Janet Spungeon had trouble relating to men, especially the more masculine men she met. Her best friend Marci Parker understood Janet's problem, but Janet wasn't about to take anyone's advice on how to get along with men, especially Marci's.
Maybe some sort of solution would present itself during the long weekend that the two women had planned together at the popular Tennessee ski resort, Alpine Village, where rumor had it that bed-hopping was a more popular sport than skiing itself. Who would want to go shooting down the snowy slopes, one wag put it, when you could shoot off in bed?
But Janet was to find out that most of the extracurricular sports at the lodge-and in the strange chalet on the other side of the mountain-were not really done in bed at all. Sex was about to take on a whole new atmosphere for her, an atmosphere dark, brooding, as full of danger as excitement. The lessons she was to learn from the sinister bartender of the ski resort's Leather Lounge had as much to do with pain as with pleasure, and they were lessons she would never forget.
CHAPTER ONE
Janet and Marci stepped off the train into the brisk mountain air. It was late morning, but the ski resort seemed to be still snoozing or taking an early siesta.
"Christ, honey," Janet muttered to her slightly chubby friend. "Is this your idea of a swinging singles community? We could've stayed in Louisville for this."
Marci's lower lip jutted out in what she presumed was a sexy pout. Janet cringed.
"Will you stop it?" Marci wheezed. "I'm sick and tired of your always being so negative. How do you expect us to ever have any fun or to meet anyone with you bitching all the time?"
Janet sighed and looked up and down the platform. Not a man in sight. Well, Marci had done it again. Why in the name of God did she keep listening to the little butterball?
Deep down inside, though, she knew. Marci, for all her excess poundage, always attracted men by the droves. Janet had never particularly liked her, since the day they started working together almost two years ago. But Marci did attract the humpiest and sexiest men, and there was always at least one left over.
"I'm sorry, honey," Janet said sweetly.
"That's OK," Marci replied, not seeing through the sweetness.
God, she's so dense, Janet thought. Maybe that's why men like her so much. Not that there was much Janet could do about affecting the same sweet attitude, even if she'd wanted to.
* * *
As they maneuvered their way down from the platform to the damp cobblestone street a level below, the two shapely young women were completely unaware of the rather strange looking couple in a vintage black Cadillac watching them from the parking lot.
"Oh my, Elmer," the thin wisp of a woman sighed with great relish. "That blonde is quite nice. Quite, quite nice. I think Jimmy will be pleased. I think he will be very pleased indeed."
Her companion grunted his approval. "Why yes, Abigail. I think you're right about that. I think those tits could be taught to make our Jim-Boy very happy. Oh, I think he'll like those tits. I can just see him going after those tits and teaching them a lesson."
Abigail Crimpton-John smiled narrowly. Her brother was a little simple-always had been, it's true-but he was her brother. And they did enjoy themselves, she and Elmer and Jimmy. With whomever they happened to choose. And Abigail did enjoy the fact that it was almost always she who did the choosing. And if she did say so herself, her taste was impeccable.
"Do you think they're headed towards the lodge?" Elmer asked, licking his lips and squirming ever so slightly on the black leather seat.
It was a rhetorical question, and Abigail regarded it as such. Where else would two hot-to-trot young pussies be headed? Abigail thought to herself, delighting as ever in her own profanity. Old Blood and Thunder would be so angry and irritated (she was smiling her tight, prim smirk again) if only he knew-wherever the hell the old bastard was.
"I said," her brother began again, "that I wonder if they were going to be-"
"Shut up," Abigail said, not unkindly. "Of course they are, Bubbles. Of course they are."
No one save his dear sister Abby would dare to call him Bubbles. But Abby could.
The grey-haired spinster flicked on the old Caddy's ignition.
"But, Abby," her brother said as she backed from the parking lot. "Aren't we going to offer them a ride? There's not a taxi cab in sight."
"I know, Bubbles, I know," his sister said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "That's exactly what that cunt needs. And deserves. Believe me, honey. I know that type. That's exactly what she deserves."
Abigail wheeled the car around in reverse, then switched gears quickly and peeled off down the road. Elmer turned to catch a last glimpse of the two young lovelies, still standing at the foot of the platform.
* * *
"Well, shit," said Janet. "What do we do now, bird-brain?"
It wasn't that Marci enjoyed Janet's berating her-not exactly. It was more a question of her getting used to it. She'd never admit that she enjoyed it. But she did put up with it. And she sometimes wondered why. Janet never really showed her any kind of real appreciation. Never even said thank you. And never bought her any of the little presents and mementos that Marci was always buying her. Janet was downright selfish, in fact, Marci had to admit. But being with her was important, almost to the point of being compulsive. At times Marci imagined that she would do anything to please Janet, to keep her happy. And yet all she did was bitch and complain. And steal her boyfriends.
"Maybe we can call a cab from that little coffee shop across the street," Marci ventured. It seemed like the only possibility at the moment. The street in front of the railroad station was completely empty now that a little old lady in the black Cadillac had hot-footed it down the hill.
Lugging their luggage with them, the two women crossed the deserted street. Actually Janet lugged only her cosmetic case and the smaller of her two bags, leaving Marci to fend with her large suitcase as well as her own two bags. It didn't occur to her to do otherwise. Marci had always carried the bags, the same way she had always taken care of the tipping in the lounge if, God forbid, they ended up going home alone. And that had been a bit more frequent than suited Janet's taste of late. Damn men, she muttered under her breath. They're never there when you needed them, the fucking pigs.
The coffee shop was more of a greasy spoon. The redhead behind the counter looked like a truck-stop waitress who had gotten too old to even give truck drivers blow-jobs any more, Janet thought. God, what an ugly old bat.
"Hi," Marci giggled as they entered. Janet cringed. She really hated it when her bird-brained buddy started talking to strangers. That's one thing she certainly thanked her Aunt Beatrice for-teaching her to never speak until spoken to. Never to be forward like that.
"Nice day, isn't it?" Marci continued. God, would she never stop.
The red-head didn't seem to think much more of Marci's friendliness than Janet did. "Nice, hell," she grunted, plopping a single menu down in front of the two women. "What d' ya want? The specials ain't ready yet. Not till noon."
"We don't want a damn thing in this joint," Janet sneered. "Except to use your fucking phone. So that we can get out to the lodge."
"Oh, what hot shit you are, sweetie," said the waitress, her hands going automatically to her thin hips. "Miss Hot Shit from the city, yeah, I can see that. And goin' to the lodge are you, my pretty? Well, more power to you. You'll likely get exactly what you deserve out there! Ha!" The woman let out a loud cackle, exactly like the witch in "Wizard of Oz." She turned on her heel with a spin, looking back over her shoulder to repeat, quite nastily, "Exactly what you deserve, bitch."
With that she disappeared into the kitchen.
Janet felt a strange tightness stir in her thighs. She blushed deeply. No one had ever talked to her like that, even Aunt Bea after she began to lose her marbles. "Let's get out of here," she begged Marci. "Before I kill that old battle-ax."
"Are you sure you don't want a cup of coffee at least?" Marci asked, but it was too late. Janet had already exited, slamming the glass door behind her. And leaving Marci the heavy bag, as usual.
* * *
Outside once again, the two friends looked up and down the street. There was a real nip in the air, but Marci knew that Janet would never be talked into going back inside again. There was a telephone booth back across the street at the far end of the train station, so once more the two friends crossed the deserted roadway.
Just as Janet slipped Marci's dime into the slot, a creaky taxi-cab turned onto the street and made its way slowly towards the two friends.
"Want a taxi, girls?" the driver, a mean-looking old codger in a cowboy hat, asked. Marci nodded enthusiastically, and Janet followed her, leaving Marci's dime behind in the machine.
"To Alpine Village," Marci said sweetly to the driver, who nodded without comment and waited for them to load their own bags into the cab. He pulled out into the road and cruised the nearly deserted streets at what seemed to Janet a very slow pace.
"Where is everyone?" Marci asked, balancing her well-filled skirt on the edge of the dirty plastic seat.
"Ain't exactly season yet," the driver replied, still tight-lipped.
"Oh," Marci pouted, turning on her charm, "That's too bad. We're here for-uh-vacation, you see."
The driver nodded, warming up a bit to her obvious come-on. "Oh, yeah," he said. "What kind of-uh-vacation were ya lookin' fer?"
Marci giggled-much too loudly for Janet's taste-so Janet glared at her with real warning in her eyes. Marci chose to ignore the look. "Oh, you know," she flirted. "To meet some men and all. Some nice young men, out here to-uh-vacation, too."
"Better be careful, young lady," the driver said, no longer smiling. "Some young gals who come out here all hot-to-trot sometimes get more than they bargained fer."
Marci giggled again and Janet kicked her. The driver didn't smile and remained silent for the remainder of the ride. Alpine Village was a fairly large ski resort located half-way up Green Mountain. They left the town of Overton behind and headed up the road to the lodge.
Janet noted the blue smoke swirling out the main chimney of the lodge. At least they've got a fireplace in the bar, she thought. If this place is as deserted as it looks like it might be, I can still curl up with a good book.
As she thought about the old cabbie's rather silly warning, Janet felt her nipples tighten inside her tight blue sweater. He's probably full of shit, she thought to herself. But a little excitement would be a change of pace, especially after the past six months.
She remembered Rodney with a mixture of irritation and regret. She'd met him, as she met lots of men, through Marci. She presumed, in fact, that they'd been fucking pretty regularly, though it was difficult to get any of that kind of information out of old bird-brain, who for all her loud-mouth babbling was very tight-lipped about what she did in bed. And to get any information whatsoever, about anything, out of Rodney had, of course, been impossible.
Dark, brooding, secretive-Rodney had been all those things, as well as the most handsome and probably the best-hung guy Janet had ever slept with. Slept with, she laughed to herself now, driving up the mountain in the cab. What a ridiculous euphemism that was-particularly as far as Rodney was concerned.
Their first night had been as sleepless as it had been peculiar. Rodney was one hell of a lover, but he was, in a word, a tease. Janet usually had no trouble coming-usually three or four times while she was being fucked-but Rodney kept her hanging on the edge, right on the verge of climax, pushing her to the point over and over again, with his tongue, with fingers, with his long, hard, truly incredible cock-and then pulling out, pulling back, leaving her unfulfilled. But the incredible thing was that his teasing her didn't leave Janet frustrated, not in the least. If anything it turned her on more than ever. The more he left her unfulfilled, the more fulfilling it was, so much so that she began to enjoy his pulling it out more than his putting it in. Somehow, with his incredible sense of timing, Rodney kept her in that heavenly state of almost (but not quite) coming for hours on end, often all night long and far into the morning.
More often than not, he would not come at all, and even if he did, it was always without making her come. Occasionally when he exploded, filling her whole cavity with what seemed to be gallons and gallons of his hot, boiling gism, she thought she could push herself over the edge as well, making them come together in one absolute, ultimate orgasm, but she could never quite get there, never make herself explode.
Then he began to shame her, to tell her she was a cunt, a bitch, a worthless piece of shit, a despicable amateur in the love-making department. "You lousy cunt," he would yell at her so loud that she was positive the neighbors could hear, "you lousy bitching cunt, you can't even come when I fuck you!" Then he would draw back his fist as if he were going to smash it into her face. For a moment, he would lie there, towering over her, ready to hit her really, really hard, but he never did follow through with that blow. A kind of shiver would convulse his whole body, and without another word, he'd jump up, dress and leave.
Usually it would be three or four weeks before she'd see or hear from him again. Then, out of the blue, he'd call or just show up one night, ringing her doorbell. They never had regular dates, never did anything together like going out to dinner or to a movie or disco. Nothing was ever planned. Even in bed, there was no real foreplay. He'd just start in, pumping and tonguing and jamming. They practically never even talked, in fact, except for the times when he'd berate her after he came.
The times when he didn't come were almost as bad-or as wonderful, Janet now blushed to admit. Rodney always had a little black briefcase with him, and on the nights that he left her and carried that bag back into the bedroom with him, Janet knew that he was not going to come-at least not inside her. On these nights, he would force her to fellate him, forcing her head roughly down on his cunt-lubricated cock and keeping it there by grasping her hair roughly at the nape of the neck. He didn't talk to her while she sucked him like most men did, and his eyes in fact seemed to roll back into his head as if he were fantasizing some wild magnificent sex scene that had nothing to do with her at all. He would push her gasping mouth down on his throbbing dick further and further and faster and faster, and more than once his fast and heavy breathing convinced her that he was about to shoot his load deep into her throat. But that longed-for load never came.
For that was when he reached beside the bed and opened the black leather briefcase. At least, Janet assumed he was opening the briefcase, because prior to this Rodney not only turned out every light in the room, but made sure that not even the tiniest ray of light could come in through either the window or the door. He had made her install photographers' darkroom sheeting over the window for just that purpose, though she had been totally perplexed by the request originally. At any rate, it was totally dark, and only the sound of the zipper opening had let Janet knew the next phase of their wild and deliciously lewd lovemaking was about to begin.
Even now, Janet couldn't be positive of what Rodney kept in the black briefcase. She knew the objects only by touch. Some were cold and pointed, like scissors or knives; others were hard and blunt, like rubber. Rodney would stick these things-and there were all sizes of them-inside her, into her mouth, her cunt, her ass. At other times, his own sighs and moans seemed to indicate to her that he was sticking them inside himself, or at least rubbing himself with them. Once-and once only-he got so excited while doing that to himself that he shot all over her, covering her whole abdomen and breasts with his amazingly hot, sticky come. That time, too, he left quickly, without speaking to her or offering any explanation. She had lain there for hours, letting his wonderful come cool and cake on her body, remembering, remembering, relishing every moment of the dark masquerade.
Often Janet had thought of reaching down with her own hand and finishing herself off, but she never had. Somehow it was more perfect, more complete, the way it was the way Rodney decreed it should be. Partly it was Aunt Bea's horrendous tales of how she would get syphilis and die if she played with herself. But mostly it wasn't that. It was Rodney's wish that she not come, that she be left perpetually unsatisfied. That was somehow law to her-and somehow holy.
"Well, here we are!" Marci announced in her over-enthusiastic baby talk voice.
Janet snapped herself out of daydream. Here they were indeed.
CHAPTER TWO
The lodge was one of those boringly modern examples of overpriced architecture, a sort of Howard Johnson's meets Burger King. Everywhere Janet and Marci looked, they saw colored plastic furniture, synthetic carpets, outdoor-art-fair paintings, and chrome. Acres of chrome.
The man at the desk, Janet was quick to note, was a swishy middle aged queen, just beginning to bald. He had pinky rings on both hands. Christ, she thought to herself, I wonder what he does here.
Alpine Village did have a reputation of being the most likely swinging singles resort in the area. A lot of Marci's and Janet's friends swore by it, and some of the descriptions had been quite elaborate. Best of all-or so it seemed to Janet-was the much-repeated rumor that the place had a three-to-one ratio of men to women-and that the men, either by choice or necessity, often dug group scenes, with as many as eight or nine sharing one hot honey for the night.
Janet had never really been able to get enough of sex, not since that first time in the furnace room of her Aunt Bea's Indianapolis apartment building. She had been only thirteen, but already pretty well-stacked for her age. Tony, the superintendent's son, was fifteen, and he was pretty well-built for his age, too.
Janet had been noticing him around the building for almost a year. He was kind of a quiet guy and stayed to himself a lot. Very seldom did she notice him out playing ball or shooting the shit with the rest of the kids in the park. More and more, Janet had begun to wonder what exactly he did with his time, and where he spent it.
Almost by chance one afternoon she found out. Her Aunt Bea had gone shopping and had left Janet, who was home on summer vacation, to do the laundry. After putting the second load in, Janet heard a kind of quiet moaning coming from around the corner. More and more curious-especially when it didn't stop, but instead grew louder and louder and more and more frantic-she finally went to explore.
She found Tony in the furnace room, back behind the boiler itself, lying back against the wall on a stack of old newspapers, pulling on his long brown cock. She had seen pictures of men's penises before, in her health book at school, but they never looked anything like this. Those cocks in the books were little and pink, and the skin didn't go back and forth over the end of them the way Tony's did as he pulled.
"Holy smokes!" Janet had exclaimed excitedly as she watched. Tony had jumped up in great embarrassment and had tried to pull up his jeans and jam his still throbbing cock inside them, all in one motion.
"Oh, don't!" Janet had squealed, and almost mechanically she found herself rushing to Tony, dropping to her knees on the floor, and taking the big young dick into her eager, knowing mouth.
To this day, Janet had no idea how her mouth could have been so eager and knowing. But it was, she smiled to herself as she filled out the card at the ski resort desk, amazed that she could continue such a heavy fantasy in the present-day reality as well.
Soon enough, she was back into the reality of that remembered first suck. Tony's virgin cock had leapt eagerly into her hungry lips as soon as he was aware that she meant business. He came quickly that first time, and the salty juice that shot from the end of his hot dick was too much for her little mouth to contain, spilling out one side and running down her throat.
Tony had evidently imagined that that would be all, but Janet had not been about to stop. She let the now semi-rigid cock slip from her mouth and immediately began to work her lips and tongue around his throbbing young balls. It took practically no time for her to get him worked up again, and it seemed to Janet that Tony's second erection was at least half-again as large as his first.
This time as he rammed his meat into her mouth, the young Puerto Rican was more in control of what he was doing. He told her how to move her tongue inside his foreskin around the burning tip of his dick, and how to slow down, speed up, slow down. At last, he couldn't hold back any longer, and this time he let out a scream as he came that Janet was convinced could be heard all the way to the ninth floor had her Aunt Bea been home.
As it had happened, the scream did not go unnoticed. Just as Janet had licked the last few drops of come off of Tony's dick, the two of them looked up to see Tony's father Jose standing in the door of the furnace room.
As fascinated as Janet had been by the piece in his pants that had so attracted her to Tony, she was doubly so by the giant slab in the man's overalls. Tony had at first appeared embarrassed to have been discovered getting his cock sucked, but when he saw the state of advanced excitement his father was in, he knew it didn't really matter. "Holy mother!" the superintendent of her aunt's apartment building exclaimed, then went into a long list of what Janet assumed were very dirty expletives in His native tongue. In a flash, the stocky Puerto Rican bounded across the room and unbuttoned his fly.
When his cock leapt into sight, the young girl's heart almost stopped. The prick was so round and large that she realized she would barely be able to get her lips around the very tip of it, which she quickly proceeded to do.
"Oh, yes, mira!" the good-looking Latino squealed, trying to thrust the tip of his hot rod deeper into the trembling youngster's throat. "Oh, baby, take eet, take eet!"
But try as she would, Janet had not been able to get her little mouth around more than the very tip of the super's cock. She moved her little tongue quickly over the head, licking at the foreskin as she had learned just minutes before from Tony, but the motion only seemed to drive the man wilder and wilder without really giving him proper satisfaction.
While his father took his cock in his hand and began to jack it off into the girl's face, Tony began rubbing Janet's cunt through her panties until they were soaking wet. He then grabbed at them and yanked them down to her knees. His soft brownish face, covered with the peach fuzz of a new beard, then moved up her thighs and into her pubic area.
Janet had then begun to feel things she had never imagined possible.
Things happened inside her. Her blood ran hot and cold, and her thighs and stomach felt as if they were being stuck with a hundred tiny needles. Then she felt the boy's tongue begin licking at the lips of her honey pot, then actually slip inside and move around.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" she remembered screaming over and over again.
The father, unable to control himself any longer, had then thrown her down onto the stack of newspapers and quickly jammed the whole length of his giant cock into her tight virgin cunt. Janet had swooned from the pain, but in a way she had never forgotten the pleasure that was mixed with that pain. Later she had wondered how many times the horny Latin man and his son had fucked her that day. She awoke two hours later, lying alone on the newspapers, her sore thighs covered with dried blood and come.
Her Aunt Bea had been frantic when Janet got back to the apartment. She had been back from shopping for a half an hour and had searched the whole building for the missing girl-looking everywhere except the furnace room. And as soon as she saw Janet, somehow her aunt knew exactly what had been going on.
Aunt Bea was a Baptist, a kind of Holy-Roller of sorts, and she prayed over Janet's lost virginity for three straight days. After that she would never leave the girl alone or let her go anywhere-even to the grocery store or to the school bus-alone. Two years later, when boys began asking her out on dates, Aunt Bea categorically refused to let her go. At sixteen, Janet fled home with the few dollars she had managed to save, and took a bus to Louisville, where she managed to work her way through beautician's school. She had been at the same large run-of-the-mill beauty salon there on Eastern Parkway for four years now, the same one where Marci worked as well.
Through the years, Janet had never forgotten the painful thrill of that first thrust into her tender young pussy. No man had ever equaled Tony's father in size, and she never got over the terror and delight she had felt just as she passed out that first time. Moreover, Janet had always been convinced that some part of her remembered being fucked and fucked and fucked again by the boy and his father, even though she was unconscious. Often even today, she would wake up dreaming about it, remembering the size, the pain, the wild abandonment of that first fantastic scene.
