Mary gasped in horror as she saw the cold razor coming toward her. Then she felt the burning sensation as it reached the warm flesh about her loins. In his book, A New Kind Of Intimacy, Harvey T. Leathern, M.D., states: "The sight of a girl in bondage-who has tied her up? For what purpose? When will he let her go? What kind of sexual expressions will take place? Normal or abnormal? All of which lends itself to the realm of the sexual fantasy . . . "
I
It was a fine day. One of those clear, sparkling autumn days that come along to show the Monterey Peninsula at its very best. Below Pacific Beach, where Skip and Mary had been picked up, the dignified old farms looked as if they came out of the pages of an Eisenstein portfolio. Below the cliffs the sea was turbulent, offering contrasts in current and white caps to the sloops with their garish spinnakers, out to take full advantage of the fine breeze. Moss Beach, Half Moon Bay, Pebble Beach, Ano Nuevo, even the names of the towns and beaches they were so luxuriously passing added to the perfection of the day.
If Skip and Mary had had a few fleeting doubts about accepting a ride from the weasel-like man in the big black Jaguar, those doubts were being forgotten with every passing mile. In Santa Cruz, when he stopped and bought them hamburgers, the last doubts vanished.
They didn't have to convey their judgment about Eddie, their benefactor, with words. Young as they were, they could communicate well between themselves with a look or a touch. Though Eddie's eyes were small and constantly moving, though his posture was hunched, his demeanor furtive, despite the thin hook of his nose and the thinning, reedy hair and the sideward curl of his mouth, he was a nice guy. Looks meant little, as did age, contrary to the rules their generation had learned to live by. Of course, Eddie was an exception, and they wouldn't have taken the ride with him at all if Skip hadn't had the tire iron at hand in their knapsack. Mary was too tempting a girl to even the average man, just as Skip had found he himself was too tempting a boy for the non-average man.
Small, and looking scrubbed despite the uniform of youth that should have branded her as unwashed, Mary was appealing. Her hair was the color of doeskin and the rich, healthy texture of suede. Thick, it hung to her waist with only an occasional highlight reflected by the brilliant sun. Her eyes were very large and very brown, the lashes long and a shade darker than her hair. Her nose was straight, with an impertinent little uptilt just at the last possible second.
She had a good mouth-a mouth that was almost too wide and almost too full, with pink lips much given to small smiles. Her complexion was remarkably clear, especially considering the catch-as-catch-can diet they'd been living on since they left home. And her skin fairly gleamed on her heart-shaped face. A dimple in her chin, tiny little ears, rather prominent cheekbones. With make-up her face could have graced a Las Vegas billboard; without make-up it was very simply and sweetly pretty. Her clothing-voluminous elephant pants and an even more voluminous sweater-concealed the lines of her figure, but her movements as she nestled and smiled against her man suggested a slender and supple and graceful little body, and her hands, slender and delicately formed, helped to confirm this impression.
Skip was dressed in a striped, long-sleeved shirt and the bell-bottomed dungarees he'd bought in a surplus store in San Francisco. He had on a gray leather vest over the shirt. His hair, dark brown and wavy, was to his shoulders. The mustache he'd grown had not drooped in the way he'd wanted it to, but he'd kept it because Mary liked it so well. He was a handsome boy, of medium height, with good broad shoulders and narrow hips, his teeth looking very white under the mustache. Though Mary had taken off her pink-tinted spectacles in order to see more of the natural color of the passing scenery as they drove south, Skip kept his identical spectacles on. They gave him a slightly owlish, faintly comical look, and he liked to make Mary laugh, even when she was laughing at him.
They made a nice hippy couple, more attractive than most.
"Sorry I can't take yez all the way to Big Sewer," Eddie said to them from the side of his mouth as they left Santa Cruz. "But you won't have no trouble pickin' up a ride below Carmel. You two look clean. You know? It's the grubby kids nobody picks up along Root One."
Against the door, Skip snuggled Mary closer to him and burrowed with a finger toward her ribs as he said, "Thank you, sir. Thank you for noticing we bathe."
The finger in her ribs made Mary dissolve into giggles, just as their host cast them a disdainful look, and it was difficult for her to recover enough to say, "Eddie, we do appreciate your picking us up. The hamburgers. Everything. Skip tries to be sarcastic and cute sometimes and, well, it just isn't my Skip."
"I was just kidding around," Skip said. "You know."
Eddie nodded and smiled that crooked smile that still managed to stir a little uneasiness in Mary, despite how straight he'd been with them for the past hours.
She smiled sweetly back at him and settled closer into the crook of Skip's arm, drawing sustenance from his good, solid body. She squeezed his leg and looked up at him, and he pursed his lips in a silent kiss. She was exciting him in a quiet way and she knew it, and she was enjoying it. It wasn't often they had the luxury of leather seats and a softly humming automobile as the backdrop for their love.
It was a time to be lived to the fullest and then remembered, not spoken of, but remembered. She moved her hand farther to insure it would be perfect for him, brushing that warm bulge within his trousers with the back of her hand. His arm about her back moved, and she imperceptibly shifted to give him the access he wanted to her breast. He touched the first swells of it, surreptitiously and yet proudly, and together they glowed in their secret warmth while the big sedan carried them along the cliffs by the magnificent sea, past those walled houses wherein lounged people busy sipping their cocktails and regaling each other with their tales of conquest in the work-a-day world of cheating their fellows; those people who were so much like their respective parents, save for the elegance and opulence in which they lived.
Several miles below Carmel, where the scenery was at its most spectacular best and the houses were getting fewer and more quietly luxurious, Eddie dropped them off. "Easier for yez to get a ride here. Cops back in Carmel don't like hippy types. Yez oughta make Big Sewer in a coupla hours once you get a ride. Might not be many cars this time in the afternoon, though. Lots of 'em in the morning."
Mary looked around at the place where they'd alighted. It was a canyon mouth, a long, deep, narrow canyon that led right down to the sea under a concrete bridge. There was a stream running down the canyon and it was thick with trees and brush right up to the beach. Up the canyon, a quarter-mile away, there was a single house of good size, though it looked rather insignificant in the vastness and grandeur all about them. The day was still fine, nice and warm.
She asked, "Do they mind if we sleep on the beach?"
Before Eddie could answer, Skip said, "Not tonight, babe. We're going right on. Eddie, thanks. Thanks a whole lot."
He stuck out his hand, a gesture of the establishment that he rarely used, and Eddie took it and held it. Eddie nodded at Mary and smiled his funny smile at Skip, saying, "Think nothin' of it. Maybe yez can do me a favor someday."
"I sure will if I can," Skip said, and had to twist his hand a little to remove it from the small, moist grip. They stood in the road, knapsack beside them, their arms about each other, and waved at the big black Jaguar sedan as it made a U-turn and headed back toward Carmel.
Mary looked down at the beach and said, "I wish we could stay here one night. Do we have to get to Big Sur so quick?"
The car rounded a bend and Skip turned to her, kissed her, and said, "Shit yes, we're going to stay here. Is there any place else in the whole world to stay tonight? Man, it's perfect. But I didn't want that creep to know we were staying here."
"He just looked creepy. He was a nice guy, Skip."
"Maybe so. But I'm not about to take the chance of him sneaking back here while we're asleep, and laying a hand on my babe. Come on. Let's get down there. There's a path, and that grove of trees looks groovy."
When they were down there they found the little grove of cypress provided a near-perfect shelter for them. They knew others had found it before, because there was a rude fire pit, a little wood laid by it, and some empty lobster and abalone shells that spoke of some fabulous roadside dinners enjoyed at that spot. The stream trickled just beside the copse of trees. The branches were clear to the west, affording them a splendid view of the beach, fifty yards away.
It was a small beach with very white sand, and its only debris was a few long strands of giant kelp. It was rocky on each side of the beach, and Skip proclaimed that the rocks would house the lobster and abalone. Another faint trail led to the east, under the concrete bridge apparently, and into the narrow-walled canyon. Overhead the cypress limbs formed a gnarled roof that was continuous, save for one gap in it. The floor of their bower was covered with lush grass up to a foot long.
Standing in the center of it, hand in hand, the early afternoon sun slanted down through the broad opening in the trees to the west, warming them, illuminating their bower and everything in it very brightly. They turned and looked at each other and saw the beauty of themselves together-happy and healthy young animals who had managed to free themselves, at least for a year or two, from the vacuous existence of their parents. Adoration beamed from their eyes as brightly as the sun. They turned to each other and kissed, warm and clinging, groping with their hands to find some new means of conveying their mutual love.
"Perfect!" Skip declared. "Man, this is perfect."
He unslung their knapsack from his back and set it down by the fire pit and rummaged in it for their tightly rolled blanket. Kneeling in the fragrant grass, Mary watched proudly as her man prepared this, their most perfect home so far, for her occupancy. Trailing the blanket, he walked around in the clearing under the trees and found rocks under the grass. The blanket barely covered the area. Mary helped him spread it out and moved the knapsack onto it.
He caught her hand and pulled her down to he with him, circling her with his arms and kissing her tenderly and passionately. She moved against him and felt the warmth of his love for her growing in his loins.
After they kissed, she said, "I think we ought to make love first thing. What do you think?"
"I think what you think, babe-always. Let's get undressed."
They undressed, and as Mary did so she glanced about her, still infected with vestiges of the modesty that her parents had drilled into her. It was entirely safe there, completely out of sight of any passing cars. She paused for just a moment and looked up through the gap in the branches overhead. The gap framed the house on the hill, bringing it into focus. It was a white house of plaster with a wall surrounding it, roofed with red tile in the Spanish tradition, with one huge window overlooking the sea view and a few smaller windows barred with wood, also in the Spanish style.
She covered her round breasts with her sweater and said, "Skip, they could see us from there."
He looked. "No, man. It's too far away."
"They could use binoculars."
"And pick us out of all this brush and rocks? No, Mary. Forget it. Besides, who wants to watch a couple of people making love when there's all this fabulous scenery around?"
He was naked, lying on his side and smiling at her, his penis erect. She laughed and threw the last of her clothing aside and came to him, saying, "You're the best scenery around, man." They rolled around on the blanket in each other's arms, laughing, kissing, caressing.
He had a good body, young and strong, but not sinewy and hard. There was a plumpness to his buttocks that she found appealing, comforting in contrast to the very hard organ that jutted from his loins. She liked to feel the softness of his butt with her hands while she simultaneously felt the hardness of his penis with her belly. His body was nearly hairless except for the dark nest at his loins from which his penis sprouted.
Marys tufted pubic triangle was two shades darker than her hair, and several shades darker than the hair that had grown under her arms since they'd left home at the beginning of the summer. With scant opportunity on the road to shave, her underarm hair had grown to half an inch. It had embarrassed her at first making her try to keep her arms down when they were making love. But they'd talked about it, just as they talked about all things, and she'd agreed underarm hair was very natural and therefore there could be nothing ugly about it. The same went for the hair that had grown back on her legs-a pale fringe they'd decided actually enhanced the appearance of her legs when they were lying together in the sunlight. She honestly agreed with Skip that she had good legs now, just as he had agreed with her that her legs had been too thin before.
Walking had done it. There was a delicately bulging fullness to her calves now and a tapered plumpness to her thighs. Yet her ankles were long and slender and her knees slim and smooth. Her hips were slim, blending smoothly into her thighs without the pads of flesh that older women develop. Her buttocks were very round, protuberant, and only slightly oval. Her belly was flat, almost hollow; yet it had the slightest, softest bulge near her tufted triangle.
Her ribs showed when she lifted her arms to put them about Skip's neck. Her breasts were very round and high, of moderate size, and needed no bra to support them. Their nipples, the same color as her lips, were firmly conical and fairly large. Her arms were lithe and graceful. All of her was lithe and graceful, supple and slim, yet nubile and very femininely delicate. Despite the sun-basking they'd done on their trek from Ohio, her skin remained pale. It was not a pallor of ill health, but a glowing paleness that was suffused with the pink tones of her vibrancy and youth. Here and there was a tinge of blue vein.
Entwined together as Skip and Mary were, legs grape vined and mouths clinging, hands groping to touch more of each other, they looked very beautiful and pure in the sylvan setting.
"I want to put my penis in you now, sweetheart," Skip whispered warmly in her ear.
"And I want you to do it now, my love."
She lay on her back, smiling, her eyes closed, and spread her legs for him. She held the delicate fringed lips of her sex apart with the fingers of both hands and he carefully fitted himself into her. She was quite wet and silky. When he'd gotten the knob of his penis within her portals she placed her arms about his neck and smiled into his eyes, not wincing at all when he slowly slid the rest of his cock inside her.
"You've got the sweetest, warmest little pussy in the whole world, Mary."
"It's all yours, Skip. My pussy belongs to you, just like the rest of me does."
She lay still and very open under him. She knew of his tendency to premature ejaculation and they both wanted this ultimate closeness to last. They kissed each other, whispered and giggled, and felt wonderfully good and warm, and loved. For Mary, this was the best time of their love-making. She could feel the pleasures, the highly vaunted physical sensations of their coupling, and these were very nice. When he did venture to move in her, the pleasures twinged and rippled sweetly through her body. When he had to remain quiescent there were the pleasures of his chest against her breasts, their hands on each other and his dear, good face to kiss. These were the deep, deep pleasures that made their coitus an act of love to be repeated and enjoyed many, many times to come.
It was these things that made Mary know she truly loved Skip. The other part of their coitus-that blinding burst of pleasure and the release and relaxation that followed-that joy would come in time. They both knew this and they didn't talk about it any more. At least Skip didn't worry so much about it any more.
"How I love you like this," he said in a voice too husky and vibrant for him-an exciting voice. "How I love to feel your pussy all wrapped around me and feel your boobs against me. Can you feel my heart beating? I can feel yours."
"Yes, love. I can feel every bit of you-outside of me and inside of me. I want you to come inside me. I want to hold you while you shoot your seed into me."
"I've got to do it now. You're just too much, Mary. Too much."
"Do it then," she whispered, and arched her hips back under him in a most natural way and thrust up at him.
That was all it took. He groaned, "I love you. Mary, I love you," and heaved himself at her again and again, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself from slamming terribly hard at her.
She strained him closer to her, feeling very much like weeping, and trying to pace the little thrusts of her hips to meet each of his. The ripples of physical pleasure were wonderfully nice, making her feel tingling and very much alive.
He sighed to a halt, and she basked in the pleasure she still felt-the pleasure she'd helped to bring to him. Locked like that, they murmured and giggled in each other's ear. They were both very happy, and on this day neither of them felt the least twinges of embarrassment their coupling had originally stirred in them.
Wanting to please him even more, Mary said, "I almost came today."
"Did you?" he asked, too eagerly. "I should have held on a little longer."
"No. Oh, no, honey. When it comes, it comes. You know. If we work for it, it won't be as good when it does come."
"Yeah. You're right. I sure do love you. Hey. How about a little number before I scrounge us up some dinner?"
"Groovy. In just a minute. I want to feel you inside me just a little longer."
"I'll get hard again in just a little while," he chuckled. "Then you're just liable to be sore tomorrow. like you were in Chicago."
"I wouldn't get sore now if we did it twice. I just wasn't used to it then."
He kissed her and slowly withdrew himself, saying, "Man, it'd kill me if I ever did make you sore. You still don't know how bad I felt about that in Chicago."
"But it was nothing. I could go twice. Lots of women do. And it's no big deal if I'm just a little sore later."
"It's a big deal to me," he said, and she knew she'd said the wrong thing. "You thirsty? Can I get you a drink out of the creek? Ice cold water and a little joint for the two of us. Man, what a groove. What a goddamn day!"
He got their cup out and fished a marijuana cigarette out of their stash. They lay on their sides, facing each other, nude, and passed the smoke and the water back and forth. She felt very good and she knew he did. too. As they laughed and talked she thought about making love again when they were nice and stoned. They'd tried it once, in a cornfield in Iowa, but hadn't since.
It had been a little too wild for them. Both of them had lost control for a while. Then Skip's animal gaspings, his clutchings at her, his surgings had sobered her and frightened her so that she had panicked and yelled at him to stop-stop and get hold of himself. He'd been frightened then, so much so that he couldn't finish, and since that day they'd discreetly refrained from the use of pot before they made love.
They frequently used it afterward, to enhance that relaxed and glowing state of love and contentment they shared now. This day, however, she felt she might be able to handle the stuff properly through a love-making session. She felt she was mature enough and knowledgeable enough in sexual matters now to be able to find total release with the aid of pot without panicking. And she felt she could seduce Skip into making love to her again. She would wait, she decided, until Skip's eyes were red rimmed from the pot and she herself was feeling even more of the sensuous glow that was already expanding in her.
"Man, I'm really hungry!" Skip exclaimed, and got to his knees.
"We had that hamburger. Lie down, love." She smiled up at him and held out her arms, knowing she looked very beautiful with the sun shining through her hair from behind her.
He took a long hit on the joint and passed it to her, then creaked, "Abalone. Lobster. Hungry."
Mary took a good hit and watched, disappointed, as Skip exhaled a thin vapor of smoke and rose and pulled his pants and vest on. Suddenly ebullient from the marijuana, he enthused, "Man, I can just taste those lobsters. Can you taste them? I can."
"Skip," she said. "We don't even know how to get them. Lie down and relax." Already, though, her mouth was watering, her stomach slowly turning in her sudden hunger.
"Shit, some other cat got 'em for his woman. So can I. Hey, I'll run up and get some more wood first, and by the time I get back I'll have a beautiful fucking plan on how to get some of them big red lobsters. You wait. You wait. I'll be right back."
He was gone then, hurrying back up the path in his bare feet, leaving Mary smiling and shaking her head. That was her man going off from the security of their camp, going to provide for his woman in the simplest, purest of ways. It was a means of provision far better than hurrying off to a job in the mornings. She took the last hit on the joint and carefully put it out.
She smiled as she thought about what a beautiful man she had and how beautiful it would be if she could stay right there with him forever. They wouldn't need that big house on the hill. They could be content right there in their little bower. They could live there in all happiness and at times feel sorry for those individuals who had to live within those luxurious but stifling white walls. The people up there would sneer down on them, but deep within they'd envy their existence-so free of hang-ups and stresses and conflicts, so simple.
Mary remembered much of what her mother had taught her, and one of these things was that a good wife is thrifty, although she wasn't Skip's legal wife. She rose to tuck the roach back in their stash. It felt wonderful to stand up and move about, all nude on a glorious day, feeling entirely free, and she understood Skip's need to be up and doing. She wished he could have gone naked to gather the wood. When he came back, after she'd convinced him that their cans of beans and sardines in the knapsack would make a perfect meal, he'd strip and they'd cavort about in the copse of trees.
They would make love before their meal dulled the lovely effects of the grass, and they would share their orgasms together. She was entirely confident that she would come with him, at exactly the same moment. It would be so very good. It would be one more wonderful experience they could share and share and share. She felt giddy, not only from the grass, but from the anticipation of her impending emergence as a full-blown woman.
Then the two abrupt sounds shocked her into cold sobriety. They were the yips of a siren, coincided with the squeals from automobile tires. She knew at once that Skip was being busted. She had a visual image of him being led in handcuffs to the back seat of a patrol car. Mary shook that vision off, told herself it was the grass causing her anxiety, and she crept to the edge of the clump of cypresses to sec what was happening. She could see some of the road above from there, but a jumble of boulders blocked much of the view.
She glanced about her and advanced in a crouch, wide-eyed, open-mouthed and very frightened. From behind the boulders she could see the top of a black car and three male heads. One of these was Skip, talking rapidly; the other two had policemen's caps on and were listening stoically. She watched, paralyzed, holding her breath, her hand at her throat. Then her vision was horribly realized as Skip was turned about and shoved along toward the car.
She wanted to scream, despite what she'd agreed to with Skip. No matter what she'd promised, she wanted to be with him now. "If either of us gets busted alone," he'd said, "then the other one lays low. We can't do each other any good if we're both in jail. You tell them you're older if you get caught. Show them the phony I.D.; then they'll have to let you go. Well meet later. If it's me they should bust, you get rid of our stash and take off. And for Christ sake, be careful.
"Well meet at the main branch of the post office in whatever big town we were in last. If you happen to get busted, I'll wait there for you, even if they send you back home to your folks and you have to come clear across the country again. I know it'll never happen, but . . . Well, if it does-to either of us-you be careful. Promise?" She'd promised, knowing it would never happen, and they'd put the serious talk aside with humorous conversation. Now the worst had happened and there was no way she could keep that promise.
She straightened up from behind the rock, started to call to them as the three heads ducked out of sight; then she realized she was naked. She opened her mouth again to call, and she could see, could almost feel the hands of the cops on her naked body, could visualize Skip's sick look as his woman was being handled and leered over. She cringed behind the boulders as the car rolled away.
Mary stumbled back toward the trees, sick. Now the old cypresses looked sinister, the deepening shadows ominous within. Fighting back tears, she focused on the knapsack which held the remaining marijuana. She was almost to it when she heard a low animal growl and the gruff words, "You get your Goddamned hands right up in the air or I'll blow you half in two with this shotgun!"
2
Mary lost control of her bladder for an instant and urine gushed down her bare legs. Reflexively, she half-crouched and covered her loins with both hands, even before the hot fluid had coursed down to her knees.
"Hands up, Goddamn it!" the voice roared, and she whimpered and raised her trembling hands to her shoulders, her legs still bent and held tightly together.
Something very wet and cold was pushed up between her buttocks, making her leap and squeal and try to cover herself with her hands. She stumbled and whirled about to see a big black Doberman advancing on her, sharp white teeth bared, snarling, ears laid down. Her mouth was open, trying to scream, when there was a swift motion in the shadows behind the dog and a flash of orange fire and an enormous roar. At her side the fire pit had exploded, peppering her with soot and bits of charcoal. Again her bladder failed her and she crouched and cupped both hands over her pudendum, weeping uncontrollably as she felt the hot urine flooding through her fingers.
"Hands up! Up, damn it! I'll shoot again!"
With an awful effort she tightened her muscles and closed off the flow. She was blubbering, her body jerking and twitching as she forced her hands up past her hanging head and into the air. Her water trickled down from her hands to her elbows, and when she managed to obey the command, "Higher!" she could feel it stinging and tickling its way down to her armpits.
Still the big dog a yard beyond her snarled. Now, through her tear-blurred eyes, she could see a pair of boots stride up and stop beside him. A double shotgun barrel hung at one side of the boots, pointed at her feet, and a big brown hand came down to frisk about at the dog's ears.
"It's okay, Bruno. It's just a little ol' gal. Easy boy."
She saw the dog look up, raise its ears, then trot a few steps forward and begin snuffling and prodding about her sodden loin.--.
"Oh, God, please," she sobbed, and stumbled back, starting to take her hands down to push at the dog's head.
"Get 'em up!" the man shouted. "Up! And don't you take another step, or by God I'll blow you apart!"
Somehow she made herself stand still and raised her hands again, weeping so convulsively now that her breasts bobbed.
The man chuckled, deep and resonant, and remarked in a sneering drawl, "What's the matter, Bruno? What you got there? Did we make the little gal wet her pants? Hell, she ain't got no pants, boy. Is that pretty nice stuff? Huh? Smell pretty good down there?"
The dog sniffed and sniffed, sending waves of revulsion and terror through Mary that surpassed any nausea she'd ever experienced. He turned his head to look at his master, ears cocked, giving Mary respite enough to draw one sobbing breath. Then he turned and made her whine pitiably by swiping his long tongue up her thigh and over the diagonal crevice of her groin. "Please," she sobbed. "Please."
"Now, Bruno, that ain't a nice way to do with a little ol' thang like that," the man said, striding forward to catch the dog's chromed chain collar, pulling him back. "She ain't no bitch in heat. . . least I don't thank she is. Just another daggone hippy trespasser. Better lookin' than some we've seen, eh boy? Gal, where's your boy friend? Huh? I know you all ways travel in pairs, your kind. Where is he?"
"Y'all better answer me," he said, very evenly, "or PI I turn Bruno loose on you."
"P-police . . . already . . . took him away," she said through her sobs. "I tried to . . . go with . . . Just take me to him now. Please. We didn't know we were t-t-trespassing.
"Turn y'self around. Now."
With a look at the dog and its lolling tongue, with a blurred glance at the man's face, dark and fierce, Mary turned, her entire body so tensed that it ached. At any moment she expected the dog's tongue to break her down again; instead, it was the man who came up behind her. He towered over her, but still she could smell his tobacco-reeking breath as he reached about her and quickly cinched something about her waist. She saw it was a leather belt, very thick, two inches broad, with a brass-studded leather cuff riveted to each of its sides. She felt him buckle the belt closed in the small of her back.
"What're . . . you doing to me?"
'This here's a whole lot better'n handcuffs. You can take your hands down now, one at a time, and put your little wrists in the cuffs."
"My clothes. Let me d-dress."
"Do as I say, gal," he growled, nudging his leg against her terror-hardened buttock.
"Just let me dress first," she sobbed. "Please, officer."
"Bruno!" he snapped, and she jerked both hands down into the cuffs.
