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far now to turn back and she just could not afford to lose Gamal's loyalty as a client, in spite of what
degradations she had to submit to in order to save it. It meant her reputation and that was all one had in
this business. Either you delivered if you had promised to do so or suddenly found you had no customers
for your girls. It was that simple and she knew it too well.
Shalla knew at the moment she nodded her head that the battle was won. He was going to fuck this
high-class bitch and there was nothing she could or would do to stop him. He had drained all fight from
her because she needed him and would do anything he demanded in order to insure his help. He smiled
lewdly as he stood in front of her unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop slowly to the floor. His
hardened cock stood out from his body throbbing straight at her. It looked like a giant oak growing up
through the black underbrush of his thick pubic hair, as with one hand he stroked the foreskin back and
forth over the expanding head. It grew jerkily in size each time it disappeared and reappeared through
the thick flap of flesh covering it. He watched the loathing in her face as her eyes remained involuntarily
locked on his dark growing member. His excitement flared as he saw the helpless fear rising in her eyes.
It would be more fun than with the American.
This one would be conscious of the things he was going to do to her! It would be he who was bringing
forth the moans of pleasure and pain this time and not some distant lover that would receive the credit
for his caresses. It was he, Shalla, who would be felt when he drove it deep into the soft unprotected
belly of this desperate bitch. "Strip," he hissed at her. "Or should I do it for you?" Monique moved, she
couldn't stand the thought of this beast touching her yet. She undid the buttons of her dress at the back,
wriggled it off her shoulders, down over her lush full hips and stepped out of it. She could feel the
Arab's lewd eyes devouring her ripe mature body but she didn't dare look at him. She was still well built
and solid for a woman of forty and kept herself in good condition by daily exercises. She pulled her slip
up over her head and let it limply slither to the floor at her feet with the dress. She suddenly for the first
time in years felt extremely defenseless and naked. Thank God, for the cognac that had deadened her
nerves.
The Arab had removed his clothes except for the dirty green socks that had large holes in the heels. His
yellow pallored skin clung tightly to his thin rib cage; his long sinewy cock jutted menacingly out from his
belly.
Monique shuddered visibly this time, thinking back to the horrors of another evening so many years ago
when she had been ravished brutally by a gang of his kind in the same room where the broken body of
her husband had lain grotesquely spread in death on the floor. They had been farmers in Algiers before
the revolution and had been caught in their home by surprise one evening by a roving band of Arab
guerrillas. They had tortured her husband to death before her eyes and then had taken turns committing
every kind of indecency imaginable on her then young defenseless body. Her mind still bore the scars of
that night and its horrible memory had prevented her from ever having a man since that time. Most young
wives of the slain settlers had come back to France and out of desperation for money had ended up on
the streets. She had not. She had worked hard in developing her little trade, using the contacts she had
with their Algerian friends that had survived the revolution. She had prided herself in the fact that she had
survived and had not given herself to anyone in respect for the memory of her dead husband. And now,
this. This horrible creature was standing before her ready to perpetrate the same indecencies on her
helpless body again. The thought revolted her of that thin emaciated body slivering across hers, using her
for its own obscene pleasures. She couldn't do it ... she just couldn't ...!
Shalla stepped toward her, his mouth open, his eyes drinking in the long full roundness of her silk cover
legs, the globular protuberance of her breasts that formed a fleshy valley above her brassiere, the
whiteness of her flat smooth belly above the tops of the sheer nylon panties. His gaze nauseated her and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]