The girl ran desperately, out of breath, her hairdo disheveled, resembling an animal at bay. The North African who chased her had long powerful legs and caught up with her easily. Seizing her by the neck of her dress and twisting her to him, he forced her to turn to him a scratched, swollen and lacerated face, for he had already beaten her. With his free hand, he slapped her with his wide heavy palm, flattening her already bruised cheeks with heavy blows, while the crest of his heavy ring dug into her flesh. He swore at her: "Ah, you little whore, you wanted to run away . . .there, you filthy bitch ... there, you whore of a mother who is also a whore, you living filth you!"
Everybody stopped to watch this scene, petrified. Under the fury and excitement which his victim's sobbing plaints aroused, he began to swear at her in Arabic now: "Nah'din Ineck ... Ineck ... Ineck!"
Her head rocked back and forth under the avalanche of slaps which rained down upon her. The girl, a lovely adolescent of some sixteen or seventeen years, groaned and squirmed, but she did not appear to protest her punishment too much.
Finally, her assailant ceased beating her in order to drag her back, but his hands slipped down along her arms, the girl fell on her knees, fling-ling her arms around the legs of her torturer, her face buried in his fly as if she sought to suck him off by way of asking pardon or else to bite him murderously to avenge herself.
He felt the hostility of the crowd gathering around them grow against him, and tried his best to force her to release her grasp. His hammering fists fell upon her back and shoulders, but she did not release her clutch on him.
Finally a tall rogue detached himself from the circle of curious onlookers who were enjoying this spectacle too much to risk the danger of intervening.
He harangued the North African: "Tell me, you bastard, are you going to let that little bitch go?
"But I tell you to stop bludgeoning her or else I'll break your jaw for you."
"It's not your affair, friend."
Two other North Africans caught him by the arms and held him back, placatingly urging, "Come on, buddy, he's right, occupy yourself with your own affairs."
Suddenly, the girl broke away and ran out into the street among the whizzing cars, before the North African could think of following her. And suddenly a car stopped and the door opened, and a tall man with a bronze complexion stretched out his hand and said, "Get in."
The girl seized his hand and flung herself into the car, the door slammed behind her, and the car started up again.
The man said: "You've taken quite a thrashing, my darling."
"Aie! Please don't touch me. I bruised my breasts when I fell into your car."
"Is this the first time you've been beaten like this? Does it hurt you?" he asked solicitously.
"Just look what goes on in the streets," she said without answering his question.
Under her long disheveled hair, the oval of her face was covered with swellings which were darkening. Traces of the man's blows were clearly visible. Only her eyes kept an unusual glow, a savage look, casting insolent and defiant glances at the handsome man beside her.
Annoyed, the man tried to break the silence and also to stop this arrogant inspection. "My name is Georges, what's yours?"
"I'm Sandra. Are you happy you got me?"
"My word, when you've been cleaned up a bit and feel better, I'll give you a more accurate appraisal, my little Sandra."
"I suppose you are going to have me go out in the streets for you. I should have thought as much-with a car like yours you couldn't be anything else but a pimp," was her rebellious reply.
Without a word, the elegant bronzed man beside her flicked his fingers like whiplashes, and they snapped against her right cheek.
"Ouch!" she gasped, surprised.
"That's to pay you back for the remark about a pimp," Georges said.
He pinched her thigh with his right hand and made her squeal, "Oww! Stop that, you filthy brute!"
His forefinger pressed a button, and the top of the car as well as the windows began to roll up. "Perhaps I am a filthy brute, but you've already proved to me how much you like to be hit and with what art you know how to solicit blows when you aren't getting them," he replied ironically.
Then he added: "Now that we're by ourselves," and he took hold of the nape of her neck with his slender fingers, "show me that you are as good a whore as I am a pimp."
She tried to escape and fling herself towards the door. He said ironically: "Well now, my girl, put yourself at ease. You can take all the time you want, but you must know how impatient I am for a fuck."
He felt his prick swell from the warmth of her face, which he forced down against his cock with his steely grip at the scruff of her neck.
Now he stopped as the light turned yellow, and dug his nails into Sandra's neck with all his strength. She uttered a cry which was stifled by the fly of his trousers.
She panted, "You filthy old bastard, you'll see what I do to your prick once it's out."
Then she bit the organ which she felt stiffen against her mouth through the fabric of his trousers.
"Goddam, you filthy little bitch! I'll teach you to obey me. I'll guarantee that you're going to work on me in a way that would make all the boys in Paris weep with envy. Oh, so that's the way it is, you little camel! Well, I'll guarantee that when you finish me, you'll be able to open night classes for whores to tell them how it's done."
All the while he spoke, he imprisoned her head between his knees, and the car went on slowly. Three minutes later it stopped against the curb, and his tone changed. "Now then, my little Sandra, don't you want to make love to your dear Georges?"
As he said this, he massaged her neck, which he had cruelly pinched. He felt the mars of his nails in her tender flesh and a little blood stained his fingers. He felt his prick invigorated by her attempted bite, stiffening and hardening, yearning for the pleasure he sought which had earned him this little wound.
"You rotten filth, you can always jack yourself off, and you'll have to do that before I do what you want," she hoarsely stammered as she tried to get away from the vise of his thighs so that she could bite his cock again.
Excited by this discourse, he stopped his caresses, and lifting her head with his left hand, he closed his thighs and forced her left cheek against the material of the right leg of his trousers. She uttered a cry of pain and fury.
Now, groping with his right hand, he seized her left breast, which was closest to his grasp, and began to palpate it furiously.
The adolescent girl uttered cries of anger. "Bastard! Filth! You're all filth, no matter who you are! Oh, don't stop, go on-oh, you've had me, ahhh!"
Now suddenly she writhed, the prey of the most exquisite orgasmic sensations.
He caressed her cheek with his other hand and swore at her obscenely to heighten his own pleasure. "Oh come, you little bitch, I knew I wasn't wrong in giving you pleasure in a cruel way. You filthy little pervert, you're getting wet between your legs."
Finally, he didn't have the strength to lift her head to force it again against his knee and he abandoned it on his thigh.
The girl's bleeding face was pressed against the harsh fabric of his trousers but his hand ceased to palpate her breast and she could at last rest on his knees while he caressed her neck. Her plaints came to him like hymns of praise addressed to his masculinity by a fervent worshiper of cruelty.
And Sandra, for her part, rejoiced that the punishment had been so delicious and so perfect, and now she was ready to satisfy her master in his slightest desire like an obedient servant and a submissive mistress.
She raised toward Georges a look full of gratitude, smiling with a shame-faced little air as if to beg permission now to accomplish what her obstinate refusal had denied and which indeed had won for her this exciting if cruel punishment. "Oh, Georges, do you want me to?" she sighed.
But he was swooning in a nirvana more delicious than what she proposed to him, and in it there were being prolonged the last spasms of a pleasure roused by her little cries and sighs which her burning and clawed and bleeding cheek had torn from her, so he could not reply.
It was only when she undertook unbuttoning his fly that he realized what she intended. He realized into what state this interlude of fondling had put him, and he understood that by prolonging it, he would lose what little strength remained him to conduct the affair. For evidently, while he had gone off in his pants from the rubbing of her face against his fly, she had managed to put her own finger between her thighs and frig herself off.
He looked at her now, and she was surprised to see a kindly gaze as though of tragic desolation in his face. He smiled at her. "Not now. I'm happy that you are willing to do it, however."
He took out of his pocket an immaculate handkerchief to allow her to wipe her face. His trousers were spotted with the blood of her cheek, and the white dress which she wore was bloodied at the bosom. Their first amorous encounter would certainly give work to the cleaners and dryers! It wouldn't be quite so easy to remove the stain of the spunk which had moistened the top of his trousered thighs.
He leaned over now to kiss Sandra on her bleeding cheek. The taste of blood salted his lips, and drew from him a last spurt of spunk which made his vision blur. He stared about the sidewalk, to distract himself, watching people come and go before his eyes.
II
The image of a disheveled Sandra, leaping from the curb and making her way between a Mercedes and a Rolls sedan, passed before his eyes. He knew that she hadn't intended to commit suicide, though she had certainly taken great risks to save herself from her assailant. He took a scarf out of the glove compartment and said to her, "Put this over your head when you come up with me. The concierge would be startled if you didn't conceal the marks on your face, my dear."
"Would you have a comb too, by chance?" she ventured.
"Listen to me, Sandra, put on the scarf. We're going home," he said, his voice suddenly harsh.
He put the car in the garage, and she went into ecstasies over the building in which he lived, forming a better impression of him now at the sight of his obvious wealth.
Once the door was closed behind her and they had gone into the living room of his apartment, he cut short her naive expressions of pleasure over the surroundings by saying: "Tell me, Sandra, how did you fall into the hands of those bandits?"
She had taken off the scarf, and there were drying drops of blood on her cheeks. She was magnificent-true living statue of a martyred young girl. He was dying of lust to make her cry out.
She explained, "Oh, I was really foolish. I went out alone one evening. I wanted to go into Paris to find a job and to learn stenography. I was accosted by some fellow who called himself Marcel and whose real name was Mansour. He introduced me to another fellow who offered me a job, something that wasn't too bad. It gave me confidence. So I came into Paris. I was going to see my boss that day after my arrival. But in the train there was a fellow I had already seen with Mansour who had become interested in me. And on the wharf, somebody else was waiting for me and they all wanted to take me off by force.
"Now, the girl friend with whom I was to stay was waiting for me too with her brother, a tall young engineer whom I only knew by sight but who was threatening to call the police when this Mansour and his friend tried to drag me off to their lair."
"What a pity," Georges said, as he prepared drinks, "you must have had some fine scenes."
"Well," she said rather proudly, "it was nice to see the big brother of my girl friend waiting for me, because I know he wanted me till he was sick from it. In fact, when he did go out with me, he was so possessive that I tried to get away without letting him know where I was going."
"I see. Go on," Georges said.
"Well, Michel-that's his name-he very nicely replaced Mansour, and he came to me at night in my room, when his sister had gone out or else he waited for a morning when she left for her college classes. It worried me because she was a very nice girl. Besides, she would soon suspect that I was trying to seduce her brother and get angry at me, and reproach me for not finding work. Finally, one evening when I came back tired out after having looked all over Paris for a job, she gave me a long sermon in my room, under the pretext that if I had come back sooner she could have prepared the evening meal. I protested, 'Come on now, Jacqueline, you're still in your scanties, you've just come in as I have, we'll dress and then we'll both eat.' And do you know what she said to me, Georges?"
He shook his head with an amused smile. "I've not the least idea. Tell me, Sandra."
"Well, she called me a filthy little chippy, and said, 'So you want to give me orders now?' and she gave me a fair slap. I caught her by her hair from behind and I slapped her titties. She seized my arm and bit my wrist to the bone. I told her She was a dirty little bitch and that she had invited me to her place to beat me. I told her to go buy a slave at the next auction of virgins. And she had the impertinence to say to me that she would have done much better to let me play the prostitute that I really was.
"We continued thus to fight like laundresses or ragpickers-I'd rather say ragpickers because our lingerie was soon in shreds-and to insult each other for the next ten minutes. We clawed, pinched, kicked, and we shrieked and insulted one another.
"Finally I got the upper hand and I began to bang her head against the floor while I sat astride her with one knee mashing down one of her titties. I don't know what made her suffer most. Her cries for mercy were as regular as the rhythm of my banging her head and shoulders against the wooden floor. She implored me: "Stop, Sandra ... my little Sandra, please stop ... I shan't say another word to you ... Sandra, my darling, you're hurting me too much!' Her voice was so jerky and husky that I understood that this little treatment of mine had given her a real hot pussy ... so hot that she spent. She twisted about and wriggled and groaned, as I dug my nails into the skin of her thighs. Finally the torment made her fall into a swoon.
"In this struggle, my undies were so badly torn into shreds that I found myself in a state almost like Eve. Well, I would have had to throw my panties away anyway, because when I had come back after a long day, they were all sweaty and sticky, anyhow. Then suddenly with a twist of her loins, Jacqueline toppled me off her and managed to escape me. But she took advantage of her little ruse only so she could return to the battle again. And the little bitch lowered her head, and plunged it directly between my thighs ... and then, instead of biting, or hurting me, as I had believed she would, what do you think she did? She began to lick my pussy ardently. But not only did the long swipes of her raspy pink tongue clean out my vulva and give me a delicious thrill, but she knew how to find my clittie, with unerring accuracy.
"No man had ever done that to me. All the men I had had until now had limited themselves to the most unoriginal kind of fucking, and even Mansour hadn't insisted when I refused to suck him off, knowing what an obstinate little bitch I was and how little-likelihood there would be of making me do what he wanted. As for Michel, our meetings were too uncertain, and also too short for him to try to find other delights than the natural one of putting a cock into a girl's cunt. I am afraid that men don't have much imagination, really I am."
Sandra looked at Georges with a sly wink, trying to find out what his reaction was, and whether he was getting a stiff cock over her narrative and her charms. He lit a cigarette and continued to listen. She shrugged. To her it was all the same; all men were alike, and this one too would eventually make a pass at her and perhaps he would try to teach her something she didn't already know, young though she was. So she went on:
"Well, as I was telling you, when Jacqueline began to put her tongue inside my pussy, I was almost paralyzed for a moment. But my anger against her, far from calming down, increased from moment to moment when I realized with shame that she had made me feel such naughty pleasure. So I stood up like a fury, plunging my fingers into her hair and yanking it to tear her away from her task and with my right fist and my right foot I began to hit and kick her. Not content with knocking her groggy with my punches, I finally gave her a couple of good kicks in the side to express my anger. Because my room had been the battlefield for this Amazonian combat, I grabbed her by the hair and one arm and dragged her to her room, having made up my mind to let that little chippy come to grips with her brother, for he would certainly be furious when he found out how little protection and hospitality I had been given by his butch of a sister."
Georges smiled, took a puff at his cigarette, and remarked: "And then what, you vengeful little slut?" Sandra giggled, tilted back her head and arched her breasts out to entice her listener. "Well, you won't believe it," she finally drawled. "I was so wrapped up in my rage that I didn't see Michel go back into my room. But once I had gone back and locked my door, I suddenly felt myself lifted by two strong arms and flung on the bed at the same moment that a muscular body lowered upon me and a gloriously stiff prick penetrated my pussy, still moist from Jacqueline's gamahuching. I can tell you, my cunny was widely opened from the preliminary work of his sister, and I was certainly ready to be fucked! But anyway, in a lightening flash of understanding, well I understood the reason for those funny scratching noises I had heard while Jacqueline and I were doing battle. That wretch Michel had been frigging himself behind the door while he watched the spectacle we provided for him. I had fought Jacqueline spontaneously, I didn't want to give anyone any kicks from watching what was going on because I was the one that picked the quarrel so that he might watch and get a hard-on!"
"An estimable family, that," Georges chuckled.
"Yes, wasn't it?" Sandra giggled. "There's no need to tell you that this time Michel did not content himself with just giving me a fast fuck, for our little game was greatly prolonged. I didn't want to let him do everything, so he gave me some good hard smacks on the bare bottom-which I think he did to revitalize his deflated prick-he widened the field of my pleasures by gamahuching me himself.
"I can still remember how both his hands gripped my bottom and pinched and squeezed it hard and his tongue furrowed into my cunt. Each time he thrust his tongue in deep, he rubbed it over my clittie or dug it into the inside of my vagina, drawing little cries of suffering and groans of pleasure from me. Then, stopping to turn me over and give me a few more hard spanks to stimulate himself still more and also to make me think I was to be his obedient slave, he forced me to do a lovely sixty-nine on him. It was a beauty, too, because he was the best pearl-diver that I have ever known. When we finally left the room, I found that Jacqueline, all smiling and happy, was waiting for us to do justice to the dinner that she had prepared while we were fucking and carrying on.
"Well, I can tell you, I did justice to it, even though I was worn out," she added.
"Well now, while you wait, swallow this down," Georges said to her as he held out a brimming martini.
Sandra's eyes glowed with malice, her bosom heaved with greed. She saw that she had come into a good thing by meeting Georges, and with relish she lapped up her drink, actually dipping her tongue and sucking up the gin, as a cat might lick from a saucer of milk. She seated herself on the divan of the salon and Georges took two long swigs from his glass before coming to sit down at her feet, full of salacious appetite, happy also that he had appeased the thirst which this story of hers had inspired. And it wasn't just the thirst for drink, it was a thirst for this curious, enigmatic child-woman known as Sandra!
III
"Well, since you want to hear more about me, I won't at all mind telling you. Fact is," Sandra gave him a wicked wink, "it makes my pussy itchy just to think about such things. Does it do the same for you?"
Georges chuckled, and glanced up at her from his comfortable position on the floor beside her. "I'm otherwise equipped, my dear," he remarked blandly. "But to give you a polite answer, yes, it does stir me a great deal. Go on."
"Very well, I Will. Well now, after dinner, I went to my night-school course, but Michel didn't come to wait for me when I got out. So when I came back to the apartment the long subway ride together with all the fucking and sucking he had done to me made my legs feel as if they were made of putty. I was so worn out till I didn't even notice a raucous and repetitious noise which came from the apartment. I thought that maybe the noise came from the elevator. But it was too loud to be coming from there. It must be coming from the apartment ... probably from Jacqueline's room. I had a moment of panic. I was afraid that I had seriously hurt her without really knowing what I had done while we were fighting, and after I had gone, she must have had a relapse. You know. Well, anyhow, I tiptoed towards the half-opened door, holding my breath. Well, my dear, what a spectacle I saw! First of all, there were two shadows moving about, and one of them was constantly moving an arm. As my eyes became accustomed to the shadows, I made out Michel in the act of buggering his own sister while at the same time he was lashing her bare back with a kind of bristly thong. On her knees against the bed, with her torso stretched out across the sheet, she uttered at each lash a cry of anguish, and I saw that each stroke left a bleeding streak on her naked skin. This groan was followed by a strident moan of pleasure when her brother's belly smacked up against her bare behind. I stood there petrified, watching this savage and incestuous tableau without being able to turn my eyes away. For what I had taken for a thong was in reality a bit of barbed wire which left deep bleeding streaks on Jacqueline's rosy flesh. Fascinated by the way they were carrying on, I couldn't take my eyes from the horrible scene.
"Suddenly Michel flung his piece of wire across the room and with his right hand gripped his sister's hip, his body shaking, his muscles swollen by the effort he made to weld himself against her, to keep his prick buried to the hilt inside her ass-hole, in spite of the wild wrigglings which were beginning to jerk them both about. And with a voice panting and hoarse from the exertion, he cried out: 'What a gorgeous ass ... gorgeous ass ... gorgeous ass ... I finally got you ... up to the hilt, you gorgeous bitch!'
"Well, Jacqueline answered him, her voice stifled against the sheets, and between her gasps and moans, she called out, 'All for you, my dear Michel, it all belongs to you, my gorgeous cock-smith, my beautiful bugger ... it's all for you.' Well, I was almost ready to vomit and sob at the same time, so I finally ran away, without waiting for the end of their ecstasy. But I didn't manage to get away before they both saw me, having heard my gasps of revulsion. Yes, their eyes turned towards me, two pairs of eyes which were glazed with the same voluptuous cruelty. And this discovery of my involuntary participation-which I am sure they had both hoped for and expected-seemed to add to their delight while at the same time it made me feel as if a hurricane had driven me to the floor. I dragged myself to my room and flung myself on my bed, panting and distraught by the discovery of so much perversion.
"Alas, it was destined that I was to endure slander and also hatred and rancor because of what I had seen. I didn't know how long it was I first flung myself down across my bed to weep as if my heart were breaking, without undressing, without even turning on the light, because all I wanted to do was to enjoy the relief which tears and nausea conveyed. And all of a sudden, then, I felt a caress against my flank. I wanted to straighten up and fight against this ignoble lover who had come back to me, but I was totally unable to do so. I remained inert, unable to move or to resist. The emotions of the day had completely emptied me.
"I hardly could breathe in an indistinct murmur, 'No. Michel ... that's enough tonight ... I'm sick!' But it was Jacqueline's voice which replied to me with a feigned gentleness, 'Come now Sandra, dear little Sandra, don't be silly. Let me at least undress you so you can go to bed. You don't want to stay like this.'
"My strength had so abandoned me that I let her do it, happy to have her compassion and to have my limbs liberated from the yoke of my clothes. Suddenly, while she was taking off my slip, pulling it over my head, I thought that someone else was taking off my shoes, clumsily unhooking the garters from the tabs which held up my stockings. So I wasn't alone with Jacqueline. I understood: Michel was there too.
"How silly I had been, to think that they were worn out from their exploits. Now I was really taken in a trap. Though I wiggled like a worm on a hook to try to get away from Jacqueline's embrace, Michel was now taking off my stockings and my panties, in the easiest way possible-he was tearing them off. Then, with the greatest ease, because his sister was holding me, he paralyzed my hands and arms by pushing them behind my back. He grasped both of my slim wrists in the vise of his left hand. Then I felt that with his right hand he was beginning to fondle my right breast, while with his greedy mouth he sought my lips. I tried to bite him. That was a useless attempt. Not only was he playing at cat and mouse with my lips, but Jacqueline had now slid down my loins and had begun to lick my pussy as she had done before, delicately parting and pushing away the hairs of my pussy so that her tongue might slip in the more deliciously. I couldn't resist such caresses, for long, and I began to feel myself getting wet. My struggles stopped; the muscles of my thighs, with which I was trying to strangle her, relaxed at last. Again during this unforgettable evening, my senses weakened, and finally failed me.
"When Jacqueline felt my reactions destroy my will to resist; when she judged that I was sufficiently wet, she removed her mouth from my pussy, and without ceasing to frig me with her dainty fingers, rolling back and forth the button of my clitoris between her thumb and index finger, she occupied herself with her brother.
"For her, it wasn't the delicate work of a tongue she had just given me, but simply a vulgar sucking-off with the obscene and noisy sucking noises that always accompany such an operation. In the half-conscious state in which I was, I heard a subtle scratching, as if mice were scurrying about. It took me a long time to discern the origin of that sound, but after a time I realized that it came from Jacqueline's scratching over the skin of her brother's balls, regularly and methodically. To that caressing I owe the fact that I did not lose consciousness until the moment when these two diabolical lovers violated me, for their caresses had an electric effect on my overexcited nerves.
"When she stopped, Michel, who had stopped fondling my right breast, and kissing my mouth, took me by the waist. He turned me over to lay me on his sister's belly, she still having her hand in my cunt. I felt the warmth of her two panting breasts against my own while at the same time I felt her fingers yawn open the lips of my cunt so that a stiff prick could enter it. Judge my surprise, Georges! I had come from a little country where if the men were salacious, at least they were not particular in their ways of obtaining a good hot spend. But it wasn't Michel's prick in me, oh no! Because when I looked down, I found that Jacqueline had put on a sort of belt which had an artificial prick that was over her pussy. It was what they call a dildo, of course. And you should have heard her cries of ecstasy when she dug into me! I had just a moment's leisure to reflect to myself that Michel was very perverse, very vicious to take his own pleasure by watching us take ours. But I will admit it didn't displease me to find myself astride Jacqueline with that dildo buried in my cunt. How naive I was to suppose that this was an act of perversity on Michel's part. For now, with a prompt gesture, his hand began to stir around my wet cunny, and when he had sufficiently moistened it, he opened my bottom-cheeks and smeared my bunghole with the sticky stuff, just before he penetrated my ass-hole with that big hard prick of his, still moist from his sister's saliva while she groaned under me. I uttered a long cry of anguish under the rending pain the buggering caused me. That must have really excited them, just as it's doing you, right now, little Georges ... let me caress you ... you'll see what a nice soft hand I've got, ah, isn't that nice, my sweetheart?"
Sandra put down her hand and began to fondle Georges' prick and then capriciously she took her hand away. "I don't want to make you come too quickly, my dear. I've so much more to tell you. Now let's see, where was I?
"Oh yes! It must have made both Jacqueline and Michel frenziedly passionate for in time both the brother and the sister bit me cruelly. Michel bit my left shoulder and Jacqueline bit me behind my right shoulder. I redoubled my shrieks and contortions. I could feel all the more the raping of my bottomhole by Michel's real prick and the raping of my poor cunny by Jacqueline's false prick. It was really too good to be true! My shoulders were burning and I felt myself impaled. Just the same, I couldn't prevent myself from feeling a delicious thrill flood through me. I know it was ignoble and shameful and nauseating, but oh how marvelous it was too!
"The two torturers shared the delight of the savage and doubly bestial fucking. Each time Michel's weight lowered on me, ripping even deeper into my poor throbbing bunghole, the wriggle of her loins which Jacqueline made not only aided the dildo to go more deeply into my pussy but also helped her brother's cock to probe deeper into my other hole, so that I felt my two holes becoming one. And both of them were in the seventh heaven of delight. Jacqueline called out to her brother: 'Well, my adored Michou, are you having fun with this sweet hot little bitch?' Then Michel panted, 'Oh, I have both of you, and you feel my weight on your belly! Oh, little Jackie, how right you were to keep this dirty little whore around ... and listen to her, she's going to go off with us, that nasty little chippy!' Jacqueline called back, 'Oh! Oh! Dear Michel ... how I feel you ... it's as if you were deeper into me than you were a little while ago. Is the little whore you're buggering a real virgin?' Michel panted back, 'Oh yes, she is, but for the last time ... she's not as much a virgin now as she was ... well, Sandra, you wanted to be a whore, did you my beauty? Well don't complain, you're being better served than if you were in a brothel!'
