And it was dripping with gobs of love juice, that clear pre-orgasmic dropping that always signals sweet sex-and really turned this chick on.
"Beg me."
"Please fuck me? Please," she blathered, so caught up in the ecstatic pleasure of being dominated and humiliated that her speech was slurred.
"You cunt," I said, spitting venom with every syllable. I was really into it. I couldn't understand it at first. I mean, I really liked this chick.
But that was part of it, I suppose.
I rammed my hard cock into her wet pussy.
Her cunt tightened around my stiff dick as I slid in it.
The massage of her hot, wet interior was heaven.
She moaned and groaned.
Chapter One
He could have been anything-a doctor, a lawyer, or a drug dealer.
He had everything a man might want in this world.
Looks, money, brains.
But he didn't want the so-called respectable life.
He was the original bad boy.
His name was Hume. A lot of people were never too sure whether that was his first name or his last name. Maybe it wasn't really his name at all.
He ran the most exclusive sex club in New York City.
The most beautiful women in the world-and the most experienced cocksmen in the country-frequented his parlor of orgiastic thrills.
And I was out to see to it that his days were numbered.
Jesus. Through the whole, sordid experience, I was never sure whether or not I was the good guy or the bad guy.
All I knew was that Hume was my enemy-and that a world of sexual passions I had never dreamed of awaited me in the most fantastic episode of my career.
* * *
This new girlfriend of mine was nice. Real nice. She had a good job, good looks, and after picking her up the other night at that party, I was looking forward to seeing how well she plied the sexual skills between the sheets.
"Mmmm. Dinner was terrific," she said to me across the candle-lit table in my apartment. "I love a man who can cook."
It was something like our second date. She looked ravishing. She wore a low-cut silk blouse and a pair of leather pants.
Her hair was short and dark, and coyly fell into bangs across her forehead when she wasn't looking-like right now, when the wine seemed to have buzzed her head just a little bit.
Her eyes were big and bright, and stared at me underneath those eyebrows that arched in that way of hers.
That way that told me she was a woman who had been around-but never got jaded.
I let my eyes drop down to peer into her cleavage.
She had beautiful breasts.
Big and firm, and right about now I could see the first traces-the outlines-of her nipples beneath her blouse.
Yeah.
She and I had our minds on the same activity.
I reached across the table and touched her hand. Her fingers were long and trim, and her nails were perfectly manicured with a subtle shad of maroon polish.
Her fingers curled around mine, and she allowed herself a girlish giggle.
"You're ... you're really neat, Mark."
"You're not so bad yourself, Diane."
She looked down at the table.
"Are you really a private investigator?"
"Hah hah!" I laughed. "Nobody believes me when I tell them what I do for a living."
"Well, you don't seem like the guys on TV."
"The stuff on TV is bullshit, that's why."
"I still don't believe you. What are you really?"
I got up from the table and crossed my apartment to a nearby bookshelf". Diane followed.
The way she walked across the room was fantastic.
My penis uncurled a link inside my pants. It was only a matter of time before it would swell up into a nice, hard erection-so naturally, I knew I would have to make my move real soon.
"Here you go," I said, and showed her my license, my badge, and the certificate from the state government that made me officially a private eye.
I got a kick out of showing it to her.
"Wow," she said, feeding my ego, "I must say I am impressed."
She was standing right there in front of me. So strong, so feminine.
I placed the stuff back on the bookshelf,
I kissed her.
My lips swelled into two organs of red meat as I puckered and felt her mouth yield to mine.
I squeezed her shoulders, and caressed her smooth soft skin through the sheer, sexy satin of her blouse.
She wrapped her arms around my sides.
I felt her fingers delicately dance up and down my back.
My erection was full.
She pressed her body to mine.
I felt her breasts squeeze between us.
My cock was pressed between us as well.
"Nnnnn," she moaned affectionately as she pulled her lips back and broke off our kiss.
She smiled at me.
There was just a tiny trace of evil in her smile.
Oh, how things seemed so innocent back then.
"You really turn me on," she whispered.
With her hands clasped around the back of my neck, she kissed me once again, this one a short pop on the mouth, and then leaned back, as I held her close to me by the waist.
I stared at her tits.
I could only see the tops and the sloping sides of her breasts, but I could imagine what they looked like underneath that blouse.
I ran my palms up and down her sides.
I was careful not to touch her breasts at first.
I figured a chick like this has probably had a hundred lovers who go right for her tits and leave her feeling cold and used, unprobed-unloved.
She was worth taking my time.
So I just palmed her sides, teasing her tender underarms.
She let her head roll back, and the soft tender flesh of her neck made itself available to me.
I leaned forward and kissed the base of her neck.
I let my tongue slide out of my mouth.
I guess it was when the tip of my tongue probed her earlobes that she gave me that strange sound-that little gurgle-that told me I had sent a shiver or three up her well-curved spine.
Then I stuck my tongue into her ear and tickles her that way.
"Ohhhh!" she grunted, and pulled away.
She stood there, broken out in a blush.
She had a big smile on her face-one of pleasant surprise.
"Nobody ever did that to me before."
"It's about time, then."
Diane was not one to play games.
She knew what I wanted. And she knew what she wanted.
Sex.
Raw and unfettered. Free and easy.
The kind adults like.
She stepped forward and placed her hands on my sides.
As we began to kiss, I could feel her groping her way down my sides, ever so slowly, to my crotch.
My eyes closed.
Her tongue came through my lips and explored my teeth, my gums.
I felt her tongue lick gently at the roof of my mouth.
Then her tongue fell upon mine as both our mouths opened wide.
Our saliva must have mixed as we tickled and thrilled each other orally.
All the while, I heard her moan and groan in that sexy, delightful way that I'll always remember.
Then I felt her cup her hand over the bulge in my pants.
My erect cock was hard--and hot.
Her touch made me shiver with delight.
She held it, as if it were sacred to her.
I let my own hand dive down deep, and I felt her leather-covered apex even as we stood there, making out.
Our kiss eventually broke.
She stepped back.
My dick made a big obvious bulge in my pants^ like someone had shoved a thick tube of meat in between the material and my leg.
She looked at it.
I was not ashamed.
I was proud.
Proud to show off my hard-on to this exceptionally stacked lady.
"Here-this ought to make it a little less painful," she said.
Diane reached down and, through my pants, pushed my erect cock up into the good old vertical position underneath the line of my fly.
It did feel much more comfortable there.
"Mmmmm, thanks," I said, and French kissed her again, this time, ramming my tongue almost all the way down her throat, feeling her resistance fade away.
I knew she was mine.
Mine to toy with, to tease, to touch.
Every bit as I much as I was hers.
Yeah, things were pretty innocent back then.
She then broke away from me and walked over to the large window.
She pulled the curtains closed.
She just stood there.
I walked over to her and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.
I saw a flash of shiny sheer pink satin.
It was her bra.
The kind of bra a woman wears when she is out to get some sex.
God, I don't know what it is about women in sexy underwear, but it sure makes my cock rock hard.
I unbuttoned the rest of her buttons.
She threw her head back and shook her shoulders and her blouse slid off.
She caught the garment in her one hand and threw it onto a nearby chair.
She stood before me, a vision of ripe hot sex, wearing leather pants, high heels, an ear-to-ear smile, and a sheer French bra. Nothing else, really.
Her waist was slim, and curved. Magnificently.
Her tits were perfectly shaped.
They were big, sure, but their most outstanding characteristic was not simply their size.
Oh, no.
It was the fact that they were so perfectly shaped.
Round and ripe.
From a full-on view, they appeared to be as two fleshy basketballs.
As she turned her body seductively, I could see a hint of a profile view.
Those two boobs sloped down from her collarbone perfectly into two neatly-pointed lobes.
And that cleavage was deep, and beckoned.
Diane pulled me close to her and began to unbutton my shirt even as she was kissing my neck with those wet, slobbering lips.
When her tongue darted about my collarbone, I felt my shirt fall open.
Soon, I was bare-chested, stripped to the waist.
"You make me hot-and hard, you little tease."
"You can touch my tits if you want to," Diane said, making fun of my slow, poised style of making out.
"Don't rush me, girl," I chided right back.
I pressed my palms against her breasts and felt her nipples swell to erection against my palms.
I pulled my palms back, so that only the bra-covered heads of her nipples dragged against my flesh.
I wanted more.
So I pulled off her bra, and she stood before me, her naked breasts beckoning me.
She was proud of her beautiful tits.
She exposed them well.
She arched her back so subtly.
This thrust her tits upward, and forward.
They were like two snacks-two morsels of tempting sexual feed that dangled before my salivating mouth.
I wanted to lick them, to suck them.
I began to fondle them, feeling their warmth and their resilient glory beneath my touch.
My touch, the touch of heaven, for Diane swooned at the incredible sensations that having a man feel up her tits gave her.
She responded by running her fingers through my chest hair, scintillating my skin with the passion that her fingertips knew how to provide.
Her fingertips chanced across my nipples, and my cock danced, hard, inside my pants.
I began to rub her tits in earnest.
I squeezed them.
I kneaded them like loaves of bread.
They were wonderful.
I let her nipples poke through my fingers.
My boner ached.
She bent down and kissed me slowly on the nipple, and then looked at me with those big eyes of hers.
Her lips pouted.
"Let's make love, you hard-on," she said to me, as matter-of-factly as if she were reporting the weather.
We went into the bedroom.
As she walked, her tits bounced.
Her ass rocked to and fro.
That slim waist and those buoyant hips really brought out the sexiest in the leather that clung so tightly to her skin.
The next thing I knew, she was facing away from me, and those leather pants were sliding off, crashing noiselessly to the floor.
Her ass was naked.
Save for a pair of panties that matched her bra- the bra that was now but a fading memory.
She turned around.
God, the sight of her, naked in nothing except that underwear.
Droplets of pre-cum were forming at the head of my erect cock, and staining my pants.
I could feel the warm and then cold sensation where the little puddle of love juice was forming.
I saw that her panties were bone dry.
I would take care of that-real soon.
Real soon.
I couldn't keep my hands off her.
I grabbed her, kissing her, pawing her flesh like an animal.
The feeling of her hot, tender skin yielding to my muscular grasp made me a violent beast of sex.
I licked her.
Then I got down on my knees in front of her.
There's something about going down on a sexy broad that I really love, that really makes my cock tingle.
I don't know why. The supplication, the degradation, the power trip-hell, I don't understand that psychological crap.
All I know is this.
When I kissed her twat through her satin panties, I became charged with a millions volts of sonic boom.
Again and again.
I plied my lips around her vulva, and pinched a panty-sandwich in my teeth.
I gave her twat-lips a gentle bite through her panties, and she gave out a squeal.
A squeal!
Shit.
I was onto something.
I did it again, biting harder.
I let my jaw tighten as my teeth sank into the panties, and into the furry flesh underneath.
She gripped my shoulders, and started to dig her nails into my muscles.
"Oh, Jesus, yes!" she cried.
I inhaled through my nose.
My nostrils caught the sweet, animal scent of juicing cunt.
Hot cunt.
I nuzzled her panty-covered beaver, my cheek rubbing against the stray curls of pubic hair that surrounded her bush.
She moaned, and I could feel her resting her weight on my shoulders while she went weak in the knees.
"Hurt me, Mark-hurt me again."
Hey.
Now this was a chick I longed to fuck.
This was something new to me.
I knelt before her, and ripped her panties off with one deft tug at her sides.
Her naked cunt smiled before me.
It was all pink and fleshy and hairy-and nice, just plain nice.
I dove in and slurped up her pink ribbons-her cunt lips-between my lips.
I took in a nice tasting of pussy juice.
Loved it. Loved the taste. Always have. Always will.
I knew what she wanted.
I took her tender pink ribbons between my teeth.
I bit, slowly at first.
I wiggled my jaw back and forth as I applied more and more pressure to her sensitive little pussy lips.
"Sssssss!" she gasped, inhaling through clenched teeth.
I chewed as a schoolboy would chew his pencil. I left little teeth marks, I am sure, up and down the length of her pussy ... I have to admit I was a little hesitant at first.
Hurting women was new to me.
Oh, it seemed exciting and thrilling to finally find a chick who was uninhibited-daring-yes, even kinky.
But I didn't want to-er, you know ... .well, you understand.
In any case, the more I bit her-the more pussy scent I could smell.
The more I could begin to feel wet sticky goo drip from her twat and slide across my cheek.
And I'll tell you-that made my hard cock sizzle with heat.
Diane gripped my shoulders and her knees buck-led.
"Oh-oh, Jesus, God, Jesus," she sputtered through a dry mouth that told me one thing.
She was having an orgasm.
I took my mouth away from her cunt and looked up at her.
She was broken out in a deep blush.
Her breasts hung down, pendulous at me.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"Uhm ... " She began to speak, and I stood up, placing my arms around her shoulders and giving her a loving squeeze.
There was a silence in the air.
I rubbed my pelvis against hers, grinding my hard cock into her wet pussy-through my pants.
"Mark, would you tie me up?"
I guess there was a dumb moment of disbelief.
I just watched her slink over to the bed.
She stretched out, naked on the bed.
Her big tits floated on top of her chest like mounds of gorgeous sex.
She spread her legs wide.
Her cunt was dripping a little bit,
"Go get my bra, lover."
I walked into the other room and got the bra that she had left behind.
I knew what to do.
I gathered up her panties, too.
She extended one arm up to the right.
Carefully, I tied her wrist to the bedpost with the pink, shiny satin bra.
I made sure the bond was secure-and firm.
I made sure the elastic strap cut into her wrist just a little bit-just enough to hurt.
This was neat.
Then I tied her slightly-soiled underwear to the other bedpost, her other wrist with it.
I looked over my handiwork.
I saw a gorgeous sexy broad, naked and hungry for sex, tied by the wrists to my bed.
With her arms stretched out to the sides like that, her tits seemed bigger-more like the ripe drops of honey that I dreamed of sucking.
Her legs were still free-but she was powerless to make her own will felt, what with her arms bound.
It was time to tease her-degrade her.
Make her burn inside for my hungry, hard cock.
I turned around.
Just as she had done before, I let my pants fall off, showing off my naked ass to her.
You see, I'm not the kind of guy who always wears underwear. And underneath my pants that night was nothing except my naked member.
I stepped out of the crumpled heap of trousers on the floor.
I turned around I showed her my cock.
It was big-about nine inches.
And thick.
It was bright red and hard-hard with the erectile tissues that made me a man-a man to conquer this naked, helpless woman.
My cock stuck out from my middle like a flagpole.
It shook back and forth, trembling in mid-air. I could feel its weight.
Crowning my erect cock was my puffed-up male head.
At the smiling slot in the tip of my cock formed a droplet of clear pre-orgasmic love juice.
She picked her head up off the bed and stared at my naked cock.
"Ohhh," she moaned, "God I want it so."
"Well, you can't have it-yet."
"Please? Let me suck it? Let me kiss it?"
"Maybe."
"Oh, God, Mark, I want to suck your cock!"
I got on the bed and straddled her.
My trembling erection hovered over her naked body.
She was so helpless.
God, it was like a whole new kind of sex.
I spread my fingers wide and my hands landed on top of her tits.
I massaged them, and she moaned.
I rubbed them, and her head rocked back and forth against the pillows.
Then I squeezed them-hard.
"Whaaa-ooww! Oh yes, yes God!"
Then I took her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
I rolled the erect little head of red flesh-back and forth.
I pinched it tighter and tighter.
I pinched it hard between my thumb and forefinger-torturing the poor titty-head.
Then I bowed my head and fed this same nipple to my lips.
I sucked it and licked it, as if to kiss a wound to make it better.
She seemed to really like the on again, off-again cruelty and seduction.
