textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/patricia.txt

                      PATRICIA

                   by V.P. Viddler
     
     
     The midnight flight was not crowded, but still she would 
have not thought that the rows all around her would be empty--
about six rows in front and behind, and across the aisle--nobody 
at all sitting in them. It gave her a sharp chill of 
apprehension. Could it--but no. Impossible. Maybe it was the non-
smoking section or something. All the other passengers drowsed or 
sat silently in the dim reaches of the cabin, and the isolation 
she felt was not conducive to the security she had thought would 
engulf her as the plane took off. But it was going to be all 
right. She was safe now. Nobody could know, nobody could find her 
now. Safe. Wasn't she? But why--

     And suddenly her mouth was dry, her stomach twisting, her 
throat tight with terror. As two men sat down, one right next to 
her as she sat by the window, another in the seat facing her.

     For a long moment, no one spoke. She didn't have to say 
anything, ask anything. She knew. With no question at all. She 
tried to stop her body from shaking, to stop the instinctive moan 
that gathered in her mouth. She closed her eyes, trying to wish 
them away, biting her lip to keep from making sounds of fright.

     "Miss McKnight," the man next to her said. "My name is 
Tiny."

     Tiny. She didn't know him, but from his name and from the 
sound of his voice she knew he would be big and fat. Opening her 
eyes at last, she saw she was right. The man across from her was 
small and bald.

     "This is Matt," the big man said.

     Then nothing was said for a while. She waited for her heart 
to stop jumping and racing, for her throat to allow her to speak 
without gasping in fright.

     "How did you find me?" she said finally. But it wasn't 
important. How they had found her didn't matter now. What 
mattered was what they would do with her.

     "You know who we work for, Miss McKnight," Tiny said.

     God, of course she knew. And she knew what their task was. 
What she must do now--any way she could--was to stop them from 
doing it. At any cost, she told herself.

     At any cost.

     "Look," she said, swallowing but trying to make her voice 
calm. "Look, you can't take me back to him. You can't."

     "But that's why we were hired, Miss McKnight," Tiny said.

     "I know. But look. Please. If you take me back to him, he'll 
kill me. You must know that. He'll kill me. Slowly. Oh god. Look. 
We can make a deal. All right?"

     I don't think so, Miss McKnight," Tiny said.

     "Yes we can," she said. "I know we can. Listen. Anything you 
want. Do you understand? Anything. Anything at all. Whatever you 
want. Do you know what I'm saying to you?"

     "Mr. Galli said you'd say that," Tiny said. "He told us all 
about it. How you'd say just what you said. But see, Mr. Galli 
told us not to worry about that. First, he said how he's got a 
lot more money than you do, so you couldn't give us as much as he 
will if we bring you back. Then, he said, you'd offer us your 
body. But he said we could have it anyway. He said we could have 
it even before we brought you to him. As long as we don't bust 
you up too much. And later on, Mr. Galli said, we could have a 
lot of fun with you. And there won't be any limitations then. So 
you see, Miss McKnight, I don't think you've got anything much to 
deal with, do you?"

     She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg. But she didn't. She 
said, "If you do that you'll have your fun and it will be over. 
I'll be dead. But if you don't take me back you could have me as 
long as you want. For the rest of your life, if you want. Always. 
Any time you want. Any way you want."

     "No," Tiny said. "I don't want to die either, Miss 
McKnight."

     "What if I scream?" she said.

     "I wouldn't do that," Tiny said.

     "Why? I know you probably have a knife or something, right? 
But so what? If you kill me now at least I'll die quickly. I'd 
rather go that way than go back to him."

     "Okay," Tiny said. "What if I say I'll think about what you 
said. About a deal."

     "Will you?"

     "I'm not saying that. But let's say I will. Maybe. If you 
keep quiet. No matter what."

     "What do you--"

     "See, Miss McKnight, that fun we talked about? That Mr. 
Galli said we could have? With you? It's a long dull flight, Miss 
McKnight. We might as well start now."

     "Oh god--"

     "Now if you fight us, or scream or anything, we'll just have 
to hurt you, and I don't want to do that, okay? But, like I say, 
if you think maybe we could still not take you back, you wouldn't 
want to do anything to make things difficult for us, would you? 
You know what I'm saying, Miss McKnight?"

     "But--but you don't mean it--you won't really--"

     "Who knows?" Tiny said. "You may be right. But you don't 
want to take any chances, do you, Miss McKnight? Even if it's 
just a little bit of a chance. Hardly likely at all. But you 
can't tell--we might want to accept your offer once we've   
gotten--familiar. You know?"

     She swallowed. "I won't fight," she said. "I won't scream."

     "Matt," Tiny said. "Get a blanket for us. I don't think 
anybody can see us too good, but let's be cautious, okay?"

     Matt got a blanket from the rack and put it solicitously 
across her body, covering it from shoulder to knee, as though to 
tuck her in for the night. Tiny pushed the back of her seat to a 
half-reclining position, and his also.

     "Now nobody will see what we're doing," Tiny said. His right 
hand slid under the blanket, and involuntarily she stiffened. 
"Now you just hold still, Miss McKnight," Tiny said. "You'll get 
to like this, just wait." And his hand slid onto her breast, 
beneath the blanket. "Nice," Tiny said. "Damn nice, Miss 
McKnight." And his hand began to knead the bulging flesh.

     She bit at her lip, trying to hold still. His hand made her 
feel ill. "You--you won't take me back to him?" she said. "Will 
you?"

     "It doesn't matter," Tiny said, moving his hand to her other 
breast. "See, Miss McKnight, it doesn't really matter, because if 
we do or if we don't, I still can do this. I can do anything I 
want with you, like I said, as long as we don't go too far. For 
now."

     "You didn't mean it," she said, trying not to squirm under 
his squeezing hands. "Did you? You'll take me back anyway. You 
bastard."

     "I'm not saying that," Tiny said. "You just don't know, Miss 
McKnight." His hand was moving now, sliding on her body.

     "I hate you," she said. "I hate this. Why must you do this? 
Why this way?"

     "I like your body," Tiny said. "It's a terrific body, Miss 
McKnight. I want to appreciate it. And I want it to appreciate 
what I'm doing with it. Okay? I want this body to love me, Miss 
McKnight. I want it to go crazy for me. I want it to do tricks to 
show me how much it likes what I'm doing to it."

     "God," she said. "You're crazy."

     "That's not a nice thing to say, Miss McKnight," Tiny said, 
his hand sliding over her stomach. Until now his hand had touched 
her through her clothing; but now it was worming itself under the 
waistband of her skirt.

     "Don't," she said now. "Stop. Stop this. I don't cae what 
you do, I'm not going to sit still for this. You'll bring me back 
anyway. So I don't care. Stop or I'll scream."

     "Matt," Tiny said.

