Honeymoon Hotel
By Michael Jaeggers
Prologue
Fog moved sinuously -- billowing, as it hugged the surface of the
lake -- and from a distance the dark castle looked as if it were
floating atop a cloud. No light showed within those crenellated stone
walls; it was as if the structure were some ghostly apparition -- a
mirage of the past.
A fish jumped; the splash of its return to the water was muffled by
the fog. Above the swirling vapours, one large, black night bird
flapped its way across a starless sky. Then, as if giving lie to its
ghostly appearance, somewhere within the confines of the castle a clock
struck midnight.
A flashlight flickered briefly in one window on the third floor.
It moved on to the next window and then, at the corner of the castle,
the lights came on in a large room.
"I say, Morgan, isn't it a bit chancey; I mean, lights and all
that?" The question came from the older of two men as he gazed somewhat
apprehensively down at a deeply sleeping girl.
"You should know me better than that, Lord Medwell. She won't
awaken until I tell her to. Watch." He laid down the camera case he
was carrying and lifted the covers from the reclining girl's body.
Lord Medwell's breath whistled out of him in one lewd groan when he
saw the full ripe contours of the girl's lush young body. The blue
nylon gown had crept up to mid thigh, and the left shoulder strap had
slipped down revealing a luscious mound of flesh the size and shape of a
ripe melon. Tom Morgan simply reached forward and pulled the bodice
down until it revealed the brown areola and nipple. "Watch," he ordered
again. Taking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he cruelly
tweaked it. The girl did not stir, but the nipple -- like some slowly
awakening thing -- came erect.
"Watch," Morgan repeated, and lifted the hem of the gown to uncover
the pouting mound of Venus between her legs and its luxuriant growth of
sparse black pubic hair. He parted the girl's legs and, using his right
arm under her knees, raised them until the soft pink lips of her vagina
came into view. Morgan glanced over at Lord Medwell and laughed at the
rapidly breathing older man. Slowly, he placed the tip of his middle
finger against his thumb and then flicked at the pouting clitoris. The
girl remained motionless, but a low moan of lust was wrenched from Lord
Medwell's throat.
Morgan dropped the girl's legs; they remained spread lewdly out
with the vaginal lips slightly open ... the entrance to her secret-most
regions was completely exposed, defenseless.
"Satisfied?" he queried with a slight knowing smirk.
Lord Medwell trembled in eagerness. "Oh my, yes!" he said
hurriedly. "Such a beautiful young creature. Such a fine tight little
cunt. I can hardly wait to pay a visit there." He placed his camera on
the chair.
Tom Morgan grinned at the older man and mentally laughed as he said
to himself, "The old goat is really in heat tonight." And why not!
Hadn't he carefully built Lord Medwell up to this point; hadn't he spent
weeks and weeks in preparation for this moment. Morgan knew Lord
Medwell's proclivities -- as well he should, having catered to various
wealthy and powerful men like him for over seven years. As with most of
Morgan's clients, Lord Medwell at sixty-six years of age, liked his
women young, helpless, and tearfully innocent. Most important, however,
Morgan's operation was practically foolproof. There had been no
repercussions during the seven years; there was no reason why there
should ever be any in the future. In Lord Medwell's case, he liked
young brides -- newly married, still with the dew freshness of their
wedding ceremony clinging to them. And what better place to get them
than at a honeymoon resort, a romantic old castle where for over seven
years brides had come to be deflowered by their adoring husbands.
"These women," Lord Medwell had earlier explained unnecessarily,
"present a great challenge to a man like me. Young, arrogant, proud,
and sure of their undying love for their new husbands, they have to be
humbled -- almost broken in spirit -- before they can be taught to crawl
to their real master's feet."
Now as Lord Medwell watched the sleeping girl, he began to feel a
familiar awesome power growing in his loins. The sheer nylon gown,
above the girl's waist, showed the smooth white plain of her belly and
the mysterious crater of her navel. Her pubic hair was like soft black
down, and the thin fleece-lined vaginal alit was an open invitation to a
warm and heavenly tunnel. His eyes fastened on the contours of her
buttocks and then moved up over the rising and falling of her breasts.
He could see the little nipple still standing proudly erect. Although
his throat was dry, his mouth watered. He was impatient to get his
teeth and hands on those magnificent mounds of young, almost virginal
flesh and to twist, tease, massage, and bite them until they became
unbearably trembling volcanoes of passion struggling to erupt.
"Hurry, Morgan," he snapped, not taking his eyes from the girl.
"Let's start with the pictures!"
"In a moment. Wait until I get the camera on the tripod." A second
later, Morgan grunted his satisfaction with the setup and said, "Okay."
The thought of those young, almost untouched lips mewling and
begging in passion, brought a rocklike hardness to Lord Medwell's penis.
The blood pounded painfully throughout its throbbing length, and he
could feel droplets of thick white seminal fluid already beginning to
ooze from its urethral opening.
"All right," Morgan directed. "Stand close to her. Start
unzipping your pants."
Lord Medwell opened the fly of his trousers. His large prick,
almost eight inches long and of astonishing circumference, leapt out as
though it were some voracious tiger suddenly released from an
insufferable cage. The flash of light was brighter than a sun as Morgan
snapped his first picture. Hastily, Lord Medwell dropped his trousers
and underdrawers. Another flash, together with the sound of film being
wound on the next exposure.
"Go on," Morgan commanded. "I'll shoot as you go along."
Lord Medwell hesitated now for the first time; he glanced
apprehensively toward Morgan. "Are you positive she's under all the
way?"
Morgan sighed in exasperation and walked over to the bed. He
stared intently down at the girl.
"Dorothy ... Dorothy, can you hear?" he asked in a flat tone of
voice.
"Yes." The word was a monosyllable without inflection.
"Dorothy ... you are with your husband. Open your eyes, Dorothy."
He pulled Lord Medwell over alongside her. "See, Dorothy. This is your
husband, Roger. Say 'hello' to Roger."
The girl blinked, then smiled and said in a loving voice, "Hello,
Roger."
"Dorothy, you will do anything your husband asks. You'll do it
because you love him, and you know it will give him great pleasure. You
will feel much pleasure from him when he makes love to you ... so very
much pleasure."
She was silent only a second, then she woodenly nodded her head and
said, without blinking, "I will do anything my husband asks ... it will
be pleasure."
"Satisfied?" Morgan asked the older man.
Lord Medwell eagerly nodded his head. Morgan went back to his
camera.
Lord Medwell squeezed the thick foreskin back from his painfully
throbbing prick and bared his teeth as he advanced toward the girl
again. The proud young bitch was totally at his mercy. He had heard
her giggling as she talked to her husband about him earlier that
evening. She had said, "That Lord Medwell is a dirty old man. A nice
rich dirty old man, but a dirty old man nonetheless. Did you see the
way he looked at me during dinner?" Well, the huge cudgel he held in his
hand was a great equalizer between the generations. He'd teach her.
He'd see if she still called him a dirty old man when his prick was
rammed deep between those white thighs of hers and its head buried far
up inside her quivering little belly.
He was only dimly aware of Morgan taking another photo. The heat
was on him and it was all he could do to keep from leaping like a
starving wild animal upon his prey. But common sense gained control of
his body. The pictures, the ones that would bring her crawling abjectly
in helpless desperation to him and insure his and Morgan's future
safety, still had to be taken.
"Dorothy, dear," he intoned. "Turn your head toward me."
"Yes, Roger," she answered, and her head turned on the pillow.
"Dorothy, it would give your husband great pleasure if you kissed
and sucked on his penis ... as much pleasure as it gives you when he
nibbles at your breast."
A troubled expression crossed the girl's face. She hesitated.
Alarmed and wide-eyed, Lord Medwell turned toward the photographer.
Morgan merely shook his head and put his finger to his mouth in a
charade of silence.
On the bed, the girl trembled and then, almost as if she were
frightened of being bitten by it, reached out her hand toward Lord
Medwell's cock. The old man grinned in triumph and moved forward until
the straining organ was almost touching her lips. "Open your mouth,
Dorothy."
She did as she was instructed, and the smooth, throbbing tip
slipped partially through her stretched lips and came to rest against
her bared teeth. The soft flesh of the ripe full puckered lips closed
down about the head. There was a flash of light as Morgan took the
picture.
Against his cock, Lord Medwell could feel the hot air exhaling from
her nostrils, and could feel her innocent young tongue quivering in
ignorance against the instrument in her mouth.
"Delicious," he muttered, "simply delicious. Suck a little and
nibble a little, dear." He began moving his hips back and forth as
Morgan came in with another camera for a closeup. Several small
droplets of cum had seeped from Lord Medwell's cock and had lubricated
her mouth that was surrounding its head. Looking down directly at her
face, he could see a small stream of glistening saliva and cum running
out of the corner of her mouth. Again, for just a moment, the animal
heat came upon him. He wanted to shoot his full load into her sweet
young gullet ... wanted to see her larynx jiggling up and down as she
attempted to gulp it down; he could picture it-his cum would spurt out
of her mouth, into her hair, and run like a white hot flow of lava
across her breasts and down her belly. The mental image goaded him into
a sudden frantic motion and he was uncontrollably battering his cock
down her choking throat, the girl was gasping for air and clawing at his
buttocks when Morgan grinned nastily and said, "Easy, man. We still
have a few pictures to take, remember?"
Lord Medwell reluctantly removed his cock from her mouth. He had
come so close ... so very close. He stood there breathing deeply as he
sought to regain his composure. Finally he sighed and said, "That was
beautiful, Dorothy. Now your husband will repay pleasure for pleasure."
He reached down and removed the remaining strap of her gown, and
stared hungrily at the breast. With a low moan of lust, his hot eager
lips fastened like a leech to it. There was another flash of light as
he used his fingertips to tease the other nipple.
Beneath his lips, he heard a low groan of pleasure from the girl.
She placed both hands gently and possessively behind his head. Lord
Medwell glanced over and grinned in victory at Morgan. His lips went
back to work, and his other hand dropped until it found the moist hot
cavern at the junction of her thighs. He used his finger -- as though
it were a violin bow -- to scrape across the length of her vaginal lips.
"Oh ... oh," she purred.
Dorothy began to breath more rapidly as the sensations mounted in
her body. Lord Medwell used his thumb and forefinger to tease her
gently pulsating clitoris; this resulted in a low, almost animalistic
moaning, "Ohhhh ... Roger ... that feels wonderful. Bite me -- rub me
harder!"
Lord Medwell suddenly crawled onto the bed and crouched on all
fours over the helpless young body. "Dorothy, raise your legs and put
them up over my shoulders," he commanded. The girl paused, as if not
understanding the instructions, but a moment later subserviently bent
her legs at the knees and spreading her legs wide raised and placed her
calves up over his shoulders. Lord Medwell pushed her knees back
against her chest; her upturned vagina, secreting its own lubricant, was
in plain view -- unprotected and vulnerable to any attack. His mouth
watered in anticipation as he gazed rapturously down at the palpitating
little pussy. Spittle slid out of his open mouth as he lecherously
ogled the open slit of her vagina running down from her smooth white
belly and dark silken pubic hair to the full rounded spheres of her
buttocks. He could wait no longer to feast down between her thighs.
His head lowered, his mouth opened, and his tongue -- like a wet red
miniature little prick -- came into action.
The girl gasped. "Oh ... oh ... Roger! You mustn't? Oh ..." She
jerked as his lips encompassed and began sucking at the soft hair-lined
opening. His tongue flickered like lightning against the clitoris,
which was beating visibly. "Ohhh ... daddy ..." Her hands came down and
pressed against both sides of his head; it was as though she didn't know
whether to force him away or force his tongue and face even deeper into
the moist pit of her throbbing cunt. Now his tongue had begun seeking
entry into the vaginal passage itself. It flicked in and out rapidly,
little licks and little strokes of passion that penetrated almost two
inches. The girl's hands fell loosely from his head as she groaned and
began to rotate her hips in an effort to get his tongue in deeper.
Lord Medwell was an expert at this sort of thing -- had been ever
since his early introduction and instruction in its finer arts by a
fiery French governess while he was still only ten years of age.
Suddenly, he withdrew the tongue and his mouth from her now
responding vagina. Dorothy groaned again, this time in disappointment,
but only for a second, for his tongue had begun working again; its soft
flicking tip made circles around the quivering erected clitoris, and his
lips sucked, drawing the organ deeper into the hot saliva-filled cavern
of his mouth. Then he abruptly changed techniques again. Like a
thirsty dog lapping water, he used his tongue to lick the entire length
of her wet, rotating cuntal slit. Dorothy's loud moans of pleasure
turned almost into a scream of delight when his tongue traced a pattern
of fire past her vagina and kept going down, down until it made lewd,
flicking entry into the tight, puckered little anal ring.
Flashes from the camera -- like a summer electrical storm --
continued to brighten the room.
Lord Medwell was oblivious to them now. He had the snooty little
bitch going; she squirmed and panted like a helpless puppet under his
tongue. She could be brought back to her senses now and she'd be so hot
that she would beg him to continue. She was completely at his mercy.
Her mewls drove his tongue faster and faster as it licked its way up and
down the now wildly clasping lips of her cunt. She was almost there; he
could tell by the contractions of her vaginal muscles. His muffled
laughter came as her hands desperately clawed at his head -- seeking to
drive his tongue further and further into her. The hot happy bitch, he
thought; she doesn't realize that what she really wants right now is a
hard cock. She'll be begging for it within seconds.
He pulled his face away, tormenting her. Dorothy's face was wildly
contorted in what appeared to be pain. She cried, and it was a moaning
plea, "No ... Roger. Please, Roger ... keep going."
Lord Medwell let her force him this time, and she did so,
frantically, pressing his mouth against her hungrily quivering vagina.
His lips rounded and covered the clasping viscous opening, and he thrust
his tongue deep into it. Her thighs closed convulsively around either
side of his moving head. On his inward strokes, he could feel her
deeper vaginal muscles sucking and milking at his tongue as though they
were seeking to rip it out by the roots and devour it. Dorothy's legs
had found leverage against his back and she pushed down until he could
barely breathe. With tongue deep in her vagina, he used the tip of his
nose to titillate the tiny throbbing clitoris. Every muscle in the
girl's body seemed to be as taut as a steel cable. The cords of her
neck tendons stood out as she tried to raise her head to look down her
naked body and see what he was doing.
"Oh! Ahhh? Ahhhhaaa," she began, as if questioning exactly what
was happening to her. Then she screamed, "Aiieee ... Ah ... aiiieee,
I'm cumming, darling! I'm cumming!" Her body thrashed from side to
side, her legs splayed open releasing his head, and her feet beat a
tattoo of wild abandoned lust against the crumpled sheets.
Lord Medwell didn't even glance over toward Morgan. He could stand
it no longer. Even as the girl was thrashing and twitching
involuntarily in the throes of her orgasm, he grabbed her flailing legs
behind the knees again and shoved them roughly back against her
shoulders. His long rigid prick was placed against the visibly
throbbing lips of her cunt.
"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk," he said through
gritted teeth, and suddenly began pushing forward. The elastic rimmed
tightness resisted his huge circumference for only a moment, then
rapidly gave way to his unrelenting pressure. Down, down, down, the
pulsating white rod drove.
Dorothy tried to pull back from his attack. "No, Roger," she
whimpered, "darling, you're hurting me."
Lord Medwell paused. The contractions of her cunt continued to
squeeze at the head of his cock; he hadn't realized the girl's pussy was
so tight. It fit his prick like a very tight leather glove, and he
thought with some glee that the girl undoubtedly had been a virgin on
her wedding night three days before.
She obviously had never had a prick this deep into her before, he
gloated to himself, as he watched her from above with a lust filled
smirk on his face. Her lips had curled back from her teeth. Pleading,
incoherent whimpers of pain came from deep within her throat.
Abruptly, he could stand it no more. He rammed forward giving her
all he had in one great implacable thrust; his huge expanded cock sunk
in all the way to his pubic hair, and his balls -- like weathered
pendulums -- slapped hard against her uplifted buttocks. Her legs
jerked out wide on either side of his body as she kicked futilely into
the air and screamed, "Oh, God! You're killing me, Roger. Please!" It
was a scream wrenched from the deepest depths of her tortured womb.
As though he were demented, Lord Medwell screwed her brutally down
into the squeaking mattress -- pounding into her with the uncontrollable
fury of a typhoon.
Morgan watched with some amusement as the old goat went about his
business of ravishing the helpless girl. He had already shot two rolls
of film on his tripod camera and had expended another two rolls on
closeups. The girl's face was too distorted by pain to take any photos
at the moment, but Morgan knew that her expression would change once her
tight young pussy got used to the old man's cock. You bad to hand it to
him, he thought in admiration as he watched the white pistoning rod
being driven relentlessly into the girl's tightly clenched vagina.
Medwell's hung like a small stallion.
Even as Morgan was thinking these thoughts, the girl's body seemed
to be reacting slightly different. Her groans of pain came less often
now; they sounded different -- questioning, perhaps. Once, when Lord
Medwell had pulled his prick out about six inches and then driven it
inward with one masterful stab, the girl had moaned and an unmistakable
flicker of pleasure crossed her contorted face.
A moment later, there was an almost imperceptible change in
activity on the bed. Morgan saw it first, simply a small motion on the
part of the girl as she pushed up to meet a downward thrust. The rest
came rapidly; the young bride's eyes were beginning to glaze in
pleasure, and her tongue had crept out of her mouth to rest quivering on
her lower lip. It presented a lustful picture; Morgan lost no time in
capturing her lewd changing expression on film.
Now the girl was moving, experimentally rotating her hips and
putting her arms around Lord Medwell's midriff. Not satisfied with
this, she reached down and cupped his buttocks in the palms of her hands
and began of her own volition forcing him deeper into her.
Lord Medwell could hardly contain himself as he felt her abdomen
begin moving up and down in time to the thrusts of his hardened cock.
The contracting muscles inside her pussy were hungrily at work massaging
and sucking at the inflated head. With each withdrawal of his long
white cock, the pink lips of the vagina pulled and milked at the
instrument. The girl was a natural born piece of ass, he thought in
glee, as her quivering body pumped up and down on the rigid penis fusing
the two bodies together.
Morgan had begun to feel some excitement growing within himself as
he watched the girl strain against the older man. When she raised her
ass from the mattress, he could see the little brown puckered anal
entrance already covered with trickling cum. And he thought happily,
eagerly: You're next, little asshole, you're next! I've got just the
thing for you. Morgan took photographs of it all, capturing on film the
utter abandon of her labours and the half-crazed erotic smile of lust
playing across her taut lips. She was moving even faster than the old
man now, and thrusts had become more violent as she desperately sought
her second orgasm. Above the tortured creaking of the bed and the
almost obscene slap of flesh against flesh, Morgan could actually hear
the wet sluicing sounds of her hungrily sucking pussy as it reluctantly
relinquished its hold on the lustfully driving cock sunk deeply between
her thighs.
Suddenly the girl's back arched and she pushed upward with a
frightening power that almost threw the old man out of the saddle.
"Ooooh God ... I'm cumming, love me. Fuck harder ... fuck fuck ...
fuck, fucker, Roger ... Oh, God ... I'm cumming." With a deep throated
groan: her body began convulsing in lewd untamed pleasure. Hot wet cum
spurted from the throbbing passage. It's sticky warmth flowed down the
crevice created by her buttocks; the viscous fluid inundated her anus --
bringing an impatient groan from Morgan. She jerked about frantically,
as though she were suffering seizure. She clawed at the old man's back;
her legs pumped against him as she sought to drive him in deeper. Lord
Medwell's face was taut as he sought his own release; he rammed his
reaming cock forward with all his fading strength. His body drooped
down heavily on her, mashing her full ripe tits against his own hairy
chest. His long hard strokes moved violently in and out of the steaming
passage that was now wet and slippery from the girl's continuing climax.
Abruptly, he could feel the orgasm building up like explosive fumes
inside his tortured balls as they beat against her unprotected ass. The
lustful pleasure arched across the nerves of his abdomen and his prick
throbbed once, twice ... then began to spurt.
"Oh, yes, darling. Cum in me ... cum all the way inside of me,
Roger." Dorothy chanted as her head rolled laxly from side to side and
she frantically pumped her vagina up and down the long spurting rod of
flesh in an effort to drain it of everything.
Lord Medwell felt the hot slippery walls of her cunt sucking
hungrily at his cock until there was nothing left in him, and his
hardened organ began to deflate.
The girl lay back full-length in bed, with his prick still buried
inside her. "That was wonderful, darling," she said, huskily. Her eyes
closed in weary pleasure.
Lord Medwell slowly pulled his slippery penis from the girl. She
moaned as though reluctant to have it leave her body.
Morgan, who had been becoming increasingly impatient, took a last
closeup as the prick slowly slid out of her battered cunt. He could see
the girl's wet matted pubic hair -- like black moss hanging over a
peaceful river bank -- glistening on both sides of her vagina. The
insides of her milky white thighs were smeared with the cum from both of
their bodies. The open crevice of her ass was completely wet from it,
and Morgan knew he could stand the sight no longer. If ever a woman was
lubricated and ready for sodomizing this one was. He already knew how
it would feel -- hot, tight ... oh, so very tight! ... and beautiful.
"Hurry," he grunted to Lord Medwell, as be dropped his trousers.
His own cock, like a lean telephone pole angled on the side of a hill,
was stiffly ready.
Lord Medwell wearily dried his wet penis on his underdrawers and
put on his trousers. A moment later he was standing behind the tripod
camera. "All right," he said. "Ready any time you are."
Morgan said to the girl, "Dorothy ... I am your husband, Roger.
Say something to me."
The girl scrunched herself deeper into the bed and mumbled
hypnotically, Roger, darling, I love you."
Morgan said, "Dorothy, darling, don't you want to repay your
husband for the pleasure I just gave you. It would be nice if you
sucked on my penis."
There was no hesitation this time. Dorothy turned her head and
opened her mouth. There was a flash of light and Lord Medwell nodded.
"Now, Dorothy, I'm going to make love to you in a new and
excitingly different way. Get on your hands and knees ... that's right,
and spread your legs out wide."
The girl did as she was told. Lord Medwell moved in with the
closeup camera. Morgan used both thumbs to peel the smooth white cheeks
of her tender young buttocks apart to reveal the quivering, puckered
little brown circle no larger than a dime. Really he thought in
ecstasy, it looks like an oval of tiny pink lips. He rubbed his prick
in the crevice, lubricating it from Lord Medwell and the girl's cum.
The girl winced when Morgan inserted his middle finger into the opening.
He moved it in and out, and around and around. The girl moaned in pain
when a second finger joined the first. Then Morgan could stand it no
longer: Placing the tip of his hardened cock against the tight, puckered
nether lips; he plunged forward ...
The photograph was taken just as the head of Morgan's cock
disappeared through the tight resisting ring of anal muscle. Lord
Medwell continued to shoot pictures as Morgan gleefully pounded his
prick into her vaginal rectum and until her groans of pain became mewls
of pleasure and surprise and finally of screaming release as her
helplessly impaled body reacted orgasmically like a bitch dog in heat to
the unnatural invasion of her bowels.
* * *
Downstairs, the clock struck twice. Lord Medwell helped Morgan
change the badly stained and wet linens on the bed, as the girl stood
blank-eyed and stiff near the closet.
"Get back in bed, Dorothy," Morgan ordered.
The girl walked like a zombie across the room and climbed into bed.
Morgan pulled the covers up to her shoulders, the began intoning,
"You are sleepy ... sleep. When you awaken tomorrow morning at nine
o'clock, you will not remember that we were here. Anything you will
recall will be simply a dream about your husband. Do you understand?
You have been dreaming about Roger fucking you. Say it!"
"I ... have ... been dreaming ... about Roger ... fucking ... me."
"Yes, you have been dreaming. You are sleepy. Your eyes are so
heavy that you cannot open them. You are sleepy ... sleepy."
The girl slumbered peacefully.
Morgan glanced at his watch. "Two fifteen. It's almost time for
'Roger dear' to wake up next to my wife. Care to bring your camera
along and take candid snapshots."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, old boy," Lord Medwell laughed
lewdly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. If his pecker reacts half as
well as that hot little cunt of his wife's, it should be quite a show."
He clapped his hands together in eagerness. "I can hardly wait until
tomorrow afternoon when we show that arrogant little bitch our
photographs. How overwhelming. How simply delightful! She'll come
crawling to me then. Oh, she'll do anything. Anything!" he gleefully
repeated. "And she'll do it fully conscious!"
The two men were still chuckling as they walked the darkened
corridors of the castle. When they reached the east wing, Morgan pulled
down on the handle of a sword on a suit of knight's armour. The hidden
door swung silently open to reveal a well-lighted passageway. Two
minutes later, they were seated in comfortable armchairs and drinking
whiskey and sodas, as they watched -- through the large pane of one-way
glass -- a young man slowly beginning to awaken next to a voluptuous
nude woman who looked up directly at them and winked conspiratorially.
Then her face changed. She looked as if she had been weeping, and when
the boy's eyes opened, she sobbed, "You beast, you. How could you ...
after we had offered you the hospitality of the castle ... to cruelly
rape me ... Oh, Roger! And I was beginning to be so fond of you. What
will poor Dorothy think ..."
* * *
The following afternoon, a bewildered and ashamed Dorothy "crawled"
for her pictures, and then learned that she must continue to be nice for
as long as Morgan and Lord Medwell and their assorted friends decreed.
Only then would she receive the negatives. Precisely thirty-two minutes
later -- the seminal juices of two strangers in her mouth, vagina and
anus -- she leapt like a wingless bird from the roof of the castle and
splattered against the cobblestone courtyard 90 feet below ...
Chapter 1
The young girl -- fourteen, freckled-faced, and with a surprisingly
mature body for one her age -- was dressed in skin-tight white shorts
and was braless beneath her powder blue blouse. She lay 'crosswise on
the bed, and stared up at an older girl who was standing before a mirror
and running a comb through long blonde hair.
"But aren't you excited?" Marylou asked, shivering in vicarious
enjoyment. "I mean ... I would be! After all, your wedding is only two
days away, and then you and Dick go to that groovy castle place in
Ireland for your honeymoon. Why, you must be excited."
"Of course I am, silly." Sue's voice was patient with her cousin.
"I'm happy and excited. But I'm also calm." That last statement was a
lie, but Marylou couldn't know it. The younger girl couldn't see the
turmoil Sue felt, the oppressive feeling of apprehension that bordered
on fear.
"It must be wonderful to be really in love and be old enough to get
married ... and wake up in bed next to your husband." Marylou put a hand
to her mouth and giggled. "I mean my husband. If I had a husband."
"Marylou?" Sue's voice had just a bit of shock in it; she gazed in
mock severity at the girl and began weaving a thick braid into her hair.
Marylou's face was cupped in her hands; elbows were planted on the
bedspread. The girl obviously decided to throw all caution to the winds
with her next remark. "Well, isn't a bed better than a back seat?"
"Marylou!" Sue threw down the comb and spun around to face the
girl. "What are you talking about?"
"What else? Sex?"
Marylou had the bit in her teeth and was not to be denied. She
abruptly sat up and curled her bare legs beneath her -- sitting buddha-
like on the bed. "If I tell you something, will you keep it a secret?"
"I don't want to hear it," Sue said, emphatically. She was pretty
sure of the drift of the conversation; this was nothing to discuss with
a girl only fourteen. She hadn't even talked to her mother about it,
even though the older woman had hinted broadly that they must have a
conversation before the wedding.
Marylou looked toward the closed door of the bedroom as if
suspecting someone were lurking outside at the keyhole. Then she
lowered her voice and said, "I know you won't snitch." She grinned
conspiratorially. "I'm not a virgin, you know."
The news momentarily shocked Sue, although if she were really
honest with herself, the information did not come as a surprise.
Marylou showed all the signs of becoming a swinger, and she already had
the build of a 22-year-old bikini model.
The girl continued almost proudly, "I haven't been one for almost a
year. It was Petey Barnard. After the final football game last October
... after he was appointed head cheerleader. We had a bottle of beer
and it made me dizzy, and then he ... began feeling me. And, ah ...
asked me to feel him. Then he got in the backseat of his car and ... ah
..."
"I don't want to hear another word." Sue's voice brooked no
disobedience. "Not another word." She shook her head in dismay. "I'm
shocked at you, Marylou, really shocked. You're either fibbing or you
just blithely gave away your virginity. Just like that," she snapped
her fingers. "Just like you were giving away old clothes or something.
I think you'd have more respect for yourself."
Marylou merely shrugged and her breasts jiggled with the motion.
She replied, somewhat defiantly, "It was fun. It felt good. And I've
let him do it five other times, too. We're going steady. We love each
other. And everyone in school does it. Why not?"
"Why not? Well, I'll tell you why not. What does a fourteen year
old know about love? What if your parents found out? What if the
police discovered you and Petey in the back seat when you were ... you
were? What if you get pregnant as a result of it?
Marylou snorted. "Oh, poo! I won't get pregnant. I'm not that
dumb. Why, I wouldn't have let him do it the first time if he hadn't
been wearing a rubber."
Sue held up both hands commandingly. "I said before I don't want
to hear anymore. I mean it."
The younger girl shrugged again. "Okay. Okay." She critically
inspected Sue, then cocked her head to one side and bit her lower lip in
indecision. "You're a cool chick ... real cool. But I wouldn't be
surprised if you're still a virgin, even though Dick looks to me like
he's the impatient type. He's probably snorting and pawing the stable
floor." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Sue strode to the door and angrily opened it. "Out," she
commanded.
Marylou insolently got up from the bed and stuck her feet into her
sandals. Smirking knowingly, she walked across the room and stopped in
the archway of the door. "I wouldn't have believed it -- a girl as
beautiful, as well built as you, a girl who has been engaged for over a
year -- still a virgin. Like wow!"
"Yes, damnit. I am still a virgin ... and I am proud of it. Not
that it's any of your business."
Marylou held out her hands beseechingly, "Okay ... okay. Don't get
mad. I was just curious. I never have seen a 20-year-old virgin
before." She was grinning impudently as Sue closed the door in her face.
Impertinent little snip, Sue thought; My God, what are these high
school kids coming too! She knew Marylou wasn't putting her on; the
girl was telling the truth about Petey. A moment later, though Sue's
inherent common sense took over and she realized that only a strong will
power had kept her, too, from losing her virginity. Marylou had been
right about Dick, he was the "impatient" type ... but he was also
understanding. He had proved that time and time again.
She and Dick had gone steady for almost two years before their
engagement; and they had been engaged for almost twelve months now.
While they were going steady, they had necked -- some really passionate
kissing had come about, but when Dick had begun fumbling for her
breasts, she had managed to stop him each time. Since their engagement
was announced and she received her ring, there had been some petting --
at least on his part. She had permitted him the possession of her
breasts and, three or four times, he had been allowed to touch that
sacred area which would be completely his only after the marriage
ceremony. Sue had been forced to put a stop to his eager odysseys down
there because of an underlying fear that she, herself, would lose all
control. It did feel wonderful; that, at least, she could admit.
