Chapter 1

The phone call from Aunt Sylvia had surprised but pleased Maureen. She had reached an impasse in her relations with her boss of the last six months, Mason Loking, and her aunt's suggestion was in the nature of a reprieve.

"So I'll be all alone this winter," Aunt Sylvia had said, "and I'd like to have you with me, Maureen."

Maureen had thought of the bleak old mansion on the coast of Maine, and the cold winters and snow and ice and loneliness. Then she'd thought of Mason Loking and the things he was beginning to expect her to do, and had answered: "It sounds very nice, but whatever happened to Millie?"

Millie, a tall, gaunt Irishwoman, had been her aunt's companion for as long as Maureen could remember.

"Huh! Her!" Aunt Sylvia sounded bitter. "I must have paid her too well all these years. She decided to retire and spend the rest of her life in Ireland. She went back there last week."

"But my job," Maureen had murmured half-heartedly, "I'll have to leave my job, and I have to earn a living."

"Nonsense, I'll pay you a salary, not as much as you get in New York of course, but adequate compensation."

Maureen wanted to smile at her aunt's old-fashioned way of speaking. She had been isolated in Maine for so long that she seemed to be living in the past.

"It'll only be for the winter, then you can do as you please," she went on. "I've already phoned your mother and she agrees."

Maureen stiffened. The old lady took a lot for granted.

"I'll need time to decide," she stalled.

The old lady made an impatient sound. "I'll give you until tomorrow. I'll pay you," she added with a sly note in her voice, "exactly half what you're getting now."

"How d'you know what I'm getting now?" Maureen was startled.

Aunt Sylvia laughed. "I don't, but you'll tell me. You were always a very truthful little girl, Maureen. Call me tomorrow evening at this time." Then she hung up without saying goodbye.

Maureen had stared at the phone, two red spots of anger on her cheeks, then she'd hung up and laughed. Aunt Sylvia had always been very determined.

It hadn't taken her long to decide; after what she'd been doing during the last few months, a quiet, restful winter in Maine had its attractions.

Mason Loking was becoming just too, too much!

"How about a show tonight?" he'd asked her just the week before. "Dinner at Maxie's then the theater?"

Maureen had stared at her boss. Mason was forty-five and good-looking in a rugged kind of way. Not really too old for her, she was always telling herself, though she was just twenty-one. And single, she always added, while he was married, so very, very married.

"All right," she'd said.

It was almost a weekly thing. She'd stay behind after the rest of the staff left; then she'd go through Mason's office and into the little changing-room at the back, where she'd strip off her skirt and panties, then spread herself out on the convenient divan and wait until Mason was ready.

She always got excited while she waited. Mason was no good for her, she'd tell herself time and again. But it made no difference. The thought of his hairy torso, thick thighs and the massive penis always made her vulva get wet. She would press her hands over her belly protectively, trying to stem the shivers of delight and anticipation that rippled through her body at the thought of the long organ squeezing into her. But her clitoris would bob and she'd try to hold it down with the tip of her finger.

"All wet an' ready, I see-" Mason would needle when he came into the room. "Hot little pussy's all worked up."

"You bastard," she'd mutter, feeling her face flushing, "making' me do this."

"You don't hafta," he'd tell her, taking off his jacket and sliding down his pants, "you don't hafta do any little thing."

"Cheap, too," Maureen would sneer, "I got a boss who won't take me out to dinner unless he screws me first."

"You love it," he'd say, stripping off his underpants, "you just love it, lap it up like a cat."

"Only because I hafta," she would murmur as he climbed on top of her, then she'd close her eyes, feeling the thick column penetrating her, driving in deeper and deeper, then growing, swelling inside her body until the warmth and the glow of it spread through her belly.

His fingers would slide underneath her, and she'd feel his nails pressing into the tender flesh on her naked buttocks, and he'd groan, lurching his body more urgently.

The hot spurts would come soon after that with Maureen writhing and twisting herself in a frenzy of sexual excitement as the shaft, thickened by desire, pressed erratically against the tip of her tensed clitoris. "Ohh-ohh," she'd moan, "don't stop-just don't stop-" And her urgent voice would spiral up as she orgasmed.

"An' you pretend you don't like it," he'd smile into her face as his satiated body lay limply on hers.

"Bastard," she'd mutter, "big, hairy bastard." But sometimes she smiled in saying it.

But she hadn't smiled last week.

Mason had put his thick penis through its usual routine, then they'd dressed, routinely too, eaten a good dinner then seen an excellent show.

"I got a late client," Mason had said, elaborately casual, as they sipped their after-theater drinks.

"At this time?" Maureen had been startled.

"Uh-huh. He couldn't make it any earlier." Mason had glanced at his watch. "D'you wanna come to the office? I may want you to take a few notes at the meeting."

"It's so late." She'd been really angry. "The least you can do is take me home first. Haven't I done enough for one night?"

;He grinned at her, then leaned close in the crowded lounge and whispered: "You can never do enough for me, baby."

She had flushed but felt perversely pleased. "Oh, okay," she'd agreed, feeling the liquor's warmth.

"If we go now," he'd said persuasively, "we'll have time to-" He'd looked at her suggestively.

Maureen had stared into her drink. "Just what d'you think I am?"

He leaned his head very close. "I think you're a tempting, screwable little doll."

He had taken her to the office, of course.

"We got half an hour," he'd said, looking at his watch, "why don't you go an' take off that cute little skirt, lie down an' in a minute I'll come in an'-"

"Oh, Mason," she'd protested, "not now!"

