Chapter 12

Sam Zeigler, for all of his aching desire to once more delve into the hot, tingling pussy of Mrs. Lonnie Carmel, wasn't able to drive to her house until the early afternoon. Business before pleasure, he ruefully had to admit, and there were many things to take care of at the Club Royale before he could break free.

The girl performer from last night, for instance. She had been due for a bonus, after letting Fang, the German Shepherd, fuck her with his long animal penis during the show, but Zeigler had discovered that the girl was still moaningly delirious, almost insane from the perverted act, and he'd had to arrange for sanatarium care for her instead. Which was too bad, because she was a star attraction on his second-floor theater-of-the-lewd. They couldn't get over the different way different women reacted to Fang -- the lascivious, totally debauched wife of Martin Oliss, luscious blond-haired Cylvia, had nearly gone mad when she had let Fang fuck her, but in the opposite way; she couldn't get enough of the dog's immense wet shaft, and cried out for more, more! Idly, Zeigler wondered how Lonnie Carmel was going to react, when she met the carnally trained German Shepherd for the first time...

And then there was an order of broken glasses to take care of and an explanation to his superior in Los Angeles why the weekly take wasn't its usual high figure... little things, but what with one thing and another, he didn't park his Cadillac El Dorado in the tract-house driveway of the Roger Carmel home until after one o'clock.

Lonnie, black-haired and eyes swollen with fear and regret, tremblingly answered the door. She meekly let him in and the gangster had a hard time controlling his cock from leaping into full erection just at the clothed sight of the lovely wife. She was as delicate as an orchid, and her eyes were half-lidded and sensually downcast, and it was obvious that she'd spent the torturous hours while she agonizingly had been waiting by drinking... Good, good...

Lonnie was in a disparaging, irrational state of panic; the frozen kind, in which the body is too confused and terrified to really plan out a course of action, and now facing the gruff, not unhandsome but craggily ruthless face of the sneering gangster she was ready to bolt and run past him, out into the quiet Saturday afternoon suburban street, screaming at the top of her lungs for help... but then her desire to protect herself, her marriage, her family occurred to her and she stifled her first impulse.

"Come in," she said softly, with a choking catch to her normally smooth, warm voice, "come in, Mr. Zeigler. I -- I expected you before now."

"Business, Lonnie," he said, grinning and entering the foyer. "And call me Sam. After all, we're good friends. Intimate friends," he added with a snicker. He threw his hat on the hall table and rubbed his hands together, eager to get down to business.

The trembling, misery-and-guilt-laden wife of Roger Carmel felt unsteady, and the room swayed as she stepped with him into the living room. She'd had too much to drink, she knew that, but she'd hope that the headiness the scotch gave her would act as a blessed covering over her naked shame, and she felt naked under his lascivious gaze, naked and dirty, even though she had showered twice and was wearing a dress. Perhaps it was the black brassiere and panties. The very thought of what he had so pruriently demanded her to wear, had made abundantly obvious on the phone this morning would excite him to see, was the implied filth crawling over her white, satin smooth skin...

She took a seat on the low couch, aware that her shapely legs were provocatively exposed to his gleaming, salacious vision, and as she looked up at his reddening face and saw how hard he was breathing, there was no more doubt in her mind as to his intentions. Sam Zeigler was after only one thing: her body. The gangster walked slowly around her and sat down close to her thigh, leering at her ripe, quaking form, his lips glistening with saliva and his left eye ticked slightly from his obvious anticipation.

"Now, Lonnie, let's consider you and me," he said softly. "I want something you've got, and you want me to give you something in return. I think a straight trade can be arranged very easily. Don't you?"

"Mr. Zeigler -- Sam," she said hastily, catching the fire in his eyes, "Sam, I love my family... I want to forget about what happened between us last night... I've never been with any other man except my husband before... please let me alone."

"You joke," Sam replied, his voice cool and contemptuous. "A great deal of money was spent on you last night, and I don't like throwing money away. I like to get a return for my investment, and damnit, you're going to work it off, let me tell you."

Lonnie stared wild-eyed at the sweating, greedy gangster, his beady eyes glowing like burnished wet olives in their sockets as he devoured her full, rich body. "Money... I'll pay you back. I'll give you money," the hapless wife babbled. "How... how much?"

