N Van Heller - A panty compulsion

Her mind made up, she entered the bedroom and cringed. It was even more of a mess than the other room. Occupying the middle of the room was a lopsided bed with unkempt sheets. Glasses cluttered a cheap dresser which faced a faded mirror hanging crookedly on the wall, and on the dresser stood an aged dime-store photo of an actress.

"I'm a bachelor," Burns said, as though that explained away the mess. "How about a drink?"

"I would prefer to discuss business, Mister…"

"Burns, Nestor Burns. Private detective…" He grinned broadly at her as he reached for a calling card inside his jacket.

"So that's it, you're a private detective. I don't suppose you'll tell me who put you up to this?"

Burns smiled at her secretively but did not bother to respond. He didn't have to answer; she knew already that it was Rod who had hired his services. She should have known he was getting suspicious of her… the way he was always cross-examining her about what she did during the day.

"The business we want to discuss is very sensitive," Burns said politely, as he went over to the dresser and began mixing two drinks. "So I think you'd better sit down," he said, casually nodding toward the bed.

"I beg your pardon," she protested, but Burns was already upon her, thrusting the drink in her hand, practically forcing her down on the bed.

"Stay there," he commanded and headed toward a closet in another corner of the room. He emerged with a film reel which he casually tossed on the bed and a projector which he began setting up.

"So, you haven't been lying," Sally sighed dejectedly, she tried to raise the drink to her lips, but her hand was trembling too violently.

"You're going to be interested in this little film of mine," Burns leered as he began threading it through the projector.

In a desperate effort to calm her shattered nerves, Sally gulped down a large sip of the bitter whiskey. It was still burning in her throat when, a moment later, Burns flicked off the light switch and turned on the projector. Before she knew what was happening he suddenly plumped down on the edge of the bed beside her. Together they faced the bare wall, which in a moment was about to unfold the deepest secrets of her hidden sex life.

For Sally it was like the slow beginning of a long familiar nightmare as the blue unnatural light of the projector began to flicker unsteadily on the bare plaster wall in front of her eyes.

The first frames were innocent enough: the long sleek Jaguar cruising effortlessly through the park… the young handsome boys on the picnic table. And then, second by second, the bitter memories began to reappear in front of her widening eyes… The figures of the two innocent boys playing catch in the hollow… the film flickered on… the voluptuous young blonde woman reclining beneath the tall shade tree, the buttons of her clinging blouse slowly coming undone… and then the hands gliding softly up the white glimmering flesh of her parting thighs… pushing the short skirt up over her small girlish waist… the handsome blonde boy suddenly catching sight of her, his eyes popping wide with amazement…

It was all too real, it was too much to bear! She could not stand watching the film.

"Stop! Stop!" Sally gasped suddenly. Her whole body stiffened, and she sprang up from the bed to block the lewdly flickering picture, her glass flying from her hand. She felt Burns' hand suddenly tightening around her wrist.

"No, Mrs. Baxter, you're going to see it all. You're going to see everything you did to those innocent young boys."

"Please, please," she gasped desperately.

"Sit down." She could feel his other hand locking onto her free wrist and firmly forcing her back down on the bed. Try as she might, she could not escape the relentless images dancing obscenely against the wall in front of her.

The depraved blonde woman on the screen had now slid her hand high up between her wantonly parted legs. Her excited fingers rubbed teasingly against the panty-cloaked mound of her vagina and her slightly parted lips bared back against her teeth, as her eyes fluttered in ecstasy while her fingers massaged the excitedly moistening crotch-band of her white nylon panties. Suddenly the familiar woman on the screen jerked the moistened elastic strip of her panties aside. Her extended middle finger stood poised at the naked hair-lined furrow of her passionately quivering cuntal slit. The two eager young boys snaked cautiously through the grass toward the pile of rocks not twenty feet from the lust-incited woman. It was so real, so lewd!

Sally winced in shame as her secret past flickered before her eyes. That lewdly writhing woman was her, Sally Baxter! It was all too horrible to be true!

"Oh! God!" she moaned as she turned her face away in horror from the merciless film. God, she was ready to collapse. Her whole life had suddenly caved in on her.

"No, Mrs. Baxter, you're going to watch it all. You're going to watch every depraved minute of it, and then we'll talk or you go to jail," Burns snarled. He grasped her chin in his rough callused hands and jerked her face in the direction of the wall.

For a moment Sally struggled to clench her eyes shut against the horrible reality that the uncouth detective was forcing on her, but the intensity of the obscenely flickering images was too much for her. She found herself attracted to them like a moth toward light. In wide-eyed horror she beheld the madly bucking woman on the screen ramming her fingers deep up inside her tight clasping pussy in front of the amazed young boys. The woman's body writhed and twisted in shameless abandon on the grass, her short blue skirt doubled back up over her hips, her fingers playing over the thin white sliver of her silk-lined panties. Her tortured lips feverishly spewed out groans of wanton lust. The woman on the screen was her! It was impossible to believe!

Even now as she beheld the salacious spectacle, Sally could feel tiny droplets of moisture seeping into the flimsy silken crotch-band of her snugly encasing panties. The same feelings of forbidden desire that had overcome her in the park were beginning to tremble lewdly through her loins once again as she watched the depraved reenactment.

"Stop it, stop it!" she screamed suddenly. Burns gave her a leering smile as he moved closer to her on the bed and tossed back his drink.

"Not on your life, baby."

"No, no please, I'll give you anything you want… anything," she pleaded, tears choking her eyes.

She was just where he wanted her now, Burns thought. She was frantic. Quickly he pushed himself off the bed and headed to the projector, switching it off. The flickering images of the madly writhing woman finger-fucking herself danced on the wall for another obscene moment and died as the room went suddenly dark.

Somewhere nearby she could hear the detective shuffling about, but for the life of her it was impossible to see anything, and now a sudden panic seized her, making her spring from the bed once again and grope hopelessly along the wall for the light switch. Her hands reached out in blind desperation, but Burns' massive body was suddenly looming in front of her. And when she reached out to push him aside she shuddered. Her hands were pressing against his naked hairy chest, when he roughly yanked her against him, she realized he was completely naked! Suddenly she knew what he wanted. He was going to rape her!

"Oh, please…" she gasped as her heart caught in her throat, pounding so rapidly that it threatened to break through her chest.

"You said anything, remember, baby? You'll give me anything."

Burns' rough hands latched onto her wrists, pulling her fearfully trembling body toward him until she could feel his hot aroused breath raking her face. Impulsively, she struggled to free herself, but his hands tightened like vises.