"Hi," she said, and as he looked up, he found himself speechless.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'll bet you're waiting for my father, aren't you?"
"Yeah ... actually, I am."
She sat on the arm of the couch next to him. "You've got a long wait."
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Because I know him. He'll keep you waiting till you get sick of it and leave."
"Why?"
"To see if you'll put up with it."
He felt pissed and confused. He'd been promised an interview with the man, and he needed to talk to him.
She said, "I know how you can spend the time waiting, though."
"How?"
She giggled. "Let's fuck."
CHAPTER ONE
She moved into the room silent as smoke, but Dexter Carmody got a whiff of her and knew that without a doubt something hot and heavy was breathing down his back.
He jerked around.
"Hi," said the most gorgeous thing he'd ever looked at in his life.
"H-hello," muttered Dexter, feeling already about as nervous as a schoolboy up before the teacher and knowing his answer wasn't going to be the right one.
And this little Babe hadn't even asked him the question yet.
It was her eyes, the way they kind of hung there on her face, heavy-lidded, all-knowing ...
"You waiting for my father?"
"Yeah ... as a matter of fact I am ... he had an important appointment, couldn't cancel ... told me to go ahead and make myself at home ... "
What the fuck was he sweating so bad for? She walked into the room. "Oh," said Dexter, "you play tennis?"
She had a loose fitting white cotton blouse on, and a short short SHORT skirt. He figured that it was the typical form-fitted style with the built-in tights underneath ... but no ... she bent over to shuffle through some magazines and he saw that the panties she had on underneath were the standard variety ... a little briefer than what he was used to seeing on girls ...
Suddenly Dexter realized that the situation was spinning out of control. And nothing had even happened yet! But his cock was aching, his balls were jizzing already and his body seemed to be wrapped in a warm sheath that was pressing tighter and tighter against him, scarcely giving him a chance to breathe.
She sat down now in the chair across from him.
Dexter looked down at the briefcase he'd brought with him, inside of which were the reports that were supposed to convince Jonah Sands to back the project he was trying to get off the ground.
Something wasn't right here, however. And that was the little slut sitting across from him. She couldn't be more than sixteen, and yet she was carrying herself like a high-class whore. Had her face made up real fine too. Knew what she was doing, not too much, but enough to add a few years of maturity to her appearance.
She said, "You been waiting long?"
"About a half an hour."
"You figured my father would be here to meet you, right?"
"Well ... yeah ... "
"And there's a message for you instead, right?"
"Uh ... yeah ... "
"And so now you're thinking that he's going to get back here as fast as he can, right?"
"Well ... "
What was she getting at?"
She said, as she draped a leg carelessly over the arm rest, "You've got a long wait."
"Yeah ... ?" he said, aware now of a certain tightness in his throat.
"Yep. Believe me, I know. He's always like this."
"Why?"
"I dunno. Trial by fire, I guess. He wants to see if you're the kind that he can push around."
Dexter frowned.
"What are you getting at?"
She said, "Have you ever met my father before?"
He shook his head as he lit a cigarette - and glanced at her crotch which she was clearly putting on display for his approval.
She said, "So ... the first time, he sets the tone. YOU wait for HIM. It's not an easy deficit to make up, as you'll learn to your dismay."
He said, "You know a lot about manipulation, don't you?"
She said, "I know a lot about my father."
He settled back in the cushions of the sofa, which was, he noted now, quite comfortable.
Her legs were opened a little wider, unless he missed his guess completely.
He said, "So ... what should I do?"
She smiled, and spread her legs a little farther. No mistake about it now. She was putting on a show, and he was playing the part of willing participant. Good, or bad, he didn't know.
"What's your name?"
"Uh ... well, my real name's Dexter ... but everyone calls me Speed."
"Why?"
"Dex ... dexidrine ... you know?" She flicked her eyebrows in a kind of bored acknowledgment. "Drugs are a bore."
"Yeah ... okay. What isn't?"
"Fucking."
Casual. Clear. No hesitation. No bullshit.
"You fuck a lot?"
Hands shaking a little here, not from fear, for God's sake, but there was one fuck of a lot of tension in the room nevertheless.
She said, "Yeah ... whenever I can."
He said, "You have anyone in mind at the moment?"
Sitting back now, calm ... casual as she was. Wherever this little girl was coming from, he'd damn sure be able to meet her with equal cool ... or else he wouldn't be permitted anywhere near her.
She said, "Well ... you DO have a long wait ahead of you."
"If your assessment of your father is accurate."
"Trust me. I wouldn't lie."
She stood up now. Walked across the room ... except that he never really noticed her feet moving ... again it was like - smoke.
And then she was standing in front of her and she slowly raised her skirt and just stood there and let him stare at her pussy underneath her panties, and he got a full view, too. The material was pretty thin and it didn't bother hiding too much.
He said, "Come here."
She giggled. "Unh-unh. You gotta catch me."
He arched one eyebrow now. What was this? And then he realized that he might very well be walking into a classic set-up. "How do I even know you're Jonah Sands' daughter?"
She said, "You don't, asshole. What do you think I've got to do, flash I.D. to fuck you?"
He said, "Well ... it could be a set up."
She gave him a look. One of THOSE looks. "Christ, you're a dumb sonofabitch, you know that?"
"I am, huh?" Cock getting harder and harder the longer she stood there letting him see her pussy. Shit, now she was slowly pulling her panties up into her slit.
"Yeah. You could already have your fingers up inside me, and let me assure you, I'm good and wet ... but no, you'd rather waste time babbling about stupid shit."
"Look, your old man comes home, he catches me sticking it to his daughter. What then?"
She said, "Look, there's a war. What then?"
The last of her crotch piece was starting to slip up inside her cunt, lips pouting around on either side, fucking driving him wild.
Jerry never told him about this part of it. Jerry just said, "You got the meeting, fuck, now just go and sell the idea, asshole!"
Never clued him into the fact that there'd be a female mine-field in his path.
She pulled harder on her cunt now.
"What do you say, Speed? You wanna fuck me?"
He said, "You gonna make me chase you?"
"I just said you have to catch me. You might be quick about it."
He shot his hands out and grabbed her by the thighs. She didn't put up a lick of resistance.
"Got me," she said, slyly.
He was swimming in electricity now, didn't have a clue what he was supposed to do about it.
His cock seemed capable of doing his thinking for him, however, and so he went ahead and followed'
It was pointing in the right direction anyway, especially when she reached down and pulled it out of his pants.
The little sucker stood straight up in the air and was aiming right at that neatly trimmed patch of hair she had sprouting between her thighs.
Her cunt lips were still around the crotch-piece of her panties, even though she wasn't pulling on the material any longer.
He could smell it now ... fuck! He could almost feel the radiation glowing from her clit, see the vibrating waves as they distorted the atmosphere ...
He reached for her pussy and started to play with it, touched her clit, moved his fingers into her hole, pressed up harder ... harder ... harder ...
She gasped ... of course ... and then she spread her legs a bit, lowering her body closer to his cock.
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "You want to know what I need more than anything?"
He said, "A good fucking?"
"Later."
She bit her bottom lip, then she nibbled on his ear lobe.
She said, "What I really need, is a spanking."
His cock tied itself in a knot over that one.
"What ... ?"
Disbelief, incredulity ... but what the fuck are you going to do when a vision pulls her skirt up and shows you her pussy and then says she wants to be spanked?
He thought maybe he could talk her out of it, but would anyone really want to? Did HE want to?
"You're serious ... ?"
She wrapped on arm around his neck, the other dropped to his crotch and began to work on his cock.
"You know I am, don' you? I mean, I get the feeling you really know that I mean it ... "
Rubbing her ass on his leg now, moving back a little, pushing her cunt right down on top of his knee ...
He moved his hand to her crotch.
"Lord God ... " he muttered. It was a swamp of pussy juice.
She said, "I really want you to do it, if you don't mind. Nothing brutal, you understand, no Blitzkrieg. Just a good healthy spanking. Then you can fuck me."
In mythology the hero had to always do something painful and awful before he got the reward. Okay, so she was no classical scholar.
He said, "Is anyone else home?"
"My mother's doped out upstairs. She never comes down."
He jumped off the sofa so fast she spilled from his lap onto the floor.
"Jesus Christ, fix your clothes, what the fuck are you trying to do, get me hung?"
She lay on the floor. She did not fix her clothes, which left her dress above her waist and which gave him a continuing shot of her pussy.
She said, "You worry too much. But if you don't want to ... "
She slowly rose to her feet and started to walk away. He reached for her hand just before she moved out of range and pulled her back.
"I'll tell you what I think. I think you're just a little cock-tease. I don't think you're planning to deliver on any of this."
"Try me."
That shut him up.
Well ... when in doubt, act. That's something Jerry had always told him.
So he fell back towards the sofa, pulling her with him, and as he hit the cushions she sprawled across his lap.
He pulled her dress up and stared at a set of the most beautiful buns he'd ever looked at.
Fleshy, jiggly, but not fat. Kind of perfect, actually. He touched them, running his hands over the outside of the material of her panties. They were stretched taut.
Nothing made much sense by this time, except that his cock was still hanging out of his pants, and now it was rubbing against her pussy bush.
Which did nothing towards easing his erection.
He squeezed her buns. They felt like they'd been custom designed for just his hands to squeeze and no one else's.
Then he slapped her. Gave her a good solid spank, straight down on the left cheek.
She went crazy. A deep moan came rushing out of her mouth . Sounded like it originated somewhere beneath her feet.
Her hips launched into a flurry of motion that wasn't about to stop. Her cunt ground against his cock, rubbing up and down on it.
He pulled her panties down now, all the way to her ankles. Her naked ass cheeks started to spread as she opened her legs.
He squeezed harder, sliding his fingers in between her cheeks and running them over the tight ring of her asshole.
She cried out, "Do it ... plug it. Fill it."
He stared at her, tried to recalculate her age, decided she was on the jaded side of thirty-five and maybe had discover the elixir of youth or some such.
No little girl could be asking the things that she was asking.
But, there was no doubting the seriousness of her intent, and so he slowly started to push against her asshole, feeling a little weird in the process, but managing nonetheless to get over that with little difficulty.
He pushed with his forefinger, and with very little effort the rim of her asshole parted and the finger began to slide up inside her body.
He moved his thumb to the small patch of flesh between rectum and cunt slit, and then pressed hard, lightening up to rub back and forth over the surface, then pressed hard again.
She squirmed deliciously, rubbed her cunt harder against his cock and moaned with the most heartfelt urgency he'd ever heard from a woman of any age.
He slid his thumb down to her cunt hole now. Unlike her asshole, her pussy was open and soft and yielding and ready.
Juice was all over her lips and had begun to smear the inner surface of her thighs.
He left the tip of his thumb at the opening of her cunt hole for a moment or two, then slowly began to slide in.
His fingers were the hook and her body was a large fish, fighting hard, pulling, writhing ...
"Jesus ... " she moaned as he sank thumb and forefinger into their respective orifices.
He pulled, then he curled them around inside her body, and pulled harder.
The membranes stretched. They yielded. They gave way.
She said, "More ... more ... more ... "
Strange little girl, he thought. Fucking weird.
He pulled harder ... harder ... and then, finally, he ripped his fingers out of her holes and cracked his palm directly onto her buttocks.
Hard.
She shuddered, and she groaned, but she gave no indication that she wanted him to stop.
His cock was throbbing now, driving him out of his mind. He couldn't remember when he'd ever done this before in his life.
He was SPANKING, for chrissake, a girl, a little, teen-aged girl.
And she was loving it.
He let his hand fall again, harder this time, and her hips bucked up into the air.
"Oh ... yes ... yes ... yes ... " she cried. "That's good. God yeah."
He landed another stroke ... and another.
This time his hand lingered on her ass and his fingers slipped back down between her thighs.
Down into her cunt, into the hot crucible of her passion, wherein were smelted the various elemental forces of lust, fusing them with the primal force of her cunt and feeding upon the result to drive herself to even greater heights of ecstasy.
Juice was everywhere now.
He pulled his finger back out of her cunt, studied it closely and saw that it was almost completely coated with the slime from her cunt.
He rubbed the flat of his palm over her cunt slit now, soaking up as much of her juice as he could, wanting to make certain that his palm was drenched.
When it was accomplished, he raised his hand again and delivered three more extremely sharp blows to her ass cheeks.
By now she was screaming but her face was buried in the pillows and so the sounds were muffled.
He couldn't stand it any longer. His cock was starting to throb painfully, so bad now that he thought he was going to explode.
Things were turning curious.
And more so.
He slid a finger back into her cunt again, but this time he started to pull on her body, saying, "Up a sec, would ya? I wanna get my pants off."
She said, "Oh don't stop Please ... don't stop."
He stared down at the writhing body on his lap and could only shake his head in amazement as her ass cheeks continued to open and close ... open and close ... open and close ...
He said, "Isn't this getting a little risky?"
"Do it," she gasped. There was a real sense of urgency in her voice now, as though she wasn't going to be able to tolerate it if he didn't hurry up and give her what she wanted.
He was confused.
Things were never meant to happen this fast, were they? He looked around the room.
Luxury and opulence the likes of which he'd never seen before in his life.
The place was almost like a palace ... an art museum ... he didn't have any way of placing this red-hot nympho in these surroundings. And once again he began to wonder - was this really the girl she was supposed to be?
Strange ... truly strange ... that's the only word for it.
"More," she said. "Please ... keep doing it." He started to get suspicious now. "I don't know ... " he said, backing away from the idea. Then he began to squirm out from beneath her.
"What are you doing?" she cried. "Fucker! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"For one thing I'm wondering what the fuck I'm setting myself up for."
"You're a paranoid fool, that's what you are," she said to him. I don't fucking believe this. I'm here begging you ... "
She looked up at him, big eyes opened wide and filled with yearning.
She was serious. Or else she was the best damn actress he'd ever seen.
He slid his pants down now and as expected, his cock was jutting straight up into the air.
"What do you say you come sit on this then," said Dexter, "and let's cut this spanking shit out."
"God, what a pain," she said. She really looked distressed.
"You seriously get off on it?"
She just gave him a look.
"Well ... can we go somewhere else? I mean, anyone could just walk in here."
"They could ... but they won't."
"How do you know?"
"It's my house, that's how. I know what goes on here. Now ... are you going to be a man, or are you gonna be a wimp?"
She rose from the couch, turned to him, skirt hanging down over her pussy now.
She pulled her blouse out of her skirt and started to unbutton it.
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. She could have held the attention of the entire Roman amphitheater.
Her blouse fell open and she pulled it easily down over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind her.
Her breasts pressed hard against flimsy cups of a bra that seemed woefully inadequate to the task of containing them.
She unclasped the cups now and pulled her bra off as well.
Her breasts were naked. They were magnificent.
She cupped them and held them out to him.
"You like?"
"Oh baby," he moaned, "They're the most spectacular I've ever seen."
She smiled, then she dropped them (and they didn't fall) and she unclasped her skirt, stood there before him wearing only panties and her tennis shoes.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Perfectly formed body.
He said, "Come here."
"Oh ... now you're interested, huh?"
He said, "Take a look at this, would you?"
He held his cock up to her.
"The thing's hurting. You follow? You got me. You got me by the fucking balls, and I don't want to hear any more bullshit. Come here."
"You gonna spank me some more?"
He said, "If I see you again."
"You might."
"If your old man does business with me."
She was moving closer and closer to him now.
She said, "You want my pussy?"
He reached out ... almost touching it. She danced back a step.
"What are you trying to do, drive me out of my mind?"
She giggled. "That'd be fun to watch."
"So ... keep your eyes open, doll ... you're gonna see it. Except if it happens, I won't be responsible for my actions."
She took a step towards him.
She said, "I'm all yours ... all you have to do is catch me."
He reached out again. That pussy was shoving against her panties, the material was getting wet, like it was smeared with glue or something.
He said, "Keep teasing me, doll, you're gonna be real surprised."
He moved off the couch a little.
She danced back again, with another giggle.
"Come here."
He was off the couch, but unfortunately his pants were still hanging around his ankles.
He lunged for her but she was still out of reach, by inches (he got the feeling she'd done this before.)
His body lunged forward but his feet weren't working, and he crashed face-first into the floor, going "oof!"
She giggled. He felt feet on either side of his head. Then he felt knees digging into his shoulder blades.
She moved around on top of him ... and said, "Roll over, Speedy."
He did so, trying to nurse the crushed nose back to some form of sensation.
He rolled around and found his face pressing right up into a cunt.
Warm, wet and slippery.
She said, "Lick me, and do a good job."
CHAPTER TWO
She started to roll her pussy lips around on his mouth, forcing her lips to open and scrape her clit over the edges of his teeth.
Once more there was that deep moan of satisfaction and lust that she'd let out with every spank he'd landed on her.
She cried ... she whined ... she purred.
Her pussy was wetter now than it had been before. Dexter slid his tongue up into her cunt hole, running it around the rim and pressing it against the walls.
She spread her thighs and then placed her fingers on her lips and spread them as well.
She said, "Open your mouth."
He did so, and then she told him to open his jaws as well.
He did so, and she aimed her clit right for the edged of his top teeth.
