Chapter 3

Susan could hear the rapping for some time before she managed to open her eyes, but the rattling of the doorknob was what finally awakened her. She'd lain awake long into the night, crying bitter tears of mortification.

"What is it?" she called sharply, sitting up and rubbing her swollen, bloodshot eyes.

"Mistress Susan?" came Rob Simmons' concerned voice. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

"Oh, hell yes, I'm just wonderful! What do you want, Simmons?"

"It's eight o'clock, ma'am. Shall I start your breakfast?"

"I don't want any breakfast. Go away."

"You should eat something, ma'am."

"All right, damn you, fix it then!"

"What would you like this morning?"

"Orange juice, toast and coffee."

"Very good, ma'am," he said, and went away.

When Susan entered the dining room a few moments later, her soft brown hair was done up in a severe bun and her girlish face was totally devoid of make-up. She wore a summer business suit, light pink with a midi-skirt, a white blouse and low-heeled shoes that did nothing to enhance her shapely, nylon-clad calves.

"About last night, Susan," Simmons said confidentially when he set her orange juice before her. "I do hope-"

"Nothing happened last night!" Susan snapped, interrupting him in midsentence. "Do you understand, Simmons? And I'll thank you not to use my first name again. You will address me as Miss Polk or Mistress Susan at all times! Do I make myself clear?"

The butler gulped and nodded stiffly.

"Bring my toast and coffee now, please."

The other three servants sauntered into the dining room wearing smug grins, and sat down at the table with Susan, demonstrating their disrespect for her. Susan glared at their leering faces and drummed the table with her fingers. She could hardly stand to look at the maid and gardener, after having seen them wallowing in carnality. But she'd decided not to mention that, because she didn't feel like reprimanding Miss Olson after what Simmons had done to her. She was sick with guilt over having enjoyed the sordid interlude, and worry gnawed at her guts over the possibility of being impregnated by the butler. But worried and sick or not, she was mistress of Robards Manor, and she would not tolerate such insolence from her servants.

"You may as well sit down, too, Simmons," she said when the butler brought her toast and coffee.

"No, thank you, ma'am," he replied poutingly. "I've chores to attend, if you don't mind."

"I do mind," she said with authority. "Sit down!"

Simmons blushed and stammered, but he sat down, with the three laughing amusedly.

Using the time to gather her nerve, Susan sat quietly until they stopped laughing.

"Let your hair down, baby," Charles Lancaster, the upsettingly handsome young red-headed chauffeur said cockily. "You look too uptight with it pulled back in an old maid's bun. What are you trying to do, intimidate us?"

Susan ignored his remark. "I see that it's necessary for me to remind you of your positions, because you've obviously forgotten that you're servants at Robards Manor."

"Can that shit, Miss Priss," Reyes said. "We stopped being servants the day your bitchy old grandma vanished. If you figure to hang around here, you better get off your high horse."

"That's what you think," Susan replied coolly, although she was shaking inside. "Robards Manor is mine under a trust deed, and as long as it remains so I can assure all of you that you will perform your duties respectfully and obediently, taking orders from me! If you don't like it, get out."

"Why you snotty bitch," Krista Olson slurred. "You know what you can do with that crap? I'll tell you. You can drop your drawers and stick it up your gold-plated ass!"

The others roared with laughter, all except Simmons, who seeing an opportunity to get back into Susan's good graces leaped to his feet and shouted, "That is quite enough! The Mistress has spoken, and she is perfectly within her rights! As chief servant of this household, I consider it my duty to support Miss Polk! No further insubordination will be tolerated! If any of you persist in this despicable conduct, I will see that the offender is dismissed for cause and denied references!"

The gardener and chauffeur snorted, and the buxum blonde maid hissed, "Simmons, you pompous ass! Shut up or I'll bite your balls off! None of us can be fired, and you know it. The old bat set up her will that way. We're here on full pay for seven years or until we get good and goddamned ready to leave, and there's nothing you or this little snip can do about it. Fuck off, the both of you!"

Susan took a sip of her orange juice, forcing her hand to be steady, then blotted her lips with the linen napkin. For cause, she thought graspingly, for cause! It might work! I can't actually fire them for any reason, but perhaps they don't know that. I've got to try to bluff them! What can I lose?

She cleared her throat and looked at each one of the insolent servants in turn. Her lips were tight and her gaze was steady. Then she said, "Evidently none of you has read the trust deed my grandmother had drawn up." She paused, watching them glance at one another and seeing the signs of uncertainty in their expressions. "At least you haven't read it in its entirety," she went on, much more confidently now. "If you had done so-but of course you couldn't have since Grandmother's lawyer has the only complete copy-you would know that Simmons spoke with knowledge and authority on my behalf. It's true that you can't be fired simply because I happen not to like you, which I don't, none of you, but I most definitely can fire you for cause ... and I certainly will if you give me reason."

