Peter Jensen - The blackmailed wife

With that, the opened the door and left, bolting it behind him. Ann's eyes flooded with tears. She collapsed on the bed moaning to herself.

"What have I done? Oh God, what have I done now?" Her clenched fists pounded the bed beside her in frustration. She had never felt so alone and helpless in her entire life. She sobbed herself into a deep but troubled sleep, her mind dwelling on the envelope above, and wondering how much she would have to go through to start its slow, tortuous descent again. Her vagina felt stretched and used as it never had before and her last conscious thought was of the huge mechanical cock, drubbing ceaselessly in and out of her belly from behind while Max had emptied his evil sperm mercilessly into her mouth in front.

She awoke with a start. Sidney was standing over her with a large glass of orange juice.

"Mr. Schroeder said to give you this to keep up your strength, Madam," he said, maintaining his icy reserve.

Ann crimsoned when she realized that she was still nude. She vainly attempted to cover herself with her hands but there were just too many critical exposed areas to allow it.

"May I have some clothing, please?" she asked in an almost whisper, attempting to maintain as much dignity as possible.

"No Madam, Mr. Schroeder instructs that you are to have no clothing or food until he instructs."

"But-but I can't just stay here like this. I must at least have something to cover myself."

"No one will enter, Madam, except me, and I'm just not interested. There is a bathroom with all the things you need." Sidney pointed to a door next to the dressing room Max had shown her last night. "Please don't feel any animosity toward me, Mrs. Morrow, I am only an employee and follow Mr. Schroeder's orders."

He left the room, again bolting the door and left Ann still sitting in the center of the bed, her arms ineffectually thrown around her exposed breasts and thighs. As soon as he was out the door, Ann tried the dressing room door. She remembered it had clothing in it. It was locked. She went into the bathroom and found on a dressing table, all the things a woman needs for her toilet. There were several packs of cigarettes and a small silver tray of the thin brown hashish cigarettes. She looked at them in curiosity. She had not really had the chance to study them in Tijuana, the room had been dark, but had wondered what they really looked like.

Such a small thing, she mused, and yet so powerful to dissolve one's will. She thought at first, of flushing the evil little things down the john, but decided against it, thinking it might drive Max to further anger. She knew now that if she was to ever get out of here she must not allow that to happen again. She left the cigarettes where they were and brushed her teeth, showered, and combed her hair. At least she could maintain the dignity of bodily cleanliness, if nothing else. This was important to her and snide her feel better in spite of her hopeless situation.

When she had finished her toilet, she returned to the large room and began to cautiously explore it. Last night she had been so upset emotionally and so filled with Martinis that she didn't really remember it clearly. She did remember the mural and all its details. How could she forget, she thought, the way Max had described it and the language he had used in doing so? The racks holding the long poles and whips were locked. Undoubtedly, to prevent her from fishing for the envelope with them. Not that it mattered, the door was locked and she had no clothes. What would she do if she was able to get them down anyway?

In one corner was a large bookcase that attracted her attention. It must have held at least two hundred books. The titles were strange and were not familiar to Ann. They were all bound in beautiful red leather covers with the titles in gold. No authors were listed. She pulled one out at random with the title, "History of Female Self-gratification – Illustrated."

She took the glass of orange juice Sidney had left, and a package of cigarette and curled up in one of the large, soft chairs that circled the bed with the book. She was ravenously hungry in spite of her anxiety and the orange juice helped to quell it a bit. She lit a cigarette and began thumbing through the voluminous pages.

It was the strangest book she had ever read and at first revolted her with its pointed language but as it progressed she became more fascinated with the subject. It explained in lurid detail the methods women used in bringing about sexual gratification without the aid of a man. Detailed photographs were interspersed between the pages of description. One such photograph showed a strange contraption upon which the woman could lie on her back and by turning a bicycle pedal above her could adjust the rate of speed of a mechanical lover below. Various sized instruments could be attached to the pistol-like device. There was another of a plain rubber instrument whose shape caused her to flush in embarrassment even though she was alone. It was obviously for hand use only. Along with the photographs were detailed histories of each. It described their uses, the pleasures they could bring, and even in some cases detailed drawings of how they might be constructed.

Ann went through several other books, all of which were illustrated and explained graphically the actions taking place in these illustrations. One had described and pictured all the positions of love with combinations of from two to five or six people involved. It was similar in detail to the mural but illustrated photographically. She was certain the artists had used some of these photos for their models when they had done the painting. They were similar in subject. Even some of the faces looked the sane…

Ann began to get restless, she had gone through both packs of cigarettes now and wondered how long she had been sitting there. It must have been quite a few hours though but she had no way of telling. There were no clocks, except the one marked off in twenty-four hours – and it was stopped after running only one hour and forty-three minutes though her ordeal had seemed it had lasted for days. There were no windows in the room so she didn't have the slightest idea whether it was light or dark outside. She was completely isolated from the world and this madman could keep her here as long as he wanted to as she had told no one where she was going.

Suddenly, she could hear the door opening. She tried to hide the book she was reading but it was too late. Max was in the room before she could get up out of the chair. Instead, she pressed it over her breasts to hide as much of herself as she could. This still left the rest of her exposed but there was nothing she could do about it.

"Well, my dear, I see you've found my little collection of erotic literature. Does it appeal to you now that you've tasted some of its secrets?"

Ann held herself back from cursing him as she felt like doing; she knew it would be a mistake and she wanted with all her heart to get the clock running again and leave this evil place with the incriminating photographs dangling over the bed, safely in her possession.

"Yes – I've I've enjoyed them," she lied in her anxiety to please him.

"I hope you've repented after your disgraceful outburst last night. I trust the time you've had to reconsider your position has enlightened your sense of logic."

"I-I'll do anything," Ann said, lowering her head in utter defeat. She had thought a great deal about it and there was no other way out but do his complete bidding.

"Good then, shall we have something to eat?"

"Oh, yes, please," the gnawing hunger in her sty mach was almost more than sloe could bear. She hadn't eaten a thing the day she came here because of her dread of the meeting. This would make almost two days since she had touched a thing but the orange juice.