As so often happened at the health club, most of the overweight ladies had stopped exercising just to watch the big blonde go through her strenuous gymnastic routines. Even some of the slimmer ones slowed down their pace to pay attention. And none could so much as cast a glance without feeling a grain of envy.
A spectacular creature, certainly. Her height alone -nearly six feet-was enough to make such a woman a standout in any crowd. But in a form-fitting leotard the matching proportions of her statuesque body made Annecke Voight a thing of sheer magnificence. The firm high-set breasts, the trimly athletic waist, the lithely muscled thighs and calves, the full-blown domed buttocks without even a tiny-telltale quiver of overripe softness-in the entire membership of this all-female health club there was no one quite so impressive. And that could be safely stretched to include instructors as well as patrons.
Indeed, a few of the instructors went out of their way to be around when Annecke did her workout. After dealing with so much simpering whale blubber, it was a relief to see someone exercise purely for the physical joy of it. Once in a while-when attendance seemed noticeably light-a couple of them even shared that enjoyment, pitting their strength against hers in combat on the mats.
They seldom came away with honors, though. Aside from stark brute force, her inherently superlative coordination gave Annecke Voight an edge over the best of opponents. With only a smattering of trained skill in wrestling and judo and karate, she had learned how to use every aid to the greatest advantage. A split-second opening was sufficient to bring her panther-like speed and grace into play, and once she gained leverage it was all over but the shouting. Among the instructors, all well-knit wenches themselves, she was considered the showpiece of the establishment.
But there were women who looked at the recently widowed Annecke Dietrich Voight from quite another viewpoint. Every health club has its quota of them, women to whom the female body is an object of erotic desire. And as might be expected, the big blonde got plenty of such admiration, both direct and devious, some even a bit naive. Regardless of her own wavering degree of interest, she was the kind of woman that other women sighed and swooned over.
And no wonder! Simple strength was fine, but with a certain added beauty it became something superb. In her own towering way, Annecke was beautiful-essentially feminine in appearance despite the heroic proportions. There were no abrasive traces of coarse-grained masculinity in the satiny skin that sheathed those rippling muscles. Every inch of her tawny flesh ran sleek and smooth. Every rhythmic motion of her liquid-loose limbs held tantalizing promise of delights to be sampled only in bed, surely not on the floor of a garishly illuminated gymnasium. Then too, in the daily sex-skirmishes of life-often more bloody than any rivalry on the mats!-she was mindful as ever of all the aids and advantages; wasn't it simply a matter of leverage once again? Every little bit helps.
Even her hair, a mop of bright flaxen curls, was cut just short enough to be practical without losing its lustrous loveliness. Deep in her dark eyes lurked a hint of mystery, the eternal trademark of alluring womankind-inscrutable, of course-a blessing to the haves, a bane to the have-nots, an unsolved riddle to the rest of the world. Especially with just the right touch of mascara. And yet the supple panther-like elegance, the charisma, natural and untainted, was still very much in evidence; she had the awesome dignity, the capricious charm of a caged jungle cat. Although it was doubtful if any feline exhibit in a zoo had even been ogled so covetously. Wistfully! Or with such uneasy intimacy. . .
Annecke didn't much care, really. Let them look, let them gape, let the poor dears goggle and gawk until their eyeballs popped. In this current mood of hers, even the hottest of hot-eyed gazes were of little import. Sure, she liked all that open-mouthed adoration from the sidelines; what woman wouldn't? But it was acceptable only in bulk-an ego lift, nothing more-and she just couldn't see herself getting amorously involved with any of these health club heavyweights, not even for a one-night stand. She wasn't that hard up yet. No, her problem, if any, was just plain boredom.
She missed old Orville, damn his hide, who would have figured a rascal like that could mean so much to her? It was even hard to think of him as dead, the lovable old lecher, dead and gone-breathing hot sulphur fumes and having his rump prodded by pointed pitchforks, no doubt. Unless money and political connections counted down there, too. In which case that ingeniously dirty mind of his was probably cooking up some new stunt to get in good with the management and win his spurs. Or horns, maybe. Yeah. Horny old goat. If ever a guy deserved horns and a tail. . .
Oh shit, this was getting her nowhere, it was time to quit mooning over him. Time to swallow the distasteful fact of death and face an equally unpalatable but far more pertinent fact of life: the passing of her husband had left a void. And since she wasn't at all interested in going that same route again-with money in the bank now, who needed marriage?-the cure for her present depression would have to be something of a different nature.
Fair enough-but what? An affair, perhaps? A short and sweet romance with no entanglements? Uh-huh. A feverish bed-buster with some nice boy, that was it, a kid too young to take seriously. After the iniquities of Orville Voight, she could use someone nice, someone young and tender and pliable Like in the old days. And that way there would be less aggravation when the thing petered out, too, the young ones were always so easy to handle. Yes, it seemed like a good idea, quite logical at this point. Not terribly exciting, admittedly, but it would serve to fill the gap. Get her over the hump. Okay, so she would just have to find herself a nice young man. Or a nice young girl?
Well, why not? Girls were even easier to handle than fellows. Unless she was unlucky enough to pick one of those wide-eyed earnest types, the dedicated lesbian who insisted on making a big production out of a little playlet. With the female of the species, that was always an awkward possibility-and she just didn't have the knack for spotting such tendencies in advance. But what the hell, there were bound to be drawbacks in either direction, why try to decide now? Young girl, young boy, it really didn't make that much difference. Just as long as she got up off her ass and went after something. . .
"Annecke? Are you going to keep that up all night?"
"Huh? Oh. It's you, Myra."
"How about taking a break? Please? I've got some interesting news to tell you. Let's go for a smoke, hmm?"
With a shrug, Annecke detached herself from the mess of exercise equipment. They headed toward the smoking lounge together, the plump brunette scurrying to stay abreast. Myra Hummel wasn't exactly fat, but there was plenty of flesh on her small-boned frame and a goodly portion of it was superfluous. In her tight gym garb, some of those fleshy curves were juttingly prominent. Overly so. Both fore and aft flaunted by the brief costume-her physical endowments seemed to be enlarged without being enhanced.
But in her own zoftig fashion she was kind of cute, almost pretty for a dame her age-except that she always appeared to be on the verge of total dishevelment somehow. Her makeup seldom remained un-smeared for very long and her dark hair never lost its windblown look. Myra affected a teased hairdo style, but it gave the impression of having been teased to the point of infuriation. Still, she made out quite well in her sex-life apparently, an avowed voluptuary with the broadest of tastes, invariably in the midst of some liaison with one lover or another. Or with two, more often than not, juggling sizes and shapes and sexes to suit her fancy-gigolos and show kids and such-lovers to whom a fat bank account was more than adequate compensation for a fat backside. In the years they had known each other, Annecke had marveled time and again at this aging creature's perverse hunger for pleasure, a capacity for prurient enjoyment of every minute of every hour of every day, whatever the cost. Even when the cost could be measured in terms of misery -insults and indignities and-the like-instead of money.
"So? I thought you had something important to tell me. Come on, Myra, don't just sit there."
"Relax, will you? You're supposed to be taking a break. And this is our last time together for a while. I'm opening up the beach house soon, remember? This week, for sure."
"Damn! That again? How many times do I have to say no? Listen, old buddy, if you dragged me out here to talk about going to the beach house. . ."
"Okay, okay. Too bad. But the invitation still holds, in case you change your mind. Which you just might want to do, after you've heard my news. Guess who called me today. Bruce Fabian. You used to work for him, right?"
"You-you heard from Bruce? Hmm. That's news, sure enough. But I worked for his mother, not him-you know that. I nursed the old lady until she died; it was my last job before I met Orville and got married. But come on, don't keep me in suspense, what's with the kid now? Is he in town?"
"Not yet, but he will be. You're really interested, huh? I always figured there was something between you two, Annecke."
"Mind your own business. Just tell me-"
"Hah! This is my business. I'm thinking about having them out to the beach house. And if I invite you. . ." with a giggle, then, "But darling. I forgot the rest of the news. He's got a wife now."
"Bruce is married?"
"Uh-huh. Very recent. And they're coming to visit me-your handsome young ex-sweetie and his brand-new bride-coming to see poor old Myra Hummel, friend of the family. Or maybe it's rich old Myra they're after, you know? They sound desperate for money-or at least that's the impression I got over the phone, anyway. I'm sure they'll be glad to accept my hospitality for the summer, though, it'll be a lovely honeymoon for them. For all three of us, perhaps, simply gorgeous. And like I said, if you should change your mind and make it a foursome. . ."
Annecke shivered, already intoxicated by the hot flush of excitement that the news had brought. Invitation to a honeymoon! No need to go searching now, it was all set up for her; what better way to get over the doldrums?
"Okay, count me in. It's a foursome. And if you keep on smirking like that, so help me, I'll slug you."
"How can I stop it? I'm happy."
"Yeah. Listen. Don't tell Bruce I've got money now, just pass me off as your masseuse or something. Housekeeper, maybe. I'm not Annecke Dietrich any more, but as far as those kids are concerned, the only thing my husband left me was his name. That ought to add a little spice to the pot, huh?"
"The plot, you mean. Crafty bitch. . ." "You complaining, baby?"
"Hell no, I'm just thinking of the fun we'll have. Oh, how I'd love to be just ten years younger! I'm going to be a grandmother soon, you know. A grandmother, imagine."
"You'll be a sexy one, I'll bet. Sexiest grandmother around, always looking for action, always licking your lips like a starving cocksucker. Myra, how come you're licking them now?"
"Can't you tell? I'm a starving cuntlapper. And guess whose cunt I'm starving for. Even a little sniff. . ."
"Here in the lounge? Not a chance."
"Silly. Of course not. But I do know a place close by. If you feel like being nice to me." Simpering coyly, the plump woman stood up and beckoned. "Come. I'll show you."
Annecke hesitated and then rose, unable to resist the good-natured wheedling. Besides, it was practically an obligation now, a debt of gratitude-surely she owed her old friend a little something for giving her this new lease on life, this sudden sense of anticipation. Just what, the doctor ordered! Someone young and pliable; was there anybody who filled that prescription better than Bruce Fabian? The boy would still be putty, in her hands, soft clay that she could mold and shape to suit herself. And the girl would be a bonus of sorts, depending on her readiness to participate. Even the idea of an unknown quantity was exciting. A blushing bride. . . "In here."
"Huh? Under the stairs?"
"Shhh . . . just a sniff, that's all."
It was bound to be more than just that, Annecke figured. But not much more, considering the tightness of her leotard. Even in this shadowy nook beneath the staircase, she damn well wasn't going to take anything off. Anyway, Myra was already kneeling and nuzzling up into her crotch, licking her thighs and nibbling all around outside the fabric. And sniffing, too-Annecke could actually smell the hot sex rising from between her legs, the hot cunt smell, all hot and sweaty and still spicy with perfume, potent enough to set even her own nostrils aquiver.
Again; somewhat irrelevantly now, she thought of the young just-married couple. Of the unknown girl this time, the blushing bride, a child-wife with soft breasts and sweet thighs perhaps, a mixture of sweetness and sensuality. Innocent-and yet brimming with strange and unfulfilled desires, the kind of desires that need only the proper channeling to find release.
A groan sounded. "Oh. Please. Let me. . ."
"No. Don't!"
"I-I can't even squeeze my tongue in."
"So?"
"Won't you let me suck your cunt?"
"A sniff, you said. You don't expect me to strip naked here, do you? Or tear my leotard maybe?"
Venting her frustration, poor Myra groaned once more, valiant in her endeavor but obviously having her troubles. Still, she wasn't doing so badly down there, parting her lips and stretching her jaws wide and breathing warm and wet upon the knitted barrier, stuffing as much as possible into her mouth. All but chewing on it now. And working herself up into a frenzy, carrying on like a woman already on the brink of orgasm.
Annecke helped out, tilting her pelvis and clutching the puffy cheeks close, crushing, slamming the power of her corded thigh-muscles around that eagerly upthrust moon-face. The thrill surprised her with its sharpness, totally unexpected, setting up a demand for more of this unique sensation. Leaning against the wall for balance, she jabbed one foot into Myra's crotch, feeling its heat penetrate her gym slipper and engulf her toes. And now it was her own turn to curse the constraining circumstances, frustrated by too much clothing and too little privacy; oh shit, she just couldn't kick hard enough, she just couldn't smash her foot into that spasming cunt, she couldn't really make it hurt. Although it sure felt fine doing even this much to the deliriously ecstatic old slut. . .
Hmm. Another bonus? Another bounty to look forward to out at the beach house? Fun with Myra, too?
Two
Lilith Stafford awoke with a start, aware of a vaguely queasy sense of motion. The unfamiliar rumbling noise down below brought an instant of bewilderment. Then she recognized it, grimacing wryly, and in the rush of memory her anxiety returned once again, oppressive as ever. No, she wasn't Lilith Stafford any more, she was Lilith Fabian now. Mrs. Bruce Fabian, to be precise-and on a bus, believe it or not, a huge monster rolling through the night. Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Fabian-just married-and traveling to the big city by bus, the cheapest means of transportation. Alas, all her dreams of luxury were gone.
She felt miserable. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. How awful, this trick they had played on one another! Bruce had turned out to be a first-class fibber-and herself was no better. Con-artists, both of them-ugh, the embarrassment of it, waking up after a runaway wedding night to learn the grim truth about themselves. An ugly truth, too ugly to bear repetition, no less difficult to face with the passing of time. Each had married the other mainly for money. Or with great expectations of money, at any rate, and now those hopes had been dashed to bits in the cold light of day. Such a mess!
But at least they had been smart enough to try simple sincerity when the chips were down, smart enough to open up and hold nothing back, making a clean breast of everything. It hadn't come easily for either of them, but once begun-well; what else was there to do? The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And somehow, in spite of all the lost illusions, they were still very much in love, still together, still a team-rich or poor-and wasn't that like some sort of miracle?
A sad miracle anyway, if not exactly cause for celebration. Now they were really stuck with the deal, stuck with all the problems and pitfalls of such an ill-conceived alliance, too involved to chicken out after that heartfelt second commitment. And they were already in a predicament, starting from scratch like that-their combined capital wouldn't last more than a few weeks. A month at most. And then what? They were both in the same boat, both from well-off-families that were no longer so well off. Bruce couldn't work, he had never been trained to do anything that might bring in an honest buck. And similarly, Lilith couldn't quite picture herself learning how to pound an office typewriter or sling hash in some crummy restaurant. Oh well, maybe they could live on love; at least she wouldn't have to count calories. . .
"Awake, darling?" Bruce's hand clasped hers. "You slept quite a while, was it a nice nap?"
"Uh-huh."
"A beauty nap, I'll bet. You look so beautiful. But then you always do, don't you? My beautiful little redhead. . ."
"You're sweet."
"Uh, still worried?"
"I-I'm afraid so. Just a bit."
"Can't say as I blame you, darling. Me too, I'll admit. But I'm sure we'll run into something soon."
"Uh-huh. Hope so. The sooner the better."
"Soon as we hit town we'll go see my friend Myra Hummel. Old friend of the family from way back and loaded with loot. Pretty foolish old biddy, even a bore at times, but she just might come through with a wedding gift for us. The kind of gift a bank will cash, you know?"
Lilith smiled wanly, resting her head on his shoulder. She didn't much care for the idea of seeing some old woman out of Bruce's past. But she would go along with it, of course, whatever the reason, whatever the resentment. Bruce Fabian was her husband now. She loved him. So handsome! That reddish-blond hair of his, she could hardly keep her hands off it. Just looking at him made her feel dreamy, just being close gave her a secret thrill. Even right here on a bus. . .
"Nobody can see us." His lips nibbled at her ear-lobe.
"Hmm? See us?"
"Shhh. . ." He dropped a hand to her thigh, caressing lightly, hinting of more to come. "My beautiful wife ... so soft. . ."
That was nice, a caress accompanied by a compliment, titillating the spirit along with the soft skin.
Vain as it might be, Lilith never tired of the many tributes paid to her beauty. Even today, waiting to board the bus, she had overheard the flattering words that always set her aglow, words familiar since childhood: Look at the redhead. Isn't she beautiful? And it had been a strain to keep from stroking her flaming red hair or patting her creamy-smooth complexion. Or glancing down at her small but near-perfect figure just to enjoy the sensual sight of her own pertly pouting breasts and sweetly curved hip and leg line. Anyway, wasn't it nice to hear such things from her loving husband?
"Close your pretty eyes, darling. Pretty blue eyes. . ." '
Her eyelids flickered and drooped shut, a spontaneous ripple of response already announcing the acquiescence of her entire body to his murmured request. It was more than just' a compliment this time, praising her "pretty blue eyes" but also preparing their private little world for a new and different excitement. He couldn't do it with her eyes open, the dear man was simply too shy to speak up. Or even whisper-which was all they would dare in a place like this; oh, the risk! Even now he might still get cold feet and maintain silence for the sake of safety. She hoped not. Like little kids fascinated by the lewd secrets of grown-ups, they were both inspired and inflamed by the use of dirty words.
And meanwhile she was responding to his hand shamelessly, still squirming in acquiescent delight, spontaneous now only when some special tickle-spot was touched. Ah, those educated fingers! Artistic fingers. Under her skirt and creeping upward. Slowly. Gently. With nary a sign of impatience, just. inching higher and higher. Umm, right to the edge of her panties. The fancy trim, all lacy and fragile, so easy to maneuver around. And beyond. And there? She slipped lower in the seat, uttering a tremulous sigh and opening her thighs wide to the maddeningly prolonged infiltration.
"Can't wait, huh?" His breath scorched her ear. "Can't wait to get that hot cunt finger-fucked, you horny little whore!"
She gasped, turning her head to make the half-throttled reply audible. "Oh, you fucking whore-master!" Shivers raced the length of her spine. "Come on, you son-of-a-bitch, don't tease me. Can't you hear my cunt screaming for it?"
One fingertip found its way, dabbling delicately, ignoring all the obscene whines and whimpers, the filthy muttering and mumbling that went on above it. Lilith bucked her pelvis up off the seat, struggling to suck the thing in deeper, rocking back and forth in a desperate attempt to fuck that slyly elusive hand. Until at last a movement out in the aisle froze them both to immobility, ending the lurching, ending the dirty talk, ending everything but the hidden wriggle of that same fingertip in that same place. While the bus droned on, turning panic into a semblance of peace, the steady hum of tires on concrete combining with the intimate touch to send her into a swooning lassitude. It was like a dream now, a state of suspended animation, there was no time, no sense of motion, no more outside distraction-the great vehicle could have been a magic carpet hurtling through the cosmos and yet standing quite still on earth, a fantastically beautiful sensation. And such a subtle thrill! Fleecy, almost. Those tenderly persistent fingers. The lulling rhythm of the wheels, around and around and around, just like this lovely feeling inside herself, around and around and around, an infinity of pleasure; oh fuck it, she didn't give a shit if the bus never stopped. Not as long as she had her man to take care of her like this. Her handsome whore-master of a husband. Her own darling Bruce. . .
But like the inexorable spin of the earth on its axis, the wheels kept revolving and the bus finally reached its destination. In his own boyishly suave manner, Bruce managed to commandeer a taxicab and they headed into the metropolitan traffic.
Lilith couldn't figure out why he was so anxious to pay a call on that Hummel woman. They should have gotten settled first-they'd need a place to sleep, wouldn't they? It seemed odd to be making social visits at this point. But she held her tongue with wifely tact and let Bruce take charge.
The first sight of Myra Hummel did a lot to clear up her mounting confusion. Yes, she could understand his strategy now. Or at least she thought so; what other reason was even conceivable?
In an effusive greeting, the woman kissed them both. "You sweet children! Mmm, isn't this wonderful? You darling girl, I feel as we're the best of friends already. And as for you, dear boy-ooh, you young devil!-I just hope you realize how lucky you are to have such a bride. Why, she's absolutely stunning! And hardly more than a baby, too. Oh, I simply must kiss her again, the precious little lamb. . ."
Under siege, practically, Lilith came close to blushing. The old fool was so darn gushy! But now it became even easier to see why Bruce had insisted on coming here. Myra Hummel was fair game. Ripe prey for a con-artist, obviously-or in this instance, two con-artists, both young and attractive, an all but invincible combination. No doubt this simpering old biddy could be taken for a bundle.
So that was it. Okay, why not? They weren't really capable of doing much else to earn a living. Why not squeeze a little something out of the pathetic creature? It sure as hell beat checking hats or waiting on tables.
"Myra, how have you been?" Bruce's broad grin was phony, almost grimly obsequious.
"Well enough. A bit lonesome, though."
"Oh? Sorry to hear that."
"It's nothing that can't be remedied. Oh, do forgive me, I haven't even offered you a drink."
"Uh . . no, you needn't bother, we only dropped in for a moment, just to say hello. We're just getting into town, you know, so we ought to be looking around for a place to-"
"Come now, I won't hear of it. You can't leave yet. Not until we've had a little drink together."
"But-but this is still our honeymoon, remember."
"So it is. Happy honeymoon. But that's all the more reason why we should celebrate, isn't it?"
"Umm, well. . ." Bruce shrugged. "Never mind the drink. But we'll stay a while longer if you'd like."
"Of course. Oh, I'm such a numbskull. I did ask you to come-and now I've almost forgotten to tell you why. It's all your fault, Lilith, you enchanting child, I took one look at you and everything else slipped my mind. Young man, where did you ever find such an adorable angel? She's simply divine."
"Well . . . uh, let's just say we found each other. But what was it you wanted to see us about?"
"Oh. Can't you guess? I want to give you a wedding present. A nice long honeymoon, all expenses paid. I'm opening the Carolina beach house this week; won't you please come and be my guests?"
Lilith frowned. What a way to spend a honeymoon! But there was a kind of eagerness in her husband's eyes; apparently he liked the idea. Maybe it would be a worthwhile deal for them, then. A money deal, she hoped, something for a couple of con-artists to work on. And anyway, who could say no to a ' free vacation? Bruce was bound to grab it.
"Thank you, dear. That's, a generous offer, I must say." He nodded appreciatively. "But I'll have to talk it over with my wife before giving you an answer."
Talk it over? Lilith suppressed a snicker. From the act he was putting on, she already knew the answer. And it probably wouldn't be so bad. A beach house on the Carolina coast, a luxurious one, judging by the plushy grandeur of this high-rise apartment. And maybe their fat hostess would keep out of the way and leave them alone, once the novelty wore off. Yes, it sounded pretty good, why postpone the big decision?
"It's all right with me, darling." Then, flashing her best smile,, always a winsome winner, "Myra, you're very sweet to us."
"Honeybunch, you don't really know how sweet I can be. I'll take you shopping tomorrow, a girl like you ought to have a dozen different swimsuits.
Bikinis, of course-oooh, I'll bet you look cute in a bikini, simply scrumptious, hmm? You'll just love my beach place, it's so secluded, no traffic, no prying neighbors. And you can stay as long as you like -there's no time limit, none at all. What's more, I'm going to insist on your staying here with me until we start the trip south. I won't have you moving into some stuffy hotel, there's plenty of room right here. Goodness gracious, my own bed is big enough for half-a-dozen people. And we're only three. Oh, it'll be just lovely. I'm sure we'll all be quite comfortable. Don't you agree, Bruce?"
"Umm, yes. Fine. We'll be glad to stay."
Lilith's heart plummeted. Okay, so now she knew. Only she couldn't say she hadn't suspected it from the beginning, what with all that gushy talk. Quite comfortable-all three. Shit! If only she had left herself some exit. . .
"Then it's all settled. You're my guests from this minute on, you darlings. I'm so glad. And now we can have that little drinkie together, hmm? Do I hear any objections?"
"Not from me." Lilith forced a brave smile. "I could use a drink, a great big one. Followed by more of the same. I think I'd like to get smashed tonight."
"Angel-child, what a perfectly marvelous idea! That's exactly what we'll do. Get smashed. Good and drunk. Plastered. And it's no more than right after all, we're celebrating, aren't we? Just look at me shake, I'm so excited; who would ever dream I'd be going on a honeymoon at my time of life? It's all so thrilling....
They proceeded to get stinko. Lilith lost track of the time, measuring it only by her ability to absorb booze and maintain her balance. Somewhere along the line she took a shower, losing track of their beady-eyed hostess too, ending up with dear Bruce toweling her dry in the bathroom. With those sexy fingers of his darting here and there upon her naked flesh, touching her breasts, her legs, her belly. Blending with the alcohol to shoot her internal temperature a thousand degrees higher.
A bit weak-kneed, she let him bear her weight as he led her into the bedroom. Had it been necessary to crawl to the bed, she would have done so, a newlywed wife about to get well-laid by her loving husband. It was nice to have help, though, so nice to be this drunk and know that he was here to take care of her. Just the two of them now, no more worries about a third. It must have been her own imagination before, turning a little motherly affection and a lot of flattery into something awful. . .
"Wait. Let me get the light."
She let him. But it was hard to wait. Hard to lie there with empty arms while he padded away to click the switch. The room was plunged into blackness, with just a faint glow coming in from some door or window; she scarcely noticed it, straining only for the return of her lover-man and biting her lips in restless impatience. And then-miraculously -the waiting was over and the bedsprings sagged under the added burden as his body loomed out of the darkness to take possession of hers.
But it was only momentary, a bitter disappointment; couldn't he tell how ready she was? Preliminaries weren't that urgent, she needed the direct onslaught, the thing itself-and yet even now her flesh was recognizing and responding on cue to every ingenious flick and flurry of his tongue. As though he knew her better than she knew herself. Which he did, evidently, and that was reason enough to give up and let him take over. Soon her body began thrashing about in wild abandon; still, somehow, in some incredible way, she seemed to be sinking into a languorous coma. His mouth was on her breasts now, the hot lips and hot tongue driving her crazy. Oh, he was just great, the greatest lover in the world, and how could anyone have such a mouth, such a fantastic mouth that could bite her nipples like that, yes, both of them, both breasts, both nipples, both tits at the same time. . . Both tits?
Impossible! But she had to find out for sure. The languor still hung on, but she managed to raise both arms and then bring them down again. And her question was answered. Two mouths. Two heads. Two tumbles of hair. But it was too late now, the deed was done, and her only acknowledgement was a piteous wail that started as a protest and turned into a plea.
"Bruce . . . please . . . fuck me. . ."
"Go ahead, champ." The woman's voice, "Give the poor darling what she wants, go ahead and fuck her. Come on, I'll put it in for you. Soon as I get everything nice and slippery; mustn't stretch that cute little pussy. Get it nice and hot first. Like this. Mmm, luscious, simply luscious. . ." The voice went on mumbling, only vaguely audible, "Treat it tenderly . . . luscious cunt like this . . . soft tongue ... better than stiff cock. . ."