"Miss, you must sign on this line!" The whiney voice that was almost a lisp brought Janet back to the present moment. She was standing in front of the desk at the Alpine Village ski resort once more, not being fucked in the basement furnace room back in Indianapolis. And the man before her was not Tony or his superstud father, but the swishy little desk clerk.
She signed the registry quickly and looked around for Marci, who was buying candy at a nearby concession stand from a pimply boy of about sixteen who was looking her up and down and licking his lips in nervous excitement.
"Marci!" Janet called with some irritation. "What are you up to now?"
The pudgier of the two women hurried back across the lobby. "Oh, nothing," she giggled. "That was Homer. He gave me three Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for the price of two. Can you imagine that?"
"And how," Janet groaned.
* * *
The bellboy was a not unattractive young man in his early twenties.
He had shiny black shoulder-length hair and a matching moustache. Janet quickly checked out his basket and decided it would do quite nicely. Now if she could only get rid of Marci.
"Holy shit, I forgot cigarettes!" she exclaimed just as the elevator car reached the fourth floor. "Marci, honey, would you be a dear?"
Eager, perhaps, to get back to her pimply-faced admirer, Marci readily complied, staying in the car and taking it back to the lobby. Janet and the bellboy headed quietly down the hall.
"Just put them here," Janet said when they got inside the room, trying to make her voice sound casual and coquettish like Marci. The young man smiled, put the bags down, and started to head for the door, not even waiting for a tip.
Janet glanced quickly around the room and noticed that the heat control was on the wall directly behind one of the large double beds. "Oh, sir," she called to the bellboy who was now almost ready to turn the doorknob and leave, "could you tell me where the heat control is?"
The bellboy smiled knowingly and walked down the hallway back into the room. "Right over here," he said softly, walking behind the bed.
Janet followed him, pressing her snuggly sweatered tits into his back so that there could be no mistake about what she wanted. Her hand reached feverishly for the bulge in his uniform.
"Ahhh, shit, honey," the bellboy said, obviously struggling with his own excitement. "We can get fired for fooling around with the guests. No shit. I just can't chance it."
But Janet was already tugging at the zipper of his pants. Her hand reached inside and found his jockey shorts already damp with excitement.
"Oh, baby, you're so big," she cooed, though in fact she'd seen, not counting Jose's, a lot bigger, even on bellboys. But she was hot to have that cock, no matter how small it might be, and it was after all a good seven-and-a-half inches, which is nothing to be sneezed at if a guy knows how to use it.
Her lips slipped moistly around the man's circumcised joint, and he moaned as she enveloped his manhood with her moistness. "Oh, shit, no, stop!" he begged, but at the same time he began pumping frantically into her face.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he yelled, getting more and more excited. Then something seemed to come over the man, and he went even more wild than before. "Take that, you cunt, you slut, you bitch!" he yelled as he began slapping her face, still pumping dick into her mouth all the while. "You worthless god-damn piece of-" he stammered just as the two heard Marci's key in the lock.
The bellboy pulled his cock out quickly and fumbled for his trousers.
"But wait, mister," Janet called out, still on her knees. "I didn't get your tip."
"The hell you didn't!" the man exclaimed, dashing past the amazed Marci and bolting out the door.
"You always come back at the damnedest times," muttered Janet, as Marci collapsed into an overstuffed chair giggling. "Couldn't you at least have given pimple-face a blow-job behind the counter or something?"
"Don't knock it," Marci managed between giggles. "Look what he gave me, a whole carton of Kents."
Janet groaned. It wasn't even her brand.
Deciding to hold off on skiing until the next morning, Janet and Marci spent most of the afternoon lounging around the room, reading movie magazines and Playgirl.
"Do you think this is really a fag magazine?" Janet asked Marci, who merely shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter," Janet continued, grooving on the sight of semi-erect cocks on the good-looking studs that filled the pages. "They still turn me on."
"Oh, anything turns you on," smiled Marci squirming sexily on the bed.
Janet gave her a long hard look. She wondered for the hundredth time if Marci's sexiness was just natural-something that happened without her control-or whether it was something she turned on whenever she felt the urge. And, as she had wondered so often before, Janet wondered if Marci therefore was feeling the urge now, with her.
Janet had only had one lesbian experience in her life, during that period back in Indianapolis when her Aunt Bea wouldn't let her go out with boys. She hadn't really enjoyed it much, especially after the other girl (who had lived down the hall and was a bit plumpish, like Marci) had gotten a real crush on her and declared her undying love for Janet. When she jilted the girl, her friend threatened to go to Aunt Bea and tell her everything, which threw Janet into absolute panic. That would have been all she needed-Aunt Bea really would have sent her to solitary confinement, probably in some nut house, if that had happened. So Janet had told the girl quite simply that she would kill her if she went to Aunt Bea, and evidently the deadly serious tone in which she delivered the threat put the fear of God into her friend, and Aunt Bea never found out.
Janet did wonder about Marci, though, and at times she was even curious as to what it would be like to make it with that sexy little piece. Maybe that way she'd find out what all the guys saw in Marci that turned them on so. She had a hunch that it had something to do with the fact that she was so sweet and submissive and overly "feminine." Janet had to admit that she did get off on ordering Marci around, making her do all the shit work, even pushing her around. And this bossiness did sometimes make her feel downright sexy.
Marci was hot in bed, of that much Janet was pretty sure. Not that Marci ever talked about it, and Janet had never seen her in action (the way Marci had almost just seen her with the bellboy). No, Marci was very private about her sex life, but Janet was still convinced that she was hot and could really throw a mean fuck. You could tell by the way she walked and moved. And there had to be some reason that all those men flocked around her constantly, like around a dog in heat.
Just for the hell of it, Janet pulled off her skirt and sweater and stretched back on the bed in only her flimsy bra and panties. "Oh, shit," she cooed nonchalantly, but making sure that Marci was taking everything in, "I am so fucking horny."
The air was tense with excitement. Janet could feel Marci watching everything she did, but she still couldn't read the expression on her face, whether it was shock or a growing interest.
What the fuck, Janet thought to herself. "So-oo-oo horny," she repeated, and she reached down with the fingers of her right hand and began to fondle her moist pussy.
Once she'd started Janet couldn't stop. It no longer mattered to her whether Marci joined her or not. Janet had to come, had to reach a hot climax, and fast. Her fingers were now inside the lips of her cunts, toying with her clitoris, faster, faster, faster.
Marci still sat on the other bed, watching in amazement. She stood and moved slowly across the room until she was at the edge of Janet's bed. "Oh, yes, honey, do it good. Make yourself feel real good," she whispered softly.
Just as Marci raised a trembling hand towards Janet's own rapidly moving fingers and thighs, the doorbell to the room sounded loudly.
"Oh, hell!" Janet moaned, her fingers slipping limply from her red, throbbing opening. Tears in her eyes, Marci rose and slinked slowly over to the door, opening it only slightly.
"I think I gave you the wrong kind of cigarettes," said the pimply boy from the concession stand downstairs, his piece growing stiff in his corduroys on seeing Marci standing in her underwear in the doorway. "I mean-er-ah-why shouldn't your cigarette be True?"
Thrusting a new carton of cigarettes into Marci's trembling hands, the boy fled down the hall.
CHAPTER THREE
James John-Jimmy to only a few friends, and Big John to the ladies-was having a particularly hot wet dream. His mother and his uncle could see that immediately as they quietly entered his playroom and found him asleep on the leather couch.
"Oh, look, Abby," Elmer whispered excitedly. "I wonder what he's thinking about!"
"Shush!" his sister commanded sternly. "Just watch and enjoy."
James was asleep on the couch in nothing except his leather jockey shorts. Even in a state of non-erection, his cock was abnormally large, so much so that in his younger days when he had not worn underpants, people of all ages used to stop dead in their tracks at the sight of his large tool stuffed into his jeans. The leather jockey shorts at least contained the outline of the long, straight tool, but even then the mere mass of his basket still elicited gulps and sighs from almost everyone he met.
James was a big man all around. Six-foot-two, 180 pounds, wide muscular chest, strapping thighs-a true stud from the word go, even before he dropped his pants. His mother, a petite five-foot-four, often wondered to herself how she produced such a marvel, particularly out of a father like that rich, prissy Alexander-Jones, whom she mercifully had buried shortly after James was born.
Abigail and Elmer sat down to watch as James' fantasy began to grow hotter and hotter. His muscles began to twitch and strain, and an almost evil grin spread across his sleeping face. His lips moved in harsh, inaudible commands, and his sleeping fist began to lash out into the air in front of him on the leather couch.
In one convulsive motion, James suddenly ripped the leather jockey shorts from his pelvis, tearing them to shreds with both of his powerful hands. His manhood stood erect and trembling, its tip a reddish-purple monster with a drop of gleaming gism on its very tip, like a diamond on a giant toadstool.
At times like this, Abigail had always wanted to whip out a ruler and measure James's cock. It seemed a full fourteen or fifteen inches long from where she sat, and a sewing tape would surely have revealed its circumference to be another six inches at least, particularly that bulbous tip. Once more she regretted having the boy circumcised, wishing she could see a red foreskin being pulled back and forth over this giant cap.
But today James didn't touch himself at all. His cock kept thrusting into mid-air and his lips spat out harsher and harsher silent commands. Reaching down beside the couch, James grasped a large black leather dildo, fully as long and thick as his own tool.
Grasping the base of this hard black rubber artificial cock firmly in his left hand, he plunged it brutally up the anus of the imaginary partner he was so magnificently fucking and degrading.
"Oh, holy Christ," muttered Elmer, collapsing limply on the floor across the room and grabbing frantically at his own teeny weenie, lost amid folds of fat. Abigail was likewise excited, but she contented herself with quietly pinching the tips of her own tiny breasts, through the cotton dress and brassiere she still wore.
James himself was driving himself closer and closer towards his climax. No real skin has yet touched his thrusting, throbbing cock-only the cunt of his phantom partner-but the veins on his cock were pulsing and both Abigail and Elmer knew that any second he would erupt.
Suddenly James hips bucked back into the leather couch for one final plunge, a thrust so hard that had his phantom partner been real it surely would have torn through her womb and out into her internal organs. For the first time James let loose an audible cry, a shriek that filled the whole 15-room house and rang from the rafters. Elmer hurried to make himself come, too, and did so just as the first spurts of thick white come came gushing out of the end of the bumping, gasping purple-red cock of the man on the bed.
Abigail's own soft moans grew with the spurts, as the semen poured and poured from the end of her son's cock. "Oh, yes," she whispered. "Do it, baby. Do it for your old mother. Shoot that come. Fuck the air, fuck time and space, fuck the whole world. Shoot that come all over the room."
The come lay in large pools on the floor all around the bed. Some spurts had carried as far as eight feet, right next to the chair where Abigail still sat.
Elmer was closer when the volcano began to erupt and had caught two volleys full in his face. He now lay whimpering on the floor at the foot of his nephew's spent body.
James had once more fallen into a deep sleep, a strange, sinister smile on his face. His still sticky cock lay on his left thigh, still not quite limp but no longer moving, trembling, leaping, spurting as before.
"Well, I guess it's finished," Abigail said softly. "Get the pail, Elmer, and clean up this mess."
* * *
Even in mid-afternoon, the Crimpton-John chalet was dark and gloomy. It was on the other side of the mountain (the "Wrong" side of the mountain, as James was fond of telling his conquests when he brought them there) from the ski resort, and while the resort and slopes were specially situated so as to catch every ray of available sunlight in morning or afternoon, the Black Chalet had exactly the opposite atmosphere and never really had much sunlight at all, except for about an hour at high noon.
But darkness suited the Chalet and its residents, who had built it nine years before. After her rich husband's sudden and somewhat mysterious death when their son was only eight months old, Abigail Crimpton-Jones had travelled extensively with her young son for the next fifteen years-to Europe first, then Asia and South America and finally Africa. James had reached full sexual maturity at about the age of eleven, and about that time Abigail realized that the sexual fulfillment she herself had always sought but had never found was to come through this young strapping stud. At first she paired him up with boys, especially those tall strapping studs from Berlin and Munich that she had so often drooled over (figuratively, of course) herself. It was through these young blond Adonises that James first got a taste for leather, for bondage and discipline, for rough stuff and water sports. But only once did James himself play the slave-that was enough for him and for Abigail too, although, the master was, indeed, probably the handsomest and most masculine man Abigail had ever seen, other than her own" son-god. But after that, James was on top of every situation. For a couple of more years he delighted in going after the most masculine men he could find and beating them into submission. Then he tired of that, and began to explore women-the more beautiful and haughty the better-an obsession which had only grown stronger (and, Abigail smiled to herself, kinkier) over the years.
Abigail's own sexual gratification had grown even more intense after James switched from men to women, though she found that this surprised even her. She, too, had tired of the superhero macho types after a while, and she, too, became obsessed with James's fascination with conquering the Ivory Tower Bitches, the Princesses of every ethnic group, the goody-goodies that she herself had never been and had always resented. More than anything she hated the religious bitches, the types her own father, the twisted old pervert revivalist preacher, had tried to force Abigail herself to be.
Never once did Abigail Crimpton-Jones herself ever partake of the sexual communion that she set up for her son. She didn't touch, didn't participate, didn't do anything other than watch. And when her slightly retarded brother Elmer (more warped than even Abigail herself by their father's rabid religious fanaticism) came to live with them, Abigail was absolutely insistent that he never really enter in in any way on those orgies either. He could watch, from a distance, and when James was asleep alone, he could even move in close for the climax to try and catch a shot or two of come, but he must never ever touch or actively participate in anything that was going on.
The Chalet was James's own idea. After growing up on the road, and fucking his way around the world for the last five years of his life, the boy one day shocked his mother by announcing that he thought it was time for them to settle down. Seeing how shocked she looked, he hastened to explain that by settling down, he didn't mean that he was going to slow down sexually. He simply wanted to set up his own base of operation, where he could function even better. And could, he insisted with an evil grin, be "in control of the situation" even more.
After long discussion, they decided upon the Chalet. It was near a resort where lots of rich, idle, beautiful women could be found. And it was incredibly private, something which was becoming more and more important to their operation. On more than one occasion recently, the police had burst in on their parties right at the moment of climax, and a couple of less-than willing partners had even tried to have the young stud and his mother thrown in jail.
Once things got even more serious than that. One cold young Farrah-Fawcett type bitch had actually tried to have James and his mother arrested. The case got all the way to the state supreme court before Abigail's money talked, and even then, the fact that the press got a hold of the story was more than a little embarrassing. A close call like that definitely gives one pause, even in the leather jet set.
So privacy definitely had its appeal, and when Abigail learned that Elmer was about to be released from yet another high-toned private institution where it seemed even her dead husband's money couldn't keep him, the idea of having a home at last became more and more desirable.
James and she had designed the entire layout themselves and had supervised the workmen every step of the way. The plans for the Chalet had been carefully guarded, and the workmen themselves had all been leather-men imported all the way from New York City. Secrecy was still of paramount importance, especially in an out-of-the-way, small Tennessee mountain community like this.
So far there had been no trouble, even after the wild orgy Abigail and James threw for the workmen after the house and grounds were finally completed. Their one rule was to avoid the locals, at all costs, and to focus exclusively on visitors to the ski resort, and so far it had not backfired. But some of the locals were beginning to get exceedingly curious.
What went on on the other side of the mountain might yet change every life in that small, sleepy Tennessee mountain town.
* * *
"Good morning," James beamed at his mother as he walked from the kitchen with a smoking pot of black coffee in his strong tanned hands. "How's tricks?"
Abigail smiled her thin, wan smile. This was a daily ritual with them, and ritual was very important to James. No matter what hour of the day he arose and made that same black brew, he always said good morning and asked her how tricks were. As if she knew.
"Well," Abigail began, eager to tell her boy her news.
"Yes?" he shot back, his eyebrows arching slightly in expectation. "What have you got for me today?"
"Cute little redhead with a nice set of knockers," piped up Uncle Elmer. "Cold as ice and hot as fire. He he he!"
"Elmer, behave yourself!" his sister commanded pertly, somewhat irritated that he had beat her to the announcement. "We did spot a couple of nice-looking types at the train station at noon. Red-head, very haughty, mean-looking. With a chubby little blonde, a bit on the too stacked side, if you know what I mean. What might interest you more is that the red-head was making the blonde carry her bags."
James flashing blue eyes widened with renewed interest. "A real high-horse bitch, huh?"
His mother smiled knowingly. "Well, my dear, you know. I can't be absolutely positive. But it did look that way." She paused, and then could contain herself no longer. "There's something else, too." Another pregnant pause. "Gert Goodbody called. While you were asleep. Said that a couple of tourists came into the coffee shop this morning and bitched her up one side of the wall and down the other. And stomped out in a huff. It just has to be that same red-headed bitch. No one else came in on that train. No one at all."
James leaned back in his chair and let out a long, hearty laugh. "Ah, Mama, you've done it again. What would I do without you?" A long tanned arm reached across the table and tweaked Abigail's cheek. She blushed. She loved it when he was affectionate, but she never let herself show it.
"You'd better hurry up," she insisted, still blushing. "Today of all days, you wouldn't want to be late to work."
With another laugh her handsome son bounded up the stairs to put himself together for the evening.
James John's private bathroom was a special fantasyland into which no one-not his women-slaves, not even his mother-was ever allowed to enter. It was not unlike his nearby playroom, but here the whips and chains were for his own pleasure, wild fantasies which were his alone and which required no partner, either human or phantasmagorical.
James's narcissism knew no bounds, but, as he was fond of telling himself, at least it was a healthy narcissism and perfectly well-founded.
Every inch of the bathroom was covered with mirrors, even the bathtub and toilet and sink, by means of plexiglass mirrored tiles. This afternoon, as usual, James let himself go fully into a ritualistic unrobing, dropping his clothes garment by garment and surveying his flesh in the surrounding mirrors.
Though he had never worked out in gyms, James had the kind of perfect body that men and women alike go weak in the knees over, either out of envy or lust. It was a natural body, a perfectly proportioned body, a body that one can only be born with and can never acquire by such artificial means as weight-lifting or other exercises. And just as it was a natural body, it was also a sexual body-a body in which every inch of muscle seemed to vibrate with sexual prowess. Here was a magnificent specimen, truly, a perfect animal that was more than anything a sexual animal.
James usually spent from fifteen minutes to an hour caressing his own body, running his strong hands over his skin, stroking his curly blond hair, which was lighter than his pubic hair, flexing his biceps, then slowly, ever so slowly, toying with his own sensitive nipples and the equally sensitive areas around his own anus. Only at the very end of all this did his fingers move to his by now throbbing cock and balls, softly caressing his prostrate, moving teasingly out, out toward the throbbing tip of his huge, erect cock.
"Beautiful, baby," he whispered huskily to himself. "So fucking beautiful. What a cock, baby. What a beautiful fucking cock."
At this point, James usually reached behind him for the long leather whip which he kept hanging from the wall. Grasping the whip firmly in his right hand, he would play the lash over the excited head and length of his cock-softly, softly, never really roughly, just so that the cold taste of the hard black leather rippled over the skin of his throbbing tool.
"Oh, eat that cock, baby," he moaned. "Suck it, sugar. Take it in real deep. Eat it all. Get down on it, baby. Down, down, down!"
By this time, he was flicking the whip faster around his bobbing rod, letting the very tip of the cold black snake flick into the firming flesh of his balls.
"Holy shit, baby! Get down on it! Get! Down! On! It! Ahh, ahh! AHHHHHH!"
Then just as the point of explosion, James would whip the lash away from his cock and balls altogether, throw the whole whip into the air and catch it about six inches from the handle in his left hand.
Still trembling from his almost climax, James would brace himself for the shock of the hard rubber whip-handle penetrating his asshole, thrusting coldly, brutally into his bunghole.
"Yes, yes, yes!" he would scream in agony, hot tears running down his cheeks and falling onto the tip of his convulsing cock, spewing forth wave after wave of hot, sticky come onto the floor below.
"Woweee," James exhaled, smiling at himself in the mirrors as he let the whip-handle slip out of his tender buns and fall to the come-covered floor. "Well, fella," he winked at himself in the mirror. "I guess it's time to brush your teeth."
CHAPTER FOUR
Janet complained all through dinner that night about the food, and Marci's flirting with the waiter, a middle-aged Hungarian with only one eye who looked a bit like Bela Lugosi-in fact a lot like Bela Lugosi-irritated her even more than usual.
"Don't you ever stop?" she hissed, in between the vichyssoise and the filet mignon. "First pimples, now glass eyes. What's next?"
"If only I knew," Marci giggled. And if only she did.
After bolting down her peach melba and a cup of espresso, Janet insisted that they head for the bar, the one with the fireplace that she'd been dying to get to all day long. Marci followed obediently.
Following the signs to the far end of the main building of the ski resort, the pair received a definite shock on entering the Leather Lounge. Indeed there was a blazing fireplace at one end of the room, but the rest of the decor was nothing like anything the women had ever seen in any swinging singles bar or resort they'd ever been to-even in New York City.
