He didn't know but what Madeleine suspected something. She had hardly spoken to him after leaving the party at Uncle Gaston's, nor he to her, and the little conversation they had exchanged seemed desultory and strained. He wondered if she had seen him going off with Ginny; he doubted it, but then, of course, he wasn't certain. He couldn't face her anymore this night… not with knowing what he intended to do tomorrow, so he'd suggested the nightcap, certain she would refuse, and now he wanted to be sure she was sleeping when he joined her in bed.
Truly, he felt like a cad, but damnit, he doubted that he could endure a session of her amateur sexual calisthenics tonight, which was no reflection at all of his feeling for her; he loved her; there wasn't the slightest doubt in his mind about that… but he needed a woman, a warm-blooded, capable woman who knew how to satisfy a man… and there was damn little question but what Ginny Novak could and would accomplish the task. God, just the idea caused a stirring in his loins.
He tried to imagine what Uncle Gaston would do if he ever found out; he was such an unpredictable man that it was impossible to even hazard a guess. It was obvious that Ginny meant nothing to him except for satisfying his ruttish needs, yet, by the same token, Antoine assumed that he watched, or had her watched closely, just as he had with all the mistresses before her. They were his property; he appraised them, bought them, owned them, and when he was through with them they were discarded. Factually, Antoine had no idea what ever became of the many lovely young women he had seen come and go before Ginny, but he truly doubted that they were forced into the cordon of prostitutes who were obliged to share a large portion of their earnings with the czar of the Canadian underworld, as Ginny had tried to make him believe.
Antoine had never blinded himself to Gaston Larreau's sources of wealth, his criminal liaisons, or especially his syndicate connections, but nothing could ever make him believe that the man he called uncle would ever allow anything to happen to him. There was no question in his mind that if Galaxy was in serious trouble, he could rely on Uncle Gaston to protect him. Ginny was very much in error on that point, too.
She was acrimoniously bitter and he could understand that, the way the powerful little man abused her, but he was not about to let her vindictiveness cause him to lose his own head. After all, his allegiance… if he possessed such a thing… was primarily to his own… to Uncle Gaston and to Madeleine… but damn, he was going to fuck that breathtaking blonde beauty if it was the last thing he ever did… and he was going to hate himself for doing it… but there would be plenty of time for remorse… after.
He blended for himself his fourth 'nightcap'. The liquor had charged him comfortably; he felt quite confident and secure once again and the stirring at his loins had grown to sizable proportions. Perhaps, if Madeleine was still awake… He arose quickly and went into the bedroom, but she was sleeping. He moved close to the bed and smiled down at her lovely reposed form… surprised to note the two little furrows between her closed eyes at the bridge of her nose, as if she might be perplexed or troubled in a dream.
My God, she was beautiful and so innocent… and he loved her with all of his heart. He'd make it up to her, that's what he would do. No matter what happened between Ginny and himself at the summer place, he'd make it up to her. By God, he'd take an oath on that right now.
I love you, Madeleine darling. I swear it; I love you!
CHAPTER FIVE
"Oh! Ooohhh! My God, please? Wa-Wait just… a… moment…!" gasped the naked and ravishing Ginny Novak as the gargoylish little czar caught hold of her waist in his deceiving, powerful hands and bounced her up and down, his salacious, almost colorless eyes wickedly absorbing the voluptuous sight of her full, erect firm breasts joggling and quaking before him, while her mouth gaped and her eyes widened blankly with the pain each time he raised his heavy lips to drive his massive cock up into her with evil vicious delight.
Gaston Larreau displayed a warped, gold-toothed grin. "You surprise me, ma chere. Don't tell me that canyon you call a cunt has contracted from lack of use." He leered at her mercilessly, continuing to raise her up off his penetrating rod of brutal flesh, then driving her down upon it to hear and watch her grunt and recoil with the agony.
Desperately, the lovely blonde struggled to endure the torment without further entreaty, knowing the uselessness of pleading to his barbaric, animalistic nature. It was not a punishment he was submitting her to, but a form of sadistic pleasure he derived from sprawling naked in his huge, leather reclining chair with his feet raised while she straddled him as she was now, her long, white, rounded legs astride and folded beneath her with wide-spread thighs, her crotch completely exposed to him, the stretched open lips of her sparse, blonde, hair-covered pussy disclosing her delicate, pink-hued inner-flesh as he forced her to absorb his elephantine prick up into her unprepared vagina without benefit of the least mercy.
When the last guest had left, he'd turned to her and ordered her out of his sight. He'd seen enough of her whorish face for one night, he'd spat, and in welcomed relief she had gone to her room to think and dream of Antoine and their rendezvous the following afternoon. She had no more than climbed into bed when he'd walked naked into her room, surprising her by plopping obscenely down in this, his favorite chair and snarling: "Come, sow! Get over here and squat down on this prick of mine… All of a sudden it's acquired an itch that needs servicing, and that's what I keep you around here for."
Of course, she hadn't hesitated even for a moment; to do that would have meant a beating with a belt or his fists, however he happened to feel; instead, she had jumped from the bed, stripped away her night gown and immediately mounted him, taking his giant, stone-hard cudgel into her hand and quickly drawing the huge, rubbery, purple head through the sensitive, hardly moist coral-flesh of her vulva and placing its tip at the snug, unwanting and unprepared mouth of her vagina, catching and holding her breath in dreaded anticipation of his first inhuman thrust that she knew was to come. And it had… a vicious spearing penetration of the blunt headed shaft, expanding the tight elastic-like mouth of her passage in an instantaneous piercing pain as he lunged his hips upward, simultaneously forcing her by the waist down onto his colossal instrument with bestial fury.
She had tried to contain her outcry, but that was impossible. The insane savagery of his cruel bursting entry had sent his impaling cock racing up into her, its swollen spongy head reaming her tight, unready vagina, scraping at the tender, sensitive walls and battering against her cervix painfully.
"Auuugggghhhhh!" she whimpered, little rivulets of tears suddenly appearing on her cheeks.
Gaston Larreau sniggered sadistically. "So," he grinned, reaching out to pinch and knead one pink, distended nipple harshly, "it makes you so happy you cry with joy, eh?"
Ginny did not answer. She attempted a smile but that, too, was feeble. Finally, she said: "I-I'll be all right… in a… minute…"