Connie Turner masturbated slowly and smugly, for she was within view of dozens of people. Having her finger in her pussy as she did now was especially enjoyable to her, for she felt so superior to those below her. She was sitting on the windowsill of the third story flat that she shared with her mother, Viola, wearing a little blue dress that had been made very soft by many washings. In one hand was a sketch pad and pencil, with which she drew pictures of the people on the street below, as seen through the black iron fire escape, and in the other hand was her warm, wet, fifteen-year-old pussy. The big pad shielded her hand movements from those below, and the hand in her panties was making her feel even more superior to them. It was as if she was a princess and the bustling people on the hot sidewalks three stories down were her subjects, and the more she rubbed and tweaked her love bump, the more like a princess she felt. That was one of the things that was so good about masturbating when you did it, you could have the greatest fantasies. Sometimes she dreamed she was a TV star, sometimes a princess, but always she dreamed that she was rich as well as beautiful.
Now she smiled disdainfully down on the heads of her slaves, and pressing her middle finger against her clitoris, she used her other finger to close her dew-kissed labia over it. She did it harder and harder, until she was right on the brink of coming, and then eased off, sighing, and took her hand out of the lovely black satin panties just before she came. She liked to make it last. During the school year, she often made herself come in a matter of minutes, but in the middle of the boring summer, she'd draw it out for just as long as she could, getting all sweaty and stinky and hot for the longest time before she made herself climax.
She yawned, delicately covering her mouth with that hand, and now in the heat of her young passion, her cunt-wet fingers smelled good to her. Not really good, but sexy, and not all sweaty and foul as you'd expect from a hot pussy on a hot day. Later, after she'd orgasmed, they'd stink but now they smelled good, and nobody could tell she was doing anything but covering her yawn.
With her sandaled foot on the windowsill, she drew up her right leg until her knee was touching her breast. It was a big breast, so big that her mother often joshed her about her becoming a stripper someday, much to Connie's displeasure. There was a big nipple inside her blue dress and her black satin bra, too, and right now it was so hard she could feel its stiffness with her knee. With the hand that was hidden from the street scene below, she languorously caressed her nicely rounded bottom, the smooth satin of her panties, the warm velvet of her haunch. Looking within her threadbare dress, she could see the luxurious black of her expensive bra, and looking down, the more sheer black of her panties. Her milk-white flesh shone through the sheerness, gleaming in so many shades of luster that she got an added thrill out of just running her fingertips over herself there. The crotch of the panties was black as night, and all abulge with the flesh that needed the most touching, but she exerted her will power and went on prolonging her solitary fun. Solitary fun was the best kind for her, because in her neighborhood, there was no boy around who deserved such a princess as she was.
There were just a few brown hairs, quite wet, peeping out from the crotchband of her panties, clinging to the hollows of her shapely little inner thighs. Fastidiously, she tucked these in, and paused with her fingers there to bring herself back to the shivery edge of orgasm again. Ah, it was so good to touch herself there in that wonderful magic place which could change her from a slum-dwelling girl into a princess, worshipped and adored by all. She kept it up, slowly, but breathing ever faster, her hardened nipple pressing ever more satisfyingly against her knee. Through half-closed eyes she watched the scene below, and changed it into one of elegant beauty with her ticklings. She writhed her buttocks farther apart on the windowsill, even enjoying the harsh pressure of the old wood against her anus, ever so close to coming now, and as she licked the beaded perspiration off her upper lip, a raucous and very familiar voice brought her back to reality.
"Connie Turner, what the hell you doin' up there!"
Connie almost fell off the windowsill into the apartment. The voice from below was her mother's, and Viola was home from work hours early. Quickly Connie covered herself with the sketch pad that she'd let slip down, and clambered into the flat. It would be mortifying, humiliating if her mother caught her at it again, particularly since she was with another man. Connie hid like a thief in the flat, all her hot young desires thwarted, until she was sure that her mother and the man she'd seen her with were on the stairs, and then she crept out on the fire escape and climbed up one flight. There was a piece of cardboard on that landing that would shield her from view, but she'd have to put up with her mother's voice until Viola grew tired of yelling at her and gave her full attention to the latest man she'd picked up. Her mother's voice came through loud and clear.
"Connie? Connie, are you in here? I'll skin her alive if I catch her. Connie! Shit ... she prob'ly slipped out already."
"You think she was playin' with herself out there?" said the man's voice, turning Connie's face scarlet. "It sure did look like it, and if she's anything like her old lady, I'll just bet she was."
"Shit, Mike ... pardon my French ... heck, Mike, all girls do that a little. And I wouldn't put it past her the way she's bustin' out all over lately. Quit it now, till I set this down."
"I'll pardon your French," he laughed. "But if you call me Mike one more time, I'll paddle your cute little ass."
She giggled like a girl, almost. "You do, and I'll scream bloody murder."
"Oh, yeah? You'd probably love it."
There was a softly muffled slap, followed by another of Viola's ridiculous giggles, and Connie thought about climbing the rest of the way up the fire escape to get away from the vulgarity below. But it always scared her to go any higher.
"Cut it out, Mi ... Mark. At least till we have us a beer."
"I'm hot to trot, baby. But go ahead, open us a couple."
His head and shoulders came out the window, and Connie cringed atop the cardboard screen. She prayed he wouldn't look up, and didn't breathe until he'd disappeared again. She waited until there were no more sounds from the apartment below, and started cautiously down, knowing they'd already be in the bedroom by then. But they were not. Foolishly, she peeked through the window, and then she was caught there, paralyzed at this first clear view of her mother making it with a man.
