Arson

Angie tried to recall a particular handsome blond muscular dancer. In her marriage, Angie had never really fantasized much. Drew's handsomeness and strength more than satisfied her. Sometimes they would engage in minor role play, Angie donning a red wig and Drew pretending to be a police officer. Handcuffs was as kinky as they ever got and Angie enjoyed those much more when her husband wore them. It was a visible reminder of his criminal past. Though Angie would never admit it publicly, her husband's bad boy past really turned her on.

Big Gene was a bad boy too, but what a difference. Drew NEVER hurt people. True, a fireman could have been injured fighting the fires he set, but that was unintentional. Drew, despite his faults and criminal past, was a fundamentally decent man. At least Angie had convinced herself that he was. Big Gene, by contrast, killed people regularly. Her own parents could die if any of the disgust and repulsion that she felt manifested itself in her countenance.

Big gene made an impatient sound and Angie hurried back to him. He nodded and Angie's hands went to the waist of pants. Forcing back some of his suet-like flab, Angie parted the belt, opened his pants and lowered the zipper. As she worked the expensive suit pants over his rump and down, Big Gene's legs reminded her of a pair of gnarled tree trunks. He stepped out of the pants and Angie carefully hung them up. Now her beast was clad only in his silk boxers. Tenting the front was the bulge of his modest sized penis. Angie took a deep breath, uttered a silent prayer and began tugging down the underwear. His uncut manhood stood erect almost lost in the flab of his form. Angie had never been so repulsed. She made a move to rise after bending to remove the boxers from Big Gene's ankles but the mobster placed his fingers upon Angie's shoulders. Even the naive minister's daughter understood what he was demanding from her.

Emitting a soft sob, Angie prepared to perform fellatio for the second time in an hour. Forcing her gorge down, Angie grasped, Big Gene's shaft and began kissing his balls. At least Big Gene did not smell as foul as he looked. Angie's forehead pressed against the thug's gut as her mouth encircled his penis. The effect was both claustrophobic and strangulating. In a passing thought, Angie hoped that Big Gene paid his hookers exceptionally well. Fighting for breath, Angie's head began to slide back and forth while Gene grunted with pleasure. The sounds coming from her captor reminded Angie of the sounds the swine made at her cousin's farm. Angie tried to ignore that imagery as she applied herself with as much diligence as she was capable of to the task of getting the thug off.

Angie was almost grateful that the huge gangster did not have much endurance. After only a few moments of work, Angie's mouth was once again filled with the pungent tang of cum. It went down no easier the second time. Angie sat on her haunches as her eyes watched Big Gene's manhood shrivel. It vanished behind his flab, making Big Gene appear an almost sexless being.

"You're doing great kid!" enthused the gangster. "Now we need to do some grounds keeping, I should be ready to go again once that job is finished."

Angie's face wore a puzzled expression as she returned to an upright position.

"I don't like hair pie, kid."

The sheltered housewife blinked uncomprehendingly.

"It's time to shave your pussy, girl!"

Angie's mind reeled. From her reading of women's magazines, she understood it was the current fashion among young women such as herself, but it seemed so sleazy to her that Angie had never even considered adopting it. True, she had caught Drew masturbating to shorn women but he had never pressured her to follow suit. Only once had he broached the subject and that was when she was pregnant and could not easily trim herself. Keeping the edges of her feminine triangle was the only concession to pubic fashion that she made. A bit more during bathing suit season, almost none the rest of the year. Angie's though of disgust quickly morphed into "My transformation to a prostitute is complete!"

After instructing Angie to lie in the center of the bed, Big gene vanished for a moment into the adjoining bathroom and returned with a basin of warm water. He placed this on the nightstand. Only then did Angie notice the trimmers and razors lined up on the varnished wood.

"I'm really good at this, doll. I do it all the time." stated Big Gene The gangster hefted a cordless trimmer with attached collection bag and said, "This won't hurt a bit, angelic Angie."

