She lay beside him, hot and clammy, wishing it were fully daylight. The covers were pushed down, her short nightdress rucked up waist high to allow air to circulate round her sprawled limbs and the hairy, sweating gulf of her swollen twat. Her buttocks were large, her body mature and voluptuous. She had long, raven-black hair that hung down lank and limp, framing a face which although essentially beautiful revealed characteristics of the girl's petty nature, evident in the pouting of her full, sensual lips and the calculating gleam in her dark, brooding eyes. Her general demeanor betrayed the shallowness of her disposition.
Felicity Page was a spoiled brat, but an extremely efficient secretary. She had worked for Trace McCord for three years without friction (which was something of an achievement considering McCord's violent temper), even before she became his mistress.
Elaine, McCord's teenage daughter, disliked Felicity intensely, sensing she was partly responsible for the frequent and prolonged absence of Hazel McCord, Elaine's actress mother. But when Elaine left home to attend school, Felicity made the most of her opportunity.
The man lying on his back beside her was big and muscular but inclined to obesity. He was grey at the temples, still good-looking although dissipated. Trace McCord lived well. He could afford the best of everything, especially in women. Felicity Page was the latest in a long line of young mistresses. McCord liked his women youthful. He dabbled, screwed whatever took his fancy and would co-operate-and there were not many females on his staff who would not lean over backwards to please him, for McCord was noted for his reckless generosity.
Felicity had no sincere feelings for McCord. She liked and respected him, but it was his money that attracted her-and the formidable size of his penis. He was coarse and crude, but one of the few men she had known who could really satisfy her.
It was almost daylight. The drapes were drawn back, the window open wide, and she was able to distinguish detail. She raised herself, lay propped up on one elbow, and for a while regarded the sleeping man, unconsciously fingering the moist maw of her plump vagina, probing it, creating a tightness in her robust thighs, acute muscular spasms that flexed her superbly rounded buttocks and caused a fierce contraction of her anus as the prompt stirrings of her insatiable sexual appetite began to inflame her, forming a trembling nucleus of desire and restless craving.
Felicity sighed. She reached out, pushed the covers even further down, away from the man's limbs, uncovering his genitals, and sucked in her breath sharply at the sight of that enormous, flaccid tool the gross obscenity of which never failed to appall her yet at the same time thrilled her to the very core of her being. Even slack it was huge, almost frightening, a gorgeous, incredible cock, so big and fat and strong, a virile prick that could with astonishing speed become an erect, rigid branch with a brutal fascination.
Felicity touched the dark, fleshy roll, lifted it, eased the wrinkled foreskin back, stretching the broad glans tightly. She played with the immense organ, flopping it about roughly, squeezed the fat knob, felt along the whole inert shaft and cupped the full, wrinkled scrotum, felt the man's testicles. He did not wake.
Impulsively, Felicity leaned over, lowered her head and kissed the limp organ, let her pink tongue flutter wetly round the glans, probed the moist pipe opening. She thrust the covers still further down, separated the man's legs, grasped his penis firmly and began to whank it, frigging it vigorously and uttering low exclamations while nipping her luscious thighs together tightly. She started to finger her sticky cunt again with her free hand, masturbating feverishly, and presently took the reddened head of McCord's thick penis right into her mouth and sucked it slowly, strongly, continually watching his face, expecting him to wake, wanting him to, taking more and more flabby cock into her capacious mouth.
Her nostrils were flared, her breathing noisy, rapid. She adopted a kneeling position with her ass raised, and applied both hands, using one to whank McCord's enormous roll and the other to massage his testicles, occasionally fingering the sensitive area round his dark, crinkly asshole.
McCord stirred. He grunted, opened bleary eyes that were slow to focus. His powerful body stretched, arching, creaking the bed. He yawned. Then awareness of what was happening began to seep into his consciousness, and his stupor vanished. His response to the girl's wanton mood was instantaneous and positive. Both his large, muscular hands went to her head, pulling her face into his loins and forcing Felicity's eager mouth against his twitching organ. Suddenly wide awake, alert, he shifted his grip, guided her round until she was kneeling astride his head and shoulders and he stared in lewd fascination into the dusky vale of her swollen cunt and appetizing bottom.
His fat prick began to stiffen, jerking rapidly erect, distorting the girl's mouth. She relinquished it but immediately recaptured it in her hand and briskly chafed the bloated shaft, moaning with excitement approaching frenzy as the man parted the plump cheeks of her ass and tongued the dark recess, tantalizing her anus, then hungrily licked her squashy, yielding vagina.
Felicity's large, firm breasts heaved and bounced as she surged up and down, squirming and writhing and rubbing her palpitating quim against McCord's avidly caressing tongue and questing mouth. She felt the imprisoned penis rear and swell, thrashing and bucking within the curve of her clutching hand, and cried out when the great, throbbing phallic core abruptly spewed a thick gush of yellowish sperm over her grasping fingers.
The spurting semen filled the hollow of her sweaty palm and spattered the crumpled bed covers, wetting her white skin-a pungent, copious flood, pumping furiously.
The man, wide awake now, prematurely stimulated, cradled the frustrated girl's broad hips, plunging his face repeatedly into the warm crevice of her bottom, and breathing heavily. His great cudgel of a penis hardly diminished in size. Its immense, surging beat was maintained, its swollen distention even increasing as Felicity expertly teased and manipulated it, coaxing the unique phallus to truly gigantic proportions while marveling, as always, at McCord's astonishing virility and vigor.
His sexual capacity was as abnormal as her own. The dribbling glans bulged in the fiercely clutching caress of her hand. God! How she wanted sex, to feel that tremendous, turgid rod thrashing inside her, boring deep, screwing right in. Her frustration was, she knew, only temporary. McCord knew how to provoke and excite her, what she liked most, her fetishes and pecularities.
Lying on his back, he resumed oral stimulation of her alluring posterior, kissing and licking the dark, quivering cleft, sniffing her anus, exploring it, delving lower, into the pliant gash of her vagina, mouthing crude obscenities and laughing when Felicity passionately accepted his wet prick into her uncouth young mouth again.
Her pulsating quim was wet with an oncoming orgasm, the fleshy folds glistening, parting softly to each probing caress of the man's insistent tongue. The strong smell of his sperm and its cloying taste stimulated her raging desire until she wanted to scream. She KNEW he would fuck her presently, and waited for it in eager, panting anticipation, sucking that huge, jerking rod and squirming in ecstasy every time McCord renewed oral contact with her shuddering vagina.
Eventually, his monstrous erection complete, McCord pushed the girl forward so that she lay on her stomach with legs wide apart. The movement brought her exquisite breasts close to the man's feet and positioned her full, tremulous buttocks below the proudly jutting stalk of his straining penis so that the pouting slit of her succulent twat rested against his puckered scrotum. For a while they remained in that position with McCord's stiff organ throbbing and whacking against Felicity's cunt.
It was not the easiest of fornicating postures but McCord had the length of prick to achieve it successfully, and Felicity cried in the sweet delirium of pure delight as he parted the moist, quivering vulva and forced his rigid organ downward until the distended knob stabbed into her receptive channel. He lunged then, entered roughly and shagged deep, pulling the girl powerfully onto his ravaging penis so that she voiced another shout and thrashed about with eyes closed and mouth gaping wide, her breasts jogging and heaving, buttocks alternately flexing then relaxing, tensing again, pinching the lips of her avid quim together round his prick.
McCord gripped her hips firmly and increased the fury of his battering, surging thrusts, embedding his great stalk to the roots. That was how Felicity liked it, how HE liked it. She was wonderful, a tight, glorious fuck, all ass and tit and squelching cunt.
A vision of his wife entered McCord's mind, flickered and was as quickly gone. Damn the fat cow, he thought. There was no comparison between her and Felicity. But Hazel didn't expect anything from him except money and position. She had her own life and wasn't particularly concerned what he did so long as it didn't affect her, or Elaine.
McCord dismissed the irritating, needling thoughts, concentrated on the warm, quivering flesh shuddering and undulating beneath the wide spread of his thick fingers. His thumbs gouged deeper, stretching the girl's ass cheeks apart and permitting a clearer view of the sucking intrusion of his slippery tool, the smooth, plunging motion. He poked a finger into her tight asshole, felt her buck and heard her moan.
He was coming, surging toward another explosive climax, his body on fire, every nerve jangling, every muscle and sinew straining. His eyes bulged. His mouth hung open slackly. The whole of his formidable penis was engulfed within the clutching maw of Felicity's cavernous vagina. She heaved and squalled as he tugged her onto his powerful shaft and held her there while the searing sensation gathered, the storm of rampant delight seething in his balls and already beginning to travel along his tormented phallus as he delivered a final, convulsive thrust that buried his prick completely. Then, in that excruciatingly delightful moment he heard a door slam and the echoing reverberation of a girlish voice calling boisterously. The bedroom door was thrust open. McCord, realizing in a moment of guilty panic that it wasn't locked, that it was his daughter calling, that she was entering the room, heaved Felicity away from him, thrusting her violently forward and allowing his turgid, spurting penis to escape at the crucial instant of orgasm. Twisting round, ignoring Felicity's angry protests, he gaped in blank astonishment at his wide-eyed, red-faced daughter while a thick stream of glutinous sperm, squirting compulsively from his stiff, jerking prick, spattered Felicity's bare, flushed buttocks and her white, flawless back.
CHAPTER TWO
Elaine McCord closed the grip, placed it on her bed. She sighed, but there was contentment in her demeanor. It had been an exhausting summer. She was glad to be going home. She let the thin robe slip from her shoulders and moved lithely toward the bathroom, paused to contemplate her reflection in the long mirror.
She was a big girl, tall and well proportioned, with overdeveloped breasts and firm, robust limbs, fleshy and superbly rounded but not fat. Her large breasts stood out prominently, the nipples very dark and compact, elongated teats that had only once known a man's caress, and then without passion, in squalor and pagan lust forced upon her. At sixteen, Elaine's experience of males was incredibly restricted, practically negligible, for until she went to Cranfield High she had no carnal knowledge whatever.
A sensitive girl, shy and uncommunicative by nature, she made few genuine friends. Elaine had led a very sheltered life. Her mother had explained the facts of life to her but in a rather indifferent way, and Hazel McCord spent very little time at home with her daughter. Elaine did not know, yet, what life was all about. She was continually in conflict with powerful impulses as her body ripened into luscious maturity. She deliberately tried to smother natural desires and subconscious urges she thought to be wicked and immoral, and yet for a time allowed herself to be completely dominated by and influenced by Miss Faversham who continually forced her unwholesome attentions on young girls and Elaine in particular, indulging in petting and inviting them to her room.
Loneliness contributed to Elaine's ultimate lapse of certain scruples and principles. She succumbed easily to Miss Faversham's seductive charm without realizing that what she was persuaded to do was wrong or in any way abnormal. She craved affection, and Miss Faversham offered love, but wanted to establish physical intimacy, to fondle and caress the girl and be similarly kissed and handled. Elaine, mistaking sexual longing for innocent and sincere devotion, allowed Miss Faversham to indulge her depraved appetite. She obeyed all the scheming, middle-aged teacher's demands or suggestions, until her naive philosophy gave way to reality and Elaine realized she was participating in sexual orgy in the guise of intimate friendship.
Her fastidious nature rebelled then, even though exposing herself to Miss Faversham and repeatedly seeing the woman's coarse nakedness, their mutual fondling and caressing of each other's secret parts, the furtiveness, passionate entreaties, and suggestive coaxing, had not seemed obscene, merely distasteful. The older woman had, in fact, aroused Elaine's curiosity, and introduced her to mutual masturbation and, eventually, cunnilingus, but in the end disgust had triumphed over the girl's dormant baser emotions, and she had abruptly severed the association. Now, Miss Faversham had another pet, probably several, and she no longer pestered Elaine.
Standing naked before the long mirror, Elaine appraised her voluptuous figure, and eventually made a study of her sex organs-a firmly established habit performed semiconsciously-intrigued by the softness of her vagina when she separated the moist, clinging lips. But she frowned when she disturbed the silken bush of jet-black pubic hair densely tufted around her puckering slit and sprouting from the pouting vulva. She hated the long, shaggy growth which she considered coarse and unclean. It made her feel like an animal. She had often tried to get rid of it but it always returned thicker than before.
Contemplating her body, Elaine was reminded of the essential difference between her genitals and the male reproductive organs. Until she attended Cranfield High she had seen an adult penis only in books, but her studies here included biology, and her education in sexual matters was speedily accelerated both by Miss Faversham and the school's caretaker, a vulgar, deformed creature whose attitude toward Elaine was, from the very beginning, lecherously insulting. Elaine was afraid of the man, not because of the grotesque hump on his back but because his face was positively evil and his offensive manner repelled her. Above all she resented being continually watched and followed. The caretaker's eyes seemed to observe Elaine's every movement. They were horrible eyes, bulging and bloodshot, and sometimes held an expression of sheer malevolence. Wherever Elaine went Josh Meadows was there, smirking and grimacing, making obscene gestures and remarks. He delighted in taunting and tormenting her, deliberately fingering the swollen front of his pants and drawing Elaine's attention to his genitals, rubbing the large ridge created by his penis which seemed in a perpetual state of erection. His furtive, suggestive behavior failed to convince Elaine that Meadows was anything but a repugnant cripple with filthy habits, disturbing but harmless. She ignored his crudely lascivious attempts to convey carnal motives and establish intimacy, but pitied rather than condemned him.
Eventually, however, his manner coarsened until it became, at times, terrifyingly threatening and Elaine was reduced to a constant state of fear, repugnance, and acute apprehension. She could no longer ignore the hunchback's vile intentions. He made it increasingly plain what he wanted from her. Elaine was not the only girl Meadows molested. Some of them actually encouraged the man, pandering to his perverted instincts and accepting candy and sometimes money in return. Other girls, aware of the hunchback's lewd interest in Elaine, mocked her pitilessly, playing on her fears with disgusting tales of incidents involving Meadows.
Yet somehow it did not occur to Elaine to report the caretaker's conduct. She suffered agonies of nervous tension. Inevitably, the time came when she was faced with her moment of truth. She was passing a clump of rose bushes growing beside the high fence bordering the campus when Meadows suddenly appeared and trapped her in the restricted space between the fence and a large tree. Unable to turn or to push past, she shrank back. Some of the color left her cheeks. There was nobody else within sight.
Meadows' slack mouth was working loosely. Saliva gathered at the corners. His expression was maniacal, and he kept chuckling obscenely.
"Not so fast, girl," he gritted. "It's time you and me had an understandin'."
His voice was harsh, hoarse with passion and strain. Elaine attempted to elude him but the deformed caretaker grasped her left arm. The strength in his thick fingers was tremendous.
"Don't be like that," he appealed angrily. "I've been watchin' you. You ain't got no friends like the others. Just like me. They don't like either of us. But I like you, girl. I sure do. You got the looks and the body that drives a man crazy. You and me, we could have a lot of fun, kid. You know what I mean-plenty of hard, fat prick. You like a big, stiff cock up your pussy, don't you? I reckon you've had plenty, eh?"
Elaine struggled desperately. The hunchback held her firmly. Leering, he suddenly lowered his other hand and ripped his bulging fly open, allowing his penis to flop out. Elaine stared at the huge, fleshy roll despite her revulsion, fascinated by it yet horrified, saw it throbbing and thickening and jerking erect, a loathsome spectacle made even more disgusting as the muttering man thrust his loins forward and emphasized the jutting ferocity of his stiffening prick.
"How about that then?" he rasped. "You ever see a bigger cock than mine, kid? Don't be scared of it, honey. Get hold of it. Come on, you stupid little cow! Give me a whank, darlin'. Or maybe you'd rather have it up your tight little minge, eh? Let's have a feel, girl. You play with mine and I'll play with yours."
He grabbed Elaine's other wrist and forced her cringing hand against his swollen, twitching penis, quickly shifted his grip and crushed her fingers round the rampant organ, making her grasp it and rub the fat, nauseating roll, involuntarily dragging the dark, wrinkled foreskin back and forth, covering then baring the bulging, purple-red knob, then vigorously stroking its full, imposing length until her imprisoning hand was crushed into the coarse bush of curling hair sprouting from the well of his loins.
The swiftness and shameful lewdness of the assault stunned Elaine into frozen, gaping terror. For a while she was incapable of movement or resistance. Then her shocked system revolted and with a supreme effort she wrenched free, breaking that degrading contact, and ran, leaving her books on the ground.
Meadows did not attempt to pursue her. When, prompted by curiosity she could not restrain despite the conflicting emotions tearing at her, Elaine looked back, the caretaker was masturbating furiously, chafing his grossly distended penis and mouthing abuse. He had dropped his pants round his ankles and stood with his shirt hauled right up, exposing the whole of his naked, hair body from the waist down.
Elaine did not report the incident, neither to the dean or to her parents. She intended to but somehow couldn't face the ordeal of explanations and describing detail.
Moving away from the mirror, she sighed again. She entered the bathroom, turned on the shower. As she soaped herself her thoughts wandered. There had been other experiences equally sordid, and the final, utter degradation when-. She shivered, remembering that ultimate, hideous ordeal. So much had happened at Cranfield High that was alien to her upbringing, incidents she could not erase from her memory however much she tried.
She recalled the occasion of a country outing when, with a group of giggling girls, she had seen a stallion in a fenced enclosure with its great black penis fully extended and trailing on the ground. The other girls had dared one another to touch the dangling member through the fence. Elaine, disgusted, had left them, but she had seen Stella Martin kneel and extend her arm between the wire strands, tentatively feel then grasp that tremendous, twitching prick. The horse had kicked violently, shying away, and the girls had laughed uproariously.
Those same girls subjected Elaine to a filthy, depraved ordeal. Two of them were very spiteful, extremely jealous of Elaine. They lost no opportunity to torment and humiliate her. One afternoon they pounced on her in the lavatory, jerked her frock up over her head and tied a ribbon around the garment and her neck so that she couldn't pull it down and could only gasp weak protest while the girls, shrieking with uncouth laughter, removed her panties. They got her on the ground then, and while three of them held her down with arms and legs outstretched a fourth girl tormented her by tickling her vagina with a feather and pushing straws up her anus. Finally a large cucumber was inserted into Elaine's virgin quim and she was violently fucked and left bleeding and sobbing. The discovery that Josh Meadows, the hunchback caretaker, had witnessed the entire sordid assault contributed further to Elaine's tearful and hysterical reaction.
On another country ramble a party of girls had watched a grinning farmhand helping to serve a bull by hooking the fat, frustrated beast's penis in a specially adapted implement and conveying it to the patient cow's gaping vagina-a process that afforded the girls considerable amusement. They ensured that Elaine saw the whole crude operation, reveling in her acute embarrassment which became excessive when the young farmhand volunteered to introduce his prick up Elaine's sumptuous ass without the aid of a pole and wire loop.
But these were minor indignities, like the time a senior member of the teaching staff, on the pretext of chastising Elaine, had thrust his hand up her clothing and interfered with her sexually, then threatened her with physical violence if she reported him. She didn't. She merely tried to forget these sordid incidents, a series of events finally culminating in the shattering terror of actual rape.
Remembering the awful episode, Elaine shuddered. She dropped the soap, stooped to retrieve it. The plastic shower curtain was only partly closed and the nearby wall mirror reflected the broad, sweeping expanse of her splayed bottom, accentuating the depth of the damp, dusky cleft. Droplets of water glistened between the gorgeously rounded cheeks and clung to the beard of wet, trailing hair that protruded as she squatted. She had a beautiful body, voluptuously molded. Her large, milk-white breasts hung down, shaking deliciously as she leaned forward and groped for the soap. Water, trickling down the swell of the luscious ovals, dripped from the tight, dark-red nipples.
One night, soon after Meadows exposed himself indecently to her, Elaine was lying awake, troubled by brooding thoughts, sprawled naked on top of the bed, for it was a sultry, airless night. Somebody tried the door and Elaine, supposing it to be locked, irritably demanded that the prowler go away, thinking it was one of the girls. She received a distinct shock when the door opened. Somebody entered stealthily. She heard the key turn in the lock, heard heavy breathing, and realized there was a man in her room. It was too dark for her to identify the intruder immediately. As she sat erect and reached for the wall switch she was grabbed and forced to lie back, pressed violently into the mattress. A heavy, writhing bulk sprawled on her, smothering her startled outcry.
Somehow the switch was depressed and in the flooding light Elaine recognized Josh Meadows. His hairy, deformed body was stark naked, his face twisted into a hideous mask, convulsed with savage lust. Elaine tried to scream but the hunchback's strong fingers clutched her throat, compressing her windpipe and bruising her flesh. He subdued her easily, got astride her in a kneeling posture. His muscular thighs pounded her soft stomach, and she felt the monstrous beat of his colossal penis against her shrinking breasts, the warm contact of his hairy balls dangling in the succulent cleavage, then the sour smell of his genitals was sickeningly cloying in her flared nostrils and Meadows was squatting, hunched forward with his huge hands locked round her wrists, trying repeatedly to stab his throbbing erection into her twisted mouth.
Elaine felt faint, limp with terror and loathing. That great rigid roll of pulsing flesh was trailed repeatedly across her cringing lips and whacked impatiently against her cheeks. The hugely swollen glans kept butting her tightly compressed mouth and pushing vigorously into the firmly resisting gash, prodding her nostrils, her chin, her white throat, always returning to the loathsome assault on her fiercely clamped lips. Elaine fought with the berserk fury of utter desperation. Revulsion gave her strength, but she was no match for the slobbering hunchback.
Gradually he shifted his weight until he was kneeling on the girl's arms, numbing them. He began mauling her breasts, viciously squeezing and slapping the tender, succulent globes, brutally ravaging their soft, white perfection, pinching and bruising her quivering flesh, tugging at the vulnerable teats until they stood out prominently, red and inflamed, involuntarily hardening and bunching together, responding to the rough treatment.
Abruptly the depraved caretaker seized Elaine's head and clamped it painfully between his calloused palms. His thumbs, gouging ruthlessly into the sensitive corners of her shapely mouth, forcibly separated her lips, then his straining penis sought the opening again, found it, and battered relentlessly, still unsuccessfully, but gradually Elaine's mouth was prised open despite her frantic struggles. She bucked and heaved, moaning through clenched teeth, her legs thrashing helplessly, shuddered convulsively when that nauseating prick again prodded her parting lips and intruded fractionally into the slavering cavity.
Elaine went berserk, freed one arm and clutched at the raging hunchback's monstrous penis, forcing it away from her mouth. Meadows promptly slapped her across the face, then punched her in the belly, and Elaine writhed when his roughly groping hand fumbled between her trembling thighs and enclosed the sweating folds of her virgin quim. He compressed the cringing slit brutally, lewdly explored the girl's taut anus and the quivering mounds of her tense buttocks.
With a sudden, savage wrenching movement he jerked her over on her stomach, encircled her neck with one sinewy arm, choking her, then felt between her sultry buttocks from behind, parting the warm, flushed cheeks and abusing her protruding vagina. Grunting, becoming frantic, he heaved her to a kneeling position and attempted to insert his turgid penis into her well-displayed fissure, cruelly distorting the tender passage in his repeated efforts to ram his prick into the tight, unrelaxing quim, cursing the impediment of long, clinging pubic hair that became entangled round his bloated knob. But he eventually succeeded in forcing the swollen glans past the dark, glistening folds, and growled like a rabid beast as his tremendous organ plunged several inches into the shuddering vent. Soft, clinging flesh closed round the rampant rod, giving rise to exquisite sensations that drove Meadows frantic. He lunged repeatedly, thrashing his pagan wand into the girl's reluctant hole, forcing the spread of her dark flesh and stretching the cruelly distended slit further with successive lunging strokes that brought screams to the girl's distorted lips.
With his massive stalk inside, Meadows removed his left hand from Elaine's buttock and clutched her jutting left breast, embedding his fingers deeply into her yielding flesh, dragging at the luscious oval. He was like a wild beast, panting and straining, blurting obscenities, impervious to Elaine's sobbing entreaties. Eventually the violence of his exertions caused him to withdraw too far and his slimy prick escaped the squelching slit.
Elaine tried to squirm away, and Meadows did not attempt to resume intercourse but quickly twisted her over on her back and squatted astride her waist, again intent on putting his swollen, steaming penis in her mouth. He pinned her arms again, and the ordeal was resumed, Elaine lashing her head from side to side, Meadows rubbing his penis against her face and lips and eventually controlling the movements of her head and limbs. The sliminess of his wet organ fouled her mouth and nose, creating nausea and mental agony so powerful she thrashed in the throes of temporary insanity.
But there was no escaping the hunchback. He gripped her hair and jerked her head forward, brought his disgusting phallus into contact with her lips. And suddenly all the strength seemed to drain from Elaine's abused body. She lay panting, sick with fear and disgust, moaning and sobbing while Meadows, muttering and chuckling alternately, finally forced her mouth open and inexorably rammed the pulsing glans of his frustrated cock between her trembling lips. He had several inches of fat prick in her large mouth before she recovered sufficiently to renew her struggles, both hands clasped behind her head, pulling her face into his groin and forcing his huge penis deeper, blocking the cavity, choking the girl, cutting off her cries.
Then, with his revolting objective accomplished, he spunked, filling her defiled mouth and clinging tightly, refusing to release her head while his ponderous organ pulsed and throbbed and the sticky sperm gushed and pumped, escaping past Elaine's teeth and tongue, clogging her throat, filling her nostrils and dribbling into the hollow of her throat and the broad, deep valley between her heaving breasts.