He chuckled as he cinched them up, drawing her hands securely to her sides. It was painful, but the pain was nothing compared to the panic and debasement she felt.
Huge hands on her shoulders turned her about and she looked up at him. A shock of coarse black hair stuck out from under the bill of a khaki uniform cap. His face was very browned and there were deep seams about his grinning mouth. His eyes were pale blue, and his nose was twisted and flattened. When he opened his mouth and spat out a wad of tobacco, she could see how brown-stained his teeth were.
Then his mouth was on hers, mashing her lips, gagging her with the fumes of his tobacco habit. A newer, different kind of terror overwhelmed her and she struggled in his all-encompassing embrace while his big, horny hands pulled her to him and mauled her soft flesh. This terror was something she could combat. like every female, she'd had nightmares about being raped. She twisted her arms in their constrictions, welcoming the pain to keep her fury mounting. She tried to knee him but he was ready for that. There was no question of her losing her control of her bladder now, for every muscle of her lower body was tensed and strained and resistant against penetration.
With one hand he kneaded her breast, while with the other he groped behind her, pulling her closer to him and at the same time inserting his thick finger between her buttocks. In her desperation to escape from the pressure of it she writhed and twisted frantically. Then she felt the full length of the hard bulge in his trousers pressing against her soft, vulnerable belly. He thrust his tongue out and ran it over her lips and her gorge rose, threatening to choke her.
She peeled her lips back, baring herself to more of the tobacco stench, and tried to bite his tongue, all the while continuing to make wild grunting noises from deep inside her. The acrid vomit could no longer he fought down, and it rose, choking her, spewing forth from her nostrils, and she was grateful for it because it made him spit and snarl and cast her from himself to sprawl on the ground.
She lay there, spent, retching onto the soft cushion of grass, delivered at least for the moment from the horror of him.
He walked up and stood before her with his boots planted wide, and prodded her with the shotgun. "Get up, pig. Get up and get on up the hill." She wouldn't have moved. She would have let him shoot her had not the dog begun sniffing at her bare feet.
The path leading under the bridge and up the canyon was easy at first, giving Mary a chance to catch her breath. She learned that the only way to hold her hands without twisting her shoulder sockets was to place her palms flat against her hips. This put her elbows almost straight out from her sides, and the branches along the trail clawed at her as the man and the dog and the gun drove her upward, toward the big white house.
As the trail steepened, Mary slowed down, and as she did so, the man barked more commands at her to keep moving. Her lungs were on fire, and her mouth was not only cotton-dry but feeling heavily coated with the taste of his mouth and her stomach contents. Two hundred yards from the house on a very steep part of the trail, she stopped and tried to croak out a plea for him to let her rest for a moment. His reply was to stick the double barrels in the crack of her ass and command her on. She staggered ahead, driven on by the vision of her entire crotch splattering pink up the trail in front of her.
The cypress had given away to pines as they neared the house, and each new step drove the supposedly soft pine needles into her feet. Though it was fairly warm, the big trees shut off the sun's rays, and Mary felt chilled to the bone. When she could lift her head to look, the house was always there, still bathed in the afternoon sun, a haven to be reached. Or was it a prison, a house of horror and eventual death, untenanted by its owners and used by this renegade police officer at his cruel whim? She didn't know, but she did know that she had to reach it, not only because she was being driven there, but also because it was her only hope of salvation from the man and the dog. She staggered on up the steep trail, slipping on the pine needles but not feeling the pain from their prickings, and her arms held out in that unnatural attitude did nothing to aid her in keeping her balance. She couldn't hear the man's breathing over the sound of her own ragged puffings, but she could hear the dog's eager whining, and this, coupled with the occasional chilling contact of his muzzle with her leg, drove her on and kept her terror very much alive.
Twenty yards from the house the trail became vertical. It was only a long step of about two feet, and she could have made it easily if her hands were not bound to her sides. As it was, in her weakened condition, with the man barking and prodding at her, with the dog sniffing and whining at her, there was no way.
Still she tried. She tried to make it in one giant step and failed. She tried to leap up it and failed. Dust rose about them from her efforts, further parching her mouth and throat, and she groggily felt as if she were wearing down the side of the mountain as the pile of dirt and pine needles grew at the bottom of the two-foot rise. He swatted her two or three times to drive her up it but she barely felt the hard blows. Then he threatened her with the dog's name and she made a desperate leap.
Her feet churned at the crumbly soil, each toe seeking to find a place for itself as she tried to bend forward, tried to throw her weight over the top of the little rise that seemed so very big. She got to one foot on top of the ledge for an instant and the dirt disintegrated under her weight and she fell on her belly over the hump, then slid down with her face in it, then rolled several yards to come to rest, all rolled up in a ball, on a bed of prickly needles.
The man made a clicking noise with his tongue and the dog was at her, burrowing his nose between her legs and whining. Too exhausted, too dispirited to move, Mary began to cry and to urinate. Her body jerked like a limp puppet's as the dry sobs racked her. Her water gushed out from between her legs to form a puddle against her body before it seeped into the pine needles. Even when the dog began licking between the cheeks of her ass she could do no more than sob and weakly move her feet. She was too weak to make any effort at all to control her bladder, and when it was completely empty she felt luxuriously spent. At least that burden had been lifted from her.
"Heel, Bruno," the man said; then Mary felt herself being borne into the air with such ease that she had the sensation of flying.
Eyes closed, she could still feel the ridiculously small effort it took him to carry her up over the two-foot rise, then stride easily up the steep hill. Cramped as her cuffed arms were, breathing in his awful exhalations, she still felt ethereally good at this blissful end to all her humiliations. She knew nothing at all could ever happen to her that would be worse than the ordeal of the past hour.
3
When the man reached level ground Mary was able to roll her head to the side and partially open her eyes. He'd carried her beyond the white wall, onto a broad and twisting path that led through a thick carpet of green grass. She could see a large swimming pool, shimmering blue, with bright umbrella tables about it. Vividly colored flowers lined the walkway and bordered the big white two-storied house, and there was lush green vegetation growing along the inner side of the wall. A garage-sized hothouse stood beyond the pool, just in front of the stand of big pines and redwoods at the opposite end of the broad shelf on which the house had been built.
On he went, through the lush, man-made garden and up some wide stairs to the door of the big house. There he shifted her about in his arms and opened the door. He told the dog, "Stay". Then he carried her inside, into the warmth and security of walls and ceilings and carpeted floors, no matter how fleeting that security might be.
She forced herself to roll her head toward him and croak, "Put me down. Don't hurt me any more."
He chuckled and said softly, "Aw, I wouldn't think o' hurtin' you, honey. Ever'thing's gonna be all right now. Someday soon y'all will thank me for brangin' you up here."
Weak as she was, she tried to push at him. Then she heard another male voice saying in casual tones, "What's that you've got there, Hank?"
She rolled her head again, saw a blazing fireplace, rich furnishings, and a smiling man and woman in two deep chairs flanking the fireplace. She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thanks that she'd been delivered.
" 'Nother one o' them hippy types from down in the hollow by your beach, Mr. St. George. Says the feller she was with got picked up by the police. Where you want her?"
"Right there-on the floor," the woman said.
"Pardon, Miss Grace, but you don't want her on your nice carpet. She just smells somethin' awful."
"Just leave her there and go, Hank," the man said. "Didn't she have any clothes?"
"Yessir, but I come on her bare-assed, sir. Clothes and blanket and fucksack's down in the hollow. You want I should go fetch 'em? "
"By all means," said the woman. "We can't have a guest in our house without her luggage. Just leave her there. And thank you, Hank."
Those thick arms, so punishing and so comforting, set Mary down on the floor. On her back, she strove weakly against her own elbows in a feeble effort to get to her feet and present herself as she should be to this obviously refined and cultured couple in their obviously rich and abundant home. It was a home her mother would have been awed by, her father would have been acutely uncomfortable in, and one which had probably been pointed out to her in Better Homes as the epitome of what she should be striving for. But try as she might, Mary could only writhe on the deep pile of the carpet and led the eyes of the other-world couple on her. Her jutting elbows and her general debilitation kept her from gaining her feet, and her recent humiliations, vague yet compelling in her mind, kept her from asking for assistance.
They came to her aid.
"Grace, she needs some help."
"I should say she does, Eric. Take her to the spare room."
"Come. Help me, Grace."
Those were soft hands that lifted her, knowing just where to support her to avoid the creaking pain of twisted joints, knowing just how much to lift her along over the carpeting in order that her feet might move on their own, yet not bear too much of her weight on the bruised soles. She tried to thank them, but only little, grateful sobs came out, answered by murmurs of understanding and forgiving.
The feeling of movement was soothing, comforting. When the movement stopped, when she was held more firmly erect by the two people at each of her sides, Mary made an effort to stand more firmly erect and take her bearings. She looked into a wall mirror and saw her benefactors then. Both were tall and slim and blond and healthy, clad in white silk Hapi robes, and looking positively beautiful and immaculate. Between them she saw herself.
Her hair was a tangle of snarls and dirt and pine needles. Her face was red and swollen, and the tear-streaks had made furrows on it through the dirt. Her mouth lolled open, flecks of froth at the corners. The woman pushed Mary's matted hair from her eyes and she saw more of herself. Her body was gray, streaked with thin white trails where the perspiration and urine had run down, splotched with her dried vomit. Her pink nipples, coated with soot and dust, could not be discerned from the white of her breasts, which were equally soiled. Pine needles clung to her everywhere.
Her tuft of pubic hair was gone, replaced with what looked like an old, frayed, burned potholder. Down her legs the only relief to the grime was the dried rivulets of her urine. The couple stood a little apart from her, just supporting her by her elbows, looking as if she smelled as bad as Hank had said she did. And her elbows were out, her palms still on her hips, in the pose of some saucy little Neapolitan whore.
Mary hung her head and wept. She thought there were no more tears within her, but they came. From somewhere. She could feel them tortuously cutting paths through the dirt on her face, could feel them strike her breasts and be absorbed by the thickly coated soil there as she sagged farther in the grips of the two people who had saved her.
"She needs a good, hot shower," Grace said.
"Certainly," Eric replied. "But she needs something to warm her up inside first."
Mary barely moved her feet as she walked along the few steps to a sideboard, and there she was permitted to lean against Grace's solid softness while Eric quickly and efficiently poured some liquors together. The smell of it under her nose was strikingly welcome, and her chin was supported as the drink was tippled into her mouth. Just the taste of it was reviving, and the glowing sensation of it burning down through her internals was wondrously good.
It made her breathe faster, but it permitted her to say, "Thank you. Oh, thank you. It was so awful."
"Hush, dear. It's all right now."
"Eric. She needs another."
"One more. I'm fixing it. Then a shower. Good and hot, lots of soap and water."
Man.' gulped thirstily at the second drink, seeking even more revivification, but finding instead a deeper glow of security and warmth and well-being. She tried to turn her grimy face into a smiling, pretty countenance as the man and the woman led her from the little room into the bathroom.
When they both slipped off their Hapi robes Mary made an effort to shrink back from them. No! because of her ingrained past chastity in the face of nudity, but because they were so very clean and she was so very dirty. The belt with its cuffs still kept her elbows out. and these brushed against them both as she tried to back off. smiling in vague apology to them. They were good. They understood her. They each took an elbow and gently guided her along into the shower stall, under that hot, purifying water.
Eric and Grace placed Mary directly under the blessed torrent that flooded out from the shower head, and there she very contentedly staved while they lathered her from head to foot, time and again. While Grace rubbed fragrant shampoo into her hair. Eric knelt and made a foamy froth of her from her waist to her feet. Then he rose and soaped her breasts, her back, even under the leather belt, and it was Grace that knelt under the warm cascade and very satisfyingly washed and scrubbed overall those areas where the horrid dog had soiled Mary.
Several times she told them she was able to wash herself but they hushed her, embracing her, assuring her that everything was going to be all right. While they washed her they exclaimed over her beauty and called each other's attention to her individual charms by touching them. Mary felt she should be embarrassed at this, but their compliments seemed so guilelessly sincere and she felt so languidly good that she couldn't turn their kindnesses away. She further felt she should be at least a little embarrassed at their nudity, but it really seemed like too much of an effort to be embarrassed. She could only smile and try to answer them and lean back against the warm tile wall to wallow in the luxury of her salvation.
Grace was very soft when she brushed against her. Taller by several inches, patricianly lovely, she had a golden tan and her close-cropped yellow hair was a mass of tight ringlets-a little cap on her head. Her breasts were quite large with full, round undersides and big, pointed nipples. Though they didn't sag, their weight pulled them down to a level with Mary's breasts. Grace's breasts felt soft and comforting and mothering against her. She'd obviously been wearing a bikini in the sun, because her breasts and a triangle over her loins were snowy white.
At Mary's other side Eric stood at least six inches taller than she. He had a slim body, smoothly muscled, and his tan was unbroken by any mark of a bathing suit. Though his body was hard when he moved against her, it wasn't that massive, rock-like hardness of the terrible dark-haired man who'd taken her prisoner. And in contrast with that man's hands, Eric's hands were gentle and almost as soft as Grace's as he helped to wash Mary. But there was something wrong about his body. It wasn't as smoothly unbroken in its lines as it should be. Very slowly, as if she were more stoned on grass than anybody could be, Mary turned her head to look down and see what it was that kept sliding about her hips and belly.
She saw his penis, hard and very long, and for a moment she was relieved to find that it was only this normal male appendage that had been causing her to wonder. Then she reacted, moving away from the dull red knob, pressing closer to Grace. One of Grace's hands went about her waist to pull her close against the voluptuous body, and the other hand fondled her breasts. There was no soap in either hand now, and when Mary looked up at Grace, the taller woman parted her lips and moved toward her as if to kiss her.
"Please . . . no," Mary murmured, drawing back her head. "Skip. Where's Skip? Please take me to Skip."
The water was shut off now and Eric moved in from her other side, fondling her, his penis pressing and sliding up her belly.
"Don't worry about him, Mary. Everything's fine. lie's in good hands and so are you."
"Lovely, isn't she? Perfect little breasts."
"Please don't do that. Please."
"Yes, she has beautiful tits. Perfect ass, too."
" Adorable little thing."
"Please. Don't. Skip won't like it," Mary pleaded, finding it difficult to get a full breath now as she was backed into the corner by them. They were smiling at her, very close, and fondling her body everywhere.
"Skip won't mind, Mary," Eric purred as he nuzzled her ear.
"Don't worry about what hell like," Grace said, smoothing her cheek on Mary's. "All that matters is what you want."
"Think of nothing but your pleasure, my dear."
"We want to make you feel so very wonderful, Mary."
Eric turned her head and kissed her full on the mouth, thrusting his tongue between her lips, and she knew they were right. Skip didn't matter. All that mattered was the wonderfully warm and yearning feelings so strong in her for these marvelous people who could do no wrong. She tangled her tongue with his and suctioned him deeper into her mouth, pushing her breasts against his chest, then pushing her loins against his long, lean thigh. She tried to follow his mouth when it retreated, but her head was turned by Grace's hands and the woman kissed her, just as passionately as Eric had. Mary frowned and tried to turn her head away, tried to expel this tongue from her mouth, even though it was sweeter, more delicate than the other. Her hands writhed helplessly at her sides, trying to push away this unnatural kiss.
She felt Eric take her fingers and she rolled her eyes at his handsome smiling face, then felt her fingers being closed over his penis. For a moment the touch of that hard shaft paralyzed her, blotting everything out of her mind but the almost tangible sensation of that beautiful hard penis sliding up inside her burning pussy. She squeezed it hard and pressed its solid heat hard against her side, trembling and panting through her nostrils as she began returning the wonderful kiss with all the voracity that Grace was displaying.
"Our little hippy is getting hot, Grace," Eric said.
Grace ended her turn at Mary's lips with a wet, smacking sound, and cooed, "Are you hot, darling?"
"Mm-hmm," Mary smiled, pushing back at the good, good hands that pressed against her breasts.
"A little sleepy, too?" Eric asked.
"I don't know. Yes. Yes, I think I am."
"Of course you are, dear. You've had a long, hard day."
". Well help you."
Each took an arm and led the grinning, heavy-lidded girl out of the shower. Eric took her in his arms and kissed her and fondled her while Grace hastily dried herself. Then it was Grace's turn to keep the sighing girl aroused while Eric quickly dried off. They sandwiched her in between them, kissing and caressing her while they dried her off. Her body glowed and tingled all over, without the faintest residues of the pain she'd experienced so shortly before.
She stumbled along between them then, back into the other room. There she was sat down on a broad, black, velvet-covered couch, and while Eric unbuckled her cuffs, Grace got on her knees between Mary's legs and kissed and licked her nipples. The moment each of Mary's hands was free, she instinctively put that arm about Grace's head and hugged her closer.
As Eric worked at the buckle at her back, he murmured, "Does that feel nice, Mary? Do you like what Grace is doing to you?"
"Wonderful," Mary sighed, turning her torso to give Grace easier access to her other breast.
"Stay right there, dear," he said.
He rose and took a 35mm Nikon camera from under the sideboard. He focused through the view-finder, then took a flash picture of the pair on the couch. Mary didn't even react to the flash, but Grace did by urging Mary to lie back. She lifted the girl's ankles and placed her feet on the edge of the couch. She spread her legs very wide, then parted the pearly pink lips of her vagina. She placed her mouth very close and told Mary to hold her head.
When Mary's fingers were entwined in her wet curls, Grace opened her mouth and pressed it against the young vagina. Eric stood over them and refocused on the scene. When Mary was smiling lewdly and writhing about he took another flash picture. Another was taken of Mary and Grace stretched out on the couch, limbs entwined, kissing passionately.
It took some talking to convince the groggy girl to get into the next position for them. Partially because she objected to performing that act, and partially because she wanted to continue in the soft embraces with Grace. Together, though, they succeeded. With Grace lying on her back with her legs spread, Mary crouched between Grace's legs and placed both hands on her soft tanned thighs. She pressed her lips briefly in the golden fur there, just long enough for Eric to take another picture. They had her stay there then while Grace took the camera.
Eric got behind Mary and carefully inserted his stiff penis in her vagina from the rear. Grace took the picture of them that way, with Mary's smiling face turned toward the lens and Eric holding her by the hips. They took another position, with Mary on her back, her knees drawn up as far as they would go to permit the deepest possible penetration by him, and Grace took a picture of this. It took less convincing to get Mary to fellate Eric than it had for her to perform cunnilingus on Grace because the girl was all but unconscious by then. Still they managed to get a convincing look of enjoyment on her face before they took the picture.
Together they got the belt and wrist cuffs on her. From behind the couch Eric pulled a thin steel cable. This was hooked into the back of the belt, its other end being attached to the wall. Then they laid the sleeping girl on her back.
"She's a lovely thing, Eric."' "And very trainable, I feel."
"They usually are. But shell be fun to train, providing she's safe."
"From what she and the boy were saying at the beach, sure she is. Well know in the morning. God, I'd like to fuck her now."
Grace smiled and moved against him, taking his cock in her hand. "There'll be time for that later, darling. I want all of your beautiful cock tonight, and I want it right here, where we can both look at her."
"Beautiful. Perfect. No matter how many others there have been, you're always the best. You always will be."
"And you. There's no one in the world like you. Will you fuck me in the ass tonight, Eric?"
"Gladly. Providing I can lick your lovely cunt afterward."
"I can think of nothing I'd like better."
"You are sweet. Grace. You're the best sister a man ever had."
4
Mary awoke feeling very refreshed and ravenously hungry. She was on a couch, covered with a black velvet spread, in a small room that was well lighted by the sunlight streaming in through the high windows over the couch. The mirror that covered one wall made her vaguely recall seeing herself in it, nightmarishly soiled and unkempt, flanked by the immaculately beautiful people. Eric and . . . and Grace. Those were their names. But had they been real? She started to sit up, but the restricting belt and cuffs stopped her and she fell back, knowing very surely then that it had been all too real. She closed her eyes and groaned, turning her head toward the back of the couch to shut off tin-image of herself in the mirror, lying with hair awry on tIn-black couch, looking like a vampire's victim.
Her sore muscles, the little abrasions she could feel all over her body told her that the tortuous trip up the hill, the man Hank and the dog Bruno had actually been realities.
She clearly remembered the comforting luxury of the big main room of the house and the kindness and understanding of Kric and Grace, the warming drink they'd given her and the wonderfully cleansing shower. She recalled being kissed and hugged and comforted in the shower, not by one but by both of her benefactors. But were they benefactors or were they not? Her memory of emerging from the shower was vague, leaving her with the impression that the couple had been so smitten by her that their feelings had gone beyond sympathy to sexual attraction so strong they'd both had a good deal of intimacy with her. But that was patently impossible. A lovely married couple like them wouldn't possibly do those things. It was part of an erotic dream-the same dream that had continued to include the very fuzzily recalled perversions with them on this couch and the utterly debased union between them on the floor of this room, only a few fragments of which were dimly imprinted on her confused mind.
Wherever she was and whoever they were, she knew they were her enemies, lor they'd bound her up in this ridiculous fashion and taken away her freedom-taken away her man. Still and all. she was far better off in this little room than she was out in the canyon with tinman and the dog.
With her palms still pressed against her hips it was difficult to sit up. She helped herself with her elbows, the rebel coverlet falling about her lap as she swung her led oil the couch. She tried to pull the coverlet up with her teeth to Conceal her nudity before she stood up. but it didn't work, ami-he let it fall as she got to her feet. She looked extremely naked in the mirror and her inability to at least cover herself with her hands was maddeningly frustrating. The way they were, on her hips, with her elbows out, gave her a ridiculously hoydenish appearance to which her disarrayed hair added. It would be best not to look at that reflection in the big mirror, if that was possible.
The room was about twelve by fifteen feet with the mirror and the couch on opposite longer sides of it. There was a deep pile red rug on the floor that fell very soft under Mary's lacerated feet. On the wall to her left was a large, modern wood cabinet with covered shelves and drawers. running the length of the wall, deep and commodious. On top of it was a record turntable, and just over it was a square, recessed window of the type seen in the back of movie theaters. There were small pictures on the wall, framed photographs and engravings and paintings of people engaged in various sexual activities. To her right there was another smaller cabinet, and next to that two doorways, one with no door on it through which she could see a large bathroom, almost as big as the room in which she stood. Since she was thirsty and had to urinate, she started toward the doorway. She was almost there when the cable attached to the back of the belt brought her up short.
She turned, frowning, then grew fumingly angry at finding herself thus tethered. She jerked at it and lunged against its restraint. She tried vainly to reach where it was fastened to her, then threw her full weight against it. It didn't budge. She followed it back then, behind the couch where the plastic-covered steel disappeared into what looked like a telephone wire baseplate. She gripped the cable with one lettered hand and pulled. It to no avail She stood up and turned around and around, winding the cable about her waist, then tried to jerk it out of the wall, with no result beyond pinching her flesh between its coils. She slowly began to turn round and round again, unwinding it.
The room spun around her so that sinsaw all its Contents again and again-the red rug and the pale yellow walls, the pornographic pictures on the walls and the ominously shuttered cabinets, the bathroom, the big black couch where she knew not what had taken place, and most of all herself . . . hands coyly on hips, helplessly bound, pirouetting slowly at the end of a leash. By the time the cable was unwound from her she was quietly weeping. She sank to the floor and hung her head and continued until, a minute later, the door opened.
Mary snuffled and quickly wiped her cheeks on her shoulders, determined not to show them anything but defiance. She sat more erect, wishing she could do something to cover herself, then looked up to see Eric St. George standing tall in the doorway, smiling down at her. He was casually dressed in slim slacks and a cashmere sweater, and in his hand he held a clipboard. He looked anything but sinister, but she knew very well that he was.
"Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?"
"Let me out of here! You can't keep me here like this. What is this? Some sort of mental institute? Where's my friend? I want to be taken to my friend or to the police."
"Easy," he laughed. "You'll learn all those things in time. But first we have to learn a little more about you. Would you like to get up on the couch for our little interview?"
"No. There's not going to be any interview."
"My dear, there must be if we're to help you."
"The only way you can help me is to give me my clothes and let me get out of here. Where's Skip? Where's my friend? And you stop calling me your dear!"
He chuckled, setting the clipboard down, and came forward to reach down for her, saying. "I'll help you to the couch, my dear."
She fought furiously, trying to kick him and bite him, trying to twist away and fight him with any means she could. She shrieked at him in total fury, telling him to keep his vile hands off her.
And he did stop. He smiled and nodded and returned to the door. Opening it, he stepped out in the hall and wheeled in a cart on which reposed a silver coffee pot and silver-covered dishes. He lifted one of the covers to reveal a plate of steak and eggs, and the aroma that wafted toward Mary was enough to instantly make her mouth water.
She gathered up her will power and snapped, "You can't bribe me into being a nice little girl with food, mister. Goddamn you, let me out of Ziere!"
"All I want at this time is for you to answer some questions," he said, replacing the silver cover over the savory-looking food.
"Screw you," she said, looking away. "Bruno!" he called, and Mary was scrabbling baek across the carpet toward the couch even before the big Doberman came whipping around the side of the doorway.
