Juliana Ch. 02

The smile fell from his face. He rose and pushed his chair back, causing the legs to screech. Rounding the table, he walked over. Her heart raced with sudden fear.

His big hands grabbed hers, holding them up to his lips.

"No, Mrs. Austin!" he boomed. "You can't do that to me, especially when I have such an important day ahead." Juliana looked up, past her hands and into his face. It was ruddy and still slightly shining with perspiration.

"You will operate on my husband, tomorrow?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper. He shrugged.

"Let's say your leaving would upset me; and it isn't wise to rob a surgeon of his night's rest right before a life-threatening challenge." He let go of her hands and stood back, obviously waiting for her decision.

Juliana picked up her fork and speared a cranberry; it tasted bittersweet. The doctor smiled and returned to his chair, clapping his hands as he walked. It echoed like pistol shots.

The girl entering was young; even younger than Juliana. And she was naked. Her body looked spectacular, mostly because of her large breasts; they stood high and impossibly round on her narrow chest. She also had very long legs.

Dancing to jazzy music coming from an invisible source, she wasn't really moving around - just swaying and gyrating, running her hands over her body. She lifted a breast with one hand, while the other slid between her churning thighs. Juliana saw she was bald there, like a little girl. Soon her fingers were slipping and sliding through the slit of her vagina. The candlelight sent deep shadows over and around her curves, while highlights slithered down her limbs like living snakes.

Through the music and the moaning of the girl Juliana heard the doctor's voice mouthing crude encouragements from the other side of the table. She wondered what he would do. Would he grab the girl, like the young man had before, and abuse her on the table? The girl's rubbing got more intense; her fingers disappeared into her vagina, and she gasped. Her other hand caressed and squeezed her breasts, pulling at the nipples. Then she rose to tiptoes, arching her back as the music came to a climax. She cried out and started to shudder. Then she crumbled and fell to the marble floor. The music ended. A one-man applause broke the silence.

"Bravo!"

Juliana saw the doctor rise from his seat and walk over to the fallen girl. He bent down and caressed her back, reaching for her arm and pulling her up. She leaned into him, her pale body in stark contrast to his black suit. One of his big hands cupped a breast, feeling it as if searching. His thumb circled the areola of her nipple. The girl turned her head and kissed him on his cheek.

"Amazing," he said. Then, looking at Juliana, he proceeded: "Please, Mrs. Austin, meet Melinda." His hand went on mauling the breast, as his other rested on her belly. The girl leaned back, pushing out her pelvis. She smiled in Juliana's direction. Raising a hand, she sent a greeting with dancing fingers.

"Melinda is very grateful, aren't you, honey?" the doctor asked. The girl nodded vehemently.

"Oh yes, doctor," she gushed with a little girl's voice. She pecked his jowl again. "Thank you! Thank you!" He chuckled.

"You see, Mrs. Austin," he went on. "Melinda is a wonderful little dancer, but she's ambitious. She wants to be famous and make a lot of money, don't you, honey?" The girl nodded again, making her blond curls dance. The doctor pressed her huge breasts together. She squealed.

"But, alas," Dr. Charrier sighed. "Let's say her err... natural talents weren't big enough to sustain her huge ambitions." He laughed, pleased with his words.

The doctor gripped the girl's shoulders and pushed her forward.

"Look, Mrs. Austin," he said, "isn't it amazing what our wonderful clinic can do?" The girl came to a halt a few steps away from Juliana. Her breasts still shook and trembled.

"Show her, Melinda," the doctor said.

The girl turned her head around to him. When she looked back to Juliana she smiled shyly, putting a finger in her mouth. It made her look even younger, and rather empty-headed. Then she took a few steps forward, presenting her breasts to the seated woman.

Juliana had read about cosmetic surgery; she'd even seen pictures. The articles always had a negative tone - about the results being unnatural, about mismatches and ugly scars, sickness and regret. Granted, the girl's breasts had an unnatural size for her small frame, but they looked and moved totally real.

As Melinda came closer, presenting the round globes by pushing them up with her hands, Juliana felt a growing embarrassment. She looked away.

"Why don't you touch them?" the girl asked, reaching for Juliana's hand and laying it on her left breast. The skin was amazingly soft and smooth and warm, like a baby's bottom. She watched her painted fingernails slide over the curved top until they touched a nipple.

"Mmmm," the girl moaned; then she giggled. It made her breasts jiggle.

Juliana's fingers rounded the girl's left areola and she felt thick, powdery cream stick to her fingers. An angry pink scar shone through the covering make up; it ran along the underside of the areola in a half moon. She pulled back her hand as if stung by a bee. Looking up in surprise she found the doctor's face over Melinda's shoulder.

"It's been only two weeks," he said. "It will be gone in another month. My baby will look perfect." He reached around, hefting the breasts from behind. "Perfect as if she were born with them."

The girl sighed.

"Tell her what they cost, honey," the doctor said, letting go of her breasts.

"Nothing!" the girl exclaimed, jumping up and down with enthusiasm, and clapping her hands. "Not a penny!"

The doctor chuckled, watching the after shocks of her jumping.

"Good girl," he said. "Now show Mrs. Austin how grateful you are for that, while John brings us dessert." He turned and walked to his place at the head of the table.

Juliana shirked back into her chair, wary of what might come next. The girl just stood smiling, turning a strand of curly hair around a finger.

"You aren't hungry?"

It was the voice of the butler. He was busy taking away her still full plate.