Unfortunately, after these episodes, she would lie awake all night
feeling the restless pounding of her heart being echoed deep within her
womb. One night -- for the first and only time -- the throbbing had
become so painfully intense that she had touched herself there with one
finger. She moved it cautiously, and her lonely vagina cried out in
ecstasy. A second finger joined the first, the two of them gently
rubbing back and forth on the now damp slit. The motions had become
less tender -- more rapid! She had continued this for almost fifteen
minutes, but aside from her vagina becoming too tender to touch, nothing
happened. She hadn't even come close to that elusive realm of physical
release mentioned in various books. She tossed and turned all night --
sleeping fitfully. The next morning she awakened to a deep sense of
shame -- a feeling that still came back with the full force of its
guilty intensity each time she thought about it.
But now all that is past, she thought, as she finished braiding her
hair. A moment later, she slipped on a blue cardigan sweater to match
her muted blue-plaid mini-skirt, and started downstairs. Marylou,
bright-eyed and undaunted, met her at the landing. "Like, wow! You're
really getting some groovy loot," she said. "There must be a couple of
tons of crap in there."
Sue laughed in spite of herself, "Marylou, you are hopeless."
"Come on, let's see the stuff that came this morning." Marylou
eagerly led the way to the living room where the already opened wedding
gifts were piled atop each table as though they were luxury items on
display in a small department store. Other gifts -- unopened -- were
stacked on the floor. Marylou picked up one and shook it. "Try this
one -- from the Wilsons."
It was impossible not to laugh at the girl: she was as excited as a
four year old under a Christmas tree. Sue cautiously unwrapped the
gift, taking care not to ruin the white satin ribbon, and saving the
paper.
"Holy Donovan! A Waring blender. Neat-o!" Marylou's exuberance
was contagious. She grinned and affectionately put her arms around her
cousin. "Come on," she said, "you can help me open them. But keep the
ribbon, and the paper ... and the boxes. And don't get the cards mixed
up. Better write down what the gift is on each of the cards, so I can
write thank you letters later."
The two girls had been working almost an hour opening and recording
the new gifts when the telephone rang.
Sue, thinking it was Dick, answered it on the second ring.
"Sue ... this is Peggy Martini. Your gown's ready for final
fitting. When can you try it on?"
"I'll come right over ... if that's convenient for you."
"Come ahead, dear. I think you're going to be very pleased with
it."
"Oh, I'm sure I will be," Sue said ecstatically; then, as the
doorbell rang, she shouted over her shoulder, "Marylou, get that, will
you?"
"Be sure and bring the undergarments you're going to wear at the
wedding," Mrs. Martini added. "We want the gown to be just right."
"I'll be there in about five minutes." Sue said, hanging up, and
looking toward the door where the deliveryman from Holman's Department
Store and Marylou were both carrying in additional gifts. Three
different trips were made between the front door and the truck. Sue
signed the delivery slips while Marylou was busy counting and shaking
packages.
"Golly, seventeen more gifts ... and this one weighs about thirty
pounds," Marylou's excited voice reported. "Shall we open them?"
"I can't right now. Mrs. Martini wants to do the final fitting."
Sue saw the disappointed look on the girl's face. "Hey, why not come
along to Mrs. Martini's with me?"
"Oh ... I'd like to, but Petey and I are going swimming. He's
picking me up here in about twenty minutes or so. How long will you be?
Will you be back before he comes?"
"I doubt it. The fitting probably will take at least an hour."
Marylou looked down at the rug and traced an abstract pattern with
her big toe. "I don't suppose you'll change your mind about the hayride
tonight?" she asked hopefully. "Petey and I wouldn't bother anyone.
Honest. I promise!"
"I'm sorry, chicken. No. There will be liquor and, besides,
everyone there will be in their twenties. We'll be just a bunch of old
fogeys."
"Okay ... of you don't want us."
"Look," Sue said in an effort to make the girl feel better, "I'll
save some packages for you to open tomorrow. Okay?"
"Ummm ... I suppose so." It was said listlessly.
Sue picked up her purse. "I've got to go. Be sure and lock up
before you leave."
Five minutes later, Sue was in a dressing room at Mrs. Martini's.
She quickly slipped on the blue lacy garter belt and her hose. "Now,
dear, lift your hands straight up," Mrs. Martini ordered. "No quick
moves; the gown is just tacked. We don't want it falling apart." Sue
felt the rich nylon garment slip down over her arms and bead. She
looked at herself in the mirror. The gown clung to her like a second
skin. Mrs. Martini zipped up the long zipper in back then stood away to
inspect her work. "Beautiful. Just beautiful!" Mrs. Martini's face
grinned over Sue's shoulder in the mirror. "You like?" she asked,
fitting a veil over Sue's blonde hair.
"Oh, yes!" the girl answered sincerely. "It's ... it's just ..."
She closed her eyes, unable to think of the appropriate phrase. It is
so beautiful, she thought; Dick will love me in it.
The older woman smiled in understanding. "Well, that's all then.
We'll sew it up this afternoon; I'll deliver it on Sunday around one."
"You mean ... that's all? Nothing more for me to do?"
"Nothing," she said airily. "All you have to do is step into it
Sunday at three, and then walk down the aisle."
Mrs. Martini helped her out of the gown, and Sue dressed again in
her blue sweater and plaid skirt. She glanced at her watch and was
surprised to see that only ten minutes had elapsed. "Maybe Marylou will
get to open some more packages after all," she said to herself.
It was a pleasant day, Sue noted, as she walked the two blocks back
to her home. Sue felt like skipping, and she did ... for a second or
two until she remembered to be ladylike. She hoped the clear warm
weather would hold until Sunday at least. She hoped it would be nice
weather in Ireland. She hoped so many things, "But mainly I hope Dick
and I will be happy together." She was humming a tune when she turned
the corner and saw Petey's car in the driveway. Her step faltered; she
abruptly remembered Marylou's candid confession about being intimate
with the cheerleader. The boy was only fifteen, he might even be
fourteen -- not yet handsome, but fairly good-looking, with a pleasing
personality. He had a certain poise; Marylou had undoubtedly helped to
bring part of that about. During the Spring semester, he played
shortstop on the high school baseball team -- was too small of stature
and build for football -- and had earned his letter. Marylou and he
made a rather attractive couple of teenagers, Sue thought. Still,
though, they were teenagers and should not have been physically
intimate.
Knowing what she did, Sue was sure that she would be unable to hide
her mixed emotions if she faced the boy, so she walked around the side
of the house and came quietly in the back way. She had planned to stay
in the kitchen until he and Marylou left to go swimming. Obviously,
they would have to be leaving in a minute or two.
The house was quiet -- too quiet, she thought. Surely the young
couple had left. For a moment, Sue deliberated calling Marylou's name,
then decided she would just walk in unannounced. After all, it was her
home! Sue left the kitchen and went through the alcove next to the
living room. She was about to slide the doors open when she heard what
sounded like a low cry of pain. Puzzled, she peered through the crack
and then froze in shock and amazement. There, stretched out full length
on the couch, were Petey and Marylou. The girl's white gym shorts had
been unzipped and -- together with her white nylon panties -- were down
about her knees. Her blouse was open all the way, and Petey's mouth was
glued to her right breast. Even as Sue watched Marylou groaned again --
and Sue realized it was not a cry of pain, but of delight. The boy's
middle finger was sawing away in maniacal fury at the junction of
Marylou's widely outspread legs. Her young pelvis was moving up and
down in an effort to capture and hold on to the elusive digit. From her
vantage point, Sue could even see the enlarged pink clitoris almost as
large as an infant's penis.
Sue knew she should go away -- go back to the kitchen -- and
perhaps slam a door as if she had just entered. Then she could call out
Marylou's name; that would give the boy and girl a chance to get into
their clothes. But then she also knew that she wouldn't be able to face
either one of them after what she was viewing now. Her attention
snapped back to the front room as Marylou arched her back up off the
sofa and began to pant hoarsely. "I'm cumming, Petey," she cried once,
then fell back, her face twisted in a lewd expression of delight and her
legs beating against the leather couch.
After her movements had slowed, Petey took his finger away and
lifted his mouth from her breast. He slid one knee over her thigh, as
he began fumbling with his zipper. "Put it in for me, huh?" he
requested.
"No! I told you no." Marylou said. In spite of the fact that her
eyes were closed in satiation, there was no mistaking her adamant tone
of voice.
"Please!" It was a frantic plea from the boy.
Marylou sighed in exasperation and opened her eyes. "I told you
before you started messing around. It's the dangerous time of the month
for me, and even if it wasn't, you'd still have to have protection. You
know that!"
"Oh, God. I'm dying," the boy wailed.
Marylou sat up on one box. She had a very patient expression on
her face. "Lie on your back," she ordered, and turned on her side to
give him more room.
Petey did as he was told. She suddenly realized that Marylou knew
exactly what to do ... had probably done this many times before. Even
as she watched, Marylou expertly unfastened the boy's belt, undid the
waistband hook, and then unzipped the trousers. His jockey shorts were
bulging. Marylou's hand slipped in the opening and withdrew the penis.
She was frozen; she couldn't have moved now even if the house had
been hit by an earthquake. She had never seen anything like this
before, although she knew it must happen all the time between some boys
and girls. It had almost happened with her and Dick. That didn't
change the situation; it was still lewd, dangerous, and wicked.
Marylou's hand encircled the virile instrument at a point just below the
head of the organ. She began moving her hand up and down, up and down.
Petey lay back with a blissful look on his face, his eyelids fluttering,
and his breath coming rapidly.
"Let me know," Marylou said.
"Yeh ... yeh ..." it was a hoarse grunt.
Less than thirty seconds later, Petey raised his buttocks off the
couch and his face twisted in a grimace, "Ahh ... ahhh," was all he
said, but the communication was obviously effective for Marylou quickly
used her other hand to pull up the jockey shorts just as the first white
spurts of the boy's sperm came flooding through the subterranean
channels of his penis. Marylou continued to stroke him -- more gently
now -- and on her face was an unfathomable look that might have been
either pleasure or satisfaction. Finally her hand motions stopped. She
grinned down at the boy. "Feel better, sugar?" Sue asked softly.
"Ummm. God, yes," Petey sighed. "It's not as good as the real
thing -- like fucking inside of you ... but it's better than nothing."
Marylou laughed, "And better than doing it yourself?"
"Hey now. I don't ..."
"You do," and she hit him playfully, "doesn't everyone?"
After a moment, Marylou brought her hand out from beneath his
jockey shorts. Sue could see the hand was all wet; it glistened in the
reflected light. Marylou calmly wiped her hand on the tail of his tee
shirt. Petey turned his head toward her; Marylou's breast was only
three inches away from his mouth. He parted his lips, his tongue came
out and licked the erect brown nipple.
With a look of rapture on her face, Marylou put her hand behind his
head and pulled him closer to her. His mouth opened all the way as he
seemingly attempted to devour the entire breast. "Ummm ... that's
wonderful." Then, abruptly, she pulled away from him and was very
businesslike. "That's enough," she said in mock sternness. "We'd
better get going. Sue will be back in a few minutes. Come on ... get
up, lazy." She prodded him with her knee.
Reluctantly, Petey stood up and faced the alcove door behind which
Sue was hiding. His levis were down around his knees, and he stood
straddle-legged to keep them from slipping down any further. In an
attempt to straighten out his sopping wet jockey shorts, he was forced
to lower them to about mid-thigh. Sue saw his cum-covered penis,
flaccid now and only about two and a half inches long. He used the
lower part of his tee shirt to dry it, and the vigorous drying motions
started the organ swelling and elongating again. Marylou unconcernedly
got off the couch, and Sue was able to see sparse young triangle of
pubic hair before the white nylon panties and tight white gym shorts hid
it from sight. Casually, the girl buttoned up her blouse, all the while
smiling affectionately at the boy. A moment later, arm in arm and
giggling, they left; this was followed by the sound of Petey's car
starting up.
Sue suddenly realized that she was debilitated -- so weak that her
legs were almost unable to support her weight. She felt shame at having
acted as a "Peeping Tom", but more than that, she could feel a sense of
forbidden excitement that raged like a wild fire in her own loins and
brought a hot fevered dampness between her thighs. For a moment, when
the boy and girl had been petting, it seemed almost as if Sue herself
were being fondled. Woodenly, she slid the door open and walked to the
couch. She reached out one trembling hand and touched the leather. No,
it hadn't been a dream. The leather was still warm from the heat of
their bodies and, in one place where Marylou had lain with her bare
buttocks pressed against the sofa. She could feel dampness where the
girl's love juices had flowed down between her legs to the couch itself.
She sat down and thought about what she had seen. The performance
of the two teenagers was wrong. Not only wrong, but sinful and
dangerous. Yet, on the other hand, it had seemed such a natural thing
and so very enjoyable! She had no doubt that the real act of sexual
intercourse between Petey and Marylou would be just as natural --
accepted just as calmly. And her thoughts moved on to her relationship
with Dick. When she permitted Dick to fondle her, she had known
excitement ... at least for a few happy, beautiful moments. Always,
though, she had become frightened as she felt her senses drifting away
leaving her body helpless to any onslaught. And so, she had tightened
up each time. As for touching Dick's penis ... no matter how much Dick
wanted her to caress him, she couldn't bring herself to do it. His male
organ frightened her. Even though she had never seen it, she knew it
was much, much larger than Petey's.
Sue picked up a wedding gift. "Everything will be much better
after the wedding," she said aloud, and felt immediate depression
because she was pretty sure it wouldn't be that much better. She forced
herself to grin and began ripping the paper off the package. "I am just
having prewedding jitters. Every bride has them. Don't they?" And she
laughed humorlessly with the realization she was talking to herself.
More than once during the next hour her eyes fastened on the couch, and
she found herself wondering what it would be like if she and Dick ...
Five hours later, when Dick came to pick her up for the traditional
"final date" before marriage, the combination of perturbation and
forbidden excitement still racked her body. She met Dick at the door,
threw her arms around his waist, and kissed him warmly. As she pressed
her body in close to him, she could sense his surprise at her
uninhibited welcome. Her mouth opened to receive his tongue and her own
tongue quivered and played effusively with his.
Dick, delighted with the greeting, drew back and asked, "What gives
here?"
"I can kiss my husband-to-be, can't I?" she said, grinning in what
she hoped was a wicked manner.
"Anytime, baby. Anyway!" They clenched again, then drew quickly
apart as Sue's mother banged a door at the top of the stairs and came
down.
"Good evening, Richard," she said, primly, not smiling.
"Hello, Mrs. Ogden. How are you this evening?"
"Not very well, thank you. I have a headache." Silence settled
over the group. Sue finally broke it by taking Dick's arm and saying,
"Don't wait up, Mother. It'll probably be after midnight before we get
back from the hayride."
Mrs. Ogden stared at Sue, then nodded. "Have a good time," she
said, and it was obvious the statement was made perfunctorily.
Dick opened the door for Sue and led the way to his side of the
convertible. She slid in, showing more thigh than she usually showed,
and didn't bother to pull down her skirt when Dick got behind the wheel.
His mind was on something else, it seemed. "Brrr," he said, shivering
as though he were freezing. "It was a bit cold in there tonight."
Sue quickly put her hand over his. "Mother means well."
"Sure," he answered, starting the car and backing out of the
driveway. "Just like last week when I told her to cheer up; that she
wasn't losing a, daughter, she was gaining a son. She looked at me like
I was something that had crawled out of the apple pie and said, 'I am
losing a daughter.'"
"Everything will be all right," Sue said, moving over until her hip
was touching his.
Dick looked down at her legs and breasts, grinned, and said,
"Everything is perfect already."
She dimpled and replied, "Thank you, kind sir," and felt the
happiness well up in her.
Dick drove quickly -- surely -- driving with one hand, with his
other arm around her shoulders. His tape deck was playing something
soft -- something for people in love. Neither of them spoke as they
drove out of town, heading toward the farm where the haywagon ride was
to originate. They were the last to arrive. Other couples were already
in the wagon, and shouting impatiently for the evening to begin.
Several bottles of hard liquor were in evidence, being passed around to
be drunk straight. Sue had a mouthful of straight bourbon and coughed
as it burned its way down her throat to her empty stomach.
Someone began singing as the two horses pulled the wagon across the
countryside. With the coming of darkness, the various couples began
snuggling down into the sweet--smelling hay. There were muffled giggles
from the girls and occasional barks of laughter from the boys. Sue knew
all of the others on the ride -- most of them had been friends since
kindergarten. They were a nice bunch of kids, she thought.
Dick pulled her down deeper into the hay, and she found herself
almost buried in it, and lying full-length and pressed against him. The
image of Petey and Marylou came to her at once, but she forced it out of
her mind by asking, "Happy?"
"Uh-huh. You?"
In reply, she kissed him and found his mouth partially open:
without volition, her tongue swam into his mouth. He savagely returned
the kiss, and the excitement Sue had felt earlier began creeping back
again. Now Dick's hands cautiously touched her breasts. Even through
the sweater and blouse and slip and brassiere, she had felt the
electricity between them.
The spell was momentarily broken when from the other side of the
wagon, Sally Miller, the pert little redhead who was to serve as
bridesmaid on Sunday, said very loudly, "Harvey Johnson. You stop that.
You just behave yourself. You hear?" The remark was followed by ribald
laughter from all the boys, including Dick. Even the driver, a 70-year-
old coloured man, doubled up in laughter.
A second later, Dick began kissing her again. Their two tongues
sparred, and she felt his hands becoming more sure of themselves when
she did not protest. Lying as they were, face to face, Sue was also
becoming very aware of the hard bulge beneath his trousers, which
confessed his desire. She wanted to reach down there and caress him the
way Marylou had caressed Petey; she was steeling herself to do it when
his hands moved beneath her sweater and his knee moved between her
thighs, separating them.
She made no effort to halt his fumbling efforts to unfasten the bra
clasp, trusting him and herself. His movements, concealed by the straw
and the night, were successful. A delicious moment later, his bare hand
was on her naked breast; his fingers played over the nipple and he
lovingly squeezed the firm, full mound of flesh. Never before had it
felt so delightful to her. His tongue had become imperative, his
movements almost frantic. His hips buffeted against her pelvis. She
found herself panting -- wanting him to stop, yet deep inside wanting
him to go ahead forever. She wanted him to kiss and bite her breasts
the way Petey had with Marylou. She was only vaguely aware of the
clopping of the horses' hooves and the murmuring sounds of other couples
who had also buried themselves in the anonymity of the hay. No doubt
everyone was necking furiously, she thought. Suddenly, the breath went
right out of her body. With one unhesitating smooth motion, Dick's hand
slid up her thigh, dug itself under the thin elastic leg band of her
panties, and touched the hot, moist lips of her now fevered vagina. Oh,
God! She had been dying for him to do this ... and now she didn't want
him to. Immediately she dropped her arm and tried to pull his hand
away; she also attempted to move her mouth from his. She was helpless,
so weak. She was almost beside herself as he began massaging the hot
throbbing passage between her legs. Once, his thumb and forefinger
tweaked the sensuously tingling clitoris and a shower of ecstasy sparked
through her groin. He began using his other arm to force her hand down
toward the awesome bulge in his pants. She could feel reason leaving
her; it was insane. "No ... no!" she cried aloud and struggled upright.
No one noticed her.
Sue saw him looking at her, wild-eyed and trembling. Finally he
seemed to gain control of himself and nodded that it was safe to come
back into his arms. She did so, trembling like a person afflicted with
epilepsy, and kissed him gently on the lips. The bulge in his trousers
felt even larger now, and she could feel it beating like a second heart
against her bare thigh.
She had almost decided she would do something about relieving him,
when the driver shouted to someone, and Sue heard Sally Miller's voice,
"Hey, everybody, we're here!" The wagon made a half circle and stopped
at the bank of a river. A huge bonfire was scattering sparks to the
night. The smell of broiling steaks came on the wind. A keg of beer
was tapped as one of the farm hands began playing a guitar. Dinner was
followed by a round of singing as the bonfire slowly died down. One by
one, the couples began drifting into the perimeter's darkness.
Sue felt Dick's hand pulling her to her feet. Arm in arm they
walked down the dark beach. They had almost reached the end of the sand
bar when he suddenly stiffened and whispered, "Shhh. There's someone
out there." Sue could hear the muffled groans and something that sounded
suspiciously like the sound of body slapping against body. "What is
it?" she whispered, half-frightened, not knowing what lay out there in
the darkness.
She saw Dick grin and he put his mouth against her ear. "I think
it's Sally Miller and Harvey Johnson. Come on, let's see."
Sue held back. "That wouldn't be nice," she hissed. "We
shouldn't."
"Come on," Dick insisted, and took her hand. "Be quiet."
They moved silently across the beach heading toward the little
gully that separated the sand bar from the bank. Dick pulled her low to
the ground in order to cut down their silhouette. They peered over the
bank.
Sue made an audible gasp, which was quickly shut off by Dick's hand
over her mouth. Her eyes were wide in amazement. There, down below
them, only about ten feet away, were two nude bodies. Sally Miller's
naked white thighs were spread wide and jerking frantically in the air
as Harvey Johnson lay heavily between them. She saw Harvey's buttocks
raise, revealing a huge white rod of glistening flesh in the moonlight;
the rod was sunk deep between Sally's open thighs! Harvey thrust it
forward and the girl's naked vagina rose to meet it in midair. She
squealed out in delight. Faster, faster, the two bodies moved against
each other. Sally's breath was coming in loud, short, puppy-dog-like
pants and her movements were frantic. "Fuck me harder, harder ... oh,
yes ..." Sally groaned then, with her face contorted in lascivious lust
and passion, cried out, "I'm cumming, Harvey. Ah! Ahhh ... aieeeee.
I'm cumming. Fuck harder!" She made one maddened thrust upward and then
fell back on the sand, her body spasming uncontrollably, her legs
pounding the ground. A moment later, Harvey rammed forward and groaned
out his own release, and the couple lay still; the only sound was their
hoarse exhausted breathing and the slap-slap-slap of water as the little
silver river waves rolled peacefully up on the sandbar.
Sue was only vaguely aware of Dick leading her away into the
darkness. Well, now she'd seen it. She knew the word for it; Sally had
been 'fucked', and Sally had used the word 'cum' as her body went insane
with lust ... just as Marylou had screamed out she was 'cumming.' And
Sally had enjoyed it, had obviously been deliriously happy during it ...
and so had Marylou.
The sight had almost maddened her with a strange unwanted desire.
She could feel the hot dampness now of her own awakening loins. Dick
was pulling her firmly away from the bank toward the darker shadows by
the bluff. Once, when she opened her mouth to say something, he held up
his hand and silenced her. After they had gone about fifty yards, he
stopped and pulled her body around toward him. They kissed. Sue wasn't
attempting to tease him; she had a fire in her loins that cried out for
extinguishment. She didn't know how to put out the fire or how it could
be put out; that would be Dick's job. All she knew was that she was
instinctively grinding her pelvis against that forbidden area where his
trousers bulged. Instinct told her that when these two junctions were
finally joined, the fire would blaze up in an all-devouring
conflagration, explode, and then slowly die like a beautiful sunset.
Standing on tip-toe, abdomen wantonly pressed against him. Sue
suddenly felt Dick's sure hands sweep up under the short skirt and cup
her thin panty-covered buttocks in his palms. A second later, his
thumbs hooked over the elastic waistband and with one delicious motion,
her panties, were pulled down over her hips. Dick fumbled with his
zipper and then the long hard rod which had been held captive for so
long was released. It pressed hotly against her naked belly, throbbing
hungrily with each beat of his heart. Standing pelvis to pelvis, she
felt his knees spread outward a bit to lower himself. Then the fevered
cock was between her thighs.
"Dick," she moaned. "Please ... no. We can't." That was what her
lips said, but her body was screaming, 'Oh, yes ... now, right now, my
darling. What difference does a day or two make now." And so, without
conscious volition, she flexed and unflexed her thigh muscles against
his throbbing penis knowing by his moan of pleasure that she was
instinctively doing the right thing.
Dick sawed his cock between her thighs; she could feel the hardness
of it moving back and forth inside its sheath of hot thin skin.
His finger had begun to seek out the now moistened entrance to her
womb and after a second he found it. He turned his hand palm up to cup
the whole of her naked crotch in his hand and, at the same time, force
her thighs apart. She hated to lose that wonderful contact between her
upper legs and his penis, but she permitted him to spread her anyway.
His fingers were moving like those of a sensuous harp player across her
vaginal lips. She wanted to cry out in delight. Never before had she
ever felt anything so soul consuming. Her neck arched and she moved her
face from side to side, her lips contorted and panting out over and over
again, "No ... no ... no," and obviously -- from her wanton actions --
meaning, "Yes ... yes ... yes."
Dick was grinding his teeth and grunting softly as he moved his
penis up and down the length of her thighs. She could feel some
moisture there; she wondered if he had 'cum'. He still was hard, still
was moving ... so obviously, she thought, he hadn't reached his climax.
There was a moisture -- a hot, slippery moisture -- in her own vaginal
split; the artesian springs of passion coming to life under his
quivering rod.
"Sue ... please! I want you. Let me." He continued to buffet her
thighs with his prick.
I can't let you, she thought, incapable of speaking through her own
longing. I can't stop you ... I won't stop you if you really try. His
huge rod now had slipped up to the top of her thighs and its head
pressed and quivered against her hungrily throbbing cunt lips. She
cried silently, "Oh, how I want you to make love to me. Do it now!";
nothing escaped her lips though except wild hoarse pantings of desire.
For the first time in her life she felt as if something good was about
to happen to her down there between her legs. Her heart rejoiced.
There was no fear this time, as there had been in the past. No sudden
withdrawal of her senses. If anything, her senses stayed right there
and intensified. It was beautiful. It was wonderful. She wanted to
cry out to him, "Take me ... take me now, darling." When her fiancee
began pushing her gently down toward the sand, she went willingly.
Panting, she lay on her back, legs slightly spread, looking up unseeing
at the starry sky and watching as Dick unfastened his trousers and
dropped them. Then he was kneeling between her thighs, the heat of his
bare hips and buttocks against her abdomen and legs.
"Be gentle," she moaned, as she felt the huge head of his prick
pressing at the lips of her unprotected vagina. She lay there, the heat
of the moment on her -- wanting it beyond all other things, and
ecstatically happy that the fright had finally left her.
Dick's tongue sought possession of her mouth, his weight descended
upon her lower belly, and the first gentle probe of his cock slid
lengthwise across her vaginal lips. She gave herself to the sensation;
she could feel all reason leaving her body -- replaced only by pure
feeling. Dick lifted his buttocks back a bit in preparation for this
first entry. The throbbing head of it touched her vaginal lips, pushed
forward and separated the soft yielding pubic hair, and paused there
beating, beating, beating. Now he withdrew the head, now he replaced it
and this time pressed just a trifle deeper. Oh, God, she thought; it is
so beautiful. She could feel her vaginal lubricant oozing around the
head of his cock. Now she wanted it deeper. Instinctively, she had
reached down there to caress his balls when -- with a terrifying
suddenness -- the breathless moment was shattered by the loud shrill
tweet of a police whistle blown only a few yards away. And the sound of
it caused Sue's nerves to suddenly scream and react as though a stick of
dynamite had exploded beneath her. Simultaneous with the whistle, which
was the signal from the wagon driver that the evening was at an end,
there was the sound of a giggle right above them, together with a
muttered, "Ooops! Beg pardon." Sally and Harvey were laughing as they
backed away after stumbling over them in the darkness. "Didn't mean to
break in," Harvey's voice said, followed by Sally's hissed "Shut up,
Harvey."
Sue put her hands against Dick's chest and pushed him away.
Frantically, she tugged at her skirt, attempting to pull it down and
cover her naked loins. The beautiful moment had fled, and the way her
nerves were screaming it was probable that it would not return for a
long time ... if ever. It was as though she were a child undergoing
psychological conditioning: Reach out for a pretty vase and receive a
powerful electrical shock upon contact. Or an alcoholic reaching for a
drink in an institution -- a type of don't touch conditioning ...
brainwashing.
Her nerve endings were all jangling like a hundred alarm systems
being shorted out at once. She wanted to scream. Just as devastating
was the embarrassment and humiliation that she felt. God, how cheap and
vulgar she must have looked there with her legs spread out like a wanton
whore. She covered her eyes and began sobbing quietly.
Dick, though, was not about to give up that easily. When he sought
to pull her skirt up again, she jackknifed her knees beneath him and
twisted on her side. "Don't," she commanded, and it was an order not to
be disobeyed. "I'm so embarrassed."
"God, we can't stop now," he groaned. "It doesn't matter if they
saw us."
"It matters to me," and the sobs began coming more rapidly.
Dick angrily rolled over. "Oh, shit!" he said very loudly, and got
to his feet, pulling up his trousers.
"I'm sorry," she weeped. "I can't help it."
"Come on," he said, and it was almost a snarl of contempt, "Get
up."
Trembling, Sue stood and then feeling even more embarrassment,
reached down and attempted to raise her panties; she heard them rip as
her heel caught the elastic. Dick had his back to her. Why, oh why!
did everything go wrong all of a sudden. She had wanted him to make
love to her -- she needed to be made love to. He had even begun to make
some penetration. And then that ... that "damned" police whistle,
together with Harvey's crude laughter and Sally's knowing eyes.
Contritely, she completed her dressing, and then said quietly, "Dick."
He refused to answer.
She sniffed. "Dick ... I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, you acted like it," he mumbled.
"Well ... I am."
"Okay," he said, his voice cold and distant, and not giving an
inch. "You're sorry. I'm sorry. That doesn't make any difference to
the condition I'm in right now -- the same god-damned condition I've
been in ever since I met you. Don't be surprised if you hear tomorrow
morning that I was arrested for raping someone on the street."
Sue flared, "It's just as bad for me."
"I doubt it."
"What do you mean by that?" she commanded. "Forget it."
"No, I won't forget it. What did you mean?"
He turned finally and looked down at her. After a long moment, his
shoulders slumped, and he sighed in exasperation. "You can turn it off.
It's easy. Look at me, though. Just look!" He cupped his bulging
trousers in one hand and clenched his fist tight around it. "What am I
supposed to do with this? Christ! It hurts a man when he gets all set
to make love and then nothing happens."
Sue's retort was cut off by the sound of the police whistle again.
Someone shouted their names, "Hey Dick ... Sue! Come on. Time to go!"
"Come on," Dick said, roughly grabbing her arm and leading the way
toward the wagon. Sue followed him docilely; she was thinking of what
he said -- about it hurting a man when nothing happens and he's ready.
Marylou apparently knew the solution to that problem this afternoon with
Petey. And at that moment, Sue decided she would "relieve" Dick this
way, if it would help him. He would have to make the first move,
though; she couldn't bring herself to be that bold.
The ride back on the hay wagon was silent, and the atmosphere
painfully strained between the two of them. He made no effort to kiss
or hold her. When they got back to the ranch yard, he had assisted her
down from the wagon and then opened the door to the right side of the
car -- an obvious invitation to sit on her own side of the car. Not one
single word was spoken during the short journey home. When he pulled
into the doorway, he kept the motor running while he escorted her to the
door.
Sue's emotions were churning; she was torn between embarrassment,
shame, and anger.
"Good night," he said, simply nodding his head, and again making no
effort to kiss her.
