NINE
The consuming madness of that weekend took its toll of us, both
physically and emotionally. Pat was too stiff and sore to go to work the next
day. I managed to make it, but I was yawning all day long, and I had a deep
weariness inside me that made me feel a hundred years old by the time I got
home.
We were both very subdued that evening; there was no thought of fun and
games. We didn't even refer to the past two days, except perhaps by our
unusually restrained manner with each other. We spent the evening mostly
watching television, and went to bed without making love.
The next couple of days were more normal, except that there was still no
sex between us. Pat went back to work. We put the twenty thousand into the bank,
saving it for tuition and school expenses. When we went to bed Wednesday night,
I felt a strong desire to make love to her; but something kept me from reaching
out for her. The past weekend already seemed almost to have been a dream--or a
nightmare?--but still...
Then, on Thursday evening, as we were eating, Pat said, in a voice just
a little too flat: "We've been invited to dinner."
"Oh?" I said. "Where?"
She took out an envelope and handed it to me. "It came in the mail
today."
It was from Emma. A brief note, written by hand, simply asking if we
would care to join her and her husband for dinner at their apartment the next
day, Friday, suggesting I call to let her know.
I put it down. "I wonder whose idea that was," I said.
Pat said nothing. She went on eating.
I said, "Do you want to go?"
She put down her fork. There was a pause. Then she said, not looking at
me, "Do you think they mean...just dinner?"
"I don't know. With that bunch, it's hard to know anything."
She nodded, then resumed eating. After a while she said, "You decide."
I finished my dinner thoughtfully, wondering what I was going to do. Or
maybe just pretending to wonder.
I made the call after dinner.
#
Friday evening we prepared, a little tensely, for our evening with the
rich folks. I put on a tie and jacket, which is about as dressy as I ever get,
and Pat wore her nicest dress, a kind of pale orange with tiny dark stripes. The
dress set off her skin and her shining dark hair, which she wore loose. She
looked beautiful.
We arrived promptly at seven o'clock, and after the usual preliminaries
in the lobby we were admitted by Jessica, who wore the brief see-through maid's
uniform which I had first seen her in. But her manner was perfectly correct and
formal as she let us in and led us down the hall to the living room, where both
of the Harrises were waiting for us.
They rose to greet us. Harris came forward effusively, took Pat's hand
and kissed it with almost comic courtliness, and then shook mine. "I am
delighted you could come, both of you," he said warmly. "Simply delighted.
Please, sit down, sit down. What would you like to drink? Oh, I'm sorry--you two
haven't really met. My wife, Emma. Emma, this is Miss Patricia--I'm afraid I
don't know your last name, my dear. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Patricia is such
a lovely name."
We sat down, and Harris served us drinks. It was strange to think that
the only time Pat had seen her before, Emma had been tied down to the floor,
being gang-fucked under her husband's direction. And that the last time we had
seen Harris, Pat had screwed him and sucked his cock in exchange for an enormous
sum of money. Yet here we all were, acting like normal people. So far.
Emma was wearing a light green dress, belted at the waist, which set off
the slender elegance of her figure. I had half expected to find her wearing her
handcuffs, or fettered in some way or other. And I wasn't sure whether I was
relieved or disappointed to see that she was not.
We proceeded to make small talk. Harris asked Pat about her studies, and
me about mine, and then turned the talk to more general things. Emma joined in
the conversation, but after a while I started to notice something a little
strange about her manner. She began to talk less frequently, and when she did
her voice seemed a bit strained. I thought she was looking rather pale. And she
shifted too often in her chair, as if unable to find a comfortable position. I
tried not to watch her too openly, but as we continued to talk I was sure there
was something wrong.
Harris noticed me noticing finally. He gave me one of his little smiles.
"I see you have discerned some discomfort on the part of my wife, Mr. Wulf," he
said. "I have instructed her to endeavor to be discreet, but Emma is not a very
accomplished actress. I am attempting to train her to the point where she can be
a charming hostess for an entire evening, with no one ever suspecting whatever
distress she may be in. However..." He sighed.
I looked at Emma more closely, and she smiled at me, a little
tremulously. "Yes, I'm being punished again," she said. "Bernard and Jessica
keep coming up with such clever ideas. This one is really lovely. But I'm afraid
it's difficult not to react to it. I'm sorry."
"The fact is," Harris said, "Emma is wearing a special garment, one that
I designed myself. It is quite ingenious, if I may say so. It is a brassiere,
fitted especially and precisely to her measurements. It is quite snug, and the
insides of the cups are studded with a number of very tiny steel spikes."
I heard Pat draw in her breath sharply.
Harris turned his smile on her for a moment, and something flickered in
his eyes. Then he turned back to me. "As I say, the spikes are extremely small,
though sharp, and are precisely calculated to prick the skin, even to puncture
it under pressure, without even drawing blood. However, they are quite painful,
particularly if the garment is worn for any length of time."
"I'll bet they are," I said. I glanced at Pat. Her face was slightly
flushed.
Then Jessica came in to announce that dinner was ready.
