No one knows what exactly makes a woman turn into a man hating hellion, but there exist those females whose greatest pleasure it is to beat men, mercilessly batter them to bloody pulps. It is to their good fortune that there also exists men who enjoy this abuse at the hands of these tyrannical maidens.
Among themselves, these women are outspoken and congenial, often the gentlest of companions. The men who act as receptors for their streaks of evil often go through life conducting ordinary, unobtrusive lives, hardly noticed among the myriad faces that traverse our society. But in the company of these ladies of the lascivious lash, they become totally different persons, like the professionally successful Byron Bentley when he is in the company of liege, the hellish Raquel deLasher, Byron would fall to his knees, pleading with her to "Hit me, hit me, you evil wench. Slap my face with that evil thing."
Raquel and her crew of long-limbed, outwardly desirous feminine terrors gave more than slaps across the face; they believed in the true power of the whip, and the men they served were in the service of the whip.
CHAPTER ONE
Raquel DeLash's tall, curvaceous, honey blonde figure reflected gracefully in the full length mirror. She stood tall, her leather girdle cinched tight around her middle, hiking up her tits. She dangled a new rawhide riding crop at her side, occasionally flicking it in the air.
Behind the efficacious blonde stood her roommate and partner in the brutal passion plays that were their lifeblood, Monica, the meanest cunt to ever grow a pair of tits.
Monica was busy getting into a pair of skin tight patent leather jeans, tugging at them, scratching her skin with the heavy netting that held the pieces of leather together.
Raquel pushed her tits up and ran the riding crop across the nipples, admiring herself and her long, statuesque figure. "What time is that prick supposed to be here," she asked Monica, still gazing at her body.
"I think the bastard said eight," replied Monica.
Reluctantly, Raquel turned away from the mirror. She picked up her black lace garter belt, fastened it around her middle, rolled the black net stockings up her long, muscle bound legs, fastened the lot together and returned to the mirror to admire herself again.
Monica fished around in a drawer for her favorite gloves. She wanted the ones with the spiked stubs on the knuckles. The very thought of punching their visitor in the nuts caused spasms of effused pleasure to prance through her body. Her long spindly fingers groped through the assortment of professional clothing she had gathered since coming to New York and came up with first one and then the second glove.
Stretching the leather gauntlets over her carefully manicured fingers, she glowered at the silver tipped spikes as they caught the light and radiated in the mirror. The shiny reflection catching her eye, Raquel turned, her face breaking into a wolfish sneer. "When are you going to give those beautiful gloves to me," she asked, "I can think of a thousand things to do with them."
Monica curled her fingers into fists and thrust them into the air. "Never," she told her roommate, "I have a few thousand things of my own to do with them."
"Nasty bitch," Raquel spouted.
"Greedy cunt," Monica hurled back.
"You don't really have to give them to me," Raquel retaliated, "I still have my Mexican spurs."
Monica was about to give out with another cutting comment but was cut short by the bell. Her eyes lit up. She rubbed her leather gauntlets over her skintight jumpsuit, the anticipation of the evening's activities rousing her unnatural animal senses. Raquel raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin sliding slowly across her face. She raised her riding crop and brought it down on the dressing table, making a loud cracking sound. like a little corporal, she raised her whippet and pointed to the door. Monica sprang across the room.
Byron walked into the door with cat-like steps, his arms full of flowers; hyacinths and roses in a circlet of field daisies. Monica snatched the flowers from his hands and pushed him into the room, making him stumble over a bump in the carpet. As he reached out to regain his balance, Raquel brought her crop down over his fingers. The sting of the lash broke the surface of the skin on his dainty hands and instantaneously a red ridge rose, spouting just very tiny spots of blood.
Byron sucked at the slashed fingers, his head lowered against the leering gaze of the cunt Raquel. "Hello, Byron," Monica laughingly greeted him from behind his back.
As he turned to return her greeting, Raquel brought the riding crop down around his neck, "You little son-of-a-bitch, you're supposed to be coming to see me and you talk to her first." Whack, the whippet came down again.
Byron cringed, a half-smile on his angelic face, and backed away laterally, seeking to make room between himself and the two women. From opposite ends of the room, they converged on him. Backing still, Byron unbuttoned his summer seersucker jacket.
Monica clacked her silver-tipped gauntlets together, rubbing the shiny metal with the eagerness of a chicken thief in a barn yard left unattended. Byron's eyes bugged out at the sight of studded leather, the thought of the pain they would cause ignited a flush of fearful glee in groin.
Raquel swished her whippet through the air. As she fanned the breeze, Byron grew more and more excited. Beads of sweat broke out on his face. Raquel wiped away the droplets of sweat with the barb at the end of the riding crop. Byron closed his eyes and shuddered. "Hit me, hit me, you evil wench. Slap my face with that evil thing. Strike me, strike me," the pathetically wanton Byron exhorted his antagonist.
"So you can come all over yourself before I've had a chance to rake your balls?" the vicious Raquel hissed.
Monica pleaded with Raquel to please let her punch Byron in the nuts. "Oh, please let me crunch his ball bags, please."
"Not until he's made me come," replied the sneering tall witch of a cunt as she backhanded her crop across Byron's shoulder.
Byron seized the riding crop in his swollen fingers and reeled himself closer to the towering blonde, falling to his knees, kissing her bare, creamy pink thighs, sucking at the brass rings that circled her garter belt. "Hit me, hit me if you want to," he muttered, "you can't hurt me."
"Can't hurt you, eh?" scowled Raquel.
Raising her hand as high as it would go, she crashed the thick, braided whippet down on Byron's shoulder. The silk fabric of Byron's shirt curled around the crop as it bounced off his bone. Raquel raised the crop to strike again. Byron sank his face in her muff. Raquel rained three successive blows across his back and his body wretched at every lash, his tongue slipping further and further between her parted pink pussy lips.
Monica strolled up behind him and sank the toe of her boot up his ass sending both Byron and Raquel sprawling across the floor. Byron landed face first in a heap. As he attempted to stand, Monica sank her heel into the small of his back. Byron sank again, groveling on the floor.
Raquel barked at him, "Get up swine, get up before I break this crop across your empty head."
Whimpering loudly, Byron dragged himself up, fear in his eyes, a smDe etched across his thin blue lips. Monica raised a curled fist and was about to strike a hard blow at Byron's back when Raquel yelled, "Stop! I want the bastard to be able to fuck me. My pussy itches."
Byron fumbled with his pants, undoing his zipper, letting them drop down around his ankles. His underwear was stretched tight against his ass, his erection protruding in front of him, a wet spot revealing that he had already had a nut.
Raquel lashed at him with unreasonable fury, cursing him for having shot a wad in his pants. "Why, you sneaky little son-of-a-bitch," she screamed as her arm arched upward and crashed down in rapid, accurate motions. "You have the nerve to cream in your pants while my pussy goes wanting?"
She thrashed him repeatedly, the crop swooshing through the air, cracking against his body, wringing the silky soft shirt. Monica grabbed the back of the shirt and tore it from his body. Across his back were rows of welts, so evenly spaced that a sculptor might have placed them.
The sight of the welts made Monica hiss with glee. She was so aroused that she drew back her hand and sank a silver tip into his ass, driving him upward. When she drew back her hand, tiny droplets of blood sprang out of his soft flesh. He stood there, his eyes closed, panting wildly, screaming at Monica, taunting her to do it again. She was about to when Raquel pulled him out of range. Monica's fist arched upward in space, she cursed like a drunken sailor.
"Oh, what the fuck did you move him for?" she yelled at her passion partner. "That was a beautiful shot that went nowhere."
"I told you I wanted to fuck, didn't I?" screamed Raquel. "You think I want him to stand there and get his rocks off while I get nothing out of it?"
Monica rubbed her silver-studded knuckles together, blowing a stray hair away from her eye, stamping her bootheel on the floor. "Get it on, then, before I break his spine," spat Monica as she cooled off a bit. She stepped closer to Byron and pushed him into Raquel's arms.
Raquel seized Byron's bruised body and whirled him down onto the sofa. Standing over him, she covered his face with her pussy, sinking her fingernails into the gristly flesh of his ears. Hungrily, Byron wrapped his hands around her hips and let his tongue seek out the inner lining of the muscular, talcum-scented cunt, lapping away at it like a puppy, sighing and whimpering as she crushed her clit against his nose.
Raquel lifted her whippet. "Eat it harder," she shrieked, bringing the stinging thong down across Byron's bared back. "Eat it, eat it, eat it," she screamed, rocking her hips furiously into his face, nearly smothering him.
Byron's dainty fingers tightened around the cheeks of Raquel's ass. Deeper and deeper he sank his face and tongue until it looked as if he would disappear into her. Raquel continuously cracked her crop across his shoulders and back, seething with ecstatic rage. Standing on her toes, she bowed her legs, dropped her crop and hauled herself rapidly back and forth on Byron's tongue. Her hot, frothy come drowned his hungry whimpers and she backed away from him, retrieving her riding crop as she retreated, lashing out with her teeth clenched tightly, slapping a long red line across his left cheek.
Byron grabbed his cheek and grimaced. "I made you come, I made you come," he simpered. "Please don't hit me again. Please. I can do it again, please don't hit me," he begged.
Raquel circled the riding crop around her shoulder and smashed it down across his exposed neck. Byron reeled sideways. Monica bolted forward and punched him in the thigh with her studded gloves. She had aimed at his balls, but his fall got his nut sack out of the way just in time. Monica cursed.
Reaching between her legs, Monica opened a tiny zipper in her jump suit. The opening was just large enough to allow a penis to get into her box, and small enough so that once in, the penis would be scratched each time the tool was moved in and out. "Get up, you pig bastard," she yelled at Byron. "You're going to get a chance to fuck me. Doesn't the idea turn you on?" she teased.
Byron was silent. Monica glared at him through squinted eyes. "I said, doesn't the idea of fucking me turn you on? Answer me, fuckhead, or I'll punch a hole in your face," she assailed through gritted teeth, shaking her fists at him.
Shaking visibly, Byron crawled on his knees to Monica. She stretched on the floor and opened the tiny slit.
Monica took her gloves off, but held them in her hands. Byron's dick was hard. The top was covered with the drippings of a nut he got under the lash of Raquel's whippet. Monica urged him into her, calling him names, cursing him, sucking in her breath as the penis slipped into her brawny box.
The zipper scraped at Byron's prick as it slid into Monica. "You better fuck hard and fast, you bastard, or I'll cut it off. I don't want to waste the night trying to get off. Now fuck me, pig. Fuck. Fuck," she commanded.
Byron stroked up and down, the zipper tearing at the skin of his penis. Monica locked his body between her legs and humped up at him, the muscles in her cunt seeming to knead the prick as it slid past the zipper.
"Aaaah," Byron cried, "you're going to scrape all the skin off."
"Shut up and fuck, dog," Monica railed.
With her studded leather gloves held in her palms, Monica grabbed Byron's ass. She pulled him tightly to her, humping her hips up and back, urging him to fuck faster. "Faster, faster, faster, you bastard," she tormented, "faster or I'll rip the skin off your back."
The silver tips of the tiny spikes sank into the cheeks of Byron's ass. Pain raced through his body. His face turned a beet red. A sudden shrill shriek sprang from his lips. Monica gripped harder with the spikes, pulling Byron's punctured cheeks forward, squeezing her hands over the flesh, sinking the silver spikes deeper.
Raquel stood watching with bated breath as her fiendish friend mauled Byron's ass cheeks. She shouted encouragements, urging Monica to rip him apart. Captivated by the spectacle, Raquel raised and lowered her riding crop, whipping at the air.
Monica could feel herself about to come. She took one final grasp on Byron's cheeks with her spikes and rocked herself up and down on his penis, tearing his skin away with the rough edges of the zipper. As her body gave its fluids off, she quickly pushed Byron to the floor.
"Get dressed, you wretched pig," Raquel commanded of the bleeding Byron, "we've got to catch the jeweler before it closes, I want that ring you promised me."
Monica sat up, her eyes aglaze, fondling the prongs of her leather gloves. Byron caught his cheeks in his hands and felt the wetness. Bringing his hands to his face, he saw the blood. A fiery sensation raced through his body and his penis jerked itself to attention and spurted.
Raquel threw him a cold, wet towel. "Wipe that mess off you before you drip it all over the floor," she said in a cold military voice. "This is not a hospital."
Byron pressed the cold towel to his groin. He closed his eyes and pulled it between his legs up over his hind parts. Raquel pulled a dress over her head, yelling as she adorned her garments, "Don't take all damned night!"
Byron hurried.
Byron scampered over to his clothes. Raquel came out wearing a mini-dress and her hip-high shiny black boots. Neatly tucked under her arm was a swagger stick, the kind English officers used during the last war. "Let's go," she barked, and Byron hurried into his things.
Monica sauntered over to Byron, reached up gently and fixed his tie. "There," she said, "that looks better."
"Thank you," Byron said.
Monica bowed at the waist and suddenly, with a quick snap of her elbow, slapped him across the face. The unexpected blow startled Byron, but he relaxed and smiled congenially.
He backed away from Monica. Raquel grabbed him by the ear and tugged him toward the door.
"I'll see you later, honey," Raquel said to Monica, blowing her a kiss.
Monica blew a kiss to Raquel. "If he doesn't behave himself," she said, "bring him back to me and I'll skin him from his pretty pink neck right down to his sweet little ass."
Poking the swagger stick under Byron's chin, Raquel assured Monica that precious Byron would "certainly act like a gentleman." She opened the door and swept her hand forward, inviting Byron to exit.
Looking back over his shoulder, Byron waved to Monica. Raquel blew another kiss to Raquel and they left. Byron ran out into the street to hail a cab while Raquel stood in the building lobby, smacking the stick in her palm.
Byron urged the cab driver to speed them to the tiny elegant jeweler where he intended to buy Raquel's ring. The cabby said he was going as fast as he could. Raquel was very quiet, the only noise she made was the smacking sound of her swagger stick as it fell time after time on the plastic cover of the cab seat.
The cab pulled to the curb. Byron handed the driver some money and got out of the cab behind Raquel. He hurried to the door of the little shop, but he was too late; it was closed and he knew Raquel would be furious. As he turned, his eyes met hers. "We missed it, huh?" she asked in a low, menacing tone.
"I'm sorry, Raquel," a pleading Byron said.
"Down, you bastard," she cursed, her lips curling back, "get down and kiss my foot. Beg for my forgiveness," she instructed, beginning to raise the swagger stick.
"Please, Raquel, not here, not here," begged a pitiful Byron, not wanting to publicize his desire.
"Down," she spat, and he kneeled.
As his face came to her boot tip, Raquel placed her other foot on his neck. Passersby were horrified at the sight of Byron paying homage to this woman in so bizarre a fashion on so public a street.
Raquel leered at one staring couple. "What are you gawking at." They hurried away. "Now ask for my forgiveness," she demanded of Byron.
Hardly satisfied, Raquel relented and allowed Byron to stand. Adjusting his jacket and tie, he asked her if she wanted to stop at a restaurant to eat or if she wanted to go out anywhere.
"I want to go back to my apartment," she told him, a promise of a beating riding tall in her tone.
Byron walked to the curb, the few remaining shoppers giving him a strange glances. He held up his hand when he caught sight of a passing taxi. Getting in behind Raquel, he directed the driver back to her apartment. The burn of the scratches on his penis had not been so obvious as now, nor the ache of the tears in his ass from Monica's studded gloves. He sat back in the seat and moaned.
When the cab stopped, Raquel leapt out immediately, not waiting-for Byron to pay the fare. She took the first elevator that came and preceded him up. By the time he got there, she had stripped down to her girdle and garter belt and was once again brandishing her whippet.
"Do you know what this sniveling bastard did?" she mock-questioned Monica. "He made us late for the jewelers. It was closed when we got there."
"But we can go tomorrow," he explained. "They'll be open tomorrow."
Monica punched him in the kidney. "You are deliberately stalling, aren't you," she goaded, "you don't really want to buy the ring."
Byron cowered before the oncoming demonesses. They slowly circled him, Raquel lashing out at him with her riding crop, Monica kicking at him with her pointed boots.
Raquel loosened her hair, still circling around Byron. Monica, free of her skintight jump suit, bounced gleefully over the floor. She caught Byron and began to pull at his clothes. Raquel cautioned her, lest Byron be without things to wear on his way home. He was already wearing the tatters of a shirt.
The two women undressed Byron, tugging him to his feet each time he tried to lie down. As they pulled at his clothes, he grabbed at their pussies. The dried scratches on his penis still ached, but he wouldn't mind it at all if he could get into one of those wild cunts before they beat him again.
"I know what you're going to do to me," he said, "but I don't care, only please let me fuck one of you. Please let me do it. Beat me all you want, but let me lunge into one of those cunts," he pleaded.
"Not mine," Monica was quick to say, "I only take a dick when I have to. I don't fuck to please any man," she vehemently expressed. Then, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, she jumped into the air, "Why don't you ball him Raquel, and I'll get my bullwhip!"
Monica's eyes were wide with excitement as she waited for Raquel's answer. Raquel finally shook her head 'yes'.
Byron held his scarred penis in his hand. As his fingers coursed over the bruises left by Monica's zipper, he grimaced; they really hurt.
"Let's get it on, prick," Raquel grumbled. She didn't seem at all excited by Byron's dick even though it hung nearly eight inches from his pelvis.
Raquel walked into the bedroom, her strong muscular ass bouncing ever so slightly, locking Byron's gaze to it. Byron trailed along behind her like a little puppy, licking his lips with anticipation. Raquel pivoted on her heel and slapped him with the back of her hand across his mouth.
"That's for making me spread my legs after you messed up getting the ring," she explained.
She spread herself beneath him and Byron mounted her. Monica came in behind them snapping her bullwhip. Byron ignored the insistent crack of the whip. Gritting his teeth against the pain that pulsed through his prick, he rammed himself into the waiting Raquel.
Gripping her legs so that they would be out of the way of the whip, Raquel let Byron go at her cunt. He dug in, banging his hips against hers. Monica let him get started and brought the whip down across his back.
The sharp pain of the whip gave Byron added impetus to ball Raquel harder. Each time the whip came down, he jumped up and down on Raquel, sinking his staff deeper into her gaping good cunt.
Monica twirled the whip around her head and brought it down severely across the length of Byron's back. She opened a two-foot gash that looked like raw meat on a butcher's counter. Byron reeled with the electricity of the pain and climbed high into the air. He came down floundering like a fish out of water.
Raquel screamed at Monica, "Hit him again, hit him again, I'm gonna come. Hit the bastard again, hit him hard. Whip him until I come."
Monica was delighted to help her friend get her rocks off. With carefully' placed lashes, she ripped at Byron's skin, drawing a little more blood with each stroke. Raquel let out a rodeo howl as her cunt seeped, and began to beat
Byron on his head. "You did it, you bastard, you did it."
Monica pulled Byron up and pushed him away from Raquel. He stood by the bed and finished his nut with his hand. Monica took Raquel in her arms, holding her, brushing her hair back from her face. "Did that nasty male pig hurt your pussy?" she asked in a consoling voice.
"Oh, no," Raquel said, "that little fuckhead can't hurt me."
Raquel closed her eyes for a second, letting her joy wind its way out of her body. Her hands had Byron's blood on them. Monica lashed out with her whip, wrapping it around Byron's legs. "You bastard," she screamed.
Byron beat himself off as Monica consoled Raquel for having come upon Byron's prancings. As the lash curled around his legs, he stiffened, crying out but not missing a beat. The sticky spurts fell to the floor. Monica drew back the lash and cracked it again, just missing his ear.
Byron retreated into a corner, holding his battered penis in his fingers, gingerly stroking it, caressing it, relishing the pain that now covered his entire body.
Raquel got up from the bed and wiped at her cunt with her hand. With the semen sticking to her fingers, she stuck her hand in Byron's face, rubbing hard over his nose and eyes. Byron licked at her palms, sucking the come into his mouth, biting her hand. Monica punched him hard in the stomach, bending him over. Raquel straightened him with a kick in the ass. Byron threw his arms around her, "We'll get the ring tomorrow, I promise, and we can move into my house. Monica can come, too," he simpered.
Monica laughed and punched him again.
Byron took her fist in his hand as it landed, holding her wrist, bending and kissing her arm. She tried to pull her arm away, but he held tight, his lips traveling over her flesh. His kissing gestures made her madder. She lifted her foot and aimed a kick at his groin. Byron doubled over and fell to the floor, moaning.
Raquel looked down at him and kicked him in the back. "When you can get up," she told him, sneering at his curled figure, "get yourself dressed and leave. I'll see you tomorrow about the ring."
Raquel and Monica walked out, leaving Byron on the floor, writhing in pain. He struggled to his feet, holding himself around the middle. He picked up the threads of his clothing and almost fell into the next room, trying to get dressed. Monica and Raquel sat together, smoking long, thin cigarettes. As he passed, neither of them looked up. He straightened himself and went out the door, pulling it quietly shut behind him.
"Hey," Monica announced to Raquel, "guess who's coming over tomorrow?"
"Who?" asked an inquisitive Raquel.
"Emilio the moustache," Monica answered in a deep-throated voice.
"Oh, that's going to be fun," intoned Raquel, a gleaming light in her eye, "he does the funniest things."
CHAPTER TWO
Raquel met Monica at the elevator and they took a cab home together. They sat in silence as the taxi made its way through the rush hour traffic. Raquel thought about her fat jocular father. It was his fault, she thought, that she now wanted to abuse men so badly.
If he hadn't come into the cellar that day, she might have grown up to be just another lace and frill female cunt for some man to use and, maybe love, but no, he had caught her with her first lover. He made a scene that left its mark on her forever. She once stayed awake nights, crying over the punishment her father had meted out for her having tasted of love before he thought she was ready.
She thought of how good it felt having her high school sweetheart, Roger, push his way into her pussy on the old bed beneath the stairs. She had given him her cherry there, she remembered and had to burn the sheet that they used as a cover.
She recalled the many afternoons she would sneak Roger in through the back door and down the stairs to the cellar, how his strong hands would seek out the lips of her cunt and warm her insides. After the first time, she had wanted him more and more each day. It was all so beautiful until her bastard father caught them.
She remembered his gruff voice as he came down the stairs. "What the hell is going on down here," he bellowed. Poor Roger was caught with his pants down. Her father, she recalled hadn't been half as bad to Roger as she thought he might be, but he made Roger do awful things to her.
When he discovered them, her father tied Raquel's hands behind her back and threw her on the bed. He made Roger ball her, saying, "You want to fuck? Go ahead and fuck and I sit here and watch." Roger hesitated and her father almost whipped the poor, frightened boy.
Roger had to screw her until her father got tired. Roger humped away, his dick going from limp to hard to limp. It was hours, she remembered, all the time her hands tied behind her, sinking into the small of her back. Sometimes, she recalled, it was good and her father didn't realized how she was enjoying it. Then he made Roger get up and he took his belt off and beat her around her pussy and her ass until she bled. How she wanted to kill him, she recalled.
