"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "What would you like to know?"
"Well, what do you like to do when you're not teaching? I just like to have an idea about that sort of thing. It makes my job easier."
Well, there was nothing weird about that, she thought. "Oh, I spend a lot of time with my husband. We like to go to movies, and we go to the beach whenever it's nice. I guess we're really intrigued by the beaches out here, since we're both from Ohio."
"Yes, I know you're from Ohio. And I love beaches myself, just for people-watching. Tell me, if you don't mind, uh, what do you go to beaches for? I mean, are you trying for a sun tan?"
"Yes. My husband Steve and I love the sun. We usually go to Zuma."
"Zuma? Is that where they have a nude beach? I think sometime ago I read something about that. Do you sunbathe in the nude up there?"
So this is what Dan Jencks meant, she thought. Good Lord, what an odd question. But she searched his face for even the slightest clue of lechery and couldn't find even a trace of it. "No. I haven't yet seen a nude beach, sir. And I doubt that we'd, use one if there was one around for us to use," she said evenly.
"I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "That's really none of my business. Tell me, what sort of movies do you and your husband go see?"
"We like comedies, anything that will make us laugh, which is just about everything."
"That's good," he said, with a fib of a flinch. "I guess I couldn't help but ask about your going to the beach because I can't help but notice your tan."
"That's very nice of you to say," she said, allowing a bit of sarcasm to creep into her voice. What a stupid line this creep was using, if he was trying to seduce her. She began feeling annoyed.
"I hope I haven't offended you," he was saying with a slight quiver in his voice. "Let ma show you to the door."
He came over to where she sat, one of his hands fooling with the change in his pants pocket, but at least not massaging himself like she had half expected.
In an instant, he had pulled a pair of handcuffs out of the pocket and snapped them onto her wrist and then onto his wrist. And as she stood with her mouth open in amazement, he drew a handkerchief out of his suit coat pocket and wrapped it around her head and mouth to gag her, then tied it, jerking her handcuffed hand up in the process. Then with his free hand he slowly ran his fingers over her blouse, and tried to locate her nipples.
"Oh, that feels good," he murmured.
CHAPTER TWO
Fear raced through Linda's body. She was going to be raped! She tried to scream, but nothing came out that could be beard for more than a few feet.
Jack O'Neill was now pushing her onto the floor, an insane grin on his face. "Oh, baby, baby, baby, light my fire. And don't yell any more. Don't worry, honey. I'm in love all the way."
Linda screamed again and Jack slugged her in the face, although he was still smiling when he did it. "I'm sorry. I had to do that, sweets," he said softly, as he rapidly tied up her other hand to a hook in the wall with a piece of red velvet cord. Now he tied the handcuffed hand to another book in the wall about four feet away and kept sitting on her thighs. She wriggled, but was powerless against his solid frame. She could feel his meaty erection pressing hard against one of her hips… She cried and cried and offered no resistance as Jack pulled off her high-heeled pumps, her skirt, her stockings, her garter belt and her panties. Now he tied the same kind of red velvet cords to her ankles and attached them on the other side of the office wall. So now, she was spread-eagled before this monster dressed in a blue pin-striped three-piece suit.
She closed her eyes, thinking that perhaps that would blot out what was surely about to happen. She would think of Steve while this happened and that would give her strength. She would think of Jack O'Neill getting hit by a truck. She would hope it would be over as soon as possible. Her body was rigid with tension.
So she hardly noticed a slight touch to her thighs, almost like a wisp of wind. It felt oddly relaxing as it traced a semi-circle up and down her thighs. So it was out of curiosity that she opened her eyes and saw something so amazing that she actually giggled a bit Jack O'Neill was touching her thighs lightly with a peacock feather.
What in the world was she doing laughing at a time like this, with this pervert having tied her up. Maybe he'd cut her up, like the girls in the Charles Manson family. Her mother had warned her against coming out to California, and said that there were so many kooks running around out there that there was no telling but that she might run into one of them. "Oh, Mom, you were right," she thought frantically as she looked at the maniacal glint in Jake's eyes. "This man is going to rape me at the very least. I should have never left Ohio. Oh Mom, oh, OH my God, I'm getting wet and I don't even want to! This is horrible!"
It was true, though. Jack had been moving the feather closer and closer to the kinky brown genital hair and now the fleecy curls had begun to moisten a bit. He started patting the feather right on the pubic vee and Linda could feel her buttocks tighten as a tiny shudder of – could it be? How in the world could it be – pleasure passed through her loins. "No, no, no!" she yelled into the gag. She began crying again, hoping that Jack somehow had a shred of sympathy somewhere in his dark, depraved soul.
An evil grin creased his face and removed the last flicker of hope from Linda's mind. He spoke now in a voice that sounded like gun metal. "You little bitch, with your ruffled skirt and your string bikini tan lines. I'm going to get you so worked up that you're going to be begging for it," he was saying. And he began stroking the feather right into her gradually warming cleft.
"That's it, bitch," he moaned throatily. "You want it so bad you can just about taste it, I bet. God, you are getting so wet."
Linda shook her head back and forth as if to say no, never, not in a thousand years, you cretin. But she knew that he was speaking the truth, too, she was getting very wet. That peacock feather was just driving her nuts. It was as if all the stored-up lust from hanging out at the beach and wearing next to nothing, with total strangers oogling her, was suddenly concentrated in between her ivory smooth thighs. The heat in her now-raging genital walls gave her, a delicious burning sensation.
Now she arched up her back and buttocks so as to get as much as possible of the silky, heavenly feel of the feather. Her now-sopping cuntal walls demanded that she grab and clench the feather to quell the boiling lust that made her shiver in every last cell of her being.
She had never had an orgasm like this one. Her inflamed pussy, begging for release, gushed forth with more and more of silky love lubricant. Her hips gyrated wildly, trying desperately to grab onto the feather that the principal held oh-so-closely to her fire-fed cuntal walls. She moaned lasciviously as wave after wave of orgasm pounded through her firm, ripe frame. All thought – the office, Jack O'Neill, her job, Steve, Ohio, California – had been totally removed from her mind except for one desire: to have another orgasm, even more powerful than the one that was now ripping through her body like a chain saw gone wild.
She lost track of time. Her musky juices seemed unstoppable, running down her thighs in rich profusion and filling the room with her pungent unmistakable scent. Finally, her frantic cunt stopped clenching uncontrollably and she felt almost as if she were floating on a very nice cloud, just moving along very gently.
That feeling lasted for about five seconds. Then she realized what had been done to her by Jack O'Neill and a sense of shame over her wantonness in having, indulged his perversions overcame her.