She'd heard the grunts and moans before and a few times she'd even looked through the bedroom keyhole, but it had always been so dark in there she couldn't even tell who was who on the bed. It had been not much more absorbing than the wrestling matches on TV, but this was something else, for she was looking directly at her mother standing in a tight, mouth to mouth embrace with the burly stranger she'd brought home in the middle of the day, and Connie couldn't look away.
Viola's limp waitress' uniform was twisted and rumpled as she arched her bulky body forward against him, arms slung about his neck, and he was rumpling it more as he clawed at her big bottom with both his hairy hands. Most of the curl had come out of her red-dyed hair, and a strand of it was hanging down over her cheek. Her cheek was sunken in so Connie knew they were French kissing. His hand came up to rub at her breast that was being extruded from between their straining bodies, and her hand went down to press it more closely against her. One foot went back behind her and she kicked that shoe off, for her feet would be hurting even at a time like this. When she backed off to look at him with heavy eyes and open mouth, a little double chin formed at her throat.
"You don't believe in wastin' any time, do you?"
"I can't, Vi," he said. "I been watching that pretty ass of yours switchin' past me all afternoon."
Connie knew he was just flattering her, for there was nothing at all pretty about Viola's fanny. It was much bigger than her own, and it jiggled in a ridiculous way when she walked.
"And sayin' all those nasty things to me and buyin' me all them beers," said Viola. "You're such a horny devil."
"I told you. I'm hot to trot. I'm about to boil over."
When her hand slid down his side, he turned toward the window, and with shocking boldness, Viola reached right down and felt of him down there, saying as she did, "You sure as hell are. How long have you had that?"
"Ever since I walked in that joint and saw you, honey. Now let's see some more of you. Let's strip off and have ourselves a time. God, you're gorgeous."
"And you're a flatterer, and don't go undressin' me right out here in the damned livin' room," she said, still feeling about his loins, and making no move to stop him as he began unbuttoning the front of her uniform. "My kid's liable to come back."
"Fuck her," he said, and from behind the shade, Connie flipped him the finger.
"I'll bet you would if you had the chance," Viola grinned, arching back in the crook of his arm at her waist to let him open her dress farther. She was a disgusting woman, from her dirty mind to her slovenly habits. She and Connie were as different as the shabby, soiled brassiere that overflowed with Viola's udders and the crisp, expensive bra filled with Connie's firm breasts. Connie confirmed this by reaching in her bodice to feel herself, much as the man was feeling up her mother.
"Now cut that out," said Viola as he bent and buried his mouth between her bulging udders. "Not so damned fast," she said, holding onto his head with both hands as he burrowed there with his mouth and at her remaining buttons with his hands. "You don't even give a girl a chance to catch her breath."
Connie touched herself where the man was kissing Viola, and wondered how it would feel.
Viola slapped playfully at his head as he went to his knees and pelted kisses on her fat belly, pulling down her skirt. "Now, quit. Jeezus H. Christ, what're you tryin' to do to me?"
"Eat you right up," he growled, and to Connie's stunned dismay, he crouched down and dug his fingers into Viola's panty-clad bottom and pressed his kisses right on her crotch.
At once her mother's attitude changed. Her coyness disappeared and she grabbed him hard by the hair and thrust herself against his face, panting, "Jeezus, I knew you were the kinda guy who wasn't afraid to go down on a girl. Oh honey, you really know how to get to me. You just love to eat it, don't you?"
He nodded, pressing hot kisses on her loins and clawing at her ass, and Connie was both fascinated and further disgusted. How could he do that? Viola was so fat and ugly, grinning and writhing against him, and she looked so dirty and smelly in that sagging, greyish white brasierre and those holey red rayon panties, stretched to bursting with her big bottom. The girl knew eating it was very wicked and at the same time very nice, a practice that jetsetters and movie stars indulged in all the time. Probably royalty did it too, she thought, and to get used to that idea, she glanced about to make sure she was fairly well hidden, and reached between her legs and pretended her fingers were a man's lips.
The man abruptly quit, but Connie kept it up. He stripped Viola's pants down, and steadying herself with a hand on his head, she stepped out of them, and Connie was shocked at the view she got of her mother's twat. Under the bulge of her belly and between her big, loose thighs she was one big patch of hair, dark and curly and matted, and cleaved by a wide pink line that disappeared down her crotch. She looked so gross, but the man was even more gross, for when she thrust herself toward him, he grabbed her bare ass and kissed that hairy twat.
Smiling dreamily down, Viola said, "I just go ape over a guy who likes to eat it. Do me good, honey, and then I'll show you what I know about it."
He lurched to his feet. "Gotta get these clothes off."
She flopped down on the sofa, and Connie almost gasped aloud when she opened her legs and revealed the extent of her twat. It was no longer a pink line, but a gaping red wound, all wet and glistening and incredibly ugly, and as if she was proud of what she had, Viola held it open with her fingers and unashamedly rubbed its fleshy lips with her thumbs. Connie had to reach inside her panties to feel if hers could ever be that big.
"Now it's me who's boilin' over," Viola said, lewdly playing with herself while the man shucked off his T-shirt and began at his pants. "A couple little kisses there and I'm hot as a firecracker. Eat it good and I'll do just about anything for you."
He was naked by then, the first fully naked man Connie had ever seen, and it gave her a creepy, tingling feeling, even if all she could see was his back. Sinewy legs and small, shallowly indented buttocks, a flab of fat around his waist, a broad vee back, and all of it quite hairy.