Everyday after that, her father would take her to the cellar, lift her skirt or dress and lash her about her pussy with his thick heavy belt. Then he'd fuck her to add to the pain.
She could never forget his fat, meaty prick and how he would dangle it in front of her eyes before he shoved it in her. He would never lay on top of her, he would always make her bend over, shoving it in her pussy from the back so that he could beat his big belly against the welts he had made with his belt.
A slow, evil sneer eased across her face as she thought of what he did each time she came, "Enjoying it, eh?" he would growl and beat her again.
As the taxi pulled to the curb, she shuddered. She wanted to grab the cab driver by the throat and choke him but, coming back to reality, she realized that he had no place in her life except for this brief service he had performed. She reached into her bag and paid him. It was her day to take the fare. Monica slid out and stood waiting for her.
As she stepped out of the cab, Raquel said in a low and steady tone, "I can't wait for that beautiful little rat, Emilio, to come over. I feel like eating raw meat!"
Monica! slammed the door of the cab and they walked into the building, giving the doorman a smile and thinking what a joy it would be to wrap him up and beat him with their new whips. That's why they were such good friends they told each other as they rode up in the elevator, they thought so much alike.
They were laughing as they entered the apartment, racing to see which one would get undressed the quickest.
Raquel suddenly remembered that she had to meet Byron at the jewelers. She quickly took down another dress, threw it overhead and ran back out of the apartment, yelling to Monica, "Don't slice him up until I return. I just love to lash that son-of-a-bitch."
The door slammed and she was gone. Monica put on a tiny little mini skirt and top. She went into the little space of a kitchen and began to throw together the remnants of a meal. Emilio had a thing about food, he had to be fattened before he would warm up to the lash.
Raquel caught a cab just as she reached the door, one of the other tenants having just gotten out. She gave the familiar face a big 'hello' and disappeared into the cab. Checking her watch, she saw that she was running a little late, she asked the cabbie to step it up.
Looking back at her, the cab driver burped and said, "Hey lady, with this traffic, you're lucky I'm moving at all." He burped again and whipped around a car he had almost hit. Raquel tapped her feet impatiently, the cab moved slowly forward in the traffic.
When she finally arrived at the shop, Raquel got out of the cab, paid the fare and refused to tip the driver. When he gave her a funny look, she called him a son-of-a-bitch and walked away from him, Byron was standing in front of the store window, neatly dressed as usual. Raquel asked him how he was feeling.
"Fine," he answered, "just fine. I've never seen such beautiful lash marks as the ones you and Monica gave me last night. I'll tell you though, I couldn't sleep from the pain in my balls. Monica'll really kicked me hard, I . ... "
Great," Raquel interrupted, "but let's go into the shop before it closes again."
Byron shut his mouth and followed her into the jewelers. The clerk recognized Byron and came to him immediately. He had a small box in his hand. Byron took the box and opened it. There sat a bright, shiny diamond, twinkling in the light. Byron took it from the box and started to put it on Raquel's finger. She drew her hand back.
"Do you have any others," she asked the salesman.
A little non pulsed, the salesman went to the end of the counter and brought back a tray of rings. Raquel took out the biggest stone she saw and told Byron that that was the, one she wanted. Byron gulped. Raquel walked along the counter. She came to a row of collars. "I also want one of these," she said.
Byron protested that she was asking for more than he could afford to give. Raquel's hand flew up and crashed across his face. She seized him by the hair and drew him closer to the counter. The startled salesman cried out, "Please, please, madame, these are very expensive items you have selected."
"Raquel bared her teeth. "I know what I want, and besides," she said to Byron, "the collar is for you.'
"Please, Raquel," Byron begged, "I can't, I can't afford it."
Raquel slapped again. The salesman begged them to take their argument outside. "Please", he said, "these items are extremely costly. Leave the store if you must fight."
Raquel let Byron go. Once again she reiterated, "If you really liked what you got and want to keep on getting it," she spit, "You know what I want in return."
Poor Byron was at a loss. It would take him months to recoup Raquel turned her back and walked around the shop. Byron wrote out a check and gave it to the salesman. He walked to Raquel and put the ring on her finger. She smiled at him and kicked him in the shins.
Byron winced and took her by the elbow. She stopped him and went back for the collar.
"Thank you," she said to the salesman as she walked out the door.
Standing at the curb, Byron asked her if she were going right home. "Yes, she said, "Monica is having company and I promised to help her."
Looking down at the gutter, Byron let his hand touch hers. Raquel did not move. Byron touched her thigh. Her hand went up and he thought she was going to strike him, but she flagged down a cab instead. "You can drop me off if you like," she said. Byron climbed in behind her.
Raquel got out of the cab, patting Byron on the cheek as she stepped to the curb. Without looking back, she marched into her building and disappeared in the lobby. The cab pulled away from the curb.
When Raquel entered the apartment, Emilio was seated at the table. Monica was snapping her whip in the air. Raquel walked in and kissed Emilio on the cheek. "Hello darling," he said with his continental air," where have you been."
"Minding my business," she snapped.
Emilio broke out in a laugh. "That's why I love you two so much," he proclaimed, "such wonderful humor."
"I'll humor you," Raquel spat, "with the tip of my whip."
"Not while I'm eating, darling," the mustachioed Emilio countered, "it upsets my digestion."
Raquel began to strip as she crossed the room. Monica continued to crack her whip, just waiting for Emilio to finish his meal.
Raquel threw her dress in the closet and came back into the room. Her big breast were pushed high so that the nipples stood out like reliefs on a map. She kept her boots on. She sat down and admired her ring, showing it to Monica and recollecting what she had done to get it.
"I almost had to break his neck to get it, but I got it," she boasted," and I also got something else."
She carefully opened the box containing the collar. She held it up to the light and let it sparkle. Monica leaped up on the sofa behind her and leaned down to get a closer look.
"I think Byron will look lovely in this, don't you," Raquel asked her roommate.
"It's more than the dog deserves," Monica harped.
"Well, still, I think it will be nice." Raquel continued.
"What did you spend for it, it looks really expensive," Monica asked, worrying that perhaps her friend was going soft.
"Spend? He bought it," Raquel explained, "I certainly couldn't afford it."
"Hey," added Monica, "I didn't know he could either."
"I didn't ask if he could or not," grinned a very happy Raquel, "I just took what I wanted.
"Good for you, honey," a slightly jealous Monica complimented. "I need that kind of luck."
Raquel got up and went into the bedroom. She stood at her jewel box, admiring her ring and the collar. She could hardly wait to put around Byron's neck. She could she herself walking him along Park Avenue. "Ah, I think I'll get a special chain for it." She put the items away and walked back into the living room.
Emilio still sat at the dining table, taking his time with his meal, sipping slowly at his drink. Monica stood at the closet door, measuring her whips. Raquel peered over her shoulder and took out her riding crop. She fondled it as if it were a prized possession, or a valuable jewel.
"Oh, yes," Emilio called from behind them, "by all means check your equipment."
"Shut up," Raquel called back at him, "or I'll come over there and break your face in." Monica selected another whip and began to snap it. Raquel took her riding crop and, beating it in her palm, walked to the sofa. She sat down heavily.
"My father should see me now," Emilio spoke, with a mouth full of macaroni. Two pretty girls waiting for me."
The word father sent Raquel off on another trip, She began to catch images of her brutish father again. She suddenly caught sight of the evening when he gave her her last beating.
He came in from work and she was singing on the back stairs. He asked if she was waiting for her boyfriend to come back. She didn't answer him, she remembered, but he made her get up and go into the house. Her mother wasn't home yet and the old man took his belt off. She wanted to run but she didn't know where to run to so she waited for him to come with his belt.
This time he made her get completely undressed. As she pulled her dress over her head, the sting of the belt came burning up from her ass and traversed her entire body. He wouldn't stop until he drew blood. The he decided to ball her. He took his big, fat prick and shoved it in her. She recalled that she hurt more from his big, thick dick than she did from the lashing with the belt.
She really wanted to run away with Roger but when she met him after school he told her he couldn't see her any more. That was the last straw. She packed her things in the cover of darkness and hadn't attempted to see or speak to her family again.
The thought of her father made her furious. She ran to Emilio with her riding crop held high above her head. The surprised Emilio cried out, "No, not yet," but he didn't know that this was an extra added attraction.
Raquel smashed her crop across his shoulders, sending him cartwheeling from the table. The table fell over on top of him. Raquel raised and lowered the crop, beating him severely about the head and shoulders.
Emilio rolled over and over on the floor, crying and screaming. "You silly cunt, you started too early," he yelled up at the towering blonde bombshell as she rained blow after blow down on him.
Monica jumped up and down, snapping her whip. "Move over, mover over," she shouted at Raquel. "Let me hit him with the whip. Let me hit him with the whip."
Raquel didn't seem to hear her. She continued to strike out, giving the groveling figure of Emilio no quarter. Emilio rolled under the table to get out of the way of the flailing lash. Raquel struck the table. The dull thud of the crop hitting the wood seemed to bring her back to her senses. She stopped and Emilio peered out from under the table.
"My goodness," he said in a prissy voice. "If you can wait just a minute, dammit, you can beat me all you want. You just spoiled a fund evening . ... such impetuosity."
Monica cracked her whip in the air. "Watch your tongue you stringy dicked villain, or I'll de-ball you."
Emilio sucked his teeth, tsk, tsk, tsk and managed to duck behind the table just as the whip snapped. It split the air just where his nose had be. Peering over the edge of the table, he popped his head up and stuck out his tongue. Monica cracked her whip again, trying to take the tongue out of his mouth, but she missed.
"Come on, now girls," he protested. "We can have lots of fun if you'll only give me a chance to let my food go down properly. Monica?" he asked, "do you want your entire culinary efforts to go to waste?"
Monica was about to snap her whip over the edge of the table, but stopped. Emilio peeped around the corner of the table, "There," he said. "I knew there was a bit of woman in you someplace."
He stood up and walked across the room, his penis bouncing merrily along in front of him as he took each step.
Raquel shook her head as Emilio passed. He gave her a sidelong glance. "Impatience is hardly a virtue," he scolded.
Raquel swung her crop and Emilio playfully dodged it. "Later, darling, later," he, said shaking his finger at her. "It'll be so much fun later."
Monica broke into a fit of laughter. Raquel strutted around the room, adjusting her corset, fondling her riding crop. Emilio sat on the sofa and crossed his legs. He had picked up a tooth pick and proceeded to clean his teeth.
Monica got impatient, too, waiting for Emilio to digest his meal. She got up, dragging her whip behind her and began to pace around the room. Raquel was slapping her riding crop harder and harder across her unturned palm.
Emilio sucked at his teeth. He raised his piquant eyebrows, followed the steps of the girls as they strolled around the room. "You two must really have feathers in your cunts tonight. I've never seen you so impatient. I enjoy your lashings dearly, but there are certain formalities we must observe. Please," he requested, "sit down."
Raquel wanted to reach out and smash him, but she restrained herself. She knew that if she surrendered to her impulse, she'd be standing in a homicide squad room in the morning instead of her office. She forced her rage to simmer to a slow boil.
Contenting herself with the sonorous snap of her whip, Monica sat on the edge of a chair. like a cowboy in a rodeo she snaked the whip out in front of her, jiggled it, raised it behind her head and cracked it. The play began to get monotonous so she picked out a special target: "Hey, Emilio, see that flower over there, the one sticking up above the rest? she pointed, a child-like excitedness on her voice, "I bet I can pick it off and not touch any of the others."
"Let me see you," said Emilio, accepting the challenge.
Monica stretched the whip out to measure her distance, then, drawing it back over her head, she snapped it, pulling the bulb away from the stem so neatly a surgeon couldn't have done better with a scalpel. Emilio applauded gleefully.
"Oh, bravo, my dear, bravo," the pixyish, mustachioed Emilio whistled. "That was absolutely wonderful."
Curling back her lips in a half smile, Monica forewarned, "That's what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to snap the head right off that dick of yours."
Emilio blushed. Cupping his hands over his penis he said, "You always promise me the sweetest, most painful experiences."
"Promise?" screamed an incensed Monica. She raised her whip and snapped it, tearing away a piece of flesh from Emilio's shoulder. Emilio screamed and stood up, an immense hard-on standing off in front of him.
"Oh, look what you've done," he cried. "You've made me get an erection. Beat me, beat me," he pleaded, "before I go mad."
In an instant, Raquel pounced on him and raked his naked figure with her riding crop. Monica stood back and snapped little red spots up and down his back with her whip. The willing Emilio surrendered himself to the blows, laying prone on the hard wood floor, writhing under the furious rain of blows, pleading with his attackers for more, more.
Raquel stomped her high-heeled boots down on his neck, grinding the stiff leather into his flesh, gnashing her teeth, stomping like a ruffian in a gang fight. Monica could get no closer than her six feet of lash would allow, but she placed her shots well, all her maliciousness flowing through her arm into the bull whip and ripping away Emilio's skin, never once coming close to hitting the raging Raquel as she stomped poor Emilio into the floor.
Emilio was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Despite the stomping and the flesh tearing snap of the lash, he reached out his hand to feel for the blood on his belly. At the sight of it, he grabbed himself and started to masturbate.
"Oh joy, oh joy," he spouted, pulling his penis with both hands. "Walk on my chest," he pleaded, "walk on my chest and crush me through the floor."
Raquel stood on his chest, planting both her heels firmly over his heart. She looked down at Emilio, her dangling blonde locks all askew. For a moment he looked a pitiful mess to her, but for only a moment, for, regaining her form of a few seconds earlier, she jumped up and came down with all her weight on his chest, a loud thud resounding through the room as she landed.
Emilio choked, coughed and wretched on the floor. "Oh, no, no, no, this is too incredible, "he joyously cried out. "Don't stop."
Again Raquel jumped and crashed down on Emilio's chest. As she landed the second time, a thick heavy spurt of sperm shot forth from his penis and splattered against the sofa.
"Stop, stop," Emilio shouted from beneath Raquel's heels. Stop for a minute."
Raquel stepped down from Emilio's chest and stood back as he whacked away at his penis, blood dripping from the open gashes inflicted by Monica's lash. Emilio closed his eyes and pulled at his pecker until the remaining few drops of come leaked out onto his thigh. He then lay back on the floor, panting heavily.
Raquel hitched up her girdle and tugged at her boots. Monica leaned over the prostrate figure of Emilio and examined the wounds she had inflicted, marveling at one that seemed to have pierced through several layers of skin. She normally tried to open just the top layer or two so that the would heal quickly, but there was one that had really gone deep.
Raquel propped a foot up on the chair and lit a cigarette. Inhaling long and deep, she threw the match stem down on Emilio, blew a long billowy cloud of smoke into the air and sat down.
Emilio sat up and Monica got him a towel, throwing it in his face as she came back into the room. He dabbed at his wounds with the towel, caressing himself as he tended the multitude of lacerations. "My heavens," he said in a mousy, half breathy tone, "that was divine. I'd like to do one of you after I've rested a while."
Monica was about to call on Raquel, but Raquel beat her to the punch, "Your tum honey," she spouted, rolling her eyes up toward the ceiling.
Monica pouted. She hated to fuck. She didn't like the feel of a man in her and if he made her come, she hated him all the more. Damn how she wished she could get Raquel to ball Emilio. She looked up at Raquel, but Raquel was still gazing up at the ceiling, knowing that Monica would be trying to get her to change places.
Monica sat on the floor, holding her whip between her legs. She tried to think of a way to avoid the penis she would have to take. Damned dicks, she thought, women would be happier if there were none. Maybe if she cut
Emilio's off, she wouldn't have to fuck him. That wormy bastard has an awfully long prick.
"Emilio," she screamed, draping her whip out across the floor, "I'm going to cut your dick off."
Emilio lifted his hand to his forehead, "My dear, why would you want to do something like that. It doesn't hurt a big, strong girl like you, does it?"
She hated his sarcasm. He curled her whip and snapped it around his ankles, puffing up his flesh. Emilio sucked in his breath as the rawhide lash bit as his flesh, but he didn't say anything. He caught the whip before Monica could withdraw it and ran his hand gently along its length, licking his lips as he caressed it.
Fuming, Monica snatched the whip back. Bastard! Probably be happy if I took his balls from him. Reeling the whip in, she curled it and placed it on the floor next to her. What could she do not to have to screw that suave little work? "How she wished that Raquel would do him instead.
Raquel got up and went to the tiny kitchen. She poured herself a cold drink from the refrigerator and came back into the room. She asked Emilio, "Are your ready yet?"
Emilio slid across the floor to her feet. He kissed her calf, sucking at the taut muscles. He let his tongue dare to touch her silken soft flesh. Lifting himself to his knees, he kissed his way to her thigh. Raquel slammed the heel of her hand against his forehead and knocked him to the floor. She followed up with a resounding smash across his adams apple with her riding crop.
The crop made Emilio get an immediate erection. With wispy eyes, he looked up and said. "I'm ready now."
Monica got up from her place on the floor and went to the bed. She ran her hand over her cunt and leaned back. Emilio stood over her with his long penis. Monica closed her eyes and screamed at him. "Come on you bastard, let's get this thing over with."
Emilio crawled into her cunt, his penis fitting snuggly against the sides. He began to screw her hard and fast, calling to Raquel to bring her whippet. Raquel came in a hurry.
Emilio was already humping the reluctant Monica but he got increased power under Raquel's lash. He pounded his penis in and out of Monica, causing her to involuntarily respond. Hating every moment of it, she sank her nails into his back, rolling her hips under his heaving body, until she came, her come spilling long before Raquel stung Emilio with the magic blow to make him spill his nuts.
CHAPTER THREE
Emilio dragged his bloody body up from the cursing body of Monica. She had come, dammit, and she wanted to cut Emilio into little pieces and drop him down the incinerator with the rest of the garbage. .She bounced up from the bed and sailed a punch into his chest. . Emilio floundered under the punch but managed to stay on his feet. "That is no way to say good night," he reminded her. "After all, I think I've been a rather nice guest this evening."
Monica stomped her feet and spat out a string of venomous words that made Emilio's eyes flutter. He turned away from her and ran into the outer room. Raquel, her riding crop in hand, smacked him on the ass.
"All right, pig," she spat, "you've had your evening, "get out of here and let two working girls sleep."
Emilio went to the closet and took out his clothing. He dressed hurriedly. Monica stood at the door to the bedroom, watching as he got into his debonair garbs. Setting his homburg at a rakish angle, he turned to the girls.
"I shall make a deposit in your accounts tomorrow, though I don't know if I should. You're becoming too terribly crass. The fun is leaving our little relationship."
Touching his hat, he headed for the door. Monica picked up one of her boots and hurled it at him. It crashed against the wall, just missing him. Emilio turned around, "Tsk, tsk, tsk," and closed the door behind him.
Raquel sat down on the sofa and lit another cigarette. Monica sat beside her and took the cigarette from her hand. For a minute they were silent, neither speaking nor moving.
Monica leaned on Raquel's shoulder, "That bastard made me come," she complained.
Raquel cracked a half smile, the corners of her lips turning up, little lines running across her cheeks. She turned her head at an angle, looking at her roommate: "What's so bad about getting a nut while you're at your work?" she asked the sulking Monica.
"I hate it," answered Monica with a sneer. "I hate it when I have to ball one of those pigs. I want to kill every time one of those pricks climbs on top of me and starts to push his nasty cock in and out of me. I wish I could cut off all the cocks in the world."
Raquel sat forward and gave Monica a stranger look than before.
"Hey, wow, you really got a case of the hates, don't you honey," inquired an unbelieving Raquel. "All this time we been living together and I didn't know you had that much hate in you."
Monica lifted her feet up. Staring down at the floor, she stuck her lips out. Raquel brushed her face with the back of her hand, leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek.
"Listen, honey," consoled Raquel, "I wouldn't let it get me down. If you come, you come. Don't forget that you always get in the last lick."
Monica looked up at Raquel. With wide, steady, unblinking eyes, she said, "I'd still like to cut out all their nuts."
Raquel looked at the clock. She stood, stretching her limbs. She walked to the closet, the guest closet, and hung her riding crop on one of its hooks. Scratching at a spot on her belly, she announced that she was going to bed. Monica continued to sit, taking long, slow drags on the cigarette. Tomorrow, she thought, I'm going out to buy myself a new whip. That ought to erase that horrible dick from my mind.
Sprawling out on the couch, she poked at the cigarette, crossing her legs, drifting off on little daydreams, thinking about cutting off penises.
As they rose for work, Raquel and Monica tossed things out on the bed. Monica was busy searching in the bottom of the closet for a certain pair of shoes she hadn't worn for a long time. As she rummaged about among the many boxes, she hit something that jingled. She shifted the boxes and, much to her delight and surprise, she came up with two sets of manacles.
"Hey, look what I found down in the bottom of the closet," she called out to Raquel.
"What is it?" Raquel asked, busy with her corset strings.
Monica , turned around and held the steel shackles out for Raquel's eye to feast on. "These beautiful chain bracelets," Monica exclaimed.
Raquel dropped the strings and bent down to examine the shackles. She turned them over and over in her hands, the steel links reverberating between the shiny bracelets. Raquel tossed them playfully in the air.
"Who do we try them on?" she asked her pleased partner.
"The first male that comes through our door," responded an ecstatic Monica.
"That would be my beautiful Byron, this evening," purred a pernicious Raquel, standing to finish her tying. "Yes, Byron will love them, I'm sure," she grinned.
Dashing out, the girls headed for the office, laughing all the way as they planned things to do with their newly refound toys. A pair for the hands and pair for the legs! How wonderful. Monica asked Raquel if she could kick in Byron's balls when they had him all shackled. Anything but that, Raquel let her know, he still had to make the payments on the ring and the collar.
The iniquitous pair parted at the elevator. Raquel rushed into her office as Monica spun down the corridor. Closing the outer door behind her, she ran into Kurt Driver, the boss of the chemical branch of her firm. He lingered a little long after they bumped each other and Raquel backed away from him. He smiled the kind of smile that made her stomach knot; she knew what he had on his mind.
"You may be late for something," she wryly stated to the grinning exec.
"I'm never late," he assured her, "nothing begins until I get there, that includes lunch if you'd like."
"I'll be sure to think about it," she curled off the venomous tip of her tongue and turned abruptly on her heel and entered her office.
Kurt stood watching as she walked away from him, wondering what he had done to deserve such a tongue lashing. He shrugged his shoulder and walked on down the hall, just a little perplexed by her unwarranted nastiness.
The first thing Raquel did was to pick up the phone and call Byron. She teased him about a new present she had for him, taunting him to come over and try it on for size. Safe through the distance of the telephone, he told her that he couldn't come over tonight because he had to attend a meeting that would probably run very late.
