Horny Hostage Read online

  Horny Hostage

  by Richard B. Long

  BB-6514

  A Brandon Book

  Year of release unknown

  INTRODUCTION

  "The greatest of evils and the worst of crimes is poverty," said George Bernard Shaw in the preface to Major Barbara, published in 1907. And even earlier, the French critic Paul Valery wrote, in his Introduction to the Method of Leonardo da Vinci (1895), "All criticism is dominated by the outworn theory that the man is the cause of the work as in the eyes of the law the criminal is the cause of the crime. Far rather are they both the effects."

  Both Shaw and Valery, in different ways, recognized something that many writers and speakers on crime even in our supposedly enlightened times do not. Crime is a relative thing. Sometimes it is a flagrant outrage against something every moral and ethical sense we possess tells us is right. Sometimes it is an act that has been arbitrarily created by the law itself.

  Perhaps the most obvious example in the memories of many people still alive in the United States is Prohibition. Under this amendment to the Constitution, it became against the law to drink alcoholic beverages. Seldom has a law been so useless as well as so misguided. Prohibition did not end drink; Repeal did not increase the amount of alcohol consumed. Before, during and after Prohibition, people who wanted to drink went on doing so; others did not. Only the zealots ever considered it a real crime, and history has proven how wrong and silly they were.

  The human race as a whole is supposed to profit by such mistakes, but there is considerable evidence to indicate that it does not. This was pointed out recently by Alexander B. Smith, professor of sociology at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice of the City University of New York, and Harriet Polack, assistant professor of government at the same university. Their argument on the relativity of criminality is worth thinking about. Among other things, they said: "We are in a similar position today. Our gambling and drug laws particularly have created a situation in which an enormous organized crime industry thrives on satisfying a consumer demand that cannot be met legitimately. Worse yet, the efforts to cope with the crime wave resulting from our unenforceable drug and gambling laws is destroying our criminal justice system and rendering it incapable of dealing with criminals who violate laws that might, under better circumstances, be reasonably enforceable...

  "Not only are moral laws frequently counterproductive in terms of their causing more crime than they prevent, but their enforcement is particularly dangerous to civil liberties since crimes resulting from their enforcement is particularly dangerous to civil liberties since crimes resulting from their violation have no victims. The prostitute's client has not been forcibly seduced; the housewife who bets a quarter on the numbers has not been robbed; the dope user has harmed only himself. Because there are no victims available to testify for the state, the burden of producing enough evidence for the prosecution rests entirely on the police. It is this need for evidence to make morals offense violations 'stick' that traditionally has produced the greatest number of civil liberties violations by the police..."

  This is not a statement of an anti-police position; it is inherently sympathetic to the law enforcement officers and their problems. As the recent bestselling book and hit movie, The French Connection, showed clearly, the policeman who acts most effectively against offenders in this area is frequently "rewarded" by demotion to an area in which he can no longer use his effectiveness. The present novel, Horny Hostage by Richard B. Long, shows another aspect of the same problem.

  In this fast-paced and thoroughly gripping story, we meet two criminals, the appositely named Moon and Sky, without being given any indication originally of what their crime has been. We get to know them and begin to understand them only gradually as we see them through the eyes of Linda Maddison, a young and innocent secretary to a bank official. The crimes they commit against Linda are certainly real and reprehensible enoughóbut the thoughtful reader will want to know what forces drove them to his desperate fugitive state, and may also ask himself if they are really any more evil than Paul Cook, the eminently respectable bank security officer who "merely" wants to cheat on his wife and enjoy the delights of Linda's blossoming body without the formality of marrying her.

  Certainly Linda undergoes torment, humiliation and shame. She loses her original innocenceóbut finds it replaced by experience and wisdom that perhaps is considerably more worthwhile. In the end, her ideas about the law, and its underlying moral and ethical foundation, have changed entirely, but she is a new and better person thereby: at one and the same time more sensual and more sensible. She has, through her undeniably shocking and degrading experiences, acquired a sounder and healthier perspective on her own life and the world around her.

  We hope and expect that the reader of Horny Hostage will acquire a new perspective, too. We have no doubt that in the final analysis it will be rated a much more profound work than it may appear at the first superficial glance.

  The Publishers

  CHAPTER ONE

  "I thought three o'clock would never come!" Linda said as she fitted her lithe, slender body into the front seat of the powerful Jaguar.

  "Did the other girls say anything about your leaving early?" Paul asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

  "I told them I was going to have my hair done," Linda replied, reaching over to take Paul's hand. "And that I was going out of town for the weekend, in case anyone tried to get in touch with me."

  Paul Cook nodded approvingly and directed the Jaguar through the early rush-hour traffic, heading for the freeway that would take them to the ocean and the beach house where he planned to spend the next two days with the girl beside him.

  Linda sat quietly for a few minutes and, as soon as they were on the freeway, twisted about in her seat. "You won't mind if I get comfortable?" she asked, cocking a quizzical eye at the man who was her employer and who, she hoped, was to become her lover and keeper.