Then I bit her nipple between my teeth.
First I sucked in a whole mouthful of tit, and then I bit just her nipple, making sure I applied the painful pressure to the entire red nub of tit-meat.
I bit her nipple, holding it between my teeth, and flicking the tip of my tongue against its very tip.
Underneath me, her legs-which had not been bound-starting kicking and shaking.
I sat, sliding my ass way back on top of her so that I could still reach her tits with my mouth.
"Unnngh," she moaned, "Suck me, Mark. Suck my nipple all night. Do it. Oh, God, do it to me all night long ... !"
I did.
I sucked that nipple, and then let my whole mouth go loose and my wet lips and tongue lapped over and over the mountains of tit that fate had placed before me.
My erect cock was pressed-sandwiched between out pelvises.
My balls were hot, and hung down underneath my boner.
For the next few minutes there was nothing else in the world except our hot, heavy sex-liberally dotted with loving cruelty.
Oh, it felt good, all right.
Real good.
For both of us.
Little did I realize that this was only just the beginning.
Chapter Two
I don't know how long we went at it that night.
All I know is that it was great.
It was new for me, this cruelty-this pain mixed with the pleasure.
I remember straddling Diane as she lay on my bed bound by the wrists to the bedposts.
I loved watching her amusedly as her legs kicked and shook under the tempting teases I tossed her way.
Sometimes I would bite her nipples or her pussy lips and then let up, just watching her as she begged me to fuck her.
Tears streamed down her cheeks when I was finally ready to shove it in.
My cock was hard.
Harder than it had ever been before.
And it was dripping with gobs of love juice, that clear pre-orgasmic dropping that always signals sweet sex-and really turned this chick on.
"Beg me."
"Please fuck me? Please, "she blathered, so caught up in the ecstatic pleasure of being dominated and humiliated that her speech was slurred.
"You cunt," I said, spitting venom with every syllable. I was really into it. I couldn't understand it at first. I mean, I really liked this chick.
But that was part of it, I suppose.
I rammed my hard cock into her wet pussy.
Her cunt tightened around my stiff dick as I slid in it.
The massage of her hot, wet interior was heaven.
She moaned and groaned.
It must have felt pretty intense from her point of view-first having her pussy lips tortured with biting teeth-and then soothed with the stroking of a hot, hard prick like mine.
I jammed my cock in all the way.
Her eyes widened, and she lay there motionless for the first time since we had started making love.
She shook.
She quivered.
She came.
Again and again.
I gripped her tits in my palms and squeezed so hard that I thought my fingertips would rend her flesh.
I pulled my cock out-all but the head.
The slippery wetness made squishing noises as I jammed my cock in and out, in and out.
Harder and harder I fucked her.
She screamed.
Not a moan or a grunt-but a scream-like the shrill piercing scream of a woman whose very being was being torn apart.
Yeah.
Diane was in ecstasy.
So was I.
I felt my muscles tighten and my thoughts go blank as the all-pervading joy of male orgasm came over me.
I shot.
I could feel the rush of semen through my penis.
It felt good.
Damn good.
I thrust my cock back and forth, in and out, even as I shot my wad.
Then I slammed it inside her for one last time.
"Best goddamn fuck of my life," I muttered as I finally collapsed in a heap on top of her and we fell asleep.
* * *
"How do you like your eggs?"
"I like 'em poached-but most guys don't know how to poach eggs."
"I'm not most guys," I said to Diane, who sat across from me at the breakfast table, and prepared her poached eggs.
She was wearing an old bathrobe of mine. It was an old terrycloth number-hut it looked cute on her, all floppy and oversized and sexy as hell.
She knew how to wear it, too.
Her tits were only partially obscured by the fold of the lapels.
"You were great last night," Diane said.
"You were too," I said, kissing her on the forehead as I served her eggs and poured us another couple of cups of coffee.
We sat down to eat our breakfast. The sun was shining in through the window. It was a great morning.
She still had little red marks around her wrists where the satin underwear had bit into her flesh.
Then came the heavy moment.
It started with a casual remark.
"Uhm, do you ever go to any sex clubs, Mark?"
"Once. Never again."
"There's one I've heard about that I want to go to, but it's for couples only. And; to be honest with you-"
"Yes?"
"I've never met I guy I thought I could take to this place. Before I met you, that is."
Shit.
My one experience with a sex club before I had met Diane was one of the seediest, most disappointing nights of my life-and one of the most expensive.
I was not keen on this idea-but she kept talking, and I was crazy enough about this chick to listen.
"It's on the East Side, a really nice address. My friend Kate and a couple of girls I know swear that it's a terrific place."
"So how come I'm the first guy you'd want to take to this place," I asked her, fishing for a compliment for my insatiable ego.
"Because it's kind of an S-and-M club."
"Kind of?"
"Ok. It's an S-and-M club. But it's not full of weird fags in chains and leather. Honest. It's supposed to be really neat."
"I don't know, Diane. Sounds kind of heavy-especially because we just met."
She looked disappointed and got real quiet.
She just sipped her coffee.
A few minutes passed. She nibbled her toast while I filled the air with some stupid conversation about politics.
I could see she wasn't listening.
Then she spoke again.
"Got something against S-and-M?"
"It kinda freaks me out, to be honest."
"It didn't seem to freak you out last night."
She had a point there.
"Yeah, well, that was different."
She got up from the table.
"Hey, what's wrong? What did I say?"
She dressed in the other room, and the next I saw of her, she had her coat on and was about to exit my apartment.
"Meet me here on Friday night," she said and handed me a small card. A business card.
She kissed me on the neck right below my ear, opened the door, and left.
I stood there in my bathrobe, dumbfounded.
I read the card.
Hideaway with Hume
Providing discriminating adults with exotic pleasures for over ten years
227 East 68 Street
By appointment only
Major credit cards honored.
I couldn't take my mind off Diane or this card for the whole week.
Friday night came.
I showed up at the door.
Decent looking place at first.
There was the usual bouncer at the door, and the coat check room, and the front corridor. It looked pretty much like any other New York City nightclub.
As soon as I was about to enter the main part of this underground den of cruel fun, two women appeared at my sides to escort me to, I assumed, my table.
One of them was short and small-about five foot three. She was stacked, though-two huge tits were squeezed into her leather halter top, and an ass that could stop traffic threatened to tear a short leather skirt apart.
Her head was shaved in a spiked Mohawk, dyed blonde with bright red tips.
Concentric lines of bright green and Day-Glo pink eyeliner surrounded her eyes.
Bright blue lipstick-and more earrings on either ear than I could count. No two of them matched, by the way.
She wore a dog collar around her neck, and high heeled leather boots on her feet.
A small diamond stud pierced the side of her nose.
Her skin was pale, and somehow shiny.
The chick had the look of a hot sex goddess in heat.
The other babe who grabbed me gently by the arm was taller.
She was bare-chested-that's right, she proudly wore her naked tits in the line of performing her club.
Half of her head was shaved short, and the other half hung down in a sweep of bright-orange curls down her naked shoulder.
She wore a pair of black jeans.
And bright red sequined shoes.
The kind that turn me on.
As these two luscious babes escorted me into the center "chamber," the introduced themselves.
"I'm Heather, and this is Cucumber."
"Nice to meet you, girls. My name is ... uhm ... Mark."
It took me a second to figure out if I wanted to give them my real name or not-but somehow everyone was anonymous and equally respected in this land of no apologies.
Hey, it was cool.
I guess everyone is nervous at first, right.
"Table for how many?" Heather asked me.
"Well, two."
"This way," she said.
As these two hot babes escorted me to my table, my cock bulged underneath my pants in the sproutings of a hard-on.
How could I help but get hard?
Cucumber kept pressing her naked tits into my shoulder, and I could feel those erect nipples poke through my shirt.
And Heather's ass bumping next to mine made me feel even hornier.
They sat me down at a nice little cocktail table.
In the middle of this room was a stage, surrounded by tables.
Some of the other people at the tables were in various stages of undress.
The sweet smoky smell of reefer could be detected.
There was nobody on stage-in fact, the stage was dark.
I wondered in my mind about what kind of entertainment we would be witness to this evening!
Heather-she was the short one-bent over the table as Cucumber pulled my chair out so that I could sit down.
As she bent over, her tits swung low in front of my face.
I thought they were going to fall right out of that leather top.
"Now if there's anything you need, we're your hostesses this evening, just ask, and we'll provide whatever we can."
"Thank you," I said, and pulled out a five dollar bill. I rolled the five dollar bill up into a tight cylinder and jammed it right between her tits.
"First, I'd like a vodka and tonic. Also, please leave word at the door for my date that I've already arrived. Her name is Diane."
Cucumber smiled.
"Oh, yes! We know Diane. Sure."
They knew Diane? That bitch! She lied to me! She led me to believe that she had never been here before! She even told me that she was waiting for the right guy to take here!
I ran through our whole breakfast conversation in my mind.
I was ticked off-and that chick was gonna have some explaining to do.
But I did not want to get so angry that I would spoil a good time. I smiled up at Heather, who was still bent over the table.
Heather said "Thanks, relax, and we'll see ya," and kissed me right on the lips.
That made me forget all about being angry at Diane! Shit! One kiss from that little fox and my cock was thundering to watch some hot sex-and the meaner the action, the better.
The music came on.
Madonna. "Talk to Me."
The way I like my music. Danceable. Hot. The beat came bumping up through the stereo system, not too loud, just enough to bolster the erotic atmosphere.
The houselights grew dim as Heather brought me my drink. She slinked away from my table, but not before she gave the back of my ear a quick lick with her fully extended tongue.
I wondered if there was something special about me she liked or if she treated all her customers that way.
Red and blue lights lit the stage as the music got louder and three dancers strode onstage.
They were pretty good.
Two black chicks and a black guy.
The black chicks were of course big-breasted and rocked their hips on perfect synchrony.
The black guy strode out onto the stage and paced around them to the beat of the music.
He was a muscular fucking dude.
He wore a black leotard and his head was shaved.
I had never really had much homosexual leaning in my life-in fact, I had always found the idea of sex between men distasteful-but I remember what my most immediate thought was.
Shit, I thought. I wouldn't mind fucking this guy.
He was that sexy.
His muscles rippled and his sinews popped through his sleek brown skin under the heat of the nightclub stage lights.
The dance steps began to tell a story-whoever choreographed this thing was no slouch.
The chicks bent in supplication in front of the guy as he uncoiled a leather whip and threatened them with it.
Some asshole from the audience yelled out "do it!"
But every pass of the whip-or the back of the guy's arm-turned out only to be a tease.
It was building-I wanted to see him draw a little blood.
I was really caught up in the entertainment.
I remember I reached down under the table and started to feel my cock through my pants.
It took a lot of will power to keep from just jerking myself off right then and there.
The two black chicks got down on the floor on their backs.
The black dud flexed his whip.
Crack!
At first I thought he had really delivered a searing blow.
But all that happened was that this one black girl's leotard popped open in front-and her tits came tumbling out.
Great bit, I thought to myself.
Great bit.
Then I heard a voice, through the music and the noise of the crowd.
"Hey, lover!"
It was Diane.
She strode in, and walked toward my table, where she sat down.
She looked dynamite.
She wore a black leather jacket with zippered pockets up and down the front and both sleeves.
Her hair enveloped her face.
She was all smiled and energy.
And, that I could tell, she wasn't wearing any thing underneath that leather jacket except a heavy silver crucifix around her neck.
"Like the place so far?"
Like a kid who had just been presented with a tray of candy, I couldn't think of much to say that was witty or conversational.
"Seems all right so far," I said, smiling broadly. "Let's get you a drink."
Diane looked up and Heather came over to our table.
The girls didn't exchange hellos, but you could tell that they had met many times before.
"Vodka and tonic."
"Cucumber tell me you're a regular," I said, breaching the subject.
Diane looked sheepish.
"Ok, I admit it. I used a line on you."
"A line? Yeah, right."
"I just wanted to you come along here, and I didn't want you to think I was-well, you know."
"I'll let it pass, Diane, this time," I said, "But only because you're giving me the rock hard erection of my life."
She pulled her chair closer to mine and rested her hand on my thigh.
"Shouldn't of told me that!" she said, and gave me a kiss.
As we watched the dancers onstage, I could feel Diane fingering my erect penis through my pants.
The music changed, and with it, the dance got a little bit more ... intense.
The black dude pulled a long white rope out of a bag he wore at his waist.
The two black women-now almost totally naked-met back to back in the middle of the stage, where they shook their hot asses together.
In time to the music, the guy wrapped the white rope around the women as they twirled slowly around and around.
I remember the feelings I experienced as I watched it.
As I watched the black guy tie the women together.
As I watched the rope dig in to the soft, black tits.
This was no video.
This was live.
In front of me. Me and Diane.
I watched the rope make its indentations- folding in against that black tit.
Pressing in against that dark brown nipple.
Diane's hand was on my penis.
She was gently rubbing my hard on.
I let my hand creep down into her crotch under the table.
Even through her tight jeans, her crotch was warm.
Hot.
I jammed my fingers down in there.
She responded by uncrossing her legs and spreading her thighs a little wider open.
I spread my palm flat across the expanse of her inner thigh.
I slowly massaged her thighs.
Even as we watched the black dancer knot the rope that bound one Negress to the other.
I could feel Diane pressing the heel of her hand harder and harder into the base of my cock.
She knew her hand-job technique, all right.
This way she could drive me wilder and wilder with lust-and at the same time stave off the flow of semen that would have me cum too soon.
God, it was great.
I didn't want it to end.
So what if she had lied to me? I forgave her.
The black dancer made a double knot.
Then he brought the rope up between the women's legs.
That's right.
We watched in hard, horny fascination as the rope cleaved the cunts of the back-to-back Nubians.
I watched the look of pain-of exquisite agony on the one girl's face while Diane whispered something into my ear.
"Look, Mark-the guy has a hard-on."
Sure enough I caught the bulge underneath the guy's leotard.
I saw the shape of it under the clinging garment.
I saw the outline of his erect penis.
It was huge.
It was pressed back against his crotch, pointed outward toward the side of his leg.
I felt Diane take her hand off my own stiff rod.
I realized what she was doing.
I felt the pressure of my pants ease up.
She was unzipping my fly.
Then she popped the top button of my pants open.
She dug her hand slowly into my open fly.
I felt her warm, loving fingers caress my hard cock.
She whispered into my ear.
With hot, heavy breath.
"Mmm, I love your cock."
If she hadn't started squeezing me a little bit harder, I would have shot right then and there.
And harder.
I felt her fingers curl underneath the tube of my penis.
I felt her nails start to dig in a little bit.
It hurt a little.
A sweet, seductive little hurt.
The kind of pain that makes it serious sex.
Slowly she grabbed my hard on tighter.
I wondered if she would go beyond my threshold of pain.
I wondered how sadistic this chick really could be.
I had the briefest flash of a fantasy that she wanted to rip my cock right off.
And my balls?
My hot, stinging balls?
They wanted her as much as the rest of me.
They wanted her tits-her flesh, her pussy.
The music swelled, and soon the dancers were finished.
Without warning, Diane took her hand off my hard prick, and started to applaud the dancers as if nothing between the two of us had ever happened.
Say, this WAS a teasing bitch.
But I couldn't complain.
I was into it.
I wanted more-more-MORE.
I wanted to be humiliated-^-degraded-abused.
I wanted the kind of sex that I came here for.
I pulled my hand up from underneath thee table and joined the rest of the audience in applauding the S-and-M dancers.
When the applause died down, the announcement came that the next show would be at midnight.
"The midnight show here is really fine," Diane whispered to me.
I took advantage of the moment to zip back up my fly and tuck my hard on away for the moment.
Diane and I looked at each other.
