Chapter 4

Victoria felt a soft, cool hand stroke her forehead and her long raven hair, and her eyes came open instantly. Her head lilted from the back of the couch, and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

At first, she had a strange disembodied feeling; she didn't know where she was, even who she was. The room was unfamiliar, and the man sitting next to her, stroking her, wasn't her husband... but then she recognized Dr. Eric Kaye her employer, and the room as his home--and the evening's events came back to her completely. It was all right; she was safe. She leaned back against the cushions again, sighing, and then winced as a little throbbing pain in back of her eyes made itself known to her.

"I... fell asleep, didn't I?" she said to Eric, a little sheepishly.

"That you did," he told her, smiling. He moved back away from her slightly, looking into her eyes. "How do you feel now?"

"Still a little woozy," she confessed. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Not long. About fifteen minutes."

Vicki looked around the room, then frowned. "Where's Kirk?"

Eric got to his feet, his expression sobering. Inside, though, he was seething with anticipation of what he felt sure was about to happen. The timing was perfect, he thought; Christy should have things well in hand--more properly, he told himself with a mental grin, well in mouth--by now. Christ, she'd had Kirk all but fetching sticks for her when she'd led him off the balcony earlier. It was really a pleasure to watch her work; she knew how to entice a man, that was for sure, and she was the best fuck he'd ever had, although a few women he'd known had come close. All things considered, Christy was the perfect wife for him, and he the perfect husband for her. They both loved fucking more than anything--yes, he had to admit he loved it even more than his work--and their respective skills in acquiring new flesh for the fold were perfectly harmonious. He was a damned lucky man.

Kaye held out his hand to the beautiful young woman on the couch, and Vicki took it. He lifted her onto her feet, steadying her with his other hand on her elbow. "There's something I think you should see, my dear," he said.

"See?" she asked, confused. "But--where's Kirk? And... where's Christy?"

"Come along, now," Eric said soothingly, and steered her down a hallway at the far end of the living room, opening a door off it. He groped on the wall inside, and soft lighting cast an eerie illumination over the previously darkened room.

Despite this supernatural gloom Vicki could see that it was a lavishly furnished bedroom, with thick carpeting and a huge double bed. The furnishings appeared to be of the same Danish modem style as the living room furniture. She stopped just inside the door, looking befuddledly about her.

"This... this is your bedroom," she said inanely.

"Yes, that's right," Eric said in his soft voice. "Mine and Christy's."

"I... don't understand, Eric. What... ?"

"Come over here," Kaye told her, motioning toward a slightly ajar door set in the far wall. "I think you ought to see this, Vicki."

Perplexedly, she followed the respected educator across the carpeted floor to the door. There, adjacent to the door, were mounted numerous switches, knobs, and Eric Kaye reached up to twist one of them, bringing the previously soft strains of the Gleason orchestra into ear-consuming loudness. Then, with a flick of his deft fingers on a second switch, the room was plunged once again into murky darkness, the only illumination a small ribbon of light permeating from the room beyond the slightly ajar door. Vicki opened her mouth to complain about this unexpected action, but her protest died unvoiced as he quickly opened the door, once again illuminating the bedroom with an elongation of brilliance. Instinctively, Kaye stepped forward, frowning deeply, and then she could see into what was obviously a bathroom, black and gold tiled with...

Vicki froze suddenly, froze in abject horror. Involuntarily, a small cry burst from her throat and was immediately lost in music emanating from speakers in both rooms. Vicki felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach; she couldn't seem to find her breath, and she stood there gasping, her eyes bulging wide with sheer disbelief.

What she saw was a rite as old as time itself being performed in a large marble-lined bathtub directly before her eyes, not five feet away. It was the perverted rite of fellatio, a disgusting practice which Vicki had always held in abhorrence as being something which prostitutes did for money and which sluts did for the satisfaction of degenerate desires; something which pimps allowed upon their flesh, and maladjusted men in dirty hotel rooms.

But the two participants in the tableau before her were not of this ilk. They were Christy Kaye--and her husband, Kirk, the man she loved. Christy was kneeling in the tub, amidst a thick coating of bubbles, her head slaving up and down over Kirk's groin, her lips sliding around his huge, erect penis hungrily, as if it woe some obscene peppermint stick. His hands were wrapped in her hair, urging her on to even faster bobbings and lickings, and there was on his face a mask of pure and mindless lust. His lips were pulled back over his teeth, spittle was dribbling out onto his chin, and he had both his legs spread wide, heels resting on the tub's two lips on either side of the sucking silver-blonde kneeling between them.

A strangled gasp escaped Vicki's throat, a gasp of nightmarish rejection of the sickening picture burning the retinas of her eyes. She staggered backward, wanting to turn and flee, run, get out of there, blot that terrible scene from her mind-- but Eric caught hold of her, restraining her, preventing her from taking her gaze from the wildly jerking couple in the bubble bath.

Kaye smiled knowingly as he watched with admiration the way his wife's mouth and tongue were working around Kirk Young's lust hardened cock. Damn, but she could really give a blow job! His own cock leapt into instant arousal, watching her, and the feel of Kirk's young wife's soft, resilient flesh trembling under his hands sent little ripples of heat flashing through his groin. "Well, what do you think of your husband now, Vicki?"

"Oh my God!" Vicki wailed in undisguised misery. "Oh, my God, my God!" She leaned back against Eric almost without realizing it, while her mind fought to accept the reality of what she was seeing.

"Do you know what's happening in there, Vicki?" Eric asked softly, his voice almost hypnotic now. "That's your husband and my wife, and they're making love--oral love, the best kind of love. Your husband and my wife, Vicki..."

