She screamed with pain. Again and again he beat her sensitive mammaries.
The nipples began to bleed around the fringed edges.
As the woman's hands moved to her breasts, to protect herself, he let her have it across the vagina. The riding crop struck again and again at her pussy.
"Okay, okay." she had surrendered to the lash.
As the lovely socialite rolled over on the floor, exposing her attractive rump, the angry sadist felt a raw nerve of lust pulsate throughout his body.
He was on fire with lust for this girl's asshole. He pressed his cock slowly up against her rear door. She moaned with fear and pain as he pressed slowly into her.
"Do you have to do this?"
"Yes."
"I'll pay you anything."
"I don't need your fucking money."
"With that, the rich heir pressed the fat head of his erect sex pole slowly into the hot, steamy depths of her lovely ass. She tried to escape from the forced entry. But it was useless.
"This will kill me," she gasped.
"No such luck, sugar," he groaned with satisfaction, as his tool worked slowly into her behind.
Pressing the length of the leather riding crop under her chin, he pulled her head violently back, while pounding his furious tool in.
CHAPTER ONE
When Grant Manners learned of his. father's death, by telegram, he was by no means sad. At thirty-two years of age, he had long since given up on his dreams of glory and great success. Though a college graduate, he had never been able to focus on a particular area of endeavor. Indeed, life often seemed a joke to the handsome young man. A cruel joke.
Instead of finding a single area of endeavor, and concentrating on it, trying to find his place in the world, Grant drifted from job to job, growing bored as soon as he had mastered the position.
It never took long, as he was gifted with a superior mind. Often, the dark-haired man considered his intelligence a curse. Some rude joke, designed by the gods, to test him.
For the preceding six months, the young man had been collecting unemployment, and , living in a small, sparely furnished bachelor apartment in Los Angeles. The telegram, announcing his father's demise, arrived from New York. It had been sent by his father's brother, Uncle Karl, who was named executor of the will.
Grant detested Uncle Karl, as much as he had detested his father, Lee. The only relative he loved was his mother. But he could hardly remember her, since she had died from peritonitis, following a ruptured appendix, when he was thirteen.
He was glad his father was dead. As far as he was concerned, it was all his father's fault that his mother had died so young. The quack physician his father had hired to take care of his mother had misdiagnosed the illness. If a brighter doctor had been involved in the case, it would have simply been a standard appendectomy. And Grace Manners would have lived.
It wasn't because of the money. Lee Manners was a very wealthy man. He had made several real estate killings in Manhattan, and was rich, even as Grace Manners lay dying in a public hospital, the victim of ignorance, and greed.
Grant never forgave his father for the early death of his mother. He was heartened when he received the telegram. The brief message had requested his presence in New York for the funeral, and the reading of the will.
He had no inclination to return to New York, however. Instead, he called an old friend, a lawyer, who lived in New Jersey. He asked his old college chum to represent him at the will reading, and to get as much for him as possible.
Two days after the reading of the will, his friend called to inform him that he had been left nearly five hundred thousand dollars in cash, and nearly two million dollars in real estate holdings.
Grant Manner's years of struggle were over with. He now had the money to do all the things he wanted.
Being poor only troubled the handsome young man in that the lovely women he desired were always put off by the fact that he neither owned a car, or could afford a fancy apartment, or fancy clothes.
He had immediate, and decisive plans for his new found wealth. In addition to designing and building his own home, purchasing a fancy automobile, and fine threads, there were numerous women he wanted to see again - in his new circumstances.
But it wasn't out of love that he wanted to reconnect with the women who had rejected him during his years of struggle.
It was out of revenge.
We join Grant Manners the day following the news of his unexpected good fortune. He was in a bit of a shock the preceding day. He had long since resigned himself to poverty; life on the fringes of acceptable society. He hadn't counted on being left such a boon, by his hated father. Grant had always considered himself the black sheep of the family. He knew his father thought him amoral, unproductive, and a loser. Though he was surprised by the old man's unexpected benevolence, he wasn't moved to tears by his demise. Nor did he plan on flying east to attend the funeral. All was finished, in his mind.
It is morning, as the handsome, and now rich, young man finishes his shower. He towels himself dry, and then tosses the threadbare towel into- the trash. There would be new towels. There would be new everything.
He moves through the tiny, depressing, studio apartment. He sits on the cracked vinyl covering of the well-faded sofa. He lifts the phone, and dials the number of the only woman in Los Angeles who has given him a break - Iris, a professional prostitute.
"Good morning, darling," he spoke with new-found confidence. "I know it's early, but it's a lovely day. You should be up. We're going shopping. Yes, I have some money. No, I didn't rob a gas station. I inherited a rather sizeable fortune from my father. He croaked the other day. The old bastard left me much more than I ever expected. I guess it was a last minute turn of heart - you know how it is when you're dying.
"A lawyer friend of mine back cast is taking care of all the details," he continued. "The money is supposed to be deposited into my account, via cable, this morning. No, the money isn't being sent through a wire, silly. It's just a bank transfer. All the banks are inter-connected. You really should go back to school, Iris. I don't know how you get through life with that pea-brain of yours.
"I was just kidding. You don't have to get so bent out of shape. Of course I'll buy you presents now. Yes, I appreciate all that you've done for me. Yes, those other girls were rats. I have plans for them, don't you worry. No, Iris, I don't love them anymore. I hate them. Yes, you are the best. Oh, I'll buy you more than a string of pearls. You just wait and see. I'm not talking about a few measly thousand dollars - I'm talking about big bucks! Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
"You want to go shopping with me today? Fine. I have to stop by the bank at eleven. And then I'll come to get you. The first thing we're going to buy is a car. And I know just the one. See you in a couple of hours, my love."
Grant went to the closet and pulled out a pair of faded jeans, an old work shirt, and a pair of torn sneakers. They were the best items in his wardrobe.
After dressing, he left the dingy apartment on Santa Monica Boulevard, and walked to the bus stop. He watched the cars go by - the thousands of cars, which are fragments of the fleets of millions upon millions of cars - like armies of ants sweeping over the concrete paths. Cadillacs, Porsches, Mercedes, and Jaguars sped past. No longer, he thought, would he only be an observer of the fabulous American wealth. He would have a sizeable chunk of it. And he planned to flaunt it.
The bus pulled over to the stop, its hydraulic brakes sounding like really powerful, mechanical farts. He entered the bus, dropped the two quarters into the little machine which swallowed money, and found a seat. He studied the faces of his fellow passengers.
They looked poor. For years he had ridden the bus throughout Los Angeles. He had, during those years, felt quite comfortable in the bus, with the impoverished elderly, the young students, and those indifferent to the freedom, the symbol of the automobile.
Grant no longer felt comfortable among these humble folk. He turned to stare out the window while the huge bus lumbered along Santa Monica Boulevard, stopping at every other block to load, and unload. He watched the cars go by. He held up his nose at the faded, the battered, the old, and the ugly. He only looked at the fine cars, the luxurious cars, the splendid carriages of the noble folk, among whom he now counted himself an esteemed member.
When the bus pulled in front of the American Bank, where he was accustomed to cashing his welfare checks, he pulled the overhead cord and announced to the driver he wanted out. He marched up the aisle with his nose held high in the air. He felt like a king walking to his coronation.
Exiting the public vehicle, Grant Manners marched across the side walk like he owned it, flung open the glass doors, and entered the bank. All eyes turned towards him. Several tellers moved their fingers towards the buzzers, hidden beneath their cash drawers, and connected to the Santa Monica Police Department. In their eyes, Grant Manners was neither heir, or king. He looked like a young man, down on his luck. The kind who might get it into his head to make a hasty withdrawal, with a gun, or knife.
The bank guard, and elderly Negro, approached the young man. "May I help you?"
"Yeah, Pop," Grant smiled, "where is Mr. Lacy, the bank president. That's the guy I want to see."
"Do you have an appointment?" he asked.
"In a way," Grant said. "Just show me where his office is. I'll surprise him."
"That door over there leads to his office," the bank guard said. "But you'll have to speak to his secretary. Mr. Lacy is a very busy man. Unless you have an appointment ..."
"Don't have a coronary, Pops," he smiled, maliciously, and strolled off to the richly carved wooden door. All eyes in the bank followed his movements.
Opening the door, he entered a richly decorated foyer, guarded by an executive secretary, who looked as though she could beat Grant in an arm wrestling contest.
"May I help you?" she asked, her steel-grey eyes peering over half-frames, eying the poorly dressed young man with suspicion.
"Yeah, honey," he smiled. "You just tell Lacy that Grant Manners is here to find out about his fortune and fame."
"Do you have an appointment?" she said, her upper lip curling slightly, as though ready to snarl.
"Like I said, honey, you just tell him that Grant Manners is here."
She winced at his words. It was quite obvious she wasn't very fond of the poorly dressed, wise-cracking, young man. She did, however, press the intercom. "Mr. Lacy," she announced, with her eyes still focused - liked aimed revolvers - at the brash young man, "there's a, well, a man, to see you. He doesn't have an appointment. He calls himself Grant Manners. . . Yes, sir. Right away."
"You may go right in," she tried to smile, but it didn't quite work. Her eye was twitching noticeably, as he passed her, throwing open the bank president's door, like it was the door to the W.C.
"Pleased to meet you," the blue pin-stripe suit outfitted man smiled, rising from the huge leather chair, behind the over-sized desk. "I've looked forward to your arrival. Won't you have a cigar?"
He opened a cedar humidor, and offered the disheveled young man a two-dollar cigar. Grant grabbed a handful, stuffing all but one into his pocket. He lit the hand-rolled Havana with a table-top lighter.
The bank president's eye began to twitch.
"So, Jim (Grant had noticed the bank officer's name plate on the desktop - James MacArthur-Lowell Lacy III)
" he smiled, "tell me about the dough."
"The money," the bank president smiled, hatefully, "is now on deposit. I presume you would like us to manage it for you, invest it."
"No way, Jim," Grant puffed on the huge cigar. "Just open a checking account for me."
"But there's nearly a quarter of a million dollars - all told. It would be utterly foolish to avoid the interest available on a savings account. And what about setting some aside for our investment program. We can make your money work for you."
"I want to spend some," Grant said. "I don't want it all tied up in a lot of stocks and bonds. I'm not going to take it with me to the grave."
"Are you dying?"
"You never know when the reaper is going to tap you on the shoulder, Jim," Grant sighed - feigning a philosophical disposition. But, I'll tell you, you just put a couple of hundred grand in the checking account. And make sure that you keep pumping money into it. You can do what you want with the rest - as long as you make me more money. But don't try to cheat me. If you do, I'll break your neck."
"I can assure you, sir," the bank president swallowed, distastefully, "that your money is quite safe with us."
"Yeah, that's what you're paid to say," he said. "But don't worry, I'll have an accountant, and a lawyer check in with you now and then to go over your books. I suddenly find myself with a lot of money. Now, I'm not saying you're a thief, pal. I just don't want to take any chances. You know what I mean?"
"I think I understand," the bank officer smiled. "I can start your checking account for you right now."
"That's why I'm here - I want some loot."
The grey-haired bank officer withdrew a large book from a desk drawer, and removed a satchel of gold-colored checks. "We assign these to our wealthiest clients."
"I like the gold - a nice touch," Grant puffed clouds of cigar smoke into the bank president's face.
"It will take a couple of days to process personalized checks," Mr. Lacy smiled, trying to control his temper, while feeling the gastric juices in his stomach inflame his chronic ulcer. "In the meantime, these should suffice. I have here, as well, a letter of credit, signed by me, and bearing the American Bank's official seal."
"Give me the goodies," Grant said, grabbing the checks and letter of credit from the bank president's hand. "This will be enough for a few days. But get those personalized checks ready for me. Leave them with the secretary. I don't know where I'll be living. I'll call her and let her know where she can deliver them. I like the gold checks. Give me plenty of them. Silver printing ought to be nice."
"We don't have silver printing available sir, I'm really sorry."
"Well, you'll just have to make it available, won't you?"
"Yes, sir."
The newly rich young man rose from his chair. "Well, Jim, I have to go now. I have a hot hooker waiting for me, to help me spend the loot. You take care of yourself. I want you to make my money grow."
"I'll do my best, sir," the bank president rose from his chair, and extended his hand.
Grant smiled, with snotty indignation, and strolled out of the bank president's office. He walked out to the foyer, and smiled at the hostile, dykish secretary. "Thanks for all your help, honey. I'll call you tomorrow, to let you know where you can deliver my checks. I might even give you a nice tip."
She smiled, as best she could, and watched, with distaste, while the jean-clad young man strolled out of the private suite, and out past the tellers, and bank guard.
Out on the street, the rich young man, still without cash in his pocket, walked to the bus stop, and waited for the ride to Iris' place.
The attractive blonde hooker lived in a hotel, facing the Pacific Coast Highway. From her room, where she plied her trade, one could see out across the blue Pacific.
Grant knocked on the door.
She opened it, dressed still in her black silk dressing gown.
"That was quick," she said, moving aside, to let the young man enter.
"When you've got money to bum, you're in a hurry," he smiled. "How come you're not dressed yet? I thought we were going to go out and spend some of my loot together."
"Are you putting me on?" she scowled. "You never told me you had a father."
"Everyone has a father," he said. "Mine was just a rich old cock sucker."
"Honor the dead," she said. "Otherwise you'll have bad luck."
"Don't feed me all that mumbo-jumbo," he said. "I don't believe that crap for an instant."
"You should," she said. "It makes sense."
"So, what are you doing? Take a shower, get dressed. I want to buy a car."
"You are really serious, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm serious," he said. "I don't have the time or the inclination to fuck around. I've got some serious business to attend to. I've got a lot of things to buy. I might even buy something for you."
"Let me see this money," she said, not quite a believer.
"I don't have any cash on me, if that's what you mean," he said. "Just some gold checks, and a letter of credit, signed by the bank president himself."
"Let me see. Gold checks? Only the best customers get gold checks."
"That's right, honey," he smiled. "Now that I'm worth my weight in gold - I get gold checks. It only seems right, don't you think?"
"I sure do, honey," she smiled,-eying the handful of blank checks, and the letter of credit. "Gee, we're rich!"
"What do you mean, we?"
"Well, haven't I been a friend to you all this time? Haven't I always given you sex without charging? When all those other dames - those rich, high class broads, wouldn't give you the time of day."
"Yeah, you've been good to me, Iris," he said, putting his arm over her shoulder. And don't you worry. I'm going to look out for you as well. I'll take good care of you, honey. In fact, why don't we celebrate by having a little sex right now?"
"How can you think of sex at a time like this?" she exclaimed. "We should be out - buying things."
"We've got the entire day to shop," he said. "For now, let's just enjoy ourselves a bit."
With that, Grant Manners opened the front of the lovely blonde's dressing gown, letting the sheer costume fall to the floor. He eyed her lovely body, staring hungrily at her swollen little breasts, topped with cocoa-colored nipples.
His eyes descended to her carefully-trimmed blonde pubes, long, shapely legs, carefully manicured toes. "You take good care of yourself, Iris. That's good. It means a lot to me. Turn around. Let me study your fine ass."
The attractive young hooker turned slowly about, like a naked Miss America, displaying her private wares before a private meeting of the judges.
"And such a lovely ass," he patted her rear-end. "Firm, and shapely, just like a child's ass."
He parted her lovely globes, and pressed his finger slowly into her mauve-colored anus.
"Gentle, honey," she sighed.
"You know I wouldn't hurt you," he smiled, pulling his digit out of her tight hole.
"That's true," "she said. "You've always been good to me. You never wanted to hurt me - like those other ones."
"They hurt me," he said, hatefully. "But I'll get even with them. This money will help me do that. It will be the bait to catch those scheming, materialistic little bitches."
"But I'm not like that, right?" she smiled, pressing her long, manicured fingers against the bulge in his trousers.
"No, you're a good girl," he smiled, taking the beautiful woman into his arms, and squeezing her tightly, while she pulled down the zipper of his jeans, and reached inside for Grant's magic wand.
As she pulled the sex tool out of its hiding place, and squeezed it lovingly, the handsome young man opened his pants, and let them drop to the floor.
"Suck me, baby."
His wish was her command, especially now. She lowered herself to her knees, and gripped the long, throbbing sex tool lovingly. She brought her lips to the tip of his rod, and ran her tongue slowly over the cock head.
"Oh, honey," he moaned, "that's nice. That's real nice. Take me inside. Yes, all the way inside your mouth."
The lovely blonde tossed her blonde locks back over her shoulders and took the long, firm penis into her mouth. She reached for his scrotal sac, and began toying with his sensitive nuts, while her mouth moved slowly down on the pecker.
"That's it, honey," he moaned, as his cock pressed against the back of her throat, and hot passion was exchanged between them. His rod worked slowly in and out of her mouth, while she pressed her lips down tightly on the rod.
"Oh, yes, ain't it nice," he sighed, as he could feel his orgasm begin to build.
He worked his fingers through her hair, directing the movement of her mouth up and down the length of his manhood. His jism was boiling in his sacs. He was very close to the point of shooting his load of spunk into her mouth.
Faster and faster he moved his rod in and out of her mouth. He was almost at the point of shooting.
"Get ready, honey, "cause here I come," he groaned, and then forced his tool deeply into her throat, and shot. His hot, bubbling spunk filled her mouth, and flowed down the back of her throat.