"Jeezus, you're really hung," said her mother, and Connie was frustrated by not being able to see where she was looking. "Once you get done with what you was doin', that's really gonna feel good in me, honey." She leaned forward, and even though Connie couldn't see it happen, she was sure Viola kissed his thing, for his buttocks tightened and his hips went forward.
"Yeah, baby," he muttered.
She leaned back, laughed softly, and said, "You first. Finish what you started, you big tease."
He went down on his knees and pushed her legs open with his hands, even though she was already doing this for him. Her hands remained on her widespread knees while his slid up her inner thighs, and the sounds of his kisses that followed them were loud. Even though it was very warm, Viola was shivering convulsively as his kisses approached her gaping twat, and that was one of those rare occasions when Connie could understand her mother, for she felt like shivering in the warmth herself. And she could almost understand the man's eagerness to do these things to her, for the heat of passion had lent her mother a certain crass beauty that showed clearly through her flaccid girth. Connie rubbed her vulva more firmly, almost wishing she was the recipient of those adoring kisses Mark was loudly delivering on her mother's twat.
"Gawd, quitcher teasin' and get down to business," Viola said, panting, squeezing her big breasts almost out of her bra with her arms as she reached her hands behind his head, and shivering, quivering. Heels hooked on the sagging sofa's edge, squirming forward, pulling at his bobbing head, she whined, "C'mon and eat it, baby. Jeez, you don't know what that does to me. C'mon, baby. Get right down to it. You know how you love nice, hot pussy."
He backed away, and not without an effort, for her grip in his hair was strong. But he thrust her hands from him, wiped the back of his hand across his face, and got up on his knees to reach for her, saying, "That's enough for now. Too damned hot for it today."
"Bastard," she spat at him, complaining even in the aftermath of his beautiful act of passion. "Friggin' tease."
He laughed and put his arms around her, tried to draw her to him and kiss her, but she twisted and pushed at him now as if she hated him. He chuckled, subduing her, and said, "Hey, take it easy. I'm not about to do all the work, 'specially not on a day like this. Give us a kiss."
"Sombitch," she said, still fighting him. "Get the fuck away from me, you shit. I'm not about to kiss you now."
Connie couldn't understand how they could use such vulgarity during this situation that was supposed to be all loving, nor could she understand his reference to it being work, and there was no way in the world she could fathom why her mother had suddenly become so reluctant now that she'd let go this far.
But it didn't seem to bother him. Chuckling, he kept her where she was, with legs outspread, pushing his loins against her twat, and reaching around her to undo her bra, much against her wishes. He threw it aside and her breasts tumbled out and he grabbed them with both hands, and then Connie saw that her mother had been putting on an act, for when he finally did manage to press his mouth to hers, she was if anything more passionate than he in the embrace.
She was clawing at his back and making those moaning noises that Connie was familiar with, audible even through the kiss. Her legs went around him and her ankles tightly locked over his spine, and she wriggled and writhed frenetically. Connie wished she could see his thing, partly to find out if it was already in her, and partly to see how big it was.
He dropped down and started in kissing her breasts, and Viola went wild. "Baby, baby," she cried, mashing his face against her fantastically pliable breasts. "Stick it in me, baby, I'm all ready now, and you sure as hell are too. Jeez, I love your friggin' mouth, you can kiss like nobody's business. But put it in now. C'mon, Mikie."
Not caring that she'd mislabeled him again, he quit her breasts and brought a huge gasp from her by going down and kissing her twat again. He did it just once, for only a few seconds, but it made Viola writhe in ecstasy. She fought him again, however, when he got up to kiss her on the mouth, and even Connie had to wrinkle her nose a bit at the thought of how his lips smelled.
"Gawd, you stink," Viola panted, twisting and turning.
"But good," he said, chuckling, somehow finding amusement in this time of overwhelming passion, and succeeded in closing the kiss.
Again his kiss melted Viola's every resistance and she was clinging to him so hard it seemed she'd crush him, while with his big, hairy hands he kneaded and stroked her body so hard that Connie knew it had to be painful. Viola didn't complain, not even when he ended the kiss and heaved himself to his feet, his loins right in front of her passion-swollen face.
She kissed it, more leisurely than before, and again Connie had to believe this from watching the reaction of his back muscles. She couldn't see the kiss, couldn't even imagine her mother's soft, full lips on his huge, steely thing, and much of the good feelings she'd known when she'd watched him going down on her mother were dwindling at the very thought of her doing it to him. She was relieved when Viola soon stopped, but he wasn't.
"You're good, Vi. Don't stop yet."
She laughed at him, more amused than aroused now, which was confusing to Connie, and she said, "It's all give and take with me, honey. That's about all I got from you."
He thought it was funny now. He laughed and threw himself on her, and sweating as they were, they engaged in a cloying, sticky wrestling match on the couch. Giggling one moment and panting passionately the next, they hugged and kissed and rolled about, with their legs so intertwined that Connie could only catch glimpses of that huge organ that would soon go into her mother's body, right at the spot where she was probing with her finger in her own. They'd both seemed so anxious, but now they were prolonging it for some reason. The girl was aching for them to get it over with, and then she gasped along with her mother as he suddenly had it in her.
It was so quick that Connie missed the actual entry, but it seemed as if she'd almost felt it. Her mother certainly had. After that initial gasp, and with him lying on her, just squirming back and forth a little, Viola panted, "Yeah, that's what mama needs. Yuh big bastard, you knew that the minute you gave me the eye today, didn't yuh?"
