The leather cuffs gripped her wrists tightly, pressing into the soft flesh and stretching the chains rigidly from their fastenings in the ceiling. Her feet hung several inches above the cold concrete of the floor and the full weight of her naked body pulled at her arm muscles. In spite of her suspended position, Sharon's breasts retained their full contours, jutting proudly from her chest with inviting sensuality. The enticing orbs heaved slightly with her quickened breathing as she heard a scream of agony from somewhere in the chambers. It was the scream of a girl and Sharon wondered what was being done to her.
She glanced toward the naked man who was suspended several feet from her and watched his penis rise to full rigidity at the sounds of pain that drifted into the room. His nude flesh twitched from fear and desire and the knowledge that exquisite pain was to be his lot. Against the far wall was the other girl, naked like Sharon and the man. Her body was spread-eagled against the wall, her wrists and ankles fastened to the concrete by strong chains. The three of them hung there silently, avoiding each others eyes and wondering who the others were. Recognition was impossible, as was speech. A gag was wedged firmly into Sharon's mouth and her head was covered by a leather hood that was buckled securely around her neck. The only openings were two slits for the eyes and one for breathing. The others were similarly attired.
Footsteps echoed in the distance of the hall, moving unhurriedly, fully confident that the quarry could not escape. The steps came closer, now identifiable as the sounds of high heels. A face peered through the small grilled window in the wooden door. Then the knob turned and the door swung open. Framed in the doorway was a woman of commanding presence. Her figure was encased in shining leather, from the high-heeled boots to her buckled collar. Her gloved hand tapped a black leather whip against her thigh as she surveyed the helpless captives. A mask covered her eyes, but her lips curved slightly in anticipation of cruelty.
"Does anybody here want to be given a good whipping?" her voice echoed musically in the concrete room. She glanced contemptuously from one to the other of the silent victims, knowing that they could not reply. Then she laughed, "Of course you want to be whipped! However, it really makes little difference what you want." The Domina strolled over in front of the man and reached out with her coiled whip to caress the firm erection, "Should I whip off that hard-on or jack it off?"
She reached up a gloved hand and caressed his chest, then ran her hand down to his bare belly. Her hand dropped lower and grabbed his cock as he trembled in anticipation. She gripped the rigid organ tightly for a moment, then dropped it. Laying her whip on the floor, the Domina stooped to unfasten the chain that extended between the man's ankles. Lifting a chain that was attached to the floor, she pulled his ankle over and fastened it to the cuff. She did the same to the other ankle, then straightened up to admire her work. The man's legs were spread wide apart and his cock hung like a stiff pendulum between them. The Domina slapped at the cock and it swung under the blow as the man grunted at the sudden stab of pain. Picking up her whip, the leather woman stepped around behind him and uncoiled the lash. She drew back her arm and slashed downward. The supple leather curled around the man's chest with a sharp cracking sound and he emitted a muffled scream as a trail of fire lanced into his naked flesh. Sweat glistened on his skin as the whip dropped away from him. Panting with rapture, he waited for the next attack on his helpless body.
The whip slashed around his waist and sent fiery tingles of pleasure through his abdomen. Panting and sweating, he writhed helplessly under the blows of the well-placed whip. The whip marks began to cross each other and stood out starkly against the white of his flesh. His stiff penis swayed and bounced with the jerking of his pain-filled body and a deliciously erotic feeling suffused his loins. Without warning, his cock abruptly jerked and an ecstatic feeling coursed through its length as hot semen spurted from the head and splashed onto the floor. The Domina saw the ejaculation and, with practiced accuracy, brought the whip up between his legs. As the lash curled up between his thighs, the man emitted a muffled scream and jerked his hips. His cock bounced upward and ejaculated a stream of semen halfway across the room. The whip played carefully on his crotch, just missing the testicles as he continued to ejaculate uncontrollably.
Watching him with fascination, the bound girls trembled with delicious terror as they awaited the moment of their own torment. Sharon's nipples stood up as stiff exclamation points from her soft white breasts and she panted with erotic desire as she watched the hot semen spurting from the jerking male organ. The sound of the whip on his naked flesh was the music of the damned. An exquisite symphony of agony that she would never have known if Beatrice had not died.
The small room would have been overpowering with sickening sweetness from the floral displays if it had not been for the excellent air-conditioning system of the mortuary. Sharon walked over to the casket in the center of the room with the trepidation of a person unaccustomed to confrontation with the dead. She kept reminding herself that it was a perfectly ordinary situation. After all the dead do not walk or move. Still, it seemed odd that her aunt would not be moving. She had been Sharon's guardian since the death of the girl's parents, when Sharon was very young. Beatrice Fairchild had been a wealthy woman and had lavished her wealth on her orphaned niece.
The death of the woman had been strange indeed. She had been found hanging in the basement of her mansion, clad in a peculiar leather outfit. Her wrists were bound behind her by handcuffs and an overturned chair was nearby. There were no indications of violence. In truth, it appeared to be suicide. Sharon shook her head slowly in bafflement as she gazed down at the serene face in the casket. The undertaker had done an excellent job, and Beatrice simply appeared to be asleep. Still, there had been no reason for her to commit suicide.
Sharon had received the news while staying at the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles: She had cut short her vacation and hurried back to Chicago to handle the funeral arrangements. She was actually the only one who could do it, as she and her aunt were the last of her family. Now Sharon was the only one left and the entire fortune was hers. She felt very little elation about the matter. She turned to leave the room and her shoes sank into the deep-piled carpet as she moved toward the door of the lobby. Sharon was almost to the door when she suddenly felt a blow against her back. It was almost as though someone had bumped into her from behind. She was thrown off balance and gave a small cry of surprise as she fell toward the floor, tumbling partway into the lobby. One of the undertaker's assistants was carrying a floral display across the room and glanced in her direction when he heard her voice. He quickly set the display on the floor and hurried over to her.
"Are you hurt, Miss?" The man's voice was filled with concern as he lifted her to her feet.
"I don't think so." Sharon brushed her hair back from her face. "I don't know what came over me. I just suddenly started falling."
The man nodded with an understanding smile, "Such things often happen when one is paying one's last respects to the departed." He picked up her purse and handed it to her. "Times like these often bring unexpected emotional reactions to the surface. Are you sure you feel all right now?"
"Oh, yes," she smiled. "I'm quite all right now. Thank you so much for helping me."
She turned and strode quickly across the lobby. The funeral home was filled with the silence of finality and she had to get out. She stopped at the huge glass doors to adjust her fur coat around her neck. The snow was still falling outside and the windows were coated with ice. She could hear the faint scrape of a snow shovel as someone cleaned the walk. Sharon pushed open the door and snowflakes, driven by a brisk wind, stung her face. The sound of the snow shovel had stopped and she looked around curiously, but could not see who had been doing the work; he could not have been very energetic, because the sidewalk was still covered with snow. Silence seemed to have descended on the world. Her shoes crunched into the old snow that was hidden by the new fall as she walked carefully toward the limousine.
Holding her head down to keep the snow from her face, Sharon paid no attention to the chauffeur as she bent to enter the car. Her thoughts were on her private problems. The chauffeur closed the door behind her and went around to enter the driver's seat. As the engine purred into life, the long, expensive machine pulled away from the curb. Sharon idly watched the houses pass by as the car headed up La Salle Street. When it reached North Avenue, she was suddenly aware that there was no other traffic in sight. There should have been a great deal of traffic problems on a day like this. Even stranger, there were no cars parked at the curbs.
She laughed off the matter lightly, "Does traffic always have to be a mess?"
The limousine curved through Lincoln Park and all of the traffic lights were in its favor. In a few minutes, the vehicle was on the Outer Drive and heading north along the shore of Lake Michigan. The complete lack of other cars on the road was a puzzle to Sharon. The Outer Drive should have been quite busy at this time of day, and the light snow drifts that blew across the highway were no explanation for the phenomenon. Sharon shrugged off her concern. Convention activities in The Loop might have tied up most of the cars.
She settled back in the seat and watched the buildings drift by on her left; tall, blank-faced apartment high-rises. The wall of modernity was broken now and then by an older building that awaited the blows of progress.
Turning off the Drive, the car weaved through white-covered streets until it finally entered the driveway of a large mansion. It was a two-story affair dating from the nineteen-thirties, surrounded by winter bare trees. The windows were flanked by Colonial-type shutters that gave the place an air of comfortable permanence. Light gleamed from the windows on the lower floor. The wheels of the limousine crunched on the crisp snow as the car pulled to a stop in front of the entrance to the house. The chauffeur stepped out of the car and walked briskly around to the other side to open the door for Sharon. The girl climbed out and ran quickly up the front steps of the house. As she reached for the door latch, she heard the car engine start again as the chauffeur drove around to the garage.
Stamping the snow from her shoes, Sharon pushed the door open and entered the house. Silence greeted her as she closed the door. It was not unusual. At this time of the night, the servants were probably in the back of the house watching television. There was no sense in bothering them when Sharon, herself, did not want to be bothered. Unbuttoning her coat, she headed for the stairway leading up from the main hall. Her shoes tapped softly on the carpeted stairs as she ran up to the second floor. Hurrying down the hall, she stepped into her room and switched on the lights.
Emotionally weary, Sharon dropped her coat on a chair and began undressing. Without interest, she selected a nightgown and slipped it over her well-formed figure. She switched off the light and her bare feet padded softly on the carpet as she walked over to the bed. With a sigh of satisfaction, she crawled under the covers.
The telephone rang at one-thirty. Sharon pulled the covers over her head, but the ringing was insistent. She finally threw off the covers in resignation and sat up on the edge of the bed.
Sharon snatched irritably at the phone and lifted it from its cradle, "Yes, who is it?"
"Sector Superintendent," came the calm reply in a male voice. "You are to go down to the Chicago River naked."
"WHAT?" Sharon was speechless for a moment. In that interval of time, she heard the phone cut off at the other end. She slammed the phone back in its cradle, "Of all the times to get a crank phone call!" Sharon crawled back under the covers and burrowed her head into the pillow. She was almost asleep when the phone rang again.
"Sharon Kilmer." It was the same male voice, "I am accustomed to being obeyed. You will follow the orders I gave you."
"Are you crazy?" Sharon flared back, "Look, Buster, I've heard of nuts who make phone calls like this, but you called the wrong place. If you bother me again, I'll call the police!"
The man chuckled with obvious amusement. "You are being very foolish, Miss Kilmer. I suggest that you attempt to adjust a little more gracefully. This is simply the standard processing procedure, and I must insist that you follow my orders. Any further hesitation on your part will only result in severe methods of persuasion."
As she heard the phone disconnect, Sharon stared at it for a moment in bewilderment. Then she rapidly flipped the dial as she called the police. After a moment of waiting, she realized that the phone was dead and hung up. Crawling back under the covers, she muttered, "At least I won't be getting any more crazy phone calls."
She gradually became aware of the increasing warmth in the room and threw off the covers. This helped for a little while, but she was soon perspiring and her nightgown began to stick to her damp flesh. She got out of bed and switched on the light, then walked quickly over to turn off the heater. She found that it was impossible to turn the lever. Moving quickly over to the closet, she snatched a robe from a hangar and slipped it over her shoulders as she headed for the door. Opening it, she found the hall was just as warm as the bedroom. She pressed the buzzer for the maid and waited for a moment, but there was no sound of activity.
"What in the hell is going on around here?"
Sharon stepped irritably out into the hall and headed for the stairs. The servants' quarters were on the lower floor and to the rear of the house. The heat was increasing alarmingly as she ran down the stairs and toward the back of the long hall. She knocked on the door at the end of the hall and got no reaction. Silence was the only response from the other two doors but she finally opened one of them. Frantically, she looked in the other rooms and found them all empty.
"Where is everybody?" Sharon called out in desperation. She wiped the sweat from her face as panic began to build in her. "I'll be roasted if I stay in here! I can't call the fire department on the phones. They don't work!" She slipped the robe from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor as she ran toward the front of the house. Her thin nightgown clung to her wet body like a second skin as she panted, "There's a fire alarm box down the street."
Jerking open the door, Sharon ran toward the opening and suddenly bounced back as though she had hit something solid. She tumbled to the floor and stared at the door in horror. The falling snow could be seen clearly, but the house was getting hot as a furnace. Getting to her feet, she ran toward the opening again and was once more hurled back into the house. The heat was almost blistering in its intensity. In a state of near hysteria, Sharon grasped the hem of her nightgown and pulled the garment upward. It caught at her ample breasts and she jerked hard at the cloth. Her breasts bounced free and she pulled the gown over her head. Sweat was streaming down her naked body and she shrieked in terror as she ran toward the door. Nothing stopped her this time and she tumbled into the freezing snow. The door slammed shut behind her.
Panting from exhaustion, Sharon lay in the snow for a few minutes as her body cooled off. Then the cold began to penetrate her body and she shivered as goose bumps appeared on her flesh. The nipples of her full breasts stood up as hard pink points and the soft white orbs bounced as she rose to her feet and hurried back to the door. She pushed at it, but it refused to budge. Her naked body was shaking from the cold as she turned to walk along the side of the house. As she turned the corner, a sudden snow squall pelted her unprotected flesh with sharply striking snowflakes. Sharon backed away, but the snow continued to buffet her. She tried to make it back to the front door, but the snow squall intensified.
Sharon stumbled backward under the pressure of the snow. Screaming hysterically, she turned and began to run toward the street. The snow pelted her naked back as if it enjoyed what it was doing. Terrified, Sharon ran before it and into the street. Her breasts swayed wildly as she ran, and she knew, with almost mad certainty, that the snow was chasing her. She tried to turn toward a house to seek help, but the squall countered her move and she was forced back into the middle of the street. Sharon no longer resisted the goading wind and the snow-covered street was cold against her bare feet as she raced away from her house. Her mind was numb with fear. She lost all sense of time; there was no time to consider the fantastic fact that she was running naked through the streets of a giant metropolis.
Aching and freezing from the constant effort of running, the girl found herself moving down Sheridan Road. She wanted to cry for help, but there was no one to call to. No cars or people were to be seen on the streets or in the buildings that lined her path. She was performing an act of insanity in a world that had changed its condition without changing its form. Her lungs were burning from the effort, but she still kept running. Without knowing how it happened, she found herself running down Michigan Avenue. As she passed the Water Tower, she could hear the murmur of many voices in the distance.
Then she began to see people. "HELP ME!" she screamed. "Somebody please help me!"
She was now among them and they turned to look at her. They looked like perfectly ordinary people-the men in business suits, that you might see on any street. As Sharon ran past them, she tried to see their faces, but was unable to focus on the features. They seemed to have no faces, and Sharon thought fleetingly of the "faceless masses." Hands were raised and she saw that they held what appeared to be pitchforks. The nearest one jabbed toward her and she felt the searing pain of the tines sinking into her soft breast. The snow had stopped goading her, but the faceless people were shoving their tridents toward her. She screamed as the tines of a pitchfork sank into the soft mounds of her buttocks and the faceless people echoed her shriek in a peal of insane laughter; Trickles of blood ran from the punctures in Sharon's flesh as she was goaded toward the Michigan Avenue bridge.
At the head of the steps down to the lower level, Sharon paused for an agonizing moment and surveyed the scene. The railings along the Chicago River were crowded with faceless masses of humanity, screaming vulgarities at the ice-clogged river. On the lower level, mobs of howling people were wielding their pitchforks with energetic savagery. Naked men and women of all races were writhing and tearing at each other in a mad attempt to crawl out of the icy waters. Their attempts were met by the constant spearings of the weapons wielded by the faceless ones. Shrieking in terror, Sharon tried to halt her descent into the icy abyss by holding onto the railing. The prodding of sharp tines into her naked body finally forced her to release her hold and she ran down the ice-covered steps.
When she reached the lower level, the mobs below took over the mauling of the girl's body. She shrieked in continuous pain as she was herded toward the edge of the river. Suddenly, hands were clawing at her ankles, pulling her toward the water in their desperate attempts to find a handhold to crawl out. Sharon fell toward the river. Then the icy water was around her shivering body. Naked figures pressed against hers and she was gradually forced farther into the river, her screams mingling with those around her. Gripped in the struggling mass of nudity, she felt male hands grabbing at her body. She felt fingers forced into her cunt, and screamed as men fought for possession of her.
Some males she could not see were pulling at her hair and arms and grasping her breasts in cruel hands. She forgot the chilling water as she became the center of a fantastic sex struggle. Under the bruising clutching of the hands, she felt herself beginning to respond. She was panting as the figures fought for possession of her cunt, and her nipples stood up in stiff erections at the feeling of savage fingers digging into her soft breasts. Suddenly, she found herself jammed against the naked body of a snarling black man. He was black as midnight and he held her soft white body crushingly against his muscular torso. The chilling water glistened on their naked flesh as Sharon curled her arms around his neck in a surrender to passionate desire.
CHAPTER TWO
II The thick lips crushed against Sharon's and she eagerly opened her mouth to admit the demanding tongue. As the tongue plunged in, she met it in an open invitation to be taken. She tried to regain control of herself, but her mind fought against her and she waged a futile battle against her responses as she seemed to be viewing the horror from a neutral vantage point. Thoroughly involved in the terrors of the river, she felt strange thrills course through her body as savage hands clutched at her nakedness. The tongue exploring the inside of her open mouth weakened her resistance and Sharon found herself responding.
The girl let her thighs drift apart and she felt the hardness of the Negro's cock ram against her crotch. It began to rub hard and forced the soft lips of her vulva apart as she felt it lengthen. The male organ seemed to be growing to mammoth proportions as it abraded her delicate flesh. Panting with uncontrollable desire, Sharon wrapped her arms around the man's neck and sucked avidly at his tongue. She felt a masochistic thrill at the pain of his embrace and arched her hips to rub her cunt against the ever-growing cock. The fantastic male organ extended past her buttocks, throbbing with savage power as the grunting man rammed it hard against her vulva.
Pulling back his hips, the black man maneuvered his cock in an attempt to locate her entrance. A fear tingled through Sharon's body as she suddenly realized that the penis was well over a foot long and almost three inches in diameter. In terror, she began struggling in an attempt to free herself as she envisioned the damage it could do to her internal, organs. She jerked her lips from his and screamed hysterically as she felt the blunt head of the cock press against her vulva. But he held her writhing figure in powerful arms as he concentrated on his goal.
Sharon felt her vulva begin to spread. It was only a small pain at first, but it grew to excruciating proportions as the great cock forced her tissues farther apart. Agony lanced through her crotch as her body reluctantly opened to receive the monster organ. The screaming melee that surrounded them became non-existent as Sharon's full attention was centered on her own torment. Shrieking in agony, she felt her body suddenly open in a blinking flash of pain as the cock rammed inside of her. Grunting like an insane animal, the man tightened his grip around her waist and ripped his torturing tool deeper into her vagina. The girl wished she could faint as the pillar of flesh tore its way deeper into her protesting body, but something kept her continuously aware of what was being done to her.
Ripping into her vagina, the throbbing cock filled Sharon's belly like a torture post and she groaned as it sank ever deeper. She knew that her ordeal was impossible, but it was really happening. In the ice cold Chicago River, she was being fucked while surrounded by screaming, writhing figures of the damned. She could dimly perceive the banks of the river and the faceless masses who were jabbing their pitchforks at the howling naked hordes that were trying to climb to safety. She was vaguely aware that the invading male organ was beginning to move inside of her tormented abdomen. The fiery pain of its motion suddenly generated a sensation of exquisite delight, suffusing her belly with diabolical pleasure. Sharon tightened her thighs around the man and panted with ecstasy as she felt the huge pole moving with a powerful rhythm inside her. She gave no thought of the impossibility of such a monster organ stretching her female chamber without killing her. It had been done and she was rapturously involved in the delights it produced.
Her surroundings faded into insignificance as she concentrated on the pleasures that enveloped her body. Sliding in and out of her with powerful strokes, the pounding cock rapidly drove Sharon to the heights of sexual enjoyment. Her belly was suffused with a sense of impending wonders as the cock rammed into her like an irresistible piston. With a grunt of accomplishment, the man rammed his penis all of the way into her and she screamed at the sudden agony. Her scream turned into shrieks of joy as she felt the male organ jerk savagely and ejaculate a stream of burning semen into her belly. Her body rushed to meet the invasion as an uncontrollable orgasm surged through her like a tidal wave. Sharon and the Negro shook with the energy expended by their climaxes. The hot stream of literally boiling liquid ejaculated into Sharon's belly like a torrent, searing into her uterus as she shrieked.
Without warning, the man ripped his still-rigid cock out of Sharon's vagina. A stream of hot liquid followed it and rose to the surface of the river, steaming and smelling of their sexual union as it came into contact with the ice cold air. Screaming insanely, the black man lost all interest in Sharon as he clawed his way toward the shore and tore at the naked backs that separated him from the bank of the river. In a moment, he was lost in the turmoil of the damned. Dazed by the experience, Sharon floated aimlessly for a few minutes, jostled by the naked figures that seemed to fill the river by the thousands. Then she, too, began to claw at those before her in a terrified attempt to get out of that howling mass.
Almost out of her mind with fear, Sharon crawled on top of the naked backs before her, slipping on the wet flesh and finding herself jammed between struggling forms of both sexes. A hand grabbed at the soft mound of her full breast and she screamed in pain as the fingers dug in. Then the hand lost its grip on her slippery skin and she persisted in her efforts to reach the bank. Her progress was slow and painful, sometimes helped by the pressure of the people around her. Suddenly, her hands were clawing at the ice-rimmed river's edge.
"HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME!" Sharon screamed as she stared up into the row of faceless tormentors. She saw a mouth open in one of the indistinct visages and demoniacal laughter poured from it. The shoulders hunched and the arms swept down. The girl experienced a lightning flash of agony as the tines of the pitchfork pierced her soft breast and sank deep. She went weak from pain and lost her hold on the river bank. Sobbing with frustration, she felt herself being forced backward as others fought to take her place in their futile attempts to escape. Cold, wet bodies seemed to sweep around her in a maelstrom when she suddenly found herself in open water.
Shuddering from the piercing cold, Sharon was treading water and looking around in a daze for some way to escape. She knew she should be dead by now, but incredibly, she was still alive. The snow was falling on the river like a chill gauze curtain and her naked shoulders trembled as each flake touched. Both banks of the river were jammed with struggling humanity; their screams blended in a continuous roar. Their bodies steamed in the cold air, giving the river the appearance of a frigid inferno. An ice floe drifted several yards away from Sharon and she forced herself to swim toward it. She grasped the edge, too exhausted to climb on top of the bleak raft.
"I'll help you, darling." The voice was almost a whisper in the thunder of howling that came from the banks.
Sharon felt hands grasp her slippery arms and pull her slowly over the edge of the ice. When the ice touched her bare skin, she almost wished she was back in the water. She was shivering uncontrollably when she was pulled onto the flat surface. Panting from her exertions, she collapsed and looked up at her rescuer. It was a young woman, with hair hanging down in wet strings. The nipples of her full breasts were stiff from the cold, but she was smiling down at Sharon.
"What happened to Chicago?" pleaded Sharon. 'M want to get out of here!" "You can't get out," the woman informed her pleasantly. "There's no way out." "But I'm freezing!" Sharon cried out. "I want to go home!"
"You can't go home, but I can make you warm." The blonde's hand reached out and caressed Sharon's breast with intimate interest. "I can make you so warm that you won't care where you are."
The fingers curled boldly around the breast and squeezed the soft flesh as Sharon tried to push her away. "Please stop that! I just want to get out of this river!"
"You can't get out until they let you out." The blonde slid closer to her, panting with passion. She fondled Sharon's stiff nipple, "Come and let me make love to you, baby."
Sharon struggled to the edge of the ice. "Stay away from me! I don't want to be made love to by a woman!"
"Why not?" shrieked the blonde. She clawed at Sharon's hair to pull her closer, "I saw you getting fucked by that nigger! You took his cock and you liked it. You liked it! Now it's my turn!"
"Let go of me, damn it!" Sharon tried to pry the fingers out of her brown curls. In her struggles, she shifted position until her legs were dangling in the water. "You're a lesbian! A damned lesbian!"
"You're fuckin' right I am!" The blonde had her hand on Sharon's breast again and this time she got a strong hold that sent pain lancing through the tender orb. Setting her fingers firmly into Sharon's hair, she jerked her head back and jammed her lips over the girl's protesting mouth. Sharon writhed her hips in an attempt to get free, but the other girl slid her hand down over the wet flesh of her belly and quickly shoved her fingers between Sharon's thighs. Sharon's protests suddenly turned to a muffled gasp as she felt a finger thrust into her vagina. The finger moved inside of her belly like a snake and she tried to marshal some resistance as she felt an undeniably pleasant sensation from the bold intrusion. Against her will, she felt her legs spreading farther apart to give the blonde more room to work on her. Then her lips softened under the pressure of the other lips and she opened her mouth to receive the invading tongue.
With a small cry of surrender, Sharon began sucking avidly at the tongue inside of her mouth and squirmed her hips as she thrilled to the manipulations of the finger in her cunt. She suddenly found herself working her body closer to the other girl. Her hand reached out to caress the lush contours of the naked body. Sliding down over the trembling softness of the flat belly, her hand thrust between eagerly opened thighs and she found the female opening with her finger. She thrust her finger between the hot lips of the vulva and began manipulating the blonde's clitoris as the other girl squealed ecstatically. Squirming with uncontrollable passion, Sharon pressed her body against the blonde. Then their arms were around each other and they writhed together as they exchanged burning tongue kisses.
Suddenly, the blonde pulled her lips away, laughing shrilly, "You like it! You like it! You're a fuckin' lesbian!"
Sharon was out of control and made no attempt to deny the charge. Making small animal noises in her throat, she rained kisses over the other girl's neck and across the upper curve of her breast. Her tongue teased the nipple for a moment, then she closed her lips over the stiff pink point and began sucking on it. The harder she sucked, the sweeter it tasted and she was suddenly aware that an intoxicating nectar was squirting from the nipple. Reluctantly releasing the breast, she kissed her way down over the satiny belly. She felt the other girl's lips against her own abdomen and wriggled rapturously under the caresses as both of them eagerly sought the same goals.