He watched her expression with delight, as she swallowed up his hot spunk. The molten sex lava was swallowed heartily, while his erect member moved slowly in and out of her mouth.
"That's enough," he sighed, pulling his rod from her mouth, and moving towards the bed, to recover his strength. "You are a great cock sucker."
"Do you want to fuck?" she asked. "You've got me so hot and bothered."
"You just calm down, honey," he smiled. "Go take a shower. Give me a couple of minutes to recover my strength."
She took his advice, and went off to the bathroom to shower.
Grant lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag, and blowing smoke rings, while he undressed.
After the lovely hooker had showered, she dried off, and entered the bedroom. She saw Grant lying on his back, his erect cock standing at attention, ready for her attention.
"I see you are ready to fuck now," she smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I sure am," he smiled.
"Wouldn't it be only fair, though, if you sucked me. After all, I did suck you."
"You've got a point there, Iris," he noted. "Okay, I'll play even-Stephen with you. Besides, I just love the taste of your pussy. Besides, you've always been a good girl to Iris ran her fingers through his hair, and lay on the bed, spreading her lovely, long legs, revealing the pink fuck meat between her blonde-covered labial wings.
He pressed his fingers into her crack, and moved them up towards her clitoris. He stroked her magic button with his finger tip, while she sighed, and discharged hot, lubricating juices.
Grant pressed a finger up into her pussy, and finger-fucked her, while pressing against her clitoris with his other finger.
"You're turning me on," she sighed. "Yes, honey. You know how to make me feel good."
He knew that was probably a standard line - one she fed all her Johns - but he didn't care. He let himself be complimented in any case.
Pulling his finger from her twat, he spread her widely open, and pressed his mouth slowly down to her vaginal entry hall. She moaned with pleasure, and pressed her pussy up against his mouth. His tongue slowly entered her fuck canal, and pressed up against her clitoris.
"That's it, Grant," she murmured, "you're turning me on. I feel good. Keep it up. I like it."
A sucker for a compliment, the same as anyone, Grant spread her widely apart with his fingers, and pressed his tongue deeply into her vagina vault. She pumped up against his tongue, and' murmured with pleasure. His tongue worked back and forth, between her clitoris, vagina and anus.
He paid oral homage to all three vital areas, running his tongue deeply into the portals of pleasure, and treating the firm clitoris to a tongue massage, the likes of which the young hooker had not enjoyed in a long time. It was a day of celebration, and Grant Manners didn't feel selfish. Quite the contrary, he wanted to provide pleasure. He wanted to make the woman feel good.
While his tongue was buried deeply in the lovely blonde's box, the lovely woman pumped continuously, working her box about on the stimulating tongue. Grant reached for her breasts, and began to stimulate them, squeezing them, pulling at her sensitive nipples, until she reached the point of release - of orgasmic fulfillment.
Grant held her tightly around the pelvis, and pulled her pussy to his mouth. He sucked at her, nibbling at her clitoris, and running his tongue in and out of her pussy hole.
"Grant, I come!"
She sure did.
The room was filled with her moans of ecstatic pleasure. She pumped up against his mouth, sighing with passion, pumping, pressing her vagina to his mouth.
She screamed with passion. Her clitoris thundered with the magic of complete release. Her entire body became an extension of her sexuality. She was buried completely in the sea of lust. She moaned hotly as the pleasure began to fade.
She pumped and sighed, and writhed about on the bed, enjoying numerous mini-orgasms. Every nerve ending in her body trembled with excitement as the multitude of micro-orgasms shook her body to the quick.
"I can't anymore," she moaned, pulling away from him. "Pleasure has become pain."
"Isn't it strange how that works?" he asked. "It sort of turns me on how closely pain and pleasure are associated."
"You have a perverse mind to take delight in such strange things," she said.
"I can't help it," he sighed, getting up on the edge of the bed. "I love sick things. I guess that's why I like you so much."
"You needn't be cruel," she admonished.
"Come on, you like it." "A little respect wouldn't hurt, especially now that we're in the big time.
CHAPTER TWO
"So, let's get dressed and go buy a car. I'm never going to take a God-damned bus again.' "You're suddenly so brash," the attractive blonde sighed. "I hope all this new-found wealth hasn't gone to your head."
"Don't you worry about me," Grant said. " just want to spend some bucks. I've got big plans. If you play along with me, on my side we can have a lot of fun together."
"What do you mean, on your side?"
"I'll tell you about that later," he smiled, mysteriously. "For now, suffice it to say that I am going to wage a private war - a war of revenge."
"Vengeance is the Lord's alone," the attractive blonde sighed.
"What is this shit?" he asked. "Are you becoming some sort of religious nut?"
"No, not really," she said. "It's those damn Jehovah's Witnesses. They're forever bugging me. It's not just me - it's all the hookers."
"Don't pay them any mind," Grant said. "They're nuts. Forever pronouncing death sentence on planet earth. What a lot of shit, if you ask me."
"I know, but they mean well ..."
"Cut out the religious hooey," the newly rich young man said. "Let's go buy a car."
"Can I get some new clothes?" she asked, with child-like excitement.
"I'll get you plenty of new clothes," he smiled. "Don't you worry about that. Come on, I know just the place where I want to buy my wheels."
"Where are we going?" she asked, "to the Cadillac dealership?"
"Nope," he said. "Cadillacs are for peasants. What I want is something special. There's a place that sells classic automobiles down on Santa Monica Boulevard. I've seen a very nice silver Mercedes 190 SL Gull wing - I want that."
"That should cost you a pretty penny," she said. "Why toss your money around so indiscriminately?"
"I'm not. There's nothing indiscriminate about that silver beauty," he said. "In fact, it's quite discriminating."
She didn't bother to argue further. It was obvious that Grant, like the child he was, had his heart set on the vintage sports car.
They dressed, and walked down to the vintage car dealership. Hans Benton sat at the mahogany desk in the dealership. He didn't bother to get up as the poorly dressed Grant Manners walked in, with the cheap looking woman of the night on his arm.
"Isn't she a beauty?" Grant sighed.
"It's a nice car," the hooker said, as she admired the sleek lines of the classic sports car.
"It's not just a car," he sighed, touching the fender, "It's masterpiece - like a precision instrument."
"Please don't touch the merchandise," the German car dealer rose from his desk, and marched stiffly across the floor, past vintage Packards, Lincolns, Cadillacs, and a Ferrari.
"You talkin' to me, mister?" Grant was in no mood to take shit.
The Mercedes was just polished yesterday," Hans said. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't leave finger marks on the immaculate sports car."
"Listen to this joker," Grant sighed, as he lifted the petite, blonde hooker up on the fender of the expensive car.
"How dare you!" the German blanched.
"How much is this tin lizzie, pal?"
"More than you could afford. Now, if you are going to continue to cause a disturbance, I will be compelled to call the police."
"Calm down, kraut," Grant smiled. "I asked you how much this junk heap is."
"But I thought you liked the car, honey?"
"Shh! I'm just giving him a hard time," Grant whispered to the girl.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars," Hans said, with his nose held high.
"Fine, I'll take it," Grant spat on the highly polished car fender, and walking up to Hans, removed the white handkerchief the kraut had folded in his breast pocket, and turned to wipe the sputum into the paint job - to add further luster to the fine lines of the classic car.
"How do you presume to pay for the car?" the dealer stared haughtily at the ill dressed young man.
"I'll write you a check for the full amount," Grant smiled.
"A funny joke," Hans smiled sourly. "Now, if the little game is over. If - you've impressed this, er, woman enough, will you kindly depart the premises?"
"Listen to me, Adolf," Grant's upper lip pulled to the side, showing the previews to a stunning temper tantrum, "I'm going to buy this here car. And I've about had all the shit I'm going to take off you."
With that, Grant reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled golden checks, and the letter of credit.
"I'll just write you out a check for twenty-five big ones, and I'll take this little beauty off your hands. Gas her up, pal, I don't have all day."
"You mean to tell me that you're just going to write out a check for twenty-five thousand dollars, and expect me to believe that the bank will honor it?"
"You just read that letter from the bank president. And if you have any doubts after that, just call the asshole. You tell him that Grant Manners is waiting."
"Well, I, er, naturally, I have to check this out."
"Yeah, yeah," he said, turning his back to the car dealer, and opening the gull wing door to further admire the interior of the carefully crafted automobile.
Hans, casting a hateful look at the young up-start, went to his desk, and after reading the letter of credit, which he assumed was forged, called the office of the president of the American Bank.
Grant and Iris were now seated in the fancy auto.
"Isn't she a beauty?" Grant smiled at his comely companion.
"It's a nice car," she sighed. "But I don't understand why you have to be so mean to that poor man."
"Poor man, my ass," Grant sighed. "He's a sonofabitch. I could care less about the cock sucker."
Hans hung up the phone, and walked - blushing - back to the Mercedes sports car.
"I'm very sorry, sir," Hans practically bowed, "you must accept my humble apologies. I didn't know. I mean, you don't exactly look the part of millionaire."
"That's all going to change, pal," Grant smiled. "Give me my checks, and I'll scribble you off twenty-five smackeroos."
The distraught German, shaking with fear and trembling unto profit, handed the poorly dressed millionaire his check book, and letter of credit.
Grant quickly scribbled off a check for twenty-five thousand dollars, and handed it to the embarrassed car dealer. "Okay, pal, where are the keys?"
"Just one minute," the German said, going off to a cabinet, and opening the combination lock, withdrew the keys belonging to the fine German car, and returned to the Mercedes.
"Here are the keys," he said, handing them to the young man. "You've got yourself a real bargain. A lovely car to match the beauty of the golden-tressed goddess at your side."
"Cut out the shit, kraut," Grant said, as he pressed the button which lowered the gull wing doors.
Hans stepped to the huge sliding glass door and slid it aside, making room for Grant to drive the automobile out of the show room.
Grant turned the engine over, shifted into first, and drove the lovely car out onto the street. Heads turned as the magnificent mechanized chariot turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard, and sped East, towards Beverly Hills.
"Where are we going?" the lovely woman asked.
"The Beverly Hills Hotel, my love," he sighed, placing his hand between her legs, moving it beneath her skirt, up against her panties.
"But I thought I was going to buy some new clothes?" she asked, as he fiddled with her instrument.
"Quite right," he smiled. "We'll stop off at Saks on the way, and stock up with some new threads. I guess I can't be running around in torn jeans any longer."
"Oh, boy!" the attractive blonde gushed, "this is great. Just like a party."
"Yeah, that's what it is," Grant smiled. "A great big party."
Grant enjoyed the many eyes that turned to admire his handsome automobile, as he drove down Wilshire Boulevard, and pulled into the Saks parking lot. After he argued a bit with the parking lot attendant, who wanted to park the car himself, Grant parked the Mercedes in a corner of the lot, taking up three parking spaces.
"You can't leave the car like that," the nervous parking lot attendant said. "You're taking up three places."
"Then I'll pay for three places, sonny-boy," Grant scoffed, pulling the blonde dish by the hand into the overly-expensive department store.
They divided up - Iris visiting the ladies department. Several hours - and nearly five thousand dollars - later, they exited the department store, their arms laden with boxes and packages. What they couldn't carry, was to be delivered to their hotel suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel.
At the hotel, they found the desk clerk, and the bell captain to be most cooperative. Indeed, the uniformed hotel servant practically drooled over the obviously wealthy couple, as he and a team of underlings, carried their bags to the suite of rooms Grant had leased for the month.
Alone in the room, Grant and Iris ordered up a bottle of champagne, and numerous trifles to delight their palate - lobster, shrimp, crab, caviar, and smoked pheasant.
While they feasted, Grant shared some of his plans with the blonde sexual companion.
"Isn't this the life?" he smiled.
"I never thought I'd be living this high on the hog," the lovely blonde smiled. "I'm glad I stood by you."
"Didn't I always tell you someday my ship would come in?" he bent forward, and kissed her on the mouth, tasting the salmon roe which clung to her lips.
"Yeah," she sighed with delight, "but every guy talks that way. It's usually just a fantasy, though."
"Well, this ain't no fantasy," Grant laughed. "This is real. I'm a king now. I can do what ever I want. And you know what I'm going to do?"
"Buy me new jewelry?"
"Yeah, that, too," he said, "but I'm going to build me a house. A nice house, here in Beverly Hills. And after the house is built, I'm going to invite all those little bitches who have given me a hard time to the house. And they're never going to leave."
"Are you going to kill them?" she asked, fearfully.
"I ain't gonna kill no one," he said. "I'm just going to have a little fun with them."
"Fun?"
"I'm going to torture the bitches," he said. "I'm going to make them pay for the way they treated me. I'm going to build me this big fancy house, and inside there's going to be a dungeon. Not just a boring, dank cellar, but a fully equipped subterranean chamber of sexual horrors. They'll pay, those snotty little cunts. Everyone of them will pay."
"You sure have a mean streak," she observed.
"Bullshit!" he said. "Those chicks are the ones who have the mean streak. I'm just gonna get even with 'em. That's all."
"Why don't we take a little break from all this hate," she asked, "and make love?"
"Sure," he said. "But before we make love, I think I should try to score some cocaine."
"Cocaine?"
"Yeah," he said, "I could never afford the shit before. But I sure as hell can afford it now. It will make sex a lot more fun."
"How are you going to score cocaine here?" she asked.
"For the right price," he explained, "you can score what ever you want, wherever you want."
"This isn't the street," she said. "This is the Beverly Hills Hotel."
"I know precisely where I am," he smiled. "You'll see."
With that, the newly rich young man picked up the phone and got room service on the line.
"Yeah," he groaned into the receiver, "this is Grant Manners up in two-twelve. Send up a gram of coke, and put it on my tab. Add a twenty-five dollar tip for the guy who scores it."
He hung up the phone.
"I can't believe you just did that," the hooker, who had not been so fortunate in the past, gushed.
"You haven't seen anything yet, honey," he smiled.
They began to undress, and when they were through, they slipped into their new silk robes, and waited for the pusher man to knock on the door. Not more than fifteen minutes passed before the much-awaited knock came at the door.
Grant stepped to the door, and opening it a crack, took the bag of cocaine from the bell boy.
A wide, happy grin on his face, he stepped back into the hotel room.
"Well, see what I mean, honey?"
"I guess it's true," she sighed. "Money can indeed work miracles."
"Money is the only god I believe in," he said.
"I wish you wouldn't be so blasphemous," she pouted. "It's bad luck - you know, in case anyone is listening."
"Who would be listening?"
"God."
"Give me a break, honey," he smiled, and get out of that robe. It's time for us to enter the realm of the senses."
"I love the way you talk," she sighed, as she slipped out of the silk dressing gown. "You should have been a poet. You get me so excited."
"Maybe some day I'll write my life story," he said, dropping his silk robe to the floor, and revealing his stunning body, and godly phallus.
"I'm the luckiest girl I ever heard of," she sighed. "AH this money, and you. I feel like Cinderella."
"I guess that makes me Cinderello," he laughed, and then stepped to a handsomely framed mirror hanging on the wall. He took the mirror down off its hook, and placed it flat on the coffee table. He poured the bag of cocaine on the mirror, and removed a pen knife from the pocket of his jeans, which were on the floor.
He ground the cocaine crystals into a fine powder, and formed a multitude of lines. Next, he took a crisp. hundred dollar bill, change from the purchases at Saks, and rolled it up into a straw.
"Well, here comes paradise," he sighed, as he placed the distal end of the hand-made straw into the pile of magic dust, and snorted up a mighty helping.
His head was already spinning, as he passed the expensive straw to Iris, who began snorting up a fair share of the dust.
They were both quite stoned as they fell upon the king-size bed.
"That's good stuff," she exclaimed.
"Nothing but the best for us, my dear," he sighed, as he helped the lovely young hooker lay flat on the bed.
He licked his finger, and covered the moistened digit with a large quantity of the white powder.
This, he rubbed over her pussy lips, clitoris and over her anus.
She began to moan with pleasure as the numbing local anesthetic took effect.
"This is going to be great sex," she sighed.
"We'll be able to fuck all day long," he said, as he covered the head of his organ with the white powder as well.
His cock was throbbing with excitement as he lay beside the lovely young woman.
"Spread wide, darling," he sighed. "The time has come for you to enjoy a hearty fuck."
With that, the handsome, money-drunk man moved between the lovely woman's legs. He brought the head of his bulbous organ up against the woman's gash. She sighed with pleasure as he ran his organ slowly into her box.
She opened her legs widely for the large phallus, and as it slowly slid into her box, she sighed with hot passion. The throbbing organ pressed slowly into the deep recesses of her vagina. The lovely hooker groaned with hot pleasure as the organ worked slowly, but surely, in and out of her box.
She squeezed her pussy lips down firmly on him, sucking him inside. While the man's organ pressed slowly, in and out of her hot box, she brought her finger tips to her clitoris, and began to stroke herself.
"Oh, yes," she moaned. "That feels fantastic."
While the lovely blonde hooker frigged herself rhythmically, the handsome Grant Manners worked his long, hard tool slowly in and out of the woman's vagina.
The numbing effect of the cocaine, not to mention the high, from snorting it, worked to excite the two lovers. While Grant's throbbing member worked steadily in and out of the lovely young hooker's sex cauldron, his hands moved to her breasts. He squeezed her mammaries lovingly, and pulled at her paps.