Lilith writhed, a hateful but undeniable reaction to the intimate caress. Hateful indeed, but what else could a girl do when a lesbian lapped her cunt? Then, almost hectically, she felt the two of them scrambling around down there, one helping the other-as advertised!-and even though her craving for the direct onslaught hadn't diminished, she could only marvel at the unprecedented precision, the infinite tenderness with which that big ungainly man-thing was being guided into her shyly sensitive girl-thing. It made her feel like some royal princess whose flesh was too precious for anything less than total commitment to its welfare, its health and happiness.
And then at last it was in, that stiff newlywed cock deep inside the softness of its newly wedded cunt, and she was getting fucked, well fucked, superbly fucked-royally fucked, princess!-and couldn't help but revise her opinion of the unwanted outsider who had wrought this connubial miracle. Although the revision was somewhat premature, as it turned out, the outsider was still butting in.
Butting in? Even in the murky darkness, Lilith saw the white blur, the naked horror, the fat female body heaving itself up over her face. One thick thigh, then the other, haunches astraddle and split in the middle, a long continuous crack-cleft of an even darker darkness; grotesque! She smelled the heat then, the odor or hot perfume, ominous but strangely inoffensive, almost a tranquilizer of sorts for her raging nervous system. Almost but not quite. Cringing and whimpering, she jerked her head convulsively in a frantic but pitifully vain effort to escape the settling bulk. Until the hairy slot opened and squished wide to envelop her nose and mouth, putting fresh air at a premium as it pinned her down.
Oddly enough, her-primary concern at that point -all but stifling in sloppy cunt-was for the other thing, the man-thing down there; would it still be able to function in this turmoil? That was the worst fear of all now, she was bound to lose the man if the woman got in his way. And then she would feel that inflamed-void sickness again, suffering-and just when it was on the verge of a cure, too.
Luckily, though, the crisis passed without a calamity. It was tough to figure out how everything overlapped and interlocked, but her guy was still there-so very much there!-and she quit wracking her brains and just concentrated on being nice to their hostess. As nice as possible under the circumstances. As long as she was stuck anyway. For that matter, it was really quite simple, she didn't even have to move; the old biddy bounced and jounced and rocked back and forth rubbing herself toward a climax-an experienced lesbian making the most of the situation. Lilith bore it resolutely. Of course, she didn't have to move for Bruce either. But she did, just the same. She just couldn't help it, responding to that man-thing of his-it was like a hand slamming her belly, a doubled-up hand, a massive fist. It thumped against the frail flesh, thumped and thumped, and yet there was no pain. Only excitement. Only the hot blaze of pleasure in the depths of her body. And at last, only ecstasy. The ecstasy of sweet fulfillment. . .
With all that going on, who could blame her for forgetting and almost choking to death under a mouthful of drooling cunt? Ugh!
Three
Even in childhood little Annecke was tall for her age, hardly an advantage at that stage of life-tall and skinny and awkward-and consequently quite shy. Which would have been painful indeed, had it not been for her friendship with the prettiest and most popular girl in her class at school. It seemed strange that two such widely dissimilar children as Cheryl Kirk and Annecke Dietrich should become fast friends. In their small town the Kirks were considered important people, one of the first families, wealthy enough even to afford a full-time servant in the house. While the Dietrichs were first-generation immigrants, living just above the poverty level. And yet, despite such apparent differences, the two girls became chums.
Dainty little Cheryl had blue eyes and golden hair and looked like an illustration out of a fairy tale book. Annecke adored her, treasuring their friendship to the point where everything else seemed dull and drab by comparison. Only in Cheryl's pres-
Three
Even in childhood little Annecke was tall for her age, hardly an advantage at that stage of life-tall and skinny and awkward-and consequently quite shy. Which would have been painful indeed, had it not been for her friendship with the prettiest and most popular girl in her class at school.
It seemed strange that two such widely dissimilar children as Cheryl Kirk and Annecke Dietrich should become fast friends. In their small town the Kirks were considered important people, one of the first families, wealthy enough even to afford a full-time servant in the house. While the Dietrichs were first-generation immigrants, living just above the poverty level. And yet, despite such apparent differences, the two girls became chums.
Dainty little Cheryl had blue eyes and golden hair and looked, like an illustration out of a fairy tale book. Annecke adored her, treasuring their friendship to the point where everything else seemed dull and drab by comparison. Only in Cheryl's presence did she feel happy. Not comfortable-no, she was always on edge trying to say or do the right thing to please her friend. But happy. Exhilarated just being near her. Excited even by the smell of her, all sweet and powdery and perfumed. She didn't know why, of course, at least not in those early days, oh no, she simply did not recognize that indefinable something called love.
She learned in time, though. Only the knowledge didn't come gradually or easily, it struck all at once, hard and sharp and utterly devastating in its enormity. That was in their third year together, the night of the masquerade party. They met at the Kirk house in the early evening to help each other get ready. And-as might be expected-their main preoccupation was with Cheryl's costume rather than her own. A clown suit, colorful but concealing, was Annecke's idea of fancy dress, and it took only a few minutes to wrap herself in it. But her friend's somewhat daring harem outfit was quite another matter; vain by nature, the precocious little beauty had managed to accumulate an eye-catching set of garments designed to dazzle the junior populace. And with gladness in her heart-and a certain palsied trembling in her fingers-Annecke spent a goodly hour turning her companion into a provocatively charming harem houri. It was an hour of sheer delight. . .
"You mean like this, Annecke? Does it look all right?"
"Umm, well, it looks all right to me. But I doubt if the chaperones will like it much." "Oh? What shows?"
"You do. Here . . . and here . . ." Annecke's hands were intimately explicit. "Oh, and how about right here?"
Cheryl giggled. "Okay, fix it. But don't be a fuddy-duddy, let something show, will you?"
"I'll try. Stand still now. Uh-huh. There. That's the best I can do without risking a scandal."
"Hmm. I suppose it'll have to do. Too bad. What good is a pair of boobs if nobody can see them?"
"You're lucky. All I've got is a couple of bumps."
"Don't worry, they'll grow. Just like mine did. And even if they're small, I'll love you just the same." Cheryl revolved, patting her backside. "How about here? Do the panties hide enough?"
"Just barely. I'd better check and make sure, though." Sinking to her knees, Annecke fussed with the tight panties that offered strategic but scant coverage inside the gauzy harem trousers. The picture was soon perfect, but she remained there awhile longer, aware vaguely of a need, a compulsion to retain the head-spinning proximity of her position. "Wait. Let me just. . ."
"Oooh! What are you doing back there?"
"Fixing it. Don't holler at me, I'm trying my best."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I know you are. You're always so good to me, you're the best friend a girl ever had. I do love you, really I do-the way you're helping me and all. . ."
It had such a nice sound. Annecke's heart pounded. Love. Such a sweet word. Shouldn't she say it, too? Right out loud. She had to hear herself speak those same beautiful words.
"Cheryl. . ."
"Hmm?"
"I-I love you."
"Honey? You-you mean it? Because if you do. . ." Cheryl swung around. "Say it again, huh?" "I love you."
"Mmm. Makes me feel all shivery, kind of. I wish you'd kiss me, though, then I'd really believe it. No, don't get up. Do it like that. Like this. See?" Then, a moment later, "Wait. There's an even better way. . ."
Cheryl was slowly messing up all their work, pushing the soft material down over her stomach, down past her hips. It hardly seemed right after so much time and effort, but somehow Annecke didn't mind at all. Anyway, it was already happening and she could only stay there on her knees and stare, transfixed by the shock of seeing that lovely naked flesh., And then, as comprehension flashed, she felt a strange sensation of limpness, a dragging weakness in her limbs and body that made resistance impossible. . .
It was a long time before they got to the party. The harem costume made a big hit-and drew some raised eyebrows, too-but Annecke scarcely noticed. It was all misty to her, the costume, the party, the other kids, the chaperones, all part of some dream that she didn't belong in. No, her own dream was back there in the Kirk house, back in that perfumed upstairs bedroom. Except for a few minutes afterward, after the party broke up. After they left together and stopped in the shadowy darkness for a good-night kiss. Then her real dream started again.
"Say it again."
"Huh? Say what?"
"You know. What you said before. Say it."
Cheryl's tone was uncompromising. "Unless you didn't really mean it."
"Oh. I did mean it. You know I did. I-I love you."
"Mmm, sounds so nice. Call me tomorrow and tell it to me again, will you? Tell you what, now that school's out, why don't you call me every day, huh? You'd better". Or else I might not let you lick my pussy any more."
Annecke shuddered at that and then cried on the way home as pain magnified the memory. I licked her pussy! It all seemed so nasty now, so terribly shameful, this unspeakable thing she had done. Guilt gnawed at her insides, stirring her to a furor of moral resolution, and she avoided making that call the next day. And the day after that. And since it became progressively easier with each passing day, a whole week went by without any contact between them, a week that seesawed between morality and melancholy, the high growing dubious and the low more dismal as she mourned the lost friendship that had meant so much to her. Still, even dissolving into tears as a daily ritual practically, she managed to hold out. Until the phone rang and the plaintive little voice ended the stalemate: wasn't it about time they got together again?
"If you can't get away, Annecke, I'll come over to your place, okay? Whatever you say. But I would like to see you. After all, it's been ages."
"Oh. . ."
"And ever since-well, you know-gee whiz, you've been such a hermit. Anyway, is it all right if I come over now? Just for a little while? You're alone, aren't you? Folks out working? I won't be disturbing anybody."
"Well . . ." Annecke's breathing was shallow, uneven." All right, come on over, there's no one else home."
She hung up, hating herself but already tense with taut-nerved anticipation. And a short while later Cheryl came mincing up the walk, dainty as ever even in the summer heat. In a pink frock with white gloves and white shoes, she looked like a miniature debutante about to take tea on the White House lawn.
"Annecke"-she put her lips up for a kiss-"oh, it's so good to see you again. It's been so long . . ." Then, pouting at the return peck on her cheek, "Is that all I get? Hmph. Okay then, if you won't kiss me, I'll kiss you."
There was no denying her. Annecke quivered as the hot mouth seized upon her own, suddenly conscious of the clammy dampness of her thighs. As if the touch of that squirming tongue had started a chemical reaction in her body. She stiffened momentarily, staving off the dizzy languor that could only lead to eventual degradation. But the stiffness soon, faded, along with all thought of defiance, and she kissed back with equal avidity.
Cheryl slipped out of the embrace. "Say it!" Her whisper was imperious, almost harsh. "I want to hear you say it."
"Say it? Oh . . ." The scent, the sweetly perfumed girl-smell in the air was robbing her of whatever strength she had left. "Do I have to? I-I love you."
"Yes. Oh, I love hearing it from you." In a single graceful movement, Cheryl sat down on the sofa and laid her head back. "Once more, please. Say it again."
It was easier this time. "I love you."
"Mmm, nice." Slitter eyes glittered, ice-blue and calculating under fringed lashes. "Now show me how much."
"N-no. Your dress. It'll get all wrinkled."
A tiny hand, still in its immaculate white glove, reached down and tucked the hem of the pink frock upward. Pale thighs parted, gleaming in the blind-filtered sunlight.
Annecke's knees gave way. "Your panties. Let me....
"Panties?" Cheryl giggled lewdly.
Bowing in submission, Annecke felt a tremor travel the curved length of her crouched form. Cheryl had come prepared. And definitely not to take tea on the White House lawn; what a little monster, walking over here with nothing on underneath, not a stitch of underwear!
"There now, isn't that nice? The way you've been acting, I was beginning to think you didn't like licking my pussy."
Again the coarse words gave Annecke an instant of despair. But it passed quickly this time, chased by the common-sense recognition of what she was doing and why she was doing it and how much she wanted to do it again. Again and again. Just like this. On her knees. I love you, darling. I love licking your pussy. . .
From that day on, Annecke knew that what she felt for Cheryl Kirk was almost like a fever. Love, she called it, but the things they did together made it something more than that. It was a kind of slavery, really, and in all the world only that one dainty little golden-haired vixen held such power over her. Theirs was a unique affair, she was sure, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon; never again in this era of democracy would that type of power exist.
Oh, how wrong she turned out to be!
It was Rosalba who taught her the true lesson of power, big fat sluttish Rosalba, fat and swarthy and always sweaty, the long-time maid in the Kirk household. It had happened swiftly-a pounce, a grab, and poor Annecke was trapped. Almost before she knew it, she was being dragged bodily into the woman's private domain, the small room off the kitchen. And it took no more than a few sharply muttered phrases in her ear to forestall any foolish idea she might have had about screaming for help.
"Dirty little snot! You think I don't know what goes on up there between you and my little Missy? You think I don't know what kind of dirty games you've been teaching her?"
Annecke's heart sank. It seemed useless to protest the fact that Rosalba's apportionment of the blame was somewhat amiss; the cat was out of the bag, what else mattered? Arguing would make no sense whatsoever at this point, not when her little sweetheart's good name was so obviously in jeopardy. Better to beg and be humble and hope for the best, maybe the irate maid would forgive and forget just this once, maybe Cheryl's parents could be left uninformed and her angelic reputation unscathed.
Somehow, luckily, that same possibility had already occurred to Rosalba. No, she wouldn't squeal to the folks, not unless it became absolutely necessary; after all, it wasn't any business of hers what two kids did to let off steam. For all she cared, they could even go right on doing it, playing their cute little games-oh shit, wasn't she young once herself?
Puzzled by the abrupt change in attitude, Annecke breathed a silent sigh of relief and waited warily for permission to leave. The relief was short-lived, though, as a big hand went up under her dress to paw at her panty-clad bottom.
"Hey, what are you doing? Ouch!" She winced as the powerful fingers pinched her buttocks. "Rosalba, that hurts."
"Sure, it does. But only because you were complaining, baby, no other reason. Complaints-that's the one thing I can't stand, you know? Otherwise, well, you be nice to me and I'll be nice to you." The pinch had eased off, becoming a cupping caress. "Hmm, for such a skinny kid, you've got a cute ass. Yeah. I'm getting horny just feeling it. Yeah, real horny. I guess maybe you ought to do something about that, huh?"
"D-do something about. . ."
"Yeah. You know."
"But-but I really don't-" Annecke yelped, crying in agony as the fondling hand turned fierce again.
"Listen, you stupid kid, your ass will be purple if you don't quit whining and giving me so much back-talk. And so will your little titties, too. Feel that?"
"Oh! Please"
"You getting the message? I sure hope so. You be nice to me, I'll be nice to you. Of course, if you'd rather forget the whole thing and take your chances about my squealing to the folks. . ."
"N-no, it's okay. I'll do it, I'll do it. Just don't hurt me any more, huh? I'll do whatever you say."
"Good girl. You behave and we'll get along fine.'" Rosalba released her grip, using both hands to put herself in readiness, doing a shimmy dance to squirm out of her panties and then hauling her skirt up to plant her naked rump on the edge of the bed. "Here 'tis, doll-face, kind of hot and horny-in need of a little help, I'd say. Got any ideas about how to make me feel better?"
Annecke let her legs go limp under her, appalled by the sight of that big black bushy growth of hair and hoping to avoid any necessity for a spoken answer; how could she speak of the unspeakable? But even the meaningful crumpling of her body was apparently to slow to suit her impatient tormentor. The heavy hands all but floored her, a brusque rap on the skull guided her into the hair-matted crotch with relentless accuracy; enveloped by the sweaty stench, she held her breath and at last laid down her life for her lover-Cheryl, I'm doing it for you!-ceding to the inevitable and bravely stabbing her tongue into the fatty flesh. . .
"Yeah, now you've got it, kid. Lick, lick, gimme plenty of tongue, lick my cunt. Yeah. Suck!"
Four
That was a rough moment in Annecke's young life -rough but strangely satisfying somehow, tempered by a sense of pride in her martyrdom, in the glorious nobility of her self-sacrifice. To save her one true friend from shame-aside from the continued privilege of licking that pretty pink-and-gold pussy-she had practically put herself in thrall to the fat maidservant whose big hairy old cunt oozed slime and sweat by the gallon into her sucking mouth. She even went and looked it up in the town library noblesse oblige-an expression that made her feel almost like an aristocrat, despite her peasant parentage. It all had to remain a secret, of course, since she didn't even dare tell sweet but high-strung Cheryl for fear of creating further friction. But at least their friendship survived untarnished in the eyes of the world, happy and carefree and as much a mismatch as ever-although nobody ever bothered to ask any more about what it was that gorgeous Cheryl Kirk saw in gawky Annecke Dietrich. That-the unknown ingredient, whatever it might be-was taken for granted now, eroded to an almost familiar texture by the passage of time.
Oh shit, if they only knew!
But no one had cause for even the slightest suspicion. The boys flocked around Cheryl as always, tumbling over each other like puppies in a pet shop window. And now even Annecke was being pursued a little, doubtless the result of reflecting so much of her popular chum's sparkling radiance. Although it was obvious that she had developed a certain luminous quality of her own recently-"headlights," the boys called them-the natural but often quite startling metamorphosis of the adolescent female bosom. In any case, the truth of their relationship remained under wraps, a deep-dyed and delicious secret known only to themselves.
With one exception . . . ugh. . .
Exercising caution, Annecke tried to avoid the fat maid as much as possible. Seeing her from a distance, she scurried to duck into a convenient doorway and stay out of sight. Or to reverse her direction and move to the other side of the hall or room until the danger had rumbled by. It made her feel sneaky at times, a coward afraid of her own shadow, despicable even to herself. But in this instance, considering the insurmountable odds against her, discretion seemed by far the better part of valor.
Unfortunately, however, even the most cunning evasive action can sometimes stray into the line of fire. In the midst of her vanishing act late one evening, about to slip out the Kirk back door and head for home, she was stopped dead in her tracks as the woman's loud voice rasped out. And with a fluttery heart, Annecke feigned a casual shrug and swung around to face the unmusical music.
"So! You've been dodging me, huh?"
"I-I'm sorry, Rosalba. I wasn't really-"
"Shut up. And don't give me any excuses. It's about time you paid me a little visit, isn't it?"
"Oh. Please. I was just on my way home."
"Fine, then. I'm sure you can spare me a few minutes. Maybe keep me company while I do some work in the kitchen." The maid's hand shot out, clawing viciously.
Annecke moaned, biting her lips. Her sensitive breast was in dire trouble, the strong fingers squeezing like pincers of flame, tightening until her nipple shrieked in anguish.
"You don't like it, huh? Hurts a little, I'll bet. Tits are like that, always tender, always easy to maul. Like this one. Hey, yours are getting some real meat on them, you know? I can feel it. Kind of pretty, too, even though it's all covered up. Pretty tittie. . ." The pincers grip twisted cruelly, adding a new dimension to the already unbearable pain. "Yeah, kid, you're growing cute tits. I've got a hunch you're going to be a real beauty some day. Uh-huh. Big but beautiful, a real prizewinner."
"Please . . . you're killing me. . ."
"Killing you? We can't have that, can we? Then what would I do for a cuntlapper when I'm hard up? Gotta keep you in good health, baby doll, especially that sexy tongue of yours. Stick it out, let's see if it's nice and healthy. Come on, do it, didn't you hear me? Stick out your tongue! Yeah. Oh, I like that nice and pink, a good sign." An exultant grin lit up the fat-cheeked face. "Let's go. You can keep me company in the kitchen, I've got a bowl of fresh garden peas to shell."
Resigning herself, Annecke trotted along meekly, struggling to stay even with the hand that gripped and tugged at the same time, the hold less painful now but still just as authoritative. Her legs trembled , but moved rapidly, forced to take two steps to every one of her captor's.
"Yeah, kiddo, I'll shell peas and you'll suck cunt."
The ugly vision flashed on the screen of Annecke's mind, bringing a shudder of revulsion. Suck cunt. She licked her lips, hoping for a leftover taste of sweet Cheryl to help her through the ordeal. But the vision persisted, coarse and hairy and glistening with sweat-all that slimy stuff!-the loathsome cunt of Rosalba the maid. And was she really serious about shelling peas? Getting sucked and shelling peas?
So it appeared. Nor did she waste much time getting down to business. In a matter of minutes, Annecke was crouching beneath the kitchen table, boxed in by the overhang of the checkered tablecloth, grimacing at the task ahead of her. While, up above, Rosalba worked on the bowl of peas and sipped coffee poured from the ever-present pot on the stove.
"Get under my skirt. What are you waiting for? I've got no pants on, nothing to slow you down. Suck me!"
In such a humiliating position, what else could a poor picked-on girl do? Annecke sucked. The bloated body sagged in its seat and settled heavily upon her face, sucking back at her, sucking half her head right up into itself.
"Yeah. That's better: And next time, don't you dare try to dodge me, you little bitch. You hear?" "Ummm. . ."
"Answer me, damn you! Tell me how happy you are to lick my cunt. Tell me you'll be glad to suck me off anytime I say so."
"I-I hear you. I'm happy to suck your cunt, happy to lick you between the legs. I'll be glad to suck you off. Anytime. . ." Annecke gritted her teeth, enraged by the lies that flowed from her lips. But she could only play her role to the bitter end, there was too much at stake. "Is that all right, Rosalba? Can I do it some more now? Can I suck your cunt?"
"Suck, suck, shoot that hot tongue in and make me come. Lap me good, you dirty little cunt lap-per. . ." '
It was an ordeal, sure enough, but she managed to live through it. And through the trials and tribulations of the ensuing months, unable to duck out of danger now, too intimidated to risk the full potential of those powerful fingers. Especially with the unremitting threat of exposure hanging overhead, exposure and certain disgrace for her beloved little partner-in-crime. That was what kept her going, of course, the love she bore for Cheryl, an adoring and protective love that knew no bounds. The demands of love-ah, such wickedly thrilling demands! Strengthened her spirit and made her all but impervious to the demands of their blackmailer.
Admittedly, though, there were occasions now and then when Cheryl seemed tired or preoccupied, episodes of lovemaking that just didn't measure up to standard. No fizzles or fiascos or even mild failures, actually-just short of the usual perfection, less exciting than when her deliciously dictatorial mood prevailed. And as time wore on, such imperfections became entirely too frequent, exasperatingly so, as far as Annecke was concerned. All too often there were no capricious requests to obey, no saucy arrogance to giggle at, no hotly whispered words of command to push her over the brink of emotional intoxication. There was only Cheryl, lying back and accepting her kisses with a minimum of reaction, the pallid performance of a curiously placid, almost listless young lady.
Not that Annecke minded so terribly. To hold that dainty body in her arms was enough. To fill her nostrils with the passion-tinged fragrance was still sheer bliss. To offer her lips in tribute to such delectably creamy beauty was all she asked out of life. And yet each time it happened she couldn't help but worry a little, puzzled by the change in her darling little sex-tyrant, wondering if she herself might not be at fault somehow. A lack of skill, perhaps, the kind of thing that could only be gained through experience. Or-hopefully!-from the guiding wisdom of an experienced adviser.
It may have been foolish, but at last she felt desperate enough to seek such advice. And who but Rosalba could she turn to for something like that? The original threat, although still cause for apprehension, was never mentioned any more. In fact, their relationship had been pretty good lately, simmering down to fairly regular but still comparatively infrequent suck-sessions. With a bit of initiative on either side, they might easily become friendly enough to sit down and chat once in a while, quite apart from sex. And then wouldn't it be quite simple to bring up the specific topic in a general way, an inquisitive youngster asking "inside" information of an older woman?
With that in mind, just a chatty social overture to begin with, Annecke deliberately arrived at the Kirk house earlier than usual one rainy day, entering by the rear door and looking for the maid rather than the little mistress. The kitchen was empty, but the hot coffee-pot on the stove gave her hope-Rosalba couldn't be far away. As near as one of the front rooms probably. Or even in her own tiny bedroom back there, relaxing for a few minutes; why not check first before sitting down to wait?
Intent on knocking at that too-familiar door, Annecke glided across the kitchen and then hesitated just in case!-trying to think of the right words to say. What if her knock interrupted a brief afternoon nap, what excuse could she make? No, for this particular purpose it would be safer to stay shy of such complications. Hmm, wouldn't it be even smarter to hang around inside the hall and look as if she just came in out of the rain?
She turned to go and then stopped short almost instinctively, her nerves frayed by sudden tension. What was that? A noise. Behind the door. Laughter? Voices? Giggling? Nobody was taking a nap in there, that was certain. Could it be just the radio left on? Or the portable TV set maybe? Oh shit, it wasn't that important. None of her dam business, either. Or was it?
Squeezed between guilt and curiosity, she quashed the conflict and put her ear to the paneling of the door. The voice that came through was indistinct. Unintelligible. A giggle. A squeal. And then, more clearly, a second voice, "No, not like that. . ." The sound was unmistakable. Rosalba! Entertaining in her own room. Big fat Rosalba the maid, having herself a time. "No! Not like that, you're doing it all wrong. Missy? You mean you still don't understand how to lap a cunt? Hey, aren't you even listening? Missy! Oh, I give up. You're impossible, you rascal. Wait now, lie still. You hear? Lie still, little love-bug, I'll show you how. . ."
Stifling a sob, Annecke stood there dazed as those girlish giggles started up again, now painfully identifiable. Until the sob rose in her throat once more and she whirled and fled, giving vent to the grief of her betrayal in the fresh outside air. It was still raining, luckily, raining pretty hard by then, so nobody noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran home. . .
Afterward she wasn't sure about what had hurt most, she wasn't even sure which slut she hated more, Cheryl or Rosalba. It must have been the little girl, though, because in time Annecke grew up and became a lot like the other one herself. In a manner of speaking, at least. Although she had lost track of both of them by then, good riddance to bad rubbish!
The growing-up did take time, naturally, but not as much as might have been expected. Nature works in wondrous ways! She didn't exactly blossom overnight, even though it almost seemed so. Straight lines became curves, and curves became spheres, and Annecke Dietrich became something that neither she nor anyone else in town quite understood. She soon learned, of course, often at the expense of those less perceptive contemporaries-male only now, a change to wipe out past injury and insult. Her body was a useful object now, desirable-it gave her the power to sway those who looked upon it with lust. And the power itself was a delightful thing to her, becoming the dominant factor in that segment of her life. Sex in itself was nice, but it meant nothing compared to the joy she received from imposing her will upon others. To conquer and subjugate was a thrill beyond all such comparison. High-school boys offered their hearts to be trampled on-and were grateful for the trampling. . .
Eventually another change made its impression on her strong but still adolescent psyche. Rosalba the maid lost her job and Cheryl Kirk was shipped off to boarding school. No gossip, no scandal-but Annecke pretty much guessed the reason. It affected her only remotely at the time, though, smoothing out the last bit of scar tissue left from those old childhood bruises.