     Matt got up and slid his small body onto her seat, on the 
other side, pushing her away from the window and closer to Tiny, 
pushing her so that she half-lay on her side, facing Tiny, with 
Matt at her back. So swiftly that she hardly was aware of what 
was happening, Matt had his arms around her and was holding her 
breasts in his hands, clamping his fingers hard around that 
vulnerable flesh with surprising strength, clamping her breasts 
brutally with his hard fingers. Her mouth opened to cry out in 
pain, but the sound was muffled against Tiny's free hand pressing 
against her mouth.

     "Now, don't be that way, Miss McKnight," Tiny said. "It can 
only make things hard for you. Just be a good girl and we'll all 
enjoy this a lot more. Okay?"

     Whimpering sounds came from her crushed mouth as she writhed 
with the agony of Matt's hands hurting her breasts.

     "Just nod," Tiny said. "That's all you have to do, Miss 
McKnight. Just nod to say you won't fight us any more, and I'll 
take my hand away, and Matt will let you go, and we'll all have 
fun."

     Tears of pain fell from her eyes. She couldn't stand it. She 
nodded.

     "That's a good girl," Tiny said, and took his hand away. 
"All right, Matt."

     Matt took his hands away too. She was gasping, but softly. 
Not to attract attention. Matt's hands frightened her. Not as 
much as the thought of what Galli would do to her. Could she 
still--

     Tiny said, "Matt," and Matt now took hold of her arms, 
pulling them behind her, and pulling off his necktie, used it to 
bind her wrists in back of her.
     
     "Oh, god," she said in fright. "Why?"

     "I like it that way," Tiny said, and now the hand on her 
body slid slowly under the waist of her skirt.

     "You disgust me," she said, unable to stop it. "I can't 
stand you. Damn you."

     "Now, now," Tiny said. "I'm going to change that, Miss 
McKnight. Right now. I'm going to show you how much you like me. 
I'm going to send you out of your mind. I'm going to send you 
right over the top. And I'm going to watch as you do it. And so 
is Matt."

     "You son of a bitch," she said. "I can't stand the sight of 
you, the sound of you, and you touching me makes me want to 
vomit. Okay? So don't think you can get your kicks with me and 
make me like it. Just do what you have to do and get it over 
with. You sick bastards. Filthy scum, both of you."

     Matt's hands closed again on her breasts.

     "No, Matt," Tiny said. "No pain now. Let's show Miss 
McKnight how to do tricks for us. Let's show her what this sexy 
body really wants." Tiny's hand now slid downward, under her 
skirt, and then under the waistband of her panties, moving onto 
the bare skin of her lower belly. She shrank from him 
instinctively, but Matt was pressing against her back, crushing 
her bound arms between them, with his arms about her and his 
hands now holding her breasts lightly, his fingers rubbing slowly 
against her nipples. This friction brought the nipples up into 
stiff points, throbbing with stimulation. Tiny's hand was moving 
slowly, slowly around her belly, touching her thighs, caressing 
the soft, smooth skin.

     "God," she said. "God, you slime."

     In spite of her disgust, her breath was coming more rapidly. 
She tried to control it. Tiny's hand was rubbing at her thighs, 
up and down, touching lightly, then heavily, circling, moving 
back up to her stomach, circling. Matt was still holding her 
throbbing breasts, touching her hard nipples.

     "Oh stop," she said. "Don't." She could hear that her voice 
was not steady. Tiny's hand slid to the inside of her thighs, 
insinuating his fingers between them. Automatically, she clamped 
them together.

     "No," Tiny said, digging his fingers with hard viciousness 
suddenly into her soft thigh flesh. She moaned--too loudly, god, 
if anybody found them would they kill her, would they--and 
resignedly relaxed her legs. Tiny's hand was on the buttery soft 
flesh of her inner thighs, moving up and down, rubbing, sliding, 
circling, and always, slowly, moving toward his goal.

     "No," she said, moaning it. "Don't."

     Her wrists hurt but that pain was now part of an overall 
aching like that aching in her nipples, and Tiny's hand was 
touching her now, his fingers probing, not cruelly, but probing, 
moving, they were inside her.

     "Oh no," she said softly. "Stop, god--"

     "It's nice, isn't it?" Tiny said. "You want this, don't you, 
Miss McKnight?"

     "No," she panted. "No. Please don't. Stop."

     Tiny's fingers probing, digging, finding--

     "God." A loud gasp. "Christ, what--"

     And Tiny's hand moving, fingers moving.

     Matt's hands.

     No. She wouldn't let this happen. She wouldn't do this. Not 
this way, not for them. Please. Please. No.

     "Stop," she said, pleadingly now. "Please stop."

     They didn't stop.

     Tiny was watching her.

     No. It couldn't be.

     His fingers. Moving.

     "Ahh," she said, gasping. "Oh god, oh, please, no, ahh, ohh, 
ahh, god you can't, you can't not like this, no..."

     "Not too loud," Tiny said softly, his fingers moving.

     "Ahh," she said, and now she was crying with shame, with 
humiliation, with hatred for them. "Ahhh!" And now she turned her 
head to bury her face in Tiny's shoulder, hiding her face from 
him and also muffling the sounds she was making, that wouldn't 
stop. "Ohh," she said. "Hahh. Hahh. Ahhh. Don't ohh unnhh. Ahh 
unnhhh. Nnnooo. Annhh. Hunh. Hooh. No please. I can't. Stop. 
Please. Ahh. Ohh. Huh. Hunnnhh. Aughh. Ahhh. Hahh! Hanhh! Haughh! 
HAUNNH! AUGGH! Augghhhh! Huh. Huh. Huh. Ohhhhh Chrrrristtttt." 
Body jerking. Spasming. Twisting. Writhing. Squirming, and 
finally shuddering to a stop.

     "Nice," Tiny was saying. "I told you you'd do tricks for us. 
Want to do it again, Miss McKnight?"

     She was crying and panting against his shoulder. "Bastard!" 
she gasped.

     "All right," Tiny said. "Then you do something for me now. 
Okay?"

     "I won't," she said, not thinking, not caring, shaking with 
humiliation and horror at what they had brought her to, her body 
giving in to their hands, just like a dumb animal, putty in their 
hands.

     "Matt," Tiny said, and Matt clamped her breasts again. Tiny 
saw her scream coming and with a swift hand in her hair held her 
mouth against his shoulder. Rasping, shaking breaths of pain came 
from her mouth, as he took that hand away now, knowing she 
couldn't--why couldn't she--rasping from her throat, Matt's 
crushing fingers--

     "Matt can be first," Tiny said. "I think Matt would like his 
cock sucked. Would you, Matt?"

     Matt may have nodded. She suddenly, through pain and shock 
(why shock? Why--) thought of how Matt had not said a word from 
the beginning. Was Matt dumb? What did it matter?