Raquel grew angry. He had the nerve to refuse her? She cursed at him, called him names, but still, since he was not in her presence, he persisted in declining her invitations. Raquel warned him of what she'd do when next she saw him and he began to breathe heavily on the other end of the line. He would like to, he said, but he really had to attend the meeting if he was going to be able to keep up the payments on her ring and collar.
Raquel slammed the phone down and shuffled the papers on her desk. She was so furious that she could not remember the things she had to do. She pushed on the intercom and asked her secretary to come in, hoping that the girl wasn't having problems that boggled her head too.
Her secretary came in, a girl nearly Raquel's own age. Raquel explained that she was having a problem with her boyfriend and she had completely forgotten what the things were she should be taking care of. After sorting things out, the girl explained how much she hated men. Her statements piqued Raquel's interests.
"You must come over some time soon, and have dinner with my roommate and me," said Raquel, inviting a potential new friend and ally.
Getting things started, Raquel picked up the phone and called Monica. She had to tell her that there would have to be a change of plans for the evening.
"Hello, Monica," she called when the receiver was picked up.
"That you Raquel?" the voice asked.
"Yes. Listen, honey, Byron's not coming over tonight so we're stuck with each other," Raquel informed her.
"Oh, no, and I thought we'd be able to use the bracelets on him. I was really looking forward to that," a very disappointed Monica replied.
"Well, we'll have to wait, I guess," returned Raquel, "but listen, I just found out that my secretary hates men as much as you and I. I'm going to invite her over for dinner or something. Might be nice to have a threesome going." Raquel added.
"You know what?" perked a now lively Monica, "we haven't seen Dora or Ericka in a long time. Maybe we could just have a party or something and have everybody bring their toys along."
The idea struck Raquel as being something to consider. She and Monica had lots of friends, why not bring them all together for a night of frolic without the privileged penises around?
"Great idea," she affirmed and added, "call you back later."
Hanging up the phone, she swiveled herself around in her chair, kicking her legs out as the chair slid across the floor. Clapping her hands, she pulled herself back to the desk, looking up at the coat-of-mail and the spiked mace that decorated her walls. She picked up the phone, deciding that there was no time like the present to get things started.
Raquel picked up her personal phone book and thumbed through the pages, dropped it down and dialed a number. She waited while the phone rang, tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk top. The phone rang a long time and Raquel decided to hang it up. Just as she took the receiver away from her ear, she heard a voice. She quickly put the piece back to her ear.
"Hello," came the husky, but feminine voice from the other end of the wire.
"Hello you big, brazen, bitch you. How are you?" Raquel began.
"Raquel? Raquel deLasher? Is that you?" quizzed the voice.
"Bet your sweet pussy it is," Raquel returned, getting sassier by the minute.
"Why you big tit cow, I haven't heard from you in weeks. What the hell have you been doing?" the voice asked. "Drank any blood lately?"
"No more than my usual quart a day," Raquel replied, "and yourself?"
"Still chewing them alive and spitting their bones in the Hudson," was the snappy reply.
"Listen man-eater, how'd you like to get together the girls, have a few laughs,"
Raquel invited.
"Going to have any dildoes around?" came the husky voice.
"I still get mine off the conventional way," responded Raquel but if you bring yours, someone'll help you."
"Sounds like fun. When and what time?" the voice asked.
"Got any free time tomorrow night?" Raquel enquired.
"Listen, love, I make time," the voice howled.
Laughing, Raquel told the voice when and the time, deciding on the spot that they would have the party at her place, starting at nine. The voice on the other end of the line agreed and promised not to miss it. Raquel was about to hang up and remembered one more thing: "Erica honey, if you've found any new toys, bring them and we'll compare notes."
"Sure enough," Erica answered and hung up.
Raquel exhaled heavily and opened her phone book again. She thumbed through until she found Dora's number. She thought for a moment, decided not to call. Dora was a working girl like herself and wouldn't be home right now. Straightening herself out, she stepped out into the corridor and went to her secretary's desk.
Perching herself on the edge of the desk, Raquel invited the girl to come over tomorrow night to meet some of her friends. She wasn't sure if the girl understood about her friends so she questioned her about her relationship with men.
"Can I be honest with you, the sweet-faced honey blonde secretary asked.
"I was hoping you wouldn't find it necessary to ask," Raquel answered her, seating herself squarely on the desk.
"Let me tell you," the girl began. "If I had my way, there wouldn't be any men. The way they crap on women. I'd like to cut their balls off, every last one of the sons-of-bitches." Then realizing that she was talking to her boss, the girl apologized for the use of the bad words.
"No, no," you don't have to apologize to me," Raquel informed her, letting her know that it was all right by her if the girl felt that way. In fact, it was good that she felt that way.
The girl questioned, "Is it another lib group? I belong to one in my neighborhood."
Raquel wanted to laugh, lib group indeed. "No, not quite," she told the girl. "We're activists of a different sort. Much bolder than the pedagogic pussies who stand on platforms yelling about freedom."
Having sufficiently whetted the girl's imagination, Raquel gave her her address and walked back into her office. As she sat down again, the phone rang.
"Miss deLasher," she answered.
"Fancy that," Monica joked from the other end. "You got on the phone right away didn't you?" she asked.
"Efficient," laughed Raquel. "Why? Did you call Erica too?"
"Yeah, you had just hung up," Monica told her. "Did you reach Dora?"
"No, I didn't. I decided not to call because I didn't think she'd be home," Raquel told her.
"Oh goodie, I got her. She'll be there. I told her about nine. Right?" said Monica, sounding very happy about their plans.
"Right," snapped Raquel. "See you later."
Raquel finally settled down to her work. With the party imminent, she was very happy. She breezed through the day, bumping into Kurt Driver several times, each time being invited to lunch, after lunch, dinner and each time refusing. She thought it would be a great idea to invite him to the party and turn him over to the girls. She would have done it if she were ready to find another job.
Near the end of the day, she ran into Kurt one more time. He was about to say something when Raquel stopped him with, "I'm going to accept your invitation one of these days." And under her breath, "I'll fix your wagon, buddy."
Monica met Raquel just outside Raquel's office door and they got into the elevator. One of the men from Monica's company got into the elevator with them. As they descended, the guy tried to converse with Monica, making small talk, being friendly. Monica elbowed him in the ribs. The man's handsome, smooth face distorted with the sudden pain.
"Hey," he said, "nice shot. Remind me to keep my mouth shut."
Monica gave him a vicious look and leaned closer to Raquel. When the doors opened on the ground floor, the young man stood back and let Monica walk out of the elevator. Since he was standing next to Raquel, he decided to make a pleasant gesture.
"Your friend has an-out-of-sight elbow," his genuinely smiling face said.
"Yes," said Raquel in a cold tone, "and she has a razorblade sewn into it."
Raquel walked out of the elevator behind Monica and they left the building. They walked home instead of taking a cab as usual. They had no reason to hurry and nothing in particular to do so they walked west, toward Sixth Avenue.
At the corner of Sixth and Forth-fourth, a neatly dressed middle-aged man accosted them and asked if they were in a hurry.
"Beat it buddy, before I kick your balls back up in your belly," Monica hissed.
"I knew it, I knew it, I knew I would find you," the clean cut guy shouted. "Please come with me. I'd let you do it here but I hate public exhibitions," he whispered.
Monica looked at Raquel, Raquel looked back at her. The man opened his coat. Suspended by a cord tied around his shoulder was a paddle board, the type used by college fraternities for hazing their plebes.
"Just forty wacks, that's all. Just forty wacks. Please give me forty wacks. I'll pay, I'll pay," he began to plead.
Monica was ready to do it for free, but Raquel asked the man how much he was willing to pay. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill.
"I'll give this to you if you'll paddle me," he offered.
"Where do we have to go," Raquel inquired.
The man pointed out a seedy little hotel just a few steps from the comer. Raquel considered it, but refused, saying it was much too close to her business to bother. She might be seen. She took Monica by the elbow and walked away from the man, leaving him to seek out someone else. They didn't have to take on street stuff, she told Monica. They had plenty of private action.
"Hey, but pretty nice, though," said a reflecting Monica, "to know that if things ever get tough, you can make it on the street."
Raquel preferred not to think of things ever getting that tough. She'd rather think about soaking Byron or some other sap and staying where she was at. She figured as long as she had her riding crop in the closet, she didn't have to think about being out on the street again.
Monica continually mused about the proposition. She was oddly stimulated by it and regretted not having taken the offer. She wanted to go back and see if he was still there but settled for walking beside Raquel, stretching their long legs up Sixth Avenue. Raquel decided she wanted to go to the park, Monica agreed.
More than once they were propositioned as they made their way up Sixth, but Raquel insisted they keep going. By the time they reached the park, Monica was hot mad, wanting to know why they couldn't at least have taken one of the offers, even if they didn't take the money?
Raquel tried to explain to Monica that she didn't want to get involved with them because she preferred to do her thing in the privacy of the apartment. Suppose they took one of the offers and went into someplace and got busted, or worse, what if it were just a put on and the guys got them inside and raped them?
When Raquel mentioned rape, Monica didn't bother to ask any more questions. She hated just having to ball the regulars they had, she couldn't stand the thought of being handled by some guy who had picked her up on the street. She hung her arm on Raquel's and they walked into the park.
Arm in arm, they headed east toward the zoo. They walked along the paths, pulling at leaves that hung overhead, stopping to look at the kids running over the hills. As they started across the roadway, one of the old carriages came by, a loving couple sitting in the back, locked in an embrace. Monica hissed.
"Doesn't that make you want to throw your lunch up?" she complained to Raquel.
"I don't look at such things," was Raquel's flat answer.
Raquel told Monica about the guy from the office who kept insisting she go out with him. She told Monica her plan to invite him over and lash him. Monica congratulated her on her cleverness. They wound their way down the paths that led to the zoo. At the top of the hill that led to the zoo entrance, they ran into the guy from Monica's office.
"Hey, what are you two doing here?" he asked. "I thought you'd be out somewhere chewing nails."
Monica grabbed him in the collar and shook him. When she let him go, he straightened himself out and asked if it were a habit with her to rough people up. She replied it was a hobby. He said he'd like to come by and play her game with her.
Raquel didn't like the scene that was about to ensue and she urged Monica to leave. Monica thought about Raquel's scheme with Kurt and wondered if she might work the same thing on Mr. Darren Wolfe. The thought stuck with her all the way back to the apartment.
Exhausted after the long walk, the girls nearly fell into their apartment. Monica picked up her whip and snapped it, the sound of it being enough to rejuvenate her. She walked around the apartment, wishing she had someone to lash into. She wished she had
Darren to lash into. She'd love to whiP the arrogance out of him.
Raquel stripped and stood in the middle the floor. She flexed her arms and lifted her legs alternately. There came a knock at the door and the girls looked at each other in surprise. Who could it be? Raquel stepped back and Monica went to the door. She peered through the peep hole and, goodness, "It's Byron!"
Monica snatched her riding crop down from the door of the closet. Before Byron could get in the door, she was beating him over the bare exposed flesh of his neck. She was careful not to bruise her crop on his clothing, she made sure that she only struck naked flesh. Byron fell on the floor and Raquel followed him, whipping at his neck with all the fury she could unleash.
Byron got a hard-on as he rolled under the sting of Raquel's whippet. She pounded at him, again and again striking his neck, producing a deep red collar of flesh. Byron took out his prick and began to pull on it, crying out to Raquel to please let him take off his clothes.
Monica said, "Yes, yes, let him take off his clothes so that I can get him, too. Let him take off his clothes," she shouted. "Strip him."
Raquel backed off. Byron let go of his penis and bared himself before them. Monica ran into the room and retrieved the shackles. Before Byron knew what was going on, they had manacled him and hurled him to the floor.
Raquel stood over him, her lips turned down in a nasty scowl. "You dared not to come when I called," she spat. "Where do you get the nerve to stand me up when I tell you to come," she berated him.
Cuffed, hand and foot, Byron stared meekly up at this witch towering above him. Why didn't she understand?
"Beat me," he cried out, "beat me, but I still tell you I have a meeting to attend. I only came to pick up my raincoat. I left it here and it's going to rain tonight."
Raquel left him to Monica's whip as she went into the bedroom to change. She got into her tightfitting man beating leather suit with the cut out breasts and the pussy slit. When she came back into the room, Monica had Byron rolling across the floor, lashing him as he turned, nipping away his flesh, reopening old wounds.
"Okay," shouted Raquel, "it's my turn." like a stalking wrestler, her arms hung out from her sides, Raquel advanced toward the cringing Byron. He got up to his knees just in time to catch the bottom of Raquel's boot on his chin. Toppling over backwards, he could taste the blood as it formed inside his lip.
"Please," he cried, "I must go to that meeting."
Raquel drew on her gloves and sent a smashing upper cut to his nose, sending him down again. She stood over him, daring him to get up. Once again, he struggled to his knees. like a punter on a football field, Raquel's foot came up and connected squarely on his chin.
Monica stood watching, delighting in every blow, urging Raquel to kick him again, kick him again. Raquel must have been really tired from the long walk they had taken, she stopped, panting and out of breath. Byron remained on the floor this time. He wanted to leave but he had to get out of the handcuffs. Slowly, he raised his arms. Without looking at him, Raquel undid them and dropped the key on the floor.
Scurrying, Byron undid the manacles that bound his legs. Sucking his blood into his mouth, he got back into his clothes, looked around in the closet for his raincoat and, finding it, stood waiting for Raquel to hit him or kick him or anything in the way of saying good-bye. To oblige him, she sank her foot in the flesh of his rear.
CHAPTER FOUR
Raquel and Monica were upset that they couldn't keep their quarry longer. Raquel fumed when she thought of her giving Byron the key and letting him leave. So what if he'd be back, she had no one to whip and she needed to lash out now. Raquel was beside herself with fury.
"Why did you do it?" Monica beseeched Raquel.
Raquel just shrugged her shoulders.
"We had him in the handcuffs, we could have beat him all night if we wanted," shrieked an irate Monica. "We had him good. Oh, we could have killed him."
Raquel stared off in space. Why had she let him go? Oh, damn, he'd be back. There was plenty of time to get him again. She looked up at Monica who was stomping around the room, cursing Raquel for having let Byron go, snapping her whip and bringing it down on the furniture, tearing at the covers on the sofa.
"Don't tear up the furniture, Monica," Raquel dropped. "What will the girls sit on tomorrow?"
"Holy shit, I forgot about that, you know," Monica said, coming to life again, forgetting her anger.
Pulling a chair to the table, Monica grabbed her note pad and a pencil and began to jot down items she thought necessary for the evening's entertainment. Raquel leaned over her shoulder, checking over the list she made. Nodding her head, or making little noises deep in her throat, Raquel signalled her agreement or disapproval of the things Monica put down.
"Don't forget to go by that shop where they have all those growy chains and things," Raquel mentioned, "I saw a really beautiful old pair of leg irons that the girls might like to see."
"Got it," Monica agreed and put the pad by the door. She wanted to be sure not to forget it on the way out in the morning.
Monica turned the radio to some heavy music and spun out into the middle of the floor. Raquel put her feet in time to the beat and bobbed her head back and forth. Monica was getting really turned on c the music but Raquel wanted to do something else.
"Let's go to a movie," Raquel suggested.
"What's playing?" Monica asked.
"There's a horror movie playing at that old theater. It ought to be good," Raquel answered.
Raquel was at wits end throughout the next day. She and her secretary were forever talking and laughing and getting very little done, but they vowed to themselves to make it up the next day. The girl had brought along a little overnight bag but she refused to show Raquel what was in it, saying that it was a surprise she had brought along for the party and that she wasn't going to reveal it until then.
All day long Monica called, excited, with nothing much to say. The mounting tensions of the day had them nearly bursting when they met at the elevator. Darren Wolfe saw the trio and backed off. He didn't want to tangle with three of them he thought, not in the least.
He let them get into the elevator and allowed another several persons to get in before he would step into the car. He wanted to make sure that Monica didn't get a chance to punch him in the back on the way down.
Darren stepped out of the elevator and turned around to catch a glimpse of Monica and the other vixens before leaving the building. When Monica caught his eyes, she held her hands up, waving for him to stand for a minute. Confounded, he waited.
Monica caught hold of his arm and pulled him aside. She stood face to face with him, gazing into his eyes, her own soft hazel eyes filled with as much gentleness as she could manage to pretend.
"I want to apologize for that scene in the park," she said, nice and kindly.
Really surprised, Darren accepted the apology and repeated an earlier offer to take her out.
"I'd love to," she said, gazing directly into his eyes.
"I'll tell you what," he said, "why don't we talk about it over lunch tomorrow."
"Okay, see you then," she said and left him to join her waiting confederates.
"What was that all about?" Raquel asked.
"I decided to take your shining example and I accepted his invitation to go out." Monica smirked, "and I'm sure he'd love to come over afterwards."
The three girls laughed as they went out to catch a cab, the thought of what was going to happen to poor Mr. Wolfe being too funny.
When the girl, Lila, walked into the apartment, she was shocked by the amazing array of long and short lashes that Raquel and Monica owned. She dropped her jag and fell among the many whips, crops, chains and shackles.
Looking up at her hostesses, she complimented them, "Oh, how lovely. IVe never seen such a collection. I would never have believed it."
Monica told her that she was a collector, but she had one favorite whip that she used most of the time. She bent down and picked up her favorite six-footer. Curling it around her arm, she let Lila finger it.
Raquel asked Lila to show them what was in her bag. She opened the lid hurriedly. Monica scooted across the floor. Raquel closed her eyes and sighed, "at last." Lila was very careful in taking out her toy, gingerly stretching it out across the floor. Raquel and Monica both gasped when they saw it.
Avoiding the razor sharp edges, Lila presented to the girls her ERECTION RAZOR BACKBITE COLLAR AND BODY MANACLE, announcing the name in very loud, distinct, and proud tones. "Be careful," she cautioned, "it will cut before you know it."
Raquel moved closer as Lila took the wrappings off her ingenious device. Monica carefully put out a finger, touching just the bare metal.
"But I don't see any razors," exclaimed Raquel.
"That's the secret part," gleefully explained a proud Lila. "They are very tiny and super sharp. The bastard man doesn't even feel the first few cuts."
"How does it work?" Monica asked, her eyes flashing.
Drawing out the suspense, Lila very slowly began to point out the various points of pain transmission. She pulled the gadget into her lap, filling her new friends with awe at her daring, curling her lips back in a menacing grin.
"Now you see this loop," she pointed. "This is the neck loop. Look very close and you'll see tiny, tiny razors. When you close the loop around a man's neck, you give it a pull, and he's sliced very neatly. And, of course, every time he moves, he gets sliced a little more."
Monica's eyes opened wider and wider.
"This part," Lila continued, "goes down the back. It has those same tiny razors. You line it up along his spine and wait for him to try to move. The first step he takes will cause the blades to cut right into his skin."
"What does this one do?" asked Raquel, pointing to a small loop at the other end of the chain.
"Ahhhh, that one is the penis sheer. Oh, I love that end most of all. That tiny loop is the erection razor. Fit that over the penis, strip naked and parade in front of one of the bastards. None of them can resist. And the moment their filthy mind goes to work..." She drew an imaginary circle in the air, "that's it. You got him completely done in."
Monica applauded, bouncing fitfully in her place on the floor. Raquel sat as if mesmerized, staring fixedly at the device. She leaned a little closer, looking for the razors in the penis loop.
"But there are two more loops," Monica questioned.
"Oh, those fit around the wrists," sluffed Lila. "No razors in them. You see, the idea is after you've sliced their necks, backs, and penis, they'd like to have a razor to slit their wrists."
"Beautiful," moaned a marveled Monica.
"Sheer genius," complimented an awed Raquel, "sheer and utter genius."
Lila took a bow and sat back down to play with the spiked shackles. Monica carefully toyed with Lila's razor device. Raquel, with her eyes still fixed on the razor edged manacles, stood up, went to the kitchen and began to take tilings out: hor d'oeuvers, canapes, sandwiches, a large salad, dips. She called to Monica for help with preparing drinks. Monica came, but only grudgingly; she didn't want to put down the razor contraption.
Lila came along with Monica and stood in the kitchen door. "Mind if I take a sandwich," she asked, "I don't want to be a pig, but whenever I play with that razor manacle, I get hungry as hell."
Monica handed her a sandwich. Lila gobbled it down in a few bites. Uncomfortable watching her hostesses carry on the ritual of party preparation she pitched in with making the drinks.
"Wouldn't it be great if we had a man to try all our things on?" Lila said as she poured the gin into a large bowl.
"That would be a riot," Monica replied, seriously thinking about some man to call over for their fete.
"I wish we could get your friend Darren over here. You should have gone out with him today so that he would have come home with you just in time for the party," Raquel said to Monica, recalling the scene in the lobby of their office building.
"Who can we call?" puzzled Monica. "Who can we call?"
"Hey, we're not going to actually call some man over here tonight and ruin the party?" shot Raquel.
"Why not," asked a ready to kill Lila.
Raquel pursed her lips and turned her head toward the ceiling. It was an indication that she didn't want to discuss it any more. Monica and Lila both pouted, mad because they weren't going to have the chance to cut up a man tonight.
Raquel led the parade of party fixings from the kitchen. Pointing out different places, she had the things laid out in perfect preparedness. She sat down and lit a cigarette. Monica went into the bedroom and began to change. Lila stood in the doorway, checking Monica's body as she pulled her clothing off. Raquel pushed her into the room jokingly and asked her if she would like to change into something a little more appropriate for the festivities Lila happily accepted.
The three girls threw off their work-a-day clothes and began to rummage through the closet, looking for costumes for the night's affair. Lila decided that she would rather stay naked since the night was so warm. Monica thought that was a good idea. Raquel took out her black lace-trimmed corset and her high black patent leather boots. Even before they were on, she looked menacing? just holding them against her long, statuesque body she looked like a terror to haunt any man's dreams.
Monica sat on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling, watching as Raquel tugged on her corset. Lila kept her eyes on Monica, wanting to touch her, but remaining at a distance. When she was done, Raquel stood in front of her full length mirror and posed for the girls, turning round and round, making long, bold gaits to and from the mirror to the bed.
Both Monica and Lila applauded. Monica put her fingers between her teeth and whistled. Her whistle almost drowned out the sound of the bell.
"Oh goodie," Monica announced, "the girls are arriving," and dashed to the door.
She swung the door open wide and standing there in black lea her and denim was the old eatemalive and spit out their bones beauty herself, Erica, with a slick black satchel held tightly in her grip.
"ERICA," Monica shouted happily, "come on in."
The girls embraced, Erica patting Monica on the behind. Striding into the room like an athlete, she held out her arms to Raquel, "Hey, you sassy bitch, how are you?"
Raquel came forward and rapped herself around Erica, squeezing puckers in Erica's leather jacket.
"You brutish old witch, you. How you been?" Raquel asked.