She screamed and kicked at the dog, and immediately he was on her, huffing his hot breath up between her legs, searing her inner thighs with his cold nose and swiping his hot, slimy tongue over her flesh. Completely frantic, she rolled over on her stomach and he was at her backside with his muzzle, slobbering her there. When she rolled again she struck the couch, giving him the opportunity to lick her groin. She drew her legs up as he attacked her breasts with his tongue.
"That's enough, Bruno," the man said. "Out. Get out of here, boy."
Bruno slopped, looking eagerly at Mary, then swung about to lope toward the door. As he turned she saw his penis out of its black sheath of fur, long and angry and red, and those big black testicles were the final view she had of him.
Eric St. George calmly picked up the clipboard and went into the bathroom. He returned with a wet washcloth and Mary could only sit and shake as he washed at the saliva streaks on her body. Her breathing still was not under complete control when he took a pencil from his pocket and began asking his questions.
"Name, please?"
"M-Mary Johnson."
Gazing past her, his expression turned sad and he said, "The truth, Mary. Do you want me to call the dog again."
"No, I . . . My name is Mary Louise Josephson."
"Age?"
"Seventeen. I'm a minor."
"Where are you from, Mary."
"San Francisco."
His fingers hesitated with the pencil. He shook his head in a melancholy way and turned toward the door. He'd just opened his mouth when she blurted, "I'm from Shaker Heights, Ohio. It's just outside of Cleveland and I left there two months ago with my friend. Please. That's the truth."
He looked at her again and wrote that down, then proceeded to ask her many more questions-about herself, her parents, Skip, their plans, everything. When she tried to lie or even be evasive, he could tell, and Mary eventually told him all he wanted to know, feeling very defeated at her weakness and at his omniscience. He rose and got her a glass of orange juice from the tray and tipped it while she drained it.
"That should do it for now," he said. "Mary Louise Josephson, aged seventeen from Shaker Heights. Parents Claude and Hazel Josephson who have no idea where you are and have placed ads in the underground newspapers. Two months and a week on the road with Homer Skip Royson, living in communes, working a little, begging, mostly subsisting on what the two of you stole from his parents before you left."
"Could I please have something to eat now?" she asked, adding sarcastically, "sir."
"Of course. Would you like to make your morning toilet first?"
"I would like to take myself a leak . . . sir."
"Certainly," he said, and she flinched away from him as he reached behind her belt. He detached the cable with frustrating ease. He courteously assisted her to her feet and guided her along into the bathroom, and she walked stiffly erect at his side, having to turn a little sideways to get her jutting elbows through the doorway. He brought her along to the toilet and turned her around facing him.
"I suppose you'll want to piss first."
Mary colored and looked away from his handsome, smiling face, saying, "Yes. I have to urinate. May I please sit down and do that . . . sir?"
"Of course," he said, and applied pressure on her shoulders so that she sat down. He smoothed his hand over her bare shoulders, saying as he did, "You're a very pretty girl, Mary. A lovely girl."
"Would you please get your hands off me, sir? Would you please at least let me urinate, sir?"
"Go right ahead," he said, and stooped by her side, sliding his hand down her stiff back, placing another long hand on her knee. "A very lovely girl indeed."
Mary fought back the tears to say in a rising voice, "Would you please get your dirty fucking stinking goddamned hands off me! Will you at least let me take a leak?"
"Go on, dear," he said, and brushed her upper arm with his lips. "Go on and piss, Mary." He moved his hand over the small of her back to caress the top halves of her plump buttocks. "Have yourself a nice piss; then well give you some breakfast. Piss, Mary. Piss."
"Leave me alone," she whined. "I can't do it like this."
"I think you can," he said, and moved his hand up her leg to gently stroke her belly while the other hand fondled her about the hips. "Just relax. You have plenty of time. And I'll stay right here with you till you've had a nice piss, dear."
His light caresses tickled her more and more, became more and more intimate about her breasts. She tried to squirm away, tried to get up, but he was quick to return her to her seat. She began to cry and he soothed her with his words, telling her how lovely she was and assuring her there was nothing wrong with her pissing in front of him. A few drops clattered into the bowl, emitted from either the effort she was making to empty her distended bladder or by the increasing bodily weakness she found in her despair.
"That's the girl," he said, and moved closer, squeezing her about the hips, nestling his cheek against her arm and looking very pleased, making her bladder constrict and shut off the flow almost at once. He patted and stroked her, saying, "Come on and piss, dear. Let me hear it go. Squirt out all the lovely piss, Mary."
She slumped forward, sobbing softly, and managed to let it go in a continuing splashing and clattering stream. And he congratulated her with excessive effusion, reminding her how good it felt, and hugging her and squeezing her breasts lightly, seeming to be as relieved as she was as her urine flowed and flowed into the toilet giving her such a feeling of relief that her body tingled everywhere.
For such a simple, oft-repeated effort, the act left Mary very weak. Eric came around in front of her and easily parted her knees. She remained slumped over as he got tissue and patted her dry with meticulous care, still smoothly delivering his words of congratulation to her. "What a nice piss that was. Didn't it feel good, Mary? At the right time, there's nothing so good as a nice piss. So relieving. like a tiny orgasm. Oh, that's right. You've said you never yet experienced orgasm. It's a feeling of enormous relief, Mary, and of course there's much more to it than that."
He let the tissue fall and returned his hand to her vagina, patting it with his fingers and pressing against the soft flesh there, saying, "Such a nice little cunt. I'd like it very much if you could come right now. I'd like to help you come, dear. I'd like to make you feel wonderful."
He had his middle finger up in her hole to the second joint and he was softly mashing her clitoris with the heel of his hand, spreading her labia. He was between her knees and she was unable to close her legs. His other hand on her thigh could prevent her from standing up. She moaned, "God. You're a pervert. You're going to do awful things to me. You're going to rape me."
"I'll make you feel all the things you've been missing in sex, dear. We all will. You can't think we're perverts because we appreciate sex, can you? It will all be good, Mary. Everything we do together in this house. Ah, you're getting a little wet. It does feel good, doesn't it?"
"Please," she moaned, and weakly writhed about on the toilet seat, slowly twisting her hands in the cuffs.
"Of course. You're hungry," he said, and removed his hand. To her disgust, to her great loathing, he lifted that hand to his face and breathed deeply inward through his nostrils with the middle finger extended under his nose. "Lovely. Just lovely." When he got up to help her up, she saw the unmistakable bulge of an erection in his trousers.
Back in the other room he clipped on her cable and fed her, giving her forkfuls of egg and steak, bites of thickly buttered toast and sips of richly aromatic coffee. It was all so very good that her most recent ordeal was forgotten and she ate voraciously, leaning forward for each new bite that she requested. He fed her like a proud father, applying more jam to her toast when she asked for it, refilling her coffee cup and patting her like a good child, until there was no more left on the plates. She stifled a tiny belch and leaned back against the cushions of the couch.
"There," he said, beaming. "That's much better, isn't it?"
Eyes closed, she said, "I suppose there was something in it. like there was in that stuff you gave me to drink last night."
"No, there wasn't. It was just good food, to keep you healthy and strong."
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," she sighed. "Don't treat me like a little girl."
"You're anything but that," he chuckled, and squeezed both her breasts.
Irritated, she shrugged her shoulders about trying to get his hands off her. She said, "Cut it out. Man, I don't dig you. You're freaky, man, and you just don't turn me on."
"I could," he said, stroking her body.
"Sure. With drugs or something. like last night. You did do something to me then, didn't you? When I was passed out. You and your freaky wife. Man, you are sick!"
"We wouldn't need drugs. Not even grass, Mary. I'm glad, by the way, that you told me about the marijuana in Skip's knapsack. I found it there when Hank brought me the knapsack last evening."
That's how you knew I was lying . . . or trying to lie?"
"I knew, Mary. That's the important thing. Just as III always be able to tell when you try to lie to me. Possession of marijuana is a serious thing, you know. You could go to jail for that."
"And you could go to jail for what you're doing. Messing around with a minor. Probably kidnapping or something. Just who the hell are you, man, and what the fuck are you trying to do? You've got a bitchin' wife and-"
"I'm glad you like Grace. She is lovely."
"-You've got a bitchin' wife and probably enough money to buy any other chicks you want and . . . Goddamn it, will you please get your dirty fucking hands off me."
"But you're so lovely and sweet."
"Oh, shit," she said, falling back on the cushions again. "What the hell's the use. Go on and play, you perverted lecher. Rape me or do whatever you want. Kill me. I don't care."
"But I want you to respond to me, Mary. I want to know I excite you as much as you excite me."
"Good luck, Charlie. The only thing I respond to around here is that. . . that dog. He makes me do what you want. Does that make you happy? How does it feel to have a goddamned dog pimping for you, you bastard?"
"Your vocabulary is exemplary," he chuckled. "But it needs polish. Well see to that before you leave."
"You're going to let me go?" she asked eagerly, then slumped back again and said, "Shit. You won't let me go till somebody comes and . . . and saves me."
"Don't worry, dear. We'll take good care of you. Soon you may not even want to leave us."
He kissed her cheek and rose, rearranged the dishes on the cart and started to wheel it out.
When he was at the door, Mary straightened up and said, "Wait. Eric? Wait."
Turning, he said, "Yes, Mary?"
"Just tell me one thing. Is Skip here? Whatever this place is, is Skip here, too? "
He shook his head and said, "I wish I could tell you, dear, but I can't. Then again, it's better you don't know. I know how young people can just about exist on surprises."
Mary's bound wrists had never frustrated her more than then, for as he left, she wished nothing more in the world than to be able to pick up some object and throw it at his handsome blond head.
5
As soon as he left Mary started her escape. She didn't shake off her bonds or rip the cable free of the wall, but she did start to escape by checking out her environment very carefully, just as they did in books and movies.
By standing on the couch she could see out the high windows, the same windows with their wooden bars that she and Skip had looked at the day before-an age before. The view from there was spectacular, not only of the ocean and its shore, but also of the highly civilized yard and swimming pool and the wild and beautiful canyon beyond that. It all combined to present the grandest view she'd ever seen, and she hoped that if Skip was in the house he was in a position to see it, as well. If only they were in the same room, there'd be no real reason for them even to try to escape. This way there definitely was.
She scrutinized the wooden bars closely. Over an inch thick, they were a dark, natural wood. Not something that had been turned on a lathe and purchased in a lumberyard, but the almost straight branches of some tough tree. They were imbedded in the plaster of the walls of the house, walls that she could now see were at least a foot-and-a-half thick. There was a twenty-foot drop below the window, one more thing that made that route of escape unattractive.
Turning from that, Mary again tried to break the cable. She tried to remove the cable's base plate from the wall and failed. She tried to work the cable's catch loose where it fastened to her belt by working it against the furniture, and she failed at this, too. Then she sat down on the couch and stared at herself in the big mirror. At intervals she asked questions: Why? Who are they? Where is Skip? How long? She was very frightened and also very restless from the inactivity.
There was a knock on the door that startled Mary. Before she could reply to it the door opened and a young woman came in. She was dressed in a light blue nylon dress with a white apron about her waist and white flat shoes on her feet. She was over medium height with dark hair done in one thick braid which was coiled on her head. She was overweight by thirty or forty pounds, although comparatively little of this bulk had gone to amplify her bosom. Her face was moon-round. She grinned shyly as she closed the door behind her.
"I know there's no need to knock, but I always forget. Hi, Mary. My name is Lily. Or you can call me Lil . . . whatever you like. I'm supposed to help you with things. I'm your maid, Mary."
"I don't need any help," Mary said, turning away from the bovine young woman, feeling embarrassed at having anyone near her own age see her in her predicament.
"Well, sure you do," Lily said as she sat on the edge of the couch beside Mary. "There's just lots and lots of things you can't do when you're leashed up like this. I know."
"How do you know? Did they do this to you, too? Did they?" Mary snapped, looking closely at the maid.
"I'm not supposed to tell," Lily said, and went into the bathroom before Mary could pursue the subject.
The girl-this fat, childish maid she'd been assigned-presented the first real ray of hope for Mary, if not for escape, at least for information about Skip and about her own incarceration. If she were careful enough, Mary might be able to use Lily as effectively as a key to her wrist cuffs. She got the frown off her face, replacing it with a serene little smile by the time Lily returned, a hairbrush in her hand.
"Are you going to try to get the snarls out of my hair, Lily? You'll have quite a job doing that."
"Oh, I don't mind," Lily beamed, coming to sit down behind Mary. "I haven't got nothing else I'd rather be doing. Gee, it is snarled awful bad. I'll sure try not to hurt you, kid . . . Mary. I'll take my time and do a nice job."
"I hate to put you to the trouble. I could do it myself if you'd let my wrists loose. I wouldn't try to get away."
"You couldn't get away, and I couldn't unloosen the cuffs now. I will later, though, for a little while. Gee, you sure do have nice hair. Nice and thick. Mine's too coarse."
Mary tried to establish some sort of rapport with the girl by talking girl talk. Because of her uneasiness, because of Lily's apparently limited mentalities, it wasn't easy at first. Slowly, though, she felt more comfortable in their simple conversation and felt she was making some sort of friend of the girl who'd been assigned as her maid. Lily obviously liked her and was getting to think of her more as a friend than as a prisoner.
When her brush caused Mary to wince, Lily was quick to apologize and comfort her with solicitous little pats on her head and back. She commented several times on Mary's attractiveness and bemoaned her own plainness and obesity, to which Mary replied with assurances that Lily wasn't at all unattractive. Mary felt she was making progress and was pleased with herself.
When Mary's hair was free of tangles and hung in long, silken tresses again, Lily clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Gee whiz, Mary, you really are pretty. You're just beautiful. I'd sure like to see you all dressed up with make-up on and everything. I will someday."
"Oh, how do you know that?" Mary asked.
"I know things," Lily smugly replied, facing Mary now to artfully arrange her long hair over her breasts. "I may not be so smart, but I know lots of things."
As casually as she could, Mary asked, "Do you know if anybody else is being kept here like I am?"
"Yep."
"Where is he?" Mary eagerly demanded. "Is he all right?"
Lily's little eyes and her mouth formed three O's, all innocence, and she asked, "Who you talking about, Mary?"
"You know. Skip. Homer Royson. You said he was here."
"I got you that time," Lily laughed, rocking back and forth in her mirth and squeezing Mary's knees with both hands. "All's I told you was I knew if anybody else was being kept here now. I didn't say if anybody was or wasn't being trained here now besides you. Hey now, don't look like that. Don't start crying or anything. Gee, Mary, I just can't tell you things like that. And you can't ask me if you want me to be your . . . you know . . . friend besides just your maid. Do you want to be my friend? "
"Yes. Yes, Lily. I really do. But I just can't help asking about things I don't know about. You can't blame me for that."
"And you can't blame me for not telling you, but well still be friends. Okay?"
"Okay," Mary smiled.
Lily took Mary's shoulders in her pudgy hands. She glanced furtively about as her expression grew conspiratorially serious, and she leaned very close to Mary's ear to whisper, "I can help you out a lot, kid. I can make things a lot nicer for you here. You need a friend, Mary."
"I know that, Lily," Mary whispered back, close enough as to be almost overwhelmed by the girl's cheap perfume. "I want to be real good friends with you, Lily."
Lily squeezed her hard and pecked her on the cheek. The moon face was split with a broad grin when she backed away and began working on one of Mary's wrist cuffs. Mary could scarcely contain her great joy at just the thought of even partial freedom. When the buckles were undone she held out her arm and stretched it, turned it, looked at it with a smile as she held it this way and that, with Lilly grinning at her, sharing the simple joy of her new friend.
Lily said, "I got to get the shaving stuff ready now. Promise you won't undo the other one?"
"What shaving stuff?"
"Well, for your armpits and things. One thing I've always got to do is see you're sanitary. Promise you won't undo the other cuff while I'm in the John."
"I promise," Mary said, and continued to stretch and turn her arm until Lily had gone into the bathroom. Then she reached behind her and felt the cable attachment. Watching the door-less doorway all the time, she explored with her fingers and found nothing in the way of a real lock there. The end of the cable formed a tight loop in a little ring that was centered in a circle of rivets, and there seemed no way at all of its being detached, especially as quickly and easily as Eric had done it that morning. It was maddening, because she knew there was some way to turn it or twist it and she'd be off the leash, but try as she might, she couldn't do it.
At the sound of Lily's returning footfall Mary gave it up and was smiling at her new friend with her hand in her lap when she returned. Lily had her stand up, and knelt on the floor behind her. And after several seconds of fumbling, she freed Mary of the leash, leaving Mary more frustrated than ever at her own failure.
Lily stood Mary by the marble-topped bathroom sink and had her raise her arm over her head. But when Mary saw the shaving mug and the brush and the old-fashioned straight razor she began to lower her arm again. Lily assured her it was entirely safe, that she was an expert who could shave a girl with a straight razor with fewer nicks than even an electric razor would give, just as long as the shavee remained reasonably still. She teased Mary by putting a dab of the warm shaving cream on her nipple. She regained the girl's confidence in her as a barber, and got Mary to raise her arm once again.
The lather was warm and really quite pleasant in Mary's armpit, and the careful strokes of the razor were very smooth. Mary watched in fascination at the way Lily's thick fingers handled the ugly blade so dexterously, sweeping her underarm quite free of lather and of hair. Lily had her continue to hold up her arm while she washed her there with a hot towel. Then she splashed on a soothing, fragrant lotion from a bottle. When she finished with that arm she seemed pleased with her work.
Smiling, the big girl stooped and placed her face close to Mary's open armpit. She inhaled through her nostrils and said, "Nice and clean and sweet like a little baby. Kissable, too." With that she startled Mary by smacking a wet kiss in her newly shaven armpit.
Mary giggled nervously and squirmed about, bringing her arm down, and Lily giggled with her and eluded her for being so ticklish. She threatened to tickle her there again and Mary begged her not to, being self-conscious and embarrassed for this childish young woman whose friendship she was falsely courting.
When Mary asked Lily to free her other wrist, Lily said, "Kid, I'd just love to leave both your wrists free for a little while, but that's one rule I can't break. I'll have to put this wrist back in the cuff while I shave your other armpit."
Mary submitted to it and was allowed to stretch her newly freed arm for a little while. While she did, Lily tried to amuse her by painting a face on her breast with the lather and shaving brush, assisting her little work of art along with her fingers until a comic countenance was there. There were lathery curls down either side of Mary's left breast and little eyes and eyebrows on the upper mound. The nose of the cartoon was her pink nipple, and on the plump underside were a pair of large, smiling, carefully made lips. When they'd both laughed at it sufficiently, Lily carefully removed all the lather with the hot towel and went to work on Mary's left armpit.
She worked slower, closer concentrating more, and she said as she worked, "Gee, Mary, you have the prettiest titties of all. So many girls' hang down, but yours stand right up and they're so smooth and firm. No pimples or anything, and your nipples are just about the prettiest color in the whole world."
"Oh, I'm just average," Mary said, feeling a little uneasy but still rather enjoying Lily's obvious appreciation of her.
"You're not. You're perfect. I mean all over, too. You're so darned nice and I like you so much. Gee, I wish we two had met someplace else than here, almost."
"That would be nice, Lily. Where should we have met? Where are you from, anyway?"
"Peoria," Lily said with disgust. "I just hated it. That's why I ran away to San Francisco."
"And you were there when you went to work for these people?"
"Sort of," Lily grinned, and soothed the lotion into Mary's left armpit.
"Sort of? What happened, Lily? Did they kidnap you, too?"
"Is this one as ticklish as the other?" Lily asked, placing a warm kiss in Mary's armpit.
It caught Mary by surprise, as did Lily's big arms that went about her and held her. She struggled, giggling madly while Lily's mouth burrowed into her ticklish flesh, and when Lily at last stopped, Mary felt weak from her laughter as both girls laughed together.
Lily fastened up her wrist again and touched the point of her finger on Mary's nipple. Her face was slightly flushed as she grinned, "Are you as ticklish here, kid?"
"Please, Lily," Mary said, but it was too late because Lily had already bent and was kissing her nipple. Now Mary felt the girl's great strength as Lily held her for the kiss, moving hurriedly over her breast. Lily's lips and tongue were hot and wet on her nipple and areola and on the firm flesh she'd admired, as Mary, horrified, begged her to stop.
Suddenly Lily stopped and hugged Mary to her, pleading, "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to do it that much, but I just couldn't stop. Gee, I like you so much and you're so darned pretty and I was just trying to make you feel nice. Don't be mad at me, Mary. Please don't be mad at me. I just want to be your friend."
Still trying to get her breath, trying to speak calmly in the aftermath of Lily's impulsive attack, Mary said, "It's all right, Lily. We're still friends. But don't ever do that again. You shouldn't ever do that."
"Why not?" Lily grinned, close to Mary's face. "It feels real nice, doesn't it?"
"Oh, Lily," Mary said impatiently. "It's something girls just don't do. You know that."
"Do I?" she asked, trying to be impish with her grin.
"Well, if you say so. kid. Come on now. I gotta shave your legs next."
"Shave my legs? What for?"
"It's my orders. You want me to get in trouble? Besides, letting hair grow on their legs is something girls just don't do. You know that. Come on. I'll sit you right up here on the sink top and do a real nice job on you."
"But Lily, I don't want . . . "
"Either that way or I sit on you and do it, kid. Come on."
Mary submitted to it. Lily lifted her up onto the marble and she sat there with her hands on her hips, her legs dangling, while Lily knelt at her feet with the lather, razor and lotion. She started at Mary's ankles and did a very thorough job, although she moved the razor so swiftly that it frightened Mary. As she worked she talked about what nice legs Mary had, and this frightened Mary as well, though she felt sure she could talk the dull-witted girl out of any further overt display of affection.
When Mary's calves had been shaved Lily bent and tested the smoothness of her skin against her cheek and with her lips, placing fond kisses on Mary's damp, warm skin. Mary laughed at her and told her she was acting dumb and that it wasn't pleasing her at all to be treated that way by a girl she'd thought of as a friend.
Rising, Lily grinned shyly and said, "It pleases me a little, though."
Mary steeled herself for the ordeal she knew had to follow. She forced complete calm and coolness into her words while Lily lathered her thighs and made shy but glowing commentary on Mary's great beauty. Mary cooperated when Lily lifted her down to the floor so she could lather the backs of her thighs. She tried again and again to turn the conversation to mundane matters while Lily knelt at her feet and carefully used the razor, starting at her knees and working up. When Mary had to part her legs for Lily to work between them, her pussy contracted, M il trying to draw itself away from the hands and the blade that worked just below it.
With the razor set aside, the hot towel was used, followed by the lotion, and Mary gathered all her inner reserves to remain entirely calm and aloof through the next inevitable attack from the lonely fat girl. Still she couldn't keep her flesh from crawling and her breathing entirely even as Lily spiraled warm, loving kisses up her thighs to the line where she'd stopped shaving-just four inches below Mary's seething loins. Again she tried to deride Lily in her display of misplaced affection, but those gently moving hands and that extremely soft mouth made it all but impossible to keep the tremor out of her words. By the time Lily had kissed and touched her legs seemingly everywhere, Mary's heart was pumping fast and her stomach was knotted. She was very much aware of the existence of every little part of her pulsing pussy.
Lily grinned up at her from her knees and said, "Kid, I just love your legs. Mine are so fat. They've got a good shape, but they're too fat. Ours are perfect. If I had legs like yours I wouldn't even be here."
"You'd leave?" Mary asked, fighting for control of her senses. "You'd just leave any time you wanted?"
'"Just about," Lily answered, placing a final kiss on Mary's thigh and picking up the shaving cup.
"Can you leave now? I mean, for weekends and things? Hey! Hey, what Ye you doing?" Mary cried, trying to twist away and close her legs as the lathered brush plunged into her pubic hair.
"Why," said Lily, looking up in surprise, "I'm shaving you."
"But not there. My God, Lily, not there!"
"Everywhere, Mary. Except your head. You've gotta be sanitary."
"Goddamn it, nobody's going to shave my pussy!"
"I have to. It's my orders," Lily said, setting the brush aside and facing Mary toward her again. "One way or another I have to do it. And if I have to sit on you to do it I might cut you. And you've got such a pretty little cunt I'd hate to do that. Then again," she giggled, "it might be sorta fun to sit on you. Think that'd be fun, kid?"
"Now, listen, Lily," Mary said, panic clutching hard at her control. "We're friends, aren't we? And if you're my friend, you won't . . . do that to me. Please, Lily. Please."
"Kid, I'm sorry. I just have, to. And it won't be bad. It really feels good not to have all that hair down there. Now. are you gonna let me or do I have to force you?"
"I'll . . . I'll let you. On one condition. You've got to promise me you won't . . . you won't try to . . . kiss me or anything when you're done shaving me. Promise?"
"Cross my heart," Lily said solemnly, her plump, upturned face looking more childish than ever in its sincerity.
Mary was lifted back onto the sink top and gently laid back against the wall. Her legs were lifted and her heels placed on the edge of the sink. Then her knees were opened wide. She closed her eyes and concentrated on harsh realities, the harsher the better, as Lily knelt on the floor and did her work. She thought of the past tedium of school, her parents' failure to understand her and the bitter cold of the Ohio winters. Warm lather was spread between her legs and gentle fingers touched her labia.
