Uncnown

The Widow_s Companion

Chapter 1

Dominique Carter placed the highball in the hand of the buxom blonde thirteen year old and stepped back, her deep green eyes smiling felinely.

"Go on, dear, there's no harm in it," she coaxed. "It's just a little highball."

But Ellen Winthrop, whose father had died nine months previous after an acute bout with alcoholism, shook her pretty head firmly. Her satiny soft long blonde hair flew attractively around her perfectly oval youthful face. The long dark lashes over her sparkling, innocent blue eyes fluttered as she refused, saying, "Oh, but I couldn't, Mrs.

Carter. My mother wouldn't permit it."

Dominique smiled indulgently and took the glass from her again. She shook out her long red hair and said sweetly, "Well, that's right, dear. You should always do what your mother tells you." Damnit, a small voice whispered inside her head.

Not that this terrible primness didn't make their lovely young neighbor all the more intoxicating company. At times Dominique suspected that it was this very naivete that was driving herself and her husband Maxwell so wild with anticipation. Ellen was so unremittingly good that Maxwell was really going out of his mind for her, and Handsome, their big German shepherd was as well. Handsome sniffed around the sweet overdeveloped teenager to an extent which even made Dominique not a little jealous. But if the anticipation was excruciating, so also was their fierce desire to get some good movies of Ellen misbehaving. She was the most gorgeous little piece of femininity and perfection they had run into in a long time, and any film footage they could get of her would sell like hotcakes, literally. Men always liked performers who were busty with long blonde hair, for some reason, and in addition there was the incentive of Ellen's healthy nubile youth, which was considerable.

At only thirteen she was rounded and developed with curves that any eighteen year old would have been proud of. Her large, gravity-defying breasts – which she appeared to be somewhat uncomfortable about – were positively mouth-watering, to hear Maxwell tell it, and she knew that Handsome wanted to lap them as well. In addition, the child had almost no waist – which then flared out into opulent hourglass hips just born for sex. And then there were those long, long legs tapering into tiny ankles and dainty feet. Ellen had been put together like a human aphrodisiac. No doubt she towered over her teacher in grammar school as well. She was probably the most striking thing her teachers had ever seen.

Dominique sighed and sipped her highball. The entire affair had become all too frustrating. They hadn't had any of this delay and difficulty with their other conquests. It hadn't taken too long for most of them to fall for Handsome, that rugged, demanding beast, or at the very least for her handsome husband Maxwell. And most of them had been teenagers as well, usually neighborhood girls of good background who they were eventually able to get liquored up enough so that they totally lost their heads and could be seduced readily into performing for Midwest Motion Pictures, Incorporated.

They, too, had had long hair of varying shades, and voluptuous physiques, which was why they had been chosen. The Carters' customers liked especially well these pert and clean-cut, fresh-looking youngsters. Their innocent wholesomeness appeared to be more thrilling than the blatant sensuality of the average actress who was willing to do sex scenes for pay. Which was why she and Maxwell always went to the lengthy trouble of these elaborate seductions. Their customers paid more for girls of obvious gentility, virginity, purity, and refinement.

Except that Ellen now had them stymied. Five months of plying her with bon-bons, long trips in their wire-wheeled custom-made Lamborghini motorcar, flights in their private plane, pretty little gifts of bewildering variety and so-on, nothing had served in the slightest to unbend the gorgeous voluptuous blonde teenager's legs from the way they crossed so elegantly over her golden – and no doubt virginal – pussyslit. Dominique could sigh indeed. They already had a lengthy investment in this luscious child of nature. It was going to be difficult to write her off as a bad job. Money didn't grow on trees.

"Are you ready out there?" came Maxwell's deep voice from in back of their private motion picture screen, which had descended smoothly and silently from its hidden recess in the ceiling of the Carters' living room.

"We are lover," Dominique called back. "Fire away."

"Here we go."

Suddenly the sound came up at the same time as the picture, the house lights dimmed, and they were looking at the opening reel of "Straw Dogs."

The Carters had their own motion picture facilities at home, of course, and quite elaborate ones they were. They were also a means of impressing young impressionables, for they always showed the latest Hollywood films as well, often before these were showing in legitimate movie houses. Most of them were pirated jobs, but the innocent young girls who made it a point to visit the Carters didn't know this. They just assumed that the Carters were impossibly rich and influential, and that all the big studios sent them prints of their films as a matter of course.

