Chapter 10
May Kramer learned quickly. She knew that there were some steady customers at the drive-in dining section of the Willow Branch Motel liked to have her lean against the car door, with her breasts bunched together like two soft marshmallows. For these customers, May would smile, linger a while, even cross one sleek, well shaped leg over the other, so that the smooth flesh of her thighs would dazzle in sensuous excitement.
It was a pose the customers loved-and would give her generous tips.
One afternoon, a long station wagon drove in. A few impatient honks brought May with her notepad and pencil. She recognized the driver at once. He was a well known recording star who had made it as a dramatic actor on film and television.
"Hi, cutie," he flashed a disarming smile. In his plaid sports jacket, ascot tie knotted expertly at the throat,, immaculate shirt and knife crease flannel trousers, he looked every part the matinee idol. His blond hair was combed up high in a pompadour. "Haven't seen you around before."
"I've been here for a month," said May, her heart thumping at the sight of a film hero.
"I've been on location down in Acapulco," the film star looked May up and down. He nodded toward the rear of the station wagon. "These are my two new leading ladies. They're nice to me. so I'm nice to them."
May noticed them for the first time. They were like two lost little girls, frightened and timid and huddled close to each other as if to protect themselves from some unseen danger. Both were pretty brunettes, wearing scoop neckline sweaters, tight fitting skirts and silk stockings. Skyscraper heeled shoes seemed too mature for them.
"May I take your order, please?" asked May in a very polite voice. Other cars were coming and going and she had learned not to spend too much time with individual customers. Just one month ... and she had learned as much as some girls do in a year. Besides, she was going to quit this job-in just a few more days. Her plans were set.
"A double decker chicken salad sandwich and ice cream float-for three."
"What flavor ice cream, please?"
He smiled. "Any flavor as sweet as you are!"
The two girls laughed nervously, looking shyly at May Kramer who, for her abbreviated costume hiked up so high around her hips that the soft underslope of her buttocks were almost naked with rhythm and movement.
May Kramer felt a flush rise to her cheeks. The way the girls looked at her made her all the more aware of her strange arousal in the presence of members of her own sex. "I'll only be a minute."
May had made just two steps when suddenly, something gripped her tight. She was about to make a short yelp, when she whirled. She was surprised to discover that the recording star had extended both hands through the open window of his station wagon, seized her shorts and yanked her back to him. May sputtered, almost dropping her note pad and pencil. Her breast shook back and forth.
"Let go of me!" she complained, not knowing whether to laugh it off or slap his face! His hands were warm on her upper thighs and the fingers had already tweaked the satin smooth flesh of her buttocks. "I said-let go!"
He was laughing happily; a strange glint in his eye. But he did not let go. Instead, he pulled her real close. "If I let go, you'll run away!"
"You'll tear my uniform!" She kept struggling, fearful that if he really yanked, her shorts would come ripping off. All she wore beneath was a satin silky thing that was so tiny, it made her feel embarrassed to stare at her nude reflection in the mirror. It barely covered her and was cut so low, the delicious bulge of her lower tummy almost obscured it.
"I'll buy you another uniform-a dozen of them!" He pulled harder and May was literally dragged to the car door.
Before she could squirm free, she knew he had run his palms up and down the warm softness of her inside thighs, sending a titillating shiver into her loins. She felt the turgid demands leap into heated yearning. "Stop-stop!" She nearly stumbled on the gravel, but did manage to get free. Her heart thumped wildly.
"Okay, okay," he kept on laughing and looking back at the two timid girls in the rear of the station wagon as if to gain approval and attention from them. "Play hard to get I could put in a few words of complaint to Tony Lindgren."
A month ago, May would have been frightened of the threat of losing her job. Now, she did not care. Tony had treated her nicely enough, giving her the little bungalow and not even making a play for her. But she still had her apprehensions. "I'll fill your order," she said abruptly, hurrying to the kitchen.
After just a few minutes of waiting, the sandwiches and ice cream floats were ready; she inserted them in the pre-cut trays which would be attached to the car door on the fixture already placed there.
Returning to the spot where the station wagon had parked, she discovered it was gone. She stared around her. What kind of gag was that?
Another leggy brunette with a bounce to her hips that brought wolf calls, passed by with her tray. "Oh, May-that station wagon moved down to the other end." She nodded in the direction of a small wooded grove. Originally, it had served as a secluded picnic area but it was no longer being used as such. Occasionally, May and a few of the other girls would relax in a swinging hammock when business was slack. It was fresh, invigorating and very private.
"What did he do that for?" she wondered.