"And then Jacqueline called back to him, 'Oh! My big-pricked darling, how wonderfully you're digging it into her ... come with me, Michou!' When they both felt that they were near climax, they crushed and clutched me enough to suffocate me. Finally they sagged against me. And when they both were thus overcome by spending, I profited by wriggling myself away so that the dildo jerked out of my cunt, I shoved the dildo to one side, and scrambled away. I saw that Michel's stiff cock had buried itself in his sister's twat. I grabbed my clothes and I ran like a lost soul to lock myself up in Jacqueline's room.
About ten minutes later, and no more, they were both at my door insisting that I open it. Jacqueline was particularly infuriated. She cried out that I didn't know my trade, as a good whore ought to suck her client off before she went to sleep to make sure there wasn't any spunk left in his balls. I hid my head under the covers, for I felt that I had earned the right to go to bed and I didn't want to be disturbed. Besides, I was ashamed of myself, and yet singularly satisfied as I had been before dinner with Michel. Besides, I was weary, and the drowsy lassitude creeping over me made me forget the pain that was throbbing in my bunghole. They stayed a whole hour at that door, believe me, Georges. Jacqueline went to every possible effort to secure the erection of her brother's prick, calling out to me obscenely about the results she was able to obtain. Finally they contented themselves with falling on the rug in the hall out there, calling out their ecstasy to me. And I fell asleep as I heard them cry out in their climax."
After this last phrase, Sandra was silent, because she felt Georges' prick hardening under her hand, she having resumed frigging him for the last moment or so. She smiled at him, and she saw that he was quite ready to let his spunk burst out. He gave her back a beaming smile, full of lust, and murmured as if to thank her for having excited him so, "What a temperament that Michel had!"
And very slowly Sandra bent down towards his turgid prick and took it into her mouth, practicing the rhythmic suction which she had just described. The noise of this sucking was magical and she knew that she had learned her woman's trade from the warm jet of spunk which shot to the bottom of her throat, accentuated by the swallowing she had to do in order to get down his copious load.
IV
Georges continued to caress the nape of Sandra's neck while she crouched over his abdomen and tickled his balls with her soft fingers. At the same time her dainty hot little tongue scraped here and there to clean up the drops of spunk which she had missed.
When she raised her head, he felt himself considerably less burdened. So he prepared a strong martini for her and said, "Here you are, my little beauty. Your throat must be dry from so much talking. Besides, it'll soften your mouth and make it better in the event that you French me again."
As she rose to take the glass, he took advantage of her movement by drawing her onto his knees. Then he asked, "Tell me now, Sandra, why you made such a scene, instead of calling the police."
"So that I wouldn't have to go home and share with my mother all the drudgery of household chores which she had been imposing on me for some years now."
Georges nodded. "Well, I suppose that's right. If you had blabbed, Michel would have spent a few months in the reform school for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. But what the devil could have made you endure the perversity of those young swine rather than go back to your home? What sort of drudgery did your mother make you do?"
"Drudgery?" Sandra echoed. "Do you want me to talk about that particular drudgery which I shared with her for the past few years?"
"Of course, that's what I'm asking you. Tell me," he said, his mouth moist with lust as he anticipated another story that would rouse his cock to a new hardness before this delicious adolescent prick-teaser. The thought of making her his slave-bitch was already making his balls ache with longing, and he began to imagine all sorts of lewd scenes in which she would crawl naked to his bed, lick his feet, lick between his toes, even lick his ass-hole and his armpits when he ordered her to, or otherwise there would be punishment.
Sandra eyed him for a moment, and then said, "Well, go find a switch, a whip, or even a rug-beater, or anything that is long and flexible."
Georges obeyed at once and came back with a swagger stick which he had had during his military service. "This is all I could find," he explained.
But Sandra wasn't in the living room and she called out to him, "Come in here, Georges ... I'm in the bedroom ... it's magnificent, we'll be much more comfortable here."
"Right," he consented.
"Of course you will be very nice," Sandra giggled as she seated herself on the bed. "All right, you can just listen now."
He stood before her with his flexible stick in his hand, without knowing exactly what to do with it, and she began her story:
"My father was a man who outwardly seemed to be a very unobtrusive and inconsequential person. Almost nobody ever saw him go out by himself, except for a few family dinners or one or two banquets on special occasions. Well, when I was very young, he worked in the evening so that he could master his trade as an accountant. He also had a wonderful stamp collection. And when he inherited a little property, he planted a lot of castor trees and seriously took up their cultivation so that he could make some money by selling the castor beans for medical reasons.
"Unfortunately, on that property, there were a few grapevines that produced quite a nice little wine. Some of my father's cousins were given the responsibility of cultivating the vines, and every year we were able to put away a few cases of nice wine in our cellar. When he worked late in the evening, doing his accounting, my father got into the habit of drinking a little white wine. Naturally, my mother let him do it. At the start it pleased her too, for when he finished his accounts and the wine, she found him ready for her.
"Then he liked to play rough games with her. I often heard him wake her up with good hard smacks of his hand on her bare behind, and as soon as she had turned over on her back to protect her backside, would fall upon her and stick his big prick in her cunt and give her a fucking as ardent as he had done when they were young.
"Well, after games like this, a little brother was born and then a second one. Well, and then my mother tried to resist him when she was pregnant. But it didn't do any good. He wanted to fuck just the same. Not only that, but he became accustomed to taking quite a few extra glasses of wine which gave him the incentive to give her a real thrashing and force her to fuck with him.
"So one day, Mama said to him, 'No, you revolt me, when you have drunk too much!' He took hold of the rug beater and gave her a real thrashing till at last, though pained by the beating, her pussy was hot from such a thrashing. She wasn't able to resist any longer so she gave in. And after that, whenever she didn't want to let him fuck her, all he had to do was chuckle and say, 'So, you have to have your big bottom dance before you can make love properly?' And the dialogue went on that way, growing more and more obscene, Georges. Mama would say, 'leave me alone, you fat pig ... you filthy bastard, you tub of wine!' And he Would say to her, 'you filthy little whore ... well, so you want your reckoning do you, do you ? There ... there ... and there!' And smacks from the rug beater would rain down on Mama's bare bottom and belly till she finally gave in."
As she spoke, Sandra, who had curled herself up on the bed, made a sign to Georges with her arm, lifting it in the air and lowering it quickly. He soon understood what she had in mind and what he was to do with that stick in his hand.
He lashed her on her bare thighs, leaving long red streaks which soon turned violet, and then the flexible stick cracked against her bare bottom and over her belly, still hidden under the folds of her robe. And Sandra repeated, as if to enjoy her punishment as long as possible. "Then Mama would yield ... yield ... aaah ... oww, Georges ... yield and cry out, 'Stop, Hubert ... Stop! Here's my cunt, it's all yours ... take it, fuck it, Hubert, you've made me so wet and hot, you can't know how much!'"
And Sandra, having turned onto her back, with a sudden movement lifted her dress and showed Georges her yawning pussy, glistening with love juice; she closed her eyes to continue her story: "Then, you could hear my father call out, 'Oh, that lovely cunt, that's all ready for my big prick ... that lovely cunt I'm going to fuck!' "
And Sandra prolonged her series of exclamations until Georges repeated in his turn: "Ah, that lovely cunt is ready for my big prick!" Flinging down his walking stick, he thrust his prong with a single dip up to the hilt inside the moist twitching pussy of the delicious adolescent.
Then Sandra pursued her little game which roused her own lust to the highest, saying to him hoarsely, "Yes, it's yours ... take me ... take me quickly ... yes, just like that. That's what my mother said, those times, darling. And my father would say, 'Little Ginette is getting fucked by her husband.' Oh, my man, give it to me now, never mind my parents, fuck my cunt, mine, mineahhh!"
Thus the perverse and imaginative young beauty gasped and groaned while Georges, enchanted by this fantasy, fucked her furiously, and panted back, "There, my girl, there's all the spunk you want ... take it, take all my spunk ... it's going to flood your sweet hot tight little twat!"
And then, in a convulsive start of pleasure, Sandra revealed her dark secret at the same time as she passionately squeezed Georges against her, with all the force of her beautiful slim arms and her deliciously muscled legs. "Oh yes, Papa, give me all you've got ... give me everything ... oh, Papa, fill me with your hot gism!" And with a groaning sob, she added in her lustful delirium, "It's for Sandra ... it's for your dear little Sandra!"
All her body stiffened. She imprisoned him in the vise of her thighs and she dug her fingernails into the back of his neck. He felt a restoration of vigor in his prick, and his orgasm was prolonged beyond what he had believed possible that any man could know of fucking rapture.
Finally Sandra's claws relaxed their grip, and their assuaged bodies sought repose together.
V
Sandra was first to disengage herself from the ecstatic embrace to go to the bathroom, and she cried out playfully to Georges, "Dear, if you want to be nice, please heat up the casserole I saw in the kitchen, I'm famished!"
After wiping his deflated, stickied cock, he went to the kitchen and prepared a tasty supper. Ten minutes later, as she greedily attacked the appetizers, Sandra resumed the story of her life ... a story which, despite her adolescence, was full of emotion and drama and all the perverse ramifications of fucking.
"Now that I've told you everything on the pillow, as the saying goes, all I have left is to give you the details of the sexual education which was given to me by my father, then I will have finished with this chapter. Yes, when you were doing it to me just then, darling, it was just as if Papa was having me. It's naughty and I know it's incest, but that's the way it was."
"I'm not one to judge you, you tasty morsel of pussy," he smiled indulgently.
She giggled and gave him a stinging kiss on the cheek, then resumed: "Well, as you can well imagine, these daily battles between my mother and father developed into something much more serious. Until I was six years old, I had been the only child in the household, but when my father began to pay regular homage to my mother even when she had her time of the month, you could just about have guessed the results. The fact was that I got five little brothers in five years."
"Quite an accomplishment," Georges chuckled.
"Naturally," Sandra went on, "with his penchant for white wine as well as the expertise he got with practice, my father took to spicing his conjugal fucking scenes with sadistic as well as erotic variations. Since my mother was past thirty-five, you can imagine that she didn't go in for slinky black stockings or filmy panties ... those were things that weren't customary in our household. Besides, the birth of these brothers of mine upset the apple cart as far as their fucking habits were concerned, for they were often visited by their own parents who took joy in being grandparents. And all this sent my father and mother into wild and stormy scenes. My father couldn't bear seeing anybody but my mother and myself, and finally he had to have a doctor called to see him."
"I see," Georges nodded.
"Well, the doctor prescribed calm and repose and absolutely no worries. Since the castor-tree project had just been finished, he proposed that his parents come and live in the villa he had built on the property in return for their taking care of the children of his household. It really didn't please him too much, for he had always dreamed of living in that villa himself. But he hoped that one of these days things would work out so that he could. He often told me, 'When your brothers are grown up, we'll live there.' And then he would add, when he saw my mother make a face or shrug her shoulders, 'Of course, if I get my health back.' But, as he grew older and as he took to drinking more and more wine, fucking became his entire world."
"There are other men besides your father, my dear Sandra," Georges said ironically, "who have made a hobby or even a lifetime occupation out of fucking. Some very famous ones, like Casanova and Frank Harris."
Sandra wrinkled her nose at him and went on: "I was already pretty big for my age and I was quiet and refined and all that one could expect from a girl. But of course also my parents realized that I was pretty smart and if I weren't watched constantly I might be innocently blabbing what was going on between them, so my mother and father kept me with them all the time. But my mother didn't have the slightest suspicion of any of my actual feelings. But anyway, I was eight when my grandparents moved into the villa. Every evening my parents sent me to bed right away which made me mad because I couldn't see or hear anything. Moreover, my mother had made me swear never to tell anyone, what I heard them do and say."
She gave Georges another kiss and ran her hand down the fly of his trousers, murmuring, "You will want to spank me when you've learned how naughty I've been. But I won't mind that. Well, to go on, my mother spent every day with the other children at the villa, where we had lunch, and then in the evening she and Papa and I went back to the house in Papa's car. Of course the program of all these activities changed when we got a television set, which was necessary to affirm the social standing of my father. After a year or two, my mother, once she got to the house, began to drink with my father so that she could share all the more the pleasure of their little games. You never heard such swearing in all your life, such obscene language as went on then. Since the rug beater which had been the whipping instrument of the household got broken one day during the fury of one of his matrimonial corrections, my father bought a whip to replace it. He applied it now with a superb precision which was due to long training, and he would often flick my mother's pussy before fucking her, swearing grossly at her: 'Well, are you going to open up your twat so I can fuck you? Ah, I see you need to be tickled! Here are a couple of little stingers ... and some caresses for you ... ah, you're getting wet, you're going off, you ugly itching-pussied bitch ... Well, it won't take long before I give it to you and juice you more!' Of course my mother had only to call him drunken sex maniac, and you can imagine what sort of delightful fury brought them together. And it turned out to be a veritable frenzy of blows and insults which terminated in their fucking in a more and more savage coitus."
Georges shook his head and smiled but said nothing.
Sandra continued: "Hearing in my room these sounds of pleasure, I frigged myself every night. It was when I was about eight years old that I heard in class some of my schoolmates talking for the first time about how they jacked off. And they gladly furnished me details. So I used that method in order to accompany the groans and shuddering passion-cries of my parents by drawing forth my own as my finger tickled my squirmy little cunt. A year later, I didn't need to do that. As I said, we had a television set. Naturally I was authorized to watch most of the programs which were educational as well as a few others."
"I see. And what then?" He asked with curiosity that was mounting ... as was the eagerness of his prick to fuck her again.
"Well, one evening when I was watching some lecturer answer complicated questions from an audience, I heard my parents toasting each other as they clinked glasses, strange toasts too, like 'To the stars you are going to see soon, my little Ginette.' And my mother replied in a voice which she thought was too low for me to hear: 'To your prick, may it be as nice as you promised me, Hubert.'"
"Love and hate are often inseparable," Georges said philosophically.
"You may well say that," Sandra replied with a giggle. "And after that, my mother and father began to slander each other, and my father would say, 'Don't make me laugh, you trollop, with that wide, fucked-out cunt of yours.' And my mother would retort to him, 'And you, my good man, how dare you show me your tiny hermaphroditic nub?' Then, after another glass, there were new protestations of love, new swearings. Such as, 'Wait a little, you bitch, so I can make you really shine as you deserve. And I mean the shine of your bottom, a good red shine.' And my mother would retort, 'Is that true, Hubert? Well, tell me again that you'll send me flying into space.'
"Originality, to say the least," Georges chuckled.
"Yes, wasn't it? But anyway, I was certain that my mother had probably done a little jacking off with her fingers to get him into the state she wanted, for she would say, 'You make me laugh with these promises of yours, all the time I have had to wait for you to get hard. You see, you need to have me frig you before you are man enough.' And then my father would protest, 'Bah, you'll feel me well enough when the little girl has gone to sleep.'"
Georges rose and lit a cigarette, staring at the deliciously provocative girl with desire. The candid story of her precocious education in fucking and all its diversified little games had given him one of the most exciting nights of his entire life. "Go on, Sandra," he ordered peremptorily. "This tale of yours is very stimulating to the appetite ... and I don't refer to that of the belly ... but to that of the organ which grows below it, which serviced you, so well indeed that you did me the honor of imagining for a time that I was your own father. I will admit, you pretty bitch, that the thought of incest stirs strange desires inside me. Go on, if you will."
"Do you like me to talk naughty? Lots of men do, but you, you are something special, yes, sometimes when you fucked me back there I pretended it was with Papa and his big hard stiff cock was crammed into my moist tight little slit and sending me off into paradise. But to go on. My mother would continue this little game of ridiculing my father's virility by saying something like 'Don't give me your bull, you filthy drunkard, because if you could only manage a tiny bit of a hard-on, all would be well.' And then my father, wounded in his pride, would angrily growl, 'Well, touch it for yourself, you old whore, and see if it isn't just as good as anything you ever took between those big thighs of yours.' And he would place her hand on his cock. She would sigh, 'Is it really nice, Hubert? If only it would be as big as it was a little while ago. But it surely won't be, you old drunkard!' And he would snort, 'Well, since you're in such a hurry to be fucked, you street-walking tramp, take it now.' And I would wait until they went off into their room to fuck each other as was their custom. But instead of that, one evening, there I was sitting watching television with my parents starting their love-duet, and to my amazement I saw my mother zip down my father's fly with one hand.
With the other she pulled down her skirt before I could make the slightest movement to leave the room; she slid down her panties, straddled over him, and lowered herself on his prick. As her panties festooned her knees, she let out a groan of delight, feeling herself impaled on his stiff ramrod. As I rose to leave the room, I saw my father's already contorted face twist towards me, and he gave me an angry glare and called 'Idiot!' "
"I can see that you had a shock," Georges murmured compassionately.
"You may well say that, darling. About ten minutes later my mother came to find me sobbing on my bed, and said to me, 'Come now, you mustn't weep like that just because you saw Mama give your father pleasure. You know that that's our happiness. You hear us, don't you, little darling, amusing ourselves every night?' And so, from that day on, they didn't even try to preserve any kind of privacy. In summer it was terrible. My mother got herself all naked so he could whip her before me with that 'bull pizzle,' as he called it. And sometimes my mother would present to him in turn each of her titties or just her nipples, and he would sting them with the tip of the leather, drawing little cries and tears of joy from her or so I thought, her smiles were so ecstatic. Then she'd stretch out in the bed so that he could caress with the same tapering tip of the lash her tickler, flicking it after he had taken a good distance and determined the exact range. He was an expert in pussy-whipping, was my father. In that exercise, she wasn't satisfied or assuaged with suffering until she fainted away. So you see, my dear Georges, that they didn't need a drink to be hot to fuck!"
"What a childhood you had!"
"I dare say that others have had the same in their time," the lovely adolescent philosophized in her turn. "It often happened to me that I wasn't able to get away from the spectacle of their fucking; they could hardly wait to get back to the house to be together. It seemed that their erotic fury was spiced by my very presence. And they finished by persuading me that such a thing was quite natural between them. In fact, my mother said to me, 'You always watch us eating, so why shouldn't you watch us make love?' It even led them, this fucking mania of theirs, to do it at the table, on certain hot summer nights when they both wore very little clothes. However, two full years passed before my mother, pregnant again, pushed my father into taking an interest in me. She used as a pretext my backwardness in studies to demand that he give me lessons so that I would catch up with my schoolmates.
"Now this was easy for my father because he had a certain talent for teaching and he did his work most conscientiously. For my part, I applied myself so that I could profit from these lessons, because I felt that he was anxious to see me make progress. For a long while, my father occupied himself with me. only on a scholarly plane. The most that he did was to give me a rather too brief pleasure by applying a few smacks of his hand on. my titties because I had been careless in preparing a lesson, or maybe a few cuts of the whip on my backside when I was particularly lazy. But up until then, he had mastered his emotion and this had scarcely stirred me."
"So your father was gradually being worked up to regarding you as a replacement for your mother, eh?" Georges said knowingly.
Sandra shrugged and giggled. "You'll see, but let me go on with my story. Anyway, this abstinence of his was finally broken when we had a family celebration. Of course, it must be difficult for a man like you, Georges, to realize that I could be flattered by a few stealthy looks at my growing titties, or to believe that a man could be interested in my first monthlies. But in spite of this I kept toward my father all of the natural spontaneity of a young girl. When he gave me a present, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him just as if he were Santa Claus. We had gone to have a little dinner with the cousins who took care of our wine-producing grapes. I had passed eleven, and I felt that I looked fourteen like all girls of my age who have grown up too quickly, but I amused myself by teasing the boys as if I were sixteen, although of course I didn't know the danger I might be running in doing this. Towards the evening of that day, everybody had been drinking a little too much and I myself was a bit tipsy. A few boys began to eye me in a nasty way because of the innocent advances that I always made towards them. I went back into the kitchen with the women to help them out, as was my duty, but I always found a pretext to go to the wine casks and sneak a good swallow. It had been a warm day, and the sun had heated me more than the wine. My mother, who wasn't afraid that I would lose my virginity but didn't want me to advertise my sluttishness, had at first given me a couple of slaps to keep me quiet. It was lost effort on her part, I can assure you, my dear Georges."
"If it had been I," he calmly retorted, waving his hand palm downward in the air, "you would have been quiet for quite some time after the thrashing I would have given your bare backside, my naughty, teasing, bitchy, fuckable little Sandra!"
"Now I know that you care for me when you say things like that." She hugged herself and shivered in mock terror at his playful threat. "But anyway, let me go on with this, darling, you may find it interesting. Anyway, when my mother saw how things were turning out, and that I was running the risk of starting a scandal she told my father and demanded that he take me back to the house before dinner. I protested vehemently against that punishment, and he had to give me two good hard smacks before I would agree to go with him. As soon as I was alone with him I forgot my punishment, and at the first chance, when the car turned a curve in the road I swayed against him, while I talked about how beautiful the grapes were, how good the wine tasted, how good the food was, how nice the boys were. Everything pleased me. When we saw the moon rising over the horizon I asked him to stop the car so we could look, and he agreed."
"You were already a prick-teaser then," Georges said as he took a puff at his cigarette.
"Wasn't I though!" she laughingly agreed. "Anyway, I put my head in the hollow of his shoulder, and I stayed motionless for a long moment. Finally he said we ought to go. And I said, 'Do you really think so? We're so nice alone, just the two of us.' And I lifted my head to give him a kiss at the corner of his mouth by way of thanks. This was more than the two of us could bear, he took my lips in a serious kiss and I gave it back to him much harder. I was already caressing his chest under his shirt, and he was fondling one of my titties. When his hand reached my thighs, I understood at once what he was trying to find. That was exactly what I was trying to find, too. I was almost beside myself. Ever since this morning I had dreamed only of this. With him or with somebody else, it didn't much matter. So long as it was anybody who knew what to do, who would take the opportunity to fuck me and reply to my physical appeal-that person could have my cherry. So he would have it."
"Decidedly, you had taken your resolve. Go on!" he said excitedly.
"I wasn't scared. But I wanted to take things at my ease. I had seen my mother and father twist and turn and contort on a low bench, or even wrestle with each other in the car while he was driving, and I didn't care for hasty fucking. I said to him, 'Wait, come here.' I had already lowered the seat at the back of the car, and I sprang into it. He followed me more slowly, and that was what I wanted. I assure you, Georges, it wasn't a question of anything else but to rid myself of my cherry. I needed a man. My father or somebody else, it made no difference to me, I repeat. The only thing that I felt throughout my body was that I was dying to be assuaged of my lust. All this had sprung up during this day of celebration, and I would do all that I could to make certain that my father wouldn't fail me. You know, there's an old saying, 'A stiff prick has no conscience.' Well, a wet pussy, does it have one, tell me? No, Georges, it doesn't, as I can prove from my modest personal experience."
"One experience made you wise, eh?" he chuckled. "But don't stop now."
"Well, my father hadn't yet come to join me on the wide back seat but I had already taken off my panties and lifted my skirt above my belly-button. I was in the position that I had often seen my mother put herself into. I waited for him, my thumb and forefinger already splitting wide my pussy so that his prick could directly dig right into me, which gives you an idea of how much in a hurry I was. The poor man had scarcely turned to open his fly. I pulled him to me. He thrust against my hymen, astonished to find such resistance in a wet and yawning pussy such as I had to offer him. He smiled at me, suddenly excited, and gently murmured, 'Clench your teeth, darling!' I obeyed him, and with a single thrust of his loins, he shattered me and drove straight into my vagina. At the third thrust he came up to the hilt against my uterus. And then he began to fuck me."
"As I would like to do this moment," Georges chuckled, thoughtfully rubbing his prick, which had begun to harden again at this story.
"In good time, darling. Anyway, I cried and I shouted and I wriggled and I came with so much fury that he had to clap his hand over my mouth to stifle my cries lest some passing car stop to find out what was going on."
Sandra suddenly stopped, panting and groaning, under Georges' weight, for now he took her on the leather couch of the living room, having lifted her up in his arms and carried her out of his bedroom. And then, between the gasps that she let escape, a stammering, hoarse and sensual plea escaped her lips: "Oh yes, Georges! Cry out the way he did ... ahhh!"
He hadn't even bothered to strip naked. With a single lunge, Georges forced his prick deep into Sandra's squirmy, moist cleft, as her long slim legs wrapped around his and her arms enfolded him. His mouth crushed hers to stifle and silence her cries, and he thrust himself violently until their hairs rubbed together, and until the stuff of his trousers rasped against her tender belly and pussy. She arched and twisted and weaved her hips like one possessed, her nostrils flaring and then shrinking, her eyes wild and glazed with lust. He had never in all of his life, even with women twice her age, known such lustful fury, nor such a tight, gripping and moistly eager cunt as that which she clamped around his digging ramrod.
