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                      [M/F, MM/F, F/F, Semi N/C, Lampoon]

                                    Story #4
                         by Tom Bombadil  (c) Dec 1996

      Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended by
explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is illegal to possess
such materials at your location, if you are under-age by law in your location,
or if somebody else thinks you might have too much fun reading it, stop right
now and remove this text from your computer.

      This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work of fiction,
it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or actions described, nor
does it relate to any type of real events in my life, or known to me in the
lives of any of my friends or relatives.

      You've been warned.

      I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.

      ********************************************************************

                                "Whitewash" 3/3
                           (Celeste's Contest Entry)
                                by Tom Bombadil
                                  (c) Dec 1996
                                    Story #4

      Saturday morning, at seven a.m. sharp, I was at Dirty Dick's door. Cindy
greeted me with a quick, furtive kiss, then escorted me to the kitchen.
Breakfast was being served and I was to help with the serving.  Eight men,
besides Dick, were there, and they all took great delight in pinching both me
and Cindy until my bottom felt black and blue.  Other than that, we were
ignored.

      After breakfast, they all disappeared into the far reaches of the
mansion.  Cindy, Tanya, and I had the rest of the morning to talk.

      I told both of them a little of how I'd been trapped, but not the
details.

      Cindy said she was a victim of blackmail.  Her husband was having a very
public affair with his secretary, one that only he and the woman thought was a
secret.  In a moment of anger and stupidity, Cindy had a brief, very intense
fling with a local workman.  Their tryst was at a cheap and seedy motel, and
was their one and only meeting.  Unfortunately, somehow Dirty Dick had managed
to video tape the proceedings without her knowledge.  Since at the time she had
no job, no training, and an eleven year old daughter she didn't want to lose,
she couldn't afford a divorce.  She had also been told by Dick that she'd be
tied to him for five years.  She had less than two to go.

      Tanya had a similar story, except that her husband was a violent, very
jealous man.  She was afraid that if he found out she'd cuckolded him, he
would, quite literally, beat her to death.  It had happened at the same motel,
and Dick had the video tape.  She had just over two years to go of the five
Dick had claimed as his.

      "What, did you get married when you were sixteen?"  I meant it as a joke.
She looked far too young to have been married for more than four years.

      "No.  I was a pregnant fifteen year old bride.  My parents insisted."
She had been forced into a loveless marriage, to a man that she now thought to
be an asshole.  She never said what happened to the baby.

      What made things worse for both was the fact that Dick also had video
footage of both their husbands with other women, and in Cindy's case, with
someone else besides just the secretary.  He laughed at their indignant words,
saying that the men were free to do as they pleased, because he, Dick, had no
use for them.  The women, though, were useful sluts.

      My hatred for that man grew deeper.  He was a total bastard.

      One thing they both said, one thing that gave me a sliver of hope, was
that Dick did let loose his properties after the five years. Three other women
had been freed after their tenure during Cindy's enslavement.  The one that had
tried to cause problems afterwards had ended up in jail for armed robbery,
assault, and a host of other charges.  According to Tanya, she had been
sentenced to fifteen years in prison for crimes both Cindy and Tanya knew the
woman had never committed.

      That stinking bastard.

      Lunch was served.  All nine men were back, so the pinching resumed, only
it was continued on posteriors and breasts.  Dick laughed when I cried out in
pain.

      "Easy now.  Don't damage the merchandise.  We'll need it hale and hearty
for later!"

      Those words sent a shiver of fear through me.  Whatever they had planned
for later, I knew I wanted no part of it.

      After lunch, they disappeared again.  The two women and I talked about
Dirty Dick some more.  Our descriptions of him became rather acerbic, and
provided some colour as they told me what they knew of his dealings.

      He apparently had business ties, both legitimate and shady, throughout
our town and every other community within a hundred miles.  The sales job he
had was just a front to justify his income and his travelling.  Most of the
sales he made were to associates of one kind or another, but there were enough
of those to keep him at a decent six figure income.  They had no idea where the
rest of his money came from, but one possibility was blackmail, the same way
those two had been roped in.  They knew nothing else, so we started talking
about other, far lighter subjects.

      Dinner was subdued..  Apparently there was some sort of disagreement
between two factions within the group.  What, I don't know, but the split was
obvious, and appeared to be serious.  There was no playful pinching, but when
Cindy dropped a glass, one of the men gave her a very hard slap on her rear.
Her scream of pain brought a smile to a few of their faces.  That fear I'd had
earlier came back.

