Dawson made two trips in the garage elevator – one to deposit Jill's bags, the second to deposit his beautiful half-slumbering "baggage". Jill leaned against the big man heavily, her body limp as a rag doll's. She moaned softly and mumbled unintelligibly as they went to the room.
"Now you jus' lie down right here, honey," he said as he deposited the drugged artist on his bed. Jill attempted a weak protest, but she was too far gone to muster any strength towards getting up on her own power.
Dawson went to the bathroom, leaving her in the darkened motel suite. When he appeared a few minutes later, he was stark naked! The light from the bathroom illumined the supine art student, whose long glossy hair was spread out on the pillow and whose red dress was raised above her knees, showing her firmly molded thighs. Dawson's hardening cock twitched violently and grew into upright rigidity. He went to her and began slipping off her shoes.
"Might as well get comfortable, honey," he said, leering at her salaciously. He placed a beefy hand under her and rolled her over onto her stomach. With one deft "zii-iip" he had the zipper down. His hot hands began to force the fabric over her arms.
A warning bell was sounding in Jill's half-conscious brain. She was beginning to regain a small portion of awareness, though it required every effort she could muster to force herself out of the pleasant stupor she languished in. She also felt dizzy, and a bit giddy, and as her consciousness increased, so did the hotly flooding yearning in her pussy.
"Wha… nooo… don't do that… noooooo," she mumbled as Dawson lifted her up slightly to yank the dress off her shoulders. "Nooo… NOOOOOO!" she said more vehemently, her survival instinct beckoning her to self-defense. She began to flail and kick her legs, punching the air in an effort to escape her attacker. But her arms were like lead, and her blows fell on the soft mattress ineffectually.
"Now, now… honey, no use makin' a fuss. You ain't got a snowball's chance of gettin' away from the fuck ole Jack's gonna give you. Might as well relax and enjoy it, as the Chinks say," he told her, pulling the dress on down over her rounded buttocks and smooth legs.
Jill began a scream (she was on her back again, with Dawson clawing at her panty hose, the only thing left to keep her from complete nudity) but his big hand came down tightly over her mouth. "I wouldn't do that, honey," he told her, leaning close to her face, his breath reeking of cigars, "you're liable to get laryngitis! Then too, you wouldn't want Uncle Jack to get rough, would you? Huh?" He chuckled cruelly and continued to peel down her new pantyhose. God, he'll ruin them! she thought paradoxically.
She was fully conscious now, her eyes big with fright. Dear God, help me… don't let him hurt me! ran her thoughts. In silent answer, Dawson suddenly released his hand from her mouth. She blinked, afraid to speak. He grinned and grunted with satisfaction. "That's better, you little hypocrite."
"Hy-hypocrite?" she asked dumfoundedly, "what… what do you mean?"
Dawson just grunt-chuckled deep in his throat again. She was completely naked now, and he ran his greedy eyes over her cringing nakedness as he raised his bent leg up and placed it between her legs, forcing her naked thighs apart.
"Noooooo!" she cried out, gathering her strength to claw at his face. He grabbed both her wrists and pinned them to the pillow on either side of her head.
"Hha-heh-heh-ha," he chuckled lewdly, "the little sex kitten's turnin' into a tigress, eh? Goodd. Goood, baby, that's the way I like 'em! Jus' fight all you want, but if you open that pretty little mouth with one peep, I'll break your beautiful jaw!"
"Just wait till Ernesto finds out – he'll get you for this!" she answered self-righteously.
More lewd laughter. "Yeah, just wait! Heh-ha-ha-ho-ho-ho."
The poor girl prayed for a miracle, for the appearance of Ernesto Garcia and his chauffeur. Then she realized that the dignified Colombian would perhaps find her in shameless and humiliating subjugation to his printer; he would see her body! Repulsed as she was by Dawson's nakedness over her, she felt a treacherous flash of desire rising again in her pussy. Her drugged body developed a cunt-hunger pain that darted insidiously between her pussy and her anus.
Dawson pressed his mouth onto hers and thrust his thick tongue into the warm, moist cavern. She could feel his prickly chest hair on her upthrust breasts and his paunchy stomach on the warm flesh of her smooth, flat abdomen. Dawson was heavy set, but he wasn't really flabby? That surprised her. With only the light from the bathroom, she was unable to see his body clearly, and hadn't really had a chance to look him over since coming back to full consciousness.
She tried to avert her mouth from his slobbering kisses, but he used his head to keep hers in place. She was forced to submit to his tonguing, and despite her fear, the hotly scrambling little sensations in her pussy increased. What was wrong with her, anyway? Her body was betraying her flagrantly.
Dawson stopped kissing her lips and moved his head down to her nakedly trembling breasts. He paused, sucking his breath through his teeth. "Goddamn! If those ain't the sweetest boobs I ever laid eyes on! Pure sugar tits!" he enthused.
"Nooo… please don't, Jack!" she moaned loudly, squirming under his heavy frame.
He chuckled venally again, his huge cock pressing against her thigh. She could feel the wetness of his pre-cum juices on her bare flesh. She struggled, arching her back against him, but her arms were firmly pinned at either side of her head and Dawson tightened his grip, causing her to wince in pain.
His lips went to a breast and fastened over her pinkly throbbing nipple. More surges of unwanted pleasure coursed through her pussy. The nipple saluted his oral attentions, and the printer sucked more greedily at her defenseless tit, drawing the flesh into his mouth and massaging avidly with his tongue and lips. He was grunting like a hungrily sucking child, licking, lapping and sucking at her tender nipples until she wanted to scream in mixed protest and encouragement. Then he turned to the other one, and repeated his lewd licking and sucking.
He had broken out in a heavy sweat. He buried his face in her cleavage and wallowed in breast flesh, mouthing every inch of her firmly throbbing tit. His hands were still fastened tightly on her wrists, and she was beginning to feel bruised from the pressure.
"Please, Jack, you're hurting me… my wrists," she complained.
He stopped rooting in her bosom, looked up at her for a moment, assessing her sincerity, then loosened his grip. "You gonna keep still while I fuck you?" he asked her warily.
"I have no other choice, do I?" she whimpered back.
"Not if you wanna keep your pretty face intact."
He kissed her forcibly on the mouth again as he pressed against her harder with his stocky body, forcing her legs further apart.
"Don't… please don't," she mumbled into his mouth, "I'm a virgin!"
"No shit!" he answered unsympathetically. "Don't tell me you haven't fooled around before… and don't tell me you don't want my cock – all of it. You're as hot as a pistol, little lady!"
"No! It's not true – I am a virgin. The only thing I've ever done is…" She stopped short. She wasn't about to reveal the things that went on with Chris!
Dawson was now intrigued. His prurient interest was aroused, along with his huge prick. "Is what?" he demanded. "Tell Uncle Jack what sorta foolin' around you done."
"It's nothing. Nothing. I can't tell you!"
He grabbed her jaw in his powerful hand and squeezed it hard, forcing her lips apart at a distorted angle. "Tell me! In nice, plain, good old American English!"
Jill was frightened again. He was so strong, so powerful; she knew he could hurt her easily, and she was practically defenseless.