When, with reluctance, he finally withdrew, Elaine collapsed, retching. Grinning, the caretaker shook his drooping branch, squeezed drops of semen from the glans opening. He had spoken soothingly then, for a while, but his lust was not yet satisfied. While Elaine lay there, exhausted, beyond caring, he explored every inch of her supine body, every secret crevice, probing and kissing and sniffing, pulling her this way and that, mauling her, playing with his penis and gradually coaxing it back to ponderous erection.
He fucked her then, entering from behind, clutching her around the waist and pulling her ass into the curve of his loins, ramming into her with amazing vitality and quickly releasing a further copious flood of pungent sperm that blocked Elaine's quivering, dormant cunt and spattered the reddened cheeks of her bottom, gathering below the dark, weeping quim in the dusky cleft among the tufted hair.
Long after he had gone Elaine lay there. Eventually she had limped into the bathroom and vomited. Afterward she bathed, scrupulously removing all traces of that reeking foulness, resolved never to breathe a word of her ordeal to anybody, not even to her father.
The psychological effect left an indelible impression on her untutored mind. The obscene picture remained rooted in her subconscious, and she was unable to erase the memory of that enormous penis in a state of gross erection. Assuming in her ignorance that all men were similarly proportioned, she concluded from Meadows' behavior that all men were evil monsters, with her father the only exception. Several times she had been on the point of writing to him about Meadows. The hunchback had left her feeling contaminated. But she could not, finally, bring herself to communicate her shame, not even to her father.
She was unable to forget the ordeal, but it was not merely the horror of it that persisted. She kept remembering the slobbering lunge of that turgid roll of flesh, its throbbing, penetrating beat, and shuddered with suppressed emotion every time she recalled the squalid incident to mind. The fact that she was no longer a virgin seemed unimportant. She kept her guilty secret. Now that she was going home she could forget all about school, the petty, spiteful humiliations and disgusting scenes, perhaps even forget Meadows, in time. She was wiser though still naive, still subdued and inhibited. She wanted her father, needed his love and guidance. He would arrange for her to finish her education at another school. He would-.
She turned off the faucet, reached for a towel. In a few hours she would be on her way, and Cranfield High would be just a painful memory.
Elaine McCord was bursting with boisterous enthusiasm when she entered the house. The place seemed strangely quiet, deserted. Her mother, Elaine knew, was vacationing but was expected home any time. Apparently the servants had been given the day off, yet Elaine had found the outer door unlocked. She had sent her father a telegram, so he must be expecting her. She put down her grip, shouted. No response. She looked in the lounge, went into the kitchen, the garden. She called several times but evoked no answer. Eventually she went upstairs. It was only when she reached the landing that she heard a noise, the first indication she had received that the house was occupied. The sound-bed springs creaking-was reassuring. Her father must be resting. Elaine hesitated, then continued. She had to disturb him. She needed to hear his voice, to be with him.
The door of his bedroom was not locked. Usually it was. Elaine opened it, pushed it wide, halted with a cheery greeting trembling on her lips. The smile died on her lips and in her eyes, frozen by the stark lewdness of the scene displayed before her innocent young eyes- the sight of her father, naked like a hairy, grunting animal, staring wild-eyed into the dark, fleshy recess of a woman's bare bottom while his muscular body thrashed and writhed, driving the great, steaming core of his rigid penis repeatedly into her squelching, glistening vagina-a huge, pouting, hairy gash that clung voraciously to his pistoning tool, the thick lips sucking and flapping in and out with every straining motion.
Elaine saw the puckered pit of the woman's anus opening and closing like a small, avid mouth, the quivering tension of her plump thighs and the meaty buttocks squirming beneath the man's splayed fingers-her father's hands, those same big, rough hands that had caressed and comforted her, held her close so often.
In that moment of utter, abject sadness and shattering deflation, Elaine saw the spurting emission of her father's semen spatter over the woman's flushed skin, and as the frustrated secretary twisted round, red-faced and almost sobbing, her face convulsed into a gargoyle mask of depravity and lustful craving, Elaine recognized Felicity Page, and suddenly the churning tumult in her leaden insides was more than she could bear. A great, tortured sob burst from her parted lips.
"Father!" she exclaimed hoarsely. "Oh, father! Why? Why?"
Then, like a demented creature, Felicity reared up from the bed, her eyes blazing, breasts flopping as she swung round.
"GET OUT, you bloody little whore!" she shrieked. "Get out! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU!"
CHAPTER THREE
Elaine turned, retreated blindly down the stairs, unseeing through a film of tears. Stumbling toward the entry, she failed to hear the slamming of a car door, and as she emerged from the house collided with a smartly dressed blonde woman who had just dismissed a cab driver. Sobbing, blurting incoherently, Elaine surrendered to her mother's comforting embrace.
Hazel McCord was a practical woman. She knew her husband's faults and weaknesses. She also knew the extent of his bank balance. Consequently, when she entered the bedroom, her anger was directed more against the secretary than her husband.
Felicity, still seething with impotent fury at the interruption of her carnal pleasure, was seated on the edge of the bed angrily combing her disheveled hair. McCord, annoyed and astonished by his daughter's intrusion-for he had neglected to read the telegram that arrived earlier, through philandering with Felicity-did not anticipate Elaine's arrival. Nor, indeed, was he aware of his wife's return until she entered the bedroom.
Hazel McCord was the last person Felicity expected to see at that moment. She gasped, snatched up her discarded dress and partly covered her nudity. McCord swore. His wife indicated the doorway.
"OUT!" she ordered the scowling secretary curtly. "Get lost, you cheap little tramp."
As Felicity edged past her, Hazel delivered a stinging slap across the girl's bare bottom. Felicity squealed, ran from the room.
"Now, you lecherous bastard," Hazel said contemptuously, glaring at her husband. "I can't leave you alone even for a few days without you laying some gullible little whore. I've suspected that cow for some time, so I shouldn't be surprised. I am surprised at you, fornicating with your own daughter in the house."
"How the hell did I know she was here?" McCord complained. "And what are you doing back so soon? I didn't expect you till Monday."
"Obviously. Listen, Trace. I know what an unprincipled swine you are, and it no longer bothers me to any great extent."
"It shouldn't, by God! You play around plenty yourself."
"That's not the point. I won't have Elaine exposed to this sordid exhibitionism. God knows what her reaction will be to all this. She worships you, Trace. The poor kid's downstairs sobbing her heart out."
"She'll get over it. Hell! I was only screwing that young bitch, not murdering her. It's time Elaine learned the facts of life."
"It's time you started behaving like a father. You can start by getting rid of that Page creature." "I will not. She's the best secretary I've ever had."
"And probably the best shag, you randy bastard. But I want her out of this house, right now. Either she goes, Trace, or I do, and you can't afford the sort of scandal it would mean if I walk out, and tell the newspapers why. They'd really go to work on you. So think about it. You've got twenty minutes, while I'm unpacking. If that whore is still in the house then you know what to expect. I can make your life hell, darling. And you know I'll do it, to protect Elaine."
"Okay. There's no need to throw your weight around. I'll fire her. But she won't like it."
"Does that really matter? For God's sake, Trace!" "All right. I'll tell her, get it over with." "Where are the servants?"
"I gave them the day off."
"That figures. All right, call Page. Let me hear you do it."
McCord called his secretary on the house phone. Felicity was in her room. She had composed herself and was in a defiant mood, more confident. When she entered the bedroom she was wearing a flimsy robe, and had a scarf knotted round her hair. She regarded Hazel McCord warily, sneering. Her reaction to McCord's curt ultimatum was blank astonishment followed by a display of venomous fury.
"FIRED!" she screamed. "You have the unmitigated nerve to think you can fire me? Why, you miserable, spineless bastard. So that's it! She wears the pants around here. I should have known. She's got a big enough ass to fill them. But you don't get rid of me that easy, Trace McCord. For God's sake, Trace, tell me it isn't true. You're not really siding with her against me, not after all you said, all your promises. You can't-"
McCord shrugged. He looked uncomfortable.
"What can I do?" he protested. "She's got me over a barrel. I daren't risk a scandal. You'd best go. We've had a good run and it's been fun, but now it's over. Naturally I'll take care of you. I'll mail you a check and-"
"A lousy check! You think money makes up for everything? Damn you! Damn you! You used me. I've never denied you anything. Why the sudden concern about her? Is it my fault that stupid daughter of yours came bursting in and-"
"Leave Elaine out of it. What are you complaining about, anyway? You knew it would have to end, some day. There's never been anything more than physical attraction between us, nothing that matters."
"And sex doesn't matter? You bastard! It matters to me. And I thought it meant something special to you, that I was important, if only because of the intimacy between us. What is she to you? A washed-out actress who never was any good. She drifts from one lover to another, squandering your money, giving you nothing. When did she last sleep with you? Yet you let her crack the whip over you."
"That's enough! She's my wife."
"She's a fat cow. And I'll tell you something, big man, now that we're dragging things out into the open. You think you're somebody special, that a fat billfold and a big prick makes you a real big man. But you're shit, McCord. A pot-bellied cunt-licker. You think I've enjoyed being mauled by you? Every time I let you touch me I've crawled all over. My insides were all knotted up. You're old, a filthy old man. Oh, you'll pay all right. I'll take your money. I've earned it. But it won't end there. I'll get even with that simple-minded little sneak, Elaine, and you'll regret slapping me, you fat, middle-aged cunt. I'll-"
Hazel McCord moved quickly, surprisingly fast for a woman of her generous proportions. Her hand lashed out, cracked sharply across Felicity's flushed, arrogant face with a force that jolted the secretary's head back.
"There's something else to remember, you foul-mouthed bitch," Hazel snapped. "Now get out."
Instead, Felicity rushed at her, bore her backward and, by the impetus of her infuriated attack, brought the surprised woman down. Hazel sprawled, yelled when Felicity fastened long, slender fingers in her hair and tugged at it, wrenching viciously. Hazel retaliated with another slap, punched the girl in the face, then kicked her in the stomach as she lay moaning on the floor.
Aroused to vindictiveness, Hazel reached down and jerked the crumpled robe from Felicity's body, leaving her naked, but staggered, crying out, when Felicity lunged and caught her unawares with a savage backhanded swipe.
Hazel tripped, fell with Felicity on top of her, clawing and scratching. Elaine, alarmed by the commotion, rushed upstairs and entered the bedroom in time to see her mother's dress ripped from neckline to hem. Hazel wore only abbreviated panties and uplift bra, in addition to slinky mesh stockings that accentuated the shapeliness of her legs and the plump whiteness of her sumptuous thighs. Shrieking abuse, Felicity deliberately hooked her fingers into the waistband of the pink briefs and with a swift jerk snapped the elastic, deftly hauled the nylon panties down over Hazel's broad, fleshy buttocks and flared hips while McCord, grinning at the lewd display, stared from his wife's bare bottom to Felicity's taut ass, and fingered his flaccid penis, reveling in the crude exposure.
Seeing his daughter, he grabbed a handy bathrobe and put it on. Meanwhile Hazel floundered with her meaty legs kicking wildly, her gorgeous thighs widespread, revealing every intimate detail of her large, hairy twat as the thick lips of her dark vagina rolled and parted, gaping then clamping together.
Felicity kept her legs together, denying McCord more than an occasional glimpse of her pouting slit, but eventually Hazel wrestled her into submission and the secretary allowed her limbs to separate, exposing the sultry crease of her bottom and the bold cleft of her writhing cunt. Sitting astride Felicity, pressing down on her stomach, Hazel slapped the girl's reddened face repeatedly. When, eventually, she allowed Felicity to get up, the secretary was in tears and the insides of her thighs were wet with urine released in the fever of nervous excitement and humiliation.
She ran from the room, pushing past Elaine, paused in the doorway to mouth venomous threats. "And I'll get you, too, you little sneak," she told Elaine. "Just you wait. I know how to deal with your sort." Hazel threw a brass ashtray, and Felicity hastily departed. Hazel stood up, drawing her torn dress together.
"What an exhibition," she remarked bitterly. "I'm ashamed, Elaine. I'm so sorry you had to see that. Blame your father. It's his fault, although I suppose I shouldn't condemn him entirely."
"I think I'll go to my room," Elaine said. "I feel sick. Seeing father, like that, behaving like an animal, and with her. Oh, mother! I feel utterly miserable and degraded."
"I know, dear. But things won't seem so black after you've rested and then eaten a good meal. It's time you faced up to the fact that life isn't hardly ever what you'd like it to be. It can be very sordid, darling. Your father is no different from most men. I'm only sorry you had to find out this way. None of us are perfect, Elaine."
"You're making excuses for him?"
"Not really. I understand him, that's all. Maybe it's partly my fault for being away from home so much. Your father is a violently physical man, darling. Some men need strong liquor as a kind of safety valve for their emotions and repressions. With him it's sex."
"Don't explain my behavior to her," McCord complained. "She's old enough to know these things for herself. There's nothing wrong with sex."
Hazel ignored him.
"Forget what's happened, honey," she told Elaine. "It will all be different now I'm back. Come down when you're feeling less upset."
Elaine nodded. She left the room. Alone with her husband, Hazel regarded him contemptuously. They were still arguing when Felicity Page left the house. They watched from the bedroom window as she drove from the garage in the sleek sports car McCord had bought her.
"She'll make trouble," McCord predicted.
"Nonsense! What can she do?"
McCord shrugged. He was relieved it was over, that Felicity had gone. In the morning he was due in Paris for an important conference. He dare not become involved in adverse publicity. The amount of the check he mailed to his former secretary that evening indicated the extent of his anxiety.
But he need not have worried. Felicity was a vindictive girl. She had definite ideas about what constituted revenge, and was not interested in creating scandal, only in humiliating Trace McCord and his wife and, above all, their stupid, blabbermouth daughter. She would, Felicity resolved, strike at the McCords through Elaine. But for the girl's hysterical reaction the affair might have been hushed up, even salvaged, for Hazel McCord, Felicity knew, had more lovers than she could handle, and regarded her husband's escapades as being of little consequence, far outweighed by her own indiscretions. So long as he continued to make her a more than adequate personal allowance Hazel didn't give a damn if Trace slept with a different woman every night. He had not fornicated with her for more than a year. The sexual fascination he once aroused in Hazel was long gone.
Felicity knew many intimate details of Hazel's private life. Whatever Hazel's personal shortcomings as a mother and wife she had always striven to protect Elaine from harsh reality, therefore it was evident to Felicity that she could best deliver a crippling body blow to the McCords through their daughter. Even before she left the house Felicity's agile mind was scheming. The plan she conceived was bold, so audacious there seemed a more than even chance she could get away with it. But she needed help.
Felicity had plenty of friends, some of whom would do anything in return for a quick rub-off or half an hour in bed. Cressey, for instance, or Downing, any of the strange, borderline crowd with whom Felicity associated for kicks, for the sexual thrills without which her life was drab and insipid. Felicity needed cock the way most women crave new, exciting clothes. She could never get enough prick, was seldom completely satisfied, and accordingly chose her companions from among the uncouth dregs of the teenage beat generation and hippies, favoring strong, vigorous types noted for exceptional, often abnormal, genital endowment, morons whose perverted instincts coincided with her own base desires. No form of sex was too crude for Felicity's enjoyment. There was nothing she had not done or would not do to indulge her carnal appetite.
Morton Cressey was a special friend, younger than Felicity, a tall, powerfully built youth with short cropped blond hair and pale blue eyes, as sexually potent as he was arrogant and uncouth. Cressey had no scruples whatever. At times Felicity was afraid of him, afraid of his demented rages, of the bestial ferocity of his crude love-making, yet she adored the youth, admired his strength and vigor, and was his absolute sexual slave, driven to rapturous frenzy by the sight, feel, and devastating intrusion of the mule's length of rampant prick he could thrash into her so tirelessly, time after time, until she was limp and sobbing and pleading in the sweet torment of recurring orgasm, and would have plunged her soul into eternal damnation for just one more thrust. Felicity often helped Cressey with money. He would, she felt confident, do anything she asked, within reason.
It was after midnight when Felicity and Cressey finally wound up at Cressey's small, downtown apartment. The rest of the gang were making a night of it at Flynn's. Cressey was drunk and argumentative, Felicity sober enough to temper her demands with caution. Liquor inflamed her sexually. Within moments of the door closing she flopped naked on the enormous bed, but for once Cressey was not in the mood. So for a while they just talked, and Felicity outlined her plan to get even with the McCords, meanwhile undressing Cressey by easy stages, then playing with his abnormal penis, expertly teasing the huge, flaccid roll until the youth's drunken stupor wore off and he took her, crudely and violently, and had her again in a different position before stumbling into the small kitchen to make coffee.
It cost Felicity fifty dollars to stimulate Cressey's interest in her lewd plan, but eventually her enthusiasm infected him also, and they discussed the vengeful scheme in sordid detail. The idea was fast becoming an obsession in Felicity's, hate-filled mind. Burning resentment clouded her reason. Drinking whiskey from a bottle, chain smoking, she relaxed on the crumpled bed and watched Morton Cressey sink back into the blank fog of drunken oblivion.
CHAPTER FOUR
The scene she had intruded upon remained vividly engraved on Elaine's mind. For several days afterward she stayed in her room, refusing to see anybody except her mother. Ordinarily the news that her father was in Paris would have created intense longing to be with him. Now, all she felt was relief that he was out of the house, that she did not have to face him.
Hazel McCord was a persuasive woman. Gradually she talked her daughter around. Eventually the girl shook off her depression and emerged, resolved to make the most of her vacation. Elaine had character and a strong will. She took an interest in outdoor activities again, played tennis and went sailing with the Jorgens family. The Jorgens had two daughters the same age as Elaine.
She had only one boy friend, a stocky, dark-haired youth with protruding ears and prominent teeth. None of the other girls in the neighborhood would go out with Geoffrey Barrett. Elaine liked him. He always behaved with respect in her company. His only romantic interest seemed to be in collecting butterflies. Geoffrey appeared to be a shy, quiet boy. Elaine found she could relax with him. Since her return from Cranfield High, however, Geoffrey seemed sullen and preoccupied, as if something was troubling him deeply. Elaine often caught him looking at her in a way that reminded her of Josh Meadows.
Her understanding of life had been broadened considerably by recent events, but Elaine was still very innocent and completely gullible. Unable to discover what was bothering Geoffrey, she ignored the danger signs, not even recognizing them for what they were.
One warm evening in August she was getting ready for a date with Geoffrey. She wanted to look her best and, having bathed, selected her prettiest dress and laid it on the bed. Then, her curiosity aroused by her reflection in the closet mirror, adopted various revealing poses, inspecting her ripe young body, handling her breasts, hefting and squeezing their firm, fleshy fullness, squashing the heavy globes together and marveling at the thrill of indefinable pleasure she experienced whenever her caressing fingers stroked the large nipples. She pulled the dark teats, stretching them, remembering how they had become hard and swollen under the fond pressure of Miss Faversham's stimulating touch.
Elaine blushed. She had learned a lot from Miss Faversham, but did not really understand much of it or the motives prompting such intimate conduct, any more than she could comprehend the bestial depths of rapturous delight Josh Meadows had derived from his brutal treatment of her, or the lecherous pleasure her own father had shared with Felicity Page. Sex could not be wholly bad, Elaine thought, or her mother would condemn it. Certainly, Hazel had warned her daughter, but without stressing the dangers. She frequently exposed herself, naked, to Elaine, in the bathroom or even in the girl's bedroom, and often compared the texture of her skin with that of her daughter, and the development of their bodies. Once, playfully slapping Elaine's bottom, Hazel had remarked how she wished her own buttocks were as smoothly perfect, that Elaine had a lovely ass and a really gorgeous figure. Elaine, studying her reflection, did not share her mother's views. She thought her behind ugly, overdeveloped, her breasts too large, and that hateful mass of black hair hiding the soft protrusion above her vagina-it was hideous, revolting. She pulled at the long, curling strands, parted the dense growth and separated her thighs so that she could see the prominent lips of her sexual cavity. Guiltily, she rubbed her index finger in the damp slit, and inhaled sharply when the chafing contact produced a delightful itching sensation. Recalling other experiences shared with Miss Faversham, Elaine opened her legs wider, crouched with knees bent, increasing the exposure of her hairy cleft. She thrust her finger higher, felt the moist, glutinous clitoris respond.
Turning, she stooped forward, thrust her bottom out, and gazed at the pouting protrusion of her vagina, then held the cheeks of her bottom wide apart and innocently examined the crinkly, purple-brown aperture of her anus. It resembled an open pansy, she thought, an obscene thing. And the gaping fissure just below, surrounded by and covered with shaggy hair, was like the bearded mouth of some loathsome, primeval monster, disgusting yet somehow morbidly fascinating, a part of her the same as the small, wrinkled pit she evacuated from.
She straightened, frowning at the trend of her thoughts. She was at the age when, her mother said, men found her most attractive, when they would resort to any subterfuge in order to perpetrate their lewd intentions. Elaine sighed. It was all so complicated, so sordid. The fleshy cheeks of her bottom quivered as she crossed the room. She put on pale blue panties and uplift bra, shrugged into the thin, cotton frock, then looked for a comb, uttered an exclamation of annoyance when she failed to find one.
She approached the door separating her bedroom from her mother's room, called through the paneled oak, heard prolonged sighs and gasps but received no verbal reply, and opened the door, thinking her mother must be ill.
Elaine stopped on the threshold. She felt choked, unable to speak. The bedroom was fully lighted. Hazel McCord lay naked on the rumpled bed, knees raised, her lovely legs wide apart, arms clasped firmly around the starkly nude man sprawled between her pale, convulsed thighs with his head resting in the deep valley separating the woman's heaving, flattened breasts. Elaine could see every shocking detail, the man's hairy genitals, the rapid movements of his muscular buttocks, the huge testicles dangling and twitching as he thrashed his great, rigid stalk of a penis into the wet, clutching gash of Hazel McCord's swollen vagina.
Elaine, profoundly affected, could not look away. She heard her mother blurt the man's name, and realized Hazel was with the chauffeur, fornicating with a man half her age. Kurt Peterson had been with the McCords less than a month.
Elaine felt sick. Her mother's limbs were taut, quivering with strain, her fingers digging spasmodically into Peterson's bare back. Each time he raised up Elaine saw the thick, slimy prick withdraw to the extreme rim of her mother's frantic, sucking cunt, saw the dark, greyish folds clutching and dragging at the distended organ, clinging wetly to its throbbing, turgid circumference, puckering again when the man lowered himself and drove the great, phallic cudgel deep, screwing in until the soggy sound of his pelvis contacting the woman's heaving stomach was plainly audible.
Every lurid detail was starkly impressed on the girl's horrified mind, registering through her startled eyes like pictures taken through a camera lens-the tight puckering and subsequent fluttering spread of her mother's sweaty asshole each time she thrust up to meet Peterson's ferocious lunges, the squelching sounds following every rampant stroke into her gaping mare's cunt, the animal grunting and straining, the ridged folds of flesh around the junction of the man's pouting anus and his powerfully rooted penis-Elaine saw every vital movement, every gesture, heard every sound.
Tiny bubbles of frothy mucus gathered at the opening of the woman's soggy twat and burst as that enormous penis intruded yet again, impaling her brutally, withdrawing, maintaining a rapid, rhythmic stroke, screwing right up into her shuddering belly. Each terrific surge forced Hazel's knees higher and widened the spread of her sumptuous thighs. Her limbs jerked violently. Peterson's considerable weight was supported largely on his knees and elbows. When he raised himself there was hardly any pressure on the woman at all, but each time he rammed in, her legs were forced apart and thrust downward until the backs of her thighs supported the man's stomach and his loins came hard up against the hairy bulge of her yielding mound.
Man and woman remained in ignorance of the girl's intrusion. The color drained from Elaine's face. First her father, now her mother. They were no different, both rotten, filthy, depraved. Shaken and resentful, bitterly indignant, Elaine returned to her own room, closed the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes tightly as if trying to shut out the sight of that enormous cow ass heaving and splaying, those huge, flopping breasts, that immensely bloated prick all wet and stiff and steaming, plunging in and out, sucking and squelching, the ridged scrotum dangling below the tightly compressed cleft dividing the man's pale buttocks- Oh, God! How could her mother allow any man- How could she enjoy such squalid debauchery?
Elaine clenched her fists until the knuckles gleamed white. Suddenly angry, she got dressed. She was tempted to break her date but decided it would be unfair to Geoffrey. Why take it out on him? Perhaps her father was right-maybe it was time she woke up to certain facts. Maybe she was the only one whose actions and values were peculiar and distorted.
It was almost eleven-thirty. Elaine had never been out so late, but she felt secure with Geoffrey and reluctant to go home. Moonlight revealed every aspect of his unattractive face as Elaine relaxed with him on the back seat of his outdated Oldsmobile. She did not object to petting, but received a distinct shock when Geoffrey suddenly stabbed his tongue into her mouth. He was flushed and unusually excited, although he had not been drinking. Elaine protested, but he ignored her nervous remonstration and began touching her breasts and trying to put his hand up her clothing. Alarmed, and annoyed, Elaine objected vehemently. Geoffrey's whole attitude was different, vulgar and demanding. His insistence angered Elaine, and when he jerked her roughly against him and she felt the hard ridge of his stiffened penis jabbing through the thin flannel of his pants, she pushed him away and tried to get out of the car.
Geoffrey restrained her. He whispered, making lewd suggestions and laughing wildly when she protested. Elaine had never seen him in such an aggressive, insulting mood. She could not control him. He made indecent proposals, continually tried to intrude his tongue into her mouth, and finally, despite her frantic struggles, grasped her inner thigh and quickly worked his hand upward to her groin, then inside the leg of her panties. Elaine had not realized he was so strong or determined. She felt his hot, clammy touch on her vagina. He enclosed the warm, pulsating slit, squeezed gently.