All right, if that's the way you want to play it, to heck with you,
Mister, Sue thought. She forced herself to smile, though, and said,
"Good night, Dick." She put her key into the lock, entered without
looking at him, and closed the door behind her. She stood there, heart
pounding, with her back pressed tightly against the door, until she
heard the roar of his engine and the screech of his tires as he angrily
departed.
"Sue, darling, is that you?" Mrs. Ogden's voice came from the
living room.
She sighed, that was all she needed to make the evening a complete
-- an inquisition. "It's me, Mother."
"Come in here, please."
Sue had no inclination to talk to anyone at the moment; all she
wanted to do was go upstairs, take a hot shower, and go to bed with her
own thoughts.
"Sue? Are you all right?" Her mother's voice was insistent.
"Yes, Mother." Sue took off her sweater and put it on the hallway
bench. She glanced at her hair to make sure it was clean of hay and not
too mussed, and checked her clothing for signs of disarray. Then she
went into the living room where the older woman stood before the
fireplace.
Mrs. Ogden's eyes flickered over her daughter as if she were
evaluating a stranger's honesty or trustworthiness. After a moment, she
blinked and held a tightly wadded handkerchief up to her mouth.
Puzzled and alarmed, Sue asked, "Mother? What's happened? What's
wrong?"
Mrs. Ogden seemed reluctant to speak. Then with big tears looming
up in her eyes, she reached out for Sue and said, "Oh, darling. I
should have told you before, but it was go embarrassing for me." She
sighed deeply, wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and sniffed. "I
just didn't want to embarrass you, too. But I can't avoid it any
longer."
"What is it?"
"Sit down, dear." She motioned to the couch, then sat down beside
her daughter. The older woman's face was flushing as she sought to put
words to an obviously distasteful task. "I've never spoken to you about
... about your marriage duties and marriage night. I must do so before
you find out for yourself. This is something a mother must pass on to
her daughter. It isn't something you will find in those horribly nasty
dirty marriage manuals with their filthy pictures and diagrams ... or
those Communistic sex education classes they tried to put on in the high
school. I'm so relieved that my woman's club was instrumental in
getting rid of all that smut. After all, this is something that should
be taught and discussed in the home."
She was appalled. This was the last thing she ever expected to
hear from her usually reserved mother. The older woman was undergoing
almost a Jekyll-Hyde transformation as she warmed to her subject.
Earlier embarrassment had evaporated -- being replaced by something akin
to hatred and anger.
Mother said, "I think you know that men and women have different
reproductive organs."
Sue was amused in spite of herself, but she realized she must bite
back her smile. She wondered what mother would say if daughter was to
tell her that the first time she had ever seen -- in living colour and
stereophonic sound -- a full-grown male's erect "reproductive organ" had
been that afternoon on the couch ... that Mother was sitting on the
exact spot where Marylou's "reproductive organ" had damped the leather
some 12 hours earlier ... that Sue's own "reproductive organ" had been
rubbed by Dick's "reproductive organ" only an hour before.
Mother continued her lecture. "May I suggest that you use your ...
ah ... reproductive organ as just that. Get pregnant right away, as
soon as you can, then you won't be bothered by Dick. Sex, after all, is
enjoyable only to men; it is something we women must bear with fortitude
-- no matter how distasteful."
Sue swallowed, confused. "But, Mother " she protested, "Sex is
supposed to be beautiful between a husband and wife."
The older woman closed her eyes and shook her head. "Sex is only
beautiful in that it leads to procreation. Remember the Bible: it says,
'Woman submit to your husband.' That word 'submit' means just that. Sex
is a cross we women have to bear. Nothing is fair or equal about it.
For example, on your wedding night, you will give your virginity to
Dick. He will take it joyously. And what does that gift cause you?
Not joy! Pain! Your hymen will be brutally ripped, the pain will be
excruciating ... and then you will begin to hemorrhage. I have even
heard stories of women bleeding to death on their marriage bed. Once --
you remember? -- I broke my leg and the bone popped out of my skin?"
She nodded, remembering the afternoon when she was only five years
old; she'd had nightmares for weeks after seeing the blood, the white
bone, and hearing the sounds of her mother's screams.
"You remember how I finally passed out from the agony, and when
they tried to move me I came to again, and how they had to give me
morphine to ease the pain?"
Wide-eyed and wondering, Sue said quietly, "Go on."
"Well, the pain that afternoon was nothing compared to the agony I
suffered when your father took my virginity ... even though he tried to
be gentle. That, of course, was before he became an insensitive
alcoholic brute." The older woman's eyes narrowed in recollection. "It
was always painful. It hurt every time he insisted on my performing
what he called 'marital obligations." She held up her hand as Sue opened
her mouth to speak. "Wait, don't interrupt. My mother suffered the
same way, and her mother, and her mother's mother before her. Your poor
Aunt Margaret! It is a fact of life you must learn to accept, and that
is why I say to you, 'get pregnant as soon as you can'."
Sue was slow putting her thoughts into words, but finally her
feelings came tumbling out. "But ... but don't most women enjoy making
love with their husbands?"
"Whores! And don't disgrace that beautiful word 'love' by using it
in that filthy context. 'Making love', indeed! 'Making war' would be
more like it, for the woman is always defeated, degraded, and brutally
subjected to all types of indignities. Can you image ... (No, of course
you can't, and pray God that you'll never have to!) ... what it is like
to have some foul breathed, wine-swilling, cigar stinking beast crawl
like a spider over your naked body?" She shuddered from the thought of
it; and Sue -- watching her mother's genuine horror -- couldn't help
thinking about what had been said.
Sue was fairly sure that her mother was telling the truth -- at
least the truth as the older woman saw it. Perhaps there was an
inherited physiological trait that had been passed on through the female
genes in her mother's family. She had read and heard about such things.
Perhaps it was painful! Maybe there was some almost insignificant
anatomical or neurological difference in the female line of her family.
And, abruptly, as the horrifying thought came to her, Sue clutched the
arm of the couch: Could the trait have been passed on to her? Would she
know agony ... instead of passionate enjoyment? Would she have known
excruciating pain if Dick had continued his penetration?
Her mind was a maelstrom of confusion and fear. There were so many
questions she wanted to ask now ... and no one to answer them. Sue
wanted to ask if Mother had ever enjoyed a male's caresses and fondling,
but such a question was embarrassing and at that moment almost
senseless.
Then, almost as if reading her mind, her mother said, "I think
almost all women enjoy 'sparking' with a man -- the touch of his hand
upon your arm," and the older woman blushed, "or a gentle kiss. The
body responds, of course. But the act of sexual intercourse itself is
degrading." A moment later she began speaking more rapidly -- almost
irrationally. "Remember what Saint Augustine wrote, 'Nothing is so much
to be shunned as sex relations.' And remember what I said. Sexual
intercourse should be used only for procreating the race. Birth is
painful -- horribly so -- but the act of conception, of mindless
copulation, is equally painful. Get pregnant, my darling, as soon as
you can."
There was more of the same, but Sue's mind could not absorb any
more. Sue knew her mother was wrong -- terribly wrong. That statement
about only "whores enjoying sex" was almost pathetic. Marylou certainly
was no whore -- nor was Sally. Then there was Cynthia and Donna, both
of whom had been friends of Sue's for almost all of her 22 years; both
had married earlier this summer. They certainly weren't "whores", but
they had made some ecstatic reports about what their husbands did to
them in bed.
Long after she had gone upstairs, Sue lay awake -- unable to sleep.
She gradually became more and more certain that her mother was telling
the truth as she saw it. It was painful to Mother; it probably was
agonizing ... to Mother, to Mother's mother, and Aunt Margaret. If it
was true, and Sue had absolutely no reason to doubt it, then most
probably the same thing was inherently wrong with her. It would be as
agonizing for her as her ancestors once Dick made full penetration.
It was a family curse, her confused mind decided; a curse handed
down from one female to another on her mother's side.
Down there -- deep within her womb -- she felt her vaginal muscles
tighten. It was a though a lock had been put in place ... a lock
without a key ... a lock that would keep spring and summer out
forevermore.
Chapter 2
Dick knew he was acting like an immature teenager when he "burned
rubber" pulling away from Sue's house. He had popped the clutch without
thinking, his mind too full of anger and unhappiness to care about noise
or wear and tear on the new car. His anger was directed against not
only Sue, but himself as well.
He realized Sue wanted to keep her virginity intact until the
wedding; that, at least was understandable. It was all right with him,
too, as long as he could occasionally score with a college girl from out
of town or one of the occasional hungry, but discreet older married
women he met while working as sales manager in his father's imported
automobile showrooms. The really big problem was that Sue kept
displaying these frustrating moments of willingness to go all the way
... until she began getting up tight. She wasn't a do prick teaser", it
seemed more like she was really seared.
He rubbed his cock through the material of his trousers. His balls
were hurting again -- the usual occurrence after a date with Sue.
"Jeez, we came so close tonight, and she was almost letting me," he said
aloud, and then added, "that god-damned police whistle scared hell out
of me, too. And Harvey making with the wise cracks ... that's all we
needed ..." Sue had tightened up like quick concrete the second she
heard the whistle; it was almost as if she had suffered instant rigor
mortis. Then something had seemed to have collapsed inside her when she
realized there were witnesses. That had been Harvey's idea of a
practical joke -- butting in just at that moment.
Dick stopped his car at a traffic signal; when the light turned
green, he raced another car away from the light, burning rubber for
almost half a block. A black and white police car coming in the
opposite direction blinked its headlights in warning at him, and Dick
immediately slowed down. He watched in his rear view mirror, but the
police car continued its patrol and did not turn around in pursuit.
When he turned off the Boulevard onto Main, he was surprised to see
Harvey Johnson's sports car on the side of the road; its parking lights
were blinking, and a cursing Harvey had his head under the hood.
"What's wrong, pal?" Dick asked as he pulled alongside and stopped.
Harvey looked up. "Oh, this son of a bitching oil line blew on me
again. Third time this week. Christ, for two bits I'd drive the god-
damned thing over the railing on the trestle and dance a jig all the
time it was sinking into sixty feet of water."
"You know where to come for a good new one."
Harvey stuck out his tongue and made an obscene noise.
Dick laughed. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you've got three feet of quarter inch copper tubing?"
"'Fraid not. Can I call a garage for you?"
"Naw. The cops came by a few minutes ago and radioed for the auto
club; but the tow truck is out on the highway with a wreck right now.
They can't be here for another half hour or so."
"Okay ... see you later then," Dick said, and put the car in gear.
"Hey, wait!" Harvey came over to the side of the car, a troubled
look on his face. "Say ... ah ... you could do me a favour."
"Sure, anything."
Harvey nodded toward the front seat of his car. "Can you give her
a lift home? Her old man's going to be raising all sorts of hell even
now; another thirty minutes, he'll probably be waiting on the front
porch with a shotgun."
For the first time, Dick saw Sally Miller peering at him from the
dimness of the front seat. "Hi there," she said, brightly.
"Hello, Sally." Dick shrugged as he turned back to Harvey. "Would
you rather I stay with your car, and you take her home in mine?"
"Naw. I'm the only one who can sign the auto club slip. Besides,
with an Honest John citizen like you bringing her home, her old man will
have to believe that I actually did have car trouble this time."
"Right." Dick leaned across the seat and unlocked the door. "Come
on Sally ... got your bus transfer?"
Sally slid out of the driver's side of Harvey's car, and her little
mini-miniskirt crept up almost to her waist. From the position of her
legs, it was difficult to tell if she were wearing panties or not.
Harvey paid no particular attention to her or her legs. "I'll call you
tomorrow," he said, patting her shoulder, and then looking over at Dick,
"Thanks."
"No sweat," Dick answered. "Want me to come back after I've
dropped her off ?"
"Harvey shook his head. "Not necessary. I'll manage." A moment
later, he was lost to sight as Dick turned the corner.
Dick was all too aware of Sally's body next to him, even though she
sat next to the opposite door. She'd made no effort to pull down her
skirt when she got into the car. Her well-shaped thighs were really
something to look at, he thought, and the proud upthrusting of her
breasts beneath her sweater gave ample evidence that she had not
bothered to put her bra back on after the beach episode ... if, indeed,
she had ever worn one at all. He'd be willing to bet that she wasn't
wearing panties, either. These thoughts and remembrance of the beach
scene brought stirring life to Dick's penis again. The vision of Sally
being soundly fucked by Harvey came back all too vividly. He knew he
was tensing up, knew his prick was beginning to swell painfully again
... knew also that Sally was aware of his tenseness. God, that's all he
needed now -- another hard on! And with Sally, one of Sue's best
friends.
It was she who spoke first, saying "Look ... I'm sorry we ...
Harvey and I ... ah ... interrupted -- intruded, tonight."
He shrugged. "It's okay. You really didn't see anything anyway,
because nothing happened."
"I really didn't think so."
"What do you mean?"
Now she shrugged, and gave a knowing little smile. "You're too up
tight. You'd be more relaxed ... if something had happened."
"Is it that obvious?" Dick asked, mildly astonished at the girl's
boldness.
Sally grinned. "You might say that it's obvious as hell." Without
a warning, she reached over and touched the bulge in his trousers.
"Like so." The contact created the same result in his loins as a match
struck in a gasoline-vapoured chamber. She left her hand, not teasing
him, not caressing ... merely resting her fingers on the throbbing cloth
lump created by his desire. Sally's eyes were locked on his face; the
intensity of her glance was something he could feel. She seemed to be
asking silent questions -- and receiving silent answers. Dick was aware
that he was driving very slowly now -- the vehicle was barely moving, as
a matter of fact. His breath caught with the next comment from the
girl, "If we hadn't intruded, you wouldn't be uptight. Would you?"
Dick had to force the words out of his suddenly dry throat. "I
guess not." He kept his eyes on the road.
"Then ... I'm responsible in a way." She looked over her shoulder
out the rear view window, then glanced ahead of them. "Keep driving,"
she ordered. She had some plan, obviously; her actions were
unmistakable.
Through a haze of uncertainty and growing heat, Dick felt her hand
leave his leg and begin fumbling with his belt. "Take a deep breath,"
Sally said. He did as instructed, and she quickly unfastened his waist
band. A second later his zipper scraped, and her knowledgeable hand and
fingers released his hot throbbing cock from the imprisoning confines of
his shorts. He groaned deep in his throat as she stroked it a couple of
times. "My ... it's beautiful," she said, breathlessly. "So big! So
hard!" She lovingly pumped it for a few seconds, then rolled it like a
thick cigar between her fingers. The reflected light from the dashboard
instruments showed her hand moving up and down on his long white prick.
God, how he had wanted a girl to do that! It was almost more than he
could stand. Already, even though only thirty or forty seconds had
elapsed, he could feel the gathering thunderheads in his balls. The
girl was an expert; she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He
groaned, and his breath began coming faster.
He was so caught up in the delicious sensation that Sally had to
make the request twice.
"What?" he muttered, not really sure he comprehended.
"Move the seat back further," she repeated.
Dick mentally knew what was coming next. Eagerly, he reached down
on his left for the seat release and pushed with his back. The seat
slid all the way back. He was forced to drive with his arms almost
straight out in front of him.
Sally glanced out the rear view window again -- looked ahead at the
vacant street -- and ordered, "Just keep driving. Tell me if you see
any cars coming from behind. Call this my wedding present to you." She
bent forward and her hot lips slipped wetly down over the head of his
bulging cock.
"Ahhhhhh," it was a moan of delight wrenched from his soul.
Nothing had ever felt so beautiful before, or at least nothing recently.
Her tongue flickered at the urethral opening and then ran maddening
circles around the head. She had pooched out her lips so that her mouth
felt like a soft hot clamping vaginal ring, wonderfully moistened. With
her free hand, she reached down into his snorts and began gently
squeezing his testicles in rhythm to her sucking movements. Up and down
her mouth moved, gently bobbing like an oil pump pulling precious liquid
from the subterranean depths. Dick was about to go out of his mind from
the sensation. The girl had said to keep driving, but it was almost
impossible to do that because of what he felt. He couldn't have been
travelling more than three or four miles an hour when the girl, as if
sensing his impending orgasm, began taking the cock deep into her
throat. Faster, faster, faster her head moved until Dick could stand it
no longer. He arched his back and raised his buttocks off the seat in
an effort to jam it further down her throat. She took it all, and as
the head of his prick began swelling to enormous size, Sue started
sucking voraciously, interspersing the vacuum with occasional little
nibbles using her teeth against the trunk and head. The dash lights
showed her lips being pulled out grotesquely as they clung to his white
driving rod. He continued to push up to meet her, and she continued to
take him. His mouth was swollen shut and long hoarse pants of breath
whistled through it. His prick felt as though it weighed a ton -- a ton
of hot molten lava restlessly surging below the surface of a volcano.
He knew he was on the verge of cumming and felt he should prepare her
but as her motions became more rapid and the suction increased, he
suddenly knew it didn't matter. She obviously had done this before; she
was an expert. The lava gathered, seethed and boiled. The eruption was
imminent. Low guttural noises of delight came rumbling out of his
throat. He was cumming ... cumming ... almost there. Almost. Now ...
Now! Now! The first hot spurts of sperm boiled out of his balls and
screamed along the duct leading to the head of his cock. "Ahhhh ...
hahhhh." His cry was meant to give her some warning, but the sound
merely increased her frenzy. The hot cum roared out of his cock in
great, smooth gushing quantities and she went on sucking furiously as he
shot everything he had into her wonderfully warm, greedy mouth. And
still he came, as weeks of pent up frustration and abstinence manifested
themselves in almost half a cup of the viscous elixir of love.
She used her tongue to tease, her mouth and lips to suck, until his
penis became less osseous and began to deflate. It was as though she
felt it necessary to suck every last drop of lust from him. She
continued to work until he was sure he was getting ready for another
erection, then she suddenly stopped.
Dick gave a mumbled sigh of happy release, and abruptly became
aware that his car -- lights on, motor running -- was standing
motionless right in the middle of the street. Sally withdrew her
dripping lips from his cock, then kissed its head which was inflamed
from her nibbling and smeared with her lipstick. She slithered up until
she was enclosed in his arms. Then she kissed him wetly; her tongue
darted and licked around his mouth. He could taste the alien taste --
the taste of his own sperm in her mouth. Sally's face was slippery --
glistening from his seminal juices and streaked with her lipstick. She
scooted back over to her own side of the car, opened her purse, and
carefully wiped her mouth with a kleenex as he began driving again. He
turned onto the street where she lived as she glanced over toward him,
"Do I look presentable?"
He inspected her face, and nodded.
She smiled as he stopped in front of her house and started to get
out of the car to open the door for her. "Don't bother," she said
quickly and slid out. As her skirt flared up, he realized he had been
right; she wasn't wearing panties, after all. The crack of her smooth
young buttocks was a dark inviting line at the top of her white thighs.
Dick saw her father part the curtains and stare angrily out into
the night.
"He's seen you," Sally said. "So now he'll believe the story about
Harvey's car." She grinned impishly at him as she closed the car door
and leaned through the window, "Did you like my wedding gift?"
"The greatest."
Her laughter came floating through the cool night air and, as she
turned to go up the walkway, she tossed back over her shoulder, "Make
sure Sue sends me a 'thank you' note." She was still laughing when the
door closed behind her excessively wiggling little ass.
Relaxed and sleepy, and feeling only a minor pang of remorse at
having "betrayed" Sue with one of her best friends, Dick drove slowly
homeward. He puzzled over the opposite sexual reactions of the two
girls; there was all the difference in the world between them. Sue was
loving. She had moments of great warmth and tenderness that seemed to
engulf him like a pleasant comforter on a cold night. Yet, she had very
obvious sexual hang-ups. He knew -- from the way she reacted when he
caressed her -- that she couldn't be frigid ... at least not in the
technical sense. She seemed almost "frightened".
Sally was a different proposition. She was "hot"; from the gossip
among the fellows, Dick knew she fucked like a rabbit and had been doing
so since her freshman year in high school. She also had other talents
in the sexual line, as she had just demonstrated! There were a lot of
girls in the world like Sally; he had known a few himself before he
became engaged to Sue. Some of them already at 14 or 15 -- were
"tramps", and that, he knew, was the kindest word for them. They
pretended sexual excitement, they screwed, they bellowed, when they
reached their pitiful little climaxes, but there was always something
missing. Sally really couldn't be called a "tramp". She considered sex
as merely another adjunct to friendship, and thus she enjoyed a good
fuck. When she got married, she would be the one who suggested "husband
swapping".
But Sue? There was an untapped reservoir of passion in her; he
could sense it. There was more power, more heat in her loins than in
Sally's. But how to reach it that was another thing entirely.
As he drove into his own driveway, he thought sleepily: Maybe Sue
will change once she gets the wedding ring. He was sure she would,
otherwise the marriage would never go. She wasn't at all like her
mother -- dour and dried up and seemingly hating me. At least ... he
prayed she wasn't like her mother.
As he got out of his car he felt the dampness of his shorts where
the seminal juices had seeped after Sally had finished her
ministrations. For a moment, he visualized Sue doing that for him; such
an act would be clear evidence that she had rid herself of some of the
hang-ups.
And, abruptly, he had an erection -- just as big and powerful ...
and painful, as earlier. The thought of Sue doing that stayed with him
even after he hopped into the shower and until he soaped his penis --
running his slippery hands up and down its throbbing trunk. Then ...
feeling as foolish as a 15 year old ... he soaped until his huge rod
spat out its load against the tile walls of the shower stall. He
watched the cum run down the tiles, and he thought: That's the last time
I'll ever have to do that again ...
Chapter 3
Saturday passed in a whirlwind of activity for Sally. The wedding
rehearsal was scheduled for four-thirty in the afternoon; it was to be
followed by a dinner for the bridesmaids and ushers. She felt awkward
when she met Dick at the church that afternoon; she had planned to
apologize to him, to hold him and have him hold her. Yet, the second
she saw him, an unwanted thought boiled up in her mind: He is going to
hurt me tomorrow night ... I know it!
Dick, however, surprised her by apologizing for his short behaviour
the night before. He seemed somehow different today -- more relaxed and
at ease. Abruptly, Sue felt all her doubts dissipating. He was to be
her husband; he would protect her. He would never knowingly hurt her.
And so the rehearsal passed, and Sue was in a glow of happiness as
she sat holding hands with him during the prewedding dinner, listening
to the idle gossip and chatter of the other couples. When he kissed her
goodnight at the front door, it was almost midnight. She responded
warmly to him. "This will be the last time," Sue said softly, her voice
full of love.
"The last time what?"
"The last time you'll have to say 'goodnight' like this." She knew
her face was aflame as she said, boldly, "Tomorrow night you can whisper
it before we go to sleep."
Then she was inside the house. The spell was broken immediately.
Aunt Margaret, her mother's sister, was talking loudly in the front
room. Her strident voice cut through the hallways like a runaway robot
harvester cutting down everything in front of it. "I still say Sue
should have had a surgeon inject a local anesthesia and then have the
doctor cut her hymen. And maybe he could prescribe some sort of
suppository she could insert each time before, which would deaden the
pain. Why should she suffer needlessly?"
Mrs. Ogden's whining voice came. "Oh, I tried to talk to her -- to
explain the disgusting thing that is going to happen ... but she just
sat there with a look on her face that said, 'Maybe it'll be different
with me, Mother.' I just don't know what else to say to her; I don't
want my only daughter to be hurt -- to be degraded by some ... some ..."
Her emotions obviously were getting the better of her.
There was a short pause before Aunt Margaret said, "Did you ever
think ... that Sue might not be a virgin still?"
"Margaret! What a horrid thing to say!"
"Well?"
"Of course she is. I'm positive she hasn't cheapened herself that
way."
There was another moment's silence, then Margaret said musingly,
"Yes ... I suppose you're right. She couldn't hide that from you. She
would have been in pain for days when it happened. You would have
known."
She could listen to no more. Why, oh why! did everyone have to
conspire to ruin the most beautiful moment of her life, she thought.
Why? Her Mother and Aunt Margaret quibbling over her virginity --
discussing it as though Sue were some animal to be trained or doctored.
Wasn't this something between her and Dick? Was it anyone's business
but hers? She fought the impulse to run in and shout at them, fought
another impulse to run up the stairs. Instead, she forced herself to
tip-toe quietly up to her bedroom. There, hanging on the closet door
like some ghostly figure mocking her, was her bridal gown and veil. Sue
reached out one trembling hand to the nylon mesh. She shuddered at the
feel of it. Maybe, she thought in sudden dismay, I should call the
whole thing off while there's still time. But she knew that it was
already too late.
When she heard Aunt Margaret and her mother's querulous voice in
the hall forty minutes later, she pretended as if she were asleep. Her
door opened and the two women whispered in the darkness. Her mother
said, "She must have come in while we were in the kitchen and not wanted
to bother us."
Sue felt someone standing next to the bed. Then Aunt Margaret's
soft voice said, "Look at her ... the poor child. Sleeping so
innocently. For the last time."
Her mother's sniffle was the only answer.
That night was spent with Sue's body as rigid as a railroad tie.
She tried to sleep, but it was an impossible task. When she glanced at
the luminous hand of her watch, it was three o'clock, and she thought:
Only twelve hours more.
When dawn finally came, Sue was slumped dejectedly in a chair in
front of the window, and was thinking that she still had nine hours in
which to extricate herself from the trap of marriage. Sounds began in
the kitchen a short time later as her mother and Aunt Margaret began the
day's activities.
Breakfast -- unwanted and tasteless -- followed a shower, then Mary
Corona arrived to do Sue's hair. Sue woodenly answered everyone's
questions and made light conversation with the hairdresser. And during
it all, she was thinking: Still three hours to call it off.
Then, with a flourish, Mrs. Martini arrived to assist with the
wedding gown; she was followed moments later by the first two
bridesmaids.
And, abruptly, all of the sands had run out. It was time! Sue had
absolutely no cognizance of being taken to the church; in many respects
it was like a condemned man spending his last hours before taking that
long last walk.
She heard organ music. She was walking -- because someone had told
her to begin walking and had nudged her. She saw a sea of smiling
faces. She saw Dick's face, strained and smiling at her from the altar.
She saw the bridesmaids in front of her scatter out like brilliantly
colored petals of flowers unfolding.
A face: the minister? "Do you accept this man ..."
Her nod and voice from a million miles off, "I do ..."
"Do you accept this woman ..."
And Dick's voice -- hoarse -- answering ...
"I now pronounce you ..." The strident roar of the organ, the
brilliant blindness of the sunlight outside the chapel ... the flash of
the photographer's camera. The sting of thrown rice ... the shouted
congratulations and, from a couple of the junior high school kids who
had been invited, "You'll be sorr-eeee." The reception line -- a never-
ending line of faces and kisses and mouths uttering words she couldn't
comprehend. The cutting of the cake. Everything all blur. Then Mrs.
Martini again -- removing her gown -- helping her dress in a new tweed
suit for travelling. A corsage being pinned to her coat.
Then Dick again ... meeting her in the hallway of the second floor
outside her bedrooms ... holding her. A shout as the reception guests
saw them. A mad dash down the front stairs to Dick's car all painted
with signs. The car door slamming. People shouting gleefully. The
sound of Dick's car starting, the screech of his tires as he attempted
to elude the jokers who wanted to follow with horns blaring.
And the last -- the very last -- view of her house. Mother, and
Aunt Margaret ... like two dark accusing angels of doom, standing there
silently -- not waving ... merely watching as the car drove off ... an
expression of grief on her mother's face ...
She began weeping.
Dick patted her hand. "Okay?" he asked solicitously.
"Yes," she lied, through a muffled handkerchief, "I'm just happy."
"This time tomorrow, we'll be in Ireland. And tomorrow night we'll
be at the castle."
So full of dread was Sue at the thought of this first night
stretching in front of her that she didn't respond to his excitement.
"Just think of it," he continued eagerly. "Two weeks of doing
nothing but lying in the sun and swimming all day and making loving all
night."
"Yes, darling. It will be lots of fun," she said, not believing
her own statement. The fright was beginning to boil up in her again.
Sue became more tense -- more silent -- with each passing mile as
they drew closer to the international airport hotel where they would
stay tonight prior to boarding the plane early tomorrow morning. She
tried to purge her mother's voice from her mind, but it came creeping
back like a freezing bone--numbing fog. "Dear God," she prayed
silently, "don't let me be like mother and Aunt Margaret. Don't make it
repulsive or painful ..." The dread, however, continued to raise in her.
She was close to tears when they checked into the motel. The manager
almost seemed to smirk at her when he led the way to their suite.
Inside, there was a bottle of champagne on ice -- courtesy of the owner
-- and inscribed, "To the honeymooners".
Almost frantic now with fear and nervousness, Sue pressed the
manager to stay for a "toast." She didn't want to be left alone with
Dick.
The manager merely smiled and said, "Oh, no! The champagne is just
for the two of you lovebirds. Congratulations to you both. Have a
goodnight."
The door clicked behind him, and the nightmare began. Dick tried
to take her in his arms, but She reflexively put both hands against his
chest and pushed back. "What's wrong?" he asked genuinely perplexed.
"Nothing," she lied. "Just a splitting headache ... I'll take an
aspirin and be all right in a little while. Maybe you should take a
shower?"
He looked concerned. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No. It'll go away. Take a shower."
Dick grinned in mistaken understanding. "Ah ... I bet I know. You
want to get rid of me while you change your clothes ... and get into
something more ... ah ... comfortable." He wriggled his eyebrows.
Sue anxiously seized the remark. "Yes! yes, darling!"
"All right. One shower coming up." Dick laughed and took off his
coat. He opened the suitcase and brought out a new pair of blue silk
pajamas. He held them up for her inspection. "Pretty sexy, eh? Just
wait until you see them on me." He kissed her passionately, then
disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, she heard the water
being run and his voice raised in song.
Quickly, she removed her clothes and slipped into the white
peignoir purchased for the honeymoon. She caught a glimpse of herself
in the mirror, and she blushed in shame. When she had tried the
negligee on in the store she had been wearing panties under it. Now,
however, it clearly showed the small dark triangle of her pubic hair and
the brown nipples of her breasts. She opened the bed, climbed in, and
pulled the covers up around her throat. Two minutes later Dick,
somewhat flustered, came out of the bathroom. The reason for his
chagrin was plainly evident; the front of his p.j. bottom bulged out as
though he had a huge banana protruding from between his legs.
"It must be something they put in the soap," he said, making a
feeble joke.
Sue did not laugh; she cringed deeper into the bed. Although she
had felt his penis through his trousers before and although he had
touched her with it before, never -- not in her wildest imaginations --
had she conceived it was as big as it seemed to be. Through the pajamas
it appeared to be at least twice as large as Petey's had been.
Now she knew what her mother had been trying to say; no woman's
body could safely take that huge bulging staff. It would split her
apart like a Parker House roll. She whimpered when Dick came alongside
the bed. That ... that thing was only inches away from her head as he
turned out the light. Then she felt the covers being pulled back and
Dick's body and his huge male organ of destruction pressing against her
side. Without preliminaries, he kissed her -- possessively at first and
then with rapidly increasing passion. She responded only perfunctorily
when he tried to shove his tongue down her throat.
Dick drew back from her. He leaned over on one elbow, "What's
wrong, darling?" he asked.
"Nothing," the word was said so softly it was almost inaudible as
she lay there transfixed with fright.