The leggy brunette shrugged her shoulders, while her smallish breasts bobbed up and down. She never wore a bra, but deliberately selected tight fitting blouses so that the hard strawberries were outlined in bold etching. The girl was an easy mark and was known for being willing to do anything go anywhere-for a price! Maybe, May Kramer had frequently reasoned, that was the best way to be. No feelings of guilt, no decency no pride. But NO!
She was NOT going to stoop down that low! Never-never-never....
She was going to maintain her self-respect and dignity. She was not going to let any man or any of the customers who came to the drive-in take such flagrant liberties with her.
"Are there other cars in the picnic area?" she asked the brunette.
The leggy thing shook her head, smiled faintly. "Romantic isn't it?" Then she was off, bearing her tray, to an anxious customer who had the top down on his convertible. This one was a barrel-chested lumberjack type; but his white-walled convertible was expensive. And he paid well for other things, too.
May Kramer brushed away any apprehensions she might have had and made her way on a twisting flagstone path to the picnic area. It was set well back among the trees; birds twittered, the sun filtered through the tall redwoods and there was a peaceful fragrance of floral bushes and dew kissed grass. A soft breeze fanned the topmost branches of the trees.
"Here we are!"
May whirled. She had not even seen the station wagon where it had squeezed in between some extremely tangled underbrush and hedges. It had the doors open. The recording star had come out.
"I'm starved ... everything looks good enough to eat!" He had discarded his jacket, ascot tie and his shirt was open. The broad planes of his young chest were visible.
May brought over the tray, affixed it to the open car door. "That will be three dollars and forty cents." She saw that the two girls were still in the back seat, closer together than before, and looking terrified.
"Sit down and join us." He was not asking her. He was commanding her.
"I ... I'm sorry, but there are other cars waiting." She felt terribly alone. Just a glance out of the corner of her eyes warned her that she was alone. Now, why should she be so frightened? This young man was a headline recording star and a bright light in filmdom. Surely he would not take advantage of her. After all, he had his reputation at stake.
"Let them wait." He unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt and in a minute, dropped it down on the floor. The hazy sunlight caught up the hard cut of his thick biceps and gleaming bronzed chest.
"B-but, Mr. Lindgren has strict rules about my spending too much time with each customer." She still clutched the bill in her hand and wanted to get the money and leave.
"I'll make it worth your while." He pointed to the shirt that was spread on the ground. "Go ahead ... sit down."
"I ... I...." May felt a quiver of fright. She glanced at the two girls but they were still huddled in the corner of the rear seat of the station wagon; they looked so timid and frightened, it was almost pitiful.
The recording star looked angry. His chest deepened. One strong arm seized May by the wrist and twisted so viciously, she yelped, and then felt herself being flung bodily down on the shirt. The hard ground smacked her hips.
"Hey," she yelled. "Don't you dare touch me!" She tried to maintain some dignity, but sprawled like that, with her legs apart with her bolero jacket drawn so wide that her twin peaks were taut in etched relief on the rose colored blouse.
"Wow," he exclaimed boyishly, his hands fumbling with his belt, "you're a real firecracker, aren't you?" His belt unloosened. He slipped it out of the loops of his knife creased trousers.
"I ... you...." Everything was spinning. The very nerve! He had hurled her bodily down on the ground. "I'll report you!" she yelled loudly. Anxiously she looked around to realize that she was isolated. The motel never seemed so far away. "I'm getting back to my station." She started to get on her hands and knees, making the mistake of letting her bottom dart into target view.
"I want you to stay here!" Suddenly, the air was rent with a strange hissing sound. It was followed by a sharp crack.
A sting slashed across May's buttocks. She screamed! A flash of fire swept through her bottom. She turned upward again and with a horror, discovered that the recording star had whipped off his thick leather belt and was flogging her! His trousers had slipped down around his lower hips. He wore a bikini type of bathing suit, cut so low that the hard flat stomach nearly gave way to his male powers. The outer reaches of the forest of Adam could be seen in lewd display.
"What are you doing?" May felt tears coming to her eyes. Now she squatted. The ground slammed at her buttocks. The livid welt raised by the sting of the whip was like a red hot fire. "You-get away from me!"
He was smiling cruelly. Every muscle of his upper body was brought into play. "When I give an order, it's to be obeyed." He turned his boyishly handsome face toward the hovering girls in the car. "Right, girls?"
No answer.
The black snake like whip that was his belt, suddenly twisted and cracked in mid-air. "Right?" he demanded in more lusty tones.
The two girls twisted arms around each other; terror crossed their faces. "Y-yes," they half sobbed. "Y-yes!"
That satisfied him. "See? We're one big happy family." He let his eye rove over the sprawling car hop girl. "What's your name?"
She did not answer readily. She was so frightened by this sudden turn of events, her words refused to form in response to her thoughts. She just wanted to get away from this crazy recording star.