"You're bluffing," the chauffeur scoffed.

Susan smiled enigmatically. "You may be the first one to test me, if you'd like, Charles. I wish to be driven to my grandmother's bank. I'll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Bring the car around front and wait for me."

The muscular young redhead laughed nervously and looked around for moral support which was not forthcoming.

"I gave you your orders, Charles. What are you waiting for? Either bring the car around to the front and wait for me, or get on your motorcycle and don't come back. By the way, if you wish to stay on as my chauffeur, get into your uniform. You look like a hippie in those sandals, blue jeans and sloppy, filthy shirt."

Charles Lancaster left muttering under his breath, then Susan lit into Krista Olson. "I want all the furniture dusted and polished today, and every floor in the house must be swept and mopped. Get busy, Miss Olson. Vacuum the carpets, too, please."

"But I'm not that kind of a maid!" the voluptuous blonde protested. "I was your grandmother's personal maid! Simmons does the housework!"

"According to the trust deed, you are a maid," Susan informed her sternly. "Nowhere in it is the word 'personal' written. Simmons will continue to do the cooking, but I'm hereby assigning the rest of the household duties to you. Either get with it or get out, Miss Olson. The choice is yours."

"You bitch!" the infuriated maid spat.

"Simmons, if you'll be so kind as to bring me the phone, I'll call Grandmother's lawyer and have Miss Olson removed from the premises."

Miss Olson saw the light then, and so did the gardener. Susan finished her orange juice, toast and coffee in solitary splendor, as the undisputed-temporarily, at least-mistress of Robards Manor.

Less than an hour later, she was in downtown Atlanta, climbing from the like-new, ten-year-old black Cadillac as the uniformed chauffeur stood at attention and held the door for her. "Thank you, Charles," she said, and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the bank. "Come back for me in an hour. In the meantime, you need a haircut. Get one."

Susan knew nothing about safe deposit boxes, so it didn't surprise her when she was allowed into her grandmother's. The old woman had left written instructions with the bank president, who was used to bending the rules to pacify Mrs. Robards, that Susan and Susan alone was to have access to her box prior to the settlement of her estate, and that included her lawyer. Susan didn't realize she was being granted a special privilege, for the instructions required that fact to be kept from her.

There was no coin collection inside the box, Susan discovered to her chagrin. In fact, there was nothing in it except a sealed envelope with Susan's name inked across the front in her grandmother's flowing script. Since she could only examine the contents of the box with the guard watching discreetly from a distance, she ripped open the envelope and extracted the hand-written letter, sat down at the end of the table and began reading it.

My Disobedient Granddaughter, If you should ever see this letter, I will most likely have been murdered, with the whereabouts of my body still unknown. I hate to write ha, ha, but how else is one to express laughter on paper, and I do want to laugh at you.

Yes, my dear Susan, at you, for I've left you in rather of a pickle, haven't I? Read on and you'll soon realize what I mean.

You are a bad seed, girl. Your father, as I've told you often, was a commoner of whom I heartily disapproved. A Damn Yankee, that's what he was. I never forgave your mother for marrying him, and I'll never forgive you for deserting me in my old age.

I had great plans for you, but would you listen to me? Of course not, because you were as stupid and lovely as your mother. Only your weakness for men, vile beasts that they are, showed up much sooner. Whereas your mother was eighteen when she gave herself to your father, you were only twelve when you had your first taste of carnality. But I won't go into that here, as you know my feelings on the matter only too well. You say you yearn to be a teacher, but I have my reservations as to whether you'll make it or not. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if you wind up earning your living flat on your back in some filthy house of ill-repute.

But I'm offering you one last chance. You can still become the grand Southern Lady I'd hoped to make of you, if you have the stuff it takes. And I honestly hope you do. You are, after all, my own flesh and blood, and I can't help the soft spot I have for you.

You deserve to be disinherited, Susan Polk, but I'm not going to let you off that easy. I've been conducting a little experiment in human greed lately. You're the central figure in my experiment, my lovely Susan, even though you're the last to arrive on the scene. Now that I've aroused your curiosity, I'll tell you what I've been up to, or rather enough of it to give you a fighting chance to inherit everything as my sole heir.