Working her way rapidly over a soft mat of curly hair, Sharon plunged her tongue between the hot lips of the girl's vulva. The moisture from the blonde's body inflamed Sharon with desire and she sucked it noisily as her tongue sought the clitoris. A tingle of elation swept over her as her tongue contacted the button in the other girl's cunt. She felt an abrupt pressure between her thighs and her abdominal muscles contracted spasmodically as a rubber invader plunged past her vulva and into her vagina, sending thrills through her body and forcing gurgles of rapture from her throat. The blonde's tongue seemed to extend fantastically deep until it filled the interior of Sharon's belly. To her astonishment, she found her own tongue lengthening as she shoved it avidly into the hot tissues of the other girl's vagina.
The heat from their bodies sent a curtain of steam rising over the ice block as they struggled to plunge their tongues deeper into each other. Sharon felt the blonde's tongue filling her hole with throbbing ecstasy. She opened her mouth wider and her tongue extended fantastically deep into the other girl's body, thrusting hotly in and out with bold and demanding strokes. They matched each other's rhythm and began arching their hips to take the tongue fucking to its deepest penetration. A fire of exquisite proportions was building in Sharon's belly and her entire concentration was on the fabulous tongue that seemed to expand with each powerful plunge into her belly. Suddenly, her whole system exploded in an uncontrollable climax. Blazing torrents of pleasure hammered through her abdomen as she felt the other girl respond to her own ministrations.
Sharon was hardly aware when she rolled away from the blonde and lay on her back, panting from her exertions. The taste of the girl's vagina was still in Sharon's mouth. Her obscenely extended tongue gradually began to shrink until it returned to its normal size inside her mouth. In the midst of her ecstasy, Sharon was aware of the horror that had transpired and she wanted to scream, but could only gasp for air. She heard a cry of dismay and turned her head to look at the other girl.
"Get your hands off of me!" the blonde screamed. A large hand was clutching at the girl's breast. Dripping with icy water, a snarling face loomed over the edge of the ice. It heaved upward and the broad shoulders of a man came into view. The girl shrilled, "Leave me alone! I don't want a man! I hate men!"
Slobbering with lust, the man heaved himself onto the ice and his fingers dug into the girl's breast to hold her in position. Growling like an animal, he thrust himself on top of her and his snarling lips mashed onto hers. The blonde struggled to free herself from his grip, but his arms went around her body in an irresistible bond. His long cock, throbbing with power, seemed to have a life of its own as it sought her cunt. Then the man forced her legs apart and jammed himself between them. The girl tore her lips away to scream as the mammoth head rammed at her vulva. Sharon watched with horrified fascination as the male tool began to expand the lips of the blonde's vulva. The soft flesh began to bleed from torn tissues as the helpless body slowly opened to receive the unwanted intruder.
The blonde kicked her bare heels against the ice and ripped her fingernails in bloody paths across the muscular back of her attacker. She screamed insanely at the pain, "Don't fuck me! I don't want a man in me! I'm a dyke, you son of a bitch! GET OUT OF MY CUNT! AH! AH! EE-EE-EE!"
A howl of horror tore from the girl's throat as the man suddenly gave a mighty lurch with his hips. The huge cock rammed halfway into her belly and almost a foot of it still extended from her cunt. Even in the chill air, sweat streamed from the man's back as he gave another shove; fantastically the rest of his cock disappeared into the girl's body. In an abrupt departure from her previous attitude, the girl wrapped her legs around his waist and began kissing him passionately. She squealed with rapture as he rammed his cock in and out of her with no pretense of anything but savage lust. With a final thrust, he ripped his penis deep into her body and began ejaculating in burning spurts of semen as she squealed with pleasure. A guttural sound came from his throat and he pulled his tool out of her vagina, spewing semen over her belly as he dropped onto his back beside her.
Limp with exhaustion, the blonde was sobbing. "I didn't want it! I never want it! Why do they always do it to me?"
Sharon watched them, petrified with horror. Then she saw an imperceptible movement in the girl's belly. Slowly, the soft white flesh began to rise as the girl moaned in agony. In a few seconds, her belly had risen to a small mound. The girl screamed and tore at her hair as she felt something growing inside of her. She knew what it was and she did not want it, but she could do nothing about the rapid pregnancy. Her abdomen grew larger until she could no longer keep her legs together and she lay in limp agony. With a triumphant howl, the madman rose up and straddled her body. He spread his knees on each side of her head and grasped his huge cock in one hand. With the other, he tore at her mouth and pried it open. Too weak to resist, the girl let him insert the head of the organ between her lips until her mouth was stretched tightly around it.
Moving up and down with powerful strokes, the man rammed his cock in and out of the lesbian's mouth. As he grunted and sweated from his efforts, the girl's vulva slowly began expanding. The flesh tore and red liquid streamed down her crotch, freezing as it touched the cold whiteness of the ice. Muffled screams bubbled in her throat, but the great penis prevented her from making any other sound. A crimson bulge began to appear between her thighs and the tissues of her body gradually split to make way for it. Then it was a dripping bloody head that extended obscenely from her cunt. The eyes opened and a small mouth emitted a maniacal laugh as little hands tore at the opening to make way for the rest of it. With growing strength, the figure tore its way out of the tortured womb.
As the figure emerged from the girl's body, the man on top of her began ejaculating into her mouth and her throat muscles contracted as she swallowed his fiery sperm. She lay limply under complete conquest, her abdomen flattening as the reddened figure completed its exodus from her tormented belly. The figure lay panting for a moment between her legs. Then it rose to its knees, growing larger with each movement. Suddenly, it sprang onto the back of the man and began hammering at him with small fists. Howling with rage, the man reached behind him and tried to dislodge the apparition. They writhed in savage combat over the naked girl. As the struggle increased in fury, it became obvious that two fully grown men were now fighting for possession of the female figure.
Trembling with terror, Sharon crawled toward the edge of the ice floe. With fear-maddened eyes, she saw that the girl was now wedged firmly between the two demonic figures, and their cocks were pounding powerfully in and out of her vagina and rectum as the girl screamed passionate obscenities. She was being fucked by her attacker and her own fiendish offspring as she writhed in hellish rapture.
Whimpering in terror, Sharon slipped off the edge of the ice and into the river. The cold water surrounded her naked body as she pushed away looking for an escape from this mad world. She wished that her mind would crack and blot out the sights and sounds, but she remained peculiarly clear of head and perfectly sane. She was shivering from the cold, but knew that it could not kill her. If it could have, she would have been dead by now. Working her way through the blocks of ice, she began swimming toward La Salle Street. The throngs of screaming people still lined the banks, but there seemed to be fewer of them in that direction.
As she swam toward the bank of the river, Sharon believed that she might finally be free. Suddenly, the shore seemed to be swarming with the faceless masses of people. Sharon screamed as she tried to swim back into the river and away from the tormenting instruments that were wielded by the apparitions. A pole, affixed with a cruel hook, abruptly shot out from the bank. Sharon tried to evade it, then shrieked hysterically as the point sank into the underside of her breast. With a horrifying stab of pain, the metal hook thrust deep into the tender flesh until the point extended from the upper side. The howling mob began to pull at the pole and Sharon was dragged toward the bank, screaming in agony.
Mad with pain, the girl felt herself being dragged out of the water. She stood on the ice-covered concrete for a moment, submitting helplessly to the pawing of a multitude of hands that sought the most intimate parts of her body in lascivious caresses. Pulled by the hook in her breast, Sharon was led toward the upper levels, stumbling on the cold and slippery steps. The hook was suddenly ripped from her breast with almost as much pain as when it went in. She now knew how a gaffed fish must feel. The mob pulled away from her, leaving her naked and shivering in a small circle. As she wondered what was going to happen to her next, she felt a trail of fire slash across her bare back. She stumbled away from it and looked quickly behind her.
The faceless figures were wielding whips, slashing toward her defenseless figure. Screaming, Sharon began to run without any sense of direction. The whips continued to curl around her naked body until her white skin was a mass of crossed red lines. Shrieking, she ran through the blowing snow with the hideously howling mob following close behind. Without knowing how she had gotten there, she found herself on the Outer Drive and running along the shore of Lake Michigan. Looking behind her, she could see no one and slowed her pace. But from out of the thin air, the whips began to belabor her once more and she resigned herself to following their goading lashes.
CHAPTER THREE
Slowly awakening from a deep sleep, Sharon felt the cool pillow against her face and burrowed her cheek into the softness. She lay there with her eyes closed, listening to the snow pelting against the window. Finally accepting the fact that her sleeping time was past, she lifted her arms from under the covers and stretched them luxuriously. Rubbing her eyes, she threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed. She shuddered a little at the fragments of the nightmare that came back to her and wondered what she had eaten to produce them. The thought of food brought to her attention the fact that she was almost starved.
Grasping the hem of her nightgown, Sharon stood up and pulled it off. Then she headed for the bathroom, her full breasts bouncing rhythmically with each step. Putting on a shower cap, she stepped into the stall and turned on the water. As the warm water cascaded over her figure, she rubbed soap over her skin and languidly enjoyed the sensuous feeling of her own caresses. Rinsing the soap from her well-rounded curves, she turned off the shower and stepped from the stall. An invigorating rub with a towel brought a pink glow to her skin. Finishing her ablutions, she returned to the bedroom and began the process of selecting underclothes for the morning. Today she topped off her underclothes with a pink dress and carefully adjusted its ruffled white collar.
As she stepped into the hall, Sharon paused for a moment, puzzled by the complete silence in the house. Ordinarily, there were some sounds from the hired help. She shrugged off the feeling. The others were apparently involved in their work, out of hearing distance. After all, with her aunt gone the place was bound to be quieter than usual. Sharon ran quickly down the stairs but stopped on the ground floor, her brow furrowed. There was still no sound. Insidiously, the nightmare began creeping back into her mind and she clutched at her throat. This was the way it had started.
"It's impossible!" she whispered to herself. "This is Chicago in the twentieth century." Sharon glanced down the hall leading to the back of the house and called out tentatively, "Natalie! I'm ready for breakfast!" Silence greeted her and chill fingers raced up her spine. Suddenly, she was running toward the kitchen. She threw the door open, "NATALIE! WHERE ARE YOU?"
No sound answered her call. Desperately, Sharon looked out of the kitchen window for some signs of life. The snow had stopped falling and the carpet of white was completely free of footprints. The street on the other side of the fence was empty. This, in a city where parking space was at a premium! It was just a nightmare, she told herself. It had to be! There were no marks on her body and she had been whipped in the nightmare. A barbarous hook had been rammed through her breast! She became conscious of the hunger in her belly. The rest could wait. She could figure it out later. She walked quickly over to the icebox and opened it, then stared unbelievingly at the empty shelves. The hunger grew like an angry beast as she searched frantically through empty cupboards.
The hunger became a raging demand inside of her. Racing up the stairs, she hurried into her bedroom and grabbed her purse. Panting from her exertions, she headed back to the lower floor and to the back of the house. She had not bothered to pick out a coat and the cold bit into her thinly clad body as she ran toward the garage. There was no sign of the chauffeur so she quickly opened the door and climbed into the sport car. The engine roared as she backed out into the yard and turned out the driveway to the street. An unearthly silence pervaded the area, broken only by the crunching of the tires on the new-fallen snow. The tire tracks of her car seemed to be the only sign of life in a deserted world. As the vehicle disappeared down the street, silence once more descended over the empty mansion.
Sharon searched frantically along Foster Avenue for a restaurant that was open. The doors on all of the buildings seemed to be closed and the windows were dark. No one walked the streets, and traffic was nonexistent. Unmarked snow glared mockingly at her as she turned down Broadway and headed south, Sharon no longer reacted to the impossibly deserted aspect of the city as the now incredible hunger gnawed at her belly. Sobs of frustration escaped her lips as the tires of the car seemed unable to gain enough traction to increase her speed. Her progress down Broadway was agonizingly slow and the vehicle seemed to be crawling as it passed Lawrence Avenue. An elevated train stood silently on the tracks overhead as if waiting for passengers who would never come. At Leland Avenue, the car suddenly came to a halt. Sharon worked desperately to get it started again, but the engine responded only with a futile grinding sound.
"I've got to eat!" Sharon wailed, "I'm hungry! I'M HUNGRY!"
Opening the door of the car, the girl stepped out into the snow, shivering as a chill wind blew under her thin dress. Glancing down Broadway, she noticed several cars parked near the corner. The lights of a cafeteria were beckoning to her with a friendly glow. Laughing with relief, Sharon began running through the snow. As she neared the corner, she saw that there were people inside of the eating place. Sharon pushed open the glass door and stepped inside the cafeteria, pausing to catch her breath as the feeling of comforting warmth surrounded her. She was suddenly aware of the fact that she had forgotten her purse and had no money to pay for food. Still, she could not coax herself to turn back but instead, kept on walking toward the serving line. Her actions seemed perfectly normal, but she had no control over them. She seemed to be acting and observing at the same time.
A male figure stood before her in the line, but she could not quite focus her eyes on his face. A meaningless murmur came from her lips, which sounded vaguely like a friendly conversation. She saw the man's mouth tilt into a smile and the nebulous visage and incomprehensible answers came from it. Sharon casually reached behind her neck and tugged at the zipper of her dress, pulling it down. The dress loosened around her shoulders and Sharon tried vainly to stop her movements as she pulled the garment down. As it slipped down her arms, she plucked at the straps of her slip with delicate fingers. A feeling of macabre anticipation engulfed her as she pulled at the straps of her brassiere. The cups dropped from her full breasts and she was naked to the waist. The man before her produced a tray that resembled those used in army camps or jails. He positioned it under Sharon's breasts. Cold metal touched her bare skin and she felt the man's hand cup one breast. Her nipple stiffened as he lifted the soft mound and placed it in a compartment of the tray. She felt an erotic thrill at the touch as he placed the other one next to it.
Sharon grasped the tray in both hands, careful to keep her breasts hanging in it. The man turned and they passed slowly along the serving line as various other articles of food were added to the tray. As though nothing unusual was happening, Sharon followed the man over to a table and sat down opposite him. Then she waited, unconsciously knowing that something was about to happen-and she would be unable to avoid it.
Just then a shrill scream pierced the air of the cafeteria. Sharon glanced quickly over at a nearby table. A young woman was sitting there with a pleasant smile on her face, but a hideous scream of horror was pouring from her half-parted lips. Like Sharon, her naked breasts were hanging into the tray before her. One of her hands held a fork, the tines of which were deeply imbedded in her pink nipple. Her other hand held a sharp knife, with which she was carefully cutting into her breast. Sharon noted that a glistening substance entirely covered the girl's white mounds. As Sharon watched, the girl neatly severed her nipple and lifted the fork to place the morsel daintily into her mouth. She began chewing with an expression of pleasure.
There was a cold metal sensation in Sharon's hand and she found herself lifting a syrup pitcher. She held it over one of her breasts and felt the thick, sticky liquid run down over her soft white flesh. When she set the pitcher down again, both of her breasts were covered with syrup. Excruciating terror enthralled her as she picked up her knife and fork. Her face retained a serene expression, but she screamed terribly as she felt the tines of the fork pierce into her nipple and sink deep. With the other hand, she placed the sharp edge of the knife above her nipple and began to carefully cut into the white flesh. Her own screams blocked her ears to the sounds of the other women in the room as she watched the knife sink into her skin and red blood ooze from the neat wound.
Finally, the nipple was completely severed from her breast and Sharon delicately lifted her fork to place the piece of flesh in her mouth. As her teeth sank into the raw flesh, she felt a sense of ineffable delight that accentuated the complete horror of the act. She swallowed the piece of flesh and smiled over at the faceless man, exchanging incomprehensible pleasantries. Then she casually began slicing into her breast again. But the pretense of a pleasant dinner hour was dispelled by the hideous screams and groans that penetrated the room. Sharon noted that the girl at the other table had consumed half her breast, but the contented smile still hovered on her lips. Blood welled into the tray from the raw wound. Sharon was ever conscious of her own agony as she continued to cannibalize her own mammary gland. Her life liquid ran from the mutilated breast in a steady stream, but she felt no sign of weakness. One part of her mind continued to shriek in unremitting horror as her tit vanished and became an ugly wound.
The horrendous self-mutilation continued until Sharon finally placed her knife and fork back on the tray. Exquisite agony racked her body and all that was left of her breasts were two raw and bleeding expanses on her now smooth chest. She washed down the grisly meal with a cup of coffee. Her horrible hunger now satiated, Sharon smiled at the faceless man opposite her. Her monstrous feeling of contentment was beginning to enlarge to one of desire for the man whose face did not exist. Pushing back her chair, she moved around to his side of the table.
His hand reached up and caressed her bloody spaces where her breasts had been and she felt a thrill course through her. The hands moved down, spreading her blood over her white skin and slipping the dress from her hips. Sharon felt her panties flutter down to her ankles. Now she was completely naked.
Bending over, Sharon parted her lips as they came close to the mouth in the vague face. She felt his tongue entering her and trembled with erotic desire as it explored the inside of her mouth. The hands slid down over her naked body and urged her closer as she trembled with anticipation. A hand moved over the soft flesh of her belly, caressing and molding the twitching expanse. Sharon pressed her abdomen closer against the hand and spread her thighs as she felt fingers brushing against her pubic hairs. A finger entered the cleft of her vulva and rubbed expertly around her clitoris as she writhed her hips ecstatically.
With an impulsive moment, Sharon shoved her hand down to the man's lap and pulled open the zipper of his pants. She slipped her hand inside the opening and closed her fingers around the throbbing warmth of a rigid cock. Panting with passion, Sharon fondled the organ, then worked it out into the open. A small cry of pleasure came from her throat as she felt a finger enter her vagina, whereupon she massaged the hard length of the penis in unmistakable desire. The male organ lengthened until it extended above the edge of the table as the girl's fingers continued to work over its great girth. She could no longer close her hand around it and knew that its diameter was in proportion to its fantastic length.
As the hands maneuvered her around to face the man, Sharon placed the head of the monstrous organ against her vulva and spread her thighs farther apart. Pulling her lips from the face, she gasped for air and slowly began forcing herself down against the virile pillar. Grunting, she felt her vulva slowly open as the warm male flesh pressed against it. She began to sweat as her protesting tissues parted further and added their pain to her bleeding body. With a shriek of agony, Sharon forced herself more firmly onto the fleshy post and felt a flash of pain as her body opened to receive it. Her vulva now surrounded the big head and she placed her hands on the man's shoulders as she concentrated on impaling herself. Groaning, she trust herself down farther until her entire vagina was filled with the rigid penis. She felt her insides stretching as the mighty post rammed deeper into her, expanding her body impossibly.
All control of her body had been taken from Sharon and she experienced the horror of self-impalement--as a prisoner in her own mind. Shrieking in pain, Sharon suddenly found herself sitting astride the man's lap. The fantastic cock had stretched her vagina almost to her stomach. She knew that it could not be done. None of this could happen, but it was happening. She wanted to laugh in mad hysteria. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. The blood from her body soaked into his shirt as he ran his hands over her naked back. His arms tightened and she emitted a muffled scream at the crushing embrace, but plunged her tongue into his mouth in an erotic invitation.
The long, hard cock began to move inside of the girl's body. As it sucked out of her distended cunt, it felt like it was pulling her organs out with it. Then it slammed back into her, ramming through her body like a titanic spear and bringing a combination of ecstasy and unbearable pain. The torturing pylon began to hammer the inside of her vagina, forcing muffled shrieks of horror from her throat. She clasped her bare arms more tightly around the man's neck and worked her tongue wetly inside of his mouth as she felt rapture begin to build in her belly. The powerful penis was moving faster, but the man's body did not seem to be moving at all. The cock abruptly jammed deep inside of her body and jerked savagely. A boiling stream of semen slammed into her vagina. Sharon emitted a strangled sound of agony and rapture her own body responded to the impregnation with an uncontrollable orgasm. Hot, salty liquid spurted into her mouth. Somehow, it was being ejaculated from the mouth of the man. Sharon glued her lips to his and sucked avidly, writhing her tongue inside of the orifice to get the last drop of the liquid. She swallowed eagerly as the semen slammed into her throat and belly.
Weak with rapture, Sharon went limp in the man's arms. Her naked body was dripping with blood and sweat as she felt the huge cock begin to shrivel inside of her. She dimly heard the sounds of the other women's reactions to similar outrages. A cacophony of shrieks of agony and squeals of pleasure filled the room. The shrinking cock slid wetly out of Sharon's vagina and steaming liquid poured from her in a river that splashed on the chair and dripped onto the floor. She was humiliated and nauseated, but through it all came a thrill that had its foundations in debased sensuality. The congealed blood from Sharon's cannibalized breasts stuck to the man's shirt as he shoved her away from him, and she screamed in exquisite agony as the wounds were reopened to bleed freely again.
Several pairs of hands grasped Sharon's arms and lifted her to her feet. She caught a glimpse of the other women being raised and saw figures in the uniform of cooks. Sharon laughed in hysteria at the incongruity of the sight. Without their breasts, the women might as well have been sexless. Their now smooth figures looked almost boyish and only the lack of a penis identified their female status. Groaning with pain and terror, the women were tossed over the shoulders of the cooks like carcasses of meat and carried toward the back of the cafeteria. A double door was pushed open and the gruesome parade entered a kitchen that was much too large for a cafeteria of that size.
A scream of agony ripped through the air and Sharon saw a young girl being lifted by two of the faceless cooks. Her hands were stretched above her head and placed against sharp hooks that studded a bar running the length of the room. Accompanied by ear-piercing shrieks of pain, her hands were impaled on two hooks and she was left hanging there with her toes several inches above the floor. Sharon felt her own arms being raised, followed by the excruciating pain of the impalement of her hands. The act of terror continued until a long row of naked women hung suspended from the hooks, sweat streaming from their tormented bodies.
Ignoring the groans of the mutilated females, the cooks moved about the kitchen in an absurdly businesslike manner. Large pits of glowing coals spread stifling heat through the room. Sharon felt hands moving over her body as though testing the resiliency of her flesh. The faceless cooks seemed to be converging on her and she felt herself being lifted down. She was carried over to a long table and laid on it. Strong wire dug into her arms as they were bound tightly to her body; then she was rolled over onto her back. She saw one of the apparitions lifting a long metal rod. In this macabre environment, she had no idea what he was going to do with it. Strong hands grasped her ankles and spread her legs apart. For a moment, she was bewildered by the action. Then she saw the rod being lowered between her thighs and she screamed.
The sharp pointed end of the rod was positioned at her vulva and Sharon felt a flash of agony as it was inserted into her body. It moved in easily and she felt it filling her vagina, but it did not stop there. Terrifying pain ripped through her bowels as she felt the steel tearing through her organs and entering further into her body. Continuous groans escaped from the girl's throat as a trail of pain gradually intruded into her. The point of the rod entered her stomach and was a throbbing agony as it passed through her chest. Then it was in her throat and her moans gurgled into silence. Her head was pulled back and the post of steel passed out of her open mouth. Sharon lay on the table like a butchered carcass as her ankles were bound firmly to the rod. She should have been dead. She knew it. She wanted to shriek insanely, but the bar projecting from her mouth made sound impossible.
The rod, with Sharon's impaled body was carried toward one of the glowing pits. It was lifted over the edge and Sharon felt the heat wash over her naked skin. The ends of the pole were inserted into mechanical connections at each end of the pit. Then Sharon felt herself beginning to slowly revolve. Sweat poured from her body and spattered on the coals below. The bare skin of her back twitched uncontrollably as her sweat sizzled on its surface. As she steadily turned over the dazzling coals, her body began to take on a pink hue and she experienced excruciating agony as blisters appeared on the surface and popped open with a crackling sound. She felt her skin searing under the caresses of the unbearable heat.
Sharon shuddered as she felt her flesh splitting from the heat. The rod through her body was becoming hotter, searing the tissues inside her. She became weirdly conscious of the hard staff inside of her vagina and her vulva surrounding its rigid diameter. Her thighs trembled at its resemblance to an incredibly long cock, hotly burning inside of her belly. Breathing faster, she turned silently on the spit as a gruesome eroticism pervaded her body. Her vulva sizzled around the hot metal and an incredible rapture suffused her belly. Her body slowly turning, she felt flames lick upward at her soft abdomen and her organs suddenly seemed to explode in an excruciating orgasm. Ecstasy raged through her belly and she wanted to scream at the thrilling agony, but continued to revolve silently in horrifying torment.
It was cold. Raw, biting cold plucked at her skin and she shivered uncontrollably. For a moment, Sharon could not comprehend the sudden alteration of circumstances. Then her eyes snapped open and she stared in astonishment at the falling snow that carpeted the street with white. Her back was leaning against the side of a doorway and she turned her head to look behind her. Her eyes beheld the darkened interior of a deserted cafeteria. There was not even a light in the place. She lifted a hand quickly to her breast. Her breast! She clutched both of them. They were intact and she was fully dressed. She whimpered, temporarily disoriented. Then she stumbled away from the wall and tried to run. She waded through ankle-deep snow as she crossed Wilson Avenue. Her car was still where she had left it and she quickly opened the door. She paused for a moment and looked back south. Not another car was in sight. Sharon switched on the ignition and started the engine. Making a 'U' turn, she gunned the engine and headed north on Broadway.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sharon turned into the driveway of the mansion and stopped the car at the front door. She switched off the engine and sat there silently for a few minutes, contemplating the silent street beyond the fence. She knew that she should be shaking with hysteria, but her system refused to even respond to the thought. The tortures to her body and mind had been thorough and terrible, yet she was physically whole and mentally relaxed. This was still Chicago. There was no doubt about that, but something fantastic had happened to it. Something had also happened to her. Nobody could go through such tortures and survive.
She shook the dilemma from her mind and stepped out of the car. The slamming of the door seemed lost in the bewildering silence. She ran up the steps of the mansion and stamped her feet to loosen the snow from her shoes. Opening the door, she stepped into the warmth of the main hall. No sounds greeted her and she now knew better than to expect them. There were no servants and no cook. The last thought sent her steps heading toward the back of the building. She pushed open the kitchen door and stared at the empty kitchen for a moment. Half expecting what she would find she walked over to the icebox and opened it. Almost mockingly, the shelves were fully stocked with food.