That in itself was not so frightening, but it didn't stop there. Geoffrey slid his hand over the curve of her hip to her bottom, clasped the softly yielding cheek and mauled it savagely. When his fingers gouged into the deep cleft and probed around her anus Elaine raged furiously, but the youth pushed her back and held her against the upholstery, writhed his hand between her buttocks into the junction of thighs and vulva, and avidly abused her cunt again, then attempted to pull her panties down.
Almost in tears, protesting angrily, Elaine slapped him. But the blow only inflamed him more. He jerked her panties down past her hips and kept tugging at them, but was unable to break Elaine's desperate grip on the blue nylon. Suddenly abandoning his savage attempts to tear the briefs, he thrust her back against the seat and pinned her there with his right arm across her throat while his other hand fumbled with the front of his pants and finally released his erect penis.
Elaine cringed, shrinking away, terrified, re-living all the nauseating, mind-shattering events of the past few weeks. Geoffrey's penis was short and fat, hugely swollen, a stubby, ridiculous organ that jerked and dribbled as he shook and rubbed it, drawing the wrinkled foreskin right back until the broad glans bulged disgustingly. Squatting on the extreme edge of the seat he extended his loins so that the straining shaft protruded and, smirking at Elaine's revulsion, urgently instructed her, impatiently grasping her limp hand when she failed to respond and closing her fingers round his bloated organ.
It was a repetition of Elaine's ordeal with the deformed caretaker at Cranfield High. Just as Meadows had compelled her to manipulate his penis, so Geoffrey dragged her hand up and down the distended prick, and all the time he mouthed vile threats. Elaine's one thought was to humor him until an opportunity to escape presented itself. She tried not to look at the rigid, throbbing phallus pulsing within the hot curve of her hand. Geoffrey forced her masturbating fingers lower, right down among the writhing roots of his fat cock, ripping the remaining fly buttons undone and releasing a strong, rancid odor from his sweating, confined testicles.
He repeatedly exhorted Elaine to brisker movements, urging her to clutch his prick fiercely and whank the thick roll with more deliberate, chafing strokes. When she again struggled and resorted to tearful pleading, he produced a knife, and fear prompted Elaine to comply with his wishes. Even so, she could have performed the odious function without yielding to hysteria if Geoffrey had been content to let it go at that. The mental picture of her mother copulating with Kurt Peterson, and the horror of being subjected to the shameful orgy of fornication, of having to endure another hideous ordeal like the experience with Josh Meadows, nerved Elaine to suffer the loathsome contact and try to conclude the filthy performance quickly, even though every thrust and vibrant lunge of that revolting, fleshy organ caused her acute distress and such recurring nausea that only by a supreme effort of will was she able to suppress vomiting.
She persevered, driven by sheer desperation. But Geoffrey wanted more complete satisfaction than masturbation could give. Elaine renewed her frantic struggles when he suddenly opened the car door and tried to drag her out on the grass. She resisted furiously, but he overpowered her and flung her on the ground, quickly knelt and wrestled her to a prone position. Then, breathing heavily, he sat on her stomach. Exhausted and winded, Elaine could only lie there, gasping, while he raised her dress and began tugging at her panties. Elaine could do nothing to stop him. He worked the garment right down, removed the crumpled briefs, threw them aside, then crouched and forced her legs apart. Sobbing, Elaine tried to cover her exposed vagina. Geoffrey roughly wrenched her arms up. He groaned at the sight of her naked, hairy split, grasped his tumid penis firmly, writhed lower, squirming between her thighs, and stabbed his fat prick at the moist, cringing fissure, savagely dragging Elaine's clutching hands away from her private parts.
The swollen, reddened knob entered slightly, but the instant Elaine felt the youth's fat prick butting against her quim she thrashed about so violently, kicking and wrenching and screaming, that Geoffrey was unable to achieve further penetration, and quickly lost the little advantage he had gained. He tried again, repeatedly, desperately, brutally, but Elaine successfully resisted all his efforts. Finally, panting and sweating profusely, he desisted and, hunkered between her widespread legs, stared pathetically at her obstinate passage. His shoulders slumped, Elaine heard him groan.
"All right, damn you!" he muttered thickly. "I could make you fuck, you silly little cow. I could use that knife on you until you begged me to screw you. But I don't want to hurt you. Oh, Elaine! For God's sake, help me! You know what I want. I've kept it cooped up all this time, but now I can't hold back any longer. I've got to have you. Don't you understand? I've made a balls of it, frightened you. I forgot you weren't like the rest. But-please, Elaine, if you won't let me fuck you at least finish what you started. Take hold of it. Go on, damn you! Or I will cut you. It only needs a few rubs. Oh, why won't you let me put it in? It won't hurt."
His nostrils were flared, his eyes glassy. His face twitched, head shaking, lips trembling. He wasn't the boy Elaine knew, just a disgusting, slobbering animal obscenely displaying the emblem of his frustrated masculinity. For one fleeting moment a stab of pity intruded on Elaine's seething emotions, a twinge of understanding-or conscience. The brief, disturbing ripple passed leaving her revulsion undiminished, but a resolve was forming in her turbulent mind. She knew what she must do, the obvious, inevitable solution. She had seen the natural conclusion of lust involving Meadows, and her father. Release the seething vortex of passion and lust evaporated like the morning dew. Life had taught Elaine that much, at least.
Deliberately then she reached out and took the youth's jutting penis in her left hand, clutched its bloated, straining length tightly and, overcoming her distaste, began vigorously jerking the hard core, urgently manipulating it, stretching the foreskin painfully in her frantic haste.
Surprised, Geoffrey was quick to cooperate, fucking his swollen tool into the hollow of her hand and attempting to reach the clammy maw of her vagina, but Elaine squirmed away from his clutching fingers and increased her amateurish friction, felt the violent surge of his tensing body as he neared his climax, the fierce convulsing of his muscles and the brief, ultimate expansion of his torrid penis in the moment before hot, spurting fluid puddled across her fingers, some of it spattering her frock and bare thigh.
Geoffrey uttered a strangled cry. The color began to drain from his hotly flushed face, and with it his stamina. The violence of his demented mood evaporated with a suddenness that left him virtually in a state of collapse, staring vacantly, his mouth gaping loosely, while the flabby stump of his penis dwindled rapidly, contracting to a wrinkled blob of slimy flesh practically hidden among the coarse bush of pubic hair.
Profuse apologies followed, dramatic explanations, appeals. Elaine ignored the frightened youth. She was trembling, close to complete breakdown as she struggled to pull her panties over her feet and up past her wide hips. Geoffrey was still pleading with her.
"I won't tell my parents, if that's what you're afraid of," Elaine told him finally. "You hateful beast. I never want to see you or speak to you again."
She walked away, fighting to keep back the tears. She had thought Geoffrey so nice, so different. God! How she hated the male sex, the whole, sordid breed. And now she couldn't even turn to her mother for consolation.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hazel McCord, slowly getting dressed after a delightful interlude with Kurt Peterson, frowned as the glare of sweeping headlights was reflected in the mirror. Tires crunched on gravel.
"Who's that?" Hazel asked irritably. Peterson, naked, shrugged. He reached for his shirt.
"Not your old man, I hope," he answered. "Hardly, darling. But it might be Elaine and Geoffrey." She moved to the window, drew the drapes aside.
"No," she said. "There's a whole group down there. All young. Probably friends of hers."
The noisy arrivals loitered around a battered Ford, four youths and three girls. One of the girls seemed vaguely familiar. The whole rowdy gang were similarly dressed in tight jeans and leather jackets. The obvious leader, big and very muscular, had blond, close-cropped hair. One of the other youths was tall and thin, gaunt-looking, with pale blue eyes and straw colored hair extending midway down his narrow back, another boy stocky and flabby, heavily affected with acne. His hair, too, was coarse and excessively long, hanging in frizzy waves below the level of his broad shoulders, reddish-brown in color. His closely-set eyes were deeply sunken and ringed with dark shadows.
The fourth youth, a Negro, was tall and lean, with magnificent physical development. Felicity Page was with the group. The appearance of the other girls contrasted sharply. One was a natural blonde, tall and slender, with high, pointed breasts and extremely prominent buttocks, the other short and plump, a brunette, rather plain but with tremendous sex-appeal. Her thighs were fleshy but well rounded, her bottom wide but compact, the cheeks full and firm, devoid of sag, the cleft emphasized by the tightness of her clinging jeans. Her unusually large breasts jutted audaciously, heavy ovals unsupported by any form of bra, the nipples plainly visible through the soft, canary yellow sweater she wore under the open jacket. Her complexion was blemished, marred by spots, but the blonde's skin, apart from a few freckles, was flawless, though layered with cheap makeup. She favored lipstick that was more mauve than red, and her eyelashes were obviously false. The tightness of her thin mouth indicated a mean, spiteful disposition. The brunette, an insolent, reckless, wholly depraved young degenerate, had an equally cynical expression.
Upstairs, Hazel McCord turned from the window, frowning.
"I'd better go down and see what they want," she said. "Put some clothes on, for God's sake."
She delayed her departure while she ran a comb through her untidy hair and straightened her clothing. Satisfied with her appearance, she approached the door, but paused, startled, when it swung slowly inward. Morton Cressey blocked the entry. He smirked insolently. Hazel moved back. Her eyes narrowed.
"Who the devil are you?" she demanded. "How dare you come into my house uninvited? Get out, this instant, or I'll call the police."
"Cool it, lady," Cressey drawled languidly. "We don't mean to harm you so long as you do as you're told."
"What do you mean? If you've come to steal you won't find anything-FELICITY! What are you doing here? What is this? Some sort of stupid retaliation? My husband-"
"Is in Paris. I know. I wanted the bastard out of the way." "But-why are you here? If you think-Kurt! Do something."
Peterson, wearing only a linen shirt, started to get to his feet but received a violent push and sprawled on the floor. The hulking youth promptly placed a foot on the chauffeur's neck and emitted a shrill whistle. The rest of the gang trooped past Felicity into the bedroom. Peterson, threatened with a slender knife, remained passive when the foot was removed from his neck. "No trouble," Cressey warned, "or you'll get it." "For God's sake!" Hazel blurted. "What do you want?" "Elaine," Felicity said harshly. "Where is she?" "Elaine? She isn't here. I don't understand."
"You will, you flabby cow. We'll wait, and while we're waiting, Morton, honey, suppose we make a start with her, with this fat cocksucker."
Alarmed, Hazel backed away. Cressey pushed her and she sat down heavily on the bed.
"What do you mean?" she enquired anxiously. "What do you intend to do? Felicity-why are you doing this? You're trespassing, making threats. Unless you leave immediately I shall call the police and-"
"You'll call nobody," Cressey told her mockingly. "You've got a big mouth, lady, a fucking big mouth, and a cunt to match-if I'm any judge."
"Give it to her," Felicity demanded vindictively. "Don't just threaten the bitch. What do you think I'm paying you for? I want to see her get it."
Cressey shrugged, made an obscene gesture. "Don't rush me," he drawled. "I'm workin' up to it." He grinned at Hazel, appraised her figure, moistened his lips.
"It'll be a real pleasure earnin' that fifty bucks," he remarked. "But I guess the prospect of a big, fat prick slappin' about inside you doesn't frighten you one little bit, eh, lady? Not what you'd call punishment. Fact is you like hot cock. Am I right? Sure you do. You like all you can get, and the bigger they come the better you like 'em."
He nudged Peterson with the toe of a scuffed suede shoe.
"This character isn't short of prick," Cressey observed, sneering. "A useful tool if I ever saw one. But you'll see some real king-size cock before we're through."
He snapped his fingers together. The stocky youth promptly produced a pack of cigarettes. Cressey extracted one, placed it between his thin lips. Felicity lit it for him, leaning intimately against his shoulder. Cressey kissed her on the mouth, curling his tongue fiercely against hers. He felt her smooth ass. Felicity laughed. Smirking, the youth made a curt, sweeping gesture, indicating his friends. He named them. They regarded Hazel derisively. The blond youth was Maurice, the sandy-haired character named Downing. Cressey referred to the Negro as Thatch, and the slender blonde as Kitty. The brunette, Sharon, stood smiling cynically down at the squatting chauffeur. Her face was flushed.
"Let her stew awhile," she said thickly. "This character interests me. I want to see him raise a stalk. See what sort of competition you're up against."
"Go ahead, you randy little twat," Cressey told her. "We're in no hurry. She'll keep. Have your fun, kitten."
Downing intercepted a signal from Sharon. Thatch, too, moved closer. Peterson shuffled across the floor, but they grabbed him and held him down. Maurice squatted and rested his weight on the chauffeur's legs. Cressey, lounging against the wall, smirked sardonically. He lit a cigarette. Hazel McCord, seeing what she thought was an opportunity, scrambled off the bed but was grabbed by Felicity and thrust back violently. The former secretary possessed a wiry strength far greater than Hazel's bulky robustness.
"Try that again and I'll slit your fuckin' throat," Cressey warned. White-faced, Hazel shrank back. Sharon crouched beside Peterson, leaning over him, one arm across his chest. She lowered her head and laughingly kissed him on the mouth, poked the tip of her tongue in his ear, bit the lobe, chuckling at his reaction. Abruptly she shifted her position and sprawled across his prone body so that her breasts were squashed against his thigh and her flushed face hovered close to his loins. She lifted his shirt, and Peterson squirmed when she boldly seized his slack penis.
Squealing with delight, the girl pulled at the flaccid organ, stretching its fleshy length painfully. She pushed the foreskin right back, squeezed the bulging glans, thrust her fingers right down among the dense mass of glinting hair and captured the gasping man's testicles, laughing excitedly when his penis began to throb and stiffen.
"It's out of this world," she declared. "Fabulous! Bigger than yours, Thatch, you black bastard. Man! I really go for this character."
She hefted the wrinkled scrotum, captured the swelling prick again, moaning as rising passion churned within the taut mound of her belly. Impulsively she conveyed the bloating organ to her large mouth and kissed it repeatedly, pressing her lips wetly against the straining branch and finally taking the cruelly expanded knob into the warm cavity of her eager mouth. She sucked the fat prick, writhing her lips up and down the tumid shaft and voraciously engulfing more and more of it until the hard core butted against the back of her throat and her mouth came up against the man's shaggy pelvis each time she forced the huge, shuddering roll into the oral pit.
Hazel, bewildered and frightened, watched the crude exhibition in silence. Seeing the young girl frantically sucking that tremendous, turgid penis, slobbering over it, the prick that had so often battered wonderfully, delightfully deep into her own receptive mouth and yearning cunt, Hazel felt no disgust, quite the opposite, rather a feeling of resentment and jealousy mingled with increasing anxiety prompted by ignorance of what Felicity and her uncouth associates intended to do when Elaine eventually came home.
She watched Sharon tug Peterson's shirt higher, exposing his white, hairy belly. His inflated penis jutted proudly, a handsome cudgel jerking and pulsing. He no longer struggled. His teeth were gritted and his face was flushed with lustful excitement. When Sharon, laughing, masturbated his fat prick, he mouthed urgent appeals, exhorting her to faster strokes, voicing hoarse encouragement. The girl's dark eyes, smoldering pits of desire, were half closed, her mouth wide open as if about to engulf that great stalk again. While she whanked, her other hand fumbled with the studded belt supporting her jeans.
She unfastened it, released the tight pants and impatiently worked them down over her fleshy hips, then raised her bottom and eased the crumpled garment past the prominent cheeks. She wore nothing underneath. As she bent over the chauffeur Hazel could see the dense bush of glossy brown hair sprouting around and below the swollen lips of Sharon's large, glistening vagina and extending down the cleft of her ass to the puckered rim of her puffy, protruding anus.
Reluctantly abandoning Peterson's immense penis, the girl squirmed to a squatting posture astride his chest, facing his feet, and used both hands to separate the cheeks of her bottom, splaying the plump ovals obscenely and thrusting her buttocks toward Peterson's face. Amid sniggers and ribald encouragement she leaned still further back and pushed her vagina and the crease of her bottom against Peterson's reddened features, waggling her hips and furiously rubbing the man's grimacing face in the ruttish cleft, twisting around to watch his reactions, chuckling with wanton delight.
Three of the youths were openly handling their genitals. Maurice had his big prick out, the others contented themselves with feeling their organs through their clothing, although Downing's fly buttons were undone. Eventually Sharon turned around completely, sat on Peterson's stomach, and smirked derisively down into his sweating face.
"Did you like that, sweet man?" she asked, teasing. "That fat cow hasn't got anything little Sharon can't improve on. Wouldn't you like to fuck me, darling?"
"Yes, you bloody little whore," Peterson panted. Sharon laughed. She raised up, adopted a stooping posture astride the man's hips, removed one leg, then the other, from the impeding jeans, threw them aside, then held the lips of her vagina widely apart while she lowered herself gradually but precisely onto Peterson's throbbing erection, guided the fat prick in and sank down with a moaning cry of sheer ecstasy, closing her eyes as the dark folds clutched and clung, engulfing the huge tool with a wet, sucking sound.
Sharon heaved her vigorous young body up and down, jerkily impaling herself so that her bottom squashed repeatedly against the man's tensed thighs and the pouting lips of her vagina splayed succulently against his hairy pelvis, quickly lifting, allowing the slippery shaft to withdraw, then settling firmly onto it again. A look of sheer carnal rapture convulsed Sharon's blotchy face. She watched Peterson's rapidly changing expressions. There was no longer any need for the youths to hold him down but they maintained pressure on his arms. The other girl, Kitty, was obviously enjoying the spectacle. She kept pressing her hands between her slender thighs and uttering potent sighs. Thatch suddenly jerked his jeans open and flopped his huge black roll out. He masturbated furiously, grimacing. Downing uncovered his penis, seized Kitty's hand and forced it down to the twitching length of his rearing organ. She grasped it eagerly.
Meanwhile Sharon, panting with exertion, answered lewd comments with equally obscene outbursts. Hazel McCord, hearing the girl's gasping moans, knowing she was nearing orgasm, watched the lewd display, still confused and too afraid to move, but fascinated and sexually aroused despite her fears.
Sharon removed herself from Peterson and, kneeling beside him, grasped his ponderous penis and whanked impatiently while he thrashed about, groaning and cursing, and soon afterward released a spurting gush of milky sperm that puddled on his belly and thighs, some of it adhering gummily to Sharon's hot, clammy hand.
The girl wiped her fingers on Peterson's shirt, clambered to her feet, retrieved her jeans and hauled them on, sniggering as she buckled the broad belt.
"Satisfied now?" Felicity asked sarcastically. Sharon nodded, sniffed her fingers, wrinkled her snub nose. She swept her long hair back.
"I've had worse," she answered. Felicity indicated Hazel.
"What about her?" she asked pointedly. Cressey flipped his cigarette stub away, crushed it underfoot, grinding it into the carpet. Hazel could see the prominent bulge where his penis distended the front of his jeans. His face was darkly flushed.
"I'm about ready," he said. Felicity turned triumphantly to Hazel.
"Don't cringe," she said contemptuously. "You haven't seen anything yet. Your turn is coming up, right now. Then we'll-"
"I'm not afraid of anything your obnoxious friends can do to me, Felicity. You're just laying yourself wide open for a lot of trouble."
"Think so? What time do you expect Elaine?"
"Why? You can't mean to vent your spite on her? For God's sake, Felicity, what-" A door banged. Instantly the depraved group were alert, listening, scowling. "That's probably her now," Felicity hissed. "Keep quiet."
She darted toward the bed and clapped a hand over Hazel's mouth. Cressey produced a thin-bladed knife, pressed the vicious tip against Hazel's throat.
"Quiet!" he warned. Footsteps sounded in the hall. A melodious voice began humming a tune. Hazel released pent-up breath in a deep sigh.
"It's Janice, my maid," she said. "I'll have to go down or she'll suspect something is wrong. You'd best leave, right now. Get out, and take that evil-minded bitch with you. Leave while you have the chance or, by God, I'll see to it that you're all put away for the next ten years. You must be mad, all of you. Quite mad. JANICE! HELP!"
She uttered the desperate shouts before Cressey could stop her. He didn't have the guts to use his knife. He merely swore and looked apprehensive. Felicity pushed him aside. She slapped Hazel's face viciously, snatched the knife.
"What's the matter with you?" she demanded, glaring at Cressey. "You gone chicken on me? Get that maid up here. I'll keep this cow quiet. The maid won't give us any trouble-she's old enough to be your mother. We'll keep her out of the way until the girl shows up."
"You must hate that kid awful bad."
"I despise the stupid little cow. I'm going to make this bitch and her husband sweat blood. Nobody gets hurt, just a little education all round. All right?"
Cressey nodded. He motioned to Thatch and Downing. They left the room and moved quietly toward the top of the stairs. Cressey ordered Peterson to stand up. He pushed the chauffeur into a closet, closed and locked the door.
"Keep quiet if you know what's good for you," he warned. "We'll be leavin' soon. Till then, just cool it, man. Any noise out of you and we'll whip your cods off along with a few inches of prick. So watch it."
He approached Hazel McCord, appraised her with lecherous interest. He passed his tongue across his lips. Hazel shrank back.
"You've got a fair shape, lady," Cressey told her insolently. "Considerin' your age. But you're too free with that big mouth, and I don't like threats. I guess there's only one way to keep you quiet. Maybe you won't be so gabby with a fat prick up your ass. Grab her, you cats."
Hazel gasped. She tried to elude Felicity and reach the door but Cressey dragged her back and threw her on the bed. Maurice and the two girls pounced on her and held the helpless woman down, chuckling at her vicious tirade of profane abuse. She raved and screamed, thrashing about in desperate, futile frenzy, maintaining a continual flow of hysterical protest until the suffocating weight of youthful bodies squeezed the air from her lungs and a rough hand cruelly clamped over her mouth effectively smothered her frantic outcry.
Downstairs, Janice Connors, the black maid, a large, fleshy woman about forty-five years of age, heard Hazel McCord shout, and the violent commotion, and hurried to the bottom of the wide staircase. She called, received no answer, and laboriously climbed the stairs, wheezing and panting, her enormous buttocks joggling and heaving, heavy breasts flopping. Still an attractive woman despite gross overweight, Janice paused on the landing, one hand pressed against her side. She saw a furtive figure lurking in a doorway, and opened her mouth to yell, but the shout was strangled in her throat by a sinewy arm that, whipping around her neck from behind, choked her into semi-consciousness. She was vaguely aware of uncouth hands molesting her, displacing her clothing, of hoarse chuckles and profane remarks, and she struggled furiously as awareness increased and those same hands interfered with the great, chafing gash between her flabby thighs, invading the sweaty crevice of her tremendous behind, prodding and probing, pulling callously at her black flesh and tearing her underclothing.
Janice was dragged backward to the floor and held powerless by one youth while another delved repeatedly beneath her flared skirt and ravaged her mature sex organs with shocking, shameful bestiality.
"Jesus!" she heard a youthful voice exclaim. "She's got a cunt like a mare. Man, you're really weird if you can fancy that stinkin' bag of worms. She'll swallow you, Thatch."
"Ain't no fuck like a bit of black meat round your prick." the maid's other assailant retorted quickly. "Provided you got cock enough to cope. She's big all right, but that's the way I like 'em. I'll fill her flabby minge. Get her into the bedroom and let Cressey see what we've caught."
Janice Connors, hurt and bewildered, lay face downward on the floor in a corner near the window, absolutely terrified, too horribly frightened even to attempt to move or avoid the Negro's crude mauling as, kneeling between her sprawling legs, Thatch shamelessly explored the delights of her dusky bottom and pulled at the fleshy folds of her smelly quim.
Downing joined Maurice and Felicity. They had Hazel McCord spread-eagled on the bed and were boisterously removing her clothing. Cressey watched, lounging in an armchair near the door. He had found a store of liquor. Looking bored, he kept taking generous swallows from a quart bottle of whiskey.
For a while Hazel maintained a pretence of anger and disgust, pleading with the youths, begging Felicity to stop them, but when she realized no physical harm was intended she quickly overcame vague scruples and laughingly entered into the spirit of the lustful escapade, actively participating and eventually assuming a dominant role, gasping and squealing and clutching at gaping flies, grabbing at jutting pricks exposed to her lascivious gaze. Her sensual disposition and mature experience quickly inflamed the youthful morons who, surprised and delighted by her willingness despite feeling slightly awed by the sheer carnal exuberance and the enormity of what they were doing and this vivacious, sexy, tremendously appealing woman was actually encouraging them to do, forgot lingering, hesitant fears of reprisal and abandoned themselves completely.
Hazel, having adapted herself to the situation, was in her element. An insatiable whore, she reveled in the crude exchange, the vulgar language and rough, intimate handling, as savagely primitive in her responding lust as any of the jostling youths. Hazel preferred younger men. Her numerous lovers were always well below her age, all exceptionally virile and chosen for their abnormal sexual development. She was more than willing to let Morton Cressey and his obnoxious friends make a convenience of her. Already, for the time being, she had forgotten the vague threat to Elaine, the reason for Felicity's intrusion. Hazel had no scruples, and as apprehension yielded to passion she participated eagerly in the wanton charade and was soon entirely immersed in the seething cauldron of squalid desire. Naked except for stockings and panty-girdle, she lay on her left side with voluptuous thighs widely separated and her right leg raised, presenting the whole span of her huge, hairy twat and handling Maurice's fleshy penis while Downing fucked her laughing mouth and Thatch, sprawled with his sweat-glistening face pressed into the odorous cleft of her delightfully mature, sweetly rounded bottom, held the exquisite cheeks apart and avidly tongued the twitching brown hole which, alternately puckering, relaxing, then fiercely contracting as the stabbing tongue curled into and round the dark pit, until the pouting anus was so excited and protruding the Negro's thick lips gathered it into his hot mouth and sucked it. Thatch had abandoned the Negro maid after dabbling his fat black prick in her capacious quim, finding the great, blubbery gash too slack even for his enormous tool. He flung himself into the thick of the clamoring melee and quickly sought his favored objective. The closer he could get to a woman's ass the great satisfaction Thatch derived from any sexual contact.