The beautiful young housewife gazed at her image in the mirrored ceiling. She reflected that this was the last moment when she would still be Angelica Henderson. Stripping had not really altered her. Forced fellatio had not changed her basic essence, but now she was about to lose something more than clothing and jewelry. She was going to be altered by a man as venial and disgusting as any demon from one of her father's sermons. True, it was only temporary, but the symbolism was profound. She bit her lip as she heard the trimmer spring to life like an angry hornet. She had one last view of her wonderful female carpet before the view was obstructed by Big Gene's hands and oddly shaped noggin. The blades of the trimmer began their work and Big Gene began to hum the old show tune "Anything Goes."

The vibration of the trimmer was not unpleasant at least, it never made full contact with her skin. The trimmer's hum was steady as Gene worked his way down from the top of her triangle. When her sacred grounds came in view again, Angie saw that early all of he pubic forest had been clear cut to crew cut level. She could easily envision her feminine slit completely hairless. Angie could not recall the last time she had been hairless down there. The arrival of her bush was something she had longed for. It was, in way, a good friend whose presence demonstrated to herself that she was in fact a woman. Did its loss mean that she was no longer a woman? No, but it DID mean she was a very different kind of woman, one whose sex was unveiled before God and the world, like some silly follower of modern fashion, or realized Angie again with a start "A wanton or a prostitute!"

Big Gene rose from the bed and withdrew a can of shaving cream from a drawer in the nightstand. With a gentility that belied his bulk, the hood coated Angie's loins with a thin coating of white foam.

"Hold still." said Big Gene as he loomed into vision wielding a safety razor.

Angie heard the razor stir the water in the bowl before she felt the warm steel press gently into her intimate flesh. Like watching a movie starring a stranger, Angie gazed upwards, transfixed as the razor chased the foam from her pelvis. Big Gene left a small circle at the the top of the triangle but every other strand was forced to vacate its premises. Angie was so absorbed in watching the procedure, she made no objection as Big Gene's stubby fingers parted the lips of her vagina to track down every last follicle.

With a washcloth, Big gene removed the last of the shaving cream. The washcloth felt very warm and sensual on Angie's now bald sex. Taking up a very small detail razor, Big Gene focused upon the small circle he had left at the top of Angie's slit. When he was finished, the small, circle of pubic hair had been transformed into a capital letter "G."

"Now you are monogrammed, G for Gene." said the gangster with a chuckle. What do you think?"

Angie gazed at the criminal's handiwork. She had to admit that he had lived up to his promise that the procedure would not hurt in the slightest. Angie ran her hands over her naked sex, marveling at the sensation. For the first time she understood why so many young women sported the bald look. Angie was too intelligent to state her real feelings or the fact that Eugene began wit an "E" however so, she replied.

"If it makes you happy, Mr. Canoliapi, it makes ME happy."

"Smart answer, kid." replied a winking, Big Gene

The organized crime boss, neatly arraigned the just used implements on a towel on the nightstand and then a lustful look crossed his countenance as he said flatly, "Let's see how good you taste, Angie."

Before the trim young woman could react, Big Gene's bulk was above her. Angie felt his hot kisses circle her navel before progressing lower. Angie discover that her view of Big Gene's scalp was as repulsive as the rest of him. She wanted to crawl out from under him but force of will and fear for her family kept her fixed in place, like a butterfly pinned to a wall. Big Gene's mouth and tongue reached Angie's sex. The young housewife realized that the criminal had a very good idea a to what he was doing. The sensation of his surprisingly gifted tongue upon her bald kitty and intimacy beyond her intimate lips, floored the minister's daughter. Angie had always responded well to oral. Drew had done things to her on her wedding night, that Angie could scarcely believe. Only really good intercourse was better. When Angie and Drew had been trying to get pregnant, her husband always got her off with his mouth and tongue before he plunged his large member into her pussy. "After all," he had told her playfully, "making a baby should be one of the most fun experiences in the world, for BOTH of us."