"This is heavenly," she sighed. "I can't believe how good it feels, Grant."
"Think nothing of it," he moaned, as his organ worked about in her pussy, like a mix-master in a sweet mixture of tropical fruit. In and out he plunged his tool, working against the sensitive cunt walls. The gorgeous sex kitten pinched her clitoris between her fingers, and pulled at it with lust, as she very slowly approached the precipice of her desire.
"I'm almost there," she moaned. "Oh, God It's good. Grant, you make me feel heavenly Don't stop. It's magnificent. Oh, Lord, I love it."
And then, the extremely attractive hooker released her orgasm. Her body shook with delight. Every nerve ending in her body tingled with the magic of the impending sexual catharsis. Shaking, and sighing with maddening delight, the blonde sex nymph surrendered her orgasm. Her body relaxed totally, and she drifted off into a world of sheer pleasure.
He worked his organ slowly into her the pit of her organ, and there came to rest. While she shook with delight, the cock working slowly in and out of her pussy, it became clear that he was about to gush inside her.
He pressed her thighs together, so that there was a tight fit in her box, and he could feel the sensation of her cunt walls closing down on his shaft.
His tool worked rapidly - like a stem-driven jack-hammer - in and out of her burning hot cauldron of lust.
"I come!" he announced, as his cock spasmed inside the confines of the steamy slash. She moved with him, sighed with him, enjoyed every aspect of the hot, sexual banquet.
As the noveau-rich gentleman's cock spasmed, and spewed inside the loving entry hall, they pressed their bodies together, kissed with hot passion, and rolled about on the bed.
"You bring me great joy," he sighed to the lovely woman. "Of all the cunts I've had to deal with in years gone by, you've been the most faithful, the most understanding - the best lay in Los Angeles, as far as I'm concerned. And I mean to pay you back for all the good you've shown me."
"Ah, Grant, the lovely woman sighed, as his tool worked about in the sexual syrup that filled her organ, "you've already been so good to me I don't know what more I could expect from you."
"Plenty, honey," he sighed, as he worked his loving lips over her mouth, pressing his tongue slowly into her mouth. "You ain't seen nothing yet."
"Oh,- Grant," she gushed, "you are the best. I'm glad I stuck by you. It's like finding a pot of gold, at the end of the rainbow."
"You said it," he laughed. "The gods are certainly looking out for us now."
The lovely blonde worked her pussy away from his organ. "You are so sweet to me. I hope it's, riot just the drug talking. I would like to feel that you really do care."
"I care, honey."
"Then can I go down to Gucci's and buy some jewelry?"
"Sure, buy what ever you want. The sky's the limit."
"You're so good to me, honey. I sure know now that you really do love me."
"Yeah, I think you're swell. Now roll over, and I'll pay tribute to your glorious asshole."
"You never can quite get sex off your mind, can you?" she smiled, as the she moved her vagina off the still-erect phallus, and rolled over on her belly, exposing her lovely ass.
The handsome rich man stared hungrily down at the firm, young ass cheeks. He was moved to passion as he parted the globes, and stared down at the tightened opening.
Pressing his finger down into the tight hole, the woman sighed. "Please me gentle, honey. You know that you're the only one I ever let do me in the ass. I'm still not used to it."
"I'll be gentle," he sighed, spreading" the globes apart, and pulling her up into the knee-chest position. Thusly arranged, he brought his lips tenderly to her anus, kissing the opening fondly. He pressed his tongue ever-so-slowly into the opening of her behind. She whimpered with delight as the saliva-laden lingus pressed slowly into the pungent pit of perverse passion.
The hooker swayed her sweet ass about as the tongue explored her anal entrance. His tongue served to delight her, lubricate her, and to prepare her for the subsequent entry of his passionate phallus into the depths of her hungry anus.
Pulling his tongue from the dank depths of her ass, he moved in behind her, and pressed the bulbous cock head up against the tightened entry hall of lust.
His cock pressed slowly into the hole. She squeezed her sphincter down on him as he passed into the hot chamber of pleasure. The lovely woman moaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure as the instrument tore slowly down into the depths of her asshole.
"Oh, Grant," she sighed, "you make me feel so good. You truly have a magic cock."
"You say the sweetest things," he sighed, as he pressed the length of his cock slowly down into the hot depths of his woman's rectum.
She moaned with pleasure and pain as the cock worked about in the forbidden passageway of lust.
"Oh, yes," she sighed, feeling hardly any discomfort - the result of the cocaine anal treatment - while the pulsating member worked slowly in and out of the tight anal ring.
The cock was ready to shoot. As the semen boiled in his sacs, Grant pressed the entire length of his rod into the depths of the lovely woman's asshole, worked it about, and the shot.
"Oh, yes," he moaned. "It feels fantastic. Your asshole is so hot, so delightful to be in, I just can't believe it. It's a grand asshole. It's a glorious asshole. You are my very own asshole."
"What?"
"I didn't mean it the way it sounded." Grant explained, as he withdrew his organ slowly from the depths of her hot ass.
"Well, you just be nice," she reprimanded him. "Just because you suddenly have all this money, don't let it go to your head. Keep it cool, baby."
"Don't you worry about me," he said. "I can handle it."
"Sure."
"I mean it. I have great plans for my wealth. And as a reward for your faithful service over the years, I'm going to reward you handsomely."
"Truly?"
"Yes," he sighed. "I will provide us a lovely home to live in - complete with slaves to enjoy."
"Slaves?"
"Yes," he sighed. "I'm going to provide you plenty of slaves to play with." "You mean those women?" "I sure as hell do."
"I wish you would forget about them," she said. "You are only going to make yourself miserable with all this hate you keep in."
"Don't you worry about me," he said. "I know what I'm doing. As long as I'm good to you, what more could you want?"
"I just don't want us to get into any trouble," she said. "Everything is so perfect now. Why push a good thing?"
"The way I see it, the reason I have the money is to punish the girls. I'm sure it's some divine plan. God wants me to punish them."
"That's sick," she said. "And you know it."
"Oh, do I?"
"Well, you should," she said. "Grant, you know me. I've sinned plenty in my life. But I know the difference between right and wrong. And I'm telling you that it's not right to seek vengeance. Not the way you want to."
"Listen, honey," he sighed. "I really don't want to go over this again, and again. Like I told you, I have some accounts to settle with those dames. You know why. Either your with me, or your against me. It's not going to be so bad. I could use your help. I know you dig on girls from time to time. These are some of the loveliest cunts in Los Angeles. You'll have a good time. And, besides, I'll buy you all sorts of goodies. You'll see. You can only benefit. There's nothing to lose. Unless you don't want all those nice toys ..."
"Yeah, I want them," she sighed. "Don't get me wrong. I was just playing devil's advocate."
CHAPTER THREE
After showering and dressing, Grant and Iris headed out to Rodeo Drive in the heart of Beverly Hills.
He dropped the splendidly dressed young woman off in front of Gucci's, with a blank check, bearing his signature. From Rodeo Drive, he headed out on Wilshire back towards the beach.
But Grant Manners wasn't going all the way to Santa Monica. He was heading to the Westwood Village offices of Marquis Construction, well known for building many of the Bel Air, and Beverly Hills homes of the movie stars, and other overly-rich personages.
He enjoyed tooling down Wilshire in the stunning car. Heads turned to look. Men and women alike were impressed to see the sleek, silver sports car racing down Wilshire Boulevard, with the handsome, newly created prince at the helm.
It was with secure pride, that Grant Manners turned his expensive sports car into the drive of Marquis Construction. Entering the plush offices in his silk sports ensemble, he caught the eye of the comely secretaries.
But he was indifferent to their gold-hunting stares. He had business on his mind.
"Can I help you?" a particularly beautiful redhead stepped forward, and smiled, her deep cleavage attracting his attention.
"Sure, honey," he smiled. "Who do I see about building a house?"
"You mean you want us to build you a house?"
"This is the right place for that, isn't it?"
"Yes. But you know that we only build expensive homes. I mean, I wouldn't want you to be embarrassed."
"I'm not about to be embarrassed," he smiled. "And I'm paying cash."
"Well, you wait right here," she smiled, wondering if he wasn't just some kook off the street, playing strange games. A nice wardrobe, the attractive secretary knew, didn't mean much in tinsel town. Some very down and out pimps even had nice clothes.
But not one to take any chances - especially when catching the whiff of big bucks - the lovely redhead marched off to the office of Stephen Marquis, president of the construction company.
"I think we have some sort of kook here," she said. "He's talking about wanting to have a house built, and paying for it with cash. I know it sounds off the wall, but you just never know."
"You did the right thing, Andrea," he said. "This happens now and then. If he's real, I would certainly hate to lose him. You know, the late Elvis Presley used to buy a fleet of new Cadillacs every year for his friends - paying in cash. It's good to be careful, but we certainly don't want to dismiss anything. In this town, anything, and everything is possible."
"Should I show him in?"
"Yes, please do that."
The attractive redhead marched off to the waiting room, and fetched the eccentric millionaire.
"Mr. Marquis would like to see you," she smiled.
"Thanks, honey," Grant smiled, following the attractive woman into the boss' office. She had a very shapely ass, he noticed.
"By the way," she turned, and paused "what is your name?"
"Grant Manners," he said. "And yours?"
"Andrea Reynolds," she winked, and presumed her march over the thick carpet to the office of the company president.
"Mr. Marquis," Andrea announced, "this is Mr. Grant Manners."
"Pleased to meet you, Grant," the successful builder got up from his plush chair, and walked over the thick carpet to shake the newly rich young man's hand, "please call me Stephen."
"Okay, Steve," he grinned, pulling up a chair, "I want you to build me a house. I want it built right away. I need it within two months, I reckon."
"That's a tall order," Steve Marquis said. "We also sell used estates. Wouldn't it be more practical to ... " "Nope," Grant said. "It's got to be now. You see, I have a special design in mind. Money is no object. I have plenty. You can check with my banker."
Grant pulled the letter of credit from the American Bank from his coat pocket, and dropped it on the business owner's desk. "I can cover all the expenses."
"I wasn't questioning your solvency, sir," Stephen said, handing the letter of credit to the lovely secretary.
She left the room with the letter.
Grant's eyes followed her stunning rear-end as she sashayed out of the room.
"She's cute, eh?" the builder smiled.
"Yeah, but what the hell is she doing with the letter?"
"Just a few phone calls," he smiled. "You understand. It costs a great deal of money to build a house."
"Yeah, I got you. Now listen, Steve, I know exactly what I want. It's got to be custom made. A one-story house is what I have in mind. But I want a special basement. A large dungeon."
"A dungeon?" the builder was perplexed. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, very," Grant smiled. "And I'm willing to spend cash for the entire job. But it's got to be a secret. And I mean a secret. No one outside of this room is to know about it."
"But the architect, and the workmen will have to know about it," Steve Marquis said. "They have to know."
"Yeah, I didn't think of that," Grant confessed. "But they're going to have to swear secrecy."
Grant ceased speaking as the lovely Andrea Reynolds re-entered the room.
"It's all right," Steve said. "She is a trusted employee. I keep nothing from her."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Grant smiled studying the redhead's fine lines.
"Congratulations, Grant," the lovely woman smiled, handing the letter of credit back to its owner. "It seems that you have only recently become a fabulously wealthy man."
"A stroke of fate," Grant smiled, his eyes exploring the dark cleavage between the lovely woman's breasts.
"Mr. Manners can afford to build anything his little heart desires," Andrea announced. "Isn't that wonderful."
"It certainly is," Steve Marquis smiled. "It's wonderful for everyone. Not only do we benefit, but Mr. Manners here gets exactly what he wants. You understand, of course, that it will cost you plenty to force completion within two months. The workers will have to labor over time. Can you dig it?"
"Like I said," Grant said, "money is no concern. Now, if you'll give me a piece of paper and a pencil, I'll give you an idea of what I want."
"I'm sure we'll be able to pay your ideal homage," Steve smiled, greedily.
Taking the paper and pencil offered him, the rich young man drew a rather primitive version of a ranch-style house.
"I don't really care too much about the house itself," he said. "You can throw in a swimming pool, if there's room. Just make the master bedroom nice, and a really big bathroom, with a sunken tub. Maybe a sauna. Give me the works. I'll leave it up to you."
"That's a great deal of architectural freedom," the builder said. "I think I can have fun with that. But tell me, Grant, how many bedrooms and bathrooms do you want?"
"Three of each ought to be enough," he said. "Throw in the customary living room, den, kitchen, closets - you know, the works! I'm not so much interested in that, as I am in the cellar."
"The cellar?" Andrea asked.
"It seems Mr. Manners wants a dungeon in the cellar of the house."
"A dungeon?"
"Yes," Grant said. "But that's a secret, not to go beyond the walls of this office. Is that understood?"
"Believe me," Steve Marquis assured the newly-rich young man, "you can trust her completely. Not a word of this will be leaked."
"Very well," Grant said, "I want a real nice, old-fashioned dungeon in the cellar. Put one of those sliding walls in the den - you know, like the hidden doors in the old movies on television."
"I think I know what you mean," the builder said. "What exactly is it that you need in this cellar?"
"Well, I'm going to need some cells ..."
"Cells?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, you know, like in a torture chamber. Let me see . . . Lisa, Caroline, Kimberly, Juliet, Mercedes, Merri . . . I'll need six cells in all."
"What are you planning to do?" Andrea could no longer restrain her inquisitiveness.
"Never you mind," Grant said. "You just worry about building it for me. Now, I don't want the cells to be too plush. You know, just like jail cells. You can put a toilet and a simple stall shower in each of the six cells. I want big locks on the cells doors - with bars. Let me see, oh, yes, and have all the cells facing a central corridor or courtyard."
"I think I know what you have in mind" Steve Marquis smiled, leaning back in his chair. He winked at Andrea. She blushed.
"Never you mind what I have in mind," Grant said. "Just tell me - can you deliver it?"
"Yes," the contractor smiled. "It just so happens I own a rather large lot up on Benedict Canyon, north of the Beverly Hills Hotel. I can put together what you want."
"That sounds great," Grant smiled. "What do you think it will cost me?"
"The contractor smiled, "the land will cost, say fifty grand - and that's hardly showing a profit, I want you to know."
"Yeah, yeah," Grant sighed. "Save me the song and dance. I just want to know the facts. Say, fifty grand for the lot. How much for the house and cellar?"
"The house will set you back about two hundred and fifty thousand. The custom cellar will cost another, say, fifty grand. This reflects, approximately, the overtime that will be required to do the job. Let's just round it off, and call the whole package three hundred and fifty grand. How does that sound?"
"That sounds fine," Grant said. And pulling the pile of blank checks from his coat pocket, he signed his name on the bottom. "How much do you want as a down payment?"
"What ever you feel is proper," the builder said. "I trust your judgment."
"I'll give you a hundred grand to get the ball rolling," Grant said. "I'll sell off some of my Eastern properties to finance the rest. I want to leave a few bucks in the bank. You understand, right?"
"Of course," Steve said. "There's no reason to tie-up all your money."
"Do you really think you could finish the project within two months?"
"No problem, Grant," the builder said. "I'll get my staff on it right away. I'll just make a quick sketch of the floor plans, so that the slab can be laid. While that's being done, I'll get a couple architects on the plan. It will be a bit of a rush, but we have plenty of lumber and other supplies stockpiled. Things should work out just swell. Andrea, why don't you show our new friend the company game room He certainly deserves the usual VIP treatment.
"With pleasure," the attractive redhead rose from her seat. "If you'll come with me, Grant, I'll show the VIP game room."
"Will it take long?" he asked. "I have so much to do. I've been waiting forever, it seems, to make all of this come true."
"Calm down and enjoy," Steve said. "You can afford it. Andrea will help you relax. She's a good lady."
"I'm not blind," Grant said. "Okay. I'm staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel, quite by coincidence. You can reach me there. Let me know how the place is progressing. I want to throw a party there. I can't wait.
"It will be the party to end all parties. And I'm already impatient."
"Don't worry your head about it, Grant," Steve said. "Within two months, you'll have your house. Let me know if you want us to landscape and interior decorate. We have fully trained people ..."
"Fine, do that, too."
Steve Marquis watched Grant and Andrea exit his office. As soon as the apparently eccentric young millionaire had departed, the Marquis Construction Company president placed his feet up on his desk, and had quite a chuckle.
He felt the happiness of a gold prospector who had just discovered a particularly rich vein.
He then pressed all his intercom buttons, and announced a meeting. He wanted to start in right away on the project. He hoped to please the wealthy young man. He was hoping there would be plenty more construction assignments in the future.
Meanwhile, the comely redhead led the handsome young man to the VIP game room, which consisted of a large room, well protected from prying eyes. In the midst of the room was a huge bed. A refrigerator and bar were fully stocked with liquid libations, and scrumptious trifles to munch on. A shower and sauna were available for those who enjoyed clean sports.
"Some game room," Grant duly noted. "Are you the bonus for my investment?"
"In a manner of speaking," Andrea smiled, as she began unbuttoning her blouse. "But the final decision is always left to me. Steve and I have a signal. If he winks at me, it means, he would like me to make love with a client. If I wink back it means yes. If I cough, it's no.
"Very clever," the rich man said smiling as he stared at the beautiful woman's fully developed, and naked breasts. "You sure have a nice set of knockers."