The room was dark and smoky, and instead of friendly cocktail candles the atmospheric lighting was set by crude kerosene lamps. The wood furniture was rough and unfinished, and there were objects everywhere that looked like they belonged in a barn or stable, but not a nice laid-back ski resort cocktail lounge. What were wagon wheels, saddles and bridles, harnesses and stirrups doing here in a pick-up bar?
"Gee, this is kind of creepy," Marci shivered.
Janet was just on the verge of agreeing when she noticed the hunk of man behind the bar, shaking up a batch of margaritas for a tipsy old couple that they'd noticed in the restaurant earlier.
"Mama mia, would you get a load of that!" she exclaimed through her teeth. "Creepy or not, sweetie, we are staying!"
As they made their way across the floor, James turned to face his new customers. Janet's red hair caught the light from one of the kerosene lamps as she moved across the floor, and James burst in a wide, condescending smile.
"Hi, baby," he said to Janet, ignoring Marci completely. "I've been waiting all evening for you. What kept you so long?"
Janet's insides turned to jelly at the sound of the man's strong, harsh voice. For a split second the image of that first giant Hispanic cock which had burst her cherry and left her limp and broken flicked her memory, but she shrugged it off, confused.
"Fuck off, smart ass," she hissed at the bartender. "Your pickings may be pretty slim tonight, but don't think you can take it out on us. We're good Christian girls, just down from a little rest and relaxation."
"Stewardesses?" James pretended to ask. "I'll bet you two are stewardesses. The old coffee-tea-or-me game. Well, honey, I don't dig caffeine myself. At least not after sundown."
Janet felt a strong stirring in her groins. This rude bastard was making her hot, very hot. She hated him for his cockiness, his egotistical come-on, but no one had turned her on even half as much lately, certainly not since Rodney.
"Tell me, sugar," James said, leaning across the bar and cupping one of Janet's firm young tits in his big palm. "What's it like to come at 30,000 feet in the air. Does it make you come quicker or slower? Can you get over the hump more or less often in the same amount of time?"
Janet's mouth flew open in absolute amazement. James hand squeezed her breast roughly, painfully.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" she screamed, slapping him hard across his hard, tanned jaw, sending him into gales of laughter. He let loose of her tit slowly, giving the nipple of quick flick with his thumb.
"Nice tits, honey," he laughed. "Very nice tits. I'd like to see more of them. Want to go down to the storage room now or wait until I'm off at one?"
From behind Marci came a loud volley of cackling and hawing. "Oh, James, you're such a card," said a tall skinny woman with far too much turquoise eye-shadow. "It's a wonder you don't scare every single customer away from this resort. I swear to god, if Abie and me had any sense at all, we'd fire your ass and get some sort of normal bartender. But that wouldn't be half as much fun. Not even a quarter as much fun. Holy apeshit, you're such a card."
Huffing and puffing, the woman's husband, clearly a full twenty or thirty years older than her, hobbled up to Marci and Janet. "My apologies, Miss," he wheezed, barely able to keep from breaking into a guffaw. "Our boy here gets a bit rough with the customers sometimes. Only some of the customers, of course. Only the very-uh-loveliest and most-uh-unique. My dear, you should be flattered, absolutely flattered. I haven't seen him twist a tit like that in over two years." Unable to contain himself any longer, the old man burst into uncontrollable laughter, so violent in fact that his wife became concerned and rushed to his side.
* * *
"Now, Abie, don't forget your heart. Got a bad ticker, he does, this silly old lecher. Doc Applegate says he could go any day now, and leave me a rich, rich widow. Besides, Miss," she leered down at Janet, trying so hard to smile that Marci felt sure her whole pancaked face was about to crack wide open, "what Abie says ain't true at all. Why, Big John tweaked my tittie just like that only last week. Twice."
It was James turn to laugh again. "Here, Abie," he smiled handing the old man a shot of scotch across the counter. "Take your medicine like a good miser."
"Miser," the old man chortled, "who in holy hell do you think you're calling miser? When your old lady owns half this mountain and three quarters of the next one! Miser indeed."
Marci giggled. "Goodness gracious," she cooed. "Do you people always have this much fun?"
Janet sat down weakly on one of the black leather stools. Was all this really happening or was it some sort of weird dream?
* * *
As the bar filled up with people, the ambience began to seem a little less weird. But Janet still didn't feel comfortable, particularly each time the blond man with the closely trimmed beard looked her up and down. Never before had she met anyone with such penetrating eyes. It was if, just by looking at her he was penetrating her with his body as well. Ramming it up her, into her, through her, harder and harder and harder ...
"Another drink, hot stuff?" James said, penetrating her reverie once again. "You still haven't told me what it's like to fuck in the air."
"Why don't you buy a ticket and find out?" Janet creamed, fleeing from the bar in tears All the way to the elevators, she could hear James's laughter echoing behind her.
* * *
When Marci wasn't back by four o'clock in the morning, Janet began to worry. At five she was ready to call the police, but decided to take a look around the premises instead. Marci certainly hadn't been talking to anyone in the bar before Janet left, and Janet had never known her to trick out overnight without at least calling to explain that she wouldn't be home.
She dressed quickly pulling on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and an old Indiana University sweatshirt. Barely stopping to bother with her hair, she let herself out into the dimly lit hallway and headed for the elevators.
The elevator car moved eerily down to the main lobby. An old woman with a pinc-nez was nodding at the main desk, and no one else was visible in the lobby area at all. Janet stopped for a second to peer behind the gate at the concession stand, thinking maybe Marci and the pimply faced boy were going at it behind the counter. No such luck.
The Leather Lounge was locked up tight as well, and Janet could see through the window that each and every kerosene lamp had been snuffed out. She tried both entrance doors and found them quite securely bolted.
Walking back the other way through the lobby, Janet found everything as dead as before. The old woman behind the desk was now out cold, a glass of gin half-finished beside her.
Past the desk, she took the hall that led down to the restaurant where she and Marci had had such a horrid dinner. Maybe Marci had gotten food poisoning, Janet suddenly though, clutching at straws. Maybe she passed out in the bar and was rushed to the hospital,-and-
A heavy footstep from behind her and to the left made Janet jump a mile.
"Who's there?" she whispered weakly, just as the security guard's flashlight flicked on, striking her full in the face.
"Security, ma'am," a kindly voice said.
Janet breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness. I mean you frightened me. I mean, have you seen my friend? Marci? She's disappeared."
"Hey, lady," the man said, stepping closer. "Just take it easy, huh?" As he walked up to her, Janet could see that he was about thirty, well-built, sandy-haired. Very secure looking.
"Marci," she said. "Marci Parker. The friend I came here with. Just this afternoon. She hasn't come in. Or called. Or anything."
"I see," the guard said slowly, sounding very willing to help."And where was she last?"
"In that-that-that awful bar down there!" Janet said, pointing to the other end of the resort lobby.
"Oh, indeed," the guard said smiling. "Was she there alone?"
"Yes," said Janet. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, Miss," the guard said kindly. "Begging your pardon, of course, and hers, but if this Miss Marci Malone was an attractive young lady in that bar alone at closing time, I've got a pretty damn good idea of where she might be. I wouldn't worry if I were you. She's like those little lost sheep in the nursery rhyme. Leave her alone, and she'll come home, wagging her tail behind her. Along about tomorrow afternoon, I would suppose."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying five'll get you ten Marci went to the other side of the mountain."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Just that the bartender probably got her. Not the boogey-man, or some crazy rapist. Just old Big John the bartender."
"What?" Janet hissed out angrily. "But he didn't even look at her when I was there!"
"Yeah, lady," the security guard smiled. "But evidently you left."
"Thanks again," Janet smiled to the guard after he had seen her to her door. "I really am grateful to you. Do you know I don't even know your name?"
The man smiled strongly. "Jake," he said softly.
"Well, thank you, Jake." Janet paused a split-second. "Would you like to come in for a night-cap?"
The man paused and smiled again. "Shouldn't do it, Miss. Not while I'm on duty and all."
"But what could happen at this hour?" Janet asked, with just the right hint of breathiness.
Jake didn't budge from the door. "Not much I guess. Never does, either. In fact, this is usually about the time I lie down in the lobby and get forty winks."
Another pregnant pause. "Why don't you get forty winks up here then," Janet said, her voice trembling.
Jake looked at her again, wondering what she would look like under those baggy jeans and that sweatshirt. Sensing what was going through his mind, Janet pressed herself to him, her nipples going hot and erect on contact with his tall, lanky frame.
"Holy shit, lady," Jake replied, his breath now coming fast, "you drive a hard bargain."
"Let's just see if you can drive a hard something, too," Janet said, dragging him into the room and back toward the over-sized bed.
"Oh, sugar, take it easy, hold on now," Jake said, but it was too late. Janet's hands were all over him, stripping his uniform from his body, reaching for his cock and balls, stroking his neck, shoving her tongue deep into his throat. "Hold on, sugar, please," he begged, working her sweatshirt up above her head and fumbling at zipper of her jeans.
Fully naked now, Janet threw herself back upon the bed. "Now," she squealed, "now, Jake, now. Take me, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
Janet closed her eyes tight, waiting for Jake to ravish her, to enter her, to ram his big throbbing cock deep inside her. When nothing happened, she opened one eye. Jake was standing sheepishly at the end of the bed, a stream of fresh come dribbling from the end of his semi-erect dick. "I'm sorry, sugar," he said, blushing slightly. "I told you to take it easy, baby. I begged you to."
Janet groaned and turned her face to the wall. Christ, she mumbled to herself. This is just not my week.
Janet was still sleeping soundly when Marci came in at eleven o'clock the next morning. Marci tiptoed across the room, slipped out of her clothes, and crawled under the covers before Janet said anything.
"Well?" the red-head's voice boomed out from the other double bed.
"Oh, hi, Janet," Marci said innocently. "How you doin' this morning?"
"How am I doing this morning? What's that supposed to mean, you little slut? You spend the whole fucking night out without even calling me to tell me where you were, and you ask me how I am? How do you get your fucking nerve?"
"Oh, my goodness," Marci sat bolt upright in the bed. "Didn't you get the message I left with that nice little old lady at the front desk?"
"No," muttered Janet sleepily, convinced by this time that she didn't really want to know anyway, even if Marci had been willing to tell her, which she obviously wasn't. After a few seconds, though, Janet had to ask.
"Marci?"
No answer.
"Listen, tell me just one thing. How big is it?"
Whether Marci was really asleep or just pretending, the size of James's cock was going to remain a mystery to Janet for a little while longer.
A very little while.
Janet awoke an hour and a half later, flushed and feverish from the absurd nightmare she had just been through. It was all about Rodney, but this time they weren't alone in the dark-they were in a large, public place (Janet could swear it was a church) and Rodney was joined by six other men, all wearing masks and wielding the same kind of black leather whip which she had felt, but had never seen, in their trysts in the darkened bedroom.
In the dream, the men had stood around her in a semi-circle, closing in on her so that she was pushed up against something hard and metallic. The masks covered only half of their faces, and Janet could tell that they were all young and extremely good-looking-at least it certainly seemed that way just judging from the lower halves of their faces. Two of them were bearded, one blond, one brunette, and two more had tightly-cropped mustaches. Bodywise, they were all the very stuff that dreams-and wet-dreams at that-were made of: perfectly proportioned, with large biceps, tapering torsos, tight midriffs, and crotches that just would not stop.
All seven men (including Rodney, whose build was leaner, meaner somehow than those of the other six) were identically dressed: half-mask, no shirt, leather pants tucked into heavy motorcycle boots. And all seven grasped identical whips snaking out from hard leather handles to thin, threadlike tips that looked as if they could bite right through a girl's leg (or any other part of her anatomy) severing it cleanly with one blow.
What amazed Janet (and made her awake, at last, flushed and feverish) was that she found all this an incredible turn-on. Nothing happened in the dream-the men just kept drawing closer and closer to her, never touching her, never speaking a work to her-but the mere presence of the studs' threatening presence sent chills and thrills through her cunt like nothing she had known since her last time with Rodney. She awoke, she was now sure, on the verge of begging them to attack her, but even now she couldn't admit to herself what she imagined that attack might taste like.
Marci was still sound asleep. Janet tried to shake her, but she only shifted in the double bed and moaned slightly.
Janet lit a cigarette and walked to the window overlooking the ski-slope. Only a handful of guests appeared to be out today, and Janet wondered once more if the whole place wasn't actually deserted, even on what she would assume would have been a busy holiday week-end. But maybe she'd go out and try her luck anyway, she thought, after a bit of breakfast.
The doorbell sounded just as Janet stepped out of the shower. Draping a towel seductively over her wet, tight body, she approached the door, hoping it was the same bellboy she had almost sucked off the day before. No such luck. Through the peephole she spied a fiftyish spinster, huffing and puffing with her tray of eggs benedict. Janet tipped her quickly and hurried her out of the room.
The eggs were cold, the ham tough, and the green pepper not exactly garden fresh. She finished about half of them, then proceeded to don a ski outfit that clung tellingly to her curves. Surveying herself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, she decided she approved of what she saw.
"Irresistible, baby, absolutely irresistible," she said aloud.
Marci stirred and moaned softly once more. Janet approached her bed and noticed her friend had kicked the covers back off her plump but nonetheless very sexy little body. Janet was shocked to see Marci's buttocks covered with red welts, as if she'd been spanked.
"Well, I'll be damned!" she exclaimed. "I wondered if you were kinky, sweetheart, and now I know. It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for." She felt a little guilty about her last remark, for Marci wasn't exactly quiet-she just wouldn't describe her escapades to Janet in detail, even though Janet was perfectly willing to reveal all her most private secrets in return. She'd always worried about that a bit, too. Maybe Marci's secrets were better than hers. Not a pleasant prospect, that.
Janet stood over Marci's bed staring down at the welts for several long minutes. She realized that the sight of the reddened buns was turning her on-slowly but surely, but then more and more. She fumbled at the zipper of her tight ski outfit and slipped her hand inside her moist panties. Closing her eyes tightly, she began to buck back and forth as she stood there by Marci's bed. As she toyed with her clitoris and slipped another two fingers deeper and deeper inside her moist, incredibly hot cunt, the hotel room disappeared and she saw herself again in the church Of her recent dream-, being pushed back against the hard metal piece of furniture behind her as the superstuds in black leather came closer and closer. Suddenly, all in unison their hands went to their crotches and they began rubbing their huge cocks and balls slowly, sensually, through the leather pants in a steady counter-clockwise direction. Janet could see the huge penises growing inside their confining leather, and she squealed aloud as she saw the men all reach at once and jerk their zippers down brutally.
"Oh, yes, oh yes, yes, yes, yes!" she screamed out pantingly.
All seven cocks stood out magnificently in the leather jock-straps after the dream-phantoms dropped their black leather trousers to their knees. As Janet moved her eyes from one to another of the men, each cock seemed to grow in size, until they were all so gigantic that the leather jock-straps could no longer contain them. One by one, the straps all snapped and fell from the men's crotches onto the floor.
"Holy Christ!" Janet cried out, falling to her knees trembling, still fumbling frantically with her own cunt trying to make herself come.
Then the seven men all took their enormous tools in their hands and began to pump them. They pumped harder and harder and again began to close in on Janet.
"Oh, no. No, no, no!" she screamed, meaning yes, yes, yes, with all her heart.
The men were now only about a foot or two away. She could hear their breathing, their panting. Frantically she tugged at her own clitoris, but it was no good. She wasn't working fast enough. The seven men all climaxed simultaneously, pouring load after load of come all over her body, staining, spotting, ruining her ski outfit forever.
Janet lay exhausted in a pool of sweat and tears. After all that she hadn't been able to come, not even once.
Marci turned over again, emitting a low groan that was somewhere between pain and delight.
* * *
Having changed her outfit, Janet headed for the elevator. Walking quickly past the fag on duty at the front desk, she approached the ski shop. A young high school kid, obviously high on grass and more than a little unfriendly, rented her a set of skis and pointed her the direction to the slope.
There seemed to be only half a dozen people out, just as Janet had noticed earlier. Two of them were couples of one sort or another, in what seemed to be their mid-thirties. The other two were young women, out to the lodge, it appeared to Janet, like Marci and herself, which is to say not primarily to ski.
There were no available men on the slopes, in other words, even counting the two that were coupled. Janet would have to be a lot hornier than she actually was to even think of trying to go after them.
Not a bad skier herself, Janet took the lift up to the top of the hardest intermediate slope, hoping that sooner or later a man would arrive.
It was almost an hour later when that happened. Jeff Parker was no Greek god-a bit paunchy and balding, in fact-but he did have a sexy attractiveness about him that Janet rather liked in a way. Never having had a father or father-figure that she could remember (her own dad having died, like her mom, in an auto accident when she was two years old), Janet had always been a bit turned on by older men and men who gave off a certain aura of authority.
Jeff was down for the week-end, he said, from Nashville, where he was a record producer. "Not big-time," he smiled engagingly. "Just a little fart of a company. But I have a good time."
Janet liked a good time herself, and she started hoping that this producer could deliver-since no one else in this godforsaken out-of-the-way joint seemed able to.
After they'd skied down the slopes together about four times, Janet felt Jeff's hand on her thigh as they rode the cable car back up to the top again.
"Hope you don't mind," he smiled.
In reply, Janet snuggled closer to him so that his hand slipped easily down between her thighs.
"Lordy Moses!" Jeff exclaimed. "I'm not sure I can make it down the slope with a boner like this!"
When they stood up and started walking to approach the ramp, Janet could see exactly what Jeff meant. His cock stood out his pants like the proverbial beanpole, and the looseness of his woolen trousers only made it that much more apparent.
Janet looked around quickly and, noticing a large tree at the top of the slope, tugged Jeff's hand, urging him toward the hiding place. "Maybe if I give you a little preview before we glide down, you'll feel better." the horny young woman giggled.
Jeff, by this time, was almost beyond being ready to speak, so he readily complied.
First Janet unzipped her ski suit, so that her tightly sweater tits fell out enticingly. Jeff's hands rushed for the warm, fleshing boobs and had the sweater up around Janet's neck in next to no time. As usual, she had not worn a bra, and Jeff fumbled to remove his gloves so that his rough, manly hands could caress and stroke the firming nipples.
"You like those tits, baby?" Janet whispered. "You like rubbing those hot young titties?"
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes," Jeff squirmed in delight. "Oh, yes. Christ, they're terrific tits! They're the best tits I've ever touched."
"Rub them hard then, big boy," she cooed roughly. "Harder, damnit. Rub those tits like you really care!"
A glow dawned in Jeff's eyes. Aha, he thought to himself. Another one! One of his singers-a country rocker who was only fifteen and a half years old-was just like this. Kinky. She loved the rough stuff. The rougher the better.
"Oh," Jeff laughed aloud. "You mean, like this?" His right hand reached down and twisted Janet's left nipple roughly, so that she squealed in pain.
"Oh, yeah, big boy," she begged. "Harder, harder!" His tugging at her tits made Janet hotter and hotter. Once more, she was amazed at how turned on she was getting by this rough play-acting. She had never talked like this before, never really done anything quite like this, even with Rodney. But it felt so good, so natural. As if she had been doing it all her life. "I said, harder, harder," she squealed again, getting more and more excited.
Jeff brought his right hand down hard across her face. "Take that and that and that, you fucking bitch!" he screamed, loud enough to be heard, not only by anyone passing, but down to the bottom of the slope. "Take that, you cunt, you miserable little piece of shit."
Janet's face stung and smarted in the brisk mountain air. No man had ever treated her like this before, and yet she didn't feel foolish or embarrassed. Her cunt began to sting and she started to want him to take her here, right in the snow. She'd even chance frostbite, she laughed to herself.
Almost frantically, she reached for Jeff's cock, which was still standing out stiff and erect in his loose ski pants.
"Oooooooohhhh," he moaned, standing up tall, towering above her. "You want at that, baby? You want a good look? A real good look?"
With that, he tugged at the trousers so that they slipped easily down to reveal his trembling, aching pole of manhood. Janet noted with particular delight that he wasn't circumcised-just like her first two men. Her mouth watered as she rushed it forward to gobble up the long, quivering animal.
"Oh, suck that dick, baby!" bucking hard into her mouth, so hard that Janet began to fear he'd rupture the tissues at the back of her throat. But the cock was salty and delicious, and she began working it with her tongue and the deep membranes of her throat.
"My goodness, Jeffy, what in the world are you doing?"
Janet looked up from where she knelt as the cock slipped hurriedly out of her mouth. Peering around the edge of the tree was a white-haired old woman of about seventy, wearing a powder blue ski-suit.
"Mother," the small-time country record producer said in sheepish embarrassment. "I thought you were in the sauna."