"I don't want your money," Zeigler spat with a cruel smirk. "No, I want you, Mrs. Carmel, you and your wild-ass, swinging body."

"Oh, God," Lonnie Carmel moaned and fell back against the couch, her whole body displayed to this evil underworld leader, her skirt hiking up to expose most of her slim, young, milk-white thighs. "I can't make love to you again, Mr. Zei -- Sam, I just can't!"

"Yes, you can," Zeigler coaxed, thick lips shining as he licked them. "And you will. God, you're too beautifully built not to, for Christ's sake. I'm going to really enjoy this little swap."

Lonnie's mind whirled from the scotch and the humiliation of sitting beside this vile, depraved man while he uttered his degrading monologue of lurid demands, and frantically she attempted one last desperate act of bravado in the faint hope that she could scare him into silence and letting her free from his evil bondage. She looked at him, steeling herself to be cold, her courage spurred by the overdose of liquor and her desperation.

"If you don't leave right now, Sam, I'm going to call the police. You're trying to blackmail me in the most despicable way imaginable, and that's against the law. You'll be arrested as a sex offender, I bet, on top of blackmail and coercion, and in this state that means even after you serve your prison sentence, you have to always report to the police in every town you live in. You'll lose your license to operate that dirty nightclub of yours and you'll be out of a job and --"

His harsh, biting laughter cut off her threats like an axe through a piece of kindling wood. "Don't be so damned naive, Lonnie. You think I could operate without the cops knowing about what I do? Do you know that the county deputy sheriffs deliver my bootleg in the trunk of their cruisers at night, and the mayor, two councilmen and the chief of police himself not only take cuts, but were at the performance last night? You think they'd do anything about your accusations, even if they believed you -- you, who willingly came to my club and joined in the fun?" Zeigler chortled at the young, tear-streaked wife and dropped his hand down between her clenched, defensively resisting thighs. "Lonnie, I'm going to fuck you and fuck you good, or otherwise I'll ruin you."

Lonnie had to face the stark, cold fact that there was no other choice if she wanted him to always keep what she had done a deep secret from her husband and daughter, and if she didn't do as he commanded, she would lose Roger and be castigated beyond belief. Her hips and rounded buttocks jumped at his familiar, decadent touch, but she didn't protest as Zeigler's hand slid her dress up her front until his cool, grasping finger tips suddenly came into hot, searing contact with her thinly covered flesh. She squirmed back a little, whimpering helplessly as he slipped one finger under the tight elastic band of her erotic panties and gently teased the narrow, sensitive slit of her vagina, parting her soft raven-hued pubic hair and tickling her throbbing tiny clitoris. She sucked in her breath tightly, trying to hold back her overwhelming urge to hit and scratch the gangster's gloating, blood-infused face, to pick up a knife and plunge it through the ice-water heart of this insidiously corrupting man. But she couldn't; all she could do was sprawl helplessly while Zeigler roamed his hands over her body at will, building up to the final, most indecent liberty of all, and a cascade of tears once more poured her mortification and sickness down over her trembling cheeks.

"Spread your legs, Lonnie," Zeigler breathed harshly. "Big Daddy Sam wants to see those pretty black panties stretched over your pussy."

"Oh God, no, not here. Don't make me do it here," she pleaded softly. "My daughter might come home and catch us."

Sam Zeigler, well aware that her daughter wouldn't be home, that Jennifer Carmel was at the home of Stan Lubin getting gang-fucked by some of the boy's friends, didn't tell the distraught woman that lewd fact. Instead, he removed his hands and stood up, pulling her upright and giving the now totally capitulating wife a moment to smooth her dress down.

"You're right, Lonnie baby. We'll fuck in your bedroom."

The full impact of his evilness hit Lonnie then. He was going to force her to make love on her own marital bed! On the same sheets where she had so often taken the warm and loving embrace of her husband, Roger! Sam Zeigler couldn't possibly find a more despicable way of debauching her, truly crush her slightest mental resistance, but the wretched young wife allowed Zeigler to lead her down the hall to her sacrosanct bedroom, shocked into surrender by the utter baseness and brutal obscenity of the gangster. How could he do such things? He wasn't human.