"You bet," he said, and drew back, but Connie still couldn't see his thing, for as he drew back, Viola lifted her plumply tapered legs and put them around his back.
And then she was watching them fuck, and there was-a definite beauty in seeing man and woman joined together as they should be, even though the woman was her mother, and even though there was a. good deal of rather ludicrous huffing and puffing and sweating going on. There was nothing amusing about this to him. He was almost grim as he pistoned himself back and forth in her, watching her face with grimacing concentration and squeezing her soft shoulders hard. She was grimacing even more. It looked like she was in more pain than ecstasy, and then Connie grew quite alarmed when Viola's lips drew back to bare her teeth and she uttered a seemingly mortal cry.
"Aaaagggh! Oh baby, you do me so good. Never been like this with nobody else. Oh, aaagggghh!"
"Love to fuck, don't you," he growled, panting hard, pumping harder. "You love to have me fuck you, don't you?"
"Yes, you big bastard. AAAAGGGGGH!"
"Nnnnnnggg," he answered, and then they were both grunting and groaning with such terrible, animal loudness that Connie had to cover her ears with her hands. Even so, even without touching her own twat, she felt very much like she was coming right along with them, like she was orgasming just as hard as when she frigged herself.
They writhed and thrashed together, uttering what sounded like dirty words through their groans, and then subsided together, sighing and panting heavily, and leaving their unseen observer as badly shaken as they were relaxed. It had been so beautiful.
Her mother then slapped him on the ass and said, "You don't go around tryin' to set any endurance records, do you? With you it's just wham bam, thank you, ma'am."
"Aw, what the hell are you complainin' about? You got your cookies off twice to my once."
"Sheeyit. Twice is just a appetizer for me. I hope to hell you're not figgerin' on quittin' on me now."
"I told yuh, I can't hang around all day."
"Shit, after I took the whole afternoon off, the least you could do was do me some good."
"You're a glutton, Viola. You know that?"
"Oh, yeah? Maybe so, but I'm also out about twenty bucks, countin' tips, and I didn't even get me a decent lay out of it."
"You askin' me for money?"
"No, but I wouldn't turn it down if it was offered. I'd rather have you stick around though. We got plenty of beer."
He heaved himself off her, and now Connie had a good look at his penis. It was a limp little thing, like a fat wet worm, and it disgusted her even more than the bickering that had followed their passionate and shocking love-making. Still stunned by what she'd seen, and not wanting to see any part of their getting drunk together, Connie crept on down the fire escape. Was that all there was to love-making? And if so, how had it made her so excited?
CHAPTER TWO
Walking along the sidewalk, Connie felt as dirty and common as those people around her whom she'd so recently been looking down on with such scorn. She felt dirtier, for her recently immaculate panties were now old and soiled and clinging wetly to her crotch in a most irritating way. There was nothing to do but to get some new ones and get rid of these, for at every step she was reminded of the pair of sweaty, grunting animals she'd just been forced to observe, and of her relationship to the worse of the two.
Sears was out, because the quality of their lingerie wasn't up to her standards. She wanted to go to a smart little boutique, but their intimacy made them too dangerous, as did the relatively few customers in stores such as Saks and Magnins. She finally settled on Phipps, an old and highly respected department store whose prices attracted a good many shoppers and where she'd never had the slightest bit of trouble. It was a dozen blocks away, and she headed in that direction chafing unpleasantly at every step.
She'd never had much trouble in her shoplifting, and that was due more to her being smart and careful than to just being lucky. Once at Boulton's she'd run, but in retrospect she knew they hadn't really seen her and she'd only panicked. She didn't like to think of herself as a shoplifter, feeling instead that she was deserving of such necessary luxuries as nice underwear and assuring herself she'd pay back the stores once she'd earned or inherited her fortune. Until then, she had to have certain things, and it was really very exciting to just go out and get them, as if they were royal taxes she was collecting.
Phipps wasn't too crowded that day, but having made her mind up she was determined to go through with it, and the extra element of danger made it all the more exciting. She kept a very cool look on her face and didn't act suspicious at all, idling through the cosmetics department, checking prices of costume jewelry, and even trying on a blouse while she checked things out. The young, blond-haired floorwalker was hovering around in Ladies Lingerie and she discreetly waited until he'd gone on into Men's Furnishings before she sauntered to the department whose wares she craved. The really good items were behind glass, and though she longed with every fibre of her body to get her hands on some of the imported items, she would be content enough with what the display tables had to offer.
Connie managed a look of utter boredom, even though an almost electric thrill ran through her when she reached her hand into the silken soft pile of red and "white and black and yellow nylon that had been so cunningly turned into cute, sexy panties. A salesgirl was looking at her as she casually checked the sizes of the little garments that were trimmed with lace and ribbons and embroidery, done up with invisible elastic at top and bottom, and so new they shone in the artificial light of the department store. Her impulse was to scoop up a double armload, clasp them all to her pounding breast, and run. She didn't, for that would be anything but cool. She just rummaged through them, containing the high excitement coursing through her young body, and made as if she was looking for one specific pair that were essential for her to wear to some charity ball.
She found an adorable pair, one of the most provocative she'd ever seen, white Bikini style, quite plain, save for a pair of embroidered red lips on the front. She had to have them, and watching the salesgirl from the corner of her eye, she deftly wadded them into a ball in her increasingly sweaty hand and palmed them so that not a trace showed. Dying to leave and get them on then, she forced additional caution on herself and lingered on at the rummage table, picking up panties and discarding them as if none of them were at all what she wanted. She yawned and covered her mouth with a delicate fist, looked casually around, and transferred the panties from fist to bra faster than the eye could follow.