She thought about war and death and the futility of the current politics as the razor began scraping her hair off, sounding terribly loud as it bared more and more of the most sensitive part of her body. She tried to aid her harsh thoughts by clutching at her hips with her fingers, digging her short nails into her flesh and seeking pain as a counter-irritant to the warm tickling going on between her legs.
Mary's body was tense and trembling and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out when she felt the razor going clear down to her anus. In just a little while it would be over. She would have survived yet another ordeal, and this thought was all that sustained her in these final moments of the sweet torture. When she heard the razor click down on the floor she let her breath shudder out of her. The enveloping warmth of the hot towel was a lovely thing, entirely luxurious and, at least for the moment, covering her denuded and obscenely exposed crotch. Not much more at all now until she could get up and gather her senses together.
There was a burning sensation where her hair had been shaved for the first time in her life, and the lotion banished that. Lily smoothed it and patted it in, all about her crotch, and as she did she said, "Mary, you've got the prettiest little cunt. I had a boy once said mine looked like a big old pig's trough, but yours is just as pretty and pink as it can be."
"Please, Lily," Mary said, her anxiety increasing now. "Don't."
"It's even prettier without all that hair covering it up. I'd kiss it a little if you asked me to."
"No! Lily, you promised."
"Not even a little? I'd lick your clit, honey, and make you come," she said, parting the labia with her thumbs then gently squeezing them together at each side of Mary's clitoris. "I wouldn't stop sucking you off till you'd come. Can I?"
"Lily, no," Mary whined, feeling entirely too weak to try to squirm back on the sink top, away from those hands that held her there so easily. "I'll scream. I'll get you in trouble."
"You wouldn't want to get me in trouble. I'm the only one can help you," Lily said, and smoothed her lips and her cheek along Mary's thigh, stopping a scant inch from her labia. "Geez, you're all wet. Sopping wet. Tell me I can suck you off, kid. I'm gonna do it anyway 'cause I just can't stop myself now, but I'd sure like to hear you say you wanted me to. Mmmmm. I'd do it so good. And you wouldn't have to do anything at all but just sit back and enjoy it. Not ever. Can I, Mary? Can I make you feel good?"
Mary's foot slipped down to Lily's back and she gasped, "Yes. Hurry, Lily!"
At once Lily's open mouth closed on Mary's burning pussy, sucking on the tender and succulent flesh, roiling it around with her tongue, assuaging all the seethings and yearnings Mary had been fighting. She moaned and bit her lip, slid down on the very edge of the sink top and tried to open her legs wider. She told herself this was a necessary evil to be experienced on the route to her freedom. Then when Lily dipped her head and thrust her tongue up in her vagina Mary forgot about that and writhed about to expose even more of herself to the wonderful kiss.
The wet loudness of Lily's kisses attested to the fact that she truly was enjoying this awful perversion and getting something out of it that might even approach the gloriously good feelings that flowed through Mary's body. Though Mary had no yardstick to judge by, she knew that Lily was very good at it, alternating as she was between her vagina and her clitoris, not missing a spot in between. She knew just when to change to give Mary the utmost in deeply sensual pleasure. She'd dig and delve into Mary's copiously flowing vagina for a long time. Then, just when Mary felt she could no longer stand it, she'd lift her mouth and suction in her clitoris, nibbling it with her lips and lashing it with her tongue. And all the while she continued to knead and fondle Mary's buttocks and thighs with both hands.
She was quite tireless in her efforts, and each time she moved from one delightful spot to the other in Mary's pussy those efforts were thrilling Mary even more. She had the sudden horrifying thought that she'd go mad, that these feelings would mount and mount unendingly until she was forever caught in this spiral of writhing, sweating, sheer delight that was far too much to be borne by any human being.
She thought of Skip with his penis in her, just the day before, and of how deliriously thrilling all this would be in his arms, and that thought was entirely too much for her. Her face contorted. Cords stood out in her smooth throat, and she pulled the wonderfully thrilling head between her legs still harder against her pussy with her leg. Her moans changed into low, keening wails and her hands strained the leather cuffs to the breaking point as everything seemed to burst and flood from within her in a warmly gushing torrent that emanated outward in all directions from somewhere deep in her belly, from someplace she didn't know existed in her heretofore.
Aided by the hands on her buttocks, she arched up against the suctioning source of this enormous pleasure and yawned her legs apart as far as they would go, trying to shove all of her marvelously tingling body into that wonderful, wonderful mouth.
All at once it was over. Not entirely over, for all the good feelings continued to flow in her, but that tremendous intensity of need, the incredibly high peaks of pleasure were past her and she was floating serenely along in a dream world whose lovely tranquility far surpassed even the highest highs she'd had with grass. Her body slowly went limp, save for an occasional spasmodic twinge of the deep pleasure, and she slumped down on the sink top, her feet falling down to dangle below it as she felt Lily's mouth leave her glowing, leaking pussy.
She could hear Lily panting and she felt her hand move to cover her pussy warmly as Lily bent over her. She smelled the musky smell of female sex and opened her eyes just in time to see Lily's fat face, ugly, flushed red, glistening about the mouth with her own juices as it descended with pursed lips. Mary stirred herself in time to turn her face away before the Lesbian girl could kiss her.
"I'm sorry," Lily said. "But I got so darned hot I thought you just might want to . . . I'm sorry." She turned to the sink and bathed her face, toweled it dry, and again achieved that childish look of mischievous innocence. "Now, wasn't that nice, kid? Didn't it make you feel good?"
"Lily, I'm . . . Lily, dry me off. Please."
"You sure do get wet," Lily grinned, feeling within the hot folds of Mary's pussy. "I thought I'd drown for a sec, but what a neato way to drown."
Mary was appalled, ashamed that she could still feel any sort of pleasure from the contact of Lily's fingers gently moving in her slit. "Will you please dry me off, Lily?"
"Oh, don't worry about that. You're gonna have a shower pretty quick. But first an enema."
6
"A what?" Mary exclaimed, using her elbows to propel herself onto the sink top. "You're going to do what?"
"Give you an enema," Lily said blandly. "You haven't pooped since you got here and . . . "
"But I will. Oh, no, Lily. Not an enema!"
". . . And besides, you're supposed to get one every day. What's wrong? It doesn't hurt."
"I won't let you do it, Lily. I won't!"
In the end, faced by the maddeningly unshakeable logic of the big, strong girl, Mary submitted to it. Utterly miserable, she lay across Lily's big lap while her maid sat on the toilet and inserted a lubricated syringe into the cringing tight ring of her anus. She hung her head, wanting to die as she felt her bowels being flooded with warm fluid while Lily cooed at her and petted her and told her how beneficial it was for her. Despite this, Mary began crying, very silently. She felt near to exploding when the dreadful little finger of the syringe was jerked out and Lily expertly pinched her buttocks together to contain it all. Very laboriously then, with much solicitous assistance from Lily, she managed to get up from her lap and sit down on the toilet. All at once it was rushing out of her, emptying her of everything, while Lily knelt before her and clapped her hands in encouragement. Mary felt almost too weak to walk as Lily supported her to the shower.
There her maid tucked her hair into a shower cap and placed her in the shower stall. The warm water revived her to some extent as she stood there with her face turned up toward the shower head and let it pour in a torrent over her body and down between her legs. Lily turned off the water to lather her from head to foot with deeply scented soap.
As the big girl worked she said, "I get to do this every single day. Just about, anyway. It'll be such fun. I'm so glad they brought you here. We're gonna have such fun together, kid."
"Why?" said Mary dully. "Why am I here."
"With a beautiful body like you got you can ask that question?"
'They want me . . . for my body? Why don't they just . . . do it to me and let me go? Or kill me afterward?"
"Oh, they won't kill you. You're much too pretty."
"Are they going to . . . sell me? like the white slavers I used to read about?"
'They'll do what they want. That's all," Lily said. "You'll love it. Oh, I'm saying too much. Gosh, you're pretty. I love your ass. I wanted to spank it when I was giving you your enema. Someday I will. Okay? And you could spank me . . . if you wanted. Even birch me . . . if you wanted. Anything at all you wanted to do to me, I'd let you. I'd love it. You're the best friend I ever had here. And the prettiest, too."
"How many friends have you had like me, Lily?"
Lily shrugged and winked and stood up, turning on the water to wash Mary clean of the soap. Amid many hugs and compliments, she dried her in the bathroom, then took her back to the couch and rather apologetically leashed her again.
She brushed out Mary's hair once more. Now as she did it Mary watched them in the mirror, just as they had been an hour before, but far different in their relationship. She felt weak and her thoughts were undisciplined as she wondered about Lily and herself. Was the large, sweet, dull girl truly a Lesbian, or had the perversion been a relatively innocent thing in her mind-a gesture of her appreciation for Mary's friendship? Was she herself imbued with homosexual tendencies that permitted her to reach orgasm for the first time in her life with another female's caresses? It would have to be something to sort out later, for she felt entirely too weary for anything at all except a nap.
"There," Lily said, setting aside the brush. "You're all pretty again-not that you're not pretty all the time." She reached around Mary and fondled her breasts, saying, "I've got some time left. Could I kiss your pretty cunt some more? "
"Oh, God. I'm exhausted, Lily. Please. Don't even talk about it."
"What shall we talk about then?" Lily asked, nuzzling in Mary's hair and squeezing her breasts gently.
"We could . . . talk about this place."
"Oh, no. Mustn't do that."
"Just tell me one thing. Is Skip here?"
Lily considered her request, rolling the hard balls of Mary's nipples in her fingers as she did. After a time, she said, "If I tell you, can I suck your cunt some more?"
"Oh, Lily. Honestly. Is that all you ever think about?"
"Yep," she said brightly. "Is that a deal? I'll tell you the truth. I won't lie."
It was Mary's turn to consider then, and to weigh the importance of that knowledge against submitting again to Lily's desire. She had little to barter with beyond her body, and she'd be giving away something that had already been taken from her. There wasn't the slightest desire for any more of those fantastic thrills that entered into her reasoning, for she knew her body was entirely exhausted sexually, and that the full feelings in her breasts were not from Lily's manipulations but merely a residue of that enormous experience she'd had in the bathroom. So she agreed, insisting that Lily tell her first.
Lily pressed her lips close to Mary's ear and murmured, "No. He's not here." Then she happily arranged Mary on the couch, her buttocks on the edge of the cushions and her feet comfortably extended a yard apart on the floor. She knelt there and began her cunnilingus.
Mary felt both relieved and disappointed at the news. Skip, she felt, should somehow be sharing in her predicament. More logically, it was far better that he wasn't in the house, for if he was, he had no way of helping her escape. Her jailors were too thorough. And if he was in the house while this perversion was being performed on her she couldn't bear it. As it was, it wasn't all that bad. She could even manage a smile in return to the smile she saw in Lily's worshiping eyes as her mouth worked hungrily in her bare crotch.
It was amazing the way Lily so adored this. Now Mary was able to understand why some girls let Lesbians make love to them, but she was still unable to understand the Lesbians' need for this. It felt so good. Similar, yet very different from the times Skip had made love to her with his penis. Mary shifted her legs farther apart and found to her surprise that there was still deep pleasure to be found in it. It was really very good. It was far more comfortable here than on the sink top. Furthermore, she could dwell back on those intensely delightful feelings she'd known at orgasm and vicariously enjoy them again. Lily pushed under her thighs and she lifted her legs and smiled broadly at Lily's eyes as she felt the benefit of this change in position.
"Is it good?" Lily paused to ask.
"Mmmmm," Mary replied.
"Real good?"
"Mmmmm-hmm."
"Talk to me. Tell me how you like it best, kid. After all, you haven't got your mouth full like I do."
"You know how," Mary murmured timidly as Lily delved again with her tongue.
"Sure I do," Lily said between her lickings. "But I like to hear you talk to me while I'm eating your pussy, kid. It gets me more turned on. It helps me come."
"You . . . you do it, too?"
"Heck yes. So talk to me. Can't you even do that much for me? I'll do something extra nice for you if you will. Something you'll like."
Lily kissed her more lightly now, questioning her with her eyes as she flicked the edges of Mary's burning pussy with her tongue. Panting, Mary tried to squirm down for more contact, vainly twisting her wrists. She was amazed at how strongly and quickly the good feelings had developed.
"Harder," she panted, blushing even beyond the color that had already risen to her cheeks. "Lily, kiss it harder. Oh, kid, that's so good. Ohhh. Right there. That feels so good. I'm gonna come again, Lily. I am! Keep it up and I'll come. Ohhh. Oh, it's so good. So good."
She kept it up, telling Lily over and over how good she felt, and Lily reached up and began fumbling at the buckles on her wrist cuffs. Panting, babbling then, Mary looked down at each of Lily's thick hands working at her wrists and moaned with her need to have her hands freed.
Her left hand came free first and it shot down to tangle in Lily's hair and pull her marvelous mouth harder still against her streaming, burning pussy. When her right hand was free it joined the other in straining to get more out of the contact, and Mary didn't even know what she was saying as she approached those once-experienced but still hugely exciting feelings.
When she started coming hard she grasped both her legs and pulled them up high, stretching herself between her legs, squealing, "Suck it! Eat it! Lily, I love it! Come! Come! Gotta come all over! Oh, honey! Honey! Suck me oil. Kight on my clit. Yes! Lileeee . . . " she squealed, and kicked her legs in the air as both hands went to her breasts to squeeze and knead them throughout the shattering orgasm.
It had been so great she couldn't move. When Lily got up, grinning. Mary started to slide off the couch and onto the floor, but the big girl caught her in her arms and picked her up, setting her on her back on the couch. There Mary was able to squeeze her thighs together to contain those fluttering aftershocks of the great upheaval, but she could do no more than this while Lily shackled her wrists to her sides once more. She couldn't even move when Lily hovered her face close and breathed her musky, fetid breath on her.
"You see?" Lily said. "It's even better when you help a little. I'll get better all the time. You'll see."
Lily's lips came down on Mary's, wet and slimy and incredibly musky, and still Mary did not move from them. She offered a silent thanks, though, by pursing her own lips against Lily's mouth. She was asleep and breathing heavily before Lily left the room.
Lily hurried directly to the St. Georges' plush bedroom, a room all lined with mirrors and done up in silks and velvets and bows, all white and red. She found Grace St.
George on the giant bed, propped against an oversized silken pillow, looking regally lovely in a flowing white peignoir that was sheer enough to show her slim body and those magnificently jutting breasts through it.
Lily grinned and said, "It all went fine, Grace."
"I know," the reclining woman said, nodding her head at the closed-circuit television monitor at the foot of the bed. "You did very well, Lily."
"She came twice. That's unusual for a first-timer. And she got me going pretty good, too," Lily said, turning and grinning and displaying the broad wet stain on the back of her skirt.
"Nothing so unusual about that," Grace smiled. She made another notation on the clipboard and set it aside. She arched an eyebrow at Lily and said, "Just watching it got me going pretty good. Would you be interested in taking up where you left off with our new guest, dear?"
"I would," Lily grinned as she sat down on the bed and placed a hand on Grace's knee. "But I do have a lot of work to do and I just can't hurry with you, Grace."
Grace grinned slyly and said, "I know what you're planning to work on besides the data. Hank."
"There's him, too," Lily said as she watched Grace's hands begin to work on her zipper. "But I've got that ridiculous damned housework to do, too."
"I'll have Inez do it today."
"Now you're talking, Grace. You're the only kind of a mistress to have."
Lily rose and undressed, laughing back and forth with Grace as she did. Ten minutes later they were engaged in sixty-nine, while at the foot of the bed, Mary slept on in the television screen.
7
Mary half-awakened and yawned, and it was the inability to stretch as she wanted that woke her the rest of the way. Again she was startled by her surroundings, but now, in the late afternoon, she was quickly able to recall where she was. Also as before, she was ravenously hungry. She was squirming about to a sitting position when she further recalled the events of the day.
They came flooding back at her and she blushed scarlet as she thought of her response to the fat, ugly Lesbian in the bathroom and her even more enthusiastic response on that very couch. She fell back on it, twisting her wrists in a vain effort to cover her face in her shame, and finally turning against the back of the couch and hiding herself there. She could feel the bareness of her armpits and, much worse, her loins.
She could remember every stroke of the razor and every eager kiss delivered by the fat, slobbery mouth, and she groaned at the thought of that terrible enema. She thought about how Eric had treated her that morning with such superiority and she thought how true that was, how inferior she was to have responded to the piggish Lily when that handsome and very masculine male had been turned aside by her objections. Her thoughts returned again and again to the enormous experience of those two orgasms and, worst of all, she felt a terrible, guilty sense of inner excitement at that remembrance.
For some time she could only lie there and wallow in her self-pity, mentally castigating herself for her part in it all, crying occasionally. Then she wiped the last of her tears on the black velvet and rolled over on her back again with a deep sigh.
None of it was her fault. She'd been kidnapped and taken advantage of. She was a normal female and she'd only reacted to the prolonged physical stimulation of the Lesbian, with no emotions involved at all. She'd only submitted to that in exchange for information, and while she hadn't learned much, she was better off than she'd been before.
Skip was not there in the house. She was alone in her plight.
Other girls had been there before, and at least some of them were good-looking.
Her own good looks had been the reason for her being taken there.
They could do as they wished with her, even to the remote possibility of killing her if they found her flawed.
Lily, the dull-witted but wily Lesbian, was enamored of her and she had the privilege of leaving the house at will.
The rest was all conjecture, and she might drive herself mad speculating on the ways Skip might find to come and save her, even though he was probably still in jail or, if out, waiting for her at the San Francisco Post Office, sure that she was somehow making her way to him.
Mary got to her feet and began to pace, very literally at the end of her tether. Anything was better than lying there, thinking. Still her thoughts troubled her. Several times she got up on the couch to look out the window and try to lose herself in the view. It was a lovely one with the dying sun casting brilliant yellow lights on the water. In other circumstances she would have been content to stand and stare at it for a long, long time. Now, however, each time a car sped by on Route One she felt like crying and could not bear to look out any more. It was possible that Skip was in one of those cars, scouring the coast road for her. Oh, how they'd fly into each other's arms when they were reunited!
But how would he react to the news of her contact with the Lesbian? He was tolerant toward homosexuals, as he was tolerant toward everything, but it was a different matter when a man's own woman had been soiled by one of them. That was just the sort of conjecture that would lead her deeper into depression, and Mary shut it off.
She paced about again, trying to open the shuttered bookcase with her fettered hand. She soon realized it was hopeless, but there was nothing else at all to do, so she kept at it for some time until even that grew to be a bore. She decided she wouldn't tell Skip about Lily. It would be easier on both of them. And she was strong enough to live with that knowledge of her sin within herself. It would not be the only time she sinned with Lily. There would have to be other times if she was ever to make her escape. And even if she didn't give herself to Lily in exchange for some information, Lily would take her anyway with her superior strength.
In a way that had been better, that first time in the bathroom when she'd been helpless to stop Lily from going down and licking her pussy so very thoroughly. On the other hand, the second time had been marvelously thrilling, when she'd actually told the Lesbian to suck her off, then had babbled on and on about how good it felt to have a woman perform an unnatural act on her.
Her pussy itched and she angrily and futilely tried to reach it with her hands, then sat on the edge of the couch and ground herself against the cushion. It was far too soft to relieve the faintly burning sensation, but still she tried, ashamed, squeezing her thighs together as tightly as she could, arching her hips about, looking down past her rigidly erect nipples to see the beauty Lily found in her body. Her breasts felt swollen and she tried to reach them with her upper arms, but the wrist cuffs held her just enough so that she couldn't.
Then she looked up and saw herself in that damned mirror, flushed and all but panting, squirming about like a madwoman, and she drew herself to her feet and stood very straight, willing calm upon herself. When she had succeeded in banishing all the little itches on her body that she couldn't reach, she returned to look out the window. She was feeling serenely proud of herself when she found she was slowly moving her body and gently rubbing her distended nipples against the wall. She dropped down on the couch and wept some more then, and finally slept a little, despite the rumbling in her stomach.
Mary was awake and sitting glumly on the couch when the door opened and Grace entered. She was dressed in a red knit dress that looked as if it had been knitted with ball bats. Its hem rode very high on her slender thighs, and the neck was a low vee that came well below her big breasts. Most of those breasts were visible, as was most of her body, through the half dollar-sized holes in the dress. And through these holes Mary could not only see the nipples of her breasts but also the shirred red garter belt she wore, very thin, that supported her long pink hose. Red spiked heels completed Grace's bizarre ensemble. Her face was artfully made up with reds and greens, and there was a little red bow in her hair. She was smiling.
"I imagine you're famished by now,"she said. "I have a cart of food here. It's very good."
"Is that . . . dog out there in the hall, too?"
"Matter of fact . . . "Grace chuckled, warm and low, and let it drop.
"Please come in. I'm very hungry."
"Good," said Grace, wheeling in the cart and closing the door. "I'm afraid I've been a very poor hostess by your standards, but someday you'll understand and thank me for it."
"That's what everyone says," Mary grumbled, even though she'd resolved to be as pleasant and cooperative as she could be . . . up to a point. "Why?"
"Never mind now, dear. Here. Here's a lovely little hors d'oeuvre for you while I put on some music. Enjoy."
The tidbit of Rumaki was absolutely delicious. So much so that Mary drooled a little over the side of her mouth as she greedily munched it. Before she could wipe her mouth on her shoulder, Grace was there with a napkin to dab at it. She gave Mary another, then returned to the bookcase. She unlocked it to reveal books, records, and drawers. She chatted about music as she alternated between feeding Mary hors d 'oeuvres and setting a stack of records going. Then she came and sat beside Mary and feed her with her fingers until the Rumaki was gone.
"Would you like a cocktail now, Mary dear?"
"I don't think, thank you."
"I do, Mary," Grace said gently, picking up a cocktail shaker from the elegantly laden cart. "And I hate to drink alone."
"Then I'd like a drink. A small one."
The first sip burned and made her eyes water, but it warmed her too in her fear. By the time she'd finished the Old Fashioned she was taking larger sips and rather enjoying them as Grace talked to her, asking her much the same questions that Eric had asked that morning.
Grace held the shaker up again and said, "One more? It'll make your lobster taste even better. I'd like another."
"I would, too. Thank you," said Mary, determined to get any information she could from this seemingly charming woman. She started directly. "Why are you keeping me here?"
"Are you uncomfortable here? Is there anything you want for. . . besides your friend and your freedom? Darling, we only want to make you happy."
"And I'll thank you someday for all this. When? When will I thank you? When will I appreciate all this . . . kindness?"
"That depends on you, my dear. Do you like the music?"
"No. I like rock," Mary said sullenly.
"I do, too. I like this slower, more rhythmic music, as well. I enjoy all kinds of music and all kinds of things in life. Enjoying everything is what makes one happy."
"Is that supposed to tell me something?"
"It's the truth, my dear. Enjoy. Enjoy everything. Now, finish your cocktail and I'll feed you your lobster. I have a very nice bottle of Cordon Bleu Champagne for us to share while you eat. A nice salad. A little Brussels sprouts. Will that be enough? "
It barely was. Mary ate like a baby bird, her mouth open and waiting for everything that was offered by Grace on a fork or in a glass, and Grace urged her to finish it all, just like a mother hen. When all the plates were cleaned and just a half-bottle of the wine remained, Mary felt quite sated, but not stuffed, even though the food had been rich and well seasoned. Continuing in the docile role she'd adopted, she thanked her hostess and complimented her on the meal.
"Good things to eat and good things to do. Would you like me to read to you for a while now? We've some very interesting books here."
"That would be fine," Mary said, feeling very relaxed, planning to ask more questions later.
Grace got up and bent over the bookcase. Now Mary could see the blonde-furred crack of her sex through the open filigree of her dress. She was a lovely woman, in spite of her flagrant displaying of her body. Beautiful was a better word, Mary thought. Beautiful and elegant and graceful and charming. All these words and more could be applied to Grace St. George; still she was mad. Mad with a need to capture young girls with Eric and terrify them, then lead them into unknown terrors.
Obviously it was her husband who was the instigator. Then again, nothing about this place was obvious in the least. Mary managed a nice smile when Grace returned with a book. She accepted a drink of wine and settled down to listen to Grace read, feeling almost comfortable in her nudity for the first time since she'd arrived there.
It started out as a pleasant little love story, but by the time Grace had turned the third page Mary was very much aware of the erotic content of the book. As it went on, as Grace read with more and more vibrant tones, Mary decided that pornographic was a better description than erotic. She edged an inch farther from Grace, drew herself up into a defensive ball, and became very much aware of her nudity again, while Grace read on, becoming more and more engrossed in the vivid passages describing the heroine and the hero in bed together.
At first Mary blushed for Grace and her need for reading such trash. Then she felt queasy with the knowledge that the lovely woman was as sexually obsessed with sex as Lily was, though in a different way entirely. Mary felt as if she were the only sane one in the house. Hank with his cruel kisses and Eric with his fascination with her on the toilet and Lily with her blatant Lesbianism, and now Grace with her pornography. There was no mistaking it in the least, for as Grace read on she seemed oblivious of Mary's presence and fidgeted more and more, stroking her nyloned legs with one hand while she held the book with the other. Mary watched with morbid fascination, knowing she was looking at a woman who was getting hot, all by herself. And she thought.