"You look great, you sexy bastard," she said to me and kissed me.
"How've you been?"
"All right. Bitchy week, though. I'm ready to unwind and have some fun."
"Me too."
"Good. Wanna come upstairs and try the place out?"
We finished our drinks and stood up.
As the music came up again-this time, another fast moving number with a driving beat and a chorus of backup singers that wailed about true love-Diane led me by the hand through the crowd to the back of the club.
She led me over to a spiral staircase.
A wrought iron spiral staircase.
I looked up the winding steps.
Every few feet or so on the stone walls that encased the stairway, I could see things hanging on hooks on the walls.
Things like paddles.
Whips.
Nasty things.
For nasty little girls like Diane to use on nasty little boys like me.
Chapter Three
Diane had the sexiest ass.
As she climbed up the spiral staircase above me, I fantasized about ramming my cock inside her ass.
I would do it, too, I was determined.
The spiral staircase was pretty intense.
It reminded me of a medieval dungeon-only we were climbing up into God-knows-what, rather than downstairs into the depths.
We passed one floor, but Diane kept climbing.
"That floor sucks," she said as she hurried on up. "Be patient."
But as we passed that floor, I couldn't help but notice something strange.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man entering a door.
The guy was wearing a dark suit.
He had a blonde head of hair and a blonde moustache, and through the wave of hair that came off his forehead, he had this white streak of silver.
I recognized him.
I couldn't figure out from where.
Hell, my mind was on other things at that moment-like my rigid cock and Diane's hot body.
But that white a streak through the blonde hair-it wasn't something you see everyday-not even in New York-and it bothered me for a second where I had seen that guy before.
I let the thought pass, though, when Diane got off the staircase at the second landing.
On the second floor, the walls were faced to look like stone.
Diane led me through a narrow corridor to a room.
She knocked on the rather imposing looking door.
The door looked more like the door to a bank vault than anything else.
When she heard no answer, she took the room to be empty.
"In here," she said to me, and I followed her in.
Bare walls.
Bare floor.
Hanging on the walls were a series of rather bizarre-looking torture devices.
Straw mat on the floor.
To be perfectly honest-as much as my hard cock was aching to let me hurt her and as much as I wanted to experiment with the whole range of bizarre and wonderful sensations that a little S-and-M could provide, I was nervous.
But Diane had a way of knowing how to make me relax.
She kicked the door shut with a good healthy kick-one that showed me the power that her legs could muster.
It closed, with an appropriately heavy noise.
We were alone.
She leaned against the wall and popped a joint into her mouth from out of nowhere.
And she lit it.
As the smoke poured forth from her nostrils, I was entranced by the raw sexual presence that this woman had.
I stepped toward her and took the joint.
I toked.
Deep.
It was good shit.
Really good shit.
Really good shit indeed.
"Cock nice and hard?"
"Hard as a rock," I told her, eyeing her tits.
I finished the joint.
My head was swimming from the reefer.
So was hers.
I could tell when she was feeling loose and uninhibited.
She was turned on as I was.
I poked one finger through the ring tab at the top of the zipper that ran down the front of her leather jacket.
And I pulled it.
Slowly.
All the way down.
Her leather jacket was open all the way.
I eyed the crucifix that hung poised between her breasts.
I picked the cross up off her hot skin between my fingers, and tugged gently on it.
Her neck and head came forward with the pull, and her lips fell flush on mine.
She moaned a welcome purr of sweet comfort as we kissed.
I felt her tongue again.
I had spent the whole week missing that tongue inside my mouth-wondering when I would taste it next.
I wrapped my arms around Diane's torso inside her leather jacket.
I ground my body into hers, taking advantage of the fact that she was backed into the stone wall.
She felt my hard cock press against her clit.
I know she did.
I heard her squeal, even as I was Frenching the back of her throat with my tongue.
Eventually, our kiss broke.
I pushed the sides of her leather jacket open and grabbed her tits.
"I got a chip on my shoulder with your name on it," she said.
She started unbuttoning my shirt.
My shirt fell open and she ran her hands up and down my pecs, teasing my nipples, smoothing her delicate touch through my chest hair.
She was seductive and ruthless, this chick.
For, even as she kept rubbing my hot skin with her sexy touch, one of her hands reached up behind her and grabbed one of those interesting devices from its resting hook on the wall.
Before I knew it, she had snapped something onto my nipple.
I almost laughed. It didn't hurt-at first.
"Try and move," she said.
"Yeeaaaargh!" I cried as I felt my little titty-head ravaged by the vice like grip that this device promulgated upon its victim when mobile.
She led me around by the hand until my back was to the wall.
She clamped my other nipple with a similar device.
I was strapped to the wall by the tits.
I didn't dare move-otherwise the pain would be staggering.
Something about the position I was in really turned me on.
Being helpless.
Helpless before the taunting humiliation of this sexy hot bitch who ruled my libido.
Diane laughed evil giggles as she buckled my wrists together behind my back.
The business of shackling my hands like that required me to twist and turn-still pinioned by the nipples.
The agony.
It seared through my tits down to my bulls and flushed me with a sense of being a little sexual slave-a maggot in the dirt of this woman's lust.
She stepped closer to me.
She was inches away.
She grasped the lapels of her open leather jacket.
She pulled them back and thrust out her tits, letting her head nestle in her arched shoulders.
"Want 'em?"
Instinctively, I moved forward to suck those nipples.
When the pain hit.
"Auugh!" I grunted, and she laughed.
Laughed; throwing her head back, still jiggling her tits in front of me.
I watched her nipples grow erect.
Not just twin tips of red.
But full, ripe, rich cones of pink flesh.
I begged her to bring her tits closer to me.
Closer to my face so that I could lick them.
Suck them.
Rub my face in them.
"Here," she said.
And she kicked a footstool in front of her. Shit, I hadn't even noticed the little stool was even in the room".
She stood on the footstool until her nipples were within inches of my mouth.
My cock ached with hardness.
She reached down and unzipped my fly.
Nice of her.
"Suck me," she said.
I was completely at her mercy.
Her tits danced before me.
She shook them.
I watched her crucifix bounce back and forth between those lobes of woman-flesh.
"Suck my tits. Come on, before I lose interest."
The bitch.
I craned my neck forward.
The pain on my own nipples pinched.
Then seared.
But I wanted to suck her tits so bad.
I leaned foreword, and the shrill shock of the clamps on my tender flesh bit into me, ravaging my body and brain with the agony of an infestation of locusts.
And she stepped back, out of range.
"Aaaaa! Ah, Jesus," I wailed, tears streaming from my cheeks.
"Aw," she taunted me.
She grabbed my naked cock, which had been hanging out of my open trousers.
She held it gently.
And she got back up on the footstool.
"Here. This'll make you feel better."
She rammed her tit into my slobbering lips, like a mother offering suck to a baby.
And, like the helpless baby that I was, I sucked her tit.
It was so thrilling, so gratifying to feel the erect cone of nipple between my lips.
I slurped around it, drawing it into my wet mouth, lapping it from all sides with the tip of my tongue.
I knew at that moment that sexual pleasure is all the more intense if you've had to suffer for it.
Suffer.
The key word.
I lulled her into a sense of well-being by sucking her nipple as only I knew how.
I watched her melt.
She loved the way my tongue danced over the small red button.
The way my wet and drooling lips puckered over and over her mound of breast.
"Nnnngh," she allowed herself to grunt.
I knew she was in an erotic torpor.
I opened a little wider, and then held the nipple between my teeth.
"Oh," was the only sound that escaped her throat.
Hah.
Now I was in command.
She who had degraded me into an infantile state of blue-balled hard-onned submission would now herself be subjected to my cruel will.
With a simple bite of her nipple.
Her tit.
Her beautiful, beautiful tit.
"Sssss!" she hissed as the pain of my teeth on her tit shot through her like the cannons at the end of the 1812 Overture.
With my teeth clenched firmly on her tit-button, I still managed to speak-albeit a slightly muffled speech.
"Now ... let ... me ... out ... of ... these ... clamps ... bitch ...!"
"No."
I bit so hard I thought I would rend her flesh.
"Ack!" she gutturally grunted.
"Now!"
"Ok-ok, just, please ... ease up ... "
"No."
I felt the thrilling, almost orgasmic relief when the clasps fell from my nipples and I was free from my little prison.
I held out my hands.
She undid the buckle, and looked at me.
She batted her eyes and her lips pouted.
"You hurt me, bitch."
"I-I know."
"You're going to have to be punished."
"I know. Punish me, Mark. Make me feel the agony you felt."
"You'll feel more than the agony I felt, Diane."
I walked slowly toward her, menacing her.
I pulled my hand back and slapped her across the face.
My hard-on thundered.
I pulled my pants clean off and I stood before her naked.
We were into this dance of S-and-M.
I was finding out more about Diane-and more about myself as well.
I saw thee object I needed on the opposite wall.
"Come here, Diane. You have to be taught your lesson."
She walked casually over to where I was standing, and pulled another joint out of her pants pocket.
She lit the joint and took a puff as I slapped the iron slave collar around her pretty neck.
The iron slave collar was chained to the wall.
I grabbed the reefer from her and inhaled it deep, deep into my lungs.
I was higher than a kite.
I was Mark no longer. Now I was free and unfettered, a powerful naked paragon of sexual power.
Power.
The kind you can hurt women with.
And make them love you at the same time.
I grabbed her wrists and held them together behind her back.
Within a minute her wrists were bound behind her back.
Even as mine had been just minutes before.
With my other hand I reached for yet another marvelous device that hung conveniently on the wall.
A paddle.
Not just any paddle.
This thing was a solid piece of wood with a good sturdy leather handle.
It weighed about six or seven pounds.
Around the broad flat of the paddle was a sewn-in facing of leather.
The leather facing was dotted liberally with metal studs.
The kind men like.
I showed it to her.
I passed her the joint before it sputtered out its last few tokes.
She knelt before me.
"Do it to me, Mark."
I could smell her pussy juicing.
Sure enough, when I forced her pants open and pulled them off, the crotch was stained dark with her juices.
The scent was overpowering.
This chick was more turned on than she had ever been in her life.
She knelt in supplication before me.
My thundering hard-on dripped its drops of pre-cum right in front of her face.
"Lap them up," I commanded her.
She stared at the little gob of goo that had fallen to the cold marble floor.
"Lick it! Lick it, bitch!" I screamed, and drew my arm high up in the air.
I remember how stiff my boner was that she stared at.
All the way down came the paddle.
BAM!
I felt her flesh ache and give as the metal-studded paddle hit her ass.
It hit her buttocks and caused her deep pain.
Her mouth fell open and her eyes shut.
"Oh, Jesus, yes ... " she moaned.
Again I hit her.
And again.
Each thud that the paddle made in her soft, delicious ass-cheeks was more and more of a raw sexual thrill for my hot balls and her juicy cunt.
Soon her knees weakened, and she was a helpless gurgling child rolling at my feet on the floor.
But I would not let up.
I was relentless.
I knew she wanted it.
WHAP!
I watched her ass grow bright red.
The metal studs left their impression in the soft flesh of her butt.
She rolled over on her back.
The iron chain from the slave collar snaked its winding way along the floor next to her.
Her hands were still cuffed in the leather buckle. I brought them around from her back, though, to the front of her.
She lay on the floor, her wrists together as if in some obscene Satanist prayer.
I watched juice drip from her cunt as she came.
I got down on top of her.
I jammed my penis inside her.
"Ohh, GOD!" she cried as I fucked her with my hard cock.
Her pussy was a lot more wet than the first time I had fucked her.
This time my cock slid in and out and in and out almost effortlessly-^-almost with no friction whatsoever.
The only resistance was the undulation of her pussy walls.
With every onward thrust, she tightened her pussy just enough.
I felt her cunt massage my cock.
"Uhhh, GOD! OH JESUS!"
She was beginning to scream senselessly.
Her hands still bound, she-raised her arms above her head.
I pulled my cock out of her cunt before I came-because I wanted to tit-fuck her.
When I yanked my dork out of her beaver, it was dripping wet.
I looked at my hard-on.
It was bright red and the skin was stretched really tight.
It glistened with a thick coating of shiny, slippery pussy juice.
Some of the juice dripped off and landed in smattering splats on her belly.
I threw her goddamn crucifix on the floor, where it clinked its metallic sound.
The silver chain it was on fell in a straight line across her throat.
I slapped my prick down right between her tits.
"Mmmmmm," she moaned, my helpless captive.
I liked the feeling of my wet frictionless boner greasing up her cleavage with her own pussy juice.
I had to slide my knees up a bit to get the proper leverage.
For, I wanted to free my hands from their resting position on the floor. Why?
So I could squeeze her tits around my cock, that's why!
I pressed her tits together really tight-completely aware of the pain I was causing her tender body.
And completely aware of how much she reveled in the pain-how much she loved every thrilling, degenerate second.
I sat on her, bouncing my ass up and down on her pelvis.
I made her sore ass-cheeks bounce on the cold marble floor.
Then I paused.
"Ok, Diane."
"Anything."
I undid her hands from their buckle.
"Jerk me off until I cum all over your face."
She smiled.
"You're fantastic," she said to me, looking me straight in the eye with the honest and soulful look of a woman telling the naked truth.
She held my slippery penis in her hands.
"It's so hard," she said, admiring the way my crown hung on the end of my shaft like a red round doorknob of illicit love.
She wrapped her fingers around it with both hands and gave it a jerk in the downward direction.
Her grasp was tight.
Like a pussy with fingers.
Then she loosened her grip on the upstroke and lightly rubbed my erect boner back and forth and back and forth.
She stared at my hard cock with an almost religious gaze.
More and more she rubbed.
I felt the intensity of our experience beginning to climax for me in an all-encompassing male orgasm.
She grasped my balls in one hand and rolled them around and around in her fingers.
Even as I began to lose my grip on things, my head about to burst in the climactic moment of complete sexual gratification, she rubbed my balls against my thigh.
Her hands were wet with the juices that had soaked my boner.
The sensation of my balls being jerked and rolled in the wet grasp of hot love-even as she rubbed my cock with her fingers and palm-was beyond description.
Then she held me fast-and time stopped.
She released.
Just let go.
And she lay there, arms at her sides, while I shot cum all over her.
She let me shoot hot cum all over her naked body.
My penis jerked up and down like a fire hose at full blast with nobody to control it.
I forced my eyes to stay open as I had my orgasm.
I watched a thick blast of white jizz spurt from my cock and land right on her face.
It landed on the side of her nose, running into the corner of her mouth.
She licked and lapped it up, savoring the taste.
Another gob of cum landed right on her chin, dripping down the side of her tender, sweet neck.
More thick cream spit from my hose and spattered her tits.
I saw one drop clinging to her erect nipple.
The last few blurts of wad were the thickest, but the slowest to fall from my dripping cock.
They fell on her stomach.
I shook out the final drippings of my semen.
My erection began to fade as one drop clung by a strand to the end of my dick, and then fell with an imperceptible "plop" onto Diane's body.
Chapter Four
I sat down on the cool marble floor, exhausted.
My head was swimming from the pot, and the exertion of that wonderful brand of S-and-M left me really tired.
On top of that, I had just blasted an incredible amount of jizz from my dick.
I looked at Diane's naked and semen-splattered body.
She was out of it.
I tried hard to think-to wonder what the hell to do next.
Sure, I was having the time of my life-but being in this strange S-and-M club with this woman I had just met a week or so before-and being stoned out of my head-well, I had to try and collect myself.
Diane sat up.
I didn't even know she was still conscious.
"Mmmm," she said, reaching over and placing her hand on the back of my neck, "You are fantastic."
"Thanks," I muttered.
"Let's take a shower and have dinner."