For Hazel, the whole exciting world seemed to consist of naked pricks and flapping balls, and the clammy clutch of frantic hands avidly grabbing at her secret parts.
CHAPTER SIX
By the time Elaine reached home the encounter with Geoffrey was less vivid in her resilient mind and revulsion had yielded to self-pity and then anger. The squalid act Geoffrey had made her perform aroused more resentment than distress, and mingled with her conflicting emotions was a certain amount of sober reflection and a kind of guilty satisfaction prompted by the knowledge that her stubborn resistance had thwarted the youth's initial filthy designs. The smell of his sperm and his genital organs still clung to her fingers. But at least she had been spared the full foulness of his demented lust. He must have become temporarily insane, Elaine thought. The whole world was crazy, a mad, whirling vortex of sex and depravity.
Now all she wanted was to get home, to relax in the cleansing spray of a hot shower, then go to bed. She would, Elaine knew, never trust another boy, however "nice" he seemed. They were all animals, vile beasts obsessed with primeval passions.
When Elaine saw the battered Ford parked in the driveway she was mildly curious. Some friend of her mother, she thought. The car did not belong to anybody Elaine knew. Lights blazed downstairs, and there was a light in her mother's bedroom. As she approached the house Elaine could hear raucous, uproarious voices, boisterous laughter and shrill outbursts of hysterical frenzy. She frowned. Was her mother throwing a party? No. Impossible. There was only one car outside. Entertaining friends, perhaps. If so, they were a rowdy lot. The sounds echoed resoundingly.
Elaine entered the house hesitantly. Whoever was upstairs sounded drunk, and all the noise seemed to come from upstairs. The cold grip of apprehension clutched the girl's heart. Oh, God! Not another disgusting exhibition involving Kurt Peterson? Surely her mother wouldn't-? Perhaps, Elaine reasoned, her father had returned sooner than expected.
Reassured, she ran quickly up the stairs, but hesitated outside the closed bedroom door, afraid of what she might see beyond it. While she stood there, pondering nervously, she sensed movement behind her and started to turn, saw a tall, pimply-faced youth with shoulder-length blond hair grinning at her, and cried out when he suddenly grabbed her hair and jerked her head back, almost dislocating her neck. Abruptly the door was wrenched, or kicked, open. Elaine, sent staggering by a violent push, sprawled on hands and knees.
The scene when she raised her head was unbelievable. The room was crowded, full of capering, near-naked teenagers. Elaine's mother lay naked on the bed, writhing beneath the weight of a trio of lusting youths each practicing some form of vile perversion. A fourth youth, tall and powerfully built, was lounging in a chair, drinking whiskey, his face deeply flushed, repeatedly belching, and frequently mouthing foul encouragement.
Across the room, the McCord's maid, Janice, crawled around the floor on her hands and knees, stark naked, with a slim blonde girl astride her broad back, riding her like a mare and viciously whacking the woman's ponderous bare ass with a slipper and whooping like an imbecile. In the middle of the luxurious carpet a voluptuous brunette stood with robust legs wide apart and her head thrown right back. She wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. Her pelvic mound was thrust out prominently, and she was pouring wine from a tilted bottle so that the rich crimson liquid spilled into the luscious cleavage of her ripe, quivering breasts and, trickling down her smoothly rounded belly, gathered in the hairy recess round her vagina and dripped from the dark, bearded folds into the open mouth of a stocky youth whose untidy length of sand-colored hair swept the dandruff-speckled shoulders of his tattered leather jacket. Some of the wine escaped his large, dribbling mouth and splashed down his blotchy chin, puddling on the grey carpet. The moment the wine bottle was empty the youth scrambled up and staggered toward the bed to rejoin the others, vigorously fought to achieve a posture whereby he could insert his jutting penis into Hazel McCord's receptive mouth.
Felicity Page, squatting at Cressey's feet, had his fly undone and his abnormal prick out. She played with it, slowly frigging the formidable roll, repeatedly exhorting the youth to fuck the woman on the bed, to show her some real cock.
Elaine saw all this in the brief moments before Felicity, promptly deserting Cressey, scurried across the floor and attacked the girl from behind as she crouched in blank confusion. She wound strong fingers into Elaine's hair and dragged her head back, held her with a slender but sinewy arm round her neck, and forced her to watch the disgusting drama on the bed, a scene that had, by its shattering impact, reduced the girl to weeping hysteria. Felicity snapped her out of it by cuffing her several times and increasing the painful, stress on Elaine's hair.
"Take a good look, darling," Felicity jeered. "It'll be your turn soon. Your dear, sweet whore of a mother likes it. Look at the fat cow, reveling in it. I wonder if you have her nature, deep down? I doubt it. I doubt if you've ever had a man's hard prick inside you. But you will, darling. Not here though. I've got plans for you. I'm going to make your goddam father sweat blood over you, honey, and your lousy mother. And they will, believe me. So will you, darling. Don't struggle, damn you, or I'll break your arm."
She captured the girl's left arm and twisted it up behind her back. Elaine moaned, cried out.
"Why?" she croaked huskily, almost choking. "Why? You must be mad. What have I done to you? And mother-? We-"
"Spoiled a sweet set-up, you stupid cow, that's what you did. I had it made with your old man till you came bursting into the room, this room. Remember? You blabbed to darling Hazel, and she made that bastard fire me. Me! But they won't get away with it. I'm going to teach them both a lesson, honey, and improve your education at the same time. Now shut up, or I'll let the gang loose on you right now. Ha! Look at her, your glamorous mother, wallowing in it. A real glutton for cock, the fat cunt. She's so busy she doesn't even know you're here yet. Don't spoil the surprise, or I'll really hurt you."
Sharon, abandoned by Downing, sat pouting on the divan, biting her nails. Kitty watched the activities with bored indifference. Cressey, still punishing the bottle, slumped deeper in the chair.
Elaine, forced to watch the debauchery involving her mother, and observing Hazel's sordid reaction, her changing expressions the pattern of thoughts which the girl found so easy to decipher, suffered agonies of mental torment and abject despair. Sobbing, terrified, held helpless by Felicity she pleaded with the former secretary. Felicity ignored her completely, and Elaine felt the extreme tension of her captor's slender body, the shuddering carnal response as Downing shot his sperm into Hazel McCord's sensual, receptive mouth, forcing her face into his groin and grinding his fat roll right to the back of her throat.
Hazel spat out the semen but licked all round the steaming, purplish knob when it was reluctantly withdrawn. Downing remained in the squatting position. Maurice lay facing Hazel. She had a firm grasp on his rigid penis and was whanking with rapid, decisive strokes. Thatch, meanwhile, had adopted a different attitude and was stretched out on his left side with his face pressed against her back and his monstrous prick solidly seeking her saturated quim as she lifted her right leg until it rested on Maurice's shoulder. In that instant, suddenly confronted with an unrestricted view of the woman's vagina, the wet, gaping fissure with the soft, hairy folds of dark flesh oozing and rolling together, then separating stickily as she opened her thighs wide, Maurice spunked on her heaving belly. He lay grimacing while Hazel squeezed and jerked his slowly deflating organ until the last oozing drop was transferred to her hand, which she wiped across her creamy skin.
Thatch was stuck well into her, his loins fitting snugly against the ripe curve of her sumptuous bottom, his right hand clutching the firm, fleshy oval of her luscious right breast.
Cressey heaved to his feet, pushing Felicity aside, holding his straining, beating roll as he lurched toward the bed. Felicity felt insanely jealous yet tremendously excited at the prospect of seeing him fuck Hazel McCord. Thatch had already finished and was relaxing on his back. Downing and Maurice, responding to Cressey's curt instructions, abandoned Hazel and began mauling the giggling girls.
Cressey, fumbling, unfastened his jeans, let them drop, stepped out of them. He stood with legs slightly apart, fingering his penis. His erection was colossal, frightening in its throbbing, swollen rigidity. Sitting up, Hazel watched him, her full, sensual lips parted in a lustful smirk, nostrils widely flared. She extended her supple arms to the youth invitingly, whispered his name.
"I've had the others," she said. "They're willing, but just kids. You think a big prick makes you any more of a man? Think you're capable of satisfying a real woman, you uncouth delinquent? All right. Show me. I'm waiting. Let me see how you perform."
She drew her knees up until they touched her proudly jutting breasts and squashed the quivering mounds, wantonly revealing the capacious maw of her reddened split, and laughed when she heard Cressey groan as he lowered himself onto her. Her arms embraced him fiercely. Elaine saw her mother take hold of the youth's rampageous prick and feverishly force the tautly stretched glans into her avid quim. Cressey lunged, and Hazel cried out sharply, already regretting her taunts. She writhed up to try and cushion Cressey's cruelly penetrating thrust, bracing herself against the impassioned fury of his ruthless, contemptuous assault.
He fucked her with convulsive, heaving strokes that continually forced her knees into the distorted mounds of her splayed breasts and restricted her heavy breathing to rapid, jerky gasps. Her face became beet-red with effort and congestion. Every absorbing detail of that tremendous, abnormal penis slogging into her hot, clutching channel was luridly accentuated, and registered indelibly on Elaine's tortured mind.
In her vindictive condemnation of Elaine's mother, Felicity hoped Cressey would come before he satisfied the woman's lust. Felicity wanted Hazel to be frustrated, and when the youth's muscular body arched and his limbs tensed, straining, while Hazel clung to him fiercely, blurting hoarse, wild entreaties, Felicity knew that her wish was being realized and that Cressey was filling the older woman's great cow's cunt, leaving her still squirming in the throes of consuming desire.
Now, for the first time, Hazel became aware of her daughter's presence. She swore, gaped blankly.
"Elaine! Honey!" she blurted. Remembering her condition, she quickly leaned over and snatched her dress from the floor. Felicity indicated the door.
"Let's go," she said. "I've seen all I wanted to. Bring the girl."
Cressey confined his slackening penis. He buttoned his fly. Elaine, dragged up from the floor by Maurice and Downing, voiced a desperate cry of appeal.
"Mother!"
Hazel was slow to respond. Sickened by her complaisance, she swallowed noisily. Fear formed a hard knot in Elaine's belly. She wanted to cry out, to shout and scream, but her mouth and throat were dry as sandpaper. She managed another husky croak. Suddenly, guilt and desire, frustration, her own lingering fear, left Hazel completely and she was again a whole woman, adult and mature, a mother frightened for her daughter.
"Leave Elaine alone," she ordered defiantly. "You've had your fun, your cheap kicks. Now go. Harm my girl and-"
"Why would we harm her?" Cressey demanded with mock innocence. "Unless you make trouble. Otherwise we won't hurt a hair on her tight little cunt. We'll just hold onto her for a while."
"You-you BASTARD! You can't seriously intend to take Elaine away without my consent. She's under age. That would be the same as kidnapping ..."
"No kiddin'?" Cressey mocked.
"But-you can't! The police-"
"Balls to the police. We won't keep her long, just long enough to educate her a bit and-"
"Oh, you devil. Where are you taking her? Oh, God! Please, don't do it. Felicity! I'll do anything. Anything! Please."
Felicity sneered.
"Put your clothes on," she said. "We won't hurt your precious darling." Hazel swung her legs off the bed. Felicity stiff-armed her in the chest. "You vicious cow!" Hazel gasped. "Where are you taking my girl?"
"To a nice quiet spot, darling. By the time you see her again she'll know more about life than you do. We'll send you the address. You can pick her up. Oh, and when you do come, or if Trace comes, bring ten thousand dollars, huh?"
Hazel McCord's lip curled contemptuously.
"So, it is money you're after," she snapped, sounding almost relieved. "You'll never get away with it. Kidnapping is a Federal offence and-"
"But you aren't going to tell anybody," Felicity told her with conviction. "Especially the police, otherwise your little Elaine might have an accident to that pretty face of hers. Understand? I thought you would."
"But-what will I do?"
"Sweat, you fat cunt. Sweat. That's what you'll do, and that cunt-licking husband of yours. I'll be in touch."
Felicity followed Cressey out. Hazel trailed downstairs after the teenage gang. Framed in the doorway, naked, helpless, sick with apprehension, she watched them bundle her daughter into their car. Downing slid behind the wheel, started the motor, grinned maliciously as he drove away. Felicity wound the nearside window down.
"Remember," she called. "If you go to the police you'll just be piling up a load of grief for Elaine, and I mean real grief. I know a woman who runs a whorehouse in..."
The rest of what she said was lost in the wind. Left alone, Hazel stared after the receding car, forlorn and trembling. She had gladly given her body. She would have given them money, anything she had. But for Felicity to take Elaine-. It was monstrous. They would defile the girl, corrupt her sweet innocence, and-Oh, God!
Sobbing, Hazel stumbled inside. The door banged shut, creating a hollow, echoing sound. Janice was descending the stairs, moving slowly, painfully, gasping, wincing with every step. She had the telephone receiver in her hand when Hazel took it from her.
"We've got to call the police," Janice protested. "Those filthy little monsters. They've almost crippled me."
"No," Hazel said. "I daren't. That bitch is depraved enough for anything. She might do Elaine real harm. No, I must play their dirty game. Felicity wants money. I'm sure this ridiculous charade is merely a means to extortion. She has no real grudge against me or my husband certainly no cause to hate Elaine or be vindictive toward her. But if it's only money she can have it. Meanwhile there's nothing we can do but wait until that Page creature contacts us. The waiting will be dreadful. I don't know-"
"They won't hurt Elaine, Mrs. McCord."
"Perhaps not. But what filthy abuse will she be subjected to? An ordeal like that could derange the balance of her mind."
"She ain't a child, Mrs. McCord. She'll survive, same as I will. And you-well, seems to me you enjoyed what they did to you. It ain't no concern of mine. A few years ago I maybe wouldn't have raised much objection either. But that girl saw it all, and it ain't likely she'll ever forget it, or forgive you."
"Don't remind me, damn you! Do you think, for one moment, if I'd even suspected she was there, watching? Oh, Janice! I need a drink."
"Ain't you going to call Mr. McCord?"
"No. He'll be back soon. There's no sense alarming him. He'd only do something foolish and impulsive. No, we'll just-wait."
Abruptly, Hazel burst into tears. The maid, preoccupied with her own misery, frowning at the soreness of her swollen parts and the tenderness of the weals on her buttocks, watched her employer's distress without emotion. All Janice's sympathy was for the daughter.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The place they eventually arrived at was an old rambling roadhouse, a long abandoned and crumbling ruin, situated miles from the main highway along a narrow track overgrown with weeds and grasses. Massive trees screened the gloomy building and its adjoining structures. The isolation was absolute, the silence depressing. Moonlight created an eerie atmosphere.
Downing drove into a large, dam-like garage from which the rotten doors had fallen in decay. Huge gaps showed in the roof. The ghostly house seemed intact, though in an advanced state of decay. All the windows except one were boarded up.
Cressey pushed Elaine ahead of him into the dark, dismal entry. She stumbled across the threshold, fell among a litter of straw and old newspapers. Downing groped ahead of the others, found and lighted a kerosene lamp.
The large room smelled fusty. Cobwebs festooned every crevice and corner. The spreading lamp glimmer revealed items of junk furniture covered with thick dust, but there were other articles, modern, expensive things, a record-player, stacks of disks, carelessly piled several transistor radios, a pair of binoculars and a valuable camera. Clothing was heaped on chairs and boxes Several crates containing bottled liquor and canned beer were stacked against the wall. There were numerous grips and bags, an antique mahogany table, a few old-fashioned chairs, a pair of battered sofas and a leather upholstered lounge chair. An open door giving access to a spacious kitchen yielded a view of sundry canned goods piled on a long table.
Cressey dragged Elaine to her feet and thrust her into the kitchen off which three other doors opened. Further details registered automatically on the girl's clouded, seething mind-a cast-iron cooking range, a large refrigerator layered with grime, long unused. One of the doors gave access to a basement and storeroom, the latter a damp, bleak space reeking of gasoline. Another, at the top of some stone steps, opened onto a former junk room now cluttered with equipment and all the paraphernalia necessary for movie making-arc lamps, coils of cable, an enormous camera mounted on rubber-tired wheels, and innumerable accessories. Elaine recognized theatrical costumes and scenery.
Downing lighted another lamp, then a third which he carried into the third opening. Elaine stumbled up the steps.
"Put her in there," Felicity told Cressey. What had once been a small bedroom loomed. The window was boarded up but the lamplight revealed a sagging iron bed with a lumpy mattress, a chair and table. The stone floor was partly covered with mildewed matting. There was a strong bolt on the outside of the heavy door. It had obviously been recently fitted.
Confronted by these fusty, dismal surroundings, Elaine hesitated, hung back. She yielded to tears again, implored Felicity and the youth to let her go. They just laughed. Cressey thrust her roughly into the gloomy prison, banged the door. Elaine fell against the obsolete bed and sprawled across the stinking mattress. When she twisted round Cressey and Felicity Page were grinning mockingly at her through a grimy pane of thick glass set in the knotty planks. Felicity's voice echoed through an open fanlight above the door.
"Make the best of it, darling-you may be there a long time. Scream your head off. Nobody will hear you.
Cressey chuckled. The bolt grated in its socket. The smirking faces disappeared. Petrified with fear, her mind frozen, Elaine sat on the edge of the bed. Beyond the door a radio was blaring. Presently she approached the door and banged furiously on it. Through the dirty pane she could see into the kitchen and the adjoining room. Both connecting doors were wide open. Downing and Maurice, seated on boxes, were eating sandwiches. The table was littered with beer cans, bottles, and unwrapped food. In the lounge, Sharon and Kitty were dancing, cavorting wantonly to raucous rock music. They had removed their boots and leather jackets. Watched approvingly by the young Negro they twisted and gyrated in a seductive, hip-swaying routine that developed into strip-tease. Both girls seemed obsessed with a sudden urge toward exhibitionism. Sharon exposed her large, imposing bosom and shook the full, fleshy globes vigorously. She bunched them together, emphasizing the dusky cleavage, smirking at Downing who sauntered from the kitchen and leaned against the door frame, wiping greasy fingers down his jeans. Kitty, gripped by the same mania, removed her tiny, inadequate uplift bra and flung it across the room. She undulated her slender body, jogging and shaking her high, pointed breasts, wagging her bottom energetically, her stomach sucking in and out. Cressey turned up the volume of the transistor radio, then peeled off his jacket and joined in the ludicrous capering.
Thatch, stripped to the waist, revealing a lean, powerfully muscled torso, broke out into a frenzied combination of fluttering muscle control and violent head jerking. His whole stomach shivered and vibrated. Sinews ridged and rippled on his long arms. He maintained a suggestive movement of hips and buttocks, repeatedly thrusting his loins forward in a manner that accentuated the protrusion of his genitals, gradually approaching Kitty until they danced in a close embrace, the blonde pressing her pelvis against the bulging ridge of the Negro's obviously erect penis while he rubbed the thickening phallus in the tight crease between her slender thighs, a brazen display of mutually licentious stimulation. They seemed oblivious to the presence of the others.
Downing held the front of his pants and made insinuating gestures, smirking at Sharon, who danced continually closer to him. She was supposed to be Thatch's girl, Kitty exclusively Downing's, but both girls deliberately provoked each other's boyfriend. Sharon swayed in wild abandon, head whipping from side to side, long hair tossing, her delicious breasts flopping up and down, the dark nipples protruding like tightly closed buds. She began chafing the vibrant orbs against Downing's chest, tugged his shirt up, away from his pants. The youth fondled the heavy ovals roughly, stroking them, massaging, pinching the teats and embedding his fingers deeply in soft, white flesh. Sharon, her eyes closed, squirmed and gasped, her round face reflecting rapturous bliss.
They moved out of sight of the captive girl, but presently reappeared, moving languidly, and now Sharon's jeans gaped open, supported only by the voluptuous spread of her hips and gradually slipping further down until the crease of her bottom became visible and, as she turned round, her dense growth of pubic hair. The plump cheeks were finally revealed in all their rotund splendor. The crumpled jeans dropped round Sharon's ankles and were kicked off. Appalled, quivering with disgust but unable to look away, Elaine saw Downing's broad hands clasp Sharon's gorgeous buttocks and heft them, kneading and squashing the yielding mounds and probing excitedly between them. When they kissed she opened her mouth wide and sucked his jutting tongue, abruptly ripped the front of his jeans undone and eased his penis out, an enormous, hideous root, incredibly long and thick, pulsing and twitching, dark red in color and ridged with swollen veins. It certainly was not repulsive to Sharon. She grasped it fiercely, and masturbated with eager compulsion, rubbing and shaking the weighty appendage and repeatedly pushing the greyish, wrinkled foreskin right back until her hand was hidden among the coarse, sandy colored hair sprouting from the youth's gaping fly.
Elaine shut her eyes tightly, but some subconscious emotion stronger than disgust compelled her to reopen them. Kitty, too, had removed her jeans and was dancing naked, performing a sultry belly-dance. Thatch, attempting to emulate her rhythmic contortions, tripped over a chair, and Kitty, laughing, allowed him to pull her down beside him. He covered her writhing mouth with wet kisses. Kitty promptly conveyed his hand to the cleft between her thighs, and Elaine saw the young blonde compress the small but ripely formed cheeks of her succulent bottom and trap the Negro's hand, spasmodically contracting her pouting vulva.
Cressey, glancing at Elaine, grinned derisively. Still she remained at the small window. When Thatch opened his jeans she shuddered, moaning with inner torment, agonizingly conscious of her helplessness and vulnerability. It all seemed like some hideous, fantastic nightmare. She could hardly believe it was really happening. Yet when Cressey suddenly jerked his fly buttons undone and she saw his monstrous penis fully exposed, every detail of the incredible scene involving her mother came flooding back. Fear dried her mouth, constricting her organs so that she lost control of her functions and urinated again, gazing in mute horror while the big, blond youth flaunted his immense, rigid organ and gloated over her distress. Kitty, whanking Thatch's stiff, black prick, twisted round and smiled derisively. She grimaced, shook the great, straining branch, deliberately raised her left leg and, intently watching Elaine's reactions, savoring her disgust, guided the broad, throbbing knob of the Negro's enormous tool into the seemingly small aperture of her distended vagina, voicing crude, gasping delight as the heavy, spongy roll butted the moist folds apart and entered, instantly bloating tremendously, cruelly invading the distorted cavity.
Elaine saw the gruesome rod go in. She witnessed every sordid, nauseating detail, and yet was unable to wrench her hypnotized gaze away. Kitty, deliberately prolonging the captive girl's mental agony, kept her slim leg elevated and squirmed round so that the whole squalid act was presented in even greater clarity-the turgid member plunging and stroking ponderously into its squelching haven, the hairy quim sucking and rolling and splaying, the flabby lips clutching and pouting, clinging, expanding, protruding....
Thatch lay on his left side with Kitty's right leg trapped under his thigh and his face pressed into the flattened curve of her right breast. His left hand clutched the other impudent cone. Kitty supported her uplifted leg with her free hand and the Negro youth, sprawling with legs fully extended, his body grotesquely contorted, achieved maximum penetration even from that awkward position without impeding the exposure or relaxing his stroke. They fornicated like animals, wholly amoral and utterly depraved, in spite of their youth, copulating with gasping frenzy audible to Elaine even through the thick door. The narrow fanlight, left open to allow meager ventilation, amplified every bestial sound.
The radio still blared sonorously. Downing, occupying one of the sagging couches in full view of Elaine's squalid prison, relaxed languidly on his back with legs sprawled out while Sharon, with the youth's huge, turgid penis deep within her glistening vaginal split, laboriously raised then lowered herself, impaling her soggy quim, withdrawing, then lunging again. Downing was perfectly content to let her initiate the action. Maurice, still eating, was reading a pornographic newspaper, apparently indifferent to the orgy in progress.
Cressey glanced frequently toward the door behind which Elaine crouched, dreading every moment of awful suspense, but he did not molest her. Felicity's vindictive plan to undermine the girl's nerves prior to the ultimate ordeal was succeeding. Panic threatened to sweep aside Elaine's stubborn resolve. She strove with every shred of will power to resist hysteria, digging her finger nails into her palms, determined not to let her despicable captors have the satisfaction of seeing her grovel.
Kitty had adopted a kneeling posture. Defiantly, Elaine forced herself to watch the brutally stark activity. Thatch, positioned behind Kitty, firmly clasping her hips, fucked her savagely, ramming his torrid stalk into her with such battering energy that every surging thrust jolted her forward, creating wet, smacking sounds each time his pelvis made violent contact with her grossly elevated buttocks. Elaine saw his head jerk back, heard him groan as if in pain. He pulled the lithe blonde onto his masterly prick and held her, writhing and shuddering, his teeth gritted, body tensed and straining. Then he relaxed, and Elaine, remembering Josh Meadows, and the bestial reality of the sexual excesses she had been obliged to witness, knew that, just as she had, in desperation, prompted Geoffrey Barrett's reeking ejaculation, so the Negro had now reached his climax and pumped his glutinous sperm into the blonde's reddened passage.
