"Let me go!" Melissa screamed. Her surprise over, she was now overcome by the unadulterated horror of what was happening.

"Our father was a bastard!" Creagon said, his face so close to Melissa's that the young woman could smell the peppermint on his breath. "Even he saw that in the end, didn't he?"

"Let me go, Creagon!" Melissa said, struggling. "Damn it, let me go!"

But, he didn't let her go. He had somehow managed to bring her arms around and up into her back in a double hammerlock. His arms held her body squeezed in an immovable vise. Melissa felt the hard muscle of him down along the whole length of her body.

Why wasn't she able to break free? Surely, no man could have held her quite so securely if Melissa had wanted to be free.

And, why was she finding it difficult to breathe? Because he had her crushed so tightly against him? And, why was her heart beating so fast?›From fear alone? And, why were her legs gone weak, almost like jelly? If Creagon released her right then and there, could she have even stood on her own efforts?

"Don't fight the real you, Melissa," Creagon said. "Don't keep her pent up inside of you, just because she has been forced undercover all of these years. Let her come out now before it's too late. You can't tell me that she doesn't want to come out, because I know differently. I can feel her inside of you as surely as I feel your flesh responding now against my own."

Sick! Jesus, he was sick! What in the hell was he talking about? What real self? What responding flesh?

And, he kissed her. He pressed his lips against hers, forcing them open. He literally sucked her breath away.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Melissa moaned, her senses so confused that she didn't know what was happening. Or, did she indeed know? Was she only rationalizing her having let this obscenity happen?

His tongue was on her gums, her teeth, her tongue. His spit was tainting her saliva with a faintly minty sweetness.