Chapter 4

Trodding softly and keeping just inside the line of trees bordering the natural meadow, Andy made for the spot where he knew Joan Wright would be. Birds flitted and warbled in the trees overhead; he stopped and watched as a bright blue feather came skimming down from the heights, its erratic flight through the sifting sunlight making it a thing of beauty. Impulsively, he ran to catch it before it could touch the ground. He held the feather in his hand and surveyed its deep iridescent sheen, his artist's eye appreciative of nature's use of color. Putting the feather in his shirt pocket, Andy grinned salaciously to himself; it might come in handy.

Damn! The last time I did it to Gayle she climbed the walls!

In a few moments he saw her, a vision of golden loveliness as she stood naked in the stream soaping her body. He watched as she ran the soap over the full, pouting mounds of her milk-white breasts, over her flat belly and sensuously curving hips. God Damn! She was beautiful! He saw that the triangle of her pubic mound was covered with light, sparse, golden hair that matched the fiery gold of her head.

She's not a bottle blonde... after all! Christ! She's got it! Those tits are perfect!... And, her hips and thighs! God! I can hardly wait to get my hands on her!

He moved forward, silently, to crouch behind a bush. It was too early to make his presence known. When she had finished her ablutions and was getting ready to dress would be a more propitious time.

Now, she squatted down in the water rinsing the soap from her, the suds rushing downstream away from her in glistening array as they caught the sunlight. She washed her face, thoroughly, scrubbing it to a rosy glow of cleanliness; then he saw that she performed a primitive douche, using her hands between her thighs to scrub and ream. His penis jerked and throbbed to erection as he watched her hands at her loins, visible to him in the clear water. She rinsed her body, again, and waded to the bank where she picked up her towel and dried herself vigorously, imparting a rosy, healthful glow to her vibrant skin and serving to warm her against the light stir of the air. Now! Now, was the time to move! The architect rose to his feet and cleared his throat as he walked slowly toward her.

"Beautiful!" he said. "Beautiful! Like a Venus de Milo... with arms!"

Alarm... fear... shame stabbed into her like arrows; she gasped aloud as she turned toward him, her face reddening in a deep flush.

"Oh! My God!"

He went on, "... Or Diana At The Bath..."

"Oh... It's you... Andy!" she exclaimed, recognizing him.

"Yes... your protector... and admirer! You were being very naughty to go off by yourself... this way! Our home-grown hero gave explicit orders... that neither of you women were to go anywhere alone!"

She had whipped the towel in front of her in modesty at the first sound of his voice, and she was very much aware of her nakedness in the presence of this man.

Dear God! He must have been watching me!... Hiding out there in the woods... like a peeping tom!

He continued to walk toward her, boldly.

"... But, I had to... to take a bath..."

He was two paces away, now. Joan began to panic as suddenly his intent came to her mind.

"Yes, I know... It was necessary... wasn't it, My Dear?" he grinned, lewdly.

"Stay away f-from... m-me!" she blurted. "S-Stop... right there?" She read the lust in his eyes.

Andy stopped a foot away from her; he looked down at her trembling body, her fear-struck eyes staring back at him.

"You felt it necessary... to wash the essence of him out of you," he chortled. "... And your desire for cleanliness is to be commended!"

"W-What do you... m-mean... ?" she trembled.

"I saw your performance... this afternoon... with Buzz Henson! Does that jar your memory?" he rapped out at her.

Joan moaned aloud in shame and humiliation; she dropped her tear filled eyes to the ground, not daring to look at him, now.

Oh, God... ! Wasn't it enough that Buzz shamed me... ? Andy was watching me... us... too! I feel so... so vile!

"H-How could you... know... see us... ?" she stumbled.

"Easy! With field glasses... on the opposite ridge!"

"... And, you... s-saw... e-everything... ?"

"Everything!" Andy assured her with finality.

"OOh, God!" Tears started again into her eyes, misting them so that she couldn't see.