      After dinner, the men left to talk for a while.  We cleaned up, then were
ordered to join them.

      When Dick started up a video, I was quite literally shocked to my toes!
There were Cindy and I locked in an embrace.  He'd taped that too!  The utter
bastard!

      The men looked at the video, then looked at us, and laughed.  One asked
Dick if he could give them a live show, as a sort of warm up. He shrugged, and
said sure.  He looked at me with the hardest, grimmest expression I have ever
seen.  He told me that I would perform, or else.

      Cindy, apparently, was quite adept at putting on shows.  She stripped
rather sexily for the men, and then, because I was incapable of movement, or
even real thought, slowly removed my clothing as well.  She lowered me down
onto my back and started kissing and fondling me.  There was no way I could
respond to her in front of all those leering, evil faces.  No way!  So she
tried to fake it for both of us.  She climbed on top, in a sixty nine, slurped
loudly at my slit, which was the only one they could see, and moaned and
groaned and wiggled and bounced around like she was at the height of passion.
I was frozen as stiff as a board, but I thought she managed to fool them all
into thinking we were both going crazy with lust.

      They watched us, they watched the video, and they had Tanya blowing each
of them in turn.  She did them all, one right after the other. I know I would
have been physically ill after the second one.

      When Cindy was finished, and the videos were finished, and Tanya was
finished, one of the men, the ugliest, I think, said it was time for the real
entertainment to begin.  Cindy started to whimper, and that sound finally broke
through the ice.  She was scared.  Her fear drove icicles down my spine.  I
started to get up, preparing to run for my life, when two of them grabbed me.
Two more grabbed Cindy.  They dragged us into a part of the mansion I'd never
been in before, into a room that horrified me.  I swear to you it was the
reincarnation of Tomas de Torquemada's favourite workshop.

      Cindy was strapped onto a rack, face down.  I was placed in stocks and
secured.  I couldn't see her, but I could hear her.  The screams, then the
bubbling whimpers, were horrible.  My turn came all too soon.  They all
gathered around.  Each of them showed me his favourite implement, letting me
get worked up for my incipient beating.  They then demonstrated their toys on
my body.  Each of them had a turn.  Then they each took another turn.  I guess
my screams annoyed them because one man stuffed a gag in my mouth and fastened
it around my head.

      They each took another swing.  My back was on fire, my ass burned, and my
thighs felt like they'd been flayed.  Never had I felt pain like that before.

      One man took another swing, a very hard one, and hit my left leg. It felt
like I'd been sliced to the bone.  Something trickled down past my knee.  The
sudden agony brought on a flood of adrenalin, constricting my throat, and
causing my heart to pound madly.  I found it very hard to suck in enough air
through my nose alone, and was soon feeling quite lightheaded.  The dizziness
made me rather ill, and almost made me lose both lunch and dinner.  Not wanting
to drown in my own upheavings, I fought desperately to reign in my recalcitrant
stomach.

      Dick, to his slimy credit, tried to call a halt to the proceedings. The
ugliest one told him that he should, in the interests of all, "allow Joseph to
work out his deeply held frustrations on the worthless cunt.  He'll be much
more reasonable after watching her bleed for a while."

      I whimpered, and wondered if I would survive.  There were five more
blows, widely spaced, all vicious, before I passed out.

      When I came to, I was in a bed, and in a world of hurt.  My memory was a
bit clouded, but I remembered every one of those last six blows in agonizing
detail.  That asshole's egregious display of cruelty had left me nearly
paralyzed with pain.  Cindy was lying in another bed not too far away.  If I
hadn't been facing in that direction, I probably would never have known it was
her, as lifting and turning my head seemed like an impossible task.

      Tanya came in and rubbed something into Cindy's shoulders.  Her whimpers
told me that she was in pain too.  It was the scream she let loose when the
young woman tried to massage her knees that told me she'd been hurt as badly as
me.

      When Tanya started rubbing some sort of cream into my back, I passed out
again.

                                   **********

      Dirty Dick drove me home that afternoon.  He seemed nervous.

      "If your husband tries something stupid, like coming after me, he'll get
himself killed.  If my security people don't get him, my friends will, just for
their own protection.  That's assuming you're stupid enough to tell him the
truth.  Give him some sort of cock and bull story about being abducted off the
street and raped.  A tale like that will keep him happy and in the dark."

      I didn't answer him.  Most of my concentration went into sitting there
without crying out in pain.  The rest was a thousand miles away.