"Thank you. I noted that you were enjoying them before."
"Everything about you is extra-special," he said. "And don't think I don't appreciate the merchandise. It's very nice to have a classy dame like you go goo-goo over me. It's about time. It's just a shame that I had to be rich to deserve such favors."
"You sound bitter."
"I am."
"Is that why you want a dungeon in the basement of your new house?"
"I really would rather not go into that," he said. "Let's just forget about my house for the time being. I'd much rather concentrate on you" "So, you're the romantic type?"
"Not really," he said. "But I am horny, and you sure are a fine specimen of womanhood."
"Thanks, good-looking," she smiled. "You say the sweetest things."
"Think nothing of it," he sighed, watching the lovely woman unzip her tight-fitting pants, and writhe out of the denims. She wasn't wearing panties, and her body was glorious to behold.
Andrea stood before him in all her naked splendor. Her full breasts were swollen with desire. Her pinkish nipples were taut with desire. Her body showed not an ounce of blubber. She was, obviously, a frequent attendee at the gym, as her body was tight, and streamlined. Her legs, especially, were long, and well-developed, like those of a dancer. Over her lovely vagina, sprouted a thick tuft of red pubes. Grant felt his cock stir with desire.
It was going to be a pleasure to take this woman.
He began to undress. His rod was stiff, and pressing against the material of his pants. He removed his jacket and shirt, and the woman took delight at the sight of his splendid physique.
His hairy flesh excited her. As he dropped his trousers, revealing his ample phallus, she felt hot juices begin to trickle from her slash. She wanted this man. She wanted him badly.
And he wanted her with equal vigor.
"Do you want to take a sauna?" she asked.
"Nope."
"Do you want to take a shower?"
"Nope."
"Do you want something to drink, or eat?"
"Nope."
"What do you want?"
"I want to fuck you," he said. And with that, the darkly handsome, and quite naked man approached the stunning redhead. He took the beautiful creature in his arms, and pressed his mouth tightly to hers. His tongue slid slowly inside her mouth. She sucked at it. They both moaned with pleasure.
Grant's hands moved to her breasts. He squeezed them lovingly. And he moved his mouth to her breast. The lovely woman signed with passion as the dark man closed his mouth over her pap, and ran his tongue sensuously over the tightened nipple flesh. He stroked her breast while sucking, and then switched to the other breast. He treated it with equal kindness.
"You are such a sensuous lover," she sighed, reaching down to take his stiff prick in her hand. She stroked it lovingly, feeling it grow in stature as she humored it.
"You aren't exactly a cold fish," he said moving the gorgeous woman to the bed. "It's a shame I didn't meet you sooner. But, then again, you might not have liked me. I was poor, then."
"I'm not as much of a bitch as you might think," she said. "I admit some of my attitudes concerning things material is a bit warped, but inside, I'm a warm, good person."
"Well, we'll just have to find out exactly how sweet you are, inside," he sighed, as he helped the lovely example of female perfection onto the firm mattress. He lay beside her, and moved his mouth passionately to hers. His tongue worked slowly into the girl's mouth. Their bodies pressed tightly together, his nipples touching hers; his prick pressed into the tight crack between her creamy thighs.
"You feel good," she moaned.
"Ditto," he moaned.
Rolling the redhead onto her back, he grasped her breasts, and squeezed them lovingly. Her nipples became hard like rocks. Her pussy was dripping with hot lubricating juice.
Sliding down upon the woman's golden body, he tongued her navel, and then kissed his way over the mound of red curls, to the moistened crack between her labial lips.
Holding her milk-white pussy wings apart, he touched the tip of the clitoris with his tongue, and worked the moistened tongue meat down into the moistened passion-pit.
The girl sighed with passion, and placed her legs around his neck. He pulled her pussy tightly to his mouth. His tongue searched deeply into her vagina, and worked up against her clitoris.
As he came upon the magic bump on the road to sexual bliss, Grant pinched the clit between his fingers and tickled the clit tip with the tip of his tongue. He pressed a finger slowly into her rectum. She gasped with pleasure, but admonished, "not that. Please. I have a virgin anus."
"Oh, be a sport," he sighed, his cock aching with anxiety, while his mouth hung agape, over her moist lushness.
"But it hurts."
"It's all in the head," he moaned, as he continued to tongue her, and fiddle with her openings.
"You are a pervert of the highest rank," she sighed, as she relaxed, surrendering completely to the sexual beast in bed with her.
Used to spending her time with rich, bored, older men, being in the sack with the former man of the street was quite a treat for the girl. She felt her initial orgasm build to critical mass. Her entire groin was on fire with passion. She ached from head to foot. Her pussy hole was burning hot with desire - desire to be filled with his meat.
"I had you spotted for a sex fiend the minute I laid eyes on you," Andrea said. "[ was afraid."
"If only you knew how untrue that is," he said. "It feels as though the gods have masked me as an unsavory character. Hiding my true nature. But don't get me wrong. There is plenty of anger deep inside. At times I feel it boiling inside of me, like a cauldron in the depths of Hades.
"I want the gentle side to come through," he said. "But no one will give me a chance."
"You poor boy," she sighed. "How sad. You mean there's no one to understand you?"
"Well, I have one friend," he said. "She's a hooker. She's been the only one who has been nice to me."
"I'm jealous," she said.
"Don't be jealous," he smiled. "I just met you. Perhaps we really will be friends. It's just going to be difficult for me to trust you - now that I have all this money."
"Believe me," she said, sitting up. "It might seem like I'm only interested in money. But it's not true. I know that a check book can't buy love, or a hug."
"Do you really know that?" "Sure I do. I'm a sucker for big bucks. Sure I am. That's how every girl in America, and lots of other places, was raised. But we also I ready those fairy tales where the hero wasn't a rich prince."
"Yeah, tell it to the Marines."
"Don't be cynical," she sighed.
"It's too late, sugar," he said. "But, thanks just the same. Let's drop the sweet talk, and get down to business."
"You're so hard."
"You can say that again," Grant sighed, as he moved his face in between the lovely redhead's supple thighs. His mouth moved over her entire snatch, and he took the magic meat into his mouth. He sucked at it, working his tongue into the depths of her cunt canyon.
As his tongue targeted on her clit, and he licked it enthusiastically, she began the vociferous cry of passion - the cry of orgasm Her body shook spasmodically as the orgasm thrilled her from head to toe. Her entire body was on fire. Every hair on her body stood at attention. Her skin was flushed with need for warmth and desire.
He continued to suck, while the flawless beauty writhed about on the bed, grasped tightly in the fist of overwhelming passion.
The sound-proofed room shielded her moans of passion. Her pussy was on fire with the touch of his tongue. He worked it about in her hole, and over her clit meat. Spreading her legs widely apart, Grant thrust the length of his tongue up her anus.
She groaned with passion as his tongue worked swiftly in and out of her anus, toying with the sensitive bowel walls.
"You nasty man," she shrieked.
But still he continued to suck at her ass. His tongue worked rapidly in and out of her asshole.
He reached for her clit, and stroked it lovingly, while his tongue continued to work over her perineum, licking, probing, toying, and generally taking the lovely woman to places of pleasure she had not yet visited.
Having learned love making from pros - having long nurtured a fondness she had never before known existed, it was all new. Completely new.
Having sufficiently aroused the maiden's desire with his tongue technique, the handsome man lifted his goo-covered mouth to hers, and they exchanged a passionate kiss. She was, at first, leery of tasting her own juices - from down under - but as his tongue pressed deeply into her mouth, and his moistened lips glided over hers, she succumbed, surrendering completely to the passion, the magic of the bitter human tastes.
While he kissed her passionately on the mouth, Grant Manners worked the head of his organ slowly up to the woman's cunt hole. She spread her legs widely, and he entered slowly, the length of his man meat seeking warmth, pleasure, safety, in the sanctity of her deep cunt cavern.
His tool reached bottom.
The lovely redhead turned on it, like a cork that had been skewered with a cork-screw.
"Oh you are so big and it feels so nice," she said to him.
They moved together in a hot fuck rhythm Their genitals mashed together, sliding over the moisture, the sweat, the sexual juices.
"You feel so good inside me," the stunning redhead moaned, as Grant's stiff rod worked in and out of her slash, pressing up against the side of her pussy walls, touching the mouth of her uterus.
"You're so big!" she exclaimed, wrapping her long legs around him, and pulling the entire length of cock meat deeply into her cunt. "God, it feels good. So very good."
"Yeah, I know."
Grant worked his tool slowly now. His orgasm was pending. He wanted it to go on and on and on. He was in no rush. He wanted the sexual experience to last as long as possible.
It felt too good to call it quits.
"Oh, Grant," she moaned, "that feels so good. Slow, easy, real nice."
Grant pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue slithered into her mouth, rubbing against her tongue - gliding over the polished surface of her pearly teeth.
The rod sank all the way in, to the hilt, and Grant clung perilously to the sheer edge of orgasmic oblivion. His rod was thundering in her cunt hole.
"I think I'm going to come," she shuddered, every nerve ending in her body perched, on the alert, to transmit the powerful orgasmic shock wave throughout.
"Wait," he sighed. "Let's hold on as long as possible."
"But, it's painful," she murmured. "I don't want to wait. I can't stand the waiting. I want it now."
"It's much better this way," he groaned, and gritting his teeth, pulled his organ slowly out of the mushy depths of the steamy sex oven. His cock rested on the very lip of her vagina. There, it trembled. He also was at the point of no return.
Their bodies tensed. Both of the lovers had their eyes shut tightly. "I can't stand it," she moaned. "Make me come. Drive your cock powerfully inside me. Drive me mad with lust. Do it now!"
"Yes!" he screamed, forcing his rod - like a high-speed piston - deeply into the passionate depths of her vagina. The woman shrieked with passion. She came.
As their bodies writhed in passionate ecstasy, his cock pounding in and out of her hotly lubricated slit, the two were joined in the vise of lust. They rolled over on the bed.
The multiply-orgasmic redhead moved her knees up, so that she was sitting astride the man, jockey style. His rod pounded in and out of her warm muff. He worked his tool like a ram-rod, spitting hot jism inside her. She cooed with delight as the warm love nectar bathed the interior of her vagina. She screamed out loud when mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm grabbed at her vagina, tingling, burning, taking her completely out of control.
"Oh, God," she moaned. "This is too much. I can't take it."
"Keep going," Grant Manners sighed. "See how many times you can come."
"No, I must stop," Andrea moaned. "I can't take it any more. It's too intense. Really. Much too intense."
"You're doing just fine, honey," he moaned, pulling his rod slowly out of her succulent vagina. "I don't want to torture you."
"I'll bet you do," she winked, as the darkly handsome man rolled over her, sprawling, with satisfaction at her side.
"Why should I want to torture you?" he said. "You've been good to me. I've got nothing against you."
"I'll bet a man like you gets off on tormenting pretty girls. Am I wrong?"
"It depends."
"Depends on what?" she asked.
"Let me put it this way, Andrea: If a woman crosses me, lets me down, or is cruel to me, then I think she deserves the same treatment in return."
"You mean, you believe in revenge?"
"I sure do, honey."
"Oh, now I get it. That's why you want the dungeon built in the cellar of your new house."
"You might be too smart for your own good, honey," the newly-rich young man eyed her with suspicion. "Just be careful. I don't care what you know. But you keep your mouth shut. I'm paying big bucks for this house, and I expect my secret to be protected."
"Don't worry," she said, a little hurt. "I won't tell anyone anything."
With that, the lovely redhead turned away from the man in bed with her. Her back was to him as she lay on her side.
"Don't get sore, lady," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I really do like you. Don't get me wrong."
"I really don't understand you," she said. "First you make sweet love to me, and then you treat me like dirt - as though I couldn't be trusted with your stupid secret."
"I trust you," he insisted. "I just get a little nervous. What I'm planning to do is against the law. But I don't give a shit. I've got to do what I've got to do. There are some ladies, you see, who deserve some rough treatment. It's up to me to mete it out. And I'm not going to let anyone stand in my way. Do I make myself clear to you?"
"You're so angry!" she continued to pout, with her back turned to him. "Why don't you calm down. You're only hurting yourself."
"I'm not going to change now, lady," he said. "What I've been through is like a nightmare. I mean, for years, I've been taking nothing but shit off these chicks. All they fucking care about is money. So, now I have money. Big fucking deal. But, it will certainly be a big deal to those bitches. They'll swarm about me like piranha, but I'll be the one doing the biting."
"Vengeance belongs to the Lord alone."
"Don't give me no Sunday school sermon," he sighed. "I know what's happening. I'm pissed. And I'm going to do something about it. I'm not taking any more shit. I'm the one who's going to hand it out."
"I feel special about you, Grant."
"Don't feed me that shit," he said. "I know what you're all about. You bring all the VIPs up here, don't you? And you fuck their brains out. And then you tell them you love them, right? So that capitalist pig boss of yours continues to rake in the loot."
"For a wealthy man, you certainly talk like a proletariat."
"The money hasn't changed me, not really. Oh, sure, on the surface, maybe. But not down deep. I've had a rough couple of years. Actually, it was more like a decade."
"You poor baby," she spoke as though she didn't mean it.
"Cut out the pablum, sugar," he gave her a friendly spanking on the ass.
"I'm not a child, and I don't need a spanking," she said, as she attempted to turn around.
"Don't turn around," he said. "I like looking at your ass." "You pervert!"
"Listen to who's calling the kettle black."
"No, you listen. Sure, I might come up here to the VIP room with customers now and then. But, believe me, I never liked it. I never liked it at all. In fact, I admit that it's out of gratitude for Steve Marquis that I go through this shit. He pays me well."
"All women are whores."
"Cut out the hostility routine," she said. "Listen! Like I said, I do these sexual favors -it's part of my job. But it's different with you, Grant. I really care about you. Can't you tell?"
"I can't tell shit," he said. "Don't try pulling any of your female tricks on me. I'm not going for it."
"Why are you such a prick?"
"I'm a realist, not a prick."
"Can I turn around now?"
"No, I like looking at your ass. It's such a lovely ass. So firm, and smooth. It looks just like the ass of a young girl. I must say, it turns me on."
"You are sick, you know that?"
"I am not sick," he said. "I just like your ass. I want to fuck you in the ass."
"I don't like that," she said. "It hurts."
"I'll be gentle. Come on, give me a break."
"I'll give you a break, all right," she said. "I'll break your neck if you so much as touch my little asshole."
"Listen to you! What is this - are you going prude on me?"
"No way," she laughed. "I just know what I like, and what I don't like. And I don't like men who think that they can get away with what ever they want. I don't like that at all. Contrary to the way you see things, not all women are whores. In fact, if you bothered to slow down and take a long look, you would see that even the whores aren't whores."
"The whores aren't whores? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"All I'm saying is that if you look into the heart of a whore, you will also see a heart. They aren't simply objects, you know?"
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes, that is so."
"Listen, I really don't want any more moral lectures. What I do want at this point is a piece of your tail."
"I told you, you can't have it. I'm saving my anal virginity for the man I love."
"And who is that?"
"I wouldn't know," she said. "I haven't met him yet."
"I think you're a cock tease."
"And I think you are decadent, and demented."
"It takes one to know one," Grant said, sliding off the bed, and grabbing his clothes.
"Don't be angry," she said.
"Don't you worry about your God-damned job," Grant said bitterly. "I won't tell your boss that you let me down."
"But I didn't let you down. I'm just not a whore."
"Well, then," he smiled.
CHAPTER FOUR
After leaving the Westwood Village office of Marquis Construction, Grant Manners drove his new, old Mercedes down to his old apartment. Walking into the depressing bachelor apartment, he looked with disgust at the prison cell he had once called home.
The cheap furnishings, the threadbare carpet and bed spread, all reminded him of his long-lasting days of poverty. For so many years he had patiently waited for his ship to sail in.
At times he felt like he was waiting for Godot - waiting for a deliverance that would never come.
But it did indeed come.
Sitting on his bed, he looked about the room. He wondered how he had managed to survive all those years. All those years of waiting. All those lovely women whom he wanted, but wouldn't have him.
He thought of Iris. The only one who had been kind to him.
Grant got up from the bed, and went to the unpainted bureau, where he kept his socks and underwear. Reaching into the top drawer, he pulled out an envelope, stuffed with photos.
They were photos of the beautiful women who had rejected him in his poverty.
He dumped the contents onto the faded blue bedspread. They were an odd assortment of color and black and white snaps. They had been given to Grant, mostly as a pay-off, to get him out of their lives.
He spread them out, and admired them. He felt a strange mixture of love and hate. All of the women he had loved. And all had hurt him very deeply.
He touched the photo of Lisa. The lovely, young blonde model who had rejected him because he couldn't afford to take her to the places she felt she should be seen in for her career.
Next, he lifted the photo of Caroline - an attractive brunette, a singer, an ego-maniac who had called Grant a loser, and a jerk.
Kimberly, the next photo, was an unusually attractive strawberry-blonde, equipped with a beautiful body, but a socialite's way of seeing things. Grant was simply too poor to keep up with her snotty life style.