"I've been debating with myself... Should I, or should I not... tell your husband!"

Suddenly, Joan's mind grasped what he was going to lead up to, and she had to counter him... stall him, somehow.

"You wouldn't?"

"That's right... I wouldn't... under certain conditions!"

"C-Conditions... ?"

"Yes... it's very simple! I want to fuck you... and I won't tell him... if you're completely cooperative!"

Joan saw her opening. She looked up at him and pulled the towel closer to her.

"What difference would it make... if you told him. He's already bargained me away!" she said, defiantly.

"What... ? How... did you... ?" he sputtered.

"... And... I decided to choose... I took Buzz!" she finished.

The architect's face contorted in sudden rage. He reached for the towel and stripped it from her body.

"And, your stupidity will cost him his job!... As soon as we get back... I'll fire his ass right out of the office!" he gritted.

God, Oh God! What have I done... ? Jimmy can't lose this job... ! What shall I do... ? How can I keep him from being fired... ?

Her answer came with his next words. He went on, "... Unless you play the game... Doll!"

"You mean... ?"

"You fuck me... and he keeps his job!"

"D-Did you promise him a-a raise... ?" she asked. "If I-I cooperated... ?"

"Hell! I did better than that... I offered to cut him in on the partnership... !" he bragged, reaching out to take her in his arms and crushing her in a bear-hug to his chest.

"No! NO! Don't... please... ?" she moaned.

He kissed her neck and shoulder as she twisted her head aside, violently, to avoid his searching lips.

"Isn't that good enough for you... ?" he growled.

"I-It's not that... There's one more thing I-I've got to know... !"

"What's that?"

"Your wife... and Jim... ? Did he want her... too?"

"Well... since you asked... I don't know about Jim... But Gayle had the hots for him!... And she usually gets what she goes after!"

Andy slid his hands down her back feeling the svelte smoothness of her naked skin... down to the twin protuberances of her fully rounded buttocks; his fingers dug and kneaded the cool flesh of them, then with cruel strength, he pulled her loins in tight to him, the bulge of his erection cleaving into her cusp with devastating force. She moaned into his shoulder as her loins began to smolder in sensual response.

"And... and you let her... do it... ?"

"It's our little arrangement... makes an exciting marriage!" he explained.

"It sounds... repulsive!"

"That's what you think... now! Wait until you've really learned to swing... you'll think differently!"

"S-Swing... ?"

"Swap... swing... whatever you want to call it..."

"... And, Jim... agreed... ?" she asked. "Jim really agreed... knowing what it was all about... ?"

"You bet your sweet ass he did!" Andy grunted, dropping his head in search of her mouth, again.

Joan avoided his avidly searching lips; she had to have time... time to think about it... about what she really thought... about Jim's bizarre bargain, the conditions just laid down by her husband's boss, Gayle's sexual desire for Jim... and her darling husband's obvious desire for his boss' wife. It was all so confusing... crowding in on her, demanding a solution... a decision!

With Buzz, this afternoon, there was no chance for her to decide, with a clear head whether or not she would... or would not make love to him. He had forced her... debauched her with shame, degradation and humiliation, her defenses weakened to the point where she had surrendered, unconditionally, to him. Was it to be that way, now, with Andy? Did she really have a choice?

I'm so mixed up... now! Dear God! What should I do... ? Andy's not really forcing me... to do it... the way Buzz did... I could jerk myself away from him... and run away! He might catch me... and rape me... maybe, even hurt me... ! Heaven forbid! H-He could... even kill me... if he didn't have his wag with me! If I refuse him... he'll fire Jimmy from his job! God... I wouldn't want to be responsible for that!... But if I agree... just lie down and spread my legs for him... and let him use me... Jimmy'll keep his job... become a partner in the company... and I would be no better than a twenty dollar whore! Did Jimmy think about that... when he agreed... t-to let Andy have me? That's what I'd be... a WHORE! I'd be trading my body for something of value... something we've both wanted! Is it worth it... ? Could I live with myself... ? Would Jim still love me... want me... ? Dear God... there are so many questions I don't know the answers to... ! I don't know... I just don't know... what to do... ! Help me... ! Help me to do the right thing... make the right decision... ! Please? God?