In all honesty she'd gotten just a little hot all by herself that very afternoon when she'd been thinking about her orgasms with Lily. It had been a shameful thing to do, but it had been understandable when she'd looked at it all objectively. Now Grace was getting hot without a hand being laid on her . . . other than her own hand. After all, there could be no denying the book was a little bit sexually exciting.
It wasn't a cheap volume of the kind she'd heard the boys laugh about, but a seriously written composition devoted to the sexual experience. Though it was obviously slanted toward appeal to the famous Prurient Interest, it was really very well done, and the descriptions of the sexual acts Mary knew about first-hand were accurate, though lurid, as far as she knew them to be. The words gave her an uncomfortable feeling because someone else-the writer in this case-had at least some of the same emotions she possessed. Still it was somehow comforting at the same time. It was good to hear that another woman, even though she was fictitious, could experience orgasm through cunnilingus. She listened on, watching Grace.
There was no question that Grace was getting hot, no question at all, because now Grace had the book in her lap, covering the other hand that was moving under it. Mary could see that other hand as clearly as if the book were not there. One, possibly two, fingers were through the widely spaced stitches and pressing against her clitoris. They weren't just pressing-they were moving constantly and slowly, massaging the little organ and dredging up more and more moisture from time to time from her oozing-wet vagina to ease their friction.
Every now and then, when she'd turn a new page, Grace would stop and massage both breasts briefly and smile almost apologetically at Mary as she did so. Then she'd return to the book, reading faster, though still so articulately that Mary could understand each exciting word. And the words were exciting. The writer was a good one. By the time Grace had reached what had to be the climax to the couple's first wild meeting, Mary found herself eagerly awaiting each new twist in their highly inventive and totally abandoned coupling.
Grace stopped and took a deep breath, held her hand to her big bosom, and let it all rush out. She poured more wine and drank, gave some to Mary and said, "I haven't read this one in a long time. You must excuse me if it. . . gets to me a little."
"It's all right," Mary said, feeling embarrassed for her again.
"Would you like to look at the pictures in it."
"No. I don't think so. Thanks."
"They're really very good," Grace said, and laid the opened book on the couch next to Mary's left hand, a look of softness and moistness about her eyes and mouth, and the faintly sharp odor of sex lingering about her hand. She excused herself and got up, moved liquidly to the bookcase and squatted down to open a drawer.
Mary looked down at the book and drew in her breath and looked away at once. The illustration, vivid in every detail, was already etched on her brain, and even the sight of herself in the mirror wouldn't erase it. She had to look at it again, though, just to be sure that it was indeed as totally erotic as she'd thought. It was. So much so that it made her acutely uncomfortable. With some difficulty she reached the pages with her fingers and flipped them over to see if there were more. There were, each as beautifully done and as erotically appealing as the first. She shuddered and looked away, feeling her nipples and pussy contracting.
With her back to Mary, Grace straightened up and sighed very audibly. She shifted her long legs about, making her small, plump buttocks move under the thin veil of her dress, and sighed again, looking down, both hands held before her. Her hands went behind her when she turned, concealing something, and her eyes and mouth looked even more moist as she hip-swung back to the couch, crossing her knees with each tiny step she took. She moved the book and sat down where it had been, very close to Mary, who leaned slightly away from her and looked at her sidelong.
"Oooo," Grace sighed, shivering. "I feel so good. I want you to feel good, too, Mary." She laid the object she'd been concealing in Mary's lap and picked up the book to resume reading in a shaking voice.
Mary didn't hear what Grace was saying. She was looking down at the long object in her lap, aghast, unable to move, unable to cringe away from it. It was a model of a penis, curved and tan, perhaps an inch in diameter and five inches long, with another three inches of cylindrical handle at the end that wasn't bluntly tapered. Mary was repulsed by it and by the very clear vision of exactly where and how it would fit in a woman's body. If her hands had been free she would have thrown it across the room. As it was, she stared at it, Grace's words barely registering.
"Excuse," Grace huskily murmured, and propped the book on the cart, opening to a double-page illustration of seven people in an orgiastic embrace. As if the horrified
Mary wasn't there, she pulled up her little excuse for a skirl and opened her legs, revealing the cylinder protruding from her vagina, the only portion of the artificial penis visible. She held it with one hand and turned it with the other, gasping and throwing her head back and her shoulders forward. Then she closed her legs together on the thing and sat up and pressed both fists into her lap. Her mouth came open, twisting about into ever newer shapes, and her eyes closed to long-lashed slits as she gazed on the illustration.
She began rocking back and forth, breathing faster and faster. Her breathing became ragged when she started working her hips, thrusting up as she bore down with her fists, squirming them about on the couch. She didn't even notice it when she kicked Mary with her heel in crossing her legs. She brought her arms together to squeeze her big breasts so hard that the nipples and polygons of her white flesh were extruded through the near-bursting knit dress, and she moaned and gasped continuously. When she uncrossed her legs the book was jarred from its perch and she made no move to pick it up. Opening her legs, she reached between them and adjusted the dial on the handle.
"Whew," she said. "Almost couldn't stop. Almost came. I will soon, but let's get yours into you first."
"No. Please, no. I . . . I couldn't stand to have that . . . thing in me."
"Darling, you'll love it." She picked it up with a trembling hand and pressed it lovingly to her cheek.
"Really, I . . . Grace, don't make me do that."
"I don't want to have to force you, but you've got to try it. You've just got to," she gurgled. "Be a dear and open up for it. If you don't like it I'll take it right out."
Leadenly, very much aware of the presence of Bruno in the hall, Mary opened her legs. She felt nauseous as she saw Grace wet the artificial penis in her mouth; then she closed her eyes and faced toward the blank wall. It would be like she was at the doctor's office, she told herself as she felt her labia being parted, and she'd react to it in just that way.
She heard Grace say, "Ah. You're already nice and wet."
A doctor's office, she mentally said, and I'm having to go through one of those awful examinations that are really for my own good.
Grace wasn't simply pushing it straight in. She was twisting and turning it, withdrawing it half an inch for every inch she inserted it, and Mary devoutly wished it were harder, colder, and much thinner, more similar to a doctor's instrument. Still it was easy to keep from reacting to it.
"I think this is just the right size for you, Mary," Grace said happily. "And I want it to fit you very, very comfortably."
"Why are you doing this?'" Mary asked in a small, indignant voice. "Why?"
"To make you feel good. To bring you happiness. Someday . . . "
"Someday I'll thank you for it. Not today."
It was all the way in, its supple firmness molding to fit the curves of the interior of Mary's body, and she felt a cool pride in the fact she hadn't reacted with even the flicker of an eyelash. But she inhaled sharply when the tingling started-jerking back, looking down, feeling as if she were being electrified through her pussy.
Leering at her, Grace turned the dial on the base and the tingling diminished as she said, "I knew you'd like a vibrator. Wonderful, isn't it? I'll leave it turned low while you watch me."
"Please. Please take it out," Mary sobbed, trying somehow to expel the faintly buzzing thing.
Grace grinned more broadly at her and sat back on the couch facing Mary, one high heel on the floor and the other at Mary's hip. It spread her legs very wide to show the handle of the dildo protruding obscenely from the fleshy red lips of her cunt, drooling with the wetness from inside her. She twisted the dial and sighed ecstatically, then raised her hips and hiked her skirt up behind her. Lifting the front of her dress she hefted both big breasts in her hands and milked them, and Mary looked away. She saw the weird scene in the mirror, with her as a part of the tableau, and had to lower her head and close her eyes.
Mary could feel the buzzing sensation spreading in her, tingling up through her pussy into her belly and making her legs weak. When she moved to try to expel it the thing found new places to vibrate, and she tried to exercise her vaginal muscles and push it out with those, but that only served to increase the tingling sensation. She heard a sucking, smacking noise, all too reminiscent of Lily's mouth on her pussy and she had to open her eyes and see its source.
Grace had her red dress pulled up over her breasts and was holding one of the big orbs in both hands, twisting it up so the nipple was in her mouth, and she winked lewdly at Mary as she sucked it. Her garter belt looked very red against the paleness of the triangle of white at her loins, and her flat belly formed two deep wrinkles as it collapsed with each of her labored breaths. Her long legs looked rosy in the pink hose-as red as Mary's skin felt by then. Now Grace's golden pubic hair was wet and matted around tin-handle vibrating, and she had to look closer to be sure, all the while feeling the vibrating sensations spreading further throughout her own tensed body.
Grace pulled her wet nipple from her mouth and panted, "Really hot now. Really hot." She reached down and gave the dial a rapid twist and uttered an explosive moan, then squeezed her thighs hard with both hands. She grabbed the handle and rammed the device in and out of her cunt several times. Then she dug her fingers into her tits and squealed. "Can't stop! Oh, I can t hold it back any longer."
She fell over on her back, dug her heels into the couch to arch her body up, then rolled back on her shoulders with her legs flailing at the air. She began slapping her buttocks loudly and squealing. Then her squeals turned to grunts and she rolled over to face the back of the couch, humping against it. She jerked around to a sitting position on the couch and rolled into a ball with her arms hugging her legs tightly to her. one big breast squeezing out at the side, and her beautiful face twisted into a thousand masks of lust. Mary looked on, paralyzed, tingling.
"Whew!" Grace said, and relaxed, turning about to sit properly on the couch, reaching down and twisting the dial between her legs. "I came beautifully. That was a good start."
"A . . . a start?" Mary said, still stunned by the gross display of autoeroticism she'd seen, hearing the buzzing in her ears now as well as feeling it.
"Only a start," Grace smiled, brushing a curl from her forehead. She poured the last of the wine and said, "Here. I'll turn yours up a little and well each read to ourselves out of the book."
Mary's resistance was brief and she had to let Grace settle very close to her to hold the book open in their laps. She didn't want to read the smut, but her eyes were drawn to the page and she did. The vibration inside her was getting to be intolerable. She was getting aroused and there was very little she could do about it. When they came upon a particularly erotic passage Grace exclaimed over it or reread it aloud and asked for Mary's comments, obviously getting hotter all the while, despite the climax she'd just had.
That was getting to be more understandable to Mary. The girls in the book had multiple orgasms. For that matter, she'd orgasmed with Lily twice that day herself. She could vividly remember how it had felt with Lily-the avid tonguing that led to her marvelous climax. Yes, she could understand multiple orgasms very well indeed.
The smell of sex was heavy about them, and Grace's body felt warm and moist where they nestled together. Grace stopped at a particularly inspiring illustration, and together they went over it in detail. It was one of those Mary had only glanced at before. Now she found more and more erotic little fillips of the artist's imagination she'd previously missed. They huddled closer, bending over the book, giggling now and then at the wild, wild scene.
Grace turned, her lovely mouth inches from Mary's, even her breath smelling of sex as she murmured, "I'm getting awfully hot again. Let's turn up the vibrators and just look at the pictures. Okay?"
Mary couldn't give her consent. Neither could she stop Grace when the slender hands reached between her legs to twist the dial. A quarter turn was enough to take Mary's breath away and she strove to adjust to these newer, more thrilling amplitudes while Grace adjusted her vibrator. Then she settled down, squirming her hips to find the most comfortable position, and bent over the book again with Grace.
At the fourth picture, verbal comments stopped. When a new illustration was turned up, the girl and the woman communicated their feelings by turning to look at each other with limpid eyes, then returning to gaze longingly at the picture. At the sixth picture, Grace said, "Excuse," and turned the dial between her legs.
"Me, too," Mary murmured in a voice that didn't ring true as her own.
"All the way? like mine?"
Mary nodded, parting her legs to give Grace access.
Their ragged breathing made an erotic harmony as Grace turned quickly to another page. "Look at that," Mary whispered, feeling her orgasm start. "Just look at that."
Grace tossed the book aside and lifted Mary's chin so they both gazed into the mirror, and she moaned, "And look at that, darling."
Mary was quite overcome by it all. Her orgasm mounted and mounted as she watched herself and the beautiful slender blonde heaving and thrashing with their hips on the couch, legs splayed wide apart for a time, then closing on the wonderfully vibrating device inside them. It was as if she could feel much of Grace's pleasures as well as all of her own and she gave herself up to it with abandon, moaning and shrilling and grunting right along with Grace, falling against her, rocking her hips and gasping, and coming . . . coming . . . coming. Her nails raked her hips and she turned and mashed a breast against Grace's shoulder. Grace grabbed Mary's other breast and squeezed it painfully hard. Even the pain felt good for a moment.
Then it was all too much. It was all pain and the pain was growing, taking the place of all the tremendous pleasure she'd known, and Mary was weeping, sobbing, begging to be released from the torture. Grace twisted the dial back and Mary collapsed against the back of the couch, her body jerking, drenched with perspiration.
"God, that was good," Grace sighed.
"Too much," Mary panted. "Too much."
"Perhaps it was. Perhaps you'd best get to sleep now."
Grace got up and assisted Mary to stretch out on the couch, patting her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. When she placed her hands at Mary's loins, Mary opened her legs and Grace slowly pulled the thing out, then slid it in again, causing Mary to wince.
Again Grace did this and Mary said weakly, "Take it out. Please, Grace."
"Nonsense, darling," Grace said, sliding it in all the way. She turned the dial until the faintest of buzzings could be felt, and walked to the door, leaving Mary sobbing on the couch. "Pleasant dreams," she said, and exited.
8
It was very early next morning when Eric St. George eased into the room where they were keeping Mary. He was naked and he carried a parcel which he placed just inside the door. Mary lay just where she'd been when he and Grace had seen her on the television monitor, on the floor beside the couch where her struggles to remove the vibrator had taken her before she'd fallen asleep. He quietly knelt between her parted legs and carefully touched the vibrator. It was motionless, as he and his sister knew it would be by then, its single battery having worn itself out. His cock was half-hard and he stroked it to help it come fully erect as he smiled down on the sleeping girl.
Her hair was tousled and her soft pink lips parted, her eyelashes lying against her pale cheek. Even in sleep she looked a little haggard, older than she'd looked even when she'd arrived so soiled and terrorized two days before. Her body looked fine, young and strong, but somehow more voluptuous than before. Her breasts were firm on her chest, without a hint of sagging sideways as she lay on her back, and the leather belt gave her waist a slimmer look, further accentuated by her hands on her hips, kept there even in repose. Her cunt looked adorable, all shaven and exposed, the plump pudendum and the fat slit moistly clinging to the dead vibrator that held the fresh young lips open. It wasn't long at all before his cock was up, eight inches of hard meat, half again as big around as what was in her, and throbbing with the need to break its fast on this tender morsel under him.
With exquisite care, watching closely for her every somnolent reaction, Eric bent closer and gently drew her labia back from the vibrator. She stirred when he began withdrawing it and he gently nudged her leg with his knee, whereupon she responded by opening her legs a bit farther, just as he wanted her to. It came out slowly, her pink flesh clinging to its sides as she sighed deeply in her sleep. He kept it coming, pleased at how much lubrication glistened on it. and got her legs open a little farther before he had it all the way out. Still holding her lips open with one hand, he used the other to lift the vibrator to his face and breathe in its aroma. He smiled and set it aside to lower himself down on her.
Eager as he was, he exercised even more care in making the penetration, watched her even more closely. She winced once, but by then it was too late because he'd already gotten the big knob of his cock within her tight little cunt. He released his hold on the shaft then and supported his weight with both hands, slowly lowering himself on her and getting another inch of his cock inside her. She sighed and stirred as he got his weight on his elbows. This way he could use his hands to softly stroke her head. He turned it so her little pink ear was near his lips, then murmured sweetly in it. His body was starting to tremble a little from being kept partially elevated by his knees and elbows, but Eric hung there, feeling her breasts against his chest, feeling her cunt warmly clasping his cock while he murmured and placed soft kisses in her ear.
She stirred again, arching her belly up at him and raising one knee, muttering, "Skippy," and he could no longer wait to take her. He turned her head and placed his mouth on hers, tasted the dregs of the wine she'd had the night before, and exulted as her eyes fluttered half open. That was when he pushed the rest of his cock into her, making her mouth soften then stiffen, making her eyes squint and then come wide open, bringing forth a muffled groan from within her.
Fully awake, she squirmed and heaved under him, trying to throw off his weight with the archings of her body. He drew back and slid his cock into her again, making her eyes grow even wider. She tried to bite him, clanking their teeth together, and he lifted his head and chuckled as he held her firmly by the shoulders and gave her half a dozen of the deepest, longest strokes he could, making her mouth open in a silent scream.
He stopped and grinned, "Good morning, sweet Mary."
"Bastard! You bastard! Get off of me!"
He stroked her some more and she thrashed about, gasping as she tried to bite him, mashing her breasts flat against his chest, arching her hips back in an effort to escape the deep, deep strokes.
"You really feel good, honey," he said. "Nothing like a good fuck first thing in the morning."
"Bastard," she snarled, and turned her head and went limp as she could.
He began stroking again, slowly, varying his rhythms and pausing at the crest of his drives to occasionally probe as deep as he could within her. Her lovely face remained immobile for a time, her only sign of life being a little wince when he was very deep in her. Still he moved on, patiently, enjoying himself.
"Mmmmm," he purred at her ear. "I'm moving easier now. You're getting nice and wet."
"Bastard," she muttered.
"A bastard is something you won't have to worry about, Mary. We've been giving you a pill every day, exactly the same kind as those you stole from your mother before you left home."
She turned her head very fast and tried to bite him again, then fell back where she was when she failed, impassive as before.
He continued to move in her, pacing himself, and the only response from her was the flickering of a frown about her eyes. When he stopped for a moment she took a deeper breath. He'd been at it for several minutes, telling her how lovely she was, how good she felt, when she sobbed and bit her lip.
He stopped stroking and nuzzled against her throat, saying, "Feels lovely, doesn't it? A nice big cock to wake you up."
She sobbed and said. "I hate you. I hate all of you."
"Beautiful big cock inside your sweet wet cunt," he said, moving just a little faster, finding it harder to control himself. "You were made for fucking, Mary."
"You're hurting me," she whined. "Please."
"Relax. You're all tight. Good thing you're so wet or I'd be hurting you."
"You are," she protested, starting to struggle again. "Please. Please, I have to pee."
"Good! Hold it back as long as you can. When you come it will all let go at once. Wonderful!"
"No," she blubbered. "Oh, no."
"Fuck the piss out of you," he panted, putting his hand on her breast and feeling the nipple very hard between his fingers. "Really fuck you with my cock in your cunt. Hold it back, Mary. Don't piss yet. And don't come. Wait for me, dear. Wait for me."
"No!" she screamed, and hurled herself up with her elbows and heels at him, her head rocking back and forth as she hurled the most vicious epithets at him.
He caught her cheeks in his hands and brought his mouth down on hers, pressing so hard she was unable to bite him. Her legs thrashed about as she tried to kick him with her heels. He plunged into her again and again, the breath whistling through his nostrils as he forced her on in the kiss. She was twisting her body about, trying to crawl away from him with only her hips and shoulders as legs and arms, and he helped drive her over the soft, thick carpet with his deep thrusts in her. A groan came up from her diaphragm, sounding shrill even through the gag that was his kiss. Now her legs went up and about him so she could pummel his rapidly working buttocks.
Her urine gushed out hotly between them and simultaneously her mouth went soft under his, and her eyes squinted tightly closed, her feet stopped pummeling him and her ankles locked and pulled him very hard into her, as if she tried to use him as a stopper for her gushing loins. He wriggled deeper into her and started coming, thrust his tongue into her mouth with the sure knowledge that she wouldn't try to bite him, and fucked her as hard as he could until there was no more left for either of them.
He ended the kiss to pant in her throat, and her legs fell from around him and thudded to the floor. She sighed heavily and rolled her head against the carpet, and he partially relieved her of his weight.
"So good," he murmured. "So damned good."
Between deep breaths, she said, "Disgusting. You're disgusting."
"You're a wonderful little fuck, Mary dear."
"You make me sick. Sick."
He chuckled, "I make vou come."
"I didn't!"
"Oh?" he said, amused, and stroked again with his diminishing cock, eliciting a tittering little gasp from her. "You came just as surely as you pissed."
"I loathe you. I absolutely loathe you. Any man who'd rape a sleeping woman is a . . . a monster. You ought to be-Ohhh!" she cried, and her hips came up off the floor as he withdrew himself from her.
Chuckling, he came about and cupped her cheeks to kiss her again, warmly and sweetly, then raised her to a sitting position, unsnapped her leash and embraced her. "I've got some surprises for you, dear, and a reward for your being such a good lay. What would you like first? A little juice and a roll to take the edge off your appetite?"
In a rising voice, quivering with anger, she replied, "I'd like to get up off this wet, pissy carpet and kill you!"
Laughing, he rose and swung her up in his arms, kissed her again before she could think to bite him, and bore her off into the bathroom. He set her down before the shower stall and turned on the water, then quickly and efficiently unbuckled her wrists. He reached around her, pinioning her arms to her sides, and undid the buckle at her back.
Then he smiled down at her and said, "Tell me the truth, darling. Did you come?"
She looked down at her arms, so close to being free, then up at him. Her lower lip thrust out and she murmured, "Yes."
"You wouldn't fib? You know I can tell when you're fibbing. Did you come?"
She cocked her head and said earnestly, "I really did. I thought it might never stop. I think I might still be doing it if you hadn't stopped. Then I could feel you shooting in me and it got so heavy I thought I was going to blow my mind and I just couldn't help but piss and I'm so . . . "
She stopped and a broad smile lit her face as he released her arms. She held them out from her sides, looked at them, and rubbed her hands about her waist where the leather had been.
He said, "You realize this can last for only a little while. It's a part of your reward, dear, for admitting you had a good time and for being such a lovely little lay."
"I understand," she said, arching backward and stretching until her back creaked.
He laughed and gave her a little swat on her buttocks to propel her into the shower, telling her to take her time.
Mary heard some clattering outside and was aware that Eric was bustling about her two-room prison as she frolicked in her freedom in the shower. Even if he had locked her in there she felt she'd be better off than outside with that awful restriction on her. She washed her poor, shaven pussy again and again.
About ten minutes later he joined her, smiling and affectionate in spite of the cool reserve she tried to show him. Although he brushed against her in the shower stall, he made no attempts to embrace her.
In the bathroom, drying with thick Turkish towels, she tried to remain aloof through his gently jocular remarks and his references to her loveliness and desirability. Dried, she was handed a huge glass of orange juice, which she drank thirstily, not caring if it was drugged.
Then he stood her before the mirror over the sink and said, "You see? You're just the same as you ever were."
"I'll never be the same," she said bitterly.
"Changed for the better, if anything. But let's pretty you up a little and have breakfast. . . our second breakfast."
Eric wouldn't permit Mary to do a thing. He neatly wrapped her wet hair in a towel, dusted her nude body with powder and anointed it with perfume. He turned her to face him and applied lipstick, eyebrow pencil and eye-liner. When she looked back in the mirror she was surprised at how expertly he'd done it and surprised at how different she looked after having gone without make-up for so long.
She protested that she didn't ever wear a waist cinch, but he good-humoredly insisted she would now, and placed the lightly boned garment of heavy white satin about her slim waist. He drew up the laces in the rear until he could almost span her constricted waist with his long hands. He put a brassiere on her, white and very lacy, that uplifted her breasts and barely covered her nipples. He knelt to help her step into matching panties, very brief, and as he snugged them about her loins she considered ways of braining him with a weapon no larger than the perfume bottle. He stayed on his knees to carefully put long, sheer hose on her legs and clip them to the garters that hung down from the waist cincher. Then he helped her into black high heels, the first she'd worn in several months. He had to support her in walking back to the other room.
She kept looking down at herself as she walked in the crook of his arm, feeling warmly secure with even these revealing garments on her body after being nude for so long. She looked up and was startled at her reflection in the big mirror, looking years older in the lingerie, with an hourglass figure, looking very graceful and alluring next to the smiling, handsome, naked man with his arm about her waist. She felt embarrassed but it was hard to look away.
The breakfast they shared from the cart beside her couch was the best meal she'd ever remembered eating. It was sumptuous. They each had a Ramos Fizz to start it, followed by a half grapefruit decked with a cherry. She'd never had eggs Benedict before and she found them to be delicious, mouth-watering. The coffee was very rich, and it went perfectly with the tiny French rolls he called croissants, thick with sweet butter she could smear on by herself. The food itself was a factor in the quality of (he meal, and her lusty appetite was yet another. The third thing that made it so memorable was the fact that she could feed herself, with her own two hands. She found it very difficult not to respond to his banter, and by the end of the meal she was laughing with him, even though he was tin-worst kind of rapist.
Erie settled her back in the crook of his arm on the couch and offered her a cigarette from the cart. She politely refused, explaining that she didn't smoke.
"You smoke pot," he said.
"That's different. Cigarettes are bad news."
"Just try one of these," he said, holding the extra long, extra slim, gold-tipped cigarettes closer to her. "They're very mild and they go very well after a meal. You don't have to inhale it."