Later, however, its effect was more pronounced. Now that the stigma had disappeared, she became conscious of females as raw material for her brand of fun. Since sexual fulfillment was secondary to conquest, she found it amusing to broaden her scope of activity to include her own gender. And after high school, when she decided upon nursing as a career, women became more attractive targets than men in the hospital where they trained. More attractive and more tractable and certainly more available. Scads of lovely young probationers, overworked and homesick, were right there for Annecke to pick and choose from, eager for the gift of her steadying hand in friendship and virtually crawling at her feet to gain it. Which was only a short hop away from worshiping at the golden shrine between her firm-fleshed thighs. And by that time, more often than not, they were happily hooked on whatever she had to offer, even though their degree of submission was too great to acknowledge in words or admit to themselves without a sigh of blushing disbelief-the predictable face-saving formula, almost a ritual: "Oooh, I must have been drunk last night. Can't remember a dam thing." Scads of them, all the same and yet each one refreshingly unique, performing like well-trained pets but frantically searching their already lost souls for some individual last-ditch protest against wearing the collar marked Slave or Cuntlapper or even Lesbian.-. .
It was fun while it lasted. Only that wasn't quite long enough for Annecke to come out a full-fledged nurse, unfortunately, due to the hysterical whimpering of a supposedly sweet and innocent young thing who turned out to be a dedicated lesbian on the trail of true love. The trail ended at that same golden shrine, but this kid wanted a lifetime concession on it-"until Sappho us do part"-and refused to take no for an answer. All of which led to a small scandal, too small to make headlines, but not small enough to gloss over without nailing a culprit or two. And so Annecke found herself out in the cold-almost a nurse-her head bloody but unbowed.
She studied the art of massage after that, eventually landing a job in a high-class women's reducing salon. It was fine for a while, especially after she got interested in using the gym equipment like a real athlete. But then the place went under new management with a new policy: higher prices and sexier service. Plenty of erotic pampering for the wealthy women who could afford it! Which would have been okay, except that the matronly slobs on her massage table just didn't appeal to that side of her nature.
A tip from a friend put Annecke in line for her next job, quite legitimate this time, taking care of a female patient at home. It was a bit depressing, of course, since the woman was a terminal case-but once again there were some clandestine fringe benefits. Jessica Fabian was dying, but her handsome young son was very much alive, coy as a girl and sometimes just as cute in his aristocratic way, the perfect victim for a big blonde peasant wench whose tastes ran to the bizarre. There were even little extra gifts on the side for her, always discreet, always with courtesy, too tactfully tendered to brand her a whore. Even the sick mother was more than generous-and cheerful right to the end, too, reconciled to her death better than all the visiting friends and relatives. Annecke hated leaving the house, but the lawyers swooped down to cut up the money-pie and she got out of there in a hurry. Besides, there was a new job already lined up for her, a male patient this time, elderly, also on his last legs-excellent pay for the actual amount of work she would be doing.
That was when she met the guy who finally talked her into marriage. Although he didn't have to do much talking, in view of how good the were for each other. Evil old bastard! From the moment she stepped into his townhouse bedroom, they swore an unspoken pact of mutual wickedness. Unspoken and unbroken, right up to the time of his death. Orville Voight and Annecke Dietrich-if ever two people hit it off from the word go. . .
"So you're the new nurse. And a masseuse, too.
Come in, come in, don't just stand there."
The face was that of a decrepit cherub, but the voice had a rasp that sent shivers up her spine. White the beetle-browed eyes literally licked the length of her body, practically pulverizing the white starched uniform to get at whatever lay underneath. Fully dressed, she felt naked. And loved it.
"That's right, Mr. Voight. My name is Annecke Dietrich. And I think the two of us will get along just fine."
"Hmph! Nurse's talk. Get along just fine. That's what they all say. Well, we'll see. . ." And meanwhile those eyes were shredding her clothing, thread by thread. "Walk around, young lady-let me look at you. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's having an ugly woman around."
Annecke walked, swaying her hips to put on a show. If this was what the frisky old goat wanted; well, why not? The customer was always right. "There now, am I ugly, Mr. Voight?"
"I'll ask the questions, Miss Dietrich. Hmm, high heels. How come you're wearing high heels with a uniform? I thought nurses had to wear those heavy clodhoppers."
She glanced down at her chic shoes, white but stylish, certainly far from regulation. "Oh, I'm not really a registered nurse, just a masseuse with some nurse's training. Besides, I think high heels do .something for a girl's legs-and they're the only kind I feel comfortably feminine in." Her voice dropped to a murmur. "I guess that makes me more woman than nurse, doesn't it?"
"Don't stop. Keep walking. Come closer, though. Not afraid of me, are you? Big broad like you. . ."
"What's to be afraid of?" She moved around to the other side of his bed, strutting like a burlesque queen.
He reached out and caught her hand, bringing it to his lips in an unexpected gesture. "You're right, Annecke; I think we will."
"Huh?"
"Just what you said a while ago. Yes indeed, you and I ought to get along fine. Just fine."
His lips tickled. Quivering deliciously, she sat down on the edge of the mattress. "Do you really think so . . . Orville?" She stressed the name boldly, watching for his reaction with bated breath and then relaxing at the hearty masculine chuckle.
"You know it, my dear. Oh, if you only knew how long I've been waiting for this day. Waiting for someone like you, someone who understand how an old man feels when he realizes he's nearing the end of the road. When the days dwindle down to a precious few. . ." He sighed happily. "They don't write songs like that any more, do they? But I'm damn glad they're still stacking women like they used to. Maybe even a little bit better."
His lips were tickling her hand again, the palm this time, nibbling at a fingertip now and then. Annecke -smiled and leaned closer on the bed, indulgently expectant, allowing her new employer full freedom in his gentlemanly caress. As though the interview was over and the real job just beginning. . .
And in the months of tickling that followed, it always seemed like that somehow, fresh and novel as the day of the interview. Her own past may have been long and varied, but Annecke was no match for Orville's devious and highly inventive turn of mind.
He taught her tricks she had only read about and some that she had never even heard of. Some she hadn't dreamed possible. And then there were a few that-well, anyhow, he taught her tricks; why quibble over the work of a genius?
Better yet, considering their age difference, he appreciated and perhaps even loved her enough to do something about the future. Her future, of course his was already on a day-to-day basis. And the only way to be certain of that was marriage, he decided. Otherwise a large bequest in his will might get tangled up in litigation, what with a dozen greedy and ungrateful nephews and nieces around to keep their money from falling into the hands of an outsider. Nor would a little fancy courtroom finagling, bribery and such, be unprecedented in that kind of case, a sad state of affairs, hardly auspicious for a poor nobody named Annecke Dietrich. Whereas the legally wedded and witnessed Mrs. Orville Voight, bereaved widow. . .
Anyway, that was how Annecke got married and eventually became a woman of property, ready to go out and dominate the world again. Or at least make a start at it, having gotten out of practice with that high-flying husband of hers. Better to sharpen her wits and claws on some minor adversary first, the docile type, a pushover; what luck to be running into pretty-boy Bruce Fabian at a time like this!
Five
Sneaking through the dark-shadowed hall, Bruce could only wonder again about the obsession that had him in its grip. It was a kind of madness, he knew, and yet the irrational desire had reached the point, where it dominated his every thought. The madness of his obsessive feeling for Annecke Dietrich. . . .
But no, her name was Annecke Voight now. A widow, imagine. Aside from that, she sure hadn't changed much, at least not from what he had seen of her. And as for what he hadn't seen, well, the next few hours would tell the tale. They had things to do tonight.
Things to do! Together. Delicious things. And perhaps a little bit terrifying too-but in a nice way, of course. After all, he was sure his old girl friend would never really hurt him. Although he did hope she wouldn't be angry at his getting there a few minutes late; too bad Lilith had taken so damn long to fall asleep. Still, that wasn't so awful, come to think of it-Annecke could be a lot of wild fun when she was annoyed about something.
Anyway, he was here now and her door was ajar. Anticipating his late-night visit, a welcome sign. But was she asleep? He peered quizzically, shifting his gaze only for an instant to lock the door behind him. What a breathtaking vision! In a negligee a sprawl on top of the bedspread, she had never looked more provocative. The tantalizing lines and curves, the flaring symmetry of her hips, the slender width of her waist, the impossibly firm slope and swell of her breasts; he could only stand there and stare, drinking in the sight like a desert wanderer parched from thirst.
Her eyelids twitched and opened. "Hmm. About time."
"Sorry. I couldn't get away. You know."
"Yeah. It figures. Poor baby. . ." She beckoned him close, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Would you like a drink? I've got some booze around if-"
"No. Nothing, thanks. Uh, shall I fix one for you?"
"Forget it. Sit down. Right there on the bed, so we won't have to shout and wake up the house. We've got something to talk over."
"Oh? Like what?"
"Well, you're here, aren't you?" She moved languorously, resting one bare foot upon his thigh, the lacquered toenails shiny in the soft lamplight. "You're a married man now, why did you come tonight?"
"You asked me to-and I said I would. That's reason enough, isn't it? For old times' sake, let's say."
"Old times' sake. Except that I didn't ask you, my dear boy, I told you. I was even a little nasty about it, right? Or bossy, at least. So what made you come? Was it just curiosity?"
"I-I don't think so. I don't honestly know."
"Figure it out, then, i insist. You have to, Bruce, otherwise we'll just be fencing with each other. I want to know why you came tonight. More important, I want you to know why."
Such a question. He thought about it foggily, aware only of his brain refusing to function. What am I doing here? His palms were damp and clammy, his tongue thick, glutting the inside of his mouth. How easily he was swayed by this strange female! Had she cast some sort of hypnotic spell over him? Even that casual touch of her hand upon his cheek had startled him sensually. But he mustn't delay any longer, she was demanding an answer and he had to make one up. Any answer, anything at all. . .
Only he couldn't. Not for this woman. With anybody else, he might have fabricated some glib excuse, but it was impossible to lie to Annecke. Besides, she would have seen right through him. No, he'd better be truthful and tell her everything. About the obsession, the madness, the feeling that wouldn't go away, the feeling that overshadowed even the love he felt for his wife.
With truth on his mind, the words came almost too easily, tumbling out in disjoint bursts of eloquence. She listened, smiling and nodding in approval, the sole of her foot caressing his thigh. He let the phrases gush forth, wondering how he could speak so freely of something beyond his own comprehension. Until it dawned on him mistily, vaguely, that the whole thing was beginning to make sense somehow.
"Enough. . ." Her murmur interrupted the confession. "More than enough. I'm quite satisfied with your answer."
"Uh, did I answer your question?"
"Of course. And nicely, too. Bruce darling, what am I going to do with you? Don't you realize what you are?"
"I-I'm not sure. Just a guy looking for kicks, I guess. Isn't that what you used to call it? A new kick?"
"Kicks. That's as good a name as any. So that's what you want from Annecke, hmm? Okay. You're lucky to find me in such a good mood, I'm going to be nice to you tonight. Get undressed."
"Huh?"
"But not too nice. Come on, take your clothes off -and hurry up about it! I want you naked. Don't keep me waiting."
"Oh . . . I'm sorry . . ." Bruce hurried, leaping up from the bed and making short work of his summery garments.
"Yes, that's better." There was a hint of mockery in her gentle tone. Along with a certain lewdness. "Naked. Oh, I like that. You look charming, my dear. Just like a pretty girl."
"You-you really think so?"
"Uh-huh. But your hair ought to be longer."
"It's long enough."
"No. Fluff it up a little. That should help." He turned to the mirror over the dresser and tousled his already wavy locks. Reddish-blond and wavy, truly quite attractive. Yes, he did look like a girl. He even felt like one. It was the way Annecke's size and strength always affected him. Reflected in the glass, he could see her wriggling around on the bed now, getting rid of that negligee. So big and strong! But not naked yet, still wearing something around her hips. . .
"Well? Aren't you finished yet? Don't be so vain."
"Uh, is this all right?"
"It's fine. Now come here, you vain creature."
He took one last look at his mirror-image. Bruce Fabian, married man, husband of Lilith Stafford Fabian. A guy who loved his wife and should have been contented with her. But there was someone else mirrored there, too-posing and primping at the dresser; such vanity!-and that someone had nothing to do with his marriage. Lilith was vain herself, too vain to like other pretty girls around. It would shock her to find out that she had married one.
When he swung away from the glass and started toward the bed, Bruce was already lost in the intoxication of his fantasy. His gait was graceful, mincing, a sway with enticement, like the studied seductiveness of a schoolgirl trying out her first pair of high heels. Annecke's long arm stretched to greet him, the dark slits of her eyes lighting up in commendation. He stopped and stood still, waiting for an order, an invitation perhaps, as she stroked his quaking limbs.
Her hand slipped around behind him, exploring. "So soft. Mmm, soft as a girl. Such a nice soft ass . . ." Then, wide-eyed all of a sudden, feigning surprise, "But what's this? You're not a girl, are you!"
He shook his head in anguish, afraid of her, afraid to move any closer without permission. There she lay, unresisting, even indulgent-her flesh an open temptation-and yet he was too timid to seize the moment. Afraid to take what his own flesh craved so desperately. Even so, he managed to maintain a certain presence of mind, posturing and preening in an effort to hang on to the girlish fantasy and ignore his very un-girlish erection. Until at last he felt himself folding under the intolerable tension.
"Please . . . you're torturing me. . ."
"Come, then." She smiled and shifted her body provocatively. "It's all right, darling. Come."
He was on familiar ground now, familiar but oddly disappointing somehow. The fear left him and in its stead came passion-fierce, overpowering, all-consuming. Reaching out, he slumped to the bed, her skin like velvet to his fingertips, calling for his embrace, demanding his undivided masculine attention. Or so he thought.
"Bruce. . ."
"Hmm?"
"No-not like that." "But-"
"No!" Her legs moved peremptorily. "Not yet. Don't you know what a woman wants? What a woman needs?"
He shuddered, seething with a more immediate desire, sobbing inwardly at the curt insistence of her suggestion, now an unavoidable block in his path to fulfillment. But that too was hardly unfamiliar to the terrain of their relationship; he bowed his head compliantly, wincing a little as her sharp fingernails gave force to the idea and turned it from suggestion to command.
The wispy under things she still wore wasn't exactly an impediment, it was narrow, fragile, a mere nothing. And then, abruptly, as his being caught fire from the spark she had engendered in him, the garment became unendurable. Despite its dainty dimensions, it was still in the way. Very much in the way.
He tugged at the waistband. "Annecke. . ." "Umm?"
"Take it off. Let me. . ."
She tensed. From deep in her throat came a harshly whispered order. "Tear it!"
The bizarre notion stirred his virility to the utmost. With a growl, he obeyed savagely, shredding the fabric in a single swipe. And for a moment he actually entertained thoughts of rebelling against her authority. Then, all but reading his mind, she laughed derisively and reached down to grab at the jutting curve of his rump, taking aim briskly and driving her finger into him. The man growl faded to a piteous whimper. His buttocks went stiff and then flaccid as the initial spasm of agony passed and her finger squirmed deeper.
With her free hand, she clutched a fistful of hair and thrust his bent head at her crotch. He uttered a stifled groan under the rigor of the tenacious two-pronged attack. But he made no attempt to resist the pressure, surrendering completely as his face was plunged between her parted thighs.
"That's it, that's my pretty girl. Oh yes, you do know what Annecke likes best, don't you? Yeah. Lick my cunt with that pretty pink tongue of yours. Do it good, you hear me?"
"Mmm. . ."
"Suck. Suck! A pretty girl ought to appreciate cunt. Show me you do, show me how much, show me what a fine cuntlapper my pretty girl is. And I'll do something for you. Feel that? I'm fucking you in the ass. Nice soft ass. I'll bet you love it, huh? Don't you just love getting your tight little asshole fucked?"
"Nnnng. . ."
"Kiss it, pretty girl. Like that. Yeah! Kiss my clit with your pretty lips. Suck me with your mouth, your pretty mouth. Fuck me with your hot pink tongue, fuck, fuck, fuck-oooh, you're such a darling girly-girl."
The fantasy was overwhelming. He was a pretty girl and had to do it. Everything. Whatever. Because he was so weak, so soft and delicate; what else could anybody expect from such a pretty girl? Annecke was so strong, so big and strong-what could he do but obey? If he didn't she would hurt him. Uh-huh. She was hurting him now. Her finger. He was half on the bed and half off practically, and the back part of his body was just too darn vulnerable. She wouldn't let him go. That long finger of hers was still right in there, poking and sliding and wiggling and humiliating him terribly, but he couldn't get away no matter what. A frail girl was simply no match for all that sleek power. A pretty girl just didn't have such muscles, at least not a cute young girl who never exercised.
No, there was no use even trying to escape. A pretty girl had to obey. With pretty lips. And pretty tongue. Oh, there was no end to the things a girl with a pretty mouth could do to show obedience. Kiss. Lick. Suck. Love! With soft flushed cheeks at the mercy of crushing thighs and lusty haunches and the great body of the only woman in the world who really knew what pretty girls were for. And even softer cheeks at the mercy of that finger. . .
Until at last his own passion swept high and broke through again, and he could bear it no longer. She recognized his need and drew him up upon herself as a concession to normalcy-letting him take her like a man. As though she understood. As always. It was his only means of regaining lost masculinity, more important than ever now. He couldn't continue to be a pretty girl and go to his wife's bed, could he? And yet, even in the midst of such manly enthusiasm, he was aware-only too well aware!-of this dynamically erotic hussy's hold over him.
Hold?
Well, what else could he call it? She knew his weaknesses and catered to them. Now that he had found the bewitchingly sexy bitch again, it was hard to conceive of getting along without her. Losing his old friend and instructress would rob him of a thrill he couldn't get from anyone else. An almost indispensable thrill, more so than he cared to admit. So it was a hold, sure enough, an unbreakable hold that she had on him.
Again more so than he cared to admit! In more ways, certainly, all things considered. .
Because there was one concession his masculinity that she still hadn't made. Her finger was like a spur. Rearing and bucking, he wheezed and pushed and struggled toward explosive release. And all the while that goad of. a finger jiggled and incited and never slackened its furious activity. Oh yes, she definitely had a hold on him!
Only it didn't slow his performance down much. If any. That stabbing finger was a stimulant, an ever-ready shot of energy. Instant vigor! His body heaved high and slammed down again, over and over, unable to quit, unable even to pause. And despite the hustle and bustle, he could feel his manhood ebbing away once more, gobbled up by the slippery contractions of a trap that was like fiery-hot steel lined with steamy-wet satin. Gobbled up, chewed-and at long last spit out.
Not until then-drained, exhausted-did she give him any respite from the maddening torment of the invader that had managed to cast him in a girlish light even at the height of his male aggressiveness. He felt relieved to the point of rapture when the irritating finger was finally withdrawn. And yet, somehow, he was troubled by a vague sense of disappointment. As if his cleft flesh wanted it back so that they could start all over again. . .
"Baby. Bruce?"
"Ummm."
"You alive?"
"Just about."
"Knocked out, huh?"
"Pooped. Can't even talk. Too pooped to open my mouth." "The hell you say!" "Hmm? Annecke?"
"You're not finished yet, buddy-boy. Or rather I'm not finished yet. Which means you've still got work to do. Little clean-up job."
"Aw. . ."
"You griping? After the nice deal I just gave you? Any more of that and I'll ram your asshole again with my thumb this time. Maybe you'd like that, a thick thumb up your ass, huh? What's the matter, can't you be my pretty girl without getting fucked? Here, I'll show you what it feels like."
"N-no. Don't. It's okay. I'll do it. Whatever you want-just don't hurt me any more, I'm too sore already."
"Come now, did it really hurt that much?" "Dam right."
"Poor darling. Even after it got all moist and slippery? When my finger was sliding in and out so easy-like?"
"Well. . ."
"Never mind. Long as you're not lying to me, you know? Every pretty girl is allowed a few fibs now and then, but just don't overdo it, that's all. Hmm. For a girl who's too pooped to open her pretty mouth, you're sure making a lot of noise. Why don't you go ahead and make it down there, lovey? Where it'll do some good."
"D-do some good?"
"Action speaks louder than words. Go ahead. Smack your sweet lips over my cunt, the noisier the better. Clean me up good. Come on, shake your ass before my thumb gets itchy and starts shaking it for you! Yeah. Dig right in, kid, Annecke's meat is nice and hot and juicy-not surprised, are you? Talk about moist and slippery. . ." Then, chuckling, "It's your own fault for messing me up, now you've just got to swab it all out again. Tastes awful too, I'll bet, not nearly as nice as pure cunt-cream. Pure and unadulterated is much better, right? Next time maybe you won't be in such a hurry to forget you're a girl."
"Mmm. . ."
"Pretty girl. I smell divine, huh? My pretty cunt-swabber. Don't you just love it down there?"
Six
It took a trained and experienced eye to make such an appraisal, no doubt-and a lot of nerve, too! -but Lilith still hadn't gotten over the shock. Was she really putting on weight? Or even showing the slightest tendency in that direction?
The thought upset her. Even-now, in her flimsy negligee, brushing her hair and waiting for Bruce to finish in the bathroom, she kept scanning the mirror for some visible flaw. But the picture remained unchanged, a gorgeous little redhead with big blue eyes and nice sexy tits-face and figure darn near perfect. Maybe a wee bit heavy in the bosom department-but without even a faint sign of overhangand anyway, weren't big boobs in style these days?
Still, it was supposed to be only a tendency, not any actual poundage; wouldn't it be smart to start keeping close watch? Maybe she ought to cut down on sweets and starches. This soft life in the sea air was bound to add a few ounces here and there. Although she couldn't very well complain considering how lucky they were to be honeymooning in such luxury.
The setup was luxurious, all right-at least a half mile of private beach. And a thickly wooded area around the back of the house, all green and shady and quiet, no honking horns, no gasoline fumes, no nosy neighbors-just a single narrow driveway for the cars and bikes that belonged on the premises. Pretty swanky for a beach house. And so many rooms! No wonder Myra was so anxious to have company, a place this big needed guests; why waste it on just a hostess and her housekeeper? Although the housekeeper was huge enough to fill it all by herself practically, a giant of a woman-housekeeper or nurse or companion or whatever her job was. . .
Lilith frowned and went on brushing her hair, wishing Bruce would hurry up. Weird as it was, that scene on the beach today had left her kind of aroused. She wanted to make love.
But then she usually did, of course. That husband of hers was so handsome. Too handsome, perhaps, almost pretty enough to be a girl. Sometimes she wished he would trim his hair a bit and look more manly. But it probably wouldn't have helped much, he would still have all that girlish softness.
Her criticism gave Lilith a twinge of disloyalty. It wasn't fair of her to find fault like that; after all, didn't she love him for what he was? She had married dear Bruce, not some hairy-chested he-man type. And they were still on their honeymoon, too soon to start criticizing at all.
Hmm. Some honeymoon. Along with the luxury they were stuck with their hostess, evidently. Damn! If only the old dame wasn't such a slob. That stringy, black mop of hers looked like something to clean the floor with. And in its own ridiculous way, that pudgy body was just plain repulsive. A hunk of blubber. But what the hell, it couldn't be helped, the simpering old biddy pretty much had them over a barrel.
Lilith shuddered. Three in a bed wasn't exactly her concept of fun. Oh, she had run across such things before, naturally, the various sexual aberrations were by no means unknown to her. In some circles, for that matter, the abnormal had become so prevalent that it was considered almost normal. But were they about to join that fast crowd permanently? Would it always be like this? Was marriage to Bruce Fabian going to lead to something offbeat all the time? Where would it all end? Myra Hummel wasn't nearly as foolish as she acted, at least not about money. No pushover for any simple con-game, that was for sure-oh no, the old cow would manage to extract every lousy dollar's worth out of their young and tender hides.
And afterward-where would the next step take them? Somewhere lower down the ladder? At this rate they might wind up as nothing but a couple of cheap hustlers. Merchandise for sale to anybody who could pay the price. Ugh. Hustlers. . .
Grinning wryly, Lilith wondered what would happen if she really did let herself get fat. Fat enough to become unwanted merchandise. But no, that was unthinkable-and besides, it was only on her mind because of this afternoon. Out on the beach. Funny the way it still bothered her, the one significant memory out of that whole rather remarkable scene and not very important, actually. Why? Was there some special reason to remember it, something in her subconscious? Or just the opposite, maybe-hmm, interesting notion-was she using that one remark as a device to shut out everything else? Afraid to admit her own feeling of involvement?
If so, she'd better face the issue and unclutter her mind. Dredge up every detail, every blurry fragment of the incident. Those details couldn't have been very blurred at the time, not out there in broad daylight. Oh no, she could even recall what she was thinking about before it began. All alone on the beach, lying there in a bikini under the comfortably hazy sun, a can of beer on one side and the transistor radio on the other. Alone and enjoying her solitude, except for a fleeting worry every so often about her husband mostly, her man and that housekeeper who used to be his mother's nurse-fleeting but entirely too recurrent. The old friends were just too darn friendly. And it was just too much of a coincidence, running into each other again like this; what a surprise! Pretty fishy. Especially since the big blonde seemed to be more than just a housekeeper around the place, the way they respected her, both Myra and Bruce. Lilith couldn't understand what he saw in that monstrous creature. Oh sure, Annecke Voight was kind of attractive for a giantess, but why should a guy get all gooey over something that obviously belonged in a circus sideshow?
Then-speak of the devil!-the lady in question came out of the house and onto the beach, wearing a short terry-cloth robe and toting a straw carry-all bag. Even from a distance she looked huge-but quite graceful nonetheless, moving with an athletic sureness, purposefully, without any wasted motion. Like a person who knew her own body through and through, right down to the smallest toenail, with all its bodily capabilities and limitations. And as she drew nearer, Lilith couldn't help but recognize a certain inherent femininity there, noting the sexy curves, the fullness of bosom, the almost enviable sleekness of calf and thigh. Much as it pained her to concede it, the stalwart Valkyrie was all female, a formidable rival despite her great height and unmistakable butch-aura of efficiency.
Nodding a greeting, Annecke proceeded to unload her beach stuff and shed the terry garment. That left her in a halter-and-trunks outfit, no scanty bikini but still brief enough to exhibit a lot of un-draped epidermis. Her pale blonde hair presented an intriguing contrast to the tawny skin. Even the small hairs on her forearms glinted golden, a strangely stimulating sight, almost an optical illusion such a distinct textural difference from all that satiny smoothness! Trivial, though, the kind of detail only another woman would notice. Like the snug fit of the two-piece costume, styled somewhat primly and yet making the vast expanses of nude flesh seem vividly sensuous somehow. A man would be conscious only of the rather dazzling effect, never the subtle and skillfully contrived cause. All of which made this colossal creature even more formidable; what young wife wants a rival with a flair for carefully chosen clothes?