On to the brasierre counter, for a princess must have matching lingerie. A somewhat more prolonged and therefore even more dangerous and thrilling search here, for a 34-B that would match the little white panties. There were none to be found with lip print on them, and that was unfortunate, but a plain white bra with transparent cups would suffice very well, and it was wispy enough to fit within her bra without causing an unsightly bulge. Being larger than the panties, it was more difficult to palm and then secrete, but expert that Connie was, she managed it with gratifying ease.
With her wares obtained, quite unsuspected, still she lingered. It was a dead giveaway to try to "hurry out. She made herself look bored, and then, just about to leave, she spotted a truly electrifying pair of panties made of heavy black satin, decorated with four rows of fringe across the seat, and she had to have them. Already she could see herself in them, dancing to the radio music in the flat, and watching in the mirror for every switch of the black fringe across her bottom. Her fingers deftly made a ball of them and she turned from the counter, cool as could be.
The salesgirl was looking the other way, the floorwalker out of sight, and she leisurely started her walk to the door, heart pounding, pussy throbbing. She was getting away with it again; there was no question about it. From yards, the distance became feet, and then a lovely weakness went through her as she took her first step onto the sidewalk. Two more steps, and she was almost ready to run to some place of privacy and try them on, when the big hand closed in on her shoulder.
Her anus snapped shut and her bladder almost opened. A nausea clutched her belly and she thought she'd faint. She longed to throw her stolen wares away, but it was far too late for that. Visions of jail, her irate mother, disgrace at school all swam in her bursting brain, but she somehow pulled herself together and did what she had to do. She turned and faced him, a huge, coldly smiling man in a business suit whom she hadn't even noticed in the store, and registered anger as she tried to toss away the black panties. He caught her fist in his much larger one before she had a chance.
Fighting panic, she snapped, "Hey, what the heck are you doing! Leave me alone or I'll call a cop!"
He took her right on down the sidewalk with her little hand inside his massive, crushing fist. He bustled her right along, so quickly that it seemed her feet weren't even touching the ground, and no one else on the sidewalk even noticed her dilemma. Even if they had, they wouldn't have helped her, for she was now nothing but a criminal, a caught one. Her knuckles were cracking painfully in his grip, and she was very close to tears. With long strides that she could barely keep up with, the big, grimly smiling man with the curly brown hair led her past the Phipps show windows, in whose reflection she could see herself as a frightened little blonde girl who looked like anything but a princess.
He took her into a painted-over store front next to the department store, and as he worked a key into its door, she said, almost sobbing, "I was going to pay for them. Really, I was! Please, you're hurting me."
He ignored her. She would have kicked his shins, but her hand hurt too much, and the balled-up panties in it did not cushion the pain. He took her inside and slammed the door behind her, and there he released her. Producing badge and wallet, he spoke his first words to her.
"Jack Fisher, Phipps Security Police. You're under arrest."
Connie panicked then, and made a grab for the doorknob, dropping the black panties as she did. The door didn't yield a bit, and then an awful, stabbing pain made her gasp out a tiny scream as his thick fingers closed over the tendon in her shoulder. It paralyzed her with bone deep pain, but she could still bend over with him as he picked up the damning evidence from the floor. Then open-mouthed in a silent scream, walking like a cripple under that piercing pain, she was led along through the empty store to a door ominously marked, Phipps Security Police.
Its interior was as bleak as Connie's future. It had a cement floor and was painted grey, and was lit by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Against one wall was a long wooden bench and hanging from the opposite one were pictures of the Phipps chain of stores. An unmarked door, somehow even more ominous, lay ahead of them, and next to it was a drinking fountain. Behind her was her world, full of freedom and happiness, and ahead was a dreadful future. She was in between, in limbo, completely at the mercy of the big man who released her shoulder and turned her to face him.
He was old enough to be her father, and she tried to appeal to his charity. "I'm so sorry. I've never done anything like this before. I don't know what got into me."
"So you admit to shoplifting."
She had to, for she was caught, and as soon as she did, he produced a pen and paper from his coat pocket, and said, "Standard form. Statement of responsibility. I'm dating it today and describing your theft as under a hundred dollars. Sign, please."
"A hundred dollars! They were only three fifty!"
"Anything under a hundred dollars is petty theft. Anything over, grand larceny. Want to sign here, or down at the station?"
She sat down on the bench and signed a false name through a blur of tears. Sobbing, she told him her mother had a charge account at the store, and she went deeper into the lie when he asked her what name it was under. He gave her another form to fill out while he left the room, and the minute he was gone she found out the outer door was firmly locked, and sat down to cry in earnest. She had a drink of water, and then couldn't remember what false names she'd given him for herself and her mother. The second form was still blank when he returned.
"I'm sorry, miss," he said, towering over her. "We have no record of a Mary Michaelson in our accounts. Are you sure you're telling the truth?"
"Yes! So help me God!" she said, somehow managing to look in his eyes, grey as the walls around her.
"I'd better call your mother. What's your number?"
"Sh-she's not home. She works. We're ... short of money, so I ... I stole. Please, just let me go. I'll never do it again."
"My job isn't letting thieves go, even when I'd like to. I'll tell you what, though. You give me your address, and I'll run over there and check you out with your neighbors. If I find you're a nice girl and haven't ever been in trouble before, it'll go a lot easier on you with us."
