Chapter 4

Alice Murphy sat dejectedly in the overstuffed easy chair in the living room. It was nearly dark outside, and Sandy still hadn't returned. The lovely widow had been waiting all that day for the phone to ring or the door to open, and the longer she waited, the more worried she became about her daughter.

She reached over and reluctantly grasped a half-empty bottle of scotch, tipping it so that the burnt-umber-colored liquor poured into a small glass beside it on the table. She had promised herself after she'd finished the last glass that there would be no more drinking but she was so distraught from the waiting that she couldn't resist having something to soothe her frayed nerves. The shadows lengthened across the living room from the windows, but she didn't feel like getting up and turning on the lights. Somehow, she didn't want to face the brightness they would bring, not before her daughter was back with her again.

Damn, she moaned under her breath as she took a long drink from the straight scotch. Damn... Damn, where was Sandy? Why hadn't she been able to handle things better so that her child wouldn't have run off the way she had?

The soothing warm liquor hit bottom; she hadn't eaten anything all day, and the impact was immediate. The warmth spread through her body, causing a slight tingling sensation to ripple across her flesh--she raised the glass again, and finished it. Then she leaned back against the cushion and lit a cigarette, and watched the curling smoke drift up toward the ceiling. It was funny to watch, for it almost seemed to have a purpose, as though it knew where it was going, only to waver and diffuse into funny little wisps in all directions, and finally disappearing into nothingness. Perhaps the smoke was like her life, having purpose and direction when she had had Robert, now only confused and directionless... would she, too, simply end up disappearing into nothingness?

She wondered what she would do when Sandy finally did return home. What could she say that was different from this horrible morning? There must be a middle-ground somewhere--someplace in between where she could meet her daughter--where real happiness could be found...

The phone rang shrilly from the hall, interrupting her reverie.

Alice jerked from its sudden insistence, then hurried to it, almost as if she was afraid that if she didn't catch it before it rang again, whoever was calling would give up and go away. She grabbed the receiver, holding it breathlessly to her. "H-Hello? Sandy?"

"No, Mrs. Murphy. This is Richard Hink."

Alice knew Richard Hink, of course. She had tried to keep their acquaintanceship as brief as possible in the past, even after Robert, who had been the jealous type, was killed. The man bothered her in some inexplicable way, in an ethereal, uneasy fashion she couldn't put her finger on, but which had unsettled her from the moment he had moved in beside her. Richard Hink had always been the gentleman around her and Sandy, and Sandy had never reported anything but good about him from her school... But still there was a pervading air of something corrupting about him, something deliciously wrong as though to be around him would be skirting danger...

"Yes, Mr. Hink?"

"Do call me Richard. After all, we're neighbors."

"Mr. Hink--I mean, Richard," she replied, not liking the new intimacy but not wishing to take the time to argue over it. "You'll have to excuse me if I'm a little rushed, but I'm waiting for an important call from my daughter. What is it you want?"

"Well, it is about Sandy, I'm afraid," he said solemnly.

"About--!" A clammy iciness crawled up Alice's backbone, as if his tone and the use of I'm afraid precluded some tragedy. Her throat was suddenly dry, and the scotch pounded in her temples parasitically, but she managed to stammer: "Is--is she hurt? Has she had an accident? What's happened?"

"Oh, Sandy is fine, Alice," the coach said, and he chuckled in an odd voice. "Don't worry about that, she's just in great shape. But there is a matter of where she is and what she's doing that we must discuss. Won't you come over to my house so we can talk?"

"Please, Mr. Hink--"

"Richard."

"Richard. Please, tell me now."

"No, it concerns something I must show you as well. I'll expect you shortly." And without another word of explanation, he hung up.

Trembling with anxiety, Alice stood with the receiver in her hand. Then, the momentary stun of shock passing, she quickly placed it back on the phone cradle and rushed back to the living room. She took a last shot of scotch, needing the strength it gave her to face whatever bad news he had hinted at, then paused in front of the hall mirror with a woman's automatic behavior to smooth her short beige dress and pat her hair. Clutching her purse, she hurried across the short space of the two side yards, up the cement steps to the narrow front porch of the Hink residence. Facing the closed front door, she experienced a momentary sense of panic, as though her intuition was telling her that should she step through its portal, her life would be altered forever. But her desire to find out about Sandy overcame her reluctance, and taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and rang the bell.