"It's too late. I'm not hungry!" Sharon laughed cynically. "I just ate my titties for a delicious breakfast!"
Nevertheless, she reached into the icebox and lifted out a pitcher of cream. As she fixed some coffee, she half expected to be stopped and tortured. However, nothing happened and the aroma of freshly made coffee soon filled the kitchen. Sharon filled a cup and took it into the living room. As she sipped the hot liquid, she surveyed the furnishings. It seemed that nothing had changed. The only new thing was the complete and unearthly quiet. Sharon stopped with her cup half raised.
"Unearthly!" she whispered to herself. Suddenly, the telephone rang. Sharon stared at it for a moment, then slowly set down the cup. Standing up, she walked across the room to a small table and lifted the receiver, "Who is calling?"
"Does it really make any difference?" chuckled the same male voice.
"You're damn right it does!" Sharon flared. "What have you done to Chicago? Why are you torturing me when I haven't done anything to you?"
He sighed, "You mean you're not frightened out of your wits by now?"
"Not yet! Not by a damn sight!" Sharon retorted. "I'm only scared when you start those torture tricks." "What makes you think they're tricks?" the man queried.
Sharon gripped the phone tightly in both hands and she felt a shiver crawl up her spine, then she regained control of herself, "What else could they be? I felt like I was being torn to pieces, but there isn't a mark on me."
"Nevertheless, you were being torn to pieces." The man gave a short laugh. "Are you going to blame me for those orgasms, too?"
Sharon felt her face suddenly grow warm and knew that she was blushing furiously. "Y-you knew about that?" she whispered.
Laughter came from the phone, "Of course I knew about it. It's on the tapes and I couldn't miss it." "Tapes!" Sharon tried to assimilate the information. "What are you?"
"I'm the North Side Superintendent of Data Processing and Activation." Then he added, "My name is Jerry." "What does that title mean?"
"Just what it says," he replied and Sharon could almost see him shrug. "I supervise all performances in this part of town."
"You don't sound as if it bothers you," Sharon commented in a small voice.
"It doesn't," Jerry answered in a cheerful voice. "As a matter of fact, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you squirm and scream. You look real sexy under torture. Really, you shouldn't waste time wearing clothes with a body like that."
"I suppose you'll do something about that, too." Sharon flushed pleasantly at the compliment concerning her figure, then tried to remind herself that this was not a normal situation.
"No trouble at all," Jerry assured. "And I think I will do something about it. After this, I don't think I'll let you wear any more clothes."
"The police will have something to say about that," Sharon reminded him. "We've been through that before," Jerry sighed. "There are no police here, Sharon." "No police here?" Sharon felt a shiver of panic. "Where is this?" "This is Hell."
"No. NO! It can't be!" Sharon protested. "You only go there when you die!"
"That's right," agreed Jerry. "You're dead." Sharon was stunned to silence. After a brief wait, Jerry continued. "Do you feel any different? You feel good, don't you?"
"Only when I'm not being tortured."
"Even during the torture, kitten," Jerry reminded her. "Hell, that's why I called you! You were having a ball, whether you admit it or not. Look, baby. It won't kill you. Take my word for it. Hell, I wouldn't tell this to just anybody, but you've got something I really like!"
Sharon laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "Jerry, are you propositioning me?"
"It's not necessary. When I want you, I'll take you," Jerry assured her. "Right now I've got a lot of work to do. Besides, you have another performance coming up soon."
"Can't it wait?"
"No, it can't. Look, I can't keep this line open any longer without getting into trouble. Be expecting another call from me."
The phone went dead and Sharon finally set it back in its cradle. She wished that she could at least panic, but she found herself accepting the situation without much surprise. The way she had been controlled, it was quite possible that her normal reactions had been subdued. With a sigh, she reached up a hand to touch the collar of her dress. She blinked in disbelief, then dropped her hand lower and touched her bare breast.
Looking quickly downward, she saw that she was completely naked.
"He did it!" Sharon touched her hands to her cheeks. "He took away my clothes!"
Her bare feet pattered rapidly on the floor as Sharon ran for the stairs. She reached the top floor and hurried to her room. A frantic search through the closets revealed no sign of a stitch of clothing. Resigned to her nudity, Sharon walked back downstairs and into the living room. She dropped into the chair in front of the television set and reached for the cup of coffee. Jerry had said that something was going to happen, but all was still peaceful when she drained the cup. She stared at the television screen in silence for awhile, wondering what good it was in hell. In an idle gesture, she reached out and switched it on. To her surprise, the screen began to light up.
Sharon sank back into the chair and watched the patterns flow across the screen. The girl folded her arms under her breasts and hugged herself as she waited for the picture to form. Suddenly, a hideous scream issued from the set. Without warning, the picture flashed on; bright and clear. The thought crossed Sharon's mind that it was the kind of a program she might have expected in hell, and she choked off the hysterical laugh that started in her throat. She was looking into what appeared to be a concrete and brick dungeon. In the center of the screen stood a naked man, his arms stretched upward and to the sides and fastened to heavy steel posts. A figure was standing behind the man; one of the faceless people. Sharon noted quickly that it was a woman and her arm was raised.
The arm dropped and a black whip slashed toward the tethered man. Ft curled around his body and seemed to cling for a moment. The woman jerked the lash and it pulled away from the naked flesh, leaving bloody gashes. It was obvious that the whip was equipped with small hooks that had imbedded themselves in the unprotected skin. The bound man shrieked in agony and writhed helplessly. Sharon stared with horrified fascination, and it took a few moments for her to notice that the screen was moving closer. With a shriek, she clutched at the arms of the chair as she realized that it was herself that was moving. She knew now that this was what Jerry had meant. He knew that she would turn on the television set and it was a trap.
Sharon's body twisted and she felt her feet moving toward the set. Then she was partly into the screen and moving faster. The chair slipped from her hands and she slid with obscene smoothness into the panel. The living room was suddenly gone and she felt the rough cold of concrete against her naked body. She turned in fear and saw that the place was a half-completed building that had been under construction. The framework of steel girders towered above her. Wind blew through the metal network and the frigid air of winter raised goosebumps on her nude skin. She crouched, shivering in fright and cold as she watched a group of faceless people in the clothing of construction workers moving toward her. The apparitions surrounded the scene of torment and Sharon knew that it would be useless to run. She whimpered as rough hands grasped her bare arms, the fingers pressing into her flesh with deliberate cruelty.
Breasts heaving with terror, Sharon was dragged to her feet and toward the tethered man. Then she was pressing against the sweating flesh, inhaling the strong male aroma. Her arms were raised and she felt bindings on her wrists as her full breasts flattened against the man's chest. She felt his abdominal muscles rippling against her bare belly and inhaled sharply as his cock pressed against her. Sharon's arms were stretched out along the man's arms and bound firmly to the posts. Her naked body was helplessly thrust against his and she looked up at him with fear. The face that gazed down at her was twisting with pain and rising lust from the pressure of Sharon's naked body against his own. Trembling with terror, Sharon felt his penis beginning to harden against her cunt.
Suddenly, a searing pain curled around Sharon's back. She screamed and spasmodically jerked against the man, feeling the spasms of his nude flesh against her belly as his scream shrilled in her ears. The whip was jerked away from her body and she gasped in agony as the hooks caught in her flesh, ripping small shreds of skin from her back. Blood trickled down her white skin as she writhed against the man. In spite of the cold air, perspiration glistened on her naked body. Once more, she felt the agony of the whip as it curled around her full buttocks and slashed into the butt of the man, welding them tightly together for a moment. Sharon felt the man's cock lengthening against her from the intimate contact and her breathing quickened in spite of the pain.
As the lash tore away from their naked bodies, leaving a trail of blood, Sharon shoved her belly more firmly against the man. She spread her thighs slightly, thrilling to the hard length of his cock against her crotch. As the whip struck again, she found herself welcoming the agony that tied them together and began writhing her hips in rapture. Her stiff nipples stabbed at his chest and she was panting from the lashing and the erotic contact with the sweating male body. She tilted her head up and parted her lips, thrilling to the feeling of the man's tongue plunging into her mouth. Pain and rapture blended into one as they struggled against each other. The man began thrusting with his fully erected cock and Sharon arched her hips rhythmically, meeting his advances with unconcealed desire. Tremors of pleasure shuddered through her belly as she enjoyed the abrasion of the hard male organ against her vulva.
Sharon was vaguely aware that this was a public exhibition as she heard calls of derision and encouragement from the faceless throng that surrounded them. Her face flushed with humiliation, but she had no control over her sexual reactions. Panting and writhing with uninhibited desire, she spread her knees on either side of the man and gripped him tightly between her legs as muffled sounds of pleasure came from her throat. The cock was rubbing her vulva harder, and she was so maddened by the thrill of it that she hardly felt the belaboring of the lash. The rigid penis suddenly caught between the lips of her vulva and she strained against the man as she felt his tool begin to enter into her body.
Almost fainting with ecstasy, the girl held her position tensely as her female entrance slowly spread to receive the stiff cock. Suddenly, she was open to the full width of the prick and it was boring into her vagina. It filled her belly like a fabulous post and she squirmed erotically under the touch of the whip. The pain became a sensuous thing as the erected penis began to move in and out of her belly. Sharon hung limply against the sweating man as he made full use of her femininity and pounded his cock inside of her like a hot piston. Their abdomens sucked wetly against each other as their naked forms slapped together in sexual union. The cock abruptly rammed deep into the girl and she gasped at the exquisite feeling of fullness. With a savage spasm, the cock began ejaculating hot sperm into Sharon's belly. She squealed with ecstasy as she felt the male semen slam into her vagina and her own body responded with an uncontrollable orgasm.
Thrilling to the rapture of the climax, Sharon shuddered under the seemingly endless injections of semen that poured into her. She was amazed at the constant flow from the cock that filled her abdomen. She suddenly realized that her own orgasms were not diminishing. The girl tried to will herself to stop, but she kept coming. It was beginning to hurt and she moaned at the combination of ecstasy and pain. The man tried to pull his cock out of her cunt, but they were firmly connected and he continued to spurt his semen into her. The sweating male and female once more became aware of the pain that accompanied the lash of the whip. They Writhed against each other in the torment of ecstasy and pain as their naked bodies became a mass of bleeding welts. The barbed whip that tore their flesh only increased their climaxes and he spurted semen harder into Sharon's belly as their voices blended in a crescendo of ear piercing screams.
Her body racked with pain, Sharon had no idea when the lashing stopped. Moaning, she hung limply against the tortured man, her naked white flesh crisscrossed with bloody welts. She felt hands working at the bonds on her wrists and suddenly she was freed. Cold air washed over the front of her body as she fell away from the man. As she collapsed on the ground, her arms were pulled roughly behind her and she felt cords biting into her tender flesh. Sharon grunted from the continuous pain as her limbs were tightly bound.
Sharon's ankles were as firmly and cruelly fastened together as her arms. Weak from the pain of the lashing and enforced orgasm, she lay on the ground and watched the man being removed from his tethers.
Begging for mercy, the man was thrown to the concrete. His pleas were ignored and the faceless apparitions rolled him over onto his stomach. He moaned in agony as his legs were doubled upward and firmly bound behind him to his wrists. He was then rolled over onto his back and his legs pried apart. Sweat streamed from his body as a rope was produced and passed around his testicles and cock. It was tied tightly and he cried out in pain as the knot pressed into his skin.
Jabbering unintelligibly, the crowd pulled Sharon to her knees. She swayed there in horror as a man approached her with a rope to which was attached two large steel hooks. A hand grasped one of her full breasts and lifted it as the point of one of the hooks was placed beneath it. Screams of agony ripped from her throat as the sharp point pierced her delicate tissues and tore upward through the soft flesh until the point came out of the top of her breast. She suffered the ordeal of the impalement of her other breast, then she was held upright by the hooks as the loose end of the other rope was brought forward and tied to the rope holding the hooks.
From somewhere above the area of horror, a cable was slowly lowered. The end of it had been fashioned into a hangman's noose. The naked man screamed and tried to roll away as it was brought closer to his head, but strong hands held him like a child. Slipping the noose over his head, his captors pulled it closed. Suddenly, the watching crowd vanished. Snow swirled around the naked man and girl as they lay on the concrete and awaited the unknown. Sharon shivered uncontrollably from cold and terror as she watched the cable around the man's neck slowly tighten. He gave a strangled scream as he was gradually lifted to his knees, then was silent, his eyes bulging in horror as he rose above the surface. Her breasts aching with the pain of the hooks, Sharon watched him rise in the hangman's noose. Only a few minutes before he had been jetting semen into her cunt, and now he seemed destined for strangulation.
A terrifying jolt of agony shot through Sharon as the hooks tightened in her breasts. Shrieking, she felt herself being pulled upward by the rope that was fastened to the man's sexual organs. Through pain filled eyes, she saw the expression of agony on the man's face as his organs took the weight of her body and slowly stretched to their limit. Her breasts were mounds of madness as she was dragged to her feet. She tried to balance herself on her toes, then screamed as the full weight of her body was taken by her breasts. As they passed the first level of girders, Sharon was afraid to struggle. Her weight was already stretching the man's organs to the limit and any move on her part might tear them off. She stared upward helplessly, enduring the pain in her tits as wind driven snow lashed at her body.
As Sharon watched the man's cock, she saw it gradually beginning to harden in the cold air of the upper reaches of the unfinished structure. All traces of their hellish captors had vanished. They were alone in the wintry air and Sharon felt the semen on the insides of her thighs harden into ice. She stared in silence at the lengthening cock above her head and wondered how much longer it would hold her weight. The male organ was rigid and throbbing with erotic power, its head pointed down at her face. Suddenly, she saw it jerk spasmodically. Steaming in the chill air, a milky jet of semen ejaculated from the penis. The stream fell slowly as it left the cock and another jerk of the virile organ sent a second jet following the first.
The hot, thick liquid struck Sharon in the face and she felt it running down her neck. More jets of semen splashed on her naked body until it seemed that a hot river was pouring down onto her. In a few minutes, her body was covered with the streams of semen and she was breathing faster in spite of her own agony. She felt a quiver in her belly as a rapture began building in the trembling flesh of her loins. Suddenly, she climaxed in an exquisite orgasm that filled her body with waves of ecstasy. She screamed from the pleasure of it and her body jerked involuntarily. A strangled shriek of agony came from the man above and Sharon saw the sexual organs part from his body. Jets of warm blood poured from the wound as the girl began to fall toward the ground. She fell silently, engrossed in her own rapture as endless orgasms surged through her belly. The man above her became smaller and smaller and the girders rushed past her more rapidly. The speed of her descent drove the smell of the male liquid up into her nostrils and she inhaled it with macabre delight.
Her precipitous descent was abruptly halted as her feet sank into a coarse, loose material. She had struck a pile of gravel and her naked body slammed down on it, the sharp edges of the minute pieces of stone tearing into her delicate flesh. The breath was knocked out of her by the impact and she rolled silently down the incline, feeling hideous pain as her entire body was lacerated by the crushed rock. The orgasms continued to surge through her in uncontrollable waves and a grisly delight suffused her belly. Panting and sweating, Sharon writhed her hips with obscene pleasure as she stared up at the ceiling. As she gradually relaxed, she became aware of the fact that she was lying in the hallway of her house. The orgasms gradually subsided and she lay there for a few moments as she tried to get her wits about her. With a whimper of fear, she staggered to her feet and leaned against the wall, bracing herself on trembling legs.
With terrified eyes, Sharon stared into the living room at the television set. The screen was blank, but she knew that it had really happened. This was hell, and even the simplest object was a tool of damnation. She raised a hand to her breast, knowing that there would be no sign of the hooks. Shaking with uncontrollable horror, Sharon staggered across the hall toward the stairs. Her bare feet made hardly a sound as she raced up the stairs. Rushing into the bedroom, she threw herself onto the bed and pulled the covers over her head.
CHAPTER FIVE
"It's not hell. I'm not dead. I can't be dead!" Sharon tried to convince herself. She flipped the covers from her body and stood up beside the bed. She had no idea how long she had slept from exhaustion, but the room was in darkness. Her every movement created sounds that loomed incredibly large in the all pervading silence. The lack of any noise was in itself a fear inducing thing. She walked over to a window and stared out at the deceptive beauty of the moonlight shining on the snow covered city. The houses and buildings surrounding the mansion were dark, as they had been since this fantastic affair had begun. Something had isolated Chicago and changed it into a place of horror.
"I have to get out of here!" Sharon automatically turned toward the closet to get her clothes.
Then she stopped as she remembered that her clothing had been removed by a person named Jerry. Running her hands up her nude body, she cupped her breasts and emitted a small, hysterical laugh. Jerry!
An impossible name for a fiend of hell. Belial, Beelzebub or Lucifer would have made sense. She might even have believed him if he had used one of those names. "But Jerry!" she laughed. "And a Superintendent of Data Processing, at that! It's a bunch of mad scientists, that's all. That's all it is!"
Sharon's bare feet pattered rapidly on the floor as she ran across the room. Her full breasts jiggled and swayed with her emotions as she hurried down the hall. It was bitter cold outside and she had no clothing, but she had to get out of there. She could take one of the cars and drive up to Waukegan, or even Milwaukee. There had to be a limit to whatever was going on. Somewhere she could find some help. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she glanced into the living room and saw the television set beginning to light up.
"Sharon Kilmer!" The voice that emitted from the set was that of the man who called himself Jerry. "Stay in this house!"
The girl paused with her hand on the door knob. "NO! I won't! You're no demon from hell! You're just a mad scientist!"
"Of course, I'm not a demon," Jerry admitted. "Come over to the set and look at me. If you go out that door, you'll have to take the consequences."
"I won't look at you!" Sharon was shaking with emotion that was a mixture of fear and the desire to escape. "I'm leaving this madhouse and you can't stop me!"
"On the contrary. I can stop you easily," Jerry informed her. "But I won't. I know what's going to happen when the emergency circuits take over and I wouldn't miss that pleasure for the world."
"Emergency circuits! Machines!" shrieked Sharon. "Then you admit that this isn't hell!"
A soft sound came from the television set that might have been a sigh. "Believe me, kitten, this is the only real hell."
"It's not! It's no/!" Sharon jerked open the door and ran out into the night. The cold struck sharply at her naked body and she shivered as her bare feet sank into the snow. The sport car was where she had left it earlier. Another light fall of snow had dusted it with white and the windows were obscured. Walking carefully, she waded through ankle deep snow to the machine. As she brushed the snow from the windows, her breasts constantly fell against the cold metal and she had to hold them away with one hand. Opening the door, she climbed quickly into the car and started the engine. She sat there for a moment, waiting for the heater to warm the interior, then shifted gears and headed down the driveway toward the street.
An elation filled her. She laughed a little hysterically as she tooled the car onto the street and headed north. With all the money her aunt had left her, she had to run like an escaping prisoner. No clothing and no possessions. All of her money was in the bank in the Loop, and there was no way she could get hold of it until this fantastic curse was lifted from Chicago. The snow was increasing in intensity as Sharon guided the car up Sheridan Road, but she tried to put on as much speed as possible. There were no other cars to impede her progress and, as usual, no humans in sight. With the heater going full blast, she was no longer conscious of her nudity. As she reached Bryn Mawr, she had to fight against a strong wind that had blown up and was driving the snow against her windshield with such force that she had difficulty in seeing the road.
Sharon was no longer certain that she was driving on Sheridan Road. Landmarks were obscured by the wall of white that pounded against her car. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was sweating and hurriedly turned off the heater to prevent the windows from fogging. Her breasts rose and fell with her agitated breathing. Still the heat increased within the car and she hurriedly rolled down the window to get a breath of fresh air. Snow drove in through the opening and Sharon heard a sizzling sound as it struck the metal. With a shriek, Sharon took her hands off the steering wheel. It had become too hot to hold. She felt a surge of horror as she saw that the dashboard was beginning to glow a dull red. The girl screamed as she worked frantically at the door handle in a desperate attempt to get out of the car. The portal stuck for a moment, then suddenly opened under the pressure.
The car was barely moving as the girl stumbled out into the snow. She collapsed into a snowbank and watched in horror as the sport car continued to move slowly forward. Wires had shorted and the horn sounded incessantly like a weird dirge in the blizzard that swirled around it. The paint flaked off and the metal glowed yellow with heat as the vehicle began sliding down an incline. It steamed from the snow that struck it and looked like some infernal machine. Sharon suddenly heard a loud cracking sound and the car lurched forward. With a roar of blazing metal striking water, the car broke through the ice and plunged into Lake Michigan.
Shocked by the display of elemental power, Sharon cowered in the snowbank for a few minutes. As the snowfall swept in to cover the area where the car had disappeared, Sharon looked around her in bewilderment. Jerry had tried to tell her to stay in the house, but that would only have meant more torture. He had said that he knew what was going to happen to her, and this was apparently the beginning. Rising to her feet, Sharon brushed snow from her brown hair and tried to decide which way to move. A sound in the distance made her decision for her. She heard a faint howl like the sound of wolves in the distance and trembled in fear. Turning away from where the car had disappeared, she began walking through the deep snow. It was impossible to will her frozen body into faster movement, and she heard the howls getting nearer.
The snow was abating slightly and she glanced behind her to see what was heading in her direction. Then she saw them and shrieked in terror. Leaping through the snowdrifts was a pack of what appeared to be large black dogs, eyes glowing with an unearthly light. Screaming her fear, Sharon turned and did her best to run. Her naked breasts swayed and bounced with her exertions as she heard the baying of the hounds getting closer. Suddenly, she saw a tree that seemed to be set in the middle of nowhere, its branches stripped by winter. With a sob of thankfulness, she ran toward it. She found that she could reach one of the lower limbs and began climbing. The rough surface scratched at her naked flesh as she worked her way upward. Panting from her efforts, she straddled a large limb and looked downward.
The canine howls reaching a maddening crescendo as the dogs reached the tree and began leaping upward in an attempt to get at the naked girl. They fell back, snarling among themselves and began circling the tree. Sharon was now able to get a good look at them and saw that they were as large as Great Danes, but covered with long hair like wolves. She sat helplessly on the limb of the tree and watched them circling her. One that seemed to be a little larger and heavier than the rest stopped its movements and came under her position, staring up at her silently with blazing eyes.
Its gaze was almost hypnotic and Sharon stared back at it in terror.
As Sharon gazed at the savage animal, she discovered that her breathing was quickening. Lifting a hand, she touched it to her breast and found that her nipple was beginning to stiffen. She tightened her thighs around the limb she was straddling and felt a tingle of pleasure flow through her loins. Against her will, she was experiencing a growing desire for the animal below her. She flushed with embarrassment at the thoughts that were taking form in her mind, but even that reaction was becoming pleasurable. Trembling, she began to climb down from the tree. Her breath was coming faster as her bare feet touched the cold ground and she turned to look at the huge dog. She could no longer control her desires. She wanted that animal inside of her, fucking her hard.
Knees shaking with anticipation, Sharon walked over to the dog. Her knees felt weak as she sank to the ground, then dropped to her hands and spread her thighs apart in an obvious invitation. The large hound opened its mouth and exposed its fangs in what might have been a canine smile. It loped over to her and its long tongue licked out at Sharon's face. As she felt the tongue move wetly around her mouth, the girl parted her lips. She gave a little grunt as the tongue slipped into her mouth and began a sinuous exploration of her orifice. A thrill of degradation coursed through Sharon's body as she gazed into the burning canine eyes and submitted to the oral caress. The dog pulled out its tongue and she gasped for breath as she eagerly awaited its next move. A shiver of delight went through her as it moved around behind her and its tongue stretched out to caress her cunt.
The feeling of the wet tongue between her thighs sent tremors of pleasure through Sharon's belly and she spread her legs a little more to give it room to work. The snow had stopped falling and the other dogs settled into a circle around the strangely matched pair, watching silently as their leader ran his tongue over the lips of Sharon's vulva. Sounds of pleasure gurgled from the girl's throat as the tongue slipped between the folds of flesh and touched her clitoris. She was panting with desire as the animal began to climb on top of her, its huge paws raking painfully across her naked white flesh. Then its hairy belly was resting on Sharon's back and she braced herself to hold its great weight as it began hunching its hips.
Sharon emitted a squeal of delight as she felt the canine prick rubbing against her cunt and beginning to extend against her bare belly. She felt the dog's hot, panting breath against her naked back and the large paws gripped her sides firmly as it abraded her crotch with the hard cock. A cry of pleasure escaped from her lips as she felt the head of the virile organ catch at her cunt and begin to force its way in. As her body began spreading to receive the dog's prick, Sharon trembled with perverse satisfaction at the manner in which she was being degraded. Her nipples were standing stiffly erect from her swaying breasts and not merely from the cold. She sucked in her soft belly spasmodically as she felt the canine cock thrust into her vagina. With a growl, the dog shoved hard and ecstasy coursed through her abdomen as Sharon felt its stiff penis being rammed all of the way into her female chamber.
In spite of the cold, Sharon's nude form was glistening with sweat as she enjoyed the great size of the cock upon which she was impaled. The dog began hunching hard in a powerful rhythm and the penis rammed strongly in and out of her vagina, forcing panting gasps from her throat. Her body liquids began to lubricate the penis and it slid more easily with a steady sucking sound as the dog panted and slobbered on her back. Sharon started thrusting her hips up to meet the inward thrusts of the animal cock as it bored into her belly. A fire of pleasure was building inside of her and she thrilled to the feeling of her sexual connection with the dog. Incoherent obscenities poured from her lips as the stiff prick pounded inside of her belly like a huge post. Suddenly, the dog rammed its cock deep into her and she thrust against it as it seemed to jam up to her stomach. The cock jerked savagely and a hot stream of semen slammed into her vagina. Sharon squealed with rapture and felt her own body beginning to react to the injection of canine sperm. Her abdomen surged with waves of an ecstatic climax and she wriggled her hips excitedly as she felt the huge prick ejaculating inside her, sending torrents of semen plunging into her belly.