Unable to think fast enough, Connie gave him her true address, and that at least gave her some time by herself to think and to try to escape once he was gone. She paced the room, and heard faint sounds of typing coming from behind its other door. The pictures were nailed to the walls, and there was no place to hide the panties and bra still in her brassiere. Tears came and went, and time passed very slowly, and Connie had never felt more alone in all her lonely life.
BANG! He didn't just enter, he burst through the door like a dark and furious cyclone, and he jerked her to her feet before she could take a breath, angrily snarling, "Okay, you little tramp, I gave you a chance. You had me running all over your neighborhood with your lies, and that's over with now. I know your name and some things about you, and if there's one more lie from you, it's jail, right now. Give me the right answers. Now!"
She stammered through them while he filled out the form, and then he stormed out with his fury unabated, leaving her so abjectly sorry for herself she wanted to die. Again it took a long time. She drank more water, even though she very badly had to urinate by then. At last he returned with another BANG!
"We checked you out. Your mother's credit references are bad. You don't have many friends in your neighborhood. No father, either. You might be better off in a detention home."
"No! Please, mister," she said, clinging to his lapels, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. "I'd never steal again."
"Ever stole before?"
"Never!" she said, so ardently that even she believed it.
Then quicker than she could think, he had her arm twisted up behind her back and was roughly groping her body, completely ignoring her whimperings and feeble twistings. His exploring hand was even worse than the one that was hurting her. It could do anything it wanted in its search, and there was no way she could stop it. She twisted and pleaded and wept, and it delved deeply between her tightly clamped thighs, jabbing at her most private flesh through the thin layers of her clothing. It felt all about Connie's small, writhing waist, even though there was nothing there at all except faded blue cotton. He ignored her terrible shame and felt her breasts with that big hand of his, and only then did his smile return.
"Well, well. What have we here?" he said.
"More underwear! I stole it! I'll give it back. Don't! Let me get it out!"
"I can manage just fine," he said, and easily turning her around, he pulled the zipper of her dress down past her twisted arm.
He took his time now. He carefully brushed aside her blonde hair as she stood there pleading and shaking her head; and he was almost gentle about peeling her dress down over her pale and shaking shoulders. She tried to claw and bite his hand as it went to her right breast, and he stopped that with just a little further twisting of her arm.
"What have you got in there?" he said with a chuckle as he worked over her right breast through the black bra cup. "You know, I didn't think a little gal like you could have tits this big."
Her dress had fallen to her waist. She couldn't hold it up and go on fighting at his hand, even though the fight against his hand was futile. Sobs racked her as he worked the black satin cup up, drew out the white bra she'd stolen, and left that breast sticking out, its nipple hard now with her hot, hot shame.
"A brassiere," he said, holding it up before her crying eyes. "Now let's see what you've got in the other cup."
"Panties," she moaned, and quickly jerked them out.
He chuckled and said, "I'm doing the searching here." And with that, he bared her other breast and ran his hand over both of them as she stood there with her head bowed, tears dripping down on the pink and alabaster breasts she'd kept chaste from a man's touch for so long, only to have them mauled like this. Still he was taking his time about it, and Connie couldn't help recalling the pleasure Mark had had in feeling of her mother's bigger, softer tits. Her mother had liked it too, but this ... this was an awful thing. There were only the faintest twinges of the pleasure she gave to herself by fondling her breasts, for most of it was rasping discomfort and dull pain. He squeezed them and felt them so that she knew it had gone far beyond a search, and he then made it infinitely worse.
Slipping his hand down over her tummy, he inserted his fingertips in the waistband of her panties, saying as he did, "And what is it you've got hidden here, you thieving little bitch?"
CHAPTER THREE
"That will be quite enough, Sergeant Fisher!"
The feminine voice spoke with barely controlled indignation, and Connie looked up to see through her tear-flooded eyes that there was now a witness to her shame. She stood in the doorway, glaring, her desk and typewriter behind her, and the moment the punishing grip on Connie's arm was released, the weeping girl staggered toward her. She might be a policewoman, but anyone was better than the man with the groping hands.
As Connie struggled with her disarrayed clothing, she was taken into soothingly soft arms, and the comforting sounds made by the woman made her blubber her thanks as she tried to shrink farther from the man behind her. Still tugging at her bra and bodice, in the protective fold of the woman's arms, she was led into the office, and there she looked up at her savior.
She seemed like the young, well-off. motherly type. She was wearing harlequin glasses and had a rather large nose, and she was a nice looking woman, with a wide mouth that could smile and with large brown eyes that could express sympathy. Her face was tanned, her long hair very dark and slightly waved. She was a big woman with a bounteous bosom under a crisp white blouse, and arms that looked like their smoothness might conceal very strong muscles. She led Connie to a metal desk on which was an electric typewriter, and a nameplate which read Georgia Colby. As Connie approached it, she was propelled forward by a hard shove in the back.
"Sergeant Fisher! There's no need for that sort of thing!"
"Sorry, Georgia," he said, "but I'm so ... so blasted sick of these little guttersnipes coming in here to steal us blind that...." He ended in a splutter and handed over the form Connie had signed.
The woman said very nicely, "Do you want to sign a new confession? One with your real name on it?"
Connie signed it while the sergeant ranted about how she'd compounded her thefts with lies, and of what she'd stolen.
"Jack, you shouldn't have searched her," said Miss Colby.
"I know it. I got hot under the collar. She had this stuff in her brassiere."
Miss Colby admonished him with a very cold stare. and took the three pieces of lingerie from him. "All right. I'll take her from here."
With a scowl for the shoplifter, he left, and Miss Colby put a card in her typewriter and rapidly began copying information on it from the form that Fisher had filled out. Connie looked around.