She was jolted out of her confused, indecisive, reverie; the architect shifted a hand to her jaw, grasping it in strong fingers to swing her head around, their eyes coming into contact: his glaring anger; hers shame-ridden; his voice came croaking out at her.

"God damn it! I'm tired of playing games! Let's fuck, baby. Just like you did this afternoon."

Suddenly, his mouth was on hers, his tongue bursting through the barriers of teeth and lips to probe and savor her. She tried to escape... drew her head back and away... to scream, but he held her immobile and helpless in his strong arms. His lips and tongue ignited a slow fuse in her, the erotic, sexy sensations in her mouth as his tongue moved there, the sweet, yet pungent taste and smell of tobacco on his breath, the sweaty, acrid odor of man- sweat and the strength of his hands and arms holding her against him, the rough fabric of his shirt, irritating and arousing the coraline nipples to erect hardness all combined to throw a net over her... trap her in a morass of ecstatic sensations that coursed through her in rapturous, sensuous sexuality that threatened to explode with devastating force in her loins. Oh, Dear God!

I can't! I can't let him do this to me... ! Make me want it... Make me give in to him! Dear God! I feel like a slut! A man just kisses me now... and I want it... want to have his thing in me! Is that... what makes a woman into a whore?

Then, she was kissing him back; her tongue came alive in her mouth and jousted with his, finally, lashing snake-like into his oral cavity where it searched and caressed.

The hand that still held her in close to him, relaxed on her buttocks and began to explore the curving outlines of her waist, hip and thigh; the other hand dropped from her jaw and began its own teasing search of the mounding hemispheres of her breasts, finding a hardening nipple which he taunted to full erection between rolling thumb and forefinger. Now, she raised her arms and placed them around his neck to pull his head down tighter to her lips, and her tongue flicked in and out of his mouth in subconscious signal to him of her readiness... her desire that flamed higher and higher every moment.

Leaving her thigh, Andy's hand worked its way in between them to the golden bush of her triangle, and he slipped a finger into the top of her vaginal slit, working it down until he found the hardening spike of her clitoris hidden within the fleshy folds of her cunt-lips. He brushed over it lightly, feeling it throb to hungry life under his finger tip.

Joan was suddenly weak in the knees; she slumped against him, her vision blurred, swimmingly, and she felt dizzy, lightheaded... tingling all over with unbidden, unwanted sexual desire.

Damn! What his lips... and hand do to me... ! I feel absolutely helpless... to resist him! But I can't let him... dominate me... shame me... without a fight! If I let him make me want it... so easy... where does it end... ? Any man... that just touches me... could... could fuck me... anytime, anywhere... Oh, God! No! I don't want that... !

He released her and she slumped to her knees in the soft grass; blindly, dumbly, she picked up the large bath towel and spread it out, a mewling hum coming from her throat that she could not control. The towel spread, she lay upon it, on her back, her legs clamped tightly together, eyes closed and arms crossed over her breasts, as a furious battle raged in her, for the second time that day... her sensuous body pitted against her reasoning mind; she was determined that, this time, her body would not win!

Losing no time, Andy threw off his clothing, stopping, at the last moment, to retrieve the feather from his shirt pocket, mentally congratulating himself on his foresight. The feather was exactly what he needed... the implement that would break down the final barriers she had erected; he chuckled silently to himself in anticipation of what was to come, noting that she had lain down with all her defenses up. Christ! This was going to be fun!