We went into the dining room, where we sat around a long table as
Jessica served us. The dinner was delicious, and very elaborate by our simple
standards. We had soup, and then some kind of smoked salmon, then the main
course, which was beef and vegetables in a wine sauce with a French name. After
that came a salad, and then dessert. There were several wines served, too,
though Pat and I merely sipped at ours, neither of us being big wine drinkers.
Throughout the meal Harris kept the conversation going, and he seemed to
particularly enjoy drawing Emma into it. As the dinner went on, Emma got paler,
and she squirmed almost continually in her chair. Her voice shook a little when
she spoke, and by the end of the meal she was perspiring, though the room was
not particularly warm. I saw Pat watching her. As she got paler, Pat's color
seemed to deepen.
At Harris' suggestion we adjourned to the living room, where Jessica
served us coffee. Emma, mumbling an excuse, stayed behind. I wondered if she was
going to take the brassiere off.
The three of us chatted, a bit awkwardly now, until after a while Harris
put down his cup. "And now," he said, smiling at both of us, "I propose that we
return to the dining room for the REAL main course of the evening."
Pat looked bewildered, but I had a suspicion about what was going on. We
got up and followed him.
As I had supposed, the main course was Emma. She was laid out on the
dining room table, face down, with her head just over the frong edge of the
table, facing us as we came in. Her hands were tied behind her, and her legs
were splayed widely apart, so widely that her feet hung over the sides of the
table. Ropes were tied to each of her ankles and fastened somewhere beneath the
table's surface. She was still wearing her dress, but it was rucked up around
her waist, and from there down she was completely naked.
Pat gave a little cry of shock. My throat was dry.
"A most appetizing dish, I think you will agree," Harris said dryly. "As
Emma told you, she is being punished. The reason does not matter. Part of her
punishment is serving as our entertainment this evening. Of course, it is
well-nigh impossible to find any punishment which, for Emma, is not actually a
reward. She loves it so. Ah, well--one can't have everything. If you will take a
seat, you will have an excellent view of the proceedings."
"Does she..." Pat began, a little breathlessly. "Is she still
wearing..."
"The brassiere? Oh yes, certainly. That's part of the idea. In that
position it will be terribly painful. Isn't it, Emma?"
"Yes, Bernard," Emma said softly.
"And you love it, don't you, you silly bitch?"
"Yes, Bernard," she whispered.
"You see? But let us waste no more time. Jessica!" he called. "We are
ready now."
Jessica came in. She was carrying a riding crop.
Emma's eyes closed for a moment, and she made a faint mewling sound.
"The crop is a remnant of Jessica's English childhood," Harris said.
"She uses it very well, although with less precision than her brother Rudolf,
whom perhaps you will meet later."
"You're a fool," Jessica said to him.
"Perhaps," he said equably. "And now let us proceed." He unzipped his
fly and casually pulled out his penis, which was semi-erect. "A few preliminary
strokes, if you please, Jessica, to get me in the proper mood."
Jessica positioned herself by the side of the table, then swiftly raised
the riding crop and brought it down hard on Emma's naked ass. Emma's body
jerked, and she cried out in pain.
"Good," Harris said. "One more should be sufficient."
The blonde woman did it again, with the same result. Harris' cock was
fully erect now. Mine was too. I sneaked a glance at Pat. She was sitting
tensely in her chair, breathing rapidly.
Harris now stepped up to the table and lifted his wife's head by the
hair, then stuck his hard cock into her mouth. She took it with no protest, and
began to suck him as he rocked slowly back and forth.
"All right, Jessica," he said. "Until she makes me come, if you please.
I expect your usual tender competence, my dear. You will be careful not to bite,
won't you?"
As he spoke, Jessica raised the crop and brought it down, harder than
before. Emma's cry was muffled by Harris' cock. Jessica now began to beat the
bound woman's ass with a slow, steady rhythm, pausing a second or two between
blows. She left red stripes across Emma's buttocks.
Emma's cries got louder with each stroke, though the smothered sounds
came out as sharp, nasal wails. Through it all she sucked on her husband's cock.
He had let go of her hair; he stood with his hands on his hips and watched her
work on him, her head moving slowly up and down. I wondered if he'd had the
dining table manufactured at precisely the right height for this activity.
Each time the wicked little whip landed on her ass cheeks, Emma's body
jumped sharply in its bonds. I began to understand why she had been tied with
her hands behind her, rather than spread-eagled. This way she had more freedom
to writhe and roll under the lash; but if she did that, she inflicted even more
pain on her breasts, already flattened against the surface of the table inside
Harris' studded brassiere.
I lost track of the number of times the crop came down. Harris wasn't in
any hurry, though Emma's head was moving faster now, her lips clasping his prick
tightly as they slid back and forth over its length. Tears were running from her
eyes, and she gasped for breath through her nostrils between her muffled shouts.
At last I saw Harris' body stiffen. "All right, Jessica," he panted.
"I'm going to come. Make her feel it now."
The crop whistled. Emma's shriek was strangled by his cock in her
throat, but her body twisted helplessly. She got two more of the same before
Harris finally emptied himself into her yelling mouth.