She accepted, not wanting to do anything to shorten her freedom, and she found the pungent smoke to be pleasant enough. She hoped it would help relax him and give her a chance to escape. They smoked and sipped coffee and chatted, and once she'd resigned herself to the fact she couldn't get any useful information out of him, she found their little conversation to be almost pleasant.
A light knock came at the door and Mary tried to draw away from Eric. At his summons, the door opened and Lily popped her plump face in, causing Mary to stiffen and lean farther from the naked man at her side, feeling color rising to her cheeks.
But Lily gave no indication there was anything at all between them. She went about her little chores very impersonally. She cleared away the dishes and returned to get on her knees and work at the wet spot on the floor where Eric had raped Mary, making Mary feel even more uncomfortable. She tidied up in the bathroom while Eric chatted, not at all self-conscious about his nudity, and Mary fidgeted and smoked and tried to answer him.
Then Eric excused himself, saying he had to fetch something he'd forgotten, and he summoned Lily into the room and told her to brush Mary's hair while he was gone. She yessired him and went to get the hairbrush as he left. Mary was just staring toward the door when she heard the key twist in it from the outside, and she settled back on the couch. Lily sat behind Mary to brush her hair, petting her and breathing warmly and audibly on her back, making Mary feel nervous.
Lily said softly, "You sure look nice this morning, kid."
"Thank you, I. . . Thank you."
"Did he fuck you this morning yet? Silly question. Dumb. Of course he fucked you. What guy wouldn't want to fuck you, the way you look?"
"Lily. Please," Mary said, increasingly nervous.
"I know I sure wouldn't mind it if I was a guy. I'd like that as good as eating you. And I could do it. You know that? Even though I'm not a guy, I could fuck you."
"Lily!"
"There's dildoes in that drawer. A bunch of 'em. Look."
The pudgy girl got up and hastened to the drawer from which Grace had gotten the vibrators, and while Mary watched, petrified, she took something out and ran some straps about her thick waist. She turned to Mary, smiling, a long, thick parody of a penis jutting out from the front of her maid's uniform.
"How would you like me to fuck you with that, kid?" she grinned.
"Put it away. Lily, put that awful thing away."
She shrugged and dropped it back in the drawer and returned to her brushing, breathing even more warmly now. She said, "You sure do look sexy in those little dinky lacy things. Sexier than naked. You're one sexy little doll, kid, and I could just eat you up."
Mary said nothing, sitting rigid, looking at the mirror to see the reflection of her sexiness and how it was affecting this girl who was so infatuated with her.
"I thought about you all night. I couldn't hardly sleep. And I must of had to frig myself about ten times. Now here you are, lookin' sexier than you did yesterday."
Mary watched as the Lesbian's soft, thick lips opened and descended on her shoulder, sending warm shivers through her.
"I'm really gonna eat you good today, Mary. So good you'll forget all about Mister Eric's big ol' cock. Lick your cunt till you come all over the place."
"Lily," Mary murmured. "Don't talk like that."
"You're really gonna come for me, kid. Maybe I'll give you a nice spanking first, just to warm you up. Then I'll eat you . . . real good . . . real slow . . . and you don't have to do a thing but lay there and pop your cookies, kid."
"Stop it, Lily," Mary said, trying to look cross as she turned her head in emphasis.
Lily grabbed her by the chin and brought their mouths together, sticking her tongue in Mary's mouth. Mary leaned into the kiss, sucking on Lily's tongue, then pushing it out of her mouth with her own tongue and turning quickly back, ashamed, tingling with desire. She sat and miserably enjoyed the fluttering feelings in her stomach while Lily brushed and brushed her hair and murmured terribly obscene devotions of her love for her. At the click of the lock, Lily moved back and succeeded in looking primly dull in the mirror, but Mary knew Eric would recognize that flush in her own powdered cheeks.
He dismissed Lily and came to sit beside Mary, a manila folder in his hand. He opened it over his lap to show her eight-by-ten glossy photographs that shocked her, because she recognized herself in the lewd pictures with Eric and Grace.
Her rouged lips curled back from her teeth and she said, "You took these that first night, when I was drugged."
"Came out good, didn't they?"
"Is there nothing you won't do to me?"
"Not much, really," he smiled. "Just like there isn't much you won't do, as you can see from the photos."
"I was drugged," she said, turning over the picture of her in cunnilingus with Grace, and being shocked anew by her languidly grinning face as she fellated Eric. "I didn't know what I was doing."
"But you did do these things."
"So?" she sneered. "Why are you showing them to me now? Are they supposed to turn me on or something? Man, I was out of it. That's not me. That's some zombie!"
"Turn you on?" he asked. "That's an idea. Grace told me what nice things pictures do for you. We've several albums here. Wait a moment."
"I don't want to see them," she said, dumping the photographs of her aside and angrily crossing her arms.
"Do you want me to put the belt on you?" he asked, already halfway off the couch.
"Yes."
He shrugged and got up to head for the bathroom, and at once Mary was off the couch and at the door, twisting the knob and finding it open. She leaped out into the hall, only to be confronted by the leering Hank and his snarling dog. Terrified, she backed into the room and slammed the door behind her. She was leaning against it, her heart beating madly, when Eric placidly returned with the belt. As he started to put it around her waist she said, "Eric, I want to look at the pictures."
He arranged them carefully on the floor and leaned back against the black velvet couch with Mary seated between his legs. Two thick albums of photographs were before her and she turned the pages at his command while he embraced her from behind and fondled her, commenting on the pictures and nuzzling her shoulders and neck and ears. His cock stood up between his bare belly and her nearly bare back and she was very much aware of its presence. He had her turn the pages slowly.
They were of young, good-looking people, some naked and some as scantily dressed as she was. Some of them were alone, smiling for the camera or engaged in autoerotic acts with cither their hands or with artificial aids. There were male-female, female-female, and male-male-engaging each other in sexual activities, and there were whole groups of young people similarly engaged. They were, for the most part, very well done. The photos of herself were the first really dirty pictures Mary had ever seen, but these were different because it was obvious that most, if not all, of the subjects were very much aware they were being photographed and had no qualms about it. She couldn't help but think of what each individual was actually like and what brought them to bare their sexual activities so openly.
As they looked, Eric's hands fondled her more and more intimately, adding to the sexual arousal Mary felt. It was useless to try to stop him. One way or another he would have his way with her. Still, when his hand went down the top of her panties, she said, "Eric, please. I'm a little bit sore."
"Where?" he grinned, still reaching for her loins. "Right there. Where you're going."
"Where, dear?"
"My cunt," she said, fully exasperated. "My cunt is sore."
"We can work the soreness out of it, dear," he chuckled, and very gently got his fingers on her clitoris.
She sighed and turned back to the pictures, shifting about to open herself more fully for him and feeling his cock swelling against her back. When he reached down farther in her slit and got his fingers lubricated with her juices, his touch was even more soothing.
"Look in the other one," he said. "There're some pictures of Grace and me in it."
There were quite a few pictures of the well-formed couple, all taken with perfect lighting to show the highlights and the smoothness of their bodies in all manner of erotic couplings.
"Do you like them, Mary?"
"They're very . . . well done."
"Do they excite you?"
"No. Not really."
"Darling, you're fibbing again."
"Well . . . Well, how do you know!"
"Because your cunt's getting so wet."
"Oh, you . . . you bastard! she said, and angrily flipped several more pages over.
She gasped at what she saw, her blood running cold. There was an enlarged picture of Bruno, the big black Doberman, with his forepaws securely about the waist of a pretty blonde girl on hands and knees, with his back humped as he drove his canine penis into her human vagina. Her head was up. and she would have been looking straight ahead had her eyes been open. But they were closed, in keeping with the entirely rapturous expression on her face.
Mary closed the book and said very evenly, "How vile. How unspeakably vile."
"My dear, there is nothing in the world that is unspeakable, What Bruno was doing might be vile to you, but it was a very thrilling experience for Hester."
"Don't. Don't even talk about it."
"But I insist," he said, removing his hand from her cunt and turning her around to face him. "I insist because, as I said, nothing is unspeakable. Hester was and is a lovely girl. She's able to find enjoyment in any sort of sexual contact that you or even I can possibly imagine. With a man or a woman or even a beast-even by herself. She has the enviable ability to lose herself completely in the sexual experience, involving herself fully in it to the exclusion of all else. She can shut herself off and simply enjoy. Now, isn't that to be envied? Is there anything else she could ask for?"
Mary had gone limp. Now she straightened up and said, "Love."
"Love? My dear, what exactly are you talking about? There's the excitement of romance, the warmth of companionship, the security of having someone to care for your needs, and there are, of course, the joys of sexual union. But love is only a four-letter word man has invented to please his vanity by setting him apart from other animals who are supposed to be too undeveloped to achieve love. Love is something invented by old maids with their hymens intact and young men trying to get into their girls' cunts and novelists trying to make a buck and-"
"Stop! That's not true. It's not true at all!"
"What is love? You tell me then."
"It's not something to be defined. It's.. . it's an instinct."
"Ah," he said, holding up a finger. "Now you're speaking of mother-love, the instinctive need to protect the baby animal. Is that the kind of love you want, Mary? Did you see the child in your Skip?"
"No! He was a man. A lot more of a man than you are."
"Did he ever bring you to orgasm?"
"You know he didn't," she said sullenly. "But I loved him. I still do! And he loves me-wherever he is."
"Just for the sake of argument, Mary, let's assume he did love you. Let's assume he still does, even knowing the things you've done here in this house-a doubtful assumption at best. With that as a premise, we're presented with the prerequisite premise that love exists."
"Well, glory be!" she said with heavy sarcasm. "Go on."
"Now, let's go back to what I said before about the components of love. There's the excitement of romance. Right? like you and Skip running away together."
"It was more than that. It was-"
"Of course it was. I agree with you. But that was one factor that helped to build your love for each other. Right? Answer me objectively. No fibbing."
"Well, yes. I guess so. It was romantic, exciting."
"Fine. And the warmth of companionship? Walking together on the road, sleeping together in all the places you passed by, lying down there on our beach together. Warmth of companionship. Right?"
"Okay," she said disgustedly. "Right."
"And his caring for your needs."
"And my caring for his!"
"Wait now. We're talking primarily of his love for you at this moment. His caring for your needs. Right."
"Okay."
"And the sexual excitement bit. There was that."
"Yes," she sighed, "there was that. Is that all you ever think about-sex?"
"Not at all. Now I'm thinking about love, athough sex is a part of that, as you've admitted. Now, what have I left out of Skip's so-called love for you?"
"Well. . . Well, there's more. A lot more."
"What?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"I understand the English language very well. Try me. Give me another component of your love."
"But you can't just break it down into components," she protested, shaking her little fists in frustration.
"Why not? I just did it. And if you've no other components to add, I'll go on. Okay? Fine. Now, there's a certain romance and excitement in a man kidnapping a lovely young woman, taking her off to his castle, and making love to her. At present we two are sharing a warmth of companionship as we sit and talk philosophy, and I know we'll share many other times like this. I'm caring for your every need, feeding you better than you've ever been fed in your life, giving you shelter and warmth and . . . "
"But not freedom!"
"That will come, my dear. I promise you."
"Really? Really, Eric?"
"Really. If you continue to be as honest and sweet and lovely as you have been. Do you believe that, Mary?" he asked, covering her hand with his.
She hesitated and said, "I guess so. I don't have much choice but to believe it."
"Then I'll go on. Sexual union. I've shown you far more physical pleasure in sex than Skip did. I brought you to orgasm and I'll do that every time I'm with you. So, you see?"
"See what?" she queried after a pause.
"Why, that I love you more than Skip did."
"What? That's . . . that's ridiculous!"
"Is it? I've exceeded him in all four of our agreed-on components of love. Ergo, I love you more than he did."
"Oh! Oh, you sound like some kind of a geometry teacher trying to prove something that isn't-"
Her words were cut off as Eric jerked her into his arms and kissed her. She pushed at his broad shoulders even after he'd ended the long, deep kiss and was breathing into her ear, "I love you, Mary. I love you. You may not believe a word of it and maybe I don't either because I don't really believe in love at all, but I do believe in giving you all the joys any woman could ever want, and one of those is to hear her man say, 'I love you, I love you, I love you.' Mary Louise, I do love you. I love everything about you. From your independent spirit to your sweet face to your hot little cunt. I love you, my darling. I love you."
He kissed her again, and her hands no longer could push so strongly against him. It was so much easier, so much better to believe his words for just a little while, and grab hold of one more meager familiarity in this strange world she'd been thrust into. She put her arms about his neck and kissed him in return, shoving all thoughts of Skip aside, sucking his tongue and squirming against him as he bit her lips with his.
They lay on the floor and necked, just as she had in junior high school, with no thought of time or consequences, forgetting everything in the sticky embrace. This was far different from those past times where the barriers of propriety were observed. Mary had been fucked-and more-and there was nothing of the good girl left in her, no more barriers to be broken down as far as she was concerned. Every part of her body had been used and would be used again, so there was no need to titter and stop him from giving her more and more pleasure, a deeper and deeper state of forgetfulness of the world about her.
And he helped her along expertly, with none of the sweaty eagerness to get in her pants and have it over with. He played with her as if he enjoyed pleasing her as much as ultimately pleasing himself, fondling her and kissing her, even making her laugh with him as he was doing it. His cock pressing against her was no longer that of a monster rapist, but an enduring tribute to the excitement he felt for her. And that excitement was in turn indicative of his love for her-false as he might believe it to be. She wallowed in his arms, returning all of his kisses with great ardor, and let his hands and mouth roam at will over her body.
Eric had turned about on her and was kissing her belly while she stroked his strong back, tingling with deep pleasure. He kissed under the hem of her panties and she pushed the balls of her fingers into his hard flesh and crooned to him that she loved the way he loved her. It drove him down to press his hot kisses directly between her legs on the thoroughly sodden crotch of her panties. She sighed loud and long and pushed her hips, up at him, and he took that opportunity to strip her lacy white panties down over her plump buttocks-those panties he'd given to her just so he could take them off and love her the way he felt she should be loved. And perhaps he was right in his feelings. He was certainly right in knowing how to thrill her.
Before he got her panties to her knees he had his mouth on her cunt, licking and kissing it, making her squeal and coo and arch and push at his head. They were much like Lily's kisses but still different, for he seemed to go slightly mad with his mouth, not making a conscious effort to find her most sensitive spots, but seeking everywhere between her legs to satisfy a deeply craving appetite for the taste of her cunt. So wild were his lappings that his flaying tongue slipped down to Mary's anus and probed there, sending her into even more frenzied contortions. He got on his hands and knees beside her like a huge, beautiful animal, as he lapped and sucked and tongued in her cunt-the cunt he so adored.
Mary orgasmed, then orgasmed again. And through all her thrashings and pleadings, Eric kept right at her cunt in a display of passion for her that was stunning. As she thrashed, she frequently struck his penis, long and hard and dangling down, with her hand. During her second orgasm she deliberately reached out and grabbed it, wanting to feel it in her hand if she couldn't feel it in her cunt as she'd pleaded for. Still he kept licking her cunt, driving her wilder and wilder. And while she held his tool in her hand he brought one knee over her, gaining better access to her crotch. Then his cock was right there, before her eyes, looming huge and feeling hot, its velvety red knob wet with seminal fluid.
She held it there, stroked it gently, and felt another orgasm beginning with dizzying succession after the last. It was as wonderful as before, but it was all on the surface, not deep inside her as their orgasm in coitus had been, and she longed even more to feel his cock inside her pussy. Still he was loving her, loving her, loving her, kissing her cunt like no man had ever kissed another cunt, bringing her to yet another peak.
For a moment she loved him for his devotion to her sexual needs, if nothing else. And to show him her love beyond the words she'd babbled, she brought his cock down against her cheek. She felt its warmth, squeezed it against her hot cheek, then turned her face and pressed her lips briefly to the satiny smooth red hood.
He turned about, exclaiming, "Darling!" He gave her all of his strong body in a bone-cracking embrace that was exactly what she needed. Then he fulfilled the need that was deeper in her by deftly inserting his cock in her cunt and sliding it all the way home.
Her previous orgasms had been puny compared to this. She was there at once, clasping him to her as hard as she could, humping frantically and erratically at him while he drove at her with his wonderful cock, panting and buzzing love words into her ear until he was gasping, spurting up deep inside her, and meeting her continually oozing flow of sex juices with hot gushes of his own wonderful come.
Mary was barely awake when Eric left her.
He apologized as he put the belt and cuffs on her, and she murmured it was all right. Everything was all right. He kissed her slack mouth, and his breath was redolent with their sex, his love for her. He told her he had things to do and was sorry he couldn't stay with her, but that Lily would be along after Mary'd finished her nap on the couch where he'd placed her. She mumbled she'd be just fine after a little sleep. He said he'd be back the next morning to wake her, and she smiled in her sleep. He kissed her good-bye, and as the door clicked closed, Mary vaguely wondered how she'd find a way to put Lily off when she came to give her an enema.
9
Five days later, just one week after they'd abducted Mary Louise Josephson, the alarm rang beside the bed that Grace and Eric shared. Grace threw back the satin sheet, groped, and turned it off. She opened her eyes and confirmed it was seven in the morning, then curled more comfortably against her brother's back, feeling secure against his long, warm nakedness. She slid her hand about his waist and down to his loins, cupping his heavy testicles, then moved it up and caressed the length of his erection. Caressing him thus, blowing in his ear, she awakened him. He turned over and kissed her, easily found her silky fat pudendum and tickled her clitoris as their long, lithe bodies twined.
"Mmmmm," she purred. "But Mary Lou is waiting."
He looked over his shoulder at the television monitor and sighed. "Still asleep. But I'd better get going." He kissed his sister again and got out of bed, stretched and said, "Want me to have Lily bring you something more than rolls and coffee this morning? That was quite a workout you had with Mary Louise last night."
"No, that'll be enough. I have to watch my figure, you know."
While he was in the bathroom Grace sat up in bed and got the clipboard from the night table, checked the notes Eric had made the night before, and clipped a fresh sheet on top of the papers. She yawned and settled comfortably to watch the girl on the screen, flicked the bedside control to change the channel for a view of the empty bathroom, then returned it to the outer room of the little prison. She was ready to start another long day in the training of the girl.
Ten minutes later Eric nodded to Hank with his dog and Lily with her breakfast cart in the hall outside the girl's room. He slid back a panel in the wall so all could see the girl sleeping on the couch. They were looking through the back of the big mirror. Mary was on her back on the couch, one leg dangling to the floor, and naked except for the leather belt and wrist cuffs. Lily slid the panel back farther and sat on the stool that was placed before the polygraph machine. The machine was connected to the girl through the cables that led through the wall to her leash and through wires from there that ran inside the belt and cuffs to the brass studs and rivets-the electrodes. Lily checked the device she used to signal an interrogator that one of their subjects was lying-the tiny white light in a corner of the room that flickered for an instant when she pressed a button. She examined the movements of the needle during the past ten hours when the lie-detecting device had been unattended.
Lily said, "The subject had some pretty good dreams last night. And I don't believe she's fully asleep now. I'm sure she isn't."
Erie nodded and .-aid. "Good. I don't really think I'll need either of you today, but stay here. Enjoy yourselves."
Hank grinned down at Lily and squeezed her shoulder and she turned and smiled at him, then kissed his hand. Eric left them to go to the girl.
He entered with his usual careful tread and went to sit very gingerly beside her on the couch. He smiled down at her as he got his penis fully erect, then bent and started slowly to extract the vibrator from her cunt. She didn't move at all as he did it. He went around and carefully got between her legs and opened her cunt lips and inserted himself. He was only in her a little way when she flung her hips up to join them together more fully, and shouted. "Boo!"
"My God!" he cried, feigning great surprise. "Don't ever do that!"
She snaked a leg about his back and pulled him to her, laughing and laughing, and said, "Did I really scare you?"
"I guess! You shouldn't do that, Mary Louise," he grinned, snuggling his cock all the way inside her. "You might make me go soft. Just for that I've got a good notion to leave you bound up this morning."
"Meany," she pouted prettily. "You don't love me at all, do you?"
"When you look like that, what choice do you leave me?" he said, and worked at the buckles. He stopped to say, "Do you love me this morning?"
"I love to have you fuck me," she grinned.
Eric glanced up and saw no flicker of the little light, so he continued to free her of the belt and cuffs. When she was free she put her arms about him and kissed him, snuggled her breasts against his chest and snapped her hips back and forth against his loins. Still kissing, he picked her up, and she clung to him with her arms and legs like a monkey on a stick while he helped support her with his hands on her ass and his cock in her cunt.
He walked with his warmly clinging burden toward the bathroom, and at the door she took her mouth from his and said, "Oh honey. Your cock is really up inside me. I really love it this way."
"It's the only way to take a shower."
He carried her on to the shower as she kissed and nuzzled at his throat, and as he adjusted the water she said, "I really have to piss this morning, honey. I had too many things to drink last night."
"Good," he said, squeezing her rump, helping her writhe on his cock. "Do it in the shower."
"I may not be able to wait even that long. I'm so hot this morning. I was lying there, thinking about you, and I got all hot. I could come right now. I could, lover."
"Go ahead, Mary Louise," he said, and kissed her as he bore her into the torrent of warm water.
She squirmed faster on him, using her knees on his hips for added leverage, and her urine bubbled out to join the other liquid streaming down onto the tile floor. He jerked his hips up at her to help her and added to the movements of her ass with his hands.
Tearing her mouth from his she gasped, "Oh, so good. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Wish you could piss on me too, lover."
"Not with a hard-on, darling."
"I know, but . . . Oh, come! Come, darling. Shoot in me while I'm still feeling it so good. Come, Eric. Come!"
"For you, Mary Louise," he gritted, and began moving his cock very hard up in her.
She cried out at the first slamming jolt of him, then cried out again as he reached down with both hands and got two fingers against her anus. Then she threw her head back and made a long, awful groan, wriggling about on him as be worked one finger into her anus and came in her.
"Doing it now," she moaned. "Lemme down. Please, Eric. Please!"
When he arched back and drew himself out of her she slid right down his body and got his cock in her hand. The last jets of his sperm were just spurting out when she got it in her mouth, and she crouched on the floor with the water beating down on her, vigorously massaging her cunt and purring as she sucked it all out. She continued to suck and kiss him, caressing his loins with both hands until his penis had wilted in her mouth. Then she slumped back in a corner of the shower and sighed out long, heavy breaths.
Eric turned off the water and took one step closer to her, and she smiled dreamily up at him. He took his limp penis in his hand and she gazed lovingly at it and pursed her lips. Shock altered her pretty features as he began urinating, the first of the stream striking against her cheek. With a little cry she scrambled to her knees, pushed his hand from his cock and grasped it herself to direct the stream down over her body. She was panting in her sudden excitement, and her hand shook as she made the stream zigzag down over both breasts, over her belly and against her loins. Her other hand went there to cup her cunt and rub it hard.
As the stream dwindled she held his cock against her cheek and pressed trembling kisses on his testicles. And as it ended, she took his cock in her mouth again and sucked it until she'd masturbated to another orgasm-a matter of less than a minute. He turned on the water again and drew her, limp as a rag doll, to her feet to kiss her. He had to help her out of the shower.
As he dried them she kept trying to touch and kiss him, saying, "Oh honey. What a wonderful way to start the day. The only way it'd be better is if I could wake up in your arms."
"Never happen. I've told you that."
"I know, but . . . You're right. All I want is that you fuck me, in every way, whenver you can."
"That's my pretty Mary Louise. Come along now. I'm hungry and so are you. Powder and perfume yourself and put on your make-up and that damned towel around your hair and let's get you dressed. I think I want you in black today."
The outfit he chose for her consisted of a little waist cinch of kidskin, a see-through bra and panties, long net hose, and knee-length patent leather boots with spiked heels-all in black. He had her put dangling earrings on and jangling bracelets. They both agreed she looked very exotic.
They were on the couch when Lily wheeled in their breakfast cart, and when Eric looked away for a moment, Lily stuck out her tongue at Mary. With a glance at Eric's turned head, Mary returned the childish gesture, and no further exchange passed between the two females while Lily arranged the dishes and left. The breakfast, as always, was delicious-Persian melon, a small filet mignon, and scrambled eggs, preceded, of course, by their usual Ramos Fizz. They both ate hungrily, neither saying much, and Mary lit their cigarettes and handed one to Eric.
They leaned back on the couch, looking very contented, and finished their cigarettes. Then Mary turned and began kissing Eric, from his face to his nipples to his penis, until she had him properly amused and returning her kisses and touches. He had her stand up while he peeled off the transparent black panties, and she stood there with her hands on her hips and smiled down at him at her feet.
He looked up and said devoutly, "You look beautiful, Mary Louise. like a creature who's stepped out of the pages of one of Masoch's books."
She looked at herself in the mirror, stern blacks and creamy whites, her voluptuously curved figure well disciplined by the waist cinch and boots, with the handsome naked man crouched at her feet. She arched a painted eyebrow and said, "That's exactly what I feel like. Know what else I feel like? I feel like you should be kissing my boots while you're down there."
