EIGHT
Pat finally made us some breakfast, but not until we had figured a way
to let her move around without being entirely free of the bondage she was so
crazy about. I rummaged around and found some real rope, took a length about two
feet long and tied one end of it around each of her wrists, so she had about a
foot or so of play between them. This way she could manage to do necessary
things like cooking and eating, although with some difficulty and a great deal
of awkwardness. I did the same thing with her ankles, which allowed her to get
around, but made her take short, hobbling steps. It was interesting to watch.
Generally I helped her with the cleaning up, but not today. She worked,
I watched. While she was washing the dishes, my eye fell on the spatula she had
used while cooking the eggs, and which she was rinsing off at the moment. It was
an ordinary metal spatula with a wooden handle.
"I read a book once in which a girl was beaten with one of those
things," I said.
Pat stopped what she was doing. Her face seemed to slacken. She
swallowed, and her eyes closed for a second.
"Where?" she breathed.
"Her ass. And the backs of her thighs."
Her nipples stiffened as I watched. Her tongue came out to moisten her
dry lips. After a second she turned the water off. Then, still holding the
spatula, she came over to where I was standing and held it out to me.
I took it slowly. My own mouth was dry. Experimentally, I swung it in a
brief arc through the air. It made a wicked whistling sound. A tiny whimper came
from Patricia's throat.
"Do it," she whispered.
I wavered. But I said, "No. Not now."
"Oh god. When?"
"I don't know. Later. Maybe."
"Please...."
"Later. When you've done something to deserve it," I said.
"I'll do anything you want, Mel. Anything."
"I have to think. I have to think about a lot of things. Finish the
dishes."
I left her there and went into the living room. I wanted to think about
what was happening to us, to try to be rational about it. But I couldn't. All I
could think about was Pat. I kept seeing images of her, tied up in different
positions, suffering and helpless. I kept hearing the haorse, gasping noises she
had made after she had been painfully spread-eagled for hours on our bed. I
became hard again, thinking about it. How could I love her and still be excited
by her suffering? And yet it excited her too. Were we both crazy?
And would we go on this way? Or try to stop? COULD we stop?
Did we want to?
I didn't have any of the answers; all I had was a hard-on. I walked
restlessly around the room. The twenty thousand dollars was still on the table
where Harris had left it. It was stupid to leave it there. But it was Sunday,
there were no banks open. I got a small carton and packed the money in it and
hid it away in a closet. I thought maybe that activity would cool me off. But it
didn't. So I went in and fucked her on the kitchen floor.
#
At six o'clock that evening we were watching television. Pat was tied
into her chair, with a rope wrapped several times around her waist and the
chair's back. her forearms were lashed to the arms of the chair, and her ankles
to its legs.
She had spent most of the day naked and tied up in one position or
another, and loving every minute of it. I loved it too, of course, though I was
kind of worn out from doing all the tying and untying--as well as from fucking
her.
The TV program was lousy, and I got up in disgust and turned it off.
"What's for dinner?" I said.
"I don't know," Pat said. "There's nothing in the house, really. I was
going to go to the store, but..." She shrugged, making her breasts wobble.
"They'll be closed by now on Sunday," I said. "We could go out, I guess.
We can afford it now."
"I don't want to," she said.
"Neither do I. How about calling up Armando's and having a pizza sent
over?"
"Okay."
I made the call. Then I untied her. "Better get dressed," I said. "We
don't want the poor delivery man to have a..." I trailed off.
I think the thought hit both of us at the same time. We looked at each
other. Her eyes widened, and without a word, she knew what had come into my
mind, and I into hers. For a long time we just stared at each other. Her face
flushed slightly, and her lips quivered. I felt my heart beat faster.
"Go get dressed," I said at last.
She went, and I sat down in my chair, my head swimming. In a minute she
was back, dressed in a blouse and skirt. I had gotten dressed earlier.
She sat down and I felt her looking at me again, but I didn't look back.
After a minute, she spoke.
"Do you think it will be that little fat one with the bad teeth?" Her
voice was soft, and just slightly uneven.
"Probably." I looked at her then. "He usually makes the deliveries."
She nodded. There was silence for quite a while. Then she said, even
more softly. "I'll do anything you want, Mel."
I sat there, trying to think and not to think at the same time. And
after a while the buzzer sounded.
