Chapter 1
Janet Thompson sat forlornly at the dining room table, unaware of the beautiful California morning outside the window of the tract house that she shared with Paul, her husband. Paul had left for work just a few minutes ago, and Janet didn't know how she had been able to hide the shocked misery that had been tearing at her heart while she prepared his breakfast. But then he was not always at his best in the morning and usually didn't come fully awake before his fifth cup of coffee.
Large tears were welling up in Janet's beautiful blue eyes, making them seem to melt, almost as if the brilliant blue of the irises themselves would begin to flow down the soft ivory curve of her cheeks and splash brilliantly on the gleaming table-top. Her lips parted a little, stung by the salt taste of a tear, and another hung heavy for a moment then fell gently towards her proudly up-thrust breast. It struck, hesitated for a moment, then ran smoothly down her cleavage, disappearing inside the flimsy material of the short nightgown she was wearing. She shivered a little.
Janet sat for nearly ten minutes without moving, her head bowed, her beautiful golden hair hanging loosely over her grief-stricken face. Inside her own mind she tried to convince herself that it was all just a bad dream, that the envelope really hadn't come yesterday afternoon, brought to the door by a special messenger. Oh, if she had only noticed what company the messenger was from then she might have been able to find out who had sent the filthy thing.
The envelope! Her eyes involuntarily went to the bookcase. She sat frozen for a moment, indecision washing over her, then she made up her mind and rose quickly to her feet.
She stood for a moment, her long smooth legs left naked by the shortness of the nightgown. Her full, perfectly rounded breasts held the thin material away from the rest of her body and the darker tips of her slightly erect nipples were clearly visible. The nightgown emphasized rather than hid the perfection of her body. She stepped, towards the bookcase and, as she passed by the lamp, the light shone through the filmy fabric and outlined the inward curve of her stomach and lower down, the soft swelling of her belly just before it merged with the broad sweep of her generous hips. As she bent over the bookcase, the nightgown pulled up a little showing a gentle shading where her legs joined her swelling buttocks.
She pulled several books from the shelf and then reaching far back in the bookcase, brought out a large manila envelope. The distressed young wife straightened a moment, weighing the envelope in one hand then moved back to the table with it. She sat down before she finally opened it. Reaching inside, she pulled out several glossy black and white photographs. The backs of them were to her and she hesitated before turning them over. Even though she had seen them before, she could not keep from gasping in shock as the photographs looked back up at her.
They were filthy!
Her stomach sickened at the tangle of naked flesh portrayed in each photograph. Most of them showed a man and woman engaged in the most degrading kinds of sexual perversions with one another and a few showed several people; it was impossible to tell how many the way the arms and legs and heads were tangled and interlocked in an insane jumble of lust.
At the best of times Janet would have been horrified and sickened by the disgusting acts portrayed in the films. Sex was an uncomfortable subject to her, and perverted sex utterly unbelievable. But it was not the sheer depravity of the pictures that made misery and fear lay heavily on her heart. She would normally have just thrown them away and put them quickly from her mind. No, there was more to it than that.
The man in the pictures was her husband, Paul!
A dazed confusion continued to grip her for several minutes, but then the inevitable thoughts began to trickle through her mind and they soon became a flood. How could he? What did it mean? Who could have sent the pictures and why? She started to cry again, but then made herself stop, determined to work this thing out in her own mind.
The evidence before her of her husband's betrayal of their marital vows after less than two years of marriage caused her to search her memory for the first signs of his growing indifference to her. When had he started to treat her differently?
It had all been so different before they were married. Her mind drifted back to when she had been living with her parents and had met Paul. Although she had dates before she met him, she had never been serious about them and had never, ever, gone to bed with anyone. Paul had been the first and only man in her young life. And now ... The tears started to flow again, and Janet found that for the first time she was thinking of leaving Paul, of going home to her parents, where she could be safe and secure. She loved her parents and they loved her. Her father was a fine man, a gentleman, and treated her kindly and lovingly.
Janet had developed early. When she had entered high school, she already was shapely and drew crude wolf calls from the boys and heard them mutter smutty suggestions to her in class and when she was walking down the hall. She hated P.E. when she had to don the gym uniform and run out on the field, her breasts jouncing as all the boys ran to the fence that separated the practice field. She would go through calisthenics while the boys hooted and made catcalls and some even called out vulgar suggestions until their gym teacher would come get them and force them away. Even a few of the younger male teachers looked at her with something other than an academic interest.