Richard Hink answered the door almost immediately. He seemed to be dressed in nothing but a scarlet silk lounging robe, the kind with the fancy embroidered Oriental designs and the velvet collar. "Come in, my dear," he said in a soft, syrupy voice.

"Th-thank you." She swallowed heavily and followed him into his living room, which was tastefully decorated in Norwegian woods.

"Sit down, Alice. You don't mind me calling you Alice, do you?"

She did, but said quickly, "No, no I don't."

"And don't forget to call me Richard," he said, not taking his eyes from her body. He appraised the lusciously figured young mother of Sandy Murphy and was renewed with a burgeoning desire for the blonde-haired beauty with her provocatively moral ways. "Would you care for a drink?"

"No... Richard, thank you just the same. I want to know about Sandy. Please, please tell me what this is all about."

"Of course, my dear Alice." He sat down beside her on a long, low couch, and then leaned over to pick up a flat cellophane envelope from the oiled walnut coffee table in front of them. "You see," he said, holding them from her eyes, "your daughter has been dating a certain Tommy Edgars."

"I... know," she blurted. "And I don't approve of him."

"As well you might not. He is quite the young lover, and to be perfectly frank, he has convinced her to be intimate with him."

"Inti--!" Alice jerked her hands to her face, shielding the words which were about to blurt from her shocked mouth. "You don't mean--?"

"See for yourself," Hink said almost casually, and handed the beautiful stricken woman the envelope.

Trembling with fear and trepidation, Alice slid three color pictures out, and after one chilling glimpse at the top photo, she stared up in horror at the obscenely glittering eyes of Richard Hink. "Oh no!" she gasped, sucking in her breath, the blood draining from her face and leaving her features a deathly pale.

"Isn't that first one a jewel?" the teacher said with a pleasant smile. "Shows every tiny detail so plainly, just as if it was posed. It wasn't, of course, but then candid snaps are so much better, don't you think?"

The first shot was of Sandy, naked and sprawling, on a long, wide couch with the similarly nude body of her boyfriend, Tommy, bending over her. He was licking her open vagina, and to her mother's horror, Sandy had her legs splayed in full provocative view of the camera lens, showing all of her own desire-moistened vaginal slit.

Is this what she's been doing with that boy? Alice asked herself miserably. And for how long? She stared then at the giant young cock that was stretching from Tommy's hovering loins as he leaned forward. Look at how huge his penis is! He'd kill Sandy with that giant thing! My God! What am I allowing myself to think?

The trembling young widow flipped to the next photo, only to see that her worst fears were confirmed. Sandy's pinkly throbbing little cunt mouth and the surrounding blonde hair were spread wide, and in the right-hand edge of the picture was the muscled pelvis of Tommy, his dark pubic hair a sharp contrast to the girl's light-textured flesh. His thick, rigid shaft was in close-up focus, showing the convoluted ridges and bluish veins and the long thin tube beneath that was ready to shoot his sperm deep up into her nakedly spread young daughter. Its pulsating, blunt cock-head was buried in the warm wet pussy, Sandy's firm white buttocks stretched to the limit by his cruel impalement. In the background, Alice could make out the figure of another lovely nude teenage girl, her teeth parted as she kissed a strange boy's testicles, licking the base of his penis with wet, lapping strokes from her moistly glistening tongue. His cock must have been sucked for some time, by the way the soft light of the room shone down off the wetly shining skin...

Alice gave a small cry of hysteria at the obscene images, and she tried to clear her mind of the horrible thoughts of her own sixteen year old daughter being a partner in this awful, clandestine orgy. But she couldn't refute the facts before her eyes, and a warm heavy throb of torment pulsed sub-consciously through her, caused by the erotic qualities of the lewd photographs. She squeezed her buttocks together in a desperate effort to stop the lewdly rising sensations the dirty pictures were involuntarily causing in her, and forced herself to look at the next one.