She didn't lose a drop.
Harris removed himself from her mouth and calmly tucked himself back in
and zipped up again. Jessica, hardly breathing hard, sat down in a chair, still
holding the crop, a pleased expression on her face. Emma lay still, her head
bowed over the edge of the table, moaning softly. Pat was sitting erect in her
chair, motionless. I could tell she was trying not to show her feelings, but her
hands were clenched on the chair arms and her breasts rose and fell a little too
rapidly.
"Well," Harris said cheerily. "I hope the banquet is not yet over. Mr.
Wulf, would you care to partake? I should like to see Emma taken from behind in
this position; it would bring out the advantages of my little invention even
more, don't you think? Will you do the honors?"
It was a hell of a temptation, but I fought it down. I didn't want to be
a pawn in his little games; if I did anything, it would be my own idea. "No,
thanks," I said.
He raised his eyebrows. "No? What a shame. Well then...." He turned to
Jessica. "Perhaps Rudolf would oblige us. Do you think he might?"
"Rudolf is working," Jessica said flatly.
"I think we can interrupt him for a little while. Would you fetch him,
Jessica?"
"No," Jessica said.
Harris sighed. "Jealousy does not become you, my dear. I suppose I could
fetch him myself, in which case I would of course have to tell him about your
lack of obedience."
Jessica got up, her eyes blazing. "I'll make you suffer for this, you
old idiot."
"I shall look forward to it," Harris murmured.
Jessica went out.
Harris chuckled. "Jessica's brother Rudolf is the only person I have
even known of whom she is afraid. She also hates to see him make love with
anyone but her. They share a room here--and a bed. We keep him around mainly to
keep her from getting too far out of hand. And for times like this. He is a
remarkable stud, as you will see."
Jessica came back, followed by a very large, burly man a few years older
than she was. He was built like a weight-lifter, but his powerful body moved
with the grace of a panther. He wore an open-necked shirt and no jacket. His
hair was darker than his sister's, and his eyes were a very deep brown. They
seemed to glint with a mysterious perception as he glanced swiftly around the
room.
Harris introduced us. "You will have to understand," he told us, "that
Rudolf does not speak. Not that he is physically incapable of doing so; but he
prefers not to. It is a vow he took some years ago."
"Get on with it," Jessica said sharply.
"Of course. Rudolf, I would like you to bugger Mrs. Harris. It will not
be necessary to move her--I believe the table will hold both of you. Please do
not worry about hurting her--oh, and use your weight on her as much as possible.
Thank you."
Rudolf didn't seem at all surprised by these instructions. He simply
took off his clothes. He did so without self-consciousness, putting them on an
empty chair. His muscles bulged and shifted with his easy movements. And he had
the biggest cock I'd ever seen, unbelievably long and thick even though it was
still soft. I saw Pat's eyes widen when he took off his shorts.
He stepped over to where Jessica was sitting, and, as though out of long
habit, she leaned forward and started licking at his cock. It grew rapidly under
her tongue, and she took it briefly in her mouth, sucking it until it was so
long that she could hardly fit her lips over it. It was a truly amazing tool,
and I marveled at the thought of it going into Emma's tight asshole. But I had
the feeling it had been there before.
Rudolf, fully erect now, turned from Jessica and climbed easily onto the
table, kneeling between Emma's outstretched legs. Without hesitation, he lowered
himself toward her, guiding his cock with his hand. It poked between her striped
ass cheeks, probed, and found its goal. Rudolf pushed. Emma gasped loudly. Then
she raised her head and howled like a skewered animal as Rudolf proceeded to
press slowly, powerfully, inexorably forward.
I watched in amazement as that monstrous pole disappeared inch by inch
between her quivering buttocks. He was forcing his way into her anus through
brute strength; but she was taking it, and though her agony was clear, I could
see on her twisted face the same kind of unholy joy I had seen there before
under similar pain--and that I had seen in Patricia's face even more recently.
Then, in obedience to Harris' instructions, Rudolf lowered his weight
onto her body, pressing her into the table, crushing her bound hands beneath him
and mashing her upper torso nearly flat against the hard surface. I couldn't
even imagine what torment her breasts must be undergoing inside that devilish
brassiere. But as I was wondering whether the pain might be too much even for
her, Emma's howls took on a new quality, and I realized that she was about to
come.
She came at least six times before Rudolf was finished with her, each
time more intensely than the last. Rudolf fucked her steadily and
expressionlessly, never letting up or varying his pace. I had the feeling that
he could have gone on forever, and that he simply allowed himself to come when
he figured it was time. After which he got down off the table and went over to
Jessica, who dutifully took him into her mouth again and licked him off.
"Thank you, Rudolf," Harris said. "That was most satisfactory. And
now...Mr. Wulf, are you sure you would not care to undulge?"
By that point I wasn't sure of anything, except that my cock was
throbbing like crazy and I couldn't seem to take a deep breath. I was more than
just horny; a familiar undertow was tugging at me, and I was going under without
much of a struggle.