"Not bad for an old bull," Erica replied.
"Come on in and meet Lila, a new friend and I think a good one to have," invited Raquel.
"Hey," Erica whistled, "Your friends are getting prettier all the time," complimented the giant Erica as she stuck her hand out to greet Lila.
"Hi," said Lila, lost for a moment in Erica's giant size and elegant beauty. "Excuse me, but I can't really believe that you are the biggest bull in town. I heard some friends of mine talking about you at a party."
"Don't worry your sweet little pussy about it," Erica retorted. "Hey, are we going to have a live subject tonight?"
Monica and Lila almost simultaneously launched a haranguing tirade at Raquel for not having called over a subject. Erica couldn't quite understand, but volunteered to go get a subject for the party if someone would hip the man in the lobby that she was cool. He gave her the strangest looks when she entered the building.
Raquel promised to fix it if she would bring back a good one. "As good as done," said Erica, dropping her satchel and turning back toward the door.
Monica grabbed Lila's hands and danced her around the room, singing joyfully about the man they were going to have to cut up.
Raquel drew on her cigarette and watched them, a big, wide smile on her face.
As Monica and Lila danced, the bell rang again. Raquel spun to the door and there she was, the queen of the Latin lashes, Dora delRios.
"Dora, baby," Raquel screamed, throwing her arms open.
"Hola, baby," returned the red-headed siren who stood in the door, "how you been?"
"Getting better all the time," answered Raquel, "bring your little hot box in out of the hall and meet Lila. Erica will be right back."
"Hola Monica, how you doing," Dora shouted as she entered the room.
Monica pulled Lila along with her as she ran to greet Dora. She made the introduction and the girls all sat down to catch up on the time that had passed since they were all together last. Dora recounted all the dicks she has been cutting on and the many .new tricks she had learned to do in those creepy male pigs.
Lila was fascinated by her new companions, all this and working everyday with Raquel would certainly help her in her plan to cut the balls off all the men in the world. She was beside herself with glee.
Raquel passed out drinks and Dora lit herself a joint. "Alcohol is no good for my Latin blood. We go crazy when we drink too much of that stuff. Maybe later I have some," she told Raquel.
Monica was delighted to inform Dora that Erica had gone out to bring back a subject for the party, expressing her delight at having a live subject to try out everything that the girls had. Lila anxiously pulled Dora over to her bag to show her the Erection Razor device. Lila took it out again, and laid it on the floor.
"Ai yi yi," exclaimed Dora, "it is beautiful, no?"
"Yes," returned Lila, "it is beautiful."
The girls all gathered around the erection razor again, and Lila once more explained the function of the various parts. Monica took up one of her whips and snapped it again. She pointed to a spot on the wall where some blood had dried. She boasted that she had almost completely peeled the skin off the guy's back.
The bell rang again, it had to be Erica.
When Raquel opened the door, Erica pushed a tall, young man into the room, sending him sprawling to the floor. Reflexively, Monica snapped her whip and tore a hole in the man's pants, pulling out fabric and skin in one clean motion. Dora let out a good, loud yippee.
"Well, I got us one," barked a proud Erica.
Looking up from the floor, the young man found himself surrounded by long stemmed statuesque female denisons. He smiled as if he had just woken from a deep sleep and discovered he had fallen into a harem.
"He-likes it when he bleeds," Erica informed the other girls, "and I promised him he'd bleed like hell."
"You can bet your life on that," Dora piped out.
"Dora, baby," Erica called out, suddenly realizing that she was there, "when did you get here?"
"Just a few minutes ago," Dora answered. "Hey, I am glad you brought this one. I feel like drawing some blood. Maybe I'll have a real bloody Mary tonight."
Erica tugged off her thick leather jacket and slipped out of her jeans. Dora began to get out of her things too. As they stripped, the young man, still laying on the floor, looked up at them, gazing at the assortment of gorgeous bodies that encircled him.
Monica saw his gaze widening and snapped her whip over his back. He winced, but did not lessen his intensive stare. For the hell of it, Raquel walked up to him and planted a swift kick to the base of his spine. The young man buckled backwards and almost stood up under the power of the well directed blow. Raquel tossed her head back in a loud laugh. "Did you see him jump?" she cried out to her friends.
"That was beautiful."
Lila stood over the now prone figure of Erica's pet, that was how Erica described him; he was her pet because he liked to bleed and healed fast. Lila wanted to put her erection razor on him and she stood with bated breath. Dora started to fumble in her bag. She came up with a tiny vial and a syringe She also had a short whip lined with needles.
Erica took out a pair of motorcycle boots that had nails imbedded in the toe. She put them on. The quarter inch prickly points glistened in the light.
"Shall we have a party?" Raquel invited.
Everyone joined in a unanimous "Yes."
Lila asked Monica to stand the young man up so that she could fit the erector razor on him. Erica hadn't been introduced to it and she stood back awestruck as Lila carefully opened the collar loop. She moved closer as it was fitted to the young man's neck. She nearly drooled as the first strains of blood began to run down over his shoulders.
"How'd you do that?" asked an incredulous Erica. "How'd you get him to bleed?"
Lila began to tell her about the razors, all the while fastening the back strap on him. When she got it in place, she punched the young man in the kidney, making him bend, tightening the collar around his neck, drawing more blood.
You're not going to kill him are you?" asked a somewhat nervous Raquel.
"No," cursed Lila, he won't die, the razors aren't long enough to cut anything vital."
Next, Lila fitted a strap between the man's legs and walked around in front of him, opening the penis loop. She tugged hard at his cock, already standing stiff, and slapped him across the face for having an erection. She asked Dora to get her some cold water.
When Dora returned with the water, Lila poured it over the young man. The sudden cold melted his erection and Lila was able to fit the penis loop around the limp lingum. As she stood up, Monica lashed the young man. His sudden movement under the lash caused the gadget to do its evil work, gashing his neck, back, and penis all at once. He emitted a low, long howl, as his blood seeped out and onto the floor. Lila stood back, her eyes wide and shining. Erica whirled him around so that she could see the blood drip from his penis.
The five fiendish females moved closer to their prey, poking and jabbing him, making him twist his body so that the razors would cut his flesh. A loud, unified laughter rose in the room, the girls obviously enjoying their frantic frolic, but Lila stopped them, making them all move back so that she could begin the twat tease mat would make his cock grow hard.
Directing the girls, Lila had them all spread their pussies before the young man's eyes. "Spread them good and wide," she instructed, "Let him yearn to have his dick inside them all." And her cohorts followed her directives, pulling back the lips of their pussies, exposing the pink creamy inner flesh of the guarded goodies. And Lila got the results she wanted. The young man's uncontrolled erection began, swelling larger and larger. As it swole, the razors sank into his flesh, cutting a neat circle in the skin just an inch away from his balls.
The girls relaxed their spreads and leaned in to watch the blood as it dripped from the neat gash that circled the young man's prick. He ached with the pain of the many slashes on his body but was afraid to move. He stood perfectly still, trembling, shaking from head to foot. He wanted to bleed, but this was obviously more than he had expected. Erica stood up, directly in front of him, her hard, heavy boots crushing his toes.
"You like to bleed don't you?" she taunted.
The young man did not answer.
"You like to bleed, don't you?" she asked louder, her mouth stretching in a menacing leer.
"Yes, Yes," the terrified young man whimpered. "I love to bleed."
Erica ground her boots down on his toes. As she twisted her feet, the nails that protruded from the front of her boots scratched at his ankles, scraping away the outer layer of flesh. Erica grinned in his face.
Dora stood at Erica's shoulder with her tiny vial and syringe. She held them up in her finger tips, rotating them in front of the young man's eyes.
"Hey, Erica," she asked, "now you call this son-of-a-bitch?"
"His name is Edgar," said Erica, crushing harder on his toes, enjoying his efforts to remain rigid and straight.
Dora leaned her chin on Erica's shoulders, "Hey, Edgar, I'm going to give you a little shot of something. It'll make you feel good," she said, poking the syringe into the vial.
"Is a little something my cousin send me. It's made from the venom of the tarantula, plus some other stuff. Stick a little of this in a man and he go mad. The trouble is it only lasts for a little while," she sadly reflected.
Dora stuck the needle into Edgar's arm. When she withdrew the syringe, Edgar's eyes rolled back in his head and he started to rock back and forth. Erica caught him by the chin and held him up as his entire body began to tremble. The heavy chains of the shackles bounced up and down on his body, slicing him a little more each time it landed, ripping his body.
"Let him fall," shrieked Monica, "Let him fall."
Raquel took careful aim with her riding crop and smacked Edgar's manacled penis. The hunk of meat seemed to bend under the power of her stroke.
Turning aside, she told Lila to unfasten the collar, the blood was messing up her floor. Reluctantly, Lila opened the loops, kicking the quaking body. When she had them all opened, Erica let Edgar fall to the floor. He reeled about as if possessed by demons. Dora laughed loud and hard, smacking at the trembling body with her spiked whip.
The girls all took turns slashing at the quivering half-corpse that slivered back and forth over the floor. When the drug wore off, Edgar lay in a bloody heap on the floor.
Raquel surveyed the mess. Deciding that it was too much to continue having fun in, she went into the kitchen and filled a pail. She reached under the sink and took out a scrub brush. She placed the objects on the floor in front of Edgar and pointed, not saying a word. The battered figure of a man began to scrub at the stains, working slowly, wiping in lazy, large circles.
Raquel took up one of the long whips that lay among the cache strewn across the floor. Cracking it in the air, she screamed at Edgar to put more effort into his work. "Faster you pig bastard, faster," she screamed.
Edgar tried to move his maligned body with some degree of haste, but the loss of blood made it all seem futile. All the five villainous vixens lashed out at him, coming down on his back in chain-gang motions. One, two, three, four, five, they struck him. His arm jerked across the floor, making smaller, but quicker circles.
Erica moved away to get a drink. Dora, Monica and Lila followed her. They stood sipping their refreshment as Raquel stewarded the bent body of Edgar to all the blood spots she could find, urging him to work faster, prodding him along with the thick-notched whip.
Erica was concerned that the many razor cuts would interfere with her pleasures with Edgar, but Lila set her mind at ease. "The razor cuts will heal just as quickly as any others, and they leave very tiny scars," she comforted. Erica gave a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER FIVE
The party activities seemed to slow down after the girls gave up their fun with Edgar.
What great fun it had been!
She took a salve from her bag and touched up the more severe slashes, then slapped him, back hand, across his mouth, hard, and fast.
The bastard.
Edgar dropped to his knees and began to lick at her loins, his face disappearing into her big, blonde bushy box. Erica cupped her long, pointed fingers behind his head and spread her legs apart. Edgar clung to her legs, licking her pussy and groaning. When he had sufficiently aroused Erica, she pushed him away from her and pulled out her dildo.
"Do you know how to use one of these things?" she asked Lila.
"Do I?" replied an overjoyed Lila. "I was the all-time cock swinger of my college. Gimme that thing and I'll really show you how to use it," she boasted to Erica.
"Clear the way for action, girls," Erica shouted as she passed the dildo to Lila.
Lila strapped the dildo on, shifting it around to get it settled properly. Erica crawled up on the couch and spread her long, muscular legs out. She pulled back the lips of her cunt and looked up at the advancing Lila.
"Wow, you really sling that thing well," she commented. "I hope you can fuck as good as you look."
"Keep 'em spread, baby," snapped Lila, "and I'll show you what fucking is all about."
Lila shoved the dildo into Erica's gaping great cunt and began her stroking. The others moved in for a closer look, jostling and shoving each other as they got into their spectator positions. Lila was switching her hips like a machine as she rammed the dildo further and further into Erica. The big blonde seemed to be swallowing the gargantuan rubber penis in big gulps; each time she moved, another two inches disappeared into her hole.
"Look at that bitch drink that thing in," gasped Dora, "damn, I don't believe it!"
Erica screwed her hips under the heavy heaves of Lila's hips, chewing steadily on her bottom Up, her head tilted back. Raquel's pussy started to burn and she turned to the beaten body of Edgar, dragging him up by the ear, falling on the floor and pulling his face to her hungry hot box.
Monica looked at Dora, Dora looked at Monica. They both shrugged their shoulders. "What the hell," said Dora. They sat on the floor facing each other, spread their legs apart and fondled each other's pussy's, laughing like little girls as their fingers tickled and toyed with each other's twats.
The sofa rocked with the furious fucking that Lila was administering to Erica. The giant Erica had taken the full length and girth of the polyethylene penis into her and reeled under Lila's powerful motions. Erica clenched her fists. "Ah. Ah. Ahhh" she screamed so loud as to stop everyone but the eagerly eating Edgar.
Monica and Dora looked up in time to see the big, bull mama rise high off the sofa with Lila still pumping the dildo in her. "OOOOh, shit," screamed Erica. "Pull this mad bitch out of me before I faint."
Dora didn't believe her ears. She and Monica forgot their own finger fucking and jumped up. They pulled Lila and the dildo out of Erica. As the fat tip of the dildo came out, Erica's cunt popped and she farted. Erica fell back, taking deep gulps of air, her hand held to her heart, her hair clinging to the perspiration on her face.
"Whew," breathed a well humped Erica, "I have never in my life been humped like that, and I used to take on donkeys in a sideshow."
Lila started to unfasten the dildo, listening to Erica's pronouncements about her prowess. She stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "When I sling a dick, I mean it to stay slung," she told the girls, winking at them.
Raquel let the scarred and welted Edgar eat her box until she came, shooting her come into his eager mouth, humping her hips until he soaked up all the cream her body issued. His penis standing tall, he was about to mount her. She drew her legs up to her chest and kicked him away. Edgar slinked off into a corner and started to beat himself off.
Erica was telling the girls that if she knew how to type or take shorthand, she'd go to work in Raquel's office just to have Lila ram that dildo in her two or three times a day. "Wow, what a fucking," she commented, shaking her head.
Erica looked down at the come circle that she made on the sofa. She looked at Monica and then at Raquel. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. I'll have Edgar lick it up." She called the masturbating Edgar out of his corner. When he got to her, she pointed at the stain, and licked out her tongue. Edgar dropped down and began to try to clean the come from the sofa, still pulling on his penis, trying to get his rocks off amid the merriments of these mad chicks.
Monica got up and went to her display on the floor. She gathered up several of the chains and took them back to the closet. She walked back and forth several times until all the shackles and lashes were back in their place. The girls were all sitting around and chatting about the last time they had a great time lashing a man or dishing out some other delicious torture. Raquel decided it was time to break out her jeweled collar and show it to them. She got up and went off into the bedroom.
Monica sat down and told the group about these two guys she and Raquel planned to spring a trap on. Lila spoke up when she heard Kurt Driver's name.
"That pig," she said, "I'll bet he-likes it, I can tell."
"Well, we'll find out for sure as soon as Raquel gets him over here,", Monica said, running her finger along the edge of the sofa. "I'd just love to try your erection razor on him."
"Just tell me when he's coming and you can have it," Lila said. "I don't mind lending it out when I know it's for a good purpose."
Monica gave her a wink. Just then, Raquel came back into the room, her collar in her hand. She dangled it in front of their eyes and they all drew in their breath.
"It's for dear sweet Byron," Raquel told them.
"You mean the guy who you made eat me out while you beat him with the riding crop?" asked Dora.
"Yes, that's the one," answered Raquel. "He had the nerve to ask me to let me keep him, so I got a big diamond and this collar as part of the deal."
"That mother must be loaded," commented Dora.
"He does alright," Raquel dropped, "I inspire him with my whipping stick."
The talk went on and on until one by one the girls decided it was time to go. Dragging themselves into their clothes, they started to make plans for another gathering real soon. They set the date and decided to make it at Erica's place next time.
Erica zipped up her leather coat and called to Edgar, "Let's go Pet." She kissed Monica and Raquel goodnight and waved into the apartment to Dora and Lila. Monica turned to them and asked them to stay the night, inviting them to take whatever they needed for the next day from the closet. Dora and Lila considered it and pulled out the sofa. They sat around for another hour or so talking about things to do and who to do them to then they busied themselves with the selection of things to wear. Everything cleared away, Raquel and Monica climbed into bed and Dora and Lila tucked themselves in on the sofa.
Heading for work the next morning, the girls all piled into a cab, busily chatting about the party and the great time they had had, thinking desperately of what to do for a topper at the next event. Monica, Lila, and Raquel got out and Dora went on off to her office which was some blocks away.
At the elevator, the girls ran into the men they had been making plans for, Kurt Driver and Darren Wolfe. Very quickly, they decided that they would get Kurt to come over. Raquel cleared her throat, waited for Kurt to make his move and cottoned up to him immediately. He offered to take her out that evening and she accepted. He grinned all over himself.
Darren Wolfe hooked an arm in Monica's as the elevator started up. He asked if she still intended to take his offer and she said "of course," all the time thinking of the action that would unfold when she got him back to the apartment. She thought of Kurt's appearance at the apartment tonight as a warm up for Darren.
Lila stood between the two couples, smiling secretly to herself, wondering if they would get a chance to use her erection razor on either of their two preys. How she'd love to be in on the Kurt cutting. She hated the way he walked around the office so cocksure of himself. Ooh if she could just wrap her collar around that dick of his.
At noon, Darren and Monica ended up at the same restaurant as Raquel and Kurt, but they didn't share the same table. Darren had called ahead and ordered a table, one away from the flow of people coming and going, but not too far hidden. He didn't want to frighten Monica away, now that he had gotten this close.
Raquel spotted Monica as she and Kurt entered and she waved. Monica returned her wave, her eyes falling as Kurt directed Raquel to a table almost on the other side of the room. Darren had been saying something to her and she hadn't heard a word he had said. "I'm sorry," she said, turning back to him, "I got lost for a minute. What were you saying?" she asked.
Raquel was playing her prey well on the other side of the room. "You know," she was saying, "I have really been rude to you without reason. It's just that, well, being from out of town, and knowing the reputation of New York men, I was just being careful."
Kurt flashed her a knowing smile. "Oh, don't worry yourself about it, I actually enjoyed it, I, that is, I enjoyed just bumping into you. I am really very happy that you decided to accept my invitation."
As they talked, Raquel felt him out more and more. By the time she got back to her office, she was sure. She called Lila into the office, clapping her hands, bubbling with excitement.
"We got another," she whispered excitedly, "we got another one."
Lila gripped her by the shoulders, holding her steady.
"Easy now, easy," she said, calming Raquel down. "You don't mean that dear old Kurt is a regular?"
"Yes, yes, yes," Raquel squealed, trying to tame her excitement. "Right here, we have a regular."
Lila ran her tongue over her lips and winked. She opened the door and looked out, then, turning back, she said, "Cut me in and I'll let you keep the erection razor at your place for as long as you want."
"It's a deal," said Raquel, "I think we'll have him as the guest of honor at our next party."
Lila took up her file folder and walked out of the office. She turned back and winked.
That evening at dinner, Raquel could hardly eat. She was too anxious to get Kurt back to her apartment to bother with her food. As she sipped the wine he had ordered especially for this meal, she began to get a little buzz. Kurt raised his glass and proposed a toast.
"To a long and happy, ah, friendship," he said, accenting friendship.
Raquel laughed, a little of the wine trickling down to her chin.
"What strikes you so funny?" Kurt asked, not understanding.
"I'm sorry," Raquel said, "here's to a long and happy friendship."
After dinner, Kurt offered to take her out someplace for a little dancing or something, but Raquel refused. She wanted to go back to her apartment, she told him, and if he liked, they could dance there.
Kurt was beside himself with glee. He raised his arm and hailed a taxi. He sat very close to Raquel as they rode" back to her apartment, his hand touching hers, making small talk, trying to hit on something to arouse her. Raquel smiled at him, let him touch her, laughed at his jokes all the way to her door. Kurt paid the fare and followed her into the building.
Monica sat in the bedroom watching television. She heard Raquel and Kurt as they came in, and turned the volume down. She uncurled her whip on the bed. Outside, she could hear Raquel invite Kurt to sit down and relax while she got out of her coat. When she came in, she held her finger to her lips and Monica bounced up and down on the bed, noiselessly but excitedly.
"He's been perfectly charming all evening," she whispered, "now comes the good part."
Raquel slipped out of her coat and dress and slipped on a thinner garment, one that revealed the frilly black garter belt she wore underneath. She went back into the room to Kurt.
"That's a beautiful dress you have on," he commented. "And those long boots do wonders for your legs."
"Yes," said Raquel softly, "they kind of go with my personality."
She reached down and pinched Kurt's chest, hard. He-squirmed in her grip and closed his eyes, sucking in his breath. Raquel smiled a devilish smile. When she let go, he opened his eyes and looked up at her. Raquel stepped back and placed her hands on her hips.
"Did you like my pinch, Kurt?" she asked in a low, seductive voice.
"Yes, I did," he answered, "it felt oddly sweet."
Raquel began to undo her dress. "Take your things off," she invited Kurt, "you might as well get comfortable."
Kurt stood up and began to take his things off. Raquel draped her dress over a chair and unfastened her bra. She had nothing on but her garter belt, stockings and boots. She asked the naked Kurt if he'd like to meet her roommate. He shook his head 'yes-' Raquel called to Monica.
"Come on in Monica, I have a guest you'll be happy to meet," she yelled.
Monica appeared at the bedroom door in the raw, her six foot bullwhip in her hand. "Hello, Mr. Driver," she said in a pixyish voice, "I've been waiting to meet you." She walked into the room, her whip trailing behind her.
Seeing the whip in Monica's hand, Kurt ran his hand over his arm, rubbing up and down. Raquel went to the closet and checked through their toys. She decided to take down the braided crop with the heavy wooden weight at the end. She also took out the shackles for his wrists and ankles.
Monica walked around Kurt, slowly pacing, her whip dragging over the floor. Kurt followed her around, his eyes locked on hers. It was a complete surprise when Raquel smashed the wood tipped whip across the fleshy part of his ass-cheeks. When he turned to see from where the blow came, Monica raised her whip and snipped a piece from his shoulder. He reeled back and forth between the two girls, being hit from the opposite of whichever direction he turned.
Kurt's body began to lump and bruise as the girls stepped up their attack. Monica would circle in one direction and then the other, snapping at his flesh with the tip of her whip. Raquel caught him with the tip of her short whip as he rebounded from Monica's lash. They chased him in this fashion until he fell. They took a break and Kurt rocked himself into Raquel's arms.
Raquel caught the heavy body of Kurt as he was about to fall, gripping him under his arm pits. As she braced herself under his weight, Kurt ran his hand into her crotch, quickly getting a finger hold inside the lips of her cunt.
Monica couldn't see Kurt's hand as it sank into Raquel's cunt. As he swung on Raquel, Monica's whip bit into his ass one more time. Then she started toward them, stopping at the chair and sitting down. Kurt continued to grope in Raquel's fuzzy box, forcing her legs to part, his palm sliding over her clitoris, stimulating her body to open itself up. She was shocked when her cream began to flow. She banged him in the head with the wood tip of her lash and he fell.