Rather than being proud of her body, she had always been ashamed of it. It was too fine-boned and voluptuous, too beautifully curved and refined. No one would ever have trouble telling she was a woman. When she walked, it was like oil pouring or jello quivering. She couldn't help it and, at home, in the privacy of her room, she had practiced walking in a way that wasn't suggestive. She wore high necked clothes and stayed away from miniskirts.
The few boys that penetrated this camouflage and knew what a prize lay underneath had to meet with her parents' approval before she was allowed to go out with them. Her parents were strict yet loving. She had had long talks with her mother about the 'state of matrimony' and what was expected and what was allowed and what was 'decent'. Her parents were religious and Janet naturally was too. Most of her dates were at church socials which were chaperoned and supervised and most of her dates were with a young boy named Peter Brookes.
Her parents had approved of Peter and, although there was whispered gossip that Peter was just "a little too refined, a little too effeminate for his own good." Janet had liked him and had enjoyed going on dates with him. Peter was always a gentleman, a good dancer, and funny. And, with Peter, she had felt 'safe'. He would never do anything to embarrass her. It had been fun being with Peter, almost as if he had been another girl friend, and she was sorry that he finally moved away, to New York City, where he got a job decorating windows for Macy's. Peter had always been clever and, when picking her up for a date, had sat and chatted with her mother about interior decorating.
Wistfully, Janet wondered if she could ever find Peter again. It would be nice to see him and talk with him. Her mother had always hinted that perhaps Peter might be a nice young man to "get serious with."
Janet sighed and wondered, if they had continued dating and gotten married, just what their wedding night would have been like. Certainly not like what had happened with Paul.
After the wedding, Paul had driven with breakneck speed to the hotel where they were going to stay the first night of their honeymoon. He had driven with a half-drunken restlessness, and several times she had pleaded with him to slow down. In their room while she had demurely retired to the bathroom to change into her negligee, Paul had drunk like a crazy man from a bottle of Scotch some friends of his had given them at the reception.
Coming from the bathroom, Janet had hoped it would be the way she had always dreamed it would be, the way her mother and minister told her it should be; a thing of beauty and tenderness and understanding and, somehow, some way, being "nearer to God and Christ." Her mother told her that her own wedding night had been a thing she would never forget as long as she lived. "Your father was so understanding and so refined, I fell in love with him all over again."
But, instead of her father sitting in the chair, rising gallantly when she walked into the room and being a gentleman and doing ... Janet wasn't really sure what he had done or what anyone was supposed to do ... she just imagined music and a good feeling and..."being nearer to God." Instead, there was Paul, a glass of Scotch whiskey in his hand, his eyes glazed and his speech thick. His face was covered with sweat as he lurched to his feet, and his eyes ... his eyes were lustful and greedy and disgusting as he took in her body ... then he swore and grabbed her and threw her down on the bed and, like an animal, like a wild man, he tore at his clothing and then at her beautiful new negligee and ripped it, ruining it forever.
It had been a nightmare, with her pleading, trying to keep her voice down so no one could hear, trying desperately to talk to him, to penetrate his alcoholic haze. But he only grunted and slurred filthy words and hurt her until, lying on top of her, her negligee torn half off her body, with his crude hands pawing her, massaging her in secret and intimate places, she had submitted and he had brutally ravished her.
And she had loved it!
A guilty, lustful, hideous feeling had swept over her and, for a split second, there had been the lewd, obscene knowledge in her body; that guilt-ridden lubricious knowing that she was doing something terribly wrong and depraved and perverted ... and loving it!
She was not what she thought she was! She was not like her mother! She was not a good person! Nor was Paul, for he was dragging her into evil ways, and she wanted to shout, to scream for him to go on with his pleasurable plundering of her body. But ... then ... suddenly he roared and his body stiffened, and she felt his wildly jerking penis grow in spasms in her throbbing vagina ... and she felt his cum, hot and plentiful, shooting up into her, filling her belly with a hot wetness.
A compelling lewdness had swept through her body, a feeling that she had never known before. She felt herself teetering on the edge of an abyss, and knew she could abandon all her training and she could fall, wanton and lewd, into a deep valley of sin and sex and never return. She felt her body alive and tingling with this unholy electricity causing her hips to grind in an alien animal way, as she reached for something that vague promise. It was then that Paul grunted and his body relaxed and all his sodden alcoholic weight pressed down on her nakedly trembling breasts ... and he passed out.