"Oh, I got bored," the little old lady said. "So I thought I'd come looking for you. And obviously just in time, too." She sneered down at Janet, who was struggling to get to her feet and pull her sweater down over her now aching tits, with no help of course from Jeff. "Don't you know," the old woman continued, turning her back on Janet completely, "that you could get frostbitten doing something like that? Or worse?"
Janet had had all she could take for one afternoon. She pushed off and skied swiftly down the slope, burning fast tracks with her hot anger-and an even hotter unsatisfied yearning between her legs.
* * *
Marci was waiting when Janet got back to the room.
"Oh, hi," her friend said innocently. "What you been up to this afternoon?"
"Oh, not much," Janet lied. Marci never told her anything about her conquests, so why should she tell about her almost-conquests? "Just a bit of skiing."
"Oh, yeah?" Marci said, stifling a yawn, then trying to cover for it by being super-friendly. "How are the slopes."
"Not bad," Janet shrugged.
"Any men out?"
Janet could only think of Jeff pulling out, right at the last minute, and found herself unable to deal with the question. "No," she said curtly. "Hey, I'm famished. Couldn't we go and get something to eat?"
"Sure," Marci replied warmly. Convincing her to go eat was never a big problem.
The two of them took a cab halfway to town, having heard from the fag desk clerk that there was "such a charming little Italian restaurant" just at the foot of the mountain. Anything would certainly be better than the resort's own restaurant, where they had eaten the night before.
The taxi driver was younger, but equally as taciturn and as ambiguous as the strange guy who had originally driven them up to the ski lodge. When asked where a couple of girls might go to have a good time, he merely yawned. Janet evilly plotted fixing him up with the desk clerk. They deserved each other.
The restaurant itself was at least warm and atmospheric. And one of the waiters-Janet made sure the maitre d' seated them at his table-was one hunk of a man: tall, broad-shouldered, with jet black hair and a cute mustache above the most sensuous pair of lips either woman had seen since arriving at the resort town.
His name turned out to be Vito, and Janet was quick to notice that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Hearing his lilting, sexy accent was such a delight that Janet and Marci made him translate practically every item on the menu before ordering veal scaloppini (Janet) and spaghetti and meatballs (Marci). They also followed his suggestion for wine, and ended up drinking two whole bottles.
It was well past ten o'clock when they finished their coffee, and the small but surprisingly busy restaurant was almost deserted. Janet had started flirting shamelessly with Vito after the first half-bottle of wine, and he flirted politely-but no more than politely-back. Finally, unable to contain herself no longer, she boldly asked him back to their room.
Looking around the room cautiously, Vito said, no, he couldn't really do that because he had to be home soon to take care of his sick mother (a lie which Janet spotted easily, even in her advanced state of inebriation). But maybe the ladies would like to stay on for one more drink after he closed the front door?
Janet and Marci looked around and found that the place was now completely deserted. Even the other two waiters and the maitre d' had gone home. With a sexy twinkle in his eye, Vito moved agilely to the door, locked it, and pulled down the shade. He motioned for Janet and Marci to come over to be in front of the large stone fireplace, where a roaring fire still burned. There were two overstuffed sofas in front of the fire, plus a large polar bear rug, and Vito motioned for the women to make themselves comfortable while he fetched a bottle of brandy.
Janet and Marci seated themselves at either end of one of the couches, so that there was plenty of obvious room for Vito in between them. When he came with the brandy and three glasses, he had removed his waiter's jacket, and the two women were more turned on than ever by his brawny chest and darkly flashing Latin eyes.
"Drinks for two lovely ladies," he whispered sexily, handing each of them a drink. He was still standing on the polar bear rug in front of the sofa, but taking her drink Janet pulled him firmly down onto the couch between them. Vito laughed low in his throat.
In the moments that followed, Janet was definitely the aggressor, and Vito let himself be manhandled like an affectionate puppy. Marci sat watching, a warm but somewhat silly smile on her face the whole time.
Janet struggled with the buttons and cuff-links of Vito's shirt, then tugged roughly at his T-shirt. Soon he was naked from the waist up. Janet reached for his cock, finding it firm and hot, even through the heavy black material of the pants he wore. He also obviously was wearing underpants.
Grinning broadly, Vito stood, so that Janet could get to his meat more easily. At last it leapt magnificently into view, and he stood quietly, his large, thick cock bobbing happily in the light from the fire. Reaching out his hands, he motioned for both women to approach him. Janet and Marci did so quickly, totally without embarrassment, even about being seen by each other.
Janet's lips were ready to hungrily envelope the waiter's meat, but Vito held a palm up, motioning instead for both her and Marci to strip themselves. As they did so, he dropped down, first to a squatting position, then lay back, stretching out on the soft fur of the polar bear rug, his head just a foot from the fire itself.
Marci stripped slowly, sexily, and realizing how much the man was grooving on that, Janet followed suit. When they were both completely naked, Marci began to rub her own body, to caress her nipples, to invade her own cunt with her fingers, moaning and wriggling. This seemed to make the man on the rug exceedingly hot, and he began to pull slowly on his massive pole.
After a few minutes of this, he motioned for Marci to come toward him. She approached hesitantly, like a young virgin who didn't know what to do next. He grinned, gesturing her closer and closer. When she hesitated once more and looked down fleetingly at his cock, Vito nodded no, gesticulating for her to come even closer to his head. When she got within inches of his face, Vito told her in sign language to straddle his face and to squat down.
His long tongue leapt out to invade her honey lips without warning. Marci bucked upwards in extreme pleasure, then settled down slowly as Vito began to eat her out in earnest.
With his other hand, Vito urged Janet towards his red, glowing cock. As she knelt to take the tip between her lips, he removed his face from Marci's cunt long enough to nod negatively to Janet. No, sit on it, he gestured.
And she did. The huge cock slid easily into Janet's well-lubricated cunt, but her intense pleasure at the long-awaited contact was greatly diminished by the sound of Marci squealing into her first come.
Marci wriggled and writhed and Vito still lapped hungrily at her cunt. Janet began humping herself up and down on the large, throbbing piece of meat, but nothing she could do could make Vito-or herself-come.
Meanwhile, she heard Marci shoot off into paradise again-twice, three, four, five times. That did it.
She pulled angrily off of Vito's hard cock and collapsed in acute frustration beside him on the rug, fully expecting the hunk of Italian man to then turn over and fuck her properly, ramming it into her like no man had ever done until she, like Marci, began to come like fireworks.
Instead, Vito pulled Marci's dripping cunt down and skewered it on his big dick. Placing his strong hands on her waist, he began to buck the little butterball up and down on his giant piece of meat. Soon Marci was squealing and climaxing all over again, and the last thing Janet noticed was Vito's whole body convulsing in one gigantic climax into the depths of the bouncing ball.
CHAPTER FIVE
James awoke that afternoon irritable and grumpy. That girl Marci had had a hot little cunt, all right, and she had sighed and squealed at all the right moments, but she had just been too fucking eager for it. And he hated it when the cunts were too fucking eager.
Far better, he smiled, to have to fight them all the way, to have to beat them down. The difference between love and rape had never been clear to him. Sex was something that needed to be taken, ripped out of people. You had to amaze them, astonish them. Not give them what they want or expect. Who the fuck wanted to go to bed and get what they expected? What they thought they wanted? Because who they fuck were they to know what they really wanted.
Rape, in fact, was an absurd concept to James. The best sex was always astonishing, unsuspecting, unwilling even. He certainly loved being surprised, taken unawares-and by almost anyone. At times the homeliest, the oldest, the fattest women could absolutely overwhelm him-and he loved that.
But like most really hot seducers, James preferred giving to receiving. He liked to be the one who surprised, the one who "raped," the one who was on top.
And that cunt Marci, she was just a little too hot, just a little too ready, and little too eager. He was lucky to have come at all.
The reason he had come, in fact, is that he'd gotten into this whole beautiful fantasy trip about the other bitch she was here with-that hot-cold slut friend of hers, with the snot-nose look and the long red hair. Now that he would really like to get into, that he would really like to tie up and beat the shit out of.
He'd beat her until she begged him for it, and begged, and begged, and begged.
According to what Marci had let slip, the cunt was really dying for it, too. Evidently she hadn't come in weeks. Well, he'd make her wait even longer, and she'd love every minute of it.
Sitting across the table from him and watching him scowl, Abigail Crimpton-John knew better than to question him about the scene last night. She assumed it hadn't been much, for he hadn't even invited she and Elmer to watch. And she knew James never really got off sexually unless she were watching. Or someone.
It was most likely just a quick come, a fast fuck, a bit of the old in-and-out, she smiled. Still, that little butterball was a nice looking little pussy, she smiled (Abby loved using dirty words, even when talking to herself). A real lickity-split wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am type.
Over the years, James had fooled his mother many times about the type of women he'd pick. Some were ugly as sin-or at least so Abigail thought. She could swear that some of them were every bit as old as she was herself. And some were fat, or homely, or even-she still had to shudder at this one-deformed.
One woman she remembered in particular had only one leg. She was not especially homely-almost pretty, in fact, in the face. But her personality was as warped as her physique. There was something missing in her-some void, some hollow space-and she had filled it with bitterness and hate. That cunt could give a new meaning to the word bitch, Abigail smiled to herself. But James had loved that one-legged tramp, Abigail recalled. He had kept after her for weeks-far longer than the time limit he put on most conquests. Indeed, few women could resist him longer than three or four days, five days at the most, that is only when he really set his heart to it, but this cunt he had chased for well over a month. And once he had gotten her strung up, the battle wasn't over.
And even more surprising was the fact that even after the bitch began to beg for it-to chase him-James stayed interested in her. And Abigail was absolutely convinced that it had something to do with her stump. She could see him, even now, pressing a lighted cigarette butt into the tip of that stump and climaxing enormously to the sound of the girl's screams. But she would never understand it. Never.
One thing was certain. The playroom had been vacant far too long. James needed a new plaything, a new obsession. He was getting bored. And when James got too bored, all hell could break loose. It was time. It was most definitely time.
* * *
Elmer was in his room cutting out pictures from magazines and books. Three walls of the room were now a giant collage, and he was eager to spread his masterpiece to the fourth wall. But not too quickly, of course. He was most definitely picky about the pictures he chose. Very picky indeed.
The stack of Blueboys, Drummers, Playboys and Hustlers lay on the floor, right next to the other, far-more-expensive volumes that his sister had ordered for him from antiquarian bookstores around the world. Books on satanism and witchcraft were expensive, he knew-especially the ones with filthy illustrations. But Abigail could afford it. She definitely could afford it.
The collage was a real marvel to behold. Pornographic idols of both sexes cavorting with devils and high priestesses of black magic. Men fucking men, women fucking women, devils fucking both, devils fucking devils. Elmer let out a low cackle. His art delighted him tremendously. Not only did he pick the beauties that were displayed-and he picked only the loveliest and handsomest, the women with the biggest tits and the juiciest looking asses, as well as the men with the sexiest physiques and the biggest and best cocks-but he (and this was far more important) put them together. He combined them, artistically and sexually. He made them his creation. Perverse as they might be standing naked on a page of Gallery or In Touch, they became grotesquely, grossly a hundred times more deliciously perverted when he put scissors and glue to their slits and protrusions.
After an hour or so, which was always about as long as Elmer could stand working on his masterpiece (not because he became bored, but because he became far too excited), he felt one of his "seizures" coming on and quickly switched off the regular lights in the room, flicking on the complicated system of strobes and black lights instead. Like an early Sixties hippie pad, the room now came alive with phosphorescence. Elmer's hands trembled as he put Donna Summer's "Love to Love You, Baby" on the turntable. It was almost time.
Fumbling in the drawer of the little table beside his water bed, Elmer grabbed his inhaler and raised it to his nose. Real amyl nitrate gushed up his nostrils (none of that cheap butyl imitation shit for him, Abigail saw to that), and the top of his head began to pop off. He always thought of Alice falling down the rabbit hole at this minute, and wondered if she'd been playing with her little pussy as she fell, the way he was pulling at his weenie right now.
Elmer's eyes zipped from image to image on the wall that surrounded him. All of them turned him on, both individually and collectively-the witches, the devils, the studs, the cunts. He snorted heavily at the inhaler and his tiny cock hardened momentarily before gushing wetly all over his pumping hand.
Peacefully Elmer fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
James arrived at the bar early, itching to get his eyes on that cold bitch again. Maybe she'd come in for a cocktail before dinner, he thought. I'd like to slip a cock in her tail, he laughed to himself-and I don't mean her cunt.
He wondered how much the bitch was into, deciding not much, probably. That was all the better. He liked to be the one who initiated bitches like that into the rites. Though occasionally one who already knew the ropes was a bit of fun.
With the lights all the way up, the bar didn't look nearly as ominous as Janet had found it the night before. The room was about thirty feet long by fifteen feet wide. The bar ran the whole length of one of the fifteen-foot sides, with the fireplace centered on the other fifteen-foot wall. The entrance was two-thirds of the way down one of the thirty-foot walls, and the other wall was almost all windows, looking out on the slopes beyond.
James didn't have to be until eight at night, but occasionally he came in to give Jake, the night watchman who doubled as the afternoon bartender, some extra time off. Poor guy had five kids at home to support, and he could use a couple of hours of shut-eye in one of the rooms upstairs. From what he said, James also surmised that the guy's wife was a real shrew.
Today Jake was looking a little sleepier than usual. There wasn't much business in the afternoons-usually just the boss's wife drinking her gin-and-tonics-but just putting in the time was enough of a drain.
"Hey, superstud," Jake grinned broadly. "Hear you got yourself a hot piece of pussy last night."
James grinned cordially, though he never really liked talking about his conquests or being questioned about them. "Well, Mister Night watchman," he laughed. "Just how did you know that?"
"Little bird told me," Jake said. "Red-headed one. If she hadn't been so hot to trot, I think she might actually have been worried about you fucking her roommate."
Suddenly the story began to interest James. "Hot to trot, huh?" he asked, feigning mild indifference. "So you took care of the redhead while I banged her roomie, huh?"
"Well, not exactly," Jake blushed. He paused for a second, then shrugged. "Shit, I might as well confess. She got me so turned on I shot my load as soon as I pulled down my pants. She didn't get a drop of it."
Old Jake was nothing if not honest, James thought, with a perverse smile. "Well," he grinned still pumping for information. "I guess at least you took care of her after that, with that big tongue of yours."
This time Jake really blushed. "Shit, Jimmy," he said gawkingly. "You know I'm not into that. I'm Catholic."
James clapped him on the back and sent him off to get some sleep before his night shift started. So far so good.
* * *
Vito called James about eleven-thirty. It had been a slow evening, and James was increasingly irritated because the redhead and her fat pussied friend hadn't shown up in the bar yet that night
"Just had a pair of 'em," Vito teased over the phone. "And, baby, believe me they were hot."
James waited. He knew that there was more coming. Vito never called just to brag.
"It sure was hot, old buddy," Vito went on. "One on my face and one on my dick."
"Ass or cunt?" James queried, still trying to sound nonchalant. "The one on your cock, I mean."
"Cunt," Vito laughed. "But it was the one on my face who just wouldn't stop. She must have come ten times at least. And then I fucked the holy shit out of her. Christ, I wish you could have seen it. Those big firm tits flopping back and forth as I ate her pussy up one side and down the other. And the other one pumping like mad on my cock, trying to get me to shoot. Shit, baby, it was fucking fantastic. I could've eaten that little bitch's twat all night long. But the funniest part was the other one, that little red-headed slut."
Vito paused, and James knew that this was what he had really called about, what the whole conversation had been leading up to.
"I've never seen a bitch try harder to come, or to make me come," Vito laughed. "Shit, man, she was absolutely frantic. And I do mean frantic."
There was a slight pause, as if Vito were listening to see if James was breathing hard at the other end of the line.
"They're headed back your way, big boy," Vito laughed. "Why not have one on me? Don't forget, I got her worked up for you. You got to return the favor some day."
"Thanks," James laughed. Vito was a friend indeed. While getting off himself (the silly cuntlapper), he was setting his buddy up for what James hoped would be the hottest night he had had in months.
James had no sooner hung up the phone than the two women walked in the door of the bar.
Even if James had not just talked to Vito, he might have been able to guess what had been going on just by looking at the two women's faces. Marci was incredibly satisfied, that was apparent And James had seldom seen anyone look as overwhelmingly frustrated as Janet looked at that moment.
The two women walked straight towards the bar.
"Hi, Jimmy," Marci giggled. "How's tricks?"
James hated it when anyone called him Jimmy. "According to Vito," he said, by way of getting even, "tricks are just fine." He paused slightly. "If you like pussy in your face, that is."
Marci giggled sillily. Janet wanted to slap her off the stool.
James turned his eyes to the redhead, undressing her with his eyes. "Personally, I'm not much into pussy-eating myself," he smiled wickedly. "Are you?"
"Don't start, prick," Janet hissed.
"Best prick you've seen in quite some time, I'll bet," James snapped back. "If not the only one."
Janet's lower lip trembled, and James thought for a moment she was going to burst into tears.
"You cocksucking bastard-" she growled.
"Wrong on both counts," James parried. "In fact, I'd like to show you just how wrong you are about the first part, you white bitch, you."
Hearing him call her white sent shivers down Janet's backbone and deep into her cunt, reminding her of the one fantastic night she had spent with a black man, a jazz musician hung like the proverbial buck stallion.
"Yeah, baby," James snarled, really nastily. "You are so fucking white I can barely stand it."
"And what do you intend to do about it?" Janet snapped, surprising herself with her own intensity.
"Well, I might try spanking it out of you," James snapped. "For starters. But keep in mind that that's just for starters."
"Oh, yeah?" Janet came back with mock flippancy. She was really beginning to get hot from all this talk. "And how do you plan to-uh-finish? Some folks I know have a lot of trouble finishing, even though they may be real great at starting."
"From what I hear, cunt," James kept at it, opening wound after wound, "it's you that has all the trouble finishing. Everybody else seems to be getting off real good."
Janet staggered to her feet and tried to slap James across the bar. Instead she went sailing into a row of unoccupied chairs and ended up flat on her back on the floor.
James was around the bar and towering over her in a flash. He was wearing levis tonight and they clung tight to his cock and balls. Standing above her, he reached down and straightened himself, tugging hard at his meat which was fast beginning to harden and thicken.
"You'd love a taste of that, wouldn't you cunt?" he whispered, making his voice private and personal for the first time during the conversation. "How badly would you like a taste of this big dick, baby? Answer me!"
Janet was shaking all over. Tears gushed from her eyes at last.
"Leave me alone, you-you-brute-you-" she cried.
"You love it, don't you, cunt? You're dying to have this big dick rip you apart, rip your fucking guts out, aren't you? You want it bigger than you've ever had, don't you, bigger and harder and rougher and faster and meaner. That's the only way you can come, isn't it, you worthless, ugly, despicable cunt? Answer me!"
James raised his hand and for one long second Janet thought he was going to bring it down hard across her face, so hard that maybe it would crush her skull, sending her into a new kind of unheard of ecstasy.
But James stopped short. Instead of hitting her, he offered Janet his hand, helping her to her feet. Once he had her back on her stool, he turned his back on her and walked away.
For several minutes, he ignored her completely, taking care of all his other customers instead, then busying himself with all sorts of busy work, like cutting up limes or going to the ice machine for more ice. Each time he walked past her, Janet yearned for him to touch her, to hit her or ridicule her, to acknowledge her in any way.
God, she thought to herself desperately. This is sick. I'm changing. Something's happening to me. Something terrible. This is really, really sick.
But the more she tried to convince herself, the stronger her desire became to be with James, to be degraded and overpowered by him. It was as if no other man existed any longer, as if nothing else mattered in her life. The ache in her cunt grew and grew, until it was almost unbearable. He had to fulfill her, and soon, or she was convinced she would die of agony.
For over an hour he ignored her. She sat on the bar stool watching his every move, drooling over him. At last he walked over to her and shrugged. "Listen, kid," he said plainly, no longer game-playing. "I was pretty hot for you at first, but now I've lost interest. Forget it. I don't think I could cut it with you. I thought you were my type, but I guess I must have made a mistake. Let's just forget it, huh? Let by-gones be by-gones? Besides, you're pretty drunk right now. Why don't you just let your friend help you up to your room?"
The whole world collapsed for Janet. She fell from the stool, and her dream fell with her.
As they carried her down, James smiled happily to himself. She was almost ready, he could tell that.
Just give her about one more day and surely she would be ripe for the plucking. Waiting one more day for that didn't bother him a bit. Not one little bit. Some things were worth waiting for, and he was pretty well convinced this was one of them.
He wasn't totally sure that he liked the change in her coming so soon. The way she had looked at him with that lovesick puppy dog look had turned him off-he hadn't been kidding about that. But then he was convinced she would be back to her old self, hating the sight of him, by the next morning. It was just the booze, he was almost sure of that. Booze letting her subconscious gallop to the surface. Before he was ready for it. Long before he was ready for it. Yes, sir, a whole hell of a long time before he was ready for her to go down begging and groveling. There were several acts of this play to go before he was ready for that. Otherwise it was just too easy. Just too fucking easy. He hated it when it was too easy. Hated it
Being born rich and handsome and hung like a stallion did have its disadvantages. He just hoped she wouldn't fuck it up for him-for them. For as good as it could be for him, James knew, it could be just as good for her.