In a few moments, Joan knew, Andy would be on top of her digging, poking, pinching, biting and trying to get his erected cock into her vagina as she lay there, defenseless and helpless, but she would resist him... fight him... battle with herself every step of the way, not allowing the vile, debasing sensations of sexual rapture to get the upper hand in her. She could not help herself, now; she knew that there could be only one ending to the game she played with Andy Sloan. He would mount her, fuck her, frantically, for a few minutes, spurt his vile sperm into her... and that would be that!

But... dome it! I don't have to like it!... I'll resist it to the end! I won't become what they are trying to make out of me! I won't! Won't! WON'T!

Then, the unexpected happened!

Joan was caught completely by surprise; her body jerked, involuntarily, at the light, tickling touch of something that moved, inch by tortuous inch, up the smooth, sensitive flesh of her inner thighs where they were clamped tightly together. Her eyes flew open and she gaped down to where Andy was crouched beside her, a bright blue feather held lightly in his fingers; he grinned down at her lewdly, as he continued to tease her with the tip of it, dragging it along the ivory columns of her quivering thighs. Instinctively, a hand flew to her genitals to protect them. She realized in a flash that if he were to touch her there with that feather all would be lost. It would be too much for her to bear!

Catching up her hand, easily, in his own, strong-fingered hand, he growled, "I thought you'd like this... there's nothing quite like it... so why don't you just lie back and enjoy it!

"Oh, My God! That's torture!"

"Not really, My Dear... It'll be rapture... before long!" he exulted; then, commandingly, "open your thighs!"

"N-No! I won't! I won't let you... do this to me!"

"Very well! I'll stop, now... and that mutton-headed husband of yours is out of a job!" he gritted. "Take your choice! It's the same one you had a while ago!"

Hot tears streamed from her eyes. "I-I just can't... let you do it... to me!"

"You seemed to enjoy Buzz Henson... this afternoon!"

"H-He forced m-me... !" she sobbed.

"That sure as hell didn't look like a rape to me!" he chortled.

Hell! Maybe that's her bag... ! She's got to feel like she's being forced! It gives her art excuse! That's it... ! Buzz found it out... and worked on it! l should've remembered it, myself! That little red-head I brought into our club about three months ago was like that!

Andy released her hand, and with both hands on her knees he pried her legs apart, forcefully, taking pleasure in the part he had to play.

"OOooh!" she sobbed. "Don't! Please don't?"

"All right, then... you little bitch! You want to be fucked the hard way... eh? Well, I'm tired of messing around with you! You're going to get fucked so hard... you'll remember it the rest of your life... and tell it to your granddaughters!" he roared.

Then, holding her thighs apart with one hand, he began, again to tantalize her naked flesh with the feather as she moaned out her humiliation, her hands over her face to shield her eyes from the shame of it.

Joan groaned aloud as the tantalizing lightness of the feather traced tiny circles on the soft, sensate skin of her inner thighs, going into the hollows on either side of the fleshy cunt lips. She wanted to scream with the torment, but his sudden change to meanness and demanding force frightened her. He might become violent! She didn't want to be hurt, so she stifled the scream in her throat.

The feather moved, relentlessly, and now it was moving in the coral furrow between the golden, softly hair-fringed cuntal lips. He twisted it around and around, dipping every now and then between the inner petals that had begun to flower open, blood- engorged and turning a darker coraline as he watched. Never, had she experienced such a lewd, sexy, exciting sensation. It was even more arousing than the cunnilingus that Buzz had performed upon her. Somehow, she had to retain her sanity... fight against it... not let it get to her as Buzz had, this afternoon! Dear God! Help me!

She panted in short, sharp gasps; she could feel it now as he thrust it, twirlingly, in and out of her cuntal passage, igniting searing fires of desire that leaped and flared in her nerve endings like a forest fire racing before a strong wind, destroying all in its path. She was sure that the innocent feather was a destructive tool of uncommonly cruel torture and that it would be the source of her complete destruction.