As I write this, I have reason to believe that one or more of the servants is planning my demise. The reason I'm so sure of it is that I have pushed them to it by dangling before their noses what is to them a fabulous sum of money. Yes, it is the coin collection which you came to check on today. I removed it from the safe deposit box and have hidden it in the house and about the grounds, individual coins having been placed where each of the servants is bound to find a few during the course of their routine duties, and the bulk well hidden in a case that may never be found until the house is demolished, God forbid that should ever happen to Robards Manor.

Does it sound like a fantastic Easter egg hunt to you, Susan? Well, that is exactly what it is, only with rare coins instead of colored eggs. Greed is the name of the game, my child, and the servants' greed is what I've been playing on while mistreating each of them to the point of murder. Perhaps you've guessed my reason for doing all this already, but in case you haven't I'll tell you now.

It's simple. I want to be killed, and soon. Cancer is eating away my stomach. The pain of it is becoming intense. Had I the nerve, I would shoot myself. But, alas, I haven't the nerve, so I'm using my coin collection to hold the domestics while I goad them until one or more of them snaps and puts me out of my misery.

But their greed will live on after I'm gone. Oh, indeed yes. Until the bulk of the collection is found, you, Susan, are living in the same house with a killer or killers. In order to claim your inheritance, you will have to survive for seven years under those nerve-racking conditions. Or you will have to find my body. Or you will have to join the hunt and find the case containing most of my coin collection. The servants, killer and all, will go away once the case is found. Or you will have to go away yourself and give up your inheritance.

So there you have it, girl. Are you greedy enough to play the game with killers who might turn on you, too? Can you hear my laughing from my grave, Granddaughter? Well, I am, whether or not you can hear me, because I doubt that you have the guts to do what is necessary to claim your inheritance.

Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord; but this is the price you have to pay for deserting me when I needed you, Susan. Ha, ha, ha!

Your Maternal Grandmother, Sharlotte Evans Robards

Why, you old witch! Susan thought as she left the bank. How does it feel to die with everyone hating you? Ha, ha, ha, yourself! I'll show you! I may feel like a scared rabbit, but I'm not running!

Susan had to stand outside the bank waiting for her car, but her mind was so busy she hardly noticed the time. When Charles arrived, with a respectable haircut which made him all the more good-looking, Susan opened the door herself and climbed into the back of the Cadillac before he had time to get out and come around.

"I hope it went well for you, ma'am," he said, and when she didn't reply, he asked, "Where to now, Miss Polk?"

"What?" she asked, looking up. "Oh, home, please."

"I got a haircut," he said, removing his cap and turning his head.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, a haircut. You look very nice."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, smiling. "And if I may say so, so do you. I'm sorry about the way I acted this morning. It won't happen again."

Despite her troubles, Susan smiled and nodded.

"Home," he said, and dropped his cap in the seat.

As the young red-headed chauffeur drove toward Robards Manor, he watched Susan in the rear-view mirror almost as much as he watched the traffic and his driving. Halfway there he noticed her dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and soon afterward she started crying uncontrollably but silently. Smiling to himself, he drove faster. There were three lovers' lanes in the woods surrounding Robards Manor, each of them quite popular with the young people who lived nearby. But that was at night. Now it was daytime, in the forenoon, and all three would be deserted. Charles turned onto the new street which bordered the estate, then swung into one of the twisting, rutted roads which wound around in the trees.

Susan hadn't noticed that the chauffeur wasn't taking her directly home until the car started bumping slowly along. She looked up and saw trees all around her. "Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.

"Right here," he answered and braked the Cadillac to a stop. He shut off the engine and glanced over his shoulder. "Don't be alarmed, Susan. The house is right over there. You can see it through the trees if you look closely."

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, trying to sound composed even though her nervousness showed plainly in her expression. "And I'll thank you not to use my first name."

Smiling, Charles Lancaster climbed out of the car and took off his jacket.

"What do you think you're doing?" Susan demanded.

"It's hot," he said. "I'm taking off my jacket." He pitched the jacket into the front seat, shut the door, opened the rear door and climbed into the back seat with Susan, who was now wide-eyed and cringing. "Relax, Susan. Forget the mistress-servant bit for a while. I like you. I want to help you. We should have a talk, and we can do that privately here. Okay?"

"How can you help me?" Susan asked suspiciously.

He scratched his head. "I'm not sure yet, but I've a feeling you're going to need all the help you can get before long. I know some things you don't. I have a pretty good idea of what's been going on around here. Shall we talk? Will you let me try to help you? I'd like to be your friend."

"Oh, God," she sighed. "I need a friend."

He nodded and patted her hand. "I know. I wouldn't want to be in your place, believe me."

That was very easy for Susan to believe, after having just read the letter from her grandmother, and somehow she felt she could trust Charles.

"Do you know about the coin collection, Susan?"

She nodded."

"We've all found a few coins."