I looked at the bound, half-naked woman on the table, the marks of the
crop on her buttocks, gasping and moaning in post-orgasmic agony and bliss. I
looked at the blonde maid with the spectacular figure and the bare, luscious
legs, just pulling her mouth from her brother's gigantic prick. And then I
looked at Patricia, my Patricia, her face flushed with secret arousal, her hands
tightly clutching the arms of her chair as she struggled to maintain the
appearance of compusure.
As I looked at her, her glance met mine. We gazed at each other for a
long moment; and then suddenly I saw her eyes widen, and a change came over her
face. Her lips quivered slightly, and her tongue came out to moisten them. I
felt my heart beating. For several more moments we looked at each other. And
then her eyes dropped, and she sat there. Waiting.
Harris was watching us. "I think the main course is over," I said. My
voice was not quite steady, and I took a breath. "and now I think we
should...have the dessert."
The old man's eyes gleamed. "I was hoping," he murmured, "that that
would be the case."
"Patricia," I said hoarsely. "Stand up."
She looked up at me again. After a second, her eyes darted like a
startled animal's about the room: to Emma, to Jessica, to Rudolf, to Harris, and
back to me. And then, slowly, with that air of graceful submission that set my
head whirling, she rose to her feet. She stood there, her eyes demurely lowered,
beautiful in the softly clinging dress, with her hair flowing over her
shoulders.
"She is lovely," Harris said softly. "Like a sacrificial lamb."
"She's a sacrificial slave," I said. "Aren't you, Paricia?"
Slowly, without raising her eyes, she nodded.
I said: "Strip."
There was complete silence in the room, except for the sound of Emma's
labored breathing. Pat's hands were trembling slightly as, after a long, tense
pause, she brought them up behind her neck to undo the fastening at the back of
her dress. She got the zipper started, then lowered her arms and reached back to
pull it down. She slipped the top of the dress off over her arms, and then slid
it down over her hips and let it drop to the floor.
No one moved. The silence was deeper than before. Even Emma seemed to be
caught up in the moment. Pat, in pink bra and panties, hesitated again. Then her
hands went behind her back and opened the brassiere clasp. Her movements were
slow and almost dreamlike as she pulled down the shoulder straps and let the
garment fall.
A faint flush suffused the delicate flesh above the fine, firm breasts,
but her red nipples were stiff and thrusting. She was turned on by the
degradation of revealing her naked body to this strange gathering.
Only a second went by before she reached for her panties and lowered
them, exposing the fine, dark pubic triangle. She bent to slide them down her
thighs, then stepped out of them with an awkwardness that only added to her
desirability. Then she stood still, naked and trembling, a nervous, eager
victim, ready to debase herself in whatever way I chose for her.
"Get down on your knees, slave," I said harshly, "while we decide what
is to be done with you."
She sank slowly to the floor and knelt there, her eyes still lowered.
"Is she not beautiful," Harris murmured. "Even my memory did not do her
justice. So young and fresh. And obedient."
"Mr. Harris has paid you a compliment, Patricia," I said. "Thank him."
"Thank you, Mr. Harris," Pat whispered.
"Eager as I am," Harris said, "to be thanked in a more... tangible
manner, I leave it to you, Mr. Wulf, to direct the... dessert. I only hope I may
be allowed to partake."
I had something in mind for Pat that I was sure she didn't expect. I
wondered how she would react.
"Before she leaves here tonight," I said, "Patricia will have been had
by everybody in this room--women included."
Pat caught her breath swiftly, and her startled eyes leapt up to mine. I
saw her face pale.
"She has never been had by a woman," I said, keeping my eyes on hers.
"In that way, she is still a virgin."
"How marvelous," Harris breathed.
Jessica suddenly spoke. "I want her," she said.
The mixture of fear, submission and helpless need in Pat's eyes was so
erotic that I nearly came in my pants.
"Take her," I said.
A tiny whimper came from Pat. Jessica stood up. She put the riding crop,
which she still held, on the table, between Emma's legs, and then with a quick
movement opened her flimsy uniform and took it off. Naked, she moved toward the
spot where Pat was kneeling. Her wonderful body in motion was a wet dream in
itself.
Pat watched her like a hypnotized bird.
She lowered herself to the floor near the trembling girl, then reached
out and pulled her down beside her. Her hands moved greedily over Pat's body,
coming to rest on her breasts, squeezing them, testing their texture and
resilience. Then she put her arms around her.
"Kiss me," she said.
Pat swallowed. "I...I..." she stammered.
"Do what she says, slave," I said sternly. "Everything she says."
Hesitantly, tentatively, Pat brought her mouth to Jessica's. The two of
them kissed each other. Jessica kept the kiss going, at the same time pulling
Pat's body close to hers. They lay full-length on the floor, bodies pressed
together, their breasts sliding and flattening against each other's, their legs
entwined. Jessica pushed her tongue into Pat's mouth and began to grind her
loins against the younger girl's. Small, high-pitched moans now started to come
from Pat, and her body writhed as she clutched the blonde woman tightly.
