Chapter 8
A few minutes later, Delores had made her way into Ava Lattimer's private office and, after carefully closing the drapes and blinds, she turned on a small desk lamp to provide some illumination. She was determined now to help her young American friend, and if she herself could not escape from the depravity of the Rancho, she was sure that Debbie could.
I show them, she ruminated bitterly, I show those peegs that Delores del Valle has pride.
She went to the drawer where she knew the sultry proprietress kept all the personal information of the Rancho's "guests", but found to her dismay that it was locked. As chambermaid, however, she knew where most of the keys were kept, and soon found the right one in another, unlocked drawer. Once she had unlocked the file drawer, she rummaged hurriedly through the cards, knowing it would only be a matter of time before Ava realized she was missing from the orgy. Soon she found a card with Debbie's name and address in Seattle.
Now I help you, my pretty friend, she thought. I help you escape.
Quietly she picked up the white telephone on the desk and dialed a number, listening intently until someone answered at the other end.
"Hello? Eees thees Western Union? I weesh to send a telegram...."
Tom Lyons returned to his apartment early on Sunday morning. He had spent the night with Cheri, and although the scintillating redhead had been as provocative and exciting as ever, something was beginning to go flat for him in the relationship. There was something about the girl that was sick, even perverted, with her incessant craving for sex, and her constant use of drugs. It had been extraordinary at first, of course, particularly since he had been so frustrated with Debbie, but now he felt wrong about the whole affair, and as he rode up the elevator at seven in the morning, feeling unshaven and grubby, he began to yearn again for his beautiful wife.
Christ, we had our problems, God knows, he thought, but there was something about Debbie that nobody can match, not even Cheri, He sighed deeply, for it had been a week since his radiant bride had left him, and probably, he knew, the divorce was under way. There was no use crying over spilt milk now, for it seemed that his marriage was thing of the past, a bad mistake, maybe. Yet, he felt surer than ever that if they had just given themselves more time they could have worked out their problems.
The elevator doors slid open and he made his way to the apartment. Opening the front door, however, he immediately noticed that a telegram had been slid under the door-sill. He picked it up, quickly tore open the envelope, and read:
DEAR MR. LYONS YOUR WIFE IS IN TROUBLE SHE NEEDS YOUR HELP.
COME TO RANCHO DELLA RENO IN RENO NEVADA.
HURRY.
A FRIEND
Tom's heart began to thud heavily in his chest as he read the telegram.
Oh my God, he thought, she went to Reno! And what the hell kind of trouble is she in?
At first he was skeptical of the whole telegram, with it's vague signature of "a friend." Yet, if Debbie was in trouble he had to help her, and maybe it would be a chance of getting her back. Moments later he had packed a small overnight bag full of clothes and was on his way down the elevator to find his car, having resolved to drive straight down to Reno and find out what was going on.
Hang on, Debbie, he telepathed mentally, I'm coming as soon as I can.
Fortunately there were major highways leading all the way down from Seattle to Nevada, and, fortified by several cups of strong coffee, Tom managed to reach the outskirts of
Reno around midnight. He stopped briefly at a gas station to get directions to the Rancho, and then headed straight out into the desert towards the resort. Finally he saw the lights of Rancho Delia Reno in the distance, and he stopped the car and turned off the ignition some distance away from the main building. An instinctive sense warned him that if Debbie was in trouble, it would be best for him to investigate the place quietly, under cover of night, to see what was going on before making his presence known.
He got out of the car, and crept quietly towards the brightly lit ranch-style building, moving carefully like an Indian hunter so as to make no noise or attract attention. As he approached the place, he could hear sounds of raucous music and laughter, as if there was a huge party in progress. Crouching down low, he edged quietly into the protective bushes near the front entrance, then crept slowly towards a wide window which would afford him a view of what was going on inside. He stopped for a moment to get his breath, then slowly edged his head upwards until he could see into the window. What he saw made his jaw drop open in astonishment and surprise.
Another orgy was in progress, and this one was even more degenerate than the one that had taken place in the bunkhouse the previous evening. The room was full of cowboys and divorcees, almost all of them completely naked and completely drunk. Unclothed bodies were sprawled everywhere in the comfortable lounge, and engaged in every sort of erotic activity. From his hidden place by the window, Tom could see several of the broad-shouldered cowboys, wearing their wide brimmed hats cocked at a raunchy angle, straddling the nakedly subjugated bodies of several of the women, riding them like horses, slapping the resilient flesh of their helpless buttocks, and pulling on their hair like manes. While some of the men rode, others followed behind, drunkenly inserting their greedily lurching penises into the hotly dilated rectal depths of their nakedly kneeling love slaves. The astonished young husband was shocked to realize that the women who were being forced into such humiliated positions seemed to enjoy it, for their faces were twisted into wild contorted masks of obscene desire, and they groaned lewdly as their cowboy masters drove them on, slapping them, gripping their hair cruelly, and riding them like bucking broncos.
Despite his mission to find his errant wife, the young construction worker found himself growing quickly excited at the salacious spectacle, and his thick cock lurched erect in his pants, responding involuntarily to the obscene orgy.
Christ almighty he thought to himself, Debbie would never come to a place like this. Whoever sent me that telegram must have been playing some kind of joke on me.