"Give it to me, Georges, be my papa now, fuck your little girl, fuck her hard until she gushes down all her juice," Sandra moaned.
His tongue furrowed between her lips, his hands reached under to squeeze the jouncy cheeks of her lovely, voluptuous behind.
Sandra's eyes rolled under the savage animal ecstasy which her young cunt was sustaining under Georges' relentless digs. In his own fantasy, this sophisticated and mature man was treating the lovely adolescent as if she was a slave-whore, as if he had had her abducted and brought to his chambers where, defenseless against his sophisticated lust, she had to submit or else suffer cruel lubricous punishment. This idea whetted his desire, as did even more the secret burning thought that at this moment he was by proxy with prick-power replacing Sandra's own father ... knowing that he, like Sandra's father, was fucking what might well be in hypothesis his own daughter. The secret lure of incest is a tremendous factor in fucking, and there is no man of virile nature, who, having a daughter or niece of teen-aged and supple nubility, can suppress entirely the pernicious image of fuck-desire which haunts his being.
So it was with Georges. As he rammed himself deeper into Sandra's tight, wet, itching pussy, as he felt her muscled thighs clutch and grind over his bottom now, her heels kicking up into the air, as he felt her digging her nails into his shoulder blades, he crammed into her cunt and forced his tongue into her mouth, wallowing in all of her now. His right forefinger burrowed into the dainty rosette of her ass-hole, slowly gouging up to the hilt and wriggling back and forth to stimulate her to even more frenzied ardor.
Suddenly he felt himself attacked by the seizure of his rut, and with crows of delight, he twisted and rolled with her until they toppled from the couch onto the floor, continuing to roll and to thrash until at last Sandra, with sobbing inarticulate moans, gave down the furious cream of her insatiable lust.
VI
"Do you think we could finish eating this time before you end your story?" Georges asked Sandra as she was coming back from the bathroom after having washed out her spunk-flooded pussy.
"Oh, it's quite simple now, in fact, you could finish it yourself," the charming Lolita saucily retorted. "My father hadn't been gone for more than half an hour but when my mother saw him arrive at the house in a very calm and placid state, she guessed that he had robbed me of my cherry. So that evening when she came into my room, she began to explain to me the mysteries of the menstrual cycle. For her, it was really an important thing, to find a partner for my father, during the days when she was out of commission because of the curse, and now she had me at her disposal. Georges, I can still see her smile when she found out that our periods of fecundity were different. However, this mood of hers didn't last long."
"Why was that?" he asked.
"Well, soon, she got jealous. She couldn't endure the attention that my father gave me during the time she couldn't service him. As a matter-of-fact, we had our honeymoon the time she was brought to bed with a child and I had learned a few amorous tricks by then. I can see her anger again now plain as day when she discovered that my father had taken a taste for tickling the soles of my feet with his whip. From then on, she insisted on being a spectator at our screwing matches; she could martyrize me as she liked while I went off under my father. Her lashes weren't tender, and sometimes it hurt me to walk. She would draw the 'bull pizzle' with all her might over the heel or the sole of my bare feet, while I was being fucked by my father, and it really hurt."
"I should think it would! But go on Sandra, darling."
"Well, it didn't turn out very well, because one day in class the teacher, who had noticed my limping, ordered me to go see a doctor the next day. Fortunately, I came down with a providential cold, and as I didn't limp any longer after that I didn't have to go see the doctor. Well, Georges, men brag about the delights of the harem. I really think it must be more of a hell for them. I should be more in agreement with the Chinese, who say that argument comes when you have two women under a roof and discord when you have three!"
"A sage proverb, that," he agreed.
"Well, my mother forced me to witness her fucking with my father until I got crazy with lust. To excite me still more she tied me by a wrist to the head of the bed and wouldn't let herself be fucked by my father until he had flogged me well, encouraging him with comments like this: 'Beat her ... whip her harder, that little bitch that doesn't want to watch her parents fuck!' And she would raise her skirt little by little over her thighs while my father lashed my bottom and sides and back with more vigor. 'Look what you're going to see, Papa! Look at those big thighs! Don't tell me you want a squirmy thing like her! Help, Hubert, my darling! Whip that little slut for daring to dream that she could clutch you as tightly as I could when it comes to fucking!' "
"A really charming mother, yours," he shook his head commiseratingly.
"So she was, Georges, so she was," Sandra sighed. "Then, she would push my father onto the bed and give him new orders: 'Lash her behind her knees, Hubert! Don't be afraid ... look at what I'm going to show you!' Then lifting her skirts to show her yawning and almost hairless cunt whose swollen plump lips gaped to expose a red, stiff clitoris and a channel still stickied with gism which seemed to intoxicate her still more, she would address us both in order to defile me even more: 'Yes, filthy scum, look at Gin-ette's pussy. It looks this way because it's just received you, Hubert, look how beautiful it is, and aren't you glad you got into mine instead of hers! Tell my cunt that you find it beautiful, Hubert!' And when my father, falling in with her cruel game, would praise her cunt, she would say sadistically to me: 'Ah, you see, you little whore? Look how your father is excited, just look at him!' And then she would fondle the tip of his prick between thumb and forefinger and say, 'Yes, beat her, Hubert, to show her that your prick isn't stiff for her, keep whipping her while you fuck me.' And she would yawn apart the lips of her slit and fall upon him to be fucked.
"Until then, my father had only scratched me, you might say, so far as whipping was concerned and that was when I had to wiggle away and do all sorts of contortions to avoid the harshest lashes. My mother was crying out all the while she was being fucked, 'Oh, Hubert, how good it is! Better than with that little streetwalker!' And he would reply to her, already in the seventh heaven of joy, 'Oh, what a lovely cunt, what a lovely cunt, I have you at last, you feel good to me!' And she would excite him still more by calling out, 'Well, whip her then, keep whipping her, darling Hubert, whip her, that unnatural girl who wants to take away her mother's man!' And then I tried to get away as far as I could in spite of the cord around my wrist, trying to find an angle in which the strokes of the lash wouldn't attack me. But my father no longer could control himself. And most of his strokes hit me in the arm or on the shoulder. Sometimes, I didn't really guard myself enough, because I was almost tempted to burst out laughing to see them wriggle every which way fucking, while my father lashed me. And on those occasions when I wasn't too wary, the harsh cry of the whip was followed by a real cry of suffering that I uttered. It was particularly painful when that whip of his smacked across my nipples or across my mouth. But one day I laughed so hard that the end of the whip bit against my tongue and I almost fainted."
"Poor darling!" he said compassionately.
"But often," Sandra went on, "to avoid a real chastisement I pretended to be really hurt, and I stopped short of laughing and uttered a heartbreaking cry. Then, as if by enchantment, the lashes ceased to rain down upon me, and my father, casting away his whip, began to fuck my mother into a delirious orgasm. They bit and scratched and clawed and insulted each other, you should have seen and heard them. It was really something remarkable! They had forgotten me, so I could take all the time I wanted to untie myself and run back into my room and avoid my mother's sarcasm. Inevitably she would come back to my room when it was over and say sneeringly, 'Well, so you thought your father didn't love me as much as he used to? See how he fucked me? You saw that, you filthy little tramp, how he whipped your filthy skin for being such a slut, didn't you?' Well, I tried to get away with an equal disgust from her litanies of gratitude when the two of them had sagged on each other after coming, to regain their breath. But I was in a rage when I heard his praise of her, because I knew that he was lying when he said that she gave him the most pleasure. I became so jealous to see her lying there swooning under his compliments and caresses that sometimes I flung myself on her to bite her and scratch her, and to hit her with my free fist. Then she beamed, having humiliated me, and to do still more she insisted that my father give me a good sound thrashing then and there."
"What a life!"
"You may well say that," Sandra agreed. She sighed deeply, then resumed:
"Sometimes, her urging my father had so much effect on him, that while she had gone out to douche her cunt, she would encourage him from the kitchen (there wasn't any bathroom in our country house where my father's salaciousness had relegated us for all time) ; then he would raise my skirts and take me on the corner of the bed, while he would continue to whip my thighs, his prick still sticky with my mother's juices, stiffening in the excitement of thrashing me. And then he would fuck victoriously, excited by the encouragements from my mother in the kitchen to keep whipping me. It was a lovely revenge for me just the same, and I didn't mind it. After all, I was beautiful and I was deprived of my share of fucking for more than twenty days a month. Yes, it was rare that my father found the desire and the strength to honor me after having serviced my mother, and after having excited me by whipping me so expertly. I even believed that he became more and more cruel and less and less naturally capable of satisfying the two of us."
"A tragedy," Georges remarked as he lit another cigarette.
"Well, at any rate, the 'bull pizzle' wasn't enough for him, and he enjoyed giving my mother pinches on her titties or her belly which really drew bellowings. Of course, I made him get a hard-on naturally enough, so he didn't have to treat me the same way, but he really preferred the savage fuckings he had with my mother. In order to get my full share of the fucking, apart from the eight days of the month which prevented my mother from having her fun, I had to use a few of the little female tricks. I had to undulate my bottom, and pretend to be indifferent. This didn't happen often enough, and it didn't work often enough either to suit my tastes. That's why I took the habit of going to dine with my brothers at times. My grandmother needed a helper now that she was getting very old and the children were growing up. That's how I got the habit of spending my evenings in the cinema ... and with Marcel."
"Now I begin to see where you are coming, my darling," he chuckled. "Don't leave me in suspense."
"I hadn't planned to, you've been most patient and I see it seems to delight you. Well then, when I would come back after midnight, that was generally quite a while after my father had had his release. However, he wasn't a man of precise habit. Sometimes I found that he had missed me a great deal and that he was waiting for me while he played with his stamp collection.
"Apart from the eight days of the month when we slept together and my mother kept to herself out of fear of getting fucked at a time when she could have got another child, he never entered my room. When we did make love it was on top of the table in the kitchen, or in the salon in front of that damned television set. In order for me to have the right to receive my father in my own bedroom, my mother had to tell me: 'You know, Sandra, my curse will be over in two days. Tomorrow evening Hubert will sleep with you.'
"If I hadn't been so young, that would have been a burden for me. While she drank with him, my mother had brought him back to her, and the two of them had acquired such a rich vocabulary of insults that they debated almost in a set fashion, which was that of the most scabrous profanity and vilification. Even when my father was beside me, I really had the impression that I was nothing but an interlude for him.
"So, in the evening, when I came back, I saw him installed in my room, and my heart bounded with joy. But I was uneasy and I said: 'Is mother so tired that she's let you come to me?' He shook his head and said, 'That's what you're thinking. The fact is that she drank so much that she fell dead asleep after dinner. I had to put her to bed.' Of course, I didn't ask for anything better, and I swiftly undressed so I could join him. And then he played a little game, by saying gently to excite himself, 'Who is this who is going to get herself fucked, why, it's little Sandra ... who's the one who is going to have herself filled with gism? Why, it's little Sandra.' And I would reply to him in the same vein: 'Who is the one who is going to fuck her? Why, it's my Papa! Who is the one who's going to stick his big prick into her? It's her nice Papa.' Then I flung myself into his arms and I impaled myself on his spear. He was as stiff as a bull ready to go into a cow. I let myself be fucked with rapture. But he had hardly begun to dig in and out when I suddenly felt a burning on my thigh; at the same time mother's voice bellowed: 'Oh you wretches, you little sow! Now I suppose you have to have your father every night, do you? Well, I'm going to take that little habit away from you ... there, you chippy! There, you man-stealer! Oh, you dirty little whore, you want your tanning, don't you ? ' And she was panting as she lashed my thighs and shoulder and flanks vigorously, and sometimes my bottom-cheeks. And sometimes my contortions made that tender gape between them vulnerable to her whip.
"Georges, as you can imagine, she hit so hard that I often wanted to wriggle out of my father's embrace. But that wasn't possible, because the more I cried, the more he fucked me, hard, that big idiot! Well, I had always believed in Santa Claus, but my father wasn't that in moments like this, I can tell you, Georges. At each shriek, at each frenzied wriggling that I put up, he opposed me with a jerk of his loins which dug his prick in all the more deeply, and soon I suffered the fate of all lovers, I felt myself swoon away under the stab of pleasure and I uttered only instinctive cries replying to his orgasm, while my mother kept whipping me and insulting me: 'See that little slut? Why, even the whip doesn't stop her from giving her bitchy little slit to anything that has a cock. She loves that, the little whore. Well, I'll give it to you, my girl!' "
Georges shook his head, and took a long puff on his cigarette, contemplating the delicious girl who could speak so candidly of such a lustful drama.
She went on: "Well, she was right. I felt this particular evening that I was really going to go off for the first time since I had ever known sex. I had squeezed my father in the most powerful grip I could, for when I came back to consciousness, he was tottering on his legs at the foot of the bed and she was saying to him: 'Well, my man, my poor man, what did she do to you, that little wretch? Why, you're completely groggy. Sit down, Hubert dear, I'm going to teach her to give herself up to such dirty, nasty games and run the risk of suffocating you.' And crack, I received a stroke of the whip, right over my still wet, pulsating pussy. I fainted, as you might guess, from being hit in so tender a nook."
"What a demon your mother was," he shrugged, shaking his head again.
"She was that and more," Sandra said dryly. "And she quickly brought me back to consciousness when I got a real avalanche of lashes over my belly which left me bleeding. I was paralyzed, and I turned instinctively over on my stomach to escape the atrocious cuts which rained down together with my father's excited comments: 'Well, look at her, the little slut is swooning away because she is so hot! Oh, tickle her, Ginette, and wake her up ... look how she's coming to. She doesn't wriggle around too much yet, but she's coming back. Look how she's going to spend!'
"And I felt a series of stinging lashes right down the groove of my behind. My shrewish mother was wielding the 'bull pizzle' in such a way that the little tip with which my father loved to flick me on my titties was darting with a cruel whistle against the base of my cunt. What a delight! I never experienced anything like that before. And my mother took advantage of all this to excite my father by calling to him, 'Look at her wriggle around, my Hubert. You don't whip her like that.'"
Georges again commiseratingly shook his head. Sandra smiled at him and blew him a kiss.
"Well," she went on, "this state of affairs lasted at least ten minutes while I wriggled on my bed in most lubricous contortions which my mother detailed in the lewdest words to my father. As her arm grew tired, was it that her lashes became more bearable, or was it that I was insensitive to pain after having so much? Anyway, the fact is that I came to watching her whip me and I could even smile jubilantly. Huddled on the bed, my hands protecting my bottom and my titties, I received those stinging and whistling little flicks in a sort of distant beatitude. The only thing that I could see was that my father was foaming at the mouth with joy and was starting to get a hard-on again, much to my mother's joy, for, all the while she continued to strike my flanks and my back with the thong of her whip, she began to raise her skirts and make eyes at him. And she called to him, 'Look at my twat, see what you're going to have to content yourself! And my thighs have never made you turn your eyes away, my darling! How big your prick is, what a nice time we're going to have together, just the two of us! Come, Hubert, look at my cunt, it is redder than hers, in spite of the treatment that I've just given her.'
"Unable to stand the temptation any longer, my father, who for the last moment or two had been rubbing his tongue along my bare side, cried out, 'Lovely cunt, what a sweet cunt, I want your cunt, my darling Ginette!' And while they fucked with the same insults and the same exclamations of pleasure as usual, I burst into sobs. Then it was that I decided to come to Paris."
And Sandra stopped and began to weep in Georges' arms, as she sat on his lap, an arm around his neck, screwing her bottom voluptuously over his thighs.
VII
Wiping away her tears, Sandra finally composed herself and said, "You know, I'm even sorry for my father, because he was a hot lover just the same."
Georges nodded understandingly. "Didn't Michel, who took his place, console you?"
"Of course. But he didn't want to keep me. I really don't regret that."
"Oh, I believe you. Before you tell me about that, let's stretch out on the couch and have a drink," Georges proposed.
They moved over to the couch. This Sandra really had a gift for getting herself mauled around. If he hadn't been so tired out by their preceding exploits of fucking, Georges would willingly have attempted a little game of spanking her bare bottom until she begged to be fucked or otherwise amusing himself in a violent and sadistic way with the delicious and precocious minx. Her bruised face, which had been yellow from the beating, had now turned brown and her left cheek looked like a raw beefsteak. "Yes," she began, "my friends were expecting a visit from their mother and I had to leave. Since I didn't have much knowledge of much of anything except cooking, I got myself a place as a sort of maid with fairly well-to-do people. At least I was peaceful there-or so I believed myself to be, until the son and his wife came back from their honeymoon. The first warning I had was from Melanie, the head chambermaid, who looked upon me as if I were a colleague. 'I hope that the young gentleman will please you. In any case, unless marriage has changed him, which I doubt, he considers that he has rights over the maid. She is usually reserved for him.'
"Well, Georges, you can imagine that this made me raise my eyebrows. I asked her, 'What about you?' She was twenty-five years old and I didn't see why she should be relieved of her duties. She tossed her head and merely repeated, 'Oh, the chambermaid is reserved for Monsieur. That's the way it is, my little one, you mustn't be annoyed. I tell you this so you can look for another job if he doesn't please you.' Well, I wanted to see this phenomenon to learn whether he would please me, and I told her so, for I was certain that she wanted to frighten me into leaving so that she could replace me with one of her own little friends. But I didn't have long to wait to discover that she was really devoted body and soul to the old gentleman, and he was the one she meant when she said Monsieur, not the young son."
"I see," Georges chuckled. "Do go on, my little beauty."
"Well, our rooms were on the third floor of an elegant apartment building which was shared between two families. The very first night, Melanie received a visit from her employer. As a prologue he opened her door and whispered, 'It's Monsieur.' Well, with an astonished air, she called back, 'What do you want?' And he answered, 'Come on now, don't be a little fool. If you knew with what I was knocking on the door, you would open it right away.' Then she didn't have to be asked a second time, and all I heard as she swung the door closed was, 'Let me see.' "
"Well, a novel method of introducing oneself, indeed," Georges laughed.
"You may well say so, darling. Anyway, the examination must have been conclusive, for she let the master of the house enter without having to wait any longer. And then right away, there took place in this next room, the most astonishing moving around that I had ever heard. I could hear the words and sounds with sufficient clarity to be able to portray the scene to myself. He was saying, 'Well, you ugly little girl who didn't want to open the door for me, do you think you merit this swollen prick of mine?' And she was saying, 'Oh, yes, Monsieur. I deserve it because I want it just as much as you.' And his reply was, 'No, you shan't have it! What you'll have is a spanking, for that's what you deserve, just like a little disobedient girl.' And to this she replied in a little-girl voice, 'But I didn't disobey.' "
"The game became interesting at this point," Georges laughed.
Sandra replied, "Yes, it did. He said to her, 'What's that, you little insolent girl, you didn't disobey? What do you call not opening the door to me right away?' and I heard a smack, which probably landed on her bottom. I was delighted. I counted them, and I had arrived at the count of ten, when I heard her voice beginning to count, 'Eleven ... Twelve ... Thirteen ... Fourteen.' He interrupted her angrily. 'Oh, you slut, you're having a laugh at me, are you?' And she went on, 'Fifteen, sixteen.' He said, 'Good, we'll see if you are going to continue that way.'
"What did he mean, Sandra?" Georges demanded.
"You'll see, you naughty boy. Let me tell the story the way I want to," Sandra protested playfully, kissing him. " 'Well,' Melanie said, 'continue to do what?' And then all of a sudden she gasped out, 'Oh no, not that ... not the ruler!' Then he said, 'Yes indeed, the ruler.' And from then on, the smacks sounded noisier and her plaints began to rise through the walls. 'This is much better, little girl,' he said after a moment. 'You come here and kiss your master.' And she cried, 'Oh, thank you, thank you very much. Monsieur!" And then I heard a smack falling on uncovered flesh and a cry ringing out in the night."
"What was that all about?" Georges wanted to know.
"It was his cross voice rose loud enough for me to hear clearly: 'Is that the way I taught you to kiss, little idiot?' And she sobbed, 'Oh! Pardon ... pardon. Monsieur!' And he remarked, 'It scarcely seems to please you, in any case ... is it truly that way one ought to kiss?' And she sniffled, 'Oh, yes indeed, Monsieur ... a great deal ... a great deal.'
"What in the world was he driving at?" Georges wondered.
"I will tell you if you will only listen, darling," Sandra laughed. "Well, he called back in an irritated voice, 'Well then?' And then there was the sound of raucous breathing which warned me that the crucial moment had come. I stifled my laughter as best I could. I was used to more conviction in the threats and the swearing and to much more rapidity in the first results ... what I mean to say is that I expected curses and then rapid fucking. So much ceremonial made me smile. I didn't know that the way my father and mother spoke their brutal and obscene insults was for them. But. this was only a prologue."
"Ah, you interest me strangely, darling. Don't stop now," Georges told her.
"I won't. Stop playing with my pussy or I never will get finished. Georges, you naughty boy, I said stop." Sandra giggled as she slapped his hand away from her moist pussy. Snuggling closer to him, she went on, "Hardly had their embrace been finished, than the employer undertook again to chastise the maid for her lack of enthusiasm. Then I also noticed that the tone of his voice was changing. And so was hers, and here you didn't find the slightest tone of insolence, but a kind of terrified panic which I thought was very well played: 'Not the boots, sir, do everything you want, but not the boots.' And he said solemnly, 'When one is as little stirred by love as you are, my girl, it's the boots you must have to be corrected.' And she said, 'Oh, sir, I would much rather be punished with the whip if you wish, but not the boots.' And, he replied, 'like a bitch. All right, get on all fours and faster than that.' Then I heard her first cries, and a strange sort of supplication which pursued itself through her plaints and tears without ever stopping: "Monsieur, I beg of you ... aie ... in pity's name, I mustAie ... Aie ... I'll work ... Aie ... tomorrow, if it please you.' "
"Hmmm," Georges remarked, staring at Sandra with great interest.
"And he said to her, 'Oh you wretch ... so, Melanie, you don't want to play or enjoy yourself? Well, take that ... and that ... there at least you'll take pains ... and that one.' I heard dull thuds whose nature I couldn't guess and I asked myself what was happening on the other side of the wall. My curiosity was stronger than my prudence, even though this was my first job. I slipped on a robe, and barefooted I tiptoed down the corridor to the door. Fortunately the keyhole wasn't stuffed up. The spectacle which I saw was worth the risk of being seen; at least for a novice of my sort, it was certainly a liberal education. There was Melanie, all naked, her white apron tied to her belly, on all fours, and she was bounding through the room to avoid the kicks which our master was aiming at her. He wore his boots and pursued her, and the kicks which landed against her behind were inflicted so vigorously he almost fell down when he attained his goal. Even though he was in his sixties, he didn't have a paunch at all, and what he tried to do, was fit the toe of his boot right into the maid's ass-hole. She, all this time, was trying to twist around and catch his cock with her mouth. At least that's what I understood later when she succeeded in doing just that, but at the time I was watching, each of the two of them was trying to obtain his or her own goal while preventing the other one from accomplishing his. The poor girl received good hard kicks on the bottom, on her belly, against her thighs, and each time she couldn't prevent herself from uttering a cry of pain."
"What an unusual game. Go on."
"She seemed almost ready to give, but she maintained herself on all fours, and trotted around like a pony, wriggling and twisting to avoid his vigorous kicks, and she always turned back with an ecstatic smile on her lips. I pitied that girl to have to submit herself to such a brutal beating and I was glad that I didn't have to be his partner. At last, seeming to put all her will and all her charms into the gesture, Melanie made a bound forward so she could fall at his feet, and then she took hold of his cock and bore it to her lips. As soon as she had touched it, he showed no more resistance and stopped kicking her. Then he said, 'Now, you see what's better, my beauty. At least you show a little repentance and a desire to see me satisfied. But you thought of this too late. I must punish you some more.' The wily little bitch said to him humbly, 'Let me at least give your big cock life again before you do that, dear sir. See how nice he's coming under my caresses.' And he retorted, 'Not under your insolent caresses, bitch! But at the thought of correcting you soon in a definite way for your lack of respect and intellectual laziness.' He laughed as he made his joke and he stroked Melanie's head, while her apron dangled against his knees and she wriggled and purred."
"A most curious spectacle, indeed," Georges remarked.