Shaking uncontrollably from the pleasures of the unholy union, Sharon was dimly aware of another dog fighting to push the first one away. The cock slipped out of her cunt, followed by a warm river that trickled down the insides of her thighs. Then the second dog was climbing on top of her and she braced herself for another fuck. The cock slid easily into her now well lubricated cunt and began ramming in and out of her vagina. Sweat steamed from the girl's naked body as she willingly took the thrusting of the stiff penis inside of her. The torrent of semen that spurted from the dog's prick sent thrills of rapture through her belly. The second dog made way for a third and Sharon obediently held her place as she serviced the entire pack. Fantastically, she was able to remain braced on her hands and knees while a dozen dogs fucked her.
Sharon was hardly aware of when the dogs stopped fucking her. She knelt on the ground, trembling with ecstasy as semen slowly leaked from her cunt and dripped down her thighs. Her naked body was sweating and long scratches from the dog's paws covered her soft white skin. In a daze, Sharon finally looked up and saw that the dogs had vanished. She made no attempt to figure out where they had gone. In this world, things seemed to happen that were beyond her understanding and she was inclined to leave it that way. She lowered herself to the snow covered ground and lay there for awhile, enjoying the after effects of her total debasement.
Languorously, Sharon ran her hand down over her nude body. She suddenly paused and searched delicately over her abdomen. "Oh, my god!" she groaned. "They can't be doing that to me!"
Her fingers touched the gentle swell that had appeared on her belly and she sat up to examine it more closely. There was no doubt about it. Her belly was firming and growing larger. Sharon's thoughts flashed back to the Chicago River and the blonde who had been fucked on the ice floe. The rapid pregnancy and the birth of a savage to fight over the girl. Sharon felt a surge of fear as she rose shakily to her feet. Human women didn't give birth to animals. But was she still human? She had been thoroughly fucked by twelve, dogs, and what would the result be? Giggling hysterically, Sharon stumbled across the snow covered ground to where she thought that Sheridan Road might be. Her belly kept enlarging and she had to alter her manner of walking to support it. Sweat was running down her naked body as she staggered over the snow, and she was beginning to shiver with the cold again.
Suddenly, she saw the entrance of a high-rise apartment building ahead of her and stumbled toward the apparent safety. Her belly was filled with pains as it continually enlarged, and her breasts ached as they became fuller. Holding her huge belly with both hands, Sharon staggered awkwardly to the door of the building. Finding the door locked, she beat on it with her fists and screamed for help. Agony lanced through her body and she collapsed on the snow, groaning helplessly. Her legs spread apart, she waited for whatever might happen. A pressure began to grow at her crotch and her body began to open as she shrieked hysterically. Her abdomen convulsed in a hideous turmoil as something inside changed its position and struggled in the tight confines. Sharon was close to the point of insanity and wished that she could tumble over the brink, but her mind remained clear throughout her ordeal.
Sweat streamed from the girl's naked body as her cunt began to split and she tore at her hair in a futile effort to ease the pain. Blood flowed in a crimson river onto the white snow and a twisting hand appeared at her body opening, clawing at the aperture to widen the flesh. Red with the slime from within her uterus, a figure fought its way out of Sharon's belly, oblivious to her cried for an end to this madness. Sharon had no idea how long it took for her belly to empty, but it seemed like an eternity of torment. Then it was gone. Like flowing liquid, her flesh began to close and her cunt narrowed to a virginal slit. The creature crouched between her thighs, growing larger. Half human and half canine, it eyed her through glowing orbs. With savage grunts, it began to crawl up her naked body. Us hands grasped at her still huge breasts and she whimpered as the talons sank into the soft white flesh. Its fangs pressed against her tender skin as it took her nipple into its mouth and began to suckle. As she felt her milk flowing into the obscenity, Sharon experienced a feeling of revulsion.
With a rasping sigh, the monster finally released the nipple and licked its long tongue over Sharon's breast like a dog getting the last dregs from its food dish. The nipple began to harden and Sharon discovered that her breath was coming faster under the hot caresses of the creature. Unable to control herself, she began to writhe erotically in response to the ministrations. Her hand reached down and caressed the hairy head and it moved upward. Then the slobbering mouth was over hers and she parted her lips to accept the tongue that darted inside her mouth. She shuddered as she felt it slide over her teeth with lascivious caresses. The monster dropped its full weight on top of her and she grunted as she discovered that it was now much larger than herself.
Panting with uncontrollable desire, Sharon arched her hips upward and spread her legs wide apart in an open invitation to be fucked. A clear part of her mind reminded her that this was incest and she almost laughed with hysteria. Returning the hideous caress, Sharon plunged her tongue into the dog mouth and their tongues curled hotly as she squirmed with rapture. The powerful arms crushed her in a painful embrace as she felt the large, stiff cock rubbing insistently against her belly. Suddenly, the head of the cock rammed against her vulva and she felt a stab of pain.' Snarling, the animal shoved harder, giving the girl the impression that she was splitting open again. She emitted muffled sounds of hurt as her body reluctantly opened to receive the male organ. With a powerful thrust, the creature jammed its cock steadily into Sharon's vagina and her tissues expanded to accept the intrusion of the enormous organ.
An irresistible passion suffused the girl's abdomen and she wrapped her legs around the sweating animal, wriggling her hips with unconcealed delight. The monstrous stench of the creature was almost unbearable as it began to pound its cock inside the helpless girl. She squealed with rapture as she felt the prick ramming inside her like a piston. Sweat streamed from their struggling bodies into the snow, raising clouds of steam that almost obscured their bizarre sex act. The rapturous pounding inside her belly seemed to go on for an eternity as Sharon lay limply beneath the rutting monster. Suddenly, it rammed its cock hard into her and her abdomen trembled with the savage ejaculation that hurled hot jets of semen into her female chamber. Her own system responded with surging orgasms that met the injections of sperm in a superlative climax.
Sharon was hardly aware of when the weight lifted from her and the creature began belaboring her with its fists. Shrieking with sudden fear, she leaped to her feet and began running down the snow covered street. The animal clawed at her naked back as it followed her, howling wildly. Blood seeped from the long wounds on her satiny flesh as Sharon ran down Sheridan Road, goaded constantly by the sharp claws. Her breasts swung wildly and her nude body was shivering from the biting cold. It seemed to go on forever and she finally found herself once more approaching her house.
Whimpering with fear, Sharon felt the animal grab her arm and swing her around as they reached the driveway. She staggered and fell to her knees in front of it and her head was suddenly grabbed tightly. She felt the head of the cock against her lips and submissively opened her mouth. The taste of the throbbing cock was abruptly filling her mouth and her lips were stretched tightly around it. Her arms hung limply at her sides as the creature began to pound its organ in and out of her orifice. As her saliva lubricated it, the penis moved more rapidly and Sharon grunted with each inward thrust. She began to pant with uncontrollable desire and her nipples stiffened under the erotic onslaught. As the cock was shoved to the back of her throat, Sharon felt it jerk hard. Hot liquid spurted into her throat and she obediently began to swallow the injections. The salty semen poured into her belly like a spasmodic river.
Without warning, the girl found that she was alone. She licked at the remaining semen on her lips as she grasped the fate post and pulled herself to her feet. She swayed there for a moment, knowing now that she could never escape from the perversities that were being inflicted on her. Suddenly, she knew that she no longer wanted to escape. The erotic degradations actually thrilled her. They were an irresistible narcotic without which she could no longer exist. With a sigh, she turned and walked toward the house, swaying her hips with satisfaction.
CHAPTER SIX
Sharon had no idea how long she had slept. When she opened her eyes, it was daylight. She did not bother to look at the clock. It had stopped working, and time was no longer important. She accepted the fact that her slavery was definite and irrevocable. The necessity for absolute obedience had been pounded into her mind beyond any shadow of a doubt. Whatever controlled this place had the right of irresistible power, and Sharon had only the right to bow to their whims. In spite of this, the girl felt a sense of strange freedom. She had no responsibilities but to be available for the torments they inflicted upon her for their own amusement. Yet, she could find no regrets for her position. The pain and ecstasy were so perfectly welded into one that she found herself eagerly anticipating the next torture or whatever debasement they had in store for her. Having openly accepted her situation, Sharon put the thoughts out of her mind and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Then she headed for the ground floor to make some breakfast. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she suddenly felt a chill wind caress her naked body. Shivering, she glanced quickly at the front door and saw that it was closed. Looking back up the stairs, she saw a drape ripple as if brushed by a light breeze. She looked at it curiously for a moment, then continued on her way to the lower hall.
Feet pattering softly on the floor, Sharon walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. With relief, she found that it was still stocked with food. This time, she wanted a normal meal instead of the macabre experience of eating her own breasts. She lifted out a package of bacon, two eggs and a pitcher of cream and carried them over to the table. She lit the fire under the coffee, then placed the frying pan on the stove. Selecting three strips of bacon, she laid them in the pan and turned on the burner; not even bothering to wonder where the gas was coming from in a place like this.-Standing quietly in front of the stove, she watched the bacon begin to exude its grease into the hot pan. Suddenly, there was a snapping sound and Sharon was abruptly reminded of her nudity as she felt a sharp pain on her unprotected skin.
The girl drew in a sharp breath as the pain sent tremors of pleasure through her body. Eyes wide with expectation, she moved a little closer to the stove. Her breathing quickened as grease spattered from the skillet and onto her naked flesh. A moan of rapture escaped from her lips and her nipples began to stiffen. Hands pressed tightly against her hips, she leaned forward slightly over the skillet and arched her shoulders in pain as her full breasts took the shower of spattering grease. The hot liquid on her naked flesh brought small moans of pain from her throat, but she held her breasts lower until she could feel the heat from the frying pan on them. A rapturous feeling was spreading over her abdomen and her muscles contracted spasmodically from the pleasure. Her ringers moved to her clitoris and began manipulating it, sending waves of delight over her. With unexpected suddenness, ecstasy shot through her belly and she writhed in the grip of an exquisite orgasm.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Sharon finally straightened up and tenderly touched the small blisters that had formed on her satiny flesh. The bacon had been burned beyond repair during her masochistic orgy. She removed it from the pan and started toward the table for some fresh strips.
"Sharon!" The voice came faintly from the living room.
Sharon dropped the bacon back on the table, hesitating for a moment. Then she walked quickly toward the front of the house, knowing that she had no choice but to obey any summons. As she entered the living room, she saw that the television set was glowing.
Walking around to the front of the set, she lowered herself into the armchair and looked at the screen. Blinking her eyes in astonishment, she stared speechlessly at the picture. She really did not know what she had expected, but it was certainly not what she was seeing. Framed in the screen was the head and shoulders of a perfectly normal appearing young man. His blond hair was neatly combed and he was clean shaven. The tie was knotted just right under the collar of a white shirt and he appeared to be wearing a gray business suit of the latest style. In short, he looked like anything but hell.
"Are-are you Jerry?" Sharon asked in a small voice.
"That's right, kitten," the male vision on the screen grinned. "But let's get to the reason why I called you." He raised a finger and shook it at her, his face turning serious, "You are not to torture yourself. Do you understand?"
Sharon pulled her feet up under her and observed him innocently. "I wasn't torturing myself, Jerry."
"The hell you weren't!" Jerry folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I saw what you were doing in the kitchen. You were hanging your tits over the frying pan to let the grease spatter on them. Then you fingered your cunt until you came."
The girl glanced down at her breasts and touched a finger lightly to a small blister, pouting slightly. Suddenly, she looked up at Jerry. "How did you know what I was doing?"
"I was watching you, of course." Jerry lifted a cigarette to his lips and lit it with a perfectly normal lighter. He blew out a cloud of smoke. "You've got a gorgeous body, kitten, and I can't let you disfigure it by torturing it."
"But you torture me," Sharon pointed out.
"Of course I do," agreed Jerry. "That's my right as your master, and I want your body in perfect condition when I want to use it."
"Don't I have any rights?"
"None whatever," Jerry shook his head. "You're a slave, to be tortured whenever and however I please." He waved a hand in a gesture that brushed the subject away. "But let's not bother with that for now. I'll explain later. I didn't just call you about the self torture. I'm coming over for a visit this afternoon, and I don't want you to make any attempt to leave the house." He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "By the way. Did you enjoy being fucked by those dogs?"
"Oh, yes-" Sharon's face suddenly crimsoned. "Jerry! You're embarrassing me!"
"FINE!" Jerry exclaimed. "The more embarrassed and humiliated you are, the sexier you look. Stay out of the dining room and keep the door closed."
Sharon suddenly found herself staring at a dark screen. Jerry had broken the connection without any more words. Sharon sighed in resignation. It was something she would have to get used to. A slave was property and no explanations were necessary. She hugged herself and felt a delicious tingle go through her body. She was enjoying being dominated. Dropping her feet to the floor, she stood up and headed back to the kitchen to finish her breakfast.
Sharon wandered aimlessly through the house for a while. Once, she stopped near the foot of the stairs and tilted her head to listen. There seemed to be some sound just within hearing, but difficult to discern. She started up the stairs. Halfway up, she felt a chill run up her spine. She could just faintly hear words. Then they became clear for a moment. "Where-am-I? Where-am-I?"
Difficult to hear at the beginning, the voice was becoming fainter. Sharon cautiously began to mount the stairs. As she reached the top, she looked down the hall and saw a door quietly closing. Overcoming the fear that was closing in on her. She walked carefully down the hall to where she thought the door had been. She touched her fingers lightly to the knob arid turned it slowly. Pushing open the door, she looked into an empty room. The sunlight shone through a curtained window, illuminating the unoccupied bed. This had been aunt Beatrice's room. Shuddering, Sharon closed the door again and went back to the stairs. She hurried down rather rapidly, wondering if it were possible to have a haunted house in hell.
Late in the afternoon, an automobile horn sounded and Sharon jumped up from where she had been half dozing in an armchair. Hurrying to the door, she glanced through the small window at the front driveway. She was becoming accustomed to the peculiar sight of modern things in what was supposed to be hell, but the car in the driveway seemed somewhat absurd under the circumstances. It was a Lincoln-Continental of the latest model, polished to perfection as though it had just come out of a showroom. An athletic young man stepped out of the driver's side and glanced toward the house It was Jerry.
Bracing herself for the cold air outside of the house, Sharon opened the door and stepped onto the front porch. She hugged herself, shivering, as she called out, "Where in the world did you get that car?"
Jerry laughed, "You mean 'where in hell!' Remember where you are." He walked around the car and up the steps. Slipping his arms around her, he ran his hands over her nude back and patted her buttocks possessively. "Hi, sugar. You're just as sexy in the flesh."
Sharon rested her hands lightly on his shoulders, looking up at him questioningly, "But what are you doing with a late model car in hell?"
Jerry glanced back at the Continental and shrugged his shoulders, "Oh, that. That's just a prop. I can afford better cars than that."
"Just a prop!" Sharon shook her head in confusion. "Jerry, I don't get this!"
"Maybe I'll tell you something about it, but right now-" Jerry lowered his face until his lips brushed Sharon's. She automatically closed her eyes and parted her lips as she felt the touch. Sliding her bare arms around his neck, she felt his tongue slip confidently into her mouth. Her own tongue met his and they languidly explored each other in a wet caress. As his hand slid over her naked body, Sharon moved closer to him and her breathing began to quicken. She felt his cock harden and press at her through his pants. Shoving her belly tightly against him, she squirmed in his embrace.
Laughing, Jerry pulled away and turned her around to face the door. He slapped her on the buttocks, "Get inside, kitten. We have other things to do and talk about before we get down to the serious business of sex."
Sharon felt his hand against the small of her back, guiding her toward the dining room. He opened the door and motioned her to precede him. Sharon gaped in astonishment as she passed through the portal. The dining room was completely set for an elaborate dinner and hot food was steaming in her best dinnerware. She turned quickly to look up at him, "How did you do it? I didn't hear a thing!"
"How I did it is too complicated to explain, but it was quite easy." he assured her. "As superintendent, I have complete control of the computers and I can do anything I want. Have a seat and enjoy yourself before we find ourselves with a cold dinner. I don't want to have to arrange this stuff again."
Sharon walked over to her chair and turned to look at him, automatically waiting for him to pull out the chair for her. Instead, she saw him walk casually over to the other side of the table and sit down without any gentlemanly gesture. She quickly grasped the situation. A slave is not helped by anyone superior to her, and everyone was superior to Sharon. Flushing slightly at the humiliation, she gracefully took her place at the table.
Jerry smiled and raised his glass of champagne, "To pain and passion." Sharon sipped from her glass, "That sounds curious in such a beautiful setting."
"There's hardly a better setting than beauty and torture," Jerry observed. "Did you expect hell to be ugly?" "Those tortures aren't really very pretty," Sharon reminded him.
"Of course they are," Jerry disagreed. He was half concentrating on the meal before him. "Torture is a delicate balance of contrasts. When you begin dealing in contrasts, you get as close as possible to beauty." He glanced up. 'Believe me, kitten, our designers put in a lot of work in creating these situations. If you think it was easy to figure out exactly where to put those hooks into your breasts and hang you from that guy's nuts, you've got another think coming. There were a lot of stresses involved, besides the emotional ones. You had to get just the right amount of pain and keep from coming until you were at the exact height to make a most spectacular fall." He returned his attention to the meat on his plate. "That guy's nuts had to hold out for the right amount of time, too."
"Did it hurt him?" Sharon inquired.
Jerry laughed, "You're damn right it did! If it hadn't, there would have been no sense in doing it. It has to come off just right as a delicate balance between pain and pleasure so the victim can't tell for sure where one begins and the other leaves off. That's where the torment becomes exquisite and a real art. If the balance was too far off, the audience would complain to the management and I might lose my job."
Sharon paused in her eating and frowned, "Jerry, you keep talking like this was a big business. I thought hell was a place where sinners were sent."
"No," Jerry shook his head negatively. "That's just a myth you people on the other side dreamed up. To be perfectly truthful, I don't know how you people found out that we exist in any form." He grinned, "But it works out for the best. When people find out that they're in hell, it creates a nice terror syndrome. That always makes a big hit with the audience."
Sharon set her fork carefully on the plate and folded her hands loosely in her lap, "Jerry, what in the world is this? You said I came here because I had died, yet my body is in perfect shape. You keep talking about an audience. What audience?"
"The television audience, of course." Jerry pushed his plate aside and lit a cigarette, "Naturally, it's not the television that you've known. Emotional reactions come through it." He paused for a moment then, "Oh, I guess it won't hurt to explain it to you. I'm already violating the rules anyway."
"What rules?"
"Against fraternizing with slaves. If the Board of Directors ever found out, I'd be exiled to your world to live out your idea of a life span. It's as good a prison as any, I guess. But I think you're worth the risk." He winked at her. "Okay, here's the situation. Imagine two worlds on Earth. There are probably more, but these are the only ones we know of. Compared to us, your world has temporal stability. So much that it appears horribly rigid. Our world appears perfectly ordinary to us. However, by comparison with yours, the time pattern is variable. In your world, the past is gone and can't be retrieved. In our world, we can retrieve any part of the past." He laughed at her expression of consternation, "Do you know what that means? It means immortality."
Sharon stared at him wide-eyed, "You live forever?"
Jerry nodded, "Of course. In answer to your unspoken question, we are not overpopulated. If I told you why, it would only confuse you. It's a matter of keeping time sectors separate but unified. I can be injured; that's quite true. However, by shifting back to before the injury, I can nullify it. Frankly, that's what we do to you slaves. We can torture you to the point of death, then shift you back to before the torture began. You never know the difference, because you're not psychologically adjusted to this time structure. Even if you died, we could still reconstruct you. Your psyche still exists and the basic pattern is there. That psyche is what we get when your body dies in your world. It's not connected to any time pattern."
"Then my body is still on Earth?"
"This is Earth," Jerry informed her. "The same planet. You left a body in another time pattern when it died. It was only a cellular structure and we recreated it. You're not a bit different than you were," he sighed. "But this is getting into the complicated matter of technology. Let's get on to other things. When you know that you have unlimited time, the greatest problem is boredom. Personal boredom as an experiencing human. We have no fear of anything, so we can only know it by experiencing the fear of others. The only place we can get those others is in a time pattern that cannot be reversed."
"You're parasites?" Sharon exclaimed in horror.
"With our power?" Jerry laughed. "No, kitten, we are not parasites. If you followed that kind of philosophy, you would be a parasite by watching the antics of a comedian and absorbing the humor he exudes. He's your slave and he can't live without you. Our pleasure happens to be sadism. You are our slave and you cannot exist without us. Incidentally, this really is Chicago. We duplicated it as a closed arena. This house is your cell. It's furnished with all of the comforts to which you were accustomed. It's the most sensible way of being sure that you'll react to the contrast of the torture. If you got too familiar with hardship, the audience would know it right away."
"Where is the audience?"
"All around us." Jerry put out his cigarette in an ashtray and looked up with a smile. "We live in cities, too. This Chicago arena is located in a time stratum. You really can't get out of it. I won't bother to explain why." His conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud noise from upstairs. He glanced up in surprise. "What was that?"
Sharon shifted nervously, "I don't know. I've been hearing what sounded like a voice and saw a door open and close earlier."
"Oh, I think I know what it is," Jerry relaxed. "Probably a temporal stress. Most of you slaves are only a fraction of a second apart. I'll make a note of it when I get back to the office and get it straightened out."
"Jerry-"Sharon looked up at him curiously. "Did you come here just to tell me what this is all about?" "Hell, no! I came here to fuck you!"
Sharon flushed, once more conscious of her nudity, "Then why did you tell me all of this?"
Jerry shrugged his shoulders, "That was just dinner conversation. I'd feel silly just sitting here filling my belly in total silence. Besides that, it wouldn't be a good production if I just came in here and pounded my cock into you and left."
"Oh, my god!" Sharon exclaimed, "Is this going to be televised?"
Jerry guffawed, "Not a chance! It better not be. If the Board of Directors knew what I was doing, I'd really have my ass in a sling. I blocked you out of the programming long enough to screw hell out of you all night. You have a body I've just got to get into!" He pushed back his chair and stood up. Walking over to a side table, he picked up a long black whip and uncoiled it. His pleasant demeanor vanished as he turned around and commanded, "All right, slave. Stand up and move over there in the clear. Raise your arms over your head and don't move."
Sharon stared at the whip in fear, but slowly rose from her chair. In terrified anticipation of the whipping, she stumbled over to the indicated position. She raised her arms with a graceful motion and stood quietly, her naked body exposed to his whims. Her breasts were rising and falling with her agitated breathing as she waited for the whip to strike. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jerry removing his clothing. Then he picked up the whip and raised his hand. The hand flashed down and Sharon briefly saw the whip snaking through the air. Then the lash struck her naked back and curled swiftly around her to bite into her bare breasts, sending electrifying shocks of pain through the soft globes. She shrieked in agony and sweat suddenly gleamed on her nude body. The lash fell away, then came at her again and slashed around her full buttocks. Curving around her, it streaked like fire across her naked belly. Sharon writhed her hips erotically and screamed as the whip left its mark in angry red streaks on her soft white skin.
When Jerry finally paused, Sharon's nude body was covered with welts from her shoulders to her ankles and sweat was streaming from her tortured flesh. Sobbing in pain, she obediently kept her arms above her head as she waited for his next move. As he stepped toward the door, she got a good look at his nude physique and felt a thrill at the sight of his young masculinity. His cock was standing out hard and long, and its powerful virility sent erotic tremors through her loins. She felt small and helpless as he opened the door and turned to face her with the bearing of a man who had complete command of the situation.
Jerry gestured at the door, "Walk up to the bedroom and keep your arms raised."
Sharon started toward the door, her hips swaying with her steps and her full breasts jiggling enticingly. As she passed him, Jerry brought the whip down across her naked back with full force and she shrieked in pain. He followed her as she ascended the stairs, his whip falling steadily on her writhing nakedness. Sobbing with pain, Sharon staggered down the hall on the second floor. She had no choice but to endure the ordeal, but the whip had an erotic meaning as she contemplated the end result. Her nipples stood up from her breasts stiffly and an overpowering desire suffused her loins as she entered the bedroom.
With a sob of exhaustion, Sharon collapsed onto the bed. Staring at her with unconcealed lust, Jerry surveyed the crimson welts that almost covered her white body. She was panting for breath and moaning in pain as she waited for him to use her. Jerry dropped the whip and rushed to the bed. Sharon eagerly moved into his crushing embrace and their lips met in a hot kiss. Their tongues fenced in a wet caress as Sharon squirmed against him and lifted her thigh to admit his long, hard cock. She emitted a muffled squeal of rapture as she felt the stiff organ abrading her crotch. Panting like an animal, Jerry ran his hand down her sweating back and pressed his hand against her buttocks to hold her more tightly against him. They strained together in mutual desire as Sharon thrilled to the rough movements of his cock against her vulva.
Responding to the pressure of his body, Sharon let him roll her over onto, her back. She spread her legs wide apart and excitement coursed through her as his weight lowered on top of her. The masculine body between her thighs sent tremors of passion through her belly. Weak with rapture, she felt the head of his stiff penis press against her vulva and force its way between the folds of flesh. She felt herself spreading open under its pressure and wrapped her arms around his torso, running her hands possessively over his sweating back as their tongues curled around each other in an uninhibited kiss. A thrill of pleasure surged through her belly as she felt the hard length of Jerry's cock boring into her vagina. It slid out and rammed deep into her body again as she weakly accepted its conquering thrusts. The long rod of virility pounded inside of her like a mighty piston for what seemed to be endless minutes of rapture. Suddenly, Jerry rammed his cock all of the way inside of her vagina and it jerked spasmodically, sending streams of hot semen slamming into her belly. Her body seemed to explode silently as she reached her climax and writhed beneath him in ecstasy as she absorbed his powerful ejaculations of sperm.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Sharon awakened, she found herself alone in the bed. The fact elicited no surprise. Jerry had come to the house merely to use her and she was becoming accustomed to the conditions of slavery. She lay quietly for awhile letting her mind wander lazily over the erotic events of the previous night. She vaguely recalled being fucked several times, interspersed by agonizing whippings. With a shiver of pleasure, she admitted to herself that she had thoroughly enjoyed both experiences. The lash on her naked body had only served to accentuate the rapture of Jerry's hard cock ejaculating inside of her.
