She screamed the shriek of the damned, the pain knifing through her body. Then he let go, his finger groping for the zipper of her dress, tearing it down, opening the drew, then pulling it from her slender shoulders. She felt the drag of the material over her arms, her thighs, her feet. Flinging her hands around her tits, Carla managed to break away from him, scooting behind his desk and gripping auto the high-backed leather chair.

"Help! Police! Oh God, God, why doesn't someone come here?"

Tears blinded Carla as she rushed from behind the desk for the door. Stretching out his right foot, Mike tripped the fleeing woman, sending her crashing facedown onto the blue carpeted floor.

"Uhhhhhh!"

The fall temporarily stunned Carla. She lay there, her hands out in front of her, in left cheek pressed against the floor while her legs were wide apart. Reaching down, he unbuckled his wide black leather belt, pulling it from his trousers and wrapping the buckled end so tightly around his knuckles they whitened.

Carla began coming to, bracing her arms on either side of her body while pushing up. She knew she had to escape. She knew she had to run from this madhouse or something terrible would happen to her and her daughter Krystal. Somehow, she managed to get to her hands and knees, shaking the loose hair from her face. Where was Mike? She couldn't see him for the moment. Then, looking up, Carla stiffened. She saw his shadow on the wall in front of her. One hand was raised, cocked over her body while a slender shadow hung down from his fingers.

"No!"

She could hear the leather hiss through the air. With a sharp laugh, he brought it down across her round firm asscheeks, the leather slicing into the nylon right over her ass crack. Carla flung her head back, her hair sweeping over her throat and shoulders as a scream ripped from her throat. She pitched forward, her arms collapsing under her.