* * *
Marci and a middle-aged couple who had been drinking down the bar managed to get Janet to the elevator, but not without difficulty. From across the lobby, Jake the night watchman noticed them and moved in to help.
Five kids at home or not, he was immediately turned on by the little butterball who was helping the redhead from last night into the elevator.
"Might I help you, miss?" he said.
Marci blushed. My goodness, she thought. For a place that doesn't have many men, this one certainly has some nice ones among the few that it does offer.
The middle-aged couple got off on the second floor, but Jake stayed with Marci, helping her get Janet to the room. It seemed curious to him to be entering the same room that he had come to the night before, but then Marci didn't know that, most likely, and Janet was certainly too far gone to notice.
"Do you think she should go into the shower?" Jake asked.
"Not really," said Marci. "When she's like this the best thing to do is to just let her sleep it off."
They lugged Janet over to her double bed and undressed her. Her tits flopped loosely against her body, and Jake noticed again that she had a nice juicey-looking cunt. He blushed deeply when he noticed Marci was watching him look Janet's naked body up and down. He wondered if she realized that the fantasy had just crossed his mind as to how it might be nice to fuck Janet while she was passed out. After all, she did owe him one after last night.
"Have you ever tried that?" Marci asked innocently.
"Tried what?" Jake blushed again.
"Fucking someone when they're out," Marci said nonchalantly.
"No," Jake said, both confused and pleased that she had read his mind. "Never. Don't think it would exactly be my thing." He paused briefly. "The only time I was ever with a gal who passed out on me, I got her into the shower and that woke her up pretty good. Good enough to go to it at least."
Marci stood staring at him sheepishly. Neither of them spoke for a long minute.
"I'm pretty drunk myself," she giggled sexily. "Do you think a shower would sober me up."
"Well, hell, honey," Jake said, finding it increasingly difficult to talk at the moment. He felt his cock grow hard inside his uniform-far harder than it had grown the night before and far harder than it had gotten just moments before when he was thinking about fucking Janet stiff.
Marci stumbled across the rug and into his arms. Her kisses were warm and sloppy, and he liked the smell of her cheap perfume. "Oh, sugar," she cooed up at him. "You're so big and strong."
Jake lifted her off her feet and carried her gently to the bathroom. The clothes fell from her body easily and he hastened to carefully remove his own. No more accidents like last night, Jake promised himself with a smile.
They stepped gently into the shower and turned on the water. Gently, so that the fine spray stung excitingly over their flushed bodies.
"Oh, you are big and strong," Marci giggling, enveloping his stiff cock in the tiny palm of her soft hand. "That's a real nice piece of equipment you've got there, night watchman."
Jake took her tightly in his arms and felt her ample tits press warmly into his chest. God, he loved them stacked like this. His hands moved to cup them and his chin slipped down until he could toy with the her naked body and found the V between her legs.
"Oh, oh, yes, yes, yes," Marci squealed as he slipped two fingers inside her. "Touch me like that. Touch me, touch me, touch me."
He felt the hot young girl come on his hand, letting out a long low moan, sounding a bit like a baby pig back on his grandfather's farm in Kentucky.
"Oh, sugar, are you finished already?" he asked, surprised that she had come so fast.
"Finished?" Marci moaned with pleasure. "No, Mister Night watchman. Little Marci is just beginning."
With that she dropped to her knees on the floor of the bathtub and took Jake's throbbing piece into her warm, moist mouth. Christ, what a cocksucker she was, he thought to himself as she toyed with the tip of his dick, then slipped the whole rod deeply into her throat for a plunge or two, then retreated hastily to the tip so that he wouldn't come too quickly.
When Jake was almost sure that he could stand it no longer without exploding in Marci's mouth, he yanked her head off the end of his rod and lifted her up to him once more. His fingers again found her cunt, which was still moist, as if welcoming a second invasion.
"Work me, baby, work me," the girl cried, going more and more frantic as he ran his fingers around her lips and then slipped them deeper and deeper inside. She let out a long, low squeal (like a whole pen full of piglets, Jake couldn't help but think), and her cunt contracted on his fingers as she exploded in a long volley of climaxes.
With that the young blond went limp against him.
Jake realized he was about to get a chance to cold-cock a gal after all. Marci was definitely out like a light, her warm body leaning limply against him.
Reaching for the soap, Jake lathered up his excited dick, then gently turned Marci around and began lubricating her bunghole. For all his protestation earlier that afternoon about being a good Catholic, he got more and more excited at the prospect of taking Marci "by the backdoor" (as they used to say on the farm), and the excitement made his cock harder and more excited than he could ever recall it having been before.
"Oh, shit," he gasped. "This is it, baby!"
He drove his red meat deep into Marci's ass once, twice, again and again. The limp form moaned slightly, but Marci didn't really come to. As he plunged, however, Jake was positive that he could feel the girl's muscles contracting around his thrusting cock, coaxing him towards the come he wanted to delay as long as possible.
"Mother of god!" he screamed, feeling his whole being well up and explode into Marci's limp but hungry asshole.
At just that second, Janet jerked the shower curtain open and stood staring at her premature-climax trick from the night before pumping hot come into her roommate-competitor's ass.
"Well, I'll be God-damned," she muttered, staggering to the toilet and barfing out the most god-awful assortment of booze she had ever put into her stomach at one time before. As darkness closed in on her once more, she swore she could see that smart-ass bartender standing above her, giant cock in hand, laughing and urinating all over her in an endless disgusting, thrilling shower of golden ecstasy.
CHAPTER SIX
Marci had arranged fresh flowers in the room and had ordered a very special breakfast for Janet when she awoke in the middle of the afternoon the next day. It wasn't the first time that she'd nursed her buddy through the hangover to end all hangovers.
"Tomato juice with lemon and just a hint of gin," she giggled. "The tail of the dog that cures all ills."
Janet opened one eye, groaned, and turned over. Then relenting, she turned back to Marci and half-smiled. It did work, Marci's ridiculous old-wives-tale cure.
Memories of the night before soon came flooding back to Janet, though, and she grew angry all over again, weak as she was from the drinking and wretching of the night's activities.
"Marci, you fucking little slut!" she moaned. "Thanks for the hair of the dog and all that, but how the fuck could you-?"
"Could I what?" Marci smiled innocently.
"Well, fucking that man in shower like that for one thing," Janet exclaimed. "And doing it while I lay near death in the next room. And letting that Italian prick eat you out like that right in front of me-I mean, how do you think I felt?" Then the worst memory of all flooded back to her.
"And-and-and-Jesus!-how could you let that pig of a bartender talk to me like that, abuse me like that in front of all those people?"
"Abuse you?" Marci said meekly. "But, honey, I thought you were loving it. You certainly seemed to be in absolute ecstasy."
"Oh, damn, damn, damn!" Janet sat up furiously-and too quickly, her jerky movement sending a series of sharp pains coursing through her head. She lay back down just as quickly, feeling even worse.
"Keep calm, honey," Marci urged. "You had quite a night."
"I had quite a night!" Janet wailed. "I had quite a night? Jesus, look who's talking. All the dick you could possibly gobble up with any hole or crevice in your whole fucking body, and you say I had quite a night! Holy shit!"
Marci, as usual, obviously wasn't going to talk about it. "Do you want your poached egg, honey?" she asked.
Janet did. Downing her dose of cholesterol, she felt a bit better, especially since she washed it down with yet more of Marci's special slightly-less-than-virgin mary brew.
By the time she was really beginning to feel cranky again, Marci too had begun to relax. And when Janet began to rant and rave about going home to Louisville two days early, even Marci realized that she was bullshitting. She knew full well that nothing could drag her friend away from the resort now-at least not until she had sampled the bartender's wares. And she was convinced that he was as hot for Janet as she was for him. The only real problem now was simply getting the two of them together on the same wave length.
"I hear James is off tonight," she said casually. "Not bartending, I mean."
Janet's face dropped. "What difference could that possibly make to me?" she shrugged, but Marci could see how shaken she was.
"I dunno," Marci shrugged. "I just overheard that this is the night he and Vito go into Nashville, looking for some action."
"But Nashville's over a hundred miles away!" Janet snapped back. "They couldn't go that far every week, just for a little pussy. At least not when-not when-"
Janet didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't really have to. Her meaning was clear. She squirmed in the bed and pulled the covers up over her head, pouting.
* * *
By five o'clock, both women were dressed and ready to check out the cocktail lounge. Janet seemed to have made a speedy and rather remarkable recovery. Both women were looking very good indeed.
Jake was on the bar and greeted them warmly.
"Feelin' better, ma'am?" he inquired of Janet. She nodded and ordered another very weak bloody mary.
In about twenty minutes, James arrived, accompanied by his mother and his uncle. James was in full leather, including a black leather jacket and motorcycle hat. Out of his back pocket dangled a pair of hand-cuffs.
"What the fuck is that?" Janet whispered to Marci. "Some" sort of goddam costume parade."
Marci smiled wanly and said nothing.
James walked over to the bar and ordered drinks from Jake. They chatted a few moments about nothing in particular, then James walked back to his table with the drinks he had ordered.
"Who are those weirdoes with him?" Janet whispered to Marci, who answered with a giggle.
They did indeed look quite peculiar. The woman was about sixty and so tiny that she almost looked like a large grandmother Barbie doll. Every detail of her dress and coiffure was perfect, which further added to the highly unreal vibration that she gave off, as if she were not quite real.
The man was as gross as she was fastidious. Greatly overweight and very jowly, he was dressed expensively, but his clothes all looked slept in-and as if he had drooled all over them. Janet wondered if he were retarded or something.
"I think she's his mother," Marci whispered. Janet laughed in total disbelief. The little wisp of a woman didn't look as if she could possibly give birth to anything, much less a strapping hulk of a man like James.
"And the fat, sloppy one?" Janet asked. "What's he supposed to be? The daddy?"
"I don't know," said Marci. "But they're both kind of creepy. They watch, you know."
"They what?"
"Watch."
"You mean, like look? At him? While he's having sex? You've got to be kidding!"
Janet felt herself growing hot and excited again at the idea of kinky voyeurism. But she had to be super careful. She and Marci had worked out a careful master plan, and she had to play her cards perfectly.
James at last glanced their way. Janet shot him a look of icy hatred, and Marci shifted herself in her seat almost too condescendingly.
"Don't overplay it, toots," Janet hissed sweetly through her teeth.
Marci nodded, then on cue walked to the bar for two more drinks.
James and his family party were between Janet and Marci and the fireplace. When Marci came back to the table they had taken earlier with the fresh drinks, Janet took the lead and headed for the bench in front of the fireplace, walking right by James's table.
"I hear we're to be spared your piggish rudeness this evening," Janet said snootily as the passed the table.
James glared straight through her without acknowledging the remark. Elmer grinned obesely and Abigail gave a quick little nod.
"Is this a friend of yours, dear?" the older woman said to her son.
"Hardly," James said flatly. "Just another hot-to-trot cunt. One more horny bitch from the big city out her to try to get herself some country-boy cock. But this farmer isn't willing. That's why she's got a wild hair up her ass."
Abigail smiled and motioned for Marci and Janet to sit down. "Oh, James, you always say the silliest things. Especially after this young lady has already been a guest in our house-a guest we appreciated sharing our hospitality with very much, didn't we Elmer? Very much indeed."
Her brother grinned obscenely and nodded.
"It's not her that I'm talking about," James stressed. "Yeah, she was a hot little fuck, and she put on a good show for you and Uncle Elmer. I'm talking about the other cunt, the smart-ass bitch of a redhead."
Janet glared coldly at him. She was holding her own much better than she had expected. Her face, she was sure, maintained a look of icy calm, though her cunt and thighs were burning with desire.
"You really think you're the dalai lama's piss incarnate, don't you?" she snapped, taking care not to be too snide and bitchy. "I've never heard anything like it in my life. You're the most inhuman, insensitive person I've ever met. The piggiest, meanest, snootiest bastard I've ever come across." She paused, then smiled at Abigail. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, if he's really your son. But he is a bastard."
Abigail looked at her quite seriously. "My son James," she said calmly, "has a brilliant way with words. Brilliant, do you hear? He's a genius ten times over and could have out written Tolstoy and Henry James if he'd had a mind to. But James chose a different path, the path of sexual initiator. His life has been mapped out for him since the day he was born. Choices were made for him even before that, and there's little he could do to change any of that even if he wanted to. And those who cross his path, and linger there for however brief an instant of time, are blessed, young lady. You may be chosen to be one of those. Only time will tell. But, my dear," and here Abigail drew herself right up to her full stature, her voice growing in volume, "my son is not a bastard. My son called you a bitch, a cunt, a worthless piece of shit, and he is right about that. For my son is not a bastard, and he is never, never wrong. And he never ever fails to get what he wants and deserves." There was a deadly silence at the table.
"Was I one of those who was blessed?" whispered Marci.
Abigail turned slowly and looked at her. "No, my child. Not one of the ones who was blessed. You were merely one of the ones who was fucked."
Janet locked eyes at last with James. Their contact was the most intense erotic experience she had ever felt, and she knew, without a further word of bargaining or explanation that she was his completely, that he could do whatever he wanted with her, for as long and as often as he liked.
Silence descended on the room. Total silence. Jake stopped mixing drinks. A drunken couple who had been arguing at the far end of the room suddenly stopped short. No one at the table moved or seemed to even breathe.
James stood. He was a god in his shining leather, Janet thought His muscles bulged in his neck, his chest, his thighs. His cock was rigid and enormous, and Janet felt brutalized by it already. Her body ached for his, but her eyes remained icy, aloof, condescending. She knew that Marci was right It was the only way to really win him, to really get inside his pants for more than just a quick fuck. And Janet knew that this was going to be much, much more than that. It might be the last fuck of her life, but that was all right, because it was going to be so much more than anything else she had ever known that it was absolutely, overwhelmingly worth it.
James approached closer and closer to where Janet was still sitting at the table. Still silence hung over the room, and Janet was sure that every eye was on them.
"Fuck you," she hissed out at him. "You bastard!"
With that he raised his hand, just as he had the night before, but this time he struck her full across the face. The pain was so intense that Janet was sure that he had broken her jaw, but she didn't budge.
"Bastard, bastard, bastard!" she screamed out again and again.
And again and again he slapped her, hard, brutally, without pity. She felt her cunt grow moist and hot.
"You'll never break me, you bastard prick," she spat out, still never moving from the chair.
"We'll see about that," James laughed, reaching down and grabbing her up from the chair as If she were a sack of potatoes.
"Put me down!" Janet screamed as he picked her up and tucked her under his left arm. No one in the room moved to help. Elmer squealed in glee, and Janet couldn't help but notice that even Marci's face was beaming, fascinated at the show they were putting on.
"I guess it's time for me to bring the car around," Abigail said matter-of-factly. "Come along, Elmer."
The odd couple left quickly by the side door and James began carrying Janet in the same direction. "Put me down, down, down!" she screamed, knowing all along that it was totally futile-and feeling, all the while, more turned on than she had ever felt in her life.
* * *
James slammed her into the back seat of the black Cadillac and lunged his own heavy frame in beside her. Abigail and Elmer were in the front seat, and the older woman started the car quite calmly and took off slowly down the incline.
James still held Janet by the wrist firmly, uncomfortably, and she, the foolish girl she was, struggled a bit hesitantly to free herself from his grasp.
"Stop it, cunt," he hissed. "Your lily white hands are going to be strung up a lot tighter than this before the night is out."
Janet let out a sigh and tried to lean back against the hard leather seat.
"In fact, baby," James announced, "I think we're going to give you a little preview of what's to come. Sort of the on-the-road portable version." James reached up and unhooked two leather ropes hanging from the roof of the car. He tied Janet's wrists firmly with them, then slipped another leather manacle around her neck.
"Those pants aren't a bit flattering to you, cunt," he laughed, then proceeded to roughly rip off not only her rust-colored trousers but her panties as well. Janet's legs trembled, now cold against the black leather seat.
"My, Cinderella, what big feet you have!" he sneered, manacling both her ankles to the floor of the car before Janet was aware what was happening. The manacles were far enough apart that her legs were spread quite wide open, her moist young cunt hotly exposed to his sneering, angry eyes.
"You call that a cunt, you bitch?" he barked out, reaching behind the seat and drawing forth a fourteen-inch black-leather dildo with hard rubber bumps along its surface. "If that's a cunt, then this is the prick it deserves!"
James drove the dildo deep inside Janet's dripping pussy with one deft blow. He began working it around painfully inside her, then just as she began to moan, brutally ripped it out and dropped it to the floor.
"You worthless bitch," he hissed, turning away from her as she lay there, trembling in her shame. "You worthless fucking bitch. You're less than a cunt. You're a shitty asshole, not even worth fucking with the smallest dildo in the house. I wouldn't come near you with even my little finger. I wouldn't even let Uncle Elmer beat off in your face. Cunt, cunt, cunt. Miserable, worthless cunt"
Those were the last words James spoke to Janet for several hours. He turned disgustedly away from her, glaring out the window at the passing scenery.
Janet's head could still move enough to at least see out the other window. They had reached the bottom of the mountain and had driven around its base and were now headed up the other side. The countryside was like something from a science fiction movie of a barren, deserted planet. Nothing seemed to grow there-least of all grass. Everywhere there were rocks and cliffs, and if there were animals or birds or living things of any kind, Janet had the feeling they would be vermin or the most hateful kinds of insects and spiders.
The road itself was little more than a rocky path now, but still the car sped along up the other side of the mountain. Rounding a particularly foreboding cluster of rocks, the car turned toward its destination.
Janet found the house on the cliff shockingly ugly. She had imagined something palatial, rich-looking, because she had now surmised (partly from several things Marci had said) that Mrs. Crimpton-John and her two cohorts did have a fantastic amount of money. But nothing had prepared her for the sight she now saw.
Certain writers have always insisted that after a while people's houses start to look like them (and vice versa), just as people eventually take on the physical qualities of favorite pets. Whether that was actually true or not Janet wasn't sure. Maybe it was just that these people had planned and built this house themselves. At any rate, its whole look-its plan, its layout, it's very architecture-struck Janet as indescribably evil and inhuman. Brutal and life-denying. Nasty, petty, condescending.
For one thing, there appeared to be almost no windows and doors, just a steel-barred cubbyhole here and there. Much of the building did indeed resemble a medieval castle-something Janet always thought of in the same breath with the phrase "torture chamber"-and the whole heap of blockish-looking segments were surrounded by a moat which itself in turn was flanked by a heavy barbed-wire fence.
A number of vicious sounding German shepherds set up a roar of howls as soon as the car turned into view.
What didn't resemble a medieval castle about the building was the clunkishness of the building itself. Instead of reaching for the stars the way most castles do-and pretending that magnificence, in a sense-the building was all sprawled out over the whole cliff, like a cluster of little stone sheds, linked together by stone passageways, like a child's model of the atom. None of the compartments seemed to be very large, except for one in the very middle which also differed from the others in that it seemed to have a roof of translucent glass.
This honeycomb of one-story tombs gave Janet the creeps, compromising even the sexual gratification she had begun to feel when James was brutalizing her with the dildo.
Careful, careful, she told herself insistently. She couldn't let him know that she was getting any pleasure out of this. No, not the least inkling of pleasure. Not yet.
The car pulled up to the barbed-wire fence in front of the moat. Abigail fingered some sort of electronic device and the barbed-wire miraculously opened, although Janet was sure no one could possibly find an opening there under normal conditions. A drawbridge lowered itself from the cubicle wall across the moat, and the car carefully picked its way across to the grounds on the other side.
The barbed wire snapped shut and the drawbridge slipped back up into place.
Trapped!
James turned to look at her, and Janet trembled. He didn't say a word, but Janet could read his hate-laced thoughts through his dark, brooding eyes. You miserable cunt, he seemed to be saying. Now you're really going to get it. Everything was just a joke up till now. Foreplay. Now you're in for the real thing.
Janet's pussy was red hot In spite of herself, she squirmed anxiously about on the leather seat. James looked down at her cunt and saw drops of liquid forming on the lips.
His own mouth twisted into a sneer of disgust. Tears poured down Janet's cheeks. She squirmed and squirmed.
He slapped her and turned away.
The agony was unbearable.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Before taking her from the car, James slipped a light leather blindfold over Janet's head. The feel of the material against the skin of her face was chilly, and she had to admit that in a funny kind of way it turned her on.
She felt herself being led by the leather rope around her wrists down a succession of what seemed to her to be low, very narrow, damp passageways-undoubtedly those she had observed when the car was making its final approach. Thinking she might eventually have to escape from this kinky prison, Janet at first tried to remember how many steps she took left or right and all that, but she quickly found it impossible to keep up with all that, and besides she was convinced that James was intentionally trying to confuse her in that respect.
