Jon Reskind - The unholy Master

Slowly, Janet collapsed, every muscle in her spent body quivering from sheer exhaustion. She lay on her belly, her body falling into a near obscene position with her legs still splayed, one arm beneath her left cheek as she stared up in utter disbelief at this man who had somehow come to exercise this weird, demoniac power over her. Now, in the wake of her played out passion, shame and revulsion inundated her, causing tears to quietly dribble from her still partially glazed eyes.

Dear God… dear God, forgive me! I couldn't help myself. It… it was as if I had no control…! I wanted him to perform that bestial act on me! And… and I'm an addict! Oh God, I want to die!

Doctor Leduc came closer into her blurred view, wiping at his penis with a small white towel. He was smiling… almost leering, Janet thought.

"You are a delightful patient, cheri," he said, showing her his white even teeth. "You mustn't go morbid on me. A good fucking in the ass never hurt any girl, I assure you."

Janet clenched her eyes closed tightly, biting at her lower lip until she actually tasted her own blood, the filthy words sending a wave of nausea coursing through her. She had never felt so alone in her life. She was caught in an abominable trap and she didn't know how or why, or where she could turn. She couldn't go to Paul. Not now… not after this! She had no one… only this… this vile disciple of Satan to turn to… and she must have her drug. She must! She must!

The Embassy had provided them with pleasant lodgings on Rue St. Lazare, not a great distance from the Place De l'Opera, and with all of the conveniences a young, new American wife might expect in Paris. It was an apartment, but spacious, and the other tenants seemed to be upper-bracketed Frenchmen. Paul was not discontented with the quarters… he was simply at a loss to know how to cope with this affliction that plagued his beloved Janet.

Christ, he was yet to consummate his marriage… unless he counted that first horrible night… and secretly, he was glad at least for that. Doctor Leduc had told him in Le Havre when they parted that he was still at loss, that Janet should continue with her daily treatments. Of course, they had only been in Paris one day and he had spent most of that at the Embassy, but already Janet had made up her mind not to carry on with her visits to the French physician. And she was not a person one could force into doing what she had set her mind against; he knew this from experience.

Thank God, they were able to get a maid… rather nice too. And she cooked, Paul thought, as he browsed through a copy of the New York Times he had picked up. He found himself wondering what else she might do with some skill. Damn… he couldn't go along this way forever… and here he was in Paris…

"Francine, would you pour me another cognac, please?" he called to her in French.

She did and Paul eyed her closely, closely enough so that she would notice when she brought it. She smiled down at him as she extended the tray. She was possibly nineteen, long dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders with fine breasts and narrower, but full hips. She wore her skirts at the sixteen inch length, and in their black nylon encasing her legs appealed to him exquisitely. He would gamble that she caught his dallying gaze… but in truth, he didn't know what he was doing, he was that distraught in his frustration; and he was pleased when she left for the day, taking one last, long suggestive glance toward him before she closed the door behind her.

"Darling, we're having good old fashioned American steak for dinner. Does that please you? I sent Francine on a beef hunt and the girl seems to know her business."

It was all like that, the entire evening. The music, the lying on the floor before the lighted fireplace, the wine, the sweeping her up and carrying her into the bedroom… and the inevitable…

He had decided to strip and walk into the bedroom naked… and that had done it. Thank God, he'd taken Leduc's phone number. In forty-five minutes the dapper physician had shown. And within the hour, Janet slept soundly.

"What the devil is it, Doctor? This split personality business? Or do I hold some sort of revulsion for her…?"

"M'sieu'… in these peculiar cases there is no way of knowing. The Madame should have come to my office today as I instructed. But, I see that she is an obstinate one… Nevertheless, M'sieu' Arden, I suggest your lovely wife have daily treatments from now on. Of course, the week end is upon us and I myself am going to my summer place at Dives. I try to get away as often as I can… M'sieu', may I invite you and the Madame for the week-end? There, I have my private consultation 'digs', as the British say. It is not impossible that we can make some headway with the lovely young thing, and perhaps even clear this nasty situation up…"

Paul interrupted him. "If you're inviting us, Doctor, the answer is yes. We will come. Anything to get to the bottom of this damned problem."

"Wonderful. I do feel we can accomplish more if I have her there under my observation and am able to… well, a good American phrase might be, where I can privately bleed her mentally."

"You can count on it. We'll be there, Doctor."

Alone once more, Paul poured himself a cognac and slumped into a chair. Christ, he wished that Francine had not left. His rod was thumping like a separate live body, telegraphing wild, libidinous thoughts to his brain. How long he could stand this celibacy he wasn't sure, but dammit, something had to happen or he wasn't going to be able to control himself much longer. His groin was aching for release.

God almighty! What had happened to her? His luscious, beloved Janet! Christ, he loved her. He was tempted to go into her now while she was in the throes of Leduc's induced sleep… drugged sleep.

Drugged?

It struck him then, that when he had entered the bedroom naked she was already caught up in some sort of convulsion… clutching at her stomach with her legs drawn up and her nose runny as if she were suffering from a cold. Then had come the vomiting spasms and he had helped her to the bathroom, perspiration drenching her whole body… and it was almost as if she hadn't the slightest control over her body for she had urinated all over the bathroom floor.

Now, he thought of these things, remembering one specific chap at college who had been addicted to heroin and had tried withdrawal by himself.

Christ! He got to his feet abruptly and stormed into the bedroom, flicking on the light. There she lay, curled into a womb-like ball on her side, sleeping in a contented peace… while he staggered about with this maddening hard prick that was damned near driving him insane. Goddamn… was it possible? Janet addicted to something?

He cut the light, shaking his head and floundering back to his chair, his cock so hard his whole groin ached. Francine, Francine… if you were here right now… Damn, what was happening to him? The girl was going to marry her childhood sweetheart she had told them.

Got to get hold of myself! Got to! Janet needs me. I can't let her down. She would stand beside me. Besides… I love her! I love her!

But… Francine, if you were to walk in here this minute…!

The Doctor and Madame Leduc, when at their Paris villa, spent most of their time together in a second floor, luxurious apartment, along with their two super-bred, magnificent mastiff dogs, Vailante and his mate, Sable, beside them, a suite of rooms that the couple occupied in the most exacting privacy, inaccessible even to the servants. Its splendor was matched only by its erotic appointments in painting and sculpture, the Leducs having added to the famed collection of the late Count Leduc, the doctor's father, during their many travels throughout the world. The venereal theme was further carried out in the haremish couches and furnishings, with all wooden, ebony, and ivory appendages phallic in design. Mirrors, of course, reflecting from every conceivable angle were aplenty, and the small bar contained only aphrodisiacal concoctions blended by the doctor himself.