"Rub them over me," she said. "Make it feel good."
He would have replied but his mouth was filled with cunt.
Her lips were spread wide and there was nothing that would have delighted him more at that moment than to clamp his teeth down hard on her clit ... but of course, you DIDN'T do that sort of thing. Not with the daughter of the man upon whom he was counting to bankroll his future.
He went crazy then, when she said, "Bite it. Bite my clit."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. But did he waste any more time trying to figure out what it all meant?
Noooooo.
He wasn't that stupid. What he did was to suck her clit into his mouth fast. The membranes in which it lay nestled stretched as it slid forward, but soon they grew taut and would move no farther into his mouth.
He started to close his teeth around her.
The flesh began to pinch, to press against the edges of his teeth as the pressure tightened.
She started to moan.
He pushed his tongue against the surface of her clit and started to rub it back and forth ... back and forth ... back and forth ...
He pushed harder.
And harder.
She was jerking around violently on top of him now, and for a moment he was afraid that she was going to jerk herself right off him.
He pushed his tongue against her clit now, slowly forcing it between his teeth.
The shaft was swollen much more firmly than it had been earlier, and his teeth were closed to a point that was narrower than the width of her clit shaft.
But the bud of nerves was elastic and pliant, and he liked it that way.
He pushed on it ... shoved it more firmly against the edges of his teeth, and then, he pushed it through.
She slammed her hips against his mouth, a hard driving thrust, and at the same time she let out a scream.
A deep, gut-wrenching scream.
Dexter felt a stab of fear racing through him at that.
"Shit," he said, "cool it, would you?"
She ignored him. Instead she slammed her hips against his teeth again, harder ... harder ... harder ...
"Do it some more," she begged. Her voice had the quality of desperation to it.
The wild gyrations of her body were unlike anything Dexter had ever experienced before in his entire life.
He reached up to her buttocks and gripped them both firmly, sinking his fingertips into her creamy soft flesh.
Flesh that suggested virginal perfection and purity, an image hopelessly undermined by the physical proof that confronted him.
This was not the kind of thing he was ready to deal with ...
Which wasn't too strange, for most people, coming into contact with this young lady found themself confronted by a force and a manic drive that went far beyond any hope they might have of explaining her.
He squeezed her buns and held them tight, anchoring her, trying to keep some of her movements under control, in order that he might keep his lips and tongue at least SOMEWHERE in the vicinity of her clit.
He enjoyed only marginal success. Her strength was awesome.
Force pulsated through her body now, as though she were a conducting rod bringing down the celestial fire, and, through the medium of her own body, transferring it direct and untamed, to his own.
Her cunt seemed now to be more than a cunt, her body and the heat that it radiated, more than an example of mere arousal.
She moaned again ... and again ... and again, finally coming in a single, phenomenal burst of heat and light, both of which registered in his own brain at the moment of her climax.
She heaved her body up a last time, and this time her cunt pressed against his mouth and teeth and she made no effort to let it fall back.
She repeated over and over, "Do it, do it, do it, do it," as though he weren't already doing quite enough.
Then she began to cry out, "Fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me."
Her voice, charged with emotion and tension, echoed from the walls of the large room, and he fancied he heard the echoes repeat themselves farther and farther down the hallways.
Surely someone would come running? Sure they wouldn't get away with this? This brazen deed, consummated in the brightest hours of daylight ... ?
The simple arrogance of the act left him dazed, realizing that he would be called upon to account for himself, in the event they were found out - not she. This was her house, she could do as she pleased.
Then she thought about the old man, Jonah Sands ... a man he'd never met, yet whose reputation was widely known and feared.
What if HE should discover the two of them?
She was clearly thinking no such thoughts, however, as her snakelike fingers ran up his leg to his cock, unsheathing at last the serpent of his desire ... that brilliant red cobra of passion, rigid, unyielding ...
She squeezed it. She stroked it. She sucked it and whispered sweet things to it in a cute little-girl's voice. She made it abundantly clear that she was deadly serious.
She intended for him to fuck her right here, in the living room of her house.
She spread her legs, started to lie back, and as she did so, she kept a firm grip on his cock, pulling it to her cunt.
He considered standing up, wishing her well, rearranging his clothing and leaving.
For about a second he considered it. Then he succumbed to the inevitable, as would any man with normal health and aroused balls.
He lay atop her firm, young body, felling breasts that were soft and pliant press against his naked chest, hair between her thighs rub over his glands, her feet intertwine with his ...
Her nipples were stiff as pebbles.
He rubbed his body up and down over them, back and forth, feeling her breasts stretch in the direction of his body movement.
She was totally yielding, utterly passive and submissive in the force of control that she exercised over him.
She dominated thought submission, like earth, passive yet unyielding in its laws and conditions to which men must conform.
She allowed him to control her, and through this answer to his deepest fantasies, she controlled him in turn.
Something didn't add up in all this, but Dexter wasn't in much of a mood to analyze things right now.
His cock was hungrily seeking the opening to her cunt, and as soon as he found it, he started to push again it.
She began to roll her hips against him again, as soon as she felt his cock straighten between the axes of their two bodies.
She thrust forward and upward, and the head of his cock split her cunt.
The membranes opened and surrounded his shaft, sucking him at once into the deepest regions of her body.
To be so tight, yet so open - that was always the amazing thing about cunts, and hers simply amplified the sensation.
He drove into her, felt the walls fall to either side of his approaching cock, then felt her body respond, driving back towards him, sending the head of his cock careening insanely against the back wall of her pussy.
She said, "JESUS YES!" and her voice was heavy with tension.
She pressed hard against his body, finding the point of his pubic bone with her clit and rubbing her tender shaft over the protuberance.
Their pubic mats seemed to have become tangled into a single love nest.
Juice from her cunt rubbed over his cock, his pubic hair, and their thighs became smeared in a common layer of hot, slimy moisture.
He stared to pull his cock back now, letting the movement spring organically out of the pulsating rhythms of their two bodies - her hips seemed to have taken on a movement all their own, owing nothing to the normal in and out thrusts of fucking. She rolled them from side to side, thrust forward and at once fell away ... none of which movements seemed to be fully under her conscious control.
She continually sought the point of his pubic bone with her clit, finally begging, "Keep it there a minute ... please ... " and meaning it.
She needed him. Or, rather, she needed his body, which was by no means the same thing, but which, for this moment, gave him total possession of her.
He rolled over onto his side after clutching her in his arms to carry her with him.
Her buttocks thus freed, he smacked them several times in succession, each crack of open palm against ass flesh resounding back from the walls like the thunder crack of doom.
She gasped, hips jammed against his cock again, and then she came.
Miraculously, his balls remained under control during this, despite energies of the most extreme nature surging through his entire body, and his cock and balls in particular
Her skin seemed to tighten, muscles up and down her entire torso rippling, bulging, swelling from the tension.
And then, no sooner had her peak been reached when she released the pent-up energy in a wild flurry of movement, arms squeezing, legs flailing about ...
She gasped and cried out but as her face was at this point buried in his chest, the sounds came out muffled.
He slapped her ass three more times, then let the two of them roll back in their former position, her on her back, the weight of his body bearing down cruelly on her form, all energy focused at the fulcrum of her desire, her Venus-mound ... her dripping cunt.
She had her legs fully spread now, inviting all of him into her.
"Gooood ..." she cried out, the sound stuttering from her constricted throat.
He pulled his cock back as her hips began to spasm from orgasmic tension.
All the way, the glands finally coming to rest at the opening to her cunt.
The flared base rested directly in the opening, the walls of her cunt hole rim pressing in around it but not quite pressing it out.
She cried.
She moaned.
She continued to come.
And now a spark of tension and sensation started to flare in Dexter's balls ... and he knew that the moment was coming ...
He knew that he couldn't hold out forever, nor did he want to.
But she was past her peak.
He didn't want to come into an empty cunt ... empty in the sense that it was unresponsive, that it was simply there to wrap itself around his cock.
He wanted a cunt that was active ... dynamic ... a cunt that was simply the physical expression of a much higher action ...
He pulled away from her ... and she screamed, "NOOOO!!" for he was abandoning her.
"Fuck me ... fuck me ... " she gasped ...
But he held back, letting his cock fall all the way from her cunt hole.
This accomplished two things.
One, it allowed his balls to lose some of the mounting fire that was filling them.
It also let her fall back from that intensity.
She calmed herself ... slowly ... painfully ... resentfully ...
And then he placed his glands at her cunt hole again ... and this time he plowed straight into her with a single direct thrust, following it up at once with a withdrawing stroke that was equally as strong.
She sensed that he was going for the final union now, her hips began to reflect this.
"Oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... " she cried, breathing heavily, scratching her fingernails over his back.
Dexter's balls started to swell now, the muscles at the base of his cock began to sputter into those final spasms of ecstasy and delight, and at last ... finally, deliciously, the flames flashed in his crotch and his body began to heave back at her with the same force she'd been throwing at him.
And he moaned ... and he groaned ... and he cried out ... and she cried out ... and he felt her body once again respond ...
And he blew.
A white gusher of cum spurted from his cock like it had been backed up for centuries.
Filling her cunt chamber, overflowing, spurting still, rising to the top, smearing over her lips, her cunt hair ...
He kept pumping his cock in and out. The muscles in the small of his back were starting to ache, but he kept the pressure and the rhythm steady as the shaft, still throbbing, rammed her again and again and again, filling her, stretching her, fucking her.
They began to melt, blending together, a merging of juices, of spirits ...
"Oh ... yes ... yes ... yes ... " she moaned.
Dexter just cried out, letting the passion of the moment carry him.
His crotch seemed to have fused organically with hers. She pushed even harder, still crushing her clit against the point of his pubic bone.
He looked down at her, at her face transformed beyond ecstasy ... and something happened.
Something stirred inside his body and his soul, akin to a fluttering of wings, similar to the movement of the spheres ...
He knew only that a sensation and an awareness descended onto him and from that moment he was no longer the same. He was new ... he was different.
And he was hopelessly in love with this woman.
CHAPTER THREE
It was two nights earlier that the object of Dexter's affections first decided that she was going to meet him.
"He's a nobody, but Jeanette says that Daddy's interested in his idea."
On the bed, looking up at her, Jimmy Bean picked at his teeth with a toothpick.
"Gonna give him some money?"
"I don't know."
She was still dressed, though she wouldn't remain that way for long.
Tanya Sands, Jonah Sands' daughter, in a state of hopeless and continuing rebellion.
Her father had given up on her long ago, having hired men whose job it was to "make sure she doesn't do something so fucking stupid it'll cost me money," and now she did anything she wanted. Within those parameters, of course.
The fact that she was dating Jimmy Bean was seen as a permissible excursion.
"Aw fuck, I hung out with sluts when I was a kid. She wants to hang out with a scum-ball, let her," said her father, reading one of the first reports on the subject. "Just keep her out of jail, all right?"
So far jail hadn't been forthcoming, and in the offices of those charged with watching over her, Jimmy Bean was now seen as no more than a harmless misfit, worthless, but essentially too stupid to stay alive long enough to become a real problem.
"What do you think?" he said to her, watching her nimble fingers unbutton her blouse.
"You think you can get him to do it?"
"I don't know, Jimmy. This whole idea's kind of stupid."
He sat up, clouds crossing his face. "Stupid. What the fuck you think this is, girl? I don't do stupid shit, you hear? I got a line on this deal, and it's gonna be a big number. I'm telling you. We just need the financing. That's all."
"Well ... it's a shaky idea at best."
"Ain't so. You just gotta go after him. You told me the sucker's gonna be out at the place, didn't you?"
"Jimmy, I don't wanna talk about it right now. Can we just fuck? Please?"
He was wearing jockey shorts and nothing else.
By now her blouse was hanging open. Underneath her tits were held up in a couple of sheer cups that got in the way of his looking at them.
"What I want you to do," he said, "is to take that blouse off, and then take your bra off-"
"Will you please be patient! I'm getting to it-!"
"I ain't finished."
She stopped, waiting.
"Then, when you got your bra off, I want you to put your blouse back on again."
"Huh? What for?"
"Because that's what I told you I want you to do, you hear?"
"I hear. I don't see what it means to me though."
He didn't say anything. He just fixed her with his eyes, and that was all it took.
She pulled her blouse off, unclasped her bra and dropped it to the floor and then slipped her blouse back on again. Her breasts both peeked out the opening in the material.
He looked at her for a long time in silence. Then he said, "Take off your jeans, but leave your panties on."
"Why?"
He said, "Because I told you, and don't give me any more shit. Christ, you're in a piss-poor mood, aren't you? What the fuck am I going to have to do? Take drastic measures?"
She didn't say anything, but she gave him a significant look.
He continued. "We been talking about this a long time, girl. You starting to back out on me? That what you're doing? You just maybe don't have the balls to tell me yet?"
She said, "I'm not backing out on you, Jimmy ... "
"I know you ain't. You're not that stupid."
Still picking his teeth. He liked tooth-picks. They kind of gave him an image, along with his steel-toed boots and his big cowboy hat that he wore everywhere he could, and a few places he ordinarily couldn't, there not being anyone at the time willing to make him take it off.
She peeled her jeans off her body, and a fine damn body it was too, by God, and then she was standing there in her panties with her titties sticking out of her shirt and she was looking just fine, thank you. Fine indeed.
He said, "Hon ... you don't really want to give me any shit about this, do you?"
She just stood there, didn't say anything.
He sat up in bed. Looked around. Saw what he was looking for.
A purple scarf. Picked it up and took hold of one of her hands.
She looked him straight in the eye now. He took her other hand and held the two of them together. Wrapped the scarf around her wrists and pulled it tight before finishing the knot.
She didn't say anything. Her body was all tense though. He knew she was getting hot already. All he had to do was reach between her legs and he'd prove that to himself.
Which was why he didn't bother testing her out yet. He was sure of himself.
He sat back and stared at her a little longer.
"Shit ... what would your Daddy say he knew you let me tie you up?"
She was shaking a little now ... now much, but enough for him to be able to see. She wasn't scared. She was hot.
He'd never seen a girl got off on it as much as she did. Tie her up, play with her, do all kinds of things to her ...
Fucking screw loose there somewhere, but that was all right. He wasn't gonna complain any.
He spread his legs a little and started to rub his balls, then pressed his hand against his cock.
"You wanna fuck my cock?"
She looked at it.
She didn't say anything, just stood there at the end of the bed with her titties hanging out. Underneath her panties her pussy was all dark and hairy and moist and warm and wet.
Dank swamp. That's what her pussy was. Like back home in Georgia. A fucking swamp, and LORD what a nest of vibrant thriving life it was, too.
He patted the bed beside him and she climbed onto the mattress.
He said, "Yeah ... you got it, you sure do. You know how to be a good little girl and behave your ass."
He put his hand on her buttocks. She was already crouched forward, ass in the air, hands out in front of her.
He pressed his hand against her buttocks and squeezed, slid a finger underneath the material and pressed against her asshole.
She made no protest. Fuck no. She loved it.
He said, "So tell me. How come you have to go and give me a lot of trouble over this now? We're already there. You got the mark, you know he's a good bet ... all you gotta do is a little thing ... that's all."
She said, "I don't know, Jimmy. It's like all of a sudden, it feels weird."
"What does? You fucking him? Shit, a horny lady like you, you'll get into it real good."
She turned away.
"Hey," he said. "I'm talking to you. How come you're turning away?"
She turned back. "Doesn't it bother you ... I mean, that I'd be fucking someone else?"
"Shit, baby, you and me both know this is your ticket out of your family, you know? I mean, you can pull up stakes and cut the ties and tell them all to go fuck themselves, and they can keep their money."
She started to roll her hips against his hand, moving slowly at first, but then, as his fingers started to concentrate more directly on her asshole, with greater pressure and intensity.
She let out a long low moan then.
"Oh, yeah ... " he said, "you see ... you and me, Babe ... we got us something ain't nothing else gonna interfere with, you follow? I mean, we got us a tight arrangement. That's all there is to it. Nothing gonna interfere with it. You gotta look positive at it, is all."
His finger was about halfway inside Tanya's asshole now. He never called her Tanya, usually just Babe, or Hon ... shit like that. He had a thing about names. People got attached to them, like they were the embodiment of their soul or something, an if you could avoid getting too hung up on their name, you could avoid a lot of other shit too, like letting them think they had you figured out. Like, when you never used a person's name ... and even better, if you could give them a new name, then you controlled them.
You became their inventor, the person who breathed life into them by coming up with the name which was what they were. People, like, they never understood how heavy names were.
That's why you had to be cool with names. You go and give someone the wrong name, you could wind up with fucking frankenstein or something.
Babe ... now that was pretty safe. The numbers on that one were kind of confused and mostly passive ... lota stresses between the 6 and the 7 and the 4. People didn't understand about numbers ... but they were the key to the fucking universe, and once you broke everything down to its essential patterns, you had the key to understanding them.
He understood her. She liked what he was doing to her now, and what he was getting ready to do to her.
Thing is, he didn't really know what he was going to do to her next ... only that he was in a mood to fuck around with her, and she'd given him the perfect cue, talking back to him and all. Like, he really needed that, right?