  "No, go ahead," Paul told her.

  Linda Maddison hesitated for a moment, wondering if she dared take the brash step she had planned, and then she tossed her long, flowing blonde hair impetuously and kicked off her shoes. She reached under the tight, short skirt and pulled down her panty hose, tossing them aside, and then slipped out of her panties too. "I wanted to get all that unnecessary stuff out of the way," she purred, looking sideways at Paul with an air of open invitation. "You don't mind, do you?"

  "Aren't you afraid someone might see inside?" he asked.

  Paul Cook hadn't risen to be vice-president of the Garden Falls State Bank, in charge of Security, by exhibiting brash, risky tendencies and he felt a distinct sense of surprise at Linda's action. He knew that the girl had a rebellious, adventuresome streak in her but in the month that she had been functioning as his personal secretary she had managed to keep that side of her personality under control.

  "No, watch when that Porsche passes us," she told him, looking to the rear. "See? You can't see what they're doing in there! That girl might have her hand in the guy's fly, for all we can tell!"

  "I guess you're right," Paul admitted. "But I shouldn't think that's a very safe driving practice, would you?"

  "I just picked that out as an example," she told him, pouting a little and sitting back in her seat. "Although I don't see anything wrong with playing a little, as long as it doesn't get too serious and bother the driver."

  Paul showed no inclination to take up her implied invitation and she settled back to enjoy the ride. She began wondering if perhaps she had made a mistake in accepting Paul's invitation. She had initially been attracted by his quiet air and his good looks; the few passionate embraces that they had exchanged in his locked office had suggested that he had at lea
st as much sexual tire as any other man she had known. Although he was thirty-five, he had come to a swift, throbbing erection during those embraces and she still remembered the exciting way the thick, bulky rod had pressed against her belly as they clung together. She would willingly have done anything he asked, even in the bank office, but he had made no further advances. Instead, on the previous Wednesday, he had asked her if she would like to spend the weekend at his beach cottage.

  "Joy's going upstate this weekend," he said, referring to his wife, "and we'll have it all to ourselves. The swimming is great and there's just no one within miles of our cove."

  Thus it was that Linda looked forward to the weekend with special interest. She loved swimming and she also anticipated the thrill of opening her long, slender thighs to Paul and guiding the thick shaft of his swollen prick into the moist, hot lips of her throbbing pussy. The very thought now made her flesh tingle and she began wishing that she had simply asserted herself earlier and had reached over to tease his prick into hard, rigid life.

  "What would he say if I were to suggest giving him a blow job at freeway speed?" she thought to herself. "Would that be too bad? Gee, I never knew he'd be this uptight; maybe I shouldn't have taken my things off! Maybe he's like what I've always heard bankers were likeóstuffy, dignified, pompous, all that stuff. Ugghh! I hope he's a little more easy going once we get there!"

  Although she had not been promiscuous in her youth, Linda had engaged in enough sexual activity with the young men in her life to have a very complete knowledge of the things men and women can do in bed to make the hours pass more joyously. Her experience had been varied enough to assure her that she had the capacity to respond ardently to a man's embraces, though she suspected that there were heights of sensual feeling which she had not yet experienced. Paul Cook, she had thought, would be a likely candidate for showing her those new sensations. After all, he was a married man and his wife, Joy, had every attribute of a well-satisfied, lusty young woman. Everything she had ever heard about Paul indicated that he and his wife both enjoyed the fruits of the flesh, even if they happened to disagree about numerous other matters.

  These and other thoughts occupied Linda's mind as the Jaguar hurtled down the freeway. She soon forgot about the small, gnawing ache between her thighs. They turned off the freeway after an hour, took a succession of turns and then found themselves turning onto an unpaved lane leading over a low line of hills.

  "The cabin's just over that ridge," Paul told her as he pointed ahead. "Once we're over that, it's only a few hundred yards to the ocean."

  "I'll be glad to get there," Linda said. "It sounds like a wonderful place."

  "It's real nice," Paul agreed. "Utterly remote and not a neighbor within five miles. We'll have a wonderful time."

  They quickly arrived at the cottage and unloaded the car. Linda had given Paul a key to her apartment and he had collected her bag when he had been out for lunch. They carried their belongings into the cottage, storing the bags in the small bedroom off the big living room and carrying the sack of groceries into the kitchen. Linda put away the perishables and returned to the bedroom, where she began undressing.

  "Hey, if this place is so remote," she asked, calling in to Paul, who had remained in the kitchen, "why do I have to bother with a bathing suit?"

  "No reason," he said. "There'll be no one but me to see you. Go ahead if you like; I've often gone down without anything on."