With semen dripping from her crotch, Raquel fell onto the sofa. The undaunted Kurt fell between her legs, his immense hard-on finding the exact opening and plunging down into her cunt. He grabbed her tightly and held on as he pranced his pecker in her hole. She wrestled him to the floor, but he still held tight.
Raquel beat him on his head and shoulders, trying to free her pussy from this intrusion, but the more insistent her blows, the harder he humped. She called out to Monica to lash him and, from her chair, Monica brought the whip down on Kurt's back. The sting of the whip made Kurt arch his back and his invasion went further. Raquel's struggles made the bout even more advantageous for the heaving Kurt. As her fists came down around his ears, he cried out, "Harder, harder, harder."
Monica stood up and smashed the whip over Kurt's ass and shoulders, stinging him and tearing away the flesh. Finally she reached down and put the knob of the whip in his wide open, panting mouth. Standing over him, she pulled up hard. He released his grip and fell over.
Raquel was up in a flash, throwing a pair of shackles at Monica and grabbing up the second pair. She hovered over the prone figure of Kurt for just a second, hurling angry invectives down at him, verbally abusing him for his overzealous attack on her cunt.
Fastening the steel cuffs around his wrists, she took up her wood-tipped lash and launched a bruising attack on his chest and midriff. Monica had securely fastened his ankles and his attempts to move were akin to the movements of a decapitated chicken in the throes of death. He rolled his body about but his arms and legs just flapped away from him and back, the chains making a merry tinkle.
"Shit eating dog," screamed Monica as she tore away additional layers of his already severed rear.
Raquel's ears perked as the words shit eater reached her. She ceased her flogging and retreated to the kitchen. Reaching under the sink, she retrieved a small bowl she had used once when she had a dog for a pet. She went back into the room and sat the bowl in the middle of the floor.
Bending her gracious legs at the knees, Raquel unloaded her bowels in the bowl, relieved sighs dripping from her lips as the turds hit the plastic surface, piling one on the other. She glanced up at Monica and smiled a blushing smile, saying, "I'm going to repay Kurt's kindness of a luncheon and dinner with a late night snack," and sat on his face to wipe herself.
Kurt's tongue willingly sought out her anus, sucking at the tiny morsels of feces that clung to the tiny red circle of her ass-hole. Raquel squirmed as his tongue struggled against the tightness of her rectal passageway and she felt a twinge in her belly to release some of her excrement. She squeezed her intestinal muscles but could not get her digestive tract to release any more shit.
Standing tall over Kurt, his face browned over with the remains of her waste, Raquel drew back her whip and cracked it down on Kurt's loins. "To your bowl, dog," she commanded. "Eat your midnight snack."
On hands and knees, Kurt truckled to his feeding bowl, driven by the whip and lash of Raquel and Monica. "Eat, eat, you dog," ranted Monica, her whip singing through the air.
Kurt's face lowered to the bowl and Raquel maintained her insistence with her boot, placed at the back of his neck. She ground his face in the lumps of shit, screaming at him to "Eat it, eat it, you pig. You paid for it with your own money, this very afternoon."
like a hungry pup, Kurt gobbled up the bits of shit, licking the encrustments from the corner of his lips, trying to extend his tongue upward to the tip of his nose. Monica stood back with her when as the wooden-tipped whippet stung Kurt's back, each blow raising another, even more beautiful rosy red welt on his pallid flesh, pockmarked with spots of blood from the lashed renderings of the bullwhip.
Raquel's voice rose in joyous laughter as Kurt licked at the sides of the bowl, cleaning away the very last morsels of her shit. His eyes still sparkling, he looked at Raquel, exhorting her to please let him get his nuts off or he would be unable to continue. His pleadings turned her laughter into an irritated smirk, she did not want to have to ball this bastard pig of a male whom she would have to face everyday.
Kurt begged, genuflecting before her like a choir boy on an altar, pleading with her to let him flush his fluids from his body so that he might regain his strength. His flashing eyes began to fill with the traces of tears as her rejection brought on his sorrow. Out of frustration at having been forced into this compromise, she wrapped her whippet around his throat and pulled him face first to the floor at her feet. "Son-of-a-bitch," she squawked, "how dare you tease me at my pleasure."
Monica became irate. The thought of him asking to get his nuts off, wanting to relieve himself in a woman. Her whip cried out as it stripped anew the flesh from his back.
"Let's just whip him anyway," Monica proposed, "we have the pig shackled anyway."
But Kurt was insistent. What fun could a reluctant sport be to them, he asked them. Wouldn't it be more fun if he were actually a part of the game?
Raquel looked at Monica, Monica returned her gaze, shaking her head 'no'. Raquel raised her whippet and Kurt lay flat on the floor at her feet. "I shall make no noises, I won't even cry a little bit, no matter how good it feels," he pouted, fixing his gaze on the ceiling.
Raquel stomped her feet on the floor, upset that Kurt was going to end the fun, and end it he would if he insisted on not responding to her lashings. How would she be able to enjoy whipping him if he made no sounds? Shaking her head with fury and disgust, she went to the sofa and parted her long, curvy limbs. Kurt managed to roll over and get to his feet. With his manacled hands, he pulled at his penis, urging himself to a great erection. Smiling, he climbed between the upstretched, patent leather boots.
Monica didn't care for the idea in the least bit. She went to the closet, searched among the toys that hung there and came up with a rectum stretcher. She ran her hands over the tapered top, then down the sides that opened by a screw at the other end. A demonic smile etched its way across her face as she thought of using it on Kurt.
Monica thought of oiling the stretcher before she inserted it in Kurt's ass opening, but she thought it would make things much too easy for him, instead she held it between her knees as she spread the cheeks of his bouncing buttocks and shoved the metal instrument up his anal tract with nothing as a balm.
Kurt froze when Monica introduced the rectum stretcher to his rear. His entire body seemed to contract as the cold metal slid further into his shit canal. Now Raquel began to enjoy having him atop her, she could hold him as Monica drove the stretcher further and further into his lurching body.
Locking her arms around him, Raquel swung her hips into high gear, driving herself up at him, bouncing his body backward to aid the passage of the metallic anal mauler. Monica stopped pushing and started to screw the stretcher open, having to stop on occasion because of her laughter. She was crying with the joy of Kurt's horrendous screams. She gave the handle another twist, the skin around Kurt's rectum opened further, he howled like a banshee, and Monica laughed even harder.
Raquel continued to work her long bumptious body under him, holding him prisoner in the depths of her now active, powerful cunt.
Kurt shot a load of come into Raquel that would have satiated the desires of seven desert sheiks, but the piston like pumping of Raquel's body made his penis rise again, forcing him to dream of another explosion, one that would free him from her powerful pussy.
Raquel screwed him until she could feel herself about to come. Having done all this work, she took her pleasure, coming with the gusto of a hurricane. She relaxed long enough to completely empty herself, gnashing her teeth as the hot semen seeped out and scalded her thighs. She pushed the wailing Kurt away from her and let him fall face first on the sofa.
Monica continued to screw the stretcher open. She had parted Kurt's cheeks a full three inches, wide enough so that she could look down into his intestines. Raquel peered into the opening, marveling ;at the thin, pink skin of his bowel tube fought to restrict any more movements.
Monica, getting more and more diabolical, told Raquel to get a pan of hot water. "I think we ought to wash him out," she grinned, "don't you?"
Raquel got the water, and poured it slowly into the open cheeks. She had hardly poured the water when Kurt's inners began to grumble. Neither of the girls was able to escape the flying feces that shot up through the stretcher. like a gusher climbing through he rigs of an oil well, Kurt sprayed the room with his excrement.
Neither Raquel nor Monica were spared the splattering. Their faces and bodies were splotched with the tracings of Kurt's digested delicacies. Raquel vowed never again to eat out and bring her date home immediately afterwards. It had proven to be a smelly business.
The girls retreated to the bathroom to clean themselves, leaving Kurt to sputter all over the sofa and the floor. He reeled about, trying to reach behind himself to extricate the rectum stretcher, but, try as he would, he had no luck other than to fall off the sofa onto the floor.
His calling out to the girls in no way made them hurry, they took their time in fact, letting him wriggle across the floor, taking his painful pleasure alone. When they did come out, he fainted, falling out in a circlet of his own feces. They revived him after a few minutes. Raquel uncorked his rectum and he almost swooned again, staggering about, stepping in his shit, falling finally, but remaining conscious.
When he had completely regained his senses, they made him clean up his shit as best he could. He promised to pay for the sofa's cleaning too, if they promised he could again frolic with them. Looking at each other, the girls nodded, shook his hand and saw him to the door.
As they strolled back to the bedroom, Raquel said she had really exhausted herself. She went straight to bed and to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Running into the office a few minutes late, Raquel bumped into Kurt Driver. She started to turn away, but he gave her the biggest brightest smile, so she returned his amenities then turned away and rushed into her office. Lila was sitting there, waiting to hear the news of the last nights affair.
"Oh, it was beautiful," Raquel squealed. "Just beautiful."
"What did you do to him, did you use the razor?" Lila asked, waiting eagerly to relive the action.
"No, we didn't," Raquel frowned, but then she perked up, "we used the rectum stretcher and poured hot water up his ass and he shit all over the place. We had to call a cleaning man to come over this morning. Monica stayed home to wait for him."
Lila was laughing hard, creating images in her mind of what the dynamic Kurt Driver must have looked like with the rectum stretcher in his ass-hole, shitting all over everything. Raquel made a sorrowful expression as she explained her having to screw the pig.
"But," added Raquel, her facial expression changing, "while he was up there, Monica shoved that stretcher up his rear and he howled; you would not believe how he carried on. The prick shot shit all over us."
Lila held her sides, her laughter uncontrollable. It took her a while to straighten up and still she jerked from sudden bursts. Collecting herself slowly, she asked Raquel how he had taken it.
"By the time we got to the apartment, I knew he was ready," replied Raquel. "He loved every minute of it!"
"Do you think it's going to become a long term thing," asked Lila, thinking that maybe he would grace their next party so that she might have a chance to do him in a little.
"Oh, by all means," Raquel pertly answered.
"By the time he left, he was begging to come back. I am really thinking about asking him to the party for the girls to have a go at him. What do you think?"
"Honey, I've been sitting here thinking of that very same thing." Lila informed her as she rose from her chair. "Right now I'm going to go out to my desk and start my work. And every time Kurt Driver walks past, I'll be thinking of the day I slice tiny circles around his obnoxious cock."
Raquel smiled and waved at her as she backed out of the office. With Lila gone, Raquel fished through her papers but just couldn't get her mind on anything but what next to do to Kurt Driver. She had almost let Byron slip from her mind.
Deciding that she could wait for his call, she tried to get her mind on her work. The day certainly went slow, especially since she now had to think of excuses to dodge Kurt Driver. She ducked out to an early lunch with Lila and they met Monica.
"You should have seen the look on the cleaning man's face when he saw the sofa," Monica laughed. "He wanted to know if we had an elephant in the apartment, or something."
"What did you tell him," asked an hysterical Lila.
"I said we were babysitting for the neighbors kids and they all shit at one time," Monica laughingly replied.
"Then what," was Lila's next question. "He put a clothespin on his nose and cleaned the sofa, of course, what did you think?" smirked Monica.
"I thought maybe you balled him," Lila teased.
"I thought about it," Monica came back, joining in the play, "but I had my whip between my legs and I couldn't get it out," she kidded.
The girls laughed it up all the way back to the office. Parting at the elevator, Monica was reminded that she had to get her Daren Wolfe to come over. She gave Raquel and Lila a wave of her hand and said, "No problem, he's almost there."
Lila and Raquel parted as they entered the door of their office and as Raquel turned to close her door, a hand shot up under her dress. Snapping around, she came face to face with a grinning Kurt Driver.
"I just stopped in to say hello," he grinned. "I thought you might like to have lunch with me.
"I'm sorry," Raquel told him, "but I'm just coming back from lunch. I ate with my roommate."
"Oh, yes, that lovely Monica. Fine young lady, she is." Kurt commented. "I am sorry that you've already been. Oh, well, some other day then?" he asked.
Realizing that she had gotten herself a valuable new pet, Raquel was careful of how she handled him. She bat her eyes a few times, reticent to make any firm committals, but eager to string him out, and said, "Certainly. Why don't we make it toward the end of the week and we can go to my place for lunch. I think it would be a far more appetizing meal than any restaurant could offer."
Kurt rubbed himself, his shoulders rising in short sharp jerks. He smiled his approval and left. Raquel curled her lips back in a sneer as he closed the door.
The phone shattered her evil meditations and she cursed. She picked it up, ready to pounce on whoever it was on the other end of the line. She had answered the right call, it was Byron, and she bit into him with all the verbal abuse she could heap on him.
"What are you calling for you sniveling little cockheaded idiot? Why don't you have yourself spayed you little piss-tailed alligator son-of-a-bitch. Who the hell do you think you are, calling me and disturbing my peaceful, quiet, divine rear moments of meditation," she spat into the phone.
"I didn't know you meditated," the timid voice on the other end of the line spoke.
"You silly little bastard, you don't know yesterday from day after tomorrow. I ought to cut your balls off and make you eat them. You're nothing but a good for nothing cunt sniffing, lowlife, crawling little shit-eating pig of a male who deserves to be hung and dried over dried horse manure," she said, continuing her harangue.
"I guess you're mad about something," Byron said quietly from his end of the wire.
"Mad? Mad? Why you little piss face puny cocked, ass hole eating lilliputian lump of shit, no I'm not mad, I just think all these things about you," she responded, saliva starting to trickle from the corners of her mouth.
"I want to come over tonight," he said, in his low, singsong voice.
"Make it around eight-thirty," Raquel told him.
"Okay," he said, "see you about eight-thirty." and he hung up.
Raquel picked up a piece of paper from her desk and pushed the button on the intercom. Lila's voice answered.
Glancing from the paper in her hand to the talk box, Raquel asked Lila, "Have we had any word on the Apex contract yet?"
"No, not yet. The conference is still in session," Lila answered.
"Let me know as soon as you hear anything," was Raquel's order to her secretary.
"Right, I will," Lila said, hanging up the phone.
She sat down heavily in her chair and lit a cigarette. She rocked herself back and forth in her chair, the foam seeming to undulate as she moved. So Byron was going to come over tonight. Good. She would have a chance to try his collar on him, maybe take him for a walk, let the people see how nice he looks.
She rushed home from the office, Monica chatting away about having made the date to have Darren come over for dinner. Though sharing Monica's enthusiasm, Raquel would get lost in thoughts of the shiny jewels sparklings as she walked Byron down the big streets, showing him off to the public. When the cab stopped, she gave Monica a big hug. Not quite understanding what it was for, Monica raised an eyebrow and gave her a rather dubious gaze in return.
"Don't worry, Monica, I'm not losing my mind," Raquel laughed, "it's just that life is so full of fun that I felt like squeezing someone."
"Yeah, right," said Monica, "Life is fun, you want to squeeze." Monica turned to the cab driver and jokingly told him to "take my friend to Bellevue, please."
The cabby joined them in their laughter. Nice girls, he thought as he pulled away and out into the traffic.
The girls kidded all the way up the elevator to their apartment. Monica really came to life, playing continuously off Raquel's joke about feeling good, wanting to squeeze. Inside their apartment, they threw their things down and danced around, taking down a pair of whips and going into an improvised Mexican Hat Dance. They were adrift on a sea of laughter, without a care, two happy birds in the world of hungry cats and were managing to make out more than alright.
They cracked their whips, stomped their feet, danced around the room, laughing at the top of their voices. "You're really crazy," Monica said to Raquel.
"I'm so happy to be," Raquel liltingly replied as she wrapped her whip gently around her roommates waist.
"Hey, she called out to Monica," see if you can wrap your whip around me, without cutting me in half, and we'll have a tug-o-war. Okay?"
"Fantastic," Monica agreed and whirled her whip out and around Raquel's middle.
They planted their feet and pulled against each other, their heads reeling with laughter, their feet slipping across the hardwood surface of the floor. They were, neither of them, pulling the other any closer, but they were having a ball.
Monica fell, got up, and grumbled that she wish she had someone to lash out at. Raquel told her to calm herself, Byron was coming over at eigh-thirty. Monica got back up from the floor and tugged so hard on her whip that Raquel came sprawling across the room toward her.
Tumbling into Monica, causing her to fall, Raquel broke into an even more robust laughter, her round, heavy breasts rising and falling as she gasped for her breath. Monica's sleek figure lay beneath her, curled up in mirth. Monica reached up and wrapped her arms around her roommate, pulling her to her.
Before long, they were locked in a passionate embrace. Their coupled bodies rolled over and over on the floor as they touched and kissed, their tongues slipping into each others mouth, licking at the upper and lower portions of the open caverns.
Monica tucked her hand in Raquel's crotch, her finger running hotly over the clitoris and plunging into the big, wide pussy. Raquel moved her lips to Monica's full, lofty bust, took a nipple in her lips and sucked. Then-passionate moans rose, filling the room. Monica's fingers worked faster and faster in Raquel's luscious juicy cunt, the come seeping down into her cupped palms.
Raquel pushed her pulsating body closer to Monica, she kissed her roommate's face and fragrant hair. Monica rolled atop the hard-breathing body of Raquel, her fingers sinking deeper and deeper. Raquel threw her head back in wild rage as she started to shake under the power of Monica's powerful finger-fuck. Monica's hair draped down over Raquel face, tickling her nose and eyes. Raquel sucked the dangling strands into her mouth as Monica lay her clit against her lascivious, luscious friend.
With total abandon, Monica and Raquel threw their bodies together, crunching clit on clit, holding onto one another as if their very lives were now dependant upon their reaching a glorious climax together. Faster and faster they humped. Lights seemed to be flashing as their bodies filled and emptied. Monica's breath raced "hard and fast and Raquel, beneath her, moaned as she sought out her mates lips.
From between her breasts, trickles of perspiration dripped down from Monica to Raquel. Her eyes closed, her lips dried, Raquel whispered," I think we ought to get us a dildo.
"Yes," Monica whispered in return, "I think it is time."
They enfolded one another in each other's arms. They got comfortable on the floor, waiting for Byron to come for his lashing. As they traded tender kisses, the phone rang. Monica rolled over and beat her fist against the floor. Raquel kissed her gently on her spine and got up to answer the annoying ring.
"Hello," she barked into the phone.
"Whoa, I'm sorry if I disturbed you," It was Erica.
"Oh, it's you. Then it's not as bad," said Raquel.
"What did I break up?" inquired Erica.
"Monica and I were just getting comfortable," Raquel told her.
"Oh brother. I am sorry about that. I know how you feel. I was going to ask a favor but I guess I better forget it, huh?" Erica apologetically asked.
"What's the favor?" Raquel wanted to know.
"Well I have some heavy business to take care of, a double whipping and eating scene, and it'll probably take all night. My little sister is here and I wondered if you could come over and sit with her. She's an evil little bitch like her big sister so she wouldn't be much of a problem." Erica explained.
"Wait a minute," Raquel said into the phone. She turned to Monica and explained the situation. Monica was hurt but insisted that she do the favor for Erica. Erica was their best friend. Raquel turned back to the phone.
"Okay," she said into the mouthpiece, "I'll be over in a little while."
Hanging up the phone, Raquel bent to Monica and kissed her hard and long, running her tongue deep into Monica's throat, curling it around her tongue, brushing her teeth and gums. Monica turned her head, pleading for Raquel not to make it any harder.
Raquel stood and walked solemnly into the bedroom. When she emerged, she was dressed and ready to leave.
"If Byron comes, and I know he will," said Raquel, "beat him first and then send him to Erica's. But leave enough for me to chew on, please."
This made Monica smile. She kissed Raquel good-bye and turned her eyes to the far wall as the leather-bound blonde strode out the door.
Erica was in a hurry when Raquel arrived and she very quickly introduced her little sister to her friend and departed for her overnight session. Raquel stripped down to her corset and lit a cigarette. She made herself busy with trying to amuse little Lisa. She took out several of Erica's devices and explained their functions to the little girl, who seemed well on her way to topping even her sister Erica in size.
As the hours began to pass, Raquel could see that the little girl might also become as mean and powerful as her sister Erica. She had already developed a fondness for several of the instruments, including Raquel's favorite, the riding crop. Lisa's eyes seemed to flash when Raquel said she had a man coming to visit them that she could try all these things on.
It was nearly ten when Byron arrived and Raquel fell on him immediately. Dragging him into the apartment, she spun him into the room and slapped him across the face. Byron took his coat off and dropped it to the floor.
When he saw little Lisa standing in the bedroom door with the riding crop in her hand, he thought it was a mirage. There couldn't be another Raquel, he thought. No, it was a little Erica, but he had never been in Erica's apartment before. He pleaded with Raquel to introduce him to the tiny demoness before she began her thrashings.
Raquel made the introduction short and sweet and drew out another riding crop for her own use. Byron was stripped and Raquel drove him around the room with her crop, adding to the new grouping of lash marks that Monica no doubt had made before she let him leave the apartment.
Little Lisa didn't wait to be invited to join in the lashing. She sprang into the room and beat wildly at Byron's legs and buttocks, stinging his ass with the mini-fury of her crop.
Raquel drove him into the bedroom, the very special bedroom that Erica had designed for entertaining men. Beating Byron over the head with the riding crop, Raquel made him lie on the floor. She told him to stretch out his arms and he complied. Little Lisa busily ran from arm to arm, fastening them down to the floor with the clamps Erica had installed.
Raquel stood back, surveying the sprawled form of her pet Byron. Little Lisa retrieved her fallen crop and stood between his outstretched legs, puzzling over the size of his penis.
"Is it suppose to be that long?" she asked Raquel.
"Some get to be longer than that," Raquel informed the inquisitive little girl.
Raquel directed her to beat Byron. "Beat him good and hard," she instructed, "he-likes it that way."
Little Lisa lounge was quick to comply, bringing the stiff leather crop down across Byron's middle. Standing flatfooted, her blows fell hard and heavy over his loin.
"Harder. Harder," Raquel urged. "Hit him harder."
Little Lisa became so engrossed in whipping Byron that tears began to flow freely from her eyes. She struck at him harder and harder, screaming as each blow fell, jumping up and down in an effort to get more power into her blows. Raquel stopped her only because she couldn't take her screaming any more.
Lisa let Raquel hold her close to her, sobbing as her head was held to the warm body of her new made acquaintance. "That's alright, honey," Raquel comforted, "that's alright. You did well. Really well." Bryon lay stretched out, his torso covered with bruises that indicated how well little Lisa had done. He moaned and whimpered, tears fell from his eyes. Under Raquel's direction and her own mounting passion, little Lisa had done very well, indeed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Raquel kept Byron manacled to the floor all night, letting Little Lisa return to whip him several times, each time with a different instrument. When she bent to undo Byron's binds, he was a mass of bruises and rough, reddened welts.
