by Connie Mason
“A very profitable evening,” murmured Daisy, clutching Philippe’s arm close to her body, her eyes dark with desire. A self-satisfied smile curving her red lips, she wasted no time in leading Philippe up the stairs to her room. She was pleased in more ways than one. She had just obtained the highest price ever for the French girl, Lisa, and the drugged wine had worked far better than she could have wished. Most of the men were paring off with one girl or another, and best of all, she anticipated a long night of passion in the arms of the handsome man beside her.
Only when the water had grown cold did Gabby become aware of the need to get out of the tub and dry herself before the warm fire to stop her shivering. Stepping gingerly from the tub and using the soft towel Millie had provided Gabby began to rub her trembling body, a dreamy, far-off look glazing her face. The fire from the grate illuminated her pale, alabaster skin. Dropping the towel she moved languorously toward the bed and donned the bit of frothy lace she supposed was a nightgown. The garment Daisy had provided for Gabby was completely transparent with thins straps holding up a low-cut bodice that tied beneath the breasts with a satin ribbon and fell in sheer, graceful folds about her slim legs. Throughout it all, Gabby could concentrate on nothing but her throbbing, tingling body. Panting from the intensity of her emotions, she could barely keep her hands from straying to her tormented flesh.
As she stood beside the bed, confused, uncertain what to do next, the door opened to admit a stockily built man whose heavy, crude features seemed in distinct contract to his expensive clothing.
“My God!” he breathed reverently, “you’re even lovelier close up. And worth every penny I paid!”
“Monsieur?” asked Gabby with a puzzled frown. Why was she in a bedroom with a strange man inappropriately dressed in almost nothing? she wondered vaguely.
“An honest to God Frenchy,” breathed Rafe in lewd fascination. “Name’s Rafe, Mademoiselle,” he informed her as he eagerly advanced upon the cowering girl. “You and me are going to get along just fine.”
The look in Rafe’s beady eyes was unmistakable and even as Gabby was repulsed by the man himself, her flesh strained toward him. All conscious thought fled as her body took on a will of its own. She was aware of nothing; at that moment nothing mattered except assuaging the terrible throbbing tormenting her feverish flesh.
In a flash Rafe tore the revealing nightgown from Gabby’s body and fell upon her with an insatiable lust, plying his hands and lips to her straining flesh, her cries and moans of encouragement driving him to a frenzy. She pulled at Rafe’s clothes like a mad woman until he finally managed to cast them off. Then he picked her up and threw her on the bed, his hard, stocky bulk falling heavily upon her.
Gabby’s tortured body was aflame as it never had been before. While Rafe plied his hands and mouth to every crevice, every opening on her smooth, perfumed flesh, she writhed and moaned, cresting peak after peak, yet strangely unsatisfied. Several times in her delirium, she called out Philippe’s name but if Rafe noticed he said nothing. When finally he plunged his engorged member into her velvet wetness she screamed with pain at his brutal entrance, yet clawed his body closer, pulling his mouth to her pulsating nipples. With a blaze that threatened to consume her she climaxed just as Rafe’s pounding ceased and he collapsed atop her panting and gasping for breath.
“So you like old Rafe, huh, Frenchy?” he laughed crudely when he finally found his breath. “Well, I got plenty more where that come from.”
Gabby was far from sated. “More! More! Please more!” she begged an astonished but pleased Rafe.
“Sure, honey. Right after you show me a few of those tricks Daisy said you were famous for.”
Gabby stared at him uncomprehendingly as he knelt above her, twisting his hands hurtfully into her hair to pull her face into position. Hungrily, she accepted him without protest, the yearning within her driving her to the brink of insanity.
“Jesus!” Rafe cried, his body convulsing with intense pleasure. “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”
In the room next to Gabby’s, Philippe and Daisy lay entwined in each other’s arms, their bodies wet with perspiration. Philippe had found Daisy quick to passion and his deft caresses had aroused her to a feverish pitch. Her own strokings and petting, meant to enflame, somehow fell far short of their goal. Philippe could not help but compare Daisy’s flabby flesh to Gabby’s taut, smooth body. But if Philippe’s passion was not sufficiently aroused, Daisy did not notice. She was too caught up in her own pleasure to pay attention to Philippe’s lack of response. Besides, he was careful to bring Daisy to a thundering climax even if his own was dismally lacking. Soon after their first encounter, Daisy was eager for him again and once more Philippe found himself plunging into her, outwardly exhibiting a passion equal to her own yet somehow remaining unscathed.