"Are you nervous?"
She leapt at the remark as though it were a life ring. Perhaps if
she admitted to it, he would leave her alone tonight. So she said, "Yes
... terribly nervous."
Dick laughed. "Well, then. We'll just have to take care of that
nervousness. I've got just the thing to remove nervous strain. Leave
everything to me." He kissed her neck and his hot wet tongue traced a
design down to the top of her gown. She felt his hands pull down the
straps of her gown, then he began caressing her bare breasts. She felt
nothing except the fearing pounding within her heart. He bent forward
and glued his lips to the left breast, and his teeth playfully bit and
teased the nipple. Soon his hands moved like conquerors across her taut
belly and sought the hem of her gown. He pulled it up so her loins were
naked and open to him. Slowly, using his middle finger, he began moving
it between her thighs and up and down across the length of her vaginal
lips. There was none of the excitement she had felt the night at the
beach ... none of the beauty and none of the fire. Only numbness -- a
deadening absence of sensation. Sue quivered in fright, and Dick took
the motion to mean that she was shivering in excitement. "Like that,"
he asked, not waiting for an answer. He tweaked her clitoris. She felt
nothing, could feel nothing. It was as though her body now was
elsewhere. Her husband was fondling a wax statue.
Then Dick suddenly rose up in bed. She felt him struggling with
his pajamas. He removed his top ... then kicked the bottoms out of bed
where they lay in a heap on the floor. When he stretched out full-
length beside her, she could feel the hair on his chest against her bare
shoulder, his hairy legs against her smooth ones, and ... and that
thing! which seemed hotter and larger than ever.
She was absolutely cold with terror when Dick gently spread her
legs apart. Then he swung his legs over her thigh and put his knee
between her legs. A moment later he was hovering over her and kneeling
between her legs. Sue lay there, close to panic, trembling with a fear
that Dick mistakenly accepted as desire.
She felt him fumbling for a moment, then the head of his hardened
penis was pressing against the still dry lips of her vagina. When he
touched her with it, it was as if someone had stuck a soldering iron
against her bare unprotected skin.
"Don't hurt me, Dick ... please. Oh, God ... don't hurt me," she
whimpered, trying to press herself into the mattress.
Dick was breathing heavily and he did not answer. He still reacted
in a gentle fashion, however. He slowly pushed forward, spreading the
sparse young pubic hair and the head of his cock slipped into the
virginal portals of her vagina. She winced, "You're hurting me."
He moved the head of his prick in and out between the red full lips
of her vagina; he did not seek to penetrate, merely to lubricate it. In
spite of all her fear, Sue could feel a moistness beginning down there
as her body responded automatically. Perhaps, she thought, it will be
all right, after all.
Then, he began to really hurt her when he attempted to push it in
even further between her thighs. "No ... Dick ... Stop!" Dick stopped.
And she repeated, "You're hurting me."
It was then he said it. She heard it and interpreted it as a
confirmation of everything her mother had tried to warn her about. He
said, "It always hurts a little the first couple of times."
"No, then. I don't want to do it!" she whimpered.
"Yes, you do," he insisted, and pressed his now heavily throbbing
cock in a bit further.
"No ... please." She felt as though he were already ripping her
apart and he had only the head in -- what would happen when he tried to
insert the other seven inches?
Suddenly, Dick made one hard long thrusting motion. "Gaaaaghhh,"
she screamed. His hips fell heavily between her wide-spread thighs, and
she was pinned like a helpless butterfly to the bed.
"No ... God! No," she cried aloud. "Help me ..." The words simply
goaded Dick on to almost a maniacal frenzy. He shoved his pelvis hard
into her squirming defenseless crotch ... seeking to reach that soft
yielding belly that had been denied to him for over a year. She was
squealing like a stuck pig as his cock reached the hymen and ripped
through it like tissue paper touched with a glowing red poker. She
splayed her legs out widely in the air in an effort to spread her cunt
even wider -- seeking to ease the agony ... but it was hopeless. The
cruel impalement was killing her, and he still did not have it all the
way in. Down, down, down, ever deeper his rampaging cock ripped until
she could feel the agonizing head of it finally coming to rest buried
all the way to what seemed to be her navel. His rigid fleshy column was
there only a second; he didn't even give her a chance to adjust to it.
His motions -- back and forth -- became a wild demented thing. He
pulled out, slammed it in -- seemingly attempting to drive it ever
deeper into her tortured pain-filled belly. Finally -- and it seemed an
eternity, although it couldn't have been more than a minute or two
later, she felt his prick begin to throb as the hot eager cum spurted
from him and flooded her virginal womb.
All in all, he came three more times before he finally pulled his
penis from her vagina, before he stopped violating her body and went to
sleep. Each time he had grunted and groaned out his climax and she had
felt it spurting inside her, it was more painful, more disgusting than
the first. Sue wept silently. Her vagina was a throbbing nest of
agony, and her silent desperate screams echoed through her mind and she
saw her mother's tightly pressed lips saying, "See ... I tried to tell
you."
At dawn the phone rang. Sue, who had not slept, wearily reached
over to the bedside table and answered. The hotel switchboard operator
cheerfully sang, "Good morning. It's five-thirty."
"Thank you," Sue said, without feeling.
Beside her, Dick stirred and groaned. "Whasszit?" he mumbled.
"Five-thirty," Sue answered. "The airport limousine leaves at
seven. I'll take my shower first, if you like."
Dick cocked one eye at her and made a sleepy effort to grin lewdly.
"Why don't we both shower together?"
"No ..." she shook her head. "No."
He shrugged. "Okay, you take yours first." He rolled over on his
side and was asleep again before she could answer.
Sue got out of bed, wincing at the painful tenderness in her
abdomen. Her belly actually felt as if someone had repeatedly kicked
her there. She felt as if she had been cut open in the crotch, as if a
stripped corncob had been shoved in there. When she looked down at the
sheet, she saw it was matted over a large area with brown blood and
dried semen. Wide-eyed in horror, and with the room swirling around
her, she gazed at her new peignoir. There was blood and sperm all over
it -- front, back, hemline and bodice. She ran for the bathroom, put
her head into the toilet bowl, and vomited. When she took off her gown
later, she had blood and semen all over her legs and in her pubic hair
and on her stomach and buttocks. It looked as though she had been
wallowing in a slaughterhouse trough.
She used almost an entire bar of soap cleaning herself, but it did
no good. She still felt dirty ... degraded.
When she got out of the shower and began towelling herself, she
noticed that the blood had begun, to seep again from her injured womb.
Chapter 4
Dick wheeled the rental car around a curve on the side of a hill
and saw the castle down below on the shores of a rather large, blue
pear-shaped lake. The sight looked like something seen on a travel
poster. He glanced over to see if Sue had awakened yet, but she slept
on. The poor kid, he thought; she had said she hadn't been able to
sleep at all for the last three nights. He put it down to bridal
nerves, just as he put down her coldness and reluctance to participate
in the sex act to nerves. She had slept the sleep of the dead on the
five-hour flight over -- not even waking for supper.
Gently, he reached out and shook her awake. "Sue, we're here."
She came awake slowly, her mind swimming reluctantly to the surface
of consciousness. Then she remembered and abruptly sat upright. Her
muscles ached and her entire body felt as if she had been drugged. Dick
was smiling at her, and suddenly she felt a great wave of tenderness and
love go out to him. Now that she had had some rest, she was once more
determined to make him a good wife. She loved him. That and the
knowledge that he loved her would be enough for her. She would permit
him sex -- as much sex as he wanted -- and she hoped and prayed that he
would never know how much pain he was bringing her each time he invaded
her body. When they returned home, she would quietly go to a doctor and
get some suppositories to make her numb down there, something to deaden
the nerves.
Impulsively, she bent over and kissed his cheek.
Dick nodded his head toward the window. "The castle," he said.
Sue took a deep breath when she saw the lake. At the far end, a
small sailboat was a dot of white against a blue and green canvas.
Smooth, green rolling hills came down to the water's edge on the other
side. It was a land for long hikes, of walking hand in hand, and
communing with nature. Below her, the castle looked as if it had come
out of another time period; which, of course, it had. There was a small
dock and a large white sandy beach.
Oh, Dick, darling. It's so beautiful." This sight alone had made
the journey worthwhile, she thought.
Dick grinned at Sue's animation. It was the first time since
before the wedding that she had seemed her old self -- happy, vivacious,
and affectionate. Last night at the hotel, he had moments when he felt
as if he were raping a stranger. He simply didn't understand it. Hell,
after he had made love to her the fourth time, he had been able to sleep
like a baby. Yet, apparently, she hadn't slept at all. And she hadn't
cum, either, even thought he had prolonged his lovemaking in an effort
to get her there. When he thought about, she was the first woman -- out
of the dozens he had had -- that he hadn't been able to build up to a
rip-roaring climax. But, of course, she was his first virgin ... and
maybe virgins react differently, he thought.
The car swept down the hill, across a small stone bridge, and
reached the level. Two large Irish wolfhounds met them at the wrought-
iron gate. The dogs, barking furiously, ran alongside the car until
they reached the front of the castle.
Up close, the U-shaped structure looked larger than it had from a
distance. Counting the crenelated roof, behind which archers had once
crouched , it had four stories. The open part of the "U" faced the
lake.
The dogs stopped barking and sat on their haunches, gazing
expectantly at Dick and Sue, staring at the couple almost as if asking,
"Well, aren't you going to get out?"
Dick stepped out of the car and was scratching one of the dogs
behind the ear when he saw the woman coming toward them. Tall, full-
breasted, black hair cut short, and wearing a long red and grey striped
hostess gown that accentuated her splendid mature figure, she smiled and
waved in greeting. In one arm, she carried a large bouquet of long
stemmed yellow roses. A wide generous mouth, smouldering passionate
black eyes with heavy black eyebrows, and the rich tan indicated more
than a little Latin blood in her veins. Dick thought with some delight
and an instinctive tightening in his groin: My God, what a sexy woman!
And Sue, with considerable envy, felt almost childlike opposite her.
"Hallo," she said warmly. "I'm Nora Morgan. You must be Dick and
Sue Bennett." Her voice was melodic and deep, with just a hint of Irish
in it.
"We are," Sue answered, smiling timidly at her.
"These are for you, Sue," Nora said, holding out the roses. Then
she held out her hand to Dick. "Hello ... welcome to Castle Fleur," she
said again, shaking hands with him. Her grip was especially strong for
a woman, and she had a disconcerting way of looking at a man ... gazing
right at him with such intensity that Dick felt as if he were drowning
in her eyes. And, even though he was on his honeymoon, Dick knew with a
sudden guilty feeling that he would like nothing better than to have
those long legs wrapped around his buttocks, those breasts straining
against his chest, and those full lips tightened back against her teeth
in lust ... as he pounded his hardened cock into her steaming pussy.
Nora's lower lip dropped almost imperceptibly as if she knew what
be was thinking. Then she turned to Sue. "You must be weary after your
long journey. Come, I'll take you to your room so you can freshen up."
When Dick started to grab the bags, she shook her head. "No ... leave
them," she ordered. "I'll have one of the boys bring them up to you."
Dick watched the two women walking in front of him; it was not a
good comparison. Nora obviously was all woman -- and very very sure of
herself. The long hostess gown covered her limbs, but if her legs were
like the rest of her -- arms, breasts, hips -- then they would be
perfect too. Sue? Well, Sue had every bit as good a figure -- not
quite as tall, but offsetting this was her undeniable femininity, a sort
of helplessness that made a male want to protect her. Actually, aside
from colouring and height, the main difference between the two women lay
in their projected sensuality and poise. Sue seemed almost adolescently
self-conscious as she walked next to Nora, and if Dick had been able to
read Sue's mind at that very moment he would have realized just how
inferior his wife felt.
Nora led them to a spacious, expensively decorated room on the
third floor. Large picture windows looked out over the lake and distant
hills. "This is your sitting room," Nora said. "Wood for the fireplace
is in the box there." She opened a connecting door. "This is your
bedroom. I'm sure you'll find it comfortable." There was a big king-
sized bed under a blue and white striped canopy. She indicated another
door, "And the shower ..." The shower, Dick noted, was large enough for
three people; it had an overhead nozzle and two fine spray nozzles which
shot a stream of water midriff -- front and back. Dick couldn't help
thinking, "What a great play pen." Something must have shown on his
face, because Nora dimpled and Sue blushed.
"Dr. Morgan and I would like you to be our guests for cocktails
before dinner this evening," Nora said.
Sue glanced at Dick, who replied, "That's very kind of you, Mrs.
Morgan."
"You must call me Nora. And Dr. Morgan shall insist that you call
him Tom."
"All right, Nora," Dick said. "What time?"
"Well ... let's see. You're the only guests we have at the moment.
Lord Medwell and Lady Margaret will be checking in tomorrow; then we
have another young American couple due in on Thursday. So we can be
flexible about dinner time tonight. An hour from now?"
Sue felt grimy after the flight and car trip. She said, "I would
like to take a shower, and change into something else."
Nora was immediately apologetic. "Of course, my dear. How
thoughtless of me. I'll have your bags brought up at once." She glanced
at her watch. "It's five thirty now. Shall we say seven thirtish?"
Neither Sue nor Dick were prepared for Dr. Morgan when they met him
two hours later. He had a stern military bearing about him which was
deceptive, for he turned out to be just as warm and friendly as Nora.
And, as his wife had said, he did insist on being called 'Tom'. He was
at least two inches taller than Dick's six feet, and weighed in the
neighborhood of 220 pounds -- and it was a lean 220 pounds at that. A
grey mustache cut a thin line across his lips. All in all, Sue thought
as she stared at him in open admiration, he cuts a dashing figure ...
like something out of a liquor ad or a suspense film about Scotland
Yard. He, like his wife, exuded an animallike sensuality. Side by
side, the Morgan couple definitely would be attention-getters, even in a
crowd of sophisticates.
Dick and Sue both felt at ease with them during cocktails in the
huge library. This was surprising in view of the fact that Nora was in
her mid thirties and Tom probably in his middle or late forties.
From the library, they went to the baronial hall-like dining room
where the four of them were served by a dour and silent old Irish maid.
It was not until the final course that Sue got around to asking, "What
kind of a doctor are you, Tom?"
"A retired one," he said, smiling mysteriously as he held up his
wine glass to the candlelight and inspected its contents.
Nora said, "Tom! Don't tease." She turned to Sue and said, "He was
a gynecologist -- a very successful and famous one, I might add."
Tom snorted as though enjoying a private joke and a look of warning
was flashed by his wife. As brief as it was, it sufficed, for the man
came back to his winning ways again. "All sorts of rich ladies with all
sorts of rich ladies problems." He shrugged and laughed. "A very
lucrative profession. I made enough in ten years to refurbish the
family castle. And here I am."
Nora commented, "Actually Tom is much too modest. He has a great
many other talents. Right now he's doing some very important research
on ESP."
"ESP?" Sue asked.
"Extra sensory perception," Nora explained.
Tom, who was rolling a fork back and forth between his thumb and
forefinger, looked up and said, "It's mainly a hobby -- something to
keep me busy -- although the government is interested in the
experiments. I believe that ESP can be enhanced by putting a person in
a light hypnotic state; then we place someone very close to this person
in another room and attempt to establish communication between the two."
Dick, whose eyes had widened, said unbelievingly, "You mean mental
telepathy?"
Tom nodded, and smiled. "I can understand your doubt. I'd be
incredulous myself if I hadn't received proof that it seems to work ...
at least with some people."
Sue was sitting there engrossed, in rapt attention. This was the
most fascinating thing she had ever listened to in her life.
Nora said casually, "Why not try the basic experiment tonight,
using Dick and Sue? Let them see for themselves."
"Oh, could we?" Sue blurted out.
Dick added quickly, "That would be one sure way of making a
believer out of me.
Morgan shook his head and frowned. "No ... I don't think it's ..."
Sue interrupted, pleading in a little girl's voice, "Please?"
Nora laughed, "You've piqued their curiosity, Tom. You won't be a
good host unless you show them how it works."
Morgan glanced from Dick to Sue and then over to Nora. He pursed
his lips and said, with considerable reluctance in his voice, "I
generally need more time to get to know my subjects better." He looked
thoughtful, then nodded, "All right. Let's try it anyway. It may not
work, but ..." he held out his hands, palms up, and smiled, "we'll see."
Sue was feeling slightly apprehensive when she followed the Morgans
into the library. She had never been hypnotized before; it would be a
novel experience ... and a little frightening. Dick, now that he had
shot off his mouth, was suffering some qualms also.
Morgan moved a large maroon leather chair out into the center of
the room and then turned a rheostat in the wall until the lights dimmed.
A switch was pushed and a thin beam shone down from a spotlight on the
beamed ceiling. "Sue, you sit here." Soft harp and flute music floated
out of hidden stereo speakers.
Shivering with suppressed excitement, Sue did as she was told.
With considerable ceremony, Morgan took down a black leather box from
the mantel. He opened it and brought out into the light a green pear-
shaped amulet on a gold chain. Then he removed a sealed white envelope
and handed it to Dick. "These are your test messages. So you won't
think it's some kind of a trick, I would like Sue to give you three
numbers between one and twenty before you leave this room. You will
read and follow the directions opposite each of the numbers. For
example, if she said 'four, eighteen and twenty', you would read
paragraph four -- where it says you are to concentrate on an image of a
cow chewing grass. Paragraphs eighteen and twenty are, of course, on
different subjects. Understand?"
Dick nodded. Nora took his arm and said, "Come on. Our station is
in the waiting room across the hall." Dick was all too aware of her hand
on his arm; her presence up close was a tangible thing, and the musky
scent of her perfume was as elusive as a night bird's call.
"Wait!" Morgan ordered. "You don't have your numbers." He turned
to the girl, "All right, Sue."
She pooched out her lips in thought, then blinked and smiled.
"Three, seven and ... ah ... fourteen."
As Nora lead him out of the room, Dick found his eyes fastened on
the pendant dangling from Morgan's hand. He would like to have remained
and see Sue go under, but obviously that was not part of the experiment.
When they got to the waiting room, Nora reached in front of him to
open the massive door. The bodice of her crepe dinner gown gaped open
and Dick saw -- with an immediate feeling of hunger -- that she was not
wearing a bra for those magnificent breasts. Quickly, he forced his
eyes away. He thought Nora looked amused. "Sit here," she said,
motioning to the couch. He sat, as ordered. Nora seated herself beside
him and handed over the envelope to be opened. "Three, seven and
fourteen," she said.
Dick ripped the envelope open and withdrew several typewritten
sheets of paper.
"Do you mind if I read over your shoulder?" Nora asked, and the
perfume of her breath was almost an aphrodisiac of its own. She didn't
wait for permission, but slid right over until their bodies were
touching. The heat of her thigh was like a blow torch there. Dick
swallowed; he could feel desire for this woman beginning to boil up in
him. He wondered, for about the twentieth time since their first
meeting, how she would be in bed ... how it would feel to have his
hardened cock buried deep inside those glorious loins. Nora leaned
forward in order to see the paper better, and once again her gown gaped.
Seemingly without thinking, she put her hand on his knee. Her lips were
only inches away as she began to read aloud, "Number Three: You are to
think of a train. The cars will flash past you and you will concentrate
on the windows and the faces of people inside the car. A close relative
of the subject being communicated with should be one of the faces you
concentrate on ... a mother, father, sister, but not yourself." Nora
remained in close after she had finished reading; Dick could feel her
left breast against his upper arm. "Christ," he said to himself, "how
can I concentrate with those tits. Nora had better watch it or I'm
going to make a grab for her ... that'll really fuck up the honeymoon."
His voice was hoarse and uncertain when he asked, "How long does it
take to hypnotize her?"
Nora drew back just a bit. "Only seconds if she's susceptible.
Many people can't be hypnotized, however. In that case, Tom will
probably want to hypnotize you instead of Sue."
In the library, Morgan was just completing his incantation as he
swung the glowing amulet in front of the girl's glazed and unseeing
eyes. "You are so drowsy ... so sleepy ... you cannot keep your eyes
open. Sleep ... sleep ... sleep." Sue's head fell to her chest. Morgan
dropped the pendant back into the box and then withdrew a needle, which
he pricked against the girl's shapely right buttock. She did not stir.
Satisfied, he said, "Sue ... can you bear me?"
"Yes ..."
"Sue ... at two o'clock tomorrow morning, you will awaken to find
your husband getting into bed with you. It may look like me ... but it
will be your husband. Do you understand?"
"It will be my husband."
"Yes, it will be your husband. Now, when I count to ten, you will
begin to wake up. You will not remember being hypnotized; hypnosis did
not work with you. You will recall nothing. One, two, three ... seven,
eight ..." He snapped his fingers, and Sue's eyes blinked open.
Sue had felt that she couldn't be hypnotized, now as she sat in the
chair waiting for Dr. Morgan to try, she was positive it would not work.
Morgan pulled up a stool in front of her; he held up the pendant and
began swaying it to and fro in front of her eyes. "You are getting
sleepy," he said.
Sue giggled. It was an involuntary thing, quickly suppressed.
Morgan gave her a mock frown. "You must be serious about this, young
lady, or I won't be able to hypnotize you."
She was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Tom. It's just that I
don't think I'm going to be a good subject."
"Well, we'll see," Morgan said professionally, and went back to his
incantations. Sue listened to him, she attempted to concentrate on what
he said, but she didn't get sleepy at all. Finally, even Tom admitted
that she was a difficult subject. He stood and sighed in dejection,
"Maybe we should try Dick. If I can put him under, you can serve as the
communicator."
Dick was reluctant to be a guinea pig; however, when he saw the
disappointment on Sue's face and the mocking expression on Nora's, he
decided to go along with the gag. "I won't fight you," he told Tom,
"but I don't really think you can do it."
Morgan merely shrugged. "It's possible I can't. Your wife wasn't
susceptible to hypnosis." He laughed. "I almost put myself to sleep."
Morgan adjusted the spotlight beam for Dick's added height and
withdrew the pendant again, "Now watch the jewel as it swings ... back
and forth ... back ... and forth ... in front of you. Keep your eyes on
it, Dick ... concentrate on it as it swings ... back and forth ... See
how the light seems to glow from deep within ..."
Two minutes later, Morgan stood with an evil smirk on his face.
"You silly young blithering ass. Can't hypnotize you ... hah!" He
jabbed the needle into Dick's calf; the boy did not move. "All right,
Dick. At two o'clock tomorrow morning, you will get out of bed and walk
down the hallway to the end, turn left and walk to the end of that
hallway, then you are to go through the open door on the right. You
will get into bed with your wife; you will want to please her in
whatever way you can. You will do exactly what she asks -- everything
she asks. It will be your wife ... although it may look like Nora ...
it will be your wife. Do you understand?"
"I will do anything my wife wants ... it will be my wife."
"Yes, it will be your wife. Now when I count to ten, you will
begin to wake up. You will not remember being hypnotized; hypnosis did
not work with you. One, two, three ..."
Dick was having a difficult time keeping a straight face as he
waited for Morgan to try to hypnotize him. He was sure it wouldn't
work, and he felt amusement -- even pity -- as Morgan picked up that
cheap pendant and began swaying it in front of his eyes. Really, he
thought, it was just like something from the movies during the early
thirties. "Boy," he said to himself, "how cornball can you get?"
Half an hour later, after the final brandy of the evening, Dick and
Sue were still feeling somewhat guilty about the fact that Morgan had
been unable to hypnotize either one of them. Both secretively felt,
however, that it was because they had such strong will power.
"Goodnight ... goodnight, thank you for a lovely evening ... it was
a pleasure ... goodnight ..."
Dick and Sue climbed the three flights to their room. When Dick
kissed her and pulled her toward the big couch in front of the
fireplace, Sue suddenly felt the earlier gaiety and happiness of the
evening evaporate. It was, she thought, time for sex. Oh, how she
hated that word ... disgusting, degrading ... pain-filled and terrible.
She would have to let him do it to her once, and when or if he tried to
do it twice, she would tell him that she was much too sore. He would
understand, she thought.
Downstairs, a lewdly grinning Tom and Nora Morgan held up brandy
snifters in a toast. "Here's to a good double fuck," Morgan said.
The catlike glow in Nora's eyes abruptly became an all-consuming
flame. "To a very good fuck," she said, "for us both!" She laughed
shrilly. "I can hardly wait." And she repeated a statement she had made
earlier to him. "My God! Did you see the size of his cock when he
stepped out of the shower! Mammoth. Beautiful!" She gritted her teeth
as she visualized once again the two of them looking through the
bathroom's one-way mirror at the boy as he unsuspectingly towelled
himself dry.
"I thought the girl had the finest little ass I've seen in years,"
Morgan said thoughtfully.
"Yes, you bugger you," Nora said cattily, digging her elbow into
his ribs, "you would notice that! Well, everyone to their own tastes."
"You are being a bit of a bitch," Tom said, but it was said with
affection.
Nora laughed gaily. "To a good fuck," she said again, downing the
rest of the brandy.
Chapter 5
Sue abruptly came awake; it was as though a switch had been thrown
in her body. She was fully aware of everything ... the moonlight
streaming in through the windows, the fading echoes of the clock
downstairs striking two, the breathing of the man who stood beside the
bed.
Perhaps it was the moonlight that made everything seem as though it
were happening in a dream, that her mind was elsewhere -- confined to
limbo.
"Sue?" Even Dick's voice seemed different, accented.
She turned and looked up at him. In the unreal light he seemed
taller, older than Dick. He looked like someone she knew ... but the
vaporous quality of the moment refused to solidify. "This man is your
husband," a voice in her brain whispered.
"Yes ... Dick."
"Good, you're awake." The covers were pulled back and the figure
slid into bed with her. She felt his body move in next to hers; then
that body was pressing nakedly and urgently against her side. With a
sudden tightening of her muscles and a feeling of despair, Sue realized
Dick had an erection and was probably going to try to make love to her
again. Against her hip, his penis felt different -- considerably
smaller, but hard!
"Are you all right?" she asked, knowing full well what he wanted.
Dick laughed; he sounded so very different, but her mind kept
saying, "This is your husband."
His voice said, "Well, darling. I'm not really all right. I have
this problem which only you can take care of." He moved his penis
suggestively up and down against her side.
"Dick, I don't think I can do it again tonight. I'm much too sore.
It's so painful."
"Then we shall simply have to do it another way, won't we, pet?" He
had taken her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him. His
breath had a vaguely exciting hot brandy smell as his lips kissed her
eyes closed. His hot wet tongue sought out her ear; she stiffened as it
shot into the cavity like a small darting fish seeking shelter. The
sensation, though strange, was definitely erotic. Dick had never kissed
her this way before! Then his tongue was in her mouth, tracing wild
abandoned designs against her teeth and inner folds of her lips. This,
too, was exciting in a way it had never been before. She began
responding eagerly; once, when her tongue hit his upper lip, she
thought: How strange ... Dick has grown a mustache.
"You wonderful creature," he said, just as his hands began moving
all over her body. He went first to the flushed bulbs of her breasts,
and each individual pore of his fingers seemed to be minute vacuums
tugging at her flesh. He tongue-kissed her again, then his lips
fastened -- gently sucking -- at a place where her gracefully sloping
neck muscles joined the top of the shoulder. A tingle of excitement
arched along the muscles. He moved her elbow out from the body and his
mouth moved down until it was licking and kissing the sensitive flesh on
the inner arm and armpit. A moment later, slowly and tantalizingly, his
lips kissed their way to the left breast. She felt him there at her
nipple, like a thirsty person sucking juice from luscious fruit. Not
once, in his gentleness, did he hurt her.
As his teeth teased sensuously at her nipples and his knowing hands
kneaded the flesh of her buttocks, Sue suddenly realized that her body
was reacting ... in a most pleasurable manner. She purred deep in her
throat as his lips moved on to her right breast, then to her right
armpit, and traced an exciting trail of fiery desire down across her rib
cage to her navel. One of his hands left the pleasantly tingling mounds
of flesh on her buttocks and, using the fingertips only, began stroking
the underside of her knee and the soft inner sides of her thigh.
"Ummmm," she purred, as his tongue flickered at her navel. Sue
wasn't exactly sure when his fingertips brushed against her pubic hair,
all she knew for sure was that suddenly he had reached the vagina. She
gave a little gasp of fright and flattened her buttocks down into the
mattress; his hand was trapped, unable to move. He sought to move his
fingers, but her thighs were like a hot flesh vise.
"Sue," he said, "open your legs."
"No ... it hurts."
"Daddy will kiss it to make it better."
What had he said? What did he mean? Kiss it? "Dick?" she began
questioningly, but she had her answer in the next moment, for his tongue
had left the warm cottony cave of her belly button and marched boldly
across the bare plains of her abdomen and into the silken forest of her
sparse young pubic hair.
"Dick?" she groaned again, not certain exactly what he was doing.
In her anxiety, or perhaps it was merely subconscious desire, she eased
the pressure of her thighs and his hand was freed from captivity. She
tensed again as he nuzzled his cheek in the fleece of her pubic mound
and used his thumb and forefinger to slightly separate the soft fleshy
lips of her vagina. Oddly enough, he was so gentle that she hardly felt
his touch, much less pain. She was suffering from apprehension and
indecision, however. Whatever Dick had in mind was something totally
alien to her -- something she had never heard about, never even
suspected. He moved his head down to her thigh and kissed it --
starting once again with that extremely sensitive area behind the knee,
moving upward -- ever upward -- occasionally taking large sucking erotic
bites of the inner thigh flesh into his mouth, and at other times using
his tongue as a stylus to sear flaming trails of desire into her
trembling body.
Then his tongue reached the soft protruding folds of her young
pulsating pussy. She sat upright, forcing his head away. "No, Dick.
No."
"Why not?"
"I hurt there."
"I'll kiss it to make it better," he repeated softly, his voice
droning smoothly like a recording.
"No ... it still hurts." She pulled his head up to breast level.
She felt it necessary to say something -- anything! She took a deep
breath. "Dick, I've never told you this. I don't know why I'm saying
it now. But you must be gentle and understanding with me. My mother
and her mother and all the females on my mother's side for as far back
as we can remember have had something wrong with them. I didn't know
about it until the day before the marriage or I would have told you.
Sexual intercourse is extremely painful ... it hurts. So you must be
gentle and not expect too much out of me." Even as she said it, her mind
was reeling in guilt and she felt like weeping. She had planned to keep
this her secret; and now, for some reason, she was blurting it out.
Maybe, she thought desperately, I'm really looking for help ... maybe
Dick and I working can solve this thing. She was not prepared for his
sudden bark of laughter.
"What absolute rubbish," he said, unkindly.
"I mean it, Dick," she said, pleading for understanding.
"Look, my little pet, I know something -- a great deal -- about
women's problems. What you claim is something that simply is not
organically possible. Psychologically possible, yes! We have a name
for acute painful sexual intercourse. It's called mental vaginismus, or
more plainly, monosymptomatic hysteria. Get that word 'hysteria',
because that's exactly what it is -- a form of nervous hysteria.
"I tell you it hurts; it's excruciating."
"You think it hurts. You've been brain-washed. And I am going to
prove it. Remember, I am your ... husband. Repeat that!"
