draping it over her far shoulder to keep it out of the way. Her profile was revealed to him now, and he knew she was aware of his gaze, and embarrassed more than ever by it.

She leaned down the last fraction of an inch, and her tongue, pink and soft and warm, began to move across his cockhead. "Mmm," Bart said, relaxing at the nice, comfortable feeling of her tongue there. He let his hands rest at his sides on the bed, while she continued to work. He could see her face, her cheeks slightly distorted by the effort of keeping her tongue extended. The loveliness of her face, contrasted with the thing she was doing, sent a thrill through him, and he even felt a little stirring in his prick, and he was delighted at the thought he might be able to get something out of it sooner than he had thought possible.

Patty was breathing hard now from the exertion of maintaining her position and continuing her work. He could see from the way she held her face and head that the effort of keeping her tongue extended was starting to cause her some discomfort. Finally, she stopped a moment and craned her head back and rolled it around once, then came back down and started to lick him again. Bart's prick was coming to life faster than he had thought it could do so soon after a good fuck like that. He didn't try to will himself up or anything like that. There was no hurry. The girl's job was getting him turned on, and she would keep at her work until she got the desired results. She would keep at it because she knew what would happen to her if she didn't. Bart just leaned back, enjoying the warm, moist feeling of her tongue moving over the head of his prick.

"Get a little variety into it, sweets," he ordered in a pleasant, dreamy voice. "You're in a rut."

She mewed an acknowledgment and started to move her tongue down the length of his shaft, and then she was kissing his abdomen, balls, crotch and the insides of his thighs. Bart sighed pleasantly, trying to relax, but feeling the tension of his urge building up. His cock was half-hard now, really starting to swell and stiffen. He let it get hard at its own rate, not trying anything to speed it up or slow it down. He was content to let things go their own route, to let her do all the work. He could feel himself getting dampened all over as her tongue traveled over his intimate parts.

Then his cock was really getting stiff. He felt a pleasant sense of surprise at the result, the way things were going. He felt pleased with himself. There was a lot of steam left in the old engine, he thought, when he had someone worthwhile around to build up the pressure. It was great having a lot of beautiful teenage girls eager to do anything, literally anything at all, to please him.

She must have seen the cock standing up, because she started to lick it again, and then he felt her lips close over the head of it, pursing slightly, to bring pressure onto his glans. The feeling sent a shiver through him, a thrill, and he grunted. The sound seemed to bring Patty more alive. She started to work harder and more diligently on him, to work with greater vehemence and direction. She had seen she was getting him turned on more quickly than she had thought possible, of course, and she was trying to bring him along quickly, to get him to go off so she could have done with it.

She was on her knees still, sitting on her calves, but now she came up off of her calves and began to rock back and forth slightly, keeping up pressure with her lips, exerting friction on his glans. Pleasure was coursing up through Bart's abdomen, sending him into little shaking fits as it increased and faded, and then increased again. Bart tightened his belly, because he could already feel the beginnings of the pressure there, the need to unload on her, and he wasn't going to let her off that easily, by God. He was going to hold on now, make her work for it, make her keep it up, and keep it up himself, the enjoyment of it, the pleasure that was sharp and wonderful now, and he wasn't going to give it up until he had to.

She stopped again for a moment, craning her neck back, and then she came down on him, her tongue tracing a path across his cock for a moment again before she returned to what she had been doing before. She had a good thing going there, she knew, and this was the way to keep him up. But the momentary change had excited him, too, and he couldn't hold on much longer. As she continued to work with him, and her lips passed up and down, up and down, over his glans, he knew he couldn't hold back much longer now. He let it come out, finally, the come flooding into her mouth, and he could see her throat muscles working as she swallowed hard and feverishly. He had told her, as he had told all the girls, that it was an insult to a man if a girl didn't want to swallow his come. It wasn't nice to lose any of it, not even a drop, and of course she was aware he was watching her now, and she was working hard at keeping it all, at swallowing it all. Bart's cock gave one last spurt, and she managed to swallow it, and then it was over.

She sat back on her calves again, her head hanging down, and he could see she was humiliated at what she had done. She was still new, he thought. She hadn't really gotten used to this part of it yet. Well, she'd have to learn, that was all there was to it. A whore who doesn't suck, he thought, is worthless.

He picked up his drink and took a sip. The ice had melted, and the drink was warm and weak. He handed it to her. She didn't take it, didn't even see it.

"Wake up, junky," he ordered. She came alert with a jerk, saw the glass and took it automatically. "Go into the living room," he said. "Get a fresh glass. Wash this one and dry it, and pour a drink into the fresh one. You got that?"

She nodded.

"I asked you, did you get that?"

"Yes sir," she said.

"All right, then get your ass in gear. When you come back, maybe I'll give you your fix."

That got better results than the vocal raking he had given her. It was like catnip to them, he thought with contempt. They couldn't get along without the stuff.

She was back so quickly he asked her with suspicion whether she had cleaned the other glass as he had told her to.

"Yes, sure, honey," she said, and he could tell she was giving it to him straight. Anyway, she wouldn't dare disobey or lie to him. He told her to stand next to the bed with her back to it. He picked up the needle and gave her the shot hard enough to make her wince. Then, while the heroin was taking effect, and he knew she wanted to lie down and enjoy it more than anything else, he finished off his drink, lay back, and told her to give him a massage.