      "I'll arrange for you to have Monday and Tuesday off, with pay.
Wednesday, you'll be at work as usual."  The steel came back into his voice.
"Wednesday night, I have further use for you, even damaged.  You will be there,
or you will face worse than you have already received.  Do you understand me?"
When I didn't answer, he clipped me on the shoulder.  That hurt beyond words.
"I said, do you understand me, slut?"

      "Yes, Mr. Small.  I have Monday and Tuesday to recuperate. Wednesday, I
go to work, and Wednesday night I'm to be at your place, or else.  Also, I'm to
tell my husband some sort of lie to keep him from doing something stupid, like
tracing you down and killing you.  I understand."

      He stared hard at me, as though there was something in my voice he didn't
like.  My face was set in a mask of pain, I knew, because that's what I felt.
Nothing else could have gotten through.

      "Jane, believe me, I didn't want this to happen to you.  It was not
intentional.  I don't damage my property like that without a good reason, and
there wasn't really a good reason.  Just an associate with a gripe, and a
really mean streak.  I hope you understand that this probably won't happen
again."

      Probably.  No guarantees.  Me, his slut, his property.  He didn't like to
damage it without good reason.  What did he consider good reason?  The pain
made me ill, almost bad enough to throw up in his nice new beemer.  If I had,
would he have thrown it away and bought himself another one?  If I died, or
became useless, would he throw me away and trap himself another slut?  I gave
up thinking. The pain was too much.

                                   **********

      John was, well, I don't know.  Furious, but controlled.  I gave him the
line like Dick had suggested, but he told me not to bother lying anymore.  He
wanted the truth.

      "Jane, I love you.  Whatever is going on, whatever trouble you are in, no
matter what happens, I will still love you.  Please, please, if you really love
me, please tell me the truth.  What is really going on?  What happened?"

      I broke down.  Everything came spilling out.  From the first little fix
of an expense, to the torture I'd been forced to endure.  He asked me
questions, then started getting more details from me about things I thought
totally unimportant.  Then he put some ointment on my back, telling me it would
ameliorate the hurt.  It did, stinging at first, then a delicious coolness
spread all over. After that came some painkillers and sleeping pills, and then
bed.

      For the next two days, I lay in bed, slept, and had my back, bottom, and
thighs anointed with various substances.  The constant supply of painkillers
left me rather fuzzy and lethargic.  My husband never let me do a damned thing,
even when I felt fit enough to at least sit unaided.  Telling me not to be
stupid, he said that if we were careful and didn't stretch or damage the skin
any worse, I might not have scars.  That was supposed to make me feel better,
but I was in no mood for small palliatives.  He asked me questions, many of
them, about what Dick had made me do, about Cindy, about Tanya, and about how I
felt all the way through.  He seemed fascinated by my admissions, and by what
I'd done.  There was also something deep behind his eyes, something he didn't
want me to see, and it scared the hell out of me.  It reminded me a bit of what
the ugly brute looked like when he'd told Dick to allow my whipping to
continue.

      John insisted that I follow through on my Wednesday trip to Dick's. I
didn't want to.  I wanted to leave, to run away.  I wanted to sell our house,
quit my job, and go hide somewhere.  John wouldn't hear of it.  That's when I
realized that I didn't really know my husband, didn't really know the man I
married.

                                   **********

      We met when I was a junior in college.  I was getting over my ex
boyfriend at the time.  John was a labourer - rough, good looking, dressed for
hard work, but much more civil and polite than his co-workers.  He noticed my
looks, and invited himself to my table, and to a cup of coffee.  His jokes and
witty conversation made me feel much better, even though I hadn't been looking
for company. He also never asked for my last name, or my phone number, or
address, and never offered to walk me home.  That, I really appreciated, since
that made it a nice, one-time, totally random, nothing more to it, lunch.

      Two weeks later I saw him in another restaurant.  He was at another
table, again with some of his co-workers, and saw me.  He waved, so I smiled
back in recognition.  He never came over to my table, which is what I was half
hoping for and half dreading.  When he was leaving, he stopped for just a few
seconds to say high, nice to see you, bye.  And left.

      A week later, back at the first restaurant, I saw him again.  He was
sitting alone, as was I.  He saw me looking, waved, and I smiled back.  Since
he didn't move, I did.  We had another wonderful lunch, and I gave him my phone
number, unasked.  He'd made quite an impression on me.  I could tell by his
conversation that, despite the fact that he worked as a carpenter's apprentice,
he'd been to a university somewhere, and was smarter than most of the jerks in
my classes.