Juliet was a struggling actress when Grant first met her. Her youth, and blonde perfection told him that it wouldn't be long before she was in the big time - out of his league. She had been nice to him, at least, before she was discovered. After she made in big in Hollywood, she no longer had time for Grant Mercedes was little more than a whore, he realized, as he looked at the photo of the lovely dark-haired woman. Her black eyes seemed to stare at him, from out of the picture. Her hair was lustrous. Her body was luscious. But Grant never could afford to satisfy the young courtesan's tastes for luxury.
Merri, a successful dancer, and an attractive auburn-haired woman, was nicer than the rest She wanted a platonic relationship with Grant She wanted no more, she said. Not until he got his act together, as she put it.
Grant put the photos back into the envelope, and placed it in his coat pocket.
He looked about the room once more, and then left - never to return, he hoped.
Back in the expensive sports car, Grant Manners sped through Santa Monica, Westwood, and Beverly Hills on his way back to the hotel. Again, to the consternation of the young parking lot attendants, he insisted on parking his own car. Everyone, quite naturally, wanted to operate the fancy automobile.
He found Iris in the hotel suite. She looked stunning.
Grant stood at the door, watching her. She was dressed in a dark purple silk dress, with slits up the side, nearly to her waist. Her small, but firm breasts pressed out against the material. He could see her taut nipples outlined.
"Hi, Grant!" she enthused. "It's so wonderful to be rich. Everyone on Rodeo Drive was so nice to me. You wouldn't believe it. Especially at Gucci's. You should see everything I got."
It was quite obvious she had made many purchases. Jewels, chains, pins, and adornments shined like the sun. She was like a walking advertisement for the expensive shop.
She Was weighed down with luxurious trinkets.
It's wonderful," she sighed. "I just can't believe it."
"How much did you spend?" "Less than ten thousand dollars. Can you believe it? I got away clean. And I bought so many things. Purses, and shoes, and the jewels of course, and I even found the cutest little silver ice tray. It's designed exclusively for Perrier water. I thought that was so creative. I bought some Perrier, too. It's expensive water, but it's so in. When the cubes are set, I'll make you some Perrier with Perrier ice cubes. Isn't that just the cat's pajamas?"
"Yeah, real exciting," he droned. "Well, I'm glad you're having a good time, honey."
"Oh, I sure am," she sighed. "It's so very exciting. I just can't tell you."
"I had a busy day, too," Grant said. "The house will be completed in two months. I'm going to throw a party. It won't be a big party, in terms of attendants, but it will be a very nice party. Especially for me."
"How many people are going to attend?" she asked. "Six." "Six people?" "That's right."
"But that's hardly a party at all. For a new house, there should be many people invited. It should be a big party. A real bash." "It's my party," he smiled. "I'll invite whom I want. I have some special party games in mind, too."
"You're going to invite those women, aren't you?"
"You know very well that I have to."
"I think that's sick," Iris said. "Forget about them. You have me now."
The lovely blonde hooker walked across the thickly carpeted floor towards her man.
As she approached him, she caught sight of a lipstick smear on his collar.
"Why, you've been with another woman, haven't you?"
"Just a friend," he said.
"Already you're two-timing me. Are you spending money on her, too?"
"Listen to you, suddenly you're just like all the rest."
"That's not so," she said. "I waited for a long time for your ship to sail into the harbor of happy dreams."
"Give me a break," he said. "Things shouldn't have to change just because I have money - not between us. You were a hooker. How many men were you sleeping with a day?"
"Don't bring my past into this." "You certainly brought up my past quickly enough."
"Okay," she sighed, putting her arms around the rich man, "let's not fight. I love you. That's the most important thing of all. And I want you to trust my love. Please trust it."
"Yeah, I trust you, Iris," he said. "Like I say, you are a good pal. You stuck by me through thick and thin."
"Do you want to make love?" she asked.
"I think you know the answer to that," he said, putting his arm around her, and pulling her mouth gently to his. His tongue slid slowly into her mouth, and she sucked at it, panting with sexual heat.
"You turn me on," she moaned, pressing her groin against his. "You are my main man."
"For as long as you want me, my trusted friend."
"Come, let's get into bed."
Grant had his clothes off in a flash. It was a warm day, the kind of day which excites one - brings one's sexuality into a heightened focus.
Iris removed her clothes slowly. First came the jewels. She stared hungrily at Grant's naked body while she removed her numerous rings, trinkets, baubles and beads. He felt blood rush to his penis, as he watched the attractive blonde lift her silk dress over her head, revealing her stunning body.
Her legs were long, and lovely. Her pussy was covered with a thick mound of blonde pubes. Her tits looked delicious - ripened melons of succulent texture, topped with swollen nipples.
His cock was fully erect, pounding with desire. Anxious to slide into the depths of her vagina, to fill her with delight, and take her to a never-never land of sexual bliss.
As the lovely blonde turned around, he eyed her ass cheeks. They were just the way he liked them - firm, tight, smooth, succulent little angel food cakes.
He recalled with bitterness how Andrea had refused him entry into her magic cavern.
He moaned softly with anticipatory delight as the stunning blonde moved, cat-like, to the bed, and glided onto the bed cover.
"I'm horny for you, Grant. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you feel better than I ever have before. I want to love you better than any of those other girls."
He smiled.
She reached for his stiffened pecker, and closed her fingers tightly around the meat stick. She began to stroke him, squeezing his cock as she moved her hand slowly up and down the length of him.
She toyed with his nuts while she stroked him, and brought her mouth slowly down to the head of his dick. Her tongue glided over the bulbous cock head, and her mouth descended over the swollen stick like a fish swallowing a morsel of tasty food.
Grant moaned with pleasure as her mouth descended over his fuck stick.
His organ pulsated in her mouth as it worked slowly in and out of the moistened oral confines. She gripped him with her lips, taking him all the way inside. Her tongue wrapped around his meat, as if it were a boa, squeezing its prey.
Slowly, but surely, the lovely blonde pressed her mouth down over the entire cock shaft. She touched bottom, the head of the cock pressing up against the back of her throat.
The organ shook inside her mouth. It trembled with excitement as it worked continuously in and out of the tight warmth of the hooker's loving mouth.
"Yes, baby," he sighed. "That's nice. You sure can suck cock."
She beamed with pride as the tool worked slowly in and out of her mouth.
But then Grant suddenly pulled away, lifting his tool out of her mouth.
"Why did you do that?"
"I'm saving my load for later," he smiled. "But I'll get you off. Don't you worry."
"I wasn't worrying," she said. "You always get me off."
As he moved between the blonde's long legs, she spread them widely apart. He pressed his hands beneath her ass cheeks, and lifted her vagina to his mouth. His tongue searched inside the. moistened fuck pit, and then flicked up against the swollen clit meat.
"Oh, yes, Grant," she murmured, "that feels divine. Don't stop. Take me all the way there. Make me come a million times."
Grant smiled to himself, thankful that he had such a willing, hot woman. He lifted her vagina closely to his mouth, running his tongue deeply inside her crack.
He closed his lips over her clit meat, and sucked, while the woman struggled about on the bed, pressing her pussy up to his mouth, riding the tongue with her clit, like a surfer, riding the crest of a wave at Malibu.
With his tongue buried deeply in her vagina, she pumped and writhed, working rapidly up to the point of sexual release. He nibbled on her magic button, and introduced the tip of his finger into her asshole. Faster and faster he worked his finger in and out of her ass, opening her up, spreading her open, to receive the full length of his manhood. Up her ass.
"Oh, yes," she sighed, working about wildly on the bed, I'm almost there. You've made me feel so good. I just can't believe it."
And then she came.
The beautiful blonde pumped wildly, pressing her vagina up against the man's mouth, and thusly also taking his digit deeply up her asshole.
She squirmed on him, completely filled with lust.
Her orgasm continued to thunder though her. Her hair stood on end as the orgasmic delight worked through her, exciting her, thrilling her, filling her with sensations she was unaccustomed to.
Her body was on fire. On fire with lust.
"Oh, Grant," she groaned, continued to pump wildly up against his mouth, "you do such wonderful things for me. You make me so happy. I just can't believe it."
"You should," he sighed. "You should believe it. It's all very true."
She continued to groan with pleasure, as mini-orgasm, after micro-orgasm worked through her sensory nervous system, telegraphing messages of fulfillment, and satisfaction throughout her.
"You sure know how to suck pussy," she sighed, as Grant moved his mouth from her pussy slash.
"I try to do my best," he smiled, licking the pussy juice from his lips and chin. "No one ever gets me off the way you do - except for me," she said. "That's quite a compliment," Grant said. "It means a lot to me."
"I'm- glad."
"Now, for my treat."
"Treat?"
"Roll over, and show me the angel food cake you sit on."
"That's not angel food cake - it's devil's food."
"Aren't you cute?" he laughed, helping her to roll over on her belly. Knowing just what was in store for her.
"I'm so glad you think so," she smiled, "I hope you always will."
As Iris lay on her belly, her ass exposed, and ready for his touch, Grant spread her ass cheeks apart, and stared hungrily down at the little pink hole.
"I can't tell you how much pleasure this is going to give me," he said, as he opened her behind, and lowered his mouth to her back door. His tongue sank slowly into her ass, working over the sides of her anal sphincter.
She trembled with delight, and worked her ass up against his mouth. His tongue sank deeply inside her asshole, and worked about, thrilling her, lighting her passion kindling. "You know all the tricks," she sighed, enjoying the sensation of the tongue working about in her asshole. "I can't believe it."
"What's there to believe?" he asked, coming up for air.
"I swear, you must have been a hooker in a past life," Iris sighed.
"Maybe so; I certainly do enjoy hookers. I almost feel as though I'm part of the tradition, being that I have loved hookers all my life."
"You like them for what they will let you do to them. Isn't that so?"
"No, it's more than that," he said, lying holding his stiff cock in hand. "I like them because they understand me. We speak the same language."
"Fuck Latin?"
"Very funny!" he laughed, pressing the tip of his dick up against her anus.
"Be gentle," she sighed. "Go slow. There's no rush."
"I'm so hot for your ass pussy, darling," he moaned, pressing the bulbous cock head slowly into the hot depths of her asshole. Don't deny me my pleasure. Relent. Give in to me."
"That's exactly what I'm doing," she sighed, as she pressed her asshole up against the invading cock.
Slowly, but surely, Grant worked the entire length of his tool into the depths of her ass. She was hot and tight inside. His tool sank slowly to the hilt.
The panting, writhing woman, growing accustomed to the sensation of erect cock in her ass, worked her behind about on the fuck stick. It sank slowly to the depths of her rectum.
He pushed and pulled, and she cried out with a mixture of delight and pain.
"This is the greatest," he sighed, as his tool worked slowly, in and out of her asshole.
"Yes," she moaned, "It does feel good. It feels real good."
He worked his swollen cock meat in and out of her. She clamped her sphincter down powerfully on his thundering rod as it worked continually in and out of her.
The cock meat was pounding in her ass. He grabbed her by the sides, for support, and worked his tool powerfully in and out of her ass.
"I've been looking forward to this all day long. It's great. It's wonderful. It's fulfilling."
His tool was all the way inside of her. It pulsated wildly against the walls of her asshole.
She was burning up with sexual fever. Faster and faster his cock pounded in and out of her.
And then, with a thunderous cry, that echoed throughout the hotel suite Grant shot his load of love nectar deeply into her behind. Her ass closed like a flower bud, holding in all the precious nectar.
He collapsed, satisfied, and exhausted, atop her. His tool was buried all the way inside flopping, and squirting.
He was satisfied for the moment, but ht knew that it would not last. He knew tha he would want more, and still more very soon.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two months passed. The period was filled with a great deal of fucking in the hotel room, and shopping sprees. Several times, Grant Manners had to contact his lawyer in the east to sell off properties.
The house progressed well. It took a great deal more money to complete than had originally been expected, but Grant wasn't angered. He was pleased with the progress. The house was everything he wanted it to be. Especially the cellar.
Steve Marquis promised the house would be completed - including interior decorating, and landscaping - within a week. The time had approached to plan the party.
The house-warming party.
Iris wasn't nearly excited about the party as was Grant. For him, it represented the conclusion of a plan that had been laid several years earlier.
There would be six guests. The six women he had most loved during his period of enslavement to poverty. He would have his revenge.
The house was completed.
Grant and Iris moved in. The hooker was thrilled by the palatial home. It was everything her little heart had ever desired. She occupied her days shopping in Beverly Hills for knick-knacks to compliment the lovely interior decorating job.
She was quite pleased.
While Iris busied herself with these light touches, Grant killed time, fantasizing about what was going to happen when he had the girls - had them in his power. Grant wrote out the invitations himself. And then he had them engraved on expensive stock.
When the invitations arrived, he wanted the girls to know that they had been invited to a fabulous party - that Grant was no longer poor. And neither was he undesirable.
Under the formal invitation, he wrote, in his own handwriting, "Hope you can make it to the house-warming party, at my new Palace in Beverly Hills. Come and enjoy, help me celebrate my new found wealth."
He thought that would attract the gold-diggers like flies to sugar.
All of the girls wrote back their RSVP's. The plan seemed to be working.
Grant grew increasingly anxious.
Two days before the party, he went down to the cellar, to give it some last minute decorations.
Grant was fond of descending to the cellar. It was a thrill to push the hidden button in the walnut book case in the den, and watch the wall slide open, revealing a flight of stairs down into the custom-built dungeon.
The architects and the workers had done a fine job lending a material reality to his vision.
He descended to the yellow-tiled floor of the cellar. The main hall was long and narrow, plastered and white-washed. Each of the six cells had elaborately hand-crafted wrought iron grill work - artistic jail bars. Inside, were narrow beds, a toilet, and simple stall showers.
On the wall in each of the cells was a framed photograph of the home owner. He had a particularly wide smile.
A bucket of white paint and a brush stood in the corner of the cellar. With it, the rich, but vengeful Grant Manners painted a name over each of the cells: Lisa, Caroline, Kimberly Juliet, Mercedes, and Merri. Individualized cells for six very individualized, and lovely young women.
Grant lay the bucket of paint and the brush aside, and admired his handiwork.
Moving to the center of the small subterranean court yard, Grant looked down at the tiled floor, staring at two metal hooks on the floor. The hooks were to support the whipping post.
He walked to the far wall, and pressed one side of a hidden door. The door popped open and revealed shelves and hooks laden with instruments of torture, and sexual degradation.
There were whips, handcuffs, rope, masks dildos, nipple clamps, and other assorted instruments of sick pleasure seeking.
Satisfied that everything was in order, Grant left the cellar, and joined Iris in the kitchen, where she was preparing hor d'oeuvres' for the party, to be held the following night.
She was, unusually of late, dressed quite casually, with a loose fitting blouse, and cut-off jeans that were extremely tight-fitting.
He could see the complete outline of her ass, from the rear. Even the blonde pubes were hanging out of the sides of her crotch.
Grant was quite excited as he looked on, with sexual hunger.
Iris was washing vegetables in the sink. He stepped up behind her, and pressed his groin against the crack of her ass.
"Don't you ever think of anything else?" she asked, feeling his stiff prick vibrating in the crack of her ass.
"Not often," he whispered in her ear. "You don't blame me, do you?" "No, not at all."
"Are we all set for the party?" he asked.
"Everything will flow smoothly. But, you never explained to me how you're actually going to get them down into the cellar."
"That's why I want you to make that big bowl of champagne punch. The secret will be in the punch. Don't drink any of it, though."
"You're going to drug them, aren't you?" she asked, continuing to wash the bell peppers.
"You sure figured that out fast," he moaned softly in her ear.
"Don't do that," she protested. "You're going to turn me on."
"That sounds like fun," he said.
"Seriously, Grant, if you keep them here, how are you going to explain their disappearance? I mean, their cars will be here, and everything. I'm so nervous. I don't want to have any hassles with the law. You know, this is kidnapping you're planning."
"I'm well aware of what I'm doing. Don't worry. There's no way the police will be able to link all of them together. None of them know each other. And as for me, I'm sure none of them having any evidence of my existence around the house. After all, they hated me."
"They didn't hate you," Iris corrected him. "You really do get carried away with these fantasies you make up."
"Well, just the same, there aren't going to be any hassles with the law. As for their cars, I've already taken care of that. I rented an old warehouse down in Venice. You'll take the cars down there, and stash them."
"How will I get back?"
"Take a cab, walk, I don't care. Just do it."
"But it seems like such a hassle," she said.
"For all the bucks I've been spending on you," he said, "It's the least you can do."
"Very well. But, are you sure I'm not going to get in trouble with the law? I don't think I would like jail very much at all."
"I really don't think you need to worry about it," he said. "In fact, it Would be nice if you would just mellow out and do this for me without bitching. After all, I've been spending bucks on you like it was going out of style."
"I'm not complaining," she turned, "i just wanted to know what's happening."
"I told you," he smiled, turning her back around, so that her ass was facing him.
He pressed his hands down on her ass globes, and gave them a loving squeeze.
"Are you being horny again?"
"I sure am."
"You never get enough, do you?"
"Not lately."
"Liar."
"Don't give me a hard time," he sighed, reaching around her body, and while kissing her on the back of the neck, he pressed his hand inside her blouse, and toyed with her naked breast.
He squeezed the mammary lovingly, taking the fleshy nipple between his fingers and pulling at it.
She sighed with pleasure.
"You know how to get to me, you know that?" "I'm glad," he sighed, as he moved his hand down to her waist, and opened the button to her cut-offs. He worked his hand slowly inside her short-shorts, toying with her pubic fur, and touching the tip of her clit.
