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35
Most people spend their lives clothed. Sleep in pajamas or a nightgown. Naked only for a few minutes in the morning and evening; in a shower or bath; twenty or thirty minutes a week--if they’re lucky--during sex; and that is it. More than twenty-three hours out of every twenty-four covered. And Brad Tomalin, for one, thought that for most people that is a very good thing.
Carol Edwards, however, now spent most of her life naked. She slept naked. When she woke on weekdays she was soon naked again in various units in her building. Clothed for only an hour before she was naked on her knees in front of Rik Cronin. Often naked again during the morning and afternoon in her office or his. Naked somewhere at lunch. Naked in her condo from at least 8:30 p.m. Sometimes earlier when Brad told her to stop by his office on her way home or showed up at the condo, naturally unannounced.
And even when she wasn’t naked, she nearly was, as now standing in the center of the Russell's’ crowded living room. That was soon rectified. She reached behind her neck, untied a knot, and her little crimson dress fluttered to the floor like a leaf. Stepping out of her shoes, she was naked in a room of fully dressed people.
Ravi was there, along with several others from the condo; but not Faye. Amanda Black was there, as immaculate as ever, her fine legs with knees and ankles properly together, sitting beside a distinguished silver haired man, equally impeccable in a dark blue double-breasted suit, Carol assumed was her husband.
Others she knew. Some from her office. Some from Brad’s. Some who had used her at her home or elsewhere. Dr. Sedwick was there. Carol shuddered to think what he would do to her if Brad sent her to him after this. Ooni was there. And many strangers. All had appeared on such short notice that Carol realized that Brad had been confident of her capitulation.
Conversations ceased as the red dress fell.
Brad, who had been leaning against a wall, and Joyce Russell, who had been sitting beside Ravi, approached her.
“Lift your hair.”
Carol raised her arms, which did interesting things to her breasts, and Joyce buckled a two inch wide brown leather dog collar around her neck.
“O.K. Get down on the floor.”
The beautiful woman did and started to assume the doggie position, but then heard the words she had expected and dreaded.
“No. You’ll suck him off first. That way he’ll last longer when he fucks you.”
Carol lowered her ass, turned and sat on her heels.
As at the Fur Ball, people were all around her. From behind her the sound of a screen door opening and closing. Nails on floor. Silence. Footsteps. A man’s two; a dog’s four. A happy bark. Carol Edwards’ body shook. She was facing the Blacks. She concentrated on the sharp crease in Mr. Black’s trousers. The dog was beside her. A tongue licked her bare shoulder.
“Down.” Buzz’s voice. “Here. On your side.”
Ransom understood. Ransom remembered. This felt good too. The big dog lay down on his side and without being told raised his left hind leg into the air. Several people gasped as huge penis burst from its sheath.
“Carol.”
She turned her head and upper body.
It was right there. Inches away. As red as her dress. But fleshy. Leaking. Angry looking. Tapering more to a point than a man’s. Oh God. I have to do this. I have to. She lowered her face.
When her lips were almost there, she froze. Unable to close the gap. To actually take that thing in her mouth. She knew she had to. But she couldn’t. Impatiently Ransom jerked his loins and solved the problem for her. Slippery tip found its way between lips, and with a muffled sob Carol Edwards forced her face down, taking as much she could in her mouth all at once, to get it over with.
The taste, the texture were not like a man. Not like anything she had ever tasted. Perhaps raw meat. She did not know. She did not want to think about it. She had done it. She suppressed a gag. She was doing it. Sucking off a dog. In front of an audience.
She began bobbing her head, using her tongue, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible, even though there would be seconds.
The dog was panting. Carol did not know if she should try to stroke his balls.
“Pull your hair back so people can see.”
She did.
The room was silent except for Ransom whimpers of pleasure and Carol’s wet sucking. Ransom began to jerk. Carol felt his cock swell. What if it locked? A jet of bitter liquid spurted against the roof of her mouth. She swallowed. More and more, faster than she could swallow, ran between her lips, over her chin. Finally it stopped.