Ellen sat back, her legs still sweetly crossed. Her long blonde hair had fluffed in back of the couch she was sitting on. There was no denying she was impressed by the Carters. In the five months since her widowed mother and herself had moved to Kenilworth, intent on putting out of their minds the unfortunate demise of her adored father, the Carters had gone out of their way to help them forget. They took her mother and herself on little shopping trips, and sent them presents, took them out to dinner, and so on. They were the most generous people Ellen had ever known.

Dominique Carter squeezed her slender smooth hand and Ellen blushed. In recent months Mrs. Carter had been more of a mother to her than her own mother almost, and the amount of time the Carters seemed to spend on her was really amazing. She had never known people could be so sweet and thoughtful, and without any consideration for themselves. Mr.

Carter had even offered her a chance to take the controls of his private plane, although, of course, she had refused. What a great deal of money they must have to be able to afford such gestures! And the way they were always talking about their vacations in Bermuda, Rio de Janeiro, Sun Valley, Mallorca, St. Moritz, Paris, Monte Carlo, the French Riviera, Hollywood, Palm Beach, and the Far East! Apparently they had the money to be able to afford to go anywhere and do anything.

She didn't suppose that she would ever be that rich. Her father's insurance had left just enough to leave them comfortably well off, and when her mother had sold their house in Winnetka (her big old house, with the big playroom and nursery she had grown up in, and which she loved so well) they had bought their smaller, but more luxurious, bungalow down the street from the Carters, shaded by tall oaks and with an immense backyard perfect for sunning. It was just such a sunny day when they had first run into the Carters, who had come walking through the alley with Handsome on a leash, and then stopped to say hello and have some idle chatter.

Ellen had been impressed with them from the very first. Maxwell Carter had seemed so impossibly urbane and worldly, with his wavy black hair and the handmade pipe he was forever lighting. He dressed with rugged lavishness, expensively, so that he looked not so much the workman as the wealthy outdoors-man. He used a great deal of leather and suede in his apparel, and it was always finely cut and usually brand new.

Everything he wore looked custom made just for him – from the belted Austrian hunting jackets to his Charles III buckled boots. He was mature, worldly, sophisticated. Dominique Carter was a lucky woman.

And their wealth, while obvious, was always in good taste in a similar vein. In addition to their white Cadillac convertible they also kept the classic Lamborghini, a Rolls-Royce, and a battered old Ford station wagon. While Mrs. Carter, in addition to her minks, also wore leopard and silver fox with some frequency. Her clothes were beautiful and in good taste. Everything seemed to be an original from somewhere or other, or ready-made from Saks or Marshall Field. "Oh, just some little thing Christian Dior made up for me, darling," Dominique Carter would say casually. "He's such a dear."

Now as she sat on the couch in front of the movie screen, Mrs. Carter's hand slipped casually out of hers and rested just as casually on Ellen's full firm thigh. Ellen didn't mind. Dominique was like a secondary mother to her, or a fairy aunt. And she was a perfectly normal girl in that her primitive, vague and immature yearnings were oriented only towards the male sex. At the tender age of thirteen, while of womanly proportions already, Ellen still knew nothing at all of lesbianism, and scarcely much more about ordinary sex.

The innocent young girl glanced across at Maxwell Carter, who was sitting sidewise across from them, on the other long black leather couch, apparently deep in thought, his usual urbane and distant self as the motion pictured droned on.

But why had they picked her upon which to lavish all this attention and praise? Dominique Carter was constantly buying her "some little thing;" her mother didn't seem to mind. Perhaps it was all due to the fact that the Carters had no children of their own.

But that didn't seem quite right, either. Dominique Carter was certainly young enough to have children, even though she was too svelte and sophisticated to seem exactly the motherly type. And with a gorgeous statuesque figure like hers, Ellen imagined that her husband probably found no end of excuse to do with her what it was that men did with women for the purpose of impregnating them. She certainly could not believe that the Carters were anything less than normal. Mr.

Carter's virility was a palpable flavor in the air, while Dominique had an aura of such worldly sensuality that Ellen only hoped that some day she could equal that masterful air of feminine confidence which suffused everything Dominique did. If only…

"Look at this," Maxwell whispered across to them. Handsome stepped over to Ellen and laid his furry snout in her lap, gazing up at her with what appeared to be adoring eyes. It was not in her youthful innocence to perceive any sensuality in the handsome brute's face. Handsome was, after all, just a dog.