At last they stopped in what Janet sensed was a cold, damp room. There was an incredible stillness all around her. James removed the rope from her wrists, but then immediately shackled her again, this time in hard, cold steel-far less flexible bonds than those she had experienced in the car.
Her feet and neck were shackled as well as her hands, and this time her four limbs were pulled taut, as if she were about to be drawn and quartered. The half-mask was still over her eyes, so that Janet could only sense-and try to hear-what was coming next.
James kept up his ritual of silence, and for a long time she neither heard nor felt anything. The anticipation was more than frustrating-it was maddening. At last, unable to take it any longer, Janet began to squirm and strain in her bonds, so that the straining motions would cause a tautness and tickling in her cunt and hopefully bring her some relief.
As she writhed and moaned, the hard kiss of a whip suddenly lashed out over Janet's body, catching her painfully on the left hip.
"Fuck you, you bastard!" she hissed out. "You'll never break me like that. I don't need you, you pig!"
The whip lashed out again, this time zinging in on the inner curve of her thigh and sending a thrill of ecstasy through Janet's whole body. She stopped writhing and waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, she felt the whip again, but this time gently, teasingly, nudging into the warm flesh of her inner thighs, lapping back and forth, darting, like a hard, cold human tongue.
"Oooooohhh," she moaned, "aaaahhh!" Then quickly regaining her composure, she spat out. "Pig! Prick! Bastard! Is that the best you can do? I'll bet the tiny tip of that whip is twice as hard as your whole puny cock!"
With that, the lash withdrew. This time Janet's agonizing wait was even longer. After the first twenty minutes, she was almost convinced that James had left the room. Then softly she felt it again-so soft at first that she wasn't even sure she wasn't imagining it.
Yes, there it was, coiling, whispering, toying with the insides of her thighs. She braced herself, determined not to show pleasure, and the exploration grew more bold, the whiplash inching closer and closer to her eager-to-explode cunt itself.
Another pause, but much shorter this time. Then the flicking, lapping lash. A pause. A dart of hard, thin leather. A pause, a dart, a pause.
Then the whip began to dance right up into the hair around her vulva. A thin stream of perspiration broke out on Janet's forehead underneath the mask and began to run down her face, stinging her eyes and dripping off the end of her nose. She knew she wouldn't be able to stand this much longer.
Still it stopped, it started, it stopped and started again. The whip was now delicately tugging at the hairs of her pussy, as if it were covered with tiny little fingers. She was getting hotter and hotter, hornier and hornier.
At last she screamed and the whip angrily bit into her cunt, so sharply that she was sure it must have drawn blood. Janet cried out in agony and fainted, awakening several minutes later to find herself still hanging limply from the manacles which bound her. The leather mask had been removed from her face, but she could see little in the pitch black darkness that surrounded her.
From far away she caught a flicker of light. Keeping her eyes on it, she saw it grow closer and closer until it came out of a tunnel and into the room where she was imprisoned. The black candle shed little light, but she could tell that the man carrying it was James and that lie now was clad only in a leather codpiece.
Even in the near pitch blackness, she was staggered by the sight of his near-naked body. Each part of him was perfectly proportioned, and all the muscles were just right, just taut enough without being overworked into beefiness. Especially, she could well observe, that one particular muscle.
James paid no attention to her whatsoever. Placing the black candle on the far side of the room, he immediately vanished back down the long tunnel once more. In a few moments or minutes he returned, with another black candle. This ritual was repeated seven more times, until there were a total of nine candles burning in various parts of the room.
The ninth candle James carried to the middle of the room where Janet was bound. He moved it in close to her, so that she could feel the burning, melting wax close to her skin as James moved it around and around, muttering some sort of wordless, silent hocus-pocus, the candle coming closer and closer to her skin.
James moved the candle so close to the nipples of her breasts that Janet was sure he was trying to scorch them. But each time he darted it away just in time before any real harm was done.
Then slowly, steadily, James moved the burning candle down toward the exposed area of her cunt. For one terrible moment she was convinced he was going to set her bush on fire, but suddenly, with a deft flick of his hand, James extinguished the candle and shoved the whole black stick, smoldering wick and all, up Janet's wet and ready cunt.
The pain was intense, but the ecstasy was equally magnificent. Once again, tears coursed down the side of Janet's cheeks, but she didn't pass out, didn't cry out in either pain or delight.
It seemed to her that James nodded in approbation, pleased that she had passed some kind of test. The next thing Janet knew, he was loosening her bonds so that she was able, for a few seconds at least, to collapse to the cold, wet floor and grab a fitful few moments of sleep.
* * *
But almost immediately, James was roughly tugging at her again. This time he dragged her through countless long passages without replacing her mask, but by now Janet had no desire to try and figure out where she was or where she was going. Her struggling was almost over, although her initiation had barely begun.
Suddenly they stumbled into a room brightly lit, this time by bright red candles. The air was heavy with some incense that Janet had never smelled before. She was also certain that smell of come hung heavily in the air, along with another smell that she could not quite place.
Uncle Elmer was completely naked in the middle of the room, strapped tightly to the floor. His fat hung about him in quivering mounds and he began to moan and gasp uncontrollably as soon as James brought Janet into the long, narrow room.
James roughly pulled Janet along the damp passageway until she was forced to stand almost directly over the bound man's face. He reached down and pulled the candle, which was still stuck in her cunt, out, then quickly replaced it, jamming the thick end in first.
Again with lightning speed, he manacled Janet's ankles and wrists to the wall of passageway, so that she was now as much a prisoner as the fat creature below her. He then reached into his crotch, pulled out a book of matches, and lit one.
Janet trembled for the first time in real terror. James moved the lighted match toward her, down, down, down-and lit the wick of the candle which had its bottom end plunged up into her cunt
She felt the heat grow hotter and hotter between her thighs and would probably have screamed or fainted except for her amazement and delight at what was to happen next.
James reached again down into his codpiece, but this time instead of pulling out a book of matches, he grasped his holy rod itself and brought the magnificent animal gasping and choking out into the open air.
Janet let out a low gasp of absolute amazement. His cock was far larger than anything she had ever imagined-a full half-size again larger than even the Puerto Rican superintendent's cock which had been the first to ram home in her thirteen-year-old pussy. And James' cock was not even fully erect.
Her low moans of pleasure at seeing his meat seemed not to faze James at all. It was if he were totally oblivious to her watching him. Nor did he play with himself or caress his meat in any way, just sort of letting it hang semi-limply between his powerful thighs as he stood there straddled the nude body of his fat Uncle Elmer.
The man on the floor began to squeal like a stuck pig, struggling mightily with his bonds. First he would look up into the burning candle dangling from Janet's cunt, then he would dart a peek back at the huge, drooping cock of his nephew.
James rolled his head back on his shoulders and slipped his hand down to cup his grapefruit-sized balls. Suddenly a yellow trickle began to spurt from the end of his giant dick, then a growing stream. Urine, shot everywhere around the room, covering every inch of the fat, squealing old man's body, filling his mouth and eyes and ears and nose.
After the first flood of piss, James took the spurting rod in his left hand and aimed it up at Janet, hitting her full in the face, then stinging into her breasts, then slowly, ever-so slowly, dropping down lower and lower until the stream quenched the burning candle wick just in time to keep it from igniting Janet's whole forest of cunt-hair.
* * *
James led Janet on to the next chamber without stopping to let her get her breath or even try to wipe the golden piss from her body. She felt shamed, dirty, degraded, and she knew that she had never been so overwhelmingly turned on by a man ever, in her whole life. Each time they turned a new corner in the maze, her imagination leapt to new heights of fantasized ecstasy. She knew that things were only going to get better and better.
But Janet still knew that she must not let James know the extent of her pleasure. Only by thinking that she was still resisting-even violently resisting-could he achieve the full extent of his own pleasure. And when that pleasure finally happened, Janet told herself with an excited shudder, this whole damn mountain might just split wide open and there just might be another Grand Canyon formed.
James himself was not so much fooled by Janet's pretense as she imagined him to be, but he appreciated fully the game she was playing. He would have been turned off, it was true, the minute she began to coo or act like she was enjoying the tortures of initiation he was putting her through.
But, he thought quickly, if on the other hand, had she really been in agony, he wouldn't have enjoyed that much either. It was this middle road, this precarious tightrope between pain and pleasure, that he delighted in exploring.
And Abigail delighted in it, too-though vicariously of course. Though her brother Elmer was "permitted" (she liked that term) to actual participate in some of the rituals, Abigail herself gained pleasure only through observing. But she observe for days, even weeks, on end and never tire of being a spectator.
She now awaited James and Janet in her favorite room in the chalet, a vantage point perched high above a kind of well-like hole in the ground, the whole set-up being not unlike Edgar Allan Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum."
James and Janet entered this pit from a small door in one side, which was then shut tightly, so that Janet heard it click shut from the outside. They were trapped, she realized, and the slimy stone walls were, she was sure, impossible to scale, even for someone far more athletic than she.
Looking up she saw the stern face of James's mother peering at them from high above. She could swear the old woman was smiling the most evil smile she had ever seen.
A loud whirring noise sounded from above, and Janet noted that a peculiar kind of contraption was being lowered mechanically from high above-higher even than where the old woman was peering over the edge and into the pit.
As the contraption drew closer, Janet felt a strange familiarity with it, for at the end of the metal pendulum was situated yet another rack on which to stretch her lush young body.
James quickly proceeded to do just that, snapping her neck, ankles, and wrists all firmly into place. There was yet another bit of confinement built into this contraption, however, as Janet was soon to learn.
With a most evil smirk on his face, James then proceeded to cinch her hips and thighs tightly into place so the even if she had tried to squirm her cunt about, it would have been totally impossible.
The contraption then began to whir again and Janet felt herself being lifted slowly up towards the top of the pit. The motion stopped about half-way up, and Janet hung there, trapped, her naked body strapped into place facing the bottom of the slimy pit.
An eerie purple light then began to fill the pit, and hideous, droning music like the bellowing of creatures blind and mad, dwelling far below the surface of the earth. With a mixture of horror and delight, Janet noticed that James was once more freeing his cock from the tight confines of his codpiece, and this time the meat was hard and erect and ready for action.
Then to her surprise, Janet saw James take a position flat on his back on the slimy floor of the pit. His right hand slipped strongly down to grasp the hard, angry flesh of his own cock and he began pulling slowly on the entire length of the massive tool.
Janet felt her own cunt juices flowing as they never had flowed before as she watched James toy with his meat. She became hungrier and hungrier for him, and had she been free, she would have hurled caution to the winds and gone after that huge, throbbing dick no matter what the cost.
But, she realized, I'm not free. And then the full extent of her torture dawned on her.
The pendulum began to swing, and Janet's hot, tingling body moved with it, back and forth, back and forth, lost eternally in space, while the only thing she wanted in the world displayed itself tauntingly only a few feet below her.
And then, as if the torture were not unbearable enough already, the pendulum began to lower her still swinging body deeper and deeper into the pit, drawing her closer and closer to the release she knew could not be hers.
Janet's whole body began to quiver with ecstatic frustration, and still the mechanism brought her closer and closer to James and his growing, throbbing tool.
James, too, began to become excited by the controlled encounter. He bucked his hips up into the air, so that the full length of his cock leapt out into the air between him and Janet. And slowly, slowly, the rocking pussy descended, coming closer and closer to the tip of his dick.
Janet's tits were also hanging free, and James reached up to nibble at them as they swung by. He bit harder and harder at them the lower they came, and finally fastened his whole mouth, leechlike, onto the left one for several full swings.
Letting his mouth collapse from the warm flesh of the tit, James fell back flat on his back on the floor. Janet was now only about a foot or so above him, her body still rocking back and forth in a rather rapid motion lengthwise past his own excited, muscular body.
His cock stood up like a pole and waited the swinging body to graze by it. Closer and closer it came, and closer and closer he came to coming. His whole body began to shudder in anticipation, while Janet's body, being jerked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth the way it was, was receiving almost no actual pleasure at all. If only she had been able to touch his cock, with her lips, with her fingers, with one hair of her cunt, for a second, she would have been satisfied forever, she thought.
But then they did begin to touch, and she realized, that the frustration was even greater than before. Even the whip which had lapped at her cunt an hour before had not agonized her like these momentary grazings of the greatest cock in all of existence.
Down and down she came, faster and faster, and James felt the touch of her pussy hairs swinging, dripping with the love juices of anticipation, come whipping by the ready-to-explode tip of his cock.
"Oh, shit!" he screamed out at last, his booming voice volleying hollowly up and down the pit "Now, now, NOW!!!!"
Janet trembled waiting for the spurt of his hot come all over her sweating body, but instead she felt herself being jerked up rapidly towards the top of the pit. She saw the waves of hot gism come spurting out of the end of James' choking, excited cock, but not one drop reached her. Not one single solitary drop.
From above she heard the sound of excited applause from Abigail Crimpton-John. She fainted.
* * *
When Janet came to this time, she was in a large spacious room surrounded by stars. This confused her at first, but regaining consciousness slowly she realized that the whole room was covered with a large glass dome, making it like a giant planetarium with real stars.
She was lying on a large water bed with black leather sheets. To her surprise, she was alone and she was not tied down.
She arose slowly rubbing her wrists and ankles. There was no light inside the room except that which came from the night outside, but there was a full moon high in the sky and she could see perfectly.
All around her on the circular walls, Janet saw what the history books have always referred to as "instruments of torture "-racks, chains, stocks, iron maidens, the works. They made a curious decor, Janet thought, afraid to even wonder if they were more than just decoration.
The water bed itself stood in the very middle of the room. Janet noted with pleasure that it looked like it could accommodate up to eight or ten people, all sucking and fucking at once. That might be one hell of a way to make waves.
But at the moment all she wanted was James. That, she laughed, would be wave-making enough for one night.
After ten or fifteen minutes, she began to worry. Maybe he wouldn't be back. Maybe that one time he had come so magnificently would finish him for the night-though from the looks of his equipment she sincerely doubted that. And worst of all, maybe he was never going to fuck her at all.
That horrified her most of all, particularly since Janet had never been hornier in her life. This whole week-end had been a succession of one frustration after another, as if the whole universe were conspiring to keep her from coming.
And she knew that when this come came, it would be like no climax she had ever experienced in her life. That more than anything was what kept her going, kept her from reaching down and finishing herself off with her own two hands.
Thinking about it was getting Janet more and more excited all over again. Her aching clitoris once more stood up erect and the walls of her cunts went soft and moist once more.
She was moaning softly to herself, her eyes closed tightly against a flood of welling tears, when James slipped silently in and found her rocking on the bed.
He watched her for a long few minutes before hissing out, "Shut up, you cunt. Haven't you learned your lesson yet? Haven't you learned anything from being pissed on and burnt and teased? Haven't you understood, you miserable horny bitch?"
"Oh, please, please, please!" Janet screamed out, her sobs rocking the whole water bed now. "Don't punish me anymore. I can't stand it. Help me. Please help me. Oh, James, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I've got to be fucked soon or I'll surely die!"
"You may die, you miserable slut, if you don't learn your lesson!" He slapped her hard across the face, and the blow brought her more pain than pleasure. "God damn you, you bitch! Haven't you learned anything?"
"I don't care, I don't care," Janet screamed. "Kill me if you like, but fuck me first! I can't stand it!"
James stopped cold, trembling with anger. "You will stand it!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Believe me, you will stand it! Just as long as I saw, you will stand it! And you won't ask for it! Now or ever! You bitch, you cunt, you whore! No real woman ever asks a man to fuck her! No real woman ever begs!"
James was still trembling and raised his hand to strike Janet again just as the door opened behind him and Vito appeared, dressed as James had been that afternoon in full black leather.
"Need some help, old buddy?" Vito smiled, all the waiterly kindness now gone out of his voice. "Is this cold bitch still giving you trouble? Does this little filly still need breaking in so that the cowboys can ride her?"
Janet was weak from frustration. "I've learned my lesson. I won't be a cold bitch anymore. I won't beg for it. I won't-" Words came tumbling out of her mouth as if she had been brainwashed. Through her tears she couldn't see the two men wink at each other across the room.
There was a sudden loud whir, and the room began spinning above Janet's head. She thought for a moment that she was fainting again, but then she looked around and saw that Vito and James were spinning to, or actually that she and the bed were spinning, as if they were on some sort of carousel, and Vito and James were standing off on the midway grinning at her.
Then the two men stepped up onto the spinning platform, smiled slyly, then began to slowly, sensually remove their leathers. God, what magnificent specimens they were, Janet sighed.
Vito came toward her first.
"Kiss it, you cunt," he ordered her, thrusting his salty, uncircumcised cock in her face.
Janet did exactly as she was told-no more, no less-running her lips up and down the whole length of his rod but never really taking it inside her mouth.
"Now, go after those balls, baby," her commanded. "Lick those big hairy balls. Lick 'em real good now. All over. That's it. Shit, that's real good, baby. You're learning real good. Lick those balls and kiss that dick."
While her tongue and lips went wild on Vito's cock and balls, Janet felt James moving toward her from the rear. His hard, firm hands reached around her and cupped her tits, pinching roughly at the nipples as he worked them around inside his palms.
"You like that, cunt?" he asked roughly. "Tell me you like it. Tell me you like me pinching your tits."
"I do," she gulped, removing her moist lips momentarily from toying up and down Vito's cock.
"You cunt!" the brawny Italian screamed out, cuffing her hard across the ear. "I told you to kiss my dick! Now eat it! Eat it all! Take every god-damned fuckin' inch of that ten-inch cock down your miserable slimy throat!"
Vito bucked his giant piece between her lips and far down into her throat, so roughly that Janet was sure he was going to impale her tonsils on the tip and drag them out.
"I said all of it!" he screamed, bucking harder and harder.
"You slut!" James yelled out, twisting harder and harder at her tits. "Didn't you hear me tell you that I wanted to hear you say you loved it. Tell me how much. Do you like the way I twist your tits? Say it, you cunt, say it! I'm not going to wait around all night!"
All that Janet could manage was a muffled little gulp, so rapid were the thrusts of Vito's throbbing cock in her mouth.
James hands dropped roughly to her waist, and the next thing Janet knew she was being drug bodily from the bed to a standing position.
"Ouch, you god-damn cunt, you bit me!" screamed Vito as Janet's mouth followed her body when James jerked her up.
"Please, please, please, stop, I can't stand it, I can't take any more," Janet begged, her aching mouth at last free from Vito's invasion.
"I thought you wanted to get fucked!" James screamed, ramming his unlubricated giant cock roughly but expertly deep into Janet's rectum.
The look of pain that shot across Janet's confused face would have chilled a lesser man, but Vito didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, fucked!" he shouted, lunging and plunging his cock just as deeply into Janet's wet and forgotten cunt. "This is what you've been wanting ever since last night, isn't it?" Vito gasped, bucking and panting. "This big Italian sausage shoved up into your hot little oven?"
Janet let go completely, her consciousness exploding somewhere between misery and delight. She clasped Vito to her with all her might and at the same time moved her buttocks frantically to accommodate the delightfully painful invasion from the rear.
"Oh, yeah," James gasped, bucking excitedly in spite of himself. "Oh, yeah, baby, move that ass, wiggle it, baby! Holy shit! Move that beautiful fuckin' ass."
Janet felt the first squirt of come in her ass, but Vito exploded inside her cunt almost simultaneously, and suddenly both men were filling her with their gism, pouring shot after shot of hot juice deep inside her.
* * *
Then, with so little warning that she herself was eternally amazed by it in the years to come, Janet felt her own clitoris stir like it had never stirred before, then as Vito and James kept bucking their still hard pieces of meat into her, her cunt began to contract, quiver, and explode, not once, not twice, but over and over again so many times that she lost count entirely.
The three fell laughing onto the still spinning water bed and began to roll and rock and play with each other. Vito was hard again almost immediately, and Janet took him once more into her mouth, eagerly, tenderly this time. In a few short minutes he was shooting another load of hot Italian come, and Janet gulped it eagerly down her throat and moved automatically, again without having to be told, to do the same for James. The men licked hungrily at her cunt until long past sunrise the next morning, and she serviced them again and again, with her mouth, with her cunt and ass, with her hands.
At last the three all fell asleep totally exhausted, little imagining that that very night this room on the other side of the mountain was going to be the scene of the most spectacular orgy the state of Tennessee had ever known.
It was going to be outrageous!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Abigail and Elmer drove Janet back to the lodge at about two o'clock in the afternoon. Marci was just finishing breakfast when Janet breezed into the room, a wide smile on her face.
"Good morning, good morning, good morning, good morning!" Janet beamed, rushing over to give her pudgy friend a large, sloppy affectionate kiss.
"My goodness," Marci bubbled happily. "Are you sick or something?"
"Sick?" said Janet, laughing warmly and naturally for one of the first times in her life. "I have never felt better." She moved lightly around the room. "I feel like singing. I feel like dancing. I feel like flying." She giggled. "Except I don't know how to sing or fly or dance."