Then Jessica rolled Pat onto her back so that she lay on top of her.
Still kissing her deeply, almost cruelly, she pried Pat's legs apart with her
own, lying between them as if she were a man intent on rape. As if to foster
this impression, she began to pump her hips up and down, battering her pelvis
against Pat's crotch. Pat was moaning into the blonde's mouth. Jessica soon
tired of this, however, and breaking the kiss, she rose from the girl's body to
crouch over her, looking down with an almost triumphant expression at Pat's
twisted face and open, panting mouth.
Again Jessica began to explore Pat's body, more roughly this time, her
hands moving hungrily, possessively over breasts and belly and thighs. One hand
slid between the parted legs and found her crotch. Without warning, two fingers
disappeared inside her cunt, while a third made contact with the tiny nubbin of
her clitoris.
Pat gasped sharply, and then began to moan as Jessica's fingers moved
knowledgeably. The blonde's other hand was on Pat's breast, squeezing it and
tweaking the stiff nipple.
"Oh god!" Pat whimpered breathlessly. "Oh...oh Jesus... oh...oh...oh..."
Her head was rolling back and forth, her eyes glazed. I wondered if she was too
far gone to be aware of the fantastically erotic spectacle she made, helplessly
abandoning herself to passion under the eyes of these closely watching
strangers.
Jessica was grinning, her hand busy at Pat's cunt. "Look at her," she
said. "I think she's really a dyke after all."
"She's just a slut," I said, hoping Pat could hear me. "She loves
getting it from anybody."
Pat was on the verge of climax now, but Jessica suddenly removed her
hand. "Not yet, love," she said tauntingly. "It's Jessica's turn now." She lay
down on her back beside the moaning girl. "Come to me, sweet. Come and make
Jessica happy."
Dazed and panting, Pat managed to roll herself toward Jessica, who
pulled her down on top of her, kissing her gasping mouth. Then she put her hands
in Pat's hair and tugged at it. "Down, love. Down you go. All the way down. But
slowly. There's plenty of time."
Pat made soft whimpering noises as she moved in response to the blonde's
grip on her hair. Jessica guided her head to her left breast. "There you go,
sweets. Kiss me there. Kiss me nice."
Pat obeyed.
"That's right," Jessica said throatily. "Now suck my nipple. Like that.
Yes. Lick it and suck it. Oh, that's good. that's lovely. Now the whole tit.
Open your mouth wide, love, and take all you can. Oh yes....Suck me....Oh you
sweet little thing...."
Pat followed Jessica's instructions slavishly, bowed over the blonde on
her knees and forearms, her breath ragged. I was surprised at how aroused I was
at seeing her paying homage to another woman's body. I took my eyes off them for
a moment to glance swiftly around. Harris was sitting forward in his chair, his
glinting eyes riveted on the pair of them, his mouth slightly open. Rudolf was
more relaxed, but he too was watching intently, with that strangely all-seeing
gaze. Emma, fastened on her table, seemed to be watching from some far-off place
of her own, a place of eternal, exquisite pain.
Jessica moved Pat's head to her other breast, where she put her through
the same process as before. She was breathing hard now, and after a few moments
she tugged at the dark head again, moving it down onto her stomach.
"Lick me," she panted. "Lick me all over, little dyke. Lick your way
down." She maneuvered Pat's head slowly over her belly, pausing at her navel,
then continuing down, down. She lifted her knees and opened her legs wide. Pat
made a peculiar sound when her obediently busy tongue encountered the blonde
pubic hair.
Jessica pulled inexorably at the hesitant head. "Now, you sweet bitch,"
she rasped. "Eat me. Eat my pussy!"
With a cry of surrender and abandon, Pat allowed her head to be pulled
between the spread thighs, her face to be mashed into the waiting crotch.
Jessica gave a loud moan as Pat's mouth made contat with her open cunt.
"Ahhh...Yes...Yes, you lovely little cunt....Suck it.... Ohhh...Your
tongue...Put it in, bitch.... Deeper....Ah....Ahh.... Now higher. You know
where...Yes! Ah!...Ahhh!...There, yes there....Lick it, lick it hard....Yes,
keep it up....Don't stop, you sweet little dyke....Ooohh...Ahhh...AAHHH!!"
She was rolling and squirming in the throes of orgasm, but she kept
Pat's head pinned where it was; and when she had finished coming, she panted:
"Do it again."
I spoke up. "You do it to her, too," I said.
Jessica looked up with glazed belligerence, as if to object. But she
didn't bother. With a kind of shrug, she let go of Pat's hair and half-pulled,
half-directed her into a sixty-nine position above her.
It was lovely to see the two female bodies entangled, their heads, one
blonde, one dark, buried in each other's crotch, their beautiful legs pointing
in opposite directions, and to hear the passionate, half-muffled sounds they
made as they sucked at each other's cunt.
Before long, Jessica came again; and then she rolled over on top of Pat
and concentrated on bringing her off. Pat started to go crazy. She writhed madly
under Jessica's skilled tongue, crying out harshly and whipping her head from
side to side so that her hair flew wildly about her face. Her body went into
convulsions as her climax crashed over her, and she pounded her fists on the
floor, yelling uncontrollably.