Daisy lay replete and spent while Philippe dozed beside her. She smiled fondly at him while he muttered in French, only one word coming out clearly. Gabby! Who or what a Gabby was, Daisy neither knew or cared. She was only sorry that Philippe had told her the was leaving for Martinique the next day. She sighed and thought to waken him again for another round of lovemaking when she suddenly remembered the girl, Lisa, in the next room and wondered how Rafe was progressing with her. She eased from the bed and moved to the peephole.
Somehow, through the fog of sleep, Daisy’s laughter and mutterings came through to Philippe and he reluctantly opened his eyes to find the cause of Daisy’s mirth. He saw her looking through a small aperture in the wall.
“What is it, Daisy?” he asked sleepily. “What are you looking at?”
“The little Frenchy is nearly devouring Rafe and that clumsy oaf is pounding the tiny thing senseless. But what’s more amazing is that she is begging for more. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Daisy repeated with awe. “I’ve never seen it work so well.”
“What work so well?” asked Philippe, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Er… nothing, honey, just talking to myself.”
“Come back to bed,” Philippe urged, watching her nude body through slumberous eyes.
Daisy would have liked nothing better than to snuggle next to Philippe’s hard, virile body but she was held spellbound by the passionate couple in the next room. “He sure is getting his money’s worth. I hope he don’t pull any of that silvery hair from her head. God, it’s beautiful! Almost like pale silk.”
Somewhere in Philippe’s befogged brain a little bell rang and he began paying closer attention to Daisy’s words. “What did you say her name was?” he asked, suddenly alert.
“She says it’s Lisa, but who knows? Lisa La Farge. Sounds French enough,” replied Daisy, shrugging daintily. “Jesus! Look what she’s doing to old Rafe now!” Her well-manicured hands began to work over her own body while Philippe jumped from the bed with a curse, shock and disbelief marching across his face.
“Impossible!” he cried out when Daisy divulged the girl’s last name. It was the same as Gabby’s maiden name! “I left her well protected aboard the Windward. How would she get here?” Rudely he shoved Daisy from the peephole and fit his own eye to it. What he saw froze the blood in his veins. A red rage exploded behind his brain and Daisy stepped back in alarm.
“What’s the matter, honey?” she asked, suddenly frightened by the madman she had taken to her bed. “What are you talking about? You had your chance to look at the French girl before and you turned it down.” She sidled next to Philippe, prodding him with her bare breasts in an attempt to divert him. After watching the spectacle in the next room she was more than ready for him again. “Come back to bed,” she urged in her throaty voice.
But Philippe neither heard nor felt Daisy. What he had just witnessed had left him shocked and speechless. Against all odds, the Frenchwoman in bed with the man Daisy called Rafe was Gabby! Her naked, sweat-drenched body was being pounded into the mattress by Rafe, his heavy frame nearly smothering the smaller form beneath him. But it was Gabby’s face that held Phili
ppe in thrall. Her eyes were narrowed slits of lust, her smile wanton, her moist lips open and greedy. He could almost hear her moans and words of encouragement as her small hands worked over Rafe’s husky body. She must have almost worn the man out because his face was red and he was perspiring profusely all the while his buttocks rose and fell in quick jerking motions, the lust-crazed woman beneath him consuming every ounce of his flagging energy.
Finally, the horror of what he was witnessing hit Philippe with the full force of a sledgehammer blow to his stomach and he had all he could do to keep the vomit from spewing from his throat. “ Mon dieu!” he cursed violently. “What have you done to her?”
Daisy was stunned by Philippe’s reaction. What could he care about a little French whore? she wondered. For that’s what she was. Daisy didn’t for one minute swallow that sob story about the convent and a cruel husband. Her prowess in the bedroom disproved the convent upbringing if nothing else did.