Marci rushed to her and hugged her tight. "Oh, Janet," she squealed. "It was really good, wasn't it?" She blushed. "I guess it's not right of me to ask you something like that. But I guess it must have been really wonderful. I mean you're so changed-and all for the better. I hope you don't mind my saying so. You're a whole new person. I'm just so happy for you!"
Janet sighed excitedly. "Don't apologize. It was more than wonderful. It was the end of the world. I've never known anything like that before-that kind of absolute freedom. It was so beautiful. So fuckin' beautiful." Her mind was racing, and she wanted to share it. "I never dreamed sex could be that good. Not even a half-a third-one tenth that good! Holy moses! Was it that good for you with him? I mean, like the end of the world."
"No," Marci shrugged simply. "But then we just fucked. I knew you and he were going to do more than fuck. I knew that he was going to like fuck your whole mind, your whole consciousness. And that's what he did, isn't it?"
Janet rushed to the other woman and hugged her again. "Yes, honey, that's what he did, I guess."
That afternoon, the two of them went out skiing and, for the first time at the lodge Janet really began to enjoy herself. Even when the guy appeared whose cock she had been sucking when his mother walked up, Janet smiled politely and felt no sting of embarrassment or resentment. Even more interestingly, there were two extremely attractive young men on the slopes-alone-and it took next to no time for she and Marci to catch their eyes.
Curt and Jasper were both from Lexington, Kentucky (not far from Louisville, Janet whispered, her brain working overtime already) and both were not only single but were well-established professionals (Curt was a lawyer and Jasper a doctor). Both were blond and Germanic looking, a type that Janet had never really had any involvement with but a physical type that she definitely found hot-looking.
The men invited Janet and Marci to the bar for cocktails and sitting around the fire the four wasted little time in deciding they definitely would like to get to know each other better. Jasper had taken a particular shine to Marci, but Janet found herself equally attracted to the two men. When they suggested that the two girls both come up to their room-instead of splitting off in couples-Janet and Marci readily accepted, and Janet had to admit to herself that she was hoping that the scene might turn into a group thing.
After one more drink and some small talk, Curt asked the girls if they ever went riding. Marci shrugged and said that she had a couple of times when she was younger, but Janet had to admit she had never been on a horse.
Jasper laughed. "That's not exactly what we meant," he smiled.
Curt stood up and walked to the closet, which he opened to reveal two full sets of riding regalia for men, plus several sets of stirrups, halters, and riding crops. Marci looked somewhat dumbfounded, but Janet realized right away what the two German buddies were into.
* * *
The two men began to put on the riding clothes, and a definite change came over their personalities. Jasper in particular seemed to get excited by the costume and game-playing, and Curt (who was the shorter-haired and butcher of the two anyway) started to get really tough and mean.
Janet and Marci followed the men's lead by quickly shedding their ski clothes, so that they were clad only in their undergarments. The men looked on approvingly as the two women displayed themselves in their bras and panties, showing without stripping further that they had ample wares in both the ass and tit department.
Curt came toward Janet with his riding crop and jiggled her tits with it. She felt the kind of tautness begin between her legs that she had felt with James, and she whispered, "Look, big boy, you know how to use that thing?"
"Use it?" Curt laughed loudly. "The question is, do you know how to take it?"
Janet then got her turn to laugh. "Take it?" she repeated. "Just try me, stud."
She noticed that her talk was getting the blond man excited, and from the bulge in his riding pants, he had a lot to get excited with. Both men had turned away when they had dressed up a few minutes before, so that Janet and Marci had not really gotten a full view of their cocks. Now the anticipation began to grow and grow.
Across the room, Jasper was forcing Marci down on all fours on the thickly-piled rug. He then mounted her, pressing her nearly naked body tightly between his muscular thighs.
"Oh, baby," Jasper yelled, really into his trip now. "Show me how you can do it. Give me a ride. Give it to me!"
Marci strained her back up into the air and began bucking like a horse. Jasper's cock grew thick and excited as she moved, and he frantically needed to touch her. He reached out and unfastened her bra, grabbing hungrily down for her dangling tits and squeezing them hard.
"Oh, buck, baby, buck!" he yelled, and the pressure of his granite hard cock indeed was driving Marci to muscular feats she would never have thought herself capable of.
"Let them play," Curt hissed old, his voice cold as ice-which of course sent shivers down Janet's spine. "Lie down, you cunt."
Janet welcomed the abuse, hungered for if, having learned her lesson well the night before from James. All those filthy expletives were not really expressions of hate, she realized, but of love.
"You pig, you cunt, you bitch!" Curt said with brutal affection. "Lie down, I said, you bitch."
Janet took her position at his feet, lying flat on her back. Curt towered over her, brandishing a long riding crop.
"Take off your underwear, bitch," he ordered, and Janet hastened to comply. Quickly she lay totally naked under his gaze, and the sneer at the corners of his lips let her know that he approved of what he saw.
He brought the crop down gently on her right tit.
"You like that, cunt?" he asked.
"Harder," Janet begged. "Harder, master, harder."
Her begging turned Curt on. He ripped the satin riding shirt from his chest and stood towering over her half-naked. But instead of complying with her wishes, he kept bringing the riding crop down softly, softly, all over her body, every inch of which was still painfully tender from the escapades of the night before.
"Oh, Curt," Janet whispered, getting hotter and hotter. "Harder, please, harder. Hurt me, please! Beat me! Make me yours!"
"Shut up, you cunt!" He screamed, tugging at the zipper of his jodpurs and tugging them, too, off, so that he was totally naked except for the brown boots which came up to the middle of his calves.
His tool was long and mean looking-certainly not the thickest cock Janet had ever seen, but perhaps the longest. It had a curve in the middle of it, even now in its state of intense erection, and Janet decided she thought that was real cute.
Across the room, Jasper was still bucking up and down on his make believe horsey. He was still fully clothed, and Janet thought Marci looked particularly sexy bobbing up and down in just her panties.
Jasper reached down and freed his cock, letting it jut out of his pants through the open fly. The hot meat flopped excitedly up and down on Marci's now sweating back, causing her to buck with even greater excitement.
"Faster, faster, baby!" he yelled, pressing his thighs and his cock warmly into her white, sexy flesh.
Curt snapped the riding crop down hard on Janet's cunt. "You like that, bitch?" he asked.
"Oh, no," Janet lied. "Stop, stop. I can't stand it. Please stop."
Her mock antagonism turned Curt on even more. "Well, you will like it, bitch. You'll learn to like it. Or else!" He hit her hard across the cunt again, then instead of raising the crop to dig into her flesh again, he began sawing at her crotch with it, as if her were playing a violin.
The riding crop moved back and forth over her cunt-lips, grating deeper and deeper until it began to nibble at her clitoris as well. Janet was in ecstasy, but she realized she could not reveal her pleasure or it would immediately stop.
"Don't," she begged loudly. "Please, stop!"
Curt dug into her with renewed vigor, the riding crop pressing harder and harder over her clit until Janet was sure she would come in another few seconds.
She was saved from that (which she was sure Curt would not have approved of) by the sound of another excited climax emanating from across the room. Jasper began to moan frantically as Marci kept bucking, and at last he could hold back no longer. With a long, low squeal of glee, he arched his own back high up into the air and his cock, flopping frantically into Marci's soft, warm flesh, shuddered and spurted a hot load of come all over his horse's back.
Both horse and rider then fell to the floor exhausted and began kissing and nibbling at each other. Janet figured they were probably out of it for the rest of the evening, which was too bad, because she had had designs on Jasper herself. Or maybe Jasper and Curt at once. Oh, well.
Meanwhile, she had more than enough to handle in terms of the long, crooked rod that was thrusting the air above her. Curt didn't touch his own cock but just let it throb and jut as he toyed at her cunt with his riding whip. She knew that he was getting it readier and readier, and then she was sure that when he did jab it into her, he was preprogrammed to shoot off almost immediately. Some men were almost all foreplay, Janet was learning, especially the kinkier ones.
Suddenly Curt stopped the action with the riding whip, and, to Janet's surprise, he reached down and turned her over roughly on her stomach. Halfway expecting to feel her anus entered by one end or the other of the riding crop, Janet was surprised to feel the touch of cold metal instead. Curt was busy putting some sort of harness over her head, even to the extent of forcing a steel bit between her teeth. It wasn't exactly what Janet had expected to get in her mouth about now, but what the hell, she thought. To each his own.
The harness had brown leather reins attached to it, and Curt straddled her, jerking roughly on the reins. "Giddy-up, you bitch!" he commanded, and Janet began to roll her body up and down in a kind of rocking motion, trying to imitate what she had seen Marci doing a few minutes before.
"Not that, you stupid cunt!" Jasper cried out. "God, you certainly are stupid. Stop it."
Janet's body trembled. He still stood straddling her, and she had no idea what to expect next. She peeked a look back over her shoulder and saw his curved cock was still trembling, rigid and erect.
"Don't move, you god-damn bitch," Curt ordered her. Curt dropped to his knees and began swatting her hard across the ass.
"Giddy-up!" he commanded, but as soon as she began to move, he would hit her even harder and yell, "Stop it, you stupid cunt."
This went on ten or twelve times, then suddenly and without warning, Janet felt the long, curved cock ram deeply into her rectum. "Oh, shit," Curt yelled at the top of his lungs, coming profusely on his third thrust. The come spurted and spurted into Janet's ass, and as he withdrew from her hole, more hot gism spurted onto her hips and back.
Janet looked up to see Jasper standing before her. He had gotten it up again after all, she realized-and how. After shooting come all over her back, Curt then shoved his still erect dick back into Janet's ass. Jasper dropped quickly to his knees as Curt did that, bucking his own thick erection into Janet's mouth. The two friends fucked her frantically at both ends, coming almost simultaneously.
Thinking that was surely the end, Janet was in for yet another surprise. "Now, you bitch," Curt commanded. "Let's see you and your little buddy eat each other's pussies. It's no fun for the men to have all the fun."
Janet looked at Marci and blushed. Why not? she thought.
Marci's head went hungrily towards Janet's crotch. She had waited for this for a long time. Her tongue slipped eagerly inside the lips and found the clit. Janet moaned happily.
"God damn you, bitch!" Curt yelled out, leaping across the room and grabbing Janet's red hair roughly. "I said for you to eat each other out. Now do your share, bitch, or I'll have to teach you a lesson!"
He shoved Janet's head down roughly into Marci's pussy hair. Janet felt foolish and confused. Then she noted a sweet fragrance issuing out of Marci's snatch. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. She went after the smell, tentatively at first, then more and more eagerly. Marci was soon moaning as happily as Janet.
The two women came several times, both singly and together. The men stood over them, occasionally bearing down on them with the riding crops. As the women kept on coming, getting hotter and hotter each time, Janet looked up to note that the two men were masturbating wildly as they stood there above them. Soon the two women again felt the rain of hot come all over their bodies as they men shot their wads a third time.
It was almost midnight when the two couples left the room and headed down the Leather Lounge below. Both James and Jake were on the bar, as it was a Friday night and the place was quite busy.
James gave Marci and Janet a big smile. "You girls hear about the party yet?" he asked, giving both of them a sexy, private wink.
"Party?" Marci giggled. "Why, whatever could you mean?"
"A party is a party is a party," James smiled. "But actually this one is rather special. It's the first really wide-open party we've ever given at home. An other-side-of-the-mountain party, you might say. And the whole fucking community is invited."
"Oh," said Janet, slightly disappointed. "I was hoping-well, you know-for something more private. Like maybe just the three of us."
James laughed, not unkindly. "So this way we can still have a party within the party. Two-way parties, and three-ways, and sixteen-ways. It's a big house, honey. You should know that."
Janet smiled. It did sound intriguing. "Can we invite our new friends?" she asked, feeling the excitement build.
"Oh course," James replied, looking them up and down. His mother did love watching blonds. "The more the merrier."
So that was settled. All they had to do now was wait.
* * *
Janet and Marci and the two blonds rode to the party with Vito and a hot little brunette waitress from the Italian restaurant. The waitress had obviously never been to the fabled chalet, and she was bubbling over with anticipation during the whole ride.
"Golly," she kept saying. "I've heard about it. I guess everyone within a hundred miles of here has heard about it. About what goes on there. But I never thought I'd be going there. Myself. To a party!"
Vito grinned broadly at her and reached over and squeezed her thigh. It was obvious that she was going to be part of his party for the evening. He'd been after the little bitch for months, but this was the first time she'd been willing to go out with him, her husband being luckily out of town for the week-end, off in Indianapolis, no doubt fucking his brains out in some black whorehouse.
As they pulled around the bend, they noticed several cars had already arrived. The barbed-wire fence was open, and the gate was down over the moat. Obviously the cars in which the visitors were arriving were being parked outside. Only that black Cadillac, perhaps, was ever allowed to enter the castle grounds themselves.
Janet and Marci stared about in wide-eyed amazement.
"Were you blindfolded, too?" Janet asked.
Marci giggled in the affirmative.
The entrance way itself was notable chiefly because of a large fresco that had been painted there, not unlike some of the satanic pictures Elmer had cut from ancient books to paste on his wall collage.
What was depicted was some wild satanic orgy, with every perverse sexual combination imaginable (and some rather unimaginable ones) drawn in explicit detail. The painting covered the whole wall of the entrance foyer, as if to set the scene for the whole castle within.
Leading off from the foyer were four open doors. No one was there to greet them, and there was no indication which direction they should go in.
"Oh, that's part of the fun," Vito laughed. "This place is a real maze, but the party is going on everywhere at once. Take any path you like. All roads lead to ranch. Just make yourself at home wherever you go." He looked at the hot little waitress beside him. "And I suggest we split up. Just for the hell of it."
Curt and Jasper looked at each other and decided to each go it alone down a separate path. Vito and his hot-to-trot waitress headed off down a third path, leaving Janet and Marci to explore the fourth path, through the door farthest to the right.
They found candles just outside the door, and both of them lit one.
"This is kind of creepy," Janet said excitedly. "A bit like going exploring in a haunted house."
Marci shivered and reached out for her hand. They started carefully down the path, holding their candles high as they went.
After about fifteen feet, they came to a door. Janet opened it, and the room on the other side was a circular, white-tiled space surrounded with urinals. It was empty, and there seemed to be no door leading anywhere else. Janet and Marci departed the way they had entered. There was no party there.
They retreated down the tunnel along which they had been advancing and found a fork about half-way back. Taking the new fork, they immediately came to another fork, then another. "Let's just keep going left until we find something," Janet suggested.
What they found was a rather unpleasant surprise. Coming upon one of the small cubicles that Janet remembered well from the night before, they found Uncle Elmer in full drag, performing cunnilingus on the shrewish waitress from the coffee shop by the railroad station. "Good God, is she here?" Janet exclaimed, slamming the door quickly on the very unnatural act. "He must have been serious when he said he was inviting the whole town."
Indeed, as they made their way along, face after face that they had seen during the past few days appeared-the pimply-faced boy from the concession stand, the faggot desk clerk, the skier and his mother, the old man and woman who owned the ski resort, even the puritanical taxi driver who had driven them up to the lodge.
That taxi driver, in fact, who had warned them about the ski resort, appeared to be having the time of his life, pumping ten inches of hot dick into the bunghole of a plump matron whom Janet later learned was the wife of the local Methodist minister. The minister himself was off in another cubicle, it appeared, with the desk clerk. The old woman who worked the hotel desk at night (the one who loved her gin) turned out to be the kinkiest of all, and Marci surprised her several hours later trying to make it with one of the German shepherd guard dogs.
Janet and Marci were beginning to feel a little like voyeurs when at last they stumbled upon two available men-men in fact that the two of them had been interested in all along, namely the bell boy and the pimply guy from the concession stand.
The four of them, by chance, happened on one of the larger rooms in the chalet at the same time, from opposite directions. The bell boy said that the two of them had just gotten there, so Janet assumed that they must have come almost full circle and were now almost back to the entrance.
None of that mattered much. What mattered was that it was party time, and both Marci and Janet had found someone to party with at last.
* * *
Janet was hell-bent on finishing what she had started a few days before, so she beckoned the bell boy, whose name was Tom, across the room to an overstuffed couch.
"Lie down," she whispered sexily, "and undo your fly."
Tom excitedly complied, while Janet removed her sweater and bra, so that firm, ample tits hung free. She thrust them into the boy's face and he nibbled at them hungrily, tonguing carefully around the tips so that her nipples stood out hard and firm.
"Oh, suck those tits, sugar," Janet ordered. "Suck those tits good, and you'll get a good suck yourself."
The boy's cock bobbed excitedly out the opening in his fly, but Janet wasn't ready to get him off-not yet. She stood up and dropped her ski pants, pulling the boy's face hotly into her cunt, so that his nose nuzzled cozily into her wet, sweet-smelling panties.
"Oh, sniff that pussy, big boy," she cooed. "Do you like the smell of that pussy?"
The bell boy nodded eagerly, virtually speechless with excitement.
"Well, then, sugar," Janet ordered. "Pull those panties down and really get your nose into that snatch!"
The boy fumbled nervously and jerked the panties down around her knees. His face leapt hungrily back between her legs and Janet felt his virgin tongue search hesitantly for her opening.
"There, there!" she directed, shoving his mouth to the spot. "Stick that tongue in there. Ahhhhhhh!!!"
The boy dove in to the job at hand, spreading her moist pink lips with his hot tongue. He licked and lapped at the tender tissues with a heated sense of urgency. As Janet bucked her hips up and down, moaning softly, the boy bit at her clitoris furiously.
She shot magnificently off as Tom lapped hungrily at her cunt. Christ, she would have to give him one hell of a blow-job to pay him back for this, Janet thought happily.
Meanwhile across the room, Marci was initiating the pimply-faced kid into the pleasures of adult love. Since Janet and Tom had taken the couch, the only piece of furniture left in the room was a wooden table.
"Take your clothes off," Marci giggled to the kid. "Go on, all of them Your underpants, too."
She couldn't tell whether the boy was more nervous or excited. His underpants were white jockey shorts with yellow come stains all over the crotch. Evidently pimple face played with himself a lot.
Not that Marci could blame him much when she saw the size of his tool. The kid had a good eleven or twelve inches, just right for the plucking.
"Has any gal ever had that before?" Marci whispered. The kid blushed deeply.
"Get up on the table," Marci told him, "and he down flat on your back. Pretend I'm a nurse examining you in the doctor's office."
But the examination was done with Marci's fingertips and tongue. Every inch of the boy's body was explored, from toes to eyelids, and once or twice Marci was sure he was going to shoot off prematurely.
At last her moist lips closed tightly over his throbbing cock and the boy could hold back no longer. His hips bucked up off the table, and Marci felt the dick plunge deep into her throat then let off a heavy load of sweet-tasting come.
At the same time, Tom the bellboy was shoving his hard hot cock fast into Janet's willing mouth. As he plunged, the sweetness grew and he realized how frustrated he had been ever since not coming that first day when Marci had interrupted Janet's first attempt at blowing him. Thank god Marci wasn't about to interrupt them now.
Marci realized the pimply-faced boy's dick was still solid after he shot off in her mouth, so taking a bit of saliva from her own mouth, she lubricated her cunt and climbed up on the table, straddling the kid.
She guided his cock smoothly into her moist love-canal. She began to move up and down on him, and soon the kid was moaning again. No wonder he had so many stains on his jockey shorts, Marci thought. This kid can come all night.
Tom was shooting off into Janet's mouth a second time when the door opened and James walked in the room. He was wearing nothing but his tight black leather codpiece and he looked even sexier than Janet had remembered.
"Well," he smiled, striding over to where Tom was leaning back on the couch, his strength momentarily spent, "having a private party, huh?"
He reached over and grasped Janet roughly by the arm. She melted in his grip, her body folding toward him. "Still the same stubborn little cunt, aren't you?" he laughed, reaching out with his other hand and slipping two fingers deftly inside her pussy.
Tom looked up in amazement as James began to work Janet up into a fast and furious climax. "Have some more of this, bellboy," James said, shoving Janet's dripping cunt into his face just as she came. "You lap that pussy for awhile while I come in from the other side."
James ripped off his black leather codpiece, and his cock stood out firm and ready. Reaching up into Janet's cunt, he covered his fingers with her love juices and used them to lubricate her ass. Then with a heavy thrust, he shoved it in her, pumping it all the way home in a half-dozen easy thrusts.
"Holy shit, that's a hot little asshole!" James exclaimed, winking at the bellboy. "You gotta try that before the night's over, kid."
James stood up away from the couch. "Well, kids," he announced to the room. "I think it's time for you all to follow me to the star room for the main event."
Everyone dressed quickly and followed the superstud out the door.
This was beginning to be quite a party!
* * *
The room with the glass dome and the revolving water bed was filled with people, many of them strapped into the various "torture instruments" located around the room. Janet took particular delight in seeing the waitress from the train station locked tightly in chains, as if she were about to be drawn and quartered. The middle-aged taxi driver was urinating into her mouth. The minister's wife had found her husband with the desk clerk and had put him in stocks to punish him, the way the old Pilgrims had done with various sinners.