It took some doing to get him off her, but he finally rolled over and began snoring loudly. The unsatisfied young bride was left lying on the bed, her desire wandering, her guilt coming back. She put her hands over her face and cried. This was not the way it was supposed to be, this was not anything but an animal act, a mindless pleasure of the flesh. And she was no better than he. She had let him throw her around and treat her like a whore and to her own growing horror, she knew she would have acted the same way if he hadn't passed out.
Crying, the new bride had stumbled into the bathroom and looked at her tearstained face in the mirror, at her beautiful full-moon breasts with red marks where he had roughly clutched them. Using a towel, she gingerly dried her vagina and wiped his lewd sperm from the insides of her thighs. Then, fighting tears and gritting her fine white teeth, she looked in the mirror at her fine-boned face with its soft rounded features and her wide blue eyes and vowed that she would never be used in such a manner again.
And she had meant it! She had never let him take her again roughly and crudely, and she rigidly suppressed any answering sensations in her own body. Night after night, she lay there and endured. One time, Paul had tried to bury his face between her dutifully opened thighs, but she had leaped off the bed, shocked at such depravity, and had locked herself in the bathroom. After a year, they did not make love very often, and Paul would sometimes become bitter and say that it was hardly worth the effort anyway. The young wife said nothing, but deep in her own mind she felt a fierce glow of sadistic pleasure, a joy at paying him back for what he had done to her on their wedding night.
Now, as she sat at the kitchen table with the lewd and obscene pictures spread before her, Janet felt a wave of vengeful anger sweep over her. How dare he, she thought to herself. Whatever might happen between them privately, what right did he have to seek out other women? She looked at the photographs again and saw that some of the things he was doing in the pictures were just some of those horrible unmentionable things he had tried to do with her. She felt a tremendous desire to get even, to make him suffer, and she was startled at the odd churning sensation that this desire caused deep in her belly. She quickly put the thought out of her mind.
She began to sob again. Oh, why couldn't things have been different, she cried to herself. Except for sex, they had a very good marriage. Paul was thoughtful and considerate and they shared many interests. Why couldn't it have been the way it was with her parents, so beautiful and pure and loving. She knew that it was possible to have an entirely successful marriage without stooping to such perverseness. She knew she was right and that she should continue to refuse to give in to his wicked desires.
Her mind spun with confusion. There were so many things pulling and tearing her in different directions. She knew that she loved Paul and would do anything within the bounds of decency to win him back to her. But at the same time, she felt a lurking desire for revenge somewhere deep in her churning belly, and, unknown to herself, her own sexual starvation was making itself felt. She and Paul had not made love for over three weeks and her ripe young body needed it, even if she couldn't admit it to herself. So she sat there miserably, trying to think what she should do and finding no answers. Then her beautiful face lit up and she blinked. Of course! Laura!
Laura Jamison would help her! Laura would know what to do! Feeling better, the distressed young wife jumped up from the table and ran to get the phone book, her out-thrusting breasts jouncing with the movement, and the nightgown riding high up on her hip, giving a momentary glimpse of the soft golden down at the apex of the upward curve of her smooth thighs.
It made her feel more secure to think of Laura. Laura was older than Janet, about thirty. They had met and become friends in secretarial school. Janet had tried a year or two of college, but had not thought it was the place for her, so she had dropped out when she was nineteen and decided to learn a trade. One of the first persons she had got to know at the school was Laura. At first she had been nervous around the older woman, not only because she was more mature but because of something in the older girl's manner that hinted at a knowledge of dark and bitter secrets, almost an evil knowledge.
Laura had been married before, and after her divorce she had joined the Secretarial School, planning to make her own living from then on. But she had married the first man she had worked for after her graduation, Pete Jamison, a successful contractor. Janet shuddered a moment, wondering just what Laura saw in him. Pete was a big crude man with a hard and brutal force; he was always making lewd comments and his voice was too loud. But then there was that odd streak in Laura. Sometimes Janet wondered why she and Laura were friends; they were so different, but perhaps it was just that she felt Laura was someone she could turn to in times of trouble. Kind of like the older sister she had never had.