"You may well say that, darling. Then, I was asking myself what her reward was for standing for such treatment. I said to myself that he must be awfully rich to pay for such fantasies. But I was quite wrong. It wasn't because she was paid off by the master of the house to serve him as a partner that she thought herself better off than being in my place, but because she took her own pleasure from such games. She was shuddering all over now, and I could see her flesh rippling. Well, I was so absorbed by the spectacle that I didn't notice someone behind me. At first I didn't budge, but something warm and moist grazed my cheek. I put my hand up to find out what it was, it was simply a prick, but it wasn't as stiff as it could be. It was the prick being presented to me and I glued my eye against the keyhole to see what was going on inside that room. My would-be partner uttered a cry of pain and stepped aside when he heard steps in the room. I also would have got up and run away if I had been able to see that the master was directing himself towards the door. He had left Melanie in the middle of the room and was coming to open the door. Then all of the sudden the man who had tried to push his prick into my face now tried to put it into my pussy, not having learned his lesson the first time. I decided to dislodge him, and I told him that I would make a scandal by saying that he had forced his way into the bathroom while I was on the toilet. He shook his head and whispered to me, 'We can both watch, you don't need to get huffy, you pretty bitch.' So I followed him back to my room, and then he showed me a little hole in the wall just above the bed after moving a framed watercolor where there was a similar hole. So we could both look!"
"Good God!" Georges burst into laughter.
VIII
Georges shook his head and remarked, "The story of your life is quite moving, Sandra. You seem unwittingly to have projected yourself into the most unusual situations."
The enchanting adolescent giggled and said, "That's certainly true, darling. Well, you can imagine how I felt when I found myself in that situation. You see, I had only two options: either to lie down beside him as he wanted me to do and watch what was going on through that peephole or else make a scandal. And you know, because I was reasonably proud of my family, or at least brought up to respect them in spite of all their dirtiness, I didn't want a scandal. However, I shivered a little when I saw the hand of the invader of my room move quickly towards me without his taking his gaze away from the peephole. He obviously was making a sign to me that something was happening and I must keep still if I didn't want to spoil it. Curiosity proved stronger than wisdom, and I wanted to find out what it was all about.
"I clambered onto the bed and I glued my eye to the wall. To tell the truth, I didn't at first recognize the room that I had seen. Melanie was alone there in the middle of the room, prostrated in an attitude that was both abandoned and resigned. I didn't see any trace of the bad treatment she had just received and yet I thought that she must feel battered judging from the sounds I had previously heard. But I didn't see the master.
A little noise in the room made me turn my eyes to the extreme left. There he was near a drapery, which he had drawn back. He was now occupied in choosing a whip from a rather imposing collection. I had never seen such an assortment-there must have been at least a dozen, of different shapes and sizes."
"Now that is a collection that I myself would like to have," Georges laughed.
"You are naughty! Isn't it much more fun just to spank my bare bottom than to brutalize me with an ugly whip?" Sandra teased. "But to go on. Certain of them were formed with a long leather thong. Others were made of cords, still others were supple and gleaming, still others seemed plaited out of actual hair. Some of these instruments were truly made for torture: one of them seemed covered with emeried line (I later learned that it had been made out of the skin of a stingray) and sharpened wooden points were fastened to the prongs of another lash. The handles of these whips were also different. There were some that were short and others that were thick, so thick that they could have served as billy clubs for policemen. I saw others that were long and flexible which seemed to prolong the lengths of the whips' thongs. The master examined them, or rather, he seemed to hesitate between two of them. One had a short handle and the other was a long whip with a thong that ended in a little flap. He caressed them lovingly. Obviously, he must have loved them, for he had the erection of a stallion as he stroked them.
"All of a sudden he decided, without even taking the time to replace the one that he disdained in its rack. He cast out the long thong, which cracked sonorously over Melanie's back. I almost let a cry escape which I would have scarcely suppressed except that my neighbor looked at me with a scandalized air. It wasn't the sound of the whip which had surprised me-as you know already, darling, I was much too accustomed to sessions of whipping in my own home. No, it was the man's dexterity.
"The stroke that I thought had been directed quite by chance was so precise that the tip of the whip dug into Melanie's ass-hole as she leaned forward. It striped her back with a long weal that ran parallel to her spinal column from the hollow of her back on. She had scarcely straightened, shrieking with all her might, when the thong coiled round both her breasts; then as she plunged her hands towards them to protect those round globes, the whip whistled again and stung her fingers."
"That is expert flagellation, to be sure," Georges remarked.
"You may well think so, darling. But that first awful lash had overwhelmed her to the point of uttering a wild shriek. However, the other lashes tore only incoherent plaints out of her. The master sermonized her with every blow of the whip, making remarks such as, 'Ah, Mademoiselle is satisfied with herself. She believes that she has done well. She is assuaged.' To this Melanie sob-bingly answered, 'Not at all. Give me more, if you want, I love the whip, you do it so well!'"
"That pretty bitch must have had masochism at the bottom of her heart," Georges chuckled, and winked at his lovely adolescent partner.
"Not only in her heart, somewhere lower," Sandra jested. "And then, the master replied to her, 'Ah? You want some more? Well there you are, my beauty! At last I've found a girl who needs excitement to waken her so that she can fuck properly.' And Melanie said to him, 'Oh, yes, I need it so badly!' And he replied, 'Very well, there you are, my little Melanie. Happily I have this to aid me, otherwise I could hardly count on you to be cooperative. You must think that everything is due you. Even the lashes of the whip when you want them. So profit from this one!' And Melanie cried out, 'Oh, how good it is on my belly!' And the master laughed and said, 'Much too good for you!'"
Georges shook his head wonderingly. "I admire the imagination of such a man, Sandra. What a pity in a sense that you didn't fall into his hands."
"You are an old meany to say a thing like that. Besides, I am frightened enough of you, because you too can be sinister if you want to. But to go on with the story, Melanie said back to him, 'Yes, yes, just like that, Monsieur! But Monsieur mustn't tire himself.' And he laughed and said, 'Well, perhaps you think that I should tire myself some other way?' And she saucily retorted, 'Oh yes, sir, if it wouldn't tire you too much.' This made him angry and he said, 'What's this, you little slut, you dare say that it would tire me more than to give you pleasure by whipping you ? Well, you'll see!' And like a satyr he fell upon her. I was waiting for Melanie to stretch herself out on the floor but she squarely refused and said, 'Sir, I beg of you. I'm afraid that you'll have a stroke. Whip me a little more if you wish, but let me alone.'"
"What a vixen that Melanie was!" Georges laughed.
"She had a reason, as you will see. She said to him what I have just told you, and the master replied angrily, 'Ah, you won't yield to me? You find a pretext to beg off, do you!' And Melanie retorted, 'Oh sir, think of what Madame would say if you died in my arms!' He grumbled, 'Well, you don't want to, and now I am angry and you're going to see, you little whore.' "
"If Melanie was a masochist, perhaps her master had a wish for death ... even though it would be a beautiful death, as I can see," Georges chuckled.
"Perhaps, but he was brutal too, because now he hit her right in the bosom with his fist. She didn't stir, though, Georges. She didn't stir even when he fell upon her, hitting her in the face, striking her on her sides, her arms and her back. She defended herself as best she could, her thighs clutched together, legs folded under her, her hands instinctively covering her breasts. She simply groaned, 'I beg of you, stop, you're going to hurt yourself!' And then he roared, 'Well, you filthy little bitch, are you going to let yourself be fucked?'"
"Now that is what I call putting the question to a girl for fair," Georges remarked. "And what did Melanie do then, my delicious little Scheherazade?"
Sandra shrugged her lovely shoulders and gave him a naughty wink. "It was most curious, my darling. The master seeming in the midst of a inconceivably furious rut-and this surprised me because all that morning and afternoon I had seen him behave in a most proper manner-fell upon Melanie and sought in every way he could to fuck her. She defended herself as best as she could, tightening her thighs, huddling herself in a ball. She gave him back no bite, no pinch, no blow! He turned her under him more than six times. Though she was naked except for her little lace apron which remained knotted on her back, she wriggled so much that he couldn't succeed in digging his prick into her moist soft cunt. Once he did, but she arched up a knee and twisted in his grip and his cock slipped out. I think the struggle would have lasted forever if he hadn't sunk his teeth into her breast. She wailed and twisted her face to one side, and this slackening of her defenses gave him the opportunity to possess her. Considering what had preceded all of this, their fucking was really breathtaking."
"In what way, Sandra dear?"
"She literally rolled her loins under his thighs. One would have said that her lubricous body was giving a rhythm all its own to coitus, and from them both now poured forth phrases of love and of gratitude, but mixed with vehement reproaches and accompanied by gasps for breath. He said to her, 'Ah, how good you are, my little Melanie! You see that you really took me. You possessed me after all.' And she called back, 'Oh, the wicked man who doesn't want to fuck his little Melanie any more.' His answer was, 'There, you lovely bitch, you slut, you whore, there, Melanie, you wanted your boss, did you? Well, you bloodthirsty vampire, have your way! Yes, you vampire, you suck the gism out of a man instead of blood!' "
Georges could bear no more. He seized Sandra by the shoulders and flung her down on the couch and with a single thrust buried his prick deep in her tight sweet young pussy. She groaned, feeling him in her to the balls, and panted to him, "Oh, darling, did my story inspire you to do this?"
"Yes, my little Sandra! A Dracula, that's what you are. A bloodsucker, a cocksucker, a gism-sucker, oh, I'm going to give you all the gism I've got left, you sweet bitch."
"Come to me, my Georges. Come to me now, you wicked man who doesn't want to fuck his little Sandra."
He felt under his hands her lovely skin. Although it was marred by the beating she had taken, it was still satiny and delicious for him. Perhaps even its discolorations helped to arouse his furious passion. Her supple calves wound round his legs, and her mouth glued to his as she arched up to take the last of his cock; their hairs rubbed together.
Although he did not need the fantasy of assuming the role of Sandra's former boss, he found a supplementary joy in assuming it nonetheless. And her fingernails clawed at his skin, overwhelming him with lust. As he fucked her vigorously, he hoped that his embrace would hurt her in all the parts of her lovely body that had been brutalized.
His hands stroked her bruised and welted shoulders while his weight came down on many sensitive areas, and she groaned in pleasure mixed with pain, for the leather of the couch was a harsh mattress to her lovely naked ass.
Once the fury of his fucking had momentarily abated, Georges continued to remain dug into her to his balls without moving for a moment, ecstatic at feeling the convulsive contractions of her cunt-walls against his burrowed prick. Her face turned from side to side, and her eyes were glassy with an answering passion. Her breasts heaved against his straining chest, their points dark and firm like tiny flints. The muscles of her thighs and calves jerked and spasmed as they clenched around him to imprison him in her bower. He felt himself engulfed and encompassed by the passionate pulsations of her pussy. And the marvel of it was her youth which belied her vast experience, her knowledge of how to drain a man by the suctions and the clenchings of the pink moist hot tight walls of her luscious young cunthole.
IX
As they were taking pajamas out of the dresser drawer so that they could go to sleep, Georges asked her, "But, Sandra, you didn't tell me how you got rid of the peeping Tom who got into your room."
"Oh," she giggled, " I wasn't able to get away from him until the next morning. You may well imagine that if the story of this little love session had such an effect on you, it didn't leave us unmoved."
"Tell me about it. Perhaps when we put on our pajamas I'll give you a spanking and fuck you again," he playfully threatened, stroking her bare bottom which shivered and tightened under his amorous touch.
"Well of course," Sandra began, pressing up against him and rubbing her pussy hairs against his cock, while her soft arms wound round his back and her hands squeezed his bottom. "The invader of my room had counted on my being roused in all my emotions so that I wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight against him when he wanted to fuck me. And when the scene of Melanie's fucking began, he ran his hand over my bottom and pinched me here and there. I did the same to him. He didn't complain about it, but kept on patting my bottom-cheeks. At each smack and blow which poor Melanie received, his fingers tightened on my behind and soon slipped under my dress. At that moment, I wasn't asking myself anymore whether I was going to make love or merely playing a dangerous game with this boy. The only thing that was important to me was not to miss a single glimpse of what was going on, on the other side of the wall."
His hand now stroked her bottom lingeringly, and he felt his limp cock tingle with anticipation. He knew Sandra's story would have an imperiously stirring effect on his senses and he longed for it. "Go on, darling, and it had better be good, or else over my lap you go for twenty-five good hard stinging smacks on your naked ass," he threatened.
"Ooooh, Papa," Sandra lisped in a little girl voice, as she clung to him in pretended terror, "you scare me so! Well, I'll do my best. Anyway, as he watched, he drew me to him with his left hand posed on my left hip. He finally succeeded in getting me close enough so that his right hand tickled my pussy. I let him do what he wanted to, because as I watched what I saw entranced me. My throat was dry as I watched the other couple's frenzy and I felt my pussy grow moist under his touches. These became more intimate and more affective. Then I felt his middle finger introduce itself into my vagina and pretend to play the role of prick. I pinched him, but it didn't stop him masturbating me vigorously, then, at the end of my resistance, I let myself fall on the bed and abandoned myself in his arms. I was not astonished to hear him murmur in my ear, 'Pinch my balls, if you like.' I squeezed them between two fingers as I had done with Michel. But I took only one fold of skin after the other, like this-"
Sandra, to illustrate her demonstration, slid her hand into Georges' pa jama trousers as they now lay together side by side in bed. He let her do it, and she resumed her story, which promised to be as exciting as all of the episodes of her sexual life which she had related to her providential rescuer since they had first met. "Go on, darling."
"Well, my partner, who was just pressing his cockhead into my pussy, protested to me, 'Not the skin, my balls, and harder than that, do you hear?' So then I tried to grasp his little balls which rolled under my fingers, and I gripped one finally and began to squeeze it. My partner's fucking became more intense and violent. I saw his forehead glisten with sweat and he shuddered like a slaughtered bull over me. I was so afraid of making him cry out so that our neighbors on the other side of the room might hear, I relaxed the grip of my fingers and he at once whispered to me, 'Harder, and don't let go if you want to feel me up to the end of fucking, you sweet bitch!' Well, I had to give in. And I had to admit that it had a marvelous effect on him, for he dug his prick so hard and eagerly into me that he made me cry out myself. Though nearly fainting under the effect of his assault, I understood that pain was an adjunct to his excitement just as it often served the same way to me, so I used my free hand to pinch the scruff of his neck. This time he couldn't contain himself and let a groan of joy and astonishment escape him."
"You have certainly met unusual characters, I'll say that for you, you sweet bitch." Georges' hands stole along her thighs and gently stroked the tender skin on the inside.
"Well, I didn't have any more time to think about things, for I fainted away, so intense was my pleasure. When I came to, I found myself flooded with spunk. I repaired the damage and went out to cleanse myself, because there wasn't any washroom in my chamber. When I returned what was my stupefaction to see that my partner had buried a pin into his thigh, then taken it out, picked up a safety pin instead, rammed it through the skin of his thigh and was twisting it with quick little jerks to prolong his pleasure. I could see that I would have to wash my bedsheets and pillow, because he was still dribbling little jets of gism from time to time between his yawning thighs. I was really annoyed at this deportment on his part. And I almost left the door open again. Fortunately I closed it in time so as not to draw the attention of our master when he came out of the adjoining room, because just then he opened the door and slammed it to at once.
"He had left Melanie after beating her with the handle of his whip. I heard the blows and, forgetting the wretch who had stained my sheets so obscenely and perversely, I hurried to the peephole again, climbing over his prostrate body. The master had not taken up the first whip with the long handle that he had used before fucking Melanie. Instead, he had seized the whip with the short handle, the kind of baton whose whip thong was plaited and knotted. He struck Melanie and shrieked, 'Well, thank me!' And she stammered, 'Thank you ... thank you, Monsieur, thank you very much!' And he ordered, 'Better than that!' Well, Georges, she knelt down and while the thudding blows of the whip handle smacked against her back she began to suck his cockhead, holding it in her hand while her other arm clamped around his thighs. Then he began to shriek: 'But let me go, let me go ... won't this little bloodsucker let me go!' And he struck at her until she abandoned herself to the cruel blows of either the wooden handle or the plaited thong which cracked against her spine to the cadenced rhythm of her sucking of his cock. As soon as she had released him, he strode to the door, his clothes tucked up under his arm as if only too happy to be finished with an inopportune show of affection from this girl whom he had brutalized and ravished. Then he made a gesture of throwing his whip away and just as he did so, he turned to take a last look at the prostrated maid, sprawled in the middle of the room. She sent him a last look of supplication. Then he whirled around and returned to her, the baton upraised and crying out again, 'Ah, she would be happy to get away with such a small quota of lashes and without even having said thank you.' And Melanie sobbed, 'But I want to say thank you, I thanked you as I ought to, and it isn't my fault if I wanted to keep you longer with me.' He roared out, 'Keep me, you ugly bitch? I know that you are disposed to satisfy your vices, oh I know that well. But to thank me suitably is quite something else. Isn't that so, you dirty little bitch?'
"And during this discourse, interspersed with triumphant bellows of rage, a flurry of blows fell upon Melanie's bare ass. She seemed by now to be at the end of her resistance and that was no wonder, indeed. Her voice trembled with supplication and begged almost with a tone of revolt, 'But, what must I do, sir, to satisfy you? Tell me and I will do it!' She seemed to implore some kind of reward, a last favor as if she were going to die and felt that a last wish should be granted her. The master let his arm fall along his body, and exhaled a sigh which was cut off by a convulsive gasp when he sought to regain his breath. He stared at her with pride and with joy as if he had just now fucked her for the first time, and, his usually precise and polite voice grown harsh and dull, he pronounced these impatient words: 'You want to know what I wish you to do to thank me properly, you slut?' And she gasped, 'Oh yes, sir, tell me, tell me and I'll do it right away!' Then he pronounced in a tone of defiance with a sarcastic smile: 'Well, lick my boots, then!' And as she bent towards his black boots, she gasped, 'Yes, Monsieur.' And she began to lick them, first with tiny little swipes of her tongue then with long rasping rubs, from one sole to the other. The scene was really fantastic and I remained to contemplate it to the very end, and would have done so longer, if I hadn't suddenly felt my bottom pricked. It was my ravisher who was manifesting himself in his turn. Doubtless jealous of the boss's success, he was pricking my bottom-cheeks with his pin. No, I was wrong, not with his pin, he had taken a little knife and was pricking the fleshy part of my bare ass. Look, Georges, I still have the marks. I know what rutting love can be, but what he was doing there went beyond the borders of sanity. I tried to protect myself as best I could, but with little success. He pricked me on my forearms now instead of on my behind. This excited him terribly, he was whining like a wolf and staring at me with maddened eyes. I was terrified. I thought my last hour had come (really I did, Georges dear). I bit my lips so as not to cry out when the point of his knife dug into my flesh. Oh, I will say, it wasn't ever too deep. I was ready to cry out if this little mania of his took a more serious turn. Whatever it might cost me, my life meant more than this barracks of madmen and nymphomaniacs. Who could have heard me? Because, in the next room, the boss continually pretended to go out, only to return and begin to inflict upon Melanie a new ordeal. My partner, whose name I still did not know, was the fourth occupant ... he and I, and Melanie and her boss. I had to violate their intimacy so that those two would know how to protect me. I decided to act before bloody rage blinded my partner as I sprang into the middle of the room. At once he threw away his knife, and ran up to me holding his prick in his hand and saying in a low voice, 'Don't be like this!' "
"That was an interesting evening, for sure!" Georges murmured hoarsely as his finger began to tickle Sandra's cunt.
"That is an understatement, darling. Now he rubbed his prick over my bottom. And he rubbed it over every little cut so that he could anoint his prick with blood and muttered, 'Oh, let me do this, darling. This is our nuptial blood. Look how nice it is ... darling. What lovely blood you have!' With the hollow of his other hand he collected the drops of blood which ran along my arm so that he could anoint his prick and his balls. Well, now you can understand why I was paralyzed by fear, literally terrified, fascinated, horrified. I was transfixed, in a word. I understood now how a sheep sometimes can't save itself when the wolf is coming, how a bird is fascinated by a snake, how a woman stands motionless before a rapist who approaches her in an alleyway. And perhaps that's the thing that saved me, though I really can't tell now. I realized that I had to let him act as he wished. Moreover he manifested a tranquil lubricity and said to me almost calmly, 'Now, see how nice it is!' And finally, both his hands stained with blood, he added, 'You must take advantage of this! I'm going to give you back this blood, all of which belongs to you.' Then, putting his hands under my arms, he drew me to him, flung me down on my back on the bed, thrust his prick into me with the air of a man condemned to hard labor for life and granted one last fuck before he goes off to prison. He squeezed my bottom-cheeks vigorously, rubbing them with his bleeding hands. Well, you may believe, Georges, this nauseating odor of drying blood, the sirupy mixture that I felt smear my shoulders and bottom and all those portions of skin where he touched me, was not really so terribly disagreeable. I clutched in my cunt my lover's prick, I clenched his thighs between mine with as much fury as I had felt the time when my father had taken my cherry and when I was prostrate for his big prick and my teeth clenched every time he rammed into me."
"And then?" Georges panted.
"And then, I think that my partner made me think so much of my father since I had seen him and my mother together so much that it was a kind of voluptuousness for me. And for once it was I who lowered myself with all my inward weight on a man and he clutched me and murmured, 'Now that we have merged our blood and our love juice in the same fury of life and death, we have emulated true lovers of history.' And I could see, as I lifted myself off him, that his prick was bleeding from all this rasping and rubbing. What I was afraid of was that this wretch had tried to inoculate me with some venereal disease and that he had smeared himself with my blood to cover a shanker which might have been ready to burst and which I might have seen and forbade him to fuck me at all. It was an awful thought, Georges."
Now Sandra clenched her teeth, for Georges, who had listened to this story till his prick had hardened once again, had just turned her over. Opening up her bottom-cheeks, he pushed his prick in after first spitting on his fingers and moistening his ramrod so as to make penetration easier. But impatient to hear the finish of the story so full of lust that it had the strength to make him passionate even after all the times he had fucked her tonight, he panted to his partner: "Continue, continue, Sandra!"
And she did, her voice jerky as she felt his prick dig in and out of her quivering, humid ass-hole: "I myself had to put my hand under my pussy because it was dripping blood from all he had spilled out. I washed myself quickly and came back with a cloth to wipe off my partner and to find out what was really the trouble with him. The blood was running down my bottom-cheeks and thighs from the cuts he had opened and widened by squeezing and twisting my hind end so energetically, but I let him piss because I wanted to see if there was anything wrong with his cock. When I cleaned him, I saw what he had done. He had taken the pen knife and made a tiny circular slash around the circumcisional scar on his cock. When he fucked me the cut was enlarged and bled abundantly but there was no trace of pus. So I knew at least that he had not infected meoooh-oh Georges, oh Georges, give it to me-give it to my naughty bottom hard!"
This time she stopped her story and began to utter little groans, and this time too, Georges didn't ask her to begin or to continue. His hands reached for her breasts and he began to manipulate them as he slowly began to bottom fuck this beautiful adolescent. Her bottom jerked and twisted under his, rubbing against his belly, and he felt the tight grip of her ass-hole walls till finally both of them cried out in their delirium with delight.
X
Georges was awakened by Sandra, who had brought him a copious breakfast.
"Well," he said, "you seem less damaged than you did yesterday."
"Of course, I rested and used some makeup to cover my discolorations."
"Well, you didn't even finish the story you were telling me," he teased.
"Well, it was almost ended, you know."
"How so? You told me that your partner didn't leave until morning and you left this poor Melanie about to receive new correction after she had licked her boss's boots. You aren't going to tell me that the two of you stared into each other's eyes until the next morning, without stirring from your respective beds?"
"No, not at all. But you see, the man who had fucked me happened to be Gerard, the adored cast-off of the older branch of the family. His parents had gone to their country estate and left him to finish his final examinations. He had so damaged himself that I had to keep him all night to tend and comfort him. The cut he had made didn't stop bleeding. I put salt on it, and then silk paper. It stuck a moment but then the young rascal began to get a hard-on again and that was fatal because, to keep the foreskin from rubbing against the wound, I had to pull it back and bare the head of his prick. So I bent over his cock which had begun to bleed again and I licked away the spunk which had stuck to his balls. I stuck his bloody cock into my mouth so that he wouldn't stain the sheets again. The acrid and filthy taste nauseated me, so I completed my operation as quickly as I could, but I felt his cock get hard and swollen in my mouth. I will say that he was gallant. He tried to frig my pussy as a compensation. I must admit that if I succeeded rather easily, he did too. While I was licking his cock after he had shot off in my mouth so I could clean up the blood and the gism, he kept on frigging me deliciously. I squeezed the two edges of the cut together, took a bit of adhesive, and applied it over the cut, one of my hands holding the foreskin drawn away from the prick, and the other holding the shaft itself. Happily, to pass the time, his darting tongue rimmed over my pussy to provoke my joy even more strongly. When he had excited me by the constant suctioning of my vulva and digging tongue rasps against my tickler, he bit my abdomen and made me groan with passion."
"A strange mania, but apparently an effective one," Georges commented.