As it turned out, the deceptive garb was also quite practical, far more so than a bikini might have been. The big bimbo had come out to get some exercise, dressing for the stress and strain of the occasion as well as for some less-than-casual onlooker. Lilith was glad to be an audience of one, glad that her impressionable young husband hadn't traipsed along today. Because the performance was sure as hell impressive-even to someone taking an admittedly jaundiced view. Impressive indeed!
Like it or not, she found herself fascinated watching Annecke Voight's body go through those fluid but assuredly strenuous movements with so little visible effort. Springing high into the air, arms and legs thrown apart, the smooth skin flashing even in the hazy sunlight. Dropping to her hands and shooting her legs back, alternately and then together. Push-ups, sit-ups, whatever-she managed to make every exercise look incredibly easy, breathing deep but not noticeably hard from the exertion.
Lilith could only marvel at such physical conditioning, such a superb specimen of womanhood. True, those legs weren't as softly feminine as her own, not with so much muscle at the calf and thigh. But they were well-shaped, certainly. And that fine pair of tits remained astonishingly firm throughout every change of pace and posture, nothing short of phenomenal. Even a little redhead with unquestioned beauty and an overdose of vanity had to give credit where credit was due. Grudgingly, perhaps, but with grace. And without any catty qualifications. . .
That was when she glanced up and spotted a tiny glimmer of fire in those dark, unswerving eyes. Twinkling fire that just hadn't been there earlier. Or had it? Maybe her own eyes had missed something by focusing down lower all that time. On the more obvious focal points. Those long legs. The slim waist and solid butt. And that spectacular display of breasts, big beautiful b a zooms! More obvious and more appealing-up until now, anyway. The gleam hinted of some smoldering mystery, holding her transfixed as the exercises continued slowly, now a demonstration of difficult yoga positions.
She's showing off, Lilith thought instinctively, she's conscious of me here. Then, in the midst of a gasp, it struck with the power of truth. She's showing off for me!
The shock of it dizzied her, breaking off visual communication. Lilith rolled over and stretched out on her stomach waiting for sanity to return, her face hidden in the cradle of her arms. She didn't know when the athletic activity finally ceased. Not until the voice sounded almost directly above her, a tone of apparent concern:
"Hey . . . your shoulders. . ."
"Hmm?"
"You're getting a burn. Don't let this sun fool you, Miz Lilith, it can be dangerous on these hazy days."
"Oh. I-I guess you're right."
"You ought to put something on it. Wait. I've got some lotion in my bag. Good, too. Stuff really works."
"Don't bother. Aren't you supposed to be exercising?"
"Nope. All finished. No bother at all. Lie still now, I'll do your back for you, it only takes a minute. Hmm. You could do with a little exercise yourself. . ."
Lilith relaxed. Or tried to relax as much as possible, considering the circumstances. After all, she was being wooed with sunburn lotion by a lesbian; how many books had she read with just such a scene? It would have been funny, except for the worrisome latent possibilities. Still, the liquid was nice and cool upon her skin. And those big hands were ever so gentle as they rubbed it in. Relaxation was becoming progressively easier.
"How's that feel?"
"Mmm, nice."
"Yeah. It really works, Miz Lilith."
"Works fine . . . just fine. . ."
"Hey, don't go to sleep on me."
Sighing lazily, Lilith shook her head, feeling more at ease with every passing minute. So what if the big babe did make a gay pass? Nothing could happen out here on the beach. It was rather pleasant to be wooed so tenderly. And with such respect, to nobody else rated a Miz or Mister around this place, it was just plain Myra and just plain Bruce; wasn't it a sign of something kind of special to be addressed as Miz Lilith?
"You're sure pink. I'd better smear it on thick."
"Uh-huh ..." She sighed again as the facile hands repeated the first rub and then gradually spread outward and down each side toward the swelling base of her bosom. The tips of her breasts began to tingle in their little bikini-bra. "Feels wonderful. . ."
Wonderful?
She tensed and felt her flesh twitch spasmodically. What the hell was going on there? Those fingers -touching, lingering-was it an indication of more to come? Oh well, might as well relax again and see just how much more the dyke would dare. An eager but very respectful dyke, evidently. The hands persisted with meticulous care, straying just far enough to make Lilith aware of her own rising excitement.
She shut her eyes, fighting the sensation off until a decision one way or the other became absolutely necessary.
Suddenly a vision flashed into existence, the vision of the big arms, the forearms actually, with those shiny gold hairs; what a silly thing to remember! And meanwhile, somehow, even though respect still controlled eagerness, it seemed almost wasteful to go on steeling herself against something so enjoyable. Why not savor that voluptuous sensation to the fullest? Just let it creep over her. . .
"Want me to do the backs of your legs too, Miz Lilith? They need it. A quickie, at least."
"Oh. All done up top? Uh, okay. Do my legs. You've got a nice touch, you know? Darn good hands."
"Well, I ought to. I used to be a professional masseuse. That's how I know so much about exercise and such, too. I really meant it a while ago-what I said about you exercising, remember? You've got a great little figure, but it's the kind that can lose its snap if you don't watch out. Get puffy when you least expect it. Believe me, I've worked on enough like yours to recognize the symptoms. Tendency toward overweight. . ."
That did it, ending the rapport and turning her amiable afternoon into an aggravation. Lilith allowed only a cursory swish of lotion upon her legs and then made an excuse to leave, biting her lips to hold back the surge of indignant displeasure. Which was pretty smart judgment, she realized later, aware that her blind reaction had blown the remark up all out of proportion. She might have pressed the point and thrown a tantrum right there on the spot; wouldn't that have been childish? Think of the embarrassment!
And now, hours afterward, she was even more pleased with her conduct. Thrashing out those details had definitely worked wonders, making it easier to decide what to do next-and wasn't she fortunate to have such a choice still open to her? The best choice: let their friendship continue and the rapport return! Oh yes, her flesh had welcomed the touch, the lesbian hands that could soothe and stimulate in the same stroke. She had wanted them to go all the way. And since this marriage of hers had taken that kind of twist, why not make the best of it? Maybe a little jealousy would be good for Bruce; why not have fun and stop fretting over the moral issue?
The notion brought a tight smile to Lilith's lips. What she was thinking seemed downright wicked, a far cry from the precepts taught and pounded into her since infancy. Love and sex and marriage all went together, and that was what she had always believed. Had she changed that much? All in a few hours, imagine.
Uh-huh. Right out there on the beach. Where the lotion was cool and her skin was on fire-and it had nothing to do with the rays of the sun. Not when the blaze inside was even hotter. A girl had to take care of her own cunt, didn't she? And besides, in a certain sense she would be more on the up-and-up than ever now, not "conning" anybody, doing it just for excitement. Sex for the hell of it-evil, maybe, but a lot safer than swiping jewelry or cashing forged checks or inventing some new swindle; how about those precepts?
Then too, well, there was another reason to assess this afternoon's encounter as an achievement. Annecke had influence obviously, perhaps even more than appeared on the surface. With a little affection, she might just be persuaded to speak upon behalf of her new-found friend. Or to stake out a claim for herself even, provided she carried that much weight. And provided, of course, that her new darling turned out to be something worth striving for, a beautiful young redhead willing to parlay a quick rub on the beach into a summer-long romance. Oh shit, anything to get away from fat Myra's predatory claws. . .
Lilith smiled again, the same tight smile, but now it softened to a voluptuously ripe and self-confident curve. She licked her lips to a scarlet sheen, dropping the hairbrush at last and concentrating on the lovely picture in the mirror. Her hands rose and came down in a slyly choreographed caress, the fingers dipping into all that flame-red hair as her widespread elbows strained backward and lifted her breasts to peak prominence, pulling the soft skin taut and accentuating both nipples. Holding that position, she jiggled her shoulders and shook the neckline of her negligee loose, revealing the pink-tipped creamy mounds in all their naked glory. Lovely! Not an ounce of superfluous flesh anywhere. Lovely and lewd, the kind of body that made men pant with passion and rush home to fuck the ass off their less admirably endowed wives. The kind of body to melt that monumental blonde down to a puddle of suntan lotion. Uh-huh. Wicked. Oh yes, wicked! Crazy kicks. Wild fun. And it was beginning already-the planned seduction of a lesbian-how wicked could a honeymooning young bride get?
Flushing at her horny train of thought, Lilith surveyed her newly remodeled image with a certain awe, recognizing but not quite reconciled to the sophisticated slut in the mirror. Even those big baby-blue eyes, usually so innocent, stared back at her with a conspiratorial cynicism that bordered on insolence. One thick-lashed eyelid sank in a sensuously slow and shameless wink, ignoring the sudden stillness as the noise from the bathroom faded. As though the wink of a sex-goddess was simply too important to be governed by the husbandly sounds and silences of bathroom plumbing. But at last it ended of its own volition, freeing her to function in a more wifely manner.
A bit nervous now, Lilith skinned out of the negligee and glided to the bed, greeting her man in a hopefully provocative pose. He saw her and grinned, flicking the lamp switch and tumbling into her embrace, a dark mass out of the darkness. And then a wave of sheer pleasure overwhelmed her as his tongue probed the sensitive hollow of her ear. It drugged her, pushing her into a languorous coma of sensation; she gasped in responsive delight as his lips traveled away from her earlobe and down into the curve of her throat.
He was a good lover, this husband of hers. A man in bed, despite his girlish appearance-that was dear Bruce. Although there were times when she did feel the need for less gentleness. Like now, for instance. His hand was fondling her breasts tenderly, but she had a desire to feel her yearning flesh squeezed and manipulated and treated possessively. Brusquely, even. But she couldn't communicate her need, nor would it have done much good anyhow, the dear boy made love in his own sweet way. Soft and sweet. . .
Well, not exactly soft. Oh no, far from it. But he still wasn't very aggressive and Lilith had to spread her thighs and come out of her languor to guide him. Ah yes, that was better. Only she wished he'd start talking to her, the kind of talk that always excited them both so much. In something like that the man was supposed to take the lead, though, so she would just have to wait and hope. Unless she wanted to be branded a brazen hussy. Hmm. Did she dare?
"Bruce. Darling?"
"Umm. . ,"
"Give it to me good. Fuck me!"
He was silent for a moment. Then with a shrill laugh, almost a giggle, "Shameless bitch. I'll fuck you, all right. I'll fuck that hot cunt until you scream."
"Do it. With your big cock. Gimme, gimme, fuck me!" "Shameless. . ."
And she was, of course, utterly shameless, the same shameless bitch who had winked at herself in the mirror and thought about seducing a lesbian-. shameless-and wasn't it fun? She ground her body against him and felt the hot delirium overtake her. Her hands clutched his buttocks, hesitating just a little at their surprising softness. But there was no softness in the thrust of him, and she reveled in his invasion of her flesh.
Her hands fell away, fingernails crisping the bed-sheets. Arching frantically, she drew him into the warmth of herself, into the heat of her cunt, surrounding him, engulfing him, holding him with encircling arms and crushing thighs and all the quivering rapture of a wife loving her husband. And once again her hands were on him, the nails digging into his back now instead of the sheets. As if somehow she had truly become the aggressor.
But it wasn't right. Good, yes, but not perfect. All she wanted was to be a woman. A man's woman. Couldn't he understand that and act accordingly? Like a man?
Dear, dear Bruce. He was her husband-and What gave her the right to be so critical? He was sure trying, she had to admit. It wasn't his fault that he lacked the instinct for conquest. And in spite of his shortcomings-if shortcomings they were-the dear boy was still no slouch at getting the job done. Much of his body seemed as soft as her own-but not all of it. Oh no, definitely not all! And she could only glory in the rocklike hardness imprisoned inside her flesh, the plunging power of his cock in her cunt. As long as he gave her that, why complain?
"Lilith . . . baby. . ."
"Now. Fuck!"
It was already upon her, the ecstasy, the sensation upon maddening sensation that made her very soul clamor for release. Until she wailed aloud as her body sucked him into its depths in a surging, all-encompassing moist-thighed movement that took her over the brink of shattering joy. As though her flesh down there had changed character, a mouth between her legs, not a cunt-a sucking mouth with greedy lips and greedy throat that would never slacken its carnivorous hunger until it had swallowed total fulfillment.
Seven
It was unexpected, certainly, and Annecke had cause for shocked amazement. Her fat friend was actually angry. Who could have figured mild-mannered Myra getting all wrought-up like this? The way it was going, their little disagreement seemed to be developing into a big hassle. Which in turn, was liable to lead to bloodshed. Or perhaps even a repeal of her invitation to spend the summer-a rueful notion, considering the circumstances, what with everything else on this beach vacation showing such auspicious promise. Maybe it would be better to try to smooth things over.
"Come now, it can't be that important. No need to get so upset, is there? Do calm down. . ."
"Shit! Don't tell me to calm down, Annecke. Not after the way you've been acting lately. Even tonight, when you asked to drop over, I never expected you to show up in that starchy housekeeper dress. And I thought sure we were going to be lovey-dovey again. At least I hoped so, after the way you've been ignoring me all week. I took a bath and put on makeup and got ready to make love. And instead what do I get?-a snotty order, that's what, a snotty
"Hey! Snotty? I'm sure you don't mean that!"
"You got-another word for it? What right have you to order me to stay away from my own houseguest? I call that snotty. Not only do you ignore me and chase after her, now you want the sulky little brat all to yourself."
"Okay, okay, I had no idea it would bother you so much. But if she's such a sulky brat, Myra, what do you want her for?"
"Does it matter? Don't worry, I'll knock the sulks out of her pretty damn soon. Besides, this is supposed to be a holiday for me as well as for you. I've got to have somebody, don't I? So I'll thank you not to be so free with your snotty orders. Or maybe you expect me to sleep alone every night, huh? If so, just keep your ideas to yourself. Because I've had all the snotty talk-"
"There you go again. Shut up, will you? Show some respect."
"Shut me up. I dare you. I just dare-"
"Oh yeah? Listen, you fat slob, I've heard just about-"
Crack!
Annecke staggered under the impact, the sudden fury of that pudgy hand lashing out; caught off guard, she reeled incredulously, less from the force of the blow than from its breathtaking audacity. The silly old bitch had actually slapped her! Right in the face, it was just too insufferable, too damned much to bear. All she could do was swing right back, re's turning the slap with interest.
That should have ended it. But no, it only added fuel to the fire, sending the fat woman into a rage of vengeful belligerence, her wind-milling arms striking out every which way. And once again Annecke could only reply in kind-but with more skill, naturally. It was in a flare-up of her own at first, but then she took up the task grimly and with a certain methodical precision. If their quarrel had to be settled by violent means, so be it. She soon welcomed the opportunity, intrigued as always by any test of her strength and stamina, even against such an unworthy opponent, a chance to stretch her sinews and work off some nervous energy.
Skill wasn't even necessary after a while, her muscles were enough. And the clout in her big fists. Time after time she slammed away at that butter-soft underbelly, sinking in deep with every brutal contact. Myra fought like a typical female, spitting and scratching and kicking, all but ineffectual against such superior force; the wildly clawing attacks were simply no match for the methodically thumping balled fists. Until at last the panting old spitfire lost heart and surrendered, crumpling to the floor in a miserable heap, half in and half out of her fancy negligee. Exhausted, lying there in a state of utter collapse, she groaned and burst into tears.
But that wasn't enough for Annecke, somehow. Not now. Her blood surged thick and hot with the joy of this strangely stirring accomplishment. With the sheer thrill of her own power. And as always even more than ever, perhaps-with the intoxicating excitement of her victory in hand-to-hand combat. "Get up!"
"Oh . . . leave me alone. . ."
"I said get up." Pointing her sandal-shod foot, Annecke nudged the trembling woman's ribs none too gently. "You get up and listen to me, understand?"
Her victim made an effort. But it was slow, much too slow, and she reached down to help speed it up. Grabbing a handful of black hair in one hand, she swatted the tearstained face with the other, deliberately vicious. Again her woebegone target tried to rise and obey the command, struggling up upon her knees.
"Please . . . don't hit me ... ho more, no more, please?"
Annecke was beyond mercy. With a triumphant growl, she held the head of hair motionless and lashed her open hand back and forth across those pudgy rouged cheeks. Snarling, she unburdened herself, punctuating each spoken phrase with another well-aimed slap, watching the pink rouge turn runny with dark mascara.
"You started it, right? Now I'm finishing it. Don't ever get smart with me again, Myra. If you do, you'll run into the same thing all over again. Only worse. Understand?"
"I-I'm sorry."
"Yeah. You'll remember this night. From now on you'll be very careful how you talk to me. I'm teaching you respect. You know what that is? Respect? It's what you'll show me every time you come within sniffing range. Respect."
"Yes. I-I'll do it. Whatever you say. You win. Only please don't hurt me any more."
"I'm the master here, get it? I'm your master." Annecke twisted the hank of hair savagely. "You can forget about making your own decisions. As long as I'm around, you'll listen to me!"
"I will, I will, I'll listen and obey. You're the master."
"And don't go telling those two kids about us, you hear? This is our private fight, let's keep it that way. Strictly private. Or I just might make it,really rough on you. Then you'll think this was just a picnic, baby."
"I-I won't tell."
"Okay. And just so I'm sure we understand each other. . ." The need was abrupt and overwhelming. "Here. Kiss my hand."
"Kiss-kiss your hand?"
"The hand that walloped you. Or else-"
"No! Please don't hit me. I'll do it."
Releasing her grasp and purposely ending all coercion, Annecke stood tall and straight and proud as the kneeling woman's lips brushed the back of her hand. Exultation sent a ripple of pleasure through her, a delicious tremor coursing the length of her spine. How easy it all was! How easy to override and control and conquer, how natural to assume authority; it made her feel almost like a great lady, a countess, a duchess-absolute ruler on her own turf -even some kind of queen, a reigning monarch. . .
Queen? Monarch?
A dry chuckle rasped from her throat. No longer averse to a little more coercion, she kicked one sandal off and shoved the unkempt brunette mop downward, down toward the floor. Then she placed her bare foot on. the nape of that bent and humbly unresisting neck, shifting her weight and letting gravity do the rest.
"You may own this house, Myra, but while we're together I own you. That makes it my territory, I guess, mine to boss and run to suit myself. And it's like we're on an island here, cut off from the rest of the world. You can't get away from me. There's no exit, no hiding-place, no escape. So you'll remember this. My foot on your neck. Feel it? You'll remember and shake all over every time you see me coming toward you. Isn't that right?"
A moan sounded. Then, dolefully, "I'll remember."
"Good. We'll get along then, hmm?"
"Whatever you say. . ."
Annecke stepped back and strode to the bathroom, kicking the other sandal off on the way. The floor-tiles were cool to the soles of her feet, making her even more conscious of the warmth inside her. A heat, really. The heat of sweet triumph. She rinsed her mouth out and splashed cold water on her face, scarcely caring when a few drops got in her eyes. Nothing bothered her at the moment, nothing at all now; she had managed to carry out her plan despite that unexpected hostility, turning near-certain failure into great and gratifying success.
Oh sure, she knew goddam well that the kid had practically conned her into it, hoping to use her apparent influence as a barrier against Myra's unwanted attentions. A rather shabby trick to play on their poor old hostess. But the little redhead was so cute and cuddly-pretty as a blushing pink peach-who could deny that demure pout and those wheedling blue eyes of hers? Besides, a favor like this might be worth a dozen return favors in the future-and Annecke had some interesting ones in mind.
No rush, though, better to move with caution and make slow but steady progress in this somewhat tenuous setup. The peach wasn't hers to pluck and gobble yet, but just running her hands over the peach-fuzz had felt good, a clue to the finer dainties and delicacies underneath. All that sun-ripened sweetness and succulence. . .
"Annecke?"
"Ummm."
"May I come in?"
"Sure. I'm about finished."
The door opened. "I have to talk to you. To find out. . ." "Hmm?"
"You know. Are you still mad at me?"
"Of course not, silly. Why should I be mad?"
"Oh. . ."
Annecke swung around from the sink. Myra was naked, her makeup a mess, her eyes still bleary with as yet unshed tears. Ready to brim over at a moment's notice, no doubt. The kind of female who thrived on misery, that was Myra Hummel. She had never been happy a day in her life-and probably enjoyed every minute of it. Even now her shoulders were slumped in an almost cringing attitude.
"Hey, what's the matter?"
"Please . . . I . . . I . . . uh. . ."
"Don't tell me. Honey, are you feeling sexy?"
Her eager nod was an eloquent answer. And if further proof was required, the plump legs buckled and she slumped to the tile floor. On her knees, obsequious but optimistic now, no longer cringing, just a lesbian with high hopes and a hot tongue. She lifted her arms and peered up imploringly, eyeballs
A glistening, a picture of ardent and anxious supplication. And then, meeting with no rebuff, she shuffled close and began kissing.
Plucking the drab skirt up a few inches, Annecke broadened her stance and then leaned back tentatively against the sink, taking time at last to reach for a towel and dry her still-damp face. She squirmed a little, sensing her own immediate erotic response as the open-mouthed kisses slithered up her legs. It puzzled her, coming too swiftly, too intensely, so soon after that harrowing scene out there. And in the bathroom, of all places, hardly a stimulating atmosphere for sex-at least not in this position, so near the toilet, so precariously perched on the hard-angled edge of the washbasin. Somehow, quite aside from the expertise of those experienced lips-good, sure, but not that good-her body seemed to be slipping beyond restraint, responding with a fervor that was both unprecedented and unfathomable. And more than just a little unsettling, too. Still, it wouldn't help any to stop and play guessing games now; whatever this new things was, why not relax and enjoy it?
"Hey! My housekeeper dress may be conservative, but I'm not. See for yourself, though, just look in the right place. No panties. You do know where to look, don't you?"
She knew, all right. Exactly where to look. So the sarcasm was wasted, perhaps, but not the suggestion. Myra's head ducked out of sight and became a mouth, an invisible mouth, a suck-to-orgasm mouth that would soon achieve its aim. Leaving only the lower half of her plump body out of the fun, naked and uncared-for-except that Annecke suddenly found herself staring at it with newly aroused interest, for some unknown reason. That big bare ass, a magnet for her gaze. . .
An aphrodisiac for her senses?
The missing piece of the puzzle flashed through her mind like a comet outracing its fiery tail. How nice to solve a mystery and discover a new source of pleasure at the same time! A new and all but untapped source. But could such a thing really be called pleasure? An odd slant, an odd way of viewing it, certainly. Pleasure. And yet she might as well face it once and for all. The thrill she felt during the fight had been only too real. She had actually enjoyed dealing out pain. She would enjoy it again.
Pleasure. That was why she had gone on slapping even after the conquest was an accomplished fact. That was why she had made Myra kiss her hand. That was why she had kicked her sandal off to feel the submissive flesh quailing under her bare foot. What a thrill to act and be obeyed like a sadistic queen! Strange that she had never really understood how sexy that sort of thing could be. Yes, sexy. With her heart banging like this, what else could she call it?
Hmm. Speaking of untapped sources of pleasure. . .
It didn't take long. And the bathroom was fine, just fine, as good as any other place and more convenient than most. Yes indeed, all the conveniences. Annecke turned ever so gradually-careful not to dislodge the invisible mouth-and soaked her towel under the cold water tap. Then, with only a light squeeze to wring out the surplus moisture, she turned back again to tap that source of pleasure.
To whip that big bare ass!
True, it was only a towel, not a whip. But doubled up and held just right, it made a most effective weapon. The first swing brought a shriek of shocked surprise, landing out of nowhere on that naked and vulnerable bottom. But a warning growl and a pelvic thrust of cunt was enough to stifle any further outburst. Or to channel it to better advantage, anyway, cutting the noise to a moan as Myra absorbed and then expended all that fresh energy, increasing the tempo of her lingual caresses, wiggling her head from side to side and getting in deeper. After a while she started sniveling again, a sound that became music to Annecke's ears. It even brought along a fringe benefit of sorts, big tears forming in those eyes and rolling down that cunt-mired face. Unseen, of course, but it didn't take much imagination to sketch in the details as she reveled in the sensation of the pudgy tear-drenched cheeks sloshing around inside her most intimate depths.
The side-to-side wiggle had extended itself to include a bobbing movement now, rhythmically timed to every whoosh and splat of the makeshift wet whip. It felt as if the lips and walls of her cunt were being wedged apart, a stimulus that drove her to even further excesses with the weapon, turning the surface of that soft flabby ass from white to pink to a shade akin to vermilion. While the slurping tongue and devouring mouth persevered nobly, stretching its suck-to-orgasm routine beyond any previously known limitations. As though, once again, mournful old Myra was enjoying her misery.
Eight
What if she were to undress completely? What if she slipped off these two bits of lingerie and was naked to begin with? Oh shit, wouldn't that big babe's eyes bulge?
But no, that wouldn't be playing the game, it would just spoil the suspense. Lilith vetoed the notion with a nervous giggle, sinking back upon the bed to assume a languidly seductive posture, just right for a weak little invalid awaiting treatment. Enervated "by too much afternoon sun, a delicate young lady in need of some kindness and a splash of that soothing lotion; who could resist such a pretty picture? Not that big hot-to-trot lesbian, certainly. Especially since the tiny blue bra and panties offered no more than a pretense of modesty, all frilly around the edges but only the sheerest of gossamer lace where it really counted. Sexy. Sexier than nude, in a way, almost iridescent in the subdued lamplight. If ever a girl looked tempting. . .
A knock sounded, even though the door had been left ajar. Annecke entered and nudged it shut behind her, an imposing if somewhat stiff figure in her gray housekeeper's gown. Disappointingly so--too prim, too stately, entirely too dignified for the occasion. Except for the shimmery self-betrayal in her eyes, not exactly bulging at the cozy scene, but a dead giveaway nonetheless to someone who had seen it before, that same familiar fiery twinkle. Luminous, almost, still a little mysterious despite its familiarity.
"Oh, you poor child, you're all pink. I had no idea.
"Uh-huh. I told you so. Must be a curse, I guess I've got the kind of skin that has to burn a few times before it tans. Doesn't hurt much, though, just makes me feel kind of sticky and scratchy, you know? More itchy than painful."
"I'm glad you called on me, Miz Lilith. You really do need help."
"You brought the lotion, didn't you? That ought to fix me up okay. And those nice soft hands of yours. . ."