"Terrific," Maxwell muttered.

Ellen blinked and she struggled to focus. As usual, the surroundings in the Carters' enormous den were so restful that she had quite drifted off with her pubescent daydreaming. She realized now that she had been paying scarcely any attention at all to the movie, although it appeared to be an interesting one. The mood of decor in the Carters' library-den as usual, had tended to act as a mild soporific on her teenage sensibilities. The ancient prints on the walls, the long hanging red tapestries, the abundance of leather, wood, and fine Mediterranean tooling workmanship in everything – from mantel piece to chair arm to carpeting to bookcase – the high covered windows, everything gave one a feeling of having settled into a warmish, quiet cocoon conducive to thoughtful meditation. Then the incense that the Carters were so fond of lighting was another factor. She invariably found herself becoming slow and lazy in this room, in particular when they showed films. Her mind just seemed to drift off.

But now Mr. Carter's verbal notations had served to waken her observation, and what she observed was more than she bargained for.

The sort of films the Carters usually showed her were Mary Poppins' sort of things, with the occasional violent western thrown in for good measure. They had never shown her anything even the most wee bit sexy.

And yet she realized now that what she was seeing in Straw Dogs had some very strong sexual overtones. In particular where the young man's wife – the American man's wife – appears at the window with her healthy young breasts showing, before the trio of workmen working on the garage roof of her husband's new house.

And what Mr. Carter was now pointing out was apparently a rape scene, for the big blond man was in the American's house while he was away, and he was slapping his pretty blonde wife and making her take her clothes off.

Ellen started as she realized what was happening to herself right here in this room. Mrs. Carter was gently stroking her skirted thigh with her thumb, and Handsome had nuzzled his nose deeply in her lap, almost brushing her panty-covered loins, but she didn't notice any of that.

What really set her mind and her loins aglow was the realization that the big young man in the film had actually put his penis into the beautiful blonde young housewife!

Ellen gasped and put her hand to her sultry red mouth. She couldn't really believe this was happening, before her very eyes! For the pretty housewife, the nipples of her breasts showing in the most blatant way, seemed actually to be undergoing sex as the handsome man stuffed his long thick thing up inside of her belly, working it around with agonizing slowness. And a few seconds later, when the housewife obviously came, it was the most intoxicating experience Ellen had ever witnessed in her entire young life!

"She seemed to enjoy that, didn't she?" Dominique asked silkily, her voice a soft essence wafted against Ellen's shell-like smooth ear.

"Well – I -" stammered Ellen, unable to know what to say, at a total loss. She had never before ever actually seen anyone having sex. Her loins seemed to be full of butterflies. The man in the film had obviously made love to the beautiful blonde housewife in the film, and clearly she had enjoyed it.

"Don't be pushy, Dom," came Maxwell Carter's understanding baritone from the other couch. "After all, Ellen's only thirteen years old.

She's just a child."

Exactly the sort of statement calculated to put any teenager on the defensive and eager to prove that she could be as sexy as any grown woman.

Ellen rose to the bait. Smarting under Mr. Carter's patronizing tone, she instinctively sat up straighter in order to thrust out her proudly uplifted breasts. Her long blonde curls danced in back of her shoulders. "I am not such a child as all that, Mr. Carter," she insisted through her sensuously pouting lips. "I know all about sex, you know."

Carter could not repress a faint little smirk at their perty prey's behavior. "From biology books in school, no doubt," he said wryly, clinking his ice around in his highball glass as he goaded her still further. "And I thought we agreed that you would call me Maxwell, Ellen."

"Maxwell, then," she stammered, flustered. "Well, no, not from biology books – that is…"

"Where then, dear?" asked Dominique, pressing her hand affectionately around Ellen's.

"Well, I – that is… the girls at school… my mother… oohhhhh …" Her voice trailed off as she focused again on the sexual action on the screen. Something had happened! A second man had appeared with a knife and had forced the first man to force the housewife to submit to something else. It appeared as if the second man was doing something behind her. But what? It was all so confused. She wasn't sure if she could make out anything very clearly, really.

"Looks like he's sodomizing her," Maxwell Carter said casually.