"Yes indeed, darling. He knew exactly where to find my sensitive areas, and so that they wouldn't escape, he pressed his hand perpendicularly to the place he bit. Sure of having set off a secret inundation of my love cream, he began to seek the fruit of his labor by gluing his mouth to my pussy and thrusting his nimble tongue deep into my cunt, breathing in and licking and sucking so as to be sure of every drop. Then he pinched my clitoris with each of his hands hard enough to make me cry out, and I had to beg him to stop, for I felt I was going to faint again. As he wouldn't listen to me, I fell upon him so I could keep his prick in the same position with my stiffened and aching fingers. Well, until morning, I had to perform that operation three separate times, believe it or not, Georges, and in the excitement that his caresses gave me, twice on other occasions I let his prick escape from my hands and it began to bleed again at once. Finally he went to sleep, emptied of blood and spunk. Then with delicate gestures I placed between his thighs a napkin rolled into a ball which made a pillow for his prick and, I hoped, would stop the bleeding. Until then, between the intervals of his erections and our amorous jousts, we had only listened to what was going on in the next room for distraction, because neither of us wanted to risk going to sleep. First of all, after one or two corrections which Melanie had endured, for what reason I don't remember, and while I was defending myself against Gerard or else solacing his wounds, I heard the master command her to get on all fours. She must have done so with the greatest of speed, for he cried out, angrily, 'But this whore wants me to fall into her mire with her filthiness! Oh, you cursed beast, wait until you see how I whip you!' And without waiting, he administered lashes that rang out, spaced with regularity. Melanie wailed out each time there was a loud smack which striped her back or bottom, for the master must have changed his goal, judging from the difference in the sound the whip made. When he had finally appeased himself he cried out, 'Well, I hope this is a tame beast now.' At once he straddled Melanie, and the sound of his bare balls coming down on her back made a smack."
"He was going to make a pony girl out of her, apparently," Georges said with growing interest ... and his prick was growing too!
Sandra leaned over and gave him a kiss on the tip of his cock, then giggled. "Yes, apparently, because now the master said to her, 'Giddyap!' And the sounds of thuds on the floor told us that the horse and rider were beginning their little trot. Because at once he commanded, 'C'mon, faster!' And Melanie accelerated her movements. I could hear the panting and the raucous breathing which were interspersed with the hammering of her feet and hands on the resonant planks on the floor. 'Gallop, I told you, gallop,' the master commanded so that he could be sure of her good will and obedience. And to excite and encourage her he gratified her with some rapid and haphazard slashes of the whip. This mad course ended when the master made his mount stop, and ordered her gently to come to a halt. Melanie, more out of breath than ever, had stopped. He complimented her, 'Good, that's a nice ride, now to the stable. There. Very good. Let me get off now.' And his boots again rang out on the floor. Now he said to her, 'How you are sweating, my beautiful beast! I mustn't leave you like that. I'm going to curry you so that your blood will circulate better.' And doubtless joining action to words he must have rubbed Melanie's back and bottom severely because we heard a rasping sound, something like a metal brush in action. She even uttered little cries in which there were gasps of pleasure mingled. This energetic treatment seemed to revive her, as the master said, 'Look how you've made the bristles of my curry brush shred with that tough hide of yours, you bitchy mare. Now I am going to rub you down a little.' I didn't know what he was talking about till I heard a trickle of what sounded like water. Little Gerard, who must have known his uncle's habits, bent towards my ear and murmured, 'Do you hear? He's pissing on that bitch. He's going to drown her.' And now the discourse of those two lovers left no doubt at all of this pastime. Melanie returned to her role of mistress-servant and complimented him on her treatment: 'How good it is ... bathe my loins and all of my bottom, put some on my shoulders and rub it into my titties, oh how good it is, I shall be perfumed for the entire day ... all you have to do to punish me is to tell me not to wash myself...' And the master laughingly replied, 'No, I want you to feel it all, that piss of mine! Here's another jet for your lovely belly ... and your pussy ... and your thighs. What a lovely steed you are, washed and gleaming!' And then Melanie said to him, 'Oh, sir, if you please, let me have the rest to drink.' And he said, 'No, I'll give you a little in the hollow of your hand to perfume your face. Rub it all over.' To which Melanie retorted, 'I'd like to taste it too.' And he said, 'Just a tiny bit then.'
"This is a mania that I have heard of but never seen," Georges stated.
"Nor had I, darling. And then there was a silence during which one heard only Melanie's sighs of content when she had finished tasting her master's piss. 'Oh, it is truly an angel's piss! What delight you're giving me this evening! Oh let me thank you by licking your prick with my tongue.' To which he replied, 'It isn't worth the trouble, my little devil. I shall make use of what I have left to prepare a new festival of joy for you, turn around.' And she replied, 'Oh, you want to take my bottom hole-you think that I deserve it!' To which he replied, 'Don't concern yourself with knowing whether you earned it or not. For the moment it gives me pleasure and that should be enough for you.' And then we perceived that he was urinating again as his hands opened up her bottom-cheeks and directed the yellow stream directly into that rosy nook. We heard Melanie's little cries and the triumphant exclamations of our master in the middle of sonorous smacks, for now he had dug his prick into that lubricated ass-hole of Melanie's and his belly was clacking up against her jutting distended naked ass. And Georges, darling, you won't believe this, but the pretty maid chanted the most idiotic rhyme to distract herself from her suffering-for the way he was cramming his prick into her tight dainty little ass-hole certainly should have hurt the poor girl atrociously."
"Just as I hurt you recently, eh Sandra, baby ? " he chuckled, stroking her pussylips with a sly forefinger till she wriggled away and shook a warning finger at him and said, "Now you be good, if you want to hear the rest of this."
"I do, to be sure. But you'll pay for that later. Your pretty bottom will wriggle for a switching and then you will get it in that dainty little slot of yours, this time without any lubricant, to teach you a lesson," he told her in mock-threat.
Lighting a cigarette, he waited for her to go on, watching her lovely piquant body. "What was the rhyme your friend Melanie made up?" he asked.
"It went like this, darling: 'One, two, three, he who buggers me ... four, five, six, has also fucked me. Seven, eight, nine-' but I was never to find out the end of that rhyme because she suddenly uttered a shriek as terrible as when she had received the first stroke from that unexpected whip. I was all ears for the slightest noise that could indicate the cause for me of this wild scream and the silence that followed. It was the true silence of a Sunday morning after the Bacchanalia which had just taken place. Finally Melanie began to talk to her master, 'Oh, Monsieur ... you ought not to have done that to me ... I told Monsieur to spare himself.' And, smack, to make him return to consciousness, she gave him a few harsh stinging slaps on the cheeks, on the shoulders and thighs. And then she said to him, 'Oh no, I don't want that at all! It shan't be said that all of this good merchandise has gone to waste. You will, Monsieur, if I am going to suck you until you're drained dry. It isn't good to keep that, as red as you are.' And he said to her at last in a feeble voice, 'You are right. Go ahead, Melanie, suck out all the spunk which is swelling my head.' And then I heard, Georges, this pretty maid go through a veritable symphony of sucking complete with big smacks that she applied over her master's thighs. And she harangued him: 'You disgusting old fool who can't even satisfy a woman, you make them treat you like a vampire! What would you do if they weren't vampires? All right, let your balls be tickled if you want to give down all your gism, Monsieur.'"
"An extraordinary character, that one," Georges said pensively.
"He was indeed. I thought of that dirtied cock, full of fecal matter which she had to suck in order to make him give down his spunk, of those smeared and greasy balls which he tried to make swell with love-juice with so much difficulty while I held in my hand the glorious swollen prick of his nephew who, out of his mania for self-inflicted pain, couldn't jet out his abundant sperm except in my mouth so that the wound would heal. For the last time, that night we experienced together the spunk of those two pricks which we had made so often stand erect. Melanie wasn't too happy to have to accompany her master, who was too overcome with fatigue and suffering to go back to his room by himself. And I swear to you Georges, that she took her revenge as well as you can take yours so early this morning."
The lovely adolescent who for some few moments now had been enduring Georges' ticklings against her moist pussy, uttered a sigh of resignation and set down the tray on the floor so she could give herself up to the fury which her story had once again unleashed.
He knelt before her, grabbing the cheeks of her bottom with greedy hands, and began to suck her cunt. Midway through this delicious operation, he stopped, flung her over his knees and began to spank her bottom with resounding cracks while she kicked her long lovely legs and squealed, though she found the stinging blows exquisitely attuning her lust. Then he rolled her over and with a single dig of his prick, burrowed himself up to her matrix as she uttered a long groan and clenched him with arms and legs, beginning to buck and twist and wriggle as they both enjoyed one of their most satisfying fucks.
So much effort had never imposed any inhibition on Georges' imaginative and impulsive spirit. He licked Sandra's pussy to begin a second bout of fucking though she was still swooning under his first good juicing, so that he could reward her appetites and her perpetual need to be done violence to.
Then he presented towards her mouth as he crossed over to the sixty-nine position his sturdy prick and she tickled it with the tip of her tongue as well as with the tips of her index finger and thumb. She pinched the tip of his prickhead with tiny little rhythmic nips which soon made him swell enormously.
Feeling himself ready to be roused thanks to her lingual ministrations he applied the thumb of each hand to the hollow of her loins. Swooning under the vigor of his pressure, Sandra radiantly abandoned his prick. Knowing that he had to fuck her immediately so as not to leave her dangling in the air, he sprang to the foot of the bed and pushed her legs back to her shoulders, proffering his prick-arrow right up against the yawning pussy so that he could penetrate her in this delicious fashion. When he seized her wrist to draw her more closely to him, he knew she was almost ready to faint from the look of gratitude which she sent him, and the lasciviously wicked wink which told him he could have anything in the world that he desired.
Who was the philosopher, he asked himself, who once said that boredom would one day spring from conventionalism ? Whoever it was must surely have known how to fuck. And as he thought this he began to dig himself in and out of her in regular slow thrusts, holding back until the supreme moment of ecstasy came.
XI
"Well, now that the story is finished, it has permitted us to begin our day beautifully," Georges said as he honored Sandra's lovely pink bottom with a salacious smack.
"Oh yes, it did begin beautifully, darling, thanks to you. What a wonderful cock you have and it feels so good in any of my holes-my mouth too, needless to say," the charming beauty told him.
"Is there any more to tell me?" he urged.
"Well, I went on a vacation for about a week. Monsieur remained in his room and my young ravisher had to care for his wounded prick. There was only Melanie left and she was venomous. The very next morning she hissed at me, 'Well, Junior will return in a week!' The day after that the mother of the nephew came, looked me over and judged me with: 'I find you a little too slight for my son, my little Sandra. Of course we are fairly well off, though we're not extravagant. Gerard's father always has ideas. He's counting on you as a daughter-in-law. Of course he's right. And if you can cook well, well then we will have gained something in this marriage.' From all that I had heard of her husband, I was afraid of a brute, but I really had met a tornado! I was arranging the flowers in the salon when I suddenly found myself lifted from the floor. A tall, Texas type held me in his arms, horizontally in the air, believe it or not. Then he let me regain my feet and he said aloud with a disdainful roar, 'Here's a nice little handful.' Melanie called to me, 'Sandra, come help me carry Bob's luggage.' I went off with her, while he poured himself a whiskey, took a last look at me and shook his head as he said aloud, 'and I bet she fucks too.' At least his wife was tall enough to support the shock of his fucking her, I told myself. He came out of his office to enter the library and he caught me in the hallway, twisting my arm. I uttered a cry which he prolonged into a scream of horror as he made me stumble till I came to lie flat on my belly out of the open window, my tummy against the sill.
He caught me by my left thigh and my panties and said to me, "Stop crying, it's nothing.' My two arms were flailing empty space, while, stretching over me to prevent my getting up, he fucked me from behind dog fashion while holding me by the thighs. My breasts were rubbing against the sill of the window, and the stone hurt them; my vagina was taking and bearing all the weight of his prick which frenziedly stabbed in and out of me. My clitoris was rubbing against his prick, and his pubic hairs ground against mine, scratching me atrociously. I was suffocating like someone drowning, filled with terror and voluptuousness. Everything was in a haze, and I thought that the earth was coming up right to my face. Then I found myself standing back on my legs and tottering, brought back to life by the pinch that he gave me on my left breast, while he kissed me, wildly digging his tongue between my lips. Now then, I didn't know whether I should faint with fear or with voluptuous passion. He sermonized me, of all things: 'Well, my little Sandra, you mustn't do such stupid things. Everything always winds up by being arranged.' I asked myself if I were going mad. He gave me two good hard smacks on my bottom and ordered, 'All right, run along to your work, you'll see, everything goes much better when one is obliged to put one's mind to work for a little time.'"
"Now here is a newcomer in your story. He sounds interesting,'" Georges chuckled.
"You have no idea how interesting he was, my darling. But he was right, I did have to go back to my work and I knew Melanie would give me the dickens if I didn't. Bob threw me my torn panties, calling out, 'Don't let your undies trail around everywhere, little Sandra.' The breast which he had pinched and twisted hurt me so badly that I would have cried out or wept if I had had time or leisure to feel sorry for myself. But I was much more annoyed with the spunk with which he had so copiously filled my pussy and which while I walked continued to trickle down my thighs. I had to wipe myself off with a kitchen rag while I was preparing to answer his wife's imperious ring on the services of the maid ... who of course was to be myself. And the thought that I would have to face her after just having fucked her husband was, I assure you, Georges, rather embarrassing to say the least.
"I've never seen a more stubborn person, and that's certainly what must have attracted her to him. Not that she was a masochist, Georges, you know, but she was just incapable of being as submissive to a human being as he wanted people to be towards him. I've seen everyone bend before that man and even the most important businessmen tried, after they had experienced his bad temper just once, to avoid him as best they could."
"A formidable type, that one. Tell me, dear Sandra," Georges demanded.
"So I shall, my beloved. You satisfied me so nicely, there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you," the charming adolescent teased him. "Well, at any rate, she never recoiled before him and she yielded to him only by force. She always defied him, insulting him after she had endured his brutalities. And I'm here to tell you that she defended herself like a devil possessed, using all of the feminine weapons, you may be sure, clawing him, pinching him, biting him, pulling him by the hair, but of course usually coming out second best."
"And you say she wasn't a masochist," Georges laughed.
"I don't pretend to be a psychiatrist, darling, but I swear she wasn't. But anyway, let me go on with my story. One day when he had given her a kick, she turned on him so skillfully that he slipped under the buffet table and bumped his head. While he tried to free himself, she insulted him jubilantly: 'Well, you nasty tyrant, where's your strength of which you are so proud? "All right, Monsieur plutocrat, what good are your millions if you can be humiliated by a weak woman?' He frowned with rage: 'Don't carry on so, you bitch, you'll lose nothing by waiting. I'm going to shove your insults down your throat. You'll beg for mercy on your knees, you whore.' "
"I dare say that there are certain people that take a certain savor from battling against each other, but I still maintain that it's masochism," Georges remarked.
"I leave such diagnosis to you, since you are older and a man and pretend to know more about us weak women," Sandra teased.
"That will cost you something on your own account, a little later, sweet vixen," he threatened with a mock scowl, shaking his forefinger.
Sandra made a saucy face at him, and continued her story: "Well, after he had said that to her, she answered, 'Do you think I am going to beg mercy from a ruffian of your kind ? You must be a bumpkin from the country, my friend, too miserly to know the cost of pride. You're rich, oh yes, and you are because you've stolen it just as everybody else has done.' Finally, he got out from under the table and sprang upon her, knocked her down to the floor and dragged her by the hair all through the apartment, proclaiming, 'Here's your bumpkin, your savage, your caveman who is helping his lady see the countryside! Well, you asked for your punishment. Don't carry on so, you're going to have your thrashing, and a good deal more!' In a desperate effort, Georges, she bit his hand to the bone. She sprang up and ran to her room, where they finished their little quarrel. Bob was only a little sadistic, if the truth be known, at least in my opinion-and like all amateurs of erotic cruelty, he loved to show off for the impressionable servants and anybody else who could watch this domestic strife. When he had thrashed her sufficiently, he loved nothing better than to take her and fuck her, on the rug of the salon or in the hall. He belabored her with insults and yet at the same time made fervent and effusive declarations of his rut. Meanwhile she, ecstatic, gave him back, even as rhapsodically, all her love and desire and her need of this robust male who fucked her under the conjugal roof with an always renewed savagery."
"A case for Freud, no less," Georges chuckled.
"You may well believe that, darling. But it's still so very curious and fanciful to me that I can't forget it. Well, just to show you, I remember, yes I still do, a day when she wasn't there and he came home unexpectedly. Naturally during the time he was running through the apartment looking for her, I had already taken off my panties, something I had learned to do from past experiences when he had honored me with his enormous prick, but usually bent over and with his tool forcing its way into my little bunghole. Then he sat down in front of the fireplace, on the rug, a bottle of bourbon beside him. He had already called me twice so that he could fuck me, but still under the pretext of demanding some new service from me, he surprised me by seizing me brutally, pulling at one of my ankles so that I fell down on my backside and turned over on the floor. Then he thrust himself deep into my pussy until he felt an obstacle, and the shock of this made me take all his cock until it was enough to crush my uterus. You may believe it.
"When his wife returned, he had already drunk a good deal of bourbon. She was immediately aware of the situation at a glance and began to berate him as she came towards him: 'Have you gone mad? Have you forgotten that you are to take me to the hairdresser so that we can go to the dinner that Ambassador X is giving in your honor?' He didn't reply, but kept reading his newspaper, his glass in the other hand. She got more aggressive: 'Do you think, you filthy plutocrat, that ambassadors are going to be kept waiting for you, no matter what services you can render their countries?' Well Georges, he finally looked at her and emptied his glass of whiskey with a lustful smile. She exploded: 'Well, will you move, you filthy drunkard?' And what do you think he did then, Georges?"
"I don't have the least idea, darling. Tell me," he urged Sandra.
"Well, he pulled out the poker from the fireplace, and it was red hot. He balanced it and forced it against her legs. She uttered a horrible shriek, that of a wounded animal. The red hot iron had thrust into her calf and the air began to smell with a detestable scent of burning human flesh. After a moment's stupor, she spat in his face: 'Executioner! Torturer! Ignoble brute! Oh, you insane madman!' Then, to continue to play this same comedy, he said to her scornfully, 'You don't have to make such a noise over a pair of burned stockings. Here's some money to buy new ones.' And he tossed on the table which was between them a sheaf of banknotes worth about ten thousand francs. She said to him, 'The only thing you can find to defend you is your money. Here's what I think about it!' And Georges, she took the sheaf of notes and threw them into the fire. I was fascinated and mute with horror in the antechamber, asking myself if this nightmare was going to continue."
"I can well believe that, Sandra. What a waste of money!" Georges shook his head with a wry smile.
"Well, he stared at the burning banknotes, shrugged and sighed, 'So much the worse for you! You shan't have any more. If money doesn't please you, I know something that will, a great deal.' Then seizing her by the wrist he forced her down on the floor. First he tore off her panties, and threw them into the fire, then, maintaining her with her back down on the rug, he plunged his mouth between her thighs and began to lick her conscientiously. Suddenly he called to me, 'Sandra ! ' I came forward to the threshold of the door, speechless, not knowing what to do. He angrily commanded: 'Well, don't you smell something burning?, Put it out.' Of course, her panties as well as the banknotes were burned, and all I could do was to take the poker and stir up the ashes. He continued to gamahuch his" wife. When he perceived that her groans were coming closer together as a sign of her nearing climax, he stood up and began with her the same maneuver as with me half an hour before. Unfortunately, as the poor woman had scarcely been able to get up, with her head lowered on the floor during all this licking he had just inflicted on her, her shoulders bumped the glass-covered table over which he had now lifted her and laid her down, and as he began to fuck her brutally, she had a new shock which made her shriek with pain before she suddenly swooned with voluptuousness under her husband's deep eviscerating thrusts."
"Incredible!" Georges murmured, his eyes glittering with lust, excited as he was by Sandra's stories.
"But you haven't heard the end of it yet, darling," she teased him. "Once his lubricous mania was satisfied, he demanded that his wife accompany him to the dinner and I had to salve and bandage the wound he had given her leg with the poker. She hobbled as she went down the stone stairs. I noticed his conquering glance as he watched her descend the stairs in front of him; he winked salaciously, as a chimpanzee might wink at its mate." Now Sandra, on all fours over Georges, seated on the edge of the bed, sighed with delight as she felt that the prick which was thrusting into her so vigorously was ready to shoot its ferocious jet. She added as if talking to herself, "And you may say that I am very happy that you are fucking me just as nicely as Monsieur Bob did his wife."
XII
A few moments later, Sandra slid down beside Georges, sated for the moment, and murmured, "you know, Georges, what I forgot to tell you about Monsieur Bob?"
"Do you think that you haven't painted a complete portrait of him by now?"
"Oh yes! Well, to be honest, no. It's heartbreaking, but I have to tell you how he treated business affairs on the telephone."
"Go ahead. It will be a pleasant interlude while I get back my strength to fuck you again, you lovely teasing little devil," he laughed, enjoying the feeling of appeasement and her naked nearness.
"Naturally everything his wife said when she insulted him was practically a lie. His parents had always been quite rich and their fortune hadn't been spent in their time because their own parents had been sufficiently clever in money affairs to have built this particular building and given it to them. But this did not prevent Bob from revealing himself very quickly to be a genius at business affairs. He flattered himself by saying that he had no one to thank for his wealth and it was all his effort that made it possible. In this, his own wife flattered him and only repeated what he said aloud to everybody else, if the truth be known. I have seen him lock himself up with his wife for hours in the evening to telephone the United States."
"You interest me a great deal. And he's a fascinating character, this Monsieur Bob of yours. Go ahead at your own time and convenience, Sandra," he instructed.
"Well, I'm going to tell you everything," Sandra agreed. "This wife of his was always hungry so I was often ordered by her to prepare a snack. But she usually came to pick it up herself on a table at the door of the office out in the hall. I was particularly fond of that little table, for the good reason that I had often been fucked over it by Monsieur Bob himself. And when on this particular evening his wife asked me to set a collation down there I smiled at the command because naturally it aroused tender and burning memories inside my little pussy."
"I shall soon arouse some of my own making, you teasing little bitch," Georges laughed as he kissed her on the mouth and pushed his finger into her still wet and twitching pussy.
"If you keep that up, darling, I'll never get to the end of the story," Sandra laughed.
"Well, make an end of it then, as quickly as you can. You're like Scheherazade and you have the power of prolonging my lust and the strength of my prick with all these tales," he joked.
"Well then, to go on, since you're such a meany and would rather listen to a story than fuck," Sandra teased, "his wife knew very well that her husband was fucking me, but if she was jealous, she knew that she couldn't do anything about it, so she pretended not to know."
"A good attitude for a wife to take," Georges chuckled.
"Either we didn't speak to each other or else she just ignored me. So anyway, this particular evening, he called, 'Evelyn, Evelyn, I have Montreal on the line. Evelyn!' He got impatient and cried out, 'Sandra, come quickly, Sandra!' Well, as you could imagine I ran in almost out of breath. Bob rarely called for me like that except when he had intimate moments in mind. I could even say that he didn't call me until he was ready for an orgasm. But just the same, I ran into his office. He was seated on his swivel chair and he said to me in a raucous voice, 'Sandra, come here!' I approached and liberated his open fly to pull out his swollen prick, and stared at it idiotically. He gripped me by the arm, pulled me to my knees and thrust his prick into my mouth up to my palate while he held my head. I had difficulty breathing and I tried to move back and forth so at least I could breathe through my nose. But he kept me in that position until the situation took a decisive turn. Then, with his hand, he moved his prick around inside my mouth as if it were a pussy. I heard him talk through the receiver: 'Stay here ... the man who goes hunting loses his place. What do you want?' Then he continued to mouth-fuck me, thrusting deep against my gullet. He did this more than a minute without stopping, then he resumed the thread of his conversation, and his mind, to my amazement, was able to cope with a series of clear and definite sentences, all of which had to do with business. Finally he struggled furiously, and with a triumphant jet shot off into my mouth, abundantly and superbly, caressing the back of my neck with a gentleness I hadn't known before. His voice had completely changed; it was now polite, almost obsequious. But it changed again when he had hung up and turned towards his wife, because then he said: 'Well, what took you so long, Evelyn? We were making our plans for the evening. We were deciding to call Montreal and Chicago. I said to you, "Good, I'll call Montreal." You had a different idea, and you went out, after which I called Sandra. I got up when I heard the phone so I could call you, but no one replied. What do you think of that?' "
"What did she think of it, Sandra?" Georges asked.
"Nothing. 'I couldn't come right away,' his wife said. And he said: 'You know that this telephone call was my only chance to pull off this sale and yet you ran away at the moment I was going to talk. And all that you can tell me is that you weren't able to come!' He stared at her as one looks at a hostile enemy, then shrugged his shoulders and genially concluded, 'Anyway, it was a good thing I had this little one under my hand, under my prick, I ought to say.' "
"Your employer made jokes too, I see," Georges laughed.
"Didn't he!" the adolescent charmer saucily retorted. "I suddenly understood why Evelyn didn't like her husband's money and reproached him for it so much. She was as much a nymphomaniac as he was an erotic madman, and she found it possible to let a good part of his spunk be spoiled without drawing her own orgasmic pleasure from it. I got up when the telephone rang and he called, 'There's Chicago! Come, Evelyn!' And he called to me, "Close the door, Sandra, when you leave.' "
"Now what was about to happen?" George asked interestedly.