He pulled her close to him, letting her smell and be aware of his maleness. "Yeah, baby. Now." Then he'd kissed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth and feeling under her skirt, his hand touching her pussy, teasing it.

So she'd gone into the small changing room, feeling alive and excited, and stripped off her clothes, hoping Mason would come in quickly. She was ready, sexed-up, hot and wet between her thighs.

She lay on the divan, feeling between her thighs, resisting the temptation to tickle her clitoris which was standing stiffly erect, as if begging for attention, and wishing Mason would hurry.

There was someone at the door, but it wasn't Mason.

"What!" She half-rose, "who're you?" She gasped when the big, broad-shouldered young man came into the changing room.

"I'm Mike Maclean," he said, grinning down at her and reaching to the front of his pants, "Mason told me you were in here, ready to go."

His hand moved away from his body, and Maureen stared in horror and frightened fascination at the longest, thickest penis she'd ever seen.

She made an effort to cover herself with her hands. "What d'you think you're-" she panted.

"You," he said, moving to the divan, straddling it and her. "I'm gonna fuck you. Mason said I could!"

"Get off me," she screamed, "you're crazy an' Mason's crazy-"

But the gross organ was prying at her vaginal lips, and it was too late now for Maureen to squeeze her legs together. "It's hard to get it in," he said casually, explaining. "It's always hard-but when it's in-you'll like it-I know you'll like it."

"You're crazy-" she panted, "get off me-you-you're rap in' me!"

He lurched his body forward and the massive head of his penis moved partly into Maureen's vulva. "Don't be silly," he said a little breathlessly, "Mason said it was all right-" He drove in, and a fierce thrill, half-pain, half-pleasure, throbbed through Maureen's belly. "He-he told me you were a-a vixen-that you'd resist-" He moved his legs in between hers, forcing her to open her thighs wider. "Open up-lemme in-I wanna-wanna-" the breath parited from his mouth and splattered on Maureen's face, "fuck-" he finished, "I wanna fuck you!" Then he drove inward again, stiffly and strongly this time, penetrating the soft, fragile tissue, forcing the walls of Maureen's vulva to pry open and allow his huge shaft to thrust in, squeeze out, and thrust in again and again.

When he orgasmed, the spurts of hot fluid squirted into her with such force that Maureen felt as though her body was being lifted.

"Ohh, ohh-you're burning me-an' tearing me-" she moaned, wriggling her bottom into the divan, not knowing whether she was trying to free herself or whether she was compelled by the sexual urges that his actions had evoked.

The head of his penis swelled hugely, and Maureen squealed, stretched out her legs then let them dangle on either side of the divan as the last dregs of his lust expended themselves within her.

Her clitoris bobbed as he pulled his softening shaft from within her, then he slithered off her and lay in a limp heap on the thickly-carpeted floor beside the divan.

"I've been raped!" Maureen moaned, tears running down her cheeks.

"No you haven't," said the big young man, dragging himself to his feet and adjusting his clothing. "You've been fucked, just well-fucked!" Then he grinned at her again and walked out of the room.

Maureen lay still for a long time, not knowing whether to cry, laugh or run into the office and stab Mason or Mike Maclean or both of them with a paperknife.

But she didn't do anything other than to lay still, flat on her back with her legs parted as the thick warm juice of a young man's lust dribbled from her vulva.

Mason came into the room a few minutes later.

"Well," he said, staring at her, moving towards her, "well-"

"You bastard," she mouthed viciously, "you dirty bastard!"

"Now," he said, trying to sound soothing, "now, that's no way to talk." He stroked her leg, and she jerked it away from him.

"How could you?" Her voice was shrill. "How could you send a guy in to rape me when-" tears trickled down her cheeks, "I-I was expectin' you-waitin' for you-" the sobs jerked out of her body.

"Now," he said again, "now, baby-don't get upset. It was only business."

The word stopped Maureen's tears. "Business!" she said, incredulously, "What d'you mean it was business?"

Mason looked away from her, stroking her thigh absently. "It was a deal, baby. You gotta understand, I hadda clinch a deal."

"A deal?" Maureen repeated. "Fuckin' me-clinchin' a deal?"

Mason sighed, as though she was acting very dumb. "Mike saw you in the office while he was waitin' the other day." He sighed again, "You were sittin' in that cute little way that you have, with your legs parted, showin' all you've got, and you weren't wearin' any panties. You know, baby," he said as though it was important, "you don't always wear panties."

Maureen stared at him as at a snake.

"So Mike said 'Okay, Mason. Make it so that I fuck that cute little pussy an' it's a deal.' "

Maureen blinked. Slowly, the gist of it sank in. "You-you mean-" she stammered, "all this was arranged?"

"Well now," said Mason, "you know that business is-"

"When did you arrange this?" Her voice was ice-like.

Mason shrugged, tried to caress Maureen's leg again, but she pulled it from his hand.

"When he was in the office," he muttered, "yesterday afternoon."

"You filthy slob!" she said with venom. "You screwed me, took me to a dinner, then a theater and all so that you could get me in here to let that big animal screw that pole of his into-"

"Now, now, baby, don't take it that way," he soothed.

Mason pulled her head onto his shoulder, stroking her hair very gently.

"How am I supposed to take it?" she whispered.

"Business," he said softly, "it's just business. You're my girl, my right hand, you do everything to help me. I need you, baby."

The words registered dully in Maureen's mind.

"Will I," she asked with deadly calmness, "have to do this all the time?"

He kissed the lobe of her ear, murmured. "Not all the time, baby, just sometimes." . It hadn't been hard for Maureen to decide to go to her Aunt Sylvia's for the winter.