"They have a shower here?"
Diane snickered knowingly to herself. "Oh, yeah. Wait here one sec."
I wasn't going anywhere.
Diane, still naked, stood up and undid the slave collar from around her neck.
She dusted herself off, so to speak-scooping up the occasional droplets of undried cum on her body with her fingers and popping them into her mouth.
"Mmmmm! You really are fantastic," she said, as if to compliment me on the flavor of my jizz.
She stepped over to the huge door that had closed us in this dungeon room and poked her head out.
She stepped out into the hallway.
I heard her call down the hall.
"Hume! Hume darling! Hello! Listen, my friend and I are going to freshen up for dinner-see that someone takes care of our clothes, all right? You're a darling. Catch you downstairs!"
"Hey! My wallet is in my pants," I lamely alerted her.
"Don't worry. Hume can be trusted."
"Hume the owner?"
"Owner, manager, and dungeon master," Diane said, and with that, took me by the hand and led me, naked, into another room.
The showers were hot and steamy and were just the thing I needed to re-energize my aching body.
The bathroom attendant, by the way, who handed out the towels was a small black fag-small but nicely muscled.
With a big cock hanging down underneath his loincloth.
Diane and I took a nice long shower, taking turns washing each other's genitals.
Funny thing. My cock was limp as a noodle after that incredible fuck-session-and my balls ached.
But her gentle touch with the sudsy lather made my cock and balls feel brand new.
I didn't get hard, of course-hell, I'm a great fuck, but superhuman I'm not.
But it just felt good.
I soaped her tits.
When I brought my slippery hands down around her nipples, she winced-for her tits were still oh, so tender.
I took more care when I smoothed my warm hands over her sore buttocks.
"You really did a number on me with that paddle."
"I enjoyed it myself."
Then Diane took the bar of soap from my hand quickly and placed it in the soap dish.
She turned around and looked at me.
I'll never forget the way she looked with the cascading water matting her hair around her beautiful face.
She grabbed me so fast I didn't know what hit me-and kissed me passionately.
"You're really special, Mark. I'm crazy about you. I think I'm falling in love with you." She turned off the shower, and we dried off.
With our towels wrapped around our waists, we made our way over to yet another room-this one a dressing room, where we found suitable bathrobes to wear while they did God-knew-what with our clothes.
"I think I'm beginning to like this place," I said to Diane.
I really was genuinely impressed.
The establishment had the kind of service that I had only read about-the kind you'd expect in, say, a fancy gentleman's club or some posh country club.
As Diane led me to the dining room, I wondered about that guy I saw before.
The blonde guy with the silver streak of hair down the middle.
I knew I had seen him before, and seeing him earlier this evening gave me the sense of trepidation that a private eye gets regularly in his line of work, but rarely while relaxing off hours.
We sat down at a table, and were handed two menus.
One look at the prices and I could see how Hume could afford to offer such wonderful services.
Forty bucks an entree.
"Must be great food," I muttered under my breath.
"Something wrong?" Diane asked, her hair still wet but starting to dry.
"Oh, I think I saw someone I know earlier."
"Really? Who?"
"Oh, nobody important."
Nobody important indeed.
At that moment, as I ordered the steak tartar, I remembered all too clearly where I had seen that dude before.
"In other words, Mr. Lester, you're evidence proves conclusively that the defendant is tied to the gangland' style killings of January fifteenth. Thank you for your testimony. You may step down."
The district attorney clapped me on the shoulder.
It was one of my first big cases as a private eye.
A police case.
Boy did I fed proud.
I had successfully infiltrated the operation of one of the biggest crime bosses in the city. Me. Mark Lester.
Now the judge was handing down the verdict. The whole operation was being sent up the river-and I was instrumental in cracking the case wide open.
My reputation as a private investigator was established.
No longer would I have to do those shitty domestic cases where you have to track some cheap bitch's husband to some seedy motel and drag along a photographer.
As I left the courtroom, the press boys were there, en masse.
They led the defendant and his boys out of there in handcuffs.
The main crime boss hid his face from the cameras.
So did the rest of his boys, except for one.
One kinda tall guy.
A blonde guy with a white streak of hair running through his pompadour.
He looked up at me and spit at me.
I laughed.
"Don't worry about it, Mark," the D.A. said to me. "We'll take care of having your suit cleaned. This kind of shit comes with the territory,"
And the blonde guy with the white streak went to jail and I never saw that face again.
Not until tonight.
"Mark?" Diane was pissed.
"Sorry?"
"Mark, you haven't been listening to a word I've said."
"Sorry. I guess I'm just a little hungry. Once the food comes, I'll be in better shape."
She reached over the table and mussed my hair.
"You're cute," she said.
"Please," I exchanged her witticism for one of mine, "I don't want to get a hard-on again so soon."
"Why not?"
"Let's just say I want to live to be forty."
"I love you," she said, in that charming and offhanded way of hers that I was beginning to regard as her trademark.
Well, the food came, and it was delicious.
We ate and drank ourselves silly, chatting about this and that, finally letting the barriers down that inevitably come up in a new relationship.
We nibbled bites of each other's plates, and when dessert came, Diane insisted that she not order any-but she asked our waitress for two forks anyway.
Soon we were downstairs and dressed.
It was time to check out and pay the bill.
The whole evening came to about four hundred dollars, and I was taken aback when Diane whipped out her credit card and plunked it down.
"The evening is on me."
"No," I said. "I won't let you do that."
"Yes you will," she said as she signed for the bill. "You can take care of it the next time."
"There will definitely be a next time," I said as we left the place to hail a taxi.
"Sure there will," Diane said, kissing me. "You are simply going to HAVE to meet Hume."
Diane got in the cab and slammed the door. The cab drove away, leaving me standing there on the street comer.
I couldn't believe this chick.
It was a little after three in the morning.
* * *
I called Diane at work that week. Wednesday I think it was.
I didn't get her on the phone. She was in a meeting, apparently. Instead, I got her secretary, Kate.
"Can you leave a message please? Can you let her know that Mark called?"
"Oh, yes!" Kate exclaimed. Suddenly, her tone shifted from the bored monotone of the typical office secretary to the whimsical chirp of an excited young girl. "I'll see that she receives your message immediately! Absolutely!"
I assumed that Diane had told all the girls at the office about me.
Probably in juicy detail.
"Ok, Kate thanks."
"And where can she reach you?"
"At the police station. Eighth precinct. I'll be here all afternoon," I said, and hung up.
I was there on business, of course, but I thought it would be fun to leave that line hanging. Kate could speculate all day about what terrible sordid trouble I must be in.
It was a long, dreary afternoon of paperwork and hanging around to wait for some bureaucrat or other to show up to sign some papers.
Private eye work is exciting, but it has its bitchy parts, just like any job, I guess.
While I was at the police station, though, I thought I'd take care of some business that was bothering me.
I went upstairs to the records office.
"Hi, Sam," I said to the guy who worked the desk.
"Hey, Mark. What can I do for you?"
"Sam, there was a case I handled years and years ago for the previous D.A. involving a crime boss named Morelli. Can I have a look at some of the mugshots of the people who were arrested? I'm fuzzy on the dates."
"Sure, sure. I remember that case."
"Yeah. I want to take an hour to re-live some past glories."
I looked through stacks and stacks of books of mug shots for about an hour.
But I was obsessed.
I HAD to know who this guy was.
When somebody shows up from your past at an S-and-M sex club-and it's somebody who had no love for your guts-you kind of want to find out everything you can about him.
After reaching my frustration level, I finally found a shot of him that looked familiar.
It was in black and white. So something as subtle as a white streak of hair going through a blonde head didn't show up too clearly.
But I had a reference number and a name.
Andrew Cole.
I went to the files.
Cole.
Coburn, Coe, Cofferty, Cohen, Cohen, Cohn, Coker, and then-bingo.
Andrew Cole.
Alias Whitey Smith. Alias Barry Teagarden. Alias a million other names.
Distinguishing characteristics-premature streak of gray hair.
He had an arrest record as long as my forearm.
Possession. Solicitation. Child molestation. Drug trafficking.
My eyes quickly scanned the list of sex offenses.
The list suggested just the kind of personality that might frequent an S-and-M club.
Convicted of rape, both male and female. Of assault with intent to rape.
I pulled the file and began to get excited. This kind of detective work always fascinated me.
Within fifteen minutes I had his entire record in front of me at my work table.
Yeah, he was the one who was arrested in connection with the big case that had made my reputation those many years ago.
He had served a commuted sentence with time off for good behavior and a spotless record while in prison.
He was a free man now. According to the records that the State of New York provided, this Andrew Cole had paid his debt to society and was now a free man.
At that moment, I felt a strange anger come over me.
I had always been something of a "liberal," I guess. You know-all my exposure with criminals over the years left me with the impression that our society sometimes drives people to do sick things.
I always believed in rehabilitation. That you try and help people-not just throw them in jail to let them rot.
But now I was beginning to feel different.
"Cause there was some nut-some former sex offender out on the streets with no love for my ass.
Shit.
I was afraid for my life. And for Diane's life, too.
What if this sick pervert got a hold of me in that sex club?
What if he enticed me-using Diane-into some seemingly "innocent" three-way fuck, and wound up kicking the shit out of me?
I wouldn't be able to defend myself in court without having it blown that I frequented an S-and-M sex club.
And THAT kind of information, made public, could ruin my career.
Not to mention my relationship with Diane.
Not to mention my life.
On the other hand-maybe the guy WAS rehabilitated.
Maybe he HAD been helped. Shit, he was, after all, a model prisoner.
Suppose he had done his time and decided to get his aggressions out in the privacy of a sex club, rather than by brutalizing the innocent?
I didn't want to go off half-cocked.
I had to know more.
I looked for his psychiatric record.
Psychiatric testimony and records regarding his mental health, though, required special permission from the D.A.'s office.
I HAD to know.
But how could I go about getting special permission to look this guy up?
The old D.A. whom I had worked with on that famous case had long since retired. The new D.A. was some young guy-in fact I think he was younger than me, if you can believe that.
I didn't know him very well, and I didn't want to arouse any suspicion, I sat there for a second, in the musty swelter of the police office room, biting my nails.
"Hey, Mark! You got a phone call!" someone shouted from the other room.
I jumped.
"Calm down, I told myself," and went outside to take the call.
"Hi, lover."
"Diane! Hi."
"Kate told me I could find you here. She was really funny-she thought you'd been arrested or something."
"Haha hah. That is funny. I guess you didn't tell her I'm involved in police work."
"Hell, no. I haven't told the girls ANYTHING about you-except that you're the best lover I've ever had in my life."
"I'll bet you say that about all the fellas."
"You're the first one."
Her voice was so sultry-so sexy over the phone.
Just listening to her speak turned me on.
She knew it, too.
The little bitch knew when she had me going- even in the middle of a working day on the phone.
"So how's you're day going?"
"Oh, kind of boring. I'm glad you called. It really brightened up the day."
"Mmmm," I purred into the phone.
"Have I ever told you how much I think about you during the day?" she said, staring to pour it on thick.
I LOVED the way she poured it on thick.
"Why, no," I said, playing my part in this telephone flirtation to the hilt.
"Well I do. Sometimes when I'm alone in my big, empty, lonely office ... " she said, "I think about your big, hard cock."
"I think about you, too."
I took the phone into the record room and shut the door.
None of the lights on the phone were lit-so I knew nobody was listening on the extension.
"In fact, Mark, you know what I'm doing now?"
"No, what?"
"I'm thinking about your hard-on right now. I'm all alone in here.
"I'm unbuttoning my blouse, and I'm feeling my tit with my hand, pretending it's your hand. Oh, God, pretending it's your penis.
"Your thick, erect penis rubbing over and over my bare tit.
"Oh, Jesus, I absolutely have to masturbate, Mark. Talk to me. Talk to me while I torture myself, Mark.
"Talk to me while I finger my clit."
I heard her breathing in heavy, erratic breaths.
I spoke.
"You know, Diane, you make my cock hard as a rock right here and now. I just know that your pussy is starting to get hot and wet.
"Stick your finger up your cunt for me, Diane. Stick it in deep.
"Make sure your fingernail scrapes out the side of your cunt wall, baby. 'Cause I want you to feel the pain-the sheer agony of my cock inside you, raping you."
"Oh, yeah ... " she purred.
My cock was a thick red tube of hot meat.
I was hornier than the devil himself.
"Mark?"
"Say it, baby."
"Meet me there tonight. You know where. Usual place. Usual time. Bye now, lover."
Click!
The bitch hung up.
She loved to get me harder than a rock and leave me hanging.
I have to admit it, though.
Usually I hate a cock-teasing bitch.
But she made me love it.
She made my love the horny frustration.
The forbidden fruit.
I loved how she made me wait for it-suffer for sex.
Because this was one cruel little baby who always delivered.
I stormed out of the record room down the hall to the men's room.
I found the last stall, the one farthest from the door, to be empty.
Good.
Jesus.
I hadn't masturbated in a public men's room in years.
But I couldn't stand the tension.
I threw the door shut and turned the little lock.
I yanked off my pants and slid my underwear down until my boner came poking its round, red head right out.
My slit smiled at me.
I wrapped my hand around my thick penis.
Then, to my surprise, some joker came running into the men's room.
"Mister Lester? Mark Lester in here?"
Oh, shit.
I was probably late for my appointment with that shitty bureaucrat. In my quest for the identity of Andrew Cole, I had lost track of time.
"Yeah, Sam, I'll be right out."
"There's an important phone call for you."
I tucked my waning hard-on back inside my pants, flushed the toilet, and made my way back to the stuffy office.
"Hello?" I asked into the oh-so-goddamn important phone.
"Hi, lover. It's me. I had to call you back because I didn't want you running into the John to jerk off. You wait until tonight, you understand?"
"Sure, Diane. Thanks, Diane."
I hung up the phone.
"Sam? If there are any more important phone calls for me, tell them to go fuck themselves."
Chapter Five
"I feel really guilty about what I did to you this afternoon," Diane said to me as I met her in front of Hume's.
"I'll bet you do," I said, kissing her on the cheek.
"No, really. That was terrible. But I had to make sure that you didn't, shall we say, spill any seed before I could have a lick at that big hard cock."
All the woman had to do was say "big hard cock," and my member uncoiled into a rod of pink steel.
"Well, you'll just have to be punished, that's all."
"I can hardly wait," Diane said and gave my boner a squeeze.
I told Diane to meet me at the bar while I checked our coats.
I stood at the coatcheck, eyeing the buxom little cherry pop tart who was handling the coat checking chores.
She had a long mane of reddish brown hair that danced at the side of her face.
She wore a pair of large, baggy black pants with boots that rose all the way up to her knees.
This chick was small-breasted, but she reeked of hot, sweet sex anyway.
I waited in line, holding Diane's and my jackets in front of me.
I guess it was unconscious, but I found myself rubbing the bulk of our coats up and down against my captive hard-on.
The coat check girl made eye contact with me, and it was my turn to give her the jackets.
When someone tapped my shoulder.
"Good evening, Mister Lester."
It was a man's voice.
I wheeled around.
We stood face to face ...
Me and the guy with the blonde hair and the white streak.
My heart pounded. I was really taken by surprise.
"Good evening, Mister Cole," I said calmly.
He extended his hand.
"It's nice to see you here. I hope you and Diane are enjoying the place."
I paused one second.
Being a private eye teaches a man to be a little more cautious than average.
But a gaze in his eyes told me that the best thing I could do would be to trust him.
I shook his hand.
"Yes, yes indeed. We're having a great time."
"Maybe when the two of you are a little more, shall we say, established as a couple, the three of us can explore some of the special things this club has to offer,"
"The three of us? Hm. Well, I'd have to talk it over with Diane, but that's a very kind offer."