Little Lisa was beside herself with glee. She had gotten over the crying fit she had had the first time she took the lash to Byron and was still anxious to beat on him some more.
Raquel had given her a thorough lesson in man beating and had even cautioned her to look for victims among the boys at her school, saying "It's never too early to start whipping on them, Lisa dear. The earlier you start, the better. They appreciate you more."
To give her lessons accent, the curvaceous, fantastic Raquel kicked Byron in the stomach, making him agree to each point she made. "Isn't that right, Byron," she would ask, bringing her long, trim, muscular leg up, planting her toe just below his rib cage.
Doubling over, the poor, beleaguered Byron would groan, "Yes," and fall to the floor. Lisa would punctuate each of her questions with a kick of her own so that by the time Raquel consented to let him leave, he was covered with bumps, bruises, welts and gashes. No part of him had been spared.
"Okay, pig, you can get up and get out of here, now," Raquel spat at the grotesque, groveling figure.
Byron dragged himself out of the apartment, but not before Raquel made him promise to call for her late that afternoon ... she wanted to go shopping. Head bent, he promised and fell out the door. Raquel turned back to Little Lisa, picking up a riding crop to demonstrate the proper grip.
Erica finally came home, her face all aglow from her evening's labor. As she crashed down to her chair, Raquel pounced on her with questions about her activities and the men she had spent the night with.
"Ugh, those pigs," commented Erica. "I nearly had to kill one of them to make him get his rocks off. He was about the size of King Kong and had a thing for being goosed with a hot poker. I had to bend the damn thing over his head before he could even get a hard on. To finish him, I had to heat the poker over a fire and ram it up his ass. He shot his load like a rocket taking off," Erica described.
"What about the other ones," questioned Raquel.
"The other guy I had to work over was a real treat," frowned the giant Erica. "He was a little peachy bastard from upstate somewhere. He had a thing for hanging upside down while he was being lashed. I strung the prick up and whipped him for an hour before he could come. Then he had to ball. Imagine that? A guy who wants to hang upside down wanting to fuck afterwards? Well, I threw him down between my legs and almost swallowed the little worm. He shot off in my cunt and I hardly felt it. What did you two do while I was gone?" she asked Raquel.
"Well, little Lisa and I had a pretty good time with Byron. You remember Byron?" asked Raquel.
"Yeah. I remember him," Erica replied rather disgustedly.
"Well, I gave Lisa some practical applications of lashing techniques. Quite some little sister you have here," Raquel complimented, pulling Lisa close to her.
"Did you enjoy yourself, Lisa?" Erica asked her little sister.
"Yes, I most certainly did," the littler Longe girl merrily answered. "I beat him with the riding crop and the whip and we chained him to the floor and I kicked him and everything. It was so much fun. Are we going to do it again?"
"You bet we are," her big sister answered, "you bet we are."
Raquel told Lisa to go to bed, although it was daylight out. Erica asked why she was sending the little girl to bed now.
"Well, Byron kept us up all night," Raquel complained. "Poor little Lisa hasn't had a chance to sleep yet."
Erica cursed Byron for keeping her little sister awake, vowing to break his neck the next time she saw him. Raquel fell across the bed beside the little demoness and fell asleep, dreaming of Byron in his collar.
Awakening from her sleep, she ran to the phone and dialed her pet. She wanted to make the shopping rounds as early as possible, she wanted to be sure that the stores would be filled with people when she took Byron out. There was no fun to be had, exhibiting the opulent collar to a non-existent audience. She told him to pick her up at Erica's in an hour.
Stretching herself out on the bed again, Raquel made plans for Byron, plans for the outfit she would put on him to go along with his collar.
"Erica," she asked, "would it be okay if I borrowed one of Lisa's dresses?"
"Sure, but what are you going to do with it? " Erica wanted to know.
"It's for Byron to put on." Raquel informed her. "He's on his way over. We're going shopping."
"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful," Erica howled as she reached into the closet. "Here," she said, "this is the lot. Pick one."
Holding the dresses up before her, Raquel selected a glowing golden yellow dress with a black velvet sash around the waistline. Striding over to the dressing mirror, she held it aloft, turning it round and round, her mind racing with images of Byron, his hair neatly combed down and a ribbon pinned on top. That's it, she decided, that's it. Now all she needed was a leash...
"No problem, honey," Erica let her know. "There are a bunch in the bottom drawer over there to chose from."
Raquel hastened to the drawer. Almost immediately her eyes fastened on a verdant chain of triangular links. Her breath caught, her hands froze in mid-air. Slowly she let her fingers touch the flagrantly ostentatious metal linkage, her heart racing pell mell.
Extracting the leash from the others with it, she slid the tawny leather loop over her hand and let the chain-link leash dangle. "It's absolutely beautiful," she breathlessly praised to Erica. "It's divine."
"Use it in good health, honey and know that that leash has walked some of the best," Erica returned, placing her hand on Raquel's shoulder.
Raquel stood on her toes and kissed Erica on the cheek. "Thank you."
Erica shook it off and went about picking up the various whips and chains and crops that Raquel and Lisa had used on Byron. There were traces of blood on the floor where Byron had laid for the night. Erica looked up at Raquel and asked, "Are you sure he's going to be in shape for a walk?"
"Oh, we were careful not to bruise him where it would show," Raquel reassured her, "he'll look just fine."
The girls walked about the apartment, making jokes and discussing the outfit Raquel had selected for her loving Byron. Raquel was exceptionally pleased with her choice although she thought the leash would be a little too bright for Byron's complexion. 'We'll see when he gets here," Erica said.
No sooner had she said it when there came a knock on the door. Wide, bright mischievous grins broke out on their faces. Erica swaggered to the door and swung it open, beckoning to Byron to enter. like a timid schoolboy entering the headmasters office for his first wrongdoing, Byron tiptoed in, tugging at his collar as if he were having difficulty breathing.
"Sit down," invited Erica.
"No, don't sit down," spat the snickering Raquel, "You have to get dressed."
"But I am dressed," Byron barely whispered.
"Not the way I want you to be," Raquel countered, starting to go to the bedroom.
She turned and curled her finger, signaling Byron to follow her. Sheepishly, he did.
Raquel urged Byron to hastily undress, pushing his fingers over the buttons of his jacket and shirt, tugging at his tie and belt, pulling his pants down. She grabbed up the dress and held it out, in front of his eyes.
Byron's face wrinkled, caught between a smile and a frown, as Raquel draped the dress over his shoulder, laughing to Erica to come see. "Put it on," she told him as she looked out at Erica.
Byron took the dress from her and pulled it down over his head. He was more than cautious as he pulled at the hem. He did not want to risk tearing it and thereby invoke the ire of the sanguinary giant as well as the red-handed Raquel. Gingerly, he fit the garment over his head and shoulders, holding his breath until it had slid down past his waist.
Erica and Raquel stood and admired him, the dress coming to about midway on his ass-cheeks. Raquel raked at his hair, pulling it down over his tears. She pinned a big, black bow over the part on the right side and tied the sash around his waist. Very carefully, she hooked the leash in the collar and fastened it around his neck. Standing back, she deferred to Erica for judgment.
Erica crooked her head to one side. "I think you ought to put a pair of blinders on him, make him keep his eyes in front of him. That way he won't wander off."
Erica stepped away from the wall and went to the bountiful bottom drawer. She took out a pair of rigid leather blinders and walked back to Byron. Lifting his restyled locks, she fit the blinders to his head, like to a horse's and offered him to Raquel for final appraisal.
"Let's go, lover," Raquel said to Byron, tugging on the leash, "we've got some shopping and showing to do."
Erica held the door like a butler and Raquel led Byron out. As they rode down the elevator, she made him get down on all fours, giving him a verbal lashing as they descended.
An incredulous doorman watched as Byron groveled out past him and into the street. Raquel hailed a cab and they were off to the stores. Not believing what he saw, the cabbie asked if they were on their way to some kind of party or masquerade ball. Raquel unflinchingly replied that they were going shopping.
"Ha, ha, ha, shopping. Yeah, sure," the cab driver laughed.
Raquel told him to shut up and drive.
The cab pulled qp in front of the store and
Byron crawled out to the sidewalk. Raquel stepped out after him, shortening the leash in her hand. She shook it and Byron headed for the store entrance.
"Now you be a good boy while we're here and I'll give you something nice when we get home," Raquel petted. Byron looked up, his eyes fogged. Raquel shook the leash and gave him a kick in the ass, his bare exposed ass, and led him into the store.
Heading down the first aisle, they drew lots of attention, some of the older shoppers even tried to pet Byron. One old lady commented, "Isn't it strange the way these young people get their kicks now adays?"
Raquel was all smiles as Byron crawled along in front of her, his eyes forward, his view to the side cut off by the blinders. His bare, hairy, lash-striped ass wagged as he slid his knees along the floor. The more eyes and comments he attracted, the taller Raquel stood, the prouder she felt. Without doubt, she had the most obedient pet in town, she thought, and she was going to hold on to him.
They stepped onto the escalator and went up to the second floor. They encountered more startled shoppers and a few envious people who stopped Raquel to ask if she had any more like this one at home. Raquel pulled on the leash and stopped Byron, took a few minutes to answer the serious query of one of the avid gawkers and signaled him to move on.
Byron scurried along the aisles, causing some of the sales people to nearly jump over their counters, but his masterful mistress put everyone at ease with either gentle persuasion or railing vocal harangues. When they had toured all the floors in the same manner, Raquel decided to take Byron home. They took the elevator down, Raquel giving Byron well placed kicks to keep him still. As they stepped out on the first floor, she checked the chain around his neck and pulled him fast over the floor and out into the street. As they stood waiting for a cab, she held her head erect, like a lordly lady, the jeweled collar and the triangular-linked leash giving off their glitter in the waning afternoon sun.
Back at the apartment, Raquel walked Byron in, gave a deep sigh as if the experience had been absolutely exhausting, unfastened the collar and told him to go to the corner of the room and sit there. Monica broke into a fit of laughter, marveled at her roommates-ingenious costume, crying for reviews of the shopping tour.
"Well, I met this one girl who wanted to know if he was for sale, or if I had another one like him," Raquel told her anxious, listening friend.
"Do you remember the girl who stopped us on the first floor," she called to Byron, who sat against the wall in the corner.
"Yes," he pertly replied, hoping to be called back from his exile, "yes, I do."
"Well, she wanted to buy you or rent you," she told him. "Aren't you happy I said no?': she asked her well-trained puppy-man.
"Yes, I am," he yelped.
Monica wanted to know if Raquel had given Byron a beating while they were out. If she had taken her riding crop with her.
"No," Raquel told her, "I used the toe of my boot a few times, but he behaved well, so I didn't really have use for the lash this afternoon."
Monica looked over at the curled up figure of Byron. The yellow dress and the bow in his hair were strangely appealing to her; she wanted to try the dress on. She went to where he cowered and demanded that he take the dress off. Byron looked at Raquel. She waved her hand in consent and he began the careful effort to undo the garment, making sure, although the bloodthirsty Erica was not present, not to tear even a thread.
Monica kicked him in the thigh, barely missing his balls. He was taking much to much time, she felt, she wanted him out of the dress at once.
Byron hurried, pulling the dress up over his head, absorbing the hard punches to the stomach Monica delivered while his hands were raised over his head, getting the dress off before finally doubling over with pain. Monica stepped back and, seeing that he wasn't going to fall, pushed him to the floor. With the dress in her hand, she walked back to Raquel and asked her to help her get into the soft yellow girlie thing.
Standing to help her friend get into the dress, Raquel noticed dirt along the front of the dress. Furious, she ran to the closet for her riding crop. She snatched it from its hanging place and ran to where Byron lay, holding his stomach.
With unparalleled fury, she thrashed at his neck and shoulders, her blows landing with horrid, loud thuds. Byron grabbed her ankles, trying to cover his head, but she kicked herself free continuing to rain blow after resounding blow down over him. Monica wiggled herself into the dress and grabbed her whip, which was never very far away from her, and joined in the lashing, snapping away at Byrons raw, bruised back, tearing away bits of flesh, snipping out tufts of hair from his neatly coif fed head, whipping him without mercy, standing behind her friend, rendering Byron a bloody mess as he rolled about in the corner, unable to move more than a few inches.
Raquel sang out punishing phrases as she landed the crop across his skull.
"Why did you dirty that child's dress?" she cursed.
"Can't I take you out for an afternoon without your getting dirt all over yourself?" she screamed as she struck out.
"Why didn't you look where you were going?"
Monica jumped up and down, shouting, "Pig, pig, pig" as her whip whistled through the air.
"You're nothing but a pig," she screamed, whirling the whip once again and snapping it."
Byron fell, his penis standing straight like a flag pole. As his body rose with difficult breaths, the penis lolled back and forth, bobbing like a bouy in a bay. Raquel ceased her furious assault and sank to the floor, this time truly exhausted. Monica rushed to her side, sat beside her and kissed her. "Please send him home." Monica asked her roommate, "please send him home?"
When her eyes met Monica's, Raquel could see the passion building. A tender smile effused her flushed cheeks. Her command to Byron was barely audible. "Leave," she said, and he got up to find something to cover himself as the two girls turned their attentions to each other. He found a coat that someone had left and as he tiptoed out of the apartment, the girls were seeking each others tongues, their hands filling their pussies with their own special joy. Bruised and limping, Byron left them cradling on the floor.
"Hold me tighter," Monica moaned as she groped around the inner lips of Raquel's cunt, "please hold me tighter."
Raquel drew Monica closer, sinking her middle finger deep in her pussy, curling it and screwing it back and forth. Monica sank her teeth into Raquel's tit, sucking at the nipple, her body becoming taut. She hoped that Raquel would make her come.
Raquel rolled Monica to the floor and threw her luxuriant hips over her face, resting her ambrosial blonde bush over Monica's nose and mouth. Eagerly, Monica received the colossal cunt and let her tongue run free into the come coated passage. On top, Raquel was settling her lips at the door to Monica's jasmine powdered pussy, pulling back the pubic hairs, flicking her tongue in the opening, licking along the rim, then she plunged it all the way in.
Monica wrapped her gorgeous limbs around Raquel's head and hugged her to her honey pot, writhing with the glorifying goodness of Raquel's tonguing. Her curvilinear form rose and fell with the libations her roommate poured upon her pussy, she swooned as the tongue plummeted to the depths of her gaping, free flowing pee pan. Raquel was driving her hard. Her entire body quivered with the passionate pressures the flicking tongue inside her produced.
As Raquel's magic manifested itself, Monica sent her own tongue to work, shooting it upward, gouging at the widespread, wet wilderness that tickled her nose. Sinking her fingertips into the soft creamy flesh of Raquel's ass-cheeks, she pulled her percolating pussy down over her face, tighter and tighter, sinking her mouth inside the lips, sucking in the juices, blowing her hot breath into the darkened passage, whipping her tongue from side to side.
As her body knotted in the prestage of ejaculation, Monica let herself go, sank her tongue as far as it would go, and sucked hard on the warm wet flesh. Her own come flowing into Raquel's mouth, Monica was desperate to return the pleasure. She puckered her lips and ran it down into the odorous sump, her nose rubbing against the bulging pink clit.
Raquel hauled her body up and down, spreading her weighty hips around Monica's head, stretching her legs out across the floor. Monica began to breath hot fire into the spreading gorge above her, sending flashing, dashing electric shocks through Raquel's body.
Raquel caught her breath in short, spasmadic gasps, her belly floating down with each exhalation, the soft hot flesh covering Monica. Suddenly, her passions having run wild, Raquel shot her all, sent her come flying down into Monica's waiting lips and came to rest.
Straightening themselves, Monica reached for her whip. She shook it out beside them, reeled it in, shook it out again. "That was really beautiful," she told Raquel, "but I wish we had someone to whip on, it adds so much."
"Don't worry, honey," said Raquel confidently, "we'll have someone tomorrow. I can't have my riding crops getting dusty."
The phone rang again. Monica cursed the caller before she knew who it was. Again, it was Erica. This time she called to ask about the shopping trip.
"It was just beautiful," Raquel told her, "I think we were really a sensation."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sadly, Raquel and Monica dragged themselves off to work. Neither of the girls had really wanted to give up their loving but one of the problems of life is getting unpleasant things done. So, into a cab and off to the office they went. It didn't take long for Raquel to perk up; a few minutes after she arrived, a box was delivered to her office.
Raquel studied the box for a few minutes and ripped off the covering. When she opened it, she found a brand new cat-o-nine tails. As she lifted the beautiful fresh smelling leather whip from its encasings, a note fell out. "Do you think you could stay a little later tonight to try this out?" the note read. It was signed by Kurt Driver. Raquel couldn't help but smile. Of course she could stay late. She could think of nothing better than to lash the living hell out of him with this wonderful present he had sent her.
All day long, Raquel expected Kurt to stick his head into her office, but he never came. She didn't even bump into him in the corridors, which was very strange. Could he have given her the cat-o-nine tails and changed his mind?
It was late into the afternoon before he put in an appearance, ducking into her office and closing the door quickly behind him. "How do you like the present I found for you?" he asked, a boyish grin on his face.
"I love it," Raquel answered, "I think it's just wonderful. I hope it enhances our friendship one thousand per cent."
"Good," he said, and bowing deftly at the waist, "I will see you a little past five . ... when everyone else has gone home."
"I'll be waiting," Raquel promised, juggling the whip in her hands.
Kurt closed the door gently after him and was gone. Raquel looked at the clock. There was still an hour to go. She pushed the intercom button and asked Lila to come in.
Lila was there in a flash.
"Listen," she said to her office confidant, "I am going to stay late. I have a date with Kurt Driver. We are going to have an office party. Just he and I and this," she grinned coquettishly as she revealed the cat-o-nine tails.
Lila's eyes bugged out. Her hands flew up, clutching at the crisp, new leather. "Where'd did you get it," Lila asked.
"Kurt is a real sport, love, he bought his own." Raquel explained to Lila.
They exchanged mutual cooing admirations and Lila went out. Raquel sat down and spun around in her chair, bumping into the desk. She decided she had better call Monica and tell her not to wait for her.
When Monica came to the phone and Raquel told her that she was staying late with Kurt Driver, Monica cursed. This was the night Darren Wolfe was coming to the apartment.
When Monica told her that, Raquel cursed and vowed she'd make short work of Kurt so that she could join her at the apartment to work over Darren. They could have Kurt anytime, she knew that now, but she wanted to be in on the. initiation of Darren Wolfe. She hung up, her mind racing a thousand miles a minute. She beat the cat-o-nine tails across the desk top, thinking of what to do. She had to keep her appointment with Kurt, but it didn't have to last all night.
At five, Lila ducked in and gave Raquel a pep talk.
"Slash his ass good," she said. "Whip him across the balls."
"Don't worry, I'll thrash his ass, but good." Raquel answered.
When the office was all quiet, a lone set of footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor. Raquel stood and peeled her dress. From a drawer on the desk, she took out her long black gloves; new leather had a tendency to scratch she remembered.
She had just gotten the dress off and the gloves on when Kurt Driver entered the office. He had already taken off his tie, his shirt was unbuttoned, he carried his jacket in his hands. The sight of Raquel's curvy limbs, buxom boobs and the cot-o-nine tails caused an immediate burning sensation in his loins. He scurried out of his pants and shirt, letting them land where they may.
He walked hungrily toward Raquel, his hands out-stretched and grasping. She backpedaled a few steps and let the cat-o-nine tails sing out. The stinging strands wrapped themselves around his wrist, biting into the flesh, making him stop dead in his tracks. Raquel retracted the whip and let him come forward again.
Kurt advanced, but at a slower pace. When he was at arms length, he reached up and yanked at her bra. She twisted and it fell free, exposing her enormous breasts. Kurt fell on his knees and cried for a whipping. "I have fouled you," he moaned, "beat me, beat me."
Raquel raised her whip and brought it down on him, striping his flesh with fresh red welts. "You grabby son-of-a-bitch," she screamed. "I'll teach you to touch me with your filthy hands."
Once, twice, thrice, the whip came down, ripping at Kurt's bare back and shoulders. Again she lashed out, again she connected, again she raised the thick red marks. Kurt shut his eyes tight and reeled around in a wild circle, his arms flailing, stumbling against the furniture. Raquel pushed her roller chair and it came up under him. Kurt bent at the knees and fell into a sitting position.
Raquel pulled Kurt's belt from his pants and wrapped it around his ankles. She looked around and found the cords from the drapes that kept the glaring sun from her window. She tied his wrists to the chair, Kurt willingly submitting to the tying.
Raquel stepped back and surveyed her captured quarry. Tightening her gloves to her hands, she took up the cat-o-nine tails and proceeded to lash Kurt Driver into a bloody pulp, battering his chest and loins. Under the power of her thrashing motions, Kurt let out a long, loud wail that rattled the glass in the window. His sudden scream frightened Raquel and she grabbed his mouth to quiet him.
Reaching into her bag, she took out a handkerchief and gagged the low howling Kurt. This time when she stepped back, there was nothing to prevent her from really putting the finishing touches on him.
She raised the whip and as she did, Kurt opened his eyes wide. Raquel brought the cat-o-nine tails down as hard as her arm would allow, snapping her wrist as she completed her arch. If he were not gagged, Kurt would have shattered the glass.
Raquel stepped up the pace of her lashing, like the coxswain on a shell, grunting with each stroke she took, putting her entire body into each blow. Kurt's penis grew longer and longer with each searing, burning lash. Raquel could feel her pussy starting to drip its hot sticky fluid. She wanted to dumb onto Kurt Drivers lap and sink his big hard erect penis clear up to her belly.
She was about to satisfy herself when he passed out.
Raquel cursed him and sank the thick leather thongs into his unconscious flesh, beating him for having expired when she needed him to poke his long prick into her lusting cunt. Exhausted and frustrated, she picked up the phone to call Monica.
Raquel cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder, lit a cigarette and waited for Monica to answer the phone. She let the phone ring and ring, but Monica didn't answer. Where the hell could she be? She hung the phone up and went to the door.
Sticking her head out, she checked to see if any one was still lurking about. Certain that the coast was clear, she darted to the water fountain, filled two cups and dashed back to her office, trying, as she ran, not to spill too much of the water.
Kurt's head hung down to his chest, bobbing back and forth as if he were trying to raise it. Raquel threw one cup of water over his head and with the other, she dabbed at his temples. He would not waken. She stopped trying and called the apartment again.
The phone rang and rang, but still she got no answer. She grit her teeth and cursed. She picked up the cat-o-nine tails and raised it. She was about to bring it down when Kurt's head sort of swayed from one side to the other. Her hand dropped heavily, her expression changed to one of despair. Why did he have to pass out? Where the hell was Monica? Folding her arms across her chest, she stomped around the room, kicking at pieces of paper, kicking the chair in which Kurt sat, unconscious.