"Never mind my hands, it's your soft skin I'm worried about. I had no idea it was so sensitive." Seating herself on the edge of the bed, the big woman made a gingerly investigation, placing her palm on the pink swell of flesh just above the panties. "Umm, it's sure soft. . ." Her fingers firmed gently, still inspecting. "Hot enough to be almost feverish, too."
It was true, the fever had become suddenly noticeable, setting a thousand quivery nerve-ends aflame in the zone of contact-not wholly unpleasant, of course, just vaguely unbearable. Impelled by instinct, Lilith began a slow writhing and twisting of her body. The hand clung and followed along with a seemingly instinctive movement of its own, inscribing small convoluted circles upon the surface contortions of her bare midriff. Over the curve of her belly, the palm and fingers flexing to accommodate each rise and fall. Like a caress now, a benign caress intended to disperse and relieve the heat. And quite effective, oddly enough, even better than the sunburn lotion. Not as soothing, perhaps, just better. . .
"Well, we'll just have to calm that fever."
"Hmm?"
"I'll do your back first. Roll over." Annecke was already unscrewing the cap on the bottle. "Over you go, little lady."
What else was there to do? Her body still floundering in search of the lost contact, Lilith could only come out of her daze and hope for the best, turning one final heave into a serpentine spiral that landed her face-down. A moment later she sighed contentedly, finding a certain solace in this new mood of comfort and serenity. The creamy ointment took effect immediately, cooling her like the spray of a mountain waterfall. Gentle fingers skated over her back, changing irritable nerves into cheerful gluttons thirsting for more. Lulled by the rhythmic motion, she drifted into misty lassitude, all but dozing off in catlike complacency. Only to be disturbed by another claim on her consciousness, a whisper:
"Over again, hmm? We'll do the front now."
Without questioning it, Lilith raised herself on one hip and fell over into a supine position, moving with the boneless fluidity of some wraith-like spirit in a narcotic-induced fantasy. Then her flesh was besieged by an endless glide of fingertips, still efficient but less businesslike somehow, dispelling all drowsiness and shaking up a few dormant hormones. A billowing sensation of desire enveloped her like a canopy, a silken parachute that might float her safely to earth but would take its own sweet time getting there. If it got there at all. And meanwhile an eagerness was coming voluptuously alive inside her, an urge to slash the shroud-lines of passivity and hurtle headlong through the delicious dangers of her descent. But how, though, how to go about it?
Those huge hands were at fault. Or rather, not at fault, dammit, the kind of perfection she could do without right now. Close as the supple fingers strayed to taboo territory, they managed to stay within the bounds of propriety every time. Even when another inch in one direction or the other might have ended the suspense. But no, that final inch remained uncrossed and the wistful treasures untouched, languishing in the apparently impregnable shelter of a few bits of lace. Only the frilly edges of her lingerie got properly pawed over, never the lacy parts in the middle. Where it really counted. As if that wispy blue bra and wispier pair of panties had been stitched and strengthened with chain-mail by some ancient locksmith intent on cornering the chastity belt market. Which meant, of course, that a little sluttish audacity was called for, a boldly suggestive approach to let the big bashful lesbian know she wasn't being locked out. High time they got around to it, whatever was supposed to happen tonight. Faint heart never won fair fingerfuck!
"Annecke . . ."
"Umm?"
"That's enough lotion. I'd like something else now."
"Yes'm. What can I do for you?"
"You know."
"Oh.
"See? You do know. And that makes two of us. We don't have to pretend, do we? Especially like this, alone together for the first time. Come on, make love to me."
"Well . . . uh. . ."
"Don't you want to? You think I'm ugly or something?"
"How can you say that, Miz Lilith? You're beautiful. I just wasn't sure if you liked me."
"Silly. When I needed a favor, who did I turn to? For a thing like that, would I ask someone I didn't like?"
"Oh. That. Uh, is it working out all right? Myra giving you any trouble lately?" v
"Not any more. She's just nice as can be. And believe me, Annecke, I'm grateful. I owe you a lot. Even if that was the only reason, I'd be willing to go to bed with you. Even if I didn't happen to feel horny, you know? Only I do feel horny tonight, so let's forget all that other shit, huh? Let's just figure out how to keep a hot and horny little bitch like me from getting bored. Any ideas?"
"Hot and horny . . . hmm. . ."
"Hey, does my talking like that shock you? I hope not. We might as well be frank with each other."
"Go ahead, be frank. I don't shock that easily. Although hearing it from a beautiful little doll like you.
"I can be beautiful and horny too, right? As a matter of fact, I'm a real beauty tonight, beautiful all over. Beautiful tits. Beautiful cunt. Beautiful ass. And it's all yours-in case you're interested."
"I'm interested, Miz Lilith. You think maybe I don't get hot and horny, too? Only I just don't see what we can do about it tonight; your husband might come charging up here any minute-and then where would we be?"
"Oh, don't worry about Bruce, this is one of his TV nights-not a chance of his coming upstairs. But if that's your only objection, well, if I could just persuade you to stroll over to the door and use your muscles on that big brass bolt. . ."
That did it. Annecke chuckled and strode to the door. Watching her, Lilith giggled excitedly and then reached up to turn the lamp off as the click of the locking bolt sounded. The room went black. Impetuously still giggling, she squirmed out of her bra and panties and tossed them aside.
"It's so dark."
"Uh-huh. Come on. Hurry!" "I can't see a thing." "Here. Give me your hand." "Oh!"
"What's the matter?" "You're naked."
"Sure. All for you. Love me, love me."
The touch came, adding new warmth to Lilith's already fervent glow of anticipation. There was a lovely tingling sensation-like the pricking of a hundred pins and needles all centered around that stroking hand. Her breasts swelled in response.
Mmm, yes, as long as she was expected to indulge in lesbian games, how nice to have someone like this around. Around and available. Much nicer than that fat slob. And nobody was conning anybody either, it was just for fun-except for that one time, of course, and even then only out of dire necessity. Lilith felt a twinge of guilt along with her gratitude, pleased with the success of her maneuver but somewhat less than proud of her slyly played role in it. But that was over now, over and done with, from now on it would be purely for pleasure-she could see herself giving in to these hands often. Ah yes, and that mouth; was there ever such a marvelous mouth?
She quivered in mounting ecstasy. Moistly, magically, the mouth nuzzled between her breasts. The long tongue swept into action, laving a damp path from one to the other, tracing small spirals around each deliciously aching peak. Everything seemed to stiffen and swell, the nipples responding like buds bursting into bloom.
Then, with just a bit of urging, the mouth began a slow slide downward. Lilith stifled a cry. The hunger, the hot hunger in her flesh was silently shrieking for satisfaction. Her body arched as she pushed at Annecke's head, spurred by flashes of erotic heat streaking inward from her breasts and thighs, rushing to converge and be sucked into the hotter and hungrier vacuum of those lesbian lips. Churning in compulsive lust, she scissored her legs wide to open and expose all of herself, all of her cunt, her self-sacrificing cunt, to the fury of that covetous suction. To the intensity of that fiercely stabbing tongue. Soon, she thought, soon. . .
"Hey! Lilith? Not asleep up there, are you?"
She gasped, struggling for sanity as all motion ceased. That husband of hers. Shouting from the bottom of the stairs. What a time to interrupt! But without an answer, he would probably come charging up here; better say something and slow him down.
Composure returned and she raised her voice. "I'm still awake, Bruce. What do you want?"
"Myra is fixing something to eat. Crepes suzette, how about that? Come on and join us. huh?"
With cautious urgency, Lilith took a firm grip on the half-buried head between her legs, holding it in place. Little as the invitation appealed to her, accepting it seemed like the wisest course-agree in a hurry and send him on his way. If her aroused flesh remained teetering on the brink much longer, that crisis would be a hell of a lot worse than this one.
"All right, Bruce. I'll be along shortly."
She hesitated a moment, making sure he had gone. Then-with a meaningful nudge-she released her hold on the trapped head. Her body tensed, her cunt-lips pulsated and gaped impatiently, her clitoris was like a scrap of expectant tinder awaiting only a. spark to set it ablaze. One spark from that sizzling tongue. . .
"Miz Lilith?"
"Hush."
"But-"
"Quickly now. I can't wait." "Oh . . ."
"Ahhh . . . do it . . . nnng. . ."
"Like this?"
"Oooh! Not so rough!"
"Sorry."
"Okay, okay. But why are you stopping? Annecke, what's the matter with you? Give me that hot-"
"Wait. Please. I'm sorry. Oh, I'm so upset."
"That's silly. Upset about what? Just because my husband interrupted us? Forget it, will you? It's over now."
"It kind of scared me, though. What if he had come upstairs for you? I'll tell you something, Miz Lilith, I'd feel more relaxed if this wasn't his room."
"Huh? It's my room, too."
"That's what I mean, it belongs to both of you. And it doesn't have to be like that, you know? You could each have a room of your own. This house is so big. Your own room, your own bath, wouldn't that be nice? I'd sure feel better about it. About what we're doing right now-in bed like this. . ."
"Hmph. More like what we're not doing, I'd say."
"Well. . ."
"Separate rooms. For a newly married couple? Hmm."
"Why not? Oh sure, I know it's your honeymoon and all. But you'd still be more comfortable, both of you, I'll bet. Why don't you ask your husband sometime, just bring it up kind of casual-like and see what he thinks, huh?"
"No. I couldn't. I'd be too embarrassed. But you seem to have influence on Bruce; why don't you ask him?"
"I-I could. Yeah, what would be the harm? I'd be glad to, but only if it's all right with you."
"It's fine with me. Go ahead. Okay? Now if you'll just stop talking about it and-ahhh, that's better."
"Mmm?"
"Suck me, suck me, suck my cunt!" Her words echoed and re-echoed provocatively, more exciting than ever now. Especially in this strange situation. Lying here on her honeymoon bed and saying it to her lesbian lover-suck my cunt. Oh shit, only the horniest of horny little bitches would do something like that. And yet it was like a bond between them, a new addition to this thing they had going; how could a few dirty words make such a difference?
She could sure feel it happening, though. The magic was there, right there, right where she needed it-bigger and better than ever somehow. As if that tongue had grown longer and stronger in just these last fleeting minutes. As if those lips had developed new capabilities, new dimensions in dexterity, covering the wide open wellspring of her passion with an even wider open mouth. The hands were helping, too, great big powerful hands-so soft only a moment ago!-scooping her butt up off the bed, scooping her up in handfuls practically, squeezing hell out of her ass to feed that much more of her cunt into that insatiable maw. And meanwhile the all but inviolate depths of her flesh just went on vibrating rapturously to every probe and pressure of that elongated tongue. Until her entire body started to shudder and shake in the final frenzy of an overflowing orgasm, and she could only wrap her thighs around the bobbing head and twitch convulsively as tension found release and at last expended itself in the sweet aftermath, soothed into somnolence by the lingering soft-lipped caresses that slowly and dreamily siphoned off the ultimate traces of climax.
"Annecke. . ."
"Hmm?"
"You're terrific."
"Thank you, Miz Lilith. I'm at your service. Anytime. . ." A sigh sounded, then, "And speaking of time, we ought to be getting up and out of here round about now, wouldn't you say?"
"Uh-huh. But not yet."
"No?"
"Stay like this. Just a while longer. I just love your face down there, so soft and warm. . ."
"It's you that's soft and warm."
"Then kiss me some more. Like at the end, you know? Not sexy, just nice and gentle."
"Oh. . ."
"That's it. Grand. Tell me, am I really soft and warm?"
"Ummm. Love it. Soft arid warm. Sweet little cunt. . ."
"You make me feel so good. Me and my sweet little cunt. I'm liable to get horny again. That tongue of yours feels like-"
"Please. Miz Lilith, we mustn't. They're waiting downstairs; let's not spoil it now, hmm?"
"Uh-huh. Just give me a little good-night kiss first. Oooh, that's beautiful. I could start all over again. Or meet you later on tonight maybe. Except for my husband, damn his hide. Shit! I see what you mean about separate rooms."
Nine
It wasn't a date exactly, but Bruce could already feel that peculiar brand of guilty excitement stirring inside himself. He had checked her room and found it empty. The rest of the house was dark, which meant that Myra was bound to be asleep at this late hour. Lilith had finally dropped off, too, the sound of her measured breathing was a sure sign of slumber. All in all, a golden opportunity for a little outdoor romp, a nocturnal prowl for an adventurous young husband with a touch of insomnia. Such a warm night. . .
She was out there, no doubt-athletic Annecke, a moonlight swim enthusiast-alone on the beach. Why not go keep her company? He hadn't had any of that kind of company for quite a while now, not since their one get-together for old times' sake. Mmm, yes, he was about due for a bit of fun. And as for the guilt, well, in this day and age-especially in this sophisticated segment of society-straying husbands were the rule rather than the exception. If a man couldn't get what he wanted from his own wife, then he had to seek elsewhere, didn't he?
Suddenly impatient, Bruce drew on a pair of trunks and hesitated only for one last check of his sleeping wife. If his conscience troubled him, it wasn't enough to overbalance the tingle of anticipation spreading through his body. The prospect of being alone with Annecke was too much to resist. He only hoped she wouldn't consider it an intrusion on her privacy. That was a distinct possibility in these present circumstances-she wasn't a Fabian employee any more, nor could he afford to soften her up with gifts like in the old days, small but never shoddy tokens of his grateful affection. If anything, in spite of their unequal status in the household guest and hired help-the shoe seemed to be on the other foot now. As the housekeeper here, she had a perfect right to spurn his advances, a right subject only to her own will or whim, no matter how capricious. Which left him no alternative but to play their secret game on her terms, insuring himself against rejection only by putting her pleasure above his own. Scary, to say the least! All the more so, considering how deeply he was already affected by her domineering personality; who could tell what perilous shadows lurked in that fiendishly inventive brain of hers?
Shuddering, Bruce wound his way down to the beach, stopping abruptly and catching his breath at the vision that was already overwhelming his vague fears with sharply etched fascination. Annecke was just coming out of the water. Naked. Naked and glistening in the pale light of the moon overhead. She looked so strong. So powerful. And beautiful, too. A strange kind of beauty, perhaps, but one that he appreciated. Although what he felt at the moment was far more than mere appreciation. There was a sudden limpness in his flesh, a weakness brought on by erotic desire.
Oh sure, he knew his reaction was less than normal, it should have been just the opposite. Hard and masculine, that was the accepted standard. A man responding to the sight of a beautiful nude woman. Only he just couldn't feel like that. Nor did he really want to.
So what did that make him? A pervert? It was an ugly name, but he could find no ugliness in this enveloping sensation of need. There was only the urgency, the delicious urgency. Just for a little while, wouldn't it be all right to put manliness aside and let that hidden quirk of his come to the surface? Of course it would. Hadn't he promised himself a bit of fun?
"Hey there! Annecke. . ." "Oh, it's you."
"Uh-huh. Me and my insomnia. Couldn't you fall asleep either?"
"No. Just not very sleepy." She shook her wet hair, making no attempt to cover her nakedness. "The water is great. Are you going to take a swim?"
"In a while, maybe. But that's not what I came for. Annecke, I came to see you."
She chuckled. "Well, you're sure seeing me. All of me." In a gesture that bordered on insolence almost, she raised her arms and stretched lazily. "Take a good look while you're at it." The posture threw her breasts into bold relief. Round and firm, they jutted toward him, too tempting to ignore.
He reached eagerly. "Beautiful. . ." "No! Mustn't touch. What if your wife sees you? What if she's peeking out the window at us?" "Lilith is fast asleep." "Oh. So you came to see Annecke?" "Uh-huh. You know why."
"Let me guess. You want to be my little girl again. Didn't take much guesswork, did it?"
"Please . . . don't tease me. . ."
"But you're a man, how can you be a girl? Dainty little girls are shy and obedient. Are you willing to obey orders, Bruce?"
"Yes. From you. Anything."
"Come then, we'll go for a walk."
"A walk?"
"Along the beach. So that I can get dried off. And let's move away from the house, hmm? Just in case."
His heart leaped. Dutifully he fell into step beside her as they traveled along the water's edge. Almost without conscious effort, his body began to sway effeminately.
"Speaking of the house. Bruce darling, I've been giving some thought to a certain idea lately. . ." "About the house?"
"Uh-huh. That great big beach house, with so few people rattling around in it. I think you and your wife should each have a room of your own. It would make the place feel more lived in, for one thing. And for another, well. . ."
"Annecke? We're on our honeymoon. It wouldn't
"Some honeymoon. You're here with me, aren't you?"
"Oh. I know. But it's still-"
"Don't get panicky, baby. Tm not forcing you. But I still like the idea of you two living in separate rooms. We'd all be happier in the long run, I'll bet."
"Maybe. My mind is just too hazy now, though, do we have to keep on talking about it? Haven't we walked far enough?"
"Tsk, tsk, such impatience." Her fingers toyed with the back of his neck. "Your hair is getting longer."
"I know. I'd better cut it."
"No. Let it grow. It's the style."
"Kind of a silly style, if you ask me. Okay for electric guitar players and such, but not very-"
"Okay for girls, too. You'll look pretty. Hmm. You look pretty right now! I must admit."
"Really? With my hair like this? I-I guess maybe you're right about letting it grow, then. I won't cut it."
"That's my girl. My pretty, pretty girl. Come and give me a kiss, pretty girl."
In a standing embrace, they kissed sensuously. Bruce felt his mouth being ravaged-taken over and possessed with an uncanny knowingness that rendered him helpless, immersed in a drugged suspension. He melted and almost swooned, giving way to the happy suffocation of his senses. That huge tongue was so ruthless, so exciting!
Then-brusquely-she grabbed his hair, ending the kiss with a savage snarl, and shoved him down upon his knees. He looked up at her towering over him, sleek and voluptuous, in her element now, a tawny tigress exulting in her absolute domination. Even the blonde fur of her cunt seemed to be exuding a delicately pungent animal odor that penetrated his twitching nostrils; hot and humid, its scent reeked of the uncivilized jungle. Dazed, he remained there in motionless obedience, not quite understanding and yet terribly conscious of the weird joy seeping through him. And when she pushed that golden pelt into his nose, he no longer cared about understanding.
"Ah . . . yesss . . . my pretty girl. . ."
Her thighs were smooth pillars, the skin and hair still damp and tangy from the spindrift and salt of the sea. Head atilt, he licked and sucked avidly, wallowing in the slippery wet softness that enclosed his face, lost in the splendor of the pulsating gash between those hairy lips. Not too lost to recognize his own duty though, and he used his tongue with all possible skill to please her, to pleasure this superior creature, aware only of his need to give and give and give. . .
"Good. Good girl."
"Mmm?"
"Do it. Yes, like that. Love my cunt." "Mmm.
"Oh yes, you're my girl now. My pretty girl. You really belong to me. Isn't that right, darling? You do belong to me." '
"Ummm. I belong to you."
"Show me, show me, show me how much." Her body began to turn slowly, dislodging his face from its nest. "No, don't stop. Keep kissing me. Let me feel your tongue."
His lips moved across the satiny skin, kissing whatever she put before him. And still she went on turning, turning, presenting him with new areas to worship. Now she was facing away, offering him only her back. His mouth was gliding over her buttocks and she was bending and jutting herself. . . No!
He couldn't. He just couldn't do it. What she wanted was obvious now, but never in his life had he done anything like that. It was too dirty, too degrading, too much for his reeling mind to tolerate; how could he live with himself afterward?
"Well?" Her voice rang out harshly. "Don't quit, baby. What are you waiting for?'
"I-I can't."
"Is that so? You can do anything I tell you to do. And I'm telling you now. Kiss my ass! Deep!"
"N-no. Please. I won't do it."
She whirled around. Her hands shot out and clutched his arm, yanking as her knee drove between his legs, every movement executed with lightning swiftness. All of a sudden he was off balance and falling, hitting the sand and sprawling face-down in agony as her balled fist slammed at the nape of his neck. His legs were pulled apart abruptly and then he felt the sharp thrust, the penetration that his body had almost come to expect. Only it hurt now. Her fingers had never hurt him like this before. . .
Her fingers?
But she was still standing. Even with his head in the sand, he could tell she was erect, upright, too high above him to be digging in like that. It had to be her foot then, no wonder it hurt so much! He groaned and writhed as the big toe imbedded itself with increasing violence. The pain was unbearable. Her foot was tearing him apart and plunging into his flesh with the relentless impact of a pile-driver.
"Annecke!" "Want me to stop?" "Yes. Stop. Please. . ." ' "Beg me."
"Please stop. It hurts so bad! I'll do it. Anything you tell me to. I'll kiss you there. But please-" "You'll lick my ass?"
"I-I said I would. I'll lick your ass, I'll kiss it deep."
"You'll let your hair grow real long? You'll be a girl, you'll be my pretty girl in front of everybody if I say so?"
"Oh. . ." The prod of her foot brought a screech to his lips; he squirmed deeper into the sand in a desperate but pitifully vain effort to ease the burden. "I'll let it grow, I'll be your girl, I'll do whatever
"Okay. Now listen. I'm tired of your having to sneak out to see me. I want you available, you hear? Available whenever I have need of you. Remember what I said about separate rooms? That's how it's going to be, baby. Don't worry, I'll think of some way for you to mention the idea and make it right with your wife. But I want you in a room of your own -and damn soon! You get the message?"
"Yesss. I'll tell her. I'll arrange it. Anything. . ."
Miraculously, the burden was gone, leaving only the grievous but mercifully fading vestiges of inflammation. Annecke stepped away from his contorted body. But only for a moment. Then she bent quickly and rolled him over on his back.
Above him he could see the twinkling stars. But his ordeal wasn't over, the view of precious freedom was blocked out by the slowly squatting form coming down. Upon his face. The great bulk of flesh, shutting out the surrounding world. The cleft buttocks crushing his cheekbones. . .
"Do my asshole. Gimme your tongue!"
It was awful. But he did what he had to do. Who would dare disobey this giantess? She was too strong, too powerful; only by total capitulation could he hope to preserve his life. If he didn't open his mouth, she would beat him. If he didn't give her his tongue, she might get angry enough to tear it out by the roots. And besides, it was really quite important to him that she feel pleasure. Serving her seemed right and natural somehow, a part of him that she had awakened and nurtured to the point where even the degradation itself was almost welcome. So he had to, of course, he had to stick out his tongue and lick her asshole. Of course! What else could a weak and helpless little girl do?
Ten
Languorously prone on the bed, the naked little body looked delectable, so young and curvy and ultra-feminine with its soft skin rosily aglow and all that silky red hair spread out above. Truly a beautiful sight, almost too delicately perfect to disturb, like some perishable work of art, perhaps-and Annecke stood there entranced, aware of her own erratic breathing. There was a hammering in her temples, a mounting throb of anticipation. Her fingertips tingled, impatient and yet hesitant, reluctant to break the enchantment as she feasted only her eyes instead, gazing down at the luscious vision. At the flawlessly smooth flesh. The dimpled buttocks. The creamy-cool thighs that remained completely motionless and still managed to convey a kind of sultry invitation. . .
"Well?" A whine, peevish, almost insolent, "Are you going to stand there like that all night?"
The spell was shattered. Scowling grimly, Annecke kept a lid on her temper and made another mental notation on her scorecard. One more black mark to await the day of reckoning. And they were adding up, too, a long string of such grievances-the high-spirited little hussy was becoming downright disrespectful these days. Putting on airs like a princess! But her beauty was still paramount, still a prime source of excitement; the novelty alone was enough to forestall any immediate retaliation. Enough to postpone the settling of accounts, anyway. Especially in this new situation, so rife with all manner and mode of amusing possibilities. Separate rooms. Absentee hostess. And a young wife worried about keeping her figure-daily massages now, how about that? No, this was hardly the time to upset the applecart.
"Uh, we're almost out of lotion, Miz Lilith."
"So what? Who needs lotion? That's just for sun-bum, isn't it? Oh shit, you figure it out, you're the masseuse, not me. Do whatever you think best, I'm just a body to work on. Only go ahead and work on it, will you?"
"Okay. I'll use powder. Baby powder for my beautiful little baby. There now, how does that feel?"
"Delish. I'm not a baby, though, so don't be afraid to put on some pressure."
"I'm working up to it." Annecke concentrated on the fleshy spinal area, spreading her fingers wide to reach and cover the most territory. "Usually you're complaining that I'm too rough."
"Ahhh. . ." The flesh turned into a mass of purring contentment. But only for a moment. "That was only because of the sunburn, what else? Silly. This is different. What sort of massage did you used to give Myra? I'll bet you weren't so gentle with her."
"You mustn't ask me questions like that, ma'm. A good masseuse never tells one client about another, you know?"
"Glad to hear it. My secrets are safe then, huh?" Then, giggling coyly, "We do have some secrets between us, don't we?"
"Just small ones."
"Oh? That sounds as if I'm missing something; don't I rate a big secret, too? I sure hope so. And now that I've got this room to myself and Bruce won't come butting in, well. . ."
"We'll see. Patience, patience. It's just curiosity anyway, isn't that so? You don't like being left out."
"Okay, so I'm curious, I'll admit that. Hey, how much time are we going to have together? When is Myra due back?"
"Hard to say. She left in such a hurry. We'll know better after her grandchild is born. I'm sure she'll phone and tell us the news."
"Could be weeks maybe, huh? Even all summer."
"I doubt it. But why are you so worried about Myra? She's no obstacle, it's all in your mind. Hmm. Miz Lilith, you must be developing a complex."
"Complex. Hah! That's all I need. What are you, some kind of headshrinker or something?"
Annecke chuckled. "Headshrinker. . ." She raised her hand and smacked the jiggling bottom smartly. "I'm a fanny shrinker. Not that there's much to shrink on this one. Still and all, an ounce of prevention. . ."
"Shrink it, shrink it. But don't ask me to exercise like you do, I'm just not the athletic type."
"At your service, little lady. If there's an extra ounce of beef anywhere, I'll pound it right off, rub-a-dub-dub."
"Pound away." Lilith peered back over her shoulder. "You'd do it better if you were more comfortable, though-how can you even move in that stiff dress? You're sweating already. Why don't you take the darn thing off?"
"Oh. You think I should? I don't have a slip on underneath, just panties and bra."
"That's more than I've got on. I can't understand why you're wearing a uniform in the first place, not when your boss isn't around. You don't have to, as far as I'm concerned. It's so ugly, really-fits you like a potato sack. I'd rather you didn't wear it at all, you know? You look much nicer in shorts."
Already half out of the drab dress, Annecke became conscious of the angled head and the blue eyes following her every movement. Instead of tossing it aside, she ambled over to a chair at the far corner of the room, putting on a show with the sway of her hips and broadly exaggerated undulation of panty-clad buttocks. She folded the garment and set it down carefully, turning a simple act into an erotic tableau, a series of slow and sensually oriented body poses. Finished, she swung around just in time to see the inquisitive young face drop back down again, mute but unmistakable assurance that her performance hadn't been wasted.