"No, I'm sorry," she whispered. He put down a plate with an assortment of ice cream, mousse and fresh fruit. The fruit appealed to her, and maybe the ice cream. She picked up a spoon; then she looked up to watch the girl. She wasn't there anymore.

Juliana shrieked when a hand slid up her inner thigh, pushing up the dress. She tried to move her chair to get up, but it didn't budge. Looking back she saw the butler blocking the chair while smiling his apologetic smile. A second hand crawled up her other thigh, forcing her legs apart. She tried to rise, but suddenly two strong hands pushed her shoulders down.

"No!" she cried out. "Let me go!"

From the other side of the table came laughter.

"Don't be a spoil sport, Mrs. Austin," the doctor said. "Give the girl a chance to pay off her new titties."

Juliana tried to focus in the whirlwind of panic that descended on her. Two hands forced her to stay seated; two much softer ones reached her crotch, pulling at her thong. And at the other side of the table was the man that held her prisoner with his blackmail.

How could she 've been so stupid not to see what was really demanded of her? Then again, what else could she have done? She'd been naïve in her harmless suppositions of being a companion, maybe once in a while alleviating a lonely man's burden. What did she think? Did it matter what she thought?

She felt the girl's curls caress the soft skin of her inner thighs. It gave her shivers. She tried to back away from it. Then she felt the narrow elastic band of the thong cut into her hip until it snapped. Moist, weak lips engulfed her vagina. She moaned and wrestled with the restricting hands. They closed around her upper arms now and they hurt. Tears ran down her cheeks as a hot, wet snake entered her, twisting and turning inside her vagina.

Suddenly a face appeared in front of her, bobbing up and down in the mist of her vision. It was the doctor's; he spoke to her. She didn't want to hear it. She closed her eyes.

The slap to her face was sharp and sudden.

"Now you listen, precious Mrs. Austin," Dr. Charrier said. He was close; she smelled the wine on his breath. "If you care for your husband's life, don't force me to remind you over and over again about your situation, understand? You make me feel like the bad guy here, and you shouldn't. You should do this because you want to... you do it gladly, understand?" She said she understood.

"Understand?" he repeated. She said again that she understood.

"Show me," he said. "Open your eyes and spread your

legs." Her heart raced and her mind was numb. Her husband's life hung in the balance. Her face burned from the slap. Strong hands held her in place. There was no way out; she had no choice. She opened her eyes and spread her legs.

The mouth on her vagina knew what to do; the tongue found the forbidden spot she'd played with while showering. The spot that sent blasts of electricity up her body. Hands slid inside the top of her dress, squeezing her breasts and fondling her nipples. A moan wrestled itself from her throat.

Once or twice Alec had licked her down there, but it had been awkward and rushed. The last time she'd pushed his head away, and he'd never done it again.

Juliana kept her eyes open, but didn't see much. The hands on her breasts must be the doctor's. His voice droned on, while incredible sensations made her heart pound.

"So here we are, Mrs. Austin," he said. "Admit it... you are just a dirty slut like all women... humping your wet cunt... begging to come... ah, yes, such a common little whore you are..."

Juliana sobbed. Was he right? Did she rub her screaming vagina against the girl's mouth? Nooo... it was just because she had no choice; she had to! Her husband... the hands that held her down... the...

"Let her go, John," the doctor said.

The strong hands disappeared; she was free. All she had to do was jump and run... jump and run. But she didn't. Her mind screamed to run, but her pelvis churned harder into the mouth. 'Get up and run!' a voice whispered from somewhere, but she stayed and slowly sank into the sweet, soft quagmire of sensations she'd never allowed herself to feel before.

Her hands no longer pushed against the man who abused her breasts; her ass slid forward on the leather, her thighs opening wider. Her head fell back and she screamed.

It wasn't despair.

***

The winds outside reflected the turmoil of her mind as much as the clouds' shadows flying across her ceiling. The fleeting shadows were shapeless - chasing, changing. She tried to cry again, but there were no tears. A branch scratched the window like a witch's long-nailed finger.

Juliana would be the first to agree she was naïve and gullible. But she would never delude herself with a convenient lie. Tonight it would be easy to deny what really happened in the dining hall. She could say she was forced, even raped, and it would take tons off her heaving chest to believe that. But she couldn't because she wasn't.

Sure, the butler had pinned her down in the chair. But she'd known even before he let her go, that she would not have fled - or even protested.

It had all been so confusing - her mind screaming disgust, while her body drowned in waves of pleasure. How could she have known right from wrong when wrong felt so right? Why was she so alone?

All her life had been like this. All the things she hated or disliked had been the 'good' things. Her parents were 'good,' the church was 'good.' Boring chores were 'good,' exciting things were 'evil.' The mumbled, incomprehensible phrases from the Bible were 'good,' music that stirred her blood and made her feel alive was 'from the devil.' How could she ever find her way in a world like that? She'd fled her home and found love, but all it got her into was a new impasse.

She wondered if the lives of all women were like this. Did any of them get to choose? She thought of her mother, and the way others had made all her choices for her. But she, Juliana, had made her own choice by fleeing, hadn't she? And wasn't there Aimée, who was perfectly happy with her husband and her children? And Carol, the filthy-voiced, utterly free woman at her workplace? Hadn't she made her own choices?

Juliana once more studied the ceiling. Her hand crawled down her belly to cup her still moist, still tingling vagina. 'Cunt,' the awful man had called it. 'Slut' he'd called the sweet, big-breasted girl. How could things that gave so much pleasure have such ugly names? Juliana sighed. Her fingers found the place where the soft humming lived, the radiant warmth, the sweet oblivion.

And she slept.