"You think it hurts. You've been brainwashed." heard the words,
they seemed to come from someone other than herself. She had no will to
resist; her body felt as though it had turned to foam rubber.
"I am your husband and I will not harm you ... You will answer my
questions truthfully."
"I will answer ... your questions truth-fully."
"Sue, have you ever reached a climax -- had an orgasm? Any kind of
orgasm, even from masturbation?"
"No ... I have never masturbated to ... completion. It is self-
abuse ... sinful."
"I thought so. All right, now lie there ... relax ... and let your
body speak to you about how it really feels." He began kissing her
breasts again.
His mouth moved away from her breasts after a moment and began
nibbling at the small fold of flesh right below her navel. He gently
bit a particularly sensitive area where her hip bone and upper thighs
joined. Her body had begun to purr again. Then his hot hungry mouth
spread the soft fleecy pubic hair and fastened over the fleshy opening
of the vaginal tunnel leading to her womb. A sudden jolt of pure
feeling arched through her loins as he began noisily sucking the vaginal
lips; it was a gentle vacuum, tugging and caressing the nerve ends.
"Aahhhh," she crooned softly.
"Ahhhh!" she repeated, this time loudly, as his tongue began
licking the entire length of her open cuntal slit -- running from anus
to clitoris.
"Ahhh ... oooooh," she gasped, as first his lips and then his teeth
found the hard little clitoris. She strained her hips up to his mouth,
arching her back and planting her feet in the mattress in an effort to
rise and meet him.
"AAHHH ... AHEEEEE!" she screamed, as his hot quivering tongue went
boldly into the tunnel of her cunt, moving in and out as though it were
a small sure penis. She was aware that her breath was coming raggedly
from her taut lips, that she had reached down to his head -- not to push
him away, but to keep him there ... forever! Some shrill hysterical
voice -- which sounded somewhat like a tinny hollow echo of mother's --
was screaming in the nethermost regions of her mind that this was
wicked, perverted, that it was painful! The gratifying, wonderful
sensations in her snatch pushed that shrill voice back, back, back until
it was obliterated by another scream; this scream was one of passion
boiling out of her lips, out of her soul.
Oh, how his tongue and lips and teeth all worked together in a
fully orchestrated symphony of pure feeling! She could feel things
happening down there -- wild, uninhibited, beautiful things ... of nerve
endings singing and screaming in delight, of muscles flexing and
unflexing in joy, of flesh and bone and pores all in harmony. She was
revolving her hips in a grinding, circular motion against his
avaricious, indomitable mouth.
"Don't stop, Dick. Oh, God ... don't stop, darling!" she panted,
for now something else was happening down there. Everything was rubbing
against each other -- like nylon and wool -- throwing off sparks which
were igniting the ganglions. She had never thought she would feel this;
she thought she was incapable of it. And then, as though a miracle, she
was cumming! She could tell because body and soul were separating.
"Uh ... uhhh? Ahhh ... ah ... ah ... ah?" It was a question, a
plea! She raised her buttocks clear up from the mattress and, as she
did so, his tongue left her vagina and his teeth and lips clamped hard
on her gently pulsating clitoris. She screamed, and she knew she was
screaming loudly. "Go on ... Go on. Go!" Now, like desert mirages in
midday's heat, her womb began to dissolve -- shimmering into
incandescent nothingness. Her insides had become roaring cataracts
racing and dancing toward the sea ... and their white waters bubbled,
raged, boiled, and spurted from her cunt -- like torrents from a broken
dam -- as she screamed again, "I'm cumming!" There was nothing in the
universe but that one great pit and pendulum of sensation and release.
Her ears heard not, her eyes saw not, her mind thought not. Only the
cunt was there -- the almighty cunt! -- stronger than all her other
organs put together, and it screamed out a song of ecstasy that would
not be denied. That sweet, intolerable delight stayed with her for ten
million eternities, and during it all she lay gasping, and thrashing
that only sentiment thing in her body against his voraciously hungry
lips.
It finally ended. Not with a bang, but like the slow fading of
summer's first sunset. She felt him kiss the warm flooded area between
her thighs once more then his mouth moved back to her hips. She could
feel her cum cool and damp on her thighs and buttocks. Then he used his
free hand to turn her on her side. He kissed the right buttock, then
continued to press her over until she was lying face down. Sue didn't
resist; her will power had been completely vapourized by the velvet
explosion that had only moments ago torn her still quivering belly
asunder.
Sensation was slow to return, but when it did, she was aware that
he was reverently kissing her smooth, oval buttocks. Occasionally, he
would desist to lick a teasingly sensitive spot at the base of her
spine, but he always came back to the soft rounded mounds of flesh to
kiss and gently nibble. A warm glow began to spread throughout her anal
area as new and recharged blood pounded through the revitalized muscle
paths, arteries and capillaries.
She heard him mutter as though he were an art connoisseur, "Such
untouched beauty ... such a sweet, young little ass ... so supple, so
soft and warm, so charmingly shaped and virginal."
Now he gradually began to change his activity there. He
interspersed his kisses with occasional sharp little bites. They
weren't painful -- not too painful. They were, she had to admit, rather
exciting. Sue sensed he was getting ready to do something different
again, and she mentally told herself that no matter what he did it would
be heavenly if it were even only half as delightful as the thing he had
just done. Nothing, though, bad prepared her for what came next. His
kisses, his rabbitlike nibbling, became more urgent. Suddenly, he
pushed her legs apart and then knelt behind her. She felt him use his
thumbs to spread her soft yielding buttocks wide apart and then ... his
tongue was moving again, now licking the inner crevice that joined her
vaginal slit below.
Once she had recovered from her momentary flush of embarrassment,
she thought that it was an odd sensation. Not displeasing, not really
pleasurable or erotic ... "strange" was the word. His hot, wet,
trembling tongue moved the length of her anal crevice; she felt the
first stirrings of excitement when it lingered over the base of her
spine again. Then he backed off and down. "Dick," she gasped, as she
felt his tongue tip quiver against and then wetly worm its way into her
tiny puckered anus. A forbidden, wicked pleasure shot through her
loins. "You mustn't," she groaned, "it's not right."
Now he pulled his mouth away. "Anything is right between a man and
a woman -- so long as it gives pleasure and not offense. And I know
you're having pleasure ... you're a natural for this. Believe me, I can
tell."
"But ... but ..."
He laughed. "But is right. You have a delightful little 'butt'.
And I'm going to make love to you there. I'm going to fuck you there,
Sue."
"Oh no, darling, you can't," she protested.
"Pray tell why not?"
"It isn't right, darling it just isn't right," she moaned down into
the pillow.
He repeated, "Anything is right between a husband and wife," Then
he lowered his head again. She felt his hands beneath her hips pulling
her belly up off the mattress. She wasn't kneeling exactly, but her
smooth rounded buttocks waved up in the air like an ostrich's. She felt
foolish in that position; she felt obscenely naked with her unprotected
behind upturned that way. But, still, he was her husband ... and he
wouldn't hurt her?
She felt his tongue leave her anus, to be replaced by a finger that
probed as if it, too, wanted to enter the tight forbidden passageway and
she immediately tensed. Then suddenly, he reached up, grabbed a pillow,
and slipped it beneath her stomach to keep her from failing flat again.
At the same time, the finger back there had begun a gentle little sawing
movement against her tightly puckered anal ring. Now he was pressing in
tighter, tighter. She winced and groaned, trying to push her belly down
into a pillow and abruptly the fingernail portion of the digit was
inside her. She was rather surprised. Somehow she had thought it would
hurt, but it didn't. It was, if she were honest with herself, sort of
pleasant ... as long as she relaxed and didn't fight it.
Now he was sawing continuously -- nothing abrupt -- always gentle,
but always pressing in a bit deeper. She moved her hips experimentally,
then discovered the best movement was one using the leg and belly
muscles to raise her buttocks back.
"That's a good girl," he said soothingly. "Such a good girl, with
such a fine little asshole. You'll need next to no instruction. Pure
instinct, I wager."
"Dick, you mustn't talk like that," she protested through her soft
mewls of pleasure. Her protest was rewarded by laughter from him.
Finally the finger was in all the way up to the knuckle and his
palm was pressing tightly against the cheeks of her buttocks as he began
to make tiny circular motions inside with his finger -- almost as if he
wanted to expand the opening. A moment later, the first finger
withdrew. She wanted to pass wind, but held back -- much too
embarrassed. When the finger returned, it seemed much thicker. Then
she realized he was using two fingers. "That hurts," she whimpered
slightly, knowing it was a lie but feeling she had to protest anyway.
"Be calm, my love. It can't hurt very much ... you'll be fine in a
second."
Actually, she thought, it really wasn't painful ... but she knew
she was being stretched there. She supposed that his two fingers,
however, were less in diameter than her evacuations; she remembered as a
child having wondered how something so large could come from such a tiny
opening.
The two fingers were sawing in concert now. She wiggled her
buttocks in the air and she felt her muscles, deep in her belly, milk at
the finger. This brought delighted laughter from her husband.
"Wait," he said, "until I get in there ... then do it all you
want." He took a deep breath, "I knew you were a natural."
Sue's thoughts were jumbled. She knew instinctively that this
wasn't right. Yet, at the same time, it was mysteriously exciting. She
felt subjugated, completely at the mercy of her husband. She blushed
deeply when the pressures became so intense that she farted loudly. The
sound was rewarded by a laugh and a hard bite on her right buttocks.
His two fingers made circular motions in her rectum; it was being
stretched ... stretched ... stretched. Now she began to feel a
compelling urge to have his fingers in there deeper. She pushed back
against them, groaning slightly once as she felt his fingernail hang up
against a fold of membrane, and tossed her head abandonedly from side to
side in rhythm with his finger fucking motions in her rectum.
Then suddenly he withdrew his fingers. She could feel the rubbery
elasticlike ring of her asshole clinging to them -- reluctant to let
them go. And then, out they came with a wet hissing noise like that of
a deflating balloon.
She turned her head, disappointed, to find out why he had stopped.
He was stroking his penis, and she could see the thick white foreskin
moving back and forth over the instrument's head. Then he was between
her legs. His hands reached beneath her and cupped her thighs --
holding them tightly. She felt him move forward until his penis was
pressing against the puckered brown aperture. She suddenly realized
that his prick was considerably larger than just two fingers; she
wouldn't be able to take it. He should be able to see that! Still, the
pressure continued, the prick moving gently, always gently, gradually
insinuating its way through the tiny tight opening stretching it wider
and wider until finally the head of it was completely in. She was
pleasantly surprised, even proud of herself; it hadn't hurt very much at
all.
"Try to shit or fart," her husband said.
"Dick!" It was a shock to hear him use language like that.
"Try ... it'll go in easier."
Sue pressed down with her abdominal muscles and was relieved to
discover that part of the pressure had been removed. It was fine ...
just fine.
She felt him begin to move in deeper, and all of a sudden -- at
about the two inch mark -- he began to hurt her, terribly. She tried to
push forward into the pillow, but his hands held her thighs captive.
"That hurts," she winced, meaning it this time. "It's hurting
horribly!"
He paid no attention to her ... just continued his inexorable
pressure inward.
Now there was genuine pain in the pit of her stomach. Not vaginal
pain, but pain from her protesting bowels as the fleshy reaming rod
moved deeper and deeper against the normal flow of traffic in the
rectum. "It's too big," she whimpered. "Please stop! Oh God, darling,
please stop!"
Escape was impossible. She was impaled there like a captured
blonde butterfly. He was using her body like a wheelbarrow, his hands
holding her thighs, his legs keeping her legs well separated.
"Raise up," he ordered.
It was so painful that she would gladly obey any order, just to
relieve the pain. She raised her buttocks a bit, and the prick slid
smoothly and deeper into her rectum. It moved quickly until suddenly
she felt his pubic hair slap hard against her ass.
"Gaaaggh," she groaned. God, how it hurts! It was simply
impossible to think. The pain was even more intense because now she was
feeling degraded, abused. The excitement she had felt with his fingers
in there had gone -- being ripped away by the reality and overpowering
presence of that hot, pulsating log lodged in her rectum.
He began moving in and out like a well-oiled piston. Her asshole
made gasping, sucking noises with each movement. "Oh ... hhh," she
gasped with each new thrust inward.
He stopped for a moment, and Sue realized he was panting in
delight. He asked, "Do you remember what you did a moment ago with your
belly muscles? I want you to do it again."
"I don't ... know ... what you ... mean," she gasped through pain
contorted lips, not really remembering.
"Imagine you are standing with your legs spread wide apart.
Imagine you have a string attached to your navel; at the end of that
string is an apple. Without moving your feet, lift the string. Lift
your navel and pull the apple off the ground."
Sue concentrated for a moment, then inhaled deeply and at the same
time tightened and lifted her stomach muscles.
"Ahhhh ... God!" he shouted, his voice gurgling with glee. "Again.
Ahhhhh ... Oh, God! Again ... and again! Keep doing it, baby."
Each time she lifted the imaginary apple, she was rewarded with a
joyous shout and a deeper thrust into her clenching anal passage. He
sawed in and out of her asshole -- rhythmically -- plunging deep into
those softer, darker areas of her being which she had never known
existed.
Sue had begun to feel a change in her rectum, and this was
accomplished by a change in her attitude. She wanted to please her
husband. She still felt degraded and helpless, but the mere
hopelessness of her position made it all acceptable. She was beginning
to experience some masochistic enjoyment from those thrusts, and she
knew instinctively that she could enjoy them even more by rearing back
to meet his thrusts. She began doing so, and was pleased by his low
pitched moan of responding pleasure.
She moved her firm white buttocks in tiny little circles -- weaving
it in the air like a balloon on the end of its tether. She pulled up
imaginary apples by the dozens; she pressed down as though she hadn't
shit in a year. His yelps of contagious enjoyment encouraged her.
Gradually, she began feeling a weird glow illuminating her inner bowels.
It wasn't possible, she thought. Not this way ... not this way! Can
woman reach a climax this way too? Nerve ends were beginning to
telegraph messages, and muscles were beginning to vibrate like steel
rails precursing the train.
After a moment's experimentation, she discovered her rectal passage
could be tightened two or three times at the apogee of each outward
stroke -- bringing greater pleasure to her and deeper groans of
happiness from him. With the perigee of his inward thrust, she flexed
her deepest anal muscle against the head of his cock. "God!" was all he
said. She suddenly realized, as she tossed her head wantonly from side
to side that she was enjoying this cruel debasement. She also realized,
with a rapid catch of breath, that she could cum like this if she worked
at it ... concentrated on it.
Now, breathing stentoriously, her husband pulled the hot throbbing
cock all the way out to the glans, then shoved it desperately in as a
prelude to the final act and curtain.
"Ahhhh," she moaned, and there was no longer any pain in her voice,
only encouragement and lust.
Now, with long hard unending thrusts, he began to batter her
quivering buttocks. He gasped like a man who had run the thousand-metre
race. She was being skewered like a wounded carcass, split right down
the middle. And she didn't care. She didn't care! She became aware of
a velvet feeling throughout the pit of her stomach. Once again she
thought: Could it be? Could it really be?
"Eeee ... aaahhh ..." He was making noises like a rusty door
creaking open.
"Ahhh ... ahhhh," she returned, attempting to say, "deeper, deeper,
harder, harder," but unable to put the words into speech. She was
astonished, hopeful ... pleased.
Her head was tossing back and forth uncontrollably now as the two
bodies moved like suddenly insane puppets released from their master's
strings.
He murmured incoherently as his hands finally let go of her thighs,
and she felt his fingernails cruelly bite into the folds of skin in
front of her hipbones as he sought new purchase. It hurt her. It hurt
her! And she wanted to be hurt!
Then she felt the one last mighty thrust which drove the swollen
rod up to the furthest point it had been; she made her muscles up there
grab hold of it and milk it. The prick spurted, then began twitching as
he came deep, deep in the rectum, giving her a love enema. He cried
out, and his strangled voice was the thing that triggered her own
explosion ... it was a different feeling than before ... much different,
deeper, a different set of muscles, nerves, and bones crying out their
happy defiance to normality. "Ahhh ... aieeeee!" she screamed, and
above her own shouts, she could hear his, "Beautiful ... wonderful ...
aaaahhhh." He smartly whacked at her blushing buttocks with his open
hand as though he were encouraging a race horse on to greater effort.
Some time later, as she lay there feeling the velvet and warm satin
of her glands and nerves, she seemed to hear the far-off sound of a
stranger's voice saying, "You have been dreaming ... dreaming. You will
awaken tomorrow; it will have been a dream ... about your husband.
Tomorrow night, you will awaken at the same time and your husband will
be your husband. Tonight was only a dream. Repeat please."
Her voice, from beyond the furthermost part of the galaxy,
answered, "It was a dream. Tomorrow night I will awaken ..."
And once, just before oblivion came to her, she thought she heard
the satanic snicker of a triumphant male voice and a pair of hot lips
reverently kissing her buttocks.
But, of course, it was all part of the dream ... it had to be a
dream ... and deep in her mind and heart, she knew and felt
disappointment that it had been just a dream ...
Chapter 6
Dick came slowly awake with the sound of dogs barking outside. He
cocked one eye and stared up at the ceiling where a filigree of shadows
was cast by the sun streaming through the ivy outside the window. He
took a deep breath, slowly brought his hand out from beneath the covers,
and stared at his watch. Nine o'clock. His prodigious yawn was cut
short as he suddenly recalled the dream ... about their hosts' wife!
He blinked. Yes, of course, it was a dream. He turned on his side
and stared speculatively at the still sleeping Sue. In his dream Nora
had been his wife ... no, that wasn't right either. It had been Sue be
made love to in his dream, only Sue looked like Nora? Was that it?
He smiled secretively. No matter. It was one helluva wet dream.
Boy, he'd had women go wild under him before, but nothing like Nora in
the dream. She'd fought him like a marlin trying to shake a hook; the
hook had been his prick, and he'd let her run, then reeled in, let her
run again, and then finally brought her to gaff -- panting and gasping.
A real prize trophy. Tremendous. Unbelievably tremendous!
The dream had come tenuously. He remembered waking up next to Sue
... only it really wasn't Sue, it was Nora. Oh, to hell with it, he
thought; what does it matter. The dream was the thing! In the dream he
had awakened to find himself stripped and lying next to his nude wife.
It was the way he had been awakened that was interesting. His wife had
been fondly stroking his cock, crooning over it, admiring its size and
beauty.
She had kissed him, and her mouth was all honey and heat and
tongue. And she had placed his head against her breast and fed him like
a hungry infant. And then she had stroked his cock again and told him
she wanted it deep inside her.
His wife had said, "With a cock like yours, I want a real bread and
butter fuck, at least the first time. Tomorrow night, you're going to
eat it. Tonight, though, you'll just fuck it till I go crazy."
The term had eluded him; he'd never heard it before. "A bread and
butter fuck?" he asked.
"Honey," she had explained patiently, "a bread and butter fuck is a
straight fuck. You on top of me with my legs wrapped around you --
nothing kinky ... just plain old fashioned fucking. Bang ... bang ...
oh, glorious bang!"
She bent her legs at the knees, placing her feet right up next to
her buttocks. Then she spread herself for him. "Come on in ... the
water's fine," she crooned, her black eyes aflame with lust, and smiling
wickedly through bared teeth. Her cunt was smiling too, its dark hair-
lined vaginal lips already moist with its lust. And the clitoris
standing like a campanile at the top of the quad.
He entered her with a rush. "Gaaaagghh." she moaned happily as the
cock rode up like a nonstop express elevator. His balls slammed in
against her asshole, bringing a low groan of pain-delight from his wife.
Her legs uncoiled and then her calves were against his buttocks, her
heels and toenails were used as spurs. She began grinding her ass into
the mattress, making sharp little circular motions that were viciously
exciting. He really didn't have much moving to do; she did most of it,
arching her back and using her legs on his buttocks as though she were
hanging from gymnastic rings. She was the master of the moment; she was
the director, star, manager, boss. His hot penile shaft drove into the
target, and with each new thrust, her open pussy became juicier -- the
bullseye hotter. His wife was lying there -- taking it all ...
breathing heavily through nostrils that expanded and contracted like the
diaphragm on an underwater breathing apparatus. "Slowly," she
commanded, and it was a definite order, not to be disobeyed.
Suddenly there was a shimmering of consciousness, and a strange
heat was on him. Always he had tried to be gentle, if possible. He
didn't like the queenly attitude of his wife. Now for some sadistic
reason he only vaguely understood, he wanted her to know that there was
only one boss at a time like this -- the male! Actually, he wanted to
hear her submit completely and actually plead for mercy. He withdrew
his cock until only the head was still buried in the vaginal folds. His
wife looked up angrily and said. "Keep going, you fool. I said,
'slowly', not stop."
He grinned down at her, then shoved forward as viciously as he
could.
"Aaaa ... gaaaaahhh!" she screamed, and he knew he was hurting her
-- knew he was scraping and rattling like a runaway subway train along
each dark bend and curve of her vaginal tunnel. He felt his cock
abruptly slap up against the far wall of her uterus. He immediately
withdrew it once more and slammed all its seven inch length into the
covering hole. "Goddamnit," the woman moaned, "I said take it easy;
you're hurting me." Now Dick felt as though he were a human pile driver.
He had a massive steel beam which had to be driven through that
quivering quicksand into bedrock. He began driving in -- without pity
-- hearing her groan and moan beneath him. Once, their pelvises crashed
together so hard that he was sure he had broken something. His prick
had grown to astronomical size; it was as if it had a mind of its own --
a predatory destroyer rampaging through the warm jungles of her
defenseless cunt.
Dick glanced down at the female. Her mouth was laxly open, and her
breath was hissing through bared teeth. She was rotating her shoulders
as though she were trying to take wing and fly. She was panting ... and
her eyes were rolling wildly. She was close to cumming. Well, fuck it!
With sadistic pleasure, Dick withdrew his cock completely. Her
haunches rose up like a blind animal, weaving in the air, seeking it.
"What's ... what's wrong?" she panted. "Don't stop now ... you can't
stop."
"Why not?" he growled, wanting only to hear her beg.
She guessed his purpose. "You god-damned impudent son of a bitch
... fuck me!" she hissed, and then grabbed his testicles and yanked so
hard it felt as though they were being ripped out by the roots. Her
fingernails cruelly and purposely bit into the scrotum.
Dick reacted much the same as a bull being pricked by a picador.
He charged! "Why you ... you!" He savagely slapped her face. Her head
flew back against the pillow; her eyes glazed from the blow. The pain
in his balls was agonizing. He wanted only to punish the bitch now.
He wanted to hurt her more that he had ever wanted to hurt anyone
before in his life.
He put his steel-hard cock against her tender vaginal mouth and
shoved; as he did so, he pushed her knees back until her face peered
between them like a frightened owl in the branches of a tree. It gave
him another two inches of depth, and she screamed in genuine pain as he
reached the virginal territory.
In and out he drove with demented fury, a fury that did not die
even when she screamed, "I'm cumming. Fuck harder, you Yankee bastard.
I'm cumming!" Her loins were trying to work up and down on his shaft,
but he kept her pinned there. She groaned and fell back -- no longer
fighting him as her orgasm began. He could feel her pussy twitching and
sucking away at him, could feel the sudden new heat of her steaming
snatch as her cum flooded her hidden passageways. He kept pounding
mindlessly into her until she screamed a minute later, "I'm cumming
again ... aaiiieeee." This was followed within seconds by another cry of
release, then another, then still another, until her orgasms began
running together in one continuous aurora borealis of ecstasy glowing
and dancing across her wildly clamping pussy walls. Finally, her eyes
rolled into her head and she passed out completely. Dick, propped up by
knees and elbows, glanced down at her. He pinched her nipple; she
remained unconscious. Then, grinning sardonically, he made one -- two
-- three savage thrusts forward before his cock began spurting its
scalding hot cum directly against the hot, still slightly pulsating
walls of her subservient cunt. God how she had cum! It was the cum of
a conqueror fucking a helpless female captive ... a slave of lust ...
the cum of hatred and mastery ... but not of love.
He fell alongside her unconscious body and gave way to a victorious
sleep.
Some time later in the dream, he vaguely recalled her voice
sleepily saying, "That was the best fuck I've had in years. Simply
years, darling. But you were a very bad boy. You hurt me. I know you
must have ripped something inside me ... you loveable, uncontrollable
bastard."
And still later, the voice said, "Repeat after me. At two o'clock
tomorrow night, you will come to me again. Now, you will return to your
room and when you awake tomorrow morning, it will all seem like a dream.
It will have been a dream -- you made love to your wife ..."
Just before final oblivion came, he thought he heard her laughter
and thought he caught the words, "Tomorrow night, my dear, I'll not let
you off the leash like tonight. Tomorrow you are going down between my
legs and eat it ..."
What a screwy dream! Really wild! As if his bride would ever talk
or act like this. Quietly, so that he wouldn't disturb Sue, he got out
of bed and went to the shower.
As he stepped under the stream of hot water, he laughed and said
aloud, "I feel listless, man, almost as if I really had been screwing
all night." Then almost immediately he thought: A helluva thing --
having a wet dream on my honeymoon; that doesn't speak too much of Sue's
love making abilities. He felt a trifle guilty when he realized that
the dream probably was based on wishful thinking -- based on the hope
that Sue would start showing some emotion, some initiative, and would
relax and enjoy his love making.
It wasn't until he was towelling himself dry that he noted the very
slight bruise on his right calf. It looked almost as if he had pricked
himself with a pin or something.
Chapter 7
Sue was fascinated by Lord Medwell when he arrived shortly after
lunch. He's cute, she thought; and a strong wind would blow him away.
He was shorter than she and seemed terribly old in appearance but young
in action. His manners were so nice, so polished ... and he even wore a
bow tie and had a very small rosebud boutonniere on the lapel of his
tweed suit. He had bowed low, kissed her hand, and told her she was
"charming" and "refreshing."
Lady Margaret, his young sister, was something else again. She
frightened Sue by the intensity of her stare. Too, she was tall and
heavy to the point where she seemed almost square shaped. Her hair was
gray and cut like a male's, and she wore a masculine suit. When Lady
Margaret spoke, her voice was almost a baritone and it purred like a
hungry tiger shortly before feeding time. In a great many respects, Sue
thought, Lady Margaret looks and acts an awful lot like the girl's
physical education teacher back home who was fired after some scandal
involving two freshmen year girls and another teacher.
There was no doubt about it in Dick's mind. Lady Margaret was a
truck-driving butch type if he had ever seen one, and he wasn't about to
let his naive wife stumble into a situation where she would have to
defend herself. As for Lord Medwell, that was something else again.
Dick had noted that the older man was sizing him up; it was almost as if
he were an old stallion looking at a young stud as possible competition.
The Morgans obviously knew and liked Lord Medwell and Lady Margaret.
For just a brief moment he thought he had glimpsed an intimate flash
between Nora and Lord Medwell, but then he mentally laughed. "Besides,"
Dick told himself, "the poor old bastard probably hasn't had a hard-on
since before World War II." He couldn't imagine the old goat and Nora
together. He could imagine himself with her, however. The image was
exciting, and once again he saw himself in the dream with her. Nora
seemed somehow different this morning -- a healthier glow, an air of
contentment. As far as that was concerned, even Sue seemed more relaxed
-- different -- this morning. He couldn't quite put his finger on the
difference; it had to be, he thought, because she had finally had a good
night's sleep.
Dick listened to the four older people gossip about obviously
wealthy and important friends. It was pretty boring stuff, especially
so considering that it was such a beautiful afternoon ... a day to be
outside, not inside yakking in a dreary old castle. He glanced at Sue
and raised his eyebrows questioningly. She nodded imperceptibly. Dick
stood and apologized, "I hope you'll forgive us; we have a date to go
sailing this afternoon."
"Of course, of course," Lord Medwell said. "Shall we meet for
cocktails?"
"We'd be honored, sir."
Sue ran upstairs to change into shorts and a sweater, while Dick
went out to the dock and unfurled the small sail on the boat. Sue was
back again within five minutes, and a short time later they were rapidly
skimming across the lake.
Back at the castle, Morgan had shown Lord Medwell to his room. The
two men stood at the window watching as the boat sailed around a point
of land and disappeared from sight.
"By Jove, the girl's really something," Lord Medwell said
admiringly, as he laid down the binoculars he had been using to study
Sue's breasts and legs.
Morgan snorted. "You don't know the half of it."
"Why you wicked devil you. I suppose you've already sampled the
merchandise."
"Merely my official duties as tastour to the king."
"And how did it taste?"
"All honey, m'lord," he laughed.
Lord Medwell cocked one eyebrow in amusement. "I don't suppose you
stopped with that. A bit of buggery for dessert, perhaps? How was
that?"
Morgan stopped smiling. He stared at him and said with great
sincerity, "Incredible. Absolutely incredible! She has the most
phenomenally talented rectal reactions of any apprentice I have ever
met. The first time, the very first time she's ever indulged, and
already she reacts like a specialist."
"Come now, Morgan. She can't be all that good."
"She is! Furthermore, she's so innocent, so naive, that one would
almost suspect she's acting."
"Perhaps she is."
"No, she isn't putting on." He paused, thoughtful. "I really
suppose I should try to cure her vaginismus before we start our training
sessions."
Lord Medwell looked alarmed. "I say! Is it contagious?"
Morgan guffawed. "No. It's just the silly little bitch thinks
sexual intercourse is painful to her. She's been brainwashed by
someone. Bloody mother, probably."
"Well, it's our Christian and charitable duty to do all we can to
bring joy to her life," Lord Medwell said, biting his lower lip and
grinning broadly.
Morgan's stare was enigmatic. "She has a great deal of joy
already, providing she can learn to relax."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Brace yourself. I know this will come as a traumatic shock. The
boy could loan you a couple of inches and he'd never miss it."
Lord Medwell glared. "That's supposed to be a joke?"
"No. The truth. You might ask Nora. He went in so deep that Nora
was sure she'd suffer peritonitis; she even had me do a pelvic
examination of her this morning to make sure that nothing was ripped."
"I don't believe it!"
Morgan shrugged. "You'll have your chance to see him in action
with Nora tonight ... after our photographs are taken."
Lord Medwell was still shaking his head and muttering in disbelief
when Morgan left him ten minutes later. He went to the window and
noticed that the boat had come into sight again beyond the headland.
His mouth watered as he though of the enjoyment to come to him tonight
and the delights -- the sheer delights -- that would come tomorrow when
the girl would be forced to do anything he asked.
Aboard the boat, Sue watched Dick expertly tacking against the
wind. She sat on a big red flotation cushion which also served as a
lifebuoy in case of capsizing. How sure he seemed of himself, she
thought. How very poised for a young man, and how very handsome. She
was so proud of him. She shifted her buttocks against the cushion,
seeking a more comfortable position. That dream last night! That had
been quite a dream -- so real! And this morning she had even awakened
with her rectum feeling very sore. She supposed the soreness had
something to do with the breaking of her hymen. Her vagina still ached
... odd about that part of the dream, too. She felt a vague stirring of
excitement as she remembered Dick's tongue and lips down there in her
dream. She resolutely told herself that it was Dick in the dream, even
though he had Morgan's features. That coupled with Dick's making love
to her in the behind! Men didn't do that with women! Or did they? She
wished life was that simple -- that men and women could just make love
any old way they wanted and enjoy it. Perhaps some did. In her case
she knew it was wishful thinking anyway. She wasn't normal, she knew it
now. It was all well and good to have a dream where you reached a
climax two different ways, but reality was a different thing ... and
reality had already proven that her mother was right: Sue was
constitutionally unable to enjoy sexual intercourse because of the pain.