"He's what?" Ellen asked, mystified.

"Sodomizing her, darling," said Dominique, pressing her hand warmly again. "That's a form of sex – probably the most satisfying there is."

Ellen's eyes screwed up. How did they get to talking about sex all of a sudden? Even though the Carters spoke with easy authority, she had the subtle feeling that something was not quite right in their conversation. And as for this sodomizing business, if that was the best sex, how come she hadn't heard anything about it? Her mother certainly hadn't said anything about it.

But anyway that scene was quickly over and then her embarrassed confusion subsided again. Everything returned to normal. The warmish feeling in her loins gradually pulled back like a receding wave from a tropical shore.

There was in the remainder of the film some really grisly violence of fairly standard American variety, but none of it especially disturbed her. Then she looked at the lovely platinum watch the Carters had given her and exclaimed about the time. She had promised her mother that she would be home early. She said a hurried but pleasant good night to the Carters and then rushed off into the darkness of the evening.

Chapter 2

"That little cunt has cost us a fortune," said Maxwell when she had gone, his voice thick with disgust as he scratched Handsome's ears.

"I'll say," agreed Dominique, putting out her cigarette in the nearest ashtray. Then she began undoing the belt on her robe until it opened fully, revealing the sumptuous pears of her high, widely-spaced breasts, the molten white belly beneath with its soft nest of auburn pussy hair, and the long slender columns of her legs. She lay back on the couch and spread her legs open lazily. The big German shepherd didn't need any further cue than that. He left his master and hurried across the carpet to burrow his nose into his mistress' warmly scented pussy. Dominique sighed and ran her fingers over the handsome dog's sleek furry head. In another moment the well-trained show dog's tongue had lanced out and speared into the quivering pink flesh of her cuntal lips, sending a surge of fire burning through her loins and upward into the rest of her wantonly excited body right to the very ends of her hair.

"Spent a fortune on that fucking tail," Maxwell muttered unhappily again, his voice slurring this time. He finished a spare drink on the coffee table, then got up and went over to the bamboo-and-leopard skin bar to mix himself another.

Dominique's eyes turned dreamy as the big German shepherd's thick red tongue began twisting in and out of her cunt like a corkscrew. "Maybe we should use our more extreme procedure, lover," she croaked huskily, her eyes fluttering with passion.

"We don't dare," said Maxwell, corking a bottle and shaking his head.

"She's only thirteen years old. Any seduction has to be of her own accord. She has to come to us with her eyes wide open. She has to seduce herself. Any other course would be strictly suicide."

"In that case, it's time to leave it with Handsome, lover."

"Probably." Maxwell Carter looked over at the powerful dog whose tongue was dredging his wife's wetly surging vagina like a steam shovel excavating Roman finds. Handsome was always the court of last resort; and he had never failed them yet.

Still, though, this was a tricky one. A thirteen year old gorgeous blonde of total innocence. A real challenge! He couldn't remember when before they had encountered such striking blonde wholesomeness. He wanted to see her long, satiny blonde hair cascading over a pillow to form a cushion for her pretty head as he moved upward through her widespread thighs with his warmly throbbing cock working slowly through the moist tendrils and wetly sucking lips of her young virginal cunt, fucking the shit out of the sweet little bitch; he coughed at the thought.

Ellen Winthrop had the body of a lush young Venus, and it had been all Maxwell could do to control his hands in the months they had known her.

Fortunately his head had ruled his heart. Finesse always proved the most potent master in the end; and it was lasting. Rape seductions occasionally worked out, but there was always the danger that they might not. Particularly with one so young, where the aspect of painful entrance might assume sizable proportions.

He closed his eyes, considering her lushly ripened breasts whose rosetipped nipples appeared so prominent even through her brassiere and sweater combined. The child had a slender, girlish waist, luscious round hips, a flat, smooth stomach and long, full-swelling thighs. Her breathtakingly curved calves tapered down into thin, well-formed ankles. And over all of that, her wealth of shining blonde hair. Just one reel of her being taken from behind by Handsome could make a fortune for them. And if that fiercely kissable, sultry young mouth could ever be coaxed into wrapping itself around the dog's enormous pulsating red cock -! Ellen had an almost classical, dainty Greek nose, with a lower lip that protruded in an almost perpetual littlegirl pout, a round dimpled chin, and a soft, slightly tanned ivory complexion. To see that pretty young face energetically sucking on Handsome's throbbing, richly-veined penis would be a treat no reasonable buyer could refuse. They had to get her at all cost!