"Simmons says he didn't. He swore that he knows nothing about the coins."

"Simmons is a liar," Charles said flatly.

"Yes ... I'm beginning to think maybe he is," she said, looking at Charles out of the corner of her eye. "Reyes is having an affair with Miss Olson. Did you know that?"

The youthful chauffeur laughed. "That doesn't mean a thing. So am I. So is Simmons. She's trying to play us off against one another. Krista likes her sexing, all right, but those coins are what she's after in the long haul. If you're looking for a conspiracy, I'm afraid you'll have to keep looking."

"Do you think my grandmother was killed?"

"I'd bet on it. I'd also bet that her body is still on the place, buried somewhere in the woods." Susan shuddered. "Who do you think killed her?"

"I know who didn't," he drawled, looking her right in the eye. "I didn't. And I don't think Reyes did, either."

"That only leaves Miss Olson and Simmons. Which of them do you suspect?"

"Both of them."

Susan shivered. He might be wrong. He might be lying to me. But he seems so sincere, and what if he's right?

"Simmons acted funny right after Bitch Robards-sorry, a slip of the Up-right after your grandmother disappeared. He was all uptight, you know, like he was nervous and playing dumb. He didn't know anything, whereas he usually thinks he knows everything."

He said he didn't know about about the coins, Susan thought, and she wanted to scream, because her grandmother had written that she was dangling the coins before them, putting them where each of the servants would find some.

"I'm not positive about old Rob," Charles went on, "but Krista hated your grandmother."

"Everyone did," Susan admitted. "Me, too."

Charles grinned. "Yeah. I know what you mean. She did inspire the worst in people, didn't she? But about Krista ... I mean, she really hated her guts."

"Why? Krista was her personal maid, wasn't she?" '

"That's why. Things got too personal for Krista. Dig?"

Susan shook her head, frowning. "Hell," he said, lowering his gaze, "I figured you knew."

"What, Charles?" she prodded when he didn't continue. "What did you think I knew?"

"That your grandmother was a bull dyke," he replied somewhat sharply.

"I had no idea," Susan replied.

"Well, she was, and Krista went along for a while. But she finally had all she could take. That's when Bitch Robards really started pouring it on her. From what Krista told me, the old gal became insatiable, made her do all sorts of real far-out things."

"What kinds of things?" Susan asked. "And what's a bull dyke, anyway?"

"My God, Snow White, are you putting me on?" he laughed, but when he saw she wasn't, and that his remark had cut her, he took her hand and said, "I'm sorry, Susan. Okay ... a bull dyke. How do I tell you? Look, do you know what a Lesbian is? Do you have any idea what they do when they ball?"

"Yes, I've read a lot," Susan answered. "I think Lesbians are disgusting!"

He grinned and gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm awful glad to hear that from you, because I was afraid ... never mind. A bull dyke is a dominant Lesbian, the one who takes the lead, the one who calls the sexual tune and makes the other female jump to it. Now do you understand?"

"Oh, my God!" Susan groaned, clapping her hands over her flushed cheeks. "You're lying! You've got to be! My grandmother was a horrid person, but she couldn't have been perverted! She just couldn't have been a Lesbian! She hated sex!"

Charles could sense that she was bordering on hysteria, so he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Susan started yelling, so he had to shout to make her hear. "SHE DIDN'T HATE SEX, SUSAN! NO ONE DOES! THE OLD BITCH HATED MEN! BUT SHE LOVED GIRLS! THAT WAS HER BAG!"

The car seemed to be whirling crazily. Susan feared she was going to faint. Her mind flashed back through the years. She remembered all the young attractive women who'd visited Robards Manor, staying for a night, a week, a month, sleeping in the room which Miss Olson now occupied, or so Susan had thought at the time. She recalled the way her grandmother had made a habit of coming into the bathroom while she herself was bathing, and the strange expression which had always come over the old woman's face at the sight of her nude, budding body.

And then she remembered something else-her own mother's body dangling obscenely by a rope down in the cellar after she'd hanged herself. Now Susan knew why her mother had committed suicide. Now she knew the terrible thing that her grandmother had done to her own daughter-the thing her mother had tried to tell her but never did. The truth was too horrendous. Susan screamed at the top of her healthy lungs, then started sobbing uncontrollably.

Playing the role of comforter, Charles Lancaster took his comely young boss in his arms and began stroking her head. Susan was so distraught that she let him. He was offering solace, and it was something she needed desperately. Actually the chauffeur intended to take advantage of her mental agitation and turn it to his own use, just as Simmons had done the previous night. But Susan didn't know that. She felt safe and secure in the young man's proper embrace, thinking him to be the friend she needed so badly.