To her abject horror, this time she recognized the other boy as being the depraved seducer of her little girl. Sandy was turning her head so that she could watch his cock--which was rigidly held about an inch away from her eagerly pulsating vaginal mouth--as it splashed hotly a steady stream of white sticky cum against her thighs and blondly curling young pussy hair. The smooth ivory white cheeks of her naked buttocks were drenched with the sperm, and her knees were pulled back until her slender legs were squashing the high-peaked, hard-nippled moons of her breasts. Her fingers were clutching the cheeks of her buttocks in an effort to pull them wider so that still more of her pink, hair-rimmed crevice could receive the deliciously exciting bath of the young, heated male sperm. It was obvious by the contorted expression of pure ecstasy on her wildly distorted facial features that she was reveling in the utter lewdness of her humiliation... was glorying in it!

Sandy... Oh God, my darling child! Alice's tortured mind screamed.

"You like them, Alice?" Hink asked her calmly.

"No! Of course I don't!" she cried, throwing the obscene photographs on the table in revulsion and rejection. "They're terrible!"

"Well," he said in an offhand manner, "Perhaps you'll find one you'd enjoy. I took a dozen all told, though I've got the others tucked under lock and key at the moment."

"You... took them?" Alice wanted to scream, to hit and slash and tear at this vile, beastly man who sat so calmly next to her and freely admitted his part in the horrible debauchment of her daughter. "You must be insane!"

"We'll see who's so insane, my dear," Hink rasped harshly, his face suddenly showing anger. "You want all twelve pictures don't you?"

"W--want them?" Alice stammered in a sudden, hushed tone of fear.

"Don't be so naive, Alice. I know a number of dirty picture distributors who would pay plenty to be able to reproduce a hot set like this."

"I'm leaving right this minute, Mr. Hink! I'm going to call the police and have you locked up in a prison where you belong!"

"No you won't, my dear. I'd simply deny everything, and it's your word against mine. Besides, think of the scandal it would cause your daughter. You wouldn't want that, would you? On top of the fact that should you call the cops, I'll sell the set the first chance I get!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Alice said, standing up suddenly.

Hink leaped to his feet and slashed his heavy palm brutally across Alice's face, knocking her back on the couch. Tears sprang to her eyes and a slight trickle of blood appeared at one corner of her mouth. "Don't ever say I wouldn't dare anything!" he snarled angrily at her. "Just you get it through your stuck-up head that if you don't want the truth about your darling daughter peddled in every bar from New York to Los Angeles, you'd better start treating me right!"

"What--what do you want of me?" Alice's voice faded to a whisper.

"You know very well what I want of you," he said cynically, sneering with obvious lust. "You're going to work to get those pictures back, baby, work hard to please me."

Alice sat in a state of shock, dabbing lifelessly at the trickle of blood with her dress sleeve. Yes, she knew what he wanted of her--her body. The galling truth of her hopeless position flooded her mind, for she was being blackmailed into submitting to this handsome but animalistic man in exchange for the chance to save her daughter's reputation. She would sacrifice herself, she knew after a moment's contemplation, for her own happiness was over but Sandy's was just beginning, and there wasn't anything she wouldn't do to make her child a better future. She became nauseated as she imagined the lewdly degrading sensation of this strange man's penis buried deep up inside her open vagina, for she was certain that that was what he would demand from her. She knew that she would almost die from the humiliation of it all, the degeneracy of submitting to his cruel lusts where no man had ever been other than her late husband.

She didn't speak, steeling herself to the ordeal that lay ahead, wishing only that she could get it over and done with quickly and get away with that envelope. Then, perhaps, she could live a normal life again.

Richard Hink read the symptoms of her surrender. "I'm glad you made an intelligent decision about this, my dear," he purred, running his tongue wetly around his lips. "After all, I'm not so bad, am I?"

Alice left the question unanswered, and kept her eyes to the floor. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I want the pictures first, Richard," she finally managed to say.

"Oh, no," Hink said, slapping his hand on the three on the table to show his denial. "We'll play some games first, and if you twitch your pussy real good and at the right times, you can have them tomorrow."