"Kind isn't the word, Mister Lester!"
We laughed at his little joke. Yeah, I guess the thought of "kind" S-and-M is a bit ironic.
I checked the coats and met Diane at the bar for a drink.
"Hey, handsome."
"Hey, beautiful."
"Pulling me out of the men's room really was a dirty trick. You're lucky I'm in love with you."
"Then you are in love with me. I thought so,"
"I suppose I'm just one more cock to you, my dear, but you really are Something special."
"No, Mark," she said sipping her drink through soft and pouting lips, "You are not just a cock. You're an incredible lover and I think you have the makings of a great dominateur.
Well, we sat at the bar for about thirty minutes, chatting and warming each other up.
Diane did her usually fine work of letting her hand crawl up my thigh and play with my erect cock while it was still trapped helpless within my pants.
She whipped out a joint, and then we smoked it.
For some reason, though. Diane seemed to be delaying sex.
She was dragging it out, drawing the foreplay at the bar on far too long.
This was making me frustrated.
Frustrated and angry.
Angry enough to want to punish her.
"I want to do something different tonight, Mark. I mean, we've been experimenting with S-and-M, but tonight I really want to go for it."
"What did you have in mind?"
"No holes barred. None of this cutesy-pooh palm and paddle stuff."
I was a little scared, but what the hell.
This was the roller coaster ride of my life, and I didn't want to get off of it now.
She pulled down one of the flaps of the front of her blouse, exposing the top of her tit.
The tit that I had sucked and bit so many times before.
She took the joint from between my lips and placed the glowing end closer to her skin.
I watched.
It seemed to take forever.
Time itself slowed down for me as I watched the lit joint edge closer and closer to that .milky white skin.
I caught the trail of its smoking ember in my nostrils, and my eyes started to water.
She pulled her blouse down farther and farther.
And she brought the joint closer and closer.
Then, with one gesture, in one searing moment of unreality, she pulled down and her blouse torn right open. Her naked breast was exposed to the world right there at the bar of the S-and-M club.
She pressed the burning end of the joint into her skin about an inch above her pink nipple.
Her nipple grew erect as the smoking joint made a hissing sound.
I smelled the stench of charred flesh.
She threw her head back in an instant of total ecstasy.
Burning a hole in her naked tit in front of everybody.
God, how watching it turned me on.
Then she threw her head forward, her hair tumbling in her eyes.
She glared at me through clenched teeth.
"I want you to hurt me tonight, Mark. Because I want to hurt you. You and your stinking hard-on cock."
She got up from the bar and made her way to the back of the club. I followed.
How could I not?
I was entranced.
She took a different staircase, this time, one that led to the basement.
"I'm taking you to the REAL dungeon, Mark."
"I'm with you, baby," I said, like a little boy.
She seemed possessed by some demon, for, as she progressed on our little voyage into the deeper, darker chambers of this den of iniquity, she didn't stop to wait up for me.
She just went onward.
"God, I've wanted to do this since I was a little girl," she said as she disappeared into a dark room.
I followed her in there, but I .was lost in the darkness.
"Diane? Diane? Where did you go?"
Then the lights came on, and Diane was standing in front of me and in front of a big iron bed, outfitted with a great deal of strange and bizarre instruments of cruel sex.
This scenario made the room on the second floor look like child's play.
First I saw how Diane was dressed.
She was wearing nothing but a leather harness.
The harness formed the shape of a one-piece bathing suit, but with a lot of the material missing.
It wrapped around her tits, but circles were cut out of the leather around six inches out from her nipples.
The straps of leather were studded with metal spikes.
Spikes.
Not studs.
She wore a spiked leather slave collar around her neck to go with this harness.
The harness ran down the middle of her torso and wrapped around her legs.
The crotch was cut-away, as were the nipples of the bra.
And knee-boots, spiked as well. In black leather with seven inch heels.
Those heels and pointed toes looked incredibly menacing.
She wore armbands of matching spiked black leather, and around her wrists were bracelets of matching stuff.
And there was Jesus hanging on his cross, once more dangling between her tits.
My cock.
My poor aching cock.
Diane approached me with slashing nails.
"Strip, you little hard-on. Strip naked."
She ripped my shirt down the middle.
It didn't take me long to get naked.
She threw a cock-harness at me.
I put it on.
Slowly.
Diane watched me slip my legs through the leather-and-rubber leg holes.
She watched me buckle the sides of the harness up over my shoulders.
She led me over to a treasure chest of wonderful accessories.
"This is fantastic," I muttered as I watched her pull out matching spiked leather accoutrements that matched hers.
Soon I was dressed as she was, with my erect boner in a harness, and my balls trapped as well.
She strode next to me, and handed me a pair of boots like the ones she wore. This was beyond my wildest fantasies. I put them on.
They were a tight fit at first, but the discomfort only heightened the horny feelings that drove my libido wild.
I stood up in them.
Diane showed me the ceiling mirror.
She lay down on the iron bed.
I lay down next to her.
I stared at the two of us, naked except for the lather and metal that we wore.
She rolled over on her side.
Her tits ached to push out of the small openings in the front of her outfit.
Her nipples seemed almost purplish in color.
She threw one arm over my shoulder and reached down to hold my erect penis in her other hand.
"There's only one thing wrong, Mark."
"Yeah?"
"Your cock harness."
I felt her reach for something down below.
"It isn't ... TIGHT enough!"
She pulled a strap and buckled it in place-and the pain shot through me like a ton of explosives.
One yank of a leather strap and my penis and balls were trapped in an inextricable web or pain.
Sweet pain.
She snuggled next to me and I felt the spikes from her outfit rest against my flesh.
I nibbled her ear as we stared to make out on the bed.
Every time we got closer we felt more pain from the spikes on our leather harnesses.
Soon, little red marks had appeared on my arms and legs.
But the more I ached with the pain and discomfort, the more I wanted her.
She got up off the bed.
I sat on the bed.
My stiff cock stuck out through its harness, my captive balls underneath.
She turned around, facing away from me.
Her ass was naked.
But her waist had that leather belt around it.
So, when she sat down on my cock, my penis slid into her wet pussy from behind ...
... but it hurt.
Yeah.
Up she went, and then back down, fucking me.
I reached up around her ad grasped her tits.
They felt hard.
I ran my fingertips around the very edge of her harness, where her nipples poked out.
I fell back on the bed.
She kept squat-thrusting on my cock.
She rested her hands on my thighs, her metal spikes digging into my flesh, threatening to rip my skin.
"Ahhh! Oh, God, this is fantastic!" she cried.
"Mmmmm!" I moaned in agreement.
But then the very next second, she was up and off me.
I stared at my hard-on.
IT was slippery and wet with her cunt juice.
I smelled the strong scent of wet feather.
Leather made wet not with water but with pussy.
Diane strode around the room, looking for something that would make the evening even more exciting.
She returned to the bed with a small vial.
"I forgot all about this."
Cocaine.
Nice touch.
Diane tapped out a spot of the white powder on her hand and shoved the stuff up her nose with a loud snort.
She passed me the vial and she started to break out in an insane smile.
"I love you!" she cried, and wrapped her arms around me, spilling the remaining dust across the iron bed.
I felt her spikes as she felt mine.
She crawled on top of me.
Her spikes scraped and bit my flesh as she mounted me upside down.
With her ass sticking high in the air, we entered into the sixty nine position.
Good.
I hadn't eaten a good hair pie in alt too long.
The leather of her harness cut close to her beaver.
So close that as her snatch ran ripe with the thick juices of horny lust, she soaked the leather, and even some of the inch-long metal spikes got a coating of sweet smelly goo.
I let my tongue do the licking.
And her pussy did the screaming.
I found her clit right away.
I pulled her pussy lips wide apart with the power of my fingers.
I wanted her to feel ripped right apart.
Then I stuck my tongue way out of my mouth and planted it on the end of her love-nub.
And her clit responded by growing bigger and harder inside its slimy bed of pink flesh.
I opened wide and dove down to grab the little sucker between my teeth.
I did it.
Diane stopped moving, except to plant her own teeth on the head of my stinging and erect prick.
It was like a duel.
I bit down a little.
She bit down a little.
Hah.
I was going to make her cum first.
For, the tight pressure of my cock harness was such that it would prevent me from shooting my wad.
It would simply keep me suspended in a state of hardonic ecstasy for as long as we played our little game of torture.
I bit her clit between my teeth.
She shouted.
I bit again.
Her mouth fell from my cock.
I extricated her from my embrace.
She lay on the bed like a defeated wrestler.
I stood next to the iron bed, feeling hard and masculine, a master of her will as well as my own.
"Mark?"
"Yes?"
"I want you to meet Hume."
Hume.
Finally.
Diane stood up and brushed the hair out of her eyes.
She still seemed fresh, as if this little roll in the leather was merely a warm-up, a prelude to the bizarre fun that we were about to encounter.
"This is going to be the greatest night of my life," she said, and ran out of the room, to search, I figured, for this Hume character.
I sat there.
I did the remaining cocaine that I could find at the bottom of the little vial.
I looked up at myself at the mirror.
I was no longer that man I was.
I was now a cocksman of the most adventurous kind.
My erection was blue.
I loosened the harness a little bit and lay back on the bed to glance myself over.
My prick was the most sexy thing I had ever seen.
It was not only hard and red and dripping, but it looked great surrounded by the leather and rubber and metal that enveloped it.
I extended my index finger and brought it down to the head of my penis.
I scooped off the goblet of pre-cum that had formed.
I ran my wettened finger up and down the length of my shaft.
Up and down the length of that protrusion.
That spongy bump that makes the underbelly the most tender part of a man's penis.
I watched the mirror in horny fascination as Iran just the tip of my finger up and down my harnessed cock and felt every fibre of my inner soul tingle with the thousands of ergs of ionic energy that cruel sex can bring to a man.
Then my tits.
I stroked my own hairy nipples.
I shut my eyes while I fondled myself-every inch of my leather-adorned body having become a temple of sex.
I shut my eyes and thought of Diane.
Of the fantastic things we had done together.
Of the incredible voyages through the extremes of pain and pleasure that this incredible woman had led me through.
As I fondled my hot and tingling body, I dreamt of the places she would take me now.
On beyond bondage, into realms where only the most sophisticated sexual athletes have ever wandered.
I couldn't wait until she returned with Hume. I wanted to thank him, to congratulate him on this fantastic sex spa that he ran.
I wanted to tell him how the place had changed my life and given a new purpose to my leisure hours.
Jesus-any man that could bring together two implacable enemies like me and that fucking Andrew Cole character-this guy had to be a genius.
Maybe I would even suck his cock. Why not?
I imagined that he was probably that black dancer whose hard-on's traces had awakened long-dormant stirrings deep within my body.
I fantasized about Diane and he and the two black chicks and me.
How we would fuck.
And suck each other's nipples and pricks.
How we might even get together for long weekends in the country, bringing nothing with us except a picnic basket full of sex devices and enough pot and coke to keep us buzzing through the greatest sex romps of all time.
Yeah, maybe it was the drugs.
Maybe it was the high of love and liquor.
But I remember those moment waiting for Diane as I teased my own cock to be some of the happiest, most serene and at the same time most exciting moments of my life.
I relaxed.
Then, slowly, I got up from the bed and strode, in my high-heeled sex boots and all, over to the little chest where Diane had pulled out all those sex accessories.
I rummaged through the pile.
Whips.
I found the longest one, and uncoiling it from the rest of the items that had been tossed there over the years, pulled it out.
A genuine cat o'nine tails.
With a bunch of steel tips, each one barbed.
It had a long leather body and a hard handle, decorated with a mother-of-pearl grip.
An antique, perhaps.
I remember striding across the dungeon room by myself, my erection sticking out in front of me.
I practiced cracking the whip.
It was tough to get the feel of it at first.
But then I got the thing to crack a loud crack in mid-air. I even smelled the scent of ozone where it had cracked.
I knew how I was going to do this.
I would wait.
And then, when Diane returned with Hume, I was going to pose for them and taunt them with the whip.
We would take turns torturing each other.
Hume and I would collaborate in tying up Diane.
We would tit-torture the bitch until she creamed an endless stream from her dripping red cunt.
And then Diane would humiliate us both.
It was going to be great.
I thought about quitting my job and leaving this filthy city for a community of uninhibited free sex.
I was high.
Higher than the sky.
I heard Diane's voice from down the hall.
I turned off the lights and listened.
I wanted to surprise Diane and Hume as she had surprised me.
She was talking to Hume.
"And he's a terrific guy," she said. I knew she was talking about me.
She continued.
"He's realty gotten into it. But he's loving, too. He isn't out to just hurt you-he wants to suffer for the glorious thrill that the orgasm can bring."
Diane sounded like an old pro when she talked to Hume about sex.
My heart was pounding. So was my cock.
This was going to be a great moment.
I was going to meet the dungeon master.
"Mark?"
Diane pushed the door opened, and I saw her silhouette in the shaft of light from outside.
She snickered. "Very nice ... very nice." She was admiring the dramatic touch that I imitated of hers.
"Mark, turn on the lights and let me see you. I have a friend here. A special friend. His name is Hume, and he wants to degrade your stinking hard-on."
I flashed on the lights.
"Yes," Hume said. "I really want to make your friend feel the most intense agony."
Hume stood before me.
He was a white guy.
With muscular legs that were naked. He wore a leather jock strap and a black t-shirt beneath rippled huge pecks.
He had steely blue eyes.
And a head of blonde hair with a white streak that ran through the middle.
Chapter Six
My mouth dropped.
Andrew Cole.
He was Hume?
I couldn't believe it.
It was a good thing I was poised with my cat o'nine tails.
He spoke.
"Yes. I'm anxious to engage in .some S-and-M with Mark, here. He and I have an old score to settle, don't we?"
"Then you two know each other?" Diane asked, lighting another joint, with the firey intensity and enthusiasm of a schoolgirl out on her first night away from home.
"Yes, you might say that," I said.
My hard-on would have faded immediately had it not been for the harness I was wearing, which trapped my tissues in their erectile state.
Diane had no idea what was going on-or maybe she did. I don't know.
All I know is that she was in it for the pleasure of the moment.
She didn't give a shit about the age-old desire for revenge which seemed to spell its angry name out on Hume's face.
Hume.
Where the hell did he get a name like that, anyway?
"Grab him, Diane. Grab his dick."
Diane stepped closer toward me. I was suspicious of what Hume would have her do.
"Stay back, babe," I said to Diane. I menacingly raised my cat o'nine tails over my head.
I realized that did no good.
Shit.
The risk of being flayed with the spiked tips of the cat o'nine tails thrilled Diane even more.
I watched her nipples grow erect at the prospect.
It became a confrontation of latent sexual longings bubbling up through the molten iron of my blood to the surface, where they would explode with the furies of the ages.
My cock tingled with the thought of successfully defending myself against this bitch-this agent of the devil.
"Stay back-I warn you."
"Whip me, lover. Go ahead and make me bleed. I want your cock."
I stared at her intensely, marking my steps.
"I want your dick so bad that I'm willing to pay for its capture."
There was a part of me that wanted to beat her senseless and then destroy the premises.
And yet-there was a part of me that wanted to yield-that wanted to lose this epic confrontation of lurid lust.
Yes, it's true.
There was a part of me that wanted to face the humiliation and degradation of loss.
Loss.
Loss of control.
Loss of dignity.
Loss of ownership of my own phallic rod.
My hot penis.
Diane lunged for my cock.
I gritted my teeth and cracked the whip.
SNAP!
The multi-pronged heads of the cat o'nine tails struck her across the breasts.
Just the tops of the tits, though-meaning that most of the impact hit the leather straps of her erotic body-harness.