      So the labourer and the business major started dating.  We went to a few
parties, we went to some nightclubs, we went to some dances. He was protective
of me, guarded me well, but didn't smother me. He also let me know, without
saying anything outright, that if I wanted out, at any time, he'd just leave,
and that would be that. One thing he never did do was to tell me of his past.
He said his parents were dead, victims of a drunk driver, that his brother was
also dead, victim of a boating accident, and that his sister had vanished one
day without a trace.  He had no family, and, apparently, no history in town,
since all his friends were recent. He did admit to moving here rather suddenly,
and to having a little more than a high school education.  Other than that, and
declaring that he was almost exactly two years older than me, nothing.

      Two and a half years later, one year and one month after my graduation,
we were married.  I was a virgin bride.

                                   **********

      Wednesday at work was worse than I'd thought possible.  Dirty Dick, the
Dastardly Dipstick, Demanded a Deepthroat job first thing in the morning.  I
had to be nude, and he ran his hands all over my very tender back, bottom, and
legs.  That blew my concentration, and I let a bit of his spend dribble out.
He considered it three drops worth, so he gave me what he considered three very
light blows with his belt.  I quite literally collapsed because of the pain.
He left me alone to recover, not offering to help in the least.

      All through the day, I couldn't sit for more than a few minutes without
having to get up and move, just to relieve the burning. Word quickly spread
around the office that something was wrong, but I ignored everyone's attempts
to find out what.  The end of the day couldn't come fast enough.

      Dick drove us out to his place.  He was in a gleeful, talkative mood, and
seemed willing to expound upon anything I wanted.  I asked him about me and the
expense account.

      The dirty bastard told me outright that I'd been set up, that he and
John's boss were pals, and that my husband's hours had been tailored to Dick's
desires.  The same went with the expense account bit.  I was given the
responsibility because he knew I needed the money and I was susceptible.  Then
he'd waited to spring his trap.  There had been no inquiries from the
accounting office at all.

      He'd lied to me.  Lied!  Everything he'd ever said became apocryphal.
Now it was too late for any worries, according to him, because I was his,
completely and totally, and there was no way he was going to let me go.  At
least, not until the five years were up.

      Another thing he told me was that I would be his 'special intangible
benefit' for securing a number of difficult contracts.  He had been using
Tanya, but said it would be easier for him to use me from then on, and I'd
better get used to it.  He said he'd even share thirty percent of his
commissions with me!  The unfeeling bastard!

      I began to wonder if I shouldn't just dump my husband, my job, and
everything else, and run away, if only to save my life and my sanity.  Thoughts
of losing John, and losing Cindy, almost made break down and start crying
again.  There was no way I could do that, I thought.

      There was only one guest at Dick's place that night, but he made up for
his singularity by being the biggest, ugliest, crudest looking gorilla I'd ever
seen.  The monster had to be seven feet tall and four hundred pounds.  He
looked bigger than those actors you see in professional wrestling!  And ugly!
Once upon a time, he might have been decent looking.  A face full of scars,
brands, and tattoos, had changed him into a personification of horror.
Multiple layers of ripped, dirty, smelly clothing completed the picture.

      We had dinner.  Tanya was cooking, and I was serving.  He only pinched me
once, stopping after I screamed and collapsed in pain. He'd hit one of those
severe spots.  I managed to finish serving, after a short period of recovery.

      He and Dirty Dick disappeared for a while after dinner, so Tanya and I
cleaned up and talked a bit.  It turned out that she'd seen the guy around a
few times, and he seemed to be in a class all by himself.  She said he used the
women Dick offered, but never went out of his way to be cruel or vicious.  I
guess that pinch could have been a bit of ignorant fun.  At any other time, it
probably would have been nothing more than annoying and momentarily painful.

      When they came back, they watched videos for a while.  Dick had me suck
him off, while Tanya sucked off the new guy.  Cindy walked in around eight, and
Dick immediately told us to put on a show for the Sasquatch.

      Dick looked me in the eye and said "You'd better try and put a little
more into this performance than you did the last one.  That's part of the
reason why you got hurt so bad.  You disappointed a couple of the gentlemen
that night."

      Cindy hadn't been as successful as I'd thought.

      She undressed, slowly and provocatively.  Then she undressed me, very
carefully.  I heard a hiss of indrawn breath when my back was bared, and again
when my skirt was removed.  I wasn't wearing bra, panties, or hose because of
the pain, so there wasn't much to take off.  I suspected that any dilatory
moves on my part would have been cause for punishment, from one or the other of
them, so I let Cindy have her way with me with no complaints or interference.
There was no way I was going to do, or not do, anything that would give them an
excuse to further damage my body.