She raised her head into stunned silence.
“Lick it up.”
Ransom’s come had dribbled from her mouth onto his hard belly and the floor. Carol didn’t even hesitate. Nothing was too gross now. The dog growled when she started to lick his groin. Buzz yanked his leash and he stopped. Eyes moved over her body as she knelt, licking the floor after she had cleaned the dog. Eyes lingering on her ass, the slit of her cunt, her full dangling breasts, curve of hips, long legs, the definition of muscles in her back.
A woman’s awed voice: “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A man’s: “Neither have I.”
She finished and raised her head.
“How long will it take him to be ready again?” asked Brad.
“Not long. A few minutes. He’s a dog of a dog.” Buzz laughed.
Carol was steeling herself for the next act, which she thought would be less disgusting, but more difficult to endure and probably painful. Being taken rather than taking.
“Stroke him. See if he is ready.”
He was. The red penis swelled and pulsed.
“Assume the position.”
She rolled over, onto her knees. “Good dog.” She didn’t know if Buzz was talked to Ransom or to her.
“Get your ass up higher.”
Carol turned her face to the left and pressed her right cheek against the floor and arched her back. She heard the Great Dane scramble to his feet. She forced herself to remain still as a nose sniffed, a tongue swiped.
“Keep your eyes open.”
She hadn’t realized she had squeezed them shut.
She was looking directly at Amanda Black, who was almost the age of her own mother. There was no expression on the woman’s face.
“Remain steady. Don’t move away or back. He’s done this before. He knows what to do.”
Paws beside her head. A heavy, furry weight on her back. Blind stabbing. Against her thigh. One cheek of her ass. Ransom growled in frustration.
“Reach back and guide him.”
Her hand stretched, fumbled, found spongy flesh, directed it between labia, and the dog triumphantly plunged in.
“Ohh.”
It was big and long. It stretched her. Not bigger than a fist, but bigger than any man’s cock she had ever taken.
Ransom had only one speed. Thousands of years of evolution said this is a vulnerable position, however pleasurable, so get your load in her before another male shows up. He fucked as fast as he could. His sleek black hips a blur. His cock thrusting as deep as it could to ensure that his sperm had a head start over any possible others. It bounced off places that had never before been touched. It hurt. Carol’s hands clenched. Then she felt something even worse. The knot. The dog’s cock was inflating inside her cunt like a ballon. Oh. God. No. It was ripping her apart. Yet as it did, it touched something good. At the very moment she felt the dog start to fill her with come, her eyes locked on Amanda Black’s. It was as though her own mother were watching her. “Arrggh. Fuck me you fucking dog.” And, against her will, Carol Edwards came.
But it wasn’t over. The handsome dog and the beautiful woman were locked together, just as in her disturbing memory, just as she knew they would be.
Ransom tried to tug free. He was strong and dragged Carol a few inches backwards.
“No. Please. He’ll destroy me.”
“Steady, Ransom. Wait. You’ll both just have to wait.”
Minutes passed. People began to talk. Got up. Some left hurriedly.
In his struggles Ransom stepped over her. And there they were, asshole to asshole, facing in opposite directions.
Amanda Black and her husband stood. Amanda Black walked over and stood above where Carol and Ransom were both on all fours.
Carol turned her face upward.
“You are sick. I suppose I should feel sorry for you, but I don’t”
…
Knot eased. Ransom wrenched himself free, and trotted happily off beside Buzz.
People left, until only Brad and Joyce and Buzz, returned from taking Ransom to his kennel, remained.
Exhausted Carol was still lying on the floor.
Joyce Russell clipped a chain leash into the ring in her collar.
Carol looked at Brad questioningly.
“I’m leaving you here for a few days.”
…
Her kennel was at the far end of the row. The two next to her were kept empty so she would not disturb the other beasts.
Outside was a square of grass. Inside, which she reached by crawling through a Great Dane size hole, was a pallet and two bowls, one for water, one for food, and a litter box.