Even if the door behind her was unlocked, the one beyond that held her prisoner, and the information she'd given already bound her just as securely to her fate. There were more pictures like the ones in the outer office hanging on Miss Colby's walls, and by then Connie hated the sight of the Phipps' stores. It was an ell-shaped office, and in the other end of the ell, just past a couch, Connie could see a bathroom. The toilet beckoned, for she could barely hold back from peeing then, but beyond that there existed the scant possibility that there was a window she might climb out.
"May I go to the bathroom?" she asked. Miss Colby went on typing. "In a minute."
"But I have to go."
"And I have to search you first," said the woman, looking up. "It's part of my job."
"He already did," Connie said, sulking. "Boy, he really did!"
The secretary shrugged and went on typing. Apparently her sympathy had all been expended. Connie stood miserably by the desk, her bladder aching, her breasts burning from where the gross, awful man had touched her. She felt she'd already been punished far more than the crime deserved, but she knew she was in for a great deal more punishment to come. She thought about suing him for indecency or something, but she knew it was futile, for who would believe the word of a confessed shoplifter against that of a security officer. She felt so dirty, so cheapened, as she tried to straighten her clothes. She also felt hugely relieved, for she knew that nothing they could do to her would be any worse than the hands of the perverted sergeant.
The woman rose, looming several inches and some forty pounds larger than the girl, and very gently took her by the arm. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to search you again," she said, leading her toward the bathroom. "Take off all your clothes, please."
"I won't!" said Connie, but she did. Under the baleful gaze of the big woman, she had to take off every stitch and hand each garment over, even the soiled black panties. Each article of her clothing was carefully looked through by the policewoman as they were held before her face by her red-lacquered fingers that sparkled with jeweled rings. When Connie was naked and shivering, holding her hands before her breasts, she sarcastically asked if she could then go to the toilet.
"Yes, as soon as I make a personal search," said Miss Colby, taking the rings from her right hand and taking down a jar of Vaseline from a medicine cabinet.
Connie looked around. There was no window, only another doorway that led to a sterile shower. There was simply no escape, and she turned back to the woman who was annointing her middle finger with the pale white grease.
"What are you going to do?"
"Search you, dear. It won't be pleasant, but it won't last long. Bend over and spread your cheeks. You might have taken some jewelry too."
The greased finger that slowly squirmed its way into her asshole seemed to be piercing her soul, but Connie bore it without flinching. Bent over with her hands on her knees, shaking, biting her lower lip, she felt it feel all about inside her rectum in search of yet more of her sins, and she somehow held back the tears, even when it was pulled out of her, like a turd leaving her. Allowed to straighten up while Miss Colby was washing her hands, Connie had never been so close to fainting in her life.
"Your vagina too, I'm afraid," said Miss Colby, facing her as she dried her hands.
"Oh, no," the girl moaned. "Really, all I stole was the lingerie."
"You have very nice taste in lingerie, and for all we know, your taste in jewels is just as good. You could have several thousand dollars worth of diamonds in your vagina, dear."
Connie hated her kind smile now, and she put her arms at her sides and jutted out her breasts and said, "Go on and look, you damned dyke."
Unperturbed, the policewoman slid her very cool hand over Connie's hip to her loins, and as she began searching her there, asked, "Oh? You've had experience with Lesbians?"
"Hell, no," she spat, unable to keep from flinching as the woman's finger probed at the portal of her vagina. "But I know all you frigging cops are queers."
"I'm not a policewoman," she said, meticulously working her finger deeper. "I'm just a secretary doing my job, the good parts and the bad, and I'm trying now to make this as easy on you as possible, dear."
"Don't call me dear," Connie said, through clenched teeth, as the finger went as deep or deeper as her own had ever gone.
"What's this?"
"I don't know," she said, sweating now, and still shivering, as the finger was pulled out and then re-inserted.
The woman hiked up her tailored skirt and squatted down, probing, feeling, and said, "What's this? Are you still a virgin? Even living in that neighborhood?"
"Yes," Connie wailed, at last breaking down completely, and at once that offending digit was out of her and Miss Colby was holding her in her arms as the girl blubbered and wept, and held her hand cupped over her twat.
Miss Colby had her sit down, on the toilet seat, and at the first familier cold contact of the seat on her fanny, her bursting bladder opened up and her urine was rushing loudly into the toilet.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I had to go so bad."
Kneeling beside her, stroking her back, Miss Colby said, "It's all right, dear. Go ahead and pee, you'll feel so much better."
Connie felt better already, better than she had in hours. The release of her long pent-up urine was almost as sweet as an orgasm, and under Miss Colby's hand on her back, she rocked back and forth on the seat until it tinkled to a stop. Miss Colby offered her some tissue, and when Connie took it from her the woman's soft, cool hand came to rest on her knee. She was sure then that the woman was a Lesbian, but she felt so relieved that she didn't care. In fact, she was almost glad she was, for she badly needed to be wanted then, by anyone.
Under sympathetic prompting, through diminishing tears, Connie said, "I've never gotten along too well with other kids and sometimes I just hate my mother, and I'm sorry I stole that stuff but I just couldn't help it. I don't have anything of my own and I never will. Please don't send me to jail and let them do those awful things to me."
"Poor baby," she said, soothing, petting her. "Everything's going to be all right. You're very upset now. Take a shower and dress and I'll see what I can do about letting you go tonight on your own recognizance. Maybe this won't be as bad as you think."
