"Fuck harder, Cliff. Haaaaarrrrdddderrrrr!" The words… the same ones she had heard Tiffany use on the porch… spewed unbidden from her lips as she gave herself up completely to this new perverted joy of being abused and defiled like the lowest of whores. God, she wanted it to go on forever, but already she sensed the explosive charge building in the heavy sperm-bloated balls that were swinging wildly between her thighs as Jock plowed urgently in and out of her forever-stretched anus. It wouldn't be long for him, she could tell and, surprisingly, she felt her own mounting response. She screwed her eyes tight shut and squirmed madly back on the long plunging cock, milking it insatiably with a tight clenching of her buttock muscles on each out-stroke. She felt as if she was lost in a kind of incandescent haze which emanated from her own pleasure-crazed body… alone in a primeval void with nothing but that great wonderful demon cock rampaging into her entrails and ravishing her very soul.
"Keeeee-riiiiissssstttttt…!" Jock groaned and June felt the first pelting jets of his heated sperm spatter far up in her voracious belly, then she was spiraling deliriously in her own nebulous haze of ecstatic release, soaring into a new, never-before-experienced dimension of pleasure away from the hard kitchen floor where her voluptuously curved body tossed and thrashed like some wild animal caught in a net.
"I'm cumming," she crooned, "I'm cumming." Then her voice was a low banshee wail, "I'm cummmming!"
Delicious tremors continued to rack her body long after Jock pumped the last of his spurting hot cum into her churning rectum and for the second time since her arrival in New York, the overwhelming potency of her mind-blowing orgasm drifted her off into dreamless sleep.
When June came to, Pimple Face was prodding her buttocks with the much-darned toe of a gaudy orange sock.
"Wake up!" he ordered excitedly. "We ain't got no time to lose if you wanna suck my cock before we go where they're holding your sister at."
June stared dully up at him. He was standing there with the tails of his rather soiled shirt hanging down on either side of his limp dangling cock which was still red and glistening from its recent rape of her anus. She realized he hadn't even bothered to take off his necktie, and for some reason that made what he had done to her seem all the worse. "Do I have to?" she asked apathetically, certain, of course, that he would say yes. She wondered if he would at least wash the revolting thing before she had to take it into her mouth… Strangely enough he surprised her by saying no.
"There really ain't enough time, kid. We'll take a rain check on it, okay? I know ya can't wait to blow me, but there'll be other days. Now get a move on. Put on something clean…" He nodded toward her suitcase.
"Can I take a shower?" June asked forlornly, knowing that never in her whole life would she be able to wash away the knowledge of how she had responded to his sadistic sodomizing. It seemed that apparently there was nothing she wasn't capable of…
"No time to shower!" Pimple Face snapped, starting to pull on his pants. "When these people say be there at twelve noon, you get there at twelve noon. You better believe it, baby," he added menacingly.
"How do I know they'll really let my sister go?" June asked stubbornly.
"You don't!" he answered curtly. "You'll just have to trust them."
"Trust them!" June echoed bitterly.
"Well, you ain't got no choice, babe," Pimple Face pointed out, bending down to pull on his scruffy shoes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dippy Gallagher was in his element. He loved breaking new broads into show biz, particularly when there was no risk involved, and Borman had assured him that with this big gorgeous brunette, June Wright, there would be no risk whatsoever. Also, the kind of people who were filling up the theater he had improvised in the loft upstairs were a double guarantee. They were strictly class, well-heeled and top-drawer, old chap… Friends of Borman and the society guy Jock Richmond. No sweat about them being discrete. He'd given everybody in the troupe the day off except Mike, the cameraman, who was going to film whatever happened for closed-circuit TV, and, of course, Tiffany. She was sitting on a chair in his office, looking pale and discouraged.
Dippy puffed on his cigar and spun around a couple of times in his swivel chair, letting her sweat a little before he followed through with the rest of Borman's instructions. He was beginning to get the drift of what the crafty stock-broker was trying to bring off and he had to admit that for an amateur the big bastard was pretty sharp.
"How's Humpty?" he barked out suddenly. "Is he sober. Can he get it up?"
"I don't know," Tiffany answered dejectedly. "I mean, he's pretty sober, but I don't know if he can get it up or not. Anyway, June won't let him near her."
"I tole ya to let me worry about the details, kid," Dippy snarled. "June's not only gonna let him get near her, she's gonna suck his cock."
"You're crazy!" Tiffany blurted out before she could catch herself. "Excuse me, Mr. Gallagher, but she wouldn't do that in a million years."
"She's gonna do it for you, kid." Gallagher gummed a cynical grin at her. "She thinks you're the prisoner of some gangsters who put on live sex shows and the only way she can buy your freedom is to take your place."
"Wh-at…? You told her that?" Tiffany stammered weakly.
"Not me, but the guy who's running this show," Dippy grunted scornfully. "And she believed it. At least," he added ambiguously, "she pretended to believe it."
"Ooooohh, poor June…" Tiffany wailed tearfully. "She's really going to… do that for me? I can't let her, I just can't."
"That's show biz, kid," Dippy shrugged, darting a sharp appraising glance at the young girl. "And maybe she won't mind as much as you think. Maybe you're all wrong about big sister June, kid. I happen to know that she made it with a married couple last night, and got buggered by a delivery man in the kitchen of their apartment this morning. Also…" He paused, waiting for all that to sink in before he planted the last seed of suspicion in the bewildered adolescent's mind. "Also, there's gonna be a coupl'a big Hollywood agents in the audience tonight."
"Oh…" Tiffany laughed uncertainly. "It's all so hard to believe. I mean, about June doing those things." She frowned theatrically, remembering how when she had been a little girl she had been awakened night after night by June's hot breath panting in her face as the older girl feverishly masturbated with her eyes tightly shut and her full sensual lips bared back over her teeth, pretending hypocritically to be asleep. Maybe she had been completely wrong about June, Tiffany mused. Cliff claimed she was cold as a fish, but maybe he'd been lying. Maybe he just didn't measure up to June's idea of what a lover should be… Maybe she'd just made that scene on the back porch for an excuse to break off the engagement.
"What did you say about an audience… and the Hollywood agents?" she asked, trying to make sense of all this new information in her confused mind.
"June thinks you're doing live sex shows, kid, so I knocked together a little theater in the loft upstairs and this fella who's innerested in her… he's a big banker… backs a lot of Broadway shows… he's bringing some friends in to be the audience. At least two of 'em are Hollywood agents on the lookout for new talent. I ain't allowed to divulge their names, get it, but it sure would be a shame if your sister upstaged you at the last minute after all the work you've put in. Right?"