     "No," she said. Why did she say that? Oh god, they were 
going to bring her back to Galli, who would watch her in agony 
and listen to her scream for four or five or six days, and then 
kill her. What did it mean what they did to her now? But they had 
shamed her. Made her body do what they wanted it to do. What 
could they do now? "No," she said. "I won't." Through the growing 
pain. "Go to hell."

     And now Matt's hands moving away. Clutching at her blouse. 
Ripping. Ripping it apart. Pulling, tugging at her bra. The 
straps pulling away. Matt's hands now on her naked breasts. His 
fingers at her nipples. Pinching. Hard. She was moaning. Now his 
fingernails, digging at her nipples. Digging hard into that 
throbbing flesh as Matt clamped his fingers together, digging, 
puncturing, merciless, cutting into her, and she was twisting, 
bucking, whining shrilly in her throat, wracked with agony, and 
Tiny's hand was in her hair, dragging her head back, looking down 
into her rolling eyes.

     "All right!" she gasped, rasping. "All right! Don't!"

     "Tell me," Tiny said. "Tell me you'll suck Matt's cock for 
him, Miss McKnight."

     "I will!" she sobbed. "I will."

     "What?" Tiny's hand pulling viciously at her hair, Matt's 
nails digging brutally into her nipples.

     "I'll suck his cock!" she said. "I'll suck his cock! I'll 
suck his cock!"

     "That's nice," Tiny said, letting go. "All right, Matt."

     She was limp as they manipulated her body, laying her down 
on her stomach, lying across Tiny's lap, with her face above 
Matt's crotch. Matt had his tool out, bigger than she had thought 
it would be. Tiny's hands were sliding up her legs under her 
skirt. Matt was just sitting and waiting. Tiny's hand was moving 
higher. "Oh don't," she heard herself moan, and Tiny said, "Do 
it, Miss McKnight," and she opened her mouth and took Matt's 
thing into it, and did what they wanted.

     Matt didn't touch her at all. It took a long time, and at 
last Matt came in her mouth, and she swallowed it without being 
told. As she did, Tiny was pulling her panties down and off, and 
as she finished, Tiny pulled her up and drew her thighs across 
him, adjusting her until she was straddling his lap. Unzipping, 
he quickly found her and, following his guiding hands, she sank 
down on him.

     "Do it to me, Miss McKnight," Tiny said, and she did it for 
him, slowly, rising and falling. Tiny put his hands on her 
breasts and Matt was lying on his stomach and licking at her 
legs, and she was moving up and down on Tiny's stiff tool, 
looking over the back of his seat at all the dozing or reading 
passengers in the rows far away. And Tiny came into her.

     And then Matt and Tiny played with her body. They made her 
climax again, but she didn't care now, it was all shame and 
degradation, she had no will, no brain, nothing but fear. If she 
could only get away, not go back, survive--

     "Always," she gasped. "I'll be yours always. I'll go with 
you, I'll be your slave, your toy, don't bring me back to him. 
What do I have to do, I'll do anything."

     "Okay," Tiny said. "Show us."

     "How?"

     "Go to the bathroom."

     "What?"

     "Just as you are."

     "As I--" Her blouse was gaping open, her bra falling off, 
her skirt askew. And her hands bound in back of her. "I'll be 
raped."

     "Good," Tiny said. "If you do it, and don't say anything to 
anybody, and get back in one piece, we won't bring you back."

     "But I'll have to stay with you."

     "That's right."

     "All right," she said. And got up.

     It was dim, but not so dim that she couldn't be noticed. The 
bathroom was all the way in back. She had to walk past all the 
people. Her blouse showed half of her breasts, which thrust out 
with the position of her bound arms. She was walking up the aisle 
with staring eyes upon her, and she had to turn around to open 
the bathroom door, and when she was inside it opened again and a 
man came in.

     "Christ!" the man said, looking at her.

     "What do you want?" she said.

     He slapped her.

     "All right," she said. "All right. Don't hurt me." She sank 
to her knees.

     He took out his penis and stuck it in her mouth. "Slowly," 
he said.

     She did it slowly. Swallowing.

     "Keep it there," the man said, and began to piss into her 
mouth. She swallowed it, crying, sobbing, swallowing it all.
"Please help me," she said. "I'll stay with you, I'll do 
anything, please don't let them...those men..."

     "Kiss me," he said.

     "Get up." And when she had trouble getting to her feet, he 
put his hand in her hair and pulled her up that way. "Kiss me," 
he said.

     In desperation she thrust her body against him and put her 
mouth on his and slid her tongue into his mouth, kissing him with 
passion, crying.

     After a minute he thrust her away. "Over the toilet," he 
said. "I want to fuck your ass."

     She lowered herself onto the tiny toilet seat, her hair 
falling to brush the floor, her balance precarious, her behind 
high. She felt her skirt being raised. "Ask me for it," the man 
said.

     "Please," she gasped, sobbing still. "Do it, do anything, 
just please help me. Those two men--"

     "Oh," he said, "you mean Tiny and Matt."

     Startled, she twisted her head to look up at him, and he 
laughed at the horror in her eyes as she realized the truth. And 
then his hands were spreading her buttocks and he was plunging 
into her, and her scream shook the bathroom walls with its 
inexpressible burden of agony, terror, and utter helpless 
despair...

     They brought Patricia back to him bound hand and foot, and 
tightly gagged.

     But as soon as they were alone, Galli took away the gag and 
ropes. Patricia sat still, knowing there was no way she could 
escape now.

     "Hello, Patricia," Galli said softly. "How good to see you 
again."

     "If you're going to kill me," Patricia said, "I wish you'd 
just do it and get it over with."

     But she knew he wouldn't. He would make her pay for running 
away from him. He would want her to suffer as long as possible. 
he would want to watch her as she did. Patricia tried not to 
think of it. But she knew. It would be pain and horror and 
torture. As only Galli could think up. For days, probably. Days 
of agony and screaming and unimaginable torment. With John 
enjoying it to the hilt. Until she finally died of it. Slowly. 
Patricia knew. And what she saw in his eyes now was not 
reassuring.

     "Kill you?" Galli said as if surprised at such a notion. 
"Why would I do that, Patricia? After all we've meant to each 
other."

     "Don't play with me, John," Patricia said. "I ran away. I 
got caught. I know what that means. I saw it with Cathy, 
remember?"

     "Cathy was just a whore, Pat," Galli said. "You're not a 
whore. You were my woman. My girl. My baby."

     "All the worse," Patricia said. "Look, John, I'm sorry. 
That's all I can say. I know it doesn't mean anything. I did it. 
I'd probably do it again. Still, I'm sorry. I know you'll kill 
me. Slowly. I just wish it could be quick. But I can't do 
anything about it. So do what you're going to do."