Suddenly, Elaine felt violently sick. She experienced a constriction round her anus, a tense throbbing in her vagina, knowing that when the time came, the moment she was forced to endure a repetition of the crippled caretaker's loathsome assault, to suffer the shame of physical contact, her resolve would crack. She was weak. Oh, God! If she had to face that! If they made her handle a revolting-she shuddered. Any of those awful, reeking instruments of sex. If they made her touch them, do any of the things she had seen....
Urine was again hot against the insides of Elaine's thighs. The Negro had withdrawn and was squeezing the bulging extremity of his slimy penis. Abruptly he left Kitty and went into the kitchen, opened a can of beer. Cressey, meanwhile, approached the flushed blonde. Smiling, she extended her arms to him, turned over on her back. Cressey raised both her legs, laid them across his shoulders, simultaneously sinking to his knees and aiming his incredibly thick roll at Kitty's swollen cunt as she drew up her legs, widened the spread of her thighs, and squirmed up to meet his thrust. The sticky residue of Thatch's semen anointed the intruding prick, squelching loudly as the huge shaft displaced it. Milky droplets oozed from the hairy vent and were promptly smeared on the girl's taut thighs.
Elaine turned away, sickened. Felicity Page entered the girl's angle of view. The former secretary was naked, dancing with Maurice who had finally stopped eating. The tall youth had his penis right inside Felicity, well up, his height facilitating entry even from the standing position. With the hard prick buried inside her, Felicity moved slowly round the floor, synchronizing her undulating rhythm with Maurice's lithe swaying, performing a kind of shuffling tack to the music. The youth's long fingers, hooked in the cleft of Felicity's tight ass, kept her pelvis pressed close to his and prevented his cock from escaping.
Elaine sat on the creaking bed, trying to close her mind to the extremity of her predicament. The only illumination came from the glimmer of lamplight flickering through the grimy pane of glass in the door. Not even a ray of moonlight penetrated the lumber nailed across the window. In a fit of desperation Elaine stood on the bed and attempted to loosen some of the boards, but merely hurt her hands. Eventually, overwhelmed with frustration and self-pity, she flopped on the lumpy mattress and lay sobbing.
After what seemed like hours the bolt was withdrawn and the door swung open on protesting hinges. Kitty blocked the opening. She was quite naked. Even in her shocked state of mind Elaine was conscious of the blonde girl's slender loveliness, the exquisite symmetry of her pale form and rounded limbs and the proudly jutting cones of her young breasts. Kitty held a tray on which was a plate of meat scraps and limp salad, a bread roll and a bottle of milk. Beside the plate were two small blue pills.
"Take this," she said. "We don't intend you to starve. Swallow these pills, kid, and you'll forget your inhibitions."
A cigarette drooped from her thin, sensual lips. It gave off a peculiar, pungent odor. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the pupils dilated. Beyond her Elaine could see the others, all unclothed, drinking, eating, or smoking.
Elaine thrust up from the bed fast, hoping to take Kitty by surprise. She knocked the tray from the blonde's grasp and aimed a wild blow at the girl's face, but missed as Kitty instinctively dodged. Milk splashed her breasts and stomach and trickled into the glistening hair choking the junction of thighs and abdomen. The bottle shattered, dangerously close to Kitty's bare foot. Startled, she swore, retaliated with a stinging slap followed by a violent push. Elaine, flung on the bed, bounded up seething with anger and frustration.
"I don't want your rotten food!" she shouted hysterically. "I just want to get out of here. Let me out, you filthy little beast! Oh, please! PLEASE! PLEASE LET ME GO!"
Downing appeared behind kitty.
"Maybe she'd prefer some of this?" he taunted, grasping his semi-flaccid penis. Kitty thrust him away. Her eyes blazed with malice. Then she laughed contemptuously.
"The little cow has a temper," she declared. "Felicity-do we feed her by force, or let her go hungry?"
"Let the silly bitch go without," Elaine's abductor answered impatiently. "I don't know why you bothered. Shut the door and leave her to contemplate."
Cressey threw a folded newspaper to Downing, who caught it deftly.
"We'll start filming tomorrow," Cressey said. "I've got a great idea for that crazy monster routine Rubens wants. Look at that. Front page. Bottom corner. The want ads."
"What's this about a film?" Felicity demanded. "You didn't tell me anything about it."
"I would have, sweetheart. It's a sort of sideline with me and the gang, somethin' we do for kicks-and for bread. I'd have got around to tellin' you."
"What kind of films, darlin?"
"The only kind, kitten. What else? Sex. We churn out the sort of short movies this character wants, see? It earns enough for booze and butts."
"Interesting. I can see I still have a lot to learn about you, darling."
"Don't rush it, baby. About this film. There's a part in it for you, if you want it. Great fun, doll. And our reluctant guest can play the leading role. Rubens will really go for that. It occurred to me when you suggested this whacky stunt. She's natural material. I'll fill you in on details later. Okay? You got a fix on that item, Fatso?"
"This fairground ad, you mean? 'Geek wanted', and all that shit?"
"That's it. It's given me an idea for a real weirdo-Mate of the Monster. How's that sound? In the morning we'll shoot a few background scenes and shag around until we've got a few feet of film in the can. Rubens wants color so we can't afford to waste any. We'll save our star material till last."
Downing chuckled. He handed the paper to Kitty. Elaine tried a swift, darting leap toward the open doorway, but Felicity quickly slammed the door shut and shot the bolt. She regarded the captive derisively through the glass panel.
Maurice and the Negro sauntered from the lounge, both stark naked. The blond youth's genital development, like that of his friend, was massive, his grotesque, dangling penis a flaccid obscenity. Thatch's immense organ was even bigger, fatter. He gestured toward Elaine's prison.
"Why don't we start tonight?" he argued. "With her?"
"Because I say so," Cressey told him curtly. "We've got a lot of bread tied up in this deal with Rubens. I want things done right first time. The McCord chick will get the full treatment but I want it all on film. Tomorrow we'll make her watch. Maybe it'll put some fire in her belly. After the film's in the can I don't give a shit what happens to her. That's up to Felicity. She'll collect, we'll split a share of the pay-off, then dump the kid somewhere. Meanwhile let her sweat it out."
"Tell me more about this movie making," Felicity demanded. Cressey shrugged. "I told you," he answered. "We act a few hot scenes and film the action. You'll see." "I never did anything like that before."
"Okay, if you're chicken."
"I didn't say that. It's just-well, it's different from going to bed, isn't it? Oh, what the hell. I'll do whatever you say, darling. And I like the idea of using that superior little McCord bitch."
"I've never screwed a virgin," Maurice remarked thoughtfully. Cressey sniggered.
"You'll be lucky," he jeered. "Allowin' she is a virgin she won't be by the time your turn comes around. I've got first claim, you bastard."
He laughed cynically.
"Maybe we should have brought her mother, too," he said. "She's a real sweet fuck."
Felicity frowned. They moved away from the door, taking the lamp. Left in darkness, Elaine collapsed on the bed, sick with despair and loathing, her resolve already so weakened that, had she possessed the means, she would have ended her miserable existence.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There were no toilet facilities in the dismal bedroom prison. Twice Elaine yielded to dire necessity and urinated in a corner. She had no alternative. But when, in the early hours, the urgent need to evacuate her bowels became intolerable, in desperation the girl shouted, calling Sharon, then Kitty, finally screaming Felicity's name until eventually the former secretary groped sleepily from the lounge, shuffling in the light from an electric torch. She was wearing a short, transparent nightdress.
"What the hell are you yelling about?" she demanded. "I'm warning you, Elaine-if you give us any trouble ..."
Elaine blurted out her predicament. Felicity sighed. She retraced her steps, ignoring Elaine's entreaties, but returned with a large can that had formerly contained paint. She opened the door, dumped the can on the floor, and quickly closed the door again.
"Shit in that," she instructed crudely. "Any more racket and we'll gag you."
Elaine sat staring at the can, horrified by the young woman's callousness. Eventually, driven by necessity she used the can, thankful for the darkness. Her feelings defied description. Waiting for daylight she suffered agonies of shame and apprehension, breathing her own body smells, conscious of that reeking can, longing for daybreak yet dreading the ordeals it would bring. Her eyes were reddened with crying. She had gnawed her lower lip until it bled. Rats scampered along the roof beams and lurked in wall crannies. She was limp, her clothing filthy, saturated with perspiration. Long before the door was unbolted she was willing to agree to almost anything just to escape that awful gloom and those tiny winking pin-points that were red, gleaming eyes.
When, finally, the door grated open, she stood rigidly with hands clenched at her sides. Kitty paused on the threshold, wrinkling her nose. Behind her, Sharon hung back, hesitating. Both girls wore their familiar tight jeans and leather jackets. Felicity pushed past them. She favored a cashmere sweater and soft woollen pants that accentuated every line and curve of her hips, buttocks, and limbs. Even she balked at the stench permeating Elaine's prison.
"My God!" she exclaimed. "Get outside, and bring that stinking muck."
Flushing crimson, Elaine picked up the odious can and followed Felicity through the kitchen. Aromas of coffee and frying bacon helped combat the offensive odor. Felicity opened the side door, paused.
"Don't try anything foolish," she yawned. "Otherwise we'll tie you up and you'll stay down there. Dump that filth in the stream and wash out the can. You'll need it again, darling."
Elaine looked round desperately, seeking some avenue of escape. Downing and the colored youth were watching her closely. Maurice and Cressey lounged near the shallow stream. As Elaine passed they all held their noses and grimaced, heightening her awful degradation. She felt utterly debased but stubbornly refused to allow their offensive mockery to fluster her. Ignoring Felicity's warning, as she crouched, swilling out the paint can, Elaine suddenly took a desperate chance and flung the can's contents over Thatch, but lost her grip on the can handle. The battered container struck Cressey painfully on the knee. Elaine ran, dodged Downing and almost evaded Maurice, but tripped over his out-thrust foot and sprawled on her stomach, winded.
She lay panting, her torn dress billowed up around her waist. Maurice, pressing his foot against the middle of her back, whistled appreciatively. Despite her frantic struggles he held the girl down. The others surrounded her. Cressey limped. The scowling youths commented loudly on the intimate exposure of panties and bulging bottom, expressing frank admiration. Elaine felt hands on the backs of her thighs, on her buttocks, stroking and squeezing, feeling, groping roughly. Fingers intruded inside the leg of her briefs, probed between her legs and into the crease of her bottom, defying the fierce contraction of her limbs.
"Tight as a drum," Downing declared. "A sweet fuck. It's time somebody screwed some cock into this kitten."
"Up her ass, man," Thatch observed bluntly. "Work a length up her asshole and she'll buck like a goddam mare with..."
"Why don't you fuck her, darling?" Felicity demanded, pushing Cressey. "Shag the little mare now. Belt it into her. I want to see her get it."
"You will, but later. We've got a tight schedule."
"All right. But strip the fat cow. She won't be so keen to run away without any clothes."
She seized the hem of Elaine's frock and pulled it up over the girl's head, tugged impatiently. Kitty, chuckling, helped, then broke the shoulder straps of Elaine's brassiere. Maurice removed his foot from Elaine's back. Thatch dragged her to her feet, thrust her toward Downing. She was pushed violently from one member of the gang to another, stumbling helplessly, dizzy and confused, continually turned and twisted, shamelessly mauled. Eventually her arms were wrenched up behind her back. Kitty tugged viciously at her hair, putting a severe strain on Elaine's heck and causing her large, globular breasts to tremble and shake deliciously. She cried out when Downing pinched one of the elongated nipples. Smirking lecherously, he began slapping her bare breasts, flopping them against the palms of his hands while Thatch, who had positioned himself behind Elaine, slowly but relentlessly eased her panties down, and swore to express his appreciation as the quivering buttocks were fully exposed.
"Man!" he declared. "She's bigger in the ass than Sharon. I could eat her shit."
Clasping the prominent cheeks roughly, he squashed them together, immediately separated them and explored the girl's anal recess. Maurice and Downing held her firmly. Kitty ripped away Elaine's girdle and removed her shoes and stockings. Still squatting, she inserted a hand between the captive's thighs and crushed glossy, black hair between her fingers before closing her hand over the warm vagina and compressing the cringing lips painfully. Her index finger intruded into the moist slit.
Elaine sobbed and pleaded, struggling fiercely until recurring nausea and faintness drained her strength. The sniggering gang would have raped her but for Cressey's profane insistence. He and Felicity watched the others undress the girl but took no active part, and when the sexual excitement became violent Cressey terminated the assault impatiently.
"That's enough, you randy, cocksuckin' bastards," he argued. "Save it for later, for the film. Take her inside. Maurice, get the gear ready. We'll set it up in the big lounge."
They returned Elaine to the bedroom but left the door open. Presently, Cressey entered. Felicity was with him. The youth had a long length of thin chain attached to a leather dog collar fitted with two large steel rings. Elaine shrank away, but Cressey grabbed her, held her securely, ignoring her tearful appeals, while Felicity fastened the collar round the girl's neck and snapped a padlock through the metal rings so that it was impossible to remove the strong collar without cutting through it. Cressey secured the other end of the chain to a ringbolt set in the wall, using a tremendously powerful spring clip, exerting all the strength of his large hands to depress it. Then, like an animal, naked and exposed, horribly afraid, Elaine was led into the lounge and thrust down into a sagging lounge chair from which horsehair stuffing protruded, bursting from the ruptured seams.
Maurice and Downing were preparing equipment. Sharon helped Thatch arrange backcloths and painted scenery. Kitty changed into a figure-hugging black dress and sheer nylon underwear, then smoked another of those peculiar smelling cigarettes. Felicity balked at the last moment, saying she preferred to watch. Cressey did not press her. The lounge was arranged to represent a modern apartment bedroom. Most of the "furniture" was pasteboard and plywood, cleverly reproduced. One of the davenports was dragged into the middle of the set and covered with a gaudy flower-patterned drape.
Maurice announced everything ready. Cressey briefly explained the routine again, checking details with precise professionalism as if discussing a travelogue. Without exception the gang periodically swallowed "pep" pills and stimulants which Elaine suspected were narcotics. They shared a state of intense excitement, and their movements became increasingly erratic. Elaine watched their collective mood change from jaunty nonchalance to irrepressible lasciviousness.
Maurice made final camera adjustments. Kitty took up her position. Cressey nudged Elaine.
"Watch this," he mocked. "It'll be your turn soon so you'd best get the drift of things, honey. Don't look so squeamish. Sex makes the world go round, kid. Barin' your ass for a cunt movie is better than bein' fucked ragged by a bunch of stinkin' Wogs in that cat-house Felicity mentioned, which is what could happen to you, kitten, unless things work out. All right, Maurice. Roll em.
Shooting began. The theme was a prolonged portrayal of lurid sensationalism presented without any real story and very little plot, unadulterated pornography, each scene more debased than the preceding one. Elaine watched as if in a trance as Kitty, arriving at the stage apartment, was admitted by Cressey who, wearing an unfastened robe, pretended the girl had interrupted his rest. There were no preliminaries. Kitty sat on the huge, specially contrived bed. As Cressey leaned over to kiss her she opened the robe and revealed his enormously erect penis. Laughing, she grasped the distended organ and played with it, emphasizing every deliberate movement and facial expression. Meanwhile Cressey handled her breasts and, raising the hem of her dress, felt between her thighs.
He pulled her up, allowed the robe to slide to the floor, and quickly helped Kitty undress. Naked, she again seized his rampant prick. The camera zoomed in to take close-up shots from various angles of the girl's broadly exposed bottom and large vagina, then Cressey's hand manipulating the moist quim, and finally of Kitty's fingers enclosing and whanking the great, rearing stalk.
Next, perched on the extreme edge of the bed with legs widely separated, Kitty avidly kissed the youth's cock all over, touching her tongue repeatedly to the straining knob. She took the pulsing glans into her eager mouth and sucked voraciously, working her lips rapidly up and down the throbbing roll, gradually gathering more and more of it into her loose mouth, occasionally relinquishing the jerking prick and rolling her pink tongue round it, trailing her lips along the whole bloated organ right down to the ridged, hairy testicles. She poked the stiff phallus in her eyes, rubbed it against her nostrils, smelled and sucked it again in a frenzy of feverish, moaning lust, digging her fingers into the crack of Cressey's flexing ass and pulling his loins toward her flushed face.
Abruptly she changed her position, lay back with thighs wide apart, held the fleshy folds of her vagina open while the camera zeroed in on the red, gaping maw. Cressey, squatting with tight scrotum protruding below his muscular buttocks and turgid penis jutting, his bottom elevated, elbows on the bed, licked the ruttish fissure and poked his tongue into Kitty's puckered anus. She drew her knees up, grasped his cock and conveyed it to her palpitating cunt. Cressey thrust abruptly into her and fucked furiously for a while, then slowed his strokes, frequently pausing while the camera secured action shots of his tool in varying stages of penetration.
Quickly then, they shifted round again, Cressey lying on the bed, on his back, with legs extended, wide apart, Kitty crouching, facing the youth but with her ass absurdly thrust out. Cressey separated the cheeks to expose her crinkly anus and naked, hairy twat to the camera, then Kitty lowered herself onto his prick and shagged rapidly up and down while Cressey strove to keep her buttocks stretched away from the dark division so that the camera lens would retain an unimpeded view of Kitty's gaping split and the monstrous rod remorselessly thrashing into it. Cressey's spurting gush of semen ended the scene.
Now Thatch entered, undressed quickly and climbed on the bed. Kneeling, squatting on his heels and holding his ebony black cudgel of a penis, he slowly raised himself until he was crouching directly over Cressey's head and shoulders. Kitty, still working her lithe body in violent rhythm, leaned forward and, supporting her weight on stiffened arms, captured the young Negro's fat prick and sucked it.
For the next take, Cressey took over the camera operation. Downing and Maurice got Sharon on the bed and stripped her, while Kitty moved to the davenport and knelt on it with her head hanging down and her buttocks raised. Thatch, standing behind her with knees bent, fucked her while Kitty held the cheeks of her ass apart, frequently widening the spread of the luscious globes to emphasize every detail of his cock slogging into her receptive channel.
Downing and Maurice removed their clothing. Downing masturbated. Sharon played with her vagina, fondling it. She held the dark slit open while Maurice mounted her, then clamped her robust legs round his waist. The camera secured low angled shots of the stocky youth's formidable organ plunging into and ploughing the squashy, softly yielding furrow, then angled higher when Sharon, gasping and moaning, relaxed her hold and flopped back, rearing up when Maurice heaved forward and knelt astride her chest. His buttocks, splaying against her bosom, flattened the sumptuous mounds. Maurice grasped Sharon's head and eased the strain on her neck. She opened her mouth to receive his thick, jerking penis. He was coming, his orgasm premature, uncontrolled, grunting and panting, thrusting his throbbing wand dementedly into her warm, slavering recess and butting the huge knob right to the back of the girl's throat. His chunky figure reared up, muscles quivering, head thrown back, buttocks nipped fiercely together, and Cressey quickly focussed the camera to capture the quivering fury of the blond youth's flooding sperm release as it spewed copiously into Sharon's mouth, escaping past her contorted lips and dribbling down her chin to puddle in the hollow of her damp throat. Milky gobs slid over the curve of her heaving breast and gathered in her navel.
Almost immediately, Downing replaced Maurice. He turned Sharon over and raised her to a kneeling posture. Squatting between her grotesquely spread legs, he tongued her bottom, roughly separating the plump cheeks and licking along the deep crease and all round the puckered anus. He sniffed the brown hole, thrust his nose repeatedly into it, inhaling strongly, licked lower, curling his broad tongue into the girl's wet, glistening cunt. Finally he rammed his bloated prick into the hairy fissure and shagged with powerful, panting strokes that quickened rapidly as he approached his climax. As he partly withdrew to prepare for yet another vigorous lunge he spunked, spurting glutinous semen all round the tremulous quim and between the clutching lips, but quickly plunged his jerking roll into the reeking cavity again and pumped the cloying sperm residue against the reddened stub of the girl's erectile clitoris, partly exposed by his gouging thumbs. There was no tenderness, only brutal passion, stark, primitive lust, violent and instinctive.
A short break for lunch followed. Elaine was offered food but refused it. Felicity, who throughout the entire sordid program had exhibited keen sexual excitement, masturbating quite unashamedly, seemed unusually sullen and tense. She practically begged Cressey to go to bed with her, and sulked when he told her to get in on the action if she wanted some cock. Cressey, reading the newspaper while he ate, kept returning to the front page, and grinning.
"What's buggin' you, man?" Thatch asked. Cressey tapped the paper. "I keep thinking about this ad," he said. "It's got firm possibilities. He stood up, finished his coffee, wiped his mouth.
"Let's get finished," he said. "I want to concentrate on the more elaborate stuff.
Elaine was ignored. The chain defeated any possibility of escape. She tried to resign herself to the inevitable as another session of wanton activity commenced. Kitty and Sharon performed Lesbian acts which Cressey filmed in intimate detail. Felicity still refused to take part. The entire afternoon was fully occupied with equally disgusting scenes involving the entire group, with numerous re-takes. Scenery changes produced weird background effects-a castle dungeon with the two girls supposedly undergoing torture and rape by depraved monks, then portraying slave girls in a harem, being "initiated" by the Sultan (Downing) and his helpers. A sequence followed in which Maurice played a freakish vampire monster discovering the delights of sex with Sharon-in a graveyard. Creepy stuff. There was much more, equally sordid. The lumber had been removed from the windows and sunlight streamed through the dusty panes. A portable gasoline generator had been connected to provide a source of electrical power, replacing the storage batteries previously used for the arc-lamps and camera.
"Too bad Kelso didn't deliver that generating plant sooner," Elaine heard Cressey remark to Maurice. "We can boost the current now, and throw out those stinking kerosene lamps. Did you remember to fix those meters? We don't want some nosy official from the fuel and power depot snoopin' round here."
By evening filming was completed. Equipment was checked and set up for the next day's shooting. There was to be a "trial run" of the special feature involving Elaine. She was taken back to the bedroom and chained to the wall. The door was left unbolted. Escape was impossible. That evening was devoted to another swinging party. Sitting in darkness, her mind a seething turmoil crowded with the awful events she had been compelled to watch, Elaine tried to think rationally. The prospect of spending another night in that claustrophobic prison shattered the last remaining shreds of her resolve and she found some relief from her frustration and hypertension in tears.
Sharon had left sandwiches on a plate near the door, and a bottle of milk on the small table. Elaine was ravenously hungry but stubbornly refused to eat. Presently she heard the bolt grate in the socket and realized she was denied even the restricted freedom formerly permitted by the chain. But she had no wish to join the capering morons in the lounge. Bleak though the desolate bedroom was it was a refuge from reality, from lust and depravity. Beyond that door was only corruption. The paint can, clattering as she unintentionally kicked it, was a hideous reminder of her deplorable situation.
She lay down, tried to compose herself. Hunger gnawed relentlessly, undermining her determination until will-power finally crumbled and she nibbled a piece of cold meat, then a stale roll, drank some milk. Her weakened resolution collapsed completely and she ate every delicious morsel, drained the milk bottle until hardly a film of dregs remained, hating herself and condemning her weakness but enjoying every scrap. Food never tasted so good. Afterward, feeling guilty and ashamed, she became angry and resentful. Why should she go hungry? Felicity seemed determined to humiliate her in every way possible to avenge a wholly imaginary wrong. If, Elaine thought, she could only defy her, defy the whole rotten, filthy gang, deny them the satisfaction of humbling her, preserve some measure of dignity and- But what was the use? They would find ways to overcome her stubborn pride, to break her defiance. The food she had eaten indicated the weakness on which her resolve was founded. There would be more degradation, the mind-curdling horror of violation, and worse. How could she fight it? How could she brace herself when her very soul shrieked with the hideous anticipation of what was destined for the next diabolical day?
Hazel McCord poured whiskey from a decanter. She did not smile in response to Kurt Peterson's amusing remark.
"Say when," she said. Peterson, seated on the wide arm of a lounge chair, appraised her.
"That's enough," he told her. "Come here. You still worried about Elaine? I told you-it's just a gag, a mean, spiteful gag. She'll be all right."
Hazel approached, sipping her own drink. As she leaned across the husky young chauffeur's body to place his glass on the bedside table, her yellow dress was drawn tight across her superbly rounded bottom, accentuating the sexy cleft. Peterson brought his face close to the broad, fleshy cheeks and sniffed the intimate recess through the thin material and the flimsy panties underneath. Grasping the fronts of her mature thighs he pressed his nose into the clearly defined crevice. Hazel gasped. For a moment she resisted, then shrugged off her morbid mood and, wriggling her hips, rubbed the soft ovals against the man's face.
"You randy bastard," she muttered huskily. "You like my bottom, don't you, darling? You might let me get through the door before..."
Turning quickly, she saw his penis exposed, hugely erect, a throbbing, virile boom, and sucked in her breath sharply.
"Kurt!" she exclaimed passionately. "Oh, Kurt! Darling! You're so impulsive. Just give me a moment."
She evaded his clutching hands and darted into the bathroom, presently reappearing smelling of perfumed soap and wearing only brief, transparent black panties and a ridiculously inadequate uplift bra. Peterson, naked except for socks and undershirt, moved toward her, splendid in his youthful vigor. He waited until Hazel unfastened the bra and released her large, luscious breasts. She shook the ripe, creamy globes, hefted them, pushing the rich red nipples against Peterson's chest as he reached for her.