He had his finger all the way inside her asshole now.
"You feel that?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, kind of whimpering.
He slipped a second finger into her. "You feel that too?"
She whimpered a little more. The second finger wasn't all the way inside her like the first one was, but that was all right ... he had a lota time and a lota room.
She was starting to breathe heavier. He liked that. Made her titties move and kind of jiggle.
He slipped his hand up to her titties now, squeezed lightly on one, then the other, and then he slapped one.
She jerked hard, her ass rammed to the side and his fingers naturally jerked out of her hole.
Not without a good bit of pain, of course. That being the whole point.
She gasped and her body shuddered.
He said, "Hey ... you gotta be careful, Babe, you know? Like, you don't wanna be ripping shit on that sweet body of yours ... not by a long shot."
Her breath was coming a lot more jerky now, shuddering erratically.
He reached for her tit again, fingers encircling it like a hungry spider moving in on a trapped fly.
Her hands extended out in front of her, knuckles already white and fingers clenched tightly together.
He said, "You got a sweet body, Babe. You surely do. You got yourself one fine one. His fingers kept squeezing, pinching her nipples now, though not with extreme pressure, harder ... harder ... harder ...
Then he released her, started to chuckle, and got off the bed. "Don't you move now, you hear?"
He went into the bathroom and pissed, belched and farted at the same time.
Yeah, that was the ticket, get rid of all the excess. You needed to keep all the poisons moving out of the body, else they'd accumulate and make the brain get soggy and numb.
He thought about things for a moment, then he scratched his balls, after tucking his cock up inside his pants ... and then he decided that he had something special in mind for sweet little Tanya. Yep, show that twat a thing or two about what real lovin' was all about.
He walked over to the bookshelf, pulled down a wooden box that was sitting up there next to the pile of dirty magazines that he was real proud of, and he opened the box. Inside there were fifteen to twenty clothespins, all of them pretty new, all of them pretty strong, spring-wise, that is.
He picked four from the pile and set the box back on the shelf.
Back on the bed Tanya was still in the same position she'd been in before, ass up in the air, face pressed against the mattress, body quivering and trembling ...
He walked over to her and said, "You gonna get a real treat tonight, baby-doll. You really are. I'm gonna take you about as high as you know how to go."
He chuckled, watched her body tense up and got a real kick out of it. She knew what was coming.
She wanted it, too.
Damn ... what a broad.
He'd known that the first time he'd fucked her, that night in that scroungy rock-club that she was a strange woman.
Wanted it right there back-stage while the band was pounding out a thumping beat.
Didn't want to wait, didn't give a fuck who saw her. Just raised up her leather skirt and reached for his cock and said, "Stick it in and pound on my pussy!"
There's not much you can do in a situation like that except to give the lady what she wants.
Which he did.
And he kept on doing it too, even after he started figuring out that what she wanted was pretty fucking kinky.
"Tie me up."
The first time he'd heard that he pretty damn near jizzed in his jeans.
She was everything you could have ever wanted in a dame ... rich ... beautiful ... horny ...
And then there she was asking to get tied-up in the process ...! Lord, it was too much for a growing boy to cope with.
He'd done it.
Lord, had he ever. And she'd kept coming back to him ... and now ... he had a way out of all of it, and she was going to be the ticket to ride, and fuck ... if she watched her ass and didn't piss him off too bad, he'd even take her along!
HA!!
He was sitting next to her on the bed now, stroking her back, her ass ... running his hands down to her feet, her ankles ... the soles of her feet.
She moaned, he ran his hands back up her legs, then to her neck, her head, ran the tips of his fingers over her face, her cheeks ...
Then he was at her breasts and he was at the left mound stroking it for about fifteen minutes when he opened the mouth of the clothespin and locked it around her nipple.
Her whole body jerked.
She let out a long hard scream.
"Ohhhh ... ohhhh ... ohhh ... yesssss ... "
He chuckled again. He could always count on her.
He locked the other clothespin around her right nipple.
She let out a long low moan again, a forlorn sound, as though she knew she was addicted to this sensation like it was a drug, like it was mainlined horse six times a day.
He leaned back, placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up, then prompted her whole body to rise a little, like she was a horse rearing up.
Her big round boobs flopped and jiggled, the clothespins dug into the tender flesh of her nipples, and, all things considered, she presented a real pretty picture.
He let her fall back to the bed again. Spreading her thighs then, reaching up into her crotch to play a little with her pussy lips.
She shuddered as his fingers ran back and forth over the moist membranes.
Between them, right next to the opening of her cunt hole, there was a hard nub of flesh, her clit, and as he stroked it, she started to roll her hips harder and harder.
He pushed his fingers up into her cunt hole.
With his other hand, he continued to stroke her clit, sinking at the same time three fingers directly into her cunt hole, spreading the rim apart, stretching her, not hard at first, but with increasingly intense pressure.
Her legs continued to spread apart, of their own accord, it seemed.
He pushed harder against her cunt hole.
Then he started to press against her clit with his fingers.
He pinched the delicate shaft right at the head, where the protecting sheath of pink tissue was already pulled back, revealing the raw tip.
He pressed lightly, then harder ... then harder ...
Her body increased its shuddering gyrations as he did so.
When he was sure she was ready for it, he picked up a third clothespin and opened it, brought it up to her clit and closed the jaws around the delicate tip.
She screamed, long and hard, pressing her face into the pillows to muffle the sounds.
There wasn't anything she could do, however, to mask the intensity of the sensation, or her reaction to it.
He thought for a moment that maybe he ought to cool it out ... let her relax a moment, but then, he thought, no ... fuck it ... let her go the full distance.
He finally attached the last clothespin to the top portion of her clit shaft, though by this time, her body seemed to have been so flooded with sensation that there wasn't any place left to push her.
She was at the peak of her arousal ... she was totally insane now ... completely bonkers ... and that was fine ... because this sweet little cunt was just getting started.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jimmy stuck his cock at the opening of her cunt hole. The clothespin hanging from her clit rocked back and forth as he started to glide his cock in and out of her cunt. But he refused to push the shaft any farther than the base of his glands now ... sliding it into her cunt, then holding it there for a second, then pulling it slowly back out, letting each point on the surface of the girl's cunt hole rim rub with excruciatingly delicious sensation over his cock.
He pulled back out, let the glands tip rest against her now puckered cunt hole.
He was able to look straight down at her asshole.
"Hey, doll, open up your ass for me."
She said nothing. Her body shuddered continually, however, and that was fine with him because one thing he knew about her was that her body shuddered when it was aroused.
He slid his fingers between her thighs and pinched them against the clothespin that pinched her clit.
She cried out with ever mounting passion, writhing madly against him.
He pushed his cock a little deeper now into her pussy.
"Oh God ... " she moaned. His cock was like a flaming sword, driving straight through her, cleaving her, splitting her ... opening her totally.
"More ... more ... more ... " she cried. "I need more."
Shit, he thought, this bitch was too fucking much.
Too much indeed.
Harder now, pushing finger to thumb, pinching the wooden jaws of the clothespin against her fragile clit shaft, he felt himself starting to drift away into that nebulous space that always accompanied such activity as this. There was a release in hurting her ... a glorious release, different, perhaps, than what she herself was feeling ... but a release nonetheless, one that he wanted to feel continue ... one that he wanted and needed to sustain for as long as he possibly could.
"Oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... " she moaned. Her hips were in constant motion now. She pushed them back against his body, trying to bury his cock inside the fleshy lips of her cunt and the round, pouting rim of her cunt hole.
He said, "You like my cock, Babe? You like what I'm doing to you?"
"God ... " she whimpered, her voice quivering. "It's ... it's ... "
"What is it? What are you feeling, hon?"
"It's wonderful. I love it. Don't stop."
All the way into her now!
The perfect, soft cheeks of her ass pressed into his pelvis. He stroked them, squeezed them, and then, finally, he spanked them, cock still in her cunt.
Her body responded. Every muscle seemed to clench up at once, squeezing against her pelvis, squeezing against his cock.
Harder ... harder ... more and more tightly.
He pulled out now ... dragging his cock back through her body, slowly, carefully.
"Oh ... yeah ... yeah ... " she gasped.
He hit her buttocks again. The cracking sound was loud, filling the room.
He hit her again. And again.
He pulled his cock all the way to the opening of her pussy, let it wait there a moment, glands buried halfway into the rim of her cunt hole, and then he thrust forward again, harder this time.
The head of his cock smashed almost at once into the back wall of her pussy.
She fell forward, but his hands were under her stomach and he caught her before her pussy could pull all the way off his cock.
Holding her like that, he slowly refitted her onto his cock, like she was no more than an ornament for his shaft to thrust into.
His hips pulled back again ... then forward ... back ... forward ... back ... forward ...
Her juices flowed thickly down the inner surface of her thighs.
For about five minutes longer he fucked her, but he wasn't ready to come, and even though she was almost ready to explode, he wasn't in the mood yet to blow his balls.
He wanted something else.
He stared at her ... at the bed ...
He said, "I'm gonna send you over the top, hon ... you just watch and wait.
"I'm gonna take care of you right!"
And with that, he pulled out of her cunt, all the way.
She moaned, crying, "Noooo. Why ... ?"
"You gonna see just in a sec, doll. Be patient."
He hopped off the bed again. From the drawer he pulled out a couple more scarves.
"Move up to the headboard," he said. "Here, I'll put these pillows there."
He stacked the pillows at the head of the bed, and she moved up to push her head against them.
"Can you stand on your head?"
"Huh? What the hell are you doing?"
"Not me, Babe ... you. I got an idea, but unless you cooperate, that's all it's ever gonnabe ... an idea. Now get your ass up in the air."
These pillows were stacked in such a way that she could actually lay against the headboard, upside-down, at an angle, and still supported up the entire length of her back.
She started to rise up from the bed.
Up ... up ... up ... higher ... higher ...
Her buttocks were straight up in the air now, her legs starting to spill down into a split ...
He pushed her the final length and she fell over backwards, legs spilling down, split widely, ass and cunt up in the air ...
He pulled each of her legs down towards the top corner of the headboard and there tied off her ankles, one on each side, forcing her legs into a nearly perfect split.
Her pussy, of course, was totally open by this time. One of the clothespins had fallen off her clit, and the other was nearly about to do so.
He removed it and once more rubbed her wet trench.
He loved her pussy. It was perfect, not big, not too hairy. Her lips weren't gross and protruding ... she had a clit that would stick out over the edge of her lips once it was fully aroused, but it didn't look like a small cock the way some gross clits looked ...
No, she was perfect ... and she was just what he wanted.
She was just what the doctor ordered!
He wanted her.
Her face seemed to suggest that she was afraid.
"Don't hurt me," she said, and he laughed.
"Shit, girl. Who you trying to kid? You know and I know you need me for just that reason.
She didn't say anything. And that was fine with him.
He said to her, "What the fuck you worrying about? You been here before."
He unwound his belt from his jeans and slapped it a couple of times on the bed, just to get the feel of the thing. The thickness in his palm, the sound of the leather biting into the air.
He then stared deeply into her eyes, trying to fathom the kind of woman who needed something like this. As always happened, he failed. She was impenetrable.
He reached down unclasped the clothespins from her nipples, not out of any act of kindness, but simply because he didn't want them getting in the way of the belt.
Her body was almost in the shape of a 'T'.
Her torso was just about vertical, her legs almost perfectly straight horizontally.
Her thigh muscles strained uselessly at the bonds wrapped around her ankles, but it was clear that she was going to get nowhere.
He noted that she had her hands raised up, as if she thought she was going to shield herself from his belt in that pathetic manner.
He said, "Come on now, sugar, lower those hands of yours. Don't make me laugh."
She said, "Jimmy ... "
"Get 'em down!" he shouted.
"But ... "
"Tanya!"
That was something he seldom did ... call her by her name.
She said nothing for a moment, but the hands fell behind her head once more.
He slowly wrapped his belt around his palm.
She said, "Jimmy ... " again, pleading for some nameless request, and he knew that it would remain nameless as well.
He said, "Doll ... just he there and keep your mouth shut, all right, and this'll be over in ... well shucks, in a little while."
He swung then, not for her cunt, which presented the most prominent and inviting target, but for her breasts, no less inviting, but not quite as accessible.
The left one absorbed the brunt of his stroke. The round globe of flesh started to jiggle fast, back and forth, like a bowl of gelatin.
She screamed. The nipple, already a bright red, seemed to darken even more, standing up firm and erect.
He aimed for her right nipple now, swung hard, smacking the belt solidly against the mound of flesh as he'd done to the other one.
She screamed once more. Louder this time.
"Doll ... " he said, "you're going to have to keep your voice down. I got neighbors, you know."
She seemed unable to do so.
He hit her left tit once more, striking more on the underside of the mound than on the nipple.
Her cries were even louder this time.
Then, instead of shifting once again to the right mound, he went right for her cunt.
One solid TH-WACK!! as the leather strap fell solidly against the wet cunt trench.
It was a splattering sound.
He had an image of a cartoon, juice splattering everywhere, coating the walls, dripping from his face, cheeks nose and chin all over with rapidly coalescing droplets of oozing cunt oil ...
He pulled the belt away and looked at it.
There on the underside where it had connected with her cunt was a wet stain.
He reached out to touch her, and sure enough, she was wet, and she was completely hot.
You could just about see the heat waves rising from her body.
He said, "Babe ... you're one impressive fucking dame, you know that?"
Her body seemed to be in constant motion now, straining against the bonds around her ankles.
But, he noted, she wasn't straining too hard. She was, in fact, just applying enough pressure to make it look good.
Good to whom? Herself, of course. No one wants to admit that they like to be tied up and beaten, and so the mind, for whatever reason, needs to go through the motions of resistance, if only to add that much more of a piquant flavor to the final taste of pleasure.
She pulled but had no desire to escape.
He swung the belt again, once more striking her on her crack.
She screamed again, and this time he was convinced that she was going to either alert the neighbors or just bring the cops.
He said, "Can't have that, can we, babe?"
He pulled his jockey shorts off the bed and started to stuff them into her mouth.
She turned her head aside but he reached down and grabbed her by the tit and jerked on it hard.
She stopped.
He finished, gagging her mouth completely.
"There you go," he said, "you scream all you want now, it won't matter."
And as if to prove his point he suddenly delivered three hard strokes to her breasts once again.
The sound was deafening as the leather cracked against her breasts.
Not volume ... but the psychic charge that was released, both in his mind and in hers as the hot blast of pain seared its way through her nerves up into her brain, was a force that seemed to contain a roaring sound as it surged forth.
His head was buzzing now, like an insect swarm. He focused his eyes on the point of meeting for her two thighs, that black, inverted triangle of pussy hair, point uncharacteristically pointing to the sky. Her lips were parted, stretched by the unnatural position of her two thighs.
Beneath the black hair all was shining pink. The pink flesh seemed to quiver with a life of its own, almost breathing.
He went again, cracking the belt right down the middle of her crotch.
This time he focused his aim particularly on her clitoris.
That hard, throbbing bud of nerves seemed the perfect target.
He hit her again, and again ... and again ... and again ...
The cracks started to sink into his brain like a metronome beating a primal rhythm into the darkest depths of his soul.
Harder ... harder ...
Along the inner surface of her thighs now, down one leg, then down the other as well.
Back always, however, to her cunt. And each stroke seemed to fall more wetly against the membranes that were by now a flaming red.
He moved back to her tits as well, whipping each nipple to a perfect erection.
The flesh around her nipples slowly turned a deeper and deeper red as he stroked each breast relentlessly with his belt.
And then, sensing in her body movements a heightening of arousal, he returned to her clit once more, whipping her till she came, directing each hard stroke of his belt to that throbbing, pulsating shaft of tightly packed nerves, whipping it with all the force and intensity at his command. Her body gyrations grew more and more frenzied, her muscles bulged madly beneath her skin, and her eyes stared wildly out from her face, seeing nothing.
He knew the moment she started to come. It was as though she'd been a motion picture image captured in freeze-frame.
Everything stopped.
He knew it was more than merely a cessation of body movements.
For her, for this moment, time stopped.
She was floating there ... in a void ... unable to function ...
He couldn't stop himself.
The sight of her body in that extreme state, coming, without sound, without motion, drove him crazy. His cock was throbbing, his balls were aching ...
He swung and swung and swung, unable to stop himself. It seemed that her body would continue orgasming forever, if he but kept the harsh strokes coming.
He did. Every one landed squarely on her cunt slit.
Every one sent a searing blast of sensation into her brain.
Everyone seemed, at the same time, to echo back and burn his own brain.
"Yeah ... " he muttered, "oh yeah ... "
His balls were starting to swell now. He could feel it. He was going to come right there, in front of her, whipping her ...
They burst all at once, and a massive glob of white juice sprang from the tip of his cock and splattered directly into her face.
A perfect shot too, he thought. The thing landed right on the tip of her nose.
Spreading back on either side, the glob of white goo immediately began to stream down (or, rather, up) her face, toward her hairline.
More jism followed, this not so carefully aimed.
Her tits caught wads, her belly ...
He couldn't aim high enough to land any in her pussy, but that didn't matter.