     "Such a brave girl," Galli said softly. "Such a good brave 
girl. And so frightened. You're scared, aren't you, Patricia? 
Really scared."

     "Yes," Patricia said. "If that gives you satisfaction. Yes, 
I'm scared. Now what?"

     Galli looked at her for a long time.

     "No," he said finally. "I don't think I'll kill you, Pat. 
Now that I've got you back, I want you around. You'll be all 
right. As long as you're a good girl."

     Relief clashed with suspicion. This was ominous. "John--
what--"

     "I know you want to be my lady again," Galli said. "Just 
like it was. Don't you, Pat?"

     "John--for god's sake--"

     "Rather than be killed?" Galli said.

     "Rather than be killed? Of course," Patricia said. "But--"

     "I'm giving a dinner tonight," Gotti said. "For the big 
boys. They'll all show up. I want you to be my hostess."

     "It's a trick," Patricia said. "You want them to watch you 
torture me."

     "Why, Patricia," Galli said. "I won't hurt you at all. I 
won't lay a hand on you. As long as you don't do anything 
foolish."

     "I won't," Patricia said. "I'll do just as you say. Is that 
what you want?"

     "Good," Galli said.

     "Is this a formal dinner, John?" Patricia said. "I'm afraid 
all my clothes got lost when--"

     "Don't worry about that," Galli said. "I have all the things 
you'll need, up in your room. I'm sure it will all fit perfectly. 
Shall we go up now?"

     "You're coming with me?" Patricia said.

     "Well, of course, Patricia," Galli said. "You're my girl, 
aren't you?"

     "Yes, John," Patricia said.

     They went upstairs.

     At the door of Patricia's room a man was standing. "You know 
Sid, don't you, Pat?" Galli said.

     "Of course," Patricia said. "What's he doing here?"

     "Sid will be your--bodyguard," Galli said. "I'm posting him 
outside your room from now on. So nobody will bother you."

     "And so I won't run off again," Patricia said.

     "Now, Pat," Galli said, "as I told you, your clothing for 
tonight is in your room. So you might as well get rid of that 
stuff you're wearing. Sid will take care of having it cleaned for 
you. Just give it to him."

     "All right," Patricia said. "I'll bring it out to him after 
I change."

     "No," Galli said. "Why make him wait? Just give it to him 
right now. All of it."

     Patricia stared at him.

     "John--"

     "Right now," Galli said.

     Now she saw. With sickening clarity. In the past it would 
have been worth Sid's life to even look at her too lustfully. Not 
that he hadn't. Patricia had always known of his lust for her 
body. Ironically, she had always felt safe from that evil grin of 
his because of John.

     And now--

     "All right," Patricia said finally. And standing there in 
the hall, she took off her clothes. Almost defiantly, though her 
throat was dry and her hands shaking, she turned to face Sid as 
she stripped herself. Blouse and skirt. Shoes. Stockings. No 
pause. Head up. Brassiere off. And panties. Off.

     She stood, as Sid looked up and down her body, unafraid now. 
This was what John wanted of her. Patricia stood still until John 
Galli said, "Good girl. Come now," and opened the door of her 
room. Patricia walked in, Galli following, closing the door with 
Sid on the other side.

     Patricia turned to him, trying to keep her voice steady. 
"Did you tell Sid he could have me?"

     John smiled. "Not in so many words. I allow him, however, to 
live in hope."

     "I see.."

     "I will leave you now," Galli said.

     "You will?" Patricia was surprised.

     "Dinner will be at nine," Galli said. "Sid will call you 
when you are to come down."

     "What about my gown?" Patricia said.

     "Your clothing for the night is in your closet, Patricia."

     Patricia looked. All that was in her closet was a pair of 
black high-heeled shoes sitting on the floor.

     "There's nothing," Patricia said. "Just a pair of shoes."

     "That's right," Galli said.

     Patricia's stomach sank, but she kept her manner calm. "Oh," 
Patricia said. "I see."

     "Good," Galli said. "Until nine, then," and went out.

     Promptly at nine o'clock Sid knocked on her door. "Mr. Galli 
says for you to come down now."

     "All right," Patricia said.

     Sid was gone when she came out. He would be downstairs, with 
John, with the others, waiting for her to make her entrance. 
Stark naked, but for the high-heeled black shoes.

     Patricia moved to the stairs, stopped, took a long breath, 
pulled herself up. Then, slowly, head high, she started down the 
stairs, which led directly into the dining room. She knew her 
body was flushed. That her nipples were stiff and firm with her--
what--embarrassment? Humiliation? Shame? Degradation? All of the 
above. Which, of course, was John's motivation. That her breasts 
bobbed and swayed enticingly as she walked. That her hips swayed 
and her buttocks flexed and that her legs did sexy, sinuous 
things with each step. And mostly that she was naked. That as she 
came down the stairs, the men--it would be all men, she had no 
doubt--sitting around the long dining table would react with 
astonishment and lustful appreciation of her nudity, staring as 
her luscious legs first came into view, then the curving thighs, 
then the rounded hips and her dark, promising patch of pubic 
hair, proclaiming unmistakably her total bareness to them all, to 
the world. The mouth-watering shapeliness of waist and stomach, 
the salacious-looking navel. And then the bare, bobbing, high, 
firm, beautiful breasts. And finally her face. Patricia's face, 
in some ways more exciting for them in this situation than her 
naked body itself.

     Patricia deliberately kept that face a blank, as 
expressionless as she possibly could, as she reached the bottom 
of the stairs and walked into the dining room. A dozen or so men 
sat around the table. Looking at her. She stood. Looking only at 
John. Head high. Body straight. Arms at her sides. Still. Naked. 

     John said, "I think you all know Patricia."

     A murmur of greeting around the table.

     "Gentlemen," Patricia said.

     Sid, standing at the foot of the table, now pulled out the 
chair for her. John was at the head. Patricia moved to the chair 
and, as gracefully as she could, sat down.

     Now Galli stood up. "Gentlemen," he said. "Thank you all for 
coming tonight. This is a special occasion, in a way, because, as 
you can see, Patricia is back. Patricia, stand up and take a 
bow."

     In spite of all she could do, Patricia felt herself flushing 
again. But she did as she was told, standing up and bowing to 
right and left, her breasts swaying, as all the men applauded; 
then sitting down.

     So this is what John had in mind for her. To degrade and 
debase and humiliate her. To make her do it to herself. To show 
her--and the world--that he still owned her, still had her in his 
power. To grind her into the dust in punishment for defying him. 
But for how long would he be satisfied with that? Patricia knew 
that this particular ordeal was only the beginning. She swallowed 
inadvertently as she thought of it. Most probably, she thought, 
all these men had not been invited tonight just to savor the 
sight of her body. Patricia had the distinct impression that John 
was planning to make her the dessert at this dinner. If not the 
main dish. John, as he had with Sid, would show his friends that 
she, Patricia, once the untouchable property of John Galli alone, 
was now a common slut. A toy, a plaything, which he could toss to 
anyone he chose, give her to them, make her do what they wanted. 
Anything they wanted. And that she would crawl to them and obey.

