"What are you talking about!" Sylvie screamed, looking frantically around her.
"I'm talking about you and me, Mrs. Cassidy. We hit it off rather well together once. In memory of that time, I have a little program planned.
I've been planning it for some time, and I know you won't want to disappoint me by not participating."
"The tapes… the book… you'll give me everything… You'll promise…?" In spite of her fear, Sylvie tried to remain strong. She would have little chance of happiness for the rest of her life if she didn't.
"Oh, of course! All yours!" Frank flicked a button on the side of the wall, and suddenly the room was filled by the sounds of the tapes.
Sylvie's own voice entreated Erick to fuck her harder and harder.
Sounds of her husband's brother's cock entering her own blonde pussy were magnified a thousand times in the small room. She put her hands over her ears, but it did not stop the sound.
"The manuscript… what I've finished of it… is over there. Perhaps you'd like to thumb through it?"
Sylvie moved swiftly toward a platformed desk, and turned the first page of a thick black binder. Her eyes grew wide with horror as she read: The Cassidys are a peculiar bunch; unlike most living creatures who are content with simpler pleasures, they like sucking and fucking more than anything else. Having had the privilege of serving the Cassidys for over fifty years I can affirm that every single one of them has shown a decided talent for eroticism from its most banal forms to the most bizarre. Starting with Jenson Cassidy and his wife Thelma, going right on to visiting brothers and cousins, including the Cassidy children, Tim, Ron and Erick, their women, and the latest of the Cassidys, Mrs. Tim Cassidy. This book intends to act as a definitive portrait and clear up any questions that the general public may have about the famous family.
Sylvie turned the pages and saw descriptions of the crudest sort of acts that were purported to have taken place between her mother-in-law and the since deceased father of the Cassidy tribe. Further on, there were descriptions of the young Cassidy boys with their teenage girl friends, and later of their more sophisticated exploits as young men.
Sylvie did not dare to turn to the chapter which she was sure must deal with her. She was about to turn toward Frank and tell him just how disgusting she thought the manuscript was, when she felt his arms entwining around her waist. She fought and screamed, but he carried her kicking all the way over to the corner, where she found herself propped upon a sort of altar.
"Would you like to undress or shall I do it for you?" Frank asked politely. "Don't worry, I will give you a chance to read the manuscript more fully in a few moments."
Sylvie looked at the despicable man in front of her. To think that the Cassidys had trusted him as a member of the family for all those years and now… Frank thrust out his hand and started to pull at her dress.
"No!" she cried, defiantly. "I'll do it myself!" She began to disrobe hurriedly, taking off her cap first and letting her golden hair cascade to her shoulders. Her dress came off with a sharp down-pull on the back zipper. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the helplessness of her position, and it was all she could do to keep from sobbing as she pulled her slip up over her head and stood before the ex-servant in her panties and stockings and the black brassiere that she had decided to wear that day.
"Oh, lovely, lovely!" Frank said, applauding her soundlessly. The lewd tape continued to spin its ugly sounds throughout the room, and Sylvie trembled with rage and despair.
"You don't mind if I do the rest, do you? I would rather like that, I think!"
Frank moved toward her, and she struggled with herself to remain calm.
She shut her eyes tightly as revulsion shivered through her nerves and she felt his hands gently pushing against her inner thighs, his fleshy palms slowly pulling her knees apart and sliding hotly up the inner softness of her thighs. She jerked involuntarily as they passed the protective covering of her long stockings and skittered across the sensitive tanned surface of her nakedly exposed flesh between the stocking tops and her sheer black panties. Frank's breath was coming in heavy snorts as his fingers made light contact with the thin silken crotchband up between her full soft thighs.
She groaned helplessly as his fingers rummaged on the outside of the flimsy panties, pushing the softness of the smooth material into the narrow quivering slit of her vagina. She shrank away indignantly, but he continued to play teasingly, his fingers pulling gently at the soft golden hairs that protruded from the tight elastic legbands.
I must endure it… I must! Sylvie told her self repeatedly, trying to remain calm.
His middle finger slipped suddenly under the narrow elastic legband and flicked lewdly at the moist red opening of her pussy beneath, bringing a protesting groan from Sylvie. She could feel his eyes feasting hungrily on her secret feminine flesh up between her legs that belonged to her husband Tim, and to no one else! Her tears streamed in tiny rivulets as she struggled to stop the lewd outrages he was visiting upon her unwilling body, but the sudden sight of the book of obscene "memoirs" on the desk across from her stopped her. There was no hope, she had gotten herself into this and the tape of her voice was playing to prove it! She could only hope that he would take her quickly enough before she lost control and did something to make him angry.
"I'll just take them off, now!" Frank declared, and she shut her eyes again, feeling the smooth nylon drawing slowly over her voluptuously rounded hips and thighs and exposing the whole of her soft goldenhaired pussy.
"Just as beautiful as I recall!" Frank sighed, pulling the flimsy silken panties all the way off and staring longingly at the blonde hair-covered "vee" of Sylvie's trembling pussy.
Frank stood back, and then he stepped up onto the platform on which Sylvie stood, still clad in her garter belt and stockings and her black brassiere. Frank reached behind her and easily unfastened the clasp of the brassiere, releasing her firm, full, cream-like breasts to his hungering eyes. His fingers ran lightly over their pulsing brown tips and he chuckled to himself as she pulled away. Suddenly he was lifting her arms upward, and Sylvie felt something snapping over each of her wrists. She looked and saw that she had been strapped to the wall!
Nausea rose and she screamed at him.
"Please, let me go… let me go! I promise you don't have to strap me down. I'll do anything you want, I tell you, anything!"
"Oh please, Mrs. Cassidy," Frank said in his most polite tone. "Don't worry, no harm will come to you. Just relax… If I'm not mistaken, you'll enjoy this."
Sylvie suddenly knew that she was dealing with a completely deranged man.
"Brandy!" the harassed blonde desperately rasped out. "Give me more brandy!"
"As you like, Mrs. Cassidy." Frank turned and left the room, and while he was gone Sylvie could do nothing but listen to the crude tape sounds screaming in her head and look at the thick binding of the manuscript that would ruin her husband and his family if it was ever published.
Naked except for her stockings and garter belt, she hung from her bound wrists like a pagan offering to the gods, totally bereaved of understanding of why she should find herself in such a terrible position.
When the former valet returned with the bottle of brandy, he poured some into the glass she'd left by the manuscript and took it to her.
Thirstily, she drank it down as he held it to her parched lips.
"More!" she said, and he filled it again and again held it to her lips while she drank. She felt the dizzying effects of the strong liquor spreading! throughout her system, helping her to withstand the dreadful experience she was certain was coming.