Vito was fucking the shit out of his little waitress on the bed in the middle of the room, and at least thirty people from the town and the resort were crowded around the bed watching. On the far side of the room, there was a high platform on which Abigail Crimpton-John sat watching the whole procedure. Her brother Elmer was at her feet in chains, still wearing lipstick, red heels and a multi-colored mumu.
The waitress on the bed was moaning louder and louder as Vito pumped hot cock deeper and deeper into her cunt. They were fucking in that most normal of positions-he was actually on top of her, and she was lying on her back-and something about the unusualness of seeing a couple in the traditional missionary position surrounded by so much kinkiness was definitely a turn on.
Abigail raised her binoculars to get a better view of the fucking on the bed. She could tell by the way the veins knotted in the back of Vito's neck that the big Italian stud was about to come. He was one of her very favorites, among all of her son's friends. He could fuck here anytime he liked. As long as she could watch.
Elmer writhed about on the floor, squirming in his drag.
He gazed at the taxi driver pissing on the old waitress. Normal sex always bored him. Tugging at his chains, he began to get more and more excited.
In another part of the room, the local sheriff was getting blown by the old maid county clerk. He was a fat, balding man, and his squeals of delight filled the whole room, drowning out even the sighs of Vito and his conquest in the last throes of their ecstasy.
A hush fell over the room as James reentered, helping a pale, sallow-faced man carry in a long black box.
"My god," whispered Marci to pimple face. "What's that?"
"Well," the boy stuttered, his eyes growing wide in disbelief. "That guy is Mort Carter, the local undertaker. And I guess-"
He didn't have to complete the sentence, for James was already taking the lid off of the casket. A young woman of about thirty or so lay inside. Quite dead.
Vito and his girl had finished fucking, for the moment at least, and the water bed was vacant. James lifted the corpse from the casket and carried her to the bed. He turned around and smiled.
"Well," his voice boomed out. "Who's going to be first?"
Silence fell over the room, then Uncle Elmer began squealing uncontrollably. Abigail jerked on his chains and snapped at him. "Absolutely not, Elmer. I won't hear of it. Absolutely not."
All of the people in the room began to look at each other. Then suddenly Curt stepped forward, a thrill of anticipation on his face.
James nodded his approval. "But first we must get you ready," he announced huskily.
Two young girls of about eight or nine, dressed in see-through white garments that easily revealed their unformed little bodies, came out and began to undress Curt slowly, carefully, in a sort of peculiar ritualistic way. When he was completely naked before them, the children began slowly to sensuously anoint his whole body with oil. His long cock hardened immediately as he felt the lithe young fingers moving over his body, working the oil into his skin. He wasn't sure which turned him on more, the little girls or the corpse on the bed.
At last he was ready. The children led him up to the bed and one of them began to undress the body on the bed.
Curt reached out and touched the cold, clammy skin. Her breasts were unresponsive so he felt down into her cold cunt.
"You cold bitch," he muttered to himself. "I'll teach you!" He positioned himself on top of the body and thrust his burning rod into the cold, stiff pussy. Again and again he shoved his cock inside, and the whole room burst into excited conversation and activity.
It was as if Curt's sticking his cock into the corpse had unleashed a sexual fury in the room. The orgy began in earnest and continued most of the rest of the night unabated. Everyone was fucking or being fucked, and no sooner would one couple finish than the two partners would split off and find new partners-as well as groups of three or four-and the whole thing would start over again. Cries of agony and delight filled the air, and Abigail couldn't see half of what was going on, even with her binoculars.
Janet found herself being fucking wildly by the pimply-faced boy, whose cock was indeed something to write home about. It filled her cunt like few others ever had and even though the kid was relatively inexperienced in terms of technique, the mere size of the piece was enough to drive her wild. As the boy fucked her, she felt a pair of lips nibbling at her buttocks and looked down to see the faggot desk clerk, his tongue hot for her asshole.
"What the hell?" Janet thought to herself. "After all, it's a party, isn't it?"
She noticed Marci getting it on with Jasper again, only this time she was riding him instead of the other way around.
As Marci repeatedly smacked the handsome, strapping blond smartly on the ass, his cock sputtered and exploded and he howled like a dog.
Curt then approached Marci from the rear and shoved her down on the floor into the pool of Jasper's come. "Turn over, you bitch," he demanded, and Marci squirmed about in the warm gism trying to fulfill his request. Once she was lying on her back in the wet come, Curt mounted her and began fucking her frantically, as if obsessed with proving to himself he could still fuck a live woman after the experience moments before with the corpse.
The bellboy had grabbed one of the nine-year-old girls and was stuffing his hot cock into her mouth. The other little girl had gone over to where Elmer was tied up and was teasing him by lifting up her dress.
The man that Janet had been sucking off on the ski slope when his mother arrived and interrupted them was now dragging his mother toward the bed in the center of the room.
"No, no, no," the old woman screamed in ecstatic delight. "Not your own mother, my son! You couldn't do that to your own mother, would you?"
Evidently he could, and did, throwing her roughly on the bed right beside the corpse, and scrambling on top of her. Pulling the old woman's panties down, he jerked his cock out through his fly and stuck it in her. It was all over in seconds, and son and mother lay on the bed panting, both still fully clothed.
Several of the other men in the room decided to try out the corpse as well, including the sheriff, who finally gave up after about fifteen minutes when he wasn't able to come.
More and more of the guests began to be brave enough to try out the toys around the edge of the room, as well as the water bed itself. Janet heard the sound of whips and chains all around her, as well as startled, loud cries of pleasure from those who had never known the thrill of giving and taking sexual pain before.
Janet looked around for James. Let the rest of the pigs fuck whoever they like, she thought. She knew what she wanted, and she was determined to have it.
But James was nowhere to be seen. The hubbub swirled about her, a growing cacophony of fucking and sucking. Janet was suddenly bored with it all. There was only one person she wanted, and he had disappeared.
She took one final survey of the room. Things were getting kinkier and kinkier. Homosexuality, bestiality, the works. The pimply-faced kid was even shitting in Uncle Elmer's face.
Janet had had enough. She wanted out.
* * *
There were two doors leading out of the room. Janet took the one to the left. As luck would have it, she had chosen correctly. The passageway led directly to James' private bathroom, and James himself was just walking out of it, back towards the party.
"Hi, cunt," he laughed. "Didn't you see that sign on the door? This is the one room in the whole chalet that's off limits. Strictly private. No party here."
"Oh, yeah?" Janet laughed. "I'd say anywhere you are there's plenty of party."
"Maybe so."
Janet and James looked at each other long and hard.
"You turn me on, cunt," he said simply. "A lot."
"And you do me," she said, breathing heavily.
James had put on a pair of tight, worn levis. It was the first time she had seen him out of leather and he looked as good. He was still shirtless, and his muscles stood out clearly in the half light of the hallway. Janet noticed that there was a small gold ring through his left nipple. She hadn't noticed it before. Maybe he had just put it there.
She moved closer to him, her breath now coming in hot little gasps.
"Get down, bitch!" he ordered her, and Janet dropped to her knees. She raised a shaking hand towards his crotch.
"Wait!" James hissed. "Wait until I ask you."
Janet looked up at him. He towered over her, made her feel so small and so inconspicuous. He was so big, and the bigness inside his tight pants was what she wanted, was what was driving her wild.
She dropped her gaze from his penetrating eyes and looked squarely at his basket. It was just inches away from her face. Not being able to reach out and touch it was sheer agony.
"You like that bulge, baby?" James whispered in his husky voice. "You want to see that big cock in the flesh? You want me to whip it out, huh, baby?"
"Oh, yes, yes," Janet gasped, rocking back on her heels and gazing longingly up at her master.
"Oh, please, please, please!" she begged. "You cool it, bitch!" he snapped again. "You wait, cunt. You wait until I'm ready. Until I'm fuckin' good and ready, you cunt-bitch."
Janet dropped her head obediently and waited trembling at his feet. There was a long pause before he spoke again. She did not dare look up for fear of angering him.
At last he spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. "All right," he said. "Kiss it."
Janet looked up slowly. The piece in his pants had grown to an enormous size, far larger than she remembered James's cock as being. Her jaw dropped in complete and absolute amazement.
"Holy shit!" she whispered.
"Don't talk, you cunt!" he screamed out angrily, slapping her hard across the face. Janet saw his erection immediately begin to diminish in size. He slapped her hard across the face three more times. She dropped her gaze to the floor once more, and again there was a long silence.
When he spoke again, she followed his command silently.
"Now, bitch," he whispered. "I told you to kiss it. Kiss it right now, right through my pants. Kiss that big cock."
Her lips moved silently to his crotch. She felt the hot firmness through the material, almost as if he were already ramming it down her throat. She kissed it, softly. Then a bit harder.
"Again!" he moaned. The cock had once more grown to gigantic proportions. Janet was afraid it would burst through the pants and maybe put out her eye. But she kissed it again.
"Again, again, again!" James commanded, and Janet followed every order. "Shit, you fucking little cunt, you," he yelled. "Open my zipper with your tongue, you slut. Unzip my pants with your mouth so that you can see my big fuckin' cock!"
Janet wasn't sure she could do it, but she knew she must try. Her tongue moved up James' crotch to the top of his zipper and found the end of the zipper itself. Drawing her lips back, she took the small piece of metal between her teeth and bit down hard on it. Tugging slowly she managed to get the zipper a third of the way down, then half way, then two thirds.
"That's enough," James whispered, reaching with his own hand to undo his belt and the button at the top of his jeans. Almost as if it were a second thought, he grasped the belt buckle and ripped the whole piece of shining black leather out of his trousers in one jerk.
The shiny black pants, fell almost at once, to his knees, freeing his enormous tool at last.
Janet almost fainted at the size of it. Surely looking at his piece from this angle couldn't make that much difference. The cock seemed fully twice as large tonight as she had remembered from the night before.
James stood holding the dangling black belt in his right hand. His left hand reached down and grabbed Janet painfully by the hair. The right hand lifted and brought the leather belt down hard across her back.
Each time he hit her, his cock jumped in mid-air. She was still afraid to touch it, or to move in any way, but she couldn't help staring at it, watching it grow even larger and more excited as he brought the belt down again and again across her back.
Suddenly he stopped. For what seemed like minutes, James simply stood there, his cock standing out immobile, the leather belt dangling limply over her left shoulder.
Janet began to feel cramped. James still had her by the hair and he was pushing her down closer and closer to the floor of the long, damp hallway. Shifting her weight, she almost lost her balance. She put out her hand to steady herself and just missed touching the large, throbbing cock.
"God damn you!" James screamed out, really angry this time. "How dare you try to touch it, you fuckin' bitch! How dare you!" He crashed the belt down across her back three more times, then fell to his knees.
"Give me those fucking hands!" he yelled. "I'll teach you to try to touch my cock with those hands, you cunt. I'll teach you good!"
Grasping her wrists brutally, he forced them together and bound them behind her back with the belt.
"Now!" he laughed, pleased with himself. "Now let's see you try to touch my cock with those hands."
He stood above her, breathing heavily. Tears ran down Janet's cheeks.
She didn't dare look up at him until he told her to.
Again there was a long pause. His hand was pushing her down into the floor painfully. And the belt around her wrists was much too tight for comfort. Yet Janet didn't dare complain.
Once more she began to delight in the pain, to enjoy it. She wanted to be brutalized like this, by a man like this. She wanted it more than anything in the world. Only a man who treated her like this could ever make her come again, of that she was sure. Only a man like James.
Without looking up, Janet could feel the big cock coming toward her. It brushed her cheek as lightly as a feather.
"Did you feel that, cunt?" James whispered.
She nodded.
"Do you know what it is? Do you know who's cock it is? Do you know what that cock is going to do to you?"
Janet knew she mustn't answer, but her imagination sent a chill through her whole body. The burning sensation in her cunt was growing more and more uncontrollable.
"This cock," James whispered, "is going to rip you apart. This cock is going to cut into your cunt like a sword and split you apart. This cock is going ram through your guts and come out the other side. This cock," he paused, breathing heavily and obviously as excited as Janet herself, "is going to fuck you all the way up your spine and pound your brains to a pulp!"
Janet felt the piece pass lightly by her cheek again. The cock seemed to have a mind and body of its own, and it was incredibly hot, almost as if it were ready to burst into flame.
"Look at it, you cunt!" James screamed, yanking her head up to face the meat. "Look at that beautiful fuckin' cock! Do you like it?"
Janet's eyes blinked open. The cock was indeed the most magnificent piece of meat she had ever seen, ever hoped to see. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks past her mute lips. She knew she still must not speak, under any condition.
"You do like it, then?" James gasped, growing more and more excited. "You like this dick, don't you cunt? You like this big fuckin' dick more than anything you've ever seen?"
Janet nodded eagerly, tears still streaming down her cheeks.
"And you want it, don't you?" James screamed. "You want it so bad you're about to explode aren't you? You're fuckin' dying for it, aren't you cunt?" He jerked her head hard by the hair, then drew he face down below the cock, to his balls.
"Do you like the smell of those balls, baby?" he groaned. "Do you like the smell of a real man? Sniff those balls, cunt, and I'll let you know if you can have any more than that!"
Janet rubbed her nose around James's scrotum, getting more and more excited down below herself. She wanted him so badly. She wanted him to fuck her, to cornhole her, to eat her out, to bit her tits until they bled, to shove his big cock down her throat-and she wanted everything at once, all those sensations simultaneously, and all performed by him.
James drew her head back once more and glared down at her.
"You got a tongue, cunt?" he asked roughly. "You got a tongue? Let me see it if you've got one."
Janet showed him her tongue.
"OK, bitch," he went on. "Stick it out again. Stick out your tongue."
She did as he ordered.
"Now take that tongue," he was breathing faster and faster now.
"Take that, tongue and touch the tip of this beautiful cock with it."
She moved her tongue slowly toward the massive, quivering cock and softly, ever so softly, touched it to the very tip. A shudder went through James's body that seemed to shake the whole building.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he cried out. "Yes, bitch, yes. That's it. Softly, softly. Again!"
She did it again, being careful not to move her tongue around on the cock until he told her to. Just touch the tip of it, softly.
"Again!" he yelled.
She did.
He pulled back. "Now," he whispered. "Open your mouth, cunt, and take the head of it in. Just the head."
He moved the cock back toward her face. Janet opened her lips and the giant bulbous tub of James's cock slipped inside her mouth.
"Now don't move," he demanded. "Don't move."
She felt his pulse throbbing through the head of his dick. She wondered how long it would take that excited cock to explode, whether she even touched it with her tongue or not.
At last he spoke again, his voice strained and far away. "Now, baby," he whispered. "Bring your tongue up and touch it. Yes. Oh, shit! Not so much! Softly and slowly! Very, very slowly."
The cock seemed to strain and jump inside her mouth as soon as Janet had touched her tongue to it. When it had calmed sufficiently, she tried again, moving her tongue much more careful this time. James gasped out in agonized delight and she slowed and softened the touch of her tongue even more, determined (as he was) to prolong his excitement as much as possible.
"Oh, that's real good, baby," he whispered. "You work real nice with your tongue. You do that just fine. You can suck my cock all night, baby. You can suck it forever!"
Janet kept working her mouth open wider and wider and slowly, imperceptibly, James slipped the shaft deeper and deeper into her throat. The bulb slipped beyond the reach of her tongue, but she kept working gently with the tongue on the shaft itself.
"Oh, baby, yes," he moaned. "You're real, real good at this. How much can you take? Can you take it all? I'm sure you can't take it all. I haven't met anyone yet who can take it all. Not in their mouth at least. How much can you take?"
The cock slipped deeper and deeper down her throat until Janet though sure she would gag. But just at that point, James began to slowly pull it back, and she felt the hot meat slipping back, back, out of her mouth. Her tongue reached out for the tip once more, softly, gently. James moaned and slipped the cock back down her throat, then again withdrew to the point where she tongued the tip, then plunged again. Each time that she touched the bulb with her tongue, his whole body shuddered and Janet was sure he was about to come. But each time he managed to plunge down again instead, to prolong his climax.
"Oh, baby, that's fantastic," he gasped. "You can't imagine how fucking fantastic it is. I could fuck you like this all night. Fuck you god-damn freaked out ugly face all night long. Holy shit, you have a fantastic tongue. The most fuckin' fantastic tongue and mouth I've ever seen!"
Suddenly James stopped cold, his cock stuttering in Janet's mouth.
"Holy shit!" he laughed aloud. "I've got it! The perfect conclusion to our evening." His cock went semi-erect, and he reached down and pulled up his pants. He reached down and helped Janet to her feet, freeing her hands from the bonds of the tight leather belt.
"Follow me," he winked. "I surely don't know why I didn't think of it before."
Janet was totally confused. What could he possibly have in mind now? But this guy could lead her anywhere, do anything with her, and she knew she would never object.
All the men in her life flashed by her in the next few moments- little Tony and his father, her high school French teacher, the man with the enormous dick who preached at her Aunt Bea's church in Indianapolis before going to California to start his own temple, and all the men she had dated in Louisville, down to and including Rodney. And all the men she had fucked or tried to fuck in the past few days. But none of them meant shit to her except James. No matter what, she knew she would never forget him and would never meet anyone like him again.
He took her through the maze of hallways quickly, obviously knowing exactly where he was going. When he got to where they were going, he smiled. "You stay here for a minute, baby, while I go up and set the controls." He kissed her full on the lips and Janet blushed in amazement. "Why don't you get ready while I'm gone?" he said, indicating that she get rid of her clothes.
He returned quickly, carrying with him a peculiar leather outfit that seemed to be tailor-made for Janet. "I think you're about ready for this, baby," he laughed. The outfit was of soft black leather. It resembled a one-piece swimming suit, except that it had openings for the tits, the cunt and the ass.
Janet laughed. "There almost isn't enough of this to worry with," she said, but as she slipped it on she realized how feeble her joke had been. The feel of the black leather on her skin turned her own tremendously.
James was slipping out of his levis and into a similar pair of black leather pants which covered everything except his cock and balls. Once more Janet noticed the little gold ring in his nipple. I have to remember that, she told herself.
James opened the door, and Janet realized they were right back in the pit, the very one with the pendulum. James grinned.
Janet shivered. Why had he brought her back here, to the room where she had experienced such unbearable agony the night before? Then slowly it began to dawn on her. The instrument of torture could also be put to the opposite use. It could become an instrument of pleasure. The very reason for her agony the night before, she now realized, had been that she had come so close to pleasure without actually realizing it. That had been the torture, not the pit or the pendulum themselves.
Her memory flicked back to the ecstasy of gliding through the cool air, her cunt coming closer and closer to James's magnificently erect cock. She began to get hotter and hotter just thinking about it.
"This time will be different," he smiled. "This time there's not going to be any pulling back or pulling out. This time when you swing, you're going to be swinging on my cock. And this time that cock is going to explode inside your pussy like nothing ever exploded inside it before. This time you're not going to be frustrated, baby. This time you're going to be fucked!"
Janet trembled as he strapped her once more to the cold metal of the giant pendulum. Once again she heard the whir of the motor high above. Once more she felt herself being lifted up away from the floor, up, up into the shaft above. Once more she felt her body stop just halfway and saw James preparing himself down below.
She gasped anew at the perfection of his body, at the enormousness of his cock.
The mechanism started her body rocking, head to foot, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the pendulum began its descent. James was waiting for her, waiting to give it to her. She had learned her lesson at last, and now she was going to get her reward.
Something caught her eye on the surface of James' taut, muscular body. It was the tiny gold ring through his nipple. She had forgotten all about that.
It had slipped her mind completely. But now she would remember. And at just the right second. She would reach out and-Slowly, slowly her body moved down towards his. When she was about a foot from him, James arched his back so that his tongue softly grazed her nipple as it went by. Back and forth she rocked, slowly, slowly, and the tongue licked out at her nipple again and again, sending thunderous waves of excitement down deep into her cunt.
James kept at it, licking just a little harder each time the nipple slipped by. As her body slowly moved lower, the nipple began to graze his mustache and lips as well, then to bump gently, excitingly over the tips of his teeth. At last the teeth closed hungrily around the tip of the nipple, bringing Janet indescribable pain-pleasure. Yes, yes, she was beginning to understand at last. Her body stirred achingly inside the new garment of cool, soft leather, and she recalled that perhaps in future explorations, she, too, might be able to bring this kind of pleasure to James.
She looked down and saw the tip of his stiffening, gigantic cock. It moved with a mind of its own, as if attracted magnetically to her oozing, dripping cunt.
Lower and lower she came, so that the hairs of her cunt again grazed by the head of James's giant tool.
The mechanism whirred and her movement back and forth slowed, though the lowering continued. She felt her cunt slip tenderly over the head of James' cock. It seemed to take forever. Down, down, down her pussy slipped on the shaft.
With her bruised lips she nibbled hungrily at the ring in James' nipple.
