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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Subject: "The Hidden Camera" Ch.8
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 2006 05:58:06 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/hidcam.html
The Hidden Camera
Chapter 8
Nancy awoke that next morning lying face down on a bed. She
awoke
slowly, by degrees, groaning her way into consciousness. Her vagina was
sore,
her rectum dully throbbing in discomfort. She hurt all over and it
seemed there
wasn't a muscle in her body that didn't ache.
Yet... she felt good.
She felt good because she was sated... satisfied... exhausted!
She had
done everything and people... strange men... strange men had grinned
lewdly at
her and forced her to suck their cocks and be fucked by them in the
mouth... in
the cunt... in the ass. Sometimes, there had been three... four men at
once.
She had fucked them all until she had passed out.
And there was no telling how long it had gone on after she had
passed
out... she only knew that she woke up stiff and sore all over, naked,
lying
face down on a bed, her gracefully curved buttocks naked to any further
ravagement.
She had awakened to stagger to the bathroom, moaning, her proud
breasts
quivering, her fingers feeling for the shower faucets. Hot water
hissed down
in needle points and Nancy stood, her magnificent body surrounded by
billowing
steam, and let needle points of hot water stab at her flesh. She
soaped her
body completely and winced at the cries-cross of red welts on her
stomach and
the various plum-blue bruises on her soft flesh.
She was drenched by the steaming hot shower, staying under it
longer than
intended, finally leaving reluctantly.
She dressed and let herself out of the elegant bedroom. It was a
bedroom
that Nancy was to come to know in the future months. She would come to
it many
times in her life. She would come to know its bathroom and its
ever-stocked
wet bar and its closed-circuit television and its little carved box
full of
drugged delights. She came to know that... in the narrow space of that
room...
when she occupied that space... for that time, at least, she was queen.
When
in that room, she was treated like a lady and her every wish was
immediately
granted.
Beyond that room... she was treated like a common slut.
Nancy came to like that room and its raw entertainments as she
came to
know it. She drove home, tired, aching, falling into her bed utterly
exhausted.
She awoke with a guilty consciousness. She woke up to face a gray
morning
and the sight of Allan.
Suddenly... insanely... her life was submerged in Allan. She
cooked for
him... they entertained together... they went out to expensive
restaurants
together... life suddenly was all Allan and her whole day and night
were caught
up in his personality and career... she was the good wife and the
perfect
hostess. She carried the demure role out to the point where she
believed it...
And then the phone would ring...
She would answer it and it would be the slightly drunken
insinuating
voice of Tom... usually he would be in a bar somewhere with music and
idle
chatter behind his phone conversations... the idle suggestion that she
attend a
party... the icy tinkle of an empty drink swirled around... the sound
of voices
very near the receiver saying something smutty... Tom Nelson at some
far-out
party, some bar, calling, asking for a favor.
Tom had given her the negatives and photos of her naked dancing.
He had
been good to his word... however... there had been some pictures taken
subsequently... some very good pictures.
It didn't take her long to realize she was in a ever narrowing
trap. She
knew that there were always going to be pictures. After awhile... she
was even
willing to pose for them... in fact, she got a kind of masochistic
pleasure out
of Tom taking pictures of her hungrily sucking big thick cocks or
getting
fucked by one, two, three men at the same time. Willingly, knowing he
was
going to use the pictures to blackmail hers she posed for him. She
posed naked
and obscene, committing anything asked of her.
She knew she was in a trap and her time with Allan... her time
with him
when he was home and full of what was happening at the bank... Allan
was like a
rock and Nancy leaned against him... hoping... dreading against the
day... the
day when she would be discovered.
She was leading a double life. She was a frigid wife on one
level... she
existed as Allan's elegant shapely wife on one level... and... when the
phone
rang... when the phone rang during the day when she was alone and
home... when
she picked up the phone and heard the slightly drunken, casually sloppy
voice
of Tom.
And her life changed.
She was constantly blackmailed. It seemed she couldn't think of
anything
else than being blackmailed. She was always buying her way to
freedom... she
would buy her way by going to a party in return for which she would
receive
pictures, pictures that had been taken by someone... pictures of her...
if only
she would go to a party... if only she would give in.
One party led to the next until she no longer cared about
anything...
even Allan. Nothing seemed to matter... her life was so bad, so evil,
so
committed to obscenity. There didn't seem anything left to live for.
There
came a time in her life when it no longer seemed worth living. It was
then she
thought constantly about suicide. She felt she was a thing, a piece of
flesh
to be driven into an orgiastic state.
And then there would be the sunny mornings with Allan and the
need to
react as a good wife.
Her life was becoming crazily split between Allan and another
whole life
of lewdness. Allan... and his friends were beginning to notice how
heavily she
drank... there was talk about it...