"Oh, Lord," she sighed. "I can't take it. It's "There's no such thing," he said, as he tugged at the jeans, pulling them down over her thighs, thus, exposing her lush mound of blonde cunt kinks. He worked his fingers into the labial canyon of pleasure, and began frigging her.
The lovely blonde hooker pressed her ass out against him, as his cock pressed through his pants into the ass crack.
The blonde moaned with pleasure while Grant Manners rubbed the woman's clitoris between his fingers.
"Oh, God," she sighed. "You make me so hot. Let's go to bed."
"This is much more exciting," Grant sighed, while pulling at her magical meat flap. He pressed his finger tip into her cunny, and sloshed around in the warm juices. He then brought the lubricated digit back up to her clit, and toyed with it. He pulled at it, and toyed with it, until the girl was shaking her ass about like Vesuvius ready to blow. She was ready to come.
He continued to toy with her button, while lowering himself to his knees behind her. He pressed his mouth into the crack of her ass. and pressed the tip of his tongue into the steamy anus.
"Oh, you little devil!" she moaned, as the She was on her tip-toes, straining as her body trembled with the excitement of impending orgasmic release.
"Oh, yes. Grant," the lovely blonde moaned, closing her eyes, and wrinkling her nose, on the verge of leaping into the fiery abyss of sexual lust.
His tongue was darting in and out of her hot asshole, while his fingers toyed with her clit.
She screamed loudly as orgasm exploded deep within her groin. Her body trembled hotly. From head to toe she was on fire with lust.
He withdrew his tongue from her anus, and stood behind her. She was still moaning, writhing, as if dancing in slow motion - a dance of erotic splendor - feeling all the wondrous sensations of letting go, letting the orgasm thrill her to the quick. Taking full advantage of her heightened state of sexuality, Grant pressed the head of his penis up against her tightly puckered hole. She moaned with hot lust as the tool plunged slowly into her bottom.
"It doesn't hurt at all," she moaned. "It feels good. You make me so hot. It's wonderful" "I'm glad," he groaned, as his tool sank slowly into the tightened corridor of her asshole. Her hot bowel clamped down on him squeezing him, pulling him deeply inside of her. The sensation of the warm, smooth bowel turned him on. It turned her on, too.
While Iris clung to the edge of the sink nearly falling off as a result of her sexually-induced epileptic fit, the large penis shaft sunk deeply into- her asshole.
She moaned with hot pleasure as the cock meat sank slowly into the depths of her rectum.
He moved his peter all the way inside of her. She trembled with excitement as the cock lay buried deeply inside of her. She was on fire with the pleasure that existed deep inside her.
"Oh, Grant," she grunted, thrusting her ass powerfully against him, taking his entire length inside.
The sensation of the continuing orgasmic vibrations throughout her body, coupled with the glorious sensation of the cock meat pounding inside her ass, thrilled her. She was on fire with lust. The huge phallus pounded in and out of her ass. She couldn't get enough of it.
It was just the way Grant liked it.
With his tool pounding in and out of her asshole, the young woman felt that she was on the verge of a rectal orgasm. Her first ever.
Grant was also mighty close to the moment of truth - when his shaft would shoot a hot stream of burning spunk up her ass.
His tool was buried completely inside of her rectal chamber. He ceased moving. He simply let it lay. Thundering, throbbing, on fire with lust, the cock was ready to shoot.
He worked it slowly in and out of her. And then he shot. A hot jet of liquid lust filled her behind.
"Oh, Grant," she groaned, "I can feel it. It feels wonderful. It's so good. Don't stop. Don't ever stop. Keep fucking me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's heavenly."
He didn't stop. After the initial rush of his orgasm was complete, he began moving his rod slowly in and out of her asshole. As he pumped, he shot additional gushers, milking himself inside of her.
"It's like an inner bath," she sighed.
"Like a cock enema," he couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of the patter.
As his cock was satiated in her rectum, he slid out of her, and reached for a paper towel to wipe himself off.
"You make me feel wonderful," he sighed.
"You aren't exactly a kill-joy, yourself."
The next evening, in final preparation for the arrival of the guests, both Grant and Iris were extremely excited. And even more nervous. They ran about like nervous chickens through the house, making last minute preparations.
Iris was insecure. She was afraid that the other girls would look better than she did. There wasn't a mirror in the house that she hadn't stood before, admiring herself - loving herself. Craving her own likeness. She studied herself from every angle, and yet, she wasn't quite satisfied.
She continuously returned to the dressing room, to add just one more piece of jewelry - just one more adjustment on her lovely satin costume.
Grant was wandering through the house with a hard-on. Already he was visualizing himself in the basement - with the victims. His cock pounded with his ever-growing lust for vengeance. He would have the final word. And it was this vision that thrilled him so.
As the eight p.m. hour drew close, and the female guests would begin arriving, Grant pulled Iris aside.
"Would you stop staring in the mirror for long enough to listen to what I have to say?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"Now, I want you to greet the guests. I'm too nervous ..."
"But I'm more nervous than you are," she said. "What if they look better than I do?"
"Would you stop being so damned vain? I can't stand it. I'm only nervous because of what I've gone through with them. It will be difficult for me to face them. I'm going to go into the secret hiding place, inside the wall. I'll watch through the eyes of the painting."
"You mean I have to wing it on my own?"
"Don't be nervous," he said. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."
"Yeah, sure."
"Don't don't me," Grant grew angry, turning red in the face, "I haven't waited all this time to have my plan backfire on me now. I tell you, it will flow smoothly. They'll be here - out of curiosity, if for no other reason. I know how those bitches think."
"You are so angry."
"Don't you worry about my anger," he said. "I'll take care of everything."
"How long to I have to baby sit for your victims?"
"Just until they're all here," he said. "And then I'll take care of them."
"You make me go through the weirdest trips," she sighed. "I swear!"
The door bell rang.
"Okay, that's one of them now. I'm going to hide. You keep them away from the punch until they're all here. I don't want any of them passing out before they're all ready."
"You already put in the knock-out drops?" "Nothing escapes my attention when it comes to my sweet revenge," he smiled, and then dashed off into the other room, where he entered the hollowed wall, by way of of a hidden door.
While he climbed up behind the portrait of an anonymous model, he moved the painted eyes aside, and peered out into the living room.
Iris went to the front door and opened it.
"Am I at the right place?" the lovely young blonde outside asked, staring at Iris with confusion.
"That depends, sugar," Iris said. "What's your name?"
"I'm Lisa," the sophisticated blonde beauty smiled.
"Well, you're in the right place, come right on in." Iris was immediately jealous of the petite young blonde. "You're the model, right?"
"Yes," Lisa yawned, feigning boredom - for effect. "Is Grant about?"
"He's occupied right now," Iris smiled. "Won't you come in. Hell be along shortly."
"Yes, but I can't stay long. I have just so many things to do. There's just never enough time to do all things I must."
"Yeah, honey, I know how it can be."
"Ten me, where did Grant get the kind of bucks required to build a palace like this? This is some house."
"An inheritance," Iris noted.
"What are you to him?"
"A friend."
"He's not hooked up with anyone yet?"
"Not that I know of," Iris said.
"Grant was always such a nice man," Lisa smiled. "I don't know why he stopped seeing me suddenly. I guess we just didn't see eye to eye. But, as I frequently say, why not let bygones be bygones? I'm not one to hold a silly grudge."
"Precisely," Iris smiled. "Won't you have something to drink, and eat? I made everything myself."
The punch looks nice," the lovely young blonde model stepped towards the glass bowl containing the custom-spiked beverage. "Not the punch!" Iris rushed to the woman's side.
"Oh, shit," Grant murmured, as he looked through the eyes of the painting at the confusion below.
"What's wrong with the punch?" Lisa asked.
"Oh, nothing's wrong with the punch," the blonde hooker said. "It's just not ready yet. The recipe I used said it must sit for at least an hour, before being served. I don't know why, but I always follow recipes to the letter. One can never be too careful."
"Sounds weird to me," Lisa said. "But I'll wait. Let me see, yes, I think I'll just have a glass of wine. And one of those pretty trifles over there."
Grant was staring hungrily at the petite beauty. He was thinking about what he was going to do to her when he had her safely locked away.
The doorbell rang again.
This time it was Caroline, the brunette songstress. Grant's cock was pounding with expectation as he watched the lovely brunette, dressed in a very tight-fitting pant suit, enter the house, and move directly to the table holding the goodies.
"I'm famished," the lovely singer smiled.
"Don't drink the punch yet," Lisa said. "It's not quite ready."
"Fine, what are you drinking?"
"White wine," Lisa replied.
"I'll have the same," the brunette spoke to Iris as if she were the maid.
The hooker swallowed hard with anger, and poured a glass of wine for the singing sensation, who was soon to be a caged canary.
Grant was hot with lust, and perverse desire for revenge, as he continued to stare out of the eyes of the painting.
"Where did he get the bucks?" Caroline asked. "He was always such a poor slob."
"An inheritance," Lisa said.
"How nice," Caroline smiled. "I always thought he deserved to have a tidy fortune. It's good he finally has some money. The fellow deserves it. Are one of you his?"
"I knew him first!" Lisa said.
"But he liked me the most," Caroline spoke up.
"I'm just a friend," Iris said. "I'm not in the running."
The door bell rang again, and again . . .
Soon, all six of the invited guests had arrived. They all were dressed to kill. Their make-up was immaculate. They were a fine group of gorgeous hussies.
Grant, hidden between the wall, was burning with passion. His cock was stiffened with maddening lust as he stared down upon the assemblage of the cock teasers.
He wasn't sure which one he thought was the cutest. They all looked gorgeous to him. He wanted them all. He craved them all. Lisa and Caroline had become instant friends. They were off in the corner gossiping away. The rest were all standing about the table laden with good things to eat.
They had all been instructed not to drink of the punch - yet.
Grant looked at Kimberly. Her strawberry-blonde hair was braided and tied up against the sides of her head. She looked -scrumptious. Grant couldn't wait to have a taste of the lovely socialite - one of six who had spurned his affections in the midst of his abject poverty.
His eyes turned to Juliet - the extraordinarily beautiful blonde film starlet. It was no wonder that she was considered a hot property on the Hollywood film lots. In her tight Sassoon jeans, and skin-tight tank-top, the curvaceous.. blonde awakened long dormant dreams of lust. A lust that had never been brought to fruition.
Like all of the women assembled at the party - with the exception of Iris, Grant Manners had never had an opportunity to make love with Juliet. Not because he didn't want to. But because he was rebuffed by her, time and time again.
"I can't give myself to you - there's just nothing in it for me," she used to say.
Grant never forgot the painful sting of those words.
Mercedes was looking at good as ever - dressed in the nearly transparent Japanese print dress she was wearing. He could see her dark little nipples, as they pressed against the material of her dress. She wasn't wearing panties either. He could see the carefully trimmed pubic triangle through the dress. "You have to understand that I make my living off men," Mercedes used to say. "I can't be giving it away. That would be silly of me."
And then there was Merri. The dark-skinned Italian girl who declined his advances because he didn't have enough money to rent an apartment for her, and buy her the items that "a lovely young woman requires."
Grant's cock was pounding in his trousers as he looked out over the fleshy feast assembled in the room below. He wanted all of them. He wanted to consume them, taste of them, suck them, have them completely.
He unzipped his trousers. He didn't want to make his appearance in his presently turned-on condition.
He wanted to be calmer.
He didn't want to be so horny.
Staring out through the eyes of the painting, he took his huge erection in hand, and began to stroke himself.
His eyes moved from young lovely to young lovely. He could feel his nuts pounding with excitement while his hand moved rapidly up and down the length of his manhood.
His balls ached with the tension. His cock was hard as rock. Faster and faster he moved his hand along the stiffness. He could feel the jism begin to boil.
He didn't know which one to fuck in his imagination while his hand worked rapidly over the length of his fuck stick. He wanted to fuck them all.
And so it was that his eyes darted from woman to woman while his hand worked at high speed over the length of his stiffened phallus.
At the last minute his eyes fell upon Juliet He came - his jism squirting against the side of the hollowed out wall.
He watched the jism running down the side of the wall, forming a puddle at his feet. He smiled with satisfaction, and tucked his satisfied fuck stick back in his trousers.
He slid the painted eyes back in place, and left the hollow wall, by way of the secret door.
He was anxious about facing the lovely girls. He was insecure. Despite the fact that he felt supremely confident that he had them all where he wanted them - at last, he was still insecure. He couldn't quite forget the pain of the multiple rejections.
All because of money. Something which he knew - despite all the fun he had thus far had with it - didn't amount to shit. He couldn't take it with him. It couldn't do much for him at all. It didn't change him. He was still the same person. Only, now, people seemed to be nicer to him. Nicer because of the vast wealth he possessed.
Grant Manners knew this. Knew it too well. But one thing the money did buy - one thing which he could never accomplish before - was vengeance. And that's why the women were assembled in his new house.
Grant swallowed hard, and entered the living room.
The idle chatter ceased, as they women all turned to stare at the man who was dressed in hand-tailored imported silk - raw silk pants, and jacket, and polished silk shirt. His hair had been styled, he wore a gold chain around his neck, and a solid gold Cartier wrist-watch. His Gucci shoes especially caught the girls' attention.
"Welcome!" he smiled. They remained silent.
"I propose a toast," he said, marching directly to the bowl of creatively-spiked punch. He began to ladle out cups of the tasty sleeping potion.
"To success," he smiled, raising his cup to his mouth, but not drinking.
"To success," the girls called out in unison, as they did drink.
CHAPTER SIX
Iris helped Grant drag the unconscious women down the hidden stairs, into the custom-built dungeon.
"They sure went out like a light," Iris noted.
"Yeah, that Thorazine really works," Grant smiled, as he placed the unconscious women in their pre-appointed cells, and locked the doors on them.
When the task was completed, Grant and Iris moved upstairs, where they relaxed, and had a laugh.
"So, what do you think of my plan now?"
"You are a smart fellow," she sighed, "but I still think that you get carried away with yourself. I hope all of this doesn't blow up in your face."
"Not a chance," he smiled. "I know what I'm doing."
"Life isn't as predictable as you might think," she said.
"With the bucks I have, I call the shots. I make my own predictions."
"Don't you feel like you are playing God?" she asked.
"In a way, I suppose I am," he said. "But in this crazy world, any man who has the bucks, can be what ever he wants. It's only when you are poor that you don't have a chance."
"You are so bitter."
"I have my nice side as well."
"Do you really have control of yourself?" she asked. "I hope you know that what you're doing is against the law. And, besides, it's down right amoral."
"I know, I know," he said. "But I can't help myself. I'm totally captivated by it all. I can't tell you how much all of this means to me. It's everything."
Ill Weil, if you must, you must." "I must," he said, rising from the sofa. "Where are you going?" "They should be starting to wake-up," he said. "I want to greet them."
"I don't understand you. But you do what you must do. I'll just straighten up." "Yeah, you do that."
Grant Manners opened the secret passageway, and descended into the subterranean dungeon.
The girls were indeed awake. And they were raising quite an uproar.
"What the hell are you doing to us?" they screamed.
"You'll never get away with it."
"I should have known you hadn't changed. Once a rogue, always a rogue."
"You're just no good."
"I hate you."
"How could you?"
"Shame on you." "So, this is the only way you could deal with us, eh? You have to kidnap us to have sex with us. You're a loser Grant Manners. This doesn't change a thing in my book. I hate you." "It's more than just sex, girls," he smiled, triumphantly, "this is utter revenge. This is your new home. I am going to show you how to toe the line. I am going to teach you a lesson. This is your new home. What do you think?"
They all raised a cackle of protest - like a chorus of uptight hostility-' Grant stepped to the recessed closet, and opened it. He began to remove his clothes, carefully folding them, and hanging them on hangers inside.
Completely naked, his cock firm with desire, the handsome rich man removed a set of hand-cuffs, and several lengths of rope. These, he held in one hand, while removing a small riding crop with his other hand. He was prepared. Removing the ring of keys, Grant Manners marched, naked, past the row of cells. The lovely women, confined within, stared hatefully at him.
They knew now what lay in store.
A methodical man, Grant Manners decided to start at one end of the dungeon hall, and work his way down. He stepped before Lisa's cage. She moved back from the bars, her face drained of color.
"How dare you do this criminal thing," she said, hatefully, as she backed into a corner of the cell. "This is absolutely despicable."
"You can babble your high class lingo all you want, bitch," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, you deserve all that's coming to you, and more."
"You are so crude."
He opened the cell door, and slammed it shut behind him. He placed the items of abuse, and the keys, on a small table that ran along the wall of the cell.
"How do you like your new home, my dear?" he smiled, turning to face her, his cock standing at full attention.
The dungeon was completely still. The girls were all listening intently - anxious to know what would befall them.
"Do you want to undress yourself, or do you want some help from me?"
"I hate you!" she began to weep.
"Save your tears for your funeral, honey," he groaned.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"That all depends," he smiled, sadistically.
"On what?" she whimpered.
"On how well you play along with me."
"You are so cruel," she moaned, beginning to undress. "You are the meanest man I've ever known."
"You started it, Lisa," he said. "You were the one who started with the cruel shit. It wasn't me."