She dialed the Jamison residence, then waited tensely for what seemed to be an inordinately long time. She was beginning to wonder if there was anyone home when she heard the phone being picked up on the other end of the line.
"Hello." It was Laura's soft lazy drawl.
"Laura," Janet said haltingly, but she didn't know how to begin. There was a little silence.
"Hello," the older woman repeated, "Who is this? Is that you, Janet?"
"Yes, it's me. I ... I...." Janet's voice faltered and she began to sob.
"Hey, what's the matter, honey?" There was concern in Laura's voice. It took several minutes before she could calm down the younger girl, but eventually Janet haltingly told her of receiving the lewd photographs.
"Oh, God, what am I going to do?" Janet wailed. "I don't want to lose Paul, but I don't see how I can compete with all those other women. I guess I'm just not exciting enough for him."
"Well, I don't know what to do either, honey." There was a pause. "Hey wait a moment!" Laura said excitedly. "What was that you just said?"
"I ... I don't know. What do you mean?"
"What you said about not being able to compete," Laura said triumphantly. "About you not being exciting enough for him."
"Well, you know what I mean," Janet said with embarrassment. "I just couldn't make myself do the same things that those girls were doing in those awful pictures. You know what I mean, don't you?" the embarrassed young girl asked plaintively.
Yes, Laura did know, she reflected to herself. She had known for some time of the younger girl's prudishness. She also knew she had to move carefully.
"Sure, honey," she said soothingly. "I know you can't do those things, but that doesn't mean that you can't make your husband think you'd turn to someone else for comfort and solace when he plays around."
"Oh, but why would I? ... oh, you mean make him jealous. But how would I do that?"
"Let me think for a moment," Laura was silent on the other end of the line for a long time, then said, "Hey, I think I've got it. This friend of mine was having a little trouble with her beloved spouse and she hired a private detective to help her out. He's supposed to be a good-looking guy, and maybe you and he could set it up to make it look like you two have something going."
"Oh, no, Laura. I could never do anything like that. Why, Paul would never speak to me again if I did." There was a slight pause as she realized how ridiculous her words sounded in the light of what she knew her husband had been engaged in. "Well...." she said.
Laura continued smoothly. "Look. It might not be a bad idea to get in touch with a detective anyway, just in case you may have to get some legally binding evidence. Let's face it, Janet. Maybe when this is all over you may want to leave Paul anyway. I know it sounds cold and calculating but it's always better to keep all the bases covered."
Janet's heart sank as she heard the awful words that her friend had just uttered. "Oh, no, I don't want to leave him. I think my heart would break; I love him so much."
"Well, then, use this guy to get Paul jealous and maybe you'll get him back between his own sheets. That is, if you really do want to keep the home fires burning," Laura added a little coolly.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line and finally Janet blurted out, "All right, I'll do it. Oh, I just hope this is the right thing." Then new alarm came into her voice. "What if the detective won't be willing to do anything as nasty as this. Maybe he's got a family of his own and..." Her voice trailed off.
'Oh, my God,' Laura thought to herself, rolling her eyes back into her head in mock resignation. She hadn't believed anyone could be so innocent. "Don't worry about it, honey," she said patiently. "My friend vouches for the guy and says you can trust him to know what he's doing. You just call him up and see what he had to say. O.K.? "
There was a short hesitation again, then, "O.K. Could you give me his name?"
"It's Jack Brady. I don't know his phone number, but it's somewhere downtown. You-should be able to find it in the phone book."
"I'll call him right away then. And Laura, thank you so much," Janet said breathlessly.
"Don't mention it, kid. What are friends for?" Laura said this in such an odd tone, almost with bitterness, that Janet became uneasy for a moment, but then her mind cleared and she said, "Well, just thanks, anyhow," and hung up.
Laura put the phone down and stared vacantly into space for a moment. Then she picked the phone up again, dialed, and waited until she heard a deep voice at the other end mutter a surly, "Hello."
"Jack, this is Laura. You'd better get ready for a call from that little blonde I told you about. She'll be looking up your number right now. And you remember what I told you to do?"
"Sure, baby. You can leave it to me. You said she was a real good looker, right?" the heavy voice almost purred over the phone. "Hey," he added. "When are we going to get together again?" There was a note of lustful pleading in his voice. Laura thought a moment of the graceful power of his body, and a slow tingling ache began up between her legs, but she forced herself to keep her voice cold.