     What was it to be, Patricia thought, trying to stay calm 
with her heart pounding, her skin crawling. Would John have her 
lie on top of the dining table, flat on her back, with her legs 
apart, as each man in turn climbed on top of her and took her, 
with all the others looking on? She had witnessed that done with 
other girls. It was not a pretty sight. Or would it be her on her 
knees on the floor, the men lining up in front of her, and she 
forced to take their cocks into her mouth and suck them off, man 
after man after man, all of them coming in her mouth, having to 
swallow it all--except for the ones, there were always a couple, 
who liked to shoot all over her face--sucking, licking, 
swallowing, man after man after man after--Patricia had seen that 
too. Had seen girls throw up after swallowing so much gism, and 
paying for it by being forced to eat their own vomit off the 
floor. Patricia felt sick. Or John might decide on a variation--
making her go under the table, crawling from man to man, taking 
out their cocks and sucking each one in turn, as they ate. Or it 
could be a combination of any of these things, or all of them.

     Or worse.

     But John had said she would not be hurt. As long as she was 
a good girl. As long as she continued to participate docilely in 
her own degradation.

     Patricia had no choice. She could recall other scenes at 
other dinners--dinners at which the centerpiece of the dining 
table consisted of a girl, spread-eagled and bound; or standing 
on the table with arms high over her head, wrists bound, ropes 
stretching to a ceiling beam, body taut and straining; or lashed 
to a pole, slowly turning for the full delectation of all; and 
all of them screaming. Screaming in agony. Patricia could hear 
those screams all too clearly. Could visualize the twisting, 
writhing girls, and the things that were being done to them to 
elicit such screams. All night long the howling and shrieking 
would go on, as John and his friends watched, listened, enjoyed. 
And finally sated their lusts in one way or another upon the 
pain-filled, squirming, exhausted but horribly obedient body of 
the tortured girl.

     Anything was better than that. If dragging herself through 
the mud of John's commands was what it took to keep her from 
being in that position, she would go on doing just that. But how 
long would that suffice? And when John got tired of toying with 
her that way--what then? Patricia shuddered.

     Galli was going on. "Now, in honor of Patricia's return, 
I've put together a little show, a film, I should say--the show 
will come later--with Patricia as the star. I'm sure you will all 
enjoy the film immensely. It will show you just how talented our  
Patricia is--and how she was able to win my heart. All right, 
Sid--show them."

     The room darkened, and a large screeen slid down from the 
ceiling just beyond Galli's chair at the head of the table. 
Patricia was facing it directly, and the others could watch it 
easily from their seats. And--of course--could watch Patricia 
also, as she watched it. The screen lit up, and Patricia's 
stomach flipped over.

     It was her on the screen. She was naked. She was kneeling, 
no, crouching, on all fours, on the floor, with her breasts 
swaying beneath her slightly moving body. She had a man's cock in 
her mouth, and she was sucking on it. Avidly. Voraciously. 
Lovingly. Assiduously. With lips and tongue and all of her mouth. 
The cock, of course, was John's, but that was not obvious. 
Whoever had run the camera had not cared much about the man's 
face or his body. He had cared, most obviously, about Patricia's 
face. And Patricia's body.

     At first the camera showed all of her, crouching there, body 
moving so slightly back and forth, thighs flexing, as she took 
that cock in and out of her hungry mouth; then, slowly, it moved 
in on her face, finally resting in a close-up view of that lovely 
countenance and that open, sucking mouth sliding up and down 
around John's cock, kissing, licking, swallowing, sucking.

     Patricia sat stricken, watching. As the men around the table 
goggled and stared and began making sounds of appreciation and 
lust. As they stole occasional looks at her to see how she was 
reacting to this new humiliation. Patricia knew her face betrayed 
her astonishment, and her shame; but right now she was helpless 
to control them. She hadn't known John had ever had such films; 
had not been aware that any pictures were being taken. But John 
had evidently made quite a hobby of doing that; for after this 
first scene--after Patricia had watched in horror as she saw 
herself taking John's gism down her throat, watched as that eager 
camera caught the unmistakable movements of that throat, 
swallowing, swallowing, to the hoarse, happy roars of the 
watching men--a parade of further scenes filled the screen. 
Patricia lying across a bed with her thighs spread wide, John 
lying above her, taking her, as she wrapped her long luscious 
legs about his waist, fucking him, tossing underneath him, 
moaning--oh yes, there was sound too--and color--moaning and 
whimpering and sobbing in ecstasy as she climaxed, body writhing 
and thrashing. The men around the table looking at her again, 
Patricia now unable to meet their gaze. Her head was swimming, 
her body numb with an awful, inescapable shame as now the film 
showed her crouching above John's body, taking him inside her, 
straddling his hips and moving slowly, langorously, sensuously up 
and down, up and down, fucking him. Now crouching on hands and 
knees as John took her in the ass--a great roar greeted this one--
driving all the way into her ass as Patricia shouted with pain 
and pleasure, pounding on the bed with her fists, kicking her 
feet, squirming, twisting, yowling, sobbing, and then coming, 
coming, coming, coming, again and again and again and again. 

     And the lights went on.

     Patricia was crying now, softly, but uncontrollably, unable 
to stop her sobs as all the men turned to look at her, watching 
her with new eyes now, recalling those images of her, sucking and 
fucking and twisting and coming. John was looking at her now with 
undisguised triumph in his eyes. He had broken her.

     "All right, gentlemen," Galli said. "I told Patricia that, 
as long as she was a good girl and did as she's told, she 
wouldn't be hurt. So I must ask that no one do anything to cause 
any actual physical pain or damage. Aside from that proviso, 
gentlemen--she's yours."

     And so they had a ball with her.

     All night long.

     To add to their stimulation, John had the film run 
throughout the night.

     Patricia did everything they wanted.

     They plundered her body all night, in every way they could 
think of. She was on her knees for hours, sucking them one by 
one. And she did throw up at last, and was made to eat her vomit, 
and she did, and threw up again, and ate it again. She licked out 
their assholes, gagging and retching, but there was nothing left 
to bring up. She lay in the bathtub and let them piss on her, and 
when told to open her mouth for their piss and to drink it down, 
she drank. When they lay sated and limp, she dragged herself 
around the room on hands and knees, sucking them to life again, 
fucking their recumbent bodies, performing all the acts John 
could come up with to make them climax inside her or on her body 
or down her throat one more time.

     John didn't touch her. Nor did Sid. But both watched, 
watched it all.

     All night long.