The black leather belt, gleaming in the shady light, swung through the air.
May turned face downward to avert a slashing blow. The tip caught her on the side of her hip. It bit into the taut flesh. A stab of fear tore into her senses. "Get away from me!" she shrieked. If only someone would come. Anyone!
He was laughing softly. "Go ahead and scream your head off. They can't hear you. The more you scream, the more you get yourself whacked with the belt." He snarled. "Maybe I ought to use this nice buckle!"
He wouldn't dare! May Kramer did not know what to believe any more. "I ... I have to get back-" she sobbed.
"I told you," he spat through gritted teeth, "that I'll pay you for any money you lose. Don't worry none about Tony Lindgren-he's a real friend from way back-I'll take care of him-just the way I'll take care of you."
May did not like the way he said that.
"I'm waiting." He stood with both hands on his hips. Already, the trousers were slithering down his strong, athletic legs. The pouch like bikini bathing suit, the color of pink flesh, showed that the recording star was endowed with manly powers, although nothing that would cause eyebrows to open wide.
"Waiting?" She felt dizzy. "For what?" she asked stupidly, still sprawled on his shirt, staring up at the intersection where his thighs joined his trunks. She was terrified!
"To know your name?" He doubled over the black leather belt. His biceps bulged. He was rock hard in muscular strength. Many of the film "pretty boys" were body enthusiasts, knowing that it exuded a strange sensuality, just as did a girl's beautiful figure. In the case of this singing star, it appeared that he was self-conscious about being a below-average man and sought to make up for it by a developed physique.
"I'm-May Kramer-" She sat up, trying to restore some semblance of dignity. Her black hair was down around her shoulders. She wondered where her little cap had been kicked. It was nowhere in sight.
"Real cute name. Real cute." He worked his trousers down around his ankles. He kicked off his loafers, then the expensive trousers were pushed free from his legs.
As he stood before her, the recording star looked at once both boyish and mature. He had a thick shock of black hair that was done up in a pompadour style over his forehead. His high cheekbones and photogenic smile gave him an angelic quality that set girlish hearts aflutter and aroused the mother instinct in many others.
His body was an athletic superiority. His broad shoulders, the thick pectoral muscles, the sinewy strength that flowed through his well developed thighs, all created an image of an All American hero.
But the flesh colored bikini tended to dim that illusion. For some peculiar reason, as if knowing that something awful would climax this incident, May was relieved. She saw that as he moved, the flesh colored bikini was not amply filled.
"What do you do for fun?" he was asking. He picked up his sandwich and chewed it noisily. He nodded to the girls, who nervously took their sandwiches and just pecked at them.
"I-work so hard-no time to have fun," she stammered, still sprawled on the shirt. She wanted to stand up, but was afraid he would strike her with the leather belt he still held in one hand.
"That's too bad. Me, I like to have a good time-much as possible." He wolfed down the sandwich, gulping it lustily. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Hardly even looking at the girls, he took the ice cream float. He held it in his hand, making no motion to drink.
"May ... may I go now?" she asked timidly. As soon as she would be out of sight, she would run into the office and report this upstart. She knew she would have him arrested. Yes, yes, that was what she would do! The very nerve! Treating her as if she were some ... slave in a harem. Her buttocks still throbbed from the slashing blow he had given her! Just who did he think he was!
"You seem to be in an awful hurry to get away," he drawled lazily, drawing satisfaction out of his power to hold her a captive without any bonds.
"My job-I'll lose it...." she stammered. What was the matter with her? She could fight back! She could pick up a rock or something and smash him with it. But all the fight was out of her.
"You're awfully stupid. How many times do I have to tell you that I'll take care of you? I want to be nice to you, but you just won't let me."
That was a bitter irony. "It isn't fair to let the other girls do my share of work," she tried to reason with him. Then she flinched as she sat down squarely. The welt did hurt!
"Sorry I had to whack you so hard," he said, moving closer. His bronzed nudity was warm and intimate.
"Maybe I had it coming to me," she laughed nervously. She would be willing to say anything to humor him and call an end to this ridiculous situation.
He knelt beside her. The black belt was still in his hand. His boyish face was flushed. His heavy breathing could be heard. His bikini became taut. The outline of his turgid power was flagrant and embarrassing. "Maybe I ought to repay you."
He was talking in riddles. The maleness of his nearness made May feel a flash of desire. But it was instinctive. She knew she would not let him become intimate. She had already become a confirmed man hater.
"P-please...." she faltered.
He laughed softly. He took her bolero jacket and almost ripped it free. "Nice and cool this way, too." He feasted on her blouse covered mounds, shaking softly.