"Now, come on, Lonnie-baby, get that dress off and let's see you in the nude," Zeigler grunted, and before she even had time to react, he was unbuttoning his own clothes. She watched him strip, frozen trancelike in horror as his thick penis stood out from beneath his slight paunch like a heavy, blunt spear, and he grinned lewdly at her and stroked his massive uncircumcised shaft back and forth, taunting her. "Like that, Lonnie? Remember it from last night?"

Lonnie tried to speak, but no sound came from her constricted, parched throat. Against her will, her eyes dropped again to his hard, fleshy cock that he was holding in his hand, and she knew that there was no possible escape. The crude gangster was going to ravish her defenseless body no matter what she did or tried, and she was alone and completely at his mercy -- and she was well aware now that he had no mercy in him to give. Only lust and sadism.

"Are you going to take that dress off or do I do it for you?" Zeigler snarled, reaching out his thick, meaty hand, and with a sudden jerk he drew her hard against him, his erect and throbbing prick ramming her in the belly painfully. He snaked his hand around her body and in one swift downward motion unzipped her dress; Lonnie could feel the cool rush of the afternoon air against her naked skin as he slid the garment from her shoulders, and then she heard him mutter in lusty appreciation as the dress fluttered to the carpeted floor. He dropped in front of her, his knees thumping hard against the floor, and while she swayed above him, he hooked his fingers in the elastic band of her black lacy panties and pulled them down slowly over the softness of her round, full buttocks, letting them drop with her dress in a skimpy pile on the floor.

"Don't... don't take off your brassiere," he ordered in a panting voice, his gasps having a wheezy quality to them as if he was laboring with an asthma attack. "It... it turns me on with you like this!"

She stood before him, humiliatingly naked except for the black cups of thin material surrounding her white, quivering breasts, and she almost lost her balance when she felt the sudden wet contact of his glistening lips pressing tightly into the nude, flesh of her soft, vaginal area. Her soft, dark pubic hair grazed his cheeks and he spread her pink, moist pussy lips with his fingers and flicked his lizardlike tongue into the sheath of the softly pulsating slit. The beautiful fear-crazed wife jumped from the electrifying assault on her female genitals, falling backwards, the edge of the double bed catching her behind the knees, and she sprawled with a soul-searing moan on the mattress, flat on her back, her thighs inadvertently wide as she landed.

Zeigler pounced on the bed and caught her by her ankles before she could close her legs; she struggled, but it was a one-sided battle, and then she relaxed, offering all of her pink, hair-fringed cunt to his salacious and greedy eyes, knowing that she would have to give in eventually, and that there was nothing left now but the horrible submission to the gangster's every obscene whim. Her body was a helpless toy to be abused as he wanted, and he would only cease his animalistic quest for satisfaction after he'd exploded his hot liquid sperm inside her soft and resilient belly.

"On... on your knees, Lonnie-baby," Zeigler groaned, his licentious excitement aroused beyond belief by the mere sight of her voluptuous body. Her inspiring nudity with her erotic, pleasure filled thighs, perfectly formed hips and legs, trembling, begging vaginal lips -- never in Zeigler's debauched life had he seen such perfection! "On your knees..." he husked impatiently.

"Why?" the bitterly humiliated young wife mewled. "What... what are you going to do to me?"

"Just a little fun, Lonnie-baby," Zeigler crooned hoarsely. "Don't you worry none. You're going to get the ride of your life, because Big Daddy Sam here loves to fuck ass."

Ass! He wants to put his giant penis up my anus, to clam in my rectum! Lonnie had prepared herself a little bit, as much as she could, for any thing he had wanted of her -- but this, this sodomy between her buttocks wasn't human! It wasn't right! He couldn't mean what he said, he was only trying to frighten her further, to make her crawl and plead with him. He wouldn't dare make love to her there, like some rutting animal!

Rough hands suddenly pressed against her firm, hot flesh, Zeigler's massive paws digging into the resilient, protesting skin of her buttocks and thighs, leaving painful red marks of his clawing fingertips. "I said turn over, bitch!" he snarled impatiently. "Turn over, or by God, I'll break your arms!"