"Well, her voice had changed with emotion, and her dignity had taken a severe blow. I could guess the reason for her sudden politeness. But that wasn't the scene that her husband wanted her to play. He seized her by the arm and drove her down on the floor before him, more brutally than he had done to me twenty minutes earlier. Then he ordered me to take the phone off the hook, saying, 'Not at all, Sandra, there's no question of your leaving. You will stay to see how Madam proceeds. It will be a useful experience in future cases. Isn't that true, dear?' he then asked his wife. And she said to him, 'You filthy swine, I shan't do anything for you at all.' His eyes glowed with pleasure and he replied in the gentlest possible voice, 'That's what we are going to see, my darling.' Then he placed the phone on the hollow of her shoulder. All of this with the same smiling dignity, then he drew his wife between his legs and asked her in the gentlest voice possible, 'Good, now be nice, little Evelyn is going to suck her husband off sweetly.' She got stubborn: 'No, Sandra, go away!' "
"And so you found yourself on the horns of a dilemma, so to speak," Georges interposed.
"Didn't I just! Well, I was confused and didn't know what to do, torn between the desire of seeing the scene and the prospect of living after this a life of hell in that woman's service. There was no doubt that no matter what happened, she would remain the wife of that monster and that I would only be for him a little maid who from time to time could fulfill certain useful needs-that and nothing more."
"I'll say you can fill useful needs, you pretty bitch. But go on with your story so I can prove what I mean," Georges laughed as he cupped one of her bubbies and kissed it lovingly.
She stroked his head, wriggled away and shook a finger at him, "Naughty boy, you mustn't. Now, where was I ? Oh yes-Monsieur Bob drew me out of my embarrassment by threatening me: 'Don't you dare budge from here, Sandra, otherwise I'll make you take her place and I'll guarantee you that it will be less pleasant for you than it was before.' I had no desire to find out what he meant, believe me. So I stayed, and I was at once edified on the nature of the services that I might otherwise have had to perform myself."
"Services?" Georges echoed with a wry smile.
"Call them what you will," the lovely adolescent teased, "just the same, he seized Evelyn by the hair and when her chin was at the desired height, he thrust his prick against her mouth, and when she didn't open it he pinched her nose as one does to children to make them take their cough syrup, and the minute her mouth opened, he stuck it deep into her mouth! All this time, he hadn't stopped saying with the most exquisite politeness : 'Hello, yes, I'm on the line!' when his wife began to accept his prick in her mouth, he let go of her nose and took back the receiver in his hand without releasing her hair with his other hand. I understood at once the reason for this sudden clemency: his prick was dug to the depths inside her mouth and could budge no more. He would simply move his cockhead by shifting his body in such a way that her palate would give a delicious massage to the tip of his stiff organ."
"Aningenious scoundrel."
"Wasn't he? Well, I saw the poor woman turn pale. It was evident that she wasn't getting enough air to breathe and I was trembling at the thought of being witness to an accidental homicide. Fortunately the conversation quickly became important and Bob's voice was pleasant: 'Oh yes, O.K. O.K.' And his prick went back and forth in Evelyn's restive mouth till finally the color came back into her face. But if you could have seen her furious face and her angry eyes, that haughty Evelyn, you could have guessed that she would never pardon her businessman of a husband the infliction of such a punishment. At any rate she profited from a muscular relaxation which accompanied his shooting off his spunk, as well as from the position of his tool, to sink her teeth into his glorious prick. Bob dragged on her hair as if he were pulling on an alarm bell. But when he pulled his cock from its wet warm prison it was still animated by the spasms of his final joy and it was discharging the last drops of his spunk on his wife's face ... drops which were just as bloody as those of his son three weeks earlier!"
"Poetic justice would be my comment here," Georges said meditatively.
"Well, Georges, I ran out of that room as quickly as I could so that I wouldn't have to see the punishment of that crime of lese-majeste, and I called out, 'I'm going to get some warm water!' Actually those two didn't need my presence, for when I came back, the office door was locked, and so that I could learn what was going on behind that door, I tiptoed quietly to it."
"I see your meaning," Georges murmured. "But if you let yourself drag your tongue over my cock, you'll do what it has been waiting for ever since you started frigging me." And Sandra behaved like a submissive mistress.
XIII
"Zut! With all your stories, time is passing and I'm going to be late to work at the newspaper this morning. So come into the bathroom so you can finish telling me your story, while I shave."
"But what shall I tell you?"
"Why you left Bob and why you returned to see those desperate characters whom I took you away from."
"But I didn't return to them. You know, after his wife had bitten him he punished her, and he made me replace her all the time that his wound was healing. And that was punishment for me too, for he kept at me for quite some time. Besides, Bob's wife hired another kitchen girl, and he began to take more interest in her than he did in me, which is one reason perhaps why I left him. And now I suppose you want to hear about Ali."
"Indeed I do." Georges turned to look at Sandra as she perched on the edge of the bathtub while he stood in his shorts shaving before the mirror.
"Well, one afternoon when I was taking a walk, a car drew up beside the curb, and Ali, who was driving it, and the one who had been waiting for me at the dock, got out, pushed me into it and went on driving. After the three months they had been watching me, they had finally succeeded in bringing off their coup. And I swear to you that they made me pay for all those long hours of laying in wait for me. That idiot of an Ali had paid Monsieur for me when he had come to take delivery of me. But he didn't want his boss to know for the very good reason that he wanted to avoid paying a little extra dividend to the organization. That explains their clumsy insistence on kidnapping me and Ali's perseverance in trying to get me back. It did me no good to try to struggle, they were there at the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or. And when they got me home didn't they thrash me! Oh, that switch which ripped my skin every time it stung me. I swear to you that they didn't think about the possibility of spoiling the merchandise. You've noticed these razor cuts on my legs and thighs, well, that was the result of a nice little game that Ali had thought up."
"I wish I could have got my hands on him first!" Georges said through his teeth.
"You're sweet and nice, and I'm glad you found me. You could have been a fellow worse than Ali, but I guess this time I was just lucky. And I'll reward you, because you can have everything you want of me," Sandra promised him tenderly as she slipped her hand around his thigh and gave his prick a squeeze.
"If you do that again while I'm shaving, you naughty bitch, you'll have a razor cut of your own, from me," he promised playfully.
"Well, anyway, I'll be a good girl. So here's what they did to me after they had switched me. They brought two clients to the room where I was locked up. Since I refused to satisfy their desires, and I was still naked, they fell upon me to try to take me by force. I clawed them and bit them and butted my knee up into their balls. In order to fuck me, they were obliged to knock me out each time. That excited them terribly, when they found that I would be brought to by having an orgasm in their embrace though I had been fainting all the time they were fucking me and I only began to bite them again when the spasms had passed. The second rogue was obliged to hit me right on the chin to calm me down. Sometimes, when he was courageous enough, he took the place of his colleague over me while the other held me down. During all this struggle I tried to avoid them, but it excited them all the more and maybe there was a little bit of masochism on my part in my obstinate refusal to turn prostitute at their bidding."
"That may well be, go on, darling."
"There must have also been a kind of reflex of the natural instinct of self-preservation, for unlike all the prostitutes who never have a climax, or at least rarely, in the arms of their clients, I couldn't stop myself going off when the big cocks of those Moroccans were furrowing my cunt. Yes, once a big hard stiff cock was buried in my little slit, it was impossible for me to resist the regimen in that secret brothel."
"You're getting me excited, even if I am going to be late for work. But do go on now, don't stop," Georges commanded.
"Whatever my darling wants, my savior," Sandra teased, giving him a kiss on his bare back. "Well, once their first hunger to fuck me was over, my clients, who had an hour to dispose of me, began their little game. One sat in the middle of the room with his razor open, and the other let me go. Then he began to run after me, while the man who was seated tried to cut me whenever I came in range. In order to have me, he had to touch me twice before his colleague pursuing me could seize me."
"A devilish game!" Georges shook his head.
"It was very terrifying, believe me. I ran around the room to avoid both of them with the agility of a gazelle. My obstinacy excited them as if they had been wild beasts and they fucked me with the fury of cannibals. If they had been able to eat me up they would have done it. All the marks of a crocodile-those teeth marks you see on my shoulders-came from that rutting frenzy of theirs."
"My poor darling," he murmured as he turned to kiss and then stroke her shoulders.
"That's nice. You're a gentleman. That's why I don't mind if you spank me or do naughty things to me; at least you have some heart and sentiment. But I'll tell you the rest. I wasn't aware how my resistance and my continual fury had changed the face of things for Ali. He had found himself embarrassed by me the first days, but then the first clients had drawn others and the time to spend an hour had gone up in price, for as early as ten in the morning I had visitors and the line didn't stop until one or two the next morning."
"What savagery to force a young girl to be a whore," Georges said.
"Well, it was certainly a debut of a kind," Sandra giggled. "I was so furious at this forcing myself and my body, that I always tried to get rid of my clients. I thought of emptying my bowls of food into my bed so I would turn my clients' stomachs, and instead it turned out to my own disadvantage. Then I doused the bed with my own piss and shit. So Ali, mad with rage, gave me a severe thrashing, crushing out lighted cigarettes on my bare back, or pushing my bare bottom onto steel blades and pricking me with a fork. You've also noticed the blue spots I have on my belly. He did that with a hammer to calm his rage."
"The maniac, to spoil such tender flesh," Georges said with a scowl as he caressed that sweet belly, and bent to kiss it.
Sandra moaned sweetly and wriggled against him. "Later, darling, later."
"You keep that up and it'll be now. I haven't time because I'm late. At least finish your story," he ordered with a playful slap on the behind.
"Well, from that day on, I mean the day I soiled my room and bed with my own doings, I had two rooms. They took me into one of them to give me up to the customers who flung themselves on me for an hour at a time. For there were rarely more than two of these customers at a time. But sometimes I had to deal with groups of six, some of them holding me down to use me in different ways, without my being able to prevent it in spite of all the disgust it raised in me. The other room, which they never cleaned and where they left me to sleep at night, I obviously didn't want to soil anymore since it would have been useless to do so, against my own hygiene to do so. Oh they were clever, those rogues! They punished me for what I had done in trying to punish them and deny them their profit."
"Vicious beasts! Hurry now."
"I suppose because of my own obstinacy in fighting them, I had found myself a clientele of people who were interested in scatology. Because some of them liked, when they were caressing me, to urinate and to have bowel movements themselves. Ugh! And on the days when they brought me into that room to satisfy the vices of those maniacs, I was myself anointed with shit from head to foot. Never in my life will I forget the hysterical faces of those shit-lovers when they saw me. I thought they were going to strangle me with joy. They began by running towards me trying to catch me with their pricks in their hands, swearing in their Moroccan tongue, and when I came towards them, showering me with streams of piss which they aimed at me. Though I struggled like a madwoman, this only seemed to bring on their scatological ecstasy. And they continued to urinate on me and to defecate on me. Oh, it was vile! And naturally there were many varieties of viciousness in the catalog of sexual brutes who came to visit me. There were curious ones, who were disgusted in seeing what was going on, but just the same masturbated in their excitement, and then there was the other extreme, the man who wanted me to shit in his mouth and sometimes offered me considerable sums so that I yielded to his caprice."
"Hideous!"
"But most of my customers, to my misfortune, were active scatologists. Besides, many of them were what they were out of racial hatred rather than whim. They came there to shit into the mouth of a French girl and thus try to deny the racial inferiority of their organization. While others held my legs and arms, I fought, I tried to bite their buttocks, and-supreme joy when I could-their balls which dangled under my chin."
Georges shook his head as he finished shaving and put away the razor. "That leaves me absolutely nauseated. Hurry with the tale, my beautiful one."
"All right. Many of them allied pederastic love to scatology. After most of these men had more or less painfully introduced some of their droppings into my mouth I was turned over onto my belly by Said and Zoubir, the two Moroccan servants who were there to dominate me, and then they urinated abundantly over my bottom and into my bottom hole before they buggered me with unleashed fury. And the most revolting, the most humiliating, the most incomprehensible thing for me was that when I was still soiled from torture, at the end of my strength I couldn't stop myself from feeling great waves of sexual pleasure which shook me as if I were an epileptic, and left me inert, ashamed and strangely assuaged."
"Poor dear."
"Then I turned upon myself and I called myself a whore, a slut, the lowest kind of bitch, and I wept and struggled in fury. But the appetite of my clients was unleashed as well, and my clients grew more numerous in spite of all my hatred and detestation of them. In spite of my bad temper, in spite of the trouble that I gave my guardians, the care they took of me showed that I had become very precious to them. Said and Zou-bir were given large tips and brought me better food. But I paid them back with the worst insults, though they meant nothing to them. In my gallery of amorous Moroccans, there was one who was particularly faithful and also adroit. He played cat and mouse with me every two or three days for two months without my being able to make him pay the price for vexations. He loved to dig his prick into my mouth and have the servants grip my lips with their fingers so that I couldn't bite him. I was furious that I couldn't bite, and he finally had to get three servants to contain me when he was with me to prevent my lower jaw from clenching on his thick cock. But most often, he contented himself with pushing my head down to the floor and then, plunging his left hand into my hair and holding on to his tool with his right, he slapped the cheeks of my face so vigorously with his cock that they really hurt. You know that they say that whips aren't made of bulls' pizzles for nothing. When that giant was in full erection, he could make me see stars when he slapped me with his cock. And he experienced such pleasure that he didn't take long in shooting off into my face. In vain did I try to bite off the cock that martyrized me so!"
"I wouldn't have blamed you if you had," Georges remarked.
"Naturally, I never knew who he was, any more than I knew the names of the other customers who for two terrible months came to see me, taking me against my will, mocking me, torturing me. But yesterday, I knew that the police were probably looking for them all when I heard a client telling Ali that he had been followed by police as he was coming to see me. Well, the client who was with me was at once sent away and given back his money, and I was washed. I saw Ali for the first time in more than a month and I scarcely recognized him, for he had grown so fat. He was dressed in a very elegant outfit, so different from what he had worn in the past that I understood immediately what a stupid idiot I had been and how much money I had earned for him. So I decided to take my fate in my hands. However, they had to dress me by force to be ready to go. Suddenly I sat down and began to cry. I realized that if I fell into the hands of the police, I would be given back to my parents or at the best be sent to the house of correction. And Ali consoled me, 'But don't cry, you little piece of cunt. I tell you, I'll come back to you soon.' And I shrieked: 'Oh, I don't want to be taken away, what have I done?' Women were washing the room when I departed. And for the first time in two months, the window was open."
"My poor darling, my poor darling," Georges shook his head. "What a nightmare for you to have had for such experience."
"Then, as you know now, the car was blocked by the police cars which were moving into position to blockade the quarter on every side. And at the first shot, I twisted the balls of my two guardians and sprang out of the car. I put at least five hundred yards behind me with Ali at my heels; then you saw the scene of the thrashing he administered to me. When I saw people try to intervene, I knew that I could save myself. I profited by the arrival of the cops and I sprang into your car. That's the end of my story. Now at last you know everything, oh my darling Georges."
"Good. That's a very moral and exciting history. But now how do you plan to pursue your Parisian life?"
"I don't know very much. It seems I'll have to ask for another recommendation from Monsieur Bob's wife and find myself a new job," Sandra said dolefully.
"But suppose you stay here to cook for me in the evenings? You know, since my maid leaves at noon, I have to eat leftovers and heated-up things in the evening."
"My word," Sandra giggled. "I shan't say no to that. Besides, you have a wonderful prick to warm me as well as a position that pleases me. Yes, I'll stay."
"Then you'll be in bed when I come back from work!" Georges said. "You'd better be, or else you'll get a real spanking. But not the kind that leaves your beautiful body marked that way."
XIV
It took nearly three weeks for Sandra's bruises and welts to heal, and Georges maintained admirable restraint during that long period by treating her with the utmost courtesy and tenderness. Not, to be sure, that he had other intentions-save that his own penchant was to dress her like a very young girl, even a child, to emphasize the allure of her piquant face and voluptuously nubile body. And, of course, to fan the flames of passion with an occasional voluptuous spanking. But even this he forsook while she grew radiant, reveling in the kindly treatment she received and the good wages, fine food and relative luxury of his apartment.
Then finally one Friday evening, while she was serving him supper, he studied her saucy face and saw that not a mark marred the provocative features; the bruises of her cheeks and under her eyes had vanished, even the slight puffiness, and she was as he had imagined she would be. Nubile, slim, with highest buttocks and breasts, and an impertinent face that fairly whetted the ardor of a man's virile cock, young enough to make him quiver with the secret, taboo notion that in fucking her, he would be committing incest-at least spiritually. Her saucy tones and gestures, the huskiness in her charming voice, all these qualities excited his erotic admiration. For Georges was far more imaginative than most men, and, being mature and discriminating, had no need to use haste or thoughtless force in achieving the fulfillment of his sensual pleasures.
For Sandra, too, it was a time of basking and convalescence, finding herself liked as a person apart from bed-he, of course, occasionally shared her bed or she his, for an enjoyable fuck or sucking. But in no way did he raise a hand to her, or play those risqu' games which an older man often enjoys with a charming teenager.
"What are you looking at, dear Georges?" She made a saucy face at him.
"You, sweet. And I find you remarkably restored. Why, it's as if you'd entered my apartment this evening for the first time and I knew nothing of your past. Your marks are all gone-at least so far as I can see."
"Oh, the rest are gone too, except for a very faint patch of bluish spots on my bottom, darling."
"Let me see."
"Willingly. Oh, just one thing, ma'amour."
"What's that, Sandra?"
"I want to say I'm very happy with you, and I hope you don't tire of me too soon or of my cooking, as I'd like to stay with you quite a long time."
She blushed as she finished that avowal, and hung her head, suddenly embarrassed, for such a tender, humble remark was not entirely in character with her impish, rebellious, defiant young nature-at least such as he had judged it to be when she had told him of her amazing, violent background.
"So far, I'm quite content with you, cherie," he said slowly, lighting a cigarette. "But I'm waiting for you to carry out my order."
"Oh-oh, yes, I forgot. Excuse me, darling."
Impertinently sticking out her tongue at him, she whirled, bent over, at the same time hoisting her short skirt. Under it, the weather being warm, she wore no slip, only a pair of white nylon pantie-briefs which hugged the impudently-shaped oval cheeks of her delicious bottom, following faithfully the sinuous, narrow groove between them. And as her legs were bare save for the dainty high heeled sandals which covered her small, exquisitely chiseled feet, he could see the tantalizingly sensual curves at the very base of her resilient behind. She put her hands behind her, whisked down the pantie-briefs, and showed him her naked seat, the cheeks rippling and tightening in the most delicious mobile play.
Appraisingly, he put out a hand and stroked the twitching, satiny cheeks, admiring the warm soft tint of the bare skin, the exquisite agility of the naked flesh which rippled and shivered voluptuously at his touch. His eyes feasted on the shadowy inlet separating those jouncy bottom-ovals, which led to the furtive orifice of her anus and suggested the most lascivious cohesion to his straining virility-for his organ had at once begun to throb and aggrandize from the moment she had bent over, offering herself as would a love-slave, or a concubine readying her posterior for the pasha's gentle; perversely caressing whip.
She was right; only the faintest of bluish spots marred the symmetry of that delicious young behind of hers, and the long sleek thighs flexed and trembled in the most inviting way, urging him to take his will of her tendered nudity.
"Yes, you're lovelier than ever, almost as if you were a virgin."
"I wish I could be, for you, dear Georges," she murmured softly, without turning round or straightening, but continued to bend over, panties down just below her bottom, hoisting up her short skirt with both slim tapering hands.
"You are, in fact, because I imagine you to be, for it is said by Freud and his disciples that just as a draped woman is more suggestive than a nude and just as a woman's beauty lies in a man's desire for her, so that woman takes on the attributes with which a man desiring her endows her in his thoughts. Voila, you are a virgin!"
Saucily, she murmured, "Then I suppose my master wants to possess his naughty little virgin right away, after waiting so long for her to be ready for him."
"You are quite correct. So you will go take a long warm luxurious bath, use some of my best cologne applied to the most intimate places of your charming body, and then put on the costume which I bought you today and which you will find in a box in my bathroom. I shall give you an hour, at the end of which time you are to present yourself in my bedroom, ready for service as a maid and as my love-slave."
"Yes, master," she giggled, and blew him a kiss as she disappeared.
Leisurely, Georges smoked a cigarette, had a glass of port, and then went to his bathroom and enjoyed a warm shower, which had the effect of titillating all his nerves and rendering him in a finely whetted mood to enjoy a passionate repossession of his lovely teenager.
Donning a silk dressing gown and reveling in the feel of the fine fabric against his naked body, Georges seated himself in a deep well-upholstered armchair and awaited Sandra with an eager zest as if this were to be the first time that he was to enjoy her sinuous, agile, ardent young body.
There was a discreet knock at the door, and he glanced at his wristwatch; she was two minutes late. He smiled to himself, for that would provide an admirable pretext to inflict delicious, voluptuous punishment on her. If he was an erotic sadist, it was never with brutality or vulgar force!
Rather, a subtle and lasciviously cumulative inspiration that procured for the female as well as for himself the utmost amorous delights.
"Come in," he called angrily, and leaned back, in a placid mood of contemplation.
But his outward mood of deliberate calm was shattered at once by the sight of his young mistress-slavegirl.
Sandra had braided her blonde hair into the two thick pigtails, giving her a whimsically juvenile look, and the costume further accentuated her nubility as if she were just emerging from puberty.
Slim, sinuous and supple as she was, she looked tall and delightfully youthful in a black silk blouse with very short sleeves above the elbows, and a yellow silk skirt that was pleated and descended only to mid-thigh. She wore open-toed black leather sandals, and she was utterly ravishing in that attire. He, in his chair, felt like a father about to hear her confession before imposing corporal punishment on her for naughtiness.
She came slowly towards him, clasping her hands before her, just like a little girl facing a spanking and hoping against hope to be reprieved.
"Kneel down, Sandra," he said hoarsely.
With a deliciously feline movement, she obeyed, and he studied her lovely long bare legs, the highest sinuosity of her calves, the thrust of her impudently firm breasts against the blouse which starkly outlined them. The pigtails gave her features a charming insouciance, and sharpened his lust enormously ... already he could feel his cock throbbing under the thin folds of the dressing gown.
"You were two minutes late," he said accusingly, staring down coldly at her.
The charming teenager wriggled, falling into her role with adorable conviction. "Oh, I tried so hard to be on time, just the way you wanted, master." Her voice was vibrant and plaintive. "Please forgive me. I won't be tardy again."
"I mean to guarantee that, my girl. What are you wearing under your skirt?"
"-panties, master."
"Let me see them!"
Obediently, Sandra rose, turned her back to him, and, hoisting her skirt with both hands, bent over. Her delicious, saucily oval-shaped buttocks were snugly sheathed in pale yellow silk pantie-briefs, which exposed just the lower curves of the base of her posterior.
"Let them down to your knees, and come put yourself over my lap at once," he ordered.
"Please, master, don't spank me hard, I truly didn't mean to be late," she supplicated, but at the same time, her slim fingers began to insert themselves under the waistband of the fragile sheath and tug it down lingeringly, letting him feast his eyes on the gradual exposure of her pert, voluptuous young bottom. The shadowy furrow separating the cheeks made him feel an accelerated throbbing of his penis with the delicious foreknowledge that he was going to dominate and fuck her consummately, and the feeling of mastery and possession which Georges experienced completely dispersed his jaded state.
At last the final veil was lowered to her suavely dimpled knee hollows, and Sandra moved towards him, penitent and rueful of expression and attitude, head bowed, fingers still lifting her skirt above her waist exposing the dark blonde tangled curls of her quim, the lithe long supple flexing thighs, to his glittering eyes, and then quickly laid herself over his lap. The feeling of her naked loins on his knees was rapturous; he at once determined to add a new nuance of domination to this chastisement. "Lift yourself up a moment," he commanded, and when she had obeyed, he spread aside the folds of the dressing gown so that her bare skin could come into contact with his naked lean hairy thighs.
Pinning her wrists together with his left hand and ordering her not to release her skirt, Georges now stroked her tensing naked bottom-cheeks, while he watched the play of her thigh muscles.
Then slowly lifting his right hand, he applied the first stinging noisy slap to her right buttock's upper summit; pausing a moment, he left an equally rosy splotch on the other globe in the same place. Sandra sighed, squirmed a bit, glanced nervously back at him, and parted her bare legs as if trying to prove her total submission.
Now the spanks began to fall more quickly, covering the entire buttock, as he administered about a dozen blows to the left cheek of her velvety young behind; his eyes feasted on the sensitivity of her naked skin, watching the color crimson the luscious jutting saucy globe; then, pausing, he administered a harder dozen to the right cheek of her lovely naked bottom. By now she was gasping and sighing loudly, looking feverishly back at him, her eyes glassy and dilated with tears, and he could feel her wrists jerk under his pinning hand.
Pausing a moment, he asked, "Are you going to be good from now on and obey me implicitly in everything?"