At bedside once more, she resumed her task with renewed vigor, less gentle now as her palms bore down on the sweeping up-slopes that curved outward from a schoolgirl-slim waist to the dimpled contour of a voluptuously padded rump. The flesh quivered and yielded too easily to the mold of her hands, provoking her to an even more forthright attack upon the offending bulges. Until the expended force, professional as it was, seemed to become an outlet for her own inner tensions . . . whomp . . . whomp . . . whomp. . .
"Hey, take it easy!" The whine again, plus a snide touch of sarcasm, "What are you doing back there, hitting me with karate chops? Never mind the black-belt routine, you're giving me a black-and blue ass."
"Oh. Sorry."
"You don't know your own strength."
Annecke shrugged and continued her chore. She knew her own strength, all right, it was just getting hard to control. Oh, if she could really do it right this minute, beat that bare ass black and blue--pummel it, pinch it, hurt it!-just to teach the brat a little respect. The urge was unbearable. But no, it would serve no purpose at this point, she would have to pass up that particular pleasure. Hmm. Pleasure? Teach her respect? Wasn't that how the fun with Myra got started? The similarity might not be any more than skin-deep, but it was sure something to think about.
Not now, though. Time to get to the heart of the matter. "Uh, you wanna roll over, Miz Lilith?" "Mmm. Oh boy, do I ever!" "Huh?"
"You know., I'm horny again. Hot and horny. Okay, say it-so what else is new?" "Yeah. Over you go. . ."
With only a small boost, the obviously aroused body scrambled belly-up, displaying a fine fluff of red to highlight the expanse of pink and cream; Along with two slightly darker circles for added accent, restless nipples coming alive in a bid for attention, cherry-tipped tits swollen with the sweet juices of sex, all but bursting in anticipation. Annecke found it all quite charming and would have gladly dallied longer, massaging or otherwise, but the call for her services came loud and clear and in no uncertain terms-no pouty-mouthed petulance this time, just the authoritative demand of a redheaded little dictator in heat: "Suck my cunt!"
It seemed like a pretty good idea anyway, self-centered but good, and Annecke was pleased to forego the customary preliminaries and get right down to business. To the heart of the matter, as it were. Cunt. In all its glory. And this one was girl-fresh and succulent and scented only with the natural essence of need; what more could she ask for?
Swiftly, but with a certain sophisticated skill, she slid her open mouth down over the domed belly. For an instant of sweet suspense, she lingered in the pubescent fringe playfully, nipping and tugging at the hairs with her teeth. Then, as the strident hiss of impatience sounded from above, she burrowed through the silken tuft and ducked low to come up between the eagerly parted thighs.
Dewy lips twitched and seemed to purse instinctively for her kiss, a coquettish pucker of moist pink cunt-lips, pursing and then opening to adjust to the pressure of her face. Like a pretty flower unfurling its petals. Only it was all slippery inside once she got past the entrance, all hot and wet and sexy, not like a flower any more, not like anything but itself, cunt, fresh young cunt. . .
"Oooh, your big tongue! You suck so good."
"Umm, love it. Love your little cunt."
"I'll bet you do. It's kind of cute, huh? You're so big and I'm so little, isn't it nice the way we fit together? You can go on sucking my cute little cunt all summer, too. I'll let you. After every massage, you know?"
Even the bossy attitude was tainted by a whining tone. Annecke growled deep in her throat, suppressing her exasperation and striving mightily to give pleasure, the kind of pleasure that would bind this precocious brat close and thus make the eventual day of reckoning all the more delightful. Oh, there was pleasure in it for herself too, naturally. But not enough. She wanted to tighten her grip on this tender body. To slap and spank. To hurt. To reach up and pinch those soft creamy tits. To maul and mash this high-and-mighty little minx to a submissive pulp. And how simple it would be, how easy to crush the life out of this fragile bit of fluff and femininity with just one lusty hug. . .
"Oooh!"
"Hmm?"
"Your mouth, your mouth, suck me, suck meeee. . ."
And then the kid erupted and Annecke gulped and gobbled and gulped some more as her head went into a spin-and it really wasn't so awful to be stuck here in this swirl of saucy sensuality, really not bad at all. Except that even now she was hard put to keep from biting down and sinking her sharp fangs into that delectably fleshy softness until the pain brought enough genuine squeals and screeches to drown out every phony whine. Bite. Now. If she only could! Oh yes, it was sure something to think about.
Eleven
Childish as it might have been, Lilith couldn't see any reason to end this little moment of fun. Alone in her room, naked in front of the nice big mirror, she played games with herself and relieved some of the tension, the too-familiar feeling of impatience. There was time yet-creating the need for such solitary divertissement-too much time before her playmate would get here. If the term "playmate" could be applied to someone with such serious professional qualifications. . .
Lilith winked at her image, allowing the insidious smile to become a girlish giggle and then fade to a coyly demure blush; was she turning into some kind of sex-nut? Her arms curved in a self-embrace, crossing each other to glide sensuously around her shoulders, adding a tactile enjoyment to the all-important visual. Only it was more artistic than sexy, more mental than physical, an appreciation of her own beauty that gave her a sense of confidence, a reassurance. And where else could she find that but right here in the mirror?
Her hands were sliding downward now, the palms forming nests to cup breasts-partially at least, what with the relative sizes of her dainty hands and rather spectacular bosom. Oh shit, what girl wouldn't consider herself lucky to have tits like those? No wonder it was a thrill just to look at them, to see her creamy perfection in duplicate, all of her, a perfect face and figure-to see and touch and love, ah yes, only with matching beauty could matchless beauty achieve true fulfillment!
The crossed arms unfolded. Lewdly, teasingly, one hand began moving again; she watched, fascinated, as it traveled over her tummy to dabble flirtatiously among the tangled tendrils of hair. And then a venturesome finger discovered a sanctuary all its own and sank out of sight. She gasped and let her eyelids droop, content momentarily to forget the rest and concentrate on this one surprisingly deep-rooted sensation. There was no denying it now, this time she sure felt sexy, too sexy for an unassisted finger to cope with-help was already on the way. Uh-huh. Those wriggling fingertip's were pretty busy down there. Clever, too. They knew how. Oooh, they were getting wet; could she be oozing that much?
This was silly, though, just schoolgirl nonsense now-except that she was so darn sexy. But what the hell, wasn't she always sexy these days? Sexy and beautiful, no more need to reassure herself on that score. Nor did she need those professional massages either, one peek in the glass was enough to ease her mind. Although she must have known that already, of course, there was a less decorous but far more delightful reason for Annecke's visits. . .
Annecke!
With an effort, Lilith ended her solo game and regained some semblance of composure. Luckily there was still time yet, time to prepare for her serious-type playmate, time for a quick wash and a lot of primping. Her hands were still shaky, slowing down the makeup process, but eventually the finished product seemed well worth the struggle. Eye shadow and mascara and dewy coral lipstick started out as seductive and wound up almost whorish. And preserving that same theme, she put on her bawdiest negligee, the red one, dispensing with undergarments to give the gauzy see-through fabric plenty of chance. In motion, it looked like nothing more than a come-hither veil over nudity, a veil light enough to be whisked away by the next breeze.
Once again, from the depths behind the gleaming surface of the mirror her other self smiled back. She shook her hair loose, letting it tumble tousled over her shoulders in a cascade of flame. Posing, she examined herself thoroughly, rotating slowly, twisting her head to maintain the view, trying to be critical but unable to quell a definite flutter of pride. Absorbed in this rapt contemplation of her physical assets and the search-in vain!-for any possibilities, she did not hear the bedroom door swing open. Not until the sound of a sharp intake of breath penetrated did she realize that another pair of eyes was equally interested in making an evaluation of her body.
Embarrassed, she snapped alert and whirled around, feeling her face grow hot. But there was no cause for embarrassment. The eyes, dark and intense, flashed sincere and total approval. So strange, really! It was almost as if her naked flesh hadn't been displayed and surveyed and massaged all those times. As if the thin negligee and the thick makeup had worked some mystical charm. She could even sense it in the atmosphere, in the cozy boudoir redolent of perfumed female passion mixed with the tangy salt of the sea.
"Annecke. I-I didn't hear you come in."
"The door was open."
"Oh. Did you lock it?"
"Uh-huh. Don't move. Just let me look at you."
Lilith sighed happily. A delicate thrill coursed through her. It was so nice to be admired, to know that someone besides herself truly appreciated her beauty. The adoration in those eyes had an intoxicating effect, more than adequate payment for the fuss she had gone through. And just as reassuring as the mirror game, too-plus the extra dividend of suspense, the excitement of knowing that this wasn't a game. Or if it was, well, wasn't that kind of exciting, too? A game with no rules? Winner take all!
"Hey, you're staring. Or are you still just looking? Oh, go ahead and stare, it's okay. I'm a slut tonight. I do look like a horny little whore, don't I?"
"Umm ... a scarlet harlot. . ."
"Scarlet harlot. Yeah. I like that." With a trailing flourish of her negligee, Lilith giggled and glided to the bed, sinking back upon a mound of pillows. "I do wish you'd sit down though. Unless you're in a hurry to start pounding my flabby bottom. Uh, why don't you come park right here? Plenty of room."
"This'll do. I'd better not get too comfortable."
Lilith shrugged, a faint frown darkening her features as the big woman chose a somewhat distant straight-backed chair, almost a rude refusal of her invitation. Then the frown vanished suddenly, becoming an expression of pleased surprise; oh no, it hadn't been a deliberate rebuff, the poor creature was just nervous. The way she was sitting there so primly. Those long legs together like that, head up, shoulders back, spine slightly arched-just as prim and proper as a self-conscious virgin. Except that she wasn't dressed like one. Or undressed, rather. Which was the reason for her nervousness, no doubt -that thing she had on, was it some sort of tunic? A short robe? It might have been a Chinese coolie coat, but with a knotted sash around the waist. Anyway, it was cut pretty darn short, a fact which became quite noticeable in that seated position, those long bare legs disappearing beneath the hemline scarcely inches away from her crotch.
Hmm. Just how bare were they, those legs? There just didn't seem to be much room for panties under that high hem; even the briefest of briefs would have flashed a visible edge. Lilith saw no such sign though, even straining a little to satisfy her curiosity. Then, with restored confidence, she went into her seduction act, the quickest and surest way to curtail this awkwardly remote stage. With a slow movement of both hands, she parted the folds of her negligee and laid them aside, calling attention to her own lack of lingerie. The garment still covered her shoulders, but that was all. And then even that was too much, it had served its purpose and was no longer needed; a twist, a wriggle, a giggling sigh--and a swish of filmy scarlet billowed free and floated to the floor. Leaving behind only nudity. Fragrantly scented and meticulously groomed nudity that she had spent so much time on just for the occasion. . . "Miz Lilith? You getting anxious?" "Come on, will you? Come on!" "Yeah. I'm just as anxious as you are. Well, almost."
It was hardly the moment to quibble over such niceties, not with the smiling lesbian already up out of her chair. Lilith giggled and closed her eyes, shutting off the view of those shiny lips and wondering where they would, land first. Her nipples throbbed hopefully. But so did the emptiness between her thighs. Oh shit, it didn't matter-tits, cunt, anywhere-just skip the massage, kisses were more important at that point. And lying face-up like this, so ready, so vulnerable, so irresistible a temptation; how could anyone mistake the message of her provocatively postured body?
Somehow, impossible as it seemed, the message never got through, turning Lilith's hope to exasperation as the huge hands touched her instead, obviously doing their professional duty. Her annoyance was only momentary, though, and she soon relaxed blissfully under the care of those marvelously capable fingers. Especially since no attempt was made to roll her over, nary a hint at rolling her belly-down for the convenience of the masseuse. So the massage was already sexy to begin with, nothing to complain about. Besides, now she could take time to confirm her judgment concerning the panties-or omission of same!-underneath that skimpy robe. A close-up scrutiny perhaps-and without any strain, either.
She peered up in that direction furtively, through half-lidded eyes, watching for the overlapped hem to loosen" and flap open in front. But the waist-sash held it in place, too tight even for a glimpse of what lay inside; how frustrating! Fascinating too, though, those clearly defined bare limbs ending in mystery like that, a sight that stirred her almost more than she cared to admit. Until at last the urge grew to monstrous proportions, uncontrollable, and she reached out to brush her hand against a rippling thigh. She left it there, spuriously casual, bolstering her courage before starting the intimate upward glide. Again the fascination took over, poignant enough to hold her transfixed by the visual impact alone, her dainty little white hand on that tawny skin. Quite a contrast!
But the mystery still beckoned, drawing her into the search once more; bravely now, she took a caressing handful of inner thigh-flesh just short of the hemline. She waited for a reaction breathlessly and then moved even higher, meeting with no opposition at all as the strong legs inched apart. Until her fingers crept the final distance and disappeared beneath the fabric. Where her judgment was immediately corroborated, of course-no panties!-a foregone conclusion by that time, despite the lingering aura of mystery. It was a mystery that she no longer cared-or dared?-to explore, though, a bit disconcerted by her own unexpected but undeniable sense of involvement. Better to stick to the passive role and remain uncommitted; who could tell what even a little "butchy" fingerfucking might lead to? Once begun, that sort of thing could become a habit.
She lowered her hand slowly, resolute but still almost reluctant to cede all that gained ground and pull out of the surprisingly soft cunt-hair, leaving so much intriguing womanly warmth unexplored. Midway in the descent, she paused and glanced up to ogle the picture one last time, savoring the colorful contrast again and all but enshrining it in her memory-the tiny coral-tipped fingers against those restless thighs, the muscular ebb and flow of tawny-textured flesh awakening to the magic of her delicate touch. Something to preserve and cherish among her reminiscences of this lesbian summer, a keepsake, a souvenir of her strange honeymoon. . .
"Hey! Miz Lilith? You teasing me?"
"I-I guess so. Is that bad?"
"Hmph."
"You don't enjoy being teased? Lots of people do. I used to have a boyfriend who-"
"Never mind. You've got a husband now, you shouldn't be talking about your old boyfriends."
"Aw shit, don't go moral on me. Not you, Annecke. Anything but that, please. And if you must know, I really had no intentions of teasing just then, I was merely curious about what you were wearing under that robe."
"Oh. You found out, huh?"
"I'll say. You're bare-assed, just like me. But now that you've told me how you feel about getting teased. . ." Abruptly impetuous, Lilith slid her hand back up and out of sight again, boldly this time, fluttering her fingertips in the hairy bush. She leered mischievously, noting each successive clue to the stunned acceptance of her assault, the drooping eyelids, the fitful breathing, the agitated rise and fall of the flat belly. "Well, what did you expect? No sense blowing up about it, either, you'll only be trying all the harder to kiss and make up afterward. If I decide to let you." Then, giggling, "See? You do like it. A little teasing isn't so bad. At least not until it stops. But what happened to my massage, what are you quitting for? You were doing my tits, remember? Do 'em good and I'll give you a taste of my cunt-candy, okay?" "Okay."
"But you've had enough of this for now; it's interfering with your concentration. You'll have to do without-"
"No!"
"Sorry, no more." Lilith ended the caress with a kind of perverse pleasure, dropping her arm down to her side. "You're nice and hot now, just right for my hot little cunt. Come on. Suck me off. You want my cunt, don't you, my cute little cunt? It's waiting for you, all hot and horny. . ."
"You-you teaser!"
"Aw, what's a little teasing between friends? And you'd better not get mad or-"
"Let's see how you like it! A little teasing between friends, you said. Yeah. Kiss and make up, you said. Yeah." Annecke leaned down over the bed, her expression half-angry and half-amorous. "Only we'll do it my way, just this once."
One hand went on massaging as the other seized Lilith by the hair, positioning and holding her head forcibly. Not that much force was required by then, the sudden flare-up of temper had already turned her limp with fear. She sensed something new and different about to happen-their first real kiss?-and could only succumb to the inevitable with the docile good grace of an overawed child hoping to avoid punishment. Even the suspense had her in its grip, the dreamlike void left by her apparent loss of authority. Looming above her, scant inches away, the glittering dark eyes were putting her into a near-hypnotic state. While down below, remotely, a faraway finger began its rhythmic probing. Her face was moistened by a puff of sweetly humid breath, the forerunner of a kiss in the making, a kiss-bud about to blossom on erotically parted lips. And then she could only whimper and accede meekly to the demands of the tongue invading her mouth, the big thick tongue that probed hot and slow and unremitting-like that finger down there. . .
"Yeah. So now we've kissed and made up. Friends again. Nobody's mad at anybody, right?"
"Kiss me some more."
"Sure. When I'm damn good and ready."
"Huh?"
"You heard. But don't worry, you'll be fine, just fine. After all, what's a little teasing between friends?"
The massage began anew. Lilith groaned, aware now that neither the tongue nor the finger would be hers simply for the asking. And she already missed them both. Still, those hands on her tits weren't so bad-the nipples were getting pretty steamed up and swollen under the kneading palms. Her excitement was plainly visible, an unmistakable sign of need that must have inspired pity; anyway, she soon felt the long fingers stroking her thighs and fooling around in the damp tangle of hair. Not going very deep though, just skimming lightly and darting inside the cunt-lips every so often.
It became almost unbearable after a while, a pitiless sort of pity, and she thrashed about in mounting frustration, her body churning with desperate desire. She arched upward toward the touch, falling back weakly only when her effort failed. After that, she tried to lock her flailing legs around that elusive source of pleasure, struggling to pull just a bit of hardness into the soft depths. But she struggled in vain, her legs locking repeatedly on empty air.
Then, vaguely, she recognized a change in the massage technique, a rather frightening development. Pain? Exactly when it started, she had no way of knowing-it just seemed to sneak up on her, a harsher type of treatment than in any previous rubdown. Not bad enough to gripe about, though, and she submitted in silence, almost welcoming it as a diversion from the more incisive torment of her unassuaged emptiness. The big hands weren't exactly smacking her, just coming down more heavily and increasing the over-all force with a clutching tenacity of widespread fingers. Rolling her about now, too, turning her from side to side to get at her buttocks. But then those shiny lips moved in once again and she nearly swooned in ecstasy as they dropped down to nibble upon her nipples. Wet lips, wet tongue. Oh, that wonderful wet tongue!
"Pretty titties. Too pretty to tease. I could just chew 'em right up. Ummm. . ."
Lilith went tense. That too had changed all of a sudden, adding to her apprehensive alarm-the sucking mouth wasn't so pleasant now; everything seemed to be getting rougher by the minute. Teeth biting, fingers pinching, not very pleasant at all. She uttered a sob as knife-edged pressures lacerated flesh that was already much too sensitive.
"P-please . . . don't hurt me. please?"
The lips turned artful, softening and soothing the sore spot in a deliciously tantalizing manner. Still, she almost wished she hadn't spoken so plaintively; after all, the love-bite was really just another display of affection, wasn't it?
Anticipation stirred afresh as a curved palm glided down her belly and adjusted to the curve of the slope with the ease and expertise of long-time lesbian experience. Oh yes, this big blonde , lover-woman sure knew how! No more complaints then, no more criticism, no more peevish whining over a little pain. Even that-the pain itself-was kind of exciting, oddly enough. Or was she just catching the infection of Annecke's obvious excitement?
Uh-huh. And no wonder! Up till now she hadn't realized how much the big babe was enjoying this. It was only too apparent, though, the degree of aggressive sexual fervor had grown by leaps and bounds, a degree of excitement unprecedented in their relationship. Was a little violence on bare flesh that much of a kick? So it appeared. A sexy kick. How strange! But interesting, too, and if the effect was so great, well, maybe it ought to be investigated further. Especially since it was affecting both of them now, jumping the gap from one to the other like a crackling current of electricity.
The hand on her belly went beyond its hopefully hot destination, skipping the needy void and running down her thighs. It started back up again on the inner surfaces, coming to a halt and squeezing the tender place just below her craving cunt. The fingers dug in fiercely, competing with the pain of her disappointment, the anguish of her unfulfilled need-and yet, miraculously, she was still under the spell of that unparalleled and highly infectious excitement; oh shit, she could almost hear the current crackle!
Okay, why not play along then, why not try to share her lover's enjoyment to the utmost? Or make believe, at least-yes, that was the idea, make believe she too was in on the thrill. Anything to keep the big butch that passionate. Even if she had to go on telling herself how much fun it was.
"Oooh! You've got me so hot."
"So?"
"Won't you do something about it?"
"I might. What, for instance?"
"You know. Something. Anything. . ." Lilith's middle heaved spasmodically, the central core of her flesh seeking relief from the torture. "Please. Finger-fuck me. Eat me. Suck my cunt. I'm dying for that terrific tongue of yours."
"How about this?" The roving hand moved up a notch, then took an exquisitely intimate dip. "This?"
"Oooh . . . yesss. . ."
The intimacy was brief, though. "Nope. Too soon for that. I haven't done your backside yet. Not really. Roll over, hmm? Gotta take care of that cute fanny-right, little lady?"
Something else needed taking care of more desperately, but Lilith was in no position to argue. Obedient to the peremptory nudges, she spiraled over and buried her face in her arms, finding a certain unexpected pleasure in the abrasive contact of her sore-swollen nipples against the bedsheet. But then the business of the massage was resumed with great vigor and she had to clench her jaws to stifle a cry.
The pounding became hot and heavy, potent enough to turn her poor ass pink back there, she was sure-only who could look at a time like this? It was all she could do to keep from weeping and wailing aloud. And yet she let it continue without a word of reproach, still determined to be a good sport.
Funny. Her flesh smarted like crazy. This was far more than she had bargained for, almost as bad as a beating meted out strictly for punishment. And yet, somehow, it remained within the limits of her tolerance. Either that or she was stretching the limits herself proportionately, no doubt, keeping abreast of all that passion being vented upon her down there. Anyway, there was no thought of crying quits. Nor was there any noticeable decrease in the contagious excitement, for that matter-if anything, the tide was in the opposite direction, still on the rise. Her buttocks sure were! On the rise: It hardly seemed possible, but she could feel her butt quivering and squirming and actually lurching upward into the ponderous pressure, meeting it more than halfway. Was she still making believe? Or was this feeling of delirium really real. . .
"Showing a little reaction, doll baby? Beginning to like it maybe? Not hurting you too much, I hope."
"N-no . . . I'm okay . . . except for. . ."
"Yeah? Except for what?"
"You know. My cunt. Please? My cunt. . ."
She hated to have to beg like this, it was so demeaning. But if it could get results and fill that awful vacuum in the pit of her belly, what the hell, why draw the line? The words were still mumbling out of her, over and over, "my cunt . . . please . . . my cunt, my cunt. . ." and the sound was depressing to her own ears, dreary as a broken record and twice as pathetic. Until a chuckle sounded from above, sarcastic perhaps, but deep-throated and sympathetic too, in a way, and she knew something was going to happen, something good, something grand, something she was glad to go begging for. . .
"Your cunt, eh? Cute little cunt. Like this?"
The hand dipped again, moving down between her thighs and then up from underneath in this rolled-over position, taking a different route but arriving at the same crucial destination. Fingers plunged and wriggled and took possession. Lilith moaned rapturously and doubled up into a crouch, pulling both knees under her bent body, already bouncing on the bedsprings and bucking and rearing to the rhythm of volatile caress.
"Cute little cunt. You like?"
"I-I-"
"Want me to stop?" "No . . . please. . ."
Another teasing halt would have killed her. But it didn't come this time, the fingers poked and prodded and probed, slithering around inside her flesh almost with a certain proprietary tenure, long and strong and potent beyond belief. Her knees spread, inching apart in instinctive response, opening her up wide to every thrilling nuance of the crude onslaught. She could feel the rapacious hand making a captive out of her.
The chuckle sounded again. A crazed scream burst from Lilith's lips as the captivity became final. And she knew at last-at the height of this paroxysm of joy-that she must have given up making believe a long time ago. The scream burbled and then faded to a wail of pure pleasure. Maybe she hadn't even made believe in the first place. The slippery fingers melted away, but they had done their job well enough to replenish the aching void. Anyway, make-believe or not, the idea had worked out beautifully-there was no pain left, none at all. Only a languid warmth. Ah yes, the hand had taken its toll; and wasn't it simply delicious? She let her contorted body unfold and settle flat on the bed, shutting her eyes and sinking into sweet oblivion. . .
Twelve
Tired but far from exhausted, Annecke lay in a dreamy half-doze and contemplated the rapid turn of events. Beside her, utterly worn out by the violent massage and even more violent climax, the little redhead slept contentedly, her nude body showing highlights of rosy pink in the lamp glow, mute evidence of just how rapidly matters had progressed. Not sunburned pink any more, oh no, even the sun couldn't keep up with the way things were going. The hand that once soothed the burn was now doing some burning of its own, slapping its hot pink brand on that young and tender hide.
It was tender, sure enough-which only made it a more attractive target, naturally. Poor baby. It would be a while yet before she recognized all the aspects of this sudden turnabout. The poor mixed up kid didn't have the vaguest notion of what she was in for. A lot worse than any sunburn, this hot-off-the-griddle development, a hell of a lot worse! Hmm. Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Well, something like that. Only the fire might be very much to her liking, once she got accustomed to the idea. Hopefully! Otherwise it wouldn't be much fun for anybody, just a long-drawn-out hassle and a mess to clean up afterward. Although that seemed rather doubtful, considering the promise implicit in her reaction tonight.
Anyway, she was in for plenty. Tonight's overheated massage was only the beginning-it would go far beyond that, beyond such obvious ruses, beyond any necessity for subterfuge. Annecke had pretty much made up her mind on that score. The high-and-mighty little lady was due for a tumble, slow but steady, all the way down. To the bottom! At which point the arrogant aristocrat Miz Lilith Fabian was likely to wind up as a slave to her former masseuse and general flunky.
Uh-huh. And the word was well and wisely chosen. Slave! Such a nice ring to it. . .
No hurry, though, such a project was bound to take time. It might be shorter and less complicated just to beat the youngster into submission, true, but the end result would offer only dubious satisfaction then. No, there had to be love involved, a genuine feeling for one another, a romantic attachment strong enough to endure the sinister concept of "slavery" in this modern day and age. All the more so, Annecke figured, now that she was reshuffling her priorities in the light of this newly discovered and no longer dormant facet of her persona, reason indeed to review her sex-oriented aims and ambitions! Because even in the midst of her favorite pleasant pastimes she couldn't quite cut off her own compulsive need, this recent thing that put such a nice new twist on an old perversion. The discovery she had made with a wet towel in her hand and a big fat bare ass to wallop. Hah! Who'd ever dream she would miss the old bitch?