He kissed her hungrily, cupped her breasts and crushed the firm, trembling mounds, rubbing the hardening teats and pinching them between forefingers and thumbs. Hazel sighed. She touched the thick, throbbing organ prodding her lower abdomen, gripped it fiercely, moaning softly when it reared powerfully, the knob expanding hugely. Her lips parted to admit the chauffeur's questing tongue. Her white, even teeth nipped the curling extremity and her buttocks tightened convulsively as the impatient man clutched the ripe ovals and squashed them together, pulling the panties tight into her crotch and the crack of her bottom.
The garment irked Hazel, but before she could remove the panties Peterson dragged them down over her voluptuous hips and past her dimpled knees, then grabbed a handful of fleshy, yielding cunt and curling hair. Hazel gasped, rotated her hips so that the panties slipped down round her ankles. She stepped out of them, responded eagerly when Peterson drew her close again. His mouth caressed her elegant throat and smooth shoulders, roved under her heaving breasts, and Hazel pulled his face into the palpitating mounds, moaning with pleasure when he ran groping down her tingling spine and clasped her taut buttocks again, rubbing along the deep, moist valley until his questing digit encountered the tremulous pit of her anus.
He lifted her bodily then, cupping both hands under the full cheeks, carried her to the luxurious bed and dumped her roughly on it, fell with her. Hazel's thighs were already parted. She seized her lover's imposing penis and pulled it against her gaping twat, raised her bottom and thrust up vigorously to meet Peterson's initial, unrestrained lunge, then thrashed and jerked in wild, panting frenzy as his hips forced her straining limbs further apart and his descending weight rammed his cleaving tool deeper.
Her buttocks contracted spasmodically, narrowing the exquisite cleft to a tight, shadowy crack. Her voracious quim engulfed the savage length of that near-bursting prick to its broad, bulging roots, and she squirmed in the torrid grip of sweeping ecstasy, grimacing, moaning, clutching, her eyes closed, breasts flopping as she writhed and bucked and shuddered.
The rapidly stroking penis slipped out and Hazel uttered a hoarse cry, groped with desperate urgency and swiftly conveyed the slimy, pulsing organ back to the reddened maw, digging her fingers into the sweating crease of Peterson's ass and jerking his loins frantically against her heaving mound, coaxing the stabbing prick back into that hot, slippery sheath, almost sobbing in her trembling relief.
"FUCK ME!" she blurted. "Harder, darling! Oh, I'm coming! I can't hold back! DARLING! I'M COMING! Fuck me, lover! Ooooooh! Kurt! KURT! Aaaaaah! That's it. Oh, sweet Christ! That's it!"
Excitement convulsed her hot, flushed face as the delirious, thrilling sensations clawing at her throbbing vagina were intensified, finally culminating in another belated orgasmic flood that spread swiftly to every part of her inflamed organs and merged with the spurting rush of Peterson's thick sperm. The chauffeur slid both hands under Hazel's bottom and clung, his penis enormously embedded, pulsing strongly, while the vital sap drained from his loins and the tension gradually left his arched back and muscular limbs.
Hazel sank back, panting. As her eyes fluttered open the telephone rang. She gave a nervous, guilty start. "Who the hell is that?" she demanded irritably, frowning.
"Let it ring," Peterson said, removing his weight from her. Their flesh parted with a wet, smacking sound. "I'd better answer it," Hazel argued. "It might be important."
She leaned across Peterson, picked up the receiver, slapped the chauffeur's impudent hand away from the hairy junction of robust thighs and flushed buttocks.
"Stop that, you fool!" she rebuked. "Haven't you had enough? Kurt! Behave. Hello! Yes, this is Hazel McCord. No, my husband isn't here. In Paris. Yes. Who's calling? Who? Oh! YOU! What have you done with Elaine, you bitch? If you've-What's that? Damn you! Yes. All right. I understand."
She replaced the receiver. She looked bewildered, suddenly haggard. "What was all that about?" Peterson asked. He stood up, stretching.
"Get dressed and leave," Hazel snapped. "Get out of here." Peterson stared. Hazel hooked his pants toward him with her foot.
"The party's over," she told him. "Please go." "What the hell's wrong? What is it?"
"I need to be alone, to think. Oh, Kurt, I'm sorry. That was Felicity Page. I just received instructions about the money she and the others are demanding for Elaine's release."
"Felicity! A shake-down? She's demanding money? You didn't tell me that. I thought it was just a stupid gag."
"It isn't, Kurt. I'm worried sick. Oh, I know I haven't shown it, but-" "Why don't you call the police?"
"I'm afraid of what they might do to Elaine. Being with you I haven't let myself think about it. God! Why is Trace never here?"
"What could he do? Something like this is maybe what Elaine needed to shake up her ideas a bit." "Don't talk like an idiot, Kurt. Can you imagine what it must be like for an innocent girl subjected to-" "Well, what are you going to do?"
"Pay, of course. After I get Elaine back, then I'll go to the police. I'm sorry I snapped, Kurt. I've been under a terrible strain. It would be best if you leave now. I'm no longer in the mood."
Peterson opened his mouth, closed it again. He shrugged, moved toward the connecting door. Hazel went into the lounge. Presently she heard the chauffeur leave the house. Standing by the telephone, still naked, Hazel succumbed to a sudden insane desire to laugh, but it was an unbalanced outburst prompted by hysteria.
CHAPTER NINE
When Sharon offered the captive breakfast, much to her surprise, Elaine accepted.
"I think our little Elaine is actually settling down," Kitty declared. "She likes being here with us, don't you, darling?"
"You filthy, degenerate monster!" Elaine flared. "You'll pay for this, all of you. As for you, Felicity Page, just let me get my hands on you."
"Still got spirit, too," the blonde added sneeringly. "You hear her, Felicity? You'll need a big stick, kid." "You'll never get away with it," Elaine retorted angrily. "My father will-"
"He'll do as he's told," Felicity interrupted viciously, pushing forward. "If he ever expects to see you again." Cressey crushed out his cigarette.
"Take her into the lounge," he ordered. "Kitty, you and Sharon get ready. It's time she had some of the shit shagged out of her. We'll begin with the Lesbian routine. Set the camera on automatic, Maurice, so we can all get in on the action. Sure you won't play, Felicity?"
"No. I-couldn't. I'll just watch."
"Suit yourself. I thought you were dyin' for some cock."
Kitty, Downing, and Thatch dragged Elaine into the lounge where the movie camera had been positioned. The enormous bed, part of the apartment set, still occupied the approximate center of the room. The house lights were functioning, but Elaine was too terrified to notice. She was dumped on the bed. The chain attached to the collar chafing her neck was replaced with a much shorter length which was clipped to one of the bedposts. Elaine's arms were fully extended and tied down. Her legs were left free.
Kitty and Sharon retreated behind a screen but soon reappeared, both nude. Filming commenced. Cressey voiced curt instructions. He and the others undressed. They stood around watching the girls, smirking in lewd anticipation and handling their genitals. Amid scathing comments Sharon clambered on the bed. She sat on Elaine's stomach and began caressing the helpless girl's breasts, rubbing and kissing and sucking the nipples, chuckling when the large buds became darker and elongated. Meanwhile Kitty positioned herself near Elaine's feet. When she jerked the captive's legs apart Elaine tried to resist but Downing immediately grasped one ankle, Maurice the other, and they held her limbs widespread.
Kneeling, smiling cynically, Kitty produced a small pair of scissors. She began snipping hair from around Elaine's vagina. All four youths rapidly achieved enormous erections. They compared pricks, masturbated, but only to maintain the swollen dimensions of their respective organs. The camera recorded every lascivious movement. Elaine raved and pleaded. Sharon was hurting her, but presently she desisted and turned completely round to face Elaine's feet, bringing her bottom close to the girl's anguished face. The chain prevented Elaine from twisting her head away. When Sharon leaned forward Elaine could see the pulsing spread of the girl's pouting vagina and her wrinkled anus.
Reaching back, Sharon separated the beautiful, downy cheeks, squatted lower and pushed the obscenely stretched fissure against Elaine's writhing features, forcing her nose into the musky vent. Elaine could not avoid the loathsome contact, the smelly kiss of the fat cunt against her tightly compressed lips. The large anus flexed, puckering and crinkling, sickening the girl with its sour, sweaty odor. Sharon undulated her voluptuous body, rubbing her moist parts all over Elaine's face, teasing the captive's nipples and soft breasts. Meanwhile Kitty finished denuding Elaine's quim and, discarding the scissors, lowered herself until she could apply her tongue to the shorn slit.
Elaine's whole system revolted. The lips of her vagina shrank away from the fluttering, bestial tongue. She trembled violently. Alien sensations surged within the warm, quivering passage, ceasing when Kitty raised her head. She displayed a thick, rubber instrument shaped like a large penis, and grinned sardonically as she parted the hairless vulva and attempted to insert the pseudo phallus. Elaine screamed, but Kitty kept forcing the hard object into her victim's tender cunt, causing acute stabbing pains. Sharon's splayed buttocks muffled Elaine's outcry. The tearing restrictions yielded suddenly. Sticky wetness seeped round the blunt instrument.
Kitty withdrew it. Sharon abandoned her vulgar pose. The blonde remained. Cressey, perched on a tilted chair, issued further instructions. The chain was unfastened. Elaine was placed on her feet and led backward in a ludicrous stooping posture to where Cressey waited with a sneering expression on his spotty face and his arrogant penis jutting regally. The savagely throbbing knob was purple with expansion.
Discerning his obscene purpose, Elaine uttered a wild shriek. Struggling frantically, she was backed up to the chair and forced to adopt an even more grotesque crouch. Cressey seized her hips and intruded his knees between her legs to keep them apart. She could hear his labored breathing as he studied her grossly protruding bottom. Suddenly he surged forward and plunged his face into the cleft dividing the gorgeous cheeks, licking and sniffing and kissing in a delirium of depravity, forcing the flesh away from the crevice with his thumbs. Elaine squirmed as his tongue delved into her cringing anus. Sobbing and moaning hysterically, she heaved and wrenched but only succeeded in exhausting herself.
Felicity goaded her constantly, shouting lewd advice to Cressey and repeatedly clutching at her own agitated quim through the flimsy impediment of her soft, woollen pants.
Cressey bunched the girl's flesh into great folds and ridges. The sight, touch, and smell of her ass seemed to inflame him to the borderline of mental derangement. He slobbered, groaning, wallowing like a glaring animal, but finally responded to Kitty's scathing criticism and profane appeals and Felicity's lascivious taunts, and thrust his turgid penis at the naked quim poised so vulnerably above the dribbling knob. Remorselessly, Downing and Maurice lowered Elaine until that monstrous roll cruelly impaled her ravaged aperture, and she screamed as they forced her down on it and its bursting intrusion savagely widened the walls of her vagina.
Flaming torment ripped through the ruptured flesh. That plundering rod screwed so deep it seemed it would grind into the shuddering girl's convulsed bowels. Cressey kept ramming in, straining upward. Elaine's eyes filled with scalding tears. She could no longer scream. Her throat seemed blocked, her vocal cords paralyzed. The callous youths thrust her down until coarse hair was crushed against her ass and rubbed against her with searing intensity, heaved her up again, manhandling her in an obscene frenzy and, in effect, forced the girl to cooperate in her own violation.
Bubbles of trapped air and moisture continually escaped her vagina and burst around the cruel instrument of flesh and blood and gristle ruthlessly accomplishing her final despoliation. Felicity, enjoying the degrading ordeal immensely, voiced coarse words of praise, urging Cressey to greater exertion and prompting his relentless helpers. Her face was a grimacing mask, her eyes glittering evilly. Kitty, too, was crimson-faced with carnal excitement. Thatch's broad, gleaming features reflected primeval bestiality as he stroked and frigged his huge black prick.
Cressey's movements became more deliberate, rhythmic, surging up to meet each descent of the girl's contorted body, burying his great shaft every time. With each sucking withdrawal the steaming roll was uncovered until only the hard core lingered at the extreme opening of Elaine's vagina, pulsing briefly between the fleshy folds before being engulfed again. But the cruel friction was easing, the lubricated passage widening, yielding more readily, and mingling with the pain and shame and the nausea was a recurring glimmer of acutely pleasurable sensation which Elaine could not define but became increasingly conscious of as that brutally demanding organ battered inexorably into her incredibly distended slit.
As quickly, the spasm was gone, obliterated in a wave of revulsion as the Negro approached and, confronting Elaine, stood with knees bent and whacked his long, bloated penis against her breasts and finally brought its foulness close to her face. When he thrust the tumid boom at her mouth Elaine found the strength to resist and jerked her head back frantically, but Thatch grasped her hair and forced her lips to touch his vile member. Elaine clamped her mouth tightly shut, but she was merely prolonging the agony, for the Negro simply held her nose, pinching her nostrils together until, deprived of air, she was compelled to open her mouth. Instantly Thatch rammed his fat prick into the cavity squeezed the hard, swollen knob past Elaine's writhing lips and between her teeth, and butted several inches of cock to the back of her throat before she thought vindictively of closing her teeth on the spongy roll. Instead of biting the intruding penis she tried to reject it, but the Negro maintained his advantage, straining with muscular buttocks rigidly convulsed, and almost immediately released a flood of pungent, ropy sperm.
Choking, retching violently, Elaine gagged, vomited the slimy load the instant Thatch's slightly drooping penis was removed from her mouth. Mocking laughter echoed hollowly.
But the girl's ordeal was only just beginning. Cressey, still seated, checking every downward plunge of Elaine's helpless body, increased the surging tempo of his jogging movements as he neared his climax. Elaine's quim was a churning pit of flaming, churning sensation, her mind a seething morass. Yet the straining power of Cressey's tensed limbs and muscular frame sent another flicker of sensual tumult through the girl's conflicting emotions. Then hot semen washed her swollen, reddened passage, and the bruising strength of the youth's grip checked the thrashing of Elaine's spattered thighs.
She was allowed only a brief respite before Downing, coarse and clumsy, replaced Cressey, but the flabby, sandy-haired youth took her on the bed with her knees forced high up, pressing against her breasts, while the blonde girl and Sharon held her legs in that grotesque position and Cressey gripped her wrists.
The only feeling Downing evoked was disgust. Maurice, next to perform, was less coarse but equally sadistic, preferring to screw Elaine while the others held her belly down over the curved back of the couch. Her bottom held a peculiar fascination for all four grimacing youths. Maurice devoted so much time to smelling and tonguing the dusky cleft and mauling the cheeks that he was unable to control his reaction and orgasm occurred the instant his thickened prick was introduced into Elaine's reeking vagina.
In a state of shivering terror and nervous exhaustion, Elaine sagged in the punitive grip of her grinning tormentors, limp and nauseated, deluding herself that, at last, the shameful ordeal was over. But she underestimated the virility of her youthful captors. Already Thatch was confronting her again. The circumference of his gross appendage was hardly diminished. He argued until the others laid Elaine face downward across the mahogany table. Felicity helped hold the girl down. Thatch got between Elaine's extended legs and forced them wide apart. But before he succeeded in gaining an entry the film ran out and there was a brief delay while Cressey loaded a fresh canister, meanwhile the Negro played impatiently with his penis, maintaining its formidable erection.
"Okay," Cressey said presently. "Ready to roll. Thatch, you wanted it up her ass. All right, man-get stuck into her."
"He'll never make it," Kitty declared. "You'll never work that tool up her aristocratic ring, Thatch. Her asshole's too small."
"Like to bet? Ain't no asshole, black or white, can't be fucked-with a bit of patient persuasion and a smear of vaseline."
"Well, I've got plenty of vaseline," Sharon said. Cressey swore. "Hold that camera," he shouted. "Let's have some action. We're wastin'-"
Elaine managed to free one arm. She lashed out, caught Sharon with a resounding slap across the face, kicked at Felicity and connected with her stomach, and almost succeeded in breaking Downing's bruising hold. Maurice recaptured her flailing arm. Kitty added her wiry strength. In the ensuing struggle Elaine was dragged to the floor. Sharon, the imprint of fingers plain on her cheek, pounced on her, got astride Elaine's waist and knelt on her upper arms. Grabbing the girl's hair she banged her head on the floor, then protruded her pelvis and deliberately urinated all over Elaine's head and face.
"Maybe that will cool your fucking temper, you bitch," she jeered. Cressey dragged her off. He hauled Elaine to her feet, shoved her toward Downing.
"Hold her," he snapped. "We can't afford to spoil film."
Draped over the table again, with the taste of urine in her mouth and reeking in her nostrils, Elaine was denied further chance of escape. Downing gripped her left arm, Maurice her right. Sharon and Kitty each held an ankle, stretching Elaine's legs wide apart. Felicity, clasping her belly, stood back, scowling. Thatch again positioned himself between the girl's thighs. He dragged her to the extreme edge of the table, separated the cheeks of her bottom and exposed her tight anus. For a while he fondled the succulent ovals, kneading and squashing their voluptuous roundness, repeatedly sniffing the warm division and darting his tongue into the dark recess. Experimenting, he poked a thick forefinger up the crinkly orifice and worked it ruthlessly into the clinging aperture until his probing digit intruded past the second knuckle joint. A torrent of shuddering reaction and sexual rapture convulsed the black youth's lean body.
He prolonged the obscene inspection, then succumbed to pagan lust and wallowed in the soft fissure of the captive's bottom, sucking in great mouthfuls of quivering flesh and fiercely inhaling the sexy odor, trailing his tongue repeatedly round the anus and, with the black forefinger still deeply inserted, licking along the cringing cleavage from where Elaine's buttocks merged with her white back to the sweating junction of thighs and vagina, his bestial passion intensified by the victim's moans and gasps and convulsive movements. Finally he groped between her thighs and inserted two fingers into her shorn cunt, wriggled them about, withdrew them and smeared adhering mucus on the bulging glans of his penis. His gouging thumbs widened the girl's anus, painfully stretching the taut skin, and he spat into the brown pit, working the saliva into the puckered hole.
Downing licked his thick lips, sucking in his flabby stomach. A tremor rippled along his stiffened prick. Maurice's scrotum was ridged and wrinkled like the shell of a large walnut. A drop of semen oozed from his pulsing knob and clung until he shook it off.
Thatch renewed the assault on Elaine's back passage, jabbing his turgid organ at the aperture and pushing resolutely, gradually increasing the cruel pressure and continually stretching the rim, now purple-brown, with his thumbs, easing the stubborn flesh over the slightly intruding glans and thrusting with greater determination, savagely impatient, when the tortured orifice continued to resist. Elaine's stomach was chafed against the rough table. Her breasts hung down, flopping and jerking. Her swiftly changing facial expressions evoked crude remarks and derisive smirks. Felicity positively gloated.
Muscles stood out on the young Negro's back and torso, ridging on his long legs and bulging thighs. His finger tips were deeply embedded in the girl's flesh. Intolerable pain skewered her hot anus and the dark surrounding area. Already stretched abnormally, the opening widened still more, splitting slightly, then suddenly yielded with a loud, disgusting soggy sound. Shooting agony stabbed the whole of Elaine's flaming back passage and knotted her heaving stomach. She shrieked, screamed again when Thatch rammed in berserkly and that awful buggering prick penetrated beyond the opening. The tender, violated pit closed round the throbbing knob and gripped firmly just behind it, but the youth quickly followed up his gain and forced his swollen organ deeper, bursting past the final clinging restriction and displacing agonized tissue.
He jerked his prick further in, oblivious of dragging friction and the mingled excrement and mucus squeezed past the brutal obstruction, muttering and groaning, relentlessly defiling the torn aperture, callously ramming harder despite Elaine's resounding screams and flopping struggles.
The depraved youths enjoying the girl's misery were masturbating, grinning and grimacing. Maurice, grasping Elaine's arm with his left hand, held his penis in his other hand and rapidly flogged the foreskin back and forth until, approaching orgasm, he thrust his jerking cock close to her face and shot a stream of odious semen partly into her gaping, distorted mouth. The rest spattered over her features and in her hair.
Thatch was nearing orgasm, too, laboring and grunting. Several inches of hard, thick penis blocked the girl's anal cavity and the entire region was an inflamed mass of shuddering torment. But her cries were weaker. That remorseless shaft ground in, withdrew slightly and plunged again, pistoning with frightful ferocity. Thatch's teeth were gritted, his eyes bloodshot and bulging. Sweat glistened on his ebony-black body. The whole jeering gang shared his obscene excitement.
Suddenly the tearing agony was mellowed by squirting liquid. The terrible friction lessened. That iron-hard roll vomited its seething load high in the girl's ravished passage and was reluctantly withdrawn, leaving a trail of glutinous sperm across the backs of her thighs. But still the teenage monster was not through. He moved quickly round the table and flaunted his reeking penis before Elaine's misted eyes, told Sharon to help keep the girl's head still while he pried her mouth open. Unable to prevent the semi-flaccid penis from sliding between her lips, compelled to hold its vileness in her mouth, Elaine spluttered and retched. Thatch, grinning malevolently, intruded further.
"How you like the taste of your own shit, darlin'?" he asked. "Man, if your asshole is as sore as my prick, you got my sympathy."
He laughed, stood back. At Felicity's instigation Sharon replaced the humiliating collar. Elaine was thrown on the bed. Downing promptly attempted to duplicate Thatch's lewd act but allowed Kitty to lure him to the sofa where, lying on her back with her knees drawn up, she clasped him in a fierce embrace, mouthing crude provocation, and had his penis inserted in the slimy gash of her wet, eager cunt the instant he mounted her. Cressey picked up Felicity and dumped her on the bed beside Elaine, a purely impulsive gesture because he obviously wanted the McCord girl again. But Felicity, like Sharon, would not be denied. Sharon flopped onto the sofa. Felicity swiftly pushed the clinging wool pants down, kicked them off, spread her legs, captured Cressey's proudly erect penis and conveyed it quickly to her palpitating snatch. She locked her slim legs behind Cressey's back and surged up to meet his instinctive lunge. The massive intrusion of his enormous rod provoked a hoarse outcry. Felicity's pale eyes smoldered with passion. As Cressey forged into her and her avid quim flogged in and out, responding to his rampant tool, she clamped her mouth over his and sucked his tongue, nipping it between her teeth and blurting urgent appeals.
"Faster, darling!" Elaine heard the crude bitch demand. "Oh, lover! I want it, oh I WANT it! Thrash it into me, Morton, honey. Harder, for God's sake! Ooooooh! DARLING!"
Cressey fucked with concentrated vigor, working deeper with powerful, surging strokes that engulfed his tremendous tool until the hair densely covering his belly and groin was flattened and mingled with the tufted growth sprouting from Felicity's swelling mound. His testicles slapped the division of her taut bottom. Her hot vagina was a throbbing sheath of squashing, clutching flesh, a reddened maw that clung and relaxed, gripped and stretched, puckered, splaying, flapping, every convulsive, searching movement shredding the raw fibers of her carnal senses. She writhed in torrid ecstasy, her aching chasm a flaming core of churning sensation. There was adoration in her eyes as she clung to the panting youth, squirming in the throes of orgasm. Cressey, his balls and the insides of his thighs wet and sticky, groaned in the rapidly mounting delirium of his own approaching climax, buried his rampant penis to its straining roots and, as the delightful, itching torment swept toward the swollen glans raised his body, arms quivering with strain, and expressed the raging culmination of tumultuous passion in the savagely triumphant words:- "I'M GOIN' TO SHOOT!"
His big frame shuddered. Lust combined with relief twisted his face into a hideous expression. He withdrew, dribbling, and swore.
"The fuckin' camera!" he blurted. "I forgot. You cow, Felicity. I didn't want this in the can."
"Let it roll," Felicity answered laconically. "You wanted me in your lousy film. Okay, I'm in. This Rubens character gets an episode gratis. So what?"
"All right. But there's still the special feature and-" "It'll keep, for God's sake! Love me some more."
She dragged him down, and the sordid session ended in chaotic orgy.
CHAPTER TEN
Sam Corringham was tired and hungry. The greater part of his adult life had been spent in jail. Ragged, unshaven and unwashed, Corringham was in a sullen, vicious mood. It was late, the night warm and close. When, from the crest of a hill, the unkempt bum saw distant lights, his mood brightened. He quickened his shuffling steps.
Not yet fifty, the Irishman was lean and muscular, of average height, physically strong but a moral coward. His hair was fringed with grey, long and shaggy, his neck seamed and wrinkled, his hands broad and strong, the finger nails filthy. His teeth were rotten, and he stank.
Nearing the isolated roadhouse he was surprised to see the place practically in ruins, densely overgrown with brush and weeds. Moonlight revealed widespread decay. But Corringham could hear a gasoline-operated generator, and soon he came upon a battered Ford. Puzzled, he prowled, moved past a boarded-up window to peer cautiously into the large room which Morton Cressey and his teenage gang had converted into a comfortable lounge.
Corringham's eyebrows arched. His mouth gaped slackly. He had arrived at a crucial moment and was seeing Downing and Sharon fornicating on the sofa and Cressey fucking Felicity on the bed. Two other naked youths, one a Negro, lounged on the floor drinking beer from cans. Arc-lamps were blazing and Corringham could see coils of cable and a paraphernalia of equipment. He swore, wondering what sort of crazy set-up he had stumbled on. Corringham was a lustful man with perverted traits. The lurid scene stirred latent desires and he fingered his genitals, feeling his penis through his greasy pants. His prick lifted, began to swell. Grinning delightedly, he pressed his whiskery face close to the cracked pane. Excitement overcame natural caution and he ripped his fly undone, flopped his penis out-a fat, circumcised roll that smelled abominably, and masturbated furiously.