He was still landing strokes of his belt in her trench, and those were all she could handle for the moment.
He gripped his cock and pumped it, coaxing more and more juice out of the depths of his balls, splattering it over her body ...
And soon, he was totally exhausted. He was completely drained.
He dropped the belt, and fell onto the mattress next to her.
He was out, cold. She was still awake, still alert, but her body was a single mass of heat and pain. She couldn't move a muscle without excruciating pain.
And so she lay there, calm, forced into passive silence ... waiting ...
* * *
The knocking on the door was what brought them out of it.
She made noises, though with the gag in her mouth, she couldn't make them loud enough to awaken him.
Finally, however, the knocking was loud enough to cause him to stir.
"Shit," he muttered, "what the fuck ... ?"
She made another noise. She wanted him to pull the gag out.
He did so, looking confused.
What the fuck was he so dazed for, she wondered, she was the one who'd gotten the beating.
"There's someone at the door, Jimmy," she told him.
"Huh?"
"The door."
"HEY! JIMMY! WHAT THE FUCK, MAN, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"
"Aw shit, this is great, doll," he said, "you'll get a chance to see what I was talking about. He said he was going to bring some of the shit by tonight."
"What ... ?" she said. "What are you talking about, Jimmy?"
"You wait. You'll see."
"JIMMY! Will you please untie me before you answer the door?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah ... sure ... " he said, acting like he wasn't sure what it mattered, but what the fuck, if she wanted it, he wouldn't argue.
She sat on the bed, naked, jism all over her body, rubbing her ankles and wrists and feeling a hot glow in her pussy and along the surface of her thighs and tits that felt like it would never go away.
There were voices conversing in the next room.
She moved from the bed into the bathroom, wiped herself down and then stepped into the shower to wash the rest off her.
She didn't think. About anything.
That was always important.
She needed to drain her mind and keep it utterly drained, until her brain was able to work normally again.
Her skin quivered and tingled.
Her nipples were still firm and erect and utterly sensitive and as the water from the shower jet splashed over them and her breasts, the sensation seemed to increase.
Painful ... ?
Yes, but it was something that went far beyond pain. For what was pain but a function of the mind, a decision to define a certain sensation in a certain way.
But her mind was no longer functioning.
The values had been stripped away, if only for a brief moment, and in their place was something much purer and truer ... though ineffable, untouchable, and certain undefinable.
She was in the midst of pure experience, pure sensation.
It was spectacular.
She thought back a moment to that peak ...
That brilliant, scintillating sphere of white light into which she and the rest of the universe as well seemed to transform.
Pure energy. Mindless, unfocused force, welling up out of the depths of her being.
No purpose other than to simply be.
And her mind had been obliterated. Not all of it, of course, just the part that controlled her personality, her sense of who she was. For that brief interval, she'd ceased to be anybody. She was able to rise beyond and above, able to transcend the earthly plane altogether ... just as Jimmy had talked about.
"You gotta leave behind all that crap," he'd told her once, when she expressed uneasiness over her needs.
"It's you, Babe," he'd told her, "and you just gotta go with it, you know? I mean, what's the profit in judging yourself? Huh?"
She'd taken his advice, and now she was able, to stand in the shower and truly bring nothing more than her body to the experience, feeling the water dripping over her shoulders, her breasts, running down her back, the crack in her ass ...
No thoughts. No judgments. Just that warm, penetrating glow.
She dried herself off quickly and put her blouse and skirt back on, sans underwear.
She wouldn't need to worry about them, she told herself.
Out in the living room Jimmy was talking to someone she'd never met before.
"Hey, hey, hey, here's the little lady right now," said Jimmy, "my angel, my sweetness and light personified."
He held out his arm and she slipped herself into it. His hand settled on her shoulder and he pulled her close. "Baby, I want you to meet a good fine dude - Carlos. Carlos, this is my woman."
Carlos didn't look like a Carlos. In fact, he looked more like a Karl, with his blond hair and blue eyes.
She decided there was no point in mentioning it, not right now at least.
He didn't say anything, but he was giving her a strong look, up and down, and he seemed to approve. Whatever that meant. Or was worth.
"You must have just come out of the shower," said Jimmy, realizing that she was dripping all over him.
"No ... " she purred, "you just gave me such a work-out, I got all sweaty."
She rubbed her face against his shoulder like a cat.
Jimmy said, "Hey hey, you know how it is," to Carlos, "you gotta keep 'em satisfied, huh?"
Carlos grunted. "So we gonna talk business or what?"
"Yeah man, hey, Babe, cool it, would you? We do that shit later, all right?"
He sat down and pulled a chair over for Carlos. Tanya found one on her own.
"You gonna have the bread?"
Jimmy looked at Tanya. "Yeah. We gonna get it, no problem."
She said, "Jimmy ... "
He looked at her like he was gonna cut her throat right there.
He said, "We got it all worked out, man, you don't worry about a thing."
"Fine. When's it going down?"
"You let us know, we'll have it."
"Jimmy ... " she said, "I don't know if this guy's going to come through."
He stared t her like she wasn't even there.
Carlos said, "You don't sound like you got your shit worked out all that good, man."
Jimmy laughed. "You gotta understand man, there's always a little confusion in a thing like this. But it's all set. I'm telling you. It's all set."
She said, "Jimmy ... "
He said, "You fucking keep your mouth shut! You hear me?"
She fell silent.
Carlos studied the two of them.
"I like that," he said to Jimmy after a moment, no longer acknowledging Tanya as being present. "I like a man who knows how to keep a woman in check. I like a man who isn't swayed by all of this simple-minded drivel that we read in the papers and see on the television. This feminism ... this madness. It is wrong. It is vile."
"Yeah ... right. It's a fucking crock, ain't it?"
He stared at her harder now. "Is she under your control?"
Tanya felt a weird sensation listening to their conversation, as if, by virtue of the fact that they truly were ignoring her, she could actually feel detached, as if none of this were truly affecting her.
Jimmy said, "Yeah ... sure, what do you think?"
Carlos said, "I like that. Give me a demonstration. She spoke out of turn, did she not?"
"Yeah, right," said Jimmy. He turned to Tanya "What the fuck you talking out of turn for?"
Tanya felt something strange inside her. She wanted to shoot him down. Wanted to stand up and walk out of the house, show him that he couldn't speak to her that way.
She wanted to leave.
But she couldn't leave.
She couldn't understand quite why that was so, but she knew that she couldn't.
She could do nothing besides sit there and mumble a small-voiced apology, hanging her head.
"Yeah ... you're sorry, but you still made me look like a fool in front of this man who I'm gonna do business with, you know? That's a crock of shit."
She said nothing, hanging her head.
He reached for her chin and tilted her face up. "You fucking look at me when I talk to you, you hear?"
"Yes."
"Yes sir."
She felt the polar forces tearing inside her, one straining at her to resist this humiliation, to refuse to be sucked into it, the other ready, willing and anxious to acquiesce.
She closed her eyes and said, "Yes ... sir ... " again.
He turned to Carlos. "You want her?"
Carlos nodded slightly. "Thank you. It would be a remarkable act of faith."
"My friend, we are partners, are we not? You and I, we have talked a long time arranging this. It is too much of an opportunity to throw away on a woman, simply because she feels maybe she doesn't want to go along after all, especially when she's been so ready and willing all along."
He said, "Yes ... you are right."
Jimmy said to Tanya, "Take off your clothes, show him what I do to your body."
She paused a moment and he reached for her hair and very calmly, expressionlessly pulled on it, twisting it, tightening it harder and harder ...
"You do what I tell you, when I tell you to do it," he said.
"Oh!" she gasped in pain. Her legs weakened then and she nearly fell to her knees, except that he was supporting her by her hair, refusing to allow it to happen.
He said, "Do what I tell you. That's all I want you to do. Don't think about it. Just do it."
She felt Carlos' hot eyes on her body now, and as she began to unbutton her blouse, they seemed to refine their focus even more, until, like laser beams, they threatened to sear right through the surface of her skin.
He can see my soul, she thought to herself.
She dropped her blouse, she dropped her skirt.
There were no breaks in her skin, and the welts had more or less blended into large patches of flaming skin.
But it was clear that something drastic had been done to her, and recently.
Carlos nodded, almost amused.
"She seems to appreciate the purpose of a woman, does she not?"
"Yeah ... like, she really does."
He said to Tanya, "Turn around. I want to see your body from all angles."
His voice contained that one quality that Jimmy lacked, and would always lack.
Confidence.
She turned around now, facing Jimmy as Carlos studied her from the back.
"You offered her to me?" he asked.
"Of course."
He said, "Good. You may turn around now."
She did so.
He reached out and gripped her breasts, squeezing them firmly, pulling on her nipples.
They were tender and sore and Tanya gasped in deep agony.
He said nothing. There was no impatience about him. He seemed to know that time was on his side ... that time was the one thing that he would always have, whereas Jimmy seemed always to be short of time, to fear that it would expire, that it would leave him waiting in the dust.
She felt the tips of his fingers, as though they were each a glowing wand of fire.
She closed her eyes, tried to make the sensation disappear. Were it merely imagination, surely it wouldn't survive a concentrated attack upon its validity?
It was impossible.
Along the surface of her inflamed skin, sensitive, hyper aware of all manner of force transmissions, she felt energy flowing from his fingers into her body ... filling her, arousing her once more.
Jimmy had said to her once, "You don't ever get enough, do you?"
She'd embarrassedly denied it,
Now, as Carlos's sensitive fingers moved over the surface of her body, carefully, deftly, with calm assurance, she felt herself succumbing to the pressure, the force. It ripped through her now, even though her body remained savaged and shattered.
His fingers were perfect. His pressure just right.
He stroked her breasts, her firm, jiggling mounds of flesh, letting his fingers roam lightly over the surface, and the sensation was delicious.
She stammered, "I ... I ... " and then fell silent, not knowing what to say. He seemed to be reading her mind, however, and she felt that there was no need for her to even speak. As though he could read everything she had to say beforehand.
Jimmy said, "You go right ahead, man, you'll find out she's got a lot going for her."
He was looking up and down her body now, focusing in on the redness of her flesh.
"She seems to know the joys of a stern strapping," said Carlos. His blue eyes were like ice. "Am I correct?"
"Yeah, you got it, man, believe me."
Carlos looked her over again, dropping to his knees to study her thighs, her buttocks, pulling the cheeks apart to examine her asshole, and then, finally, her cunt.
He said, "You absorb a lot, don't you?"
She said, "Yes ... " noting that her voice was small, think-sounding.
He said, "The sound of leather striking your skin gives me a warm feeling as I contemplate it, and perhaps sometime I can experience it for myself. But for now, I would like you to suck me. Would you do that?"
She said, "Yes ... "
Of course she would. It amazed her to realize that she had absolutely no reservations at all. She felt as though this was the man for whom she'd been looking all her life.
"Sure, man, she's got a good mouth, you'd better believe it. And, hey ... like, feel free ... you know, any time. She's real eager to please ... aren't you, doll."
Another thing that amazed her was how totally irrelevant Jimmy was starting to seem.
There was a subtle communication forming now between herself and Carlos and Jimmy was without a doubt on the outside.
Carlos moved with perfect precision, every move a study in economy of motion.
She started to drop to her knees, but he stopped her.
"Perhaps," he said to Jimmy, "you would permit me to take her into the next room?"
Jimmy's brain wasn't working real fast right now.
His beady eyes darted from Tanya to Carlos, and back again.
She said nothing, kept the expression on her face perfectly calm.
After all, Jimmy wanted her to be no more than a piece of furniture, a piece of equipment that he could loan out as he felt like it ... there wasn't anything for her to say.
This was between him and Carlos, and quite frankly, she didn't think he was up to it.
But he said, "Hey ... be my guest, man. Feel free ... you know. Like, the bed's kind of a mess, you know ... but-"
"I don't mind," said Carlos, taking her by the hand, leading her into the bedroom.
She felt perfectly at ease with him, even though she had no idea what he was capable of, and sensed, somewhere down at the base of her spine, that he was much crueler, colder, deadlier than Jimmy could even hope to imagine.
Yet ... he was a professional. Whatever that word, conjured up, Carlos projected it in his every word and action.
He closed the door as they entered and pointedly locked it.
Jimmy, for intents and purposes, had just ceased to exist.
CHAPTER FIVE
She expected him to take her immediately, to force her to her knees and thrust his cock into her.
Instead he said, "You are the financing behind that fool's grandiose plans?"
The question took her by surprise.
"I ... well ... that is ... "
He said, "Do not lie. I want merely a yes or a no response."
"Yes. I am."
"The connection to the money is yours, then?"
She nodded.
"I see. You have no love for him, I presume?"
"I wouldn't say that ... " she replied, knowing even as the words came from her mouth that she uttered them without conviction. He laughed. "Do not protect him. He is certainly not worthy."
"Why? I mean ... I thought you were partners."
He said, "The man has been lying to me for weeks. I tell him that I have a perfect channel, a conduit through which the most perfect white powder in the world will flow, if only it is properly greased with money. He assures me, over and over again - "I have the money, Carlos ... I can get the money" - and now I find that it is all very chancy still ... even after he has told me that there were no further problems and I have already set wheels in motion. I cannot afford to be seen as a liar to these people. You understand me?"
She felt the fear rising in her body.
He said, "It will not do. They are very superstitious people. If I try to back down now, they are going to be highly uncomfortable. They are going to ask of me that I provide them with a small token of my good faith, so that they will know that I am not trying to set them up, or am not simply jerking them around."
She said, "Shouldn't you be talking to Jimmy about this?"
He laughed.
"I have already talked to Jimmy, until I am tired of hearing his voice. You talk to me. You tell me why I must talk to him. What does he have that you don't have? And one level closer to the source, I might add?"
She said, "But ... I ... I mean ... "
"You have no love for him. He is a crude fool."
"You don't know ... it's not what you think."
He reached out to her, placed his fingers under her chin. "You are wrong, my dear. It is precisely what I think. I know far more than Jimmy will ever know."
She stared at him, at those bottomless blue eyes ... and she believed. He did know. He understood perfectly the kind of person she was ... what happened to her when her body's needs began to make themselves felt through her nerves, at the surface of her skin ...
He understood how her mind could split, how her needs could express themselves in two (or more!) totally contradictory ways at the same time. And she sensed that he would be able to meet those needs, in all then-complexity. And then, the truth of it hit her. She'd always known. From the moment he walked into the room, she'd understood at a deeper level, one that her mind didn't catch at first.
But now it came clearly, illumination in that single flash of insight.
And she heard herself saying, "We could talk, anyway ... " and he smiled, and then he placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed and she dropped to her knees, watching like a young schoolgirl as he slid his hands into his pants and produced a mighty cock, one full of strength and dynamic vigor, stiff and true, straight and sure.
She took it in her hands and squeezed it, stroked it ... pulling the tips of her fingers along the surface of the shaft.
At the head, she squeezed a little harder, then moved back down along the length of the shaft again.
His veins were already starting to stand out in near perfect relief.
Deep purple against the brighter red of the flesh itself, like vines heavy with sap entwining around the rock-like shaft.
She let her tongue extend and touched it to the tip of his cock.
She licked along the surface, licked harder ... harder ... harder ... moved down now ... all the way to the base, then moved back to the sack of balls, pressed her tongue into the soft fleshy center.
His glands both floated, weightless, heavy with their juices, their vital fluids.
She squeezed his cock again, then pressed her mouth down around it fully. Hard. All the way, letting the head press against the back of her throat and begin to slither down like a serpent.
O' hooded crimson cobra of desire-
She'd read that in a poem somewhere, and though the rest of the poem had been obscure and impenetrable, that one line had stood out, pulsating ... throbbing ...
She'd suspected the image then, as a young girl ... and now she recalled it anew, finding it perfect apt.
The hooded cobra was pushing all the way into her throat now. The walls expanded, sending a delicious series of sensations rippling down her body.
In her cunt, which only an hour before had received the most foul and intense of beatings, she once again experienced that warmth, that intense glow of arousal that fed upon itself and left her craving for more.
Her breasts, likewise abused and tortured, now swelled, not from the beating, but from arousal. Her nipples stiffened. Her skin broke out in goose-bumps (CHRIST! When's the last time THAT happened?!).
And as she licked his cock, she felt a bizarre euphoria overtake her. It left her dazed and confused.
"Oh yes ... " he murmured, "that's perfect. You have a fine mouth. I think I could grow very fond of that mouth. Tell me. Are your hands and your cunt as perfectly tuned as your tongue and your lips?"
She chose that moment to stretch her lips back away from her teeth and slowly begin to scrape the sharp edges lightly over the surface of his throbbing shaft.
"Oh ... yes ... I forgot, your teeth as well, N'est-ce pas?"
She smiled, drew her head back away from his cock and then, when the glands was all that remained inside her lips, she pressed her teeth a little harder on the surface, moved them down to where the flared base cut sharply back into the shaft, and at that ultra-sensitive ridge of flesh, she paused, letting her teeth move with infinite slowness, with careful precision.