"How could you make me do this?" she whimpered, removing her blouse.
"I had to have you," he said. "You must understand."
He was staring anxiously at her swollen breasts. The creamy smooth surface of her tit, topped so lovingly with pinkish nipples, begged for his touch, his kiss, his suck. And bite.
"Don't look at me that way," she pleaded, as she backed away from the obsessed sadist.
"Take your skirt off - everything," he moaned, finding his parched throat made it difficult for him to swallow.
He watched with sexual lust, as the petite young blonde stepped out of her skirt, revealing her lovely body, curvaceous hips, blonde-covered pussy, and best of all, a firm, tight young ass.
"I can't even begin to tell you how long I've waited for this to happen," he said. "I've waited a long time, Lisa. And now I'm going to have my revenge."
"That doesn't surprise me," she said, a last attempt at one-upmanship.
"Does this surprise you?" he said, grabbing her tightly in his arms, and pressing his mouth passionately to hers. His tongue sank deeply into her mouth.
She nearly gagged on it. She tried to press him away. But, alas, her young, girlish strength was no match for his bulk, and his greedy lust.
He pressed the young woman down on the cot. Sitting beside her, he rammed his tongue in and out of her mouth.
She began to surrender, to display signs of fledgling eroticism, "Don't like it too much, Lisa," he sighed, pulling his tongue from her mouth, and reaching for the hand-cuffs.
"That would take all my fun away."
Grant grabbed the young woman's wrists, and pulled her arms out above her head.
"What are you doing?"
"Just shut up, bitch!"
He pressed her arms through the bars of the military-style head board, and cuffed them together. She couldn't free her arms.
"Isn't that nice?" he sighed, sadistically, and he pressed his mouth against hers, and then used the tip of his tongue to follow the line of her jaw down to her chest, working down to the arm pit, where he licked, and sucked, arousing the woman against her will.
He licked his way down across her ribs, and up to her navel. At her belly button, he pressed the tip of his tongue into the shallow pit of birth, and then kissed his way slowly towards the mound of blonde pubic hair, which he had now only seen for the first time.
The young woman was trying her best not to be aroused. Her legs were pressed tightly together. She was staring at the ceiling, trying her best not to give into the pleasure.
Yet, Grant knew she was feeling pleasure. He could smell it - the pungent odor of hot pussy.
He forced her legs apart, but she pressed them back together, and held- them tightly together, as if daring him to touch her vagina - her priceless possession.
"I'll teach you to fight me," he groaned, reaching for the lengths of rope.
He used the heavy hemp to secure her ankles to the metal-barred foot board.
"You have to tie me up to take me, you cur - you coward."
"Shut up!" he hollered, and then smacked her across the face.
She did shut up. She stared at him with horror.
"I'll teach you. You still don't have any manners - you bitch."
He stood at the head of the bed, his huge organ held fast in his hand.
He pressed his monster organ up against her lips. She tried to pull away.
"What's your hurry, wench?"
"You monster. I'll never suck your cock.
"If you don't," he said, "I'll really give you a beating that you would wish caused an early demise."
She stared at him with shock.
"You just take this nice stick in your mouth. And you better suck it as though it were made of gold."
The woman, fearful of physical abuse, and terrified of damage to her beautiful body, opened her mouth wide, taking the huge phallus inside her warm, moistened mouth.
"So nice," Grant sighed, as his cock slowly entered her mouth. She ran her tongue over the head of his rod, and she moaned with pleasure.
Slowly, in and out of the lovely mouth, fuscia-colored lipstick still adhering to her lips, Grant pressed his mighty wanger. The rod filled her mouth. She wrapped her tongue around it, stroking it, pleasing it, while Grant worked it with increased rapidity, in and out. She was nearly gagging on it, as it pounded in and out of her mouth.
He could feel his jism begin to boil in his sacs. He knew it wouldn't be very long until it was time to shoot - spunk shot from a cannon, into the lovely young woman's mouth.
But Grant withdrew. He wasn't ready to fill her mouth with love goo.
He was saving the first load for her cunny.
Grant pulled his stick from her mouth, and moved down on the bed, moving between her firm, golden legs. He crouched before her, enjoying the look of hate, painted upon her sultry, Candice Bergen-like face. It thrilled him to see her misery, as his fingers spread her labial wings apart, and he stared with delight at the crimson fuck meat, the hot pink clitoris, and the tightened, puckered, pink anus.
He lowered his mouth to her groin, kissing her vagina lovingly, running his tongue about the sumptuous banquet hall of perverse delights. He ran his tongue into the pit of her passion. She tried to jerk away.
But there was no escape.
"Try as you may," he smiled, "you're not going anywhere. I have you all to myself. I am going to have you. Completely have you."
"Scoundrel!" she spat, but the saliva missed his head, and fell harmlessly to the floor.
"You'll pay for that later," he smiled, hatefully.
And then Grant Manners pressed his mouth tightly to the woman's vagina. His tongue sank deeply into her crack. Her pussy lips were fluttering with delight. Hot juices ran from the cunt hole. Her groin was on fire.
Still, she tried her best to feign indifference.
He took supreme delight in the realization that she didn't want him to witness her pleasure.
He concentrated artfully on her clitoris, taking the magic meat button inside his mouth, and caressing it lovingly between tongue and tooth.
"Oh, yes," she finally succumbed, "It feels grand. I think I'm going to come."
He continued to suck, seemingly indifferent to the pleasure she was deriving. But as the golden haired prick tease rose to the summit of her desire - to the precipice of the cliff of hot passion - he pulled his mouth away from her pussy.
"Don't stop!" she pleaded. But he did stop.
He loomed before her vagina, with a sadistic grin on his mouth.
"Let me come," she begged. "I was so close. Please don't torment me like this. Take me all the way. All the way home."
He nibbled on her clit. Taking her back up the rungs of the ladder of love. Her breathing was once more labored. She was again hanging over the cliff of her passion.
Her vagina was trembling with delight - the moment was at hand.
"Oh, Grant," she moaned, "yes, yes, I'm almost there. You're so good to me."
Again, the angry young rich man pulled his mouth from her treasure box.
"For God's sake," she whined, "let me come. Please."
"Don't make me laugh," he shouted, angrily. "Don't think for a minute I would give you pleasure. You deserve no pleasure. All you deserve is complete abuse."
With that, the demonic heir moved between the woman's legs, holding his erect prick in his hand.
He pressed it up to the entrance of her vagina.
"Don't fuck me," she cried out. "No one but true lovers have ever been inside me."
"Don't make me laugh, you little bitch," he said, as he pressed the thick head of his cock slowly into her box.
"Oh, God," she moaned, as he pressed slowly, deeply inside of her. She wasn't hot. She wasn't lubricated. Her box was frigid. But her clit was deliciously ripe with passion.
He knew this, and purposely touched it - teasingly - as his huge cock pressed slowly into the pit of her fuck hole.
As his cock burrowed its way slowly into the depths of her fuck hole, the dry pussy walls began to moisten with lubricating juices. The woman sighed with pleasure. But he didn't let that stop him. He continued to ram his tool in and out of her pussy hole, sliding over the hot juices, banging the mouth of her uterus.
The woman moaned with pain as he pounded too hard up against the sensitive organ tip. She cried out with pain. But he only laughed. He continued to pound his tool in and out of her pussy.
He toyed with her clit. He pressed his finger up against her anus - tormenting, teasing, prying, scraping.
"You have no morals," she cried, as he banged. away, fingering her private parts, enjoying the passion immensely.
"You will go to hell for this. You'll see."
"Shut up!" he screamed, banging his tool in and out of her cunt, and pressing up against her overly-sensitive fuck tissue.
The girl was feeling no pain. In fact, she was feeling pleasure.
That's not what Grant Manners had in mind in the way of revenge.
He reached for her nipple, and twisted it. The woman screamed. He twisted it harder.
And she screamed harder.
While she screamed, he continued to bang away in her box. This was giving him pleasure.
He could feel the spunk begin to boil in his sacs. He was almost at the point of release.
But he wasn't going to shoot in her pussy.
He had been saving the best for last.
Pulling his thundering dick out of her pussy, he reached down to begin untying her wrist restraints.
"Please let me enjoy," she pleaded. "Stop tormenting me like this." He didn't answer.
He untied her shapely ankles, and jerked her legs up over her head, thus exposing her lovely ass He stared at the puckered hole. He jammed his cock up against her hole, listening to the young woman - who had obviously never been buggered before - cry out with pain, and apprehension.
"That's right, bitch," he laughed, "scream. I hope it kills you."
"Have mercy."
"Mercy my ass."
And then he shoved his sex piston powerfully up her behind, sinking the hot fuck stick deeply into her ass - filling her completely. She cried out with passion.
The organ blasted in and out of her newly opened Hershey highway.
Deliberately increasing the tempo of his bugger strokes, so as to further inflame the pain in the woman's ass, Grant Manners pressed her legs completely down over her head, so that her toes practically touched the hand-cuffs, and with the woman's pelvis and ass thus pulled perpendicular to the bed, he stood above her, and pressed his cock all the way down into her asshole. Lisa screamed a blood-curdling scream. Her face whitened with shock. It was apparent that she was suspended over the pit of forgetfulness - ready to pass out.
He slowed his strokes, waiting for her to come around, -to wake-up to all the further pain he had in store for her.
As she came back to reality, he once more continued plunging his hard tool into the depths of her hot asshole. He plunged in to the hilt, driving the tip of his manhood into the very depths of her asshole. She cried out with pain.
But still he pounded. His meat stick, like a length of red-hot steel, pistoned in and out of her ass. She was wide-open now, stretched as though she had just taken an enormous shit.
In and out of the tight hole he worked his cock.
She screamed with pain.
"God I like this," he laughed, working his tool in and out of this most pleasant orifice.
The woman was crying out in pain. He was fucking her as if it was his last fuck on planet earth.
And then he came.
She groaned, her body covered with sickly sweat, her vagina and asshole bathed in organic-lubricating juices, come shooting into ass. filling rectum with burning hot love lava.
After he had finished shooting off his load into her newly opened anal fuck tunnel, he pulled out of her, and stood at the side of the bed, his cock, covered with blood, semen, and lubricating juices, with flakes of fecal matter adhering.
Lisa, completely exhausted, and filled with pain and humiliation, looked at him with terrible hate in her eyes. "I would kill you if I could," she said.
"I'd like to see you try," he laughed. "You'd look real cute with both your arms torn out of their sockets."
"You would really do that, wouldn't you?"
"Once I get going," he snickered, "It's damn hard to stop me."
She lay limp, even while he removed the hand-cuffs, and untied her ankles.
He smiled with confidence, and a sense of victory, as he took the sex toys, and left Lisa's cell, locking it securely after him.
The girls were all standing at the bars, staring out with fear painted on their faces.
They were wondering who would be next.
He stood before Caroline's cage.
"So, how is my little caged canary doing tonight?" he smiled, hatefully.
"Don't you get near me, you maniac," she sighed, with fear, as she backed away from the bars.
"You just shut up," he said, as he opened her bird cage, and entered.
The lovely, flat-chested brunette, back away to the sink. She stared with horror as Grant slammed the cage shut, and placed the toys on the shelf.
She was particularly horrified to stare at the besmirched tool - ridden as it was with evidence of prior perversion.
"You are a fiend - a monster, not to be believed," she moaned, as she stared at the soiled organ.
"Talk all you want, bitch," he laughed. "I always liked your sultry singer's voice. You sound like Lauren Bacall. In fact, if you would let your hair grow out, you might look just like her, in her younger-youth."' "I like my hair short."
"What are you, a dyke or something?"
"As a matter of fact, I am."
"Is that why you wouldn't let me get into your pants?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm sorry, you poor, unfortunate dyke, but I'm going to have to punish you anyway."
"Please," she pleaded. "Have some mercy on me.
"Take off your clothes, bitch."
"Please."
"Save it, cunt."
The woman, realizing the hopelessness of her situation, began to undress.
When she was completely nude, Grant paused to admire her form.
He liked the small, brown-tipped tits. They looked childish - like an adolescent's.
He liked her thin body, the narrow, almost boyish hips, the mound of brown pubes. He liked the firm, child-like ass very much as well.
"You and I are going to have a lot of fun together," he smiled, his soiled organ growing stiff again.
In the background, Lisa's cries of pain, and anguish filled the dungeon.
"Suck my cock now," he directed Caroline.
"Please, not that," she cried. "It's really so dirty."
"I want it cleaned off, bitch." "You cruel boy."
"Call me boy again, and I'll take a shit in your mouth." "You wouldn't!" "Try me."
With tears welling in her eyes, the lovely dark-haired lesbian moved before the rich, vengeful sadist, and lowered herself to her knees. The filthy pecker was poised before her mouth. She closed her eyes, and reached for it.
"Open your eyes, damnit!"
She did. Realizing the hopelessness of her situation, she placed her hand over the swollen pecker, and brought her mouth to the cock head. She ran her tongue very slowly over the head of the organ, and took the filthy meat stick slowly inside her mouth.
She whimpered with disgust as she tasted the bitter juices, and matters, of earlier plungings.
Slowly, she opened her mouth wider. He sank his tool slowly into her mouth - all the way. He stopped only when his sweaty balls were resting against her chin.
He smiled with conquest, while she wept, tasting the bitterness (quite literally) of her defeat. The cleaned-off cock shaft moved slowly but surely in and out of her mouth.
He was almost ready to ejaculate.
Time to stop.
He pulled his happy prick out of her mouth.
"Get on the bed," he ordered her.
The lovely brunette did as she was told.
She cowered to the bed, fearful he would use the crop on her.
"Lie on your belly, bitch," he commanded.
The sad woman lay on her belly, looking back over her shoulder, while Grant took the short riding crop in his hand.
"Please don't hit me with that." she begged.
"Don't tell me what to do."
"Please ..."
"Shut up!" he screamed, the veins popping on his forehead, and along the side of his head.
And with that, he cocked the riding crop, and struck her savagely across the ass.
She screamed with pain as the riding crop struck her again and again.
Caroline cried out with pain. She tried to turn, to run, to escape - but there was no where to go.
Nowhere.
He beat her even as she curled up in the fetal position.
His cock grew increasingly stiff as he beat her, leaving huge red welts across her ass, and back.
Only when he no longer wanted to fuss with the riding crop did he let it drop to the ground.
It wasn't out of concern for the pain. It was because he was ready to take her. Grant grabbed the miserable young woman, and forced her down on the bed, on her belly. He spread her ass cheeks apart. "No, not that." "Yes, that!"
He prepared to mount her. Pressing the head of his dick to her anus, he plunged inside.
The brunette lesbian grasped the bed covers tightly in her hands. She held on for dear life, as the sadist's huge, throbbing organ pressed slowly into the hot, tightened depths of her asshole.
She cried with the pain. And the humiliation. The penis slowly jammed into her depths. She writhed with discomfort, trying to push away from the intrusion.
But there was no escape. Deeper and deeper he pressed. He was pleased with the sensations in his nuts. The come sacs tingled with hot pleasure, while his tool sank to the limit.
"How can you be so cruel?" she cried out, the pain working its way throughout her body.
"Because it gives me pleasure," he sighed, biting her on the back of the neck, as his tool worked continuously, rhythmically, in and out of the newly opened rear entrance.
He could feel the orgasm begin to build. He was tired. He was reaching for it. Trying to make it last, yet it was more work than pleasure at this point. He strained to release his load in her ass.
Grant knew he couldn't stop until he had filled her - shot gobs of hot spunk deeply into her ass. That's what he wanted. That's what he had to have.
Straining, pressing, writhing, hot sweat of sex, parched throat, eyes tightened with concentration, and ejaculation.
Grant groaned hotly, as his jism went shooting powerfully into the brunette's rear She moaned with discomfort. The semen bat was upsetting. Her ass ached with pain.
She had never been so humiliated in her life Still, he plunged, and pressed the tool about in her hot little hole.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pulling his limpening fuck stick from Caroline's rear-end, Grant Manners left the brunette's cell, locking her in for the night. He decided to wait until the morning, before taking on the other girls. He wanted to be fresh for the event. For the sadism. And the satisfaction.
The fresh girls - the women who had not yet felt the anger of his stiff cock - watched through the bars while he dressed. They knew their time was coming. Their faces were painted with fear.
Grant Manners went up to the den, closing the secret door behind him. He found Iris in the kitchen, just finishing up with the dishes.
"So, are you enjoying your sick little party?"
"I'm all tuckered out," Grant sighed, sitting at the breakfast table.
"How about a cup of coffee?" she asked.
"Sounds fine. Make it strong, and black."
She spoke while she prepared the instant coffee.
"Tell me, Grant, do you really get off on what you're doing? I mean, does it do something for you - sexually?"
"I must say," he paused only a moment for reflection, "it is sort of a turn-on to force myself on a woman who doesn't want me. T6 tie her up, slap her around a bit, and then fuck her in every orifice. Yeah, I guess you can say it's a bit of a turn-on."
"Men! I really don't understand you people. Women are to love, to nurture, and to nourish. What you want is sick."
"You never complained about our love making before," he said, taking the steaming cup of coffee from the former hooker's hand.
"Listen, honey, in my line of work, you learn to keep rude comments to yourself. It's bad public relations to run off at the mouth. Whores have got to be nice."
"That doesn't really answer my question."