"No! God, no, no, no!" The words tore from Vicki's throat in an almost pleading tremolo, as if she was trying to convince herself that it couldn't be happening. Her brain seethed with tumbling, reeling thoughts and emotions.

That's Kirk, my Kirk, my husband... lying nude in a tub filled with bubble bath with the... the bitch-whore wife of my employer. That's the man I promised to love, honor and obey, until death do us part... lying in there with another woman's mouth on his penis, letting her kiss him there, obviously enjoying it the way his face is twisted like some beast in heat, letting her do that to him while the woman he supposedly loves, his wife--ME--is in the same house... oh, God, it couldn't be true, it couldn't be happening... but it was! This sick, foul, perverted, disgusting thing is happening, right before my eyes... I'm watching my whole world collapse right in front of me, everything I believed in, believed was good and clean and decent is being soiled and made a mockery of before my very own eyes... !

Eric Kaye was holding her very tightly now, and she suddenly became aware of a prodding against her buttocks and the pounding of the doctor's heart. She shuddered, trying to turn; did... Eric have an erection from watching this? My God, was he aroused? How could that be? That was his wife in there, wasn't it? Just like that's my husband...

As if sensing her thoughts, Eric moved his pelvis against her buttocks lightly, and in her ear he whispered in the same mesmeric tone, "It's exciting to watch, isn't it, my dear? It's exciting to watch your husband make love to someone else. It arouses your passions, doesn't it? It makes you want to make love yourself, doesn't it, Vicki?"

"Nooooo!" she moaned. What was the matter with him? Had he taken leave of his senses, acting this way, talking like that? She didn't know Eric Kaye at all, that was plainly evident; she didn't know what kind of a man he was deep inside at all. Why... why, it was almost as if he was reveling in the sickness before their eyes... as if he had known all along that it would happen, and was waiting expectantly for it...

"Look at the way Christy moves her mouth up and down on your husband's cock," Kaye intoned behind her, his breath hot in her ear. "Look at the way her mouth works on his penis, Vicki. That's exciting, isn't it? You feel aroused watching it, don't you?"

"No, it's... evil, disgusting!" Vicki flung at him, struggling to break free, but his grip was like iron on her. She felt anger rise in her--not unreasoning anger that replaced the shocked horror which had numbed her mind until then. The line between love and hate was a thin one, and she had crossed over it the moment she'd seen what Kirk was doing in that bathtub with Christy Kaye. She hated him now, no longer loved him; she hated him enough to kill him! Yes, to kill him, to cut off that offending member of his with a butcher knife and watch him bleed to death! And she hated Eric Kaye, too, hated him almost as much as she did Kirk, for he was a party to this animalistic depravity, she knew that somehow...

She twisted and jerked in the educator's grasp, but in vain. She was breathing hard, her eyes locked on the tableau before her, watching Christy Kaye's undulating buttocks lashing the bubbled water in lewd motion as she slavered her mouth up and down around Kirk's long hard cock. Her wet silvery hair was fanned out, floating in the water over Kirk's belly, and her tongue was lashing furiously around and around the head of the cock in her mouth on the outstroke. There was the same mindless lust, contorting her features as was contorting Kirk's.

"Watch them, Vicki, Eric commanded hypnotically, holding her. "Watch them, watch my wife suck your husband's cock!"

His salacious words brought a gasp from Vicki, but even so, she found herself obeying Kaye's words. She was watching, watching with widening eyes, and her struggles ceased despite the fact that the hot anger of moments earlier, tempered somewhat now, still remained. The doctor began to whisper more obscene remarks into her ear, and his hand moved around under her breasts, the forearm raising them up as he held her. He was telling her again how exciting it was to watch the perverted lovemaking in the bathroom, how it gave vent to rising passions to see other people doing it.

And suddenly, in spite of herself, Vicki became aroused.

She could feel her nipples harden beneath the black dress she wore, beneath her brassiere; she could feet her vaginal juices begin to flow as they had earlier when she had allowed her landlady's dog to bring her to climax. She tried to will the unwanted desire away, tried to turn her eyes from the lascivious sight of Kirk and Christy, but she could do neither. The passion was growing inside her now, for once kindled, it was spread rapidly, like an inferno consuming her flesh, causing her to tingle deliciously all over.

Eric, sensing her arousal, felt a glowing triumph. It was going to work out just as he and Christy had planned! She was going to come across, he felt sure of it now; he had been right in his appraisal of the hidden depths of Vicki Young, and after four months of looking at her five days a week and wanting her more and more each day, he was going to have her! Soon, soon!

He renewed his whispers into her ear with more and more lewd words and suggestions, and his hand moved up to cup one of her breasts, lightly kneading it. Christ, but she had nice tits! She wasn't protesting now, either; she was watching Christy suck her husband off, and she wasn't fighting his advances. He pressed his erect cock tighter against her buttocks, insinuating the hardened bulge into the soft yielding crevice between her ass-cheeks.

"My wife and your husband, Vicki," he breathed into her ear. "My wife and your husband--fucking. That's what they're doing, you know. Christy is mouth-fucking Kirk. Christy and Kirk, making love. So why shouldn't we make love, Vicki? Why shouldn't you and I fuck? I want to fuck you, Vicki. Vicki, I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you right here, right now, while we watch your husband and my wife. I want to fuck you standing up right here, Vicki!"

Vicki's mind was still a seething turmoil of anger and hatred, made irrational by the amount of liquor she had consumed on this evening, but it was fast becoming swamped by her rising passion. Eric's words were taking their toll now. She could feel his hand on her breast, knew she should take it away, stop him from touching her like that. She could feel his penis, hard between the sensitive cheeks of her buttocks, and she knew she should stop that, too. But the feelings they evoked were pleasant, adding fuel to her excitement--and she didn't want to stop.