"How... How do I know you'll give them to me?" she grimaced from the lewdness of his words.

"You'll simply have to trust me. You don't have any other choice, do you?" he said with a victorious smirk. "Come, we'll go to my bedroom now." He led the way down the corridor, Alice following, almost glad that he wasn't prolonging her agony any longer than necessary. "What do you think of my little chamber of love?" he asked, throwing the bedroom door wide open.

It was the strangest room Alice had ever seen. It was exactly like her own in size, but the ceiling and an entire wall were completely covered with mirrors. Another of the walls was painted with a mural, showing the lewdest sexual acts imaginable in a huge orgy of tangled bodies and limbs. It was done very realistically, and there must have been over a hundred figures in it, some in pairs, others in groups of three, four, and five.

"I dabble as a painter occasionally," Hink said modestly.

Alice stood for a long moment at the door of the hedonistically decored room, revolted and fearful of entering. But she had decided that she had no choice but to submit. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and if she had to degrade herself to save her daughter from ruin, she would do so. In a way, she felt that she had helped create this horrible situation by having failed as a mother somewhere in the raising of Sandy, and this was to be her punishment for it.

There was a thick white carpet on the floor, and sighing with the hopelessness of her plight, she slipped out of her shoes as Hink had when he'd entered, and padded barefoot into the room.

"Sit down on the bed, my dear Alice," the lewd blackmailer said, gesturing to the hugest round bed she had ever seen. It was covered with the same white furry material as the floor, but as soft as it was, she felt revulsion stir through her as she slowly settled herself on it.

"Now," he said cruelly, "I want to see that beautiful body of yours stripped bare-ass naked. Sit still and let me undress you."

She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to dwell on the pictures she had to earn as she felt the muscular football coach's hands hurriedly unzip her dress. She lifted her buttocks slightly, and he peeled it from her. Then came her bra, and he whistled in admiration as the large, round spheres emerged. He kissed them hungrily and Alice cringed as his warm wet lips traced their moist path to the tips, hardening her nipples in spite of her revulsion. Nervous beads of sweat began to roll from Hink's face as his trembling wet palms glided unimpeded over her firm contours, cupping and kneading them brutally until Alice cried out from the pain and humiliation.

She was completely naked now except for the sheer panties that were only a thin nylon wisp around her lower hips. She had never felt so exposed in all her life, and burning waves of shame crept through her in spite of her vow to gain those damaging photographs at any personal sacrifice or mortification. Nausea rose as his thick, lean fingers petted and fondled at her soft yielding flesh, the harshness of his digging fingers leaving white, bloodless prints in their searching trail. Tears welled in her eyes as he pushed her back on the bed. She fell passively, beyond resistance now and thinking only of the lewd envelope with its threat against her daughter.

Hink's breath was coming in heavy snorts as his fingers made light, butterfly contact across her sensitive white flesh to her flimsy white panties. She groaned helplessly as his hand rummaged on the outside, pushing the softness of the smooth nylon material into the thin, quivering slit of her vagina. He played teasingly, pulling gently at the soft little strands of pubic hair that protruded teasingly out from under the leg band. She shut her eyes tightly as his fingers hooked around the elastic band at the top.

"Lift your ass," he ordered, using the blunt word to remind her of his total dominance.

Alice arched her back hesitantly, feeling the smooth nylon drawn slowly over her voluptuously rounded hips and thighs, exposing now the whole of her soft, down-covered crotch.

"Mmmmmmmm! A real blonde, I see, just like your kid." Hink smacked his lips in appreciation. "You're the first one I've had in quite awhile."

He reached below, rubbing his hands lewdly over the full rounded contours of her trembling buttocks, stroking them greedily. He dug his fingers into the softness of the flesh for a moment as though unable to take his hand away, then with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, he gently spread the fleshy, hair-trimmed lips of her vagina apart. They were dry and unprepared, and Alice clenched her teeth tightly together in fear that he was going to force his way into her and hurt her. Instead, he reached to the small table beside the bed and dug his fingers into a jar of vaseline. He gently swabbed the lubricating jelly the length of her pink warm slit, inserting his index finger fully into the fleshy warmth of her cunt. He rotated it around and around, swabbing the vaseline deep into the soft giving folds, preparing it for the entry of his already erect cock that was bulging in entrapment beneath his scarlet smoking jacket.