She realized that this was a supreme effort. There was nothing that would have made her take this much time with Jimmy. Besides ... he didn't care. He wouldn't have noticed if she had. He was only interested in fucking her and beating her.
She wanted the belt ... she needed it, Lord knows ... but there was an added dimension, one she'd always suspected existed, but, until this meeting today, she'd never known for sure.
Now there was no doubt.
His hips started to move gently against her mouth now.
She responded with a series of tingling waves of sensation racing down the back of her legs, reflecting back up again and coming together at her buttocks, seeming to join then to the base of her spine and rise up to her brain.
She gasped.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes ... " she replied. She returned her mouth to his cock.
The head was larger and darker now than before.
At the small slit a clear bead of juice had accumulated.
She extended her tongue and rubbed it over the bead.
It was oily ... slick ...
It tasted salty, but was otherwise bland.
That didn't matter.
The flavor of cum wasn't physical. It was somewhere else. It existed on a different plane entirely.
She let his cock slide back into her mouth once more.
Her head movements were more rapid this time.
His hips glided effortlessly with her own tempo. In fact, he seemed to know precisely how to anticipate the back and forth movement of her head.
So perfectly did he seem to know, in fact, that it became uncanny.
She could shift the tempo, and it made no difference.
He was always there, pulling away as she did, thrusting forward when she did, and always at the same speed.
They were perfectly matched.
Too perfectly.
It was as though he truly was reading her mind, a possibility that frightened her as she contemplated it ...
But then something else occurred to her, something which, by this time, seemed almost as possible.
What if he weren't merely anticipating her by reading her mind ... what if he was truly controlling her? Directing her head to move backwards ... forwards ...
What if he was directing her with the power of his thoughts?
She stopped ... but only for a moment. He stopped with her. Waited patiently.
She pulled back, he pulled back as well.
She stopped again ... and then, she felt compelled to let her head glide back onto his cock.
It didn't feel like there was any outside direction. Only a mad desire to keep sucking his cock ... perhaps to make him come, sample the feel of his jism running over the surface of her tongue, coating the insides of her cheeks.
She started to move again.
She truly couldn't stop.
It frightened her ... it truly thrilled her at the same time.
She might even find the courage to talk to him about it later.
She said, "You're good," and then rammed her head against his crotch.
He chose that moment to drive his cock straight down her throat.
Fortunately, she'd expected him to do precisely that and she'd already made certain that her throat muscles were relaxed properly.
Her teeth inadvertently scraped over the surface of his shaft once more, however, and this time she had made no effort to prevent the pressure from being quite extreme indeed.
Harder, in fact, than she would have dared ever to do it to Jimmy.
He absorbed the sensation calmly, chuckling. "You are exuberant," was all he said.
His cock seemed even harder now than before.
"Are you still growing," she asked.
"If you think I am, then I am," he replied.
Great. An enigma. Just what she wanted.
She said, "You feel so hard. It's like you're about to explode."
"Perhaps I am," he replied.
He pulled his cock away then, letting it slide out of her mouth effortlessly.
"Did you like that?" she asked.
"Mmmmm," he replied. "I'm just starting. I, um, hope your friend doesn't grow impatient easily."
She had to think for just a moment about to whom he was referring.
Then she realized ... Jimmy. It was revelatory to her that she had truly forgotten him ... for even that short a span of time.
He'd ceased to exist in her brain.
Had he ceased to exist out in the other room as well?
That was an intriguing thought.
She waited, still on her knees, for his next command.
He said, "You were beaten fairly hard, were you not?"
She nodded. "It ... I mean ... I kind of went along ... "
"Of course. You needn't explain. It is what it is, nothing more nor less."
"That doesn't really make sense," she said.
"But you still understood it, didn't you?"
She nodded.
He said, "I may elect to beat you myself ... (assuming here, that there would be a next time for them ... an assumption she had no intentions of refuting) "but for now, I would like simply to make love to you. Would you permit that?"
Would she PERMIT that?
How bizarre, he stood slowly and said, "How would you like me to get?"
He sat on the bed, cock projecting straight up into the air. "Sit on it."
She straddled his lap, placed one hand on his shoulders for balance and the other she wrapped around his cock, aiming it straight for her pussy.
He was right. Her cunt was extremely tender ... but the juices had grown sufficiently thick to lubricate her again.
And the raw membranes, while hurting still, blended the sensation with the higher experience of true arousal now, so that the pain served more as seasoning, adding a piquancy to an otherwise bland sauce.
She settled her cunt down onto his cock head now ... pressing lightly. He sat impassive ... content to allow her to set the pace.
His eyes never left hers.
She had never experienced such an excruciating gaze. There was energy flowing constantly into her mind as long as he stared at her in that manner.
It was awesome.
Not just the force of his cock flowing into her cunt, but all of him.
The totality of his being, assaulting her full force, a wave-front obliterating all resistance in its path.
He was powerful ... and his energy was only partly physical.
She couldn't hope to measure the full depth of his force, but she could feel the effects. He reached out and touched his fingers to her breasts now.
The raw flesh, so recently the target for Jimmy's wild and reckless lashings with the belt, felt healed anew as he touched her.
The sensation was still there, but now there was a new direction for it to take through her body and mind.
He stroked the tender areas, her nipples, the undersides of each mound, lightly, carefully.
Then he enclosed her breasts each in one of his palms. His fingers extended spider-like around the contours of her globes of flesh, pressing in at the fingertips.
But the pressure remained carefully measured. Not exactly light ... just carefully measured.
He pulled his hands away, letting the tips of his fingers maintain contact the whole distance.
Finally they were at the tips of her nipples.
He pinched them a little more forcefully now.
Not hard, however.
But she sensed that there was untapped energy in those fingers. That he gave her but a glimpse of their full potential.
His restraint was more delicious than if he had unleashed the full force all at once.
He allowed her to contemplate those greater heights, allowed her to fantasize ... to anticipate ... to yearn for it.
She had his glands inside her cunt now, and as she lowered herself farther and farther onto the shaft, the thing began to split the inner walls of her pussy.
It was as though the whole of his cock, each point along the surface was communicating directly with her cunt walls ... sending electric sensations deeper and deeper into her pussy chamber.
He moved his hips slightly then, letting her feel his cock, but he refrained from plunging too deeply into her cunt.
His eyes held her gaze, his fingers stroked hypnotically over the surface of her breasts now.
Back and forth, tracing circles that enlarged with each stroke, then shrank back again ... reaching the circumference of her nipples ... then enlarging, then shrinking back, then enlarging ...
One after the next, moving around and around, tracing the outer ridge now ... along the underside, back along the top curve, drawing back again to a tight ring the size of her nipples.
She closed her eyes, letting the sensations seep through her.
Meanwhile her cunt moved up and down over his cock. Up ... down ... up ... down ... up ... down ... up ... down ... up ... down ... up ... down ...
She forgot herself. She lost track of time.
It as a sensation of floating, not in space, but inside herself, a drawing in of her extremities ... a condensing of her essence to a single point. The primal point.
She spun about herself now ... a planet forming about its axis.
And yet, this was the opposite process, not a coming together but a scattering.
Atom by atom, cell by cell, she felt herself coming apart, disintegrating, succumbing to the electric force surging through her nerves now, charging her entire body.
"Oh ... God ... " she moaned.
He smiled, a strange smile, but one that reassured her nonetheless.
She dropped down farther on his cock, resuming the up and down movement.
It was about halfway in now.
Her legs were beginning to grow weary.
She finally let herself fall the last distance.
Now his own body movements began to work against hers, and once more she sensed that uncanny ability to mesh perfectly with her.
"How do you know?" she asked, letting his cock blend into her, combine with the walls of her cunt, as though together they were a single organ.
"Know? I do not understand."
"How can you tell what I'm going to do?"
"But you haven't all that many options, do you?"
"That's not what I mean. You know how to match me perfectly."
He smiled.
"You worry about things, don't you?"
"That's not worrying."
He said, "I do what I do because you do what you do."
She frowned. "That's another one of those things that doesn't say anything."
"What we are doing cannot be put into words."
"We're fucking?"
He shook his head, eyes boring into her brain.
And she fell into his lap, leaning forward. She pushed him over backwards.
As he lay out on his back his cock slid up into her pussy.
He said, "Yes ... you have me ... all of me. Do you like it?"
"And HOW!" she responded. "Don't ever take it out."
He lay there a moment, then brought his legs up, bending them at the knee.
This pushed his cock still farther into her cunt.
He reached behind her and gripped her buttocks, using them as hand supports.
Her pelvis thus anchored, he began to actively fuck her now, rolling hips to fit into the contours of her crotch, driving his cock deeper and deeper into her, pressing finally against the back wall of her pussy.
The juices gushed out around the sides of the thick shaft, dribbling over the surface of her lips.
She pressed against his body as hard as she could.
She matched her clit to his pubic bone, pressing even harder.
She groaned.
Her body shuddered.
Juices coated her crotch, her thighs.
His cock filled her pussy. Not the outer lips, which Jimmy had savaged ... the inner walls, which had remained unviolated but for Jimmy's cock.
Now, it was her inner walls that tingled and sizzled and ached with desire.
His cock relentlessly plowed into her, pulled back out, and then plowed into her again.
As she fell forward, her breasts flopped into his mouth.
He began to suck on them.
She lowered her torso, giving him access to more of her breasts.
He sucked harder ... harder ... harder ...
His teeth began to do to her breasts what she'd done to his cock. He scraped them over the surface, harder ... harder ...
He bit down now, timing it perfectly with the inward thrust of his cock.
The blaze of sensation thus unleashed between her legs merged with the searing heat rising in her nipples now, and the combined effect was joyous ... pleasurable.
She cried out.
"Ohhhhh God!!"
He never wavered. She cried again.
His cock kept coming on, never wavering.
She cried once more.
"It's good ... so good ... so good ... " she said.
He said, "You like my cock?"
"Oh God ... yes ... yes ... "she gasped, her voice scarcely able to accommodate the tumble of words spilling over her lips.
His cock broke rhythm suddenly, surprising her.
"What ... ?"
But before she could get it out, he slammed it back into her, driving all the way to the bottom of her cunt well with a single thrust.
She screamed once more.
He plowed harder into her.
Again ... again ... and again ...
And she was coming.
Her hips worked with fierce determination against the shaft, grinding down onto him.
Over and over and over again ... harder ... harder ...
"Yes ... yes ... yes ... " she said, the blinding light filling her mind.
He pounded his cock into her as well ... and then, there was a sudden thickness spilling out of her pussy ... and she knew he had more.
She floated, she was drifting ... she felt the jism rushing over the surface of her pussy, and she knew that, whoever this stranger was, he was someone she wanted to follow ... she wanted him to be hers ... and she was ready to follow him ... wherever he wanted her to go.
Somehow, she was having trouble, already, remembering who Jimmy was.
* * *
There was a knock on the door.
"Uh ... " said Jimmy's voice, hesitantly ... not quite certain of his ground. "Everything all right in there?"
Carlos smiled. Tanya, lying on the bed, looked up at him. He had been sitting next to her, softly stroking her hair, speaking in a low, gentle voice.
Now he turned to the door and said, unhurriedly, "It's fine man, I'll be out in a moment."
Nothing came from the other side.
He turned back to Tanya and said, "We don't need him ... do we?"
Her heart jumped.
He wasn't kidding. "You mean it?"
He said, "Of course."
She said, "Why waste our time with him?"
"Well ... "
Inside she was spinning, whirling violently as though in the center of a vortex.
He said, "I won't take 'no' for an answer.
"Well ... " she said, "in that case ... I don' suppose I have any choice do I?"
"Always there is a choice. You, however, have chosen wisely. Haven't you?"
And she nodded her head ...
CHAPTER SIX
Jonah Sands stared out the window at the vast urban metropolis below, and let out a long, gratifying belch.
"You're disgusting," said a voice from behind him.
He turned around and said, "Yeah ... well I'll tell you what. You see this view from my window here?"
She hopped off the couch and sidled up next to him, wrapping her arm around him and said, "Yeah, ain't it beautiful?"
He said, "Damn fucking straight it is. All the more so because I own it. You follow me on that?"
She said, "Yeah ... I know."
She was still giggling.
He said, "Doll ... you think I'm kidding, don't you?"
"Oh ... no, Jonah, I don't."
He said, "Maybe not, but you don't know what I'm talking about anyway."
She looked back out the window.
They were twenty floors above Fifth Avenue, looking out across Central Park.
On the other side of the vast patch of darkness the apartments along Central Part West glittered like cliffs studded with a multiplicity of precious gems.
He said, "How many cocks you sucked in your career?"
She jerked away.
"What kind of a question is that?"
He stared her down, hard.
She averted her gaze. He said, "It's a question I want answered. You've been here for three days now. You haven't gotten used to the procedures ... but you will."
She said, "Okay ... okay ... I dunno how many. A bunch."
"Six hundred?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
"If you'd been paid ten million apiece, you wouldn't have a fraction of what I'm worth, and that's just liquid assets."
She gazed blankly at him.
Of course she was blank. The slut didn't understand numbers past what she could count on her fingers, obviously.
He said, "So ... take a look at the view."
She did. He said, "When I tell you that all this can be yours if you play your cards right, it's not just an empty boast. You follow me?"
She started to get tense. He felt it in her biceps, in the way her back straightened a little more erect. "What DO you mean, then?"
He said, "You clear what ... five bills a week?"
"Yeah ... if I work for it."
"Well ... you're worth a lot more."
She turned and faced him. "You really mean it?"
Even in his silk smoking jacket there was nothing she could do to hide the sweeping curves of her body.
She was a study in extremes.
A waist you could slip a wedding ring around, tits you couldn't carry in a couple of buckets.
Long slender legs ...
Beautiful full lips, high cheek bones ...
A brain with all the depth of an egg-shell, true, but he didn't hold that against her. No point to it. No profit. Sluts like her existed on earth for one reason alone ... and that was to fuck, and fuck all the time, and keep on fucking.
She said, "Why don't we talk business, if you mean to talk business, that is."
He said, "I mean for you to open my robe. I have a short memory. I keep wanting to remember what you look like.
She unfastened the knot and let the robe fall open. She pulled the edges of the material aside and said, "Like this?"
Then she said, "Does this refresh your memory a little?" as her big mammaries jutted straight out at him.
He let himself sink into the soft cushioned arm chair and study her.
There was a lot to see.
"Drop it," he told her.
She peeled the silk back over her shoulders, letting him take her in first in that pose with her shoulders bared and her tits the most prominent thing on her body.
"Lord God, you're something impressive," he said to her. "You're just about the most gorgeous thing I've ever laid eyes on, you want to know the truth."
She held her arms out from her body a ways and said, "I know."
Voice soft and sultry like smoke.
The silk robe dropped now to the floor.
Her fingers moved around the edge of her pussy, down between her legs, with such natural ease one could easily believe she wasn't really trying to entice.
Nonsense.
She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew precisely the effect every part of her body had on her. She could get dead man hard using her little toe.
She leaned against the edge of his couch, slowly spread her legs (almost without moving, it looked like) and opened her pussy to him. She said, "What was it you had in mind."
He said, "You like me?"
She smiled.
"I've been here for three days, haven't I?"
He said, "You didn't answer my question, did you?"
"Okay. Yeah ... I like you."
"How much?"
"You're paying ... I like you."
"Wonderful! You state your position, you don't make any bones about it. I'm impressed."
He lit a cigarette, letting her wait. That was always an interesting test, trying to see how people would behave when they weren't sure what was expected of them.
For the past three days, he'd asked nothing of her other than that she fuck him when he felt like fucking. He'd laid a sufficiently large wad of bills in front of her when they'd first met that she wasn't in a mood, three days later, to get impatient yet.
He stared at her, said, "Turn around," and she did so.
Fine buttocks. Delicious. "You go in for spanking?"
There was a trace of a ripple moving over those fine buttocks now.
Kind of beautiful, really. He liked that.
"Like how do you mean?" she asked.
He loved the accent. That was the one flaw. Somewhere in the same vicinity as having a gaping hole in her mouth, that only showed up when she smiled.
She wanted to be an actress. They all did. They thought that all they needed was a set of tits and a pair of legs that were spread wide, and they could get anything.
"Like how the fuck do you think I mean?"
"I don't know. That's why I was asking you. I don't know what you mean."
She turned back around, was looking him straight on.
He took his time, puffed on his cigarette. She waited, calmly. Not caring. He liked that. Patience. To the patience would go the world, because the rest would get tired of waiting.
Should he out wait her? Nah. He knew he could. Why press it?
"You do submissive sessions. I know, because I specifically requested it before you were even sent to me."
"Okay ... so what about it? You want a business arrangement, we negotiate."
"I've already paid."
"Not for submissive work."
"So ... quote me a price."
She did.
He wanted to laugh in her face. They all give it away. That was the thing they didn't understand. They were giving it away.
He walked to one wall and removed a portrait of his oldest daughter, dear sweet Tanya who, most likely, was already plying the same trade as this delightful bimbo here ... turned the numbered knob beneath a few times and opened the safe.
He removed several bills and laid fully twice the amount she'd quoted in front of her on the table.
"How's that look?"