Angie's mind was a boiling cauldron of confusion and frustration as the venial gangster dined upon her sacred grounds. "This CAN'T be happening!" she though as she began to feel the first stirrings of orgasm deep inside her. Whatever the rest of his faults, Angie realized, Big Gene was a genius at cunnilingus. He seemed to have a sixth sense as to what she liked and how to provide it. As the stirrings became more intense and closer to the surface, Angie, unaware of the sibilant sounds issuing from her throat uttered, "Please, God, don't do this to me!"

As had every other prayer that Angie had uttered since her ordeal began, this one went unanswered. The trim, athletic housewife's body responded to the intense and diligent cunnilingus despite the rebellion of her soul. All at once the orgasm was upon her. Angie gasped loudly and cried "God?" before wafting away on the waves of pleasure.

When she came to herself again, Big Gene's ugly mug was gazing down at her, huge grin upon his face.

"You taste, GREAT, Angie!" he gushed. "Now it's my time for fun."

The thug withdrew a condom from a drawer by the bed and rolled it down his modest sized erect penis.

"It works better if you get on top." he stated expectantly.

Angie instantly deduced what Big Gene was after.. The ultimate soiling of her person, the breaking of her marriage vows, the one unforgivable marital sin. This is what Angie dreaded the most.

Big Gene had Angie rise so that he could pull down the quilt and sheet. He slid into bed and lying on his back, pointed at the protuberance almost lost in his flab. Angie saw immediately that being on top of the porcine criminal was far better than being under him. This way minimized her contact with his bulk and flab and eliminated the claustrophobia and fear of crushing death. Having a crises of faith, such as Angie had never had before she mounted the human mountain. Wanting to get things over with quickly, Angie ascertained the best way to impale herself on Big Gene's manhood. Fortunately, her cunny was well moistened by both Big Gene's saliva and her own juices. She felt the alien penis inside her. Fighting back tears she forced her rump to tote her pelvis back and forth before her knees found purchase on either side of Big Gene's wide hips.

Angie closed her eyes, but achieved no relief. Her mind was assailed by memories of her father's many sermons on wayward wives. Though she loved her father greatly, Angie understood that he had some old fashioned idea. Marital infidelity for example was almost always caused by a wife's not showing proper respect or submissiveness to her husband. "Behind every man who strays, is a woman either as lure or driver." was one particularly memorable quote. "Does that apply to me now?" thought Angie abstractly. What would her father think of her situation? Was it her fault, somehow, that Drew had chosen to return to a life of crime? If she had been more of a slut, allowed Drew to shave her or tie her up, would he have stayed on the straight and narrow? Angie knew her father well enough to know that he very well might answer yes to those two questions. It was all beyond confusing.

Angie forced herself up and down. She realized that while feeling similar in some ways to Drew, every man was different. Angie missed Drew's hard body and huge rigid cock. Mounting Big Gene, was like doing it with a barely animate and decaying cadaver. She doubted that Big Gene had much-staying power, that thought marginally cheered her. Above all Angie wanted this over. Every sex act, no matter how atrocious, brought her closer to the end of the two weeks and a return to her old life, well a return to Suzie at any rate She was on this train of thought, steadily pumping away when she felt Gene's organ soften and withdraw from inside her.

"Thanks, kid" grunted the thug as Angie rolled off of him. "There's an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. Why don't you get ready for bed? I'm nice and warm so you won't need much more than a sheet. When you wake up in the morning I get a blow job before anything else happens. Maybe tomorrow, I'll order something sexy for you to wear. I like stockings and black leather."

As Angie's bare feet padded to the bathroom, she wondered just how altered she would be by her fortnight in the Canoliapi, mansion. As she brushed her teeth her hands stroked her now hairless, monogrammed pussy. She gazed anew at her reflection in the mirror and asked herself, "Who are you, woman? More importantly, who will you be? And, most important of all, why has God deserted me?"

Somehow realizing that she would not know the answer to any of those questions until her ordeal was over, Angie sadly made her way back to the huge bed occupied by Big Gene. The gangster doused the lights and threw an arm around her. Despite the warmth his massive body generated, Angie was chilled to bone. It promised to be a very long night indeed.