I got up to push the button. Then I turned to look at her again. She
watched me, her mouth parted slightly. Her breathing was a little fast.
"All right," I said then. "Take your clothes off."
After a tiny second, she stood up slowly. "Yes, Mel," she whispered, and
stripped out of the skirt and blouse. Though I had been seeing her naked all
day, she looked more naked than she ever had before. And I heard footsteps
coming up the stairs.
And I sat down. "You answer the door," I said. "Just like that."
"Yes, Mel," she got out again. Her breasts rose and fell with her rapid
breathing, and her color was high. I could tell what she was feeling. Exquisite
shame, and exquisite excitement at being shamed.
There was a knock.
Patricia swallowed hard, and went to the door and opened it.
I could see the doorway from where I sat. The delivery man nearly
dropped the box he was carrying. His eyes widened to an immense degree, and his
mouth fell open. He started to say something, but couldn't get it out. The
startled eyes ran swiftly down over the naked body, then rose to her face, and
then, as if pulled by a magnet, dropped to her body again.
Pat stood aside for him to come in. He did so with an almost comic
mixture of eagerness and furtiveness, taking his eyes off her for a second to
glance around. He looked startled in a different way when he saw me. He was
indeed the man Pat had referred to. I didn't know his name, but he was about
forty, I guessed, shortish with a pot belly and a missing tooth in front. And
not overly bright.
"You can put that on the table," I told him.
"What? Oh. Oh, yeah." He placed the pizza box on the little table,
looked at Pat, gulped, looked away. "It's--uh--eight sixty-five." His voice was
hoarse.
I took out my wallet and gave him a ten. "Keep it."
"Thanks." He hesitated, then fumbled for the door, his eyes on Pat
again, taking what he probably thought was his last look at heaven.
"Just a minute," I said.
"Yeah?" He was apprehensive.
"I notice you've been looking at my girl," I said.
"Oh. Well...I...Jesus, man!" he burst out. "She's naked!"
"So she is. Do you like her?"
He risked another swift glance. "Yeah."
"She is pretty, isn't she? Would you like to make love to her?"
He stared at me, unbelieving. "What?"
I made it clearer. "Would you like to fuck her?"
"Jesus. Are you kidding?"
"No. You can if you want to. Can't he, Patricia?"
Patricia took a breath and said, "Yes."
"You heard the lady. Go ahead."
He made a kind of rattling noise in his throat, looked at Pat, looked at
me, and did nothing.
"Pat, he's shy. Help him. Give him a good sexy kiss."
She looked at me for a second, that mixture of shame and need burning
out of her eyes. I heard a tiny sound come out of her, as if some final barrier
had been broken deep inside her. Then she proceeded to do exactly what I had
told her. She stepped up to the astonished man, placed her arms around his neck
and kissed him full on the mouth, plastering her naked body tightly against him.
"That's it," I said. "Get him all worked up, so he can stick his dick
inside you." My voice sounded strange to me, coming from somewhere I didn't
know.
The man was making muffled grunting sounds as Pat kissed him. Her
breasts bulged out at the sides, so tightly were they mashed against his chest,
and her hips writhed slightly, grinding her loins into his crotch. I saw her
mouth working, and I knew that her tongue was in his mouth. She was not holding
back.
"What a sweet little whore you are," I said softly. I knew Pat heard me,
but I doubt if the guy did. He was too busy being driven crazy by what she was
doing. His hands came up finally to grab her ass, pulling her even harder
against him.
"Okay," I said then. "We don't want him to come before he has a chance
at your cunt, do we?"
Pat broke away from him. He gasped and trembled, but he wasn't
hesitating any more. With frantic haste, he began to pull off his clothes.
"Lie down, Pat," I said. "On the floor. Spread your legs for him."
She lowered herself to the floor and lay flat on her back. As the man
slid out of his dingy white shorts, her legs opened and spread wide, revealing
her cunt to his eager eyes. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes aflame
with the knowledge of the picture she made, naked and spread for a drooling
stranger, deliberately debasing herself while her lover watched.
I looked straight into her eyes and said, "Whore."
"Your whore," she whispered back.
I had never loved her so much.
By now the guy, with an inarticulate cry, had gone down on his knees
between her legs and was lowering himself toward her body, pawing at her breasts
and trying to get his cock in the right place at the same time. His cock was
surprisingly long, and i could see the veins in it, pulsing.