Downing his drink swiftly, he went to the secret panel on the wall of the library, where he pressed a button and a hidden videotape camera came sliding into view from one corner of the ceiling. It hissed and clicked as it focused on Handsome's lavish oral attention he was giving to his lovely auburn-haired mistress Dominique, who was already hurtling through her first orgasm of the evening with a gurgling cry of delight that made the heavy drapes on the high windows of the library seem to tremble.

*****

Three houses down on Kenwood Lane from the Carters, the cute teenager had already dozed pleasantly off on the two-seater sofa in her bedroom, her long legs curled up underneath her. She had meant to take a nice hot bath before retiring, but she had gotten so caught up in her third re-reading of Jane Austen's Wuthering Heights – which she thought was the most romantic novel ever written, next to Little Women, that she had quite dozed off. This was not so uncommon; she frequently fell asleep reading some nice romantic story, though usually only in bed.

But now she had suddenly bolted upright to a sitting position. She had been awakened by a noise from down the hall. It sounded like the muffled squeal of some animal being put to slaughter. At first she had heard it as merely a part of her dream, but when it had come again, more forcefully, it had jarred her into alertness.

Something was wrong in her mother's room, she was sure of it. Other muffled sounds were echoing through the thick wall also. Sounds that were not familiar to her, but which seemed to be cries of terror and pleading. She looked at her watch. It was still early. She had probably not been asleep very long, even though it had seemed so.

She got up groggily from the sofa and drifted over to the bed, trying to analyze the nature of what she was hearing. She didn't want to make a fool of herself if nothing was wrong. Perhaps her mother merely had the television on too loud. Or it could be that she had gone to sleep early and was having a nightmare herself.

There was silence then for a long moment, and then another sound, this time of movement. It sounded as though something were being thrown bodily onto a squeaking bed. She could not be certain, of course. Her mother's bedroom was separated from her own by the main bathroom.

Not switching on the lamp, she made her way through the darkness to the door, pressing her ear tightly against it in order to listen better.

There was the unmistakable sound of a heavy, dragging movement somewhere. She thought also she could hear whimpering but it was impossible to tell for sure.

She hesitated for a moment, not sure just what to do. Certainly if something were drastically wrong, her mother would scream. She would certainly hear that, if she did. She listened intently, waiting silently, her hand frozen on the doorknob.

There was a long low moan coming softly discernible from the other side now. This convinced her! Her mother might be ill and unable to move for some reason. She hadn't been feeling too well earlier on, and it might even be serious. She had been quite distraught when father had died, and not quite right since. Perhaps Ellen should take just a quick look quietly so as not to disturb her if she were merely having a bad dream.

The apprehensive young blonde stepped into the bathroom between their rooms, and then slipped quietly across the tiles to the door to her mother's bedroom. Silently, she turned the doorknob and opened the door just a crack. She scanned the room, her eyes adjusting to the dim glow of the bedlamp.

And then her heart leaped in her throat! For there, on the bed, was her mother, Amy Winthrop, her long black hair streaming, her naked body churning passionately underneath, with a man on top of her!

He was obviously trying to rape her! The man had her pinned to the bed and had forced her legs open with his own muscular thighs. Ellen felt frozen to the floor. She almost let out a scream but choked it back with the palm of her hand. It was unbelievable! She started to shake uncontrollably, then bit down hard on her hand to keep from crying out.

She was shaking too hard to close the door and just stood there helplessly trying to regain her composure. What should she do? She knew it would do no good for her to attempt to intervene. And then she might get raped as well. Or worse! He might kill them both.

But at the same time she couldn't seem to tear herself away from the fiercely lascivious scene. Her own mother! Being fucked! A man had his penis inside her! It was ghastly – but at the same time heart-stopping and intoxicating as well. Ellen had only a minimal knowledge of what sex was all about, despite her premature development, and her curiosity was stronger than her terror in finding her mother was being violated.

So she watched horrified and thrilled all put together, unable to move, as her naked mother struggled beneath the twilight-shrouded man on the bed. Ellen had a good view of them, although she could not see who the man was except that he was naked and wearing only a pair of socks.