While he stroked her head, his nimble fingers were busy picking the pins one by one from her old maid's bun. After he'd removed all the pins, he pulled out the curved comb and her lustrous, soft brown hair cascaded down around her heaving shoulders.

Susan was in a state of semi-shock. Tears of grief for her mother and self-pity for herself were flowing freely down her cheeks. For some reason her stunned mind couldn't fathom, she felt dirtied and degraded because of her grandmother's secret life of perversion. She didn't notice her hair being let down, and then stroked.

"Oh, Charles!" she sobbed. "What am I going to do?"

"Cry it out, baby," he soothed, sliding his hand up from her waist, making little circles over her expanding and contracting rib cage until he reached his objective and cupped the jouncing mound of her left breast. "Let it all hang out. Cry it out of your system. I'm with you all the way, Susan. I'll look after you."

Since he'd been stroking her arm, side and back, as well as her head, Susan was aware of a comforting pressure on her sensitive tittie, but it didn't enter her troubled mind that he was fondling her. She let him pull her head down onto his shoulder, and felt better for it, though choking sobs were still racking her well-proportioned form. His cheek felt a trifle scratchy brushing against her forehead, but even that was soothing, especially when he scooted closer to her and kept telling her that everything would be all right.

"I'm scared," she wept. "If I didn't need the money so badly, I'd get away from here and never come back!"

"You mustn't talk like that," he crooned, kissing her forehead. He grew bolder and began massaging her bust openly. "I'll help you, Susan. Lean on me, honey. Depend on me. I won't let you down."

Susan turned toward Charles and put her arm around him. She snuggled in closer, until his hand was forced from her breast without her ever having been consciously aware of his intimate fondling. Her subconscious was aware of it though, and liked it. In fact, the pressure had been so pleasant that the sensual being emerging within her impelled the young woman to press against him so tight that her large bosom was flattened on his muscular chest.

"I need someone to lean on!" she wailed.

"Let it be me," he said, smiling, with his chin resting on the top of her head and his hand easing the hem of her pink midi-skirt up past her dimpled knees. "I'll give you what you need."

"I need your strength!" she sobbed.

"You've got it, sugar," he cooed, and hugged the breath out of her. "Look at me, Susan."

She raised her head and blinked her red-rimmed eyes at him. "How do I know I can trust you?" she sniffled.

"Because I think I'm falling in love with you," he said, and before she could think again he French kissed her and slid his hand up the nylon-clad valley of her slightly parted thighs.

Before Susan could collect her senses, his hand snaked under the narrow white band of her panties and she could feel his finger sinking into the barely moist cleft of her curl-thatched vulva.

Simmons had introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh only nerve-racking hours earlier, and her genitals remembered it well, even though her mind had attempted to suppress any recollection of enjoyment. Her first impulse was to let her legs fall open, and since that urge was beneath the level of her thinking mind, she did so. A stab of illicit pleasure rippled through her as she felt the full length of Charles' insinuating finger penetrate the hair-fringed slit between her trembling legs. Reflexively she licked at his tongue, then took a tentative suck. The next thing the disturbed young lady knew, she was sucking his tongue hungrily, moaning into his mouth, while he plunged his thick finger in and out of her soft pink slot a mile a minute.

"Nooh!" she cried, breaking the kiss and trying to push him away. "Oh, noooo ... not again!"

"Again?" he asked, his finger working incessantly within the moistening folds of her sexual opening. "What are you talking about, baby?"

"N-nothing!" she gasped, and slapped him. It didn't faze him, so she slapped him again, harder, and tried in vain to close her legs, which was impossible with his knee holding them apart. "Quit it, Charles! Goddamn you ... stop this insanity ... aaah ... at once! Did y-you hear meee? Ohhh ... oh, don't ... damn you ... please don't!"

"I can't help it," he breathed. His cheek bore the red imprint of her hand, but he ignored the stinging pain and held her down. Her pussy was growing slicker and hotter by the second, and he kept finger fucking her, knowing he was getting to her despite the intensity of her struggling and the shrillness of her constant protests. "I didn't want to fall for you, Susan! You're a spoiled brat, and I should know better than to let myself love you! But I can't help it, baby! I wanted you the minute I laid eyes on you ... and I'm going to have you! Maybe once will be all ... maybe I'll go to jail for it ... but I'm go-"

"You sonofabitch!" Susan screamed, and raked down the side of his face with her sharp fingernails. "You're crazy!"