"Put him in, Patricia," I said.
And she reached down, found the blindly questing prick, and guided it to
her exposed hole. Then she put it inside her.
He groaned and fell on top of her, his hips pumping. Obviously his
sexual technique was not exactly subtle. He flailed away wildly, thrusting into
her with no particular rhythm, grunting and gasping. I could see he wasn't going
to take long. his hands clutched blindly at whatever part of her body he could
find, and his open, panting mouth slobbered over her face.
"Kiss him, Pat," I said.
She obeyed, her arms encircling him and her mouth finding his.
"Now really fuck him," I told her. "Make it good for him."
Her body began to move. She arched and twisted underneath him, and his
noises got louder. Then she raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist,
locking her ankles behind his back. She pumped herself back at him, quickly
setting a regular tempo which took the place of his random thrusts. He held on
and let her set the pace, blissfully riding her bucking, squirming body. She
continued kissing him until he broke away to gasp for air.
He was on the verge of coming now. I wanted it to go on, wanted to
degrade her further. "He's going to shoot his load up your twat," I said.
"Encourage him."
Pat worked her hips faster, twisted harder beneath the groaning man, and
spoke into his ear. "Come," she panted. "Come into me....Shoot it up my
cunt....Do it now....Come inside me.... Give it to me....Shoot...Now....Now...."
He gave a roar like a sick lion, and shot into her.
He collapsed on top of her. She lay there, not attempting to move. Her
eyes were closed, and she was breathing hard. My cock was stiff as a board, and
my mouth was dry. I wanted her.
But I also wanted to go on debasing her.
After a minute, the guy gave another groan and rolled off her. He lay on
his back, twitching a little, too exhausted or just too dazed to get up. Pat sat
up slowly. I saw faint bruises on her body where the man's fingers had clutched
her too tightly. Her discarded blouse was lying nearby, and she reached out for
it.
"Not yet," I said.
Her hand froze. She looked at me.
I said, "Clean him off."
Her eyes widened slightly. She looked at the man lying beside her, then
back at me. She knew how I wanted her to clean him off. her eyes held on mine
for a long moment.
"Yes, Mel," she said.
She got onto her knees, then crouched down onto her elbows so she could
reach his crotch. She gave me another quick look, then put her head down and
found his cock with her mouth.
The guy jerked as if he'd been shot.
"Lick it," I told her. "All over. His balls too."
Pat obeyed. Her tongue covered every centimeter of the limp tool,
washing away the stickiness of their combined secretions, and then went to work
on the wrinkled sac beneath it. I was willing to bet it didn't smell very good,
or taste good either.
The guy had raised himself on his elbows in astonishment, and now fell
back again. "Oh my god," he said weakly. "Holy shit. She's making me hard
again!"
"Good," I said. "Then she can suck it for you. She's a great cocksucker.
Aren't you, Patricia?"
She raised her head. "I...Yes, Mel," she said.
"Show him."
She put her mouth over his cock.
"Jesus!" he groaned.
"Suck it nice, now," I said, watching her. "Do it real good and give
him--what's your name anyway?"
"Harry," he said. "Oh, Christ!"
"Well, Harry, Patricia here is going to suck you till your eyes fall
out. She'll make you come all over again. We'll keep her at it until you do. You
can come right into her pretty little mouth, and she'll drink it all down like
it was honey."
I was talking to him but I was watching her. He was fully erect now, or
nearly, and her mouth was stuffed with his cock. I watched her lips moving up
and down over it, her head bobbing slowly. The sight drove me out of my mind
with lust. I suddenly remembered that only twenty-four hours ago I had watched
her do this with another man, and had thought my world was ending. It seemed
like a different century.
Of course, the way she was sucking now was nothing like the mechanical
way she had performed with Harris. She was obeying orders and making it as good
for him as she could. He was making strange noises again and beginning to pant.
I was breathing a bit heavily myself. My head was pulsing. I wanted to get an
even closer look. I got out of my chair and went over to where they were, then
crouched down on the other side of Harry's body, watching, watching.
"Look at me, Pat," I breathed.
She raised her eyes to mine and kept them there while she went on
sucking. I wanted to jump on her and fuck her in every hole she had.
"You sweet little slut," I said softly. "You degraded little cunt."