She started to throw off the covers, then stopped in surprise. Her arms seemed to be locked in place behind her back. When she tried to move them, pain shot through her shoulders. Grunting a little, she managed to work her way out from under the covers. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, her large breasts thrust boldly forward by the position of her shoulders. Twisting her neck, she tried to look over her shoulder to see what was wrong with her arms. They throbbed with pain, as though something was digging into her flesh. Rising to her feet, she stood there for a moment getting her balance. Then she walked carefully over to the full length mirror on the closet door. Turning sideways, she got a good look behind her and saw what was causing the problem. Her arms had been drawn back until each wrist was placed against the opposite elbow. Strong black cords had been bound tightly around her arms, biting deep into the soft white flesh and binding her arms firmly together.
Alone in the house and unable to use her arms, Sharon was completely helpless. From previous experience, she knew that nothing was done to her without a reason. The reason was usually a savage torment of her delicate feminine body. Sharon suddenly felt a cool draft touch her naked skin and shivered. Hearing a slight sound, she glanced toward the door and saw it slowly opening. She stood frozen before the mirror as the door opened wider. The start of a scream stuck in her throat as the door came fully open. There was something in the portal. A darker shadow. Translucent, but appearing to be the indistinct form of a female. It stood there for a moment, then began to drift into the room. Sharon cowered against the mirror, shivering with terror as the ghostly form drifted toward the bed.
The phantom paused beside the bed, swaying slightly as if subject to an unseen wind. Then an almost imperceptible wailing began and the form drifted back toward the door, emitting a whisper of a voice, "Where-am-I? Someone-help-me! Sharon! Sharon! Help-me!"
A shrill scream pierced the air and Sharon suddenly knew that it came from her throat. Moving awkwardly because of her bound arms, Sharon ran for the door. Swaying her hips in exaggerated movements to keep her balance, she ran down the hall. She paused at the head of the stairway, her full breasts heaving with the terror that raged inside of her, and glanced back toward the room. The shadow was passing out of the door and into the hall. Sharon heard the door slam and the phantom began drifting toward her, its wail of distress rising and falling with a weird cadence. Sobbing in completely uncontrollable fear, Sharon turned and rushed down the stirs. Her bound arms made it impossible for her to maintain her balance and she lost her footing near the bottom of the stairs. She struck the floor hard, knocking the breath out of her lungs and lay there gasping. Upstairs, she heard another door slam and silence descended upon the house.
Sharon finally got control of herself and stopped the trembling of her body, her mind cleared and she remembered Jerry's explanation that it was probably a temporal stress. He had said he was going to fix it, but it was still there. She could cope with the physical torture with its sexual connotations. In fact, she was beginning to look forward to the experiences. But what was happening in the upper floor of the mansion was not physical. It had all of the appearance of an untouchable ghost. She had to tell Jerry, but how to contact him? The television set!
Sharon wriggled around until she was on her side. Then she managed to work her way up until she was balancing on her knees. Shuffling toward the wall she braced her shoulder against it and got her feet under her. Once she had straightened up, she ran into the living room and over in front of the television set. She stood before it for a moment, bewildered by her predicament. With her arms bound behind her, there was no way she could turn on the set. The girl sank slowly into the armchair and slumped her shoulders in resignation. There was nothing she could do but wait for the ordeal that had been planned for her.
The minutes stretched out in silence as she waited. Her imagination toyed with possibilities and her terror increased proportionately to the horrors that her mind created. She had already been subjected to hideous mutilations and cringed at the prospects of her coming torment. At the same time, she considered the fabulous orgasms that had followed through her loins and the impossible sexual penetrations of her body. She was revolted and fascinated at the same time. The revulsion, itself, had become a fascination. Her breathing was quickening and the nipples of her breasts slowly rose to stiff points on the full mounds of trembling flesh. She knew that she was being watched by thousands, perhaps millions of unseen eyes. She could imagine them staring at their television screens, lustfully examining her naked and helpless body as she waited for her torture.
Suddenly, Sharon heard a sound in the distance. It seemed to be coming nearer. She straightened up, her heart pounding in sudden fear. She knew that there was never a sound in this strange world unless a horror was approaching her. Leaping to her feet, she swayed for a moment to get her balance, then ran toward the window. There was nothing in the front yard, but she could hear the sounds getting nearer. It was now obvious that the sound was made by engines. As she glanced down the otherwise empty street, she saw them suddenly swerve around the corner. It seemed like a noisy parade as the motorcycles thundered down the street. She automatically tried to count them and surmised that there were about twenty of them. Mounted on each one was a leather jacketed figure, each with an ambiguous face. The lead cycle roared into the driveway of the house and Sharon whimpered in fear. It was now obvious that they were coming after her.
Sharon made a small sound of terror in her throat. Unable to master her fear, she turned quickly from the window and started running toward the back of the house. It suddenly occurred to her that she would not be able to open the back door with her arms bound behind her. Still, she ran down the long hall, her breasts bouncing and swaying as she twisted her shoulders to balance herself. As she reached the kitchen, she discovered that the back door was partly open. The frightened girl gave no thought to the strange convenience of it. She shoved her shoulder into the opening and pushed the door aside, scratching her bare skin in the process. At the other end of the house she could hear the front door being battered open. The roar of motorcycle engines shook the house as they thundered down the hall.
Shrieking her fear, Sharon ran down the back steps and into the snow. The cold winter air bit into her naked body, raising gooseflesh on her tender skin as she ran into the yard. Motorcycles seemed to explode through the back door of the house and she could hear their tires crunching on the snow as they closed in on her. Panting from her exertions, Sharon stopped running. It was impossible to outrun a motorcycle and she knew she had no choice but to surrender. She turned to face her pursuers, cowering against the rough bark of a tree. Mouths opened in the featureless faces as the leather jacketed figures dismounted from their machines and ran toward her. Obscenities spewed from their orifices and Sharon flushed with humiliation at the vile abuse that was heaped on her. Their hands were on her, pulling her roughly away from the trunk of the tree as she pleaded uselessly for mercy. The hands raced over her naked body, cruelly fondling her breasts as fingers fought for possession of her cunt. She gasped in pain as she felt the fingers stabbing into her female channel and callously exploring the inside of her vagina.
A heavy length of rope was suddenly produced and Sharon screamed in terror as the noose on the end was lowered over her head. She tried to shake it off, but a hand clawed into her hair and held her still as the knot was slipped up until it was in contact with her slim neck. The crowd melted away from Sharon as the rope was tossed up over a limb of the tree. She struggled a little, then stood trembling as the noose tightened around her neck. Her bound arms made resistance impossible and she gagged as the upward pull forced her up on her toes. Her head was tilted sideways under the pressure of the knot and she felt her tongue being forced out between her teeth. She reached frantically with her toes as she sought to maintain her contact with the ground. Then the full weight of her body was suspended from her neck and she hung limply as she was pulled upward.
Sharon felt herself being lifted helplessly into the air. The strain on her neck muscles was pure agony and the pressure of the noose made sound impossible. Through it all, she was conscious of everything that went on around her. The cold winter wind caressed her naked body with icy fingers as she hung suspended several inches above the ground. One member of the depraved motorcycle gang stepped away from the others and faced her. In his hand he held a long black whip and Sharon could see sharp hooks imbedded in its length. Swaying limply, she waited for him to use it on her. There was no way she could express her utter horror at the coming degradation of her delicate flesh. The whip was raised and slashed down toward her. She felt it curl around her figure in a blinding flash of pain, its many hooks immediately piercing into her naked skin. Sweat glistened on her nudity as the whip was jerked away and the hooks tore off small strips of skin. Sharon hung in silent agony as little rivulets of blood trickled down over the light surface of her beautiful body.
The hooked whip tore a path of excruciating pain across the trembling mounds of her full, soft breasts as it slashed around her smooth shoulders. With deliberate cruelty, the man ripped at Sharon's naked body as he steadily applied the whip. Sharon helplessly endured the torture as sweat mingled with the blood that flowed in delicate red lines down her satiny flesh. Her breasts quivered with her tormented breathing and she knew that her nipples were standing firmly erect. The terrible goading of the whip generated an almost uncontrollable rapture in her loins as pain and pleasure became almost one. She had no idea how long her unprotected body was subjected to the ordeal before the man finally ceased his hellish ministrations.
Sharon was slowly lowered to the ground. Her bare feet touched the cold snow and her knees felt like water as they took her weight again. Rough hands grasped her arms and held her upright while the noose was loosened from around her neck. Her breasts heaved as she gasped and inhaled great gulps of air. Moaning in pain, she felt the hands press on her bare shoulders, forcing her to the ground. As her knees touched the ground, a hand grabbed her hair and held her head steady. One of the faceless apparitions approached her holding a pair off strong pliers and a small piece of metal that was curved almost in a circle. As the piece of metal was lowered toward her face, she tried to turn her head, but her face was immediately grasped by two hands and held in position. She felt the metal touch her nose. The open end was forced inside of her nostrils and the pliers were opened to grasp it firmly. She saw the muscles on the back of the hand tense and the ring began to close. Suddenly, Sharon screamed as she felt the ends of the metal pressing into the gristle of her nose. The pressure was increased as she writhed her body in agony. Blood flowed from the torn flesh as the ends finally met through the hole they had torn in the cartilage. The man straightened up and stepped back to admire his work. Sharon was weak from pain and a large ring now hung from her nose.
A chain was produced and a clip on the end of it was snapped into the nose ring. Through eyes that smarted with tears of pain, Sharon saw a motorcycle rolled forward and the other end of the chain was fastened to the back of it. The man leaped onto his cycle and the engine started with a roar that varied in volume as he worked the hand throttle. For a few minutes, Sharon was left alone, kneeling on the ground as the others raced for their machines. Screaming obscenities, they activated their engines and the yard was filled with a deafening thunder as the cycles began heading out to the street.
Sharon felt a tug at the nose ring, shooting pain through her face, as the motorcycle to which she was attached slowly began to move. She whimpered in agony. With her arms still bound tightly behind her, she moved awkwardly as she stumbled to her feet. She had no choice in the matter as she started trotting after the cycle. The cycle picked up speed and she had to run faster, her full breasts bouncing crazily with her movements. Snow swirled about her, lashing her naked body with freezing fingers as she ran down the street behind the machine. Her whole mind was on the pain in her nose as she obediently followed the motorcycle through the streets of the city. Suddenly, she felt a slash of pain across her back and another cycle raced by. One by one, the cycles roared past her. As each driver passed, he reached out a hand and slashed a whip across her naked back. In the cold air, the whip lashes brought excruciating pain to her tender flesh and piercing screams tore from Sharon's throat.
She had no idea when they reached Halstead Street, but they seemed to be racing along it forever and Sharon's body throbbed with pain from the lashes of the whips. A strong animal smell assailed the girl's nostrils and she knew they were in the area of the stockyards. She no longer wondered how she could cross such a great distance without collapsing. In hell, it seemed that anything could be done. Now she could hear the sounds of livestock in their pens. Her bare feet were running on a wooden surface as the motorcycle led her through a labyrinth of stalls. As the machine began to slow, Sharon stumbled. She sprawled onto the board walk and the cycle dragged her several feet by the nose as splinters tore into her unprotected breasts and belly.
Unsympathetic hands lifted Sharon to her feet and the chain was released from the cycle. Following the tug of the chain, Sharon staggered along the boards as she was led through a maze of stalls. She knew that she would never be able to find her way out of there alone. A gate was opened and she was led into a small pen. Frozen mud pressed sharply against her bare feet as she was led over to a low post. The girl weakly obeyed as she was forced to her knees. The chain was passed through a ring in the post and her head pulled close to it. A padlock was then snapped into place, firmly fastening her nose to the post. She felt the bonds being loosened from her arms and there was a flash of pain as blood once more began to circulate in them. She dropped her arms to brace herself and ease the pain in her nose.
Suddenly Sharon was alone. She crouched silently in the small stall with her nose still attached to the post. Her body trembled and shivered with the cold as she waited for the next degrading assaults on her helpless femininity. There was a sound of something moving along the board walk outside of the pen. It resembled the movements of a hoofed animal and Sharon whimpered in fear. There was enough length in the chain so she could turn her head a little, and she glanced back at the entrance of the pen. A huge hog was entering the stall, its beady eyes fastened on her naked body.
Whimpering and shivering uncontrollably, Sharon watched the hog approaching her, its hooves taking delicate steps. She could not turn her head far enough to see it as it passed behind her. Suddenly, she felt its muzzle nuzzling at her buttocks and emitted a little shriek at the touch of the wet snout. Grunting, it forced its snout against her crotch. Knowing what it wanted and her inability to resist, Sharon obediently parted her thighs and braced herself with her knees spread apart. She shrieked in pain as she felt the sharp pig teeth nibbling at her vulva. The pain was accompanied by a flush of debased pleasure that flowed through her belly. She arched her buttocks to expose herself further and began to pant with pleasure as her nipples rose to stiff points on her dangling breasts.
The smell of female moisture that seeped from Sharon's vulva excited the hog and it grunted with lust. Heaving its heavy body upward, it locked its front legs around Sharon's hips and began working its way onto her back. The girl gasped at the great weight that was settling onto her and braced her arms to carry the load. Perspiration glistened on her flesh as she felt the coarse pig bristles stabbing into the tender surface of her bare back. The hooves clutched and scraped along her ribs as the hog forced its massive body onto her. Sharon trembled as she felt its great cock rubbing against her belly. Grunting and snorting, the hog rubbed its penis energetically against Sharon's vulva, sending waves of erotic sensations through her abdomen. Panting and sweating, the girl gasped as she felt the head of its stiff cock catch at the folds of her vulva. She cried out in pain as it began forcing its great tool into her body.
Almost unbearable torment flashed through Sharon's crotch as she felt her helpless body opening to permit entrance of the animal's cock. Suddenly, she felt a great pressure inside of her as the cock pushed partly into her hole. She was stretched tightly around the huge penis as it began boring into her vagina. Her grunts mingled with those of the rutting hog as she felt the long organ thrusting into her belly. Sweat streamed from her naked body and her nipples were so hard they hurt as the mighty rod finally plunged all the way into her and seemed to fill her vagina like a huge post. With savage unconcern for her comfort, the animal began pounding its virile organ in and out of her tight cunt and she grunted with each powerful thrust. Rapture was building inside Sharon's belly as she concentrated on the huge penis that was rapidly driving her toward a climax. The hog lunged forward and drove its cock all the way into her so hard that she almost fainted. The huge sex organ jerked violently and ejaculated a stream of hot semen into her belly that triggered her system into a surging orgasm. Sharon squealed in ecstasy as she felt the hot liquid jetting spasmodically into her vagina.
When the hog had finished with her, it pulled its cock out of her cunt without a pause and Sharon felt the warm semen dribble down the insides of her thighs. Weak with rapture, Sharon wished that she could lie down, but the ring in her nose held her securely attached to the post. In a few minutes, she heard the sounds of other hoofed feet approaching and another hog took the place of the previous one. Sharon held its weight with difficulty as it pounded its cock in and out of her vagina. It ejaculated its semen into her and pulled out its cock to make way for another hog. An endless parade of hogs rammed their cocks into Sharon's belly and ejaculated their hot semen. Dazed with ecstasy, Sharon grunted her appreciation. She was debased to the level of the animals that were fucking her and trembled with pleasure at her degradation.
Suddenly, she felt human hands on her body, prodding and feeling her as though she was an animal. Her breasts were squeezed and molded as fingers tested their weight and firmness. The hands slapped at her buttocks and the flesh jiggled at the blows. Finally, the chain was unlocked from the post. It was held short so she could not stand up. At a tug of the chain, Sharon followed the man, raising herself up on her toes and moving on all fours. She flushed with humiliation as she was forced to trot along behind him like a lower animal. She felt concrete against her hands and feet and found that she was in a long building that was hung with freshly skinned animal carcasses.
Sharon's arms were grasped by other men and she was raised to her feet. Then she was lifted from the floor and her arms held above her head. There was a sharp prick at the backs of her hands and she shrieked in agony as her hands were forced onto steel hooks. The sharp metal pierced through her hands and she was left hanging. One of the faceless men approached her, carrying a long knife. Sharon trembled in terror as he raised it. She felt the sharp edge pierce the flesh above her breast and a trickle of blood flowed down over her white skin. The blade was slowly drawn across the skin until a thin red line extended across her from one shoulder to the other. The knife was pulled all of the way around her body and she whimpered as she felt it being drawn across her naked back. The blade once more pierced the skin on the front of her body and was drawn down between her breasts. Her abdominal muscles contracted spasmodically as she felt the knife cutting down to her vulva.
With maddening precision, the man inserted the tip of the blade into the cut above one of Sharon's breasts. He began to pull carefully, working the skin loose. The girl screamed with terror as she realized that she was going to be skinned alive. She emitted ear piercing shrieks as she felt the flesh being pulled away from her body. Inch by inch, the skin was worked down from her shoulders as her raw throat began to reduce its protestations to continuous groans. She felt her skin being carefully pulled down over the upper curve of one of her breasts. A few agonizing minutes later, her breast hung free from the skin in blood red contrast to her other breast. The second breast was gradually peeled until they hung down like two full red globes. Rasping moans issued from her throat as her skin was steadily pulled down until she was naked of flesh to her waist. Incredible agony shook her body as the skin was pulled down to her hips. Then it was over her hips and hanging like a gruesomely removed cloak. Sharon felt the skin being tugged from her vulva. A maddening rapture filled her belly and her system exploded in a massive orgasm as she screamed in pain and ecstasy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sharon finished her breakfast and pushed back her chair. Standing up, she ran her still astonished hands down over the smooth and unblemished beauty of her naked body. She had awakened in bed as usual, completely rested. It was difficult to believe that she had been tortured almost to death before a television audience. She picked up a package of cigarettes and lit one, then examined the package. It looked perfectly ordinary, even to the brand name. These people apparently covered every detail when they arranged to keep their slaves in familiar surroundings. Dropping the package back on the table, she shrugged her shoulders and dismissed the problem from her mind.
Her bare feet pattered on the kitchen floor, then more softly on the carpet than ran down the length of the hall to the front of the house. She heard a door slam upstairs and paused for a moment. Jerry had not fixed that time stress yet. Sharon shrugged her shoulders again and walked quickly into the living room. Dropping into the armchair before the television set, she reached forward, wondering if it was possible to attract Jerry's attention by switching on the set. She was no longer worried about being pulled into it. When they wanted to torture her they would do it, regardless of what she was doing. She switched on the set, then leaned back in the chair to await the results.
A few minutes of silence passed. The set abruptly began to hum and a spot of light appeared on the screen. Abstract shadows flowed across the screen and gradually coalesced into the image of a young man. Jerry smiled at her, "Good morning, kitten. You don't look any the worse for wear."
"I still don't see how you do it," Sharon sighed. "The way you tear me to pieces and put me back together again, that is."
"Time and technology, baby." Jerry paused to light a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke at the screen. It cleared quickly and he grinned at her, "It's too complicated for you to understand."
"Too much for a stupid slave, I suppose," commented Sharon.
"Not at all," Jerry shook his head. "You people are far from stupid and we'd be fools to think that you are. However, even your best technicians would require years of intensive training before they could understand what goes on here. We're born into this environment, so the whole thing is perfectly normal to us. Explaining it is another matter entirely. If you could play around with time the way we can, you'd be as far ahead as we are." He smiled again, "But you can't, so we're the masters and you're the slaves. As I've already told you, you really were tortured. Even that pregnancy you went through in another performance actually took nine months. However, we condensed the time factor and isolated it without affecting the surrounding environment. Beyond the barrier, that would be a paradox, but it isn't here. When the torture performance is completed, we alter the time sequence and shift you to a point before it began. When you reach that point, the torture never happened. Obviously, if it never happened, there could be no marks on your body."
Sharon blinked her eyes in confusion, "If it never happened, how could I remember it?"
Jerry laughed pleasantly, "I told you it would be difficult to understand. You remember it because it actually occurred. It only ceases to exist as a temporal-physical factor. Look, kitten, I'm not going to tell you any more. I've already told you more than any slave has any right to know."
"Thanks, Jerry. You're sweet." Sharon flashed a smile at him, then turned serious. "Oh, I almost forgot! I wanted to tell you that those things are still happening upstairs."
Jerry raised a surprised eyebrow, "That's odd! I fed that problem into the computer, and it should have been straightened out by now. Wait a minute." He turned away from the screen and reached out a hand toward something out of view, an expression of concentration on his face. Then he shook his head, "Nope. The computer didn't register anything there. I'll tie in a projection circuit and let the computer analyze the probabilities." He returned his attention tO Sharon, "That should get the desired results. It'll take a little while for it to cover all of the most logical factors."
Without warning, a siren began to sound from the set and Sharon jumped in astonishment, clutching at her breasts, "What was that?!"
Startled, Jerry glanced away from the screen, "It's a stress warning! Son of a bitch, the computer grabbed onto something right away! Something's close to the breaking point!"
"Bascomb!" another voice cut in, "What in hell are you doing?"
"My god! The Chairman of the Board!" Jerry's face turned as white as possible. He swallowed visibly. "Why, Mr. Chairman! G-good m-morning. Uh- I'm just performing my duties. I keyed in a projection circuit to check on a peculiarity in the slave compound."
"Some peculiarity!" snorted the Chairman. "I can see quite clearly what you've been doing. You've been talking to that slave. They're not supposed to know that you exist!"
"Why-uh-" Jerry emitted a nervous laugh. "I'm not doing anything that others haven't done."
"Maybe not," the Chairman's voice was covered with frost. "But you're the one who got caught at it. Have you been fraternizing with her? Never mind! I'll find out for myself." He paused for a moment, then, "According to the tracer, you've been inside of the arena. You've also had sexual relations with the slave. Son of a bitch! How low can a man crawl! And what else is this? Why, you stupid ass! You told her what this is!"
Jerry wiped a sheen of perspiration from his forehead. "But, boss! It really doesn't make any difference. She's an authentic masochist! She likes it right where she is. She won't fight against the torture!"
"She couldn't anyway, but that no longer has any bearing on the matter," the Chairman informed him evenly. "You've put us in a position where we could lose our license. As it is, we're going to have to pay a hell of a big fine for negligence. Do you know what set off that alarm?"
"Uh-no, sir. I haven't had a chance to check it."
"Don't bother, Bascomb," the Chairman's voice became threatening. "That alarm was set off by a ghost!" Jerry shook his head in disbelief, "But there's no such thing!"
"There sure as hell is now!" the Chairman informed him. "This slave you've been screwing has no right to be here. Her projected life expectancy does not indicate a termination of vital physical factors, by accident or otherwise, for a period of sixty three years. In other words, you stupid ass, she now has two bodies! She's still alive on the other side of the barrier! That's a paradox even in our pattern. According to computer re-evaluation, she was caught in a psychic collision. She crashed through the barrier along with the psyche of a close relative. Their energy ratings were so close they meshed. The other psyche is behaving like a ghost and is trying to occupy the same time-space sector that's occupied by the slave. If that happens, it's going to blow hell out of the arena. It was part of your job to see that things like that don't happen!"
"But the automatic check-off circuits-" Jerry began.
"They didn't catch this!" the Chairman interrupted. "If we could depend on them entirely, we wouldn't need you! He paused and his voice was under better control when he resumed speaking. "We'll have a long talk about this in court. Needless to say, you're slated for exile. The Corporation isn't going to take the responsibility for this mess. As for the slave, her psyche will have to be projected back through the barrier. We can restructure the body materials she's using so they'll fit the other psyche. Saving a little money there will keep the stockholders from howling too much. It's going to make a lousy show to have the main character change psychic factors in the middle of a performance, but we'll have to program her right away."
"YOU CAN'T!" Jerry shrieked, clutching at his hair. "I haven't had time to condition her!"
"She's going on whether she's conditioned or not!" the Chairman informed him evenly. "It's the only way to separate them and kick her back across the barrier while we've still got an arena. This show is going to get stinking reviews and you're going to take full responsibility for-"
Sharon was out of her chair and running toward the back of the house. She could not stop herself. She knew from experience that it was useless to try. The voices were still arguing weirdly from the television set in the living room as she opened the back door. The door slammed behind her, cutting off the voices as her bare feet touched the snow on the steps. The winter cold caressed her naked body as she ran toward the garage. Shivering from the cold air on her unprotected skin, Sharon quickly opened the garage door. She slipped behind the wheel of the sport car and started the engine. She knew that she had to go somewhere and get there fast. It was extremely important!
The engine roared as the car backed out rapidly from the garage. Snow sprayed from the wheels as the vehicle stopped and Sharon turned toward the street. Her breasts heaved with her excited breathing as she guided the car out of the yard and headed toward Sheridan Road. The roar of the engine seemed weirdly out of place as the car arrowed down the completely deserted streets. Not a single footprint marked the accumulated snow on the sidewalks. Almost before Sharon knew what was happening, the car was roaring down Sheridan Road. There seemed to be no trouble with traction, though the car should have been skidding all over the street at that speed. Intersections flashed by with incredible rapidity. As Sharon neared the intersection of Sheridan Road and Lawrence, she saw what appeared to be a great deal of activity ahead.
Then she saw the smoke. A building was on fire. No fire trucks were in evidence, but a large crowd flowed into the streets. Sharon slowed the car to avoid hitting anyone, not even considering that it made no difference in hell. Suddenly, she was near the fire and could see the flames and smoke leaping up into the air. The crowds were abruptly moving toward her and surrounding the car. Faceless people peered into the machine and leered at her nakedness. Sharon tried to cower in the seat, but the door was suddenly jerked open. Rough hands grasped her bare arms and she screamed as they pulled her out into the chilly street. Genuine fear encompassed her as she was dragged through the snow. Suddenly, she was alone, cringing in a circle of howling, faceless apparitions. Pitchforks appeared in the hands of the mob and they jabbed at her defenseless body, sinking the tines into the quivering flesh and drawing blood that ran down her white skin in feathering lines of red.