Most of the dogs were too big for Joyce to control, and Buzz had work to do with the avocados, so usually she was alone until evening, when he brought the males to her out on the grass. Two or three in succession. There was no discernible pattern as to whether he had her take them in her mouth or her cunt or her ass. Only whim. The ass hurt. When the dog was in her cunt, she usually came.
Joyce always watched. And sometimes during the day, she would bring one or two of the beagles into Carol’s kennel. They were too small to fuck a human, though they were eager to try, so Joyce had her suck them off.
On the third evening, or maybe it was the fourth, Carol had lost track of time, among other things, Buzz hooked the leash into her collar and led her from the kennel into the house. She was surprised and grateful that he let her walk upright rather than crawl.
There she was allowed a long shower, before being led to the Russell's’ bedroom, where she spent the night, much of it on her knees, licking Joyce to orgasm while Buzz fucked her from behind. He, too, made her come.
They drove her home the next morning.
They let her keep the collar, which she continued to wear for several weeks, until Brad told her to take it off.
36
The photographs shattered Ross Edwards’ flimsy defenses. He thought he was beyond this, beyond her. Inflicting pain rather than receiving it. Mary liked it rough and kinky, so long as he didn’t leave marks her husband might find. But it was best when they didn’t want it, like that Australian. He could still hear her scream, feel the tightness, the power, as he shoved his cock up her ass. And there had been others, whom he had manipulated into situations where they had to take it and not tell. But these images tore all that away.
There was one, a close-up, not as extreme as the early one he at first had not recognized as her asshole, showing just her mouth, red lips stretched so wide they were turning bloodless white, around the hard dog cock. Ross could almost taste it, though he had no idea what a dog’s cock really tastes like.
And on her knees, her body completely hidden except for long tanned legs, beneath the black Great Dane.
And Carol and the dog back to back.
And others, many others, of Carol outside on a patch of grass with many other dogs, sometimes in the usual position, sometimes face to jowl, upturned soles of bare feet in the air separated by a furry back.
Two numbered consecutively were more close-ups. The first showed a dog cock buried in an asshole. The second Carol’s face twisted in agony, face crushing blades of grass.
The one that disturbed him most, along with the close-up of lips stretched around dog cock, was of her crouching submissively over the supine black Great Dane, licking what he assumed was dog come from the dog’s taut belly. Her tongue was extended, the pink tip touching a pool of milky fluid. One of her full breasts was partially flattened against the dog’s chest. Ross remembered those breasts and nipples dragging across his chest when they made love with her on top.
It was only mid-afternoon. He was in his office, but he wouldn’t work more that day.
He took off his Rolex Submariner and took out his wallet, from which he extracted several hundred Singapore dollars and the guest card to the Kricket Klub; locked watch and wallet in his desk; considered if he had anything else identifying on his person; and went down to find a taxi.
…
The Kricket Klub was housed in an old British colonial mansion.
Dark wood doors were opened for him by an attendant dressed in cricket whites and cap, holding a bat instead of a rifle. Inside an Asian man in a business suit sat behind a desk in a reception room. Ross presented the guest card. The man smiled.
“We are pleased to greet you, sir.
“To your left is the bar. The door to the right leads to the bathing area and sauna. Some prefer dry heat after Singapore’s humidity. The billiard room and private rooms are up the stairs. The dining room is on this level in the back, but unfortunately will not be open again until 7.
“We hope you find our facilities to your satisfaction. If you decide to become a member, I have the forms and can facilitate that procedure for you.”
Ross went into the bar. Dark polished wood. Dim light. Long bar occupied at that time of day by only one other man. Singaporeans are hard workers and for most the work day was not over. A few empty tables. Booths, two of which were occupied by two men each, one pair sitting across from one another, the other pair side by side. Everyone looked up when he entered and then away.
Photographs on the walls of sportsmen, not insects as he had once surmised. Bats. Balls. The bartender in cricket gear. All the seated men in suits and ties. Two Europeans in one booth. The other three Asian. Ross took a seat at the bar.
“Welcome to the Sticky Wicket, sir. What may I prepare for you?”
