Bert Ormsby - Swapping with laura

"What's the difficulty here?" he asked in a voice much stronger than he had ever used with her before. It was the voice of a South African policeman discovering parties of mixed race having a cup of coffee together.

"Oh, nothing, Mark darling. Laura's just a little shy, that's all." Cleonora patted Laura's shoulder. "Now that she did her little thing with Rover, she's ashamed of it and she wants to go home, that's all. We can't very well stop her."

Laura felt relieved. For some reason she had been afraid that that was exactly what they were going to do. But how could she ever face Ralph again? She stammered awkwardly, looking down at Mark's tight grip on her wrists, the sighs and moans of the other women in the room cascading around her ears as a soft, mewling waterfall of sound. "Let me go," she said. "You have no right to keep me here. None of the terrible things you're saying are true. Let me out of this horrible place."

Cleonora and Mark looked at each other. Once she left tonight, in this frame of mind, she would never again come back. No, she would have to leave happy, thoroughly seduced. She would have to leave with her flesh so devoured by pleasure that she would beg them to be allowed to return.

"In that case, I don't suppose you're interested in the film that I've got of Rover eating your pretty blonde snatch," said Mark crossly.

Laura panted helplessly, her face flushing with shame, beet red from her hairline to where her neck disappeared into her dress. "You-you have what?" She didn't quite understand Mark's terminology, but she got the general idea.

"The film," he said. He gestured back towards the projection booth at the far southern end of the big room. "I got you on high-speed film, baby. With Rover eating your sweet little cunt hell-for-leather."

"You couldn't have! His head was under my skirt!"

Mark laughed cruelly, triumphantly, and Cleonora smiled with him. "You hear that admission, lover?" he said. "Blondie has admitted the whole thing. That'll stand up in any court of law anywhere." His face went stern and he looked at Laura. "And when we send the prints of what I've got on you to your friends and family, or to your husband's patients, you're going to be a laughing stock. I might send your little husband Ralphie a set of his own, too."

Laura's throat went dry. She couldn't believe all this was happening. In a matter of hours her entire life had been turned upside down. "You-you drugged me!" she blurted out heatedly, her curvaceous body trembling.

Mark snickered. "And so what if we did? That won't matter to anybody. All anybody will remember are these pictures we've got of you. Come on, why don't you cooperate? You know you loved it."

"You-you let go of me," she whimpered tearfully. "I'm going to report all of you to the police!"

Cleonora and Mark looked at each other. "That does it, doll," he said. "We don't dare let her go now."

"Take her upstairs." Cleonora grabbed her by the neck and pushed her forward as Mark dragged on her wrists. Laura meant to cry out, but she stumbled awkwardly over the pillows and it was all she could do to remain upright. The deeply engrossed dog and woman couples gave her scant notice as she staggered off under the hands of her two dominators. Alongside her awkward gait came Rover as well, brushing his smooth fur against her leg. Her entire body and personality felt overwhelmed by shame.

They were right; she had succumbed. And they might blackmail her. It was hardly her position to be righteous at this late stage. Why hadn't she realized what their dog was doing to her before it was too late?

But it had felt so good – even though now she recognized her behavior as totally shameful. Oh God, how could she ever again hold her head up again? What would Ralph say if he knew? She was miserable, a fallen woman. The depths of her degradation were so considerable that it was not open to measure.

Her two captors had taken her as far as the stairs in the hall before she finally developed the presence of mind to rebel. There was some struggle and the four of them – including Rover – meandered around the bottom of the stairs in a vague sort of clutching, gripping, pushing combat before the hulking German shepherd began snarling at her in a way so vicious it simply froze her heart with terror.

At this point her resistance slackened instinctively and they were able to get a grip on her again, half dragging, half shoving, but altogether completely in control of her voluptuously leggy body so that there was really very little she could do. Every time she gave the least sign of resistance, Rover nipped stingingly at her calves to keep her in line. She cringed like a sheep being led to the pen.

By the time they reached the second floor, a great deal of her strength and ability to coordinate had been sapped. She no longer hoped merely to escape from their terrible degeneracy and clutching hands. The thought of the blackmail with a film of her and Rover was a potent deterrent to orderly thought and coordinated resistance. God, if she made them angry, who knew what they might do?

But at the same time, she couldn't very well submit outright. Perhaps the chance to get away would still present itself, when their guard had lowered. Some time or other. Some of whatever was in the drugged cigarette they had given her had worn off, although she was still woozy and feeble from that and the sherry they had made her drink.

When they finally pushed her into the bedroom she had made up her mind what she would do. The minute she had her chance she would race for the window, throw it up and scream at the top of her voice. That would bring people running. There would even be passing cars on the highway that would hear her and come to her rescue.

There was a click as Mark locked the door in back of them. Rover nudged at her shivering legs as Cleonora led her, unprotesting, to the bed.

"Now just sit down for a moment, dear," cooed her dominatrix. "Put on one of my bracelets."

Laura was distracted. Put on one of her bracelets? What on earth for? As she watched uncomprehendingly, Cleonora sat down next to her, removing one of the wide-band gold bracelets Laura had so often admired. She handed it to Laura, saying: "This is for you, dear. You've been such a good sport."

"But-but what is this for?" asked the innocent young blonde, shaking out her long golden hair over her shoulder. "I-I haven't done anything for…"

"Ssssshhh. You've been just fine. We've enjoyed having the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. We've enjoyed making you happy. And most of all we've been very cheered to get all of your happiness down on film."

This last reminder of their blackmail hold on her sent a chill of fear through the innocent blonde housewife. How could she ever have been so stupid as to trust them? She must have seemed a real country bumpkin.

"In fact, why don't you take both of these bracelets, you've made us so happy," said Cleonora, and with this she removed the gold bracelet from her other wrist, attaching it with expert swiftness around Laura's slender wrist. Before the puzzled girl could say anything, Cleonora picked up the other bracelet from the stunned wife's hand and clasped it around Laura's right wrist with a single practiced motion.

Their blonde love-slave looked at the two gold bracelets and moved them about her wrists. Why, they must have been worth a fortune! But why on earth give them to her?

The master bedroom, in addition to being elegantly furnished with mirrors on all the walls and ceilings, sported a bar at one end of the enormous room. Mark finished mixing a trio of drinks, put them on a tray, and brought them over to the end table next to the bed.

"Nice bracelets," he said looking down. "Does she like them?"

"I think so," said Cleonora. "All women love jewelry. Don't we, my dear?"