None of the onlookers in the room moved or spoke as Pat's powerful
orgasm ebbed and subsided into a long series of gasps and shudders. Jessica,
after a moment, rose calmly and returned to her chair. The rest of us, still
caught in the erotic intensity of Pat's initiation into the world of lesbian
lust, and curious as to her first reactions, kept our attention fixed on the
quivering, panting girl.
It took her a while to recover, but then the awareness of her
surroundings seemed to come back to her with a sudden jolt. She sat up and
looked around at us with wide eyes. "Oh my god," she whispered. Her eyes closed,
as if ti shut us out, then opened again. "Oh my god!" For a moment I thought she
was going to jump up and run out of the room. But then she suddenly drew in her
breath with a hiss, and a long shudder went through her whole body. Then, with a
strange, deep moan she lay back on the floor, spreading her arms and legs wide,
wantonly exposing herself to everyone in the room.
"Look at me!" she cried. "Oh my god, look at me! I love it! Mel, I'm a
whore, you're right, I'm just a slut whore. I loved what that woman did to me. I
love having them see me like this. Oh god. Watch me..." She suddenly brought her
right hand down to her cunt and began to play with herself, her fingers moving
on her clitoris.
"Look...look..." she panted. "I'm a dirty cunt, I jerk off in pubic, I
fuck men, I fuck women....I suck....I... I...Aaahhhh..."
I watched in helpless amazement as she came again. Even with all that
had happened before, I was not prepared for anything like this. Her climax
seemed to calm her down. She lay quietly for a moment, then looked over at me.
"Mel," she said softly. "I'm such a filthy bitch. I want to be punished."
I had to clear my throat before I could speak. "Your punishemnt," I said
as calmly as I could, "is to fuck the rest of the people in this room."
"Mel...please..." When I said nothing, she sat up slowly, and then got
to her feet. I watched, we all watched, in silence, as she walked gracefully
over to the dining table, then picked up the riding crop which lay between
Emma's open legs, where Jessica had placed it. Holding it with both hands, she
walked across the room to where I was sitting. Then she lowered herself to her
knees in front of me. In that position, she held out the little whip for me to
take.
After a moment, I took it from her. When I did, she rose to her feet
again, and then drew herself up erectly and slowly raised her arms high above
her head, holding them straight up in the air, lifting her breasts, tightening
her belly, showing her whole lovely body to its best advantage.
"Use it on me, Mel," she breathed. "Anywhere you want."
My mouth and throat felt parched, and my head was pounding. As if with a
will of their own, my eyes dropped to her high, firm, thrusting breasts. I
licked my dry lips.
"Anywhere?" I got out.
She saw where I was looking, and caught her breath. "Oh yes!" she
gasped, her eyes shining. "Yes! Yes, Mel. Please!"
I started to get up.
But Harris' voice stopped me. "If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Wulf..."
he began.
The interruption startled me a little; Pat had almost driven the others
out of my mind. "Sure," I said.
"I certainly do not wish to deprive you of your pleasure," Harris said,
"and even less to deny Patricia the punishment she so desires. However, I gather
that you contemplate using the crop on her breasts. A truly delightful idea; but
I must warn you--I speak from a certain amount of experience--the breasts are
most delicate and vulnerable objects, and their chastisement can be dangerous if
undertaken with anything less than perfect control and finesse. Our object, I
think you will agree, is to inflict pain--even extreme pain--but not to risk
permanent injury. Especially to such a beautiful and...uninhibited young lady."
He cleared his throat. "Now, as I mentioned to you earlier, Rudolf here handles
the crop with an amazing degree of precision and expertise. He has a vast amount
of experience in this regard; and, as I take it that you have little or none--as
yet--I would strongly suggest that you allow him to fulfill Patricia's request.
I can assure you he will do a thorough job."
I hesitated for a moment, then looked at Pat, who had lowered her arms
as Harris was speaking, and now stood motionless in front of me. She looked back
at me steadily, but gave me no sign. She was breathing rapidly.
I turned back to Harris and nodded.
"Excellent," he said. "Rudolf, if you don't mind..."
Rudolf, still naked, rose from his chair and came over to me, holding
out his hand for the crop. I gave it to him. He stepped back, and Pat slowly
turned so that he could have access to her body--and so that everyone could have
a clear view of her being whipped.
"I think three strokes will be sufficient, Rudolf," Harris said softly.
"Three of the best. I suggest one on the upper surfaces, and one on the
lower--and the third directly on the nipples."
Rudolf nodded. Pat said, in a breathless voice, "Tie me."
"I think not," Harris said. "If you will raise your arms again, my
dear....That pose makes you look so enticingly vulnerable--and frankly, I would
find it deliciously exciting to see whether you can hold that position
throughout. Don't you agree, Mr. Wulf?"
"You can pretend you're strung up from the ceiling," I said hoarsely.