Jeering and gibbering at Sharon, they gradually forced her toward the burning building. Shrieking in terror, she tried to turn away, but the sharp points of the pitchforks prodded her naked back. Inexorably, she was goaded toward a doorway and she could feel the heat reach out and caress her body. Perspiration began to gleam on her flesh as she stumbled toward the fire, unable to escape the guiding points of steel. She screamed as a tongue of flame licked out and touched her soft breast. A masochistic pleasure shivered through her and her nipple rose to a stiff pink point on the trembling orb. Sharon staggered inside of the door and the faceless mob prodded her further.
Her bare feet stepped on smouldering wood and she shrieked at the excruciating pain. Writhing under the onslaught of the heat, she lost her footing and fell to the floor.
As the girl tried to rise from her position on the burning surface, she felt the tines of a pitchfork stab into the soft skin of her shoulders. She groaned as it sank into the flesh and prevented her from rising. Panting and sweating, she felt many hands roving over her naked body, squeezing and molding the flesh until she was squirming in pain and rapture. A finger slipped between the cheeks of her ass and she raised her hips to meet it, flushing with embarrassment at the jeering of the mob that surrounded her. Sharon groaned with pleasure as she felt the finger slide into her rectum and brutally explore the inside of her body. Rough hands grasped her ankles and pulled her legs wide apart. A weight settled onto her back and she gasped as cruel hands slid beneath her body to cup her breasts and squeeze hurting fingers into the lush mounds.
A blunt object pressed between the cheeks of Sharon's ass and forced its way to her anus. She tensed as she felt it begin to increase its pressure and her sphincter muscles resisted for a moment. Her body suddenly relaxed in defeat and she emitted a cry of pain as her tissues began to spread under the pressure. Grunting, she endured the agony of forced entrance as long as she could, then shrieked in pain as her anus suddenly gave way and her body opened wide to admit the huge head of the cock. Sweat streamed from the girl's naked body as she felt the large prick boring into her rectum. Tears of pain were streaming from Sharon's eyes and sobs racked her throat as she suffered the penetration. The male organ seemed to be expanding as it thrust into her helpless body. Its diameter increased as it bored deeper and it seemed to be jamming into her intestines.
As the screaming girl writhed beneath him, the faceless apparition began ramming its cock in and out of her rectum. The smouldering floor scorched her breasts, but her nipples were firm points that advertised the debased passions that surged through her system. The pain sent thrills through her and she began to arch her hips to meet the powerful thrusts of the mighty male organ that pounded inside of her like a piston. Her screams subsided to grunts of concentration as she sought to help the man to ram his cock deeper into her ass. Suddenly, she shrieked as he jammed it all of the way into her and she knew that it was ready to release its offering. The stiff penis jerked savagely and a burning jet of semen slammed into her intestines. Sharon was stunned to silence and lay limply as the man kept coming inside of her in a steady ejaculation of powerful jets of sperm. The girl groaned as the huge prick was withdrawn from her rectum. Another man quickly took the place of the first and Sharon grunted under the steady pounding of the second penis. She lost count of the number of men who rammed their cocks into her body and her reactions subsided to a series of grunts that acknowledged her body's acceptance of their injections of semen.
Sharon was dimly aware that her arms were being pulled behind her back. Suddenly, she screamed as she felt hot wires being wound around her arms, burning into the soft flesh and binding her limbs tightly together. Twisting her head, she saw one of the faceless mob striding out of the flames carrying a red hot bar of steel. He knelt at her back and she heard the sizzle of burning flesh. Screeching in agony, she felt the searing metal press into the side of her buttocks. Sinking into the revolted flesh, it bored deeper until it had penetrated the quivering mound. It entered the other side of her buttocks as Sharon's shrieks of agony tore the air. As the burning bar passed out of the other side of her buttocks, Sharon's eyes were staring wide with horror. She was raised to her knees and saw another man approaching with a blazing bar of metal. A coarse hand grasped her breast and held it as she tried to writhe away. The hot bar touched the soft mound. Sharon tried to scream as she felt it sink into the soft flesh, but her throat was raw. As she grunted under the desecrations of her tender body, she felt a trembling in her abdomen. Panting and moaning, she felt a familiar urge irritating the inside of her belly. The pain in her breasts became translated into rapture and her system suddenly seemed to explode in successive waves of a climax. She writhed with ecstatic pain as the burning bar penetrated her breasts and came out of the other side.
Sharon was lifted to her feet and dragged toward the door of the burning building, every movement generating agony from her impaled breasts and buttocks. The cold air struck her, almost freezing the sweat that streaked her soot stained body. Trembling with cold and pain, she was hauled out to her car and positioned behind it. A chain was attached to the rear bumper of the car and the other end of the chain fastened to the part of the bar that extended between her breasts. Looking through the rear window of the car, Sharon was astonished to see a naked woman at the wheel. The engine suddenly started and the car began to move forward. Screaming in pain, Sharon began trotting after it. Her impaled breasts and buttocks sent waves of agony through her as those soft areas of her body bounced and jiggled with her movements. Panting from her exertions, the girl was soon running after the car as it headed down Sheridan Road.
A strange feeling of weightlessness gradually descended over the girl. She Was running through the snow covered streets and yet seemed to be viewing the affair from a neutral position. She could feel the ecstasy of the pain devolving to a numbness and she tried to will it to return.
Panting with excitement, she tooled the car toward the Loop. A few minutes passed before she realized where she was, and she gripped the steering wheel tightly as a thrill of terror passed through her. Glancing quickly into the rear view mirror, she gasped in astonishment. A naked woman was running behind the car, attached to it by a long chain that was connected to a metal bar that pierced her full, swaying breasts. Her nipples were stiff pink erections on the soft white mounds and an expression of ecstatic pain covered her face. Sharon screamed as she saw the face. It was her Aunt Beatrice!
"It's mine! It's mine! You can't give it to her!" Sharon shrieked as she tried to stop the car. Her body disobeyed her and kept guiding the car as she sobbed helplessly. "The pain is mine! She has no right to it!"
Snow started falling, increasing in intensity and slashing at the naked body of the woman who followed behind the car. Gusts of wind swirled the snow around the car and reduced visibility to almost zero. Suddenly, the snow swept away from the vehicle and the road ahead was clear. Sharon looked into the rear view mirror and groaned in dismay. The naked woman had vanished. There was only Sharon and the speeding car. She crossed the Chicago River at Wells street and turned left at Lake, unable to control her own motions. She screamed as her eyes were almost blinded by a brilliant light. For a brief, Kaleidoscopic moment, her mind was overwhelmed by fantastic configurations. Towering buildings in a riot of colors seemed to rise all about her like a magnificent forest, interlaced with the delicate traceries of aerial highways. The vision quickly vanished and she was racing down an incline and jamming on the brakes.
Flinging open the door, Sharon leaped out of the car. Something was driving her and she tried to resist, but it was useless. She ran up a long flight of stairs, her breasts bouncing with her movements. Her bare feet pattered on smooth marble as she ascended. Before she was aware of it, she was running down a long hall and screaming, "I don't want to go back! Don't send me back! Jerry! JERRY! Help me!"
The corridor seemed to extend to infinity and Sharon was running forever. She saw a light to one side of the hall and her strides seemed to be taking place on a treadmill. Slowly drawing nearer, she looked inside of a door at an exhibition of gruesome terror. A naked woman was stretched spread-eagled between the floor and the ceiling. Screams of agony poured from her mouth as Beatrice Fairchild endured the ordeal of being flayed alive. Her skin had been peeled down to her waist and her large breasts were red mounds of bleeding horror. On her face was an expression of incredible ecstasy as faceless apparitions tugged at her skin, pulling it steadily down over her hips. Racing with increasing velocity, Sharon ran on down the endless tunnel.
CHAPTER NINE
Sharon was moving in a dream, limbless and adrift in an eternal corridor. She drifted backward on a treadmill of non-existence. Then the door was moving toward her again and she waited patiently for the resumption of the scene of horror. Shrieks of agony pierced the air as the door came closer. She stopped and could now see into the room. A woman was cringing against a wall, her dress half pulled to her waist. A white clad figure reached for her again and she ran screaming into a corner. The white uniformed woman stood watching her for a moment, the turned toward the door.
As she closed the door behind her, she glanced up with a weary expression, "It's no use, Hazel. She still has that fixation. Every time I try to undress her, she thinks I'm tearing off her skin. God knows, she needs a bath!
She hasn't had one for several days."
"Well, if she keeps screaming like that, she'll disturb the other patients." The voice came from beside Sharon and she suddenly noticed that a hand had a firm grip on her arm. Hazel continued, "You'd better get the doctor to give her a shot so you can handle her. If she doesn't get a bath, she'll be open to infection and her family would be on our necks. I can't help you now. I have to take Sharon down to hydrotherapy."
With bewildered eyes, Sharon watched the other nurse hurry down the hall. Then she turned her attention to Hazel. "W-where am I? What happened to me?"
Hazel looked at her quickly, temporarily astonished at the unexpected words, "Sharon! Did you say something?"
"What is this place?" Sharon ran a hand over her forehead and tried to blink away the confusion.
"My god! You're talking rationally!" Hazel put her hand under Sharon's chin and lifted her face up, intently examining her eyes, "Sharon, do you know what I am?"
"You seem to be a nurse." The girl managed a smile, "Is this a hospital.?"
"Lord, yes, girl! I've been taking you to therapy for two months and you haven't said a word." She started down the hall again, urging Sharon along with her. "We won't worry about that at the moment, honey. A warm bath will do you more good than anything else right now. I'll get the doctor when you're nice and comfortable."
Sharon was relaxing in a tub of warm water, surrendering to the contented feeling produced by the liquid, when the door to the room opened. A man in a dark blue business suit entered, his face bearing the smile of a long practicing doctor. The nurse followed him inside and closed the door as he pulled a straight backed chair up beside the bathtub. He chuckled, "Well, Sharon, I hear you've come back to us. How are you feeling?"
"Tired," admitted Sharon. "What happened to me? Why am I in a hospital?"
The doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Well, let's see if you can tell me. Do you remember your name?" "Sure. It's Sharon Kilmer."
"Fine! Now, what is the last thing you remember before you woke up here?"
Sharon considered that for a moment, trying to sort out her thoughts. The memories of hell were firmly etched in her mind, but it couldn't have happened. The nurse had told her that she had been here for two months, and the other had taken only a few days. It did not add up. She sighed in resignation at the realization, "Doctor, is this an insane asylum?"
"Oh, I wouldn't call it that!" the doctor laughed. "This is a private sanitarium. It's true that you're in a ward for the mentally ill, but you seem to be getting along all right. Now, can you answer my question? Of course, if it hurts to think about it, we can put it off until later. There's plenty of time, and you need a lot of rest."
"No, no," Sharon shook her head. "I can talk about it now. The last thing I remember was in the funeral home. I started to walk out of the door into the lobby-"
"And you collapsed in the doorway," the doctor finished. Sharon kept her mouth shut. Apparently she had never left the funeral home. The doctor continued, "You failed to respond to stimulants and a doctor was called. When you finally regained consciousness, you didn't speak or move. You wouldn't do anything for yourself unless you were told what to do. Is this tiring to you, Sharon? Just tell me if it is."
"Oh, I'm not that tired!" Sharon blinked up at him. "I want to know what happened."
"Well, I'm not going to take a chance on talking you to exhaustion!" the doctor laughed. "Your family lawyer had you placed in this sanitarium and we've been taking care of you for the past two months. Don't worry about insanity, if that's what's going through your mind. Emotional shock is a common occurrence. We'll have some more talks later on, but you just concentrate on resting right now." He stood up and walked to the door, the nurse following him. They stepped outside and Hazel half closed the door as the doctor addressed her, "I think she'll be all right now. Let me know right away if she shows any signs of nervousness."
Hazel laughed softly, "I'll keep her nice and relaxed, doctor."
"I'm sure you will." The doctor raised a knowing eyebrow. "Your personal interests are not a dark secret. Just don't do anything that might create complications." He paused and rubbed his chin. "By the way, I hope you didn't tell her anything about her aunt having been here before."
"Not a single word," Hazel shook her head. "That information is strictly confidential. I may flip over pretty girls, but business is business."
"Fine! Fine!" the doctor smile. "As long as we can keep these two things separated, everything will be satisfactory."
Hazel watched him turn and walk briskly down the hall, then opened the door and stepped back into the room. She walked over and sat down in the chair, gazing down at the girl in the tub, "Well, at least I won't have to feed you any more."
"Was I really that much of a bother?"
"Oh, it wasn't really a bother," laughed Hazel. "It just seemed such a shame that such a beautiful girl couldn't take care of herself."
"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Sharon asked. "That's a nice compliment from another female." "Honey, that's an honest statement," Hazel assured her. "I've bathed you so often, I know all of your curves." "That sounds like you've been getting intimate," laughed Sharon. "I don't remember any of it."
"Girl, you've just hurt my ego!" pouted Hazel. "Do you mean to say that you don't remember the slightest thing about this?" She reached out and dipped her hand into the water. As the hand slid under the surface, Sharon felt it touch the upper part of her breast lightly. The fingers caressed her full mound and curved under it to cup the breast gently. As Hazel squeezed and molded her breast, Sharon's nipple rose to a stiff point. Hazel felt it against her palm and pinched the pink erection between thumb and forefinger, drawing a quick gasp from Sharon.
"It's good to get a response from you," Hazel laughed softly. "Do you like that, baby?" Sharon smiled languidly, "It feels nice. Did you do that to me when I-wasn't here?"
"That isn't all I did to you." Hazel pulled the chair closer. Her hand moved more boldly now, caressing the other breast and bringing the nipple to a pink erection. She slipped her other arm around Sharon's shoulders in a smooth motion and the girl relaxed, enjoying the caresses. Her breath was coming faster as Hazel's lips brushed her forehead and she tilted her head back, resting it against the other woman's arm. Hazel's lips touched her gently, gradually increasing the pressure. Sharon dropped her arms loosely to her sides and parted her lips in an erotic invitation. Hazel accepted the opening and darted her tongue into the girl's mouth, plunging it hungrily inside in a wet caress.
Hazel's hand left Sharon's breast and slipped down farther, then rested on her abdomen. The girl was squirming with pleasure and making small sounds in her throat as her tongue tangled with the other woman's. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, agitating the water as she waited for Hazel's hand to move down farther. Hazel slowly caressed her belly, kneading the soft flesh. Gradually, the fingers worked lower until they were tangled in the soft, wet pubic hairs. Sharon spread her thighs and felt the hand slip over her pussy, grabbing it possessively as her index finger probed inside of the cleft of soft flesh. A thrill of rapture lanced through the girl's abdomen as Hazel's finger found her clitoris and began to expertly manipulate it. Weak with rapture, Sharon writhed her hips with sexual abandon as she felt her passions rising higher. Suddenly, the finger left her clitoris and stabbed into her vagina, forcing a gurgle of pleasure from her throat.
Sharon began arching her hips forward to meet the rhythmic thrusts of the finger into her belly. Her sexual system was aroused beyond her control and she knew that she was sailing toward a climax. Limp with rapture, she let Hazel take complete control of her body. The pleasure sensations seemed to go on forever and she did not want Hazel to stop. Still, she knew that she could not hold off her climax indefinitely. She stopped squirming as she felt a warmth building up higher and higher inside of her belly. Shuddering from the effort, she tried to hold off her orgasm to enjoy the thrilling experience a little longer. Without warning, all of her defenses collapsed and she felt an incredible rising of her sexual responses. Her whole body seemed to be engulfed in a soundless explosion as her organs responded to the stimulation with an orgasm that sent spasms of almost unbearable ecstasy coursing through her system.
Hazel finally drew away from her and gave a little laugh, "Gal, if you ever come like that when you're being fucked, you damn sure better have a pill inside of you!"
Sharon emitted a lazy giggle and looked dreamily up at Hazel, "Are you a lesbian?"
"Hell, no!" Hazel shook her head emphatically, "I'm a swinger. I take my sex any way I can get it, and I like a good cock just as much as you probably like it. I just get a tactile thrill out of petting pretty girls." She shifted her position and placed her hands under Sharon's armpits, "Come on now, honey. Let's get you out of that tub and dried off so you can get to bed. I think you'll sleep good tonight."
The next few weeks passed by without any sensational events. At first, the thoughts of hell kept intruding on Sharon's consciousness. They gradually assumed the position of curiosities and gave way to the more commonplace events of everyday living. The doctor insisted that Sharon remain in the hospital long enough for observation and rest, and she grudgingly accepted the decision. It was with a feeling of relief that she finally walked out of the front door with the family lawyer, a stout gray-haired man of about fifty who had handled her aunt's legal affairs for many years. Oswald S. R. Farnsworth was one of many similar men in his profession who became so accustomed to a client that it became a personal responsibility. He led Sharon out to the parking lot and opened the door of the long, low car that gave the impression of a limousine. Sharon settled into the front seat and her lawyer went around to the driver's side.
As he closed the door, Farnsworth rested his hands on the steering wheel for a moment as if thinking. Then he turned to face Sharon with a serious expression. "Sharon, I have taken the liberty of leasing an apartment for you on Lake Shore Drive. I seriously suggest that you move into it and stop living at the mansion."
"But what's wrong with the mansion, Mr. Farnsworth?" Sharon was puzzled. "It's well built and the servants are always there to take care of things."
Farnsworth brushed a hand carefully over his gray hair and gave a short laugh, "I wish I could break this to you more gently, Sharon, but the servants are no longer there."
Sharon observed him intently, "What happened? Were they afraid to live with someone who had been in a-mental hospital?"
"Oh, no! Of course not! It's nothing like that, my dear," Farnsworth assured her. "They claim that the house was haunted."
"Haunted!"
"Yes. Isn't that absolutely silly? Of course, people on that level are not very well educated and are subject to superstition." He sighed, "Nevertheless, they refused to work there any longer. I tried to reason with them, but finally paid them their final wages and dismissed them. Unfortunately, they started rumors about the place and I am having trouble getting others to replace them. I have retained a maintenance company to keep the place in order until you were able to leave the hospital."
"But what in the world gave them the idea that the house was haunted?" Sharon pressed him.
"Oh, people often get the idea when the owner of the house dies." Farnsworth shook his head sadly. "It seems a waste of a perfectly good house, but your aunt did die under peculiar circumstances. That, in itself, would be enough to light the fires of superstition in the average person's mind. Of course, you know as well as I do that there's no such thing as a ghost."
"Of course not," Sharon agreed. She stared pensively out of the windshield, "I'd like to stay there. It's such a nice place." Then she shrugged her shoulders. But I can't stay there alone with any hope of taking care of the place. It's just too big. I think I should stay here for a few days, though, to get the furniture and things put in storage until I figure out what to do with them."
The lawyer nodded. "That would be sensible. You're the only one who knows what you want to do with them. However, I don't think it would be wise for you to stay there alone." He started the engine, "I have a suggestion. I can arrange to have my partners handle the office affairs for a few days. I'll stay there in one of the guest rooms so you can be sure that someone you trust is available. Does that sound like a good idea to you?"
"It sounds wonderful!" Sharon smiled.
"Then it's done." Farnsworth drove the car out of the lot and onto the street, "We'll stop by my place long enough for me to pack a bag and call my partners."
They had dinner at a restaurant on Upper Michigan Avenue, then stopped at Farnsworth's apartment to pick up his bag. At a market on Sheridan Road, Sharon purchased enough groceries to stock the icebox for light meals. She did not intend to do any heavy cooking in the house. A wealthy young woman had no reason to waste her time with such things. About three hours later, they drove into the yard of the mansion. The ground was covered with light snow and looked so much like the scenes in hell, that she glanced quickly back to see if there were any cars on the street. For once she was relieved to see that the cars were so numerous that there were very few parking spaces.
Farnsworth gestured toward the house. "I had the maintenance company leave the lights on to discourage burglars."
The lights gleaming in the house windows were reassuring and Sharon relegated hell to the realm of bad dreams. She and Farnsworth spent the major part of the evening checking the contents of the house and discussing the best ways of storage or disposal. Around ten o'clock, they retired. Sharon went to her old room and undressed to get into bed. The maintenance company had kept the heating system in good order and the bedroom was quite comfortable. Sharon turned off the lights and crawled into bed, enjoying the comfort of her own sleeping facilities. She had no idea how long she had been sleeping when the sound awakened her. She listened for it again and felt her scalp crawl as an ear splitting scream shattered the night. She lay there shaking with terror for a few minutes. Then she gathered her courage and threw back the covers.
Walking quickly over to the closet, Sharon got a robe and slipped it over her nightgown. She put on a pair of slippers and moved over to the bedroom door. Opening it, she listened carefully. She heard the sound of a low moan coming from down the hall. Glancing over at the guest room, she assured herself that it was not coming from where Farnsworth was sleeping. She stepped out into the darkened hall, wondering why it had not aroused him. Walking quietly, she went down the hall, listening for a recurrence of the noise. A low, moaning sound seemed to come from the door of her late aunt's room.
Unconsciously holding her breath, Sharon gathered the courage to reach for the door knob. She turned it and slowly pushed open the door, almost giving vocal expression to the thrill of fear that tingled through her at the unexpected sight that met her eyes. The room was illumined only by the moonlight that came through the windows. A figure was sitting on the edge of the bed, solid enough to see, but almost translucent. It was the figure of a woman, bent forward with her arms pulled tightly behind her. Sharon was unable to move as she stared fascinated by the dark cord that was being carefully wrapped around the arms by some unseen presence, biting into the flesh and drawing moans of anguish from the apparition. The woman finally straightened up and Sharon almost screamed as she recognized her aunt Beatrice. Beatrice's dress had been pulled down to her waist and her naked breasts shook with her agitated breathing.
As Sharon watched, frozen to her position, Beatrice's head started shaking as though she was struggling to free herself from strong hands. She finally stopped moving and her shoulders slumped in resignation. Even in translucence, sweat could be seen glistening on her bare skin. Something appeared in front of her and Sharon saw that it was a large metal hook. Beatrice's head tilted up slightly and the point of the hook touched the soft flesh under her jaw, indenting the surface. A scream of anguish came from the woman's throat as the point slowly penetrated the skin and a trickle of blood ran down her slim neck. The hook sank deeper into the woman and she slowly opened her mouth. From between her lips, the point of the hook gradually protruded as gurgles of pain issued from her throat.
The hook jerked upward and Beatrice slowly rose to her feet, staring at the ceiling. As the hook through her jaw held her cruelly upright, Beatrice's garments began to work down over her hips, pulled by unseen hands. Her body was younger than Sharon could remember it. The thought flashed through Sharon's mind that hell could do anything with a body. Beatrice finally stood beside the bed completely naked. Sharon felt her own breathing quicken as she observed the agony of the apparition and she raised her hand to her trembling breast. With a flush, she noted that the nipple of her breast was standing stiffly as a delicious tremor went through her loins.
A gurgling scream came from Beatrice as a livid mark suddenly appeared on her white flesh, crossing over the tops of her soft, full breasts. Another mark suddenly appeared on the tender flesh of her belly and seemed to encircle her body. She writhed and sweated under the unseen lashing as the marks gradually multiplied on her white skin. Sharon was trembling with uncontrollable desire and could almost feel the lash striking her own body. A small whimper escaped her lips as she knew that she wanted it to be lashing her. She wanted to feel the pain! She watched the apparition with envy as the feeling of rapture grew in her belly. Without warning, her abdomen was suffused with ecstasy as she panted and squirmed her back against the wall. She rubbed her hand between her thighs to urge the feeling to greater duration.
Through passion hot eyes, Sharon watched the apparition's head pulled downward. The hook extended through her mouth like a sharp black tongue as she was turned toward the door. Beatrice began staggering toward Sharon, her naked body shaking with terror. As she moved toward the door, pulled steadily by the cruel hook, Sharon got a closer look at her face and saw that ecstasy was mingled with the expression of pain. The nipples of her jiggling breasts were standing like rigid pink points. The muscles of her abdomen were rippling spasmodically as sounds of rapture gurgled from her throat. As she came closer-to the door, her image became less distinct until the room could be seen clearly through it. Then the vision was gone.
Sharon leaned weakly against the wall of the silent room, panting from the exhaustion of the experience. She finally stumbled over to the bed and saw that there was not a mark on it to show that anyone had been there. Eyes wide with horrified fascination, she gazed at the door of the bedroom. She knew that it had not been a ghost. It couldn't be! If the servants had heard the sounds, it could not be her imagination. She had just seen her aunt and she knew that Beatrice was in hell. Then she had passed through the door, she had gone to greater torments and hideous pleasures. Sharon envied her.
CHAPTER TEN
Sharon made no mention of what she had seen. There had been no response to the event from Farnsworth, and Sharon assumed that she had been the only one to see and hear the apparition of Beatrice. From what the lawyer had told her, she knew that the servants who had left had never seen anything. They had just heard strange sounds and the opening and closing of doors. Sharon knew that Farnsworth would suggest that she go back to the hospital if she told him what she had witnessed. The next few days were without incident. There was no recurrence of the visitation and the house was finally emptied of its contents. Arrangements were made to have the windows boarded up to discourage vandalism and Sharon closed the front door of the mansion for the last time.
For a while, she amused herself with decorating the new apartment and shopping for furniture to fit it. After a few weeks, boredom set in and Sharon began paying attention to the young men in the building.
There was a little excitement in this for a time. She let some of them get into her cunt and enjoyed the feeling of strong cock pounding and ejaculating in her belly. After a few sessions of that sort, she attempted to tease the men into hurting her a little. Unfortunately, they thought it was an innocent game and it only resulted in a few very unsatisfying pinches. Her body craved much more than that. She kept remembering the last night of Beatrice and imagined the pain of that hook in her own mouth. The thought of a whip lashing her naked body was almost more than she could bear. In the privacy of her apartment, she experimented on herself; slowly pushing pins into her naked breasts as she masturbated. She finally gave that up in despair. The pins could be pulled out any time she wished, and the real thrill was in being helpless under torture.