"You are very tight, my dear Alice. You've been without a man far too long for your own health. But we'll soon cure that, won't we?"

He chuckled lasciviously, and Alice cried out in sudden protest as she felt his fingers stretch her vagina cruelly wider, the walls of the narrow pink slit surrounding it aching painfully from the harsh outward pull. "That's more like it," he grinned evilly, pressing his fingers between the lips of the tortured little opening until they were all the way to his palm and he could go no further. She struggled downward to escape the cruel impalement, but it was useless.

She lay in hopeless dejection, so tightly impaled by his fingers that she couldn't find any direction of relief. Waves of shame and humiliation washed over her like some evil tide of foreboding. She was glad now for the scotch she'd drank, or she could never have stood being held in this lewd position by this evil, blackmailing man free to do with her as he wished. And the worst was that she didn't dare complain, for then he might never decide to give her the damning pictures of her young teenage daughter.

Her tortured thoughts were interrupted by Richard Hink removing his hand suddenly and standing up beside the bed. He shed his silken jacket and then was above her again on the bed, looking down at her with his hands on his hips. With the reflections of the mirrors on the ceiling and wall, Alice felt as though she was surrounded by a phalanx of heavy, erectly throbbing cocks and menacing, sperm-swollen sacs of testicles, all poised at the ready for the deadly thrusts up between her open thighs that she knew were soon to come.

"First, my dear, we must get you in the proper mood for enjoying my lovemaking," Hink said with crooning delight.

She shivered in silent dread in the center of the furry white bed, listening with bated breath as he picked up something from the same table which held the vaseline. She didn't dare follow his movements for fear of screaming, and she couldn't have stood having the agonies of her humiliation prolonged any further. She just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. She held her breath, waiting with apprehension for his sweating palms and long, probing fingers to once more clamp down and bore into the soft, now completely defenseless flesh of her body.

They didn't come.

Instead, she felt a light flicking through the soles of her feet. Something was grazing torturously over the sensitive bottoms, and she jumped in sudden surprise, her eyes jerking open and staring wildly down at the cause of the tingling sensation. Richard Hink was leaning forward at the foot of the bed, grinning lewdly down at her spread-eagled nakedness. He had in his hands a long thin pole with a curling, fluffy feather at its end, and he was stroking her feet with the tip of it.

She tried to resist its tantalizing little manipulations, but in the master control of the depraved football coach, the feathered tickling soon began to drive her mad. "Don't move, my dear," he warned. "Just lie there and enjoy what I'm doing to you." He continued the lascivious strokings slowly up her calves, and Alice clenched her teeth tight together, willing her muscles to keep still and not make her body thrash wildly about.

Hink smiled lewdly at the effect he was having on her. He paused at the sensitive inner thighs to rotate the feather in small, titillating circles against the soft bare flesh, and then he thrust the tip of the soft full feather directly into her slightly parted vaginal lips. Alice sucked in her fevered breath, unable to prevent herself from drawing her thighs up and apart so that all of her moistly spread vagina was presented to his greedy eyes in her lewd, crab-like stance. He grinned salaciously, and jiggled the feather lewdly in the plainly visible lips of her tight, pink cunt. Alice was going out of her mind, and undulated her quivering buttocks helplessly beneath the tickling torture her body was being subjected to.

"Oh! Oh, please stop! Ohhhh, please, please, stop! I--I can't--stand what you're doing! I--can't!"

But still the feather teased playfully at the tender parts of her vagina, working its way up the full length of the narrow palpitating crevice to her tiny throbbing clitoris, and flicking maddeningly at it until, with a sudden groan, Alice felt it begin a gently involuntary jerking into hardness. She could hear Richard Hink laughing arrogantly at her reactions as he hovered over her, her desperate pleadings driving him to manipulate the teasing feather faster.