Pat made a whimpering noise around Harry's prick.
"Look at you, groveling on your knees with some strange guy's cock in
your mouth. You're as bad as Emma. You'd like to be raped by two hundred guys at
once, too. Wouldn't you, Patricia?"
She moaned. And kept sucking.
"You're a slut and a slave. Go on, suck him. Harder. Take him all the
way in. You can do it. Take it down your throat."
She was jamming her mouth down as far as she could on Harry's prick, but
was having trouble getting it all in. She tried harder, gagging a little.
"Do it! Take it all. Stuff it down your gullet. That's it. That's
better. I want you to finish him off now. Make him come in your slut mouth."
She tried, her head jerking up and down, her hair bouncing. Harry was on
his way, all right.
"That's it, cocksucker," I went on. "Keep it up. Make him shoot. He's
coming, bitch. Don't stop. Here it comes, cunt. Little tramp. Whore!"
Pat gave a muffled cry around his cock just as Harry exploded into her
mouth. It made her start to cough.
"Swallow it," I said.
And she obeyed me.
Harry gave her everything he had, and then collapsed like a flat tire.
It took him a while to recover, but finally he got himself up and glazedly
starting pulling on his clothes, shaking his head and saying, "Jesus Christ,"
over and over. I kept Pat where she was until he was ready to leave.
"Listen, Harry," I told him. "I want you to keep your mouth shut about
this--or else you'll never get it again. You understand?"
He goggled at me. "You mean...Oh. Oh, sure! I won't say nothin'!"
"Good. Maybe next time you can bring a friend. Or two."
There was a soft sound from Pat.
I got Harry out then and closed the door. And then I turned to look at
Patricia, still on her knees on the floor, her head bowed, naked, panting,
exhausted. My prick felt like it was about to explode, and so did my head. And
then I knew what had to come next.
I went into the kitchen and came back with the spatula.
"Now," I said.
#
She lay face down on the bed, her body stretched into a taut line, arms
straight above her head, wrists tied together and fastened to the headboard,
ankles similarly lashed together and roped to the foot, her face buried in a
pillow to stifle her screams. I was concentrating on the backs of her thighs.
Although her rounded, jutting ass was the most obvious target, and I had taken
good advantage of it, the sensuous, exciting sweep of her thighs made a
temptingly tender and vulnerable-looking area for punishment. Each time the
spatula landed on them it made a crack like a pistol shot. I alternated, hitting
one, then the other, with an occasional side-trip to the alluring buttocks; and
once or twice I even got in a couple on her sweetly curving calves.
She was crying now.
I stopped for a moment. "You wanted this, bitch," I panted. "Didn't
you?"
"Yes...." she sobbed.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Silence.
"I thought not." I raised the spatula and brought it down with a sharp
crack.
She screamed into the pillow.
The metal had left marks along the creamy flesh of her thighs. I raised
the thing again.
"Tell me what you are," I said.
"I'm a whore," she gasped out.
Crack!
Another muffled scream.
"What else?"
"A slut."
Crack!!
"Aaahh!"
"Go on."
"A cunt."
Crack!!
"Aaaiiieee! A slave!"
Crack!!
"Ahh! God! God! A bitch! A...a cocksucker. Ahhh! Aahhh!"
Her body strained, flopping wildly in its bonds. I was yelling with her
now, wielding the spatula up and down the length of her thighs. She raised her
head from the pillow.
"Melll!!" she screamed. "Ohh god!! Fuck meeee!!!"
I dropped the spatula and ripped off my pants, then jumped on her. I
couldn't bother to untie her legs; I spread open her buttocks and jammed my
aching cock into her asshole, pushing it, forcing it in, while she shrieked with
pain and passion. I ripped deeply into her, heedless of anything but the
whirling madness that had gotten hold of both of us. I battered at her for what
seemed like hours. I knew I came twice, and each time got almost immediately
hard again within her clutching, jouncing ass. I don't know how many times she
came; she was yelling continuously. At last a final, shattering climax seemed to
hit us both like a nuclear blast, sending us spinning off into the dark reaches
of the universe.
I fell off her in total exhaustion, leaving her tied there, and fell
asleep almost instantly. My last conscious thought was that tomorrow we both had
to go back to work. It seemed impossible that there was still a more or less
normal world out there.