Yet he also knew that it was hardly possible that anyone would have done such a thing out of maliciousness. But since he could see his young wife nowhere in sight, he was growing more and more sure he was on a wild goose chase. Nonetheless he could not keep his awe-struck eyes from staring at the incredibly lurid scene in the room, and his loins were beginning to churn with warmth as his rigidly hardened cock jumped into greater hardness in his pants, straining against the taut material.
Suddenly, the crowd shouted and let out a mighty roar of approval. A space was cleared in the center of the room, and a tall, striking woman with silver streaks in her black hair, completely naked, led another girl by the hand to the center. The other girl was obviously completely drunk, for she staggered about, a half-empty wine bottle in her hand, her light brown hair in a dangled disarray, her face caked with whorish makeup, her nakedly ripe body glistening with a light dew of perspiration, as if she had been subjected to an endless, exhausting sexual session.
Tom gasped in alarm when he realized, seconds later, that the drunken wanton creature was ... was Debbie! His wife! But she looked almost totally different, no longer demure and rigid, but almost slovenly, and completely in the grips of drink and passion though her fresh young curves and luscious beauty were still the same. He couldn't believe his eyes, but there she was, there was no doubt about it.
Oh my God, Debbie, what have they done to you?
He watched, horror stricken, as the tall older woman ordered the young bride to lay down on the floor and tore the wine bottle from her hands. Then, once she was sprawled on her back on the soft carpet, the tall woman pulled Debbie's legs wide apart, so that Tom could easily see the golden throbbing mound of her moistly pulsing pussy. He was frozen, rooted to the spot by the sight of this bizarre hallucination: his wife, his own terrified, beautiful wife, performing like a gutter prostitute in front of this leering crowd of degenerates. Moments later Ava handed the nearly deranged young girl a strange object, ordering her to use it. For a moment Tom couldn't make out what the object was, but he soon realized that it was a battery powered vibrator!
They were going to force Debbie to use this perverted thing on herself in front of all of them! Fury exploded in the young husband, and his body grew hot and flush with rage as he watched his drunken bride, grinning lewdly, bring the thick phallic instrument down to the softly twitching flesh between her drawn back legs; and slowly insert the rapidly vibrating shaft up inside the soft, curl-lined lips of her vagina, obscenely as she did, while the crowd grew wild with excitement.
Oh God no! he screamed inwardly, NOOOOO!
Blinded with heated anger, he rose from the bushes and stumbled to the front door. It was locked. But his violent anger gave him a superhuman strength, and he drew back and then ran forward, heaving the whole mass of his body against the door with his left shoulder, forcing it to give way and open with a huge crash that immediately startled and shocked everyone in the room. Women cried out in alarm and hastily tried to dress, while the men stumbled drunkenly about in confusion. Tom ran quickly to Debbie, who was so incoherent that she hardly knew what was happening.
"Debbie, oh God, Debbie ... it's me ... Tom...."
"Tom ... Tom...." she murmured, letting the vibrator fall from her hands onto the floor. Moments later she realized that it was her husband, and her eyes opened wide, jolted back to reality. The impossible had happened, her husband had found her! "Oh Tom...." she cried, and flung her naked arms around him, holding him tightly, tears springing into her eyes. "Oh thank God you've come!"
"What the hell goes on here, buddy," a man said, striding arrogantly toward the couple. It was Roy, completely naked.
"Let me handle this," Ava said. She had quickly slipped into a blue silk kimona and was moving into the center of the room. "I don't want any trouble." She eyed Tom with hostility, as he knelt, cradling his sobbing young wife in his arms. "Now why don't you tell me who you are and what you're doing here!"
"I'm Tom Lyons," he snapped, "and I'm here to take my wife home. I don't know what kind of a business you're running here, sister, or how Debbie got involved, but it's all over now."
"Ava," Roy interjected, his fists tightened and ready for action, "let me and a couple of the boys show this bastard how we do things out here. We'll smash him up real good."
"No," the brunette hissed angrily, "none of that! You'll really get us in trouble with that kind of stuff."
"Yes, I think the police might be very interested in what's going on out here," Tom said coolly.
"Oh?" Ava replied, arching her eyebrow, "perhaps so. But I don't think you'll do anything like that, my friend."
"Why not?"
"Because I have certain photographs of your wife...."
"No ... no ... please don't show him those...." Debbie cried in alarm.
"Photos," the svelte woman continued, "that might cause you more trouble than I think you want. Would you like to see them?"
Tom stared at her in defiance.
"No ... no, baby, you keep those photos for yourself. I don't give a good goddamn what you've got. But don't worry, I won't go to the police. I just want to take my wife home, that's all."
"Then do it, and be quick about it. I don't like having your kind stinking up my establishment."
"Where's your clothes, Debbie?" Tom asked his softly weeping wife tenderly.
"Room seven," she whispered.
"Come on, take me there. We'll get you dressed and out of here in five minutes."
"Yes ... oh yes ... Tom please...."
He lifted his naked young bride to her feet, and holding her close they quickly made their way through the silent crowd to the second floor where they quickly gathered all of her belongings together into her suitcase.
"Are you ready to come home now?" Tom asked as she finished dressing.
"Oh Tom...." she said in a small nervous voice, "they made me do such awful things ... I don't think you'll want me back after you hear what's happened."
"Don't be too sure about that, honey. In any case I think we should discuss it when we get back."
"Then take me home, darling, please take me home," and suddenly she was weeping again.