      Cindy and I began to kiss.  Or rather, she started kissing me, and when
her tongue got busy, and I felt her breasts on mine, and felt her hands
wandering around on my front, I tuned out our audience and I got into the kiss.
I definitely liked the feel of her back, which was so soft, with all those hard
little ripples underneath, and of her bottom, which was also soft and pliable,
yet with a sudden and surprising core of steel at times.

      We slowly collapsed to the floor, her first, with me following, to land
on top of her.  Our leg s scissored,m y hands foundher breast s,the kiss
caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

      We kissed, I held her breasts, played with her nipples, my mound rubbed
against hers, and the feelings were so intense, so wonderful, that I climaxed
noisily into her mouth.  That tongue of hers was busy licking my tonsils at the
time, so the sound was rather muted. A few seconds later she came as well, and
we held each other in a close embrace, enjoying the aftermath of a quick,
intense, fuck.

      A moan reminded me of our audience, and I scrambled quickly to my feet.

      "Excellent show, sluts.  Much better than the last one."  Dick's leer was
one that I was learning to despise.  He turned and looked at his guest.  "Which
one do you want, Vinnie?  Or both, if you feel up to it."

      Vinnie's eyes, travelling all over my body, made my skin crawl. Until
then, that expression held no meaning for me.  I found out what it was like.  I
shivered, and not because the air was cool.

      "That one."  Now how did I guess that he'd want the new girl?  I must be
psychic.

      He took me up to one of the bedrooms, stripped himself, and lay on the
bed.

      "I'll make it easy on you, since you've been worked over a bit. You're
gonna suck me off, cunt, then we're gonna fuck.  Got it?  If you blow me good,
I'll let you ride on top.  If not ..."

      He grinned at me.  There were a couple of teeth missing, and several of
the others were blackened stumps.  His breath stank, and imagining what kissing
that mouth would be like almost made me puke right then and there.  Besides
which, his leer was almost as bad as Dick's.

      There was no way I'd survive that four hundred pound monster pounding
into me, so I was determined to give him the blowjob of a lifetime.  Or, at
least, of my lifetime, if he didn't like it. I didn't particularly like the
guy, even though he hadn't really done anything to me to that point.  It's just
that everyone around Dick, other than us slaves, seemed to be macho,
hedonistic, misogynistic, pigs.

      He was a little bigger than Dick, but not much, so I had only a little
bit of pain taking him down my throat.  He was decidedly smaller than my
husband.  I sucked and slurped and licked and sucked some more, all the while
playing with his balls and ass.  He stank, and he tasted gross, like he hadn't
washed in a month.  I nearly threw up on him, but managed to suppress the urge.
Somehow it didn't seem like something he'd appreciate.  I did let a drop or so
of his semen leak out of my mouth, but he appeared to like that touch, unlike
Dick.  He used a finger to wipe it up and then had me lick his finger clean.

      That's when it happened.  The door flew open with a bang, and standing in
the opening was a man dressed all in black, wearing a full-faced black ski
mask.  Vinnie froze, the shout I saw him preparing dying stillborn in his
throat.  Looking down the bore of a sawed-off shotgun would tend to do that to
even the strongest and stupidest person.  I froze, totally petrified.  My
scream came out as nothing more that a tiny squeak of fear.

      "Shows over.  Mr. Small is now out of business.  If you're smart, you'll
leave while you can.  If you're stupid, and try something, we'll bury you and
him in the same grave.  Capish?"

      Slowly and carefully, Vinnie nodded.  He stood up, got dressed, and was
escorted out of the room.  The man with the gun made sure to stay well out of
lunging range.  When Vinnie went to grab me, the man said "Leave the pussy.
We'll have a use for it later."

      About ten minutes later, a man came into the room (Same guy? Different
guy?  I couldn't tell with those black masks), followed by Cindy.  She was
dressed and carrying my clothes.  He left us there, shaking in our shared fear.
I got dressed in a hurry, just in case they changed their minds.  She had no
more idea of who the men were than I did.  The man came back and escorted us
down to the dining room.

      Dick was there, tied up, swearing and cursing to himself and anyone else
in listening range about how he was gonna get them, how he'd blow their fuckin'
brains out, and how he'd spit on their twitching corpses.  Pleasant fellow.
Tanya was also there, although she wasn't saying anything, and seemed to be
trying to disappear into a corner.  Two of the black-clad men escorted Dirty
Dick out the door.  The remaining man spoke.