"Aw, Mary Louise," he said in a small voice that was uncharacteristically meek for him, "I couldn't do-"
She pointed a finger at him and said sharply, "You can do any Goddamned thing I say. Get down there and kiss them."
"Y-yes, Mary Louise."
"Mistress! You call me Mistress. Do you understand."
"Yes. Yes, Mistress."
"Then get busy," she commanded, and planted her boots farther apart.
She directed him with sharp commands in each of his actions, ordering him to cover her feet with kisses. Her pretty face took on an appearance of harshness as she looked in the mirror, baring more of her teeth by twisting her lips about, and glowering with her eyes. She made him crawl all about her on hands and knees to spiral his kisses about her legs, and when he'd made perhaps a dozen circuits of her she ordered him to halt in front of her.
She took a wider stance with her feet and used two fingers of each hand to open her cunt, then thrust her hips forward so the gaping organ was just inches from his face. "Is that what you want?"
"Yes," he said, his voice a study in anguished yearning. "Yes, Mistress. Please."
She moved her hand so her fleshy lips were being held open with the fingers of her left hand, and she used the right to massage her slit, saying, "You don't deserve that. You wouldn't know what to do with a cunt, boy."
"P-please?" he said.
"I'll think about it," she said, still massaging herself.
"You think about it too."
She derided him as she masturbated, heaping scorn on his manhood and calling him vile names in a voice that grew increasingly harsh in her rising excitement. She made him beg to fuck her, to kiss her, to even be permitted to touch her, and she made him look straight ahead at her flaming cunt while she rubbed it and rubbed it until her legs were quivering and she'd brought herself to a gasping climax. Then she had him lick her fingers clean.
"You like that?" she asked.
"I-I loved it, Mistress. Every glorious minute of it."
"You still want my body?"
"Yes! Please!"
"Here's what you get," she said, and turned about to lean forward and put her hands on her knees, thrusting her butt at his face. She waved her hips back and forth and looked back at him through her legs and said, "Eat it."
He whimpered and she had to shout her command at him before he performed analingus on her. His efforts became increasingly more ardent as he progressed, and her breathing became faster and faster. At length she dropped down on all fours and commanded him to sodomize her, and this he did with alacrity.
As he worked hard in her, approaching a climax, she panted, "You're nothing but a queer. You're not a man at all. You don't deserve any woman's cunt, least of all mine. Come in my ass. Now, damn you! And touch my cunt. Reach around me and touch my cunt. Oh, Eric! Eric, come with me!"
She was in a very dreamy state as she lay on the floor and Eric put her panties back on her.
He said, "That was good, Mary Louise. You were very good."
"Mmmmm. So were you. I love to play games with you."
"Wait," he said, and got her belt. As always, he apologized for putting it back on her.
"I don't mind it right now," she sighed. "I wouldn't mind anything right now."
The second wrist cuff was secure before he said, "Do you really like to play the sex games, Mary Louise?"
"Mm-hmm. I like to please you."
"But you like to do them for your own sake, too, don't you?"
"Oh, yes."
"You like the weird, the bizarre in sex."
"Sure I do. Who wouldn't?"
He picked her up and set her on the couch. He kissed her tenderly and said, "A very pretty girl who came to my castle very recently wouldn't have enjoyed anything like that."
She sighed and said, "I've changed."
"Do you like the new you?"
"I don't know. I don't think about me that much any more. Eric, are you giving me drugs or anything?"
"Just your birth control pill. Believe me, dear. Do you think about Skip much any more?"
Her eyes grew misty and he didn't have to look at the indicator light to know she was lying when she said, "I don't think about him at all."
"Darling, I wouldn't blame you for thinking about him at times."
"Well . . . I guess I do. A little."
"Would you like to be back with him, just the way you were before? Think about that, dear."
She struggled back from the beginnings of sleep and screwed up her brows before she said, "I don't know. I honestly don't know."
The little light didn't go on, and Eric bent and kissed her before he left.
In the hall he said to Lily, "Good thing you stayed at your machine."
"It's my job," she said. She turned and grinned at Hank and added, "We had ourselves a little time while you were in the John with her. Anything happen in there of significance? "
Eric yawned and said, "Not much. Go and check with Grace if you want. And do a nice job on her this afternoon, Lil."
"Oh, I will. Don't you worry about that, Eric."
Lily came in at nine and clattered the dishes about to wake Mary. When she succeeded, Mary struggled to a sitting position, smiled and said, "Hi, Lily."
Lily stuck her tongue out and pushed the cart toward the door, flouncing her big buttocks as she went.
"Hey, wait," Mary called. "Lily, wait!"
Lily left, slamming the door behind her and turning the key in it very sharply, and Mary stared after her in exasperation. Lately, during those long times when she was by herself in the room, Mary had started talking to herself at times, and now she said, "What a child! Honestly. At times she thinks she owns me."
She leaned back against the couch, gazing about the room, then used the heel of her left boot to scratch at her right knee. She sat there a while longer, then got up on the couch and looked out the window, moving with surprising ease for one who is without the use of her arms. When she wearied of this she kicked her leash back behind her and hopped down from the couch.
She went to the bookcase and stooped to reach one of the books, carried it back to the couch and sat down. She opened the book on the black velvet beside her cuffed left hand and began to read. As she did, she kneaded her hip with her right hand and rubbed the swell of her left breast with her chin. She crossed and recrossed her legs frequently and wriggled her ass on the couch from time to time. When she came to one of the pornographic illustrations she dwelt upon it. At the slightest sound outside in the hall she looked eagerly up at the door, then returned to her reading.
Lily returned at noon with her snack, and Mary greeted her brightly.
"Hi, babe. How are you doing?"
"Doin' just fine, thank you," Lily replied, and stuffed a huge shrimp in Mary's mouth.
She turned and went into the bathroom, returning with the hairbrush and a scissors in the pocket of her blue nylon uniform. She sat behind Mary and jerked the turban off her head and began to brush out the long brown tresses with hard strokes that pulled Mary's head back.
Mary chewed rapidly, gulped it down, and said, "Kid, what's wrong?"
Lily reached around her to get another shrimp, then had to hold Mary's chin to force it in, again silencing her. She returned to her very strenuous brushing.
When Mary got the mouthful down her throat, her words were very distressed as she said, "Lily honey, tell me what in the world is wrong with you today."
"You know," Lily said sullenly.
"But I don't. Kid, tell me what it is. Please."
"Don't you want me to undo you first? That's usually the first thing you want. Heck, that's all you want from me is to come in here ever' day and turn you loose for a little while."
"Well, that's just not true and you know it. Now, come on and tell me what's the matter."
"You know."
"But I don't. Lily, tell me!"
Lily set the brush down and said vehemently, "Well, how would you feel if you were me and had to come in here every morning and see you lovin' it up with Mr. St.
George? Hah? Do you think I like seein' you all lovey-dovey with him ever' single morning when you know how much I want you for myself?"
"But Lily. I have to do what he wants. You know that."
"Well, I don't have to like it."
"But I can't do anything about it."
"I can! I can sure teach you a lesson!" Lily shouted, and took a handful of Mary's hair and pulled her head back. With the other hand she took the scissors from her pocket, and while Mary screamed and bawled at her, she cut the brown hair off close to the back of Mary's head.
Mary broke into loud sobs, throwing herself down on the couch, and Lily grabbed her and pulled her upright. She unfastened Mary's wrists, and when the loudly weeping girl tried to push her away, she slapped her across the face and took the belt off. She began tearing at Mary's black clothing, rasping, "You look like a whore. A whore! That's all you are is Mr. St. George's whore. You like what he does to you better than you like what I do, and I'm darned good and sick of it. I know what you do with him-kissing his peter and everything-and it's not right. It's just not right!"
She stripped Mary naked and used her vastly superior strength to subdue the weeping girl's efforts to escape her. Then she turned Mary across her lap and began slapping her buttocks hard with the hairbrush. Mary wailed and screamed, kicked and thrashed, but could do nothing to stop the loud blows from the hairbrush. At last she went limp, sobbing convulsively, her body jerking every time the brush landed on her reddened and inflamed buttocks.
'There," Lily panted, laying the brush aside. "I guess that'll teach you."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Mary blubbered.
"Sorry for what?" Lily demanded, taking Mary by the shoulders and making her face her. "What're you sorry for?"
"That I . . . that I haven't b-been . . . better to you. Please, kid. I'm sorry. Really I am."
A cruel grin twisted Lily's thick lips and she said, "Show me."
"What . . . what do you mean? How can I, Lily?"
"You can undress me for a starter. Well?" Lily barked when Mary didn't move, and she picked up the hairbrush and brandished it over her.
Mary moved and Lily smiled and set aside the hairbrush again. With flying fingers, still snuffling and weeping, Mary unzipped Lily's dress and peeled it down. Lily heaved her big hips off the couch, and Mary had to get on her knees to pull the dress down, leaving Lily clad only in white cotton bra and panties. Mary had to strain to reach around her bulky torso to reach the bra snap; then she pulled the garment off, freeing Lily's bulbous breasts.
Lily lifted them in her work-roughened hands and said, "Do you think they're pretty? Just a little?"
"Yes. Oh, yes, Lily."
"Then why in heck didn't you even once ask me to show 'em to you!" Lily raged at her. "If they're so darned pretty, then you kiss 'em. Go on! I kissed yours enough."
Mary stopped biting her lip and came forward to press her face against the doughy softness, and Lily sighed and said, "Geez, I thought about this for so long. Kiss 'em nice, kid. Suck 'em just like I suck yours. I might not be as pretty as you but I need lovin' just as bad as you do. Use your hands more. And your tongue. Oh, honey, that's so nice. You're gettin' me all hot and bothered. Do you like doin' it? Do you?"
Holding one breast in both hands, sucking avidly at the nipple, Mary nodded her head vigorously.
"Gosh, it feels so nice," Lily giggled. "You got the nicest mouth in the world, kid. Would you touch my pussy a little? Go on and do it, kid. I don't wanna have to make you do it. Honey, I just hate to hurt you.'"
Mary's hand went down and found the crotch of Lily's panties wet and hot. She rubbed it nicely, trying to use the same pressure Lily had so often used on her there, feeling the contours of the long slit between Lily's large, flabbly thighs. Still sucking on Lily's breast, she moved her hand up and pulled down the front of Lily's voluminous white panties. She reached within, but in her awkwardly close position she was unable to reach beyond the start of Lily's long, thick pubic hair. She returned her hand between Lily's legs, pulled the crotch of the panties aside, and delved her fingers into the fatty, juicy folds of flesh.
Lily panted, "Kid, you're makin' me so darned hot and bothered. Pull my clitty, honey. Pull it right off of me. Oooo. Do you like it? Do you?"
Mary backed off from the nipple, her face flushed and her lips swollen. Still moving her hand between Lily's legs, she said, "It's so big!"
"Uh-huh. And so darned hot and bothered. You're gonna kiss it for me, aren't you?"
"If . . . if you want."
"Do I ever! Help me get my pants off. Golly, but I'm hot!"
It was a struggle, for Lily's girth was great and Mary's hands were shaking as she hauled down the bloomers. And when Lily was nude on the couch she grew suddenly shy. Her pubic hair came up her belly in a thick fan, almost to her navel, and very coarse and long. She tried to cover it with her hands as Mary gazed at her, open-mouthed, breathing hard, still kneeling between Lily's knees.
Lily said, "I guess it wouldn't be so hard for you if I was pretty like you. But you're gonna have to do it anyway. I'm sorry, kid, but I just have to have it."
"But you are pretty in your way," Mary breathed, and gently took Lily's hands away from her loins. She settled back on her heels and placed her trembling hands on Lily's thighs and looked directly at the big, hairy crotch with the long slit, and at the clitoris of such dimensions that its tip protruded out from between the labia like a miniature penis.
"Wait," Lily said. "I oughta get up and wash a little first. I didn't even have time for a bath this morning."
"It's all right," Mary murmured, and came forward.
"But I'm all sweaty," Lily said, taking Mary's cheeks in her hands. "I don't smell nice."
"Yes you do," Mary nodded, and parted the big lips with her fingers to press her mouth deep within the fetid furrow. She inched closer on her knees, parted the lips wider, and moved her kiss up and down the length of Lily's deep slit before she settled it over the clitoris.
Lily sighed and said, "Suck your Lily's big ol' cunt, Mary. Make your big fat ol' Lesbian come all over the place. Geez, you like cunt as much as I do. I wish I'd known that sooner. Think of all the fun you been missing."
Mary nodded her head. She pushed Lily's legs farther apart and tongued her way from top to bottom in the overflowing slit before she settled back and sucked at Lily's clitoris, bringing her friend to orgasm.
For a change, Mary had to help Lily to the bathroom. There Lily, still puffing and blowing from the upheavals that had racked her body, leaned against the sink while Mary knelt and wiped her big thighs with a wash cloth, kissing her here and there as she did.
Mary rose and kissed Lily on the mouth, writhed in her strong arms, and said, "It's time for you to turn me across your knee again."
"Yeah. Your enema. Come on. I got to sit down."
Seated on the toilet, with Mary across her lap, Lily smoothed her hand over the pink buttocks and said, "Geez, I really hurt you with that hairbrush."
"It wasn't all that bad," Mary said. "Not nearly so bad as your cutting all my hair off. Eric and Grace will be mad about that."
"Maybe. I'll give you a nice little pixie cut pretty quick and you'll look real nice. Geez, you got a nice little ass. Is it sore? " Lily asked, still stroking it.
"It's warm," Mary giggled. "You might even say it's sort of hot."
"Got you hot spanking you, did I? I've read about that."
"I have too. I didn't see how it would work, though."
"It does, doesn't it?"
"Mm-hmm. Spank me a little now, Lily."
"If I do, what'll you do?"
"Get hot. Kiss your cunt some more."
"What about sixty-nine? You ever read about that?"
"Mm-hmm. We could do it in the other room . . . in front of the mirror."
They did just that, and Mary orgasmed twice, not being sure if it was Lily's mouth at her cunt or her mouth at Lily's that made this so specially thrilling.. . and not caring.
Afterward she wouldn't permit Lily to dress while the maid trimmed her hair in a rather becoming shingle cut. Lily stayed for about three hours before she dressed Mary in the clothes she'd been wearing and buckled her into her fetters. She dressed herself and held Mary while they kissed very deeply for some time. Then she carefully repaired Mary's make-up and left. She went to the master bedroom where Eric and Grace were at the television monitor, gave a verbal report, and was told she could take an hour's nap before she wakened Mary and returned to her maid's duties.
Lily woke Mary from her afternoon nap by coming in and changing the linen, straightening up, and teasing with her. The girl had slept long enough. She was to get eight hours each night and two naps each day, each of approximately one hour. This schedule, together with her high-protein diet, would keep her rested and in good health, vigorous and able to keep up with her growing sexual appetite. Soon she'd need some steady exercise to keep her body from spreading to flab, but that wasn't Lily's worry. Her worry was doing her part in getting this girl trained, then taking a little vacation with her parents in Des Moines before she came back to help with the next one. It was a small worry, for she was good at her work. She enjoyed her work as much as any in the household, especially when their trainee had been a snippy little thing like Mary to begin with. Now she teased Mary as she cleaned the two small rooms.
'That was sure good this morning," Lily said as she carried the damp towels out of the bathroom.
"Uh-huh," Mary said, sitting bolt upright, wetting her lips as she gazed at Lily's loins. "You know, I've been thinking about doing that to you for the last couple of days."
Lily dumped the towels in the hamper and came to place her hand on Mary's head. "Doing what, kid?"
Mary swallowed and said, "Kissing your cunt. I'm glad you finally made me do it. I might not have gotten the courage to do it on my own."
"You really liked it?"
"Uh-huh. It was groovy."
Lily made a face and said, "Groovy. What a dumb word that is."
"It was great," Mary said. "It was wonderful sucking you off, kid. And I did it real good, didn't I."
"Real good, kid."
"Stay with me? Let me kiss your pretty cunt again."
"I can't. I got all sorts of work to do. And I stayed too long with you this morning anyways."
"Please, Lily. I want to taste you again."
"Aw. You just want me to let your hands loose again. That's all you want."
Mary slipped to her knees and pressed her cheek against Lily's big thigh, pleading, "Kid, you don't even have to take the cuffs off me. Just stay here and pull your pants down and let me kiss it a little. Let me kiss it a lot and make you come."
"Geez, I sure want to, but . . . but I really can't, Mary. I got so darned much to do. What I will do, though, is get some of the picture books and put 'em on the couch for you and III turn on some records for you too."
"Honeee," Mary pleaded as Lily walked to the bookcase. "Please!"
"I just can't," Lily said, and remained mute to all the girl's pleas as she started the records going and brought the photo albums to spread them on the couch.
As she left, Mary followed her on her knees to the end of her leash, crying out, "Just see if I go down on you next time you want it! Just see if I kiss your stinking old cunt tomorrow!"
Chuckling, shaking her head, Lily went to look at Mary through the mirror.
Mary got up and sulked about, pacing as far as she could at the end of her leash. Presently she went to the record player and turned it down a little, then got up and looked out the window. After ten minutes of that she sat down and began looking at the dirty pictures, studying each page carefully, starting to fidget, then laboriously turning on to the next page. Lily knew Grace St. George would be in for a rousing good time when it came for her turn to further Mary's training later that night.
Grace was becomingly dressed when she wheeled in their dinner that night. For Grace, it could be said she was chastely dressed. She had on a little Mexican frock with a low, square neckline, short puffed sleeves, and ruffles down the front to its hem, about six inches above her knees. Pure white, the little frock had been advertised as a Mexican wedding gown when she'd bought it in Acapulco. She wore sandals on her feet, and her face was free of make-up save for a coating of pink lipstick on her mouth. She looked much younger than her thirty-one years. When she saw-Mary her smile expanded into a look of delight.
"Lily told me she cut your hair, Mary Lou. It's even shorter than mine."
"It's terrible. I hate it."
"Oh, no. I love it. You will too. It gives you so many more possibilities. Wait. I'll show you."
Grace hurried off, leaving the door ajar in her enthusiastic departure. Mary looked at it wistfully but didn't even try to uproot her tether and go to it. In just a few minutes Grace was back, a black wig in one hand, a red one in the other. She removed Mary's belt and tried the red one on her first. It was very long and straight, coming down to her waist, and from every angle in the mirror Mary found it as attractive as Grace assured her it was.
Grace liked the black one even better. It was almost blue-black, and it fell below Mary's shoulders in glossy waves. It was quite full, having been ratted, and it gave Mary's face the appearance of being smaller, more concentrated in its beauty. Gushing over her new appearance, Grace got darker make-up which she applied to Mary's face, accentuating her features, giving her a slightly vampish look. She started the movie going and they settled down to cocktails and dinner.
It was a new movie, as all of them were to Mary, and it was projected out through the little square window over the bookcase onto the opposite wall. In color, it showed the antics of a group of eight very handsome young people-five boys and three girls-all very naked and very loving on a large white bed. As they ate, they commented on singularly amusing scenes and especially good performances. The meal was a good one, all locally produced. There was cold roast pheasant and chilled artichoke hearts with homemade mayonnaise, to be eaten with the fingers and washed down with a Poilley Feusse wine from nearby Napa Valley. The dessert was fresh strawberries sprinkled with powdered sugar, made even more palatable by being briefly soaked in the good white wine. It took them half an hour to eat while they watched the show.
Mary said, "Have you ever been in a thing with a lot of people like that?"
"Many times, Mary Lou. They're tiring but they're lots of fun. Would you like to be in one of our orgies?"
"You have them? Here?"
"Here and there. Think you'd like to join in?"
"Yes. I think I would sometime. But not tonight," she grinned.
Grace returned her grin as she wiped a droplet of strawberry-tinted wine from Mary's chin and said, "And why not tonight, darling?"
"Tonight's our night to play. To play with each other." She moved closer to Grace and ran her hand up under the short skirt of the pristine dress, feeling bolder than she ever had before with her captor. "I had myself some kind of a ball today with Lily after she cut all my hair off. I never thought I could learn anything new from her, but I sure did."
"Oh?" Grace said, covering Mary's hand under her dress with hers. "And what did our resident dyke teach you, dear? "
Mary wet her lips and reached around to pull Grace closer with a handful of her trim round buttock. "She taught me to eat pussy. And to like it."
"Really. So now I've two Lesbians in my house. Lucky me."
"Oh, I'm not like her. I still love cock. But now I love cunt too. What does that make me?"
"Bisexual," Grace replied, and arched her supple body-closer, brushing her breasts against Mary's and bringing her smiling lips close to Mary's. "And very interesting."
Mary grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her before she could get away. When Grace pushed at her she lanced her between the pink perfumed lips and pulled her closer still, slipping a hand down to the very slender waist, then trying to insert it between Grace's legs.
Grace turned away and chuckled, "Easy, Mary Lou. Let me get up and get our vibrators or the Nijji balls."
"I don't want them tonight. I want to eat your pussy. I'm good at it, Grace. I made Lily come twice today."
"But darling, I'm not in the mood for that," Grace said, pushing Mary off, leaving the girl very crestfallen as she rose and went to the bookcase.
Mary hastened after her, coming up from behind and lifting her dress, embracing her, fondling her big breasts. She said, "Come on, Grace. We don't need those damned mechanical things tonight. Let me kiss your pretty pussy. Pretty please. I've been thinking about it all afternoon."
"You should have had your fill of pussy from Lily. She does make a meal and a half."
Mary's roving hands stopped and she said, "Have you . . . Have you gone down on her?"
Grace turned and faced Mary, slinging her arms about her neck. With her in sandals, with Mary in heels, their eyes were on a level as she said, "Mary Lou, there are very few things I haven't done. Very few of those things that I haven't enjoyed. We're very much a-like in that respect, you and I. The difference is I've done more things than you have Today you learned you enjoy cunnilingus. Lily taught you that, quite by accident, and it's something you can enjoy many more times in the future, with me as one of your very enthusiastic partners. But I want to teach you something myself tonight. All right?"
"Well . . . Okay, but . . . can I go down on you later on?"
"If you want to," Grace said, and slipped out of Mary's embrace. She turned to the drawer where the vibrators and Nijji balls and dildos were kept and extracted one of the latter. It was a double-ended affair, two stout curved artificial penises joined together, one black and one white. At their juncture was a pair of false testicles in a false black scrotum. The white penis was perhaps six inches long and the black nine, and both were of the same heavy girth. Two thin black straps hung down from the center of the device. Grace said, "I'd like you to use this on me."
"You're kidding," Man, said, taken aback. "I thought all those phony pricks were like jokes. Especially that one."
"Oh, not at all, Mary Lou. Mere. Let me show you."
The slim blonde got on her knees and pulled off Mary's tight black panties. She had Mary spread her legs and she felt within her cunt, remarking how nicely wet Mary already was. Then she fit the end of the white penis in Mary's cunt and worked the thing back and forth until no white could be seen and the black sac was snugly between Mary's legs.
"Still think it's a joke, Mary Lou?"
"A joke I like very much. Can I really fuck you with it?"
"I'd be most disappointed if you didn't," Grace said, securing the straps loosely about Mary's hips. "Walk around a bit and see how it feels."
Grinning, self-conscious but pleased, Mary walked about the room, looking at herself in the mirror. She held her hands on her hips in the posture that had become so habitual with her. At first her steps were mincing, hip-rolling, feminine things, but as she grew more used to the big black prick that had grown out of her loins she took longer, bolder steps. She made several circuits of the room before she returned to the smiling Grace and took her in her arms and kissed her. "Let's fuck."
Darling, you've got to get me ready. You should know that. Kric always gets you ready, doesn't he?"
"Hell, I'm always ready lately. I'll kiss your cunt. That'll get you ready. I guarantee that."
"But I'm not in the mood for that tonight," Grace said, again slipping away and going to the. drawer.
"Then what are you in the mood for?" Mary asked anxiously, following.
"This," Grace said, and turned.
She presented Mary with a riding crop. Black leather, it was limber and supple, yet quite strong, the diameter of Mary's little finger. Mary looked at it and frowned.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
In answer, Grace turned and lifted her skirt above her waist, then bent over and presented her backside, revealing sweet little buttocks whose plumpness was concentrated in the area of white that her bikini bathing suit had left.
"Grace, I couldn't . . .just hit you."
'Then you can't fuck me. You do want to fuck me, don't you?"
"I think so," Mary said. She looked down at her black cock," took it in her hand and worked the other one around inside herself. "Yes. Yes, I do want to fuck you."
"Well then. Get me ready."
Mary struck a light blow across the upturned buttocks and Grace laughed and said, "Mary Lou. You can do better than that."
Mary delivered another blow that had to sting, and
Grace leaped and yipped and shuddered as she resumed her position. The shudder was in her voice as she said, "Now you're getting with it."
Mary struck her again, watching her closely as she did, and said, "Is it. . . getting you hot?"
Grace straightened up and turned to face Mary, rubbing her hands over her whipped backside. She made a face and said, "Find out for yourself."
Mary moved in and tentatively touched Grace's loins, slid her fingers through the golden fur and within the pink lips, finding Grace moist and warm. "You need a little more, don't you?"