She didn't, really, at least not in the ordinary sense. No, she just missed having someone around already reconciled to the extraordinary sense that Myra had awakened in her. But there was no one like that available here-not yet!-and the dear old butterball was still in faraway Canada, waiting for a grandchild and sharing her daughter's labor pains. Too bad. Oh sure, Bruce might do in a pinch, already cowed and conquered and never out of call; he was hers to do with as she pleased, Annecke knew. But somehow she had no desire to make him her whipping-boy, even on a temporary basis-it just wouldn't be the same as with a girl. Besides, she had other plans for the poor guy, plans that included a certain piece of phony but lewdly lifelike equipment from the collection of their absent hostess. That was what he needed to keep his girlish ass in line, a dildo, not a whip. And that was the cause of his chronic case of the jitters, too, the dildo that he knew about but hadn't yet run into. Uh-huh. Scary enough to make any asshole squirm. . .
So here she was, meanwhile, with only one prospect, one real opponent, one branded but still unbroken slave girl-a prize worth winning, certainly, no matter how much time it took. Luckily there would be no problem about opportunities and such; sleeping in separate rooms had taught both kids a healthy respect for privacy. Although she couldn't help laughing at times, it was such a silly farce they were going through. The husband kept secrets from the wife. The wife had secrets of her own. And they were both undoubtedly aware of each other's transgressions. But they saved face by not discussing it openly. Like a pair of naughty children, actually, naughty but lovable.
Mmmm. Talk about lovable! The red-haired beauty with the blushing bottom had just changed position in her sleep, showing a few decorations in front now. Or battle-scars, perhaps. No tooth marks on either nipple, though, a good sign-evidently she didn't bruise easily. Wouldn't that make every visible bruise all the more precious!
What a thrill it would be! What fun to take the little darling and mold her like a lump of clay! What a kick to gain sweet revenge and undying love and exquisite pleasure all in one smoothly planned and executed operation!
Revenge-oh yes-Annecke still had a score to settle for some of those "spoiled brat" remarks. Love -well, that was a requisite ingredient in any life. Pleasure-her kind of pleasure-ah, but it would be exciting to have someone ever willing to bear pain, someone so young and beautiful, willing to bear pain only because of her own need to inflict it.
So she would mold Lilith and achieve all three. She would be kind enough to make Lilith love her. She would be stern enough to make Lilith accept the pain of punishment-or any pain, for that matter as a normal part of their relationship. And in the end she would have the haughty Miz Lilith Fabian kneeling at her feet-voluntarily-like an abject and worshipful handmaiden before a proud goddess.
There would be small spats and squabbles, no doubt. The redhead was too high-spirited to tame easily. It would take time. And care too, great care, with alternate sessions of indulgence and persecution that would gradually merge and become one and the same. But with no unforeseen obstacles arising, the kid wouldn't have a chance; it was that cut-and-dried.
Eventually, of course, she would look back and realize what had happened to her. But then it would be too later By that time she would be completely enslaved, finding her greatest joy in the pain suffered in service. Of her own free will, the slave would kiss the hands that inflicted the pain. She would kiss the ground that her goddess walked on. She would beg for the privilege of being allowed to serve, to devote herself, to dedicate her life to the divine creature who had taken control of her destiny. . .
Hmm. The Housekeeper? The masseuse? That creature? Annecke grinned wryly, aware Of how far she had let her whimsical fantasy carry her. Only it wasn't all whimsy, really, and she was too deeply committed to drop the idea now. It would probably help if she gave up her servant's role and announced her true status as a wealthy widow woman. But that would be a cop-out, an admitted failure to meet the challenge head-on-aside from taking all the fun out of it and perhaps spoiling a rather delightful summer. Anyway, why bother with such a major decision, why not just go on making the day-by-day minor ones? Like now, for instance. Should she wake the doll-baby up for another small session?
If so, it would have to be with a certain restraint; she had already exceeded her quota of violence for tonight. All that pinching and pounding and biting must have been quite a shock. So if she felt like waking her up now, it could only be done gently the rough moments had to alternate with the sweet ones. If she felt like waking the little monkey up. . . Well, did she?
Maybe it would be good strategy to give out with some of that indulgent treatment tonight. Stir the girl awake, make love to her endearingly-and then let her drift back into dreamland with the happy impression that her great big lover could be solicitously tender as well as demandingly tough? Why not?
Easing down toward the foot of the bed cautiously, Annecke stripped off her wrinkled and somewhat sweaty robe and tossed it aside. Naked now, she moved more swiftly and surely, free "of binding constraint, pausing here and there only to wait for inspiration to tell her where to begin. Until-reflecting the lamplight-the delectably rounded belly-dome caught her eye, the tiny navel all but winking a coy invitation. She stifled a chuckle and bent to greet it affectionately, lingering awhile and then peppering the entire surrounding area with light suck-kisses, enchanted by the soft flower-petal skin. And soon, even in sleep, the kids-lubricated belly started a response of its own, writhing almost rhythmically to the tempo of her licking tongue.
With a deft touch, Annecke positioned the lovely young thighs as she worked her way down between them. Her face sought the opening in a slow but purposeful caress, the wedge of her cheeks cleaving the fluff-fringed cunt-lips. Once inside, she concentrated her effort upon the tiniest of tiny targets, sweeping the flat of her tongue upward to make sure of scraping across the little bud, the partially hooded clitoris. The responsive writhe became more pronounced with every stroke, accompanied now by a twitching and throbbing and gradual fading of sleep.
"Uh. Nnng. Annecke?"
"Mmm."
"What-what are you-"
"Shhh. Relax, darling. I was kind of rough on you earlier, remember? So I'm being extra sweet to make up for it. Do you mind, Miz Lilith? Mind my being sweet to you?"
"Mind? Umm, that's so good. I love it. Oh yes, be sweet to me, lover. So sweet. . ."
"This sweet?"
"Ah! You're wonderful. There's no one like you. No one in the whole wide world. You're so good to me.
"Angel. I like being good to you."
"I-I'm not an angel."
"No?"
"You are. You're the angel, waking me up like this. I don't deserve it. And you shouldn't treat me like one, really, you don't have to make up for anything."
"Huh?"
"You needn't be so gentle. It's okay. I mean if you feel like getting all excited and . . . well, you know. . ." Then, with a rising quaver of urgency, "Just love me, love me, love me any way you want to, any way you like. Love me, love me . . . please?"
A smile curved Annecke's lips. And then she bent her head again and buried the smiling curve in the nest of pulsating flesh. The flailing thighs caught and gripped convulsively, pulling her face in deep. She found it delightful, reveling in her triumph. Hot and moist and utterly delightful. And all mine! Ah yes, her scheme was panning out ahead of schedule, she could already see daylight at the end of the tunnel.
But this still wasn't the time for violence. Not yet. The shock would be too great, a blow that might disrupt the well-laid plans; why risk it? Too bad. This was nice, but it wasn't the real thing. The big thrill. But that would come soon. Pain. Slap and pinch and kick and bite and turn agony into ecstasy. Oh, it was so hard to hold back, so hard to wait for that incomparable sensation, the crunch of yielding girl-flesh under her fist. . .
"Oooh, you do love me, you love my cunt. Fuck me, fuck me with your face, rub it in hard. How you love my cunt.
Annecke tensed momentarily, hearing a twang of arrogance in that suddenly grating tone; it flicked at her nerves like the shrill rasp of chalk on a blackboard. Maybe the time for violence was getting closer. But no, she was too cagey to let herself be spurred into action by angry resentment, not when there was so much at stake. It had to be done with a certain prudence, whatever measures she decided on -a calculated effect was always safest. And in this case, sheer insight had already dictated her course. No violence, just a small show of force. Authority. But with a purpose! If the kid was so vain about this honey pot of hers-how you love my cunt!-why not give her a little sip of its honey?
Inspired by the notion, Annecke pulled loose and scrambled up on all fours to peer down into the pretty but obviously bewildered face. Then brusquely, she lowered her head and took possession of the arrogant mouth, heavily, stifling all possible protest. The reluctant lips acceded to superior strength, going slightly elastic as she rammed a stiff tongue into the opening. There was a bit of a skirmish-a duel of tongue-lips, actually-and then the crisis ended as her kiss was accepted and reciprocated with apparently appreciative ardor. That was all she needed.
"The taste. You like the taste?" "Huh?"
"The taste on my lips. Can you taste it? That's one reason why I love to suck your cute little cunt, Miz Lilith, it tastes so good. Can you tell? The taste of your own cunt?"
"Umm. . ."
"I'll give you some more in a minute, maybe a whole mouthful, huh? Open up now, spread those sexy legs, I'm going to get another taste for myself."
The command was unnecessary, there were no barriers as she slid back down again and glued her mouth to the pink-lipped cleft. It opened wide, quivering tremulously and engulfing her face in its hot seeping succulence.
"Oooh! You've got me so turned on!"
"Lick your lips up there. Cunt. You know? Go ahead, turn yourself on some more."
"Uh-huh. Mmm. Hey! Annecke, what are you-"
"Hush. Here's a big one for you. Kisses. . ."
"Oh. Oooh! Nnnng. Glub."
It was a mouthful, sure enough, rounded out by the addition of some saliva this time, but Annecke gave her shuddering victim no chance to complain, diverting her attention forcefully. In a bold gesture, she reached down and underneath to cup and clutch the rump mounds with both hands, vigorous as a male bent on rape. There was an instant of shock, a muffled moan, and then the taut flesh went limp, yielding sluggishly as one set of fingertips moved inward and wriggled up between the clasped and distended buttocks, at last becoming immovably entrenched in that most intimate crevice. Holding the grip, her fingers went right up inside the squirming ass-crack, she mashed herself against the naked body, belly to belly, .nipple to nipple, mouth to mouth, hampered by their difference in size and going into a wild contortion to maintain contact. It felt fine though, skin sliding over slippery skin, tits rubbing upon tits. . . "Fuck me! Fuck me!"
"I'll fuck you. Horny little cunt." The kiss was irretrievably lost by then, but everything else seemed great. "How do you want to get fucked, like this?" She jabbed one curved finger, already well-aimed and in place, piercing the sphincter and prodding the kid's middle right up off the bed. "I'll fuck the ass off you!"
There was some yelping and bellowing, but the movement pasted cunt against hairy cunt, and pretty soon the loud noise subsided to soft wails and sweet whispers and a lot of panting and wheezing, all the nice familiar sounds of orgasm a-building, gathering steam, orgasm begetting orgasm-and Annecke was glad to see her smart-ass little pet turn deliciously docile and quit struggling and flopping around like a fish on a hook. It made for a nicer climax that way. Neater. A place for everything, and everything in its place.
Thirteen
The day dragged slowly, tediously, marred by an overcast sky and an uncomfortable breeze, too cool for swimming. The others appeared to be busy most of the time, and Lilith wandered around with nothing to do. In the late afternoon the two of them went into town to stock up on groceries, leaving her all alone. She couldn't help but brood a little, not about money or anything like that, just the way things were changing from day to day.
She couldn't really complain, though-after all, Annecke had always taken care of her. But it was certainly upsetting to see that big giant of a woman acting so stern, even mean sometimes; who was she trying to impress? And nowadays, more often than not, it wasn't Miz Lilith any more, it was just plain Lilith. As if their intimate friendship had gone to her head.
Anyway, puzzling as the situation seemed, there was no immediate cause for worry. And whatever happened, it would all be over by the end of the summer; why not just relax and enjoy the goodies? The thrills. The weird thrills that somehow kept getting weirder and more thrilling. Although she did wish she could understand Annecke a little better. Or even understand herself, for that matter, this need of hers to fan the flames and stir her lesbian lover's excitement to an even higher pitch. Painfully high. . .
Lilith shuddered. She didn't want to think about that. Not after the humiliating experience of the other night; oh shit, she had actually been spanked! Just like a child. Bad enough to get pounded to a pulp during those crazy massages, but to be treated like a naughty little girl, well, what could be more disgraceful? And yet, despite the outrage-or because of it?-their lovemaking afterward had never been so exciting. Or so long-lasting either, with no letup until dawn almost, exhausting enough to make them sleep away most of the day. No wonder Annecke had to go into town and shop today, her housekeeping schedule had gotten all disorganized. And she still hadn't caught up, judging from the messy appearance of the place-it sure needed a cleaning.
Hmm. A housecleaning? The thought took root rather whimsically, snapping Lilith out of her lethargic mood. Laziness could get pretty boring after a while; why not do some work herself? Give the rooms a lick and a promise, at least. Then she wouldn't feel like such a slacker, hanging around and doing nothing while the others were stuck with that tiresome shopping chore. And besides, wouldn't it be a nice surprise for her hard-working lover?
No sooner said than done. Lilith got busy, plunging into the task with dedicated vigor. It felt funny at first, performing the duties that she was accustomed to having done for her. But there was a certain strange satisfaction in it, too, a sense of self-esteem that made the menial labor almost enjoyable. It was nice to be contributing for a change, contributing to the communal operation of the household. Better yet, she was doing something for Annecke. Yes, that was what made her feel so good--her real motive, no doubt, much as it troubled her to make the admission. How odd to recognize such a degree of involvement! Lucky thing it was only for the summer, this one lovely but sinful summer, no more than a passing interlude in her life. Just something to look back upon in the years to come. My one youthful folly, my lesbian summer. . .
When the bulk of the job was finished, she went to work in the most important room of all, the housekeeper's private quarters, toiling over this special endeavor with renewed energy. And only after everything there was in perfect order, spick-and-span, did she go back downstairs to give the lower floor living area its final due. It was quite late by then and she hurried to bathe and dress and look her best before the others returned.
They noticed the results of her industry immediately, of course, commenting in a playfully kidding manner. It was all rather casual, too much so, really -a mild but nonetheless ego-deflating disappointment after her own flare of enthusiasm. Later on, though, about to get her nightly massage, she heard Annecke bring up the subject again, this time in a far more pleasing manner.
"Darling, you really did clean the place up-my room is absolutely spotless. Oh, you're such a sweet little girl."
"You-you like it?"
"Very much. And everything was so untidy. You make a good housekeeper yourself, I'll bet."
"Housekeeper. That sounds funny. No, I doubt I'd be much good at the job. No experience."
"Hmph. I'm aware of that." Annecke's voice on a sardonic edge. "You've always had servants do the work for you. Housekeepers and butlers a cooks-and maids, I might add."
"That wasn't my fault."
"Of course not. Not your fault at all. Being boring rich is just a matter of chance. Circumstances. Y have to accept them as they come. Like now. Y my little pet, I'm glad to see that you've finally caught on."
"Caught on?"
"To the circumstances. The situation here. You've wised up, haven't you? I mean the cleaning job you did today. I can sure use more of that kind of help. How about it?"
"Oh. I-I'll try."
"That's my girl. And as long as you're at it, why not go all the way? I've got so many other problems to attend to-well, it would be a load off my mind if you took care of some of the smaller details for me. Like my personal chores, hmm? It wouldn't hurt you to rinse out a few pieces of lingerie once in a while. I'm always running out of clean panties. . ." Annecke smiled affectionately. "But let's stop all this chatter and have some fun, shall we? Mmm, you look like a tasty toasted marshmallow."
The compliment turned Lilith's body limp. Hands touched her, those big magical hands, and she sighed and lee herself surrender to the bewitching contact. But not completely. The conversation still echoed inside her skull. Somehow, unaccountably, she had just been taken advantage of. One afternoon's effort-and now all of a sudden she was a housekeeper. A servant. Rinse out a few pieces of lingerie once in a while. Ugh! A personal maid, practically. Was it right to expect that sort of work out of her? Regardless of the circumstances did she owe that much to her lover?
"Annecke. . ."
"Yes, dear?"
"I'm not your maidservant. I won't wash your underwear. And if you keep on acting so damn bossy, I may not even help you with the housecleaning any more."
"Oh?" The hands fell away. "Is that so?"
Abruptly-impossible as it seemed-Lilith felt a surge of heat in her loins. She began to shake tremulously, conscious of an angry storm about to burst over her. Fear vied with excitement for control of her mind, an utterly bewildering state of affairs. Why had she done it, why had she spoken so rudely? The fat was in the fire now, she would probably get spanked again. And it would hurt, too, just like last time. To say nothing of the humiliation. Oh shit, she was afraid of that look in those glittering dark eyes, unmistakably a sign of impending wrath.
But why was she all excited like this? Even more than before, when Annecke was being gentle. That had been nice, but now she could actually feel her heart pounding. The blood roaring in her ears. Annecke was going to hit her. She was certain of it.
And yet, more than anything else, she felt sexy. Hot!
"All right, Lilith, I get the message. You're provoking me, you little devil, do you realize that? Hmm. I'm just realizing it myself. You're really looking for punishment. The pain-you like it, don't you!"
"The pain? Oh no, I didn't mean to--" "Don't argue, just feel." Annecke's hand shot out. "Do you feel that? Feel the pain? Feel the nice hot pain?"
Lilith sobbed. The fingers were tweaking her breasts cruelly, grabbing and pinching and twisting. And the stiffer her nipples got, the more it hurt. Only she couldn't stop them, she couldn't stop her tits from responding to the harsh treatment. Worse yet, the blazing tension kindled something else inside her, something deeper, a sense of shame that was even more painful. Incredibly, what this domineering creature had just told her was true. Hadn't she brought the pain upon herself? It must have been deliberate. She had provoked this show of anger on purpose.
Annecke pinched with both hands. "Pain. Nice hot pain. It doesn't have to come from just a spanking. I can slap you. Like this. . ." A hand lashed Lilith's cheek. "Or pinch. Like this. . ." The cruel hand jumped back to her nipple. "Or I might even take a belt and whip that bare bottom of yours. Believe me, I do understand, baby, I understand all about pain. What's more, I understand about you! Isn't that right?"
"Uh-huh." Lilith hung her head.
With a curt nod of satisfaction, Annecke loosened her twin holds, raising one hand imperiously. "Here.
Kiss it! The hand that hurt you. Kiss it and then I'll know you've decided not to give me any more trouble. You'll keep my room clean and help me with the rest of the house. You'll wash out my things for me. You'll do whatever I tell you to-anything, anytime -you'll obey me. Now kiss my hand and get it over with. I'm still going to make love to you tonight. I'm going to put out the fire in your sexy little belly. So let's have that kiss, "huh? And then we can get down to business, nice hot business, Cunt business."
The fire. It was raging. If it didn't get quenched, Lilith was positive it would consume her. Anyway, she should have known better than to defy her powerful lover-woman; how could she fight against all those muscles? What the hell, there was nothing so awful about being a housekeeper. Or a maid. It was far worse to feel the burning need and suffer like this. More terrible than all that other pain, the nice hot pain; oh shit, wasn't it time they got down to business, nice hot cunt-business?
She bent her head. The hand was big and strong, remarkably smooth and reassuring to her lips. Unexpectedly, she even liked kissing it. The fingers, the ones that had pinched her tits and hurt so much, she wanted to take them in her mouth. Mmm, yes, and run her tongue all over them, such strong fingers. . .
"Enough."
"Hmm?"
"Enough of that. Next time I may not use my hands, I'll just kick you instead. Then you'll have to kneel down and kiss my feet, won't you? And you know something, baby doll?-you'll do it and you'll love it. You'll lick my toes, the toes that hurt you--you'll lick my feet like a slave! Oh yes, you'll learn to love everything about your Annecke. Just like you love this. See, darling? Don't you love this?"
Dazed, distraught, inflamed by unrelenting passion, Lilith arched up off the bed to meet the urgently plunging face that vanished between her thighs. She wailed as the tongue found her, moaned as it flicked her to raw sensitivity. And then she shrieked long and loud as sharp teeth bit. Teeth like a pair of pitiless knives, biting with murderous precision. She fell silent again, stifling all sound in a struggle to concentrate her attention and perhaps comprehend the sudden joyous turbulence inside her agonized cunt, a curiously bubbling sensation that had already reached maddening intensity. But it was quite beyond her grasp, beyond reason, beyond all her concentrated powers of comprehension, and she could only give up and accept the phenomenon gratefully and without question.
The anguish was unbearable. So was the ecstasy. There were two thrills, one of sex and one of pain, but she simply couldn't tell them apart. When she tried to figure out which was which, they eluded her and hid one inside the other, an amalgam defying analysis-and she shrieked again, but it wasn't in surprise or shock this time, it was in eager and avid and jubilant appreciation of the wildest "feeling she had ever known in all of her wild young life. It seemed to go on and on indefinitely somehow, the pain and the pleasure-ah, those grinding teeth! unendurable pleasure-pain prolonged to the point of infinity, beyond the ultimate beyond.
As the face hovered over him, Bruce lay helpless. The crimson mouth opened and the glistening lips pulled back to bare fanglike teeth in an ominous grimace. Hands reached for him, clutching like the talons of a hawk, clawing and lacerating his skin. He tried to get up, to run, to flee this monstrous danger that threatened to drain the blood from his veins. But he remained paralyzed with fright, too numb to move and too weak to fight back.
The face came closer, grinning mirthlessly, a contorted expression of triumph. It was the face of a woman. The face of evil. Evil was a woman. A woman named Annecke. . .
He awoke, shivering and soaked with sweat, alone in bed. But the evil was still there, invisible outside his ended nightmare and yet making its presence felt. These days he could always feel it-awake or asleep, always-as if the shadow of its domination was now inescapable. As if the house on the beach, the house and everything in it, had become subservient to that same evil.
Everything-including Bruce Fabian.
Sometimes, though, he didn't know who Bruce Fabian was. Had there ever been such a person? A man who did as he pleased and took orders from nobody? Wasn't it that Bruce Fabian-hazy and only half-recollected-who had lived in fantasy? Wasn't it possible that this Bruce Fabian was the real one?
He wiped the perspiration from his brow. A lock of hair dangled over his eyes and he brushed it away. His hair was getting long; in the sunlight it looked wavy and beautiful, almost like shining copper. But it was damp and sweaty now. Because of the bad dream. Because of the evil woman. And most of all -even though it hadn't appeared in the delirium of his nightmare-because of the thing. It was enough to make anybody sweat. Especially the suspense, the knowing and not knowing, the foreboding, the still-unresolved threat.
And a threat was all it had been thus far; she hadn't even given him a glimpse of the damned thing. Maybe it was just a joke, a little something to arouse his suspicions and keep him on edge. A figment of his imagination. Oh sure, a very large figment. He had seen Annecke describe it with her hands, he had seen the sly smile on her face, the leering appraisal in the eyes that seemed to be taking measurements of his body. How he remembered those eyes! Looking him over with a kind of detached audacity, making a survey and inspection as if they were gauging the capacity of a container of unknown proportions. Watching her, he had felt his flesh rebel, the innermost muscles squirming in fearful protest. Oh yes, he knew only too well how the
"imaginary" gadget would be used. And if today's coyly worded hint meant anything, he even knew when.
Tomorrow? Well, perhaps not. Annecke was unpredictable. But the hint had come through with a certain impatience, the first such serious note in her generally amused attitude of mockery tinged with menace. So it would happen tomorrow,-, quite likely. And that would be the bitterest joke of all, the absolute nadir.
Hmm. Interesting word. Nadir. The lowest point. Opposite of zenith. Would long-haired Bruce Fabian hit bottom tomorrow?
But he couldn't stay up all night and worry about it. He had to get some sleep. The time would come soon enough without all this fretting and stewing beforehand. Even if it was only to sink into that horrible nightmare again, he had to shut his eyes and try to rest. Not exactly easy, with so much on his mind. As expected, sleep was slow to overtake him. But at last-still sweating-he dropped off and the hours passed. . .
It wasn't until mid-afternoon that his fears were realized. Nor was there much doubt about Annecke's intentions when she approached him. There was a small rubberized bag under her arm and a smirk of lewd anticipation on her lips; how casually she carried the instrument of his degradation! And how casual her command:
"Let's take a little stroll, Bruce."
"A stroll? Where?"
"Not far. Just into the woods a way. Come now, darling, don't act so innocent." She chuckled derisively. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a bashful young maiden scared to death of losing her precious virginity." "I . . . uh. . ."
"Is that what you are, my dear? A demure little girl? So shy, so timid. And so worried, too, all of a flutter about mean old Annecke coping your cherry, hmm?"
"Oh. Please. Must you talk like that?"
"Prissy, prissy. But let's not squabble on such an important occasion. Just quit acting so skittish and follow me."
He hung back, unable to make himself move. But she clamped a masterful hand on his wrist and tugged him along. Together they went deep into the green foliage behind the house, halfway between the beach and the road-and well out of range of either, out of sight and out of earshot. Until she stopped and glanced around, smiling in approval.
"I like this. Pretty, isn't it?"
Bruce could only nod glumly. But he was aware that she had chosen well. Shadow-dappled sunlight streamed through the trees and vines. The soft moss was like a cool carpet under their feet. Small birds warbled a concert of lute-like songs, blithely oblivious of the horrendous spectacle about to take place.
"A woodland glade, darling. Perfect for our rendezvous, wouldn't you say?" Annecke's tone hardened. "I asked you a question. Don't you think it's pretty here? Just about perfect?"
"Uh-huh. Yes. It's very nice."
"That's better. I won't have you sulking."
"I-I'm sorry."
"Well, mind your manners. Especially here in this pleasant spot we've picked out. Hardly the place for a sulky girl, my dear. Our honeymoon bower. It makes me feel almost sentimental. Such a lovely setting for your defloration." "My . . . my what?"
"Isn't that the right word? Defloration? Isn't that what they call it when a virgin loses her innocence? Come, you sweet thing, take your clothes off. You look so silly in those denims, they hide your sexy legs."
"Please . . . must I. . ."
Moving swiftly, Annecke dropped the bag and lunged with both arms outstretched, a formidable figure. She caught a handful of hair, bunching the disheveled mane at the nape of his neck. It was long enough to give her a firm and unbreakable grip. Then, with one hand free and unencumbered, she slapped him.
Bruce cringed. The blow hurt, but the manner in which she had administered it was worse. It was just a simple slap in the face, not a punch or a jab or a clout. He found it utterly demoralizing, the kind of blow one might use against a woman.
Calmly, almost sedately, she slapped him again. "Let's have no more nonsense from you, young lady. You'd be wise just to obey. I can keep on doing this all day if necessary, your face is bound to wear out before my hand. Such a pretty face, too, what a shame to mess it up. Better get undressed, hmm?"
All day. She could do it, he knew. And the end result would be the same, except for a highly probable headache-and the condition of his face, of course. Obedience now would save him from a Jot of nasty swelling later. Unnerved, he clawed at the fastener of his jeans, fumbling around momentarily and then at last zipping it down in a frenzy of compliance.
