Carmella Condemned

An eBook By Paul Blades.

Tears streamed down Carmella's face. The image of a grimy, pestilent, Arabian prison rose before her – Midnight Express with a vengeance. It was unbelievable, this couldn't be happening. Just an hour ago life had been full, vibrant, a celebration of happiness. Now, she was about to be whisked away to the Dark Hole of Calcutta, or its Middle Eastern equivalent. She hesitated briefly before rising. As a result, Thin Lips grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to her feet. His grip was vise-like, pressing into her arm, causing her to wince with pain. She stumbled on her high heels, felt herself spun around and pushed face down on the bed. A hand pushed at the back of her head, filling her mouth and nose with the bedclothes, while other hands pulled her arms together behind her. In an instant her wrists were cuffed, the unmistakable click of the locks signaled her powerlessness, her imprisonment.

She felt the pressure lift from her head as the hand was withdrawn. Her skirt had ridden up to her hips in the struggle exposing her panties and the tops of her stockings. Jeb disliked pantyhose. He said it cut down on their spontaneity. He liked to make love or caress her in public or semi public places. Often, in the car, in elevators, in offices or waiting rooms, whenever there was a moment or two when no one was watching. He would reach below her dress and caress her thighs or between them, kissing her deeply, getting her ready for physical love. Later, he would reap the rewards of her smouldering passion, a result of his touch. It was a view of panties, a garter belt, stockings, and three or four inches of tanned thigh, which presented itself to the view of her assailants.

As Carmella regained her breath she was raised up off the bed, her skirt still above her waist. The men eyed her eagerly. Her face was still wet with tears, but the cold terror of the moment dried them at their source. The idea slowly worked into Carmella's mind that there was still a way out of this. Distasteful, yes. Unpleasant, even disgusting, taking into account the leers of the two men standing before her, but not undoable. Perhaps, yes. No one would ever know, and she would be free.

"Please, please let me go," Carmella managed to squeak out. The men laughed. The thin one, who was holding her left arm with one hand, pulled the hem of her dress higher above her left hip with the other.

"Oh, this would be such a shame mademoiselle, an offense to our honor. We are sworn to uphold the law and you have dishonored us with a bribe and sought to evade justice. These are serious offenses."

The fat man placed his hand on the elastic of her panties, sliding a fat finger inside, running it across her stomach. She tensed at the touch, her stomach muscles jumping back, a cold fear rising in her chest. She looked him in the eyes. He wanted her, yes, they both did. It would work, it had to.

"I'll do anything you want. I'll, I'll..." her voice faltered, "...I'll give you pleasure, sleep with you, whatever you want, just please, let me go. I'll give you everything, I won't tell anyone, just please, don't send me to jail." Carmella's voice was frantic. She had intended confidence, bargaining from a position of strength her sexuality and desirability gave her. But she was the one handcuffed; she was the one with someone else's hand in her underwear.

The fat man nodded at the thin one and Carmella felt the ground shift beneath her feet. It was going to happen. The fat man grabbed her by the hair and pulled her over to the center of the room. "Kneel!" he commanded, and Carmella lowered herself to her knees. Her dress was still at her waist, and the fat man pulled it higher, up past her breasts, over her head and off of her body. Since her hands were still joined behind her, the dress bunched down along her arms. The fat man knelt down on one knee before Carmella, grabbing her face with both his hands. He brought his face close to hers. She could smell his sour breath, feel the roughness of his hands. She shuddered as he placed his lips on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Grimacing, she barely resisted barring him entry. Her hands writhed behind her; her breasts were crushed against her chest by his bulk.

Although her eyes were shut, she could sense the thin man as he drifted around her. She knew the sexual tension she was creating for him, just as she knew the sexual passion arising in the fat man who now possessed her lips. The fat man's tongue pressed deeper into her mouth, exploring, demanding, as he now passed his left hand around the back of her neck and dropped the other to her breasts. His fat hand squeezed inside...

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