She tried to fight back the rising excitement in her loins, denying the existence of the rapture that had begun to move her. Unconsciously, uncontrollably, her hips began to move under her, scribing tiny lewd circles of salacious desire. Suddenly, she became aware of the warmth and wetness in her cunt, the viscid fluids exuding from the inner walls of her vaginal vault to ooze in droplets of moisture into the throbbing pink slit of her female being, the portal becoming wet and slippery, readying itself for the entrance of a hard, joy-bringing cock.

"Oh, My God! Andy! I can't stand it! Please... ? Oh, please... ?" she begged in utter humiliation.

... But, Andy would not stop; he turned the feather further into the wet furrow of her cunt, the teasing tip of it sliding, finally, upward through the sparse golden fringe to the erect, throbbing clitoris encanopied there. He moved it, tormentingly, up and down the short length of the miniature phallus, coming to rest with a twisting motion on the sensitive triangle of its tumescent head. Again, she stifled a scream in her throat... but this time it was a scream of utter joy that she killed. She would not allow him the pleasure of knowing that he had subjugated her with a tiny insignificant feather! No! NO! NOO! her mind screamed!

As quickly as it had come to that secret place, the lust- inciting feather suddenly was gone, and she felt it trailing up through the silky, softly curling hair of her mons, across her abdomen and over her flat belly, twirling, playfully into her navel, moving out to her groin to twist in the hollow there; then, with a broad sweep it was on her breasts, orbiting them in a figure eight that grew smaller and smaller as it worked up the full mounds of her milk-white breasts toward the crowning coral- tipped nipples.

Oh God! That feels so good! I've had more pleasure... in sex, today... than Jimmy's given me in three years of being married! I don't understand it... ! Why? Why do I feel like this... ? And neither one of them... is my husband! Oh, God! I won't be able to hold out very much longer! l wish he would just shove his cock in me and fuck me... and get it over with right away! This is sheer hell!

Soft whimpers and mewlings commenced to issue from her lips, as the feather, still moist from the wetness of her cuntal slit moved in ever smaller circles until it circled only one of the hard erect nipples, playing on the areola, then on the pink column of the nipple itself, her quivering breasts atingle with the lascivious sensations it generated in them.

Her shame and humiliation was too great, crying to her confused mind, trying to warn her that it was almost too late, but her body was ascendant; she moved her shoulders to jiggle her breasts, lewdly, against the tantalizing feather. Her body wanted more of it, even as her mind fought against it!

Even as she fought with all the power of her mind, she was aware only of the throbbing ache at the vee of her loins, and the viscid moisture there made her even more expectant, the anticipation of what was to come stabbing excitedly at her confused being. Every cell in her aroused body cried for fulfillment... for release from the torture of the feather on her trembling breasts.

Reason, pride and self-respect battled to gain control of her writhing body; she was forced, finally, to see herself as she really was. The image was of a young wife, love-starved without knowing it, sensual, vibrant, alive... wanting life and love but never exposed to either. The plane crash... her husband's injury, the need to feel needed... Buzz Henson licking her to full arousal... fucking her as she had never been fucked before... soaring to the heights in orgasm... all of this paraded before her eyes; then in the present... the feather, sensually teasing the taut nipples of her breasts, torturing her... arousing her, again, to full sexuality, a slave at the hands of yet another man- --not her husband--a man who was forcing her, subjugating her to his will as the obscene fires of unbridled passion flared in her, AND she fought it with all of her strength of mind! And then, her mind turned. Why? Why did shed fight against a gift freely given... the gift of sex enjoyed to the fullest? Suddenly, she realized the foolishness of her struggle. The rewards of not struggling were the greater!

Her hands drifted to the magnificent orbs of her breasts; against her will, she massaged them upward, unwittingly pressing them up straight from her prone, quivering body, the two upstanding orbs demanding, now, that they be teased and tormented with lewd, exciting pleasures they had never known before, and the taut, erect nipples throbbed with delight as they seemed to offer themselves up to the torture of the feather, almost as if her breasts were an entity of their own, completely separate from her sensate body trembling under the tormenting caress of the feather in his hand.