     It was the following afternoon that Sid knocked at her door. 
"I just want to talk," Sid said. "Can I come in?"

     In her room, Sid said, "You know he's going to kill you. 
Sooner or later. You know that."

     "Yes," Patricia said. "I know that."

     "I can get you out," Sid said.

     "What?"

     "Not like last time. That was dumb. But I can fix it so 
he'll never look for you."

     "How could you do that?"

     "I'll fix it up," Sid said. "I can do it. You try to escape, 
okay? I stop you. You fight. I shoot you. And there's a fire. 
Okay? And a body. Supposedly you. Burned beyond recognition. But 
it's you, okay, because I say so, and I say I shot you. Only it's 
not you. But he thinks you're dead. He doesn't look for you, 
you're dead. And you get away. For good."

     "Why--why would you do this? If you get caught--"

     "I won't."

     "But why?"

     "He's never going to let me have you," Sid said. "He says he 
will, but I know. He'll give you to anybody else--to strangers--
but not to me."

     "Oh," Patricia said.

     "I want you," Sid said.

     "I know. So you'll help me get away if I--"

     "It's not that easy," Sid said.

     "Oh," Patricia said. "Of course not. All right. What do you 
want?"

     "A month," Sid said. "I want a month of you. A month of your 
life. One full month with you as my slave. Okay?"

     "A month," Patricia said. "And then--"

     "And then you'll be rid of me for good," Sid said. "But 
during that month you'll be all mine. You'll do anything I say. 
Always. I'll do everything to you. And you'll do it to me. Any 
time I want. Any way I want. With anybody or anything I want. A 
slave. You understand? A slave."

     "A sex slave," Patricia said.

     "That's right."

     "All right," Patricia said. "I will do that."

     "That's not all," Sid said. "There's something else."

     "Oh," Patricia said. "Something painful, I'm sure."

     "That's right," Sid said.

     "What is it?"

     Sid brought out his cigarettes and lighter. "This," he said.

     "Oh, Christ," Patricia said.

     "Three of them," Sid said. "One on each nipple. One between 
your legs. That's it."

     "Damn you!" Patricia said.

     "That's the deal," Sid said. "That, and one month. Take it 
or leave it."

     Patricia swallowed. "It--it's better than dying, I suppose. 
Especially the way John would do it."

     "This happens right now," Sid said.

     "Right now?" Patricia was pale.

     "And you get out tomorrow," Sid said.

     Patricia took a long, shuddering breath.

     "All right," she said. "Do it."

     "Take your clothes off," Sid said.

     And Patricia stripped for him again.

     "On the bed," Sid said. "Put your arms over your head and 
grab the rail. And hold on."

     Patricia obeyed.

     Sid lit up a cigarette.

     "Christ," Patricia said.

     "This is one," Sid said, stroking Patricia's breast. "Are 
you ready?"

     "No," Patricia said unsteadily. "Do it. Go on, you bastard. 
Do it."

     Sid's eyes were bright. He brought the cigarette close to 
Pastricia's breast. Patricia was panting. Sid touched the burning 
tip to her right nipple, and slowly, slowly, ground it out, 
pressing it into her flesh. Patricia's body stiffened, arching 
from the bed, straining in pain. And Patricia screamed loudly. 
Once. Twice. Started to scream a third time, but Sid put a fist 
in her mouth.

     "God," Sid said. "That was great. Jesus."

     "You bastard," Patricia said, sobbing. "You're sick, you son 
of a bitch."

     "Two more," Sid said.

     "I can't," Patricia said.

     Sid just waited.

     "All right," Patricia said.

     "Hold on," Sid said. "Don't scream so loud this time."

     "God damn you!" Patricia said. "How can I--"

     "Here." Sid put a pillow by her face. "Bite on that."

     Patricia's breath was rasping in her throat as Sid lit 
another cigarette, slowly brought it toward her left nipple. Her 
body shook. Her eyes widened with fear.

     "God," Sid said. "I love this," and carefully and 
methodically ground the red-hot tip against the stiff nipple.

     Patricia turned her head and bit into the pillow, stuffing 
her mouth down onto it to stifle the horrible animal shrieks that 
tore from her throat, her body spasming and jerking and 
convulsing.

     Sid now tore off his clothing. His cock was stiff and 
throbbing with lust. "Spread your legs," Sid said. Lighting a 
third cigarette.

     "Oh Jesus," Patricia said, crying hard, moaning, whimpering. 
"Oh god please, wait, wait, please, Sid, no--"

     "Do it," Sid said.

     Patricia opened her legs for him.

     "Wider," Sid said.

     Patricia splayed her thighs, sobbing.

     Sid put out the cigarette slowly. Right on her clitoris. And 
as Patricia went out of her mind with pain, Sid took her, 
flattening his body onto her, ramming his cock brutally into her 
agony-filled vagina, and fucking her hard, hard, hard, into her 
writhing, convulsing, spasming, twisting, bucking, squirming, 
thrashing body, mashing his mouth onto her screaming mouth, 
kissing the howling lips, taking her screams down his throat. And 
John was standing by the bed, laughing and saying, "You fell for 
it, Pat. Right into the trap. Do it to her, Sid. She's your 
reward. You can burn her again later." And Patricia, in pain and 
horror, struggled vainly as Sid fucked into her, kicking and 
scratching, but only increasing Sid's pleasure.

     And that night, in front of all those men around the dining 
table, Patricia hung by her wrists, her hanging body turning, 
twisting slowly in the air, taut, straining, flailing under John 
Galli's whip, screaming and howling and begging and knowing she 
was going to hurt until she was dead...

     "You'll kill that lady, John, you don't stop that whipping 
pretty soon."

     It was Rocky Palumbo, a capo from Brooklyn, one of a very 
few who could approach Galli's position.

     "I know that," Galli said, smiling thinly. "That's part of 
why I'm doing it, Rocky, as I'm sure you know. This--lady--is in 
disfavor, all right? Having broken her as far as I want to, I am 
now ridding myself of this trash. Any objection?"

     "It's your business, John," Rocky said smoothly. "But, hell, 
it's just that it must be a frightful waste. Such a gorgeous 
young thing as that. Such a body. Shit, I could sure find a use 
for her, if you can't."

     "Too bad," Galli said. "This girl is through. The filthy 
cunt bitch."

     "Now wait, John. Wait just a moment. You don't want her any 
more, how about we make a deal?"

     "What kind of deal?" Galli said suspiciously. "Look, you 
want the bitch again, I'll cut her down and you can go at her, 
okay? For friendship's sake, okay? And as soon as you finish, 
back up she goes and we can watch to find out how long the twat 
can last. Whip her again, guys."

     "Hold it," Rocky said. "John, my boy. Look. A quick fuck 
with this doll is not what I had in mind, okay? You don't want 
her? I do. Okay? I'll buy her from you. How much you want?"