She said, "That's not what I said ... but ... "
He said, "I don't like to have to renegotiate arrangements when I'm right in the middle of something."
She stared a moment at the money, then said, "What did you have in mind, sport?"
"I dunno yet," he said. "That's why I want to make sure there's no problems."
She was on the line now and she knew it. He would learn a lot about her in the next minute or two. People were never themselves unless you could force them past the carefully controlled scripted roles they worked out for themselves, the stepping-stones they used to get them through the swamp of daily life.
Right now he was going to find out if she could swim or not.
"There are certain limits," she said.
"Fine. Let's hear them.
She told him. They were reasonable. "Come on," he said, hold up his hands in protest, "I'm not butcher. You should know that by now."
"I didn't think you were ... but you're asking some weird questions ... I gotta figure you could have anything at all up there in your head."
"You're right. I got a lot up here. I want you as a test, you see ... and you don't get an answer from me, because I don't know how far the test is going to go."
She scooped up the bills and stuffed them in her purse, with the other wad of money he'd already given her. "Fine. Like I said, no razors, no blades ... "
"Am I a Nazi? I swear, you girls, you're all so mistrustful. This is a test for someone else, doll, but you too. You come through this, I might want to work something out with you on a permanent basis."
"Such as?"
"Such as you stop fucking other guys ... you stop worrying about piece work ... you come along with me. I won't dump you ... I'll take good care of you, in fact."
"That's nice ... now tell me about this 'test' you got in mind."
"Some punk wants my money. I wanna see if he's worth it."
"And I'm the test?"
"Yeah."
She said, "Can I have one of your cigarettes?"
* * *
Dexter Carmody was nervous. He'd been summoned to Jonah Sands' penthouse on Fifth Avenue after having convinced himself that there was no way he was going to get to see the man.
He'd waited most of the afternoon out at his house, finally leaving word that he had to go, and then he'd departed in anger.
And confusion. He couldn't get that girl out of his mind. Tanya, her name was.
She'd been a killer. Hotter than anything he'd ever stuck his cock into.
She'd also been like a vision, one that appeared, then vanished, never to be seen again.
By now, two days later, he was convinced that the whole thing had been an hallucination.
Never happened. That sort of thing didn't happen to people, not in the real world at least. Who was he kidding?"
He suddenly had an image of Jonah Sands saying to him, "Boy, what's this I hear about you fucking my little angel ... ?" as he lowered a shotgun on Dexter's middle.
Not sweet. Not pleasant.
He gave his name to the doorman, who disappeared behind a partition to check it out. Then when he re-emerged he said, "This way, sir," and led him down a hallway away from the main elevators.
"This will take you straight up, sir," said the doorman, looking him up and down, as if to say 'You don't belong there, boy, and you're gonna regret ever going up,' or was that just Dexter's imagination running away with him again?
He thanked the man, and stepped into the elevator.
It was solid mahogany. Opulent. It rose swiftly, noiselessly.
And when the doors opened, he found himself looking into the most luxurious room he'd ever seen in his life.
Across from the elevator a large picture window faced Central Park.
The sun was setting, the sky in the west all orange with the fiery glow of pollution.
He stepped into a room and heard a voice.
"Well well ... glad to meet you my boy, glad to meet you. I've heard stories about you ... heard you're someone with ideas ... someone I'd like to meet. So let me shake your hand."
Jonah Sands was much smaller than Dexter had expected, but there was an unmistakable air of power about him.
He was dressed casually - jeans, cotton shirt open at the neck.
He shook Dexter's hand and his grip was warm and firm, but not so solid that he seemed to be trying to impress with his strength.
When you lived in a penthouse like this, you didn't need strength to impress people.
"Come in ... come in ... I'm interested in hearing about this idea of yours. Paul tells me that you might be just the man to fit into a gap that I've got in the organization."
"Well, I certainly hope so," said Dexter. He mixed a couple of drinks, without bothering to ask Dexter what he preferred, and found, not to his surprise, that the drink was precisely what he would have requested.
A vodka martini.
Done with the perfect ratios.
The guy had done his research.
They talked. Dexter gave Jonah his presentation.
"You really think it's possible, eh?" said Jonah.
"Absolutely," said Dexter, pulling out his charts and demographic profiles. "The whole industry's changing, and the person who changes first with it is going to make a killing."
Jonah said "Son, you're talking about fucking. You're talking about shoving hard-core fucking down the throats of middle-class America. You honestly think they're up for it?"
"They've been sucking up dirty movies on tape for the past five years, sir, and the latest studies prove that we're not even close to peaking yet. It's shifting. Inside. Where they don't have to be open about it."
"Ah ha! That's the point, my boy, you got these people inside their houses with their tape machines and their video monitors and they can watch anything they want and there's no chance anyone's ever gonna see 'em. Makes a big difference, I say."
"Of course ... because where are they going to go now?"
"Don't follow you?"
"You can't expect people like that to wander down Forty-second street. It's just not realistic."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying, sir that the whole profile of the market is changing. It's a given among sociologists that the actual mood of any population system is roughly three years ahead of mass awareness of that mood."
Jonah smoked his cigarette. Dexter felt sweat on his palms. He had a feeling that he hadn't told this man a thing yet that he didn't already know.
"Go on," the man said.
"Well ... my contention is that just as the upscale group is already sucking up the hard-core film product, so now it can be done in a 'respectable' setting, they'd be interested in an upscale version of what you have down on Forty-second Street ... but the emphasis is on upscale."
"I still don't follow you."
He did. But he was being stubborn, Dexter decided.
"I'm talking about a cross between a scum palace, a Playboy Club and Lutece."
Jonah's left eyebrow arched. "Go on."
"There's a market out there, sir. I'm telling you. Everybody likes sex. What they don't like is Forty-second Street and what they don't want is for it to become mundane and common-place. They want it forbidden. Taboo. That means you've got to hide it away, make it hard to get to ... make it hurt a little to get in ... and then you have to give it in a full dose."
"You're talking in smoke signals, boy. Put it into words."
Dexter realized that he'd been waiting a long time for this moment.
He was at the threshold. This, his idea, his baby, ready to be put into words.
How many times had he rehearsed this speech?
"I'm talking about the best food. I'm talking about women who are so gorgeous, you have to pinch yourself to believe they're real, and you're not dreaming. I'm talking about sex. Real, honest to God taboo sex. Not clinical ... not healthy ... not humanistic ... I'm talking about it being dirty, but classy."
Jonah puffed and nodded.
"You ever see the story of 'O'? Dress 'em up like that, some of 'em, maybe. You let them walk around showing what they have, but you do with kind of a naughty, peek-a-boo attitude. You know, now you see it, now you don't. You put some broads in leather and have them leading others around on chains ... but I'm talking high class. Elegant. Nothing like what people associate with sex shows now. No peep booths, you have dining tables against walls with windows ... you get to look inside and see the show going on. And I'm talking here, like, a real show. Not just some floppy-titted scag queen playing games with a Spic dog ... that stuff ... I mean a real high-class no-holds-barred show."
"Yeah ... go on," said Jonah. He wasn't saying much else.
Dexter talked on. Told him all his ideas. The way to walk a line between brothel and club ... the way to cater to women as well as men ... the way to make it an atmosphere that would appeal to couples ...
"You got your Plato's Retreat, all these swing clubs now," said Jonah, "so why don't all these people you're talking about go there and have their jollies?"
"You ever been to Plato's? I mean, would you want to go to a place where they got cum in the pool? Where there's nothing but hookers running around? That's not the point. This is elegance I'm talking about."
"I hear you ... I hear you ... and I'll tell you what. I don't picture it in my mind yet, but the way you're talking about it, it appeals to me. It really does. Things are getting ready to shake, and I'm interested in this idea of yours. I don't know that it's gonna work ... might be more trouble than it's worth ... but I'm interested."
He sat back, puffed on his cigarette, let another and puffed on it ...
"Tell me something ... what's your experience with this shit?"
"I know clubs ... restaurants ... that sort of thing. As for the rest ... I know what I've got in mind."
"What about the broads?"
"What about them?"
"Where are you going to get them?"
"That will be the least of the problems."
He nodded. "What are you going to do with them after you got them?"
Dexter said, "I don't understand."
"You ever run a bunch of girls like that? I assume you're just talking girls, I didn't hear anything about guys."
"Yeah ... girls, that's what I'm talking about."
"You ever been involved in a situation like this? You ever had to run a bunch of women, keep them in line, make them perform? You're talking a pain-in-the-ass situation, my boy, and I don't mean maybe."
Dexter said, "There are ways to manage any situation, Mr. Sands ... "
"Jonah. As long as we're talking about you getting my money and me trusting you with it, we should be friendly about it, right?"
"Sure ... if you say so."
"I do."
"Okay ... Jonah. As I said, I think that's the least of the problems."
"It is, huh? Well, let me tell you something, Dexter ... or is it Speedy? I seem to remember that nickname being mentioned."
Wow. The man really did know everything there was to know about him.
"Sure ... that's fine."
"Okay, Speedy. I want you to know something. It takes a special temperament to control a bunch of women, particularly when they're using their bodies like that, when they're selling sex. You might not believe me, but it's true. You gotta be hard. Otherwise, you don't stand a chance."
Dexter just sat there, listening.
"You wanna show me how tough you can be?"
"Well ... "
"No ... seriously ... I want to find out."
"I don't understand ... "
"That's all right. There's a lot of things you won't understand if you work for me. You'll have to do them. No matter what. How's that sound to you?"
"Well ... "
"Let me clue you in, boy, on the ramifications of this discussion. I'm interested in your project. I wouldn't have had you up here if I wasn't interested, and that's a fact. I don't have any intentions of getting involved in this thing, however, unless I know for certain that you have what it takes. Because, you see, I don't need it myself. I don't particularly want it, except that I think you might be right about the time being ripe for. something totally new, and I wouldn't mind being in on the ground floor of that."
He had his eyes fixed directly on Dexter now, homing in with relentless precision.
"You following me?"
"Yes sir," said Dexter.
"I don't have the faintest interest in getting involved with someone who's got a weak stomach when it comes to women, because there's going to come a time, in an establishment like you're talking about, when you're just gonna have to kick ass, and if you start telling yourself you can't kick a woman's ass, you're going to be in deep trouble. You follow?"
Dexter nodded, wondering where all this was leading.
"Okay. So ... what I'm wondering, are you up to it?"
"Well ... I can only say that I ... "
"No ... I want an answer."
"Yes sir. I'm up to it," said Dexter. Hell, what the fuck else was he supposed to say?
"Good. That's what I wanted to hear. Which gets me back to my original idea. I want a demonstration."
He was beaming now, like a demented gnome.
"Such as?" asked Dexter in a small voice.
"Such as follow me, boy," said Jonah, and then he stood up and walked into the next room.
There he discovered the lady with whom the man was going to test him.
And he started to feel a little squeamish.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She was lying on the bed, looking at him, saying nothing.
"Okay, boy, let's see what you can do."
In the room were several objects, some of which took Dexter a moment or two to decipher the functions of.
There was one, however, that needed no explanation.
It was a post. Square, about seven feet high, almost a foot through in thickness.
At the top were four large brass rings embedded in the wood, one on each face of the post.
Dexter looked around the room, eyes finally alighting on the table against one wall.
On the table it was. He stared at Jonah, felt the cold gaze returned ... and he realized that the man was going to just sit here and let him show how tough he was.
He looked at the girl. She was totally impassive.
No expression of any sort on her face. No fear ... no joy ... nothing.
He looked back at Jonah. The man just stared, a faint trace of a smile on his face. Dexter walked over to the table.
There were wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, there were several different varieties of whips, there were nipple clamps, clit clamps ... pins, hooks ...
Ropes and scarves and gags and dildos ...
He wanted to gag.
His stomach was churning ... ready to fall out.
He looked back at Jonah again, realized that if he was to even ask for guidance he would flunk the test.
But how far did he have to do to pass?
All of this contemplative speculation took no more than thirty seconds. Yet to him it felt like an eternity. He'd never been so totally freaked out before by a situation of this sort.
And yet ... he recalled the moment, two days earlier, when this man's daughter had said to him, "Bite it ... hurt it ... do anything you want ... " and his cock had twitched and gone berserk and his balls had cried out in shocked ecstasy.
And now there was already a hardening of his shaft, a wetness where the glands touched his underwear, and the thumping his heart and the pounding of his blood through his veins was most certainly not simply from fear.
And that fact, undeniable as it was, turned his mind completely around.
What was happening here? What was he allowing to happen? Was it so important to him?
He lifted the ropes in his hands felt their slick texture, decided they must be nylon.
He looked at the girl on the bed again.
Amazing, that her breasts could be so huge, yet so firm.
Were they artificial?
He set the coil of rope on the bed and reached for her breasts now, touching them, letting his fingers sink into them.
There was no trace of silicone. If these were fake, they were the best job he'd ever seen in his life.
Yet he knew, already, that they were perfect. That this woman was real, and that if he was to go into business with Jonah, if Jonah was to be persuaded to invest, the girl whose breasts he fondled now was but a sampling of the type that would be available.
He knew it, and he knew, furthermore, that he could make it work.
And suddenly his balls were aching. There was something being slowly filtered into his blood, something that was working subtly on his brain, something that was changing his attitude, creating a different frame of reference against which to measure his concepts of values.
Her breasts, so soft, her nipples, so erect, so stiff.
He pinched them now, pressing thumb to forefinger and mashing the flesh until it was flat.
Start slow, take your time. He was being given carte blanche, he was being permitted to indulge himself.
The reality of it was stunning.
He wondered, would Jonah Sands permit this if he knew what had happened to his daughter?
Maybe. Maybe he already knew.
Dexter squeezed the girl's tits now, letting his fingers sink deep into the fleshy mounds.
She closed her eyes and winced.
A small groan emerged from her lips.
He kept the pressure and began to pull on them, both of them, stretching them.
Such large mounds of flesh were exceedingly pliant, and they soon were elongated out of shape, looking bizarrely mutated.
Keeping his fingertips firmly pressed against her flesh, he began to twist now, turning slowly, but increasing the scope, until a genuine cry of pain came from her lips.
"Oh ... God ... " she gasped, her back arching, her breasts thrusting up against his hands.
He released her and she fell back to the bed with a shudder and a gasp.
He said, "Get up," in a voice that he tried to drain of emotion, but it was difficult.
He felt as though his entire body was shuddering from excitement, and it was difficult to keep the sensation from his voice.
She sat up.
Her breasts continued to jut straight out from her body.
Amazing, he thought to himself in wonder, that they didn't sag. And when she moved, instead of swaying, as you would have expected from breasts of that size, they jiggled. Tightly. Quick fibrillating shivers that seemed to echo through her entire body.
And once more Dexter's balls started to ache.
He thought fast. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He wasn't into this shit. Hell, he was a restaurant manager, who'd happened to get an angle on a couple of good ideas and managed to wrangle a contact ... and now, here he was, way the fuck out of his depth, but he was going to learn fast how to survive here ... because he knew he wouldn't get another opportunity like this again.
He'd already made one important connection regarding Jonah Sands, however. If he won the man's support and interest, it would have nothing to do with business opportunities.
It would be because he wanted to watch this sort of thing take place, and quite obviously enjoyed performing these demented acts himself.
You didn't own a collection like this just for decorations, for chrissake!
He had to move like he knew what he was doing.
He picked up the rope off the bed and passed it through one of the brass rings. What next?
Oh yeah ... the wrist cuffs.
Okay ... pick them up, a quick perusal to make sure he saw how they were supposed to be fastened together, and then he indicated that she was supposed to hold out her hands.
She did, without protest.
What was this girl, he wondered, a pro? A real honest-to-God submissive?
Or was he going to have to fight her eventually, force her to do things?
Suddenly he caught himself, realized that he'd already been projecting, fantasizing himself in a dominant role, imagined himself forcing her to ... to ...
To what?
He couldn't quite picture the outcome of the projection ... but he knew that something was working on his head, and he didn't know quite what it was ... but it scared him.
And it also aroused him like he had never been aroused before.
Already his pants sported a massive bulge, one that seemed always to be growing more and more severe.
He unbuckled the leather bracelets that were meant to go around her wrists, attached them one at a time, and then buckled them up again, making certain that while they were tight enough to prevent their falling off, they didn't cut the blood flow.
The bracelets hooked together by an ingenious device that allowed them to be easily attached and pulled back apart by a second party, but which made it virtually impossible for the person held captive to effect their own release.
One ring partially opened and the other ring slipped through, only to have the first snap back shut again.
She stared at her bound wrists, still virtually no expression on her face.
But beneath the smooth surface of her skin her muscles rippled with tension.
She was perfectly formed, a fact which sank in more and more with each passing second.
Dexter led her to the post.
He realized now that he didn't have the faintest idea what he was going to do with this girl ... whip her ass and back ... or her thighs ...
He could do both, he surmised, and decided that would be the best course.
He turned her so that she was facing the post, raised her arms up over her head and passed the rope between her wrists, looped it a couple of times and then tied the remainder in a knot to secure her arms in place.
His lack of experience was painfully evident, he feared. There was a lot of rope left over that he didn't seem to know what to do with.