If she was certain that there really was such a place as hell she believed she had seen, she would simply have committed suicide. But here was no guarantee that it was not a figment of her imagination; a nightmare brought on by shock. The sight of Beatrice might only have been an illusion; a wish fulfillment. There was no way to be sure that she had ever really been tortured. But the craving for torment was most certainly real, and she searched desperately for a solution to her problem. She began collecting things with no definite plan in mind. Perhaps it was merely the desire to have the tools of torment close to her and enjoy the secret thrill of their presence. The handcuffs had been the first purchase. Then the coil of rope. She cut it into four sections and formed slip knots on the ends, imagining herself spread-eagled and helpless before some fiend. The items accumulated: the sharp spikes, the needles, small wood carving tools and any other item that she supposed might be capable of inflicting excruciating pain in the hands of a dedicated sadist.
She kept them locked in a suitcase in the closet, taking them out sometimes when the maid was gone for the day. Her outward personality showed no signs of the debased cravings that boiled inside of her, and she went about her affairs in a normal manner. She now began to suspect the reason why Beatrice had killed herself. It may not have been deliberate. Perhaps Beatrice had experienced actual torment at the hands of someone she knew. Her tormentor may not have been available when she needed the experience desperately. In such a state, she may not have considered the permanence of hanging without having someone to release her. Of course, she might have simply wanted the ultimate thrill of dying helplessly. Sharon wondered if she had an orgasm in that final moment. There was no way to know.
Sharon was certain of one thing; the craving inside of her demanded release. She needed the feeling of a tormentor using her body as he wished. She could not say when the idea of what she would do took its final form. One evening, she pulled the suitcase out of the closet. She dressed carefully in her most feminine garments. A touch of the right perfume to enhance the delicacy of her femininity. She knew what she wanted and wondered if it would make any difference to him. Perhaps it would at first. After that, what did it matter? Sharon glanced around the apartment and caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She looked like a beautiful girl dressed up for a date. It might be the ultimate date. She picked up the suitcase and walked out of the door.
It was only a short drive to the Loop and she waited impatiently at the traffic signals on State Street. It was getting toward the end of winter and there was only a light snow on the ground. A chill was still in the air and Sharon wanted it in the atmosphere that she remembered. Everything had to be just right. She sighed with satisfaction as she approached Skid Row. There would be no hesitation on her part, but she needed a man who was equally interested. She drove slowly along the street until she saw the marquee of a theater. She had seen the advertisement in the newspaper. The movie that was being shown was one of those that advertised with a photo of a girl being tormented. It was probably just a still made for the publicity and had nothing to do with the real movie. Such a movie would no doubt frustrate the viewer. A frustrated man. That was what she wanted. It made no difference what he looked like.
She parked the car at the curb near the theater and switched off the engine. Relaxing against the back of the seat, she lit a cigarette and kept her eyes on the people passing by the theater. Then she saw him and knew that he would do if she could get him. He was fairly tall and thin, with unshaven cheeks and a baggy suit that looked like it had not been cleaned in months. Standing in front of the gaudy picture, he shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned forward to study the photo of a half nude girl suspended by her wrists. Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he counted some small change and glanced at the price on the box office. Shrugging, he shoved the money back into his pocket and started to shuffle away. Sharon noted with relief that he was moving in her direction. She quickly moved over on the seat and waited until he was close to the car. Then she leaned her head out of the window.
"Hey, mister!"
The man looked up and blinked his eyes. "You talkin' to me, lady?"
"Yes, I was," Sharon smiled. She beckoned with her hand. "Come over here for a minute. I want to ask you something."
He hesitated for a moment, then shuffled over to the car. "You got a cigarette, lady? I could sure use a smoke."
Sharon produced a package of cigarettes and a book of matches. "Take them all. I have enough money to buy a factory." She tried to keep her voice casual, not wanting to scare him off. "What's your name?"
The man lit a cigarette and grinned at her with stained teeth. "My name's Maury. If you can buy a factory, what are you doin' down on the row? It can get pretty dangerous on this street."
"Maybe I'm looking for danger." Sharon returned the smile. "A rich girl's life gets pretty monotonous." She pushed open the door, "Come on in and make yourself comfortable."
Maury hesitated again and looked at her suspiciously. "You settin' me up for the cops?"
"A cop is the last thing I want to see," Sharon assured him. She moved over behind the steering wheel and patted the seat beside her, "Come on. I won't hurt you." As he got into the car, she could smell his body. He had probably forgotten when he had taken his last bath. The girl felt a quiver of anticipation. "I saw you looking at that movie advertisement. Do you like that sort of thing?"
Through the cigarette smoke, Maury could detect the aura of her perfume and his cock began to firm. "Yeah, sure." He shrugged. "Only I don't have the dough to see it. You got an extra buck on you?"
"Of course I have," laughed Sharon. "But why spend the money when you can get the real thing free?" She knew that he might break and run, but she placed her hand lightly on his leg, "I'm talking about me. How would you like to go all the way on a body like this?"
Maury glanced nervously out of the window of the car, then back at Sharon. "You serious, lady? You're sure you ain't settin' me up for the cops? I been in the Bridewell too many times, and I ain't itchin' to go back."
"Of course I'm serious," Sharon purred. She shifted her hand farther onto his lap and felt his cock stiffening. Her fingers closed over it through the fabric of his pants and it suddenly grew long and hard. As she gently massaged it, she whispered, "What were you in for, Maury?"
Maury was relaxing and his hand moved over onto her leg, the calloused fingers caressing her bare thigh. "Aw, I got mixed up with a little kid several years ago and they keep pickin' me up on suspicion. They couldn't prove nothin'." He grinned. "But they were right. I fucked her good and pinched her a little bit to get some noise out of her. I get a real good hard-on watchin' a broad squirm." He narrowed his eyes. "You really serious about lettin' me do it to you?"
Sharon's voice was unsteady as she fondled his cock. "Y-yes I am. That is, if you'll do it the way I want it. I want it real rough." She suddenly pulled her hand away and reached for the gear shift. She knew she had her man. '"I know a place where we won't be bothered."
Sharon drove several blocks from where they had met. Maury puffed nervously on his cigarette, his fingers shaking a little as he wondered how far this babe would let him go. It still might be a police trap and he kept his hands to himself to be on the safe side. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She had a hell of a nice body and he could almost feel those big tits in his hands, squeezing them until she screamed for mercy. He pulled his eyes away with difficulty and concentrated on the road they were following. Sharon turned the car off of the street and into an alley, the headlights illuminating dilapidated buildings. The tires crunched on accumulated cinder deposits of many years as she maneuvered carefully through the darkness. She finally pulled to a stop behind an old brick building with boarded up windows.
"This is the place," Sharon almost whispered, but her voice sounded strangely loud in the absolute silence of the alley. "We don't have to worry about being bothered. I own this building and it hasn't been used for years.
No one would ever imagine that we're inside."
"How do we get into the joint?" Maury surveyed the structure, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he squinted his eyes at it.
"I have the key to the back door," Sharon informed him. She waited for a few seconds, then asked impatiently, "Well, aren't you going to do something? I didn't come out here for nothing."
Maury shook his head quickly. "I ain't gonna do nothin' out here, lady! A cop could still catch us. When we get inside of that place, you'll get more than you bargained for."
"I hope so," the girl laughed nervously, "Get that bag from the back seat, will you?" She got out quickly and walked around to the building. Inserting the key into a large lock, she worked it in the stubborn metal. It finally opened the lock and she lifted it from the hasp. Stepping back to the car, she removed a flashlight from the glove compartment. "There are a few lights in the building, but we'll use this upstairs so nobody will get curious."
They entered the door, Maury carrying the heavy suitcase. The flashlight stabbed down a long, dusty hall and revealed peeling paint on walls that had not been repaired for years. Sharon took the lead and their footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. She stopped in front of a door and pushed it open on creaking hinges. Walking carefully, they descended a flight of concrete steps. Sharon located a light switch at the bottom of the stairs and flipped it upward. Two bare light bulbs abruptly illuminated a basement room. It gave every appearance of having once been some kind of a work room, and a hoist chain still hung from the ceiling in the center. An accumulation of debris was scattered around the cracked concrete floor and the bare brick walls showed the ravages of time.
"You can open the suitcase and pick out whatever you want." Sharon's heart was pounding as she enjoyed the sensation of being completely at his mercy. "It has a lot of things you can use on me. That chain in the middle of the room would be good for hanging me up by my wrists."
As she watched Maury eagerly opening the bag, Sharon shrugged the short coat from her shoulders and let it slide to the floor. She lifted her arms and reached behind her neck to pull down the zipper, loosening the dress around her shoulders. Grasping the hem of the skirt, she lifted it over her head and dropped the dress on the floor. Clad only in her underclothes, she was suddenly aware of the cold of the basement and shivered. It was still winter and the bare room was like an icebox. With trembling fingers, she reached behind her back and unfastened the brassiere. She slipped the straps from her slim shoulders, aware that Maury had stopped examining the suitcase and was watching her with avid eyes. She plucked the cups from her breasts and the soft mounds swung free, the nipples standing pinkly erect. She removed her shoes, then hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband of her panties and slid them down the smooth length of her thighs. Slipping the panties from her ankles, she straightened up completely naked.
Maury stared at the girl with uninhibited interest. Without her clothes, she looked like a teenager, but stacked as only a woman could be. He licked his tongue across his lips as he recalled that little girl of a few years ago. This was much better and there was nothing to stop him. He strode nervously toward Sharon and plucked the panties from her hand. "Open your mouth!" he commanded hoarsely. Sharon obediently parted her lips, guessing his intention. Curling his fingers into her soft brown hair, Maury lifted the panties to the girl's mouth and began pushing the garment inside. Sharon grunted a little as he stuffed the cloth into her mouth until her cheeks were puffed. He was panting when he had finished. "There! Now I won't have to worry about no one com in' in and findin' us."
Sharon stood silently, quivering with anticipation as Maury brought over a length of rope. He made no move to touch her body. There was plenty of time and both of them knew it. He pulled Sharon's wrists together in front of her and she made a slight sound of pain as he bound the rope tightly around them. The floor was cold and rough against her bare feet as he led her over to the chain. Tying the rope firmly to a ring in the end of the chain, he left her and went over to lift a loose end of the pulley. He started pulling and the rusty metal scraped against the wheels as the chains slowly rose. Sharon felt her arms being lifted steadily above her head. Then the weight of her body was straining at her muscles and she rose up on her toes. She emitted a muffled gasp as her toes left the floor and her arms took the entire weight of her torso. Perspiration gleamed on her nude flesh as she was lifted several inches into the air. Her full breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she thrilled to the feeling of being completely helpless.
Watching the girl hanging defenselessly in the center of the room, Maury felt free to use her as he wished. All of his erotic dreams of torturing a beautiful woman were finally coming true and he stepped forward with an awed expression on his face. He ran his hands over the naked body, losing any inhibitions he may have had as he felt the satiny flesh under his fingers. Watching her face, he closed his fingers around one of the full hanging breasts and slowly sank them into the flesh as he listened with fascination to her groans of agony. The girl was sweating and quivering when his fingers left her breasts and she was panting from the exertion. Her nipples stood up stiffly, attesting to the erotic effect it had on her. She watched Maury turn and walk over to the suitcase. Knowing everything that was in it, she wondered what instrument he would choose to begin the torture.
Maury lifted a whip from the case and Sharon trembled, almost feeling the lash on her flesh already. He walked over behind her and she felt his rough hand brush across her shoulders, then slide slowly down her naked back. She wanted to cry out to him to hurry up and beat the shit out of her, but the gag in her mouth kept her silent. The hand left her back and she heard his footsteps moving away. The steps stopped and she waited silently, the tension building up in her. Suddenly, a streak of fire ran across her back and curled around her shoulders to bite excruciatingly into the unprotected flesh of her breasts. A muffled scream came from her throat and was stopped by the gag. The whip struck again, slashing around her full buttocks and ripping across her belly. She jerked her hips and sweat poured over her naked skin. Her abdominal muscles rippled as she breathed in labored gasps. She writhed and kicked her legs as the whip lashed her again. Helplessly suspended by her wrists, she could not keep up the gyrations for very long and finally hung limply, groaning as the whip had its way with her body.
Completely lost in the release of his frustrations, Maury wielded the whip like a madman. His eyes stared wildly as he watched the lash create crimson stripes on the white flesh of the nude girl's twitching body. Her moaning sent tremors of excitement through him and his cock was pressing stiffly against his pants. He dropped the whip and quickly stripped off his clothing until he was as naked as the girl. Stooping to retrieve the whip, he walked around in front of the girl, oblivious to the cold air on his unclothed body. Staring up at her sweating face with a crazy smile, he closed his hand over the hard length of his cock and slowly pumped it as she watched him with wide eyes. He stopped his own pleasures before reaching the point of ejaculation and raised the whip. Bringing it down across the full mounds of her breasts, he listened gleefully to her muffled scream of pain.
Gasping with passion, Maury knew that he could not hold out any longer. He dropped the whip and stepped toward the lash-scarred girl. His arms went around her and he felt the naked body tremble in his embrace. He shoved a knee between her thighs and they spread limply apart. Shoving his hand between them, he grasped his cock and placed the head at the furry cleft of her vulva. The feeling of the soft hairs against his penis almost made him come, and he held himself back with difficulty. Grunting and sweating, he felt the soft flesh spread open under the pressure of his stiff organ. He knew that his cock was big and it felt like the biggest thing in creation as he forced it into the girl. She emitted small moans and he hoped that it was hurting her. God, he liked to hear her groan! He tightened his arms around her waist to hurt her a little more and thrilled at the results as he bored his cock into the hot wetness of her vagina.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Maury started ramming his cock in and out of the soft tunnel. Exquisite sensations went through his penis each time he pushed it into Sharon's cunt and felt her body surround it. Her hot breath panted against his cheek as he pressed her tightly against him and concentrated on the growing rapture that suffused his loins. The wet slapping of their bellies and animal grunts were the only sounds in the cold room. Maury felt a surging in his cock and jammed it deep and hard into the girl's belly. Abruptly, his penis began ejaculating and hurling his hot semen into her vagina and he heard her muffled squeals of ecstasy. Panting, he enjoyed the continual spurts of his juice into the surrounding cunt. He finally stopped coming and clung tightly to her for a moment, savoring the delicious after effects of the good fuck.
With a sigh of contentment, he pulled out his cock and stepped back. He watched with fascination as his semen leaked out of her wet pussy and dribbled down the insides of her thighs. Then he laughed hoarsely as he lifted a hand and slapped it hard across one of her luscious breasts, listening appreciatively to her grunt of pain as the mound swayed and bounced under the blow. She was all his to do whatever he wanted with her and no one to interfere. With a feeling of elation, he turned and walked over to the suitcase. He fumbled around inside, looking for something that wouldn't damage her too much. He wanted her to last real long. The bloody stuff could come later, after he had marked up her body so much that the only thing left was tearing her slowly to pieces. He found a packet of long pins and nodded with satisfaction. Walking back to the suspended girl, he opened the packet and withdrew a shiny steel shaft. Lifting it, he placed the sharp point against the white flesh of her breast and began slowly pushing it in. As it sank into the skin, the girl writhed her hips slowly and tormented sounds came from her throat. He worked carefully until he had about two dozen pins inserted into her tits. Sweat was streaming from the girl's helpless body as she squirmed with pain.
Maury was panting as he rubbed his hand across his hairy chest and surveyed his handiwork. Jeesus, she had a beautiful body! The desecration of such a delicate form was all he had ever dreamed it would be. He stepped over to his discarded clothing and picked up the pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he let the smoke drift out of his nostrils as he returned to face the girl. He puffed the tip into a glowing coal as the girl watched it with macabre fascination. Reaching out a hand, he carefully held the cigarette beneath one of her breasts. He slowly raised it until the hot tip was close to the skin. He could almost hear it sizzle as the burning end touched the white flesh. Smoke curled away from it as Sharon jerked her body in agony. Pulling away with a harsh laugh, Maury lowered it to the front of her belly and touched the hot coal to the flesh just below her navel. The girl's abdominal muscles convulsed and she arched her hips backward, then swung forward in reaction to the movement, jamming her belly hard against the torturing fire as she emitted muffled screams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maury wiped the sweat from his forehead and reached out again with the cigarette, giggling uncontrollably. The hot tip was almost touching the twitching flesh when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He jerked his head around and the cigarette dropped from his fingers as he stared in astonishment. The figure of a tall man was standing there, quietly watching him. Maury licked his suddenly dry lips as he noticed that the man blocked the way to the stairs. He cleared his throat and his voice sounded hoarse to his ears. "Who are you?"
The man curled the corner of his mouth contemptuously and jerked a thumb toward the stairs, "GET OUT!"
Hesitating, Maury measured the man. He obviously was not a cop. The stranger was dressed in a neat gray business suit, and traces of snow were on his shoes. He was as tall as Maury and his shoulders were much wider, but the skid row bum wondered if he could take him. Without warning, the man strode forward. Before Maury could move, a hand lashed out and the palm struck the side of his face with surprising power. The blow sounded sharply in the empty room and Maury staggered backward, the strength leaking out of his knees.
"I am accustomed to being obeyed!" The man's voice was clear and self-assured, accurately supporting his words.
"Yes, sir! I'll get out right now!" Maury scrambled toward his clothing, suddenly conscious of his nudity. His ears still ringing from the blow, he hastily pulled on his clothing. As he headed for the steps, he glanced quickly back at the suspended figure of the naked girl. It would have been nice to cut her and watch the blood flow, but at least he had been able to whip her and torture her a little. Besides that, she had been a damned good fuck. Then he caught sight of the expression on the stranger's face and ran up the stairs.
The tall man listened for a moment to the footsteps vanishing down the upstairs hall. He returned his attention to the room and strolled over to the suitcase, gazing down in it for a moment. He looked back at the girl still hanging limply from the chains, her eyes fixed on him in fascination. Reaching up a hand, he brushed back his carefully combed blond hair and commented, "That was a stupid thing for you to do." He walked over to Sharon, circling her without touching her and visually examining the whip marks and cigarette burns, shaking his head in disgust, "Amateur! Incredibly amateur!"
He stopped in front of Sharon without making any attempt to release her and examined the pins in her breasts. Reaching up, he delicately grasped the head of one of the pins between thumb and forefinger. Slowly and carefully, he began to withdraw it from the soft white mound. The girl felt a thrill of pain shoot through her breast and started panting. She moaned as he pulled out another pin just as carefully. The man's face was expressionless as he continued with his task, but Sharon could feel tremors in her loins that were reaching the level of rapture. Her abdominal muscles twitched and she suddenly emitted a muffled sound of pleasure as ecstasy surged through her belly. When it finally subsided, the man was removing the last pin.
The man reached up and probed his fingers into Sharon's mouth. Tugging at the nylon, he carefully pulled the panties out of her mouth. The girl gasped for air and cried out, "Jerry! Jerry! Why did you stop him? You know how much I need it!"
Jerry stiffened for a moment, then quickly regained his composure. "What did you call me?" Sharon blinked her eyes innocently at him, searching his face. "M-master?"
Jerry lifted an eyebrow and a slight smile touched his lips. "Very good. Don't forget that. We'll discuss the matter in greater detail later. I'm going to lower you to the floor and I don't want any arguments."
Stepping it to the loose end of the chain, he worked at it carefully as Sharon felt herself descending. Her feet touched the floor and she shivered at the cold of the surface. The man worked quickly at the knots holding her hands and she swayed limply against him as they came loose. Jerry held her upright for a moment, then stepped away. He snapped his fingers and pointed commandingly at her clothing.
"Get dressed," he ordered.
Sharon hurried meekly over to the pile of feminine garments and began to put them on. She turned to speak to him and then closed her mouth as she saw that he had ignored her as if she was nothing. He was systematically picking up the items that had been taken from the suitcase and replacing them in the container. Snapping it shut, he lifted it with ease and turned to see how much progress Sharon was making.
He watched her quietly for a moment, then asked, "Does a slave keep her master waiting?"
Sharon glanced up quickly from putting on her shoes. "No, master!"
A thrill of submission tingled through the girl as she hurriedly picked up her coat and slipped her arms into the sleeves. She walked over to Jerry and he handed the flashlight to her, gesturing for her to precede him to the stairs. He followed her and switched off the ceiling lights, plunging the room into darkness.
The beam from the flashlight guided their steps through the upper hall and they walked quietly to the outside door. A chill wind was sweeping down the alley and Sharon held her coat close to her as she watched Jerry close the door and lock it. Without hesitation, Jerry moved quickly over to the driver's side of the car. He picked up a man's topcoat from the front seat and placed it in the back of the car with the suitcase. Then he slid in behind the steering wheel and glanced impatiently at Sharon. The girl stepped into the car and closed the door, then leaned meekly back against the seat.
"OUCH!" She leaned quickly forward and gasped as her tender breasts touched the front of her dress. Jerry gave a short laugh. "Does it hurt?"
"Yes," Sharon replied in a small voice, then added, "But I liked it. I wish he could have done more to me."
"You were incredibly stupid." Jerry surveyed her without sympathy. "An amateur doesn't know when to stop." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys, "You even left the keys in the car.
He could have left you there and driven off with it."
"I don't care! I don't care!" Sharon suddenly buried her face in her hands. "I needed it, Jerry! I needed to have someone hurt me! None of the other men would do it!"
Jerry observed her silently for a moment, then slipped the key into the ignition. He turned it and started the engine. The car was gliding smoothly down the alley before he spoke again. "I'm taking you to my apartment. I don't want to hear another word out of you until we get there."
Driving north to Chicago Avenue, Jerry turned east until he reached Rush Street. He waited patiently at the traffic light, then turned north again and drove carefully through the night club district. In a few minutes, they were cruising down a quiet side street and turning into the driveway of a high-rise apartment building. Jerry switched off the ignition. The sound of the door opening sent echoes through the concrete room as he stepped outside. He reached into the back seat and picked up the suitcase and topcoat. He draped the coat casually over his arm and Sharon followed him to the elevator. A quiet ride upward brought them to a richly carpeted hall and a short walk to a door into which Jerry inserted a key.
He switched on the light in the living room. "I've only got five rooms here. A bachelor doesn't need more than that."
The furniture was the slim-line variety of modern that gave the room a spacious appearance. Sharon paused for a moment to make a woman's survey and then walked over to a chair. She sat down and looked up at Jerry as he set the suitcase down next to the wall. "When did you get here?"
Jerry glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, you know I've been away. Beatrice must have told you." Sharon shook her head. "Aunt Beatrice didn't know about it until about a month ago."
Jerry had started toward the kitchen, then stopped and turned around. "What are you talking about? Beatrice knew I was leaving for an executive seminar at the main office several months ago." He tilted his head and observed her carefully. "You are Sharon Kilmer, aren't you? Beatrice didn't mention any other girl in her family."
"Of course I'm Sharon," she nodded. Then she furrowed her brow in puzzlement. "Executive seminar?"
Jerry nodded affirmatively. "That's right. I've been in New York since last August. New things are coming along fast in computer design and there was a lot to catch up on." He shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled back to face Sharon. "But let's get back to this situation. Beatrice didn't tell me that you were the slave type. She should have brought you to the club a long time ago." He grinned, "I think I'm going to beat the shit out of her for that."
"B-but, Jerry!" Sharon shook her head in confusion. "Aunt Beatrice is dead. She's on the other side of the barrier."
"Dead?" Jerry spoke the word softly. There was no remorse in the statement. Just a hint of surprise. He turned and walked over to the window. As he gazed out over the lake, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one absently. After a short silence, he turned around and strolled over to a chair. Settling into it, he relaxed and gestured at Sharon with the cigarette, "Something isn't adding up here. Tell me what happened. How did Beatrice die and how do you fit into the picture?"
Sharon gazed at him in a brief silence. Jerry should know all of the facts. Then she shrugged her shoulders and began covering the events following the discovery of her aunt's body. Jerry watched her impassively as she worked her way into the details of her sojourn in hell. Under the surface, his libido was reacting as he listened attentively to her descriptions of the torments she had endured. His cock was pressing firmly against the front of his pants and reaching its full erotic proportions. As she described her pick-up of Maury and the preparations in the basement, he held up his hand for silence.
"Come over here!" he commanded. Sharon obediently rose to her feet and walked quickly over to stand before him. He pointed at the floor. "Get down on your knees in front of me." He had difficulty in controlling himself as she knelt at his feet. Jerry stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and ordered her, "Suck my cock!"
Sharon hesitated for a second, then reached out a small hand. She fumbled with the zipper at the front of his pants, trembling as she reached inside and closed her hand around the throbbing warmth of his male organ. She pulled it carefully into the open and pumped it slowly, fascinated by its virile dimensions. Her breath was coming faster as she moistened her lips and leaned forward until her lips were close to the broad head. Extending the tip of her tongue, she touched it to the warm male flesh. Growing bolder, she licked her tongue around the head of the cock, then pursed her lips around it. Her mouth opened wider and small sounds of pleasure came from her throat as she took the full width of the rigid penis inside. Panting, she slowly forced her mouth down over the cock, thrilling to the feeling of it sliding over her tongue. It filled her mouth and was almost to the back of her throat when she finally began pulling her head back.
Holding the base of the cock with both hands, Sharon began sliding her mouth up and down its throbbing length until it was shiny with her saliva. Jerry gazed down at her, watching her intently as her head bobbed up and down on his penis. The warm wetness of her mouth around his cock was sending thrills through his loins and he had difficulty in keeping from coming. Controlling himself, he let her work at it until a sheen of perspiration glistened on her forehead. Finally, he knew that he could not control himself any longer and he placed his hands on each side of her head to hold her still. He carefully wedged his cock deep into her mouth and felt it suddenly jerk. His hot semen spurted into her throat in hard jets, and Sharon dropped her hands loosely into her lap as she submissively swallowed the stream of male liquid that ejaculated hotly into her mouth.
"You can go back to the other chair now," Jerry gestured imperiously as he relaxed against the back of the chair. He watched Sharon rise to her feet and move quickly back to her chair. She sank down into it and stared at him with worshipful eyes. Jerry lit a cigarette and contemplated her for a moment, then smiled. "This is going to be a surprise to you, Sharon. So far as I know, I never met you before tonight."
"B-but how else would I know your name?" Sharon looked at him in astonishment. "How else would you know where I was?"