     "No," Galli said.

     "Why no? Hey, John, you just want to kill the girl anyway, 
right? So what do you lose?"

     "My satisfaction," Galli said. "That's what. I want to watch 
the slut die. Slowly. Painfully. And that's it. No deals."

     "John," Rocky said slowly. "Name your price. What do you 
want? How much? Just say."

     "Fuck," Galli said. "No. Period."

     "Anything you want, John. I know you must have a price. A 
million? Two million? Just for a girl you don't want? How about 
it?"

     "Why do you want her that much? She's built and all, but 
Christ--"

     "I want her. I want to own her. Just as you did. Own her. 
How much?"

     "No."

     "Damn it, John. Anything. At all. Anything."

     Galli thought. "Yeah? Anything? Rocky? Anything I want?"

     "Anything."

     Galli grinned slowly. "Okay."

     "What, John. What is it you want?"

     "Dinah," Galli said. And his look shifted to the girl at 
Palumbo's side. A tall, slim, sensuously built girl, fashionably 
clothed, with long auburn hair and calculating dark eyes. Who now 
was staring at him in astonishment. As was Palumbo.

     "Dinah? What do you--"

     "You said what did I want. I want Dinah. I'll swap you. 
Patricia for Dinah. You take Patricia, I take Dinah. Even swap."

     Dinah was still staring.

     "You nuts?" Rocky said.

     "No," Galli said. "No deal, Rock? Okay. That's what I 
thought. Okay, on with the show, boys."

     "Okay," Rocky said.

     "What?" Dinah jumped up. "What are you doing, Rocky? Are you 
crazy? You can't--"

     "Shut up," Palumbo said. "Cut her down, John. I'll take her 
with me right now."

     "Wait!" Dinah said. "Rocky, for god's--"

     "You beling to Galli now," Rocky said. "That's it, baby."

     "Why you--the fuck that's it! I don't get thrown away just 
like that and traded off to--Jesus, Rocky, you son of a bitch! If 
you think you can--"

     Rocky hit Dinah hard across the face.

     "Yeah, I can. And I am. So just shut up. You stay with 
Galli, you get that? And don't give him no hard time. Or I think 
he's gonna put you up there where Patricia is. So long, baby."

     "No! Bastard! Filthy cocksucking shit! I won't! I'm not 
staying anyplace! I'll kill you! I'll--"

     "Harry," Palumbo said. "Hold her."

     Palumbo's bodyguard took hold of Dinah's arms and pulled 
them roughly in back of her, holding her still though Dinah was 
struggling and thrashing around. Finally Dinah stood panting and 
twisting futilely in Harry's grasp, arms pulling tightly back, 
body thrusting helplessly forward.

     "Now, bitch," Rocky said, grasping Dinah's gown in front and 
pulling hard, ripping it all the way down to her waist along with 
its built-in bra, so that Dinah's breasts were bared. All the 
company gazed avidly at Dinah's high round shapely naked breasts, 
swaying and bobbling as her body writhed. "Now, baby," Palumbo 
said roughly. "You going to do what I tell you? How about it? You 
want to tell John how you belong to him? Huh?"

     "Go fuck yourself, you filthy son of a bitch!" Dinah panted.

     "Shit," Rocky said, and raising his big right hand he 
whipped it hard across Dinah's breast. Dinah screamed loudly. 
Rocky backhanded her across the other breast.

     "Aaahh! Stop! Jesus!" Dinah said.

     "How about it, Dinah?" Rocky said. "You want to say that to 
John?"

     "Fuck off!" Dinah said, sobbing. "Shithead cocksucking--"

     Rocky hit her breast again.

     "Haughh! Don't!"

     "Come on, Dinah, baby. Tell me you want to say that to 
Galli." Whap! Across the other breast.

     "Aaauughh! Please--Rocky--"

     "Tell me you want to," Rocky said, and hit her again, 
forward and back. "Tell me you want to, Dinah." Whap! Whap! "Tell 
me that." Whap! Whap!

     "AARGGHH! All right! All right! You bastard! No!! Yes! I 
will! All right! I will!"

     WHAP!

     "AUGGH NO CHRIST JESUS PLEASE I WILL YES I WANT TO YES I 
WANT TO PLEASE DON'T PLEASE..."

     "Okay," Rocky said. "So do it. Go over to John and get down 
on your knees to him, okay? And then tell him what a dirty filthy 
slut you are and how you belong to him now and how you'll do just 
what he says. Always. Any time he wants you, any place, any way. 
Right, Dinah, baby?"

     "Rocky--please--"

     WHAP!

     "AARRGHH! NO! All right. Yes. Yes, Rocky. I will. Yes."

     At Rocky's nod, Harry let Dinah go. Dinah on wobbly but 
perfect legs walked slowly to Galli, shaking. And got down on her 
knees. And said, in a shaky voice, "I--I belong to you. I--I'm a 
dirty filthy slut. I--I'll do anything you say. Always, any time, 
any place, any way." She was sobbing.

     "Thank you, Rocky," Galli said. "And Patricia will do the 
same for you. Won't you, Patricia."

     "Yes," Patricia said, still hanging from her wrists.

     "You should," Galli said. "Palumbo is saving your fucking 
worthless life. Cut her down."

     Patricia's wrists were still bound as she knelt in front of 
Palumbo, body aching horribly with the pain of the whipping. "I 
am yours," Patricia said. "Any way, any time. Thank you."

     "Kiss my boots," Rocky said, and Patricia did.

     "Patricia," Rocky said, "I didn't want Galli to kill you 
because I want to own you. But I might make you wish I'd let John 
kill you anyway. I'm going to hurt you worse than John did. You 
don't think that's possible, right? You think you'd go through 
anything to stay alive. You're wrong, Patricia. I'm going to 
treat you like a dog--only a dog can't scream in pain as you 
will, Patricia, and a dog can't suck cock as you can. But you can 
suck a dog's cock, Patricia. Did you ever do that, Patricia?"

     "No."

     "You will, Patricia. In between screams. Now you can say you 
want to be mine, Patricia. Say it."

     "I want to be yours," Patricia said.

     "Sid," Palumbo said, "I need an assistant for this lady. To 
train her, to discipline her, to put her in her place. You want 
that job, Sid?"

     "Oh no," Patricia said. "Not him. Not that. Please. Please 
not him. Please. Oh god please."

     Galli smiled. "Patricia darling, you just brought Sid down 
on yourself. I wasn't about to allow him to go anyplace. But as 
it gives you so much fright and horror, it's naturally what I 
want to happen to you. Go on, Sid, with my blessing."

     "Thanks," Sid said. "I'm going to enjoy the shit out of this 
job!"

     "And I'll take Harry," Galli said. "Tit for tat. Harry can 
assist me with Dinah."

