When it was over, she lay back spent and uncaring, her legs still sprawled open and her cunt exposed. What had happened to her had never happened before, and she was startled and dismayed to find herself so susceptible to this man's will.

"Who are you?" she asked, turning her head to look up at him. "You're not really a doctor – you can't be."

"No, not the kind of doctor you mean," Dirk Villiers told her, sniffing at his fingers before wiping them on a clean linen handkerchief. "I'm a Ph.D., an anthropologist engaged in experiments in human sexual response. You, my dear, are the newest of my laboratory animals."

"I don't understand," Marcy said.

"You don't have to. Laboratory animals aren't expected to understand the nature of an experiment."

Fear cut through Marcy's trancelike apathy, and she sat up quickly. "Laboratory animals? Like the kind they cut up?"

Dr. Villiers smiled. "Oh, I shouldn't think we'll go that far. Vivisection won't be called for. One of the more interesting factors of the study of sex as science is that all experiments can be best performed on living, breathing creatures."

Marcy drew a deep breath of relief.

"Of course, I suppose there is some interest in the practice of necrophilia and…"

"Necro – what?" Marcy didn't know the word.

"Necrophilia. It means fucking a corpse, my dear," he explained matter-of-factly. "A rather esoteric predilection that…"

He stopped as Marcy turned chalk-white and looked as though she were about to faint. He patted her knee comfortingly. "Don't worry, my dear. Interesting as such a study might prove, we'd have difficulty obtaining subjects of either the fucker or fuckee persuasion." He chuckled at his macabre humor.