"Do I?" Grace grinned, then unexpectedly reached down and grabbed Mary's big black prick and worked it rapidly in and out as far as the straps would permit.
It set Mary's eyes blazing and sent color racing to her cheeks. She spun Grace around and administered two solid whacks with the riding crop before Grace had time to lift her skirt, then three more on her bare flesh the moment Grace exposed her derriere, striped with long pink weals now. At each of the blows, the dildo Mary had on swung wildly about, its weight and length churning the other end inside Mary. Now she reached down and worked it about with her hand, hissing her breath in and out as she did. She stuck her hand between Grace's legs from behind, flicked the inside of her knee with the crop to get her legs apart, then reached up and again felt inside her slit. It was definitely wetter.
"You've got a long way to go," Mary said, and backed off to whack her again with the crop. Four cracking blows and she stopped and worked the dildo with one hand while she tested Grace's increasing wetness with the other. Then the whole process was repeated, several times, until the blows had driven Grave across the room to the couch.
Grace was weeping and her voice was jerky as she said, "Mary Lou, that's enough. Please. I'm very ready now if you-"
'The hell you are," Mary said, reaching down and working her thumb in Grace's thoroughly lubricated cunt, then pinching her red, red bottom. "You're not hot at all."
"Mary Lou. I'm running all down my legs."
"But not enough. Not near enough for me."
"Darling, if you whip me there any more III be bleeding."
"You wanted a whipping and you're going to get one."
Mary swung the crop again, and Grace's hands flew behind her to absorb the stinging blow. It infuriated Mary. Her eye fell on the belt that had been her constant companion for the past week and she snatched it up and slung it around Grace's waist. When Grace protested, Mary snarled at her to shut up and proceeded to fit the thing about her waist and firmly buckle her wrists in the cuffs. She made her dance an awkward jig by slashing the crop at her calves, then had her stop and tested her cunt again.
Grace slumped against her, cheeks wet with tears, panting, "I'm so hot. Mary Lou, I'm so hot. Do it now. Fuck me. Oh, fuck me!"
"Grace," Mary Lou said, mimicking Grace's previous teasing tones. "You can do better than that."
Mary shoved her backward onto the couch and took a step to hover over her. She slashed the riding crop down across her thighs, making Grace squeal, then back and forth across her big breasts until she howled. She drove it across her belly, then stood panting, swaying on her high heels.
"What do you want, Grace? Say it. Go on!"
"Fuck me," Grace blubbered. "Oh, please fuck me. Mary Lou, I beg of you to fuck me. I . . . Oh!"
Mary frowned at how Grace had suddenly stiffened. She feared for a moment that the riding crop had done more damage than was apparent. Anxiously she said, "What is it, Grace?"
"The . . . the door. I didn't lock it."
Mary threw the whip aside and was at the door in three long strides. There she paused and very cautiously turned the knob and peeped out into the empty hall. She looked back at Grace, in the process of weakly trying to struggle to her feet, and she grinned. She closed the door and returned to Grace, shoved her back on the couch and pried her feebly kicking legs apart. Mary hauled her forward till her hips were on the very edge of the couch, then buried her face in her crotch and made the sound of a dog lapping water, while Grace squealed and writhed.
Quickly then, Mary got on her knees and fumbled the head of the black dildo in Grace's streaming cunt. She grabbed Grace's ass and shoved the nine-inch dildo completely into her, gloating at Grace's guttural cry. Without giving her a moment's rest Mary began driving at her, withdrawing he dildo almost completely, then slamming it into her in its entirety. She went at it savagely, grabbing Grace's breasts as handholds, fucking her as hard as she could, making the double-ended dildo squelch loudly in both of them.
"Fuck you like you've never been fucked before," Mary panted.
"Do it! Do it! Turn us sideways. Look at us in the mirror."
Mary hauled them around and saw their reflection, both of them shining with perspiration as they humped frantically. She stopped, and with lightning speed unfastened her belt and cuffs from Grace. Then their reflection was even better as Grace's hands were free to tear Mary's bra off and squeeze and hug her as the two women went wild impaling themselves on both ends of the device.
"I'm coming all the time," Grace wailed. "It's never going to stop."
"I know! I am too! Well kill each other. I love you, Grace. I love you. Come with me now. A big one."
They tumbled off the couch in their final throes, and at the end could only cling to each other and arch their bodies like bows, quivering everywhere as their mutual orgasm was all but visible in their exhausted bodies.
Coffee and brandy from the dinner cart helped to revive them. Then Mary got the lotion Lily used on her after having shaved her and applied it to Grace's welts, apologizing profusely for the fervor of her whipping of Grace.
Grace winced and smiled and said, "I must admit it was more than I expected of you, Mary Lou. But then, so was the fucking."
"Is your cunt sore? Would you like me to kiss it a little? That's good for sore cunts. Eric taught me that."
"Darling, I just want to rest now. You know, you're really a very wonderful lover."
"I was the same way in school," Mary impishly grinned. "I always did well in the subjects I liked."
"You angel. But tell me. Why didn't you leave when you had the chance? "
"You saw yourself in the mirror, Grace. You don't have to ask me that question."
"And what you said at the end. Do you really feel you love me? A woman?"
With no hesitation, Mary said, "Yes. I did then. I do now. But then I love Eric, too. Is that possible?"
"Apparently it is, dear. And what about Lily? Do you love her, too?"
Mary thought and said, "Yes. It's a different sort of love, but I do love her. She needs me. I guess that's what makes me love her."
"Would you love anyone who really needed you?"
"Heck, I don't know. I guess I would in time if they really needed me and if they gave me the things I need."
"And what are those things, Mary Lou?"
"I don't know. Romance. Companionship. Security. And good old sex," she grinned. "You sure you wouldn't like to have me go down on you just a little?"
"Tomorrow night, dear. Tomorrow night I'll show you some cunnilingus techniques that Eric or Lily haven't dreamed of yet. But now it's time to say good night. Let's get you into your nasty old belt. I have a feeling you won't be needing it much longer."
"Just when I'm getting used to it," Mary said, turning to help Grace get it on her.
"Would you like to sleep with a vibrator in you tonight?"
"Would you think I was a glutton if I said I would?"
"Mary Lou, I already know you're a glutton when it comes to sex. I'll have it turned on low. Pleasant dreams, dear."
Grace lay on her stomach on their bed, reading the day's report on Mary Lou Josephson, while her brother applied more balm to her welts.
"Mary Louise gave you a good going-over tonight," he chuckled.
"Marilu," Grace said. "We've all got to be calling her by her new name starting tomorrow."
"Marilu it will be. I'll tell Lily."
"She came a long way today."
"One of our better trainees. When do you think she'll be ready? "
"Another week at the very most. What do you think about having her coming-out party next Wednesday?"
"That sounds good. I'll call some people. Hester. Timmy. Paul and Frank from the city, and our staff, of course. I'll tell them to save Wednesday and be prepared if we have to postpone it 'til! later in the week. Where are you going for your vacation after this one, Grace?"
"I thought Mammoth for some skiing. Someplace where I can get a lot of outdoor exercise and still have a man available if I'm in the mood."
"I know what you mean. We both will have had a lot of pussy by the time we send Mary Loui . . . Marilu off. I was thinking about Cuernavaca. The gay boys are starting to swarm down there about now." He glanced at the television monitor and did a double take, then said, "Grace, look at her."
Mary was sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing the mirror and the unseen television camera. With her hands on her hips she looked like she was practicing Yoga, and she was very intent on it, the tip of her tongue out as she worked with her foot on the handle of the vibrator sticking out of her cunt. Several times she made the same move, laboriously working the dial from low to high. When it was there she sighed happily and grinned at the mirror. She began tapping the handle with her heel, forcing the electric phallus deeper into her twat. Her voice came very clearly over the hidden microphone system.
"You sexy little thing you. Can't get enough of it, can you? Oh, I'm really going to give them a time tomorrow. I'm going to wear all three of them out."
Eric and Grace watched her through orgasm whereupon Grace turned to smile at her brother and say, "Darling, I think you'd better tell our guests to be ready for a party on Monday."
10
As Monday's party buzzed about them, Eric and Grace held court at the bar they'd set up in the living room and congratulated each other on its apparent success. Including them, there were eleven people in the spacious living room, all circulating well, all obviously impressed by the beaming, lovely Marilu.
Eddie, their chauffeur, was spending a little too much time with Paul and Frank, but that was understandable because of the special relationship that had developed between them when Paul and Frank had received their training there at the house. Now the sturdy, handsome young men flanked the small, middle-aged Eddie, vying for his attention, seeking to put a broader smile on his rodent-like face, touching him, ready to get him another drink at the merest nod of his head.
Timmy was talking with Hester, probably comparing notes on their mutual acquaintances and the other parties they'd been at together. Black-haired and tall and broad-shouldered, Timmy made a handsome partner for Hester. She was wearing a long, shimmering blonde wig and a tiny dress of tinkling brass discs that detracted a bit from her splendid figure, but it was very eye-catching.
Lily and Inez, their cook, circulated with trays of hors d'oeuvres, stopping to chat with their old friends. And Hank was behind the bar, looking as if his brawny chest would burst the red bartender's vest he'd squeezed into.
Marilu was alone at the moment, peering down through the big spotter's scope that was at the picture window. She was wearing her red wig, arranged in a heap of curls atop her head. As guest of honor she was more scantily dressed than the others, save for Eric and Grace. like them, she wore a white silk Hapi robe, so short that the bottom curves of her buttocks were visible as she bent to look through the telescope. Now, as they watched her, Lily passed close behind her and gave her a smart little pinch on her buttocks. Marilu whirled, smiled, and stuck her tongue out at the briefly attired maid. Eric and Grace went over to join her.
"Having a good time, dear?" Grace asked.
"Oh, yes. But I thought it was going to be more of a swinging party. like you said."
"Oh, things will be warming up soon. Don't be too eager. You'll have all the swinging you want today."
"What do you see through the scope?" Eric asked.
Marilu turned and looked through it again, saying, "I can see right into that little grove of cypress trees where-what's his name?-where Skip and I were when they took him away. There's a perfect view through a hole in the branches. There's three real grubby motorcycle guys down there."
"Yes. It's a very tempting place to stop and camp. It keeps Hank busy cleaning it up."
"Why don't you fence it off?" Marilu asked, still looking.
"We might never have met you if we did that," Grace said.
"Well, you should chase people like that away. Those three are messing it up something awful. That one's sort of cute, though, if you like that type."
"Do you like that type, Marilu?"
"I don't know," she said, studying them more carefully throught the glass. "I suppose I would if I met them."
"We have two ex-motorcycle riders here today-Paul and Frank."
"Really?" Marilu said, turning to look at them across the room. "Gee, they don't look anything like that."
"They've changed. We helped them to change. So did Eddie, and you can see how grateful they are to him."
"I'll say," she giggled. "Gosh, they're practically kissing him."
'They will later."
'They're gay?"
"Bisexual, but with more of an inclination toward males than females."
"And you got them to be that way?"
"Eddie did most of it with those two. He's spent a lot of time in prison. He knows what to do with young men and we had a request for a pair like that, just like we have a request for another one rightnow."
"Various people. But let's talk about that later. Here come Hester and Timmy."
The smiling young man and the stunning blonde came across the room toward them, Timmy carrying their drinks and Hester walking with her hands on her swinging hips. Her stance made Marilu return her smile and automatically place her hands on her hips, as well. Hester came on until her smile was just eight inches from Marilu's and they could feel each other's radiating girl-heat.
"Hello again," Hester said in a soft, warm voice. "You've got a dull party going so far. Mine was swinging by this time."
"Sorry to disappoint you," Marilu said. "But I have the feeling it'll pick up. It better."
"It will," Grace said. "Marilu's party should be the best in a long time. She's a wild one. Just look what she did last week, and I'm still marked."
Grace turned and lifted her robe, displaying the pale blue stripes across her butt that were from Marilu's riding crop. With an exclamation of pleased surprise, Timmy dropped to his knees and began lavishing the area with kisses.
Hester looked and returned her gaze to Marilu, her eyes sparkling now. "Well! You do have some class. Dance with me?"
They went to the middle of the room and began to dance to a fast rock number, throwing their bodies in every direction while their eyes remained fixed on each other. Hester's metallic dress jangled and tinkled, and its hem lifted to show her loins were as naked as Marilu's. Their sounds, their actions turned heads in the room.
Paul noticed Timmy at work on his knees behind Grace and excused himself to go over and kneel beside him. There he began fellating Eric. Frank turned and kissed Eddie, fumbling at their belts to get them both undressed. Inez set down her tray and came to elbow Paul out of the way and take his place on Eric, whereupon Grace took Paul by the ear and led him around to kiss her loins as Timmy continued to kiss her posterior. Hank came out from behind the. bar, grinning, heading toward the two wildly dancing girls, but Lily stopped him and they went into a clinch.
Hester stopped dancing and took Marilu's hand to have her look at the various couplings that had taken place in the span of only a few minutes, and Mary smiled.
"Looks like my party might amount to something yet."
"I'm ready to do my part. Would you join me in a little sixty-nine?"
"Love to," Mary said, and the girls helped each other undress and coupled there in the center of the room.
Marilu was still busily engaged with her tongue in Hester's slit when she felt her hips being lifted off the writhing, groaning blonde. She didn't lift her head to look back, only waggled her hips and got her legs wider apart as she felt a solid penis being forced into her cunt. It was a large one, stretching her nicely, and she brought Hester to one more orgasm before she looked back and saw Hank heaving at her from behind. She helped him by reaching back and fondling his big testicles, and after they'd finished she clambered aboard his chest and kissed his tobacco-stained mouth.
The party degenerated into an orgy then, a melee of bodies that formed a twisting, sweating, writhing pile in the middle of the room. Occasionally someone would crawl out of the pile and get refreshed with a drink. An exceptionally appealing act would usually bring him back into the fold. But eventually even well-conditioned bodies weary, and those who crawled out of the fray went off to sleep in a corner of the room. The last male in a state of consciousness was Eric, and he at last dozed off in the middle of oral sex with Marilu, the last female awake.
Marilu staggered to her feet and went to the bar and fixed herself a stiff drink, surveying the charnel house of sprawled naked bodies, thoughtfully rubbing her cunt. She set her glass down and went out the front door, shivered and returned to throw one of the men's topcoats about her. Then she stole out into the yard, casting about and calling, "Bruno. Here, Bruno. Here, boy."
He came bounding out of the shadows so swiftly he startled her badly, but only for a moment. She tossed the topcoat off her shoulders and got down on all fours, smiling and whistling and encouraging him until he'd mounted her.
ll
On Wednesday, Eric, Grace and Marilu lunched by the side of the pool. Though it was cool enough for Eric and Grace to be wearing light robes, Marilu was naked.
"The sun feels so good," she said. "It was one of the things I missed the most."
"What else did you miss? That boy friend of yours?"
"Him? At first. Funny. Now I can hardly remember what he looked like. I do remember one thing about him, though," she laughed. "He had an awfully quick cock. No control at all."
"Your parents? Do you miss them?"
"A little, I guess. I always thought I'd be going back to see them again."
"You can, dear. And when you do go, you II be returning as a very successful young lady, one whom they'll be proud of. Much more proud of than if you were returning with that boy friend of yours and a couple of hippy brats. The next time you see them you'll be wearing furs and diamonds."
"Oh, where would I get those things?" Marilu asked, amused.
"You'll earn them. You'll earn them by doing the things you like to do."
"Fucking," Marilu said, without hesitation. "Exactly," Grace replied.
"I'm going to fuck for money? I'm going to be a . . . a whore?"
"Darling, no!" Grace said. "Don't look at me like that or you'll break my heart. Do you know what a whore is? A whore walks the streets and sells her body to anyone at all. You could never do that. And did you know that most whores are frigid? Is that any description of you, dear?"
"Heck no," Marilu smiled. "But am I going to fuck for money?"
"You'll be paid for putting your very considerable talent to use. Very well paid. And you'll live in a lovely big house with a lot of other beautiful young people like yourself."
"Near here? Could I come and visit you?"
Eric said, "It will be in New York, Marilu. That's our best branch. We have branches in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Dallas, Chicago, and New York. The boys and girls in New York are the best, and that's where we've placed you. We make a trip there twice a year and we can visit with you then. But there II be so many other things to do, so many good times to be had, that you won't miss us a bit."
"I don't know about that. What if I won't go? What if I won't leave here? "
"Then we'd have to put you back in your room, Marilu, and-"
"It's all settled then," she happily declared. "I won't go. I refuse."
"You'd be in there all alone, dear, with no one to visit with you, without even a vibrator to help you pass the time."
"I'll go, I'll go," she said. "You've convinced me. And how many other . . . talented people will be there with me?"
"In New York . . . about forty. The top three floors of a very exclusive apartment building. A man named Stanley and a woman named Honoria are in charge of that branch. They'll arrange dates with very wealthy and influential men and women for you. You'll see all the best shows and eat at the finest restaurants and you'll go on lovely vacations to exotic places."
Grace took it up, saying, "And you'll be something of an entertainer, performing for conventioneers and perhaps acting in some movies. It will be a very exciting and interesting life for you, dear. A career. In just a few years you'll be able to retire if you want, if you're as talented and as well disciplined as we think you are. We've had girls and boys marry into fantastic wealth, and others have gone on to become very successful actors and actresses. You'd be surprised at the names of some of our graduates."
"On the other hand," Eric said, "we've had boys and girls who've disappointed us. Some have become too dependent on alcohol and drugs. Very bad, Marilu. And some haven't appreciated what we've done for them and they've run away and gotten themselves into very serious trouble . . . the most serious trouble you could imagine, Marilu. Stanley and Honoria don't like it at all when one of their young people tries to run away."
"Who'd want to run away if it's like you say it is?" Marilu innocently asked.
"People who aren't as smart, as adaptable as you, dear," Grace replied. "You're going to do very, very well there. You're going to make us proud of you, Miss Marilu
Johnston."
"J-Johnston? No, it's Josephs-J-Josephson. My name is M-Mary Louise Jo-Josephson. There. That's what it is."
"Honey, from now until the time you retire your name is Marilu Johnston. Marilu Johnston."
"But why? I've always been . . . the other name."
"We've found it works out better to have a new name for a new life. When you retire in a few years and go back to visit your parents in your minks and diamonds, you can use that other name again. But trust us. Marilu Johnston is your name now. And youll love your new life."
Marilu sighed heavily and said, "Love. I left home . . . Oh, so long ago . . . to find love. Now I'm going to New York and be a wh . . . And now I'm going to New York. Will I find love there?" She looked at the couple expectantly, knowing they would provide this answer, just as they had answered all her other needs and questions.
Eric leaned over and patted her hand, saying, "There'll be romance and . . . and what else, Marilu?"
She drew her hand from his grasp and ticked them off on her fingers, reciting, "Romance and companionship and security and sex." She smiled brightly and said, "Okay. When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning, dear. On a jet. Well drive you to the airport, and Paul and Frank will fly across country with you."
"Tomorrow?" Marilu asked, looking troubled.
"Yes. We've got a lovely new wardrobe all packed for you. Is anything wrong, dear?"
"Gee, I've got to say good-bye to everybody," Marilu said, rising. "Lily and Hank and Inez . . . she's so nice, and I hardly got to get acquainted with her at my party . . . And Bruno. Gee, I hope he understands why I have to go. Can I say good-bye to them now? Can I?"
Eric and Grace looked at each other and nodded. Grace said, "Of course you can, dear. You have the run of the house now."
They watched her skip across the lawn toward the house, and Eric said, "I don't know. I have an uneasy feeling about that one. Maybe she was too easily trained."
"Nonsense. If she were going to try to run away she would've done it when I gave her the opportunity the other night."
"You're probably right, but I still don't feel quite right about her."
"She meets all our requirements. Paul and Frank will see to it she doesn't cause any trouble on the plane. Then she's Stan's and Honoria's problem. You worry too much, brother dear."
"I suppose so," he said, sighing and settling back in his chair, pressing his fingertips against his eyes. "I've been working too hard. We both have. We deserve this vacation."
"That's right," Grace said, patting his knee. "Everything will be just fine. Don't worry."
12
Marilu beamed like a schoolgirl at the start of the year as she turned about to show off her new traveling outfit. She wore a black velvet dress under a smart, fur-collared coat tailored to her slender waist and up-thrust breasts. A matching fur hat was on her black wig and she wore silvery hose and black heels.
Eric and Grace were at each side of her as they walked to the Jaguar sedan where Eddie waited in his chauffeur's livery. The little man chuckled and said, "Yez look a helluva lot different than you did on yer way to Big Sewer, baby doll."
Marilu stopped with one foot in the car and said, "I do know you from someplace, don't I? And that groovy car . . . I mean, that lovely car . . . Did I meet you before the party, Eddie?"
Eric shot Grace a worried look, and Grace laughed and said, "You might've seen Eddie's face anywhere, Marilu.
He's got one of those ubiquitous countenances. As for the car, you've seen one black limousine and you've seen them all. Get in, dear. We mustn't be late."
The little frown left Marilu's face and she said, "Ohh, can't I sit in front? Pretty please? I haven't seen anything except from my window for such a long, long time. Please? I promise I won't try to fool around with Eddie."
They laughed at that and gave her their permission, and she joyfully bounced into the passenger's seat in the front. On the two-hour drive north she oohed and aahed at every turn in the road and at each farmhouse and intersection. She seemed awed by the. bustle of even the little cities en route to San Francisco. Eddie made good time, and as an extra treat for Marilu, Eric had him take the long way around, coming clear up the coast, then driving east through the beautiful City of San Francisco where they would then turn south again for five miles to the airport. Marilu clapped her hands at the sight of the cable car, and craned her neck to look up at the tall buildings on every side of her.
They stopped at a light and she peered across Eddie and said, "Gee, what's that big old building?"
"Main post office of the City of San Francisco," he announced.
She sat there staring, frowning a little, and her lips silently repeated what Eddie had just said. She gave a little cry then and threw the door open and leaped out, dodging through the traffic to the post office building before any of them could even reach out to stop her.
"She got away!" Eric wailed. "My God! All our work and then she runs away! We've got to go after her."
"No!" Grace said. "We've got to run for it. She's headed right toward that policeman."
Eddie was already gunning the motor, edging through the red light, when Eric said, "She ran right past him!
Where in the hell is she going?"
"To meet Skip!"Grace exclaimed. "Remember what she told us about their meeting if they got separated? That's it. That's got to be it. Eddie, drive around the block."
"There's a parkin' place right there," he said, pointing to a spot across the intersection.
"Then get into it, man," Eric commanded. "Grace, I'm going after her."
"No, Eric! Not with that policeman standing there. Let's see what she does first."
Her high heels clicked loudly as she hurried up the steps of the building, searching, not noticing the chill wind that whipped her coat around her legs. A small figure was huddled at the other end of the stairs, hunched against a concrete abutment to get some shelter from the wind. She hurried to it, breaking into a run, climbing a few steps at a time. She recognized the bell bottoms and the vest, much grimier now and more ragged, but doubtlessly the same. He didn't look up until she was within a few yards of him, and when he did he frowned and huddled closer to the abutment.
She threw herself on him, hugging and kissing him, exclaiming, "Skip. Skip, it's me. I never thought I'd see you again and here you are, still waiting for me, just like you said. Oh, Skip!"
He pushed her back to look at her, stunned, and said, "Mary! Is it you? Is it really you?"
"Damned right," she laughed through the tears that flowed down her cheeks. She whipped off her black wig and threw that and the little fur hat to the wind, crying, "It's your baby come back to you, love."
He kissed her, crying himself, and said, "Where have you been? Where'd you get those crazy clothes? Man, I been worried outta my gourd about you."
She wiped his tears with her sleeve, kissed him again, and laughed, "Come on. I'll tell you all about it while we walk. You won't believe it. You honestly won't believe it, Skip."
Marilu surprised them by approaching the car from the rear and popping the door open, bending with Skip to beam in at Eric and Grace in the back seat.
She said, "These are my friends, Skip. Eric and Grace. Get in. There's room for all four of us back there."
Skip stopped halfway in and said, "Hey, this is the car and that's the guy who picked us up before those phony cops busted me!"
"Oh, that's just Eddie," Marilu said, pushing Skip on into the car to sit between Eric and Grace. She followed right along, ensconcing herself on his lap, gurgling at him, "You'll just love Eddie when you get to know him. And Eric and Grace, too. Oh, love, it's so good we got together again. I've got to go on this little trip today, but Eric and Grace will put you up till we get back together. You will, won't you?" she asked of the smiling, handsome couple.
Grace nodded, smiling, and said, "It will mean postponing our vacation a while, but well be glad to take care of your friend, dear."
"Hey, I don't know about that," Skip said. "I mean . . . "
Marilu embraced him tightly and said, "You'll stay with them. Promise me you will. Really, Skip. It'll be the best thing in the world for you. Someday you'll understand and thank me for it."
"Okay," he shrugged, smiling and embarrassed under the shower of kisses being rained on him. "But . . . "
"Oh, I love you," Marilu gurgled. "I just love you all to pieces, Skip."