Just a bunch of kids, he thought. Randy buggers. Their motives in taking possession of the derelict roadhouse did not interest him. He was concerned only with what he could steal, or scrounge. Whanking briskly, he wondered if he dared take the car. Then Sharon got up from the sofa and the sight of her voluptuous nudity drove everything else from Corringham's primitive mind. He was on the verge of an excruciatingly rapturous orgasm when he detected a flurry of darting movement behind him. Whirling, he saw an enormous hound leaping at him and instinctively flung up both arms to protect his throat. The next moment he was on the ground, yelling and cursing, with the dog tearing at his ragged clothing and trying to sink gleaming fangs in his flesh. Corringham got a grip on the loose skin under the animal's throat and hung on grimly.
Inside the house, Felicity twisted erect, pushed Cressey off and scrambled to her feet. "That's Shadow!" she declared. "He's caught a prowler. My God! Suppose it's the police!"
Cressey swore, jerked erect. Maurice and Thatch were already making for the outer door. Downing followed with Kitty and Sharon. Cressey and Felicity found them trying to separate the savage Doberman from a thickset bum whose gaping fly and exposed penis explained his lurking presence. Felicity shouted. The hound instantly slunk into the shadows.
"Lucky you brought the mutt," Maurice said. Felicity nodded. "Damn right," Cressey agreed. "Who is the scruffy bastard? Speak up, mister." Corringham moistened his lips. He gave his name.
"Weren't meanin' no harm," he gasped. "Reckoned on spendin' the night here, that's all. Thought the place was empty till I seen you kids. Seen what you was doin' and it got me all worked up. Then that bloody dog attacked me."
"The lousy creep was spyin' on us," Downing complained. Thatch sneered. "Man!" he exclaimed. "You concerned about some bum seein' you fuck? That's foolish talk."
"Shut up!" Felicity interrupted. "Morton, I've got an idea. Suppose we make use of this character? Instead of casting Downing as the beast in Mate of the Monster why not persuade Corringham to play the part?"
"Him!
You're flipped."
"No. Think of that snooty McCord kid's reaction. It would give the movie realism. Listen, Corringham. You're a dirty old man but nobody's going to hurt you-if you're reasonable, in fact you could earn yourself a few bucks. That's a lot of cock you've got dangling. It's rotten and it stinks, but I'm sure darling Elaine would appreciate it."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"You will, Corringham. You will. What do you think, Morton?" Cressey shrugged. Then he grinned.
"Could be fun," he agreed. "Okay, why not?"
"Sounds great," Kitty declared. Sharon voiced exuberant approval. Maurice looked dubious. Thatch shrugged, looked at Downing.
"It's okay with me," Downing said. "It'll be a giggle."
"Fair enough," Cressey decided. "Listen, Corringham. We've got somethin' goin' here and you've blundered right into the middle of it. We could get rid of you, but we'll give you a break."
Corringham's shifty eyes gleamed. Low cunning mingled with the suspicion clouding their bloodshot depths. "What do I have to do?" he asked apprehensively.
"Nothin' much. We're makin' a movie, see? A thriller with lots of sex and scary stuff. The details aren't important right now. All you'd have to do is dress up like one of them geeks in a fairground sideshow and-"
"A what!"
"A geek, you stupid bastard, the wild man who eats live chickens and roars and all that shit." "Sounds crazy. Why don't one of you kids do it? Is it because there's some risk? I ain't-"
"No danger, Corringham. You're ripe for the part, that's all, and I mean ripe. There's this girl, see? You're supposed to throw a bad scare into her. It's just a gag. Kitty, get my jeans."
The blonde departed, returned promptly. Cressey extracted a wad of bills from the hip pocket of his pants, peeled off a couple.
"Twenty bucks now and thirty more when the film's in the can," he said. "All right?" Corringham's doubts vanished. He nodded vigorously, held out a grimy fist.
"Just tell me what I have to do," he muttered. Cressey explained, stressing lurid details. Corringham grinned lewdly.
"You mean I get to fuck her and everythin'?" he asked incredulously. Cressey nodded.
"Anythin' you like, old man, so long as you make it convincin'. This girl, she's used to this sort of thing, gets well paid. So make it good. Mate of the Monster. Get it?"
Corringham chuckled obscenely. He confined his slack penis.
"You can sleep in the basement tonight," Felicity told him. "In the storeroom. But don't start snooping around or the dog will have you. You'll be given a meal and something to drink. And remember, if you breathe one word of this to anybody-"
"I won't," Corringham protested vehemently. "I don't want to get involved. Whoever the girl is, this movie and everything, I don't want to know. I can keep my mouth shut."
"You'd better. Take him to the basement, Maurice. Don't make us sorry we trusted you, Corringham. If you do talk, Morton and his friends will find you, and they'll cut that flabby prick off at the roots, won't you, darling?"
Cressey scowled, not liking her careless use of his name. The bum gulped. The mere thought of sharp steel slicing into his repulsive organ caused his scrotum to tighten into a hard, shriveled knot. The fact that it was an attractive young woman making the threat made it none the less convincing. Corringham believed her implicitly.
Next morning, after breakfast, the whole gang except Downing departed in the car, leaving Elaine chained in the basement. For a time Downing occupied himself processing film, but eventually entered the converted bedroom and stood with his back against the wall, chewing gum and insolently appraising the captive. Conscious of her nakedness and filthy, unwashed condition, Elaine cowered away, but the youth merely studied her, smirking patronizingly. He spoke. But Elaine refused to answer. Downing shrugged.
"All right," he said. "Be miserable, you stupid little cow. You'll be here a while yet. There's just you and me, so why not be sociable?"
"Go away, you depraved animal!" Elaine shouted. "When I do get out of here I'll make you sorry you started this filthy caper."
"Don't be like that," Downing reproached, grinning. "I like you, kid. No crap, I really do. You've got guts, and I like the way you're put together."
He intensified his gaze. Elaine could almost read his mind. The obvious trend of his indecent thoughts stirred latent impulses, and the youth unconsciously handled the front of his pants, outlining the fat ridge of his penis. Elaine's apprehension increased in proportion to the bulge.
"Why fight all the time?" Downing asked. "You're just making it tougher on yourself. Maybe if you tried buttering Felicity up she'd let you out of this hog-pen. Wouldn't you like to get cleaned up? I could make things easier for you. There's just you and me now. Nobody watchin'. Suppose you and me get together, huh? Bend over, kid. Stick your ass out and let me belt this into you, and I'll-"
"Get out!" Elaine yelled. "Get out!"
"Okay. But you'll be sorry. Soon as the gang-" Elaine struck at him. He dodged, went out, laughing, leaving the door open. Fuming and trembling, Elaine sank down on the creaking bed. Wrenching at the infuriating collar in a fit of violent temper, she uttered a gasp of surprise when the encircling leather came away in her hand. The padlock, she discovered, had not been properly shut. It fell to the floor. Elaine kicked it. She conceived an audacious plan, but did not put it into effect immediately. She thought about it, nerving herself for the ordeal it involved. Eventually, her resolve strengthened, and she decided to make the attempt. She called Downing.
He came, still chewing, regarded her with contemptuous indifference-until she smiled and patted the bed beside her.
"I've been thinking," she said, striving to sound casual. "Perhaps you're right. I am desperately lonely and afraid. I'm sorry I shouted. You're not like the others. This is all Felicity's idea, I know that. Please, if I'm nice to you-if I do what you want, will you help me get away?"
"Forget it. I'm no rat. I thought you called me because you decided to play along. I'm no fink." "Of course, if you're afraid of Cressey and-"
"Balls to him! I'm not scared of anybody. I just want my cut of that money." "Don't go!" Elaine said quickly. "Listen-what is your name?" "Eh? Why, it's-it's Paul, but everybody calls me Fatso."
"Listen, Paul. I've got money of my own, in trust. And besides, if you help me my mother will give you anything, I swear. Anything. Come and sit beside me. I'll go crazy if I don't talk to somebody. Paul, please-can't you at least remove this dreadful collar?"
"Sorry, baby. I don't have the key."
Elaine hoped he wouldn't notice the padlock wasn't fastened, the collar sagging loose. He spat out the gum.
"If I really thought I could trust you," he said. "Maybe, just maybe, we could make a deal. But you'd have to prove you're on the level."
"How, Paul?"
Downing opened his jeans and took out his partly stiffened penis. He shook the fleshy organ.
"Get hold of this," he instructed. "Don't be afraid of it. What's the matter with you anyway? Doesn't the sight of a fat prick do anything for you except make you bawl and snivel? You haven't been hurt. Okay, so maybe having a few inches of black cock rammed up your ass WAS rough, but you'll get over it. Some dolls I know prefer it that way. Come on, kid. Let's not fuck about. The sooner I get some prick into you the sooner we make a deal. That ass of yours fascinates me same as that black bastard, Thatch. I want to sniff and lick every goddam inch. So turn round, baby. Wait! Give this a few rubs first."
He approached closer. Somehow Elaine smothered revulsion and allowed him to push his swollen penis into her hand. She obeyed his obscene instructions, rubbing and pulling the fleshy roll, and was disturbed when she experienced a sudden tightness in her anus and vagina, a strangely pleasurable tension from which other, more pronounced sensations developed, alarming feelings that electrified her.
Paul Downing dropped his jeans, momentarily breaking her clammy clutch. He raised his shirt and exposed the whole of his hairy belly and pelvis and the dangling bag of his testicles, then drew Elaine's hand back to his restless cock. She resumed whanking, compensating for inexperience and lack of enthusiasm with enforced concentration and energetic effort, still mindful of her plan, merely waiting for the right moment to put it into operation.
Inexplicably, to Elaine, after a time the disquieting sensations in her sexual parts increased until a crucial stage was reached where, astonishingly, what she was doing no longer seemed repugnant but actually stimulating. When Downing twisted her round to face the wall she felt an incredible sense of elation and wonder rather than shame, and bent over without being prompted, spreading her legs and placing her palms firmly on the bed to brace herself. Something of her former panic and disgust returned when Downing dropped to his knees and began mauling and sniffing her ass, but when he adopted a crouching stance and, groping below the splayed cheeks, touched her vagina, Elaine felt a distinct thrill. A violent shock followed as the youth butted his swollen tool impatiently at the shorn slit.
Elaine no longer had the will power or determination to put into effect the final phase of her bold plan. While she hesitated, reluctantly responding, trembling with the frighteningly insistent sensations provoked by actual carnal contact, Downing achieved deeper penetration with a thoughtless ferocity that wrung a cry of pain and fear from her open mouth. In that moment Elaine realized with absolute horror the enormity of what she was condoning. The shattering truth drained most of her strength, and, consequently when she snatched the battered paint can and swung around, severing the intimate connection and aiming a desperate swipe at Downing's head, her reflexes were slow and the can merely struck the youth's shoulder.
More startled than hurt, angrily frustrated, Downing staggered back. Elaine saw the premature spurts of semen leave his penis, felt it spatter warm and sticky on her bare flesh, then she swung the can again and this time caught Downing flush on the jaw. The impact knocked him down. Temporarily stunned, he failed to restrain Elaine as, swiftly removing the collar, she darted past him and reached the side door. She dragged it open, rushed out, oblivious of her nudity-right into the sinewy arms of an unkempt character whose ugly, unshaven face and leering eyes expressed utter depravity. The man stank. His grimy fingers gripped her arms with viselike strength.
"Well now," he drawled, chuckling. "You're a real surprise package, by God! Fairly askin' for some cock goin' around like that, kid. You must be-"
"Please let me go," Elaine pleaded. "I must get away from here." "Not so fast. It ain't that simple. Don't be in such a hurry to leave old Sam."
He gaped at her bare breasts, licked his lips, lowered his intent gaze to her shorn pelvis, then tried to twist her round so he could see her bottom. Abruptly he jerked her forward, released her wrists and cupped both her large buttocks, laughing harshly when she strained against his wiry strength.
"Don't be scared, girl," he told her. "I won't hurt you, leastways no more'n the stretchin' that a few inches of hard prick will give that poutin' cunt of yours."
"Let me go," Elaine begged. "Oh, please! You don't understand."
"Sure I do. You're the girl that bunch have been hidin' away. They tried to kid me you was in it for money, but Sam Corringham's a hard man to fool. It ain't my concern."
"I'll make it worth your while to help me. I'll give you money."
"Yeah? And where would you get money? Forget it. I'm satisfied with the deal I've got. You're my type, honey. You and me ought to hit it off just fine."
He assaulted her ass again, tried to kiss her, sickening her with his foul breath. Elaine twisted her head away, pushed at his chest until he wrapped a muscular arm round her neck and turned her so that her back was toward him. He gazed at her succulent bottom in captivated admiration, swore, suddenly jerked her head back and dragged her into an awkward, contorted posture, lewdly delved his free hand between her thighs, chuckling when she expressed sharp disgust.
"You're a little raver," he declared huskily. "Them's the finest pair of high-risin' beauties I ever did see, and the nicest ass. Don't fight me, girl. Let's have another feel, you frisky young cocksucker. Haw! Makes you wriggle, eh? This will make you squirm a lot more."
Holding her helpless in the crook of his right arm he undid his fly buttons. Elaine smelled the sour odor of his genitals, felt the rapid beating of his rearing penis against her thigh and buttock. Its clammy, reeking touch drove her frantic and she jabbed her elbow viciously into his stomach, but he merely grunted and increased the pressure of his choking stranglehold, mouthing dreadful oaths when Downing staggered from the side entry.
Elaine had forgotten the youth. Downing checked his plunging rush, stood hesitantly, scowling. There was a livid bruise on his chin. He indicated Corringham's drooping penis.
"Put that thing away and fuck off," he ordered curtly. "You were told to stay out of sight. If Cressey finds out you've been talkin' to her you'll lose that stinkin' roll, old man."
"Now just hold on," Corringham blustered. "If I hadn't grabbed her she'd have gotten away. I ain't stupid, kid. I'm wise to the set-up. She ain't here voluntary at all. But I don't talk, see. It ain't nothin' to me."
"Okay. Get lost. And you, you crafty little cow, get inside. I'll make you shit a blue streak for this. I don't know how you slipped that fuckin' collar, but from now on you'll really stay put. Move, you bitch!"
The distant reverberation from an automobile motor indicated the imminent return of the gang. Downing stared toward the track. Corringham disappeared into the shadows. Elaine had no idea who he was. It seemed unimportant. Downing thrust her into the house, shut the door, hustled her quickly to the basement. He picked up the collar, examined the metal rings, retrieved the padlock and inspected it carefully, shrugged when he found no fault with it. When he snapped it shut the shank connected positively, engaging with a loud clicking sound that stabbed through Elaine like a knife blade.
Elaine lost all track of time. All she could be certain of was that it was again night. The lounge was brightly lighted. During the afternoon she had been allowed out of her prison but was closely watched, and when she pleaded for an opportunity to bathe Felicity threw a bucket of cold water over her and told her it was quite adequate, that it was not necessary or desirable for Elaine to be clean for the role she was to play-an ominous statement that conveyed nothing to the girl.
When she returned to the basement the camera had been set up in the kitchen and was focused on the door of the squalid bedroom prison, but in her agitation and seething resentment Elaine attached no special significance to the arrangement, and ignored the arc-lamps strategically placed in all four corners of the gloomy room, suspended from the roof timbers. What did it matter if they intended to photograph her like a captive animal amid those dismal, depressing surroundings? What did anything matter? She had enjoyed a brief hour of sunshine and fresh air, of warm breeze and the scent of wild flowers growing among the long grasses. Nudity no longer seemed symbolic of shame but a perfectly natural condition prompting more resentment than embarrassment. The frequent exposure of male and female sex organs no longer disgusted her, and although acts of gross indecency committed with brutal frankness within her sight and hearing still shocked her to some extent, her reaction was often tempered with curiosity-alien in that particular context to her nature and strict upbringing, yet another assertion of subconscious cravings she had already experienced on numerous occasions without appreciating their origin or significance. Sometimes a spark of lascivious interest emerged to blend with her confusion and despair.
Elaine was less afraid, often rebellious, always disdainful despite everything she was obliged to endure, determined that neither Cressey nor Felicity should break her spirit. But that night her fears returned with all the dreadful suspense and horror of her initial terror. She had eaten supper and was relaxing on the bed, preoccupied with brooding thoughts, when the door slowly creaked open. A single dim light came on, outlining a crouching, repulsive figure lurking in the doorway.
Elaine jerked upright. Then, as the shadowy bulk moved forward, grunting and snarling, the lights brightened and she saw the shaggy, apelike figure and terrible bestial face of some kind of animal- a "missing link" monstrosity that was something between man and beast, slavering, hideous, gnashing long, yellow fangs, its gaping jaws smeared with blood, reeking, drooling. Awful, hairy hands reached out to seize her. The creature's sunken eyes glared balefully, red-rimmed, horrible. A rank stench pervaded the room.
Elaine's heart almost burst with fright. She screamed, then her throat dried up and she could only utter hoarse, choking gasps as the dreadful intruder shuffled closer. She scrambled off the bed and backed away until the wall prevented further retreat. The awful, mind-shattering fear as those foul, beast fingers clutched her, the suffocating horror of the creature's vile embrace, threatened the girl's reason. She collapsed, was swung off her feet and tossed on the bed. Vaguely, she was aware of the lights blazing up until the brilliance hurt her eyes, and in her blind terror thought she could hear Cressey giving orders, positioning the movie camera. Then she forgot the dazzling arc-lamps, the sinister voices, the oppressive heat, everything, because as she lay on her stomach, sick with horror, the hideous wolf-man groveled on his knees, snuffling at her bare bottom. A hot, wet tongue probed the cringing crevice and the puckered rim of her anus. She felt warm breath on her flesh and heard the swift inrush of air sucked noisily into the monster's gaping nostrils. Grunting, the creature explored lower, found the girl's shrinking vagina, licked it, sucked the hairless folds into his terrible mouth. Fumbling hands crept up over her quivering belly and clutched her breasts, crushing the soft ovals and savagely abusing the nipples.
Then-the phenomenon was so unexpected Elaine thought it must be a further indication that her tottering mind finally collapsing-she heard the terrible, slobbering beast-man speak! It was only a hoarse exclamation, an obscene comment, but it was enough to convey the bitter, devastating truth to the outraged girl. The vile, stinking "monster" sniffing and licking round her bottom and abusing her vagina was human, a disgusting, nauseating creature whose thick, reeking penis was even then prodding impatiently into the trembling recess exposed to his lecherous gaze.
Flaming anger promptly displaced fear, obscured a momentary spasm of relief and yielded to sobbing fury. Elaine writhed up from the bed but was immediately flung prone again. A knee ground into her back, was removed when the man seized her hips and dragged her up with legs dangling and jerking furiously. Holding her in that absurd position, he stabbed his revolting penis at her vulnerable split, ramming the reeking organ into her with vindictive ferocity.
There was no escaping the brutal assault. His strength was supplemented by the desperation of sexual madness, and the "geek" outfit did not restrict his movement. Elaine heard Cressey shouting. Girlish laughter resounded, squeals of delight, derisive remarks. Felicity's scathing voice was predominant. Elaine's degradation was complete. She was twisted over, limbs flopping grotesquely. The creature crouched over her, his knees clamping her ribs, hideous beast's face thrust close. And Elaine, gazing into those glittering, shifty eyes, identified the occupant of the hairy, stinking "geek" skin disguise. With recognition came another attack of acute nausea, shuddering disgust and frantic struggles when that horrible, smelly prick was brought close to her mouth and her head was roughly seized and held as if in a vise. She was barely conscious when the loathsome tool prodded her lips, forced them apart, distending them hugely, and was swiftly stroked into the retching cavity.
"Cut it, you crazy bastard!" a harsh voice demanded. "You're suffocatin' her."
Corringham was dragged away. Elaine's brain was whirling, her lungs filled with flaming torment. She collapsed, lay with eyes closed. The small room seemed to become even smaller, to close in. Everything disappeared in a swirling black fog.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cressey was in a foul humor. Some of the color film was out of focus. They would have to shoot retakes. Sam Corringham had gone. Sharon, simulating Cressey's mood, was sullen and irritable. Like Felicity, she derived sadistic pleasure from taunting and humiliating Elaine. They forced the girl to cooperate, threatening to burn her with cigarette butts. During the filthy Lesbian scenes Sharon again urinated on her, but Elaine was beyond tears or abuse, and endured everything defiantly.
Typically, Maurice insisted on making her suck his penis. Kitty and Sharon held Elaine in a kneeling posture on the floor with her arms twisted. Sharon guided the blond youth's bloated prick to Elaine's mouth and, with her free hand, frigging Downing's stiff rod until his erection was colossal, then relinquished Elaine's cruelly distorted arm to Cressey's powerful grip in order to take the rampant penis in her mouth. But determination to avenge the injury inflicted by the paint can superseded Downing's lust and he stubbornly rejected Sharon's patient stimulation, ignoring her loud condemnation.
As Maurice, grimacing, pumped ropy sperm into Elaine's twisted mouth, Downing got behind her and signaled the girls to haul Elaine erect. They did so, but promptly forced her to bend over, so low that her head was rammed between her knees. She was held like that while Downing, holding his elongated penis, dragged her thighs apart and groped until the broad, blunt tip of his strongly pulsating cock splayed the practically naked entry of her quim.
The fear that he intended to violate her anus evaporated and Elaine experienced actual relief when her quivering vulva closed round the throbbing glans of the youth's pugnacious prick. He fornicated with savage abandon, deliberately trying to punish her, thrashing his fat rod into her dragging slit in a series of heaving movements that lifted her buttocks each time and squashed their pink-white plumpness against his hairy belly and pelvis.
Sharon, wearing an infuriatingly supercilious expression on her face, abused Elaine's breasts, pulling them out of shape and spitefully pinching the nipples, but she overestimated Elaine's helplessness. The girl's feet were still free, and the smirk left Sharon's spotty features when Elaine suddenly brought her head up sharply. Her skull connected with Sharon's chin.
Downing, frustrated in the instant prior to orgasm by Elaine's unexpected forward lunge that caused his penis to slip out, shot his load all over her flushed bottom. Sharon, almost in tears, clutched her jaw, and mouthed foul threats. But for the collar and chain Elaine might have succeeded in escaping then, while attention was diverted. But she was quickly subdued. Cressey, unclothed and in a better humor, took over from Downing who, sullen and glowering, lit a cigarette and flopped on the sofa. Cressey led Elaine to the bed.
"Make this good," he warned. "Otherwise we'll have to go through the whole thing again. That'll mean trouble for you, kid, so cut out the tears and arguments and the rest of the shit you've been handin' us. All that's wasted on us. Don't push your luck. Relax, baby. Forget all your foolish notions. Let yourself go and, who knows? You might even get to like it. If you don't, well that's too fuckin' bad."
He pushed her impatiently.
"If your mother shows up as arranged we can all get out of this rat-infested pad," he added. "At least you'll have somethin' to remember."
"I won't forget you," Elaine assured him defiantly. "Any of you. A bunch of dirty cowards. You're just scum."
Cressey hit her, stretched her on the bed. Striving desperately to preserve a shred of dignity, Elaine pushed trailing hair from her eyes, glared at him.
"Scum," she repeated. "With neither feelings nor conscience. That despicable masquerade was typical of the behavior to be expected from a conceited lout with the retarded mentality of a child. I wish to God I could- Aaarrrgh!"
Cressey delivered another back-hand slap, then sprawled on the bed and pinned her down.
"All right," he gritted. "I'm scum, a real hard bastard. If that's the way you want it. You'll crack before I do, kid. I thought you'd decided to show some sense, that you might even turn out halfway normal. But I guess you're just a sexless twat after all. Okay, now you'll do things the hard way. I've been too soft with you, kitten. Maybe slappin' you around is the only thing that'll shake some of the shit out of you. I don't want to hurt you, but from now on it's up to you. You dig me? Turn over. No! Get away from her. She's goin' to do this voluntarily. I'll tell you what to do, Elaine, and you'll do it. Understand? Or else. Now turn over."
He released her and lay on his back, playing with his penis. Elaine sat up, amazed by her calmness. Cressey's threats created a cold core of panic, but somehow the prospect of another sexual interlude involving him did not alarm her. She wondered at her placid acceptance of his ultimatum, and when she looked at the youth's thickened, straining phallus, she experienced a repetition of the vague but disturbing stirrings deep inside her body. The violently pulsing prick reminded her of a fat, sinuous animal. It fascinated rather than repelled, and as Elaine gazed into Cressey's eyes and saw the swirling passion reflected in their glittering depths, a frightening thought dominated her agitated mind-she was attracted to him, crazy though it seemed. She recognized his compelling animal magnetism that penetrated even the dense wall of hatred and contempt she had built around her.
Cressey grabbed her, breaking the chain of fantastic thoughts that logic ridiculed and rejected but could not erase. Elaine allowed him to pull and push her about and position her how and where he wanted, and finished up astride his chest, facing his feet, with her breasts hanging down and her hands spread either side of the youth's slightly bent knees. Her bottom protruded close to his face, her vagina, completely exposed, pouting within inches of his lips.
Cressey's arms hugged her hips, his hands clasping her buttocks and exaggerating the broad expanse of rounded flesh and dark, satiny cleft. Instead of feeling foolish and obscene Elaine was guiltily resigned, even expectant, yielding to a surge of wickedness as if the indecent flaunting of ass and shorn cunt, without compulsion, was a form of erotic stimulation accentuating powerful emotions she was just beginning to understand.
The tingling thrills in her genital region were intensified. She wanted to give vent to her alarming exuberance in a display of vulgarity, to exert herself violently, yet the response of her body to the strange excitement frightened her. For some obscure reason she was no longer disgusted, merely apprehensive. She stared at the arrogantly rearing penis jutting close to her face. It seemed to exert a hypnotic influence on her. Could fear alone, she wondered incredulously, explain so flagrant a transformation, the reversal of deep-rooted inhibitions? Or fear of reprisals smother loathing and revulsion to the extent of provoking willing acceptance of physical intimacy hitherto alien to her restricted environment? It was as if she were suddenly seeing things for the first time.