"Yes!" she breathed. And once again she raised her arms into the air,
stretching them taut, and then crossed her wrists high over her head, as if they
were lashed together and pulled upward by an invisible rope.
I was breathing heavily myself now, and my heart was hammering against
my chest. Harris' eyes were gleaming.
"Very well, Rudolf," he said.
Rudolf stood to one side of Pat and a little in front of her, facing her
tense, expectant body, his eyes studying the uplifted and unprotected breasts,
which rose and fell gently in rhythm with her accelerated breathing. Then he
lifted his arm and with a swift, sudden movement sent the crop hissing through
the air, to strike with a sharp, clear report across both of the thrusting
globes, not more than an inch above the nipples.
Pat screamed. Her face twisted violently, and sudden tears sprang from
her eyes. Her knees buckled slightly, and her arms sagged--but she did not lower
them. After a minute, gasping and trembling, she pulled her body erect again and
straightened her arms as before. And waited.
The naked man raised the crop again. His arm went back. The lash made a
fearful whistling sound, and then it cracked cleanly and accurately over the
lower curves of the quivering breasts.
Again she screamed loudly. And this time her arms came down in spite of
herself, and she cradled her breasts with her hands, her shoulders hunched, her
head bowed, her body heaving with choking sobs. Rudolf stood quietly, the crop
at his side.
The air was charged with an erotic force that you could almost touch.
Even Emma seemed to have come out of her own private ecstasies of suffering to
watch the scene with vivid interest. Harris was sitting on the edge of his seat;
in his own strange way, he was showing more emotion than I'd ever seen in him
before. Jessica was twisting in her chair and playing with her own nipples.
Then Pat lifted her head. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she brushed
them away. She pulled herself up with an effort.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, and raised her arms again.
Her body swayed a little, and her breasts, now decorated with twin red
stripes, heaved as she panted loudly. But she looked directly at the man holding
the little whip, not even flinching as he raised his arm once more.
Harris had not been exaggerating Rudolf's expertise with the crop. The
third blow was the hardest of all, and it landed with deadly precision directly
across both of her nipples.
This time her scream was deafening. Her legs gave way, and she fell to
her knees. She stayed there, bent over and hugging herself tightly as she moaned
and sobbed and struggled for breath. Rudolf dropped the riding crop and turned
to walk back to his chair. I saw that his huge cock was fully erect. he had
enjoyed his work.
Pat's bowed and heaving body rocked from side to side; her disordered
hair fell chaotically over her face. As her moaning gradually diminished in
volume, I became aware that she was trying to say something between her
hiccupping sobs.
"What's that, slave?" I asked roughly. I didn't recognize my voice.
She made an effort to control herself. "...Fuck...me..." she groaned
breathlessly.
I wanted to fuck her more than anything in the world. But with an effort
I said, "No."
She gave a despairing cry.
"Rudolf is the man who whipped you," I went on. "He should be rewarded.
Show him how grateful you are."
"Oh yes..." she gasped. "Yes!"
She didn't try to get up. She crawled. On her hands and knees, she
crawled slowly and painfully across the room toward the chair in which Rudolf
was sitting.
As she approached, Rudolf slid from his chair and lay down on his back
on the floor, his enormous prick jutting up at a slight angle, looking like the
leaning tower of Pisa. He was ready.
Pat crawled right up over his body. When her head reached the level of
his cock, she paused to pay it homage with her mouth, kissing and licking it
avidy, then stretching her lips around its astonishing girth for a moment before
she went on. When her crotch was above the throbbing tool, she reached for it
with a whimper and held it as she lowered her body to meet it.
She hissed sharply as the tip of it penetrated the open lips of her
vagina. She had to struggle to get the massive thing inside her, but she
squirmed and stretched herself until she had managed to take the head of it into
her cunt; and then she forced herself down on it slowly, moaning as it made its
gigantic way up into her belly.
"Oh god!" she cried hoarsely when she had finally taken all of it inside
her. "Oh Jesus...it's splitting me...Oh god, it's so good...so big...so
good...." Her words trailed off into unintelligible babbling, and she began to
move herself up and down on him, gently and tentatively at first, and then
harder and more rhythmically. Rudolf just lay there and let her work over him,
her torso writhing and twisting, her thighs pumping, her striped breasts
bouncing and bobbling. She threw back her head, a high-pitched wailing sound
coming from her mouth, and in a moment her body spasmed wildly as her climax
jolted through her.
After she had come, she stayed where she was, impaled on Rudolf's still
stiff cock, panting like a dog in heat. Before long she was moving again,
working up to her second orgasm.
Harris rose from his chair suddenly. I could see the bulge in his
trousers. He had already begun to remove his clothing when he spoke. "With your
permission, Mr. Wulf," he said, a little unevenly, "I would now like to possess
Patricia by way of the one aperture to which I did not gain access the other
day."
"Be my guest," I said. "And this time it won't cost you a penny."
He was soon naked, and he walked over to the two bodies on the floor,
his cock bobbing in front of him. He knelt down behind Pat and then put his
hands on her shoulders and pushed her forward, gently but firmly, until she was
lying on top of Rudolf, her abused breasts flattening against his chest, her
hips still moving her cunt up and down on his prick.