Abruptly she stiffened as she recalled another part of the dream.
Again, in her mind, she heard the phrases, "mental vaginismus" and
"monosymptomatic hysteria." Now where did I ever learn crazy words like
that, she wondered.
"Penny," Dick said.
"What?"
"A penny for your thoughts."
Sue smiled and impulsively wrapped her arms around his outstretched
legs. "I was just thinking how lucky I am ... with you as a husband."
It was the truth, and she knew it.
Dick kissed the top of her head, then pointed to a small beach at
the foot of one of the hills; it was hidden from the castle and from
other viewpoints. "What say we picnic -- go swimming here tomorrow?"
The beach did look terribly inviting. "Oh, honey. Can we?"
"I don't see why not. They told us the lake belonged to the castle
grounds." He leered at her, and one eyebrow shot up suggestively, "We
could even ... ah ... dispense with bathing suits. How about that?"
She pretended as though he were making a joke, even though she knew
he was probably serious. "Dick! I'm surprised at you."
Her blushing protest brought laughter from him.
The afternoon wind had sprung up since they left the castle; choppy
little waves slurped across the bow and sides. They both were beginning
to get wet when Dick turned and began running with the wind toward home.
It had taken them almost an hour and a half to reach the far end of the
lake; the return trip was done in less than twenty minutes. Dick swung
the tiller and the sails fluffed as the boat coasted in to dock --
touching as gently as a hummingbird moving into a flower.
"Can I help store things or anything?" Sue asked.
Dick shook his head. "I can manage. Why don't you run on in and
put on some dry clothes."
Sue shivered. "I am getting a little chilly to tell the truth."
"Take a real hot shower then."
Sue kissed him, then headed toward the castle. Dick watched her
buttocks swing inside the tight little shorts and pursing his lips, made
a loud wolf whistle. Sue looked back -- grinning and pleased -- then
laughed raucously, as the two dogs came racing over to him and jumped on
board barking excitedly.
Ten minutes later, Dick completed the securing of the boat and went
upstairs to their suite. "Sue," he called, when he opened the door.
There was no answer. Then he heard the water running in the shower.
The urgency hit him almost immediately, and his cock started growing
painfully. He left his clothes in an untidy heap on the floor and
padded into the shower room. Sue was humming a song above the sound of
the water. Dick looked down at his erection, now standing out in front
of him as though an inflexible pole had been driven into his midriff.
Grinning wickedly and feeling extremely aroused, he stepped into
the steam-laden shower room.
Sue had her back toward him. She had lathered herself all over,
and the white soap bubbles clung lovingly to the shining pink cheeks of
her firm, rounded buttocks. Very kissable, he thought.
Slowly, Dick put his hands around her and cupped both of her
breasts.
She screamed and spun around, eyes wide in fright. Then she closed
her eyes and sighed, "My God, how you scared me. My heart feels like
it's going to pound right out of my body."
"Yeh. I can feel it." Dick grinned and gently squeezed her left
breast.
Only then did Sue look shocked as if she suddenly realized where he
was. "Dick, you shouldn't be ... I mean ..." she was flustered. He
merely laughed and turned on the two other shower nozzles. Sue could
feel one of them spraying against her buttocks. It stung sensually.
She watched as Dick took the soap and began lathering himself all
over. The soapy water ran in a trail from his shoulders and breasts
down to the pubic hair from which the long-range-cannon-like penis
projected. He seemed terribly aroused she could tell by the way he
acted ... in addition to his erection. And, to be honest with herself,
she was feeling a bit of wicked excitement herself.
"Turn around," he ordered, "and I'll wash your back for you."
Dimpling, Sue did as she was instructed. She felt the roughness of
the wash cloth rubbing against her upper shoulders. Then he was moving
down to a spot directly in back of her breasts. She glanced down and
saw that both of her nipples were erect and that her areolas were
covered with foamy goose bumps. Now he was rubbing her buttocks --
first roughly with the rag, then gently and lovingly with just his bare
hands covered with slippery warm soap and water. She could feel the
soap suds slithering down the crevice beneath her spine and abruptly she
remembered the dream of being made love to that way. Dick's hands were
all over her now. Breasts, buttocks, abdomen ...
She felt him move back from her for a second and, feeling
disappointment, she turned and saw him lathering up his penis and pubic
hair. Then he was back again, his huge hot cudgel pressing against the
smooth, white cheeks of her buttocks, his chest hair against her smooth
back. He kissed her shoulders, her neck, and lifted the hair from the
nape of her neck and licked there. A shiver of delight went through her
entire body. If her heart had been pounding before in fright, it was
running away in excitement now. He pressed his prick forward into soapy
buttocks. Sue stood there, feeling the exquisite sensations of his
penis against the slippery cheeks of her ass. Then he slid it beneath
her and it rubbed against the labia of her cunt. Immediately, she
tensed. It hurt. Dick however was making no effort to penetrate. She
looked down at her front and could see the tip of his penis protruding
out from the soft curls of pubic hair between her legs. To her, it
looked as if it were her own. Without volition and not really realizing
what she was doing, she ran her hands down across her soapy belly,
through her damp nest, and clasped the head of the cock in both hands.
She squeezed. It was an electrifying thing for her; she had never
touched him before -- not this way, not in this manner. She could feel
the current flowing between his prick and her hands. It was beautiful
... it was exciting ... it was the most sensual thing she had ever felt
in her life -- except for the silly dream, of course.
Dick felt her hands there and he groaned. God, he thought, I'm so
excited I'm about to cum right now. I feel like a hopped-up high school
kid getting his first piece of tail and cumming before he's even able to
put it in. He began making little swaying movements to and fro, and his
desire hardened prick slid along the entire length of her vaginal
crevice -- from clitoris to anus. She moaned. He wasn't sure whether
it was one of pain or delight. A moment later, when she moaned again,
he knew she liked it.
He had both of his hands on her hips bones now, moving them and her
away from him, then back to him. There was friction -- a hot soapy
glorious friction -- on his cock. Friction from her vaginal lips and
hair, friction from the cheeks of her ass. Abruptly he became aware
that Sue was doing an absolutely wild and wonderful thing with the
muscles of her buttocks. She was flexing them, and with each movement
he made they tightened along both sides of his cock. He began moving
faster and faster. He wanted to put it in her; he wanted to stick it in
her cunt, her asshole ... anywhere! for he could feel the waiting load
of sperm in his balls beginning to boil impatiently.
Sue, gasping for breath, knew she wanted him inside of her bowels.
She could remember the dream. She wanted him deep in her rectum! She
wanted him deep inside her womb! She wanted him inside her belly, no
matter how it hurt. She could feel all her nerves, all her muscles, all
of everything crying for release. The only release would come from him
being somewhere inside of her. She turned suddenly and the hardened
penis slipped from between her legs. Dick groaned. Her open mouth
reached up hungrily for his lips, and she savagely kissed him in an
attempt to communicate her urgency, her acquiescence, her desire. Then,
she forced her hand down to his straining cock. It took all the will
power she owned to make her hand close around it. Dick groaned deep in
his throat. She remembered Marylou's activities with Petey. She moved
her hand experimentally on the long hard hot shaft, and could feel the
skin moving -- but not the shaft itself. It feels like the scruff of a
puppy's neck, she thought, then excited beyond belief, she began pumping
on it. Dick had begun French-kissing her, and his hands had slipped
down to her buttocks. He kneaded them, and she felt the most delicious
of lewd sensations.
Sue was no longer attempting to stroke him; she was frantically
pulling at that virile instrument -- trying to pull it into her vagina
-- when Dick suddenly let out a low moan of delight and stopped
breathing. The cock swelled in her hand, and then she felt it begun
throbbing. She watched it, fascinated, as the white hot cum spurted out
all over her belly and pubic hair; it ran in great white rivers to join
the soapy trails streaming down her glistening thighs. Dick continued
to cum, his penis continued to throb for almost a full minute. He kept
his eyes closed in rapture during the entire thing. Finally, he sighed
deeply as if just beginning to breath again.
"Ummmmm, that was the greatest!" he said.
Sue blinked uncertainly, trying to assess her emotions. She was
pleased that she had made him feel good; perhaps the word "pleased"
wasn't strong enough. She was "happy" that she had been able to. It
was her own feelings that were troubling her right now. She still felt
the intolerable heat of her own desires -- those strange, alien desires
which she couldn't analyze. Sue knew that there had been a shameful,
uninhibited moment there when she had actually wanted to bend over in
front of him and spread her buttocks apart so he could insert his penis
in her rectum. Another moment she had felt the overwhelming need of
having it -- no matter how agonizing -- put into her vagina. And there
had been the feeling of that wonderfully strong piece of hard flesh
beneath her hands ... she had, when the heat had been the greatest,
wanted to kiss it -- to pay tribute to it. She knew now why some
writers called it a "god head."
She looked down at Dick's maleness. It was flaccid, barely three
or four inches long, oozing white liquid and covered with soap suds.
Then she threw back her head and began laughing. It was a laugh of
relief, of happiness shared, of delight with the moment in time and
space.
"What's wrong?" Dick asked, puzzled and feeling she was making fun
of him.
Impulsively, she threw her arms around his waist and put her head
against his chest. She was getting her hair all wet, and she'd have a
terrible time getting it set properly before dinner tonight, but she
didn't care. "I love you," she said, squeezing him. She giggled again.
"You felt just like ... like a dying horse ... twitching away there."
A second later he was laughing with her. And abruptly Sue knew
that everything was going to be all right between them, that sex would
not be painful once her vagina had stretched a little and become
accustomed to his size. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could spoil their
happiness, she thought with all the innocence of the young.
Within her body, the heat began building up again ... and she was
impatient to have that accommodation made as soon as possible.
Chapter 8
Dinner and the asinine conversation seemed interminable to Nora.
She had been hotly impatient for the real activities to begin after
everyone went to bed. The bitter-sweet anticipation had made her
irritable as she waited for the signal from behind the window. She kept
looking up at the one-way mirror, waiting for those two impossibly slow
fools to get their photograph equipment ready. Dick had started to
awaken twenty minutes before, and she had been forced to tell him,
"Sleep ... go back to sleep ... until I tell to awaken ... sleep ..."
After an eternity, she finally heard Morgan's disembodied voice
say, "All right, Nora. Now you can have your little fun and games.
Don't get so carried away that you forget to keep his head facing us."
There was a loud evil chuckle from Lord Medwell, who said, "And
don't forget to say cheese."
Nora threw a wilting look of disdain at the mirror, then began
crooning, "Dick ... wake up, darling ... you are with your wife ..."
Nora watched him as he began stirring. My God, she thought, I've
never been so on fire before over a male. The boy was so young, so
virile, so very masterful. And that cock of his -- simply bull-like,
with the balls to go along with it. Really, it belongs in the Louvre
museum alongside the other great sculptors of the world.
Nora's impatience had been building all day, and she had been in a
state of complete arousal since early this morning. The knowledge of
what she was going to make him do to her, together with what had
happened between Lady Margaret and the new maid, had caused her sexual
glands and emotions to run away with her.
Earlier, after her usual unsuccessful pass at Nora, Lady Margaret
had asked about the possibility of a young girl. Nora had replied there
was one, a new maid especially hired for the occasion.
Nora said, "She's just eighteen. She's no virgin -- not for your
purposes, and certainly not from a male standpoint. I have a feeling
she rather enjoys it any way she can get it. She came to us from a
girl's school in Aberdeen. Left when some sort of scandal occurred."
"Scandal?" Lady Margaret had arched her eyebrows hopefully.
Nora pursed her lips and grinned. "Five girls. A daisy chain."
"And she was one of them?" Lady Margaret's eyes were glowing with
an unholy fire.
Nora nodded and waited a moment before dropping the bombshell, "She
was ... the leader."
"Where is she? I must see her, immediately. Send her to me.
Quickly." The older woman was trembling as though suddenly afflicted
with Parkinson's disease.
Nora called down to the kitchen and asked that the new girl be sent
up with some tea for Lady Margaret. Then she made her way through the
secret passageway to a viewpoint above the room.
Although Nora was not by nature a lesbian and derived only minor
enjoyment from participation, she did feel it exciting to watch women
working on each other. And this afternoon's episode had been very
exciting.
The young maid had been obviously terrified with Lady Margaret.
She looked like some poor trapped animal suddenly thrust into a cage
with a monster. She stood silently trembling in fear as the older woman
made outrageous advances to her. Yet, it was not until Lady Margaret
had attempted to zip down the girl's uniform that the maid tried to
escape.
"You young fool! Do you want me to tell your mistress about that
disgraceful episode in Aberdeen?" Lady Margaret shouted, her face red
with anger.
The girl wilted right on the spot. "Oh, ma'am, how could you know
about that?"
"I know everything. Well, don't stall. Answer me. Are you to let
me be nice to you and reward you with a gift of money later -- or am I
to inform on you, and have you thrown out."
The girl had not answered, but her head lowered and her shoulders
slumped.
Lady Margaret grinned in triumph, then slowly began to undress the
girl. She exclaimed over and kissed every feature of the girl, from the
freckled tight little breasts to the overly large white hips and full
buttocks. She almost went wild when the girl's soft red pubic hair and
pouting mound of venus was finally uncovered. The older woman had
forced the girl to undress her, then Lady Margaret shoved the maid's
body back until her hips were on the bed. She forced the girl's legs
apart.
From her vantage point, Nora had heard Lady Margaret's loud groan
of ecstasy as she peered between the girl's open thighs. Then Nora saw
what it was that had excited Lady Margaret so much. The girl's
clitoris! It was the size and colour of a Brazil nut -- just as thick,
and a bit longer. It was fully erect now, and Lady Margaret lost no
time in clamping her hungry mouth and lips over it. The girl had
squealed like a pig. Furthermore, she had cum within seconds and had
flooded the wildly sucking woman's mouth with a cream thicker than
honey. She continued to cum as Lady Margaret's educated tongue and
fingers wreaked a divine havoc through her sensitive vaginal region.
The girl lay there helpless in desire and panting as the older woman
moved the girl's legs onto the bed, straddled her, then lowered her own
steaming cuntal lips to the girl's wide open mouth. The maid ate
hungrily, eagerly, as Lady Margaret continued her ministrations at the
tender crotch. They both had screamed out their climaxes, the sweat had
poured off their thrashing bodies, and their eyes rolled back and forth
like maddened stampeding sheep.
Somewhere during this, it was obvious to Nora that the maid was
beginning to obtain control over the butch dyke. It was the girl who
began directing operations, and it was she who -- timidly at first, and
then with increasing vigour -- wormed a finger up the sweating anal
opening between Lady Margaret's broad white buttocks. The older woman
had groaned in pain and surprise, but a moment later was mewling in
ecstasy as a second and third finger joined the first in an unbridled
cavalcade of anal fingering.
And so it had gone for almost fifteen minutes. Lady Margaret had
finally called for a halt. Painting in exhaustion, she directed the
still eager girl to a suitcase and told her to pull out an expensively
tooled leather box. The box was opened and the girl, her eyes wide in
surprise and admiration, reverently pulled out an eight-inch dildoe from
which two large inflatable balls dangled. Nora continued to watch as
the maid was instructed to fill the balls with hot water. When the
dildo was strapped on, the girl went to work like a maniac on the older
woman.
The sight was too much for Nora; she had begun rubbing her own
heated pussy before gasping and running from the room. She couldn't
watch it any longer. If she'd found Dick at that moment she would have
raped him on the spot! When she had seen the dildoe, she had seen once
again in her mind the mammoth tool of Dick's. It was almost the same
size as the dildoe; but more important, it was real! A real prick on a
real man! So real, that she had felt it smashing into her pelvis once
again like a pile driver.
Nora's blood continued to boil all through tea, cocktails, and
dinner. It was all she could do to keep from reaching over under the
table and grabbing Dick's sexual genitals. He would have been
surprised, she thought. Surprised and pleased no doubt.
But now her long impatience had come to an end with the signal that
the photographers were ready. She knew her vagina was seeping -- had
been since earlier in the day -- and was lubricated to the point where
she could take him easily. First, though, there were the pictures. She
nodded up toward the mirror, then turned to the sleeping boy. "Dick ...
wake up ... you are with your wife."
Dick's legs twitched twice, then he yawned and opened his eyes. He
blinked.
"Hello, darling," Nora said, and threw back the covers so that both
of their nude bodies could be photographed.
"Hello ... Sue?"
"Dick, kiss me."
The boy moved next to the woman's mature body; she strained her
breasts toward him. They lay side by side facing each other as he took
her in his arms and kissed her. She threw one leg over his thigh and
rubbed her pubic nest against his still sleeping cock. It, too, came
awake -- terrifyingly so. She knew the photographs would be splendid,
and now for the really candid shots.
She pulled her mouth away from his and forced him to turn over on
his back. She began kissing him as she slowly drew a line with her
tongue down across his chest, past the belly button, until she reached
the pubic forest where one huge tree grew to enormous height. She
clamped her lips over it and was rewarded with a low moan of pleasure.
She kept her mouth there until she was sure the photograph had been
taken. Then she gave him a little nibble or two and used her tongue to
tease the head -- just as a reward. He moaned with each new thing she
did.
Nora finally looked up at him. "Did that feel good, dear?"
He moaned his assent.
"Don't be selfish then. Do it to me, too." She moved herself
around until her head was pointing toward the mirror, then spread her
legs in open invitation to his mouth to feast upon.
Dick looked uncertain -- not unwilling to participate -- more as
though he were unsure of exactly what to do. Nora said, "Don't be
bashful. I'll tell you how to do it."
He moved directly to her open vagina. He kissed it awkwardly. She
half sat up and used her fingers to pull vaginal lips apart. "This,"
she said, tapping the protruding little knob, "is the clitoris. It is
the most sensitive part of a woman's body. A kiss there is sensual
beyond description. A sucking or slight nibble there is totally
devastating in its beauty. A chewing motion on the labia is enough to
make any woman insane with joy. Your tongue fluttering like a
frightened bird in the vagina itself will put me in absolute delirium."
She lay back allowing the sensations to wash over her like high tides at
the equinox. He was understandably awkward at first, but then his
dexterity and sureness grew as his tongue and lips accustomed themselves
to their strange duties. She could feel herself building up to a climax
as he licked away at her cunt. Then, abruptly, she remembered the
photographs. "Stop," she ordered. Like a robot, he did as was
directed.
She twisted around until her head was on the pillows. "Dick, let's
do it together. Turn around, dear." She guided his ass with her hands
until his buttocks were above her head, his face poised directly above
her widespread pussy. She slowly opened her legs and, at the same time,
used her hands to pull his hips and giant cock down to her mouth. She
lowered it to her like an oil well drill being put into the test hole.
She kissed it reverently, then teased its knob with her teeth. Dick,
meanwhile, eagerly went back to work using his tongue against her cunt.
Despite all of her good intentions of doing everything right for the
photographs, the taste of his cock in her mouth drove Nora right out of
her mind. She began sucking avariciously, trying desperately to swallow
its entire length ... She wasn't sure what Dick was suddenly doing to
her cunt that was different, but of the hundreds of men who had swirled
their tongues between her thighs, she had never felt quite the same
sensations before. He licked, then brutally bit the lips; the pain was
exquisite. He used his chin to agitate the clitoris; the stubble of
beard on his chin was the same as sandpaper against the tiny sensitive
bud. She was panting now, she didn't care what happened. She rubbed
her lips around his cock and reached up and used both hands to
salaciously milk his giant balls dangling like gypsy earrings on both
side of her face.
Dick drove his tongue into the insatiable vagina just as viciously
as he had used his prick as a reaming instrument the night before. Nora
tried to lift her buttocks to meet him, but he refused to let her move.
She was losing control of the situation again; he was too masterful to
be kept on a leash ... he had broken his leash again, she knew it the
moment that it happened. "Oh, God," she moaned as he bit her buttocks
with enough strength to draw blood to the surface. Down his cock
slammed into her throat. She could no longer breathe. She was choking
to death. He was seemingly trying to dislodge her tonsils. Using her
fingernails as sharp claws, she raked the backs of his thighs in an
effort to get breathing space, but it was futile. The pain merely drove
his hardened rod of flesh down deeper into her aching throat. Nora knew
she was helpless ... helpless because of her own sensations down there.
He was using her mouth as a cunt! And suddenly she was there, cumming
in torrents in his mouth -- cumming as though something had been
unleashed deep inside her pussy ... treasures pouring out of an unlocked
box. He drove his cock down past her tonsils, and the huge head
ballooned as he reached his climax. So large was the exploding head, so
big was the mouthful, that Nora couldn't even swallow. She made gagging
noises as the hot cream poured down her open gullet and spilled out of
both sides of her mouth. It streamed in a white river across her face,
and some of it even ran up her nostrils and on both sides of her nose
where it flowed out hotly into her eyes and ears.
And during it all -- even when her body was whipping around in the
uncontrollable frenzy of her orgasm -- she kept thinking and saying to
herself over and over again, "Oh, my God! What's happening to me?
What's happening to me? It's never felt this good before."
Finally it passed. Dick lay alongside her now; he stared up at the
ceiling, unmoving and unresponding. Nora reached over to the bedside
table and pulled a paper handkerchief out of a box. She began wiping
her eyes and ears and face. She was a mess. Christ, he had shot all
over everything. Pillow, her hair, bedspread; there was even semen
dripping from the headboard of her bed. The taste of his hot cum in her
mouth was warm wine and intoxicating. Her body was at peace for the
moment, but she knew the peace would not last long for even now she
wanted that cock lodged deep inside her neglected womb.
Well, she thought, now is the time to go into my act. She smiled,
unashamedly, up toward the mirror where she knew the two men and their
cameras were watching. The eagerness was beginning in her loins; it was
like the first zephyrs of an approaching gale.
"Dick ... When I count to ten and snap my fingers ... you will
awaken completely. You will not remember these instructions after you
awaken. You will be completely awake and no longer under hypnotic
control. You will be free to do anything you wish -- leave or stay.
One ...
two ... three ..." Nora finally reached "ten" and snapped her fingers.
As she did so, she lay back on the bed ... sobbing and shuddering.
Dick blinked. He looked at her. Suddenly, he realized where he
was, and sat bolt upright in bed.
"I ..." he was speechless.
"Oh, how could you, Dick? How could you be so cruel? And I was
growing so fond of you ... I thought you were a gentleman."
"Nora ... I ... I ..." Quickly, he pulled the blue satin sheet up
over his loins, and made an effort to cover her.
"Oh, don't talk to me, you beast."
Dick's face was wrinkled in bewilderment and something akin to
fear. He put out a hand to her naked shoulder. "Nora, please! What
happened? How did I get here?"
"Don't act so innocent. It's too late for that."
"I swear to you; I don't know what's going on."
She sobbed and the motion caused the sheet to fall away from her
breast. Dick couldn't take his eyes from the soft resilient mound of
golden flesh; the areoles about the size of honey-colored fifty-cent
pieces, the nipples standing erect like brown ivory temples to an
unknown god. He wanted to kiss them, to tease them with the tip of his
tongue ... bite them until she screamed.
There was an alien taste in his mouth -- musky, feral, exciting!
He swallowed and decided he liked the taste. Nora suddenly turned
toward him, and the sheet slipped down even further to reveal the
outline of her rib cage creating diagonal lines which pointed to her
pouting navel.
Nora stared at him, and he noticed that her eyes -- although
slightly damp -- were not as wet as he would have thought considering
the amount of weeping she was doing. She continued to inspect his face,
then she said, "You mean you really don't remember ... anything?"
"I swear. I haven't the slightest idea."
Nora blinked and sniffed. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her
hand, then propped herself up on one elbow. The motion brought her left
breast up to within eight inches of his mouth, and caused the sheet to
drop to the point where the first black line of her soft curly pubic
hair could be seen. One buttock was uncovered and the golden mound of
flesh testified that she sunbathed without a swim suit. There was a
crease of flesh where her thigh and buttock joined; the crease glistened
in the light. "You came in here and turned on the lights," she said.
"I thought at first you were drunk or sleep walking. You looked very
strange. Then you ... you ... " she fell back and covered her face with
her hands. "I can't tell you; it's too horrible."
"Nora, please!" It was a strangled plea for information. Good
Lord, he thought, was I drunk? What's happening to me? Am I going
insane?
Nora said, "You made me do a perverted thing. You made us have ...
oral intercourse!"
Dick reacted as though he had been kicked in a vulnerable spot. He
couldn't believe her. She was lying. She had to be lying! Why, no
matter how drunk he was, that was something he'd never force on a woman.
Never! And he sure as hell wouldn't go down on a broad. Well ... maybe
Sue ...
"You're lying," he said quietly, watching her for reaction.
"Am I?" she spat out. Nora picked up the kleenex limp with seminal
juices. "What do you call this? The stuff that didn't go down my
throat went over my face and hair." She threw the handkerchief at him.
"That's yours," she said.
Almost as if afraid of touching it, Dick reached gingerly out
toward the paper. It was cold, and wet with a sticky substance. He
swallowed; as he did so, he realized what that alien taste in his mouth
was -- her taste! The taste of her pussy! It was true. The whole
thing was true!
"Nora," he started, but she interrupted him. She had begun weeping
again. "I know you don't believe me, but feel this ..." She took his
hand and placed it against her fevered cunt. Dick felt the dampness,
and the heat. Nora kept his hand pressed there. "That's your saliva,"
she said and then added as if ashamed, " ... and my love. I couldn't
help myself. You ... you made me reach an orgasm ... just as you
reached your climax." Then she put her face against his chest. "Oh,
Dick. I'm so ashamed ..."
Awkwardly, Dick patted her bare shoulder. He was all too aware of
Nora's breasts pushing up against his midriff; her nipples were burning
two holes into his belly. Too, when he had felt her pussy, it was as
though he had made contact with a live wire. He looked down at her body
lying alongside his. One leg was slightly raised. He could see the
little blue veins under her skin. He could feel her hot breath against
his chest, her lips close to his right nipple. Her cunt against his
leg! Without wanting it to, his prick was stirring to life again, as
fevered blood roared along the arteries and capillaries to bring new
strength, new energy, new purpose.
Now that the first shock of waking next to Nora had begun to
evaporate, he suddenly realized he was lying in bed with Nora ... a nude
Nora ... and a Nude Dick. He also realized that he badly wanted to fuck
her.
At the rate his prick was growing, he'd only have seconds before
she realized her danger. He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her
over on her back. She stared up at him, her lips moistened, her upper
lip reddened from wiping his cum from her face. "I'm sorry, Nora."
She nodded. "What's done is done, I suppose. You degraded me.
What makes 'it so bad, though, ..." she reached up and put both hands
along his face and pulled him down close to her, " ... what makes it so
bad is that I couldn't help myself. I enjoyed it. I wanted you. Me --
a married woman -- and you -- a married man! Can you ever forgive me?"
She blinked as if she were about to weep again.
Dick felt his heart go out to the poor woman. He had forced
himself on her. He had come in here -- drunk or sleep walking -- and
forced her to suck his cock. And here she was now, apologizing to him!
He gently kissed her lips; she responded without moving.
"Nora, I don't know what happened. And that's a pity -- that I
don't remember. I wanted you last night ... surely you must have felt
it when we were in the study together. I even dreamed of you last
night. I dreamed I made love to you. Forgive me, please?"
"I'm so ashamed," she repeated. "I wanted you, too, but you're
just a boy. I'm old enough to be your mother ... almost."
The comment about his being "just a boy" stung Dick, just as Nora
had known it probably would. His cock was fully alive now and ready for
any new adventure. The heat ignited in his prick and flowed upward --
up the spinal cord to his brain, up the muscular paths to his heart
which received the message and began pumping quantities of blood to
serve the rising instrument. Dick kissed her again, and this time he
pushed his tongue through her parted lips. She refused to open her
mouth to him for a moment, then, groaning, she let it swim in. This
citadel fallen, Dick moved his lips to her neck and worked his way to
her breast. She attempted to force his head back, but then collapsed
weakly and let him do his will.
Dick could feel the power growing in him. Never in his life had he
ever thought he had a chance to fuck a mature woman like this. But she
wanted him. She was his to do as he wanted; he could tell that by the
way she acted. She was panting when his hands moved boldly across her
smooth, well-tanned stomach and sought out her gently pulsating pussy.
He sawed his finger for only a second; the passage was already slippery
with lubricants -- his earlier saliva and her cum.
Nora acted as though she were reluctant when he forced her thighs
apart and got between them. "We mustn't, Dick," she sobbed believably.
"We can't. This is madness."
"We are, though," he said through gritted teeth, and then, gently
parting the pubic hair, he pushed the head of his cock against the labia
of the moist open lips of her straining vagina.
Nora attempted to clench her legs together, but the movement was
obviously half-hearted at best. "Be gentle," she pleaded, reaching down
to grasp his hardened staff in her hand.
God, it had been even easier than he had thought. He kissed her
and said, "I will." It was then he felt near delirium strike him down
there; she was stroking his cock as she guided it directly to the
opening of her cunt. Dick pressed in and his throbbing prick slid
slowly and surely down into that delicious channel, where it glided like
a gondola through the warm dark cuntal passage leading to her cervix.
He went all the way in without pausing once; the journey took the better
part of sixty seconds and Nora gasped in adolation all the time.
Finally he was in as far as he could go. He deliberately flexed his
cock a couple of times.
It was then that Nora went wild beneath him. It was as though she
had reached count-down zero and the rockets had been ignited. She
simply took off! She was no longer the weeping victim; she was
exhorting him to do his damnedest, "Fuck me; fuck me to death," she
screamed, her heels locking tightly around the backs of his flexing
thighs.
He gave her free reign for the first couple of minutes and was
rewarded with her sudden, "Aiiiiieeeee ... I'm cumming." When she had
quit twitching, he began his movements. He was gentle in the beginning,
just as she had requested. But the soft hidden muscles of her vagina
kept nibbling and sucking away at him as though she had a herd of hungry
rabbits hidden somewhere inside her tight quivering belly. His tempo
unconsciously speeded up. She was screaming in continuous ecstasy as he
began to rotate it around a bit inside of her -- making circles with his
ass and then climbing high on her body to her clitoris into devastating
contact with the trunk of his cock. Her hands were all over him now ...
first stroking his balls, then inserting a finger in his anus -- it hurt
at first and he groaned in protest, then it became so tremendously
exciting that he reared back to get full benefit of it.
Dick was caught up in it now; the woman beat at his buttocks with
her heels. She was all fire and water, fur and grit, in everything.
Her fingers moved down his back muscles once as gently as butterfly
wings, and the next trip they gouged holes in skin. That hurt. He
wanted to punish her for that, so he slammed his cock in viciously, and
was rewarded by a thin scream of pain and indignation.
She brought blood to his buttocks and back for that.