"Ouch!" he cried, and backed his finger out of her cunt. He brought up his hand, the middle finger glistening with her colorless vaginal secretions, and felt the red welts she'd raised on his cheek. "So that's the way you want it, is it?" he yelled, and slapped her.-

"AAAIIIEEE!!!" Susan shrilled, and saliva flew from her mouth as the impact of his blow snapped her head to the side. "Oh, dear Lord, Grandmother was right! All men are evil beasts!"

"Grandmother liked to have her twat sucked! Maybe that's what it takes to turn you on, too, huh, baby? Well, we'll just see! Since Krista's not here, I'll suck your hot little snatch for you, myself!"

"Nooh!" Susan pleaded, trying to hold her skirt down. "Leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

Charles paid no attention to Susan's piteous pleading. He wrestled her down in the seat, pulled her skirt and slip up until they were bunched around her waist, then held both her wrists with one hand while he used the other to drag her white panties over the flare of her hips and tug them down her flailing, nylon-encased legs. Her briefs caught on her ugly brown shoes, and he jerked the monstrosities off her pretty feet as he gave her panties a final yank.

"Now, baby," he panted, forcing her legs apart and dropping to his knees on the floorboard between them. "Let's see how this grabs you!"

With that, he extended his tongue and licked the juice-oozing furry split of her crotch from bottom to top.

"Aghhh ... ahh!" she trilled, pressing one stockinged foot against the door and the other against the back of the front seat, using the muscles in her legs to push away from his rough tongue. "Don't ... that's nasty!"

She couldn't get away, what with him holding her wrists and pulling her back every time she tried. He kept licking her secret place, and flicking the tip of her clitoris until it started tingling and soaking up the hot blood her hammering heart sent racing through her veins. Her legs turned to rubber. The muscles in them lost their strength. Her mind reeled with the lewdness of the perversity the handsome chauffeur was forcing upon her. She didn't want him to continue licking her down there, because perverse or not it was moving her right out of her skull. His tongue felt marvelous washing over the palpitating, ultrasensitive inner surfaces of her yawning, hair-lined labia. She didn't want to like it, but she did, and there was nothing she could do about it. His strength was much greater than hers and, struggle as she did, he held her helpless and kept licking her secretion-slick hole until it felt so good she wanted to scream.

"Don't! Please d-don't!" she begged, her eyes clenched shut and her head flung back. "Ohhh ... oh, I c-can't stand that!"

Charles tickled the supersensitive head of her elongated clitoris with the tip of his flashing tongue, then pulled his mouth away from her steaming crotch and looked up at her. The sight of her lust-contorted face brought a grin of triumph to his sex-wetted lips. "Do you still want me to leave you alone, baby?"

She bit her lower lip and tried to make her undulating hips be still. A whimper-like sob escaped her passion-flared nostrils. Flames of unwanted lust licked searingly inside her loins. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she gasped for breath. "More!" she groaned. "Do it some more!"

"You like to have your pussy sucked, do you?" he chortled.

"Yesss! I like it!" she cried, locking her nylon-clad legs around him and drawing him toward her groin. "Suck it some more, Charles! Please!"

"Sure thing," he chuckled, and licked the inflamed furry gash of her quivering elliptical opening. "I just wanted to hear you ask for it, Mistress Susan!" He laughed derisively, then opened his mouth wide and glued his lips to the outer edges of her swollen cunt lips, and sucked hard.

"Aaaaah!" Susan sighed huskily, hugging him with her legs and shuddering with pleasure. She could feel the suction collapsing her vagina and tugging at her insides. "Ohhh ... God, that's good ... so good!"

There was a raspy report of a zipper being jerked open, but Susan didn't hear it because she was moaning and huffing for air. Charles had his tongue in her, and was licking in a tight circle far up into her velvety sheath. It was excruciatingly good, and she wanted him never to stop.

But stop he did, and quite abruptly, too. With a loud, wet smack, he kissed her dribbling pussy good-bye and sprang up suddenly. He was already between her legs, with her squirming rump hanging on the edge of the seat, so it was easy. He dove atop her and socked seven inches of rock-hard prick right up into the moist, hot depths of her heaving belly.

"UUUNNGGGHH!!!" she cried. Her mouth fell open and worked soundlessly, with her eyeballs rolling up into their sockets.

"You've got some fine pussy, baby!" he panted, leaving his dong buried in her to the very hilt, savoring the snug fit of her flesh as it fluttered softly around him. "Jesus, it's tight ... and hot!"

"Nooh!" Susan moaned. "Don't fuck me!"

"Bullshit!" he snorted, and began hunching it to her hard and fast, making the car rock and the springs in the seat creak and snap. "You want it ... and you know it!" he panted.