“Gin and tonic. Plymouth if you have it.”
“We do, sir.”
Ross sipped his drink and looked at the photos and memorabilia on the walls. Photographs of individuals and teams presumably famed, but he knew little about the game. He had once attended one day of a test between South Africa and India in Mumbai, but that was purely business and no one paid much attention to what was happening, or it seemed not happening, on the grounds or pitch or whatever it was called.
“You are a visitor here?”
He hadn’t noticed the other man move to the stool next to his.
“Yes. To know that you must be a regular.”
Thick black hair, neatly parted, combed back from a high forehead. A high cheek-boned face. Thin lips. Even features. An expensive dark suit. Starched white shirt. Gold cuff links. Designer tie. A smile of slightly protruding white teeth. Chinese rather than Malay, Ross concluded. “Yes. Yes. I am. Quite regular. I’m Lee.”
After a brief hesitation. “Brad.”
“Pleased to meet you, Brad. Are you passing through or do you live in Singapore?” He held up a hand, palm toward Ross. “I don’t mean to pry. No need to answer if you wish not to.”
“I live here.”
“Ah. Good. And, if I may ask, what brings you to the Kricket Klub this afternoon?”
“An acquaintance gave me a guest card. I had some free time. Curious, I guess.”
“You know the nature of the club?”
“I...I believe so.”
“Then let me save us some time and come, as it were, right to the point.”
Ross felt a hand cup his balls and circle his cock through his suit trousers.
“As I thought,” Lee said, referring to Ross’s already hard cock.
Reflected in the mirror behind the bar he saw the two Europeans in the booth watching with amused expressions.
“Well, Brad, gentle or rough?”
Ross had trouble speaking. “Rough.”
Lee smiled. “That, too, is as I thought.” And squeezed.
…
“A little blood. You’ll be all right. You weren’t a virgin were you?”
Ross/Brad’s breath was ragged. “I’ve had things up there, but never a cock.”
“Well, well. You are tight, Brad old man. Surely you’ve sucked cock, haven’t you.”
“No.”
“Oh, this is my lucky day.”
“Release me.”
Ross Edwards was lying naked face down on a bed in one of the second floor private rooms. His hands were cuffed to a steel ring at the head of the bed, one of several conveniently placed around the room. His weight on his cock and balls trapped beneath him was less excruciating now that Lee was not pounding into him from above.
“Not, I think, until I enjoy your mouth.”
“At least release my cock. It’s going numb.”
“That I will do. Roll over.”
Turning onto his back was not easy and left his arms crossed, the handcuffs digging into his wrists. Ross raised his head. Lee had tied Ross’s necktie around his cock and balls. They were drum tight and purple with trapped blood. The way Carol’s breasts were in those photos when she was suspended by them. Fluid seeped from the tip of the purple cock. Lee flicked it with a fingernail.
“No. Please.”
“Please what?” Lee asked.
“Please don’t. Please loosen my tie.”
Fingers slid down the tube of meat. Circled. Pumped a few times. Stopped. Moved lower. Cupped swollen scrotum and balls.
“One more hard squeeze and I’ll remove the necktie.”
“Don’t. Please don’t.”
“One more. Ask me nicely or I’ll leave you like this and go see if anyone else wants some fresh meat.”
“No. All right. Squeeze my balls. Please. Argghh!”
The pain filled his body, exploded his brain. Is this what she felt? How could she stand it?
More pain as Ross, his head back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, felt fingers unwrap the necktie, and blood suddenly rush through unblocked arteries and veins.
Then fingers around his cock, moving up and down, stroking, milking. In seconds Ross came as hard as he ever had in his life.
“My. My. You needed that, didn’t you?” Lee laughed, wiped his sticky hand on Ross’s belly, crawled up the bed, swung his left leg across and straddled Ross’s head. A sticky Chinese cock slapped Ross in the face. “And now I need this.”
…
Lee took a leisurely shower, dressed, examined himself in the mirror, before finally unlocking Ross’s handcuffs. “Let’s do this again, soon,” he smiled, and left.
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