      "You," he said, pointing at Cindy, "and you," pointing at Tanya, "get the
fuck out of here.  You," he said again, pointing at me, "stay put, and don't
say a goddamn word."

      I couldn't have spoken if I'd wanted to. I was in shock!  I recognized
that voice!  I knew it intimately!  John!  My God!

      Cindy and Tanya both left in a hurry, and gave me looks of true sympathy.
I believed they were imagining all kinds of horrible fates for me.

      "Stay here until I get back!"  John turned and followed the women out the
door.

      It was four long, frightening hours before John returned.  He was still
wearing the mask, but since he'd revealed himself, I knew what to look for and
could recognize the shape of him.

      "Don't say a single word, woman.  Not a word!  Understand!?"

      No, I didn't understand.  I was confused as hell!  I wanted to cry, to
yell, to demand answers, but nothing came out.  I nodded.

      He walked over to one wall, examined it very carefully, then blew a hole
in it with the shotgun.  I screamed, almost jumping out of my skin, almost
passing out with fright.  There was a bit of smoke, and the sounds of something
electrical dying, but little else.  He blew two more holes before he seemed
satisfied.  Both produced the same sizzles and sparks.

      "There," he said.  "That takes care of the snoops, at least in this
room."  He took off his mask, put down the gun, and gave me a kiss.  I almost
fainted, again.

      "I'll explain everything later.  Right now, we've got a lot of work to
do, and not a lot of time to do it in.  Just do as I say and don't waste time
by asking questions.  All right?"

      I guess I was numb by then.  I nodded.

      He put the mask back on, grabbed the gun, and motioned for me to follow.
Outside, there was a small truck that I didn't recognize. He handed me some
folded down boxes, a roll of packing tape, and a small pair of scissors.  He
picked up some sport-type bags and some more boxes.  We went back into the
house.  He told me to fix up the boxes, so I did.

      He read some notes from a small pocketbook, then walked over to a picture
on the wall.  Still reading, he opened the safe behind it. Whatever was in
there, he put into one of the bags.

      He did the same to another safe in a bedroom.  Then to another one in the
drawing room.  Then he opened up some sort of secret door behind a bookcase in
the library (Gawd, who'd believe something that corny happened in real life!).
Behind it was a fairly large room, alive with video equipment, monitors, and
racks and racks of VHS tapes.  Hundreds of them!  He had me box up every single
one and carry them into the truck.  There were also four different journals,
and he put those into one of his bags.  The tapes that were in the machines
followed.

      Checking his book again, he pulled out a tape rack.  Behind it was one of
those huge old-time safes, the ones you see in the old westerns.  It had three
different dials and two handles.  Even with his notes, it took John fifteen
minutes and a half-dozen tries to get the thing open.  And when he did, I
almost fainted again.  It was half full of money!  Stacks and bundles of
fifties!  My mind conjured up totals in the millions, even though I knew that
was a practical impossibility.

      Well, John filled up most of his bags with money, leaving a few bundles
strewn about, as though whomever had been there was in too much of a rush to
bother picking up the spillings.  Later, I found out that each bundle was worth
five thousand dollars.  He left forty thousand lying on the floor, waiting for
someone to notice it.  He also took the three books, the papers, the small
satchel, and everything else in there.  Then we left.

                                   **********

      Like I said, that was about two years ago.

      John still hasn't told me anything about his past.  Occasionally I still
work on him.

      First, Dirty Dick.  My husband says that he (John) isn't a killer or
murderer, and neither were his friends, the ones I'd never seen before, and he
says I probably never will again.  Dick was taken to a place, and given to a
group of people, who John said were happy with his talents.  He said there were
lots of men there - then said that in fact, despite appearances, there were
only men there, and Butch and Brucie were common nicknames.  They almost all
liked leather and chains and whips and stuff like that.  He claimed that we'd
never see Dick again.

      About a month or so ago, John said that Dick was finally starting to
adjust to his new surroundings.  He said something about tattoos and piercings,
but then started getting a little too graphic and gross for me, so I stopped
listening.  I hope Dirty Dick absolutely hates his new life.  The miserable
bastard.

      Next, the money.  Well, we ended up with six hundred and forty thousand
dollars.  Cash.  That's after John gave each of his friends fifty grand, and
the group of men who have Dick fifty grand as well.  Wow.

      The books and journals.  Dirty Dick was into blackmail and all kinds of
other nasty stuff.  We had the evidence, we had the names, we had the payment
schedules - we had everything.  For those that deserved it, we continued the
extortion.  That nets us ten grand a month, down considerably from the thirty
Dick was pulling in. We're just a pair of softies.