I thought I had heard the clink of metal against metal.
I knew that I could see the slashes in the leather of her harness.
But the many heads of this devilish and hellish whip of death also cut her flesh-though just slightly.
She had fresh, shallow slash marks across the juicy slopes of her wonderfully full tits.
I watched the red hot blood seep through these new gash marks that my own power had placed upon her otherwise perfect body.
The sight.
The scent.
It made my cock quiver with lust.
A new expression broke across Diane's face, as she placed her hands upon her breast in a feminine moment of self-realization.
She felt the blood seep slowly through her wounds.
"No--no one ever slashed me before."
"That's nothing compared to what you'll receive if you try for my cock again, bitch."
I made a point of spitting the word "bitch" between my lips as if it were the most foul concept imaginable by the tortured and somehow yet noble mind of sado-masochistic man.
Diane bared her teeth and hunched her shoulders like a jungle cat, prowling about this iron dungeon as I stepped back and forth, ready-ready for the next onslaught.
Hume just watched.
His hand had cupped his chin.
His dick was bulging beneath his leather jock strap, I held the mother of pearl handle of my cat o'nine tails in my right hand, and the many-headed tips in my left.
I twirled the length of leather that made up the body of the whip before me.
The sight of it must have delighted this woman's libido.
I know that it delighted mine.
She lunged again.
She grabbed my shoulder with one hand, managing to get her fingers curled beneath the strap of my erotic body harness.
I flailed the whip blindly.
I knew there wasn't enough room or leverage to strike a decisive shattering blow-but I knew I could cause her pain anyway.
I scratched her across the undulating muscles of her lithe stomach.
She was still grabbing my shoulder.
"Back off, bitch," I said.
"Fuck you, you hard-on," she spat back.
I flashed and thrashed with my whip of magic death.
All I could so was scratch her to and fro-I couldn't land any really juicy blows.
Yet.
She grabbed my hard-on in her hand.
And then she let go of my shoulder and grasped the strap-buckle of the cock harness in her other hand.
She had me, quite literally, by the balls.
She laughed, drooling a bit.
Her lipstick was smeared and her tits rose and fell with the heavy breath of exertion.
"Drop the whip, little boy," she taunted.
"Never," I replied.
She pulled the strap of the cock-harness tighter.
I felt a hundred thousand dynes of seismic force rocket through the shaft of my golden penis and penetrate the core of my libido.
It was heaven.
It was hell.
It was hate.
It was love.
"Drop it, boy," she said again in that sneering tone of catty disdain that made me want to fuck her-fuck her-FUCK HER!
I dropped the whip on the floor.
And grabbed her.
By the harness.
Near her snatch.
I had a perfect grip on the leather tongues that surrounded the eat-away portion of her outfit.
By jerking upward, I could cause her pussy the most unfathomable agony.
I did.
Just once.
She shrieked.
Like the lovers we were, acting out a ritual dance of seductive torture before our master, we held each other captive before the awesome gaze of Hume.
Hume, dungeon master.
Hume, schemer.
Hume, possessor of women's souls and vengeant scion of Satan.
"Oh, Diane ... " Hume's voice said, shattering the thick and salt-smelling air.
She said nothing.
Her gaze was fixed on my face as her hands were gripped to my cock and balls.
"Diane-we have to punish this man. Deliver him to me, Diane. You know the price for failure to serve the master."
His voice was calm.
Almost eerie.
He stood in the shadows, a long, lean figure cut from the pages of some sadist's nightmare.
Indeed, she knew the price of failure, and she must have been torn between her own desire to succeed and her more hidden desire-the desire to fail and be punished severely for it.
The unleashing of the deep sexual self-hatreds was palpable in the thick atmosphere of this uncanny dungeon.
She grasped my cock.
Hard.
She gnashed her teeth.
She forced me to my knees.
I was a helpless slave beneath the vicious grip of torturous agony that punished my penis.
My penis.
My erect penis.
My manhood-symbol of my manhood.
Phallic forebear of my destiny to rule this fleshy creature whose will should, in an ideal world, be supplicant to mine.
Yet, it was not my penis that day.
It was hers.
All hers.
Hers, and for whomever she chose to deliver it to.
Whose mouth would taste my semen that night?
Whose lips my skin?
Whose flesh my own?
Thoughts raced through my mine, each more hideous than the last.
What would I be forced to do?
I had the knifing, twisting, gut-wrenching feeling that I would somehow finally have to face the burning homosexual lust that was aching to poison my soul from within.
Even as I knelt before Diane, wanting her- lusting for her pussy.
My grip broke from her leather twat-handle.
She threw my body upon the floor.
She placed one foot upon the nape of my neck.
The feeling of her spike heel driving down upon my skin was intense.
I tried to move.
Something prevented me.
Then I felt a pair of hands grabbing mine.
Hume's hands.
He was strong.
Stronger than I was at that point in time.
He was fresh-and I was near exhaustion. Only my longing for sweet gratification of my cock-flesh kept me going.
I felt him cuff my hands individually.
He pulled on something, and Diane got off me, and I was standing on my feet the next thing I knew.
I was handcuffed in irons to a long iron chain.
The chain extended up to the ceiling.
"Well, done, my dear," Hume said to Diane as the two of them embraced and kissed.
My mind teemed with jealousy.
The kind of jealousy that turns to hatred.'
Raw, visceral hate-promoter of violence, rape, and torture.
Diane stepped toward another device mounted on a wall.
She unhooked an iron lock and began to turn a large crank handle.
I remember watching her supple body turn and twist as she cranked the handle.
I felt the chair that bound me get taut.
And then it picked me up off the floor.
I was being raised higher and higher, hanging by my wrists.
Soon I was several feet off the floor.
My hard-on stuck out in front of my.
I tried to kick, to twist, but it was no use.
I was captive.
Diane strode over to me.
Her face was about even with my cock and balls.
She undid the cock harness.
Ah.
Sweet relief.
My cock sprung out to new erection and my balls were once again hot and horny to be free-free in the open air.
Diane gave me a kiss-right on the side of my cock in the nest of pubic hair that surrounded my stiff prick.
Then she just stared.
I saw Hume below me.
He paced back and forth, gathering up the cat o'nine tails from where it had dropped on the floor.
He admired it.
He cracked it in mid-air.
He spoke.
"Before I finish you off, my dear, dear Mister Lester, I thought you might as well like to know my story-the story that brought us all here."
"Fuck off, faggot," I spit.
"My, my. Such harsh language. Why, I'm sure I once felt that way myself ... of course, now I know differently.
"Now I know ... better."
And with that I felt the cat o'nine tails swing through the air and brush my buttocks.
The pain stung.
It went right through me.
"Hume!!" Diane whined. "You didn't even make him bleed with that one?"
"Patience, my dear," Hume replied. "Patience."
I hung there in horny agony as I listened to his life story.
"You see, Mister Lester, I always hated women. My mother was scheming, conniving bitch. She dominated my family as she dominated me.
"Nothing I ever did could please her-and she had emasculated my father and brothers as she had emasculated me.
"At the age of fourteen, I masturbated for the first time. I remember grasping my penis in my hand and feeling it grow stiff and erect.
"My school chums had told me to do it in front of a girlie magazine-or thinking about kissing the prettiest girl in class.
"But I found that thinking about boys-thinking about their own erect cocks turned me on more.
"I remember shutting my eyes and rubbing hard strokes down my prick.
"When my mother entered my bedroom without knocking and caught me in the act.
"I was disgraced. I couldn't even go out with a girl after that.
"For every time a young lady would show an interest in me, the fear of sexual contact swelled up inside my like a hand grenade about to explode.
"And let me tell you, something, Mister Lester-there was plenty of women who were turned on by me. Then as now. Why your own sweet Diane here-"
"Shut up, faggot," I blurted.
"Insolent breeder!" Hume cried and slashed my buttocks with the cat o'nine tails.
This time I could feel myself start to bleed.
"How's that?" Hume said to Diane.
"Better. But that'll heal too soon."
"Patience, darling," he said, and turned his attention back to me.
"If a girl would kiss me or make any kind of sexual advance to me, why, I would get nauseous and run.
"I hated myself. Puberty was a time of deep emotional pain for me."
I wanted to make a snotty remark. Like, isn't puberty a bitch for everybody?
But I kept my mouth shut. I wanted to hear the rest of the story.
Hearing the juicy details of another man's deep sexual traumas had a strange fascination for me.
Maybe that's why I went into private investigating work in the first place. Hell, who knows.
But the curiosity was overwhelming-^and having it satisfied by this man's rantings really turned me on.
Yes, it turned me on.
It kept my prick stiff.
Rigid.
"Women began to nauseate me. The more they liked me, the more Iran from their incessant girlish prattle.
"I remember one day, though I could hide no longer. Her name was Rebecca. She was a sweet girl, actually. I think she even ... "
He paused.
I waited for him to say it.
" ... loved me."
"It became to much. One day I said to her, so, you want me? Here! There I unzipped my pants and showed a woman my thick aching cock for the first time since that humiliation my mother had scarred me with."
He unzipped his leather jockstrap, and I saw his bright red erection.
He threw Diane onto the iron bed.
I heard the metal spikes of her outfit clang against the metal of the iron bed.
Her ass stuck way up in the air.
"I raped her, do you here me! Raped her raw!"
He jammed his hard cock inside Diane's pussy from behind.
I heard her moan.
I watched the whole sordid thing.
I was driven with intense hatred and jealousy, but, God, it felt great-it made my cock so hard and so hot.
He jammed her again and again.
"I raped her over and over and over and I swear to God I got my revenge on that simpering bitch who dared to want to have sex with me!"
As he said the word "rape," he thrust.
Then he pulled out and stood underneath me again, leaving Diane to drip her pussy juice on the iron bed.
His cock was still stiff and wet.
"I ruined that girl's life there in the stinking small town where I grew up.
"But I'll tell you something, Mister Mark Lester-I made her cum. Just as I made your precious Diane here cum."
"Liar!" I screamed.
"Oh, no, Mark," Diane said as she approached me.
She curled her forefinger against her thumb and held her hand underneath my jutting penis.
"And he was better than you!"
She flicked her finger right into my left ball.
The pain shot through me like a laser beam.
Then waves of agony came, radiating out from my poor testicle, like ripples in a pond of water.
A droplet of love juice fell from the slit of my prick head to the floor.
"From there, I ran away from home to the big city.
"I found a home in the filthy scum of the sex business. I became known as a good blowjob-and for years I would suck any cock that came along. Two dollars a trick, then five, then ten. Then a hundred.
"The degradation of being called a fag-a homo-I loved it. It was the perfect punishment for the sin of rape-and for the horrible crime of masturbating.
"I hated anything sexual and was out to have my revenge. Anyway I could do it. Prostitution. Rape. Self-degradation with my own libido.
"Here in New York City I found that there was a sizeable trade in the S-and-M business, and soon I was linked up with organized crime.
"I did everything imaginable. Now, as a result, I'm almost endured completely to the ravages of sex."
I was completely enthralled, and excited to know that I was now a part of this whole sordid history of unimaginable sex.
"Witness as Diane sucks my cock."
Diane got down in front of him and placed his thick tube of meat inside her mouth.
"Mmmmnnn," she moaned with incredible passion and pleasure.
It was the same moan that she had moaned when she had gone down on me.
Hume looked at me while Diane licked and sucked his stiff prick.
"You see? Nothing. I can talk to you as plain as day. That will be all, Diane."
"But, if I watch Diane suck your balls, that's another story."
Diane tucked her fingers under my balls.
She poked them into her mouth.
I knew that feeling well. I loved feeling the sloshing tongue and saliva of her oral interior on my balls.
"Hurt him, Diane."
She bit.
Oh, God.
Hume pulled her away from me, but she held on with her teeth and lips, until he yanked her back so hard that she fell to the floor.
My balls.
Jesus.
Hume continued with his monologue.
"Once I was in with the right crowd-the organized crime rackets-life got nice and easy. There was all the money, the drugs, and the cock I wanted. I would hob nob with the elite in the sex business. It was a good life for a piece of stinking homo scum like me.
"And then ... you came along."
Hume looked up at me with a strange expression-a combination of hate and passion, fury and sexual attraction.
I wasn't sure what it meant.
"From the minute I saw you in court, I was attracted to you.
"I started to fantasize about making hot love to the man-this obscure private investigator-that I saw in the courtroom through the trial of my boss and his henchmen.
"I wanted your cock, Mark."
He pushed the tip of his index finger into the end of my penis as I hug suspended before him.
He scooped of a drop of pre-cum and licked his finger clean.
"The fact that you were testifying against us-the fact that you were my enemy-the fact that you were the man who was out to destroy my life-it all made it more intense.
"What sweet punishment it would be to degrade my self with my erect flesh before the man who was out to ruin my life.
"The more I fantasized about you-the more I wanted you. The more I hated you at the same time."
He turned away and looked at Diane.
His voice started to waver, as if he were choked up with emotion.
Diane stroked his cock as he spoke.
"I know it's all perverted-senseless. But God help me it's all I live for."
With Diane holding his penis, he turned his face toward me.
"I am going to give you, and Diane, and myself, the most intense night of sexual fulfillment any three people had."
His voice dropped.
"And then, Mister Mark Lester ... "
My cock was so hard it hurt.
" ... I am going to kill you."
Chapter Seven
I hung there in my harness with my naked cock several feet up off the ground, and this sado-masochistic madman was threatening to kill me.
And the woman I had fallen so passionately in love with was there by his side, dressed in skimpy studded leathers, creaming and juicing to every minute of it.
To be honest, I have to admit I was never more turned on in my life.
All my darkest and most hidden sexual passions were rising to the surface.
My latent sadism. Masochism. Debauchery. Voyeurism.
I can't say whether I finally made peace with my own perversions-or whether all men and women hold these deep repressed feelings.
If the latter is true, I was one of the rare ones who gets to act it all out.
Here in this dungeon room of the secret sex club run by the man named Hume.
The man who was in love with me and hated me all at the same time.
What mad schemes, what new twists on the old games of paddle and punishment could this devilish pan-sexual cook up next?
Diane did the talking.
Her voice was never sexier, more sultry.
She knew she had my cock hard and she loved the idea of keeping it that way until it hurt beyond belief.
"Ok, Mark, my lover. Time to bind your feet."
My feet had been swinging freely in the air while I was suspended from the ceiling by my wrists.
First I felt a clamp tighten around my left ankle.
Then my right ankle.
Then Diane fed Hume the length of heavy iron chain that came off each iron shackle.
I looked up above me and sure enough, the iron chains led to one large chain that led to the same pulley system on the ceiling.
Hume cranked the handle of the mechanism on the wall, and my feet rose up higher and higher.
Soon I was in a cat's cradle, my hands and feet up above me, my ass sagging down.
The whole process was slow.
Very slow.
They sure took their time.
All the while that my feet were being raised, the metal kept biting into my skin.
I was surprised that my wrists and ankles weren't bleeding profusely.
Through the whole sordid process, Diane kept talking.
"You little hard on. God, you suck," she kept saying to me.
When I first knew her, she would arouse me by playing up to my male ego, calling me a great lover and telling me how she admired the masculine beauty of my hard, rippling prick.
Now, things had changed.
Now she was degrading me.
But she was arousing me nonetheless. Diane knew the workings of the male libido-the male S-and-M libido in particular.
I guess this little plan had been in her mind ever since that first night when I tied her up.
I suppose that she could tell by the way I enjoyed it, that I knew I would have to be punished and abused as well.
It was certainly the revenge game all the way.
Hurt me, and then let me get even by hurting you.
"Look, Hume," she said to him.