Anxiety starting to build, she went to the phone and called Monica again. Still she got no answer. She let it ring on and on, but there was no answer. What had that cock sucker Darren done to Monica? Where had he taken her? Did he hurt her? All kinds of thoughts traversed Raquel's anxious and fear fraught mind. She ran into the corridor and out of the office, running toward Monica's office, hoping to find someone there who might know where Darren Wolfe had taken Monica ... She was totally unaware of her near nudity.
Turning the corner, she saw the faint glimmer of a light beneath the heavy oaken doors. She raced toward it. Raquel threw herself against the door, turning the handle and almost falling in. The office was still open, but she didn't question why or how. She headed for Monica's section, the cubicle where she sat. Reaching it, she found no Monica. She froze in her steps for a moment.
From some distant place, Raquel could hear voices, or what sounded like voices. Cocking her ear, Raquel followed the sound. It grew louder with each step. At the very end of the hallway, in a far corner of the building, she saw a door left slightly ajar. On tiptoes, she approached it.
Silently, Raquel pushed the door open. The well-oiled mahogany door eased open, making not a sound. There, before her eyes, on the plush green carpet of his office, Darren Wolfe was pumping his full length of penis into a raging Monica.
Monica beat wildly on his back, her fist and nails bruising him as she struggled under his heaving, humping body. Darren continued undaunted by Monica's persistent pounding. His prick sank deeper and deeper into her. He caught her by her ass and hauled her body up to him. Monica's head fell back, her mouth flew open, a strange light came to her eyes. Her fists no longer flailed, instead she clutched at his shoulders.
Raquel raced into the room, shrieking at the top of her voice. Startled, Darren turned to see who this intruder was. He continued to hump the now welcoming Monica, even as Raquel sank her boot tips in his ribs.
Monica saw her flaming, furious roommate standing over Darren, her heels coming down, aimed at his spine. She screamed. Turning her head from side to side, looking for something with which she could strike the dirty, treacherous Darren, Raquel picked up the scissors that lay at the edge of his desk. She raised them high above her head and started the downward arch.
Darren rolled away from Monica, falling over his chair fleeing the flying scissors just as they cut the air where a moment ago his back had been.
Raquel pursued his retreating naked figure, chasing him back toward the wall. She lunged again, and missed as Darren sidestepped. Monica stood back, pulling on the skirt Darren hadn't bothered to remove, her eyes wide with the fright of having to see Raquel sink the shears into Darren's body.
When Raquel missed the second time, Darren sent a smashing right hand to her chin, sending the stormy blonde bombshell crashing to the floor. The scissors fell from her hand and Raquel attempted to retrieve them, but Darren stepped in and planted one more solid, hard right to her chin. He could see Raquel's eyes roll back in her head as she went down in a clump. Good, he thought, the bitch is out cold. He turned to the frightened Monica.
"Now, sweet Monica, where were we?" he asked in a very gentle, soft and reassuring tone.
Lost for a moment, Monica consented to his pulling her close to him. His hand found its way under her skirt and covered her hot, sticky twat. Her eyes closed for a minute, but then she let out a scream.
"Get away from me you pig," she cried out, "get away from me. Look what you've done," she screamed as she bent over the cold, still body of her roommate and friend.
"Get away from me, you, you murderer," Monica yelled at the dumbfounded Darren.
Darren picked up his clothes and began to dress, looking down cautiously at the prostrate figure of Raquel. She began to stir as he drew on his jacket. Darren thought hard about giving her another good right, but retreated out of the office, leaving Monica to tend to her felled friend.
Standing at the elevator, waiting for it to come take him out of the building, Darren heard faint, distant groans. He looked up at the floor indicator and turned in the direction of the sound. The door to Raquel's company was open. Darren approached it cautiously for fear some other demoness might come running out at him.
Very carefully, Darren pushed the door all the way open. He stepped inside, his back to the wall. Sliding along the wall, he came to another open door, the door from which the noise came. Stepping against the door jamb and peeped around it. Sitting there, still strapped in, was Kurt Driver.
Driver was awake now, and Darren unbound him. He helped Kurt into his clothes and out to the elevator, all the time keeping an eye out for the vicious vixen, Raquel.
As he held Kurt up, Darren wondered if Monica was as vicious as her friend. He dropped the thought as the elevator came. Pushing Kurt before him, he pushed the button and felt the car drop. He looked up at the ceiling of the car as if expecting Raquel to reach in and try to hack him with the scissors.
Telling the cab driver that Kurt had had too much to drink, he closed the door and started to walk east, thinking of how he had just narrowly missed being stabbed to death in his own office by a howling mad witch. What would his friends think if he showed up, naked, in a front page photo with a headline reading 'man slain at office orgy'? He was glad he got out of that one.
He opened his collar to the night air and strolled home, whistling.
Raquel opened her eyes finally and flew into a rage, reaching for the scissors and looking around the room for Darren.
"He's gone, honey," said Monica in a sympathetic tone. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"OoooH, I think that bastard broke my chin," groaned Raquel. "Where is he? I'll kill him."
"He's gone, don't worry about him," Monica comforted.
Shaking her head, Raquel climbed to her feet, resting against the desk while things regained their perspective. Then she suddenly remembered Kurt. He was still in the chair in her office.
Racing out of Darren's office, Raquel stretched her long legs, and into her own office, only to find Kurt and his clothing gone. Now she was both puzzled and frightened. What was she to do?
She grabbed the office phone book and searched out Kurt's home number. The phone rang. No answer. Raquel's heart began to pound faster. Monica sauntered in, having locked her own office and sat in the chair that had served as a whipping stool not so many minutes past. Raquel bit her finger nails and paced the room.
"What's the matter?" Monica asked.
"A little while ago, I left Kurt Driver ties in that chair," she said, pointing to where Monica sat, "and now he's gone!"
Monica shuddered. "Maybe the cleaning man let him go," she said, trying to think of something."
Raquel got into her dress. She picked up the phone and dialed Kurt Driver's number again. This time he answered.
"Is that you Kurt?" Raquel asked, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Yes it is, who is this," he queried.
'This is Raquel," she answered.
"Oh. Where did you disappear to?" he asked her.
"I went around the hall to help out my girlfriend. How did you get out of the chair," Raquel wanted to know.
'That guy Darren Walfe who works just down the hall from us came in and untied me. I had given up hopes of your coming back. I was beginning to think I'd have to spent the night in that office or worse, have to explain myself to the cleanup man." Kurt explained.
"Oh, boy," Raquel apologized, "I was coming back. I just ran into more trouble than I expected."
"Well, I really must take care of these marvelous bruises and gashes. I really wish we had time to go into it more, but ... some other time perhaps. Good night."
"Yeah, good night," answered Raquel as Kurt hung up his phone.
Raquel's body almost went limp with relief. At least she was out of that part. The only worry now was whether or not Darren Wolfe would spill the beans. She turned to Monica.
"What was he doing balling you?" she asked with a twisted angry face.
"It was a trap." Monica explained. "He tricked me. I'll explain it later, I want to get out of here."
Raquel picked up her bag and her cat-o-nine tails. Monica walked out to the elevator and pressed the button while Raquel locked up. She didn't want to mention the fact that
Raquel had saved her from really surrendering to Darren. Another minute she thought, whew.....
Monica didn't have time to explain her predicament with Darren. Raquel began immediately to lay out a plan to get Darren Wolfe to keep his mouth shut about what had transpired in the office. She convinced Monica to go over to Darren's apartment, get in and leave the door ajar so that she could come in afterwards and talk to him about keeping the whole thing quet.
"But why don't I just invite him to the party, its only a couple of days away. That way we can all get a piece of him," Monica countered, not wanting to be caught at close quarters with Darren Wolfe again, not alone.
Raquel thought it over. But what about tomorrow and the day after? Suppose he decided to say something tomorrow?
"Calm down," Monica beseeched her roommate. "What can he say? If he says something about you, I can say that he was molesting me, right?"
Raquel looked at her roommate and a big smile covered her wide firm face. "You're a really bright young lady, you know that?" she complimented Monica. "That's really a good thought."
Raquel sat back and relaxed and invited Monica to do the same. "We haven't got a worry," she said, not a worry.
Monica nestled up beside Raquel but her thoughts traveled elsewhere. She was glad that she had been spared a second confrontation with Darren Wolfe.
When Darren got home, he decided to look up Kurt Drivers number and give him a call. He thumbed through the phone book and located the number. When Kurt picked up the phone, Darren asked how he was getting on after his ordeal at the office.
"Okay, okay. I must admit, though, that I was a bit shaken before you came in to rescue me," Kurt answered.
"You play some pretty rough after hours games," Darren commented.
"Well," replied Kurt, "we all have our problems."
"Well, as long as you got home okay and you're none the worse for the experience, I have nothing to say," Darren told him.
"Nice of you to check, though." added Kurt. "Say, I belong to a small group of men who take their pleasure in life a little different from most people. You may not be one of us, but why not stop by the little gathering we're going to have on Friday," Kurt invited.
"Well if I can, I will," Darren accepted, and the men hung up.
Darren started to ring Monica, but changed his mind. That would be too much for him to handle right now. He wondered if she would have anything to say about today when he saw her tomorrow, if, indeed, he did see her?
Shaking the ice around in his glass, he took a drink and set the glass down. He had had it for the day.
CHAPTER NINE
Just to be on the safe side, Raquel, decided to call her office the next morning to tell them that she would not be in until late afternoon. That would give Monica time to check things out with Darren Wolfe and anyone else who might be curious about the events of the evening party. Monica told her she was really very silly and that she was going through a lot of unnecessary todo. But Raquel insisted.
Pacing back and forth, Raquel waited until the day had really gotten underway and called Lila She drilled Lila in what answers to give should anyoune inquire about here whereabouts and asked her if there had been anything unusual about the morning. So far, things were as good as Monica had predicted. Raquel puffed her cigarette and sank into a chair to wait the rest of the morning out, slapping her riding crop across her palm.
The ring of the phone frightened Raquel so much that she dropped her cigarette on the floor, almost burning herself as it slid through her fingers. She hesitated a long time before she answered.
"Good morning, Raquel," the voice said.
"Kurt?" asked Raquel cautiously.
"Yes. I'm calling because we never were able to finish our session last night and I wondered if you might be inclined to try again," Kurt explained, "I was left feeling extremely unfulfilled."
"I'd love to," Raquel replied, "but where and when.? "
"Why not start at the office and then maybe at your place or mine?" Kurt intoned, getting more and more excited.
Raquel paused for a long moment, sighed heavily and spoke again into the mouthpiece, "okay, I'll be in later today. Meet me in my office after five."
Kurt agreed and hung up. Immediately, Raquel called Monica to find out how things were with Darren. She waited anxiously while
Monica was being called to the phone.
"Hello, Raquel. I told you, you had nothing to worry about from Darren. He hasn't even mentioned your name," Monica informed her.
"Listen Monica, can you make sure he doesn't hang around the office late tonight?" Raquel asked.
"I don't know, why? You up to some more overtime?" Monica pessimistically inquired.
"Yes, but I want you to make sure that Darren Wolfe won't be lurking in the building," Raquel responded with her nerve endings slightly a jangle.
"But that might mean my having to go out with him and I really don't want to do that," Monica let her friend know.
"A little sacrifice, honey, and maybe we'll have a pair of pets to dress up for walks," was Raquel's defense.
The idea perked Monica up enough for her to be willing to try one more time with Darren Wolfe, though she knew that being with him could be dangerous. Nonetheless, she agreed.
At five, Monica left the building with Darren Wolfe and Raquel closed her door behind Kurt Driver. While Darren and Monica were stepping into a cab, Kurt was pacing around Raquel's office, admiring her outfit and praising her strength and skill with the cat-o-nine tails he had given her.
"Do you realize that I have never in my life been lashed into unconsciousness," he quizzed playfully. "I mean it, really, that takes quite some doing. I have an enormously high threshold of pain."
"Well I have an enormous desire to give you all' Raquel sneered.
"Oh, don't get nasty yet," Kurt told her, waving his hand. "I'll be ready in a while, but right now I just want to unwind from this busy, busy, day."
Raquel stepped off a few paces, flitting her whippet in the air. "Look you bastard," she turned and yelled at Kurt, "if I feel like lashing your plumpy round ass, I will do it . ... when I'm damned well ready."
"What's the matter Raquel? I thought we were going to be friends?" puzzled Kurt.
"We are," she grinned evilly, "we are. Every time my whip sinks into the flesh of your back, we'll be a little friendlier."
Kurt raised an eye-brown when he looked at her. Wordlessly, he took off his jacket and shirt, laid them on the desk and let his pants fall. Raquel leaned against the wall checking him as he undied his clothing. When Kurt bent to undo his shoelaces she flew across the room, her whippet raised high and sailed it down on his bent buttocks.
The surprise blow made Kurt howl. Raquel began to pound away at him, raising her lash and crashing it down on his back, daring him to stand up straight, kicking him if he tried, lashing out and hurling abusive invectives as she struck.
"Dirty fucking pig," she screamed.
"Masculine hunk of shit."
Kurt's old wounds opened anew, fresh ones popped up. Raquel curled the cat-o-nine tails around her shoulder and spun herself around trying to get additional power into her swing. Kurt grit his teeth and fell to his knees, his prick bobbing up in front of him. He ceased his enormous erection in his hands and started to pull, making quick jerky motions, moaning as the lash fell down time and time again over his back.
Back-and forehanded, Raquel refused to stop for even a minute to allow Kurt a peaceful beat off. Mustering some new strength, he managed to get to his feet. He caught a hold on the cat-o-nine tails and walked himself up its length.
Holding the whip in one hand, he beat his meat in a flash of fury. Raquel tugged at the whip, trying to extract it from Kurt's grip, but he held fast, still masturbating. Infuriated by this bold gesture on Kurt's part, Raquel lifted her boot to his groin and doubled him over.
His face distorted with pain, agonized groans rolling from deep within his body, Kurt clutched at his balls and the sperm sprang out, little gray-white droplets spurting from his organ, splashing on impact with the floor.
Raquel brought the cat-o-nine tails down across Kurt's chest, raising multiple rows of thick, blue-red welts. Kurt coughed, his body bucked across the floor, his face began to lose it's color and he grew more pallid with each fresh, maddened blow from Raquel's lash.
"Please, he moaned, "please. I have to fuck you. I must."
He was hardly able to get the words out of his mouth. His eyes rolled up into his head. He shook himself to clear his mind. Raquel kicked him in the base of his spine and he fell.
Continuously, Raquel pounded the again unconscious body, unmindful of the fact that he could no longer feel the pain she administered. Over and over, she brought the cat-o-nine tails down, curling it around his neck and slashing at his chest. She might have gone on forever, but she developed an ache in her own loins that made her reel with the desire to be fulfilled.
Raquel stared down at the bloody, stilled body. It had never entered her mind that she might kill him until now, with his penis erect, blood seeping from the numerous gashes that crisscrossed his chest and stomach, he lay hardly breathing.
She bent over him, held her hand over his nose and was able to discern traces of a breathing, but it was not a normal pulse. Raquel stood and stared. The ache in her own body stepped up its attack on her sensibilities. Her eyes became fixed to the upright staff and the twinge of concern she felt leaked its way out of her. She unfastened the great belt she wore and let her pants fall to her ankles. Stepping of of one leg, she straddled the stupefied Kurt and slid herself down on his dick, swallowing him up inside her, dispensing all thoughts that life might be ebbing its way out of his body through the very gashes she had made, the cold hard penis felt good as she slid up and down, wagging her hips. She closed her eyes the better to enjoy it, letting her finger tips meander over the open wounds.
As Raquel screwed herself up and down, swung her hips and sank Kurt into her. He began to breathe a little more effectively. As Kurt's pulse grew more rapid, Raquel threw herself more hurriedly into her fuck. She wanted to get her nut before he awakened. Faster and faster, the lascivious, bloodthirsty blonde plummeted her plump cunt down around Kurt's penis.
The fever of her singular orgy galloped over her body, circled her brain and ran back down to her groin. With her fingers digging into Kurt's chest, mixing with his blood, Raquel let out a low groan and sank her cunt all the way down, letting her hot, odorous come spill out and wash itself into Kurt's curly public patch.
Panting and satisfied, she leaned forward, the weight of her body resting on Kurt's chest. His breath caught and his eyes fluttered. Raquel hastened to free her cunt of his lance. He didn't have to know that he had served her, even as he slept.
Standing, she looked down at her bloodstained hands. Her pants dragged around her ankle and she wanted them up before he came to. She looked around and saw nothing on which to clean her hands......except Kurt's hanky.
She snatched the hanky from his pocket and wiped vigorously. When she was done, she dropped it over his face. Retrieving her pants, she picked up her cat-o-nine tails also. No sooner than she fastened the buckle of her belt, she resumed her relentless lashing of the prostrate Kurt.
For an instant it looked as if Kurt were going to wake. Raquel took long pauses between her strokes, wanting him to wake so that he could scream and cry as she lashed him, but he did not open his eyes, his body hardly moved as she beat new slices in his chest.
Despite her persistent lashings, Kurt's face had a restful, complacent smile on it. Becoming aware that he looked so at peace, Raquel, in her rage, attacked his face. Clenching her free hand in a fist, she beat at his placid pink cheeks.
Puffy, blood filled ridges began to appear over Kurt's quiet face. Somewhere in his subconscious mind, he must have felt the stinging sensation that coursed over his face and his expression changed. Slowly, the agony became etched on his cheeks as if placed there by some hidden spirit. Raquel stopped her attack and moved backwards away from the barely stirring body. Grabbing a vase from the shelf behind her, she ran into the corridor, clippety clap to the water fountain.
From the vase, Raquel slowly poured water over Kurt's frozen brow. She dabbed at him with the blood soaked handkerchief, aware only that a faint trace of life still flickered somewhere inside him. She felt no compassion for him, she only feared going to jail. When he began to stir, she sank to the floor, relieved.
As his eyes opened, Kurt coughed. He tried to rise but fell back, the pain being too much for him to bare. Raquel stood over him, exhorting him to stand, "Get up, you bastard son-of-a-bitch! Get up!"
Kurt tried to move his body but couldn't. Raquel screamed at him, "Get up, damn you! I want to get out of here before somebody comes."
Taking up the vase, Raquel threw what was left of the water in his face. Kurt shook his head violently then grabbed at his temples, groaning.
"Are you going to get up or not," Raquel spat.
"Oh, my head," Kurt complained. "Were you trying to kill me or something?"
"No, but I should have," grumbled an angry Raquel.
Kurt struggled to a sitting position. Seeing his bloodied body, he closed his eyes, swallowed hard and moaned aloud.
"What have you done, you crazy moma?" he cried. "Look at all this blood. All this blood and you didn't even allow me to get in that cunt of yours."
"Don't worry about the cunt, did you enjoy the pain?" Raquel scolded.
"I feel like I'm dying from it," Kurt matter-of-factly answered.
"Good. Get dressed. I want to go home." she told him.
Staggering, Kurt got to his feet and began to put on his clothes, grimacing as the course material touched his open wounds. Raquel sat on the edge of her desk, a smile on her face, an evil sneer lingering in the corners fo her eyes.
Darren had pinioned Monica in the corner of the sofa. She raised her fists against his advances, trying to move him back enough to get to her whip. But Darren was not to be denied his conquest. He dodged or blocked her blows, pushing her knees back against her chest. Forcibly, he crushed his lips on hers.
"Leave me alone, pig," Monica shouted before Darren covered her mouth.
Darren was in command though, and moved his body closer. He had Monica locked in an immovable hold. His hand slipped to her bushy box and sought out the hard, tiny rise of flesh that she had fought to keep him away from.
"No, no, no," she grumbled beneath his bruising embrace.
Darren gambled. As he massaged her clit, he let her have one hand free. It discovered he had made a mistake. She sank her nails into his flesh, digging them in and dragging them over his back. Darren decided that this was never going to do. Letting go completely, he sprang from the couch and seized her whip.
"What are you going to do with that?" Monica asked, her eyes popping open in disbelief.
Darren raised the whip and let it sing out The sting made Monica leap from the couch. She rubbed furiously at the spot where the tip had welted her skin.
"Are you crazy or something? Put that whip down," she screamed. "Give me my whip."
Darren's head rolled back in a loud laugh. "You want your whip, do you?" he asked as he raised it again.
Monica ran around the couch and into the bedroom with Darren in hot pursuit. She attempted to close the door, but Darren threw his shoulder against it and pushed his way in.
Giving himself some room, Darren cracked the whip against the soft flesh of Monica's pink round ass. She grabbed at the hurt and the whip. Darren pulled the whip out of her reach and, doubling it over, grabbed her and dragged her down over his knees. He was about to unleash all his fury but the soft roundness of her behind and the fragrant smell of her flesh eased his ire and he bent over and kissed her sweet ass-cheeks.
Monica squirmed under his soft kiss. Darren rolled her over. Monica stared up at him. anger and confusion in her eyes. Darren's hands went to her breasts. He lowered his head to her belly, planting his lips on a soft dark mole that grew beside her belly button. Stunned, Monica let him continue.
Darren's lips moved down over her lower belly and into her crotch, the aroma of her hot pussy ascending to his nostrils. His tongue sought out the rosebud and he circled it, massaging it, urging it ot grow harder. He groped his way to her twat, his tongue advancing at a snail's pace, egging Monica on, arousing her slowly.
Monica grabbled a handful of Darren's hair, her slender fingers intertwining in his long pressed locks. Her legs apart, Darren sank his tongue a little further. He was past the lips and sought out the further reaches; Monica's hips began to move under him. Darren ate harder.
Monica ran her hands to the back of Darren's head and pulled him into the spreading width of her womb. His tongue felt good inside her. he worked it with skill. His flicking movement, were starting to make her purr, he sank the tongue deeper.
Monica's hips gyrated faster and faster as Darren stepped up his assault on her pussy. She rocked her body from side to side, beseeching him to "eat it, eat it, Darren. Eat it."
Darren stirred her to a boil. He could feel her hands as they opened and closed around his head. Her belly rose and fell, her breathing raced. She was not far from her climax. Darren pulled his tongue out and pulled his head away.
Lifting his head, he stared into Monica's amazed eyes. He leaned between her parted legs and let his body cover hers. His penis beat against her creamy, smooth thighs, but he did not try to insert it. Monica closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. "You are a rotten son-of-a-bitch," she told him and pounded at him with her fists.
"Let me up, rotten bastard," she screamed. "Let me go."
Darren tucked his head under her armpit to avoid the blows as they came. Then, grabbing her arms one by one, he let his penis slip into the sopping crevice. Monica froze as the huge hunk of manly flesh carried out its invasion.