He pounded into her like the white engine-driver rod of a speeding
express train. He wanted to push his prick in so far that it would come
out of her mouth. He knew he was filling her, filling her as though he
were the lost piece of a mammoth jig-saw puzzle. It was wonderful ...
beautiful. She gasped out lewd exciting words at him at the apex of
each stroke. Usually it was an obscenity and a command at the same
time. "Fuck me ... harder ... fuck," she chanted, gasping and wheezing
as though she were about to expire.
Finally her eyes grew wide in supplication. "I'm cumming," she
moaned. She panted and writhed. His cock was a voracious animal now,
insatiable, demanding. He began using his leg muscles to propel it in
even deeper, bringing moans of sheer desire and passion from the woman
beneath him. She was all women of the whole world wrapped up in one
woman; all women wailing and screaming and writhing as they all came at
once. "I'm cumming," she screamed again and again, and her fingernails
dug like plows into the furrows of his back.
And Dick was cumming -- cumming with her, cumming into all the
women of all the world -- everyone and everything, sun, moon, and stars
-- all cumming at once. The happiness of the women could not be denied.
She was all women -- he was fucking all women. She was the goddess of
cunt, he the god of the cock. She screamed and collapsed twitching
beneath him and he continued to pound into her until he knew there was
nothing left in his body. The witch inside her had sucked his soul out
of that tiny opening at the head of his prick.
It was a long time before he pulled the flaccid cock from her. It
made a lewd, wet sucking sound as it popped out. Nora's body was
soaking with perspiration. She looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
"That was beautiful," she said in obvious dismissal. "But you'd better
get back to your room." She pulled up the sheet as if hiding her body in
shame from him ... or bringing down the curtain on the first act.
Dick saw his pajamas lying in a heap on the floor. Feeling
foolish, he began to dress. When he looked toward the bed, Nora was
already asleep.
He slowly made his way from the room. As he walked the darkened
hallways toward his own suite, he suddenly felt a great wave of guilt
wash over him. He had betrayed his wife on their honeymoon. The guilt
was compounded by the fact that he knew he would fuck Nora again if he
were given half a chance ... and he rather suspected and hoped that the
chances would be many during the next two weeks.
Chapter 9
Sue was troubled. Her thoughts and emotions were elusive as trout
in a dark pool -- impossible to catch and examine. Something was wrong!
She didn't know what it was -- but something definitely was not right.
Earlier that next morning she had awakened -- languorously --
feeling more relaxed and happy than she could remember. She had been
awake only seconds before the dream returned. Once again she had
dreamed that Dick had made love to her -- violent, satisfying, and
thoroughly enjoyable love! And she had reached orgasm after orgasm
until her climaxes had all run together in one sweet, never-ending
symphony of sensation. She swallowed noisily as she remembered the
details of that dream. It had been Dick in the dream, but Dick looked
different ... actually Dick looked more like Tom Morgan and Lord
Medwell. She remembered what she had done. After Dick had licked her
down there and driven her to the point of madness, he had asked her to
suck on his penis. She had done so -- at first out of love, but then
with a deep animalistic desire to devour it. He had cum in her mouth,
and so entranced had she been with him that he had actually been forced
to push her mouth away after she had swallowed all of him and continued
to nibble at his deflated penis. That had been the Dick who looked like
Lord Medwell. Next, the Dick who looked like Tom Morgan had made love
to her the same way he had in the dream the night before ... slamming in
and out of her rectum until she was a screaming, helpless piece of wild
flesh impaled like an insect on the end of a skewer. Then the Lord
Medwell faced Dick had made love to her in the vagina! It was this
method that had caused her to reach peak after peak of progressively
greater orgasms.
And through it all there had been the lightning storm -- brilliant
flashes of light.
These dreams surely must be the subconscious telling me that I must
give myself completely to Dick, she thought. I'll tell myself that if
it doesn't hurt in the dream, then it won't hurt during the real thing.
She had wanted him in there during the shower yesterday; she supposed
that was why she had dreamed. Still, though, it was odd. She knew she
really wasn't interested sexually in Lord Medwell or Tom Morgan, and so
she was puzzled by the fact that her husband had their faces in her
dreams.
All morning long she worried over her dream like a dog with a bone.
At breakfast, though, other things happened that caused additional alarm
or concern. Lord Medwell actually leered at her; it seemed almost as if
he knew that she had dreamed about him last night. And Dick and Nora
seemed to be silently speaking to each other across the table; she
didn't like the hungry look on Nora's face, nor did she care for Dick's
guilty glances in the older woman's direction ... it was as though the
two of them were sharing some secret. She felt a pang of jealousy,
quickly dismissed.
All told, there was something wrong. The music of the days was
being played off-key. Her suspicions were not relieved when Morgan,
smelling of something like vinegar, arrived late for breakfast. He
smiled fondly at Sue, as if he were especially proud of something she
had done. She was forced to turn her head away because she remembered
that her husband had looked like Morgan when he made love in her behind
during the dream.
Lord Medwell had demanded impatiently of Morgan, "Well?"
Morgan smiled. "Perfect!"
"Even mine?" Lord Medwell asked hopefully.
Morgan lifted one eyebrow and smirked. "Every exposure is
perfect." He put a particularly nasty emphasis on the word "exposure."
Sue noticed that Lord Medwell and Nora both sat back, relaxed.
Both had snug expressions on their faces.
Later, when she and Dick had been walking around the castle
grounds, Sue said, "Those people gave me the creeps this morning."
Dick, who had been pondering Lord Medwell's and Tom's behavior,
confessed himself equally puzzled. Actually, he was glad to have Sue
voice her suspicions. During breakfast he hadn't been sure that it
wasn't his own nerves reacting to a guilty conscience. He could be
honest with himself. He knew that it was really Sue he wanted; he would
do anything for Sue. But he also wanted excitement -- action and
reaction. Sue, the times he made love to her, had lain there like a
show window dummy being raped. Her only comments being, "You're hurting
me." Nora? My God, that was really something. How could he have gone
down on her and made her blow him. He didn't doubt that it had happened
... all he knew for sure was that he had dreamed he was eating Sue's
pussy ... then had awakened to find himself with Nora. The dream that
first night had triggered it, he thought.
The day passed leisurely. A wind had sprung up over the lake which
made sailing a bit risky, so he and Sue had taken a long hike. She
seemed strangely withdrawn ... he hoped she didn't sense that he had
been unfaithful to her. God, anything was impossible! Maybe she could
smell Nora's cuntal juices on him when he returned to bed ... although
she seemed to be sleeping so soundly that she looked drugged.
Earlier when he had been making plans for the afternoon, he had
wanted to steer Sue to one of the deserted coves and beaches on the lake
and make love to her. Now she seemed so introspective that he decided
to wait until they returned to the castle. Twice she had turned to him
as if to say or ask something, but then her resolute expression had
changed and she turned away from him. The only crowning thing -- the
only thing that made him feel Sue's problem did not include him -- was
her impulsive grab around his waist and her upturned face saying, "I
love you, my husband!"
They had reached the castle gate when Dick found a small lizard
sitting on a rock beside the trail. He picked it up and Sue squealed in
a little girl's fright. He held it out to her, and she squealed again.
She ran. He chased her, laughing. They were joined by the dogs -- both
barking in joyous excitement.
"Dick, don't," she screamed, running across the lawn with the dogs
in pursuit.
Suddenly they all blundered into Morgan who was standing there with
an amused expression on his face. Dick immediately dropped the lizard
and looked as if he couldn't understand why Sue was fleeing from him.
Sue stood behind Morgan and peered around his shoulder at her
husband. "Did you drop it?" she demanded.
In answer, Dick merely held his hands out, palms up.
Morgan grinned down at her. "I regret to say that your pet was
just eaten by Regina." He nodded toward one of the hounds.
"Eeecccck," Sue said in mock dismay.
They all three laughed. The strain of the morning was gone now.
Morgan seemed genuinely pleased to see them, and she was glad to see
him.
Morgan said to Dick, "Are you prepared for our traditional twilight
boar hunt?"
"Tonight?"
"A good night for it. The moon will be right, and I have Michael
and Wilhelm both standing by."
Dick looked at Sue, mutely asking permission.
"Go ahead, darling," she smiled. "I'll be fine. Anyway, I have a
lot of letters and cards to write."
Dick nodded. "I'm ready anytime you are, Tom."
Morgan clapped him on the back. "Splendid. We'll make a box lunch
and take a bottle of wine ... and a wee bottle of brandy. Dress warmly
because it gets cold after dark. Meet you at the garage in twenty
minutes?"
"Right."
Dick was eager for the outing. Wild boar would be an excitingly
different change from deer and ducks. He supposed the techniques
weren't too different than those used in deer hunting ... downwind, aim
for the neck, make sure the first shot counts.
"We should find the herd near the oaks," Morgan told him later as
they drove through the very late afternoon's sunshine toward a wooded
area. "The acorns have started to fall; the pigs will be rooting around
them. Now one word of caution, Dick me boy. Don't get too close. If
one of them comes at you, climb a tree. You can't outrun them. The
dogs will do their best to draw the pig from you, but don't count on too
much from them. They've both learned their lessons about boars ... the
hard way. So they're a bit shy, you might say."
The sun had set beyond the hills and the sky was turning a darker
blue as Dick got out of the car. Morgan said, "We're heading toward the
far end of the copse to drive the pigs toward you. And please, my
friend, if you hear something moving in the bushes, make sure it isn't
one of the dogs ... or me, especially before you blast away."
Dick grinned his understanding. A moment later he was left all
alone in the deepening hue of dusk. He noticed the wind was blowing out
of the west, so he cut at an oblique angle toward the woods, knowing he
could approach without the pigs getting scent of him.
In the distance he thought he heard the far-off sound of dogs in
front of him and Morgan's car somewhere in back of him ... that, though,
was impossible; Morgan was in front of him. It was then that he
realized he had no idea whatsoever of where he was or, if he got
separated from the hunting party, how he would go about making his way
back to the castle.
"Morgan has had a lot of experiences with these twilight hunts," he
said to himself. "He knows what to do if I get lost."
Morgan, indeed, knew what to do, and he was doing it as though the
Devil himself was pursuing him. He drove rapidly through the gathering
night back toward the castle and his long awaited subjugation of a fully
conscious Sue and her darling little asshole.
Chapter 10
With Dick gone, Sue decided to have dinner by herself in their
suite. The meal was brought up by a little Irish redhead about 18 years
old who looked exhausted -- almost as if she'd had no sleep for a couple
of days. Sue felt a trifle guilty about causing extra work for the poor
girl and decided to make sure that Dick gave her an extra large tip when
they left. She ate the solitary meal then changed into a long powder-
blue nylon gown and a blue lace peignoir. The feeling of nylon against
her bare skin was wickedly exciting; she wished Dick were here.
She had sat down at the window writing desk and had begun writing a
long chatty letter to Marylou when there was a knock on the door. "Come
in," she called, thinking it was the maid returning for the dinner
dishes.
"Good evening, my dear," Lord Medwell said, coming in and closing
the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, staring
appreciatively at her gown, then carried a large manila envelope to the
table in front of the fireplace.
She felt the first discordant notes of uneasiness run through her
mind. Lord Medwell had walked in as though he owned the place. He had
looked at her in an unmistakable superior manner. Vaguely she felt that
it was not right that he should be in a closed room with her when her
husband was absent, especially with her dressed as revealingly as she
was.
"Writing letters, I see," he said, quite unnecessarily.
"Yes. To a few friends back home. Mother. Cousin ... you know."
Lord Medwell moved over right next to her writing table. His bold
eyes fastened on her gown which was open enough to see the first proud
swelling promise of her breasts. Blushing furiously, she nervously put
her hand up there and fumbled the peignoir's button in an effort to
close it.
"That really isn't necessary, my dear. You have charming breasts.
There's no need to hide them."
"Lord Medwell! Please!" Sue was shocked. She sputtered almost
incoherently when she was his leering expression. "I think, sir, you
had better leave. As you know, my husband isn't here."
Lord Medwell's derisive laughter cut into her like a whip. Then
his expression became coldly cruel. "Leave? Leave! I have no
intention of leaving until I get what I came for." He boldly placed his
blue-veined, age-spotted hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
Suddenly Sue was frightened, really frightened. Lord Medwell must
be a madman! He was looking in ill-concealed lust at her breasts and at
her pelvic area. "I ... I ... you really must go, Lord Medwell." She
stood and backed nervously away from him. His eyes were like prison
yard searchlights moving up and down the length of her figure. They
came to rest on a spot just below her navel -- that slightly protruding
spot marking her mound of Venus.
"You are quite beautiful, my dear," he said.
"Please leave."
His face suddenly became contorted in something akin to hate, and
his voice was tight in anger. "Don't be impertinent! I said I would
not go until I got what I came for."
Sue walked to the door and opened it. "Get out," she said, trying
to keep her composure.
"Close the door," he demanded.
"Get out, or I shall scream."
"You may scream all you wish, but it will be of no avail. No one
will hear you; the servants are gone. We are alone in the castle."
Feeling a combination of embarrassment, anger, and fear, Sue
screamed and then yelled, "Help." The echoes resounded throughout the
deserted hallways, "... help ... help ... help." Her own voice was
mocking her.
"Now that we have that silly bit of amateur theatrics out of our
system, I want to show you something. Take a look at the little gift
I've brought you. There, on the table ... in the envelope."
"I'm not leaving this door. You make a move toward me and I'll
run."
"I have no doubt that you could outrun me. It would be the most
foolish thing you have done in your life, however. Take a look in the
envelope. I give you my word of honor ... as a gentleman ... that I
will not move from this spot."
Anything to get rid of this maniac, Sue thought. She sidled over
from the door toward the table, watching him closely for any movement.
He merely smiled in vast amusement at her precautions. He seemed to be
holding his breath, and his eyes had grown to enormous size as he
watched her unfasten the clasp on the envelope.
Sue didn't relax her vigilance; she riveted her eyes on him as she
withdrew the contents. She could tell by the feel that they were
photographs. She made one rapid glance down at the top one, and then
room began swirling around her. She heard his satanic laughter burst
out, and he sat down in the chair, laughing uproariously at her stunned
and disbelieving expression.
"Oh," he gasped, "if you could only see you face, my dear. Divine!
Absolutely fantastic! Almost as if you had suddenly stumbled upon Jack
the Ripper in the darkness."
Sue gazed down in horrified disbelief. It was a photograph of
herself. Not her as she saw herself each morning in the mirror, but a
photograph of a totally alien her -- wantonly smiling as she sucked away
on Lord Medwell's sausagelike cock. Her lips were grotesquely pouting
around the instrument, but it was her expression that was the most
astonishing thing about the picture. It was obvious to anyone -- even
herself! -- that she was blissfully and erotically enjoying what she was
doing. Her hands were clearly shown; one was cradling his testicles as
though she were weighing them, the other had two fingers wormed deep
into his open rectum.
Sue's legs failed her. She was forced to steady herself on the
back of a chair and then sink slowly into it. She continued to stare at
the picture. Finally she closed her eyes and moaned, "Oh, my God!"
Lord Medwell continued to cackle. He choked, then coughed and
wheezed. "You may like to know, my dear, that no one had to tell you a
thing. I have never known a more apt pupil, one who picked it up so
rapidly -- within seconds, so to speak. You were born to bring pleasure
to a man ... and you don't have the intelligence to realize it. Pure
womanly instinct." He sighed. "But really, you should look at the
others."
Fear, almost wishing that God would strike her blind, Sue turned to
the next photograph. She blinked and the hot tears began streaming down
her face. This picture showed her with legs spread wide apart and Lord
Medwell's head buried in her vaginal crevice. Her tongue was hanging
laxly out of the corner of her mouth and her eyes were rolled back in
her head. Shown clearly were her taut stomach muscles and flexed
buttocks, and her fingernails clawing a bloody trail of lust down his
back. Her face was smeared with what could only be cum; it glistened
all over her neck, and a huge puddle of it could be seen alongside her
shoulders on the rumpled sheet. As she gazed through watery eyes at the
photograph, it was all coming back to her now. The dream! It hadn't
been a dream, alter all. She remembered the moment; in the dream it had
been so wonderful to have her husband doing that to her.
She realized that Lord Medwell had become silent. He merely stared
at her, and his expression was once again one of anger ... and something
else.
He didn't make a command, but she turned to the next photograph ...
already sure of what she would see. It was a closeup of Lord Medwell's
cock in the process of being jammed into her vagina. What made the
picture so unbelievably horrible again was the sheer expression of
delight and impatient lust on her face. She thought dully: It didn't
hurt at all when he did that; it was wonderful. I remember the
sensation now. Beautiful. But I thought it was my husband making love
to me ... not someone using me as a ploy, an insensitive whore. She
suddenly realized that no one seeing the photograph would ever think of
her being an "insensitive" whore. A "whore," yes. "Insensitive,"
never! Not with that gloating sensual expression on her face, not with
those fingernails digging deeply into his driving buttocks. No, if
anything, she was a very "sensitive" whore, one who was enjoying the
fucking of her life.
The next, as she was pretty sure it would, showed Morgan with his
stubby little cock in the process of sodomizing her. Again the
photographer had masterfully focused on her expression. She was the
personification of wantonness. The hang of the taut breasts like ripe
fruit about to drop from a tree, the tendons of her neck, the muscles of
her inner thighs, the deep indentations created by the eager flexing of
the anal muscles ... all were clear indications that she was within
seconds of obtaining an orgasm.
It was all too much to bear, much less understand. Her dignity
crushed, sobs wracked her body and each breath was a shuddering one.
She had never been so mortified, so humiliated, so ashamed in her life.
The photographs, no matter how they had come to be taken, gave Sue an
insight to that darker being within her whose existence she had never
known or even suspected.
Lord Medwell was no longer amused; he stalked angrily toward the
door and closed it. He stood there, impatiently rocking back and forth,
glaring at her. "Whimper all you want, slut. Cry your heart out. It
makes no difference. Your precious husband shall see these when he
returns from the hunt tonight. And in tomorrow's post, an envelope
identical to the one I gave you will be transmitted to your mother, to
your local police authorities, and to ..." He took his hand from behind
his back and held out Sue's blue address book. He grinned evilly "...
every name in this book."
She screamed and leaped toward him; she was rewarded by a vicious
backhand in the face that sent her sprawling to the rug. In falling,
her peignoir ripped; her gown slithered up to her waist, where the full
ripeness of her upper thighs and buttocks were fully visible to Lord
Medwell's cruelly glinting eyes. "You beast you, you filthy beast," she
sobbed.
"My dear young lady. These photographs are not of a 'filthy beast'
... but of a common street whore sucking, being sucked, being, if you'll
pardon the Saxon expression, 'fucked' ... and being sodomized. Oh, how
she loves it all. Note the enjoyment upon her face. How amusing it
will be when your mother and all of your little friends and relatives
see what a happy honeymoon you're enjoying."
"What is it you want?" she gasped, feeling horror and sickness
suddenly wash over her like an unrelenting tide of despair.
"That's hardly the question you want to ask, is it? What you
really want to know is: 'How do I get those photographs back?' "
Sue looked up from the floor. She could see the bulge growing in
his trousers as he gazed at her uncovered body. She made a futile
attempt to pull her gown down. A part of her mind was screaming like a
frightened caged animal, " ... help me, please, someone ... help me."
Yet she knew there would be no help. No help from the local police, and
certainly none from Dick. If Dick ever saw the photographs, he would
leave her in an instant. With a sudden caving in of her spirit, she
asked in a barely audible voice, "What do ... I have to do ... to get
them back?"
Lord Medwell smiled. "Excellent, my dear. You are, as I said
before, a quick study -- a fast learner." He picked up the envelope and
withdrew the first one. He rolled his eyes theatrically. "Oh, yes! I
remember it well. It was delightful; you showed such tremendous talent
for it." He looked as if he were thinking, then nodded his head.
"That's it! That seems fair enough. For each photographic scene you
recreate, I shall return a picture."
As she realized what he was asking, Sue suddenly felt a painful
spasm in her stomach; she was sure she was going to vomit. Oh, God!
How could any human being so degrade another, so debase another as he
was trying to do to her. She wouldn't do it ... she couldn't do it.
She shook her head and mumbled, "I won't." Then she looked up in tearful
pleading, "Please, Lord Medwell. Please have mercy -- pity. Give me
the photographs. Please!" The last was a half hysterical scream.
"Of course, my child. They shall be returned to you ... upon my
word as a gentleman ... just as soon as you fulfill the conditions of
our contract."
Sobbing incoherently, Sue shook her head violently from side to
side, "I can't. I just can't do that!"
Lord Medwell clapped his hands together in dismissal. "Then we
really have nothing more to discuss. The photographs will be mailed
tomorrow." He turned to the door.
"Please. Have pity." Sue screamed.
Lord Medwell did not answer. He opened the door and stood in the
archway. "Good evening, Madam. And sweet dreams." He started to close
the door.
"No," Sue shouted in desperation and fear. "No ... come back." Her
body was wracked with shuddering sobs of distress, as she buried her
face in her hands.
"You'll do it?" Lord Medwell's voice was cold, inflexible.
"Oh, God forgive me ... yes!" she screamed. "Yes ... you, you
beast ... I'll do it!"
Lord Medwell closed the door behind him. His face was red in rage
and his voice tight in poorly suppressed fury. "Watch your language,
slut, or I shall have second thoughts about my generosity. As it is,
you will pay a little extra for your persistent use of the odious term."
Abjectly, knowing she must be on his good side to get the
photographs, Sue said, "I'm sorry."
"That's better, immensely better. Now my dear, take your hands
away from your pretty little face. Do it ... now!" The last word
cracked like a whip and Sue's body jumped as though struck.
Lord Medwell handed down photograph number one. "Shall we begin?
Recreate this ... and you may have the picture to do as you wish. Burn
it, tear it, or keep it among your treasured souvenirs. Look at it
closely."
"Oh, God ..." she moaned in shame and distress.
"Take off your clothes." It was an order, there could be no
disobedience. She rose, silent, unable to speak for the humiliation she
felt. The man's eyes burned huge holes in her breasts and pelvic area.
When she hesitated -- hoping against hope that he would change his mind,
that this was really a monstrous nightmare from which she would soon
awaken -- Lord Medwell narrowed his eyes in warning. Quickly then, she
took off the peignoir. Then, eyes closed and unable to look at him, she
slowly lifted the gown over her head to stand naked and trembling
abjectly before him.
"Beautiful, just beautiful. Now stand there until I get my clothes
off." For the first time the old man began showing real signs of
impatience. She watched him, horrified, as he removed his coat, tie,
shirt and undershirt, and then unbuttoned his trousers and dropped his
pants and drawers to the floor. A moment later, he stood before her
with only his shoes and socks and garters on. His huge white erection
grew like a poisonous toadstool in the grey tundra of his pubic hair.
"All right, my dear. Picture number one: On your hands and knees ...
crawl to me."
It was going to be even worse than she had thought. She kept
saying over and over again in her mind, "This can't be happening to me;
this can't be happening to me." Lord Medwell was a hideous creature seen
in some nightmare as he leered down at her with those horribly hot and
unbending eyes. She would die before she did this. "No ... I can't."
She clenched her eyes tightly shut as if she could erase the scene from
memory and make it cease to exist.
"If I am forced to put my clothes on, I swear to you that nothing
-- absolutely nothing you could offer, no matter how far you crawled --
could obtain the release of these photographs. Do you quite
understand?"
"Please?" she pleaded, looking at him once more in supplication.
"Please ..."
Lord Medwell merely stroked his waiting cock and answered. "I'm
waiting. On your hands and knees. Quickly!"
It was hopeless, she knew it was hopeless. All was lost. It
didn't matter. She would die of humiliation if the photographs were
released; she would die of humiliation if she were to undergo the cruel
debasement in order to retrieve them. It didn't matter except ... the
pictures would kill Dick's love for her, would destroy her mother, would
be traumatic for all her friends receiving copies. This way only she
would be hurt. Slowly, she sank to her knees and began crawling like a
wounded animal toward his naked loins.
Now all she could think about was getting the execution of her soul
and dignity over with as rapidly as possible. Lord Medwell
misunderstood her suddenly speeded up crawling. "Don't be so eager, my
dear. You are acting as hungry as you were last night." He laughed and
backed away when she reached him. She crawled forward two more paces,
then reached up for his cock. He backed away again, laughing at her.
"Come on," he coaxed, and moved back until his hips were against the
bed. He sat down and spread his legs. Sue could see his testicles
dangling like ripe, flesh colored fruit above the brown puckered opening
of his anus. His cock stuck up in the air at an outrageous angle, and
occasionally it throbbed and jerked spasmodically.
Sue crawled up on the platform and to the bedside, no longer
conscious of moving or acting. She was merely an automated robot,
incapable of independent action or thought.
"Now, my dear. For the first photograph ...
She shuddered in revulsion as she bent forward to pay unwilling
homage to the waving, purple and white penis. She could see angry red
veins running up its white and blue trunk and the throbbing purple
hooded head already seeping a white thick fluid. His balls were high
and tight now in his purple scrotum; his gray pubic hair lay like white
foliage struck down by hail. Inside her mind a voice kept crying out,
"Ask him once again."; but she refused to heed it, knowing instinctively
that it would be useless. Besides, she knew her abject begging and
pleading only added to his sadistic enjoyment. She closed her eyes and
swallowed, muttering a silent prayer, "Dick ... forgive me. Please
forgive me, darling, for what I'm about to do."
Her lips closed wetly about the smooth rubbery head. Lord Medwell
groaned. His eyes were bulging in unconcealed lust as he stared down at
the top of her blonde young head. The knob of his cock tasted like
sweet soap, the viscous fluid seeping from the glans was slightly saline
with a faint odor. He moved the rod in her mouth. "Suck a little,
nibble a little, my dear."
"I was dreaming ... I am dreaming ... I am dreaming," Sue said to
herself with each thrust of the hated cock in and out of her mouth. She
had dreamed of doing this last night; it had been terribly exciting,
terribly enjoyable ... but that had been with her husband! She felt
nothing now but despair and humiliation. She followed his directions,
mindlessly licking and nibbling and tongue teasing as he ordered. She
was sure that it would never end, but it did with Lord Medwell's saying,
"That's enough for now."
She removed her mouth from his cock. She kneeled there, head down
in subjugation, waiting for whatever cruelty was to come next.
"Get on the bed," Lord Medwell said. Spiritlessly, Sue did as she
was instructed. She lay there, legs slightly apart, staring up at the
ceiling -- not making any effort to cover her body. Lord Medwell gazed
speculatively down at her. "You aren't showing nearly enough
enthusiasm, my dear. Perhaps we should turn that little furnace of
yours up higher." He walked away from the bed and came back a moment
later with the second photograph. He held it before her yes. "Shall we
try for number two?" When Sue did not answer, he slapped her with the
picture. The sharp edge of the paper cut the underside of her chin,
drawing a thin line of blood. "Answer me," he snarled.
"Yes ..."
"Yes, what, you slut?"
"Yes. Let us do number two."
"There is a vulgarism -- American, I believe called 'eating pussy'.
Some of our lesser educated Englishmen call it 'cunt scouring'. Now you
must ask me in a nice way -- using either of those vulgarisms."
Sue closed her eyes and sighed. "I want you to eat pussy."
"Whose?"
"Mine."
"Say it then."
She sighed again and said, without any inflection at all, "I want
you to eat my pussy."
"Please?"
"Please ..."
Sue was aware that her legs were being spread apart. She flinched,
in spite of herself, when his finger parted the softness of her pubic
hair and touched her vaginal lips. She remembered the dream last night!
Presumably Dick had been doing this to her. It had been wildly exciting
and erotic beyond description. But now, she felt nothing. Only a
deadness down there as he began his perverted licking.
The numbness lasted until he reached the clitoris; he put his lips
and it began sucking it as though it were a very small penis. Sue's
body stiffened as she felt the unwelcome sensations return down there.
Lord Medwell chuckled as he sensed she had finally begun to come to
life. Next she felt his tongue jab into her vagina; it was like an
electrical cattle prod placed in there. She jumped, trying to pull
herself away from him. Then the slow, rhythmic, tantalizing licking
began again. She flexed the muscles along her inner thighs attempting
to make the unwanted feeling of pleasure go away but it only added to
her enjoyment. With the tensing of her thighs, Lord Medwell went back
to lick again at the tiny, suddenly pulsating, clitoris.
Now Sue was beginning to moan and sob as she realized what these
sensations implied. No, this couldn't be happening to her! It mustn't
happen! The nerve endings down there were betraying her. She couldn't
permit this to feel pleasurable; she couldn't. But, in spite of her
revulsion at the act, her abdomen rose and fell with increasing rapidity
as the old man began taking long licking strokes with his tongue and
using his nose to buffet the clitoris while his chin whiskers were
scraping against her tightly clenched anus. She knew she was beginning
to secrete lubricants and liquids from glands that were taking notice of
the loving attention being bestowed them. It wasn't until she
discovered her pelvis was beginning to grind lewdly into the old man's
sardonically smiling face that she realized she had lost this one
particular battle. Her shamelessly aroused body was moving
independently now, she hadn't the least control over it any longer. His
hot hungry mouth enclosed the entire vaginal labia area and he began
sucking voraciously at it. The exquisite sensations shot across her
loins into the nerve endings at the mouth of her womb. His drooling
mouth kept the labia tightly clamped, his tongue pressured its way
through the compressed vaginal lip, and Sue almost lost her mind
attempting to control her reactions.
Finally -- and she knew it the second that it happened -- she
reached the point of no return. She was going to have a climax! She
fought it, screamed against it in her mind, but muscles and nerves all
rebelled against the discipline -- seeking instead the sweet release.
Then her pelvis was jerking and her hands were trying to push the old
man's face up all the way into her vagina, and a voice she had never
heard before was screeching from her own throat, "I'm cumming. Oh God,
lick harder ... faster ... now ... Now! ... Aieeee."
She was almost unconscious from the combination of shame and
satiation when Lord Medwell raised her knees to her chest. Abruptly she
felt his penis pressing against her open, unprotected vagina.
"Now number three," he said.
"No ... you'll hurt me," she moaned, but it was already too late.
She attempted to scissor her legs, but the movement caused him to slip
forward and his long hard cock slid effortlessly into the mouth of her
cervix. "Gaaaagh," she screamed. God, it was excruciating. It was a
white hot poker plunged into her. Worse, far worse, more agonizing than
even the first night with Dick. That pain, at least, had come from love
-- this came from torture and debasement and rape.
Lord Medwell smiled down at her. "Don't put on an act, my dear."
He reached over to the bedside table and pulled down the photograph.
The sideways movement hurt her and she moaned in pain. "See what
immense pleasure you are getting out of me. That is the real you.
You're only acting right now," he said.
Sue's eyes were blinded to the picture; the reality of the moment
was that she was in pain from sexual intercourse and his huge penis. He
moved it out a bit; the withdrawal motion was agonizing. He pushed it
in to its utmost depth again. "Ooooohhh, God! No, please. You're
hurting me. Please, I'll do anything ... but not this ... you're
killing me." A sudden jab was the only answer to her pitiful plea. She
was suddenly screaming at the top of her voice as he began viciously
jabbing into her; she jerked her eyes open to see the old man's cruel
sadistic grin above her. He was killing her; he wanted to hear her
scream and moan; he was enjoying every second of it.