His hand explored her thigh, pinching the flesh, then raking hold of her shorts. "Kind of skimpy, aren't they?"
"Y-yes, but Mr. Lindgren wants us to wear them."
"Feel embarrassed by them?" he asked.
"Y-yes."
"Why not take them off?"
She should have expected this. "B-but, I'm almost indecent as it is."
Then she felt his hands-somehow, he had discarded the leather belt-and both hands had gripped the hem of her shorts. She opened her mouth to scream as she felt the shorts being ripped from her torso. She wiggled, struggled, while her adversary chuckled and yanked the tattered shorts free from her body.
The skirt kissed her buttocks. Her wispy panties, almost as wide as a satin garter belt, bit into her flesh. A rush of tears came to her eyes. "P-please," she sobbed. Her throat was thick and a lump was choking her. What was he going to do to her? Why didn't someone come along? She was so alone.
It had always been this way.
Alone.
Without help.
Isolated in the midst of a big city-at the hands of some depraved male.
"I just want to make you nice and comfy!"
Then he grabbed her blouse and before May Kramer could even try to slap away his hands, before she could even gather enough wits together to try and punch or hit him-or even double up her knee and slam it at his precious weakness, causing him a smashing pain-the blouse was being ripped.
"Get. away from me!" she screamed. Now that her milky white globes suddenly loomed into view, she knew she would have to fight before it was too late. She swerved, tried to sit up and bend her knee. She kicked wildly, and the heel of her skyscraper shoe slashed at something.
The recording star swore vehemently, but gripped her tight by the wrist "Want to ruin me? Just for that, I'll really let you have it." The black belt appeared again. Suddenly, it was looped and twisted around both of May's wrists. Her arms had been yanked upward. She was flattened down on the ground. No matter how she struggled and squirmed, she was held fast.
Her wrists were bound together by the leather belt-both of her palms against each other-and then entwined around a small tree stump so that she was bound a prisoner.' Her breasts rolled around on her chest. The tips had become hard and rock-ridged. She felt every fibre of her being strained and grow taut with fearful anxiety.
She wanted to scream-she wanted to yell and shriek ever since this started-but fear froze her vocal chords. It was all she could do to keep breathing.
Why didn't those two girls come to her rescue? It was bizarre. They just remained huddled together in the back seat of the station wagon.
May remembered her legs. She still wore her skyscraper shoes. The heels were slender and sharp as daggers. Just one well-aimed kick and she would finish that recording star!
The sleek legs danced in the air. But she was so clumsy, so confused, she just could not prepare any direct line of attack. All she got for her efforts were some slaps across her face. Then her ankles were seized and brought tightly together.
He had fingers as strong as steel wires. Somewhere, in a flash of remembrance, May recalled that he had strummed a steel guitar in many of his performances. Small wonder that his hands had such power!
"Think I'll tie these legs together," he said as casually as if he were, making a store purchase.
"I beg of you," she-was sobbing-"don't hurt me-please-oh PLEASE!" Her body quivered and shook as she sought to calm her frazzled nerves.
"I'll make you feel nice and good." There was a noticeable twang to his speech. Undoubtedly, it won him many fans, but right now, it caused May greater fear. It was a savage twang!
Then he was doing something peculiar. He fumbled with his pink bikini and started pulling at a string. "I'll just use this to tie your ankles together, okay?"
A stab of fear tore into her loins. "B-but ... you'll be naked!" she stammered stupidly.
"Well, in that case," he stopped pulling the string of his bikini, "suppose I just yank down your little panties and use them, what say?"
"N-no," she shrieked. "NO!" Everything was crazy. This just could not be happening to her. Maybe it was a wild dream-no a horrible nightmare from which she would awaken to discover in a hot and cold sweat that she was safe after all, right in her own bed!
Why didn't someone come looking for her? She was gone from her station. The brunette knew where she was. Surely someone-anyone-would come searching for the missing car hop! This was the peak of the day and help was sorely needed. Didn't they discover she was absent?
Through blurry eyes, she saw the way the recording star, the twistin' singer, the boyish looking stud who sexed his way to stardom, was slithering out of his pink bikini.
With one last pull, the thread came loose and the pink cloth fell apart.
May Kramer stared-and stared with nervous excitement-at the power that now became turgid and exposed.
A million screaming fans would have given anything to see the manly throb of this recording star, the taut half moons of his muscularly hard round buttocks, the sleek ripple of his upper thighs-the symbol of his power in its dark nest.
But May was only terrified!
Now she knew that he would consummate his perverted urges-but how could that be possible, when he was tightening the bikini around her ankles-drawing both legs so tight that she could not even pull them apart?
What DID he want to do to her?