Darren tightened his grip on her arms and snapped his hips, driving his penis hard into her cunt. He rolled her around on the bed, holding her tight so that she could not strike him, continuing his pushing and probing. He was happy that she fought against him, each of her struggles opened her more and more to him.
"No, no," she panted, her spirit becoming effused with the joy of his prodding, "Stop it, stop it."
"Am I taking you away from your roommate?" he asked vindictively.
"Stop. Oh, stop, you fool. Let me go." Monica pleaded.
Darren ignored her. He stepped up the pace of his intrusions. Monica's body responded despite her protestations. They arrived at a merry gallop, their bodies beating against each other. Determined to win, Darren swiveled his torso, bending and jabbing. Monica had never been defiled by a man the way Darren now defiled her. Her emotions fluctuated between wanting him to alter her emotional makeup and wanting him to take his manliness out of her sight. Why did he have to do this and confuse?
Still, her body responded to Darren. She stopped questioning herself and gave herself over to Darren, for a while. As the joy mounted, she heaved and rolled. Her lips dried, she ran her tongue over them. Darren caught her tongue in his teeth and held it, sucked it into his mouth, seized it again with his teeth and bit it.
Monica lurched, her breast rose high, her box was afire, her intestines seemed to be boiling. She shot her stuff with Darren still ramming his pole deep within her but Darren would not let her go.
Monica renewed her attack on her wonderful tormenter, her fists again flying wildly over his back and shoulders. Darren ducked out of the way of the blows and sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her cleaned and powdered armpit, fastening down hard and holding fast.
Monica let out an horrendous scream. Her fists no longer flailed, instead she sank her nails into his back, trying desperately to extricate him, but Darren was not to be so easily undone. Never in her life had she suffered such enticing torment at the hands of a so malicious a male. He had boggled her mind and she both wanted him and hated him.
When Darren released the grip on her soft underarm, Monica ' relaxed her tightened muscles, her thighs, as if on their own, capitulating to the undulating surge of Darren's massive tool.
Grasping her about the shoulders, he sank the still stiff staff in her to ball depth, ramming and charging at her soul, hardly backing off, seeming to always be going forward. A new well of passion built inside her and Monica thrashed her head about, the soft strands of her hair whipping Darren across his face.
Darren rolled over and put her on top, holding her tight so that she could not strike out at him. With his back braced, he ran the pole up again and again, making Monica reel atop his taut, muscular tummy. She struggled in his grip but he hadn't lost an ounce of his strength. He still muscled his way in and out of her cunt, rocking her from side to side.
Darren pushed Monica up into a sitting position, making her settle down over his long rod. Her cunt gave open to him and she felt his head bump hard against her inners. Her eyes flew open and her head dropped, the soft mane dribbling down in wavy flows. He had struck something that made her blood run fast to her brain. She tried to drape herself down over him, to put her arms around him and hold on, but Darren held her upright, not letting her move more than an inch in either direction. She snapped her hips down on the thick pole and rotated, working herself toward another overflow.
Darren let her arms go and flipped her to her back. Monica sank her face into the bedcover and screamed. Darren rolled to the rear edge of the bed and stood. Monica looked up at him and rolled phlegm from deep in her throat. A long, thin gob of spit flew up at Darren but not before he had evaded it. Monica sprang at him, her arms beating the air between them. Darren caught her flailing fists and hurled her back to the bed, diving after her and sinking his dick in the hole that gaped between her spread legs.
Darren grabbed up the whip and, holding one leg up, brought the curled leather down over Monica's back. Her howling made him lift the whip again. He lashed her in rapid fire succession noticing the swelling red stripes crossing the pinkness of her dimpled, fleshy back. The sight of the red welts excited him even more than the thoughts of making this hellcat female behave.
Hips rocking, one hand holding open a kicking leg, Darren brought the whip down again. Monica's back began to brighten in the dim, fused lighting of the bedroom. Throwing the whip to the opposite side of the room, Darren charged hard into Monica's hole, driving her face into the mattress.
Withdrawing his penis so that only the tip still hung inside, Darren twisted Monica's body so that she faced him. Her lips pursed, Monica reached up and pushed against his chest, pounding on him, beating at him, trying to get away from this cruel torturer who had invader her, made her want him, and retreated. He had brought her to the brink of orgasm and pulled out, leaving her to suffer. As she looked up at him now, she saw the outline of a smile on his handsome face. She hated him more that ever.
Darren wasn't concerned with her feelings any longer. He drove his hard, muscular frame against hers because she insisted upon fighting him, insisted upon taking the pleasure that was his original intent and twisting it into fight. He stabbed hard at her cunt and battered her insides.
He was going to drive her through the mattress if he had to.
With tears forming in her eyes, Monica looked up at the twisted smile on Darren's face. "Why are you doing this to me," she begged, "why?"
Darren gave her no answer, he just drove his penis deeper and deeper, trying to drill through her very being. As he shoved, her tears began to run freely. Monica turned her face away from him and cried openly. As she cried, her body jerked. She no longer felt a man making love to her, instead what she felt was a rigid pole being rammed into her by someone who wanted to hurt her. She cried aloud and Darren stopped. He sat on the bed and ran his hand over her back, gently.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked.
Monica did not reply, she just turned her head away. Darren got up and walked into the other room. He picked up his clothes and dressed, glancing from time to time at the door that led back to the sobbing Monica. He decided that he had been wasting his time and that he had better stick to real girls instead of trying to break down worlds. As he turned toward the door to leave, Monica came charging out of the room, her whip held high.
Darren broke for the door. Monica snapped her whip and the barb caught Darren on the bare flesh of his neck.
Covering his head with his hands, Darren tried to get out of the apartment before Monica could lash out at him again. He heard the whip whistle through the air. When it snapped, he felt a burning sensation on his head, a place his hands hadn't covered. In her fury, Monica ran to him and kicked, not even mindful that the whip was more damaging.
Darren got the door open and fled down the hall, he took the stairs for fear that the elevator might not arrive in time. As he dashed through the lobby, he bumped into Raquel who, as she strode across the noisy tile floor, looked as though she had just come back from the hunt. Her fists instinctively rose when she saw him and she tried to hit him as he fled past her.
Raquel turned and screamed at the doorman, "Don't ever let that guy in this building again. Never, never."
The doorman looked puzzled, but he waved an acknowledgement to Raquel and turned back to watch the passersby.
Raquel raced from the elevator to the apartment. The door was still open and Monica stood inside, her whip poised, her eyes fixed. When she saw Raquel running into the apartment, she broke down and cried.
"What happened?" screamed Raquel, "what did that dirty bastard do to you?"
Monica couldn't speak through her jerking sobs. She stood there, her whip in her hand, the tears streaming from her eyes. Raquel enfolded her loving friend and roommate in her arms, gently caressing her downy soft hair, brushing it back from her face.
"Tell me what the bastard did to you, honey, and I'll kill him," Raquel promised, her voice soft and consoling.
Monica pulled herself together and told Raquel that Darren Wolfe had raped her.
"He what?" asked Raquel, not believing her ears.
"I mean, I had a fight with the son-of-a-bitch and he got me down," Monica tried explaining.
"You mean he actually got a dick in you and balled you?" asked Raquel, her face contorting as if revolted by the thought.
"Yeah. He got it in," Monica hated to admit.
"But Monica, where was ; your whip " Raquel asked, unable to fathom her man-hating roommate being caught in a situation like that.
"He had it," Monica admitted and turned around to show off her lash marks.
Raquel cringed when she saw the stripes across Monica's back. Darren had done a fair enough job with the whip.
"I can't believe he got you. Me. I might have even let him do it. You know I do things like that, but you. I can't understand it, Monica," Raquel went on, shaking her head.
"Alright dammit, but he did it. And on top of that he wouldn't let me come. The cock sucker got me worked up twice, I felt like I was going to bust open and the cock sucker pulled out," Monica told Raquel.
CHAPTER TEN
Raquel puzzled over the problem of Monica and Darren for the rest of the night. She got on the phone and called Erica. Erica was ready to organize a lynch party. Imagine the gall of some dick slinger trying to do in one of the girls. Before Raquel could fill her in on the details, Erica hung up. Less than fifteen minutes later, she was ringing the doorbell.
"Hiya. Where's the babe?" Erica said in her husky voice as she entered the room.
"She's in bed. She's alright," Raquel said.
"Tell me about this guy Darren Wolfe. He sounds like a candidate for the erection razor," Erica intoned evilly.
"I guess it's my fault," said Raquel, "she didn't want to be bothered with him in the first place but I asked her to get him out of the office so that I could work on a new pet, this guy Kurt," she explained.
"Where does this guy live?" Erica asked.
"A little further uptown, but don't worry about it," Raquel said, "Monica says she can handle it."
"Oh sure. She just proved it," shot Erica, smacking a fist into an open palm.
Raquel lit a cigarette, crossed her long, tapered legs, exhaled heavily and blew a smoke ring. Erica paced around the room, smacking her fist in her palm, cursing under her breath.
"No way we can get that cockwheeler to come to our little party, I guess," said the giant butch.
"I seriously doubt it," Raquel answered.
Erica went into the bedroom, Monica was asleep on her stomach, the spherical orbs of her ass-cheeks glistening in the lamplight. Erica closed the door and turned back to Raquel, "I can't really blame the guy. Shit, she just got me turned on, her cute little ass sticking up in the air. uh!"
"You doing it is a lot different from Darren Wolfe." Raquel commented. "She's one of us. That Darren is just another muscle-bound male who thinks his big dick makes him something special."
"If she were awake, I certainly would give her a go," Erica groaned, grabbing at her crotch with both hands.
"I doubt if she's ready for anything after the way that bastard must have treated her," Raquel slurred.
"Well there isn't anything I can do around here tonight. I'll see you at the party," Erica shrugged as she buttoned up her jacket.
"Yeah, okay," Raquel sighed, blowing smoke across the room. "See you at the party."
Raquel walked back into the bedroom. The sight of Monica asleep stirred something in her too. She was really becoming one of the girls, she thought. Could that be true? No, she thought, she still liked the good old screw that only a man could give. Still, as she lay across the bed, she let her hand wander across Monica's gracefully curved back and drifted over the soft ridges of her warm pink ass. Monica stirred just a little, her nose twitched and she went on sleeping.
It was difficult for her to face Darren Wolfe when he came through the door. He had a wide band-aid on his neck and had combed his hair differently to cover the missing clump of hair at the back of his head. Passing her desk, he turned his head slightly but did not look at her or open his mouth. With military-like steps, he went to his office.
At noon, Monica had lunch with Lila and Raquel. She sat silent while her friends busily chatted. If they asked her a question she answered by nodding her head or making little sounds. Raquel decided it was time to ask Kurt Driver about accompanying her to the party, Lila passionately agreed.
"What do you think of it, Monica?" Lila asked.
Monica's head bobbed up and down, her eyes remaining fixed on some distant point. Lila and Raquel were about to leave her sitting there when she snapped out of her daydream.
She was sitting at her desk when Darren came back from his luncheon. She could not keep her eyes from meeting his. He turned through the door and went on to his office. Under her desk, Monica stomped her feet on the floor.
Half an hour later, Darren came back to her desk with a key in his hand. His face was stern and unsmiling when he placed it on the desk in front of her.
"This is an extra key to my apartment. If you touch it, I expect that to mean that you will bring enough things with you for the weekend. You can come tonight or tomorrow night but when you come, be prepared to stay and hear everything I have to say."
Monica's hands itched. She didn't know if she should touch the key or not. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Darren spoke again.
"I'm going to a party tomorrow night and you won't be able to come. However, I want you there before I leave."
"But I'm going to a party also," Monica blurted in a rush.
"Touch the key, bring your things, go to your party and when it's over you will come back to my place," he commanded.
Monica's hands reached out and she took the key, clutching it close to her bosom. Darren showed just the crack of a smile and turned back to his office. Still clutching the key to her breasts, Monica closed her eyes and wondered what she would say to her girlfriends.
At dinner, her absentmindedness was worse than at lunch. Raquel grew so irritated that she refused to speak to Monica for the rest of the evening. Monica seemed not to even know that Raquel was there. As soon as they got home, Raquel got on the phone and dialed Erica.
"Hey listen you big cunt, I think that scene with Darren Wolfe has really done something to Monica," she said, speaking in urgent tones.
"Whatever it is, we'll get it worked out at the party, even if we have to go to that guy's house and drag him out into the street," Erica responded.
"I'm really concerned," Raquel told Erica. "She hasn't even said a word since we left the office."
"Don't worry about it. You're sweating your cunt for nothing. No dick in the world is going to turn one of us around," Erica yelled through the phone, "Now stop the worrying and let me get back to lashing this guy before he thinks I've gone cold on him. I'll see you tomorrow.
Erica hung up and Raquel turned back to the stillness of the room. She went to the closet and took out a pair of riding crops. Juggling them in her hands, she decided she'd like to take the heaviest one along to the party. Having made her choice, she went back to the phone to call Kurt Driver.
When he answered, Raquel wasted no time on preliminary conversation. She popped it on him right away.
"Listen Kurt. I'm going to a party tomorrow night and I'd like it very much if you would be my escort," she spelled out.
"Oh. I'm really sorry, but I have a prior engagement. I would really love to go, but as it is, I've invited a buddy of min, a mutual acquaintance whose name I won't mention, and I couldn't back out now," Kurt explained.
"Well couldn't you come for a while and then go to your party. I was really very anxious to have you come along," Raquel cooed, changing her tone from blunt to seductive.
"You really make it tempting, but I really can't" he apologized.
Without a word further, Raquel hung the phone up. At least there was Byron, she thought, and dialed again. When she got no answer from Byron, she pouted angrily and threw the phone down.
That Monica wasn't speaking still made her even more furious. She grabbed up her coat and went out into the streets. She headed for the park, looking for anything, looking for nothing.
As she walked down along the edge of Central Park, she had to hold her collar against the chilly night wind. She passed little clusters of people and got angrier since she was now left without a pet for the party. She had two and could not get either of them. She saw a phone booth and half ran to it. She dialed Byron's number again.
There was a click. Good, he's home.
"Hello?" inquired the voice.
"Byron, this is Raquel," she said.
"Hello Raquel. Where have you been?" Byron asked.
"I was tied up at work a few nights and then Monica had a little problem so I wasn't able to get in touch with you. I missed bringing the lash down on that brawny back of yours, you pig bastard, you," she explained.
"Well listen, Monica, I'm going to a bachelor only thing tomorrow night. Could I drop by afterwards?" Byron asked, his voice unusually vivid.
"What time is your party?" she asked. "It starts early so I guess it'll end early," he replied.
"Oh. Don't go," she commanded, "I want you to go to another party with me."
"Don't get nasty, you evil sweet cunt you, but I really have to go to this thing. It's a kind of brotherhood meeting," he said.
Raquel went into a nasty, long cursing spree that had Byron shaking with glee on the other end of the line.
"I'll come over there and cut your balls off if you say no to me," she spat.
"Take them," he said, "take them. They're yours."
Raquel clicked the phone down and stepped out into the chill. She turned back toward her apartment. Having to face Monica's silence wasn't going to help things much. Trying to fight the situation, she stopped at the drugstore and bought some sleeping pills. She sat down at the soda fountain and drank a cup of hot tea with two of the pills, saying to herself that she would be good and sleepy by the time she got home and it wouldn't matter if Monica didn't want to talk.
She dragged into the apartment and dropped her coat on the sofa. She noticed that Monica had packed a bag but she was so sleepy that she didn't bother to mention it. When she woke the next morning, she found a note that Monica had left:
Dear Raquel going to the office early. See you at the party.
Monica.
Raquel hurried out of bed and dressed. She skipped her morning coffee and dashed out of the apartment. As she rode to work, she remembered having seen a small suitcase on the sofa.
What the hell had gotten into Monica? Where was she planning to go? Raquel was really puzzled and more than a little upset. She had the fare in her hand when the cab stopped. She dashed into the building and pat her feet as she waited impatiently for the elevator.
As the car ascended, Raquel bumped and jostled the people around her. Two gusy standing behind her commented, "she must be on the rag."
"No doubt," agreed the second.
Raquel dashed into Monica's office. She saw Darren Wolfe's back and he turned toward his office. Monica was sitting at her desk.
"What the devil is wrong with you?" Raquel nearly screamed.
"I decided to take a weekend trip, alone, right after the party," Monica lied.
"Where are you planning to go?" asked Raquel.
"I've never been to Philadelphia," Monica easily let fall.
"Phew. You really had me worried. I'll go home and put a few things in a case and go with you," Raquel offered.
"No," Monica said, "I'm going alone."
Raquel stood up and looked peculiarly down at her roommate. She went out and down the hallway to her own office. She was stunned by her short talk with Monica.
Lila was all aflutter over the evening's planned affair. She opened her bag to show Raquel an invention all her own. She had taken a paddle and made grooves in it. Into each groove she had fitted a series of razor blades. "I have a thing about razors," she shyly admitted to her friend.
Raquel looked at the paddle and was not as enthusiastic as Lila had expected her to be. Instead, Raquel's mind was on Monica and her crazy behavior. She made up her mind that Darren had to be eliminated.
At the end of the day, Lila and Raquel left together and went straight to Erica's apartment. Monica took a cab by herself to Darren's. When they arrived at Erica's, the girls changed into their party outfits and sat down to discuss Monica, not realizing that Monica was at that moment closing the door to Darren's apartment and putting her things in his closet.
"It looks like I won't have a pigeon for the party," Raquel admitted.
"Don't worry about it," Erica told her. "I've got a better deal cooking."
Lila took out her paddle and a little rubber ball. She bounced the ball on the floor and sliced it with the razors. Erica took the paddle from her.
"Let me see that thing," she said. "You come up with the weirdest gimmicks."
The bell rang and Monica came in with Dora. Lila and Raquel hadn't expected to see her, but they rushed to embrance her as she came into the apartment.
"What's all the fuss for?" Monica asked. "I said I was coming. Can't a body plan a little trip without getting all fussed over?"
"We really thought you were lost," Raquel exclaimed.
The busy chatter started and the party got under way. Erica held up her large fleshy hands and asked everyone to be quiet.
"Listen. I got the word on a little party that's going on right now in the next building," she told the listening girls, "and a little later, we are going to go over there and raid the place."
"Whose party is it?" asked Lila, "can we go as we are?"
Everyone laughed and Erica held up her hands again.
"Girls, this is going to be a good, damned good night. This party is being given by none other than a friend of Raquel's. Mr. Kurt Driver!" the giant blonde announced.
Raquel's eyes popped. So that's why he wouldn't come with me, she thought, he's having his own party.
"Who else is going to be at this party of Mr. Driver's?" Raquel asked.
"All sorts of delicious boys," purred the lascivious giant blonde.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked an eager Dora del Rios.
"Give them time, give them time," shouted
Erica, "we can choose our weapons before we launch our attack."
There was a rush of locks clicking open, suitcases popping up and a noisy chatter ensued. Erica drew on her leather gloves and down from the closet she pulled an eight foot whip. All the girls selected whips of varying lengths and began snapping them in the air.
"Are you ready girls?" Erica shouted above the noise.
"READY," came the unanimous reply.
With Erica at the head, the group marched out of the apartment, crowded into the elevator and piled out again into the street. They looked like a street gang as they passed in front of the plate glass windows that threw light upon their silhouettes.
Chain fashion, they piled into the elevator at Kurt's. They could hear the manly laughter as they marched down his hall.
Before the girls had decided to march on the party, Kurt was busy trying to convince Darren that he could be an asset to the boys because he could help to eliminate the strain of having to take things from the girls at their whim.
"Instead of having to be at their discretion all the time, we could have these little sessions and you could be the whip. The rest we can take care of with our hands. What do you say guys?" he addressed the rest of the gathering.
There was a rush of manly murmurs in the room and finally an almost unanimous accord was reached. The lone dissenter was Darren himself.
"Hey listen guys, I can't do that," he told them, "I can't stand here and wield a whip without malice."
"You're looking at it all wrong," Kurt said, "You'd be doing us a favor if you bent your arm to the task."
"But what about me? How do you think I'll feel lashing everybody?"
"I hate rational human beings," came a voice in the crowd.
Emilio stepped forward. "Your pristine morality is perhaps more inhuman than what you think of us," he was saying. "Isn't it more inhuman to see us suffer and not lend a hand because you don't agree with us than it is to participate and thereby alleviate a very real need and perhaps be dirtied a little?"
Darren choked for a second, his throat having gone dry. He reached for a drink.
"You really put it to him right, you crazy continental," Kurt complimented. "Well? What do you say Darren?"
"Why do you submit to the horrors if it's only a little pain that you need?" Darren asked the gathering.
"Young man," Emilio began to answer. "When one asks for pain, he is never guaranteed how much or how little he is going to receive.
Darren swallowed hard. What was he going to say? He took another sip of the drink he held and looked at the waiting faces.
"Okay, okay. I'll help. But I still think the first thing you ought to do is get a better working arrangement with those girls," he said.
The bell rang. Kurt looked around the room. He wasn't expecting anyone else. He walked to the door and peered through the little peephole.
Disguising her voice, Erica said she was from Western Union with a telegram. Kurt opened the door just enough to reach out and take the telegram and he found himself suddenly hurled backwards. The girls came rushing in, their whips ready. A loud din arose in the room. The naked men began to run about, dodging the cracking lashes. All of them wore scars administered by these intruders.
A stinging lash crossed his back and Emilio screamed. Edgar threw himself at Erica's feet, kissing at her thighs. Byron's building passion forced him to reveal himself. Darren spotted Monica and he raced toward her but the maze of lashes caught him and he fell to the floor.
The men in the room began to fall at the feet of the whip-slinging mistresses. One by one, they fell to those whose whips they served. The girls all picked out a quarry and rained their fury down on them. Cut and bleeding, Darren inched his way across the floor to Monica.
Darren grabbed at Monica's arm. She brought her whip up. Darren called out her name, "Monica, no!" She stopped in mid air, her eyes full of surprise. Getting to his feet, Darren grabbed only a coat and led her toward the door. Out of the corner of her eye, Raquel spied him. Kicking Byron to the floor, she raised her whip.
"Look out, Darren," Monica squealed.
Darren lifted the coat above him and the whip landed, ripping the fabric open. He broke into a sprint. The sound of his name turned all heads in the room and immediately the girls turned toward him. Monica drew her whip back and the girls stopped.
"The bitch has gone crazy," said a startled Erica. "She's going with that man, that animal."
"Let her go," shouted Lila. She'll be back. I know she will."
Slowly, Darren and Monica walked out of the apartment. Monica followed closely behind Darren as they walked to the elevator, looking over his shoulder constantly. Above all the rest she could hear Raquel.
"That dirty son-of-a-bitch," she screamed. "That dick slinging son-of-a-bitch."
Darren looked into Monica's eyes and down the length of her leather bound body. She still had her whip in her hand. She leaned on his shoulder as the elevator door opened, dragging her whip behind her.