"There are simple answers to both questions. Beatrice could have mentioned my name to you, or you could have overheard it when she was speaking to me on the phone." He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to speak. "Now just be quiet until I'm finished talking. I have no logical explanation for being in that part of town. That much I admit. However, I knew where you were because I saw the car parked in the alley. The license number is registered in Beatrice's name, so I decided to look into the matter. Finding you was just a matter of walking into the building. The lack of any signs of a struggle indicated that you had gone there willingly. The rest was obvious." He paused to puff gently on the cigarette, then continued. "Now about myself. I've lived in Chicago all of my life. I was born here-I think. I was an orphan, so I don't know for sure. Anyway, I grew up in this city, so it doesn't seem possible that I could have been in the hell you described."
"Y-you don't believe me," Sharon murmured, experiencing a sinking sensation in her stomach.
"I didn't say that," Jerry shook his head. "I do believe you." He grinned at her surprised expression. "I believe you because I want to believe you. I like the idea. I'm a sadist and I admit it, so hell would have been a perfect place to be born." He examined the burning end of his cigarette, "I suppose I'm partly responsible for Beatrice's death. She liked to be tormented and I whipped her many times. She was a good fuck and a damned good slave. I suppose I should have arranged for the club to discipline her while I was gone, but it's too late to correct that situation. Still, she was a damned fool for trying to torment herself when I wasn't here to give her orders. Wait until I get some drinks." He rose to his feet and strolled into the kitchen. Sharon heard the tinkle of glasses and he returned a few minutes later and handed her one of the cold drinks that he carried. Settling back into his chair, he continued. "Okay, let's believe that I'm the Jerry Bascomb that you knew in hell. If they, and I, could manipulate time the way you described it, they could have sent me across the time barrier as a child. After all, I have no family and it's a fabulous explanation. They manipulated your mind during the tortures, so they could do the same thing to my mind. In fact, they could have erased my memories."
Sharon looked puzzled. "But what kind of an exile would it be if you didn't know you were exiled?"
Jerry sipped his drink and contemplated the ice cube for a moment, then glanced up at her seriously. "I think you've already supplied the answer to that question. You've told me the story of hell. I know about the exile. I have always been convinced that I was born to be a master. I definitely dislike being disobeyed, and that's probably what makes me such a good executive. Believe me, I have nothing but contempt for these little people who populate our world. They play with their little moralities like an idiot flipping his lip, and think that they've accomplished wonders. It's a greater pleasure to take the things that you need without remorse."
Sharon rubbed her hand across her forehead. "I'm still confused. If you grew up here, then you knew about me and were responsible for your own exile."
Jerry laughed sharply, feeling very much in command of the situation. "It only sounds like a paradox here. You already pointed out that a paradox doesn't exist in a place where time can be shifted to suit one's own desires. Let's not get tangled up in explanations that fit the time pattern of this side of the barrier. That would only result in endless and stupid rationalizations. I am a master and you are a slave. That is sufficient. With Beatrice gone, I need another personal slave. You will do perfectly. You need to be constantly reminded of your place."
"Then why did you stop Maury from torturing me?"
"Because he was an idiot!" Jerry sneered, "He would have wrecked your body without any thought of being able to use it again. Remember, only comparatively minor repairs can be made in the world in which we live at present. Only an accomplished master knows how far to go so that something will be left for another time. Your body is good for years of torture if handled properly." He carefully set his glass on the small table beside the chair, then suddenly clapped his hands sharply together. The sound was unexpectedly loud in the room and Sharon almost spilled her drink as she looked up at him in surprise. Jerry's face had assumed a superior expression, "Take off your clothes!"
Sharon slowly set the glass down on a table and looked apprehensively at the uncurtained window, "But somebody might see-"
"Never mind the window." Jerry's voice was firm. "I am accustomed to being obeyed. Strip naked!"
Sharon trembled at the commanding tone of his voice and quickly rose to her feet. With shaking fingers, she began removing her clothing. The garments, became a small pile of cloth on the couch until she was finally naked, cringing as she awaited his next order.
Jerry snapped his fingers imperiously. "Get the handcuffs from the bag and be quick about it!"
Sharon's breasts were rising and falling agitatedly with her rapid breathing as she felt a thrill of humiliation. She walked rapidly over to the suitcase and un-snapped the catches. With trembling fingers, she located the handcuffs and brought them back to Jerry.
Eyes wide with uncertainty, she extended the metal bracelets toward him.
His gaze was unswervingly stern and his lips thinned as he asked softly, "Does a slave look down at her master?"
"N-no, master!" Sharon replied in a small voice as the strength seemed to leak out of her legs. She sank to her knees in front of him and he took the cuffs from her hands. At his order, she turned her back toward him and placed her hands behind her. The delicious feeling of cold metal encircled her wrists and snapped shut.
"Now stand up in the middle of the room and face me," Jerry commanded. Sharon rose awkwardly to her feet and moved to the center of the room. She knew that her nipples were standing up stiffly and she blushed uncontrollably. Jerry surveyed her whip-marked flesh for a few moments of silence. Then he assumed an expression of disgust. "STUPID! Absolutely stupid!"
Sharon hung her head in humiliation, "I won't do it again, master."
"You're damned right you won't." Jerry took a sip from his glass and licked his lips appreciatively. "I'm going to put you in a place where you will be taught obedience. Yes! There is such a place. In this stupid world, masters and slaves require a special place in which to practice the correct life without interference. It's something like a club, Sharon, only you will not have any of the luxuries. A slave is too low to appreciate the finer things." He repressed a smile as he watched a flush suffuse her cheeks and spread down over her naked breasts. "Tomorrow, you will make arrangements so that you will not be missed for at least thirty days. The rule of our group is that a slave must have thirty days of intensive training without any outside contacts. You're an awkward slave. Stupid and undisciplined! Do you agree?"
Sharon blinked her eyes at him, almost hypnotized by his superior mannerisms. "Y-yes, master. I am a very ignorant slave. I need a great deal of training."
"It's a good beginning. At least you have a small idea of your insignificance." Jerry stood up and strolled over to the cowering girl. He gestured toward a table, "Go over and lean across that table." Sharon obeyed him without hesitation. She bent over the table until her breasts were resting on the surface. The position raised her wide buttocks and Jerry ran his hand over the soft white flesh. He ran a finger between the cheeks of her ass and Sharon gasped as she felt his digit thrust suddenly into her rectum. She looked apprehensively at the window, but held her position as his finger explored the inside of her body. He grunted his disapproval, "You need to be opened up. While you're being trained, you will be the property of any master who requires your services. I will not permit you to embarrass me by presenting them with an asshole that is too tight to be properly fucked."
Trembling uncontrollably, Sharon felt the blunt end of his cock press between the cheeks of her ass. He wedged it in until the stiff organ was pushing at her anus, then paused for a moment to place his hands on each side of her hips. The girl grunted as she felt the head of the penis begin thrusting against her opening. Suddenly, she cried out in pain as she felt her body beginning to spread open to receive it. Sweat glistened on her naked body and her breath was coming in gasps as the large male organ slowly widened her aperture. She groaned as he abruptly shoved and her anus expanded to the correct diameter to hold the cock. As he shoved it into her rectum, Sharon grunted and tightened her lips to hold back her cries. The painful tool bored steadily into her rectum and she thrilled to the feeling of torment to which she was being subjected.
The girl sighed and lay limply on top of the table as she felt the full length of the cock fill her body. He began pulling it out of her ass and a pleasant pain suffused her rectum. With powerful strokes, Jerry rammed his cock in and out of her asshole. The pain inside of her bowels became a steady throb of excitement as the rigid staff pounded in her tissues and Sharon spread her feet farther apart to give Jerry better access to her body. Sweat was streaming from her nude flesh and the table top became slippery as she lay her cheek against the surface and panted with rapture. Sharon concentrated her attention on the hard length of the male organ that was ramming repeatedly into her tight hole, enjoying the impalement. Jerry abruptly rammed his cock all of the way into her rectum and Sharon gasped at the pain. The stiff penis suddenly began jerking and she felt a surge of ecstasy in her loins as the hot semen slammed deep into her intestines, filling her with the power of Jerry's virile sperm.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next day, Sharon began making arrangements to be away for several weeks. She made out a large check and mailed it to an address that had been given to her by Jerry. The address sounded familiar, but she could not place it at the moment. This was apparently no cheap clubhouse and a slave had to pay for the privilege of being owned. She wrote the check without any hesitation, being well able to afford it. It was actually not much more than the average dues at rich men's clubs. When she had completed her preparations, she waited. Jerry had ordered her not to call him until the marks on her body were healed. Almost two weeks passed before she was able to check her body and find, with relief, that her white skin was flawless.
Tense with anticipation, Sharon placed a phone call to Jerry's apartment. His voice was casual, as though there had been no time lapse. Obeying his order, she was in front of the apartment house with a packed suitcase when he drove up that evening. She placed the case in the back seat and sat quietly beside Jerry as they drove up Lake Shore Drive to Belmont Avenue and turned west.
Jerry glanced briefly at her. "Do you have anything on under that dress?"
"No, Jerr-uh-master." She looked quickly at him to see if he had caught the slip, but he kept his eyes on the road, his face impassive. "The master told me not to wear anything."
"Did you shave your cunt?"
Sharon blushed slightly. "Yes, master."
"The slave is most obedient." Jerry nodded, "Keep it that way."
They drove silently for the rest of the trip to the western suburbs. As they drove down a tree lined street, Sharon began to recognize familiar landmarks. A small shiver of fear crept up her spine as they entered a street that she remembered. Jerry pulled to a stop in front of the sanitarium and permitted a smile to touch his lips. "Remember this place? Yes, it's the same place where you were hospitalized. It's quite legitimate. We put this doctor in business. When we were planning the club, we searched for an appropriate place and found this abandoned hospital. The original owners built a more modern place on the other side of town. We located a doctor who could be depended on to practice discretion and who had dreams of owning his own sanitarium. In return for his cooperation, we signed the hospital building over to him. We own the building in the back and it can only be reached from this end by an underground tunnel that used to be an all-weather service tunnel connecting the two buildings."
"Is the other building your clubhouse?" queried Sharon.
"You will never again refer to it as a clubhouse!" Jerry ordered her, his face assuming a grim expression. "It is Hell. We are the Brethren of Hell and your absolute masters. No slave can enter or leave Hell by any other means than the underground passage, which leads into the dungeon. You are given a physical examination on entering and another on leaving. If you need treatment after being tortured-and most do-" He permitted himself a small smile. "The club covers all expenses." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a card, which he handed to her. "You are to present this card to the desk nurse. She'll tell you what to do. Under no circumstances are you to talk about the Brethren or your status. Remember that. From now on, you will obey orders given to you, even though none of the Brethren are present to enforce obedience. I have given you an order. Don't forget it."
"Yes, master." Sharon's voice was humble. "What if the nurses recognize me?"
"It makes no difference," Jerry reassured her. "The staff understands the arrangements. Now get out of the car. You may see me in the next thirty days, or you may not. Either way, I will treat you like any other slave."
Sharon did not hesitate. She reached into the back seat and picked up her suitcase. Opening the door, she stepped out onto the sidewalk, pulling her coat around her to cut out the cold. Picking up her suitcase again, she walked rapidly up the walk to the sanitarium, her high heels clicking on the concrete. She almost ran up the steps to open the door. Stepping into the lobby, she went over to the desk. The nurse was one who had seen her when she was there before and Sharon flushed slightly as she handed the card to the woman. The nurse gave no indication that she recognized Sharon as she examined the card.
"Oh, yes. You're expected," the nurse smiled. She pointed to a doorway on the other side of the lobby. "Just go through that door and down the hall to the far end. You will find another door there and you can just walk right in."
Her breath quickening, Sharon walked rapidly over to the door and pushed it open. The hall was quiet and echoed to the pattering of her high heels as she moved toward the far end. She hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open. A nurse was at the other side of the room with her back toward the girl.
Sharon ran her tongue quickly across her lips, "Is -is this where I'm supposed to come?"
The nurse turned around and Sharon almost fainted. It was Hazel. "Why, Sharon, darling! What are you doing here?"
Sharon started to answer then remembered what Jerry had commanded about silence. She held out the card. Hazel glanced at it, then looked up with a slightly raised eyebrow. "I never guessed that you were that kind. Well, I won't have to worry about doing anything to you any more. Don't worry about it, though, honey. I'll take care of that beautiful body after the sadists get through using it, and you'll leave here looking just perfect. Now just set down your suitcase and take off your clothes. You won't be needing them for awhile."
Sharon put down her case and slipped her coat from her shoulders. She draped it across the back of a chair and grasped the hem of her dress. Pulling the garment over her head, she laid it on top of the coat and stooped to remove her shoes. She straightened up completely naked, her breasts heaving with her nervous breathing. Hazel conducted the examination in silence, but the caresses of her hands exceeded professional interest. By the time she was finished, Sharon's nipples were stiffly erect on her full breasts and she was breathing hard. The girl stood with her arms hanging loosely at her sides as the nurse walked over to a cabinet and opened it. Sharon heard a metallic tinkle and Hazel laid out some obviously non-medical items on the table.
Walking over to Sharon, the woman ordered her to open her mouth. Sharon obediently parted her lips and Hazel lifted a rubber ball, which she began forcing between the girl's teeth. Sharon grunted as her jaws were spread apart. The ball was finally all the way into her mouth and her cheeks were puffed out. Hazel returned to the table and picked up a leather object. She began carefully fitting it over Sharon's face and the girl now realized why she had been ordered to get a short hairdo. She stood submissively as the leather mask was pulled over her face until it was covered except for eye holes and a place for her to breathe. The leather was pulled over her head until she was completely hooded, then Hazel fastened the buckle around her neck. A metal ring hung loosely from the neck strap. Hazel next picked up a pair of metal cuffs with a close link between them. She pulled Sharon's unresisting arms behind her and the girl felt the cold metal on her wrists. There was a small click and the cuffs were firmly fastened to her as she grunted at their painfully tight fit. The last item was a pair of cuffs with a twelve-inch chain between them. Hazel stooped and fastened a cuff around each of the girl's ankles.
"Very good!" Hazel brushed off her hands as she straightened up and examined her work. "Good grief, girl, it's a shame to mark up that beautiful body. If I were in their shoes, though, I wouldn't blame them for getting their kicks from you." Sharon looked at her silently. Bound hand and foot and hooded, she was unable to respond even if she wanted to. Hazel smiled, "Okay, honey. I won't keep you waiting."
The nurse turned back to the table and picked up a long chain. She snapped one end of it into the ring at Sharon's neck. Holding onto one end of it, she turned toward another door in the room. Sharon felt the tug at her neck and followed silently behind Ha/el. The chain between the girl's ankles forced her to take short steps and having her wrists manacled behind her back made walking awkward. The door opened onto a flight of concrete steps and Hazel urged her to descend them. The ankle chain was just long enough to permit Sharon to make the distance between each step. With Hazel holding onto her arm to keep her balanced, they descended the steps until they came to a short hall. Hazel opened the door at the end of it and Sharon suddenly shivered. The winter cold filled the long passage and caressed the girl's naked body with icy fingers. As Hazel led her down the long corridor, Sharon trembled uncontrollably from the cold. The chain clinked steadily between her ankles as she proceeded with short steps. She was breathing heavily when they reached End of the hall and faced another door. Hazel led her into a room that was lined with narrow doors. She picked a key ring from a hook and led Sharon over to one of the doors.
It was a wooden portal about sixteen inches wide with a narrow grill at the very top of it. Hazel unlocked it and pulled it open. Beyond the door was a small closet, about two feet wide and deep. Sharon was urged through the narrow entrance and turned around to face the opening. Reaching up, Hazel fastened Sharon's neck chain to a hook in the ceiling of the closet. Bending over, she snapped a catch onto the chain between the girl's ankles. There was just enough slack in both chains for Sharon to move a few inches.
Without another word, Hazel closed the door and locked it. The closet was plunged into darkness, except for a little light that came through the grill at the top of the door. Firmly bound and imprisoned in the tiny cell, Sharon listened to the sounds of Hazel's footsteps as they moved away. Then she heard a door close and she was surrounded by silence.
Unable to move, Sharon stood quietly in the cell, shivering now and then from the cold. She had no idea how much time had passed and her naked body was beginning to ache from the enforced standing. She dozed once and awoke to find her entire weight hanging from the chain that was attached to her neck. After what seemed an eternity of silence, she heard the faint sounds of footsteps approaching. This was followed by the sound of a door opening, then a pause. The steps continued and Sharon's breathing quickened as they got closer to her cell. She heard a key working in the lock and the door was finally pulled open, flooding the small enclosure with light. Sharon blinked her eyes at the sudden cessation of darkness and found herself staring at a hooded figure that wore a floor-length black robe.
The figure made no sound, but Sharon could see the hands and knew that it was a man. He knelt and unfastened the catch at the girl's ankle chain. Then he lifted his arms and released her neck chain from the ceiling. Still saying nothing, he turned around and tugged at the chain. Sharon obediently followed with short steps as she came out of the closet. Her chains clinked steadily and her breasts bounced rhythmically with her steps as she followed the man through another door. They entered a passage that looked like it was out of a medieval dungeon. Halfway down it, the man stopped and opened a heavy wooden door. At a tug of the chain, Sharon followed him inside a low-ceilinged room that sent a thrill of fear through Sharon.
At one end of the room was a stone pit in which hot coals gleamed. Metal handles extended from the coals and Sharon could see that the parts of the tools that were imbedded in the coals were white hot. She trembled in terror as the man closed the heavy door. Pulling the cowering girl along behind him, the man walked over to a wall from which hung chains. He positioned Sharon to face the wall and fumbled with her wrist manacles. Her wrists came free and he lifted one of them to a metal cuff that was attached by a chain to the wall. A wordless sound came from Sharon's throat as she felt the cold metal fasten securely around her wrist. Her other arm was raised and similarly fastened. The chain was removed from her ankles and one leg was pulled to one side. It was clamped to the wall and the other ankle was lifted from the floor, leaving her hanging by her wrists. In silence, Sharon hung spread-eagled facing the wall, her breasts pressing against the rough stone.
She listened to his steps going to the other side of the room. Unable to control her fear, she jerked her head around to watch him. With terrified eyes, she saw him carefully lift one of the irons from the coals. She almost screamed as he moved back toward her, the gleaming hot branding iron smoking in his hand. Sounds of muffled protest came from Sharon's throat as she pressed her cheek against the wall and trembled uncontrollably. She heard his footsteps getting closer and perspiration gleamed on her naked back as she hung helplessly bound. The man gazed appreciatively for a moment at the expanse of delicate white skin, then began lowering the branding iron. Sharon's flesh twitched at the approaching heat as the man brought the iron close to her full buttock. With an audible sigh, he pushed forward and the white hot metal came into contact with the girl's flesh. There was a sharp sizzling sound and Sharon writhed against the wall, sweat streaming from her body as muffled screams of agony tried to rip past her gag. Her throat muscles corded as the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Still the man held the branding iron firmly against her squirming buttock. Finally satisfied, the man removed the iron from the tormented flesh, revealing the letter 'S' clearly. Sharon was permanently branded with the mark of the slave.
Sharon hung limply from her chains, breathing with labored gasps. Her breathing finally became more normal and the man worked at her bindings. She was lowered to the floor and her wrists once more bound behind her back. Her ankles were chained together again and she was led, stumbling, out of the branding room. Panting from her ordeal, the girl was led through another door and down a long hall. The concrete of the floor was rough against her bare feet and there was obviously never any heat in this subterranean chamber of horrors. They moved past several doors, but no sound broke the silence of the place. Sharon's demonic usher stopped before a large wooden portal and opened it, leading her inside. She quickly saw that there were two other figures in the room. A naked man hung by his wrists from the ceiling. On the wall, a nude girl was spread-eagled facing the room. Both of the figures were hooded like Sharon and she could see a slave brand on the hip of the girl.
The enslaved girl was led several feet from the man and her wrist bonds removed. Her arms were lifted and the wrists attached to metal cuffs hanging from chains. Walking over to the wall, the robed man turned a wheel and the chains tightened, then gradually lifted Sharon's feet from the floor. She was left as helplessly suspended as the others; then the man left the room without a word. They hung there silently for an unknowable length of time before the woman in leather came in the door. Sharon listened with exquisite terror as the whip lashed at the body of the naked man. Finally leaving the sweating, groaning male, the Domina stalked over to the spread-eagled girl. She slapped at the large, soft breasts as the girl groaned in pain. Then she lit a cigarette and carefully touched it to tender parts of the girl's flesh as she writhed and emitted muffled screams of pain, her nude body glistening with sweat.
Trembling with rapture as she awaited her own torment, Sharon saw the door suddenly swing open again. A male figure stepped through. Even before she heard the voice, Sharon knew that it was Jerry. With her hood, she knew that it would be impossible for him to recognize her. She now knew that this was one of the reasons for the hoods. The torture would be completely impersonal.
"Good evening, Sister Shit," Jerry nodded at the leather-clad woman.
"And a good evening to you, Brother Fuckmouth," Sister Shit turned from the spread-eagled girl with a smile. She rested one hand on her well-curved hip and took a drag from the cigarette, nodding toward Sharon, "I saved one of the new slaves for you."
Jerry laughed, "The hell you did! The only reason you haven't marked her is because I came in before you had a chance."
Sister Shit echoed his laugh, "Quite true. One doesn't get a package like this every day. They have a week in the dungeon before they begin serving us upstairs, and the sooner they learn their place the better off they'll be. Have you seen their brands? The Iron Brother did a beautiful job."
"He always does," Jerry observed as he strolled around the room and examined the slave markings on the captives. As he ran his hand over Sharon's hip and touched the wound, her buttock jerked spasmodically under his touch. Without warning, Jerry slapped his open hand against the brand and the girl felt a flash of pain in her buttock. Sweat suddenly moistened her flesh and a small groan came from behind her gag. Jerry nodded his head appreciatively, "The reactions of this slave are very good. By the way, why did you do such a thorough job on the male slave?"
"It was necessary. He got a hard-on without my permission." Sister Shit smiled, "Of course, if he hadn't done that, I would have found another reason. One has little difficulty in finding excellent reasons for whipping a slave."
"You never have difficulty in finding reasons, Sister Shit," a female voice said from the direction of the door.
Jerry and Sister Shit turned toward the voice and saw another Domina standing there. Sister Shit laughed. "Do I detect a note of envy in your voice, Sister Asshole?"
"Not a bit." Sister Asshole closed the door and sauntered into the room, tapping her whip against her leg as she critically examined the suspended slaves. "I have a masterful torment in mind, if Brother Fuckmouth is willing."
Sharon was astonished at the names they were using to address each other. Hooded and gagged, she watched them with an expressionless leather face; as did the other two slaves. Jerry and the Dominas seemed to view the obscene designations as perfectly natural. Sharon realized that nothing in this place would be the same as the outside world.
"What do you have in mind, Sister Asshole?" Jerry queried, "It had better be good, because I suspect that this will be a team affair."
"It will indeed!" laughed Sister Asshole. "I propose that you fuck Sister Shit while I watch the slaves. If any of them so much as reacts in the slightest, I will whip the piss out of them."
Sister Shit glanced over at Jerry. "Brother Fuckmouth has yet to apply his whip to the slaves and might feel cheated. However, I am willing if the brother is willing."
Jerry bowed slightly. "Brother Fuckmouth is always willing to shove his cock into the cunt of Sister Shit. Providing that is where she wants it shoved, of course. There is plenty of time for whipping the slaves. They're not going anywhere."
"A cogent observation," Sister Shit smiled. "Very well, Sister Asshole. You may stand guard while Brother Fuckmouth fucks my cunt." She dropped her cigarette on the floor and ground it under her boot.
Sharon watched the Domina and Jerry begin undressing. As Jerry removed his pants, it was obvious that he was prepared for the sexual union. His cock was already standing stiffly erect. Sharon felt an overwhelming desire for the penis, and envied the Domina for being the receptacle for the shaft. Being hooded and minus her pubic hairs, there was no way for Jerry to know who she was. The girl knew that it would have made no difference. Jerry would have fucked another woman in front of her without any qualms. She was a slave going through the ordeal of torture and had no rights. As she hung by her wrists, she felt her breathing quickening as she watched the two naked people approaching each other. Her nipples began to firm as she imagined herself on the receiving end of Jerry's cock. A flash of pain suddenly encircled her body as Sister Asshole's whip curled around her.
"You are not to react to the pleasures of your masters!" the Domina snapped.
Panting and perspiring, Sharon tried to control her uncontrollable reactions as she watched the act before her. Jerry encircled Sister Shit's slim waist with his powerful arms and she melted against him, lifting her lips for his kiss. They exchanged tongue kisses for a few minutes as they ground their bellies against each other. Sharon heard a muffled sound and turned her head from the couple to look at the suspended male slave. His cock was standing up firmly and Sister Asshole was belaboring him with her whip. Panting with irresistible passion, Sharon returned her attention to the two masters. Jerry was pumping his hips hard as he rammed his cock between the thighs of Sister Shit. They slowly sank to the floor and Jerry arranged himself on top of the Domina as she grasped his big penis and held the head of it to her cunt. Sharon's belly twitched as she watched the male organ disappearing into the woman's body.
On the other side of the room, Sister Asshole was lashing the front of the spread-eagled girl, and muffled sounds of anguish came from behind the hood. Sharon returned her attention to the couple on the floor as Jerry began pounding his cock in and out of Sister Shit's belly. The woman wrapped her legs around his waist and held him tightly as their sweating bodies slapped together. Sharon could feel a growing tenseness in her loins and saw that Sister Asshole was striding toward her and raising the whip. Sharon emitted a gagging sound that would have been one of pleasure if she had not been hooded. She saw Jerry's hips begin to jerk hard as he came and ejaculated his semen into the vagina of Sister Shit. At that moment, her own sexual organs responded to the sight and she began to climax uncontrollably. She writhed her hips ecstatically as the whip of Sister Asshole slashed into her naked flesh and sent pain lancing through her body. The pain mingled with the rapture and the two became one, sending her into an emotional turmoil that wavered between sensuality and torment. It was pure Hell.