     "Harry will love that," Palumbo said. "I always made him 
stay away from Dinah."

     "Not Harry," Dinah said.

     "How fascinating," Galli said. "Dinah, crawl over to Harry 
right now and ask him if you can suck him off."

     "I won't do that," Dinah said. "I don't care if you kill 
me."

     "I won't kill you," Galli said. "But I will hang you up just 
as Patricia was hanging, and I will ask my boys to start whipping 
you, just as hard as they can. All over. And after ten lashes I 
will ask you if you will do it. And if you say no, I will ask you 
again, after twenty lashes. And if you say no, I will ask you 
again, after thirty lashes. And if you say no--"

     "All right," Dinah said. "I'll do it."

     "I know you will, Dinah," Galli said. "I never had any 
doubt. Go on."

     And Dinah crawled on all fours to Harry, across the room, 
and said, "H-harry, m-may I--may I--s-suck you off?"

     "Any time, baby," Harry said.

     Dinah was crying. Looking at Galli, she said shakily, "Do I 
have to?"

     "Oh yes," Galli said.

     And Dinah did. As all the company watched, panting.

     "Patricia," Palumbo said then. "Did you ever suck Sid off?"

     "Yes," Patricia said.

     "How is she, Sid?"

     "Fantastic," Sid said. "Fabulous. Especially if she's 
hurting like hell at the same time. Nothing like that mouth when 
it's crying and sobbing and moaning with pain."

     "I can't wait to try that," Rocky said. "Dinah has a good 
mouth too. As I'm sure you'll find out soon, John."

     "I think all of us will," Galli said. "For I think I'll ask 
Dinah to do for all of us, right now, what she just did for 
Harry."

     Dinah shook her head, her eyes wild. "For god's sake!" Dinah 
gasped. "I can't! Please!"

     "Christ," Sid said. "I'd like to stick around for that. I 
wouldn't mind trying out that fucking stuck-up mouth myself. How 
about it, Mr. Palumbo?"

     "Ah, but Dinah's mouth is familiar ground to me, Sid. And I 
must say I'm most anxious to have the beautiful Patricia to 
myself. But all right. I'll wait. Perhaps Sid can go first with 
her, is that all right, John?"

     Dinah was moaning and crying. "I can't do this," Dinah 
sobbed. "I can't do this, please, I can't."
     
     "But you will," Galli said. "Won't you, Dinah?"

     "You'll whip me anyway," Dinah said. "I know it. You'll whip 
me and do anything you want to me. I might as well die now. Why 
should I do this. So I can debase myself for your fun. Why?"

     "I'll show you," Galli said. "Harry?"

     It didn't take long. It took a bit of burning flesh, a bit 
of skillful manipulation, and quite a lot of screaming. Dinah 
threw up twice, and had to clean it up. With her tongue. And then 
Dinah was on the floor, retching and moaning and panting and 
gasping and begging to be allowed to do what Galli wanted her to 
do.

     And so she did it.

     Sid was not first; Galli was first. Sid was next. And then 
all the others, men and women, one after another. It took a long 
time, and at the end of it Dinah threw up again. This time Galli 
had her clean it up with her hair.

     And thus Patricia was still living.

     For many days Palumbo did nothing but fuck her, hour upon 
hour. Using all of her body. Usually she was kept bound on his 
bed, wrists lashed together and tied to the top rail. If Palumbo 
was in a vicious modd, she would be spread-eagled to agonizing 
tension, or bound on her knees with her hair lashed to her 
wrists, pulling her head so far back that she couldn't close her 
mouth. But usually it was just bound wrists above her head. That 
way Rocky could use any part of her, fucking her cunt, or 
straddling her breasts to fuck her mouth, or turning her over to 
fuck her ass. For hours.

     And Sid did too. And many of Palumbo's friends and 
associates.

     And also, as Rocky had said, his dog.

     It was a big black slobbering beast and Patricia knew that 
nobody had ever known such degradation, such defilement, such 
disgusting horror in the history of this world. But if she didn't 
do as Rocky said he might send her back to Galli. That was 
unthinkable. But so was this. And as Rocky's pals and 
acquaintances and various hangers-on and girlfriends stood around 
to watch the show, to watch the forcible degradation of this 
slave of Rocky's, this mouth-wateringly attractive young woman, 
Patricia did what she had to do. Fucking the dog. And sucking him 
hard again. And fucking him again. And sucking him again, this 
time bringing him off with her mouth and swallowing his gism. 
Fighting, straining not to throw up, for Rocky would punish her 
for that.

     Rocky would hang her up by her hair and watch her swing, 
pushing her body with his foot as it began to stop swinging, 
watching in delight and listening contentedly to Patricia's loud, 
resounding howling, as another girl, crouching at his feet, 
slowly, carefully sucked on his cock.

     On Friday nights Rocky had a party for his pals. Men only. 
But for Patricia, who, as guest of honor, was hung spread-eagled 
in the archway of the living room. Stark naked. Tautly stretched. 
In agony. All night long. During that long night, any man who 
wanted to could whip her with his belt. Or put out his cigarette 
on her body. At times they played darts, with Patricia's nipples 
as the bullseye. And as it got late, they would cut cards to see 
who got first crack at her mouth, at her ass, and at her cunt. 
And finally Palumbo would cut her down and for the rest of the 
night Patricia would fuck them, and crawl for them, and do their 
bidding, and suck the dog for them.

     On Sundays Rocky went away and left Sid to play with her. 
Sid always did his tricks with his cigar. And after Patricia had 
spent hours screaming and twisting and howling and begging and 
mewling and squirming and writhing and thrashing and yelling and 
bucking and sweating and crying and moaning and shrieking and 
kicking and flailing, Sid would make her do to herself the things 
he had just done to her. Sid's face would light up with sick joy, 
watching Patricia, crying, choking, burn her own thighs and 
breasts. Again and again and again. And then Sid would fuck her, 
laughing at her pain and agony, fucking her and making her suck 
him, suck him slowly, pulling at her hair and twisting with joy 
on the bed with the pain-wracked ministrations of Patricia's 
moaning, quivering mouth and lips and tongue.

     And Rocky would return and make Patricia recount to him all 
that Sid had done to her, and as she did that, crying, Rocky 
would fuck her slowly, joyously, and Sid would fuck her ass, and 
with her mouth she would suck the dog.

     But one day Patricia ran away, ran back to John Galli and 
said, "All right. Kill me." But Galli only made Patricia suck 
Dinah's cunt, and then Dinah had to suck Patricia's cunt.

     Until the FBI man who had been on the plane arrested Galli.

     "It's you," the FBI man said, and slapped Patricia's face 
hard. Patricia went to her knees. "Crawl," he said. "Both of 
you."

     Patricia and Dinah had to fuck sixty cops and still didn't 
get away...