"Look Hume, look at this little boy's teeny weenie prick. God, yours is so much bigger. Yours feels so much nicer inside my pussy."
Hume snickered his nasal villainous laugh while he watched me suffer and sweat.
My cock ran with love-juice, slippery and slick all the way around my purple stiff meat.
"Mark Lester is such a disgrace," she said to Hume, 'And yet, I'm really in love with him. I guess that makes me no better than the rest of us. No better than this festering sore on the face of the earth called man."
I felt my whole body being lowered.
I was still hanging in the cat's cradle, face down, but now I was only a foot or so up off the floor.
Diane crawled underneath me and lay on the floor.
My cock hung down, within an inch of her body.
She undid her leather harness outfit, and stripped naked below me.
I wanted to touch her, to fall from my iron prison and tuck her and suck her all over.
She was naked, but she still had those high heeled leather boots on.
I was so frustrated I couldn't stand it.
All the blood was rushing to my organ, too.
My cock.
My prick.
Her tits floated on top of her.
I opened my mouth but I wasn't close enough to lick her.
"You know, Hume," she kept talking, so softly, so sexily, squirming on the floor below my trussed body with every syllable, "If I'm such a lowly piece of shit as to be in love with this disgusting cock ... "
She spit the word cock at me.
Tiny droplets of her saliva sprayed my face.
" ... then I should be punished. Make me fuck him, Hume. Make me take his cock inside me."
Hume lowered me several more inches.
First by the arms, and then by the feet.
My limbs were aching. Simply aching.
But I was so close.
At last, I was close enough.
Diane raised her hips an inch off the floor.
She reached for my hard on.
She tucked the head of my erect cock inside the lips of her snatch.
And she just held it there.
For a minute.
It felt like an hour.
It felt like an eternity of unholy sexual frustration.
Then the chains lowered, and I was lowered inside Diane.
Oh, God, it felt like coming home.
After all these hours, to finally feel myself deep inside her warm and loving pussy.
To finally fuck this woman once more.
I forgot the pain for thee briefest second, but then the agony of being suspended in irons returned.
Even as I held my erect cock inside her.
I couldn't thrust.
I could hardly even wiggle.
I wanted to.
I wanted to perform my greatest fucking techniques on her. To exhaust my energies in a rapturous round of great humps.
I wanted to be a man for her again.
A sturdy, hard man.
To rape and ravage her.
But all I could do was hang there which her pussy hungrily devoured my immobile penis.
And I had to be grateful for every second inside her.
Because I didn't know how long I could stay there.
I was not in control of that.
I knew that at any second, Hume could yank my body right out of her.
So I tried my best to just relax and enjoy the waves of pleasure that cascaded over my body as Diane's hot and womanly pussy fucked my cock.
It was ironic, of course, that I should be so passive in the act of making love to a woman.
And that I should enjoy it so much.
I think I enjoyed it to the hilt.
Diane reached up around my suspended body and rubbed my back with her long and delicate fingers.
"Ooooh, yeah," she moaned as she enjoyed herself, fucking my helpless body.
She palmed my pecs.
She fingered the outsides of my nipples, eventually bringing the tips of her fingers over the heads of my titty-points.
Hanging face down makes the blood rush to the front of your body, and so it enhances all sexual contact you have with that part of you.
So when she brushed her fingertips across my blood-engorged nipples, she sent shivers up and down my spine and shockwaves of hot lust through my brain.
She was smiling.
And her tongue flickered out of her mouth like a snake's tongue, chancing to lick my hungry, convulsing lips every few seconds.
The tease was more than I could bear.
For, what could I do about it? Fuck her? Jesus Christ-I was fucking her-sort of.
For my cock was lodged deep inside her.
"Hump me, lover," she said, as if to make fun of my afflicted state.
I said nothing.
She grabbed my sides with her hands and started to push and pull me up and down, up and down.
My cock was so deep inside her that it barely rose and fell.
But the punishment of being roughed up that way-the way she made the irons bite more and more into my ankles and wrists by treating my body so callously-it was too much!
Simply too much.
I wanted to cum.
I wanted to spit my jizz, shoot my wad and get it over with.
I wanted to make it all come together in the final gratifying moment that I knew I would achieve.
I couldn't, though.
She was in control of that, as well as everything else.
I had lost my entire manhood, even as my erection was plunged in her soaking wet twat.
I forget how long I hung there.
But I do remember what it felt like when Hume undid the manacles from my hands.
I grabbed Diane's shoulders underneath me.
Even with my feet still in shackles to the ceiling, I could enjoy this new freedom, and I was determined to hump the shit out of her.
"The moment you cum, you die, Mark," Hume said, and he stepped over to the other side of our intertwined bodies.
He grabbed Diane by the hands and dragged her away from me.
My erect penis slid out of her.
He dragged her away kicking and screaming.
"No, I'm not done yet!"
"I told you to be patient, Diane."
He slapped her, and she quieted down.
Hume cranked the large handle on the wait, and once again my body rose up toward the ceiling.
This time, though, it was my feet that went first.
Now I found myself hanging upside down.
All the blood was rushing to my head.
It was one new sensation after another, making different parts of my body more or less sensitive than before.
I felt like I was some laboratory rat in this dungeon master's chemistry set of illicit sex.
As I hung upside down, I saw Hume toward me.
I think he was holding a gun.
I didn't know what his game was now.
"I tire of this charade," he said. "Diane, shall I blow his brains out now or wait?"
"I don't care," the bitch said.
He was walking the line between sadism and out and out murder-and the game had become awfully intense.
"Hume-Andrew-" I said, mustering my thoughts, playing the helpless captive to my role's logical extreme.
He riled when I called him by his real name.
"Look, man-you don't want to kill me. That won't solve anything. Think, my man, think."
He knit his brow.
"Who is to blame for the filth and slime that men such as you and I have had to wallow in? Think!"
I took a pause.
"Who found you masturbating? Whose incessant invasions of your pubescent privacy caused you to commit rape?"
I heard him whisper the word. His lips snarled.
"Women."
"Women-right, Andrew. Women. Aren't they the real objects of your-of our-total hatred?"
Years of field work around criminals gave me an insight into the minds of men such as Hume.
I was also psychoanalyzing myself, I suppose, up there in my sexual prison of delightful torture.
"Yes, Hume-think^ boy. Think how women have degraded you and abused you.
"Think. Think how resentful you are of their power over you. Their power over your hard-on ... your own manly penis!"
I didn't let up.
"Think, Hume! How jealous you were as a boy. THEY got to play with dolls ... not you! You were ridiculed for your sensitivity and emotional maturity-while THEY were PRAISED for THEIRS!
"How you HATE women! How you want to RAPE them! DESTROY them! They forced you into a life of crime! They twisted you into a perverted shadow of your former self!
"It wasn't ME who sent you to jail, Andrew Cole! I'm just another man! Another COCK-to be sucked and fucked and jerked off! It was WOMEN, boy-WOMEN!"
I kept going.
I'm sure I was working out my own most deep-seated emotions as well.
But first and foremost, it was Hume's head I was playing with.
"Yes, Hume-Andrew Cole, you miserable faggot! Society degrades YOU for wanting to suck cocks-but not WOMEN! They get away scot free!"
He turned the pistol away from my head and pointed it at Diane, who had run toward the door.
"Get away from that door, Diane," he said.
"Unstrap me from this torture device and let us both play out the final resolution to the terrors that have made us what we are, Andrew," I said, without missing a beat.
"Do it, Diane," he instructed her at gunpoint.
Diane unbuckled me after Hume cranked the handles down, and I was free.
I snickered at her.
I spit in her face.
I could tell by the strong unmistakable smell of pussy that she was turned on-but I mean really, really turned on.
"What SHALL we do with her," Hume said, with the stereotypical intonation of a gay man at odds with his future.
"I say we truss her up and degrade her until she cums," I said with cool precision, "and then we take turns fucking her."
"Good idea. Good idea. And then?"
I looked at Diane's pale, white face and her naked tits.
"Then we kill her."
"You know, Mark?" this man who called himself Hume said to me, "I like your style."
"You don't fool me," the naked woman said to us both, strutting her stuff in front of my naked cock like it was her last fling at a good penis-tease. "There are nothing but blanks in that gun."
Hume fired a shot at the ceiling and a piece of iron fell to the floor.
"Wanna bet?"
Her pussy quivered.
She was having another orgasm right then and there.
Hume blew the smoke from the end of the pistol and winked at me.
"You know, Mark, if we really are going to degrade this chick, we ought to do it up right. Let's make an evening of it."
It was probably well past midnight, but I was hip.
"Yes. Yes indeed. Let's have a shower and some coke and invite the whole membership down here."
"Excellent idea."
Hume and I walked out of the room, leaving Diane locked inside.
As he shut the door, locking her in there, I poked my head in the door for one last remark before Diane's grand ordeal.
"Diane?"
"Yes, Mark?"
"Remember-no jerking off!"
* * *
The former Andrew Cole and I took turns showering and we relaxed over a cup of coffee in the dining room.
It was good to take a breather and give my aching cock a rest.
After coffee, he took out a vial of some pink cocaine and spilled it out on a hand mirror.
Heather was waiting on our table and when she saw the cocaine come spilling out, she couldn't help but hover around and hint that she wanted some.
She sat down at the table.
Hume cut some lines.
I snorted.
Mmmm! Good shit-much better than the white stuff I had done with Diane.
This shit would keep me going all night.
Hume dictated instructions to Heather about how he wanted her to round up the available membership of the club for a late-night swing in the dungeon.
And the adventure began.
My leather jockstrap was a perfect fit.
With a pair of dominator boots, I was ready.
Hume was dressed appropriately, and as a final touch, he wore a black hood over his head with a leather face mask to preserve his anonymity during the torture session.
"Are you ready for Operation: Trapped Tramp?" he asked.
I told him I was and we proceeded down to the dungeon to do it to Diane.
We found her sitting on the iron bed, smoking what must have been one of a lot of joints.
There was a semi-spilled bag of purple and green marijuana next to her and a couple of crumpled rolling papers.
The place reeked of dope, and her eyes were stoned shut.
She was naked.
No leather, no nothing.
Just her.
And, oh yes.
Jesus was there, nailed to his silver cross around her neck.
As if he was going to do her any good at all.
Hume and I grabbed her, one man on each arm, and dragged her, as she stumbled, from the iron bed.
"Oh, God, Mark, I'm so horny, all I want to do is fuck."
She was a stoned out vegetable of a horny sex princess.
It was as if this bastion of American womanhood had degenerated into a creature who lived only for the moment-only for the pleasures of flesh-only for the next joint and thee next stiff penis.
It was Diane as I shall always remember her.
Diane as I knew her true self to be.
You don't pity a woman like that.
You just punish her.
That's what she wants.
It's the only way she knows how to be treated.
It's the only way to love her.
With leather and iron and smoke.
We handcuffed her arms to the wall, so that she was facing us.
"Stand up STRAIGHT, God damn you," Hume yelled at her and slapped her across the cheek with the back of her hand.
She stood up.
Straight.
She thrust out her boobs at us, her nipples erect and red.
The scratches on her tits from earlier in the evening had begun to heal.
Hume took out a delicious looking device. It's purpose was obvious.
One snap, and her left nipple was captive.
It was fun to watch her shake and writhe in pain.
It gave me a hard-on.
"Do the honors?" Hume asked me, and I nodded.
He handed me the same kind of little device.
It took me a second to figure out how it worked.
I opened it and snapped it shut in mid-air a few times to practice.
"Nasty little bugger, isn't it?"
"Hmmmm." Indeed, just the sound of those metal teeth clicking together sent shivers up my spine.
I looked hungrily at her other nipple.
"Beg for it, Diane."
"Fuck you, you stinking hard-on."
I kneed her in the stomach.
"I said, beg for it."
I just know that the pain of the kick in her stomach was nothing compared to the agony of tearing flesh in her captive nipple.
"Please torture me?"
"That's better."
"You stinking hard-on."
I laughed.
And my boner ached.
I snapped her nipple into the device.
Her mouth opened wide, and no sound came out.
Then just the faintest sounds.
I smelled pussy.
I knew she was juicing.
I stuck my index finger down into her crotch just to test the wetness.
She was wet, all right.
Really, really wet.
I rubbed the bulge in my leather jockstrap against her thigh, up and down, squat-thrusting.
I wanted to make her orgasm build and build.
I wanted it to be hell for her-sweet, sublime hell.
The kind I knew she wanted.
The kind she knew she deserved.
"Want my cock?"
"Yes."
Gone was the tempting teases and the seductive intonations.
Gone were the flirts and counter-flirts.
Gone.
It was all replaced by a new dialogue.
A dialogue of honest and open filth.
She looked at me straight in the eye, and, although her face was streaming with tears of horrible pain, she spoke clearly and directly.
"Yes, Mark. I want your cock. God help me, I love it. I love that boner and I want it deep, deep inside me."
"Here, Mark," Hume called to me and handed me something even more interesting.
Leather garter belts.
With the spikes on the inside.
I saw how to buckle them onto her leg.
I wrapped one around her inner thigh.
I pulled it tighter and tighter-until the spikes just poked in, indenting her skin without rupturing it.
It was really close to her cunt.
Then I did the other leg.
She was trussed and trapped against the wall, with spikes digging into her thighs and clamps torturing her nipples.
"What do you think, Hume?"
"Good work. Certainly giving ME a hard-on."
We looked at each other.
"Heather should be arriving soon with the others."
"Others?" Diane asked through her stupor of drugs and agony.
"Oh, yes, my darling," I said, kissing her under the earlobe and breathing heavily in her ear, "we aren't simply going to abuse you. We're going to humiliate you as well."
Chapter Eight
I'll never forget staring at my naked Diane, shackled by irons to the walls, bound by the clamps that pierced her nipples.
I'll never forget the thrill of seeing this woman who had caused me so much agony-so much degradation-so much pain-bound helpless.
And I'll never forget knowing that there was no guilt, no shame.
For, she was enjoying every tear-stained moment of her brutal ordeal.
You could tell by the- rivulets of goo that were running down the insides of her legs from her hot pussy.
Yes, the smell of juicy cunt was in the air.
And Diane was the only woman in the room.
Until the rest of the club membership arrived.
They came in twos and threes, they came alone.
From all corners of the Hideaway of this mysterious ex-criminal called Hume.
Heather, complete with her punked-out attire and her sexy ass.
Cucumber, complete with her naked tits. I guess she Went around barechested everywhere.
I asked her.
"Well, one of the reasons I hang out at Hume's is because I can go around with my breasts exposed. I mean, what good is life if you can't parade around in naked tits?"
I had to admit I could see her point.
Rather, her points.
The black guy and his two black chicks came.
So did that little fag who ran the restroom.
Some of them sat on the floor.
Some of them stood near to the back.
But before long the private dungeon was filled, as an intimate nightspot, with everybody who longed to participate in the glorious abuse of the naked female.
MY naked female.
It was an incredible feeling. Every cock must have been erect that night-every pussy wet.
People were in the back, getting horny and around and stripping off all their clothes.
Some people started fucking in the back.
But me?
I was going to save myself for Diane.
"You know what this bitch did?" I announced as an orator of S-and-M to the assembled crowd.
Their stares of rapt attention flattered my ego.
"She lied to me!"
Ooohs and booos went through the room.
"Spit on her!"
"Rape her!"
"Shit on her!" one person yelled.
I calmed them down.
"We're going to take turns. It's going to be an all-night gang bang of sexual ecstasy ... and no one is going to enjoy it more than our friend Diane."
Let me describe to you the episodes from that all-nighter that I remember best.
There was one chick whose name I never got-: but she was one of the black women who danced in the nightclub portion of the place.
One of the chicks that I had seen that night the week before with Diane.