"But I'm a-afraid!!!" she screamed, locking her fingers in his coppery hair and yanking wildly. "YOU'LL MAKE ME PREGNANT! STOP ... GODDAMN YOU ... STOP, STOP, STOP!!!"

"All right!" he yelped, backing his prong out of her and wincing with pain. "Let go of my hair!"

She released her grip on his hair, then covered her face with her shaking hands and lay there writhing with passion as she sucked air in raggedly and let it out moaningly.

Charles pulled her up into a sitting position and plopped down beside her. He put one arm around her and stuck his other hand between her legs. When she only whimpered, he began petting her sopping cunt, stroking it, tickling her throbbing pleasure button and running his finger in and out of her slippery little gorge. "You're in a helluva shape, aren't you, Susan?"

She groaned and nodded.

"Would you like me to suck you some more?"

"Yes!" she husked.-"I w-would! More than anything!"

"Okay ... but that's a two-way deal, you know," he said, and began pushing her head down into his lap.

In her present condition, the sight of his secretion-coated dick protruding boldly from his gaping fly wasn't altogether horrifying. Susan stared unblinkingly at the fascinating column of turgid masculinity as he pushed her head lower and lower. The purplish head looked like an overripe plum, and he was aiming it right at her mouth.

"Kiss it, baby."

His voice drifted to her through a fog. Her heart sounded like a tom-tom in her head. One part of her actually wanted to do the vulgar thing he suggested, Susan realized with a flood of consternation, but she couldn't. What he wanted was just too grossly obscene for her prudish mind to accept. She clenched her lips tightly together, moaned, then shook her head frantically.

His fingers bit into the back of her neck. "Go on," he coaxed, applying downward pressure until the slitted tip of his penile bulb was touching her lips. "Kiss it."

I can't do that! she thought dazedly, and shook her head again, only this time the rounded end of his cockhead slid back and forth across her soft oral petals, and the lascivious thrill the unthinkable contact gave her merely added to her confusion. II feels so smooth and soft! How can it feel soft when it's so big and hard? I can't let myself kiss it! He'd want more! I know he would! He'd want me to suck his penis ... and I'll never do such a dirty thing!

Charles maintained the downward pressure while she was wagging her head, and managed to work the tip of his bulging glans between her puffy lips.

"Don't!" she begged, her lips fluttering around his glans, the tip of which was now pressed firmly against the fronts of her clenched white teeth. "Please d-don't make me do this ... this awful thing!"

He chuckled throatily. "Keep talking, honey. I like the way those hot lips are flapping around my dick."

"You beast!" she groaned.

"Open up, Susan," he urged softly. "I'm coming in. Quit resisting it, baby. If you want me to suck you off, you've got to do the same for me. Come on now. Open wide. Don't scrape me with your teeth. That's the girl ... ahhh ... wider, honey, take it all ... mmm ... oh, yeah!"

Susan didn't really know how it happened. One second she had her teeth closed tight and was determined not to open them, no matter what; then the next second they were parting, with Charles' voice droning in her ears and his big dick slipping into her mouth.

Oh, my God! she moaned inwardly, feeling light-headed as she allowed her head to be pushed gently down. What am I doing? What's the matter with me? He's sticking his penis in my mouth ... and I'm letting him!

Actually, there was no way she could have stopped him. The sensual part of her inner being had been empowered by lust to the degree that it was now considerably stronger than her horrified conscience. The strait-laced portion of her mind seemed to be standing off to one side, looking on with disdain and censure, while the awakening pleasure center of her brain vibrated joyfully and prodded her on.

A lewd thrill of unbelievable magnitude washed over her as more and more of the pulsing prick slithered over her tongue on its sinful journey into the moist recesses of her warm oral cavern. Finally the rubbery crown sank into the satiny lining at the back of her throat, and she could take no more. Just over four inches of fat dick had wormed its way through the trembling gateway of her soft, full lips, and now that she had it, she wouldn't have parted with it for anything in the world. A surge of wild excitement rippled through her. Instinctively she formed her lips around the turgid shaft and moaned through her nose as she began sucking it willingly.

"Jesus!" he groaned. "You really like it, don't you?"

Yes, goddamn you, yesss! she wanted to shout, but instead she whimpered in pleasured surrender and sucked so hard her cheeks folded inward and molded themselves around the pungent rod of manmeat. I do like it! I love it! Oh, God help me ... I've never been so excited in my whole life!

The chauffeur grasped a handful of her disheveled hair and began working her head up and down to give her the idea. Susan caught on fast. Eagerly, she took it from there. Of her own volition, she started bobbing her head at his loins, going down on him hungrily because of her fit of passion. v"Ohhh ... oh, Susan ... go, baby! Christ, that's good! You're a natural born cocksucker, honey! God!"