But the questions remained unanswered and were erased from her groping mind when Cressey uttered a lewd exclamation and plunged his face between her buttocks, sniffing and mouthing in a groaning frenzy of berserk lust.
A torrent of liquid fire seemed to envelop Elaine's shuddering body, seeping into every part of it. Cressey's tongue lingered briefly around her anus, then his lips squirmed lower and closed like an enormous, sucking clam over her prominent cunt, compressing the dark folds between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He bit her soft flesh, hard enough to make her jerk and writhe, and as he munched the squashy core his nose explored her itching anus.
The delirious surge of sexual impulses evoked passionate, moaning cries. Devastating, exhilarating sensations thrilled and shocked the trembling girl. Stubborn prejudices lingered, self-condemnation, the awful uncertainty, but when Cressey told Elaine to grasp his penis she obeyed after momentary hesitation, motivated by blind, unreasoning impulse, and frigged his monstrous cock crudely but effectively, discovering as she handled the clammy implement that the warm, throbbing contact aroused no distasteful reaction, only wanton defiance, and as the bloated organ became still harder and fatter and the glans orifice gaped like a tiny, obscene red mouth every time she stretched the foreskin, some weird fantasy encroaching into the morass of Elaine's alienated mind created a fierce desire bordering on obsession to see the spurting discharge of semen.
She must, Elaine thought, be losing her reason, unless there was some profound psychological explanation. A mental picture formed of her father squatting with his beating penis spewing sperm over Felicity Page's backside; the ropy milkiness of Geoffrey's copious semen as he spunked in her hand; her mother with the chauffeur-and the experience with Josh Meadows that no longer seemed terrifying, only sordid.
The mauling and groping continued, the avid sucking, and for a long time Cressey concentrated his lust around the girl's bottom and in orally masturbating her vagina, creating alternate flurries of shame quickly overcome by conflicting, strangely complex emotions. The odorous core of Elaine's secret flesh excited the youth tremendously. He drooled and panted like an imbecile, but eventually left off long enough to thrust his loins upward and, forcing the great club of his standing prick against the palm of Elaine's whanking hand, harshly demanded that she suck it. She balked then, feeling horribly impotent, deflated.
"Suck it, you black-cunted shitbag!" Cressey insisted. "It won't poison you, for Christ's sake! Suck it, you useless twat."
Elaine recoiled. She tried to conquer revulsion but could not voluntarily submit to that final obscenity. Sharon sniggered.
"Make her," she urged. "She still doesn't know what it's all about. You're wasting film."
Suddenly seething with angry resentment, unaccountably violent, needled into unthinking retaliation, Elaine reared up to the full extent of her arms, squatting on Cressey's lean stomach, and relinquished his penis as if it had suddenly become white-hot.
"You fat, spotty-faced whore!" she screamed. "Any-thing you can do I can do, and a damn sight better."
"Prove it," Sharon demanded instantly. "You haven't got a good fuck in you. Make her prove it, Morton. Make her prove she's more than mouth and ass."
"She's chicken," Downing accused unfairly.
"LIAR!" Elaine shouted without knowing why it seemed important to deny the jeering slurs.
"Show us," Felicity broke in. "Convince us with some action. Suck Morton's prick. Then we'll believe you. It might even make a difference."
Provoked as she was by the ludicrous argument, the prospect did not entirely appall Elaine, but she hesitated, deterred by instinctive scruples as yet unobscured by the alien emotions and tendencies scourging her body and, to a great extent, still governing her reactions. Struggling reason urged her to withdraw into the protective shell of cold reserve she had formerly allowed to rule her young existence. She had learned the futility of resisting. Trying to evade reality was pointless. What more could possibly happen to her? Yet her spirit remained unbroken, and ultimately, perhaps, she might even benefit from the raw experience and emerge as a woman instead of an emotionally unstable girl.
The compulsion to prove Sharon wrong remained predominant in her confused mind. She attempted a compromise.
"If I do," she asked. "If I do what you want and you get your filthy pictures, then will you promise to leave me alone?"
Cressey swore, then chuckled. He answered for Felicity.
"Maybe," he said evasively. "Depends how it works out. Right now I'm too screwed up to think straight. I could crawl right up inside your nut-brown asshole and die, baby. There's somethin' about you gets under my skin. You're sexy as hell and you don't even realize it. Why fight it, for God's sake? Let's not waste any more time."
He reached over the curve of Elaine's back and tried to force her head down toward his huge, rearing stalk.
"Suck it!" he repeated. "I'm on fire. Come on, damn you! Then maybe I'll give you a break. Start the camera again, Maurice."
Hesitantly, Elaine opened her mouth and brought her face down closer to that shuddering, twitching roll of gristly flesh throbbing between her breasts. A bubble of moisture escaped the glans opening, and she gagged, unable to complete the supreme test. Sharon sniggered derisively. Cressey swore.
"CUT!" he shouted. He pushed Elaine down until her feet touched his shoulders and his penis, trailing across her belly, whacked into the junction of pelvis and thighs and trembled against the split of her bottom. Breathing heavily, grasping his frustrated tool, Cressey impatiently separated the lips of Elaine's pathetic quim and contrived to insert his prick even from that acute, difficult angle. Then, preventing his penis from escaping by the constant pressure of two fingers, he commenced an energetic undulation of hips and buttocks, penetrating devastatingly deep, clasping the girl's rolling ovals and watching the slippery movements of his pistoning rod.
The long, thin chain shook and rattled with every heaving, jolting surge of Elaine's abused body, yet even the chafing of her breasts against the bed covers was a form of sexual stimulation. She was acutely conscious of giggling and obnoxious remarks, particularly Sharon's jeering comments, but could not see either Kitty or Felicity, and at first she merely submitted, without any will of her own. But presently the internal upheaval produced increasingly pleasant sensations, tense thrills and clutching pangs which, merging with and eventually dominating the squalor, gradually motivated a mild, tentative response that grew into intensely compelling, burning torment, a rushing violence, throbbing, exquisite yet frightening, clawing at her organs and seeking release, some desperate outlet, and finally finding it when her aching, convulsed vagina was suddenly saturated with cloying moisture-the first complete, natural orgasm Elaine had ever experienced.
As she lay gasping, shaken by violent reaction, shocked by her carnal acquiescence, bewildered but no longer repulsed, only exhausted, appalled by her complacency, her compliance, by the latent impact of coital mania, the panting youth laboring between her thighs and buttocks uttered a hoarse shout and released a flood of sperm in a series of prolonged, pumping strokes that filled Elaine's quivering, reddened quim to the swollen, hairless vulva and leaked into the crease of her gorgeous ass.
Cressey relaxed. He pulled out. Elaine squirmed away from him. She was assisted off the bed by Downing. Flushed and sweating, Cressey sat up.
"CUT!" he instructed. "Print that, Maurice. I guess that about wraps it up. He grinned at Elaine.
"You're full of surprises," he said. "A sweet shag when you cut out the crap and put some zip into it. Somebody make coffee."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Elaine tried in vain to shake the lascivious thoughts that kept encroaching and making a mockery of her earlier mental torment. It was inconceivable that she should entertain any genuine feeling concerning Morton Cressey, completely irrational that she could think of him at all except with loathing and utter contempt. Yet she continually lapsed into brooding reminiscence, reconstructing and re-enacting the fantastic interlude in which she had participated, remembering lurid details with a kind of grudging nostalgia.
Unthinkingly, she squeezed her breasts, rolling the nipples between forefingers and thumbs, and eventually interfered with her vagina, poking about in the warm, moist slit and rubbing the fleshy folds, touching the sensitive clitoris, and ultimately experiencing entrancingly delightful sensations again, stronger than before, excluding despondency and, combining with her stubbornly rebellious attitude, providing a willful resolve to exploit herself so that in the dismal privacy of that basement prison she abandoned herself to masturbation and free expression of the fiercely compelling emotions she had for so long either despised or rejected.
She experimented, prolonging the tingling thrills and obtaining gloating, defiant satisfaction from the elusive pleasure derived, guilty delight unspoiled by furtive intrusion. It was another exclusive, wholly voluntary excursion into the hitherto forbidden pit of immorality.
Relief came, freeing her mind and relaxing her body. Reclining, she smiled sardonically. She had uncovered the exquisite beauty and mystery of sex, found expression as a personal thing vastly different from the vile, corrupt forms experienced since being confined in that derelict roadhouse cellar. Neither rape nor subjection to filthy ordeals had, apart from physical pain and mental anguish, meant anything. Her degradation had been bestially accomplished, but she no longer hated the depraved gang responsible. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from her mind in the instant of that first ecstatic orgasm, her mind and body adjusted, her groping senses emerging into the harsh limelight of reality. She was normal, subject to the same impulses and desires as the rest of them. Now, in some respects, she was one of them....
For the first time since her abduction she slept soundly. Sharon awakened her around eight-thirty next morning. Instead of undergoing the paint can ritual Elaine was escorted to one of the upstairs powder-rooms, given delicately perfumed soap, and allowed the luxury of a lukewarm shower. When she returned, expecting the chain to be clipped to the irksome collar again, Cressey threw a pair of faded blue jeans at her. Surprisingly, Felicity raised no objection to Elaine remaining free.
"Put those on," Cressey ordered. "I can't keep my mind on anything with you paradin' round bare-assed. Kitty is diggin' out a sweater for you."
"Thanks," Elaine said cynically. "But it's a bit late to be having twinges of conscience. I didn't ask to be-"
"You're askin' for another clobberin'," Cressey interrupted aggressively. "Put the pants on. I don't want you caperin' about naked when that sexy mother of yours shows up."
"You've been in touch with mother?"
"Felicity called her again. She'll be here late this afternoon."
Elaine exhaled loudly. She should have been tremendously relieved and excited, but somehow she wasn't. She put the jeans on. They were too big but she felt good wearing something. The sweater, too, was oversize, full of holes. When Elaine asked for her own clothes Felicity just laughed.
After breakfast, Elaine was allowed to sit on the sofa in the lounge. Maurice was preparing to screen the rushes. Elaine would have preferred not to watch, but as the preparations neared completion her reluctance yielded to tense anticipation.
The windows were draped. In the semi-darkness Elaine waited with acutely mixed feelings, confused and apprehensive. Maurice started the projector. Most of the shots had been filmed in color. The lewd detail shocked Elaine, but she watched in morbid fascination, completely absorbed, shamed and embarrassed by scenes in which she had participated but powerfully aroused, seeing herself in a completely different light. The obscene poses, grimaces, and changing expressions all acted like aphrodisiacs.
Downing and the Negro, both tremendously provoked, exposed their pricks and began masturbating. The only effect on Elaine was increased tension and sexual excitement. Kitty and Sharon fingered their genital parts. Elaine's eyes were sufficiently adjusted to the gloom to discern movement and detail. Looking at Cressey she detected the enormous bulge created by his rearing penis. An unlighted cigarette drooped from his lips.
Elaine remained unpurturbed by jeering laughter and uncouth remarks. She even found the vulgar humor contagious, and only revealed distress when the terrifyingly realistic "geek" sketch was screened. Felicity mocked her.
"What's the matter, darling?" the former secretary asked. "I don't hear you laughing any more."
"You bitch!" Elaine retorted spiritedly. "That was a rotten, disgustingly filthy thing to inflict on anybody. But you didn't break my spirit, you cow, and you never will."
Cressey, removing the cigarette from his mouth, chuckled.
"You've got spunk, baby," he declared. "More guts than I gave you credit for. I think you've been pullin' our pissers, kid, like you're sittin' there lappin' up the show. I've been watchin' your face. You like that stuff, you little mare."
Elaine started to voice angry denial, then realized he spoke the truth. She was torn by fiercely conflicting emotions, by desires formerly alien to her nature, gripped by a salacious hunger, and suddenly, during the scene showing Cressey having intercourse with her whilst lying on his back, the seething cauldron boiled over. In that moment of violent ecstasy, as Elaine was swept along on a tidal crest of passion and understanding, her contempt for the big, blond youth evaporated and was replaced by slavelike devotion, the blind, adoring hero-worship of a chronically impressionable girl for someone who, however evil and degenerate, had suddenly become her idol.
She could not explain it. She did not attempt to justify it. But in that brief period of transition Elaine became the absolute sexual slave of a teenage moron whom, as a person, she despised. Overcome by sensuality, racked by irrepressible, wanton urges, inexplicably released from conventional bondage and plunged headlong into the swirling cesspool of carnal reality, Elaine was forced to embrace the enlightened truth. She no longer recognized inhibitions or scruples. She was conscious only of the burning, rapturous impulses tormenting her palpitating vagina and churning her insides, wanting Cressey's virile penis inside her again, longing to feel its monstrous intrusion, to have strong fingers probe her buttocks, clutching and squeezing, an avid nose eagerly sniffing at her anus. Pagan, utterly alien, base thoughts, indicating the virtually demented capitulation of her flesh writhing in the throes of erotic fantasy, the total, abject surrender of a mind subconsciously stocked with crude, latent passions inherited from a lecherous father and nymphomaniac mother.
Elaine uttered a wild, startled cry. She closed her legs, tightly compressing her throbbing quim. Then, unable to control the sexual frenzy flaying her organs, she sought instinctive relief in the most obvious medium and recklessly ripped Cressey's fly buttons undone, oblivious of Felicity's incredulous exclamations. Cressey's penis soared, jutting imperiously, and Elaine grasped it without the slightest hesitation, shaking and squeezing the ponderous roll, pulling it. She rolled the foreskin back and, with the thick, fat prick beating and pulsing against her wrist and forearm, thrust her hand among the curling growth of blond pubic hair and captured the wrinkled bag enclosing the youth's balls.
Cressey, astonished but delighted, held his open jeans away from his exposed privates, instantly cooperating, and swore when Elaine, lunging forward, squatted on the edge of the sofa and took the bulging glans of his formidable prick in her mouth. She actually sucked it voraciously and with desperate haste as if the perverted inclination was already evaporating. Somebody drew the curtains aside, admitting critical daylight, harshly revealing. Kitty and Sharon gaped disbelievingly. Felicity stared woodenly. The others, masturbating grossly distended pricks, watched the girl sucking and slavering, incredulous, absorbed, cynically amused.
"She's bugged, man!" Maurice declared. "Flipped, like she's been sniffin' the weed." "If she's high she didn't get the stuff from us," Downing muttered.
"What you bastards sayin'?" Thatch demanded impatiently. "The kid done got the message man, that's all." "The little cow!" Felicity spat venomously.
"You jealous?" Thatch taunted, smirking. "Get hold of this." Felicity ignored him. Elaine, driven frantic by the urgency of her need, abruptly abandoned Cressey, eluded him, quit the sofa and swiftly removed her jeans, then the sweater. She presented her ass to Cressey then and, stooping, reached between her parted legs and captured his glistening penis, quickly conveyed it to her yearning split, and moaned with fervent relief and sheer delight as he rammed it in. She writhed back onto the screwing shaft, thrashing wildly when Cressey commenced a rapid fucking action so violent that each strenuous lunge thrust Elaine bodily forward. Her knees banged against a stool and she gripped the seat convulsively.
The sexual frenzy provoked immediate response among the masturbating onlookers. Thatch made a pass at Sharon, but Maurice reached her first and hustled her into a shadowy corner. Downing grabbed Kitty, and they ended up shagging furiously in a similar situation. Frustrated, the scowling Negro approached Felicity but she was in a vile temper and abused him. Shrugging, Thatch lounged against the wall, watched Cressey burying the entire length of his churning roll with every torrid, grunting thrust, grasping the fronts of Elaine's thighs and sheathing his slippery prick with berserk vigor, bereft of all control. Each time he skewered her squelching vagina Elaine, anticipating the stroke, tensed her buttocks and squeezed her quivering thighs together causing the resulting constriction of her clammy cunt to clutch the savagely flogging shaft with spasmodic suction. She was learning. God! How she was learning! She heaved and strained, panting, squirming, farting, gasping, sighing-and all the time the delirious feeling in her sexual parts mounted, became a throbbing knot of flaming sensation concentrated in her reddened passage and around the fiercely erectile clump of her inflamed clitoris.
Thatch, not easily discouraged, tried repeatedly to coax Felicity into intimacy, but she seemed stupefied, completely shattered by the spectacle of the formerly timid, whimpering, terrified and nauseated girl actually encouraging Cressey to gratify his lust, virtually dominating the action. Wide-eyed, she watched the blond youth thrash his relentless phallic club into Elaine's dragging, puckering quim, and swore when Cressey groaned and shuddered in the sweet ecstasy of ejaculation.
In the explosively tumultuous moment that his seething sperm load flooded her ravaged split Elaine achieved orgasm. All the strength drained promptly from her limbs. She almost collapsed, clung tightly to the stool until the raging fury lashing her body gradually diminished and the ringing in her ears subsided. Semen leaked from her swollen gash and puddled on the floor. The weakness pasted. She felt exhilarated, wonderfully, vitally alive and blissfully content. Reaction brought inevitable remorse but she defiantly rejected recrimination. She had grown up. There was no turning back. She was a woman.
Cressey moved aside. Instantly the Negro youth grabbed Elaine and threw her on the floor, sprawling across her, trying to mount her and intrude his jerking black roll. But her sexual craving had gone and the stifling assault merely irritated her. She resisted strongly, threw the surprised Negro off. Rolling over, he got to his feet, muttering, and promptly tackled Felicity again.
They rolled on the dusty boards, bumping into furniture and crates, and finally came up against the end of the sofa with Felicity on her back and Thatch crouching astride her chest, his knees trapping her neck and his great cock wiping across her face. Felicity, sexually aroused by her exertions and the frequent contact of rigid prick and dangling balls, resigned herself to the inevitable and accepted several inches of tumid black penis into her mouth. But she was preoccupied and her oral stimulation was impatient and disinterested, and in her petulant haste she contributed to the defeat of her personal gratification. The moment Thatch released a furious gush of thick, whitish sperm Felicity pushed him away and wriggled free. She spat out the slimy deposit, wiped her mouth, ignoring the Negro and glowering at Elaine.
Cressey shook clinging semen from his slowly deflating organ. He regarded Elaine with grudging respect and genuine astonishment.
"I knew you had it in you, kid," he said. "You're full of surprises, Elaine. I don't understand what's buggin' you all of a sudden, but I like it. Now, by God, you're real...!"
"I can't explain," Elaine told him languidly. "I only know everything seems different now. Utterly distorted and quite mad, but gloriously different. I don't care any more what happens to me. I don't care about anything, except you. I think you're just wonderful."
She meant it, even though she didn't understand why she felt the way she did, why neither reason or logic made any impression on the domination of her weak flesh. She felt reborn, supremely confident, and gazed at the grinning youth with adoration in her eyes. Then, as she picked up the crumpled jeans and began pulling them on, she sensed hostile movement and, reacting instinctively, turned quickly as Felicity, avoiding Thatch's restraining hand, darted toward her and delivered her a stinging slap on the cheek.
"You conniving little whore!" Felicity shouted. "I can see through your sneaky game. I'll claw your fucking-"
"Leave her alone, you jealous cow," Cressey ordered. "Like hell, lover-boy. I'll gouge the cunt's eyes-"
"I said leave her alone. You hear me good. Elaine's okay. What's the matter with you anyway?" Felicity glared at him, at Elaine, but didn't answer. Sharon disengaged herself from Maurice's embrace. "You know what?" she alleged derisively. "I think he's fallen for darling Elaine. He's really gone."
"Balls!" Cressey mouthed vehemently. "But I'll tell you, doll-she's a better fuck than either of you, when she puts some punch into it, and she was really sluggin' then, believe me."
"Why, you conceited bastard!" Felicity challenged. "You dare to compare that fat, cocksucking freak with me, after all I've been to you, all I've done for you and given you?"
Cressey's smirk faded.
"Watch your fuckin' mouth," he warned. "Anythin' I had from you I paid for, one way or another. You got no claim on me. If you don't like the way things stack up then fuck off. Who needs you? Get lost, you skinny whore."
"Oh, you louse! Yes, you'd like that, damn you! I walk out and you split ten grand among your crummy friends. All of a sudden I'm not good enough, now that you've had your mule's prick into her. Well, I don't need you either, but I paid you to-"
Cressey slapped her. Felicity yelled, fell over the back of the sofa, broadly displaying her charms, legs waving wildly. Her woollen pants, hauled partly down by Thatch, sagged below the prominent moons of her sultry buttocks. Finishing up on the floor she lay cursing, hurt and confused. Sharon helped her up.
"Don't fall out, for Christ's sake!" Kitty objected strenuously, appealing to Cressey. "What's with her?"
"What's with HIM?" Felicity screamed, holding her cheek. "It's her fault, making fools of us all. I'll kill the flabby little cunt!"
She started toward Elaine again, evaded Cressey and sprang at the girl, fastened slender fingers in her hair and dragged her down. A knee gouged painfully into Elaine's vulnerable genitals. Downing moved forward but Cressey thrust him back.
"Let them fight," he said. "Otherwise they'll be at each other all the time. I'll take two to one on Elaine." "I'll take a piece of that, man," Thatch agreed promptly.
"I'm bettin' twenty on Felicity," Maurice mouthed. Downing hauled a wad of bills from his pants pocket. "Five'll get you ten Felicity clobbers the shit out of the McCord kid," he declared. "Put your bread where your mouth is, Fatso," Cressey told him. "That doll's just full of surprises."
Startled by the treacherous attack, hurt by the knee in the quim, Elaine voiced gasping protest. Felicity, quick to follow up her advantage, got astride the girl and began banging Elaine's head on the floor, and for a while the victim was too bewildered to retaliate. The woollen pants clinging round Felicity's ankles impeded her movements and she jerked one leg free, then hunched forward and attempted to pin Elaine's arms down. But the sight of the hairy vagina gaping inches from her face revived the memory of hot urine splashing over her, and Elaine, fearing a similar incident, and remembering that Felicity was the instigator of the entire filthy charade from the beginning, derived added strength from the seething anger rapidly mounting to demoniacal proportions. Thrashing about violently, she flung the older girl off, wrestled her down, sat on her, pounding her soft belly, grabbed Felicity's hair and gave her the same treatment she had been handing out, persisting until Felicity's eyes brimmed with tears and she sobbed with pain and frustration.
Elaine released her, but still wasn't finished. Using both hands she slapped Felicity's face repeatedly, then lost her balance and spilled sideways when the former secretary heaved up desperately. Felicity was strong, but Elaine was heavier and eventually subdued her again. They ended up with Felicity lying on her stomach and Elaine sitting on her, rounded buttocks squashed against Felicity's shoulder blades, flattening the older girl's voluptuous breasts. Elaine grabbed her adversary's hair again and hauled her head right back. Then, while Felicity kicked helplessly, squalling and yelling, Elaine twisted round and used her other hand to paddle the broad, pink-white cheeks of Felicity's bared bottom, and kept smacking lustily until Felicity pleaded for mercy.
Elaine allowed her to turn over, but immediately knelt on Felicity's outstretched arms and sat heavily on her chafed breasts, squashing them and driving the breath from her lungs. Staring down into Felicity's reddened, tear-streaked face, Elaine gloated.
"Now, you vindictive cow," she panted venomously. "That was for involving me in this insane stunt, for all the sneers and humiliation, and for fastening me in that stinking cellar. And this, darling, is merely to express my utter contempt."
Flexing her limbs and compressing her abdomen, Elaine protruded her vagina and brought the dark, pouting lips close to Felicity's convulsed features and, watching and enjoying the squirming victim's reactions, copiously pissed all over her head, face, and neck.
Amid uproarious laughter in which even Sharon joined, Elaine got to her feet leaving Felicity floundering and cursing in a puddle of urine. The flushed girl walked jauntily to where she had discarded her jeans and sweater. She put the pants on, then the sloppy sweater. Cressey flipped a grimy handkerchief toward her.
"Your lip's cut," he said. "Too bad we didn't get that on film. You fight like you fuck, kid. I really dig you."
"I'm glad," Elaine said. "I don't care about the money. My parents can afford it. I suppose, in a way, I should be grateful. Suddenly I'm grown up-and it's wonderful, I'm just concerned about mother, what she'll say when I tell her I won't be leaving with her."
Cressey did not answer immediately. The others exchanged significant glances. Felicity stalked into the powder-room, slammed the door. Elaine looked at Cressey, unflinching, wondering how it was possible to love and hate a person at the same time, to loathe somebody yet tremble with longing whenever he came near. Elaine knew in that moment of truth that she would do anything for Morton Cressey, be anything, lie, cheat, even steal. She would always be his sexual slave. She did not even begin to understand it, she only knew that it was so.
"Do you realize what you're sayin', doll?" Cressey asked. Elaine nodded.
"It needn't alter Felicity's arrangement," she replied. "But I'm staying-if you'll let me, if you want me, if Felicity-"
"Fuck Felicity. You're in, kid. She'll get over it. By God, baby! You are full of surprises. I really go for you."
Cressey lighted a cigarette, regarded Elaine thoughtfully. She moved close to him, put her arms round his waist and smiled up into his blotchy face.
"Well then," she said. "Everything's all right. There is just one small thing though, something you can do for me, right now."
Cressey appraised her guardedly. Sharon smirked expectantly. Kitty giggled. Elaine ignored them. She eased the leather collar away from her reddened, irritated neck.
"Just remove this fucking dog collar," she appealed passionately.