Allan would calm her and provide an emotion anchor for her, and
then he
would go off to the office... and the phone would ring. It was always
Tom at
some cocktail lounge, some bar, calling... with the sound of cool jazz
in the
background. Tom always to be somewhere, some place, where something
exciting
was happening. Always he was drunk and always he wanted a favor. More
and more
however, it was getting to be a favor for Fred Hartman. She found
herself on
his estate, in the bedroom provided for her where she could feel like a
queen.
Yet, like the taste of ashes in the mouth, like a cold gray
Monday
morning a dawning with a drizzle, she knew her life couldn't go on.
Once
again, the phone rang. She answered it wearily, knowing who it was,
not even
really wanting to bargain. At the last party thrown by Fred Hartman,
Ben and
Herman had fucked her simultaneously on the stage and then she had
greedily
crawled about and sucked the cocks of all eleven guests. She had
sucked each
guest in his chair until he had pumped white-hot cum into her
gluttonously
sucking mouth... and Tom had taken pictures of her... and... she had
willingly
posed... and had driven home in the dawn... and talked to her nosy
neighbor,
Mrs. Hunter... and thought about suicide for the thousandth time... a
victim of
the evilest type of blackmail and her own darkest lusts.
And then, it all ended. The horrible nightmare was over! She was
summoned to the Hartman estate at mid-day. Puzzled, she went, not
knowing why
she had been summoned at that strange hour. She was ushered into the
office of
Fred Hartman himself. Usually, if anything, she saw him right before
performing at one of his parties. Now, she was in his office... and
Tom Nelson
was there.
Hartman's office was full of clean lines and bright color. Tom
Nelson was
poised at a small wet bar. Hartman ignored him, smiling at Nancy and
politely
offering her a, seat. Nancy looked up at Hartman and found him tanned
and
tawny and at ease. Both of them looked at Tom Nelson who was terribly
drunk.
His face was red and his clothing was messy... it looked as if he
hadn't
changed in days. His eyes were wetly flat and unfocused as he smiled.
He
raised his glass in a hollow toast... it was dry. He shrugged and
poured
another.
Fred Hartman nodded in a dry abstract way at Tom Nelson. "He was
always
an amusing nuisance. Now he's a definite problem. I offer no excuses.
Sometimes, regretfully, I have to deal with people like him." Hartman
stood
up, tall and austere, his hands in his pockets. "I am lazy. I am
slovenly.
For this, I must apologize. I employed a person like Tom Nelson, never
thinking of how he got hold of someone as lovely as you, never
bothering myself
to ask why."
Silently, dike a magician fanning out cards, he spread out
pictures of
Nancy... dozens and dozens of obscene pictures of Nancy taken by Tom
Nelson
with Rita's enthusiastic co-operation. He threw down a thick sheath of
black
negatives. "I'm sorry," he said, "I really didn't know he was
blackmailing
you." He seemed almost embarrassed. "I thought... I thought you were
doing it
of your own free will... because you wanted to."
Nancy looked away from the pictures. Always, in the past, she
had been
promised the negatives if only she would... always, in the past, she
had given
in, even though she knew that more pictures of her were going to be
taken.
Now, Fred Hartman was lining up her pictures and negatives,
pointing down
at them on his desk with a long bony finger. "These, I think, are
yours. Your
property. Again, all I can say is, I didn't care and didn't know. I'm
sorry."
Nancy looked at him with disbelieving eyes. "You're letting me
go?"
Hartman's only answer was a curt bow.
"Nothing?" Nancy looked at him with almost a wet pout on her
lips. After
all this time, after all she had done, she had come to like him
watching her...
she liked knowing he was out there in the shadows, his eyes fixed on
her body,
her lewdness... "You want nothing in exchange?"
"Nothing," said Hartman, enunciating the word carefully, "nothing
at
all."
Nancy stared at him defiantly, her breasts thrust out and heaving
slightly with the denied passion she was feeling. Oddly, a part of her
exalted
at being finally freed of the threat of blackmail... and a part felt
the black
fog of despair rolling over her at the knowledge there would be no more
shows... no more chances to be queen -- to hold momentary power over a
great
many men... "Nothing?" she asked plaintively.
"Nothing," Hartman repeated implacably. Then, his frosty
features
cracked into an almost warm smile. "Unless, of course, you want to."
Unless she wanted to.
And so it came about that Nancy Dodge came to be known as the
stunning,
witty wife of Allan Dodge. Allan Dodge came to be a very successful
young
banker, handling big accounts, like the Hartman Estate account. They
had a
quietly interesting life in which Nancy entertained in their new
townhouse and
was the perfect wife, giving her time to charities and public events.
And... at isolated times... well in advance... when she was
alone... the
phone would ring. It was always Fred Hartman himself and always...
insinuatingly, temptingly, he had something planned that she found
irresistible. Always, after listening to his musically droning voice
outlining
all sorts of perverted pleasures, she would agree. She would eagerly
agree to
be part of his plans and then she would hang up. She hung up with a
little
smile of anticipation on her lips.
She loved Allan, but... Fred thrilled her.
And, as Fred had once said to her, "No reason, you know, why you
can't
have the best of both worlds."
The End
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