"Yeah, I know," she said. "Well, let me put it this way, Grant: you are sensuous and all that, but you definitely seem to get off on doing nasty things - you know, things that hurt. Like fucking me in the ass."
"You never told me that before," he said.
"You never asked."
"Listen, I like what I like."
"And I like what I like, too," she smiled. "But you don't usually care about me having what I like. It always seems to work the other way."
"Okay, well, maybe I'll be able to change after all of this," he said. "Like, after I finish with all of these bitches, perhaps I'll find a nice streak inside me. I know I seem like an asshole at times. When I was a kid, I recall being nice. I don't know where I went, wrong."
"I hope you can change," she said. "You have a lot of nice things going for you. Why do you think I stood by you all that time while you were struggling?"
"I thought it was because you liked the way I fucked."
"You fuck good, like I said," she winked, "but it's more than that. It's all that I saw in you - inside your soul, that turned me on. I hope you'll try to be everything you can be, Grant. Since you've inherited all this money, you've let it go to your head a bit."
"Listen to who's talking!" he laughed. "You've been spending my money as lavishly as I have."
"Okay, let's just drop the entire subject - if you're going to be so cruel about it."
"Come on, don't be sore," he pleaded. "I'm tired. Those chicks are draining me."
"I don't feel sorry for you at all."
"But you should. I really am facing a dilemma. You see, everything has suddenly come true. And it doesn't mean shit. I mean, it's just a big let-down."
"You mean this thing with the girls?" she asked.
"Yeah, that, for sure," he stared out the kitchen window, not even taking note of the splendid landscape design, "but it's the money, too. It really hasn't changed my life. Like I have all these great things, and everyone is very nice to me, but so much is missing. I can't tell if it's worse now, than before."
"You're insane, you know that?"
"Give me a break."
"No, I mean it. You see, first you are miserable because you don't have any money, and all those rich bitches wouldn't give you a chance between their legs. You were stuck with me. Listen, I'm not complaining. No, not at all. I'm just trying to make a point. All those years you pissed and moaned about how it would be if you only had money. Okay, pal, now you have money. Money is what everyone wants, right? I mean, people die for money. They kill for money. They forsake home, wife, mistress, and child. They give up everything for it. And then what?" "I don't know."
"Well, if they are really well adjusted, it doesn't mean a big thing. They eat better, buy nicer things, take more vacations, retire. I don't know. All sorts of things."
"I don't want any vacations. Shit, I don't even feel comfortable in this house. And the car is already starting to bore me. I mean, big fucking deal."
"Maybe you are just realizing that all the money and material things just don't mean that much."
"No, I don't think it's that," he said. "I mean, when you come right down to it, what else is there? I don't believe in God. And love, I mean, what the fuck is love supposed to be? It seems like some sort of stupid game, where women figure out the best way to get money, in exchange for fucking, which they seem to think is a bore anyway. Like, what the fuck is it all about?"
"Don't look to me for your answers," she pulled away, as if feeling a sense of responsibility for the confused young man. "I'm a hooker. What do I know about such things?"
"Yeah, that's right. Well, listen, Iris, it's just nice to have you around to talk to. You know, you're not such a bad egg."
"Thank you," she smiled. "It's about time you came to realize that."
The phone rang, just as Grant way about to take Iris in his arms, and kiss her passionately on the mouth.
Iris lifted the receiver. "Grant Manners residence. Yes, wait one moment. Let me see if he's in."
She pressed her hand to the mouthpiece. "It's a woman with Marquis Construction. Andrea, I think she said her name was. Why would she be calling so late? It's after midnight."
"That's all right," he said. "I'll take it in the other room."
Iris looked at him strangely.
Grant went to the living room, and lifted the extension phone off the instrument. "Okay, Iris, hang-up."
He listened for the click.
"Hello, Andrea," he said into the phone.
"This is a surprise."
"Hi, Grant," she said. "I just called to make sure that everything was all right with the new house. I know it's late. I'm not disturbing you, am I? Was that the maid who answered?"
"No, that's a friend of mine. The house is fine, Andrea."
"You're not angry with me?"
"Why should I be angry?"
"I suppose I gave you a bad time that afternoon, in the VIP room."
"That was already months ago. It's all forgotten."
"You're sweet. Then we can be friends?"
"Sure, why not?"
"When can I see you?" she asked, anxiously.
"Not for awhile, I'm afraid. I'm in the middle of a project."
"Nothing to do with the dungeon of yours, I hope."
"No, that was all just a joke, Andrea. A goof. Don't you think it's a laugh?"
"I would if I believed you," she said. "But I'm not sure if you are really in Control of yourself. You frighten me at times."
"Get off it, girl. I know what I'm doing. You know me - Mr. Big Bucks himself."
"Oh, I see ... " "Well, listen kid," he blew a kiss into the phone line, "It was great of you to call. Call me again some time."
"Grant?"
"So long, lady."
He hung up the phone.
"Who was that?" Iris asked, immediately stepping out of the kitchen, and into the living room.
"Just a broad who works for the guy who built this place."
"Why did she call so late?"
"I suppose she has a crush on me, or something. God only knows why. I certainly haven't given her any reason."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yeah, that's the truth."
"I'm going to bed. I'm tired," she pouted, as she turned and went off towards the master bedroom.
"Dames!" he said aloud.
But, after smoking a number of cigarettes, and staring blankly out the window, Grant began to feel strange about the way he'd been treating Iris. He went off to the bedroom.
He found the blonde, former hooker lying on the bed, sobbing. She was still dressed.
"Ah, come on, honey," he said, soothingly, as he sat beside her on the bed. "I promise there's nothing between me and that chick. I'm just tired. It's been a momentous day. You understand, right?"
"You can be so cruel at times," she moaned, as she rolled over, tears covering her face.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," he said. "Get a hold of yourself."
"I can't help it. I'm so confused. You know, you aren't the only one who has been going through a lot of changes. It's been hard on me, too."
"What do you mean? Don't I buy you a lot of nice things?"
"I need more than that."
"We make love all the time. We have everything we need. I really don't understand you."
"I don't like all those other women. I don't want them in the same house with me."
"You are being petty and silly."
"No I'm not. I'm behaving quite properly."
"You knew that I had to do this. That I had to have my revenge. And you are being a complete bitch."
"No, I'm not," she said. "I'm behaving completely naturally."
"Bullshit!"
"I am."
"Listen, I'm not going to keep those bitches around here for long. You don't need to worry about that."
"But, they'll go to the police if you let them go."
"Sure. Are you kidding? You think those kinds of classy dames would risk having their name plastered on the paper? It would ruin their entire game - those genteel little snots. That would be a total joke.
"But what if someone notices they're gone?"
"Look, Iris," he said, running his fingers through her hair, "you don't need to worry about a thing. I tell you, those broads are forever going away for a lover's weekend, or a week, or a month. They're jet setters. There isn't a thing to worry about. Believe me."
"And you still like me?"
"Of course I still like you," he said. "Nothing has changed." "Will you make love to me?"
"I would if I could," he said, after a pause for reflection. "But I'm tired. Completely exhausted. Can you appreciate that?"
"Yes. If it's true. It is because you're tired, isn't it? I mean, you aren't bored with me?"
"No, not at all," he said. "You are a really wonderful girl."
"Well, then I'll just have to fuck the electric company."
"What?"
"Use my vibrator. I bought it the other day. It's really a nice one."
"Why, you little pervert," he laughed.
"I am not," she said. "Lot's of women use them. You know, I'm convinced that the woman has a much greater capacity for sexual pleasure. She can go on and on."
"Meaning that men can't keep up with women?"
"Not exactly," she said, while undressing, "It's more that women can have more orgasms, and more frequently. It's just biological. Women are a lot more inferior to men in other areas. In fact, let's face it, it's a man's world."
Grant watched the attractive, but not very polished, young blonde undress. As she exposed her lovely body to him, the heir could feel a slight tingling. But he was really fucked out. He undressed, for sleep, not sex.
The lovely woman, now naked, went to the antique Chinese lacquered bureau, and removed an electric dildo, shaped like a rather well-endowed penis.
She plugged the instrument in, by the bed, and lay down beside the exhausted Grant Manners.
The woman spread her legs widely, and sighed with pleasure as she turned on the juice, and pressed the vibrating cock against her clit, along the ridge of her labial lips, and slowly into the moistened cauldron of her sexuality. She was burning up with passion as the plastic cock sank slowly inside her sex.
"Oh, this is heavenly," she moaned, while grasping her breast, and working the artificial cock slowly in and out of her box.
It vibrated hotly, as she worked it continuously in and out of the sensitive fuck chamber. Her eyes were closed tightly now. Her legs spread widely. Her hips rose to meet the intrusion of the sexual toy. She rammed it deeply into her cunt, and writhed on it, like an impaled sea creature.
"Tell me," he whispered into her ear, running his tongue along the folds of her ear, and blowing warmly into the aural canal, "who do you think about when you fuck yourself with that thing - me?"
"Oh, I think of lots of people - ooh, ah, that's so nice ..."
"Like who?"
"Well, Mick Jagger, and Robert Redford and . . . Oh, God, that's hot. I'm going to come. Oh, Lord above ..."
"How weird," he sighed, turning over, and preparing for sleep, while the lovely blonde grunted and groaned, coming, with the assistance of her plastic cock.
"I come!"
"Not so loud, honey," he moaned. "I have to get some sleep. Work in the morning."
In the morning, Grant was up early. He left Iris in bed, while he went to take a shower. He felt hungry, and full of energy.' He was ready for a day of sexual abuse and pleasure.
He figured the girls would probably be showering now, and eating the dried fruit, and nuts he had stocked in their cells. Water from the sink was good enough.
After eating an assortment of leftovers out of the refrigerator, Grant went down to the dungeon.
The cellar grew immediately silent as he entered. Again, the young women stood at the bars, looking out at him, with hate, painted upon their faces.
"Good morning, girls," he smiled, as he walked past their cells, like a military officer inspecting his troops.
Again, a plethora of words of abuse: "Drop dead, motherfucker!"
"God will punish you for this!"
"You swine!"
"Pig fucker!"
"Sodomist!"
"Sadist!"
"Queer!"
"Now, wait just a minute, girls," he turned and stared, a wide, shit eating grin plastered across his face, "you just watch your manners. You don't want to get me angry. We have a very long day ahead of us. Let's make it fun."
"Fun for who?" Kimberly asked, her long, strawberry-blonde hair now mussed from the night of tossing and turning. She was dressed in her slip.
"For me, of course," he said. "You ladies already had your fun with me. It's my turn now. And Kimberly, your turn with me is now."
She moaned with fear, and moved back into the corner of the cell, as if she could in this way escape.
Grant laughed, turned, and approached the locker..
Undressing slowly, he placed his items of apparel in the recessed locker, and removed the riding crop. He surveyed the other instruments of sexual abuse, but decided the whip was his favorite.
Taking the ring of cell keys, he approached Kimberly's cage.
Before opening the door, he watched her. Her delicate, pale skin blanched with fear. Her green eyes were surrounded by reddened whites - too much crying and lack of sleep. He noted the small breasts pressing against the tight slip. He could see the outline of her bikini panties beneath. He looked forward to taking this girl. She had always been one of his favorites.
Opening the cell, he entered, locking himself in. "Now, my dear, why don't you just take off that slip, and let's see what it is you've been hiding all these years."
"Don't do it," she pleaded, falling to her knees on the floor. "Please don't humiliate me like this. Allow me some dignity."
"Dignity. You expect me to allow you dignity, after what you've put me through?"
"Forgive me, Grant," she said. "I was foolish not to have given myself to you before. It will be different now. Different, after you let me free."
"It will be different all right. It will be different right now!"
The dark-haired heir reached for her slip, and tore it from her body. She cried out with fear as the frail garment came away in his hand, revealing the lush nakedness beneath.
"You rat!"
"Sure, that's what I am," he laughed, as he stepped towards her, his lance fully erect. "Leave me alone."
She attempted to cover her vitals - one hand covering her breast, the other placed over her pussy.
"Don't pull any modesty numbers on me," he said, stepping towards her, and slapping her powerfully across the face. She cried out in fear and pain, bringing her hands to her lovely face, to protect.
The lusty sadist stared at her glorious body.
Her breasts begged for his mouth. Her vagina, was like the pussy he imagined adorned Aphrodite. It glowed with supreme beauty. He moved to her, and fell to his knees before the lovely strawberry-blonde.
Pulling her to the floor, he moved immediately between her thighs, pressing his mouth up against her lovely vagina. He pressed his tongue into her hole.
She tried to pull away. She attempted to close her legs.
But Grant held her fast.
Grabbing at her tits, he squeezed them savagely, and jammed his tongue deeply into her crack.
"Please, not this," she cried. "Let me go."
He didn't bother to reply. He licked her pussy, bit it, sucked it, and blew warm air over it, until Kimberly began to surrender. Her body glowed with sexual heat. Her pussy was dripping hot juice. He ran his fingers into her crack, and then up against her clitoris.
Taking the magic button between his fingers, he pulled at it, and pressed it, while she groaned with hot passion, and nearly came - prematurely.
Not willing, nor ready, to give the young strawberry-blonde any pleasure, he pulled his mouth from her cunt, and sat beside her.
"Finish me off!" she pleaded. "Don't leave me like this."
"You're going to have to earn your orgasm, bitch, the hard way!"
He moved up to her chest, resting his cock between her breasts. He squeezed the small mammaries up against his hot dick, like a hot dog in a bun. Kimberly's hand began to stray towards her pussy, to touch her lust crazed clitoris.
Grant caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and grabbed her by the wrist.
"You sneak!" he screamed, as he slapped her viciously across the face.
She cried out with pain.
Grant pinned her arms to the floor with his knee caps, moving his cock up to her lips. She pressed her lovely, pink lips closed against the entry of his member.
But he pressed just the same. His cock moved deeply into her mouth. She cried out with repugnance as his tool sank slowly into her mouth, filling her, rubbing over her tongue, jamming up against her tonsils.
The unfortunate young woman nearly gagged on the stiff cock. He jammed it again and again up against the back of her throat.
"That's right, you bitch," he sighed, "you suck that pecker. And when I come, you swallow every last drop. Every drop."
He moved his tool slowly, in and out of her mouth. She moaned, and gagged, but it was useless to fight. Slowly, she became accustomed to the sensation of" the cock working in and out of her mouth. It was pounding, thunderous. And then he came.
The hot spunk flew into her mouth, filling her completely. Bathing her mouth with love lather. She gulped. It was either that or suffocate. The thick goo ran slowly down the back of her throat.
She coughed, and gagged, but it was no use. He continued to press his rod in and out of her mouth.
When he was milked - satisfied with the sensation in his cock, while it lay in the warm, moist mouth, he pulled out.
She spat what jism remained in her mouth out on the floor.
"What's wrong - you don't like the taste of my love?"
"You are an animal. An absolute beast. No civilized man would ever do such a thing to a woman."
"You haven't seen anything yet, honey," he said, sliding down between her legs, pressing his still-erect cock up against her pussy. She sighed with hot pleasure while the cock pressed against her pussy, and up against her clit. Her magic button shook with passion. But only momentarily.
The sensuality of the experience was rapidly lost. He shoved the entire length of his cock up into her tight, socialite cunt hole. She moaned with discomfort, and tried to pull away.
Fat chance.
The thunderous, ever-erect tool, jammed in and out of her cunt. She screamed with pain as the non-lubricated pussy burned from the friction of the unwelcome penis.
Though' she whipped about, shrieked, and cried, there was no escape. None whatsoever.
Slowly, the movement of the stiff cock in her hot cunt turned her on.
Kimberly relaxed, moaning, and fucking with delight, as the hard cock delighted her sensitive pussy hole.
It was time to withdraw for Grant Manners.
Pulling his stick slowly from the hot soup bowl of her sex, Kimberly groaned with anger.
He was getting to her now.
"Roll over bitch."
"What for?"
"So I can fuck you in the ass." "No chance."
"We'll see about that," he said, lifting the riding crop, and holding it menacingly over her.
"Don't beat me." "Then roll over."
"Not for your cock up my virgin ass," she cried.
He struck her across the breast with the crop.
She screamed with pain. Again and again he beat her sensitive mammaries.
The nipples began to bleed around the fringed edges.
As the woman's hands moved to her breasts, to protect herself, he let her have it across the vagina. The riding crop struck again and again at her pussy.
"Okay, okay." She had surrendered - to the lash.
As the lovely socialite rolled over on the floor, exposing her attractive rump, the angry sadist felt a raw nerve of lust pulsate throughout his body.
He was on fire with lust for this girl's asshole. He pressed his cock slowly up against her asshole. She moaned with fear and pain as he pressed slowly up against it.
"Do you have to do this?"
"Yes."
"I'll pay you anything." "I don't need your fucking money." With that, the rich heir pressed the fat head of his erect sex pole slowly into the hot, steamy depths of the lovely young woman's ass. She tried to escape from the forced entry, but it was useless. The cock sank in to its limit.
"This shall kill me surely," she gasped.
"No such luck, sugar," he groaned with satisfaction, as his tool worked slowly into her behind.
He began to work it continuously in and out of her. The sensation of her tight, unwilling anal sphincter thrilled him as it closed down over his rod. He worked it rapidly in and out. And then he came. She was crying with pain and humiliation.
