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anything other than his fingers on her pussy.
    Oh, god.   Up and down… his finger sweeping through the cream leaking from inside of her.   She felt his other hand spread her labia, and Claudine looked up, shaking her head while she whimpered.   Up and down, and then in and out of her channel, flicking her clit on each passing.   Her bottom began to squeeze, and she cried and tried to fight the building sensation towards climax.   She began to sway her head, and the man watched her stomach trembling and tightening.
    “I told you to fucking be still,” his frightening, steady voice demanded.   Tombstone was rewarded with a muffled sob, igniting his arousal while he tormented her.
    Claudine closed her eyes, unable to watch the man abuse her.   The way her body was reacting would make him believe she truly was a slut.   She tried to focus on escape, and how she would make this man and her father-in-law pay.   The bastard.   The rich, arrogant bastard, she sobbed.   Eventually, even the thought of stripping Donald of his money could not keep her body from calling her back to the need to orgasm.   Her hips began pushing into the hand that was stroking her… up and down, in and out, flicking and wiggling her engorged clit.   Her nipples were tightening in response to the movement of the fingers.   Stop.   Oh, my god.   Please, stop.   Please don’t make me do this.
    The man felt her pussy begin to squeeze tighter, sucking his fingers in.   As soon as the flush began to cover her face and chest, he said, “Don’t you dare fucking come, slut.”   As if his words were a signal, he listened to an aroused moan.   She jerked up into his hand, gushing cream and coating his fingers.   Narrowing his eyes, he gave her a disgusted look.   “Fucking whore slut.”   Claudine screamed when he closed the lid.
    No.   Please let me out.   Her wails were pitifully smothered by the gag.   Her pussy kept squeezing and throbbing in the aftermath of her climax.   In every sexual interlude, Claudine controlled the situation.   Manipulating and arousing a man’s body was the key to her wealth.   Naturally, she achieved her own satisfaction, but always when she decided.   This man took from her, and it left her confused and added to the frightening terror of the darkness.   Now, she would even be afraid when the lid opened again.
    Tombstone turned off the light to the studio, shucked his clothing, and climbed onto the cot.   He spent the first nights close to the women, because he could not risk letting them get so petrified that their minds snapped.   This one was strong… a definite Room One.   He could see it in the bitch’s eyes.
    While he drifted to sleep his dream began, twisting his mind and taking him back, spiraling through the years to experience the same confusing visions he had every night.   The ending was a perplexing nightmare, and when he woke up it always took him several minutes to get his bearings and remember where he was.   The beginning of the dream made it worth it.   He got to spend time with his mother again.   No, that’s wrong.   She was Jerald’s mother, he thought, as he slipped into a deep sleep.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Beautiful Susanne with her golden hair, strutting around the club in her shiny rubber suit.   Jerald watching through fascinated eyes while his mom balanced on her spiky pointed shoes.   Next were the scenes of the women in the back who fed his needs, teaching him the artistry his mother had known.
    Teresa with her sensuous voice, coaching him in acts he could never have imagined.   Sabrina, her ebony breasts firm and tipped by fat coffee colored nipples that he loved to suck and nip; more tempting than the finest chocolate.   Erin with the palest skin, dotted with freckles that spotted even her bared sex lips.
    The dream always ended with the women he had known from Room Five, dressed in different colored mannequin suits and frozen in erotic positions.