Chapter 15

"My dear girl, you've been wasting your talents working as a secretary," Max chuckled a little later as he unstrapped her still shaking body from the machine. "We should channel them into something that more befits your temperament."

Ann stumbled to the bed collapsing on it, arms and legs spread obscenely wide. She couldn't bear to move to even try and cover herself after the experience on that dreadful machine. The shame and humiliation of what had just been done to her was too much for the tormented girl. Not only had her body betrayed her shamelessly to this beast, but had also betrayed her deep love for Dave. She had turned into an animal herself and all thoughts of decency had deserted her in her wild quest for her own selfish sensual satisfaction.

She clenched her fists so tightly together her knuckles hurt when she thought of the depths of degradation to which he had brought her. The words he had made her use, and worse, that he had made her want to use. There was nothing she wouldn't do at this moment if she could just erase these last few horrid minutes from time forever and replace them with anything--anything but what had occurred.

"Here, my dear, I think you need this," Max interrupted her thoughts and handed her a drink and lighted cigarette. "But don't drink it too quickly, we don't want you to get too insensitive, do we?"

Ann lifted herself exhaustedly to one elbow and accepted the drink. She turned the glass up and almost drained it with one gulp to erase the dry thick taste of Max's semen in her mouth. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her drinking his soda and ice that he had fixed for himself and ran his hand languidly over Ann's full rounded hip that rose in profile as she lay on her side. She made no move to stop him or pull away from his possessive caress. She no longer cared--nothing mattered anymore. She had descended as far into the cesspool of depravity as one could go in her attempt to regain the pictures upon which her husband's future happiness rested--anything else that happened after this could not be worse so she resigned herself to suffer his humiliations, whatever they might be for the period they had agreed upon.

"You liked that, didn't you, my dove?" Max said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Ann's mind suddenly rebelled again at his possessive familiarity and she had to strike back at him. She sat up abruptly on the bed.

"Mr. Schroeder," she said, glaring at him coldly. "Please don't call me "my dear." I've agreed to your terms because you've forced me into it and I've no other choice but I won't give you my soul, Mr. Schroeder, and you can't make me, no matter what you do."

"Are you so certain, my dear Ann?" Max smiled, his small beady eyes staring straight back into hers.

"Yes, I'm certain," Ann spat at him, she wanted more than anything in the world to hurt this vile, little man because of the indescribable humiliations he had just heaped upon her helpless bound form. "Look at you, do you think anyone could even lie next to you, you fat slimy thing, unless you forced them to do it the way you did me, You're revolting and disgusting!"

Almost before the last words were out of her mouth, Ann was sorry. In her sudden desire to fight back and avenge her own weak surrender, she had forgotten the reason she was here. She almost reached for him to apologize and to say she didn't really mean those things but his hard cool stare cut her short.

"All right, Mrs. Morrow, if that's the way you want it, then that's the way it shall be."

Max rose from the bed and walked over to the clock, patting its face. He turned and looked at her crumpled form on the bed.

"Remember the rules, it doesn't start again until I'm pleased. And believe me, Mrs. Morrow, I can be very difficult to please once I have become angry."

He pulled his robe together, tying it with the terry-cloth belt and walked toward the door.

"I'll be back tomorrow when you've had time to think," he said, his small cruel eyes penetrating her. "I hope you'll be in a more receptive mood."

With that, the opened the door and left, bolting it behind him. Ann's eyes flooded with tears. She collapsed on the bed moaning to herself.

"What have I done? Oh God, what have I done now?" Her clenched fists pounded the bed beside her in frustration. She had never felt so alone and helpless in her entire life. She sobbed herself into a deep but troubled sleep, her mind dwelling on the envelope above, and wondering how much she would have to go through to start its slow, tortuous descent again. Her vagina felt stretched and used as it never had before and her last conscious thought was of the huge mechanical cock, drubbing ceaselessly in and out of her belly from behind while Max had emptied his evil sperm mercilessly into her mouth in front.

She awoke with a start. Sidney was standing over her with a large glass of orange juice.

"Mr. Schroeder said to give you this to keep up your strength, Madam," he said, maintaining his icy reserve.

Ann crimsoned when she realized that she was still nude. She vainly attempted to cover herself with her hands but there were just too many critical exposed areas to allow it.

"May I have some clothing, please," she asked in an almost whisper, attempting to maintain as much dignity as possible.

"No madam, Mr. Schroeder instructs that you are to have no clothing or food until he instructs."

"But-but I can't just stay here like this. I must at least have something to cover myself."

"No one will enter, madam, except me, and I'm just not interested. There is a bathroom with all the things you need." Sidney pointed to a door next to the dressing room Max had shown her last night. "Please don't feel any animosity toward me, Mrs. Morrow, I am only an employee and follow Mr. Schroeder's orders."

He left the room, again bolting the door and left Ann still sitting in the center of the bed, her arms ineffectually thrown around her exposed breasts and thighs. As soon as he was out the door, Ann tried the dressing room door. She remembered it had clothing in it. It was locked. She went into the bathroom and found on a dressing table, all the things a woman needs for her toilet. There were several packs of cigarettes and a small silver tray of the thin brown hashish cigarettes. She looked at them in curiosity. She had not really had the chance to study them in Tijuana, the room had been dark, but had wondered what they really looked like.

Such a small thing, she mused, and yet so powerful to dissolve one's will. She thought at first, of flushing the evil little things down the john, but decided against it, thinking it might drive Max to further anger. She knew now that if she was to ever get out of here she must not allow that to happen again. She left the cigarettes where they were and brushed her teeth, showered, and combed her hair. At least she could maintain the dignity of bodily cleanliness, if nothing else. This was important to her and snide her feel better in spite of her hopeless situation.

When she had finished her toilet, she returned to the large room and began to cautiously explore it. Last night she had been so upset emotionally and so filled with Martinis that she didn't really remember it clearly. She did remember the mural and all its details. How could she forget, she thought, the way Max had described it and the language he had used in doing so? The racks holding the long poles and whips were locked. Undoubtedly, to prevent her from fishing for the envelope with them. Not that it mattered, the door was locked and she had no clothes. What would she do if she was able to get them down anyway?

In one corner was a large bookcase that attracted her attention. It must have held at least two hundred books. The titles were strange and were not familiar to Ann. They were all bound in beautiful red leather covers with the titles in gold. No authors were listed. She pulled one out at random with the title, "History of Female Self-gratification-- Illustrated."

She took the glass of orange juice Sidney had left, and a package of cigarette and curled up in one of the large, soft chairs that circled the bed with the book. She was ravenously hungry in spite of her anxiety and the orange juice helped to quell it a bit. She lit a cigarette and began thumbing through the voluminous pages.

It was the strangest book she had ever read and at first revolted her with its pointed language but as it progressed she became more fascinated with the subject. It explained in lurid detail the methods women used in bringing about sexual gratification without the aid of a man. Detailed photographs were interspersed between the pages of description. One such photograph showed a strange contraption upon which the woman could lie on her back and by turning a bicycle pedal above her could adjust the rate of speed of a mechanical lover below. Various sized instruments could be attached to the pistol-like device. There was another of a plain rubber instrument whose shape caused her to flush in embarrassment even though she was alone. It was obviously for hand use only. Along with the photographs were detailed histories of each. It described their uses, the pleasures they could bring, and even in some cases detailed drawings of how they might be constructed.