“What’s it to you, honey?” Daisy purred in her sexiest voice, hoping to lure Philippe back to bed.
“Damn you to hell, Daisy!” exploded Philippe, his rage turning against the woman standing beside him. “That’s my wife in there with that maniac!” Pulling on his clothes with one hand and holding on to Daisy’s wrist with the other, Philippe ran from the room, a nude Daisy in tow.
“Your wife!” gasped Daisy, wincing when Philippe tightening his grip on her wrist. “No! It can’t be. She’s nothing but a French whore!”
Ignoring Daisy, Philippe burst into the next room dragging the madam with him. Hearing Gabby’s tormented cries nearly tore him apart. But when she called his name out in agony his tortured face bore all the signs of madness.
The man atop Gabby was so engrossed in the writhing body beneath him he did not hear Philippe enter. “Name’s Rafe, you little bitch,” grunted Rafe, “and I’m every bit as good as your Philippe, whoever the hell he is, but damn if you ain’t wore me out.”
Suddenly his sweating body left the bed and sailed across the room, landing heavily at Daisy’s bare feet. He was too near exhaustion to do more than gasp in surprise.
“Get out, you scum!” ordered Philippe, outrage burning in him like a hot brand. “Get out before I kill you!”
Despite his exhaustion, Rafe stumbled unsteadily to his feet, grabbed his clothes and announced with more bravery than he felt, “Sure, sure, can’t satisfy that little whore anyhow. But I got to hand it to you, Daisy, you got a gold mine in that Frenchy. Takes to it like there’s no tomorrow.” Then, seeing the murderous look on Philippe’s face, he scudded out the door, frantically pulling on his clothes.
Daisy made to follow but Philippe caught her wrist again and pulled her close to the bed. “What have you given her?” he demanded angrily, pointing to Gabby.
“Nothing! Nothing!” she insisted, becoming more frightened by the minute. “Are you sure she’s your wife?”
“She is my wife,” Philippe stated grimly, “and I know she has been drugged or she wouldn’t be here. I have no aversion to killing a woman, Daisy, so tell me the truth.” His hand tightened, raising her arm behind her back until she screamed out in agony.
“All right! All right! I’ll tell you, only don’t break my arm, for God’s sake!”
“For your sake it had better be the truth!” It was all Philippe could do to tear his eyes from Gabby and the agony she was experiencing.
“I only gave her a stimulant to make her more… er… willing.”
Philippe cursed loudly. “How much, damn you, how much did you give her?”
“Only a few drops in a glass of wine. Not enough to harm her. I’ve used it many times before with no ill effects… only…”
“Only what?” demanded Philippe, increasing the pressure on Daisy’s arm.
“I’ve… I’ve never seen it work so… so… thoroughly,” Daisy stammered, wincing in pain.
“Did you leave the bottle in the room when you left her?”
“No! No! I carried it out with me.” Then light dawned on Daisy’s terrified face. “My glass,” she gasped. “I left my untouched glass of wine in the room and…” She broke off and glanced toward the table at two empty glasses. Philippe followed the direction of her gaze and needed no further explanation to realize that Gabby had downed the contents of both glasses of drugged wine!
“If your damned stimulant harms her or her child I will come back and kill you with my own hands,” promised Philippe through clenched teeth.
“Your wife is… pregnant?” gasped Daisy, certain that she was facing sure death. “How could I know? She mentioned no child to me.”
“How did she come to be in your house?” Philippe asked, exerting more pressure to Daisy’s arm. Knowing Gabby he realized she would never have come willingly to a house of prostitution.
“A friend of mine saved Lisa… er… whatever her name is, from being raped by a sailor named Big Jake, and he brought her here to me.”
“She came willingly?” asked Philippe, disbelief evident on his face. He knew Gabby well enough to know her convent upbringing would not countenance selling herself no matter how desperate she was. “The truth!” he demanded when Daisy hesitated. “If I find out you’ve lied to me I’ll tell the police you kidnapped my wife.”