      The tapes.  There were a lot of tapes.  Dick had been a prolific producer
of material, both for his protection and for his enrichment.  Some of them,
especially the ones featuring Dick and his various cohorts having their
meetings, we bundled up and mailed to the FBI, anonymously, from two states
over.  Others, we burned. Still others we kept, and watch from time to time.

      Not too long after that, there was a very public retrial. Apparently,
some woman had been framed by a group of unsavory businessmen.  Fancy that.  I
wonder where her lawyers got their new evidence from?

      Work.  Dick had enough blackmail material against Mr. Dougherty, the
C.E.O. of the company I work for, to put him away for the next couple of
centuries.  I ended up with Dick's old job, a fat pay raise, and a free
redecoration of my new office.  John now works full time managing our, and
other people's, money.  He seems to like buying, selling, and investing, and he
seems to be pretty good at it, too.

      Tim Wakefield and the various other 'clients' of Dirty Dick. Instead of
getting a blow job from me, he got fucked (figuratively speaking).  I gave him
a composite tape of him getting blown by Tanya and several other women I didn't
recognize.  I then told him our company's rates had gone up twenty percent, and
that he was going to sign a five year contract.  Fitting, I thought.
Apparently, he's more than a little afraid of how his wife and boss would
react.

      He signed.

      The same happened with a few others.  None of them seemed to like me very
much, especially after I'd told each one that two different lawyers had copies
of everything, and in the event of my death, by any cause, they were to send
those tapes and journals to the F.B.I. No, I wasn't popular, and yes, we do
have copies of everything, one set with a lawyer in L.A. that I contacted, the
other set with a lawyer in D.C that John contacted.  That was John's idea.
Neither one of us knows who the other's lawyer is.  Then there's the two
redundant sets we keep in storage.  Just in case, of course.

      Our house.  We now live in a semi-secluded seven bedroom Tudor out in
suburbia.  The outdoor pool is nice.  Our privacy fence, so we can skinny dip
whenever we like, is nicer.  We needed all seven rooms because we converted the
largest of them into a theatre/orgy pit.  It gets a lot of use.  We also have
overnight guests quite often, and they use the two spare rooms.

      Maids.  Both Cindy and Tanya are now, according to the outside world,
live-in maids.  Cindy's daughter, Penny, lives with us as well, and she thinks
her mother is stark raving bonkers.  But she does love living in our posh
place, and she has her friends from school over frequently for pool parties.
As a sixteen year old beauty, she has a lot of friends, of both sexes.
Whenever we're not around, they all blithely strip and have skinny dip parties.
We know, because John has our place wired almost as well as Dirty Dick's was.
I told John, after seeing his reaction to the first tape, that if he ever
touched Penny, I'd serve him his balls on a platter.  Tanya was a tad more
graphic.  She said she'd cook them first, then cut them off, then ... well, you
get the picture. She's even more jealous of his attentions than I am.  Cindy
just smiled a rather hard, nasty smile, reminiscent of Dirty Dick at his worst.

      Tanya.  She got a divorce, uncontested, after she showed her husband the
videos of him with other women.  The two gorillas we'd hired as bodyguards kept
him from blowing his cool.  He's now shacked up with some fifteen year old
runaway in another state.  We've kept tabs. Her five years is up in a couple
more months, and she swears that there's no way we'll ever be rid of her.  She
does things with John that I'd never even imagined possible before watching the
tapes from Dirty Dick's place.  I couldn't even conceive of me, personally,
ever attempting some of those things.

      Cindy.  Similar story.  Steve, her ex, married the secretary.  They
divorced after she found him with someone else.  (Love it, just love it!)

      Cindy is absolutely magical.  If you noticed the odd slight problem with
this story, it's because she's been between my legs the whole afternoon, trying
to disturb my concentration.  I think she succeeded a time or two.  Her
fantastic tongue does things to me that nothing and nobody else in this world
ever could.  I'm planning on getting back at her for all her disturbances later
tonight.  I won't let her sleep a wink.  I may not have her genetic endowment,
but I can still send her into another reality.

      Her five years ended two months ago.  She threatened suicide if we kicked
her out of the house.  I think she was joking.  Of course, I had no intention
of ever letting the light of my life get away. John, even though we are still
very much in love, understands completely.  After all, he feels the same way
about Tanya.