Her vagina felt as though it bad shattered and was bleeding from a
thousand different, places. His cock lay throbbing, sunk deep in her
belly, filling every part of her insides. There wasn't a single fleshy
ridge on the prick that she could not feel as it pressed tight against
the soft flesh of her cunt. It was a heated scimitar plunged into the
belly of the infidel. Sue lay immobile, afraid to move because of the
pain each movement brought.
Lord Medwell grinned down at her. He flexed his cock inside her
belly and she felt it jerk up and against the cervix. "Aaaagggh," she
groaned, and her face was twisted in pain.
Lord Medwell merely smiled more sadistically. He flexed it again.
"Oooohhh ..." She kept her stomach muscles as tight as possible,
hoping she would create an intolerable pressure for him down there.
Slowly, Lord Medwell pulled his hardened penis from her tight
vaginal sheath until it was about half out, then slowly -- oh, so very
slowly -- pushed it in again. He did this for about three minutes.
"Oooohhh, please ... you're ... hurting." She said it
automatically, and with a sudden jolt to her brain realized that she was
screaming a lie. Oh, it was tight, all right. Very tight. And she was
being stretched painfully. But the slow, salacious movements were not
painful! Furthermore, by the sudden look on the old man's face, she
knew he was aware of her new knowledge.
"Now you must ask me to 'fuck' you."
"No ... I won't. I can't. Please don't. Do what you have to do
and get it over with, but please don't ask me to degrade myself like
that!"
Lord Medwell continued to move his cock back and forth slowly. Sue
was aware that her vagina was making a wet, lewd sucking noise, as it
slipped moistly in and out of her fully opened vagina and that too
suddenly began to add to the forbidden excitement she felt coursing
through her betraying body.
"You must beg," he said, insistently, "that is part of the
contract. After all, each time you say 'please, stop', you're begging.
So beg me to 'fuck' you." He shoved his prick forward and a shock of
unwanted pleasure shot through her womb.
"Oooh, no! Please no." That, of course, would be the final straw
-- the ultimate in humiliation. She had maintained a tiny shred of
pride because she knew she was suffering all this for Dick and her
mother's sake. But to be forced to beg? That would be the end of her
forever as a decent person. He had taken her self-respect, her fidelity
to her husband ... taken everything. She couldn't, she wouldn't give
him the ultimate triumph of hearing her beg for him to force these
horribly depraved indignities on her helpless body!
Lord Medwell stopped moving with his penis half in, half out of her
cunt. "Very well," he said. "A woman has other ways of begging. We
shall see."
Sue didn't understand what he was talking about, and she didn't
waste time trying to figure it out because her mind was elsewhere ...
analyzing, calculating, evaluating. Something unwanted was happening in
her vaginal area. The pain had disappeared. She wasn't even
uncomfortable any longer. There was a pleasant warmth there, a pleasant
pressure. When his penis twitched again she was astonished to find that
-- without volition -- her own inner muscles had flexed in involuntary
response, bringing a smile of ecstatic delight from him.
She fought with every bit of will-power she had to keep from doing
that again. She hadn't been conscious of doing it the first time; she
wasn't sure how she had done it ... please, please, just don't let it
happen again. But it did happen, and there was a minor groan from him.
It happened again ... and again ... and again until it seemed almost as
if she had attached an automatic milking machine down there between her
legs.
Lord Medwell was making a slow rocking motion between her thighs.
She could feel the narrow passageway to her innermost femaledom being
widened with each short stroke. The friction had caused her vagina to
run -- within seconds -- the entire spectrum from cold agony to hot
willing anticipation. The hot glow of passion outside was being rubbed
and pushed inside; she could feel it creeping relentlessly along the
vaginal walls to the tip of her uterus ... a strange and wonderful glow.
She fought that, too. She fought her breathing, which was becoming more
shallow, more rapid. The perspiration popped out on her forehead as she
fought a desperate losing battle with her pelvis after discovering it
shamelessly rising to meet the downward thrust of his cock; she forced
her pelvis back to the mattress. A second later, though, it had begun
moving slowly upward again like an open-mouthed fish rising to the bait.
And then, as suddenly as it began, the battle was over. Sue's body
was asserting its independence from her ethics, her morals, her
upbringing, her will-power! The lewd flames of lust coursed salaciously
through her veins, and her heart sped up its action in an effort to get
the hot desire--contaminated blood into every part of her body. Her
pelvis as she had feared, was the first to unleash itself. After a long
struggle, it began moving up and down of its own volition on the white
rod of hardened flesh -- the two things moving in harmony and growing
excitement. Her inner muscles went next; twitching against, massaging,
and milking the cock for its entire length. One section of muscle
squeezed so tightly on Lord Medwell's prick that he groaned
uncomfortably.
It was all going away from her. Sue could mentally stand off and
watch her body -- as though she were watching the actions of a lust-
crazed prostitute beneath a stranger's pounding weight. Her face was
beginning to twist in an expression of unbridled desire. Her body
writhed beneath him, and she made low hums of passionate encouragement
with each new thrust of his prick. Her breath now was coming in puppy
dog-like pants. Her legs on either side of his driving hips were moving
in tiny lewd circles as though she were using a hula hoop. Suddenly,
Sue's mind which had been able to stand off and watch all this became
too excited to be denied its participation. There was no longer any
thought but the delicious sensation of lying beneath this man who was
bringing her rapidly to a peak of glory she had never consciously known
existed. She was cumming again; she knew it. She wanted it ... she
didn't want it ... she wanted it ... she wanted it ... and she was
close, close, close!
Then, Lord Medwell stopped.
Unbelievingly she looked up at him. He grinned down at her. "You
do like to be fucked, don't you, my dear?"
She stared at him, burning hatred in her eyes, her nostrils
quivering with each short breath she took.
He flexed his cock deep inside her.
"Ummm," she mewled.
"You like to be fucked?" He flexed it twice.
"Oh, God, help me. Yes. Yes!" she screamed, and the cry came from
the deepest part of her being. "Fuck me."
"All right, my dear. We have a slight change in plan, though. A
much more enjoyable way of you reaching your little climax. You'll get
all of the photographs, providing you follow directions."
It was the heat within her that made her answer through gritted
teeth, "I'll do anything." She moaned helplessly as she moved her pelvis
up and down, up and down, wanting to bring herself to final fruition.
Lord Medwell twitched his cock again. In response to her groan of
delight, he said, "Yes ... I guess you would do anything right now. I'm
weary, my dear. I'll lie on the bottom, you shall be on top." Clasping
her buttocks tightly in each hand, he rolled over, carrying Sue with
him. His cock stayed deeply buried in now wildly stretched vagina
during the entire exercise.
Sue propped her knees into the mattress, with his legs between her.
Lord Medwell used his hands to pull her buttocks down, then pushed her
back up. "That's the way it's done," he said.
She rode his prick up and down and round and round as though she
were aboard a carousel horse -- her cunt reaching hopefully for the
elusive brass ring of forbidden pleasure. She moaned in wild delight as
she discovered that this new position permitted extra friction from his
cock against her clitoris. It was beyond a doubt the most exciting
thing she had ever felt in her life. She hated herself for what she was
doing, yet knew it was impossible not to do it. She was his helpless
slave now, even though she were on top and free to dart away. The
pictures were unimportant ... the cock was the thing. She rode him
unmercifully ... bouncing up and down obscenely, flaunting her pelvis
against the impaling shaft as though she were trying to drive it all the
way through her body.
Through it all, Lord Medwell lay there with an amused smile on his
face; he even had his hands behind his head!
Sue could feel everything coming together down there now. She was
mixing ingredients that -- together -- became a wild unstable compound
which was threatening to explode at any moment. Her body was moving in
abandoned wantonness. She was coming closer, closer, closer. She was
moaning -- mouthing incoherencies -- and her eyes were rolling around in
her head. Then Lord Medwell's arms locked her in position! She was
incapable of movement!
She stared down at him, wondering if he was cumming, or if he had
suddenly gone mad. Instead he was smiling mysteriously. Impatiently,
she wiggled her ass a couple of time in an effort to get loose from his
arms. He shook his head. "Relax, my dear. Here's where you get all of
the pictures. Just lie still for a minute. Don't move."
Sue felt obscene with her buttocks waving nakedly in the air that
way, but she did as instructed, feeling her inner muscles milking and
massaging the warm cudgel inside her.
Suddenly, she felt a strange finger rubbing from her vagina to her
anus!
She screamed and twisted around, then moaned in terror when she saw
Tom Morgan beside the bed. He was completely naked; his stubby cock was
at full erection.
"Good evening, Sue," Tom said formally, and pressured his wet
finger into her tight puckered little anal ring.
"Oh, no ... please no." Sue panted. "You can't ... it isn't
right." She jerked and tried to rise.
"Hold her," Tom ordered, and Sue felt Lord Medwell's arms lock
again like a vise around her waist. Sue screamed again, this time in
pain, as the finger moved all the way in to its knuckle. She groaned as
he began sawing it back and forth. Sue attempted to get away from it by
pressing down; this only skewered her cunt more deeply on Lord Medwell's
cock coming up from below.
She could feel the prick flexing inside of her. She tensed her
buttocks tight in an effort to escape the finger; the action did nothing
to halt Morgan's intrusion, but Lord Medwell moaned in delight.
Morgan was kneading the left cheek of her ass with his hand. He
kissed that sensitive spot below the base of her spine and bit her
buttocks painfully. And all the time his finger sawed away monotonously
at the straining depths of her tightly clenched rectum.
"Please ... no," Sue had begun, but then said, "Gaaaaggghh," as a
second finger joined the first.
"Hurry, Morgan," Lord Medwell commented. "She is nibbling me to
sweet death. I do believe the bitch has got me rather close to
cumming."
The pain in her anus and rectum was intense. Sue splayed her legs
to avoid the pressure, but this only brought a third finger into play --
all of them now making ever widening circles as her asshole was expanded
ever wider.
Satisfied finally, Morgan climbed atop the bed. He peeled open her
soft, yielding buttocks and then leaned forward to drop a larger drop of
saliva which drooled down the smooth white crevice to her anus.
He shuffled up between her and Lord Medwell's legs. He clamped his
hands on her hips. Then he pressed forward with his cock. Sue fought
it once again, but was held immovable by Lord Medwell's arm and Morgan's
grip. The head of Morgan's prick slipped easily into the already
stretched anal opening; he kept right on going until his balls slapped
up against her buttocks. "Gaaaggghh," she screamed, "you're killing me!
Oh God, you're killing me!"
"Dear Sue," Morgan said patiently, "you're being a child about
this. You've enjoyed sodomy for the last two nights. This is merely a
double exposure in return for the photographs."
"I say. A 'double exposure'. Rather good that," Lord Medwell
chuckled as he flexed his cock again. Sue felt the responding twitch
from Morgan.
Morgan began moving tentatively, "Gentle motions -- those count in
a young asshole," he said philosophically.
Sue felt as though someone had shoved pillows filled with rocks
into her abdomen. Her asshole was filled, her cunt was filled. There
was only a thin membrane separating the two pricks, and they rubbed and
bumped against each other like hungry sharks in the aquarium.
It was not long before the two men began buffeting her between them
-- like a rag doll thrown in a game of "catch". She had never felt so
helpless and naked before in her life. This was the end -- whatever few
grains of self-respect that may have been left in her mind were rapidly
being extinguished. Large wet tears streamed down both sides of her
face to drop with a splash on Lord Medwell's grey-haired chest. Morgan
began driving in and out of her rectum with maniacal fury; Lord Medwell
was obviously close to cumming ... or dying of a heart attack! And Sue?
She could feel the pain being replaced by a kind of masochistic
pleasure. Unable to escape ... unable to prevent it ... her body had no
recourse but to accept.
And once again she lost control of her body! She could feel her
orgasm coming back again ... it seemed to hover like a primeval bird of
prey looking for a place to land.
Then with frightening suddenness, she was there! It was she, who
in her sudden desperate hunger, took control away from the two men; it
was she who began frantically bucking against them, urging them on to
harder and deeper thrusts. She reared her ass in the air to get full
benefit of Morgan's cock, then fell heavily skewering herself harder
still down on Lord Medwell's driving cock. "Fuck me," she screamed,
"fucker harder ... harder ... Oh God, fuck it harder!"
And it was her soprano scream that started the sweet upheaval first
in her cunt, then seconds later in her rectum, and then in her clitoris.
She came in all three places -- achieved three different types of
climaxes. And she continued to cum for as long as the men would have
her; until they fell from her in satiated weariness. Even above the
glory of her orgasm, she felt a vague disappointment that the double
fucking of her forever stretched genitals had ended ...
When it was over and the tears had dropped flowing, she lay nude
for a long time just staring up at the ceiling. Her body hurt, but the
greater pain was in her heart. They had stripped her of everything --
pride, dignity, faithfulness. They had made her a wanton adultress,
begging and screeching obscenities. They had used her body and -- she
knew this to be true -- she had used them! They had made her reach
climax after climax ... something no one else had ever been able to do.
She had given them something that her husband had never had.
And overall was the stunning, undeniable fact that she had enjoyed
it ... not the taunts, not the crawling or begging, or debasement and
cruelty ... but the sex act. That she had enjoyed ... sex had been
wonderful. Then she was weeping again as she realized what she must do
to atone for the horrible sin of her wanton submission to two complete
strangers.
Chapter 11
After an hour had passed and night had fallen, Dick knew he was
hopelessly lost. His loud shouts of "hello" brought no response. He
knew he would be safe if he could find the road, so he began walking in
a direction that he thought would lead out of the woods. Twice, in the
stillness of the night, the sound of dogs came. Once, he stumbled upon
a herd of pigs and was forced to climb a tree to get away from an
enraged boar. The pig snorted and clawed the ground, and stared up with
baleful red eyes. Twice, its yellow tusks gleaming in the moonlight,
the animal charged the tree. A persistent bastard, it remained there
for almost an hour.
When it finally ambled off, so did Dick!
It was almost eleven before he found the road and began walking.
He had walked almost three miles before a black figure came hurtling out
of the night at him. He leaped aside and shouted, "You idiot. You
almost ran over me." The figure on a bicycle turned around to stare,
then wobbled crazily, and crashed into the ditch.
"Now, you see what you've done," the Irish voice complained.
"You've wrecked me new bike. And me wife will think I did it because of
drink."
Dick, feeling foolish because he had been half-frightened out of
his wits, was immediately contrite. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm lost. You
seared hell out of me -- coming over the top of the hill that way,
without lights. I thought Old Nick had finally caught up with me."
The Irishman rubbed the seat of his pants where he had landed after
the crash. He looked at Dick. "You've a right to be worried about the
Devil on this road. He's been seen many the time by those who were
sober." He shuddered, then bent down to pick up his wheel. "It looks in
fair shape. Perhaps no harm's been done at that. Where are ye bound
this time of night?"
"I'm lost. I went hunting ... got separated from my party. I'm
staying at Castle Fleur."
The Irishman tensed. "Will then, I guess you have no need to fear
the Devil. Good night, sir."
Dick was puzzled by the man's attitude, but he let it pass. "Can
you tell me how to get back?"
The Irishman jerked his head in the direction Dick was headed.
"Three miles up the road and turn to the right." He hesitated, then said
in a more friendly manner, "And good luck to ye. A friend of the
owner's?"
"No ... merely a guest. Why?"
The man took a deep breath and drew himself up; when he exhaled, it
was obvious that he had been drinking. "You look a bright lad. Are you
honeymooning?"
"Yes."
"Then take my advice and leave. Strange things happen in that
wicked place. People complain of strange dreams in which the Devil
takes part. Only this spring a new bride of only four days leaped to
her death from the towers. And none of the local girls will work there.
And more than one young couple has come together and departed separately
... or much earlier than planned." He threw a leg over the bike's seat.
"One thing I know, I'd never leave my bride there ... alone." He rode
quickly off into the darkness.
Dick stared after him. What a lot of nonsense, he thought.
"Strange things", "suicides", and "strange dreams", typical
superstitious clap-trap, from an Irishman who has had too much to drink.
He had taken half a dozen paces before he stopped and said aloud,
"Strange dreams?" He abruptly recalled the dreams about Nora before he
finally found himself in the sack with her. Come to think of it, Sue
had been acting oddly all day ... almost as if she had been worried
about something. He quickened his pace and, by the time he reached the
turn-off, he was actually jogging.
It was midnight when he arrived; the castle was completely dark
except for lights shining from the windows of their suite. "Thank God,"
he breathed, "Sue's up ... and okay."
Rather than awaken the house by going to the front door and ringing
the bell, he decided to go around to the servants entrance and enter
through the storage area. Once inside, the darkness was oppressive. He
fumbled his way through the room, and was relieved to find a door which
lead to the dimly lighted hallway. Quickly he made his way up the
servants back stairs. When he reached the third floor, he turned toward
what he thought was his suite. He was halfway down the corridor, in
front of a statue of a knight in armour, when he suddenly discovered he
was in the wrong wing. There, in front of him, was the room he had come
from last night ... when he had mysteriously awakened next to Nora. He
spun around, and as he did so, his jacket sleeve caught on the handle of
the knight's sword. There was a whispering noise and a door silently
opened in the blank wall.
Dick stepped back in surprise and momentary fright, tensed and
waiting for someone to come through. When no one appeared, his eyes
narrowed and he reached out to push the sword and scabbard. The door
closed. He pushed up on the sword; the door swung open again.
Peering around to make sure no one was watching, Dick quickly
stepped through the opening. It whispered shut behind him. He spun
rapidly, feeling trapped, but as the door closed, the lights came on
automatically. Alongside the door was a lever. He touched it; the
lights went out, the door opened. He closed the door again and, as the
lights came up, he began an inspection.
At one turning, he saw what appeared to be a pane of clear glass.
Someone was moving behind the glass. When he got closer, he realized it
must be some sort of trick mirror, for it was obvious that the weeping
and wildly gesticulating nude Lady Margaret had no idea that he was
there. The nude Irish maid was screeching at Lady Margaret. Suddenly,
her temper boiling, the girl picked up a broad leather belt and began
beating the older woman who rolled and pleaded on the floor. "A couple
of lesbians fighting, serves the old bitch right," was his disinterested
comment. He walked on until he came to what seemed to be almost a
theater lounge with several leather chairs placed strategically in front
of another window. There was a tripod standing there also. When Dick
looked down through the glass, he almost passed out from the sudden
shock. He could see Nora, her hair in curlers, reading a book in bed.
Even as he watched, she yawned, closed the book, took a drink of water
from the night glass, and turned off the light.
Oh, my God! he thought in sudden dismay. Was anyone up here last
night when she and I ...?
Suspicion was piling up on suspicion. It was with a pounding heart
and oppressive feeling of apprehension that Dick began moving back
toward the secret passage. He made a wrong turn once, opened a door,
and found himself in a well-equipped modern darkroom. Several rolls of
film hung from a drying line. Quickly he exited, and a moment later was
outside in the wing hallway again. He closed the door, then stood there
for a moment trying to catch his thoughts. What kind of crazy operation
was this anyway? Lesbians. Trick mirrors? Were Morgan and Nora some
kind of perverts who got their kicks out of watching other people make
love? He thought about what Nora had said concerning his demand for
oral sex. Had anyone seen that? "Oh, my God," he repeated, this time
with more than desperation in his voice.
"We've got to get out of this loony bin tonight," he said aloud,
making an immediate decision. He didn't know what he'd tell Sue, but if
necessary he would force her to pack at once.
All the lights were on in their suite when he entered. Sue,
looking pale and distraught, was dressed in her travelling clothes. Her
bags were packed. She turned to him and her composure disintegrated;
she began weeping as soon as she saw him.
"Sue? What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly very frightened and
positive that someone had told her about Nora. He started toward her.
"Dick, don't touch me. Don't come near me. I'm leaving you. I
would have gone earlier, but there was no way of getting to the railway
unless you drove me."
"Sue ..." it was a plea, wrenched out of him. "What are you
talking about?"
"I can't stay with you."
Dick swallowed. So ... she did know about his adulterous behavior
with Nora. He could barely speak because of the sudden tightness in his
throat. "It was something I did?" the question croaked out of him.
Huge tears boiled up in her eyes; she refused to look at him.
Finally she took a deep shuddering breath and answered, "No, my darling.
Nothing you've done."
"Then what?"
She shook her head. Dick, suddenly angry at the uncertainty of the
whole situation, darted across the room and roughly grabbed her
shoulders. "You just can't leave like that. I'm your husband. You're
my wife. I demand to know what's wrong," the last was shouted.
Sue closed her eyes, the tears continued to stream down her face.
Her shoulders slumped. "All right. You're entitled to know exactly
what kind of a person you married. You made a mistake! Go home. Get
an annulment. You thought I was decent. I'll show you. I'll show you
what you married. It is going to hurt you. If you kill me I won't
complain. I deserve it. Your hurt from seeing this will go away in
time, but I'll have to live with it festering inside me for the rest of
my life."
"What in hell are you talking about?"
Shuddering, Sue reached into her purse and pulled out the manila
envelope. She gave it to him.
Dick unfastened the clasp and withdrew the photographs. His eyes
widened in horror and disgust as he looked at the first one. He looked
sick by the time he had rifled through the stack. His mind was
whirling; he didn't believe it. This was all a mad dream ... a dream?
And knowing beyond a doubt that someone somewhere in the castle had
photographs of him too, he mumbled "Oh ... God!"
Sue collapsed, weeping. Between sobs she managed to say, "You see
... why I can't stay married to you?"
There were things to be done. The first thing he wanted to do was
kill Lord Medwell and Tom Morgan. The second? The second ... No, there
was something far more important than revenge. Sue!
He put his hand gently under the chin and lifted her sweet face.
She tried to turn away from him, but he wouldn't let her go. "Darling.
Listen to me," he pleaded. "Did you know you were doing this? I mean
... did you dream you were doing it?"
Sobbing, she merely nodded. "In my dream I was doing it with you
... and it was so ... beautiful and right."
"You couldn't help doing this. You were drugged ... or, more
likely, under hypnotic suggestion or something."
"Dick, those pictures were taken last night. Tonight, though, I
wasn't hypnotized. I did everyone of those things all over again
tonight. They made me. They said they would give me the photographs if
I did it. They said I had to do it or they would show you the pictures.
They were going to send copies to my mother, to everyone in my address
book ..."
"Blackmail."
"Yes," her body shuddered. "But they made me ... they did things
to me that made me ... lose control of myself." She looked up, her eyes
filled with shame. "You should know the truth. They made me beg ...
and I begged. Don't you understand? They called me a slut and a whore
... and I am ... because they did things to me that made me want to ...
I wanted to ... to ..." She closed her eyes, and all the life drained
out of her. "When they gave me the photographs, it was only then that
they told me I would have to do 'other' things for the negatives."
The word "negative" did it for Dick. He suddenly realized what his
mind -- his memory! -- had been trying to tell him for minutes. The
dark room! Of course! The negative would be there. And, if there were
negatives of Sue, there would be others of other people. Enough
negatives to let the police know what was going on. There might even be
negatives of the girl who committed suicide. And, abruptly, Dick knew
he didn't really want to kill Morgan and Lord Medwell; that was too easy
-- much too good -- for them. They enjoyed their little games with
innocent people. Cage them both up in prison -- without sex -- for long
years and it would be, literally, a fate worse than death.
Dick turned to his sobbing wife. "Sue," he snapped, "now listen to
me. No more talk about annulment or leaving me. We ... you and I ...
are getting out of here right now. And we're taking the negatives with
us. If you still want a divorce or annulment after we get away from
this place, I won't stop you. But we are leaving together. Right now.
Understand? Pack my bags. Do it quickly. Take them downstairs and out
the back way to the garage. Be very quiet. Will you do as I say?"
For the first time since he had entered there was a shadow of hope
in her eyes. "But how could you stand to live with me, knowing what I
am?"
"We'll talk about that later. Just do as I say."
Wide-eyed, Sue nodded, slowly at first and then with increasing
hope. When Dick left the room a minute later, she was already opening
his dresser drawer.
He went surely through the walls, hesitating only when he reached
the Morgan's wing. No one stirred. He moved the sword and the door
opened. A second later, he passed the window overlooking Lady
Margaret's room. The maid had tied Lady Margaret to the bedpost. A
long black whip lay on the bedspread and the Irish maid, screaming
obscenities at the tearfully pleading butch dyke, was viciously
sodomizing her with the ten-inch dildoe. The girl apparently had
squeezed the hot-water balls because a thin stream of defecation and
water ran down the inner thighs of both of them.
Dick didn't pause to watch the lewd spectacle; truly, he thought,
this was the "Devil's castle" just as his Irish friend had said.
Once in the darkroom, he gave silent thanks for Morgan's scientific
method of operation. Every print was numbered in a negative book, so it
took only a minute to discover that six prints had been made of Sue.
Those would be the six prints given to her.
There had been, much to his chagrin, five prints made of him.
Where were they? That was the question. Who had them? Then he caught
sight of the small notation, "To N." So Nora had them? The negative
book also showed that there had been a total of seven rolls of film shot
of Sue and him. He looked up on the drying line; there were seven
stripes of film hanging there. He scanned them in the light; yes, they
were the right ones. Two of the rolls were of Nora down on him in
fellatio, of him performing cunnilingus on her, of the two of them
indulging in soixante-neuf, and of wild frenzied fucking between the two
of them. He shoved the negatives in his pockets, then buttoned the
pockets to make sure the film did not fall out.
The negative book was a very interesting document. There were
names and dates and -- in a few places -- even sums of money listed.
Dick decided it would make excellent evidence for the police ... that,
together with the other negatives. There were two filing cases loaded
with them. Many of the pictures obviously went back to the time when
Morgan had operated in London as a gynecologist. No wonder he had been
able to buy the castle!
It took Dick four trips to carry all of the negatives to the car.
When he completed the fourth trip, Sue was sitting in the front seat
waiting for him. "What are all those boxes," she asked.
"Photographic negatives, darling, of poor ignorant unsuspecting
people like you and me." When he said "me", Dick realized he had almost
forgotten the photographs delivered to Nora.
"Be very quiet," he said. "I'll be back in ten minutes or so." He
had made his way halfway across the courtyard when the dogs came at him
barking. A moment later, the lights came on in the courtyard, and
Morgan opened his window on the third floor to shout down, "Who's
there?"
Dick was caught. There was no way he could escape notice. He
stepped boldly out into the light and looked up. "Hi, Tom. It's me. I
got lost ... had a helluva time finding my way back."
Morgan shouted, "Thank God, you're safe. We'll call off the
search. We've been looking everywhere for you. We were frantic with
worry."
"You lying son of a bitch," Dick said under his breath, then
shouted up, "Don't bother to come down. I'll let myself in ... and go
right to bed. Boy, am I ever tired."
"Good show. See you tomorrow."
"Make it late, will you. Don't have anyone wake us up early. I
want to sleep in. I've walked five hundred miles tonight, it seems."
"Right-o." The courtyard went out. Dick looked back toward the
car; Sue's face was only a white blur in the dimness. He held up his
finger to his mouth in a charade of silence.
The racket probably had awakened Nora, he thought; if so, we'll
just have to bluff it. When he reached the third floor landing, he
listened carefully and then slowly tip-toed toward Nora's room. Quietly
he pushed the door open; the room was dark, and it smelled of Nora's
perfume. He could hear her rhythmic breathing; she was asleep.
It took him almost ten agonizing minutes before he found the packet
of photographs in a drawer beneath her undergarments. Quickly he
counted the pictures; they were all there. With the treasure safely
inside his coat pocket, he relaxed enough to lose some of his caution.
That was when he knocked over the table lamp.
"Who's there?" Nora sat bolt upright in bed.
"Shhhh," Dick whispered. "It's me."
"Dick?" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"
"Why do you think? I can't go to sleep without you. I keep
remembering how you felt ... how you taste. "
He heard her breath expel in animal eagerness. "Have you been to
your room yet?" she asked, almost breathlessly.
"Yes. Sue's asleep. She won't miss me. She won't miss this long
hard thing I've got for you."
Nora groaned deep in her throat; obviously her body was rapidly
coming to life. "You're sure you want me?" she asked.
"I want you so badly that I'm going to get down on my hands and
knees in front of you and I'm going to ... going to ..."
"Yes ... Yes! Don't talk about it. Do it. Do it. Do it!" He
could hear her panting; the heat had come on her that quickly. She
threw the blanket and sheet from her and began struggling out of her
gown.
Dick tried to sound equally excited; he made short gasps of what he
hoped would pass as impatience. Then he said, "Oh, damn!"
.'What is it? What is it?"
"Nora, I have to go back to the room for a second. I felt the
water running. I'll be right back."
"God-damnit, hurry then!" In the dim glow of her illuminated clock
he could see her fumbling with her curlers.
"I will ... meanwhile you just think about what it's going to feel
like when I start biting, when I slip this thing into you." He saw her
legs clench together in passionate impatience, and then he quickly left
the room.
He reached the top of the stairs and turned back to look in the
direction of Nora's bedroom. He grinned. He tossed her a kiss. "Just
keep thinking about it, baby. Think about it ... all night ... long."
The dogs met him at the front door, but they remained silent this
time, wagging their tails and frolicking alongside him. They continued
to play with him while he pushed the car down the road, and through the
front gates, and across the little stone bridge. Then they were rolling
free down a small incline. When he reached the turn in the road hiding
them from the castle, Dick put the car in gear and started the engine.
They drove up ... up ... up the hill, then swung around a curve.
For a moment, the moon glittered and skipped on the lake, while the
castle looked as though it were some ghostly apparition from the past
... then it disappeared from sight.
Sue fought it, but began weeping again.
Dick patted her knee. He had never felt more sure of himself in
his life. What he planned to do might be a horrible mistake; but he
knew it was their only chance. He reached into his inside pocket and
pulled out a manila envelope. "Here. These probably won't make you
feel any better, but they may change your mind about a lot of things."
He heard her gasp as she saw the first picture, then additional
intakes of breath as she came across each new scene. She turned to him,
her eyes full of questions ... and uncertainty. "Dick? You look as if
... like you were ..."
"Enjoying it?"
"Yes."
"I was."
"But how could you?"
"Simple. I thought I was giving pleasure to you ... just as you
thought you were giving pleasure to me."
Sue was silent as she put the pictures back in the envelope. She
remained silent, pensive, as they drove down the hill toward the lights
of a small village. She said nothing when Dick stopped in front of the
police station and roused the area Chief Constable out of a sound sleep.
Vaguely, through churning emotions, she heard Dick say once to the Chief
Constable, "I think you'll find the reason for a girl's suicide at
Castle Fleur six months ago ... plus I'm sure the London Police and
Scotland Yard will be very interested in the older photographs together
with the sums of money indicated."
She sat there dazed, as Dick engaged the clutch and drove off. In
the East, the sky was lightening as a new day approached.
They stopped twice: once to barn their photographs and the rolls of
film shot of them. The ashes were thrown into the cleansing waters of a
lake and disappeared from sight.
The second stop was equally memorable ... for Sue was to discover
that dreams and things that happen under duress can never be equated
with the real thing. And when the boy and the girl had finally rolled
away from each other, they discovered the dawn had come and a new day
was there ... full of promise and untold, coming delight.
The End
Review This Story || Email Author: Michael Jaeggers(no email)