  That settled it for Linda: she put her bikini back into the suitcase and forgot about it. Before going into the living room, she took care to fluff out the honey-brown fur covering her pubis; she also took a moment to admire her beauty in the mirror hanging over the bureau. She saw a five-foot-seven body, surmounted by a very attractive face, a shock of long, blonde hair, and decorated with a pair of firmly molded, needle-pointed breasts. Her prominent love mound jutted out sharply from between her softly curved thighs, promising excitement to any man fortunate enough to be allowed to probe the sweet, tender flesh under that promontory. She walked into the living room and waited for Paul's reaction to seeing her naked for the first time.

  "You're really going skinny dipping!" he exclaimed, looking up from the counter of the bar, where he was pouring himself a drink. "And a lovely sight you are!"

  He lifted his glass to her in a silent toast and devoured her with his eyes. Linda basked in his admiring gaze and wondered if the sight of her lush, ripe body would be enough to put him into a mood for something other than booze and swimming.

  "Let me take my things off and I'll join you," he said, coming over to her and pecking her lightly on the lips. "A little swim might do wonders for the appetite."

  Linda waited beside the front door while he undressed in the bedroom. She hungered for her first sight of him without clothes; she had often visualized the naked beauty of his prick and now she wanted to see if her dreams and fantasies had been anywhere near accurate. Paul emerged from the bedroom, walking a bit-self-consciously, but she could see that the meat dangling between his thighs was every bit as bulky and long as she had suspected. Uncircumcised and thick, the prick drooped for a good five or six inches; a set of massive balls hung down behind it almost as far. Linda felt her pussy begin throbbing and she wondered how she could stand waiting to have that lovely length of cock plunged into her hungry flesh.

  "Let's go try the water," Paul suggested, flinging her a towel and taking her hand.

  They walked down to the cove and plunged into the gentle surf. Linda found the water refreshingly cold and she began splashing about. Paul swam with more purpose, paddling far out into the mouth of the cove before turning back. When he walked out of the surf, Linda was drying her hair and waiting for him.

  "Just the thing to build up the appetite," she said.

  "You're right," he agreed. "Want to go back to the cabin? We can have ourselves a drink and start thinking about dinner."

  Linda began wondering if he was ever going to avail himself of the body she was so freely offering but, as soon as he had brought them drinks and they had settled down on the couch, he pulled her to him in a warm, tight embrace. She lay over him, pressing her fiery, rock-hard nipples into his chest, and felt his prick begin to stir. The knowledge that she was causing him to swell and stiffen with lust fired her own desires and she rolled against him ecstatically.

  "There ought to be a law against bankers having such big cocks," she said with a giggle. "First you've got all the money and now you've got a prick little girls dream about!"

  He seemed embarrassed by her forthright praise and said nothing. Linda clasped the thick, hot tool in her hand, stroking it gently, and shuddered with pleasure. Although she desperately wanted that big rod slammed deep into the mouth of her womb, stretching the walls of her cunt to the utmost, she also wanted to feel the satin-smooth head curling against her tongue and probing deep into her throat. Paul seemed to be in no hurry to mount her so she decided to apply her lips to the huge rod.

  "Hey, you like that, do you?" he asked as she slid down his body and touched her lips to the broad, warm shaft.

  "I can't help it," she panted, circling the tool's flaring head with her thumb and forefinger so she could press the foreskin back and bare the head. "Would you rather I didn't?"

  "No, go ahead; I like it too!"

  He lay quietly while she fitted her mouth over the head. Her tongue probed the cleft crowning the bulging tip and then slide down to curl into the thick groove separating head from shaft. She twisted her head sharply, bringing her lips around the shaft in a way which she knew excited men, and she forced the head against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. Paul responded with a gently nudging movement, forcing more of the tool into her mouth. She sucked vigorously, hoping to bring him to the edge of a climax, and fingered the heavy, sperm-laden balls lying beneath the gigantic shaft.

  "Are you going to suck me all the way? Till I come in your mouth?"

  "I will if you want," she said,
lifting her mouth off the prick and looking up at him with passionate anticipation. "But I'd rather finish it off in my cunt!"

  "That's the best way," he said. "It isn't very' nice, doing that in a woman's mouth."

  Linda started to object but then she changed her mind. If he didn't like being sucked off, she told herself, then she wouldn't attempt it. For her own part, she knew quite well that there were times when the sensation of a man's prick rammed deep in her throat and squirting hot, frantic jets of thick come surpassed any other sensation she had ever known. She also knew that a good many men were very hung up about that and that many of them had very deep misgivings about shooting off in a woman's mouth.

  "Maybe I'd better move," she suggested, determined to accommodate herself to his every whim.

  He pulled her up his body and lay beside her for a moment, allowing his heavy prick to brush against her belly. Then he moved gently over her, lifting himself high and waiting as she spread her knees wide apart and lifted them slightly. Linda looked into his eyes, gauging the extent of his arousal, and opened the lips of her pussy with her fingers. The lips were fully grown, erect and tingling with lusty life; her slit was juicy and hot with the oils her cunt had produced as she sucked away at his cock.