She strode up to the white, almost pate form of Diane.
The black chick made a fist.
She held it up in front of her, reminding me of the black power symbol of a generation past.
She never unclenched her fingers.
She made Diane spread her legs wide.
She rammed her fist inside Diane's cunt.
I could only imagine how that might feet.
TO have one's being cleaved like that.
I imagined that Diane's pussy expanded and contracted, humping the woman's fist.
I could see the fist go in and out.
In and out.
.In.
And then, out.
Over and over.
Pretty soon, the woman's fist was dripping wet, and cunt juice was dribbling down her forearm.
She rammed her fist in again, and then more and more of her forearm as she fisted Diane's twat deeper and deeper.
I watched the grimace of pain spread across Diane's sweet and vulnerable face.
I listened for the moans and groans that escaped her mouth as the black woman reamed deeper and deeper.
"Oh-God-no! Please ... stop," Diane tried to say intelligibly. But all that came out of her mouth was the gross squeak and squeal of a woman whose flesh is being rent.
Ripped.
Abused.
The black chick eventually pulled her fist out from Diane's cunt.
"Lick it, bitch," the black woman said, holding her forearm up to Diane's mouth.
Like a brown ear of corn, Diane was forced to suck the sides of her extended forearm.
The black woman was not gentle.
Oh, no.
She rammed her arm against Diane's face.
Diane's mouth was pushed open and her tongue forced to lick her own pussy juices off the black woman's arm.
Right in front of all these people.
These people who were getting off sexually on her abuse.
The black woman stuck her fist in Diane's mouth.
I watched in horny fascination as Diane licked her cunt juices hungrily off of every square inch of the black woman's hand.
The black woman had to spread her fingers.
Diane licked the strands that stuck in between the fingers.
She was probably so hungry from all he pot she'd smoked that this was a welcome meal, as well as a form of sexual degradation that she would never allow herself to pass up.
Ah, yes.
It was so sweet, so wonderful.
I saw a couple of guys starting to jerk off right then and there, as they watched her.
Funny thing happened, too.
I heard somebody say to one of those guys-I forget whether it was a man or a woman who spoke- "Hey, if you're going to want to get off to this, why don't you let me suck your cock?"
"No thanks," the guy replied. "I really love to bring myself off in front of scenes of degradation."
It was quite a scene, too, watching the man's thick hard-on rise and get trapped inside his palm, watching him rub his dick, making it fill with erectile blood.
And then I remember when Diane had finished licking the woman the guy let himself shoot.
Blurts of hot white cum spat upon the back of someone sitting in front of him.
A naked woman in fact, who was sitting at his feet.
I watched his cum roll down her shoulder, down the inside slope of this girl's naked tit.
I remember watching the woman as she scooped up the dribble of his jism from her nipple.
Yes, how that little droplet clung to her pink pearl of nipple head.
And she took it in her mouth and savored the taste.
My own cock was rigid, of course-hard and painfully restrained inside that leather jock strap I was wearing.
By this point, Diane's nipples were starting to let loose small scarlet trickles of blood where the clamps had bit their sadistic way into her flesh.
I loved watching her writhe.
The bitch.
She was lower than the lowest of street scum.
I wanted to watch her gush blood in buckets, so filled with excitement of sexual hatred was I.
I swore to god that I would let her feel the most furious pain I could imagine.
When another one of our number stepped up toward her.
Heather.
With a spiked; metal vibrating dildo.
A hot dildo of death.
Literally hot.
She must have had it sitting in n oven or some shit.
In any case, she brought the metal spiked dildo over to Diane and posed with it in front of the assembled throng.
"Ram it in!"
"Fuck her with it!"
"Make her cum!"
"Make her bleed!"
"Make her suffer!"
Heather was a good showman.
She turned the thing on, and we all hushed.
We could hear the vibrating hummmmmmm ... !
And then a titter of laughter ran through the crowd.
Heather brought the vibrating machine up to her own cleavage, and pantomimed a hot, shaking orgasm for us.
"Oooh," Heather said offhand, "That DOES feel nice."
Heather then peeled off her top and vibrated the thing against her own tits.
And then she placed it between Diane's legs.
And then she turned the speed up to the next one.
The tone of the hum was a little louder now.
Heather placed the dildo against Diane's clit.
We all heard Diane scream.
We all watched her beg for more.
And then, when Heather rammed the machine inside Diane's aching pussy, we all applauded.
I'll never forget watching those metal spikes go in, one by one, folding underneath the resistance of Diane's pussy lips.
I'll never forget watching the couple in the back who were naked and greased and nicking each other.
Watching that red meaty penis slide in and out of that chick's cunt.
Or watching the metal spiked penis slide all the way inside Diane.
There was something about the sheer decadence of it all that made me want to scream with delight.
It wasn't even my turn to humiliate Diane yet!
But more and more the power grew within me.
Within my breast.
I was consumed by the sheer savagery of the total sexual experience.
And, as person after person humiliated and abused Diane's poor tortured naked body, until she was bleeding and cumming at the same time, I knew that this would be the most gratifying and at the same time the most cosmically scary sex romp I would ever be on.
At last it was my turn.
I unzipped my leather jock and displayed my big hard cock to everyone who wanted to see.
I strode across the front row of seated people.
They reached up, many of them, to touch my penis as I walked by-like when a rock star parades in front of an audience or a politician goes out handshaking.
I loved the feel of anonymous people's fingers against my cock and balls.
I loved displaying the fact that I was being sexually admired and worshipped while Diane was being punished and abused and degraded and humiliated.
For, I had earned my new respect.
I had suffered the abuses of a charged chick like Diane.
I recounted the many insults to my manhood and libido that I had to bear while I had been pursuing this woman.
This compelling woman.
This compelling sex-demoness of savage hardonity.
The lies.
The time she called to have some one jerk me out of the bathroom where I was whacking off my dick to the memory of her sexy voice.
The times she just up and left after deeply intimate sex.
The teasing of my cock. My cock.
My naked member that even now was becoming an icon of debauchery to the assembled throng.
I recounted these abuses out loud for the gathering, and they applauded and jeered in the appropriate places.
My little monologue was so stimulating that several people started getting off on my voice. I forced Diane to her knees, I held her pretty face in my hands. I shoved her face into my balls. Then I turned around and grabbed her head by the back of her hair.
I shoved her face into my ass.
"Lick me!" I screamed.
I felt her tongue start to lick out my ass hole.
I felt the snaking, wet member dart from her mouth and feel up the short hairs that covered the crack between my buttocks.
The sensation of her tongue upon those tender tissues was unbelievable.
Droplets of pre-cum formed at the slit of my prick.
For minutes on end, my cock pointed out toward the crowd while Diane rammed her tongue deep, deep into the crack of my ass.
I heard her sputter and spit occasionally.
God knows what she was spitting out from between her teeth.
Then long, broad licks of her tongue up the crevice and down.
It made me want to ram my pecker inside of her.
Then she nuzzled my root-the underbelly of my genitals.
That area between my ass and my balls, The sweaty, filthy flesh that her quiet licks made tingle with horny energy.
She sucked my balls and bit them and spit them out.
The crowd went wild.
Some of them even started to imitate what we were doing, naked as they were, and began to eat each other's anus holes.
"You stinking cunt!"
I wheeled around to face her.
She was as scum at my feet.
My cock quivered in mid air.
It was bright red, almost purple.
And thick and hard and wet.
I kicked her in the face with my foot.
It felt great.
For both of us.
And then, the finale.
I had to save it for the last.
She knelt in front of all of us.
My cock was aimed straight at her throat.
Golden shower.
I felt the warm piss shoot out my pecker and stream right into her face.
It hit her in a jet spray.
It splashed and splattered to and fro-the steam heat of the rich golden yellow piss stream spraying a mist of sweet acid all about.
Like a halo, I suppose.
I watched her throw her head back and revel in the acid stink of my piss.
I watched the rivers of piss cascade down her neck, down her shoulders.
Down her tits.
Down her naked tit cleavage.
It was glorious.
My hard on provided just the right angle, too.
Her hair was matter with the yellow urine.
And then, before the force of the stream could die down, I blasted her right at her mouth.
"Oh, yes, yes," she moaned and groaned between sobs.
Yes, sobs.
Of joy? Yes.
Of pain? Sure.
She fell to my feet, the clamps still stuck in her nipples, as if nothing mattered anymore.
She grasped at my ankles while the jet stream of my piss fell into an arc and splashed all over her lips.
She seemed, in her fatigued and exhausted state, to try and drink it, making her lips reach up toward the sky with whatever strength she had left.
And then I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her with my dick inside her pussy and her mouth and her ass until I came.
White gobs of cum in her cunt.
And on her face.
Her putrid, piss-soaked, beautiful face.
* * *
Well, obviously the night, wonderful and bizarre as it was, did not last forever.
I remember a shower and a final cup of coffee.
It was light out when Andrew Cole, or Hume, or whatever you want to call him, stood with me at the front door to the club.
His arm was around my shoulder.
"So you promise you'll see Diane gets home safely?" I asked Hume.
"Well, she's stayed the night before. I assume she'll be kind of out of it for a while. But we'll clean her up and get her back 'on the street,' so to speak."
"In my line of work, Hume, that's not a particularly funny expression."
"Nor in my line of work, Mark," Hume said to me.
"Good night, fella, or good morning," I said, and shook his hand and left the club for the last time.
I got a taxi and headed home to begin writing- writing down everything I could remember of the whole experience.
I made careful notes of all my recollections.
And what I have presented to you is the truth as I best remember it.
I never made any effort to have Andrew Cole arrested or have his place investigated, of course- and I'm sure it is not necessary to explain why.
So, as far as I know, the Hideaway of Hume is still there, catering to the discriminating adults in all forms of exotic pleasures.
Oh, yes.
There is one final loose end I wish to wrap up.
You're probably wondering what happened to Diane.
I got a call at my house Saturday morning.
"Hi."
I recognized her voice.
"Hi, Diane. What's up?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Uh ... I want to see you. May I come over?"
As much as I wanted to see her, the thought of her coming over only filled me with apprehension.
One affair like the one we had is enough for one lifetime-and I knew if she came over I would only winding being seduced into tying her up again.
Or maybe she wouldn't have to seduce me.
"Why don't you meet me somewhere?"
"Hume's?"
"No. Someplace neutral. It's a nice day. Battery Park." I mentioned an address.
It was about noon when we met.
She looked great of course, but tired.
Some of the blush had gone out of her cheeks.
Still, though, I could not resist kissing her when I saw her standing there framed against the trees and hot-dog stands.
She put an arm around me.
"I want you to know," Diane said, "that our last week, well, it did a lot for me."
"Yeah, I guess it did a lot for me, too."
"No, Mark. I'm serious. There were a lot of dark demons that were lurking inside me, since I was a little girl. I think having that unbelievable S-and-M experience ... well, it worked a lot out of my system."
I sighed.
I spoke.
"Me too. I suppose I worked out a lot of my hatreds of myself, of women, of gay men. It was kind of a purging."
She looked at me with honest eyes.
"Yes."
There was a long pause when neither of us spoke.
We sat down on a park bench, looking out at the Harbor, thinking our own thoughts.
We wound up having lunch together at a nearby bar and grill-nothing fancy.
Just a couple of burgers and a couple of beers.
We had some laughs.
We strolled out of the restaurant, and walked down the length of the park.
"Mark?"
"Yes?"
"I don't think I could have had that experience with any other man."
"Hah! Right, I've heard that before."
Just like she had told me she had never been to the sex club before.
"No, I mean it. There was something about you I liked from the first. Something I trusted and felt warm and comfortable with.
"I know this sounds like a lot of bullshit, Mark, but I suppose I needed a man like you to help me work the sadism, the masochism out of me. I don't know what it was about you.
"I suppose I didn't mind lying to you about never being to the club before-because I knew it would all work out for the better.
"Sure I had been there before-but never for anything good. I always thought that the club would be really great with the right man.
"Well, you came along and gave me more than I bargained for-but everything that I needed."
There was another pause, and then Diane snuggled against me.
"I love you, Mark. Marry me. I'll make you very happy."
You know, I didn't say anything for about five minutes.
And then I came to speak.
"I don't know, Diane. You're quite a woman, and I don't doubt that you love me.
"But a lot of what I saw myself doing this past week weirds me out, still. Oh, I know. It was the most fantastic sexual experience of my life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
"But there's going to come a time when I might want to do it all again. I don't know. Just thinking about tying you up or listening to you talk dirty to me ... "
I shook my head, trying to frame my thoughts.
"Sorry, girl. It was great. But my sexual destiny lies elsewhere ... maybe with you again some day, some other city. Maybe with some other woman.
"Maybe in the mental ward of the local psychiatric hospital."
My little joke wasn't funny.
She was taken aback, a little, but the look of resignation that crossed her face made me realize that she was mature enough to take this news.
I wasn't worried about her, in other words.
Diane would survive.
Women like Diane always do.
She whistled for a cab.
She got in.
"Drop you off uptown?"
"Fine," I said, and got in.
She told the driver to go to a certain address.
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Hume's sex club.
"Jesus," I said, and laughed.
Diane got out of the cab first.
"One last one, for old time's sake?"
"Yeah. Let's have a drink and fuck."
"No heavy stuff?"
"Well ... ya never know!"
Diane and I still see each other about three or four times a year.
She and I and the guy she's now married to are frequent customers at Hume's.
EPILOGUE
Those of you who have read Mark's account of our relationship are likely to cast a skeptical eye upon some of the scenes he described herein.
Well, you SHOULD take it with a grain of salt.
Because it was even MORE bizarre than what he has described.
In deference to my now-husband and, I suppose, to me too, Mark left out one or two of our hot sexual episodes in the House of Hume.
Including my favorite, most treasured memory of the whole lurid ordeal.
Role reversal.
It was the night of the summer solstice.
Hume had a tradition of holding a druid ceremony in the sub-basement of his upper east side sex club.
The festivities began shortly after dinner.
Chanting the Celtic lyrics of some obscene medieval drinking songs, a chorus of bald midgets, specially trained in the arcane sexual practices of the forced labor cults that prospered about the time of the Norman invasion, entered the candle-lit dungeon wearing monk's robes.
Me?
I was naked, perched cross-legged on a surgical table raised several feet off the floor of a sunken section of the cold, stone dungeon.
Well, not exactly naked.
Black fish-net stockings and a pair of crotchless panties.
The edible kind.
They carried candles as they circled my seductive form.
One of them lit my cigarette.
The glowing embers of the flickering flames illuminated my pale face and my brightly painted ruby lips.
I was juicing.
What red-blooded American girl's vagina wouldn't be?
Borne by the midgets in a sedan chair, and wearing tribal regalia, Mark entered the room to hushed applause.
I could tell that his cock was bulging underneath the black leather jock strap that hugged his manly torso.
Shit, he was sexy.
He carried his sexual arousal with just the right amount of outward cynical detachment and inward smouldering desire.
A black box was passed along the heads of the midgets to our good friend who, as you recall, went by the name of Cucumber.
She stepped up to where I sat, my hot cunt waiting, waiting, waiting.
I opened the box and held its contents up for all the gathering flock to behold.
Ooohs and aaaahs filled the room as all saw the glistening black leather dildo harness.
I strapped it on.
Oh, how wonderful it felt to have a dick.
I paraded my new phallus back and forth for all to see.
Whereupon Mark dismounted his sedan chair and joined me on the little table that was our stage.
How can I describe the hot thrill of yanking off Mark's jockstrap to reveal his pounding hard-on?
How can I relate the amazing violent surge of libidinous joy that rocked my soul as I placed the end of the leather dick, pre-lubricated with a mixture of petroleum jelly and sheep's blood, against his naked ass?