Then, of course, it occurred to him. Do nothing with it. No need to.
If he acted as though there was nothing wrong with letting hit hang, there would indeed be nothing wrong with letting it hang.
He studied her body, the shape of her back, the way her waist narrowed so provocatively, then widened again at her hips, stretching down to her firm thighs and legs that were the exact perfect length ...
She was immaculate.
He ran his hands over her buttocks, pressing fingers into her flesh, parting the cheeks and sinking the tip of one finger into her asshole to a depth of two inches.
The rim of the orifice was dry. It must have caused her some discomfort for she squirmed somewhat and moaned, as if in protest.
"Does that hurt?" he asked.
"No," she said, hesitantly.
He said, "Don't lie ... just be honest. Did it hurt?"
"A ... a little ... " she said, uncertain now.
He felt something come over him, a feeling, a sensation, whatever ... he didn't know.
But when he sank his thumb into her asshole this time, farther, harder, he was aware that he was different, that he was someone new.
She cried out this time.
He said, "Did that hurt?"
"Yes."
He said, "But you didn't mind?"
"I ... I ... " she said, faltering.
He pushed his thumb deeper into her, brought the forefinger of his other hand to her asshole and started to force that into the orifice as well.
Her body started to squirm at once.
She cried out, "No ... please ... "
He felt heat exploding in his balls.
Muscles from his neck down to his crotch tightened and spasmed in a series of small, but ecstatic vibrations.
It was exciting ... there was no doubt about that. It was the most exciting thing that he'd ever done. As well as being the most forbidden.
His forefinger stretched her asshole terribly ... forcing the muscles, which were normally clenched tightly shut, to open, much against their will.
She sucked in a deep breath and as it was expelled, the sound that rose from her throat was something other than human.
Dexter had never heard such a sound from a woman before.
It sent an even greater charge through his body.
He pulled thumb from finger now, stretching ... stretching ... stretching ...
"Oh Jesus," she cried, trying to pull away now. There was much too much freedom given her.
Something would have to be done about that, but he wasn't sure just what, yet.
Meanwhile, as his finger and thumb curved around the contours of her pelvic bones, stretching and pressing against the membranes within her body, she was like a hooked fish, struggling against a line that would never snap.
He pulled her.
He stretched her.
He jerked against her body, opening her even farther.
She curved her back, shoving her ass out at him.
Now, as his hands pressed more and more firmly against her asshole, his fingers moved between her thighs ... pressing up against the moist parting of flesh there.
Her juices were thick and hot and they seemed already to be flowing fast and hard.
He inserted two fingers in her pussy.
Unlike her asshole, her pussy membranes were loose, pliant, and willing.
They opened with no difficulty, and they seemed to welcome more.
He pulled his finger and thumb from her asshole and reached under her crotch, shoving up at her cunt slit, sticking his fingers into her pussy.
The hole was loose, but it seemed to have its limits.
He was unable to shove his entire fist inside her, though he certainly tried.
The structure of her cunt, the solid tissues behind the looser folds of flesh, prevented him from inserting his fist all the way.
But he pushed anyway. Pushed until the wide ridge of his hand was flush against the opening, twisting ... turning ... twisting ... pushing harder ... harder ...
She cried out now ... moaning loudly ... screaming, in fact.
He kept jamming his fist against her cunt ... harder ... felt the rim slowly yielding ... and suddenly it became a matter of pride and honor for him to get his fist up there.
Twisting ... juices flowing down around the sides of his fist.
He curled his fingers inside her cunt, pushed up against the point in her cunt wall where her clit throbbed and started to rub against it from the inside.
She screamed louder now ... as if she couldn't control herself, at all. As if she was being pushed farther and farther past her limits ...
Body tense ... shuddering ...
Arms pulling pathetically against the restraints ...
Mouth opened, sounds rising from her throat less and less human.
An animal, trapped, driving only by mindless fear.
He finally stopped ... pulled his fingers back out of her cunt and stared at them.
They were drenched.
Fear does that to a woman, much as lust and arousal will do it. Fear will make them wet ... will get the juices flowing ... he'd heard it before, and now he believed it.
Unless ... and this was something that only just now occurred to him ... unless there was more ... unless there was something here that could be explained in another way. Perhaps ... perhaps ... she really was a submissive ... perhaps she loved this. Maybe the fear and the restraint, the inability to know what was coming next, her helplessness to do anything about it ... maybe this was a combination that aroused her.
Were there others like her?
Was this the kind of woman he could fill his club with?
He felt dizzy. The possibilities were endless. He imagined himself leading a platoon of big-titted babes, all like this one ... all bound and fettered ... all in pain ... all screaming ... all loving it.
Shit ... it was an awesome thought ... much too awesome for his small mind to comprehend fully.
He stared down those perfect buttocks, now once against pressed firmly together.
He picked up a whip from the table, was about to turn on her with it, but then changed his mind, set the whip back down on the table and picked up a riding crop instead.
Why the riding crop, he wondered. What was it about that rod ... that stern, stiff rod that was so appealing?
More masculine, perhaps. Stern and stiff-erect like a cock. Ready to savage and penetrate, not physically, as a cock penetrates a cunt, but subjectively ... pain filling her nerves, her tissues, inflaming her cells, turning her body to liquid fire.
He walked next to her, felt the aching throb in his balls, knew that he was going to have to unload them soon, or he'd embarrass himself in front of Jonah Sands.
Wouldn't do at all, would it, to suddenly have a wet spot start to grow over your cock, not when the man was sitting there, looking to see what kind of control you could exercise over others ... and over yourself ...
He swung the riding crop. The suddenness and ferocity of the stroke surprised even him.
It shocked the ever loving piss out of her.
He landed the blow directly across her buttocks, catching both at once.
She screamed.
It was like a pair of electrodes had been touched to her body and a violent current passed through.
Everything jerked at once, every nerve responded, every muscle contracted.
She screamed ... she cried ... her breathing suddenly turned erratic and jerky ...
He felt his cock pushing against his jeans.
He couldn't delay.
He turned to Jonah and was going to say something, but the man was almost not even there. What a technique. He seemed to exude absolutely NO vibes whatsoever.
He might as well have been a piece of furniture.
He scarcely looked at Dexter. Yet, Dexter knew, he saw everything, saw much more than Dexter was even aware was taking place.
Dexter removed his shoes, then his shirt, then his pants.
His underwear he left on. No sense in going all the way before he had to.
Somehow he felt perfectly natural standing in front of one of the most powerful men in the city wearing only jockey shorts, preparing to beat the shit out of a naked girl he'd never seen before this night.
"You're going to have to prove yourself to him," Paul had said. Dexter hadn't realized what that would include.
He swung the riding crop again, harder this time ... searing her flesh, leaving a dark red welt on the spot where the riding crop connected.
His balls were good for two, maybe three minutes more, tops.
Then he was going to have to do something.
Control, however, was the prime goal, or at least the illusion of same.
Therefore, he'd better work it into part of the act. As in, don't go jizzing all over yourself and act surprised by it, he told himself.
He started to land the blows with deadly regularity now.
Her screams soon became abstractions to him. Not real. Certainly not the product of a human being.
They were unceasing, deeply impassioned ... tortured ... horrible, really.
He continued to hit her ... stroking her buttocks, each one in turn, focusing on various spots, them moving on, until her entire ass was a single red welt.
Then he started back again, hitting her harder, and harder ... and harder ...
Down her thighs, up her back ...
But always returning to her buttocks, those perfect mounds of flesh just begging to be beaten.
He noticed that he was starting to break the skin. That was his cue to stop.
Not that he thought it would be exceeding the limits of his test ... on the contrary he believed now that Jonah Sands wanted nothing more than to see this slut suffer, and brutally.
But he was going to give the man a show ... seeing as that was what he so clearly desired.
He was going to make certain Jonah Sands got a ringside seat at the most fiendish, diabolical show in town ... and if, when it was over, he still had any questions about whether or not Dexter was strong enough ... then Dexter would know that he'd failed.
Except he wasn't going to fail.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He finished whipping her.
On the table there was oil, which Dexter now retrieved. He smelled it, noting a strangely soothing aroma.
He rubbed it over her tortured ass cheeks, and while she cried out at his touch, he could tell by the sensation against his palm that it would take some of the heat out of her shattered nerve-endings ... and prepare her all the more rapidly for the next time. Which would be coming rather quickly.
He then turned her around, so that her front was facing the two of them.
He untied the knot that fastened her arms to the ring and allowed more slack in the rope.
"On your knees," he told her.
She dropped, as he instructed.
He pulled down his jockey shorts.
His cock was drooling rapidly now ... a steady stream of his jism flowing from the tip of the shaft.
His balls were close to blowing. He could feel the heat building inside his body.
He knew that he had to make this look good.
She was on her knees now, arms still above her head.
He held the other end of the rope, pulling on it now to make certain her arms would remain above her head, stretching them once again taut.
He slipped the rope through a second brass ring and tied it off, firmly, making certain that her arms remained tight.
Her face was right at cock level.
He grabbed her hair, a thick fistful of it, pulling hard, and then he jammed her face into his crotch.
She whimpered, begging for consideration now ... but of course he ignored her.
Already he'd forgotten that but moments earlier he'd stood before the post, regarding it with horror, realizing what it was that Jonah Sands wanted from him.
Now, he was elsewhere in the cosmos ... having entered a new, heretofore unsuspected dimension inside himself, he realized that he was capable of things that went far beyond his conscious thoughts.
He forced her mouth against his cock, she opened her lips and he jammed the shaft into her face.
Her teeth scraped against his cock.
"That hurt," he said. "Be careful."
He sensed that the proper tone of voice here was one that suggested infinite control.
One didn't abuse these women, simply because one was dominating them.
One merely addressed them in a firm voice, made their demands known, and accepted nothing short of total, absolute compliance with one's will.
Her throat opened with the professional polish of a true whore, one who knew cocks and the sucking thereof.
He started to stroke her mouth, drawing out ... pushing back in ... drawing back out again ...
He slammed against her mouth, hard. Forced his cock down her throat ... pulled back ... slammed hard against her once more.
She moaned ... gurgled ... struggled, tried to breathe, with only partial success ... but she kept sucking his cock.
He held her head rigidly in place with her hair, the thick hank of it twisted like rope now.
He moved his hips against her, pulling out ... shoving back in ... pulling out ...
Over and over and over ... again and again ... again and again ...
His balls were there. He wasn't sure how he was holding back. That he could, however, he saw as a positive sign. More evidence that he was in control of himself.
He didn't want to blow his cool here. He wanted to do it RIGHT, whatever that might mean.
He was feeling his way. He was improvising ... making it up as he went along.
And always, the coldly appraising gaze of the man in the corner, the man who said nothing, but who was thinking God knows what.
Dexter started to stroke harder and harder now.
Faster.
Each stroke brought his cock into sharp, unyielding contact with the back of her throat.
He wondered if perhaps he could damage her tissues with such violent thrusts ... then decided that she knew what to do ... that she would surely know how to contain any damage.
She tilted her head now, within the limits permitted her by the tight grip which he had on her hair.
His cock was slipping all the way down her throat as he drove it into her mouth.
Closer ...
He pulled back ...
Closer ...
He slammed forward ...
Closer ...
Closer ...
He gasped.
There was a light in his brain.
Heat rising ...
Filling him.
Rushing through him.
Blasting him.
Driving him.
Harder. Harder.
She cried out.
His cock filled her mouth ... he pulled back ... his cock was out of her mouth now ... just the glands was in her mouth ...
His glands even was partly in, partly out ...
And his balls blew.
A massive wad hit her mouth, splattering over her teeth, her lips, her cheeks.
More followed.
He gasped ... he moaned ... he felt his body drifting away from him ...
NO ... it was the other way around!
He was drifting away from his body, carted off on currents of ecstasy rising from his balls.
He glanced down and saw a mess. Her face was almost buried in cum, the stuff oozing from her mouth, coating her nose, spilled across her left cheek.
Some was even in her eye.
And he was still coming, though the wads weren't as forcefully ejected from his cock now.
He said, "Swallow it."
She was, actually, only she knew how to make a good scene. Her mouth was filled with his cum. She let it gurgle to the surface, held it at her lips, as if to spill it all over, herself, and then she swallowed it.
All of it.
Her body was coated with sweat.
Her hair was a wild mat of confusion.
Her arms were pulled tightly above her.
And her face was filled with his cum.
He took the tip of his cock and rubbed it over her face, slowly working the wads of his jism down towards her mouth.
As each approached her lips, she extended her tongue and licked it in ... sucking eagerly, then swallowing.
He first worked the goo over her cheek ... then moved up to her nose ... then the stuff that was dripping from her eye.
All of it, finally, moved down towards her mouth.
She took it all in ... and she seemed to know that it was good ... seemed to truly enjoy what she was doing. That was important ... to both his own enjoyment of it, and to the success of his vision as well. The woman who performed for him would have to enjoy it. It would have to be REAL. No cheap act. No corny stage show, with bored bimbos going through rote motions that they couldn't even stop yawning through.
REAL.
Like this slut.
Her face took on a strange plastic sheen as his jism dried.
He started to pull now ... jerking once again on the rope, drawing her arms more and more tightly above her head, until at last she got the idea that she was supposed to stand back up.
Which she did.
Slowly. Haltingly.
Her body seemed uncertain of itself, as if it had forgotten what it was supposed to be doing.
He knew that he would have to lead her through the next steps as well ... for he had something very strong planned for her.
He tied her arms again, tits and pussy and cum-stained face aimed out towards the room ... and then he said, "Put your feet behind the post."
"I ... I don't understand," she said.
He knelt and pulled her feet back, forcing them together behind the post on the other side.
He wrapped the ends of the rope around her ankles, securing her feet behind the post in this manner.
She could just barely use them still to support her weight.
Most however now shifted to her arms.
The tendons in her shoulders stretched, bulged, and then began to jerk wildly as the pressure continued to mount.
She cried out ... she gasped in agony.
"Oh ... God ... what are you going to do? Don't hurt me ... please ... please ... this is enough ... I don't want any more ... please ... take back your money."
She was talking to Jonah now.
Dexter had a notion to turn to the man and ask for his approval, but he sensed that to do so would be unwise ... would be most out of phase with the man's own desires and designs.
No ... there was indeed a reason for the small rubber ball with straps attached to either side of it, Dexter decided ... and now, he fetched it, found that the rubber was most soft, pliant ... almost like the flesh of her breasts, which he would be attending to soon.
He knew what the ball was meant for ... he now set himself to using it.
He brought it to her mouth, but she turned her head.
He spoke in a calm voice. "Open your mouth. Come on ... "
And when she refused to obey and he was forced to slap her, he slapped her hard, but only once. Then he spoke again. "I said open your mouth."
And still she refused. "No," she said, quickly, clamping her jaws shut again.
Dexter slapped her again. Twice this time, the second time harder than the first.
Then he slapped her left breast. He grabbed the nipple, in a smooth, quick movement, and started to pinch.
Hard.
Twisting ... turning ... twisting harder and harder ...
She opened her mouth to scream, an involuntary reflex, and he popped the ball into her jaws ... forcing them to remain open, and at the same time, rendering her screams a muted, incoherent babble.
Then he pulled the straps around her head, buckling them together in back.
She was silenced, and she was ready for the next step!
CHAPTER NINE
He studied her body a moment, seeking the inspiration to perform not just a correct act, but the perfect act.
She was, herself, perfect. And a body as perfect as hers demanded perfection in return.
For instance ... those breasts.
They were large ... firm ... but they were real. That meant that instead of the rock-hard texture of silicone, they were rubbery and pliant ... organic and yielding.
He ran his fingers over them again ... pressing into the flesh ... squeezing ... pulling ... then he moved his fingers to the base of her mounds ... both of them.
He squeezed in such a way as to force the tissues towards the front, as though they were large tubes of toothpaste, for example.
The frontal curve of each mound grew ... swelled to gargantuan proportions.
He squeezed harder ... the mounds continued to swell ... while the flesh at the base of her breasts shrank, diminished ... and he had an idea.
This was something he'd never seen done although pictures of the deed had crossed his gaze now and again.
There was a smaller coil of rope on the table, which he'd passed over before, due to its being much narrower than the rope he'd used.
But now he saw that such a narrow rope could be effective. More so, even than the wider version.
He retrieved the rope, uncoiled it, and reached out for her tits again.
Her eyes were wide and wild with fright. She kept looking to Jonah, screaming through the gag at him.
He said nothing, which was all Dexter needed to continue.
He wrapped the rope around her right breast, one time.
This was going to be a little confusing.
How did one bind tits? Particularly tits as bindable as these.
He knew that there was a way to do it that would maximize her pain and suffering, and he suddenly felt determined that he would locate it.
He pulled tight, tried tying the rope in a knot, but found that it was ineffective.
The coil continued to slide up towards the front of her tit.
Okay. Another approach was called for.
Her tits both stuck straight out, and despite the shaking that continually ran through her body now, they were virtually perpendicular with the axis of her back.
He lay the rope over the top of her tits, leaving an equal portion to hang down on either side of her titanic set.