"When you've finished this little job for me, darling. Then we'll see. But I think you'll have your hands full for a little while."
She could almost feel the leer on his face as he answered, "You know me, baby. I never get enough." Then he laughed and hung up.
Laura held the phone a moment before putting it down and then turned around to face her husband, Pete, who was sitting back in a chair, an expectant grin on his face.
"Well," she said to her husband. "Our little plan is working. She got those photos we sent of her husband, all right, and she really took the bait. Youll be in her pretty pink panties before you know it."
A lascivious grin came over Pete's heavy features. "Great going kid. You were really great on the phone. You should be working for the CIA, or something. Hey, I wonder what that dumb husband of hers would have thought if he knew we were taking pictures of him the other night at our little party?"
"He's not so dumb," Laura flashed at him a little. "He's really a pretty decent guy."
"Sure, you'd think that," her husband jeered back, "the way he had his cock buried to the hilt in you the other night. But you remember our deal. I set you up with Paul and now you've got to set me up with that tender little piece of a wife of his." He guffawed, "I suppose he thought he was going to get something for nothing. Wait'll he sees me with his wife's tight little pussy spread open in front of me."
"Okay. A deal's a deal," Laura said, a warm glow coming over her as she remembered the tremendous fucking she had got just a few days ago from Janet's husband. "But I don't want her hurt. She's a good kid. She just needs to learn a few things." She really was very fond of Janet, and one of the reasons she was doing this, besides the promise she had made her husband, was that she knew the girl was much too prudish and puritanical to keep a man coming home every night. Maybe the shock treatment she was about to get would help break her loose. She walked thoughtfully out of the room.
"Sure, sure," Pete muttered after his wife. "I won't hurt her. Just stick her a little." An evil grin spread over his face.
Pete Jamison remained seated in his chair watching his wife's smoothly rounded buttocks swaying sensuously out of the room as she headed for the kitchen to make them each a drink. God, he was lucky and knew it, he reflected to himself. She was one woman in a million. He loved to see the lewd desire in other men's eyes as he walked down the street with her. One look and every man wanted her! Well, he wanted her too, but one woman wasn't enough for him, not for old Pete Jamison. It wasn't that Laura couldn't give him enough in bed. Christ, she could wear out any man, but it was the challenge of conquering new women, preferably young and shy women, the hard-to-get ones. Yeah, that was always the way with him, he thought to himself. He always needed the hard-to-get, the innocent, the holier-than-thou.
He thought of his own rise in the world, first from a laborer, then to an apprentice mason ... and now he owned his own construction company and was making a nice living. But even that was not enough! He had found out that there were those who still looked down on him because he had no education and his manners were not as slick and phony as theirs. Well, he knew how to get his revenge. He got his greatest pleasure from seducing women socially above him and reducing them to a crawling humiliation while he made them subject to his whims.
Yeah, he thought in his own mind. He liked to see the proud bitches cowering before him, begging for mercy before he rammed his long thick cock into their cringing little cunts. It was exciting to hear them moan from the initial pain of his brutal assault, but the thing that really turned him on was when their tortured bodies began to like it despite themselves and they would grovel and beg for more. It was then, after he had completely subjugated them, that he lost interest and had to begin searching for another victim to degrade and humiliate.
He remembered the problems that he had had with his own wife, Laura, when he first began to initiate her in his little games; but he knew that now she was as eager as him, if not more so. He had never lost interest in her, because she had always come back to him more turned on after an escapade than ever before. He loved to watch her fucking other men and then take her himself, brutally.
His mind turned to the Thompson girl. God, there was a piece. He couldn't wait to get his hands on that tight little ass. He was sorry that Jack Brady would get to her first, but that was the only approach he and Laura had been able to come up with. The little bitch had always shunned him and treated him like a common ignoramus when she was forced to deal with him. Yeah, he was really looking forward to her complete degradation and he had vivid pictures in his mind of her firm young body pinned underneath him, mewling and writhing in the throes of abandoned lust while he fucked her to a mindless oblivion.
And he hoped her husband would be there! He was a college graduate, and while he had always tried to all appearances to treat Pete as an equal, Pete was sure there was still an edge of superiority there. Who knows? he suddenly thought to himself. I might even offer the poor bastard the job as chief accountant for Pete's Builders if this works out. He laughed out loud. It's the least I could do after giving his wife a taste of something hell never be able to match.