"Oooh, y-yes, master, I promise! Please don't spank my bottom any more!" she wistfully quavered.
He traced a forefinger down the shadowy, sinuous cleft between her huddling crimsoned bare bottom-cheeks, and Sandra gasped again, and wriggled her naked belly lasciviously over his thighs, shifting her slim supple body closer to him so that her furry love thatch could rub against his wakened cock.
"Count twenty aloud now, Sandra," he commanded.
And the spanking resumed. Slowly, with about twenty seconds' pause after each spank, his hand visited her bare tingling, reddening seat; this time the blows were harsher, with the full force of his palm, and he felt the naked jouncy flesh spring up after flattening at the impact; sobs and groans and real tears now proved the vigor of this voluptuous chastisement. Her bottom flamed in voluptuous contrast to the pale sheen of her squirming, flexing thighs, and she began to cross one ankle over the other, then uncross them, only to cross them from the other direction, proof the chastisement was beginning to be darksome to her tender flesh and sensitized nerves.
"If I spare you any more," he said after she had counted out the twentieth, "will you kneel down and suck my cock and then beg me to fuck you, Sandra?"
"Oh, yes, master! Oh do let me off any more spanking, my bummy's so hot and stings so already," she pleaded.
"Then show your humility and save it," he retorted.
Quickly she scrambled off his lap, and knelt down before him. Putting her hands on his upper thighs, she bowed her head to his now fully erect cock and began to suck and nibble on it, furling her dainty pink tongue against the gnarled, throbbing meatus. Clutching her by the pigtails with his left hand and by her neck with his right, leaning to her, Georges followed this exciting ritual of fellatio till the aching stress in his laden testicles forced him to declare a halt, and in a hoarse, shuddering voice, he demanded, "Well, have you forgotten what you're to do now, or do you want a dose of the strap on your naked bottom?"
"Oh noo! Please, master, I'm ready to be fucked! Please fuck me good and hard and let me off more punishment, and I'll be a good little slave from now on, I truly promise," Sandra gasped.
"Then step out of your panties, remove your skirt, and get on my bed with your legs open to receive your master," was his next order.
After she had obeyed, he removed the dressing gown completely, and moving to the bed, devoured her half-nudity with blazing eyes. Then, ascending the bed, he mounted over her, and instantly sweet Sandra spread open the pouting fleshy pink lips of her cunt, and, her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling, murmured, "Dear master, your slave begs you to forgive her being naughty and to fuck her and pardon her!"
"That will depend on how you please me, Sandra," was his reply as he inserted his cock inside her moist twitching cunt, and drove to his balls in a single long dig. With a cry of rapture, young Sandra enlaced him with arms and legs, arching to grind her pelvis to him, and then, blushing through her tears, whispered, "Ohh, it's so good! Nobody has ever made me so excited as you have, dear Georges, my beloved master! I love my job and I'll be yours till you want to get rid of me!"
But that, dear reader, Georges was not even thinking of as he began to fuck the delicious teenager. For the years would only serve to develop all her womanhood and make her a still more satisfactory passionate slave of love, conquered by voluptuous skill, not brutality or odium!
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DOREEN
I
"Don't be long darling," the young man called to the attractive girl as she slid out of the car, giving a passing male pedestrian a goodly sight up her shapely nylon-sheathed legs, "I'll go along to the pub on the corner and wait there for you," the young man added.
"I shouldn't be more than half an hour, dear," she called back, "Mrs. Karina likes to talk but I'll give her the fitting and keep the chatter short."
Doreen Telling was employed by a very small and exclusive dressmaking concern. Mrs. Karina was one of their most valued customers and as such, when a request was made for a fitting of the new gown to be made at her own home, and in the evening, her wishes were honoured. It had been the task of Doreen Telling to take along the half-finished gown and give the wealthy client a fitting. The appointment was for seven in the evening and Don Telling had been only too willing to drive his wife to the Mayfair apartment of Mrs. Karina and now he waited for her to return. Afterwards they could have a meal in the West End and a few more drinks before going back to their home in the suburbs.
Doreen was admitted to the apartment by the wealthy Mrs. Karina herself. This was surprising as she knew this woman had a maid. But over the cocktails that had already been poured she was informed that the maid was off for the evening and, contrary to what had already been arranged with the firm, Mrs. Karina was not keen on a fitting for the new gown this evening.
Mrs. Karina was a woman in her early forties, well developed and preserved in all her feminine regions. She looked the part of a haughty aristocratic woman used to getting her own way, a woman in command. It made Doreen wonder just what happened to Mr. Karina ... he was never mentioned, never heard about ... perhaps he was dead ? Perhaps this woman was a widow. It didn't matter.
Mrs. Karina began to make the younger woman's ears burn with her conversational bombshell. She was explaining that she had just bought some property in Peckham. She was going to have it pulled down and rebuilt from the shops it was now to a larger store. The wily woman saw the look of concern in her young visitor's face. She had mentioned the address of the property ... Mrs. Karina well knew that young Don Telling had just spent probably all his savings on modernizing a small shop he had just opened at the same address!
If the whole site was to be modernized the small shop would be a dead loss and he would be financially ruined. His compensation would not meet his present outstanding mortgages. Wealthy, wily, influential Mrs. Karina knew all about this. She had bought the property not only as an investment, but as a lever to get hold of this young couple and do with them what she wanted.
She smiled playfully and patted the face of the astounded young woman:
"However, my dear," she said softly, "there is just one way that might persuade me not to go ahead with these rebuilding plans ... that is if you and I become good friends ... close friends," and she winked slyly at the astonishment which showed on the pretty face before her.
"I ... I ... I always try to please you, Mrs. Karina, that is why I was selected to come with your gown this evening for the fitting ... because our Manager knows I get on well with you ... at least I thought I..."
"You came this evening because I told your boss I insisted that you were the young lady he send me. I wanted you to come to my apartment this evening-and here you are..." Mrs. Karina chuckled, "I always get my own way, you know, it is as well if you remember that. Tell me, you are about twenty-two or three, yes ? And you have been married what-about a year?"
"I'm ... twenty-one, and Don and I were married last month exactly a year ago," Doreen replied in a faltering voice. The mood of the conversation was rather frightening her. The next words of this overpowering woman shocked her even more.
"Twenty-one, eh? Good ... good ... tell me ... have you ever seen a cunt?"
She seemed delighted at the amount of puzzled shock that showed on the young woman's face. Mrs. Karina went on, "I like to shock young women like you, m'dear. Have you ever SUCKED a cunt ... eh? ... tell me ... have you? Have you?"
Doreen felt disgusted. She shook her head. What a question to put to her ? She had been married to the most loving and handsome husband for just over a year and this foul-mouthed woman was asking this sort of obscene question. And the more alarmed she looked the more it seemed to delight the smiling Mrs. Karina. A strong expression of what could only be described as lust showed on that heavily, but very cleverly made-up face of the older woman. She patted the girl's flushed face again:
"Remember, if you don't want your husband given notice at the shop you and I have to be good friends, my dear, remember that, won't you? Remember it ... I mean what I say, you know that ... and determined that you and I shall be lovers ... two women together as lovers ... does that alarm you ... or does it, as I suspect, secretly thrill you, eh?"
Doreen knew she was being teased and taunted by this worldly wise woman. She had been given three strong cocktails while they had been talking too. She felt hot and had the sort of false courage that drink can give. Three cocktails are not usually very potent. But Mrs. Karina knew how to mix drinks that were potent. She saw by the way this young woman's face became highly colored and flushed that the drink was effecting her. And so was this obscene talk, quite naturally. She leaned across to where Doreen sat. ...
"Show me that you want us to be friends, my dear ... come on ... show me your pussy ... show it to me!"
Slowly Doreen got to her feet and standing in front of where the woman sat drew her dress up to her waist and holding it there with her left arm used her right hand to draw aside the dainty white nylon band of her panties.
Mrs. Karina gazed at the partly exposed genital region of an embarrassed but slightly excited young Doreen Telling. The woman smiled:
"Very nice ... very nice and hairy, my dear. I thought you might be ... but I am not so interested in the hair as the cunt itself. Lay on the couch, dear. Lay back on it ... that's right. Now let me slip your panties down ... there ... now, keep your dress up out of the way and spread your fanny lips for me. Go on ... spread them wide ... there ... that's right ... lovely!"
Doreen had never felt so embarrassed as she did now. The woman was breathing heavily and unevenly as she stared closely at the fully exposed cunt of the young married woman. Suddenly Mrs. Karina was on the bed, getting her own panties down, spreading her legs wide and clawing at Doreen:
"Suck me ... suck me darling bitch..." she seemed to have become suddenly insane with desire, "suck my cunt, darling, come on ... please darling..."
For the first time Doreen began to feel a slight charge of sexuality go through her. She saw Mrs. Karina lift her arms and beckon. She wanted her to kneel on the couch between her widely spread thighs!
Doreen slowly assumed the pose that the woman wanted. Slowly the young woman brought her face down towards that wet glistening large mature womanly hole. It was a far darker hued lipped crevice than her own feminine pit. The lips of flesh seemed to be more firm ... to be leathery even. Her clitoris knob was very pronounced too, evidence of the amount of manual stimulation it had been given through the years. It throbbed and was very red. The actual hole itself was like a puckered semi-closed pouch of slithery rubbery texture. Her manicured fingers gripped her ankles ... ankles that were sheathed in the most sheer and expensive nylons, and drew the legs back to her breasts.
This uplift and stretching of the thighs caused the cunt itself to become more spread ... and from it came the most sexy of all odors ... the smell of female arousal ... It thrilled and excited Doreen who had her face but an inch or so away from the womanly genitals. She moved her hands to softly caress the thighs of the woman. She liked to run her fingertips along the ridge of the nylon tops. Never had she known stockings so fine and sheer.
She had the thought at the back of her mind that if she pleased this strange sexy woman and they DID become good close friends, perhaps she would be given some expensive hose like these. She saw the belly begin to shake ... even this soft patting at the tops of her legs was making her hotter. Doreen saw a thin trickle of mucous come from the lower end of the gash. The odor was now more pronounced ... more sexy.
The young woman began to be inflicted with the same lustful desire that possessed this woman. Doreen sank down lower on her knees and heels and leant well forward ... hot wet cunt was almost touching her lips....
First she put her mouth to that swollen throb-by knob of flesh ... the large clitoris. Mrs. Karina at once went into wild gyrations, groaning and panting and almost dislodging the face of her lover. Doreen had not expected such a quick or violent response. Her own fanny was hot now and she was feeling aroused. Mrs. Karina began to give verbal encouragement:
"Kiss me darling ... use your sweet tongue ... tongue-fuck me ... tongue-fuck in my hole, darling," she gasped..."tongue-fuck me ... tongue-fuck me!"
Doreen pressed her face lower down and harder to the hot moist nest. She rammed her tongue hard up into the pit of hot pulsating flesh. The way the woman jerked and tossed it seemed she was going out of her mind...
"That's lovely ... lovely honey," she was gasping..."keep doing it ... keep moving your tongue ... little more ... keep doing it ... oggooGGGHHH!"
By pressing her mouth harder to the outer rim of flesh of the cunt Doreen found she was able to get her tongue deeply enough inside for the inner vaginal muscles to clamp on her tongue itself. It was startling the electrifying effect this had. Mrs. Karina was wild with lust. Her contortions all but throwing Doreen off the couch entirely.
"My mare ... my lovely cunt-sucking mare..." the woman gasped, "keep on doing it ... harder ... harder ... I'm nearly there ... nearly having my cumm ... harder ... oheeeehhh ... there right in get your tongue right in ... eeeggg-hhhh ... I'm comming ... Comminggggooooeee ... now ... now ... I'm ... I'm ... It's there! Feel my juice ... feel it ... suck it ... suck it ... Ooohheeee!"
It took about five minutes for the panting and gasping Mrs. Karina to recover her senses. When she got up she pulled Doreen to her feet.
"Come into my bedroom darling," she said and took Doreen towards the door, "it's your turn to have real fun now. Strip off ... I want you naked ... then lie on the bed ... I want to tie you down."
Doreen was excited ... she was also puzzled and a little frightened at the remark about being tied down ... there was no need for that ... she was quite willing. She had, after all, shown. However Mrs. Karina was adamant. She wanted to tether her to the four bedposts ... naked and spread-eagled. So Doreen was secured with four leather straps. She lost all her fear as soon as the experienced fingers began to work in her cunt, however.
Her clitoris was already naturally aroused and became even more violently erected when fingers clawed the cunt lips well apart. It was the fingers of her left hand that Mrs. Karina used to keep the fleshy membranes away from the stem of the clitty. The fingers of her right hand paid their homage to Doreen's feminine stub. Rubbing the hypersensitive stem up and down as if it had been a minute penis the woman masturbated Doreen in the most licentious fashion.
She jerked and pulled the stem until it was more elongated than it had ever been before. It was then that Mrs. Karina lowered her face and clamped her lip stick painted lips to the throbby little gristle. What sheer ecstasy that was! This was even better than any sensual sensation the young girl had experienced with her husband! When the tongue moved into the joy hole it was like a heaven-sent invader to spread sheer unadulterated happiness to all her body.
Suddenly when Doreen was certain she was just about to have the best and most excruciatingly wonderful orgasm she had ever had, Mrs. Karina lifted her face and slapped down her own naked body on top of Doreen's naked spread-eagled body. Those beautifully manicured hands grabbed at Doreen's breasts. The teats were roughly and frantically milked, the lip stick painted mouth moving from one firmly swollen nipple to the other and then back again.
Never had Doreen felt so much passion ... never felt so much hot desire ... never wanted the release of her sexual pent-up juices more than she did now. The strong naked body of the woman slid higher and more on top of her. The pelvic bone of each woman thrust against the other's ... an involuntary circular agitation was set up by the loins of both women.
Mrs. Karina had her mouth to Doreen's ... their tongues met and entwined in hot passion. Never ... no never had the girl known such wonderful deliciously avid sensations in every part of her body...
"Ohaaaa ... oh ... my ... God ... my God!" was all the poor girl could utter.
Doreen was sure her belly was not only on fire but that it was going to burst any second. Her cunt had never been so grippy and so avidly hungry for the moment of the climax. The heaviness of the woman's pelvic bone pushing and grinding against her own was one of the most erotic experiences she had ever had. The gabbled exclamations then started:
"I'm coming ... coming ... make me come ... you're making me come ... I'm COMMINGGG..." seemed to come from both the writhing tossing females at the same time.
"That's it ... that's the way!" Doreen heard old Mrs. Karina imploring her, "Grind up against me harder ... that's it ... harder ... OOOGG-GGEEEHHHHHAAAAA!"
Some moments afterwards Doreen lay breathing very heavily and feeling satiated in a way she had seldom known before. The woman had slid downwards so that her heavy big breasts pressed against Doreen's heaving tummy. Her hands plucked and tweaked at the young woman's aroused and erect nipples and breast flesh as they panted and gulped for air together.
Half an hour later, after a mutually enjoyed frigging session Doreen made her way from the plush apartment. She ached all over as she walked from the house to the pub on the corner where she knew Don would be waiting for her. She was glad she had taken time to make up her face again after that mad sexual episode with that strange woman. Something told her that she had not had the last of her sensual adventures with Mrs. Karina.
II
"Well, you finally made it with her, then?"
The tall gray-haired man had come into the room shortly after Mrs. Doreen Telling had left. Oscar Raven looked at the bright-eyed Karin Karina. He knew from her expression of self satisfaction that her plan had worked well. He knew she had been after that attractive young married woman who worked at the dress making establishment. Mrs. Karina had not cared how much money she spent on her investments to get a hold over the young couple, Don and Doreen Telling. Her friend of many years standing, Oscar Raven knew that she was a woman who always got her way-always.
She smiled at him. She liked Oscar. He had only recently come back from abroad after a year or two absence. He looked tanned, well built and healthy nor did he look his fifty years. She was glad to have his company again.
"I always thought you were more interested in young lads," he went on with a sly chuckle, "I seem to remember that youths were your special weakness before I went away. How come you changed ... no more innocent lads for you to debauch, eh?"
They laughed. "Oh yes, I still adore young lads," she told him, "still adore them. I like nothing better than to initiate a well built lad in his early teens to the mysteries and pleasures of a woman's body. I love them to be so innocent when I first bring them up here it gives me such a kick to give them unhealthy desires!"
"Do you make them as wicked and vicious as you are? I bet they are quite different lads when you have finished with them!"
"Yes ... I make them vicious alright..." she went on, her eyes gleaming, "I make them eager for the sort of appetite that I have for sex."
"But now you have switched to women, young married women at that?" he chimed in.
"Well, I have fancied that Doreen Telling for some time. I wanted to have her before she had been married too long. I remember the wedding. She's got a good looking husband. I shall have to do something about him soon. But I still like boys, Oscar darling."
"Well then, why the change?"
"I enjoyed the lovely body of Doreen, but I still get my thrills from seeing the faces of the young innocent boys when I start to undress them. The last one I had up here was only thirteen ... he was the son of the caretaker in these flats. I paid his father well for the opportunity of getting the lad up here alone."
"And what were you up to together, eh?" he asked.
"I can see his fresh complexioned face now when I took hold of his young penis. That was about six months ago. I have depraved him slowly as he was so young ... oh so young and innocent he was. You would never have believed it, darling."
She was rubbing the hardened penis of her companion as she explained to him her pleasure at depraving young lads. It was most pleasurable for Oscar as she cupped his very heavy balls in her palm and joggled them.
"And how about this pretty Doreen Telling?" he said. "Are you going to let me have a bit from her now you have started to debauch her as well?"
Karin Karina smiled. She loved to masturbate this well built man ... to rub his fine manly shaft until she could feel it throbbing and pulsating in every pore. Oscar looked at her. Never had he known a woman who personified sensuality as this woman did. Past the flushes of youth by many years she was still the most desirable of creatures. She knew how to please an adult man as expertly as she corrupted youths, and as cleverly as she lesbianised young women. Her fingers traced up and down his thickening stem.
"You like that, darling, don't you?" she chuckled. "I wish now that I had let you watch me with Doreen, it would have made you crazy with lust. For me as well as for her ... she is a very pretty woman. Yes Oscar ... I have made up my mind ... you can have her for yourself in the not too far off future. You can have her ... I shall make sure of it ... you shall have her!"
Oscar was pleased at this encouraging news. He was not so pleased when Mrs. Karina announced she was going to have a bath and then have an early night. There was to be no pleasure with her for him this night. He had to go back to his room. She wanted to sleep alone tonight ... to play with herself while she relived through that debauchment of the lovely Doreen Telling. Soon she would have Don Telling in her power as well ... soon. Lots of exciting events would come to pass.
* * *
But not all of these exciting events were under the control of the strong-willed Mrs. Karin Karina. A certain notorious pimp known to his close confidants as Latch-on Lacey also had his evil eyes on the very shapely attractive Doreen Telling.
Latch-on was well nick-named. Once he "Latched-on" to a young woman she was as good as lost-unless she was particularly lucky or very superbly self willed. Lacey had been watching Doreen Telling for some weeks. He had often followed her from the building in which the dressmaking salon was situated to her own home. He knew her habits, knew far more about her than she would have believed possible.
This afternoon he watched her walk from the building. He followed her at a discreet distance. He was close enough to savor the sway of her lush buttocks, the movement of her hips, and her long slender legs in their nylon stockings. He knew that on Tuesdays her husband went direct from his shop to a club where he played cards. As usual Doreen was going to a cinema instead of going back to an empty house.
The young wife had no idea that the smartly dressed man seated next to her in the darkened cinema had sat there by design ... that during the performance he behaved like a perfect gentleman towards her, so much that during the intervals she did not hesitate to allow herself to be drawn into conversation with him.
He seemed so polite, so utterly gentlemanly, and when she met him again the following Tuesday-by accident she thought!-she was willing to go to the same cinema with him had he been so bold as to ask her. But he asked her first to have a drink with him.
The small bar where he took her was not the sort of place she usually visited. It seemed more of a gambling-cum-drinking saloon that she knew Don would not have liked her to enter. But with this man whom she now called Lacey, not sure if this was his first name or not, she felt safe and hardly embarrassed at all.
During the evening a small combo played sensual music. She was drinking more and having light snacks, dancing once or twice with Lacey and all thought of visiting the tamer entertainment of a cinema was forgotten. It was while the lights were lowered and a sensual colored singer-dancer was performing her thrice nightly song and dance act on the small stage in front of the three-piece band that Lacey made his first real move towards getting "Latched-on" to his latest victim. Doreen was standing in the shadows to the side of the stage watching the negress, Lacey was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Doreen felt a little shocked, but also very flattered when she felt the hands tighten on her shoulders. Lacey had his face along side hers:
"I feel you are such a beautiful young woman I want to kiss you..." he murmured intimately.
She turned her head away as she felt him trying to do just that, "No ... not here ... there are too many eyes watching us..." she mumbled.
He smiled ... he was quite sure not one pair of eyes would take the slightest notice of them. But she was now behaving just as he expected her to behave. She wanted to be kissed ... but only in the extreme privacy and safety of different surroundings to this club.
He drew her along the wall to a door. With his arm round her waist he guided her across a narrow hall into an adjoining room. He closed the door before turning on the light. She gasped when she saw she was in a small oblong shaped box room. The only furnishing was a bed. ...
Before she could utter any sort of protest he had his mouth to hers. He felt her lips tremble, but they soon parted ... those few drinks would have done a lot for her. She was obviously partly heated. He knew from the way she let him tongue her tongue, from the way she trembled but made no attempt to resist his attentions-not even when he cupped her breast in his palm and lifted and fondled.
He realized at once she was a young woman who liked her breasts having attention. She arched at his hand and he moved his other hand to her breast. Suddenly he pressed the front of his body hard to hers. She did not give an inch ... she stood firm, still slightly arched at him. His face was close to hers ... in a low tone he whispered:
"We are quite alone in here honey ... do you want ... some?"
As he spoke he took her hand and placed it between their bellies so that she could not help but feel the erectness of his penis. He got his mouth right to her ear, "You going to give me a little bit, honey, no one will know!"
He was slowly lifting her dress. He blatantly touched her between her thighs, his palm being over her panties of course. He had learnt with all his years of experience of seduction and abduction that this was the crucial moment. She would either jerk away from him and probably slap his face ... or do what she was doing now ... slowly part her thighs.
He watched her pretty face contort. He saw her grimace as she bit her lower lip. He knew she was feeling that guilty sense of shame ... and yet she was not sufficiently strong willed to deny herself the pleasure he was giving her. He released her and turned to the door. He turned the key in the lock. Not to stop her from leaving-she would not leave now he was sure-but to prevent anyone from coming in and disturbing them. He knew this room was used. like many others along the corridor it was used by members of the club and their girl friends. He did not want a boozy gent with a blowzy whore bursting in on them just at a crucial stage. He smiled at her. She was more embarrassed now that he had stopped petting her.
"Let's get undressed honey," he spoke softly in very coaxing tones, "you have plenty of time and no one will come in ... come on my sweet ... undress for me..."
Doreen slowly took off her dress. Then she took off her nylons and suspender girdle and then her bra ... it was the hands of Latch-on Lacey that gripped her flimsy panties and drew them down over hips and thighs. His mouth kissed the bare flesh of her knees and upper thighs while he was taking the intimate garment from her. She modestly kept her thighs apart. He was soon bending forward, his face near her navel. He could smell the sexy odor that came from her slightly moist vagina.
When he dropped to his knees she guessed what he was going to do ... he was going to use his mouth like that Mrs. Karina had done. She sighed deeply and then held her breath in excited anticipation. He had his face buried in her soft hair ... his lips to her clitoris. She looked down, he had his mouth wide open now ... letting the throbby little bud of her clitty rest against his out-thrust tongue. His hands caressed her long naked legs, fondling her flesh from low down at her calves ... up the backs of her knees to the plumper more fleshy region of her thigh tops.
It seemed unbelievable that she had come into a bedroom with this man who was really a stranger to her, and so quickly and so easily moved into this most intimate embrace. She knew that if it had not been for that episode with Mrs. Karina she would not have been tempted to let this man become so intimate with her. That fierce and so satisfying session with Mrs. Karina had awakened some inner latent sexuality that she had not been aware of. It had made her want more sex than she was getting from her husband. Poor Don ... he was not a good lover at all ... so quick ... so prudish in his every approach ... so very different to this man...
When Lacey rose to his feet she pressed herself hard against him:
"My ... my husband never does that to me..." she blurted out, "I wish he did ... but I think he would consider it disgusting..."
She was clinging to the man's neck. He was smiling at her, a knowing smile, a smile that told her that he was well aware what pleasure his mouth had given her in that so short space of time. He let her sit on the edge of the bed while he started to take off his own clothing.
"Open those pretty legs wide," he told her, "I like to see an attractive young woman with her legs well open ... just waiting!"
They smiled at one another. She sat with her thighs well spread. She did not know that from a make-believe picture hanging on the wall a hidden camera was taking a series of photos of her ... onto film was now being recorded her sitting on that bed with legs well apart and her hair disheveled and her lipstick smudged.