So far, so good. He looped each side around one breast, then focused again on her right mound, pushing his hands against the base, forcing the tissues within towards the front once more.
He looped the rope again, pressed harder, squeezing more and more of the tissue towards the front.
Four coils around the mound of flesh, and the natural friction from the pressure of the rope began to hold the bottom coils firmly in place.
He looped the rope a couple more times.
Already the frontal curve was tight, her nipples had swollen to almost twice their normal size and the hue had darkened to a deep crimson.
He let go of the rope and to his satisfaction, the coils held in place.
He now repeated this process on her left breast.
He kept returning to her right mound, however, pulling harder and harder, keeping more and more of her taut flesh in check with the terrible coils of that thin, biting rope.
Finally, both her breasts were bound, and the coils that were around the bottom halves of each mound were rock-solid.
The thickness at these points was nearly half what it was under normal circumstances
Meanwhile, the portion in front seemed to have swelled, like balloons filled with water.
By now they were turning a deep blue.
Dexter re-wound the ropes back over the same portions of her breasts, tightening harder and harder as he did so, squeezing them all the more cruelly.
Her head was thrown back in a pose of sheer, unfettered agony.
Her entire body was pulled tight.
He finished by wrapping the loose ends each around both breasts, pulling hard and knotting them off.
Her tits were totally bound, and when he touched them, he felt as though he were touching objects made of plastic, they were so stiff at the surface.
He slapped her nipples.
Her body jerked violently.
He slapped her breasts.
She jerked again.
He stepped back, looked her over, reached between her legs and found the comforting moisture and dew gathered there, and knew once again that she was responding.
Perhaps not in the manner that she would have preferred, but she was indeed responding.
He slipped a finger over her clit and found it to be nearly as hard as the front portions of her breasts.
He pressed his thumb and forefinger against it and pinched it.
She screamed, and this time, despite her gag, the sound was loud and passionate.
He removed his fingers from her clit, went back to the table and realized now that anything was possible for him. He was capable of ill ... of anything that struck his fancy. This claim he could not have made when he first entered the room.
But then, she'd merely been a naked girl then. Now she was his possession. He owned her, he dominated her, and she existed solely to serve his purpose.
He studied the nipple clamps.
Similar in design to a clothespin, it was far more diabolical and fiendish in concept.
The jaws each were jagged, fitting one into the other like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle.
The spring was strong.
He pressed it, opened the jaws, felt a twinge of nervousness when he realized how strong the jaws were capable of pressing together, and then he took both clamps over to the bound girl.
She stared, tried to draw away, eyes wide with fear.
He held the clamp out to her nipple, opened it ... set the jaws around the hard bud of taut flesh ... and slowly closed it.
It was easy to measure the increasing pressure as the jagged, pointed teeth of each jaw bit more and more deeply into her flesh.
She screamed in mindless pain now.
He released the clamp altogether, and her body shook with several violent shudders.
She paused, breathed in deeply through her nose and started to squirm and shake once more.
He opened the other clamp.
"Now for the other one," he said.
Tears, hot and salty, streamed down her cheeks now.
He let the sharp teeth of the nipple clamp close around her nipple ... tighter ... tighter ... tighter ...
The pain must have assumed proportions of white noise in her head, forcing her response right off the scale.
For she stopped moving altogether, though her breath still came in short, choppy, tortured bursts of explosive energy.
Her muscles spasmed randomly, but one had the feeling that she was no longer in control of her body.
He examined each nipple now.
The teeth were indeed biting deeply into the surface of her flesh, distorting the shape of her nipples ... but the skin was not yet broken. There was no blood.
That suited Dexter. He wasn't a butcher, after all.
He stepped back now, trying to decide what, in fact, he was.
A beast, was what he was beginning to feel like.
The Great Beast, and this his Lady Babalon, absorbing the forces of her body, transcending them, rising through their power up through the spheres.
He focused now on the red meat of her cunt.
Her legs were spread from the position in which he tied her feet.
Her body was stretched painfully, hips thrust forward in an awkward position.
He ran his fingers through her cunt once more, shoving them deeply into her moist flesh now.
The hole remained soft and pliant, yielding and willing.
Two fingers.
Now the forefingers of each hand, pulling in opposite direction, increasing the pressure in small increments.
She opened ... far.
The dildo on the table was huge. One of the largest he'd ever seen.
With the same oil he'd used on her buttocks he coated the full length of the dildo, then rubbed a handsome portion over the surface of her cunt slit.
Her lips were already quite wet from her own juices, but now they were saturated.
He rubbed the dildo through her cunt, pushing up into her, pulling away ... pushing back into her again.
The thing was wider by far than his own cock.
It was wider, he was willing to bet, than any cock she'd ever had up inside her cunt.
He pushed.
The thick glands shoved against the rim of her cunt hole, opening it, but it remained too wide to enter.
He pulled back, then shoved forward again.
The thing progressed a little farther this time.
Again.
Back.
Again, even farther, and this time he could tell that her juices, mixing with the oil, was producing a lubricant that virtually removed all friction.
Her flesh was already quite moist, quite soft.
He pushed the dildo against her harder ... and harder ...
She cried hard, but her hips rolled in an almost obscenely lewd manner, as though she wanted to force as much pressure against her cunt as she possibly could.
He twisted the dildo against her cunt now, pulling back, pushing forward.
The thing was nearly halfway inside her cunt by this time.
He pulled back out ... then he adjusted the angle of approach, having hit an obstruction.
That did it.
She yielded and opened her body to him, and nothing could prevent it this time.
The thing slid all the way up inside her.
All the way.
Her cunt walls spread aside, and finally the thing was pushing directly against the back wall.
And there is seemed that he would meet his match, for no amount of pressure or prompting seemed able to coax her cunt to admit more of the massive phony cock.
He would split her wide open, by God, before he'd admit defeat.
He picked up the riding crop while still shoving the dildo into her pussy.
He said, "Relax, and loosen your cunt walls, or I'll have to punish you."
She tried to answer. It was impossible, of course, but he could make out the gist of what she was trying to tell him. It was impossible, he could yield no more. He'd reached the limits of her body.
That, Dexter knew, was balderdash. You could stretch a cunt almost infinitely, so long as it was done by degrees.
Okay, so now he was going to lay the degrees on one right after the next.
Hard. Really hard.
He pushed ... and at the same time he cracked the riding crop across the blue tips of her breasts.
As he expected, she thrust her hips out in a sudden violent reaction to the increase in pain.
The dildo entered a bit farther. This produced even greater pain, and she once again jerked, and once again shoved her hips forward.
Three more of these, and the dildo was in. All the way. He checked to make certain that there was nothing truly ruptured, found her intact, and then turned his attention to those delightful breasts of hers.
He swung the riding crop with reckless, wild abandon, cracking it across the exposed top of her breasts.
First the right.
Then the left.
Then both at once.
Over and over.
Again and again.
Showing her no mercy.
She screamed, she begged, she pleaded, and it was all to no avail.
He was an avenging angel of doom now, past all need to prove himself to Jonah Sands.
Indeed, the old man sitting in the corner had virtually slipped from his thoughts.
Dexter no longer really cared about him.
If the bastard turned him down ... what of it.
He'd been given the most exciting experience of his entire life in this room ... it was one he'd never forget ...
CRACK-K!!
And again, CRACK-K!!
The clamps on her nipples were biting into her flesh now.. There was a droplet of blood forming.
Crack-K!
CRACK-K-K!!
He pulled the dildo out and cracked the riding crop up into her crack, laying on one, then two, then three, then four solid strokes, bringing each one in a sharp upper cut against her swollen, aroused clit.
She shuddered once, violently, then went totally still, sagging from the ropes like a flag when the wind dies.
Dexter realized that he'd come again. The load was slight, but undeniably it was dribbling down his leg.
He stepped away, suddenly frightened by her motionless form.
"My God ... " he said.
He heard a sound behind him.
It was Jonah.
He stepped aside. The man had a knife in his hand. He cut the ropes, she fell like an empty sack to the floor.
He picked up her hand, felt for a pulse, then nodded to Dexter.
"Wipe your cock off boy, get your clothes on, and then let's you and me go have a drink. We've got business to discuss."
CHAPTER TEN
"Hi," she said, her voice silky and sweet.
She was more spectacular than the last time Dexter had seen her.
She said, "Remember me?"
"Sure."
"I kind of thought you might have."
"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"Shouldn't I be?"
He said, "I guess so."
She was wearing a tiny bikini. So tiny he couldn't quite tell how it was staying on her body.
"Tanya, isn't it?" he asked.
"You remember my name, don't give me that shit."
She sat down next to him, pulling one of the pool chairs up to where he was stretched out on a cot.
The pool was a bright aqua, the lights making it glow like a large diamond.
He was there to discuss business. Yet, once again, Jonah had left him on the lurch.
"Speedy, my boy, you're gonna have to be patient with me," he'd said over the phone that the butler had brought out to the pool. "I'll be a little longer than I thought."
The only question that remained to be answered, as far as Dexter was concerned, was whether or not the man was getting his cock sucked by one or two whores.
"You leave the interviewing to me, my boy, and I promise you, I'll put us together a core group of sluts that'll turn this town on its ear," the man had said, and so far he seemed to be making good on his threat.
Yet there were important matters to deal with.
For example, the money.
He had a lot of it, and he was authorized to spend it, but there was nothing as of yet on which to spend it, because Jonah had final approval of the plans, and so far the man hadn't been willing to sit down and discuss anything with him.
Tanya said, "He's doing it again, isn't he?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Gimme a break, you know damn well you didn't come out here to swim. You came here to do business, and he's back in town fucking some whore, isn't he?"
"You don't have a lot of respect for your father, do you?"
"Should I?"
"I don't know. It would seem to me to be a decent thing to do."
"Well ... you're right. I don't. I think he's a pig. I can't stand him."
Dexter said nothing, but he couldn't help letting his eyes roam over her body.
She said, "Well ... did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Did you come out here to swim?"
"No ... " he admitted.
"I didn't think so."
She was letting him look her over. She was inviting it, in fact.
She said, "I enjoyed the other day."
"Which day was that?"
"Fuck you."
"You did."
"See there? You do remember."
"Okay, what of it?"
"I was just being nice. I liked it, and I thought you did too."
"Well ... yeah ... "
"But ... ?"
"But what?"
"I dunno. There was a 'but' there somewhere."
"But I don't know why you did it."
She laughed.
"Asshole," she said.
"Why do you say that?"
"You really don't know?"
"Well ... okay. But I mean ... it was ... do you do that all the time?"
"Once in a while. I saw you there ... you were really cute ... I thought why not? And you proved that I was right."
"I did, huh?"
"Didn't you?"
He didn't say anything.
Already she was working her way on him again, just sitting there talking to him.
"Tell me something," he said.
"Anything. Ask and it shall be yours to know."
"Were you serious about your father?"
"You mean that he's back in town fucking a slut? Yeah. Trust me."
"You think he'll be back tonight?"
"Nope. Not until we're finished, anyway."
He stared at her.
"You're really sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"I haven't seen any reason why I shouldn't yet."
She stood up, letting him get a good look at her buns pressing against the skin-tight material of her bikini.
She said, "Come on ... come get me."
She moved towards the pool but his hand was already pulling on her bikini, hooked around the elastic waist band.
"Drag your sweet little tail back here," he said to her. "We're just getting started."
"Oooooo ... big strong man gonna do the little girl in?"
He pulled her back onto him. As she spilled into his lap her tits both flopped easily out of the skimpy string top.
She made no effort to cover them up, if, indeed, they'd been covered in the first place.
He stared at her.
She stared at him, grinning. "You're a bad little girl, you know that?" he said.
She giggled and kissed him, then threw her arms around his shoulders. "The wickedest."
"Why is that?" he asked her.
She sighed. "You ask some Godawful questions, you know that?"
She kissed him again, sucking on his tongue and lips this time, rubbing her naked tits against his shirt. "How come you still have your clothes on?" she asked.
He said, "Because you took me by surprise and I haven't had a chance to recover yet."
She said, "Well ... you're just going to have to make an effort."
Her fingers were unbuttoning his shirt, she was already running the tips down his chest hairs ...
"You're going to go into partnership with my daddy, aren't you?" she asked.
For some reason, warning bells started to go off in his head.
"How did you know that?"
"I have friends in his office."
"Who?"
She giggled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yeah ... I would. Who?"
The last thing they needed for this project was publicity. Particularly at this early a stage.
"Silly ... I know everyone in the office, and they're all totally reliable."
"Yeah? Well maybe I wasn't worried about them."
"Who then ... ? Ohhhh ... You were worried about me, huh?"
He said, "Are you trustworthy?"
She took his hand and placed it on her tits. "You tell me."
"Hmmmm ... feels pretty solid, I must admit."
"As the Rock of Gibraltar."
He squeezed ... then squeezed harder ... then had to check himself, remembering the demon that had overtaken him in Jonah's penthouse.
Three sleepless nights had followed that session, nights wracked with guilt.
Then, the demons had faded, and he'd found he could sleep again, and he supposed that experience had taught him something about himself.
And now he felt that he needed to re-learn that lesson.
Otherwise, he might find himself mutilating these sweet little tits of hers, which, actually, weren't all that little.
He squeezed harder. He remembered her words, "Do anything you want," and he waited to hear them again.
"You've been bad, huh?" he said, trying to ease into it.
"I'm always bad."
"You know what happens to bad little girls?"
"Depends on who catches them."
"Well, right now, it looks like I've caught you."
"I guess so." She was getting more and more into the breast massage he was giving her.
He made a special effort to keep the pressure soft and gentle.
Yet they were so perfect, so beautiful, so achingly right for squeezing, he couldn't help himself, and the fact that she groaned in ecstasy when he applied some stiff pressure didn't do a damn thing to cool the fires burning inside his body and mind and soul.
"You're not like other girls, you know?"
"Mmmmm ... I know. Isn't it fun?"
He squeezed harder, pinching them now with his fingers. Both hands were on them. His fingertips were pushing hard against the mounds.
She did nothing but invite more.
And more.
And still more.
"Yeah ... " she moaned. "That's right. That's just absolutely right."
He moved the tips of his fingers up to her nipples now ... pinching them just as hard as he possibly could, squeezing them, making them virtually flat.
He pulled them towards him.
The mounds of each breast elongated as he stretched them in his direction.
Then he started to shake them, violently.
As hard as he could.
Back and forth ... back and forth ...
Shaking them like one would shake a rug.
Keeping a firm grip on her nipples.
She moaned. She never stopped moaning, in fact.
She closed her eyes and seemed lost in ecstasy.
His cock was stiffening, of course. How the hell were you supposed to keep the thing under control in a situation like this?!
She felt his cock, and with her cunt seemed to seek it out, pushing against the tip, working her pelvis against the bulge in his pants.
"Um ... why don't you pull those things down, or pull that thing out ... or do something to kick this to a higher plateau?"
He looked around. "Right out here?"
"Are we going through this again? You got all bent out of shape before, didn't you? You really worry a lot."
"I'm working for your father, as you so aptly pointed out. I don't feel like getting my ass shot off."
She said, "How'd you like to get it fucked?"
"By you?"
"You see any trained sheep out here?"
"You got a point."
She reached inside his pants and started to squeeze his cock. Her fingers were delicious.
She stroked steadily, pulling on the thing, unzipping his fly finally and unbuckling his belt. She didn't bother to pull his pants down. She just opened them and pulled his cock over the elastic band of his under shorts, and then she pulled the string ties on either side of her bathing suit.
The material vanished like clouds after a storm.
She spread her legs around him and guided his cock into her pussy.
"Christ," he said in amazement as his cock slide effortlessly into her, "You're wet!"
"What did you expect? Sand?"
"Play on words?"
"Nope. Play on your cock."
She had the whole shaft inside her cunt now.
With the walls she started a rippling movement that was unlike anything he'd felt in his entire life.
She started at the front, squeezing with the rim of her cunt hole itself.
Then, just as she was relaxing that grip, she started to move the muscles just behind the rim of her cunthole, repeating the process until she had the muscles all the way at the back pressing around the base of his cock.
She was able to switch from one set to the next with rapid-fire ease.
She said, "You like that?"
He said, "I'd be a damn fool not to, don't you think?"
She giggled.
"Yeah."
She pulled her hips back again, lifting her cunt off his cock.
The shaft slid back out of her pussy ... and this time, he was ready for her. He had the head back at her hole.
He slammed his shaft up at her, slid his cock all the way in, and he felt her start to crumble.
One thing he had to say about working for her old man ... there were some really sweet fringe benefits.
EPILOGUE
Would that we could report that Dexter and his love found true happiness.
Alas, 'twas not to be the case.
She had already lost her heart to Carlos, you see, and when Jimmy Bean got pissed and decided to go after Carlos, she set Dexter up to take the rap, and he found himself in the middle of a couple of warring factions he'd never known existed.
Things got confused, but before the smoke cleared, Jonah's financing had been redirected to buy drugs from Carlos, for a quick return that never materialized, and so Dexter, realizing that he'd shot for the big target and missed by a mile, split.
Last seen, he was driving trucks out in California, using an assumed name, which we, of course, will not divulge.