      The Motel.  We still collect up tapes from that place regularly. They
make for great Saturday night entertainment, and you'd be amazed at the
different people that show up there, for just a few hours.  The only time we
actually did something with one of the tapes was when we witnessed a rape.  We
sent the video, anonymously, to the woman, along with a note letting her know
that none of the youths who had attacked her knew about the recording.  She
could do with it whatever she liked.

      Our favourite blackmail case.  Jennifer is a middle-aged mother of four,
a member of the P.T.A., and she's active in her church group. The footage we
have of her and that prime beef stud in the motel room fills three two-hour
tapes.  We watch them regularly because they are very hot.  She was paying Dick
two hundred a month to keep him from showing the videos to her husband.  She
has another four payments to go, and then we'll give her the originals.

      The tapes of her are fantastic.  Personally, at one point I thought her
hips had been dislocated, but she didn't even slow down.  John says she goes
absolutely wild when she watches herself on the big screen, and becomes almost
totally insatiable.  I'll take his word on that.  All I know is that Rick, her
husband, seems to grow a half-size longer and thicker whenever we watch the
tapes together. Between the two of them, they make enough noise to disturb even
our neighbours.  They invite themselves over at least twice a month.

      John.  We still love each other dearly, even though we haven't made
physical love for months.  A typical session for us was last Sunday morning.
We woke up in our custom-made oversized bed. He kissed me, then I kissed him,
and we became rather passionate. Then we became very passionate, with hands
running all over each other.  My first climax came while I was sucking his
tongue into my mouth.  I almost swallowed it whole.  A short while later, we
peaked at almost the same time.  He moaned and groaned into my mouth, then
started shuddering.  I looked down towards our groins, and the sight was enough
to send me over as well.

      There were two naked bodies down there, heads down, bottoms up. One had
her head bobbing up and down on John's member, the other had her mouth fastened
to my clit.  Tanya and Cindy.  They are insatiable.

      That's why we need the big bed.  The king size we used to have just
wasn't big enough for the four of us.

      The baby.  Yes, we're going to have a baby.  We've decided that if it's a
boy his name will be Peter John Smith, after my grandfather and his father.  If
it's a girl, we have a choice. Carla Cynthia Smith, after my grandmother and my
favourite woman, or Virginia Denise Smith, after his grandmother and my mother.
It's a tough decision.  No, there was no miracle, medical or otherwise.
Tanya's the one who's getting fatter by the day.

      Well, enough of this.  I've recorded all the important bits.  My fingers
are getting tired.  And besides, Cindy's getting impatient. Her tongue is now
tickling that spot she found, the one only hher tongu ecan reacch.

      I llove mynew lifeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

                                     <Fin>

      ********************************************************************

Jane Smith - narrator, principal character.  The prim, proper, loving wife.
   23, 5'6", 35-22-34, 'C', natural blonde, green eyes, gorgeous.

John Smith - Debbie's husband, the man with the mysterious past.
  25, 6'2", 9 1/2" & thick, blonde, blue eyes.
  Tall, with lots of lean, hard muscles.

Richard Small - The bastard boss, the blackmailer.
  42, 5'9", 8" & not as thick, black hair, pencil moustache, evil, 
  leering, dark brown eyes, slight paunch.

Cindy (Cynthia) Darling - The victim, the mother, the one with the 
  stupid husband, the woman that likes licking pussy.
  39, 5'4", 38-25-37, 'DD', brunette, light brown eyes, great figure 
  kept in trim by lots of exercise and sexercise, long, long legs.

Penny (Penelope) Darling - Cindy's daughter.  Very pretty.
  Honour student, cheerleader.
  14, 5'5", 32-22-33, 'B', light brunette, pale brown eyes, slender. 
  Perfect butt, long (very long) legs.

Steve Darling - Cindy's stupid husband.  The one having an affair 
  with his secretary, the affair everyone knows about, the one they 
  think is such a big secret.

Tanya Tange - The other victim, the one that loves cock.  Her 
  husband is an abusive jerk with a violent temper.
  19, 5'9", 35-24-36, 'B', very long black hair, very dark brown 
  eyes, cover girl face.  Tight, fit, beautiful.  Sunbathes in the 
  nude as often as she can get away with it.

Cliff Tange - Tanya's husband.  
  25, 5'11", 235 lbs.  He beats her on occasion, especially if he 
  can smell another man on her.  Likes motorcycles and young teens.

Mr. Dougherty - the president and C.E.O. of the company Jane and 
  Dick work at.

Tim Wakefield - Senior V.P. of the company's biggest customer - an 
  arrogant, chauvinistic pig of a man, demanding and demeaning at 
  the same time.

      ********************************************************************