Harris crouched forward above her, spreading her buttocks with his
hands. He pressed his dick between them, maneuvering it to the crinkled opening
of her anus. "Sweet Patricia," he murmured, and then with a grunt he pushed
himself forward.
Pat gave a squeal of mixed delight and apprehension as she felt him
stabbing at her asshole; and then she shrieked with painful joy as his cock
forced its way through the tight opening. Determinedly he pushed on, plowing
into her anal passage, driving Pat crazy as she was fulled to bursting by two
cocks at once.
"Aahhh!" she yelled as Harris began to move strongly back and forth in
her ass. "Ahh yes!...Yes, fuck me....Oh Jesus, fuck me...kill me....Oh, your
cocks...love your cocks...two cocks... inside me...AAAIII!!...Do it! Do it
hard!...I...I'm going to... Ohh FUUUCK...."
I watched her body go out of control, her hips slamming forward and
back, whipsawing her cunt and asshole madly on the two skewering poles. She
howled like a wild beast as she came a second time.
Her climax did not cause Harris to lose a beat. He continued to plug
away steadily at her asshole, each thrust forcing her down hard over Rudolf's
motionless but gut-splitting cock. Sandwiched between the two men, moaning and
panting helplessly, Pat was soon caught up again in the painful ecstasy of what
was happening to her.
I couldn't stand it any more. I had held back as long as I could, but
watching Pat getting screwed fore and aft after everything that had happened,
seeing her sweating, writhing body, her whip-marked breasts, her pain- and
lust-distorted face and gasping, yelling mouth, was driving me out of my senses.
I felt I was definitely ready to come in my pants; and that would be a hell of a
waste.
I stood up and went over there, opening my zipper on the way. My aching
cock sprang out; it seemed to have been hard for hours. I sat down next to
Rudolf's head.
Pat looked up at me dazedly. "Mel..." she panted. "Mel... look at
meee...."
"I see you," I rasped. "Tell me what you are."
She closed her eyes in ecstasy. "I'm a whore," she whispered. The word
was like a prayer.
I grabbed her head and pulled it over my crotch. "Show me."
"Yes..." she moaned, and jammed her mouth down over my cock.
I nearly came right then, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to
hold on. Her mouth had taken me all in with one gulp, and now she started to
suck me hard, her head pumping, her tongue swirling on my prick, while her hips
continued to jerk wildly back and forth between the two men who fucked her.
"NOW look at you," I said gratingly. "Look at you, you cock-loving
little slut. Screwing three men at once. Taking it from all sides. Cock in every
hole. And you still can't get enough, can you? You want more. More cock!"
Pat was whimpering and moaning around my dick, her head moving
frantically, her body bucking and twisting like an unbroken bronco, her hips
pounding like a triphammer.
"Cunt," I went on, panting now. I hardly knew or much cared what I was
saying any more. But I knew one thing, with a sudden, startling clarity. These
abusive, hurting words were words of love. And Pat knew it too. "Bitch.
Cocksucking twat. Look at you degrading yourself. Groveling, squirming, crawling
degradation. Cock in your mouth. Cock in your cunt. Cock in your ass. Three
cocks coming inside you, filling you with their sperm. Splashing you, soaking
you, drowning you in come! Come on, whore. make us come. Make us all come inside
you!"
Pat was coming herself now, coming hard, her body wracked by jerking,
wrenching spasms. And then almost immediately she came again. Then she went into
a nearly continuous series of orgasms, coming over and over uncontrollably,
helpless to stop herself. Unearthly sounds welled up from her insides, partly
muffled by my cock deep in her gasping mouth. Perspiration streamed from her
frantic body as it was buffeted mindlessly by an almost unbearable intensity of
pleasure.
I felt my last remnants of control starting to slip away, and I clutched
at her to keep her head on my pounding cock. Then I saw that Harris was already
coming. He was thrusting with all his strength into her madly bucking ass, and
as I watched he emptied himself into it with a raspy groan.
Almost at the same time Rudolf finally climaxed too. The only signs he
gave were a slight arching of his hips and a gentle sigh as he shot his
long-delayed load up her cunt.
Pat shook with still another orgasm as she felt them filling her with
their sperm. And I gave myself up to her clutching, twisting mouth, yelling
loudly as I exploded again and again and again, in the longest and most intense
climax I had ever known, shooting what seemed like gallons of sperm down my
Patricia's gulping throat.
#
I don't know how much time passed before I heard Harris say weakly, "I
thank you, Mr. Wulf--and Patricia, of course--for contributing so marvelously to
our evening's entertainment."
I sat up heavily. We had been lying on the floor like zombies. Harris
was getting to his feet. I looked at Pat lying beside me, her breath coming in
weak gulps, the perspiration drying on her body, fucked out, drained, hurting
and utterly exhausted.
"Hell," I said in a croaking voice, "it's not over yet. I said Patricia
would fuck everyone in this room. She still has Emma to take care of...."