Cocksucker, cocksucker, cocksucker! The word rang echoingly around inside her feverish brain. It should have sounded obscene, but it didn't. Not in the least. The licentious tone of it thrilled her tremendously. She gave herself over body and soul to the oral act which until only a moment before she'd considered the vilest of all possible sexual perversions.

Charles couldn't pry her suctioning mouth off his pecker, so he swung her stockinged legs up onto the seat and lay down with his head between her creamy, moist thighs. They wound up on their sides, with Susan's arched spine touching the back of the seat in only one place. She snuggled her furry nest against his mouth and kept right on sucking his peter ravenously. When his tongue burst into her overheated tunnel, she moaned around her mouthful of fat dick and flung her arm over his thrusting hip.

Her lust was so all-consuming that Susan wasn't even aware of herself as a person. Nothing mattered except the frenzied sixty-nine into which they had plunged themselves. She was a she and he a he-nothing more-and it was glorious to lose her identity as she dove ever deeper into the glowing, red-velvet vortex of carnality.

It was no longer necessary for her to bob her head, for he was fucking his delicious stalk in and out of her voraciously sucking mouth while he ate her juicy cunt with vacuuming lips, thrusting tongue and nipping teeth. The pleasure of it was incredible.

When she felt his pistoning dong begin twitching jerkily, she knew he was about to come. I shouldn't let him come in my mouth! she thought fuzzily, but made no move to prevent his doing so. She was teetering on the brink of climactic release herself, so she was in no mood to stop. Susan felt as if she would die if she didn't get to have her impending orgasm. To hell with it! she decided.

I'm not going to stop! I don't want to! Why shouldn't I suck him all the way? He's doing it for me ... and it's awfully good! Come, Charles! Come in my mouth if you want to, you darling man! I don't mind! I think I even want you to!

She couldn't have backed out then if she had wanted to. It was too late. His pecker expanded and contracted mightily, shooting a thick stream of his scalding hot sperm into her virgin mouth. She held it on her tongue and moaned soulfully, intending to contain his semen in her mouth and spit it out later. But the heady flavor of it proved to be surprisingly good in her wanton state of mind, and her own climax exploded in her quivering loins just as he pumped the second big jet of his creamy jizz into her mouth.

A tremor of spine-wrenching bliss racked her lovely body. It felt as if he were sucking the marrow right out of her bones. Susan shuddered from the top of her tousle-haired head down to the tips of her dainty, turned-down toes. A guttural groan of pure ecstasy burst from her lustfully dilated nostrils. Knowing exactly what she was doing, thrilling even more because it was so depraved, she swallowed the big mouthful of cum he'd given her and sucked his cock insanely to get the rest of his massive load.

She was still in a daze, whimpering and moaning, when he pulled his Umbering prick from her twitching Ups and sat up. He picked up her panties off the floorboard, used them to wipe her saliva off his penis, then leaned over and kissed her.

"That was great, baby," he said. "And I meant what I said about falling in love with you. I do love you, Susan. Christ, even if I didn't before, I do now! That was the best blow job I ever had, sweetheart!"

Her passion was already ebbing, and the vulgar word snapped her back to reality. A melange of humiliation, abject shame and scorching guilt flooded over her. Now that her mind was clearing, she couldn't believe what she'd done. The heretofore prim young lady felt debased to the core of her being. Scalding tears of mortification welled up in her blinking eyes.

"I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS DOING!!!" she yelled, struggling to sit up, feeling soiled and miserable. "YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME! YOU FORCED ME!!!"

He grinned. "Yeah, I guess I did, at that. But I could tell you wanted me to. It was something else, wasn't it, baby?"

"YOU RAPED ME!!!" she screeched.

"Bullshit," he said, laughing.

"YOU'RE DESPICABLE!" she shrilled, and tried to slap him, but he caught her hand and put it on his deflated rod, which infuriated her. "STOP IT! I HATE YOU! IF YOU SO MUCH AS TOUCH ME AGAIN, I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED FOR RAPE!!!"

Charles smiled complacently as he stuffed his spongy dick in his pants and zipped up his fly. "You'll get over your mad," he said, climbing from the car. Before he shut the door, he leaned back in and patted her thigh. "When you do, let me know and we'll have another go at it. Now put your panties on. I'm going to drive you home, and it wouldn't look right for the mistress of Robards Manor to go in carrying her drawers in broad daylight."

"You lowlife sonofabitch!" she hissed, jamming her stockinged feet through the leg openings of her nylon briefs and jerking them up her legs.

The handsome chauffeur blew her a kiss, put on his jacket, got in the car and drove away without saying anything else.