Daisy had no choice but to tell Philippe everything she knew about Gabby and how she came to be in a house of prostitution. When she finished, she cocked an eyebrow at Philippe and asked with no small amount of curiosity, “Are you the cruel husband she was running away from? That’s a story I’d like to hear, honey!”
A small muscle twitched in Philippe’s chin and he balled his fists to keep from striking the madam. “She was drugged twice!” he cried out in alarm. “Your friend Mike drugged her in order to transport her here!”
Daisy shrank from the menace evident in his voice. “She was given only a sleeping draught the first night,” she countered. “Do you think I would allow her to be harmed? She represented a sizable investment on my part.”
“But what about the child she carries? Will the sleeping draught or the stimulant harm the babe?” Philippe demanded, nearly demented with anxiety.
“I don’t know,” admitted Daisy hesitantly. “But I’m sure she will be fine once the effects of the drug wears off. It’s never harmed anyone before.”
“By all that’s holy you’d better be right,” warned Philippe ominously, causing Daisy to shiver with apprehension.
All of a sudden the anger drained from Philippe’s body. His main concern now was getting Gabby out of the whorehouse and safely aboard the Windward where he could look after her properly. Releasing Daisy’s bruised arm, he gathered up Gabby, satin sheet and all, in his brawny arms, cradling her as one would a small child. She seemed to weigh nothing at all as he carried her from the room.
As if aware of Philippe’s arms around her, Gabby moaned and pressed even closer to him. “It’s all right, ma chere,” he whispered tenderly. “Nothing or no one will harm you again. I shall look after you always.” Turning to Daisy once more, he ordered brusquely, “Have your carriage brought around back.” When she was slow to move, he gave her a vicious shove. “Move, damn your whoring hide, move!”
Gabbing up Gabby’s discarded wrapper, Daisy drew it about her and hurried down the back stairs to do his bidding. By the time Philippe reached the rear door with his slight burden a carriage and driver were waiting. Soon they were speeding toward the Windward.
After ordering the captain to set a course immediately for Martinique, Philippe carried Gabby to their cabin and placed her gently on the bed. Then he asked a concerned Seaman Laville who was hovering anxiously nearby to bring hot water, disinfectant, and towels. Only when Laville had provided these items and gone about his duties did Philippe uncover Gabby and minutely inspect the numerous bites and scratches scattered over her nude body.
Loudly cursing Big Jake, Mike, Daisy, and Rafe, Philippe gently cleansed and applied disinfectant to each bruise and hurt. Then he washed every in
ch of her, wincing in pain and disgust as he wiped all traces of Rafe’s ravishment from between her thighs.
All the while Philippe worked gently over Gabby the drug continued to ravage her body and mind as she twitched and strained toward his tender touch, her flesh still yearning, needing. Finally satisfied that he had attended to even the smallest bruise he drew the cover over her and pulled a chair close by to begin the vigil of waiting out the after-effects of the drugs she had been given, praying that she would not abort.
Philippe must have dozed because he awoke with a start to find Gabby awake and sitting in bed, wild-eyed and distressed. She appeared not to know him although she called his name over and over.
“What it is, ma chere?” he asked, his face taut with worry. “How can I help you?”
“Take me! Please take me! I’m afire!” she gasped, clutching out at him. “Why are you making me suffer this way? Make love to me!” Her lower lip trembled and Philippe felt a great compassion as well as pity for her. She had no idea what she was doing and Philippe fervently hoped that she would remember nothing of what took place in Daisy’s establishment, for she would never hear it from his lips.
His heart was nearly wrenched from his chest as Gabby continued her pleading. No longer able to bear her misery, he moved from the chair to the bed and took her in his arms in order to stop her violent trembling. After that it seemed only natural to cover her mouth with his to still her sobs and small cries of abandonment. What followed was inevitable.
“Hurry! Hurry!” Gabby urged as she tore at Philippe’s clothing. Even though he knew she was still reacting to the aphrodisiac in her system there was no way that Philippe could resist. Besides, he reasoned, his own passion taking wing, she was obviously in an agony of need and who better to assuage that need than her own husband? At least he would take her with gentleness and care, unlike that animal, Rafe, who pounded at her with unbridled lust.