Her hand released him, showing approval with a gracious pat on the cheek. He stripped naked hastily and then-guided by her serene but unequivocal gesture-sank to the earth at her feet. From the bag, she dug out two short lengths of clothesline and proceeded methodically to tie him up. Cowed, he let her. Anyway, the tying-up could only have been a pretense, he was sure, a melodramatic touch to suit the occasion; after all, two little pieces of rope couldn't do much if he really wanted to break loose.
Then again, well, he wasn't so sure. Annecke lashed his right wrist to his right ankle, his left wrist to his left ankle. Doubled up like that, it didn't take much rope to immobilize him. Nor was there any way for a hand to reach the knots, not even a finger. A contortionist might have done it with his teeth, but it was doubtful if he'd have the time or the agility for such a stunt. He could only remain as she had positioned him, sitting in a huddle with his legs drawn up.
Clucking complacently, she rolled him over like a ball. As his head went down, he turned his face sideways to allow for easier breathing, resting his cheek upon the moss. Now, with his arms extended back outside his knees to those ankle-ropes, he was in a humble crouch. With his bare buttocks up-ended. Up-ended and so very vulnerable! He whimpered, panicky all of a sudden, finding the melodrama too rich for his blood, too scary. . .
"Is that you making noise? I figured on that. A girl always gets noisy at a time like this."
"I-Fm sorry. P-please don't hurt me."
"Darling, you mustn't ask that of me. I'll have to hurt you." But don't worry, my timid bare-ass virgin, you'll get over it. Like they say, it only hurts for a little while. And meanwhile, just to be on the safe side, I'll give you something to smother your screams."
Rustles sounded behind him, the familiar rustle of feminine apparel bidding farewell to feminine flesh. Then-abruptly-she was jamming something into his mouth. A bit of fragile fabric. He could smell the scent on it, the woman-scent, thick and potent enough to overpower the fragrance of the surrounding greenery.
"You should feel honored, sweetie. I usually don't bother wearing panties any more, at least not during the day. But I put these on this morning especially for you."
A squeal rose in Bruce's throat, only to be blocked by the gag in his mouth. He uttered a muffled sob of humiliation. She had worn the garment since morning. It had clung to her musky body for hours and hours; he couldn't escape its overwhelming residue. The smell. The taste. Even the heat. Cunt. . .
"You see, darling, I came prepared. Fully prepared. I even brought along a jar of cold cream, isn't that nice? Aren't you lucky I'm so thoughtful? Such a considerate lover?"
His flesh trembled at her initial touch. Her fingers were cool and slippery though, diminishing his sense of dread. Despite her forcefulness, she seemed to be exerting comparatively little pressure, a boon to someone in his predicament. She was being gentle, he noted, surprisingly so. In the past, she had speared him with her finger roughly and without hesitation; now she was taking her time and preparing him gradually. Coating it with creamy lubricant, that place back there-still sensitive if no longer secret, damn her!-the epicenter of a maelstrom of mingled terrors and anxieties. Coating it oh-so-gently; yes indeed, wasn't he lucky to have such a thoughtful lover? When she stopped, he actually missed the soothing motion. Until he realized that she was putting the contrivance on. The thing. He still couldn't see her and was glad of it, glad to remain in the dark. Now if only he could do that to his mind...
"And now, my pretty girl . . . right up your ass!"
It thumped against him. Poked and thrust. He howled and was almost sick as the damp panties pushed the sound back down his throat. The pain was excruciating. He had the horrible sensation of being ripped asunder. And still the monster went on, invading the stretched sphincter and the depths beyond with callous indifference, plunging in and pulling out, probing, chafing, abrading, grinding his insides to a pulp with such impossibly frantic friction! Darkness descended upon him mercifully; was he about to faint?
And then-such a miracle!-the pain faded. Not the sensation, just the pain. It was still there, the thing, the monster, still inside him-only it didn't seem so monstrous now, it just didn't hurt any more. Gliding so smoothly.
"See? I told you. It only hurts for a little while." Annecke reached over his shoulder and took out the gag. "Now you can scream all you like, darling, scream your head off. But you don't want to, do you? Of course not. There's nothing to scream about. Why should a pretty girl scream when she's happy?"
He didn't scream. He didn't even whimper. Except at the end of the in-stroke every so often, and then it was only a sound of joyous response; what else could an aroused girl do?
"So you like it, eh?"
His body writhed. "Ummm. . ."
"Tell me. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you like what I'm doing to you."
"I-I like it."
"You like what? Getting fucked, darling?" "Oh. Yes. Fucked. I love it; I love getting fucked." "Good girl." Grunting, she rammed deep. "And it didn't really hurt so much, did it?" "It-it did. It hurt terribly." "And now? How does it feel now?" "It feels-oooh!" "Hmm?"
"Wonderful. Marvelous. Oh yes, I love it."
"Sure, you do. Annecke knows how to take care of innocent little girls who don't understand themselves. You are my girl, aren't you?"
"Ah!"
"My pretty girl?"
"Yes. Oh yes, I'm your girl. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck your pretty girl. . ." Lapsing into a babble of meaningless monosyllables, Bruce knew that he had at last struck bottom, the nadir of his existence. Only the rockets exploded inside him gloriously--and it was more like a zenith, the glorious zenith; what more could a pretty girl ask for?
Fifteen
The door was ajar. Lilith peered in and saw her big blonde lover undress and lie down, somewhat unusual for the middle of the day. Heart thumping, she mustered courage to make her presence known, knocking lightly and then speaking up.
"Annecke?"
"Huh? Oh, it's you. What do you want?" "Are you going to take a nap?" "In a while, maybe. Come on in. Something on your mind?" "Well. . ."
"Foolish question. It's always on your mind, right? Little nympho. Relax, though, let's chat a bit. What do you think of your friend Myra? A grandmother twice over, imagine. She sure hit the jackpot."
"I'll say. A boy and a girl. Were they expecting twins? I mean, uh, did she have any advance notice?"
"Beats me. She sounded pretty excited on the phone. Pretty proud, too. Grandson and granddaughter. She was too keyed-up to give me the details. I couldn't even find out how much longer she's going to be there. We'll just have to wait for her next phone call, I guess."
"Oh? You think she'll call again? I was under the impression she might pop in on us any day now."
Annecke shrugged, twisting lazily on the bed, her naked body radiating an unconscious but not unnoticed animal magnetism. "Could be. But I figure she'll stay there at least another week. I'm sure we'll hear from her first, anyway." Then, grinning, "So that's why you came a-knocking at my door, hmm? You want to squeeze in all you can before Myra gets back. Uh-huh. You're blushing. Better not deny it, honeybunch." v
"Who's denying it? You said I was a nympho, didn't you? And as long as I'm here. . ."
"Yeah. You've got that look in your eyes."
"Uh, are you really going to take a nap?"
"I should. I'm kind of tired."
"Too tired?"
"Don't be greedy. It'll keep."
"But-but I'm so hot! Hotter than ever now, just looking at you. Besides, you've been seeing Bruce a lot lately, you don't even have time for me any more; no wonder I feel horny. Especially when you're all naked like that. . ."
"Poor neglected baby. All right. Get undressed."
Catching her breath in anticipation, Lilith stripped to the skin in a hurry. She forced herself to remain calm then, waiting for permission to lie down, striking a hopefully seductive pose meanwhile just to speed things up.
"Look at your body." Annecke snorted. "So I don't have time for you, eh?" Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Don't tell me you did all that to yourself."
"Oh. . ."
"Take a good look!"
Lilith examined the bruises. Her breasts were dark purple in spots. There were black marks on her thighs. One hip displayed a set of even indentations that could only have come from the bite-of sharp teeth. The discolorations brought back memories, warming her cheeks to another blush-very pink, she was sure-adding to her already intense embarrassment.
"Well, young lady? I do find time for you now and then, if that's any indication. What are you complaining about?"
, "I-I'm sorry." She hung her head, humiliated but almost giddy with newly aroused need. "It just isn't enough."
"Hmph! Are you trying to get me mad?"
"N-no . . . just ... oh, you know. , ."
"Rascal. You want more, huh?"
"Yes. Please. Now."
"I'd better not. I'm already too good to you." "Please?"
"What do you want?"
"Anything. Pinch me. Bite me."
"No. I'd only be spoiling you, my dear."
"Annecke, please? I need it. Won't you help me?"
"Now you're acting like a spoiled brat. Or a spoiled slave girl, if such a thing is possible."
"Oh. But I am a spoiled slave girl. You ought to do something about it. At least spank me."
"Takes too much energy. I'm pretty tired. But you do deserve some sort of punishment, I'll admit."
"Punishment. . ." Lilith dropped to her knees, leaning over the edge of the bed. She cupped her bare breasts from underneath, holding them up like a sacrificial offering. "Like this? Hurt me. Punish me. Make me an obedient slave."
"I'm tempted. Such nice big tits. . ."
"Pinch them. Punish my tits." Then, thrusting the heavy handfuls of flesh into greater prominence, "They're too big. See? They ought to be punished."
A hand touched her, plucking at an eager nipple tentatively, almost a caress. She tensed expectantly, shutting her eyes and waiting for the fingers to tighten, already attuned to the pain that hadn't been inflicted yet. It didn't come though, not the expected pinch, not the pain she was prepared for; instead there was a creaking of bedsprings and a sudden stinging sensation as the caress became a sharp slap. Her eyes snapped open in time to see the next one coming, another vicious slap, and then a nudge that shoved her back and away to allow for swinging room as Annecke finished sitting up and tossed her long legs over the side of the bed.
The blows came thick and fast then. Kneeling between those spread limbs, Lilith clenched her jaws to keep from shrieking, but still managed to hold her breasts in position. And now, despite the severity of that slapping hand, she felt her martyred nipples prickle voluptuously and go tumescent with passion. Her body was attuned again, savoring the delicious differences but thriving upon this new pain as it had thrived upon the old. She no longer had cause to shriek, except perhaps in the rapture of this revelation, and that was more aptly expressed by the moan that rose from her quivery depths to become a gurgle in her throat, almost a sound of glee. . .
"You're enjoying this, huh?"
"Oooh . . . thank you.
"And one for good measure. There! Consider yourself punished, darling, I'm too tired to go on." "Oh?"
"Not too tired for a little more fun, though. Hey, you look cute like that, down on your knees, an obedient slave. But I don't look so bad myself; must be one of those days, huh? You did say something about getting horny just seeing me naked, didn't you? Yeah. I remember. A real nice compliment. I guess that's what must have turned me on in the first place. I'm probably hornier than you are right now. And as long as you're in such an obedient mood. . ."
"Hmm?"
"Kid, for a slave girl, you've got a lot to learn. With your nose that close, can't you smell how hot my cunt is? What's the matter, you think you're the only one who likes to get sucked? Or is it ugly maybe, my big cunt?"
"N-no. You're beautiful."
"I mean my cunt."
"Beautiful. Beautiful cunt. . ."
"Then come on, slave girl, what are you waiting for? Don't be bashful, just dive right in. Suck it. Suck it good. And if you don't know how, then it's time you learned."
Lilith bowed her head. Logic told her she couldn't possibly do a good job, not even passable, but instinct assured her otherwise: nothing in the realm of sex was too tough for a genuine sexpot! Pride alone was enough to put her to work, the pride of a Slave Girl about to prove herself worthy of the honor. And it wasn't tough at all-quite the contrary!-for a woman with all those muscles, who would have figured on such amazing softness? The shock of it stunned her momentarily-burrowing in and finding no resistance, sinking into a musky softness that all but engulfed her, a softness that opened like an irresistible invitation. She had to stop and get herself oriented, sliding up and probing for the clitoris with her tongue; wasn't that how it was supposed to be done?
"Not bad for a beginner, not bad at all. And you really are just a beginner, even though you may have fooled around a little before. Like with Myra, I mean. But don't worry, baby-doll, you'll do just fine. I can tell already. Yeah. You've got the makings of a first-class cuntlapper."
The word grated on Lilith's nerves. Cuntlapper. But it must have affected her in some other way too, she was even more excited now and really doing it, lapping a cunt. I'm a cuntlapper. Not just anybody's cuntlapper, of course-no more than she could be anybody else's slave girl. I'm lapping Annecke's cunt. . .
"Good, good. Kid, you're a natural. A little training, that's all you'll need. And I'm just the bitch to train you, I'm real crafty at it. No, don't slow down, you silly slave, can't you suck and listen to instructions at the same time?"
That didn't grate at all, not in that teasing tone of voice, it was like part of a game. Anyway, she was right in there sucking, proving herself worthy-and just hearing Annecke go on and on like that, calling her a slave, cursing her, threatening to whip her ass if 'she didn't try harder, oh shit, that only made the thrill all the greater, didn't it? The heady thrill of hot i .-A. Not just anybody's, though. Only this one. Even if thinking about it like that did make her sound like a girl in love, a lesbian in love with a lesbian. . .
"You know something, Lover Girl? I'm getting my energy back. Maybe a little more punishment. . ." Annecke reached down to pluck at a nipple, once again building from a caress into cruelty. "I can't swing now; you'll have to settle for a tit-pinch."
It came as a sudden shock, drawing the start of another scream from Lilith's lips. She muffled it to a whimper in the sheath of soft wet flesh, still sucking without letup, feverishly, aware of the powerful finger and thumb, aware of her poor crushed nipple -and aware, vaguely, of another new plateau of erotic agony. Or were they all like that, each one higher than the last?
"Yeah! Soon, baby."
"Hmm?"
"I'm going to make it. Come. In your mouth." "In my mouth . . . mmm. . ." "Suck, little slave. Suck!"
It was really enclosing her now, the musky softness, clogging her nose and lips to the point of suffocation as the huge hairy cunt-mouth all but swallowed her alive. It got pretty scary, but somehow she braved every danger, finding even her anguished gasps for breath an extra fillip. And when the massive climax struck, she just sucked and sucked and sucked for dear life and even managed to boost her tits up a little bit higher so that the pinching hand wouldn't have so far to stretch.
The big woman went rigid and then limp, falling back on the bed in a slow sag. Lilith raised her head but remained close, still kneeling at bedside, her face smeared and scented, anointed by the precious love of her goddess. Minutes passed. Then the sleepy eyes flickered and came to life.
"Still there, darling?"
"I'm your slave."
"You sure are. I own you."
"Uh-huh. You own me. What can I do for you. Anything. You you want to beat me?"
"Little pig. Not now. But that reminds me, I must look and see if there's something we can use for a whip."
"Oooh. . ."
"You'd like that, hmm? Me too. I've been itching to lay into that sexy ass of yours. Cute little bare ass. . ." Annecke smiled, moving into a more comfortable position with a lazy wriggle. "But there is a small duty you can do for me now. That time I finger-fucked you so hard, the first time-remember what I did afterward? After you dropped off to sleep, I mean. I kissed you awake."
"I remember. It was beautiful."
"That's it. I'm going to take that nap now, honey. Wake me up in an hour or so."
"Wake you up? Oh!"
"You've got the idea. Kiss me awake. You know how. Don't let me sleep too long, though. About an hour, hmm?"
"I understand."
"Well, are you just going to stay there?" "Oh. I'm sorry. Do you want me to leave?"
"Lilith, I'll be asleep for an hour. You can't just stay there on your knees like that." "I can, I can. Please let me." "You really want to?"
"Don't send me away. Let me stay, let me just be here close to you. I won't make a sound, I promise." "You darling. Darling little slave. . ." "May I stay?"
"Oh, all right. But I might as well give you something to do. You can kiss my feet while I'm napping. They might be a bit dirty, though. Or dusty, at least."
"I-I'll get a damp cloth and wash them." "Don't bother. Just use your tongue. That'll be Okay?" "Of course. I'm your slave."
"But when it's time to wake me up, go scrub your face and brush your teeth first. Only a clean slave can touch me. That's a rule, don't ever forget it."
"I won't. I'll remember."
"Good girl. Go ahead now." Annecke's eyes drooped shut. "Show me what a good slave I've got."
Lilith crawled around and laid her cheek upon one foot. She kissed it, feeling deliciously humble. But there was a job to do, and just kissing wasn't going to get it done. She took the toes between her lips and then tried sliding her mouth along the sole, all in an experimental manner, anxious to find out just how awful the taste would be. Actually it wasn't so bad, hardly worse than a kiss on the hand. And it didn't matter anyway, anything that belonged to Annecke could only be considered precious. Even the dust on the soles of her feet.
"Honey. . ." A drowsy whisper.
"Hmm?"
"If I should happen to turn over, don't try to roll me back. Just go ahead and kiss me awake." "Oh? But I don't-"
"Hush. Silly girl. You'll figure it out. You'd better. Do I have to explain everything?" "N-no. I'll figure it out." "Sweet. . ."
Resuming her task, Lilith couldn't help but notice how smooth the skin was. Scarcely a sign of a corn or bunion or any of the usual blemishes that come from wearing stylish shoes. Just a few rough patches here and there, that was all, the kind that would soften and fade away with a touch of pumice and a cream rub. And the toenails needed a little work, too, but that was to be expected in a place like this -one of the few disadvantages of a barefoot summer on the beach. It was something that a good personal maid could easily fix, though, and with all the cosmetics and nail-polish equipment lying around the house-along with a personal slave girl eager to be of service-why shouldn't these precious feet be pampered and pedicured to the peak of perfection?
Asprawl in sleep, Annecke kept tossing her limbs about in an unconscious search for comfort. After a while she twisted in a sluggish spiral and then finally rolled upon her stomach with a sigh of dreamy contentment. Still kissing, Lilith glanced up at the sleep buttocks faintly bedewed with perspiration, big and strong and solid and yet somehow very sensuous. Even beautiful, perhaps, and certainly exciting from this lower viewpoint, endowed with a kind of mystical charm emanating from the darkness between the twin domes. The unexplored darkness, lewd, alluring,, an invitation to dare the unknown. . .
Oh, if only the hour would hurry by so that she could go and wash up and get clean enough to fulfill that last part of her assigned duty. While the invitation still remained such a haunting challenge! But she could only wait and hope, of course, and go on wondering about things like whips and chains and torture chambers; oooh, wasn't it simply thrilling to be a slave girl?
Sixteen
Leaning back in the easy chair, Annecke sighed happily as the kid cradled her bare feet and worked with rapt diligence upon the already near-perfect toenails. Every now and then she flicked the leather quirt that dangled from her wrist-not that the dutiful young slave needed spurring, but only because she felt like it. And because she was conscious of Lilith's pleasure as well as her own. What a jewel the little redhead was, imagine-without prompting, strictly her own idea-volunteering her services as a pedicurist. Hardly the spoiled brat she used to be!
"Honeybunch?"
"Mmm . . ."
"Aren't you finished yet?"
"Just about. Let me-"
"Oh, never mind. They're okay right now, don't you think so? Don't you like the way my feet look?"
"I-I haven't quite finished yet. But they look nice."
"You're not very enthusiastic, doll-baby. Lift your face up so that I can slap it." "My-my face?"
"Yeah. I'm saving your ass for later." "Oh . . ."
Annecke slapped twice with her open palm; a change from the small whip that had become almost a bond between them. Her hand was fine. She liked the nice sharp noise as it smacked solidly against the quivering cheeks.
"There now, maybe you'll show some enthusiasm when I ask if you like my feet."
"Oh, I do like them. Your feet are beautiful. The most-"
"Kiss them while you tell me about it."
The little darling bent low and pressed her mouth to the freshly lacquered toes. A kiss of praise, a kiss of humility, and she kept murmuring complimentary phrases even through busy lips. Such an obedient slave! Annecke wriggled her toes as the servile tongue lapped between them in an effort that was obviously meant to beg for further privileges. Only if it kept on like this, that hot mouth would be swallowing her foot.
"That'll do for now, dear." She brushed the instep of one bare foot against the flushed face. "Let's not overdo it."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"No harm done. You really like my feet, eh? All right, you may have another kiss. Lick the sole, lick it nicely with your tongue so that I know you love doing it."
"Mmm . . ."
Annecke relaxed. Such a pretty pink tongue, such an unfailingly hot mouth! It could lick her foot or suck her cunt or kiss her ass-and always with adoration. A sheer delight, this beautiful red-haired slave girl of hers.
"Enough, sweetie-pie. Better gather up the nail-polish stuff before we break something and crunch glass on the floor. I wouldn't want to ruin Myra's house. Not even if it becomes my house."
"Will it? Annecke? Have you decided yet?"
"Not yet. No decision."
"I-I still find it hard to believe. A rich woman all this time. I knew you couldn't be just a housekeeper, but it's still more than my poor brain can cope with."
"Ask your husband to explain it. He took the phone call."
"I know. And there's nothing to explain, really. It's just a shock, that's all. I'm embarrassed. I mean about the way I treated you in the beginning. Oh well . . ."
Annecke chuckled as the confused youngster scurried around to clean up the mess in the big bedroom. Confusion was practically the rule these past few days, ever since Myra phoned to say she had fallen in love with the twins and was planning to settle down and grow old gracefully in faraway Canada. But her badly timed call had caught only Bruce in the house, and the whole story came out before it was over. The house itself was the reason-the beach house and surrounding property-she wanted to get rid of it. Was her old friend Annecke interested? If so, it would be a bargain, a deal made at a fair price without any cuts to the real-estate agents, no fat commissions to the middlemen. Otherwise it would have to be put up for sale in the usual manner, a time-consuming procedure, which was why Myra couldn't wait and just decided to spill the beans to Bruce.
Not that Annecke minded, really-it was time to end the charade anyway. But the means of ending it, a long-distance phone call picked up by Bruce, well, no wonder the young couple wallowed in confusion awhile; it was hard to figure out what to believe. And poor little Lilith was still walking around half-dazed and in a cloud of humiliation, aware now that her "slavery" might be construed-or misconstrued-as another con-game. She had confessed as much to Annecke, clearing the air a little, but as yet the relationships around the house were still somewhat hazy. Even the living setup had changed; a housekeeper no longer, Annecke had moved into the luxury of the master bedroom--simple enough for her, but almost mind-boggling to her jittery slave girl, even now racing around and putting things in order like a harried housemaid.
"Don't knock yourself out, honey. It's clean enough." v
"I guess so. Uh . . .is there anything else I can do
"No. But there's something I can do for you. If you'll kindly get into position. Pose for me, darling. Naked slave girl. You know the pose I mean. Hurry!"
Lilith's eyes lit up and then filmed over in erotic anticipation, a familiar expression by now. But she hurried, as ordered, her movements almost machinelike until the command was carried out. Then, slowly, quirt in hand, Annecke began to undress, stopping every so often to pay some attention to her posed slave.
The sweet child made a delicately exquisite victim. Kneeling on the floor with her arms appealingly poised overhead, she seemed to be offering her nude body in sacrifice, utterly vulnerable to attack and breathtakingly beautiful in submission. She remained motionless, a statue, betrayed only by her breathing, the rise and fall of her lovely bosom.
Finally naked herself, Annecke whipped the living statue thoroughly and with great vigor, scattering small cuts of the quirt over the entire body, but keeping the brunt of her onslaught nicely centered around the plump buttocks. She switched tactics every once in a while, pausing to caress the slave, toying with her breasts and making the pink nipples stand erect. At odd times she stroked the insides of the shapely young thighs, running her fingers up to penetrate the pubescent tangle and invade the soft flesh beneath it. But the caresses were little more than cursory, rather like a small respite between spasms of the whip. She kept alternating between pain and pleasure, eliciting rapturous tremors one moment and agonized tears the next.
Playing her stalking game, Annecke could only quiver in appreciation of such beauty. Once-it seemed like a thousand years ago-she had almost resented this pretty creature. But not now. All this delectable flesh belonged to her. It was hers to do with as she liked. And she was pleased that it should be so superbly beautiful. Conquering an ugly woman lacked the same thrill.
At the moment, the thrill was threatening to burst its bonds. Annecke's body was ready for sex. She delayed momentarily, adding a fine finale to this segment of their lovemaking. The quirt lashed out again and again. Big tears formed under the slave's half-lidded eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She moaned and bit her lips in an evident effort to hold back her screams. Until, abruptly, Annecke administered one final savage stroke and cast the weapon aside and then tossed herself upon the bed.
"Over here, little slave. Dry your tears in my cunt."
The girl came out of her trance, scrambling to obey, and for a while Annecke reveled in the incomparable sensation of the tear-drenched face burrowing into her flesh. But she was too involved just to lie there and let her body be brought to orgasm; there were decisions to be made and relationships to smooth over.
"yiith . . ."
"Umm?"
"Stop a minute. Let's talk. Tell me something. How would you feel about having Bruce join us in bed some night? A sex-party for the three of us. How does that strike you?"
"Okay, I guess. If you want to. Whatever you say is all right with me, Annecke, don't you know that?"
"Hmm. How do you think Bruce would feel about it?"
"He'd probably give the same answer. Whatever you say. He may not be in love with you like I am, but that doesn't-"
"Honey? In love with me? You?"
"Sure. Didn't you know? I realized it ages ago. First it was just a summer romance, but then all of a sudden I kept wishing I could be your slave forever. I still do. Right now I wish it would never end."
"You're not conning me? You did once, remember? When you got me to intercede with Myra. You've paid for that one, Lover Girl-it was that one time with fat old Myra Hummel that convinced me I was really a sadistic bitch. And you've been suffering ever since."
"I love it, I love it, make me suffer some more."
"Greedy little pig. You'll suffer, all right. Because you're going to get your wish. For the rest of your life, you'll suffer. I'm going to buy the house and take you and Bruce in with-"
"Annecke!"
"Uh-huh. I've decided. The three of us will have to sit down together and figure out the details-you know, things like-"
"Oh. Please. No details. Just let me love you. Like this. I could suck it forever and never get tired. It's true. I love your cunt so much."
"Do you? How nice."
"Mmm . . ."
"And my ass. Do you love that too?" "You know I do. Shall I . . . uh . . ." "Yes, dear. If you'd like. Just let me roll-" "Wait. Annecke . . . ma'am ..." "Don't you want to?"
"Oh yes, I do, I do. But-but couldn't I have both? You know, like that other time? We were drinking and I got all giggly, I can hardly remember it. But please, won't you sit on my face so that I'll have your cunt and your ass both, not just one? I like that so much. It makes me feel as if I'm smothering. As if you're smothering me with your love."
"You darling. I do love you. When you say things like that, I can really understand what you mean about wanting to be my slave forever. Yes, sweetheart, I'll sit on your face and give you my cunt and my asshole. I'll smother you with my love. Now and forever. Because you're mine, Lilith, you're really and truly mine and I'll never let you go." "Annecke. Ah! Beautiful goddess. Mmmm . . ."