Lacey made sure he did not impede the angle of the hidden camera. He stood well to the end of the bed as he undressed. Now that he was naked he rubbed his penis into a fierce erection and moved across to be close to her. He hoped she did not hear that slight sound that seemed to come from the wall ... he knew the camera was now being replaced by a cine camera...
From now on the unsuspecting Doreen Telling was going to be a star in an obscene movie. Now that he was close to the bed she stood up, reaching out to clasp his massive organ.
"Will you suck it for me, honey?" he mumbled. The film was silent and his words would not be recorded. To anyone seeing the film afterwards it would seem all her actions were voluntary and of her own instigation.
She dropped to her knees. He made sure he was standing at right angles to the hidden camera in the wall so that the film would record a clear view of her getting her warm mouth over his throbby dickhead. He caressed her warm naked back as she slowly and with inexperienced uncertainty went down to him.
He opened his knees wider, bent them a little, and arched his back to let himself be thoroughly sucked. He knew that the obviousness of her lack of experience at this art would be most attractive on film. She would make a change from the usual whorish and more accomplished "blowers" who were on most blue films. He wished he could have let her finish him like this-but that was not a part of the program at all.
He pushed her away. She was reluctant to give up her new toy-thing. He drew her up to her feet, making sure she faced the camera. She was a truly lovely young woman. Her breasts so beautifully formed and still uplifted without the support of a bra. Her cheeks were bright. He would have bet her husband had never seen her quite like this.
He caressed her breasts, making her squirm and writhe against him. He noticed she could scarcely bear to lift her eyes from his saliva-glistening cock. She was holding his massive prick with both her soft hands. He smiled to himself. This was good cinema! this made good copy alright!
He pushed her to the bed. Again he heard a sound from the wall-but she had not noticed it. A zoom lens was being fitted to the camera and used now they were on the bed. He knelt between her lush naked thighs and brushed with tantalizing slowness the head of his raging cock to her soft moist pubic hair bush.
He hoped the camera was capturing her face at this moment. She was grimacing in the most avid sensual fashion. Her expression showed so exactly what a woman portrays when needing sex so badly. Suddenly he lunged forward ... getting his cock into her to the very base of the thick shaft. Her immediate response was to thrust her heaving belly upwards ... to devour even more of that cock than was possible. She had her wrist to her mouth and was stifling her cries with her own hand.
Her lovely long shapely legs lifted and crossed about his back ... her free arm wrapped itself around his neck ... her eyes were half closed ... fluttering. She did not see him deftly touch a switch at the side of the headboard nor did she hear the very faint whirr of a tape recording machine which was hidden under the bed. Now every sound was being placed on record also.
"Ohaa ... not too quick ... ohhooo ... that feels great," she was mumbling.
He hoped she would speak clearly enough for her every word not to be lost on the tape since the microphone was also under the bed.
"Oheee ... it feels so big ... darling ... ohaaa ... move it slowly ... that's right ... slowly ... ohaaa ... I like that ... I love it ... I love it like that ... so big and hard ... moving so slowly and deeply into me ... oheeeaaahhh ... I think you're making me come already. Don never makes me respond like this ... he never makes me come so quickly ... or so wonderfully ... ohaaa ... I can feel it rushing in me ... harder now ... ohaaaa darling ... that's it ... harder ... faster ... get it right in me ... get it up me as far as you can ... oheee ... yesss ... ohHHH yes ... yes ... harder ... harder..."
He watched her reaching her orgasm. He wished she had used more obscene words but she clearly was not used to using them. He knew she had had a good orgasm. She had come a lot of her wet hot goo. Her long legs had dropped from around his waist and her belly was still shaking from violent spasms.
Their little lust session was not over yet ... not by a long chalk. The film was only just getting into its stride. A lot more had to be recorded yet. He hoped the lens had settled on her contorting facial expressions ... he knew that a close-up of a woman in orgasm was always a best seller.
Slowly he withdrew from her, letting his weight on his knees he drew back and his thick very long and wetly glistening tool was clear of her hot mucous dripping hole. He saw her looking down at his huge phallus. It looked even more grotesquely sexy drenched as it was in her white oily spends. She didn't need any prompting ... she reached forward and took the great weapon in her hands, his hand on the nape of her neck persuaded her to lean forward enough to let his wet sticky cock brush into her long lovely hair. He loved to see the soft luxurious hair of an attractive woman soiled with sex juices. When she turned her face up to look into his leering face he murmured:
"Go on ... play with it ... you know you want to ... go on..."
She caressed the hard wet shaft, her long hair fell over the purple-nosed monster. The cockhead began to jerk and throb in fast uncontrolled spasms very near to climaxing.
Latch-on watched her. He knew what she yearned to do ... knew what in a moment or so she would do ... slowly her face went lower. Her mouth was opening greedily ... she took the head of the wet glans in between her lips. Her fingers caressed and fondled the heavy hairy testicles and their crinkled sac. He stroked her head, softly he whispered:
"You love cock don't you ? Let me hear you telling me that you love it..."
The tape faithfully recorded every sound on to that hidden machine.
"I've never felt this way before ... it's like being in love all over again ... in love with ... with a cock! I've never wanted to use filthy words before ... now I feel I want to be as naughty as I can ... to be wanton ... to tell you out right how much I adore your cock ... put it in me again ... please darling ... put your lovely cock in me ... I want to have your ... prick ... give me your prick again in ... in my ... in my cunt! Please ... put it in my cunt and ... and ... fuck me ... fuck me ... FUCK ME!"
She was behaving and reacting even far better than he had dared hope. A strange thing how a normally respectable young woman can be made to show her true sexual nature when aroused and slyly persuaded and coaxed by a man other than the man she loves.
Lacey slid his rampant tool back up into her wet-slimed cunthole. He penetrated her fully and very easily with one or two hefty lunges with his stomach and loins. He had his orgasm almost at once. After her mouthing something of his prick and the fingering and fiddling with his balls it is little wonder.
When he came thickly and plentifully into her belly she was screaming like a wild beast. It was one of the best tapes he had ever made. It would be a hold over her to make her do whatever he desired in the future, as indeed so would the film. He had two weapons of blackmail over this young wife. It was going to be well worth the hundred pounds he would have to pay the club for the camera, the tape and the man who was working it.
Well ... it was worth every last pound. Doreen Telling was a rare prize indeed!
III
Latch-on Lacey roared with mirth. He watched the two smartly dressed men walk across to a waiting car at the curb ... they had approached him a few moments ago and their good cut and expensive clothing could not disguise that they were toughies. They hadn't scared Latch-on. This was probably because they had not set out to scare him ... just simply to put a proposition to him.
Mrs. Karin Karina, like all wealthy women of the world, had her informers. It had not been long before the interest that Lacey had shown in her latest girl friend was relayed to her. Mrs. Karina was a jealous woman. She liked Doreen Telling and she had plans for many long sexy weekends with the young woman. It did not please her one little bit to know a swine like Lacey had got his hooks into Doreen.
Karin Karina had her own ways of making most people toe the line she wanted them to toe. Latch-on Lacey would not present many problems ... but first she wanted to give him fair warning. Hence the two toughs who had spoken to him in the street. Briefly and to the point they had told him to lay off Mrs. Doreen Telling ... to destroy any evidence he might have of her unfaithfulness to her husband ... to forget any hold he might have over her. In short-to get Doreen right out of his life and his plans.
The request had caused him the greatest merriment. He did not fear the physical violence that the two toughs might have in mind. He was tough himself in his own way. He would get over a beating ... but he would NOT do as they asked. He had too much potential money in the offing now that he had the very attractive Doreen Telling where he wanted her.
It would have been the wisest act of his life had he shown sense for once and done as he was asked. But Latch-on was not yet fully aware of the power behind the request ... not yet aware that it was Mrs. Karina who had sent these toughs to him. Not that he would have acted any differently. He had Doreen Telling where he liked to have pretty women ... and he was going to make the most of her ... such a woman could be his meal ticket for many a long winter's day-and night!
Karina was not in the least surprised at the lack of co-operation from Latch-on. She had in fact already put into operation her plan to bring the horrid little man to heel. It had not taken her well paid spies very long to find out all she wanted to know about Lacey.
Latch-on had been married twice, divorced once and was at the moment living apart from his second wife. Living in fact with a girl very much younger than himself who, no doubt, earned good money for him as well as providing his own body with benefit of her feminine charms.
It was the daughter of his first marriage who now interested Karin Karina. She found that although Latch-on had long since lost all affection for that first wife he had a devoted and touching affection for his daughter. She was a pretty girl of twenty known as Sue Lacey and the news that interested Mrs. Karina more than anything else was that Sue Lacey was getting married on the following Saturday. With careful attention to detail and with no expense spared the vile plans of Mrs. Karina were laid. On that fateful Saturday the large gleaming limousine that carried the bride and groom away from the church was, alas, not the one that had been ordered by her doting father. Neither in fact was the car that whisked away Latch-on himself ... the one he had expected to be waiting for him.
It was an hour later that the unfortunate Latch-on came round. A heavy blow on his head from an elegant man in morning clothes already in the car had rendered Latch-on out of this world.
It was a carefully placed chloroform pad over the mouths of the bride and groom which rendered them unconscious and allowed their safe and uneventful journey to a country mansion owned by Mrs. Karina. From the steps of the church immediately after the wedding ceremony the bride and groom, and the bride's father, had been virtually kidnapped in broad daylight!
When the stunned and befuddled Latch-on Lacey came to it was to find himself bound hand and foot to a metal rack on a wall ... a few feet along the wall, bound in similar fashion was his new son-in-law. In the center of the room, a few yards from them, was the new bride. Not that anyone would have known that a short time ago she had stood at the altar in a spotless white gown. Now she was stark naked! She was also bound hand and foot and laid on her back on a low oblong-shaped table, the top of which was padded and covered in black leather.
The only other occupant of this strange windowless room was an elderly bent-backed man, ugly in the extreme, who was in the process of gazing with rapt admiration at the exposed breasts and genitals of this lovely young woman.
From a hidden loudspeaker high in the wall a voice was heard. It was Mrs. Karina who was watching from a room above through a concealed false ceiling-floor. Latch-on didn't know her voice ... would not have known her if he could see her. But what she was saying made sense to him-even if it did not to his daughter and her new husband.
"You had fair warning Lacey," the cultured female voice went on, "I told you to stay away from Doreen Telling. You saw fit to ignore my polite and most reasonable request. I told you to destroy any evidence you had about her. I have since heard that you have a film and a tape recording that concerns her very much. You have not destroyed them ... and now you are to pay the penalty!"
Latch-on wanted to scream out that he would give up Doreen, the tape and the film ... he would pay every last pound he had in the world ... but please ... oh please ... release his daughter and her husband from this place. He did in fact start to get some frenzied words out ... but fear gripped his heart too much for any sensible phrases to be formed in his mind or on his dry parched lips.
His eyes, as indeed were the eyes of his new son-in-law, were focused on that naked helpless tethered body on the low oblong table. The pert lush breasts of the bride seemed to be inviting the lecherous attention of that vile old man gazing at her so lewdly. Three pairs of male eyes were looking at the warm pulsing loose flesh of her crotch.
Slowly the old man was now taking his clothing off. Over the loudspeaker came the same voice again. Mrs. Karina was speaking to Latch-on:
"I am afraid your lovely daughter is going to have quite a different sort of husband for her first night than she expected..." she chuckled.
The old man was now as naked as the girl. He stood close enough to her for her startled eyes to see his ancient misshapen penis which dangled down from his scrawny loins. They watched him reach under the low table and bring out a small wire mesh cage. He placed the cage carefully on Sue's belly, then he fumbled with the catch to release a small opening at the side of the cage.
Sue tried to lift her head to stare at the cage ... what on earth was happening ... what was this vile old naked man going to do?
The bridegroom and Lacey could not yet see what the cage contained ... but they saw Sue tremble. They saw the most violent of reactions set up in her entire body ... it was when they saw the old man shake the cage and an oval-shaped wobbly jelly-like creature slithered from the cage onto the woman's belly that they shared her fears and disgust. The creature was about the size of a hand, black and dull red in color. It was some species of the leach family. The old man was chuckling and shaking the cage more.
Another similar blob of wobbling jelly slithered on to Sue's cringing abdomen ... then another ... and another. The old man, his face a mask of devilish intent, gently and carefully lifted the first little wobbly blob and settled it full over Sue's right breast, making sure the center of the horrible creature rested on her soft limp button of a nipple. Then the second was implanted over her other breast ... two more were placed down at her hairy crotch area. The one that had been placed more to the center of her twat was far larger than the others.
Latch-on Lacey and his son-in-law saw the horrid leach thing actually moving. It was slowly pulling itself amid the crisp dark hair of the young woman's pubis, moving about near her cunt lips and the moistness that lay between them. The old man was making a slight adjustment with the second of the jelly-like creatures down at her cunt area.
He was making sure it covered her clitoris ... and now the one that was in the very center of her-haired twat was almost lost from view in the puffy cunt lips and the thicker hair. The old man stood back. He was clearly waiting-soon they knew why ... they saw the lovely white naked belly of the young woman begin to heave ... her thighs trembled ... she began to gyrate as much as the straps that held her on the long table would allow. She was being excited and aroused in spite of herself by the four horrid wads of wobbly creatures ... the leaches or whatever they were!
Sue's father and her new husband saw her throw her head back as far as she could. Her pretty mouth was contorted wide open ... scream after scream came from her throat as her belly and loins writhed out of her control. Her lovely hips weaved and tossed as if she had an unseen lover atop her. At last, although her contortions continued, her screams died down. She was panting ... she was breathless ... the old man was standing near to the table, his lean fleshless fingers were massaging her heaving belly ... suddenly she jerked madly upwards ... a scream long and piercing came from her throat ... her father and husband could only listen and try to imagine just what sort of intense and erotic sensations could be making Sue react and scream like that ... in such an insane fashion.
The old man was slapping her belly with his palms as hard as he could. The twin wobbling leaches on her breasts had suckled her nipples to stiff and very erect peaks. Goodness knows what the horrid squelching creature in her fanny was doing to her but the leach sprawled across her clitoris was sucking it hard and swollen; it began to swell even more.
When with careful deft movements the old man was collecting the little squat wobbly creatures and getting all four of them back into the cage and the cage returned under the table, the old man bent over the prostrate heaving figure and buried his face to her warm and well aroused fanny.
From the frames on the wall where they were so securely tethered Latch-on and his daughter's new bridegroom watched her being goosed by this horrid old man. They saw him kissing those ruffled pink folds of genital fleshiness ... it was, even under those terrifying circumstances, stimulating to see an old man's hungry mouth pulling and sucking at her lovely pinkish glistening gash.
Sue had to respond under his avid demanding mouth. It was but human and the natural reaction. However much she loathed what was being done to her she was being forced to get pleasure from it ... it was but nature asserting itself again when both Latch-on Lacey and the young bridegroom felt their own sexual response making itself felt ... both had erections ... both had a heavy swollen penis thrusting against the material of their trousers.
That wretched old man had his face buried so deeply and hard into Sue's cunt that the pink puffed lips of the stretched fanny were compressed against his lean cheeks, making it seem his whole head was growing out of that hole between her lovely white thighs. They saw the contractions increasing in the girl's belly just like they had done when he had been slapping her and she had the little monsters at her sex and breasts.
When the old fellow raised himself from her his once limp and seemingly useless penis had grown to strange proportions ... long and thin and curved midsection, it was a grotesque affair. The watching helpless Latch-on Lacey knew enough about women and sex to realize his daughter was longing for that penis to penetrate her. Her new husband might not be aware just how badly his new bride needed cock, but he was quite certain that the horrid old man was going to use that long thin penis on her.
The long slow deep sigh of pleasure that came from Sue when that penis started to rear up into her surprised and disgusted her new husband who watched. He could not understand why Sue should be so eager, be so anxiously willing to jerk herself about and writhe with pleasure as the old man drove his prick into her. The young man could not be expected to know just to what depths of depraved desire those little creatures had forced his pretty bride to reach.
The young man was even more shocked and disgusted when Sue began to jabber and gasp out many gabbled words. The one most used being FUCK ... as the tremor of her release struck her she writhed and screamed anew. All the obscene words she had ever heard came tumbling from her twisting mouth. She was welcoming the heavy flood of semen that came from the head of the old man's long thin tool. He was reaching down to unstrap her wrists and her ankles.
To an unbelieving young husband she showed just how she felt towards this old man who had ravished her. Arms and legs encircled his aged body. She clung to him ... begging him to keep on doing it to her ... praying to him that he would never take his cock Out of her ... and then with a second violent spasm shaking her from head to toe she had another great come ... and fainted!
When at last the old man had the strength to lift his naked craggy old body off her limp figure it was seen his prick was smeared with crimson blood ... despite the vileness of her own father Sue was at least a virgin when she had stood at the altar ... watched by her doting father and her new husband she had been deflowered and taught the full pleasure and lust of fucking by a man old enough to be her grandfather.
Latch-on Lacey would think twice in future before he went against the wishes, or the polite requests, of Mrs. Karin Karina! He would not be troubling Doreen Telling again-that was for sure!
IV
It was a month since the wedding. Four long weeks since that ordeal at the country place of Mrs. Karina. Sue, her husband and father had been drugged at the house and transported back to town. They never did know the destination or the locality of the house where Sue had been so shamefully mistreated on what should have been a happy wedding night. It had been a disastrous start to her marriage. A start that was destined to be the finish as well. ...
Latch-on was having a shower in the bathroom of his apartment in the west end when he heard the outer door open and soft footsteps come into the flat. It must be either his own young mistress who lived with him-but she was away for the week-or else his daughter. They were the only two people who had keys to his flat. He called out that he was in the shower and was surprised when the drapes parted and there stood his daughter. He saw she had been crying. It was no surprise to him to learn from her in faltering tones that her husband had left her. He had never really got over that bad shock of seeing her used and abused by an old man and the creatures like leaches. The marriage was as good as over.
She was so distressed that she had taken no notice of her father being stark naked under the shower.
"I shall splash that pretty dress, dear, if you don't stand back. Wait for me in the lounge," he told her. "I don't want to wait out there," she murmured, "I'll slip my dress off ... then it won't get wet-will it?"
As good as her word she was quickly shedding the pretty frock. Lacey looked at his twenty-year-old daughter there in the shower room with him in her panties, nylons and belt, and bra. She grinned at him. The first time he had seen any sort of smile on her face since she arrived.
"Let me help you, Dad," she chuckled and with her soft hands well soaped she attacked his stomach and then his penis. The way she was stroking and trying to arouse his limp penis told Lacey she had been so very much aroused and sensually awakened by that old man in the country and since then had been deprived of any sort of real sexual satisfaction by her husband's feeling of aversion towards her.
She was hot now ... and she was randy ... horny to the extent of wanting to touch even her own father's sex!
It was a strange and stimulating situation. One that a man like Lacey was able to take advantage of. He grinned at her.
"Come under the shower with me darling," he told her, "I'll wash your ... cunt. That is if you want me to?"
The girl quickly shed her bra and panties. He pulled her under the shower before she had time to unclasp her suspender belt or unroll her nylons. Her father dropped to his knees and carefully and lovingly paid homage with the sponge to her cunt. At this close range he was able to get a clear view of his daughter's fanny. He was surprised at the thickness of her lips. Also surprised at the wiry coarseness of the hair surrounding the little nest. He looked up into her face. She was expressing the pleasure she felt by that sly relaxed smile.
"Like it, honey?" he whispered. "Hasn't that young hubby of yours been giving you enough since he married you, my pet?"
She shook her head. "Not enough you say? He's hardly given me any at all ... ohaaa ... ohhHH ... Dad ... touch me there ... do that to me again ... do it again ... oooohhhhaaaa ... please..."
Lacey grinned. He had been rubbing her young clitty stem from side to side, making it erect and swelling. When he pressed it hard between his fingers her long legs began to tremble ... her nylons were wet through and clinging to her shapely limbs most lovingly. She spread her legs as wide apart as she could, at the same time turning off the shower flow. There was no pretence now that they were having a shower. Her father was masturbating her ... and she was adoring it...
"Do you want me to make you come, honey?" he asked her as she continued to wriggle and twist and turn.
"Ohaaaa ... no ... not ... yet Dad ... not yet ... please ... make it last ... you're making me feel better than my husband has ever tried to do ... he was an absolute washout Dad ... useless ... I don't think he would have been any good even without that terrible experience on our wedding night..."
Suddenly Lacey wrapped his arms about her waist and buried his face in her hot pube. Now he was doing to her what that old man had done ... he was using his mouth right inside her hot wet cunt ... just like the cunt of his young mistress her fanny-lips were soft as velvet and so warm and slithery. But she was not his mistress ... she was his daughter and just four weeks ago he had given her away at her wedding ... now he was frenching her down there between her lovely thighs.
Her belly rotated just as it had done when it had been the old man with his mouth clamped to her lusting hole. Lacey knew he was making his daughter want prick ... any prick ... HIS PRICK?
She had her hand down to her vulva tip pulling and prizing her cunt more open for his mouth. There right in front of his eyes was the bright crimson flesh of the hot slithery slimed inner membranes of his own daughter's aroused cunt. He knew that ALL women liked having this done to them, that was why the old man down at Karina's place had been so sure he could win over the tethered and reluctant young bride. Now it was her father winning her over ... it did not seem to matter whose mouth it was to a woman's cunt ... it could arouse them ... could make them hot ... could make them hunger for cock.
He knew he would make her come if he kept on much longer. He straightened up and was about to embrace her in his arms when she dropped down to her knees. His cock was very stiff, very erect. She twisted her face from side to side, letting the heavy prong of his penis slap her chin and her cheeks. He looked down at her as she gave the very tip of his throbbing organ a light kiss.
Then she looked up at him as if to see if he was going to make her stop ... or encourage her in her depravity. Father and daughter exchanged a smile. She rolled his now hugely erected tool between her palms. He reached down and with finger and thumb eased his foreskin further down so that the blood-filled swollen head was completely bared. He held his foreskin down tautly while she gazed at that glistening smooth glans ... her left hand felt under his crotch. His balls were so heavy as she cupped them in her soft hand.
Suddenly ... as if she was unable to resist the temptation a minute longer ... she opened her mouth wide and engulfed his cockhead in her soft lips. He reached under her arms and dragged her up ... another few slight sucks with those sweet lips and she would have brought him off! He didn't want that. He didn't want to come in her mouth. She looked him direct in the eyes. He almost knew what she was going to say ... it was a low soft murmur ... an imploring plea ... low toned and coaxing...
"You know what I want Dad..." she was whispering as though even the walls of the shower were not to hear. He nodded.
"Know pet," he replied, just as low toned and intimate. "Come into the bedroom ... I know how you feel ... I know you want to fuck..."
The blatantly expressed word seemed to bring her to violent life. She had her arms about his neck:
"No ... here ... do it now ... I can't wait ... now ... now ... do it now..."
She was imploring him as she clung to him, his rigid thick penis thrust upwards to her waiting hole. It was like pushing his prick up into a furnace. He had never known a woman or girl so hot or so much in need. He gripped her hips, bent his knees ... and was fucking at her with hard almost brutish upwards lunges. ...
He made her come twice. The first time was quick, the second was more prolonged, a coming of sheer ecstasy. He still had not released his own fluid into her. The incestuous fucking was only partly concluded. She was surprised when he withdrew the thick stiff steaming prick from her. He was lying down on the damp floor of the shower room, telling her to squat over his face. She straddled him with her sopping wet nylon-clad legs open, her feet on either side of his shoulders. She knew instinctively what would please him. She lowered her cunt down towards his face, using her two hands to spread her wet cunt lips while he steadied her with one hand on her hip the other hand gripping his stiff penis.
She pulled her spunky wet lips as far spread as she could, making her normally small oval-shaped hole into a vicious circle of hot pulsating fleshiness, and lowered herself still more to his face and open mouth. He had his tongue thrust out as far as he could. A wet drop of amber-colored fluid came from deep in her hole to fall to his waiting tongue. After two rapid and tensed cumms he knew his daughter would want to pass water now very badly. She was beginning to pass her urine ... starting to water his face and mouth.
As soon as the flow started he pulled her so that her cunt came right down to cover his mouth entirely. She tried to urinate slowly for fear of suffocating him but it was a hopeless effort; she wanted to go too badly to be able to control the flow very much.
It was so crazy, she thought, so wonderfully lovely and stimulating ... so utterly bizarre that her father should get a sex kick from this disgusting act. Yet she was getting as much perverse thrilling pleasure as he was. His face was covered in her urine ... it would have been an impossibility for him to swallow it all, the flow was too fast, but a great deal of the amber bitter fluid was down his throat. His cock was donkey stiff as he got up and pulled his daughter over on to her back. This time it was a brutish fucking to the very ultimate spunking ... she had her third orgasm ... a wonderful cumm that she would never forget.
And so her incestuous visit to her father's flat was the first of many. In a way Mrs. Karina was still getting her vengeance on Latch-on-but he was enjoying it!