Miss Colby kissed her on the cheek and hugged her strongly, and Connie saw it was compassion rather than lust in those blue eyes beside her. She snuffled her thanks and went obediently to the shower. It was far superior to the tub at home, and each time Connie looked up from her ablutions Miss Colby had her head bent over work. Still she kept her back turned to her as much as she could.
Dried off, she was reaching for her underwear when Miss Colby said, "Are those stolen panties too?"
Grimly, Connie said, "Yes. But from another store."
Miss Colby shook her head. '"Don't put them on, dear. Turn over a new leaf, and get rid of the things you've stolen. With breasts like yours, you don't need to wear a bra, and you can wear my panties home today."
With mouth agape, Connie watched while the handsome woman took her panties off from under her skirt. They were white and definitely warm to touch, and Connie would have put them on then even if they hadn't been so exquisitely expensive. They were too big for her and she was more aware of this than if they'd been binding, and she put her dress on quickly to cover them up. Trying not to fidget under the touch of the heavy satin under her skirt, Connie agreed to let Sergeant Fisher pick her up early the next afternoon for further talks with Miss Colby, and then she was told she could go. All the way to that second, wonderful door she was being assured that everything would be all right, and once she was out on the street again, she felt glorious in the knowledge that indeed it would be.
It was dusk, and Connie hurried straight home. Blessedly, her mother was snoring away in the bedroom-she would have been ranting like a lunatic if Sergeant Fisher had reached her. Connie sat in her window and simply breathed the good, dirty air of the city for a while, and then when the night air was beginning to cool off her exposed pussy, she went into the bathroom and sat down on the throne, her skirt hiked up about her waist. She began fantasizing about a familiar, rescuing prince, and in moments her little cunt was drooling and she was panting and her fantasy was out of control. She had to go along with it, for it was the best frigging she could remember in a long, long time....
She was being walked into prison, handcuffed to Sergeant Fisher, but still her head was high. He took her to the supply room, and while leering convicts drooled and rubbed their bulging loins, he stripped her naked and fondled her, right in front of them. The hardened inmates, horny as the devil, screamed and shouted as Fisher felt of her titties and stuck his finger in her cunt, and still she didn't flinch, though by then it was getting very hard not to. Fisher was getting hard too. He took out his thing, and it was beautiful, but it was too big to fit her. Somehow, though, he slipped it in her, right where her finger was working, and it felt so tremendously good it was all she could do to keep from coming. He fucked her beautifully, and whispered the sweetest words to her, but she wouldn't let herself come. And then, fucked to exhaustion, she was taken to a cell wherein Georgia Colby waited, nude, beautiful, licking her lovely lips....
CHAPTER FOUR
The morning dragged by. Connie sketched and looked at TV and tried to sleep and read, waiting for Sergeant Fisher and whatever else they'd have in store for her as punishment. She truly was sorry she'd ever stolen anything by then, and it seemed somehow that being sorry should be enough, but she knew it wasn't. She would have to pay, and the price was immaterial as long as her mother didn't find out about it all. She would scrub floors at night at the Phipps Building, work there as an unpaid shopgirl, do anything to pay for her crime and have this all behind her. She could never again do anything wrong in her life, if only she could get out of this trouble, but she knew that good intentions just wouldn't be enough to save her.
He got there a little before noon, dressed in a natty, lightweight suit, and carrying an attache case which he set on the coffee table. She met him wearing a plain pink dress, with a cheap old bra and cotten panties under it. He had her sit down beside him on the sofa.
"Been thinking about the spot you're in, Connie?"
"Yes, sir. I sure have been."
"It's not too good, you know. The company has a little rehabilitation program thing started, but it's not all that great. The average shoplifter can't even get into it, and just has to go to jail. And a lot of those that do get in don't last. No room for them all. I'd like to see you get in it. I'd like to see you stay in it. I could be a big help to you, Connie."
"You could?"
He nodded and her regard for him soared, but then he put his hand on her knee and she curled her lip in a sneer at him.
Drawing away from that great, brutal hand, she said, "Hey, don't do me any favors."
"You need someone to do you a favor, kid," he said, covering her hand with his, and holding it firmly even though she tried to shake him off. "With that confession, I could take you straight to jail right now, and you could go to the girl's detention home for a year. I know. I used to be an officer."
"Miss Colby wouldn't let you turn me in like that," she said, still trying to pull free of his paw.
He chuckled. "Honey, Georgia is only a secretary. If I took you down and tossed you in the slammer now, she couldn't do a thing about it."
"Weill ... well, go ahead and do it," she said, flushed and sweating and more than just a little afraid, "but just leave me alone. Get your dirty hands oil me."
He spread out his hands before her and said. "They're clean, honey, and they're all I'd use on you. I know how to use them real good, babe. I know how to play around with a girl so she has a real good time, and that's all I'm after is a good time. Is that too much to ask?"
He put his hand on her knee again and Connie shoved at it, but it stayed there, not moving but somehow sending the shivers through her as she tried to bargain with him. "You just want to feel me up a little? Is that it?"
"It would be fun, for both of us," he said, demonstrating on the inside of her knee how gentle his thick fingers could be.
"And them you'd let me go?"
"I couldn't do that," he said, smiling and running his other hand up her arm to her neck, making her break out in goose bumps all along the way, and making it hard to think.
"I don't know which would be worse," she said with a sneer, "going to jail or going to bed with you."
"Oh, no. There'd be no going to bed. All I want is for us to have a little fun together, right here, without even taking our clothes off. Is that too much to ask?" he said, patting and squeezing her thigh in a rather nice way, and rubbing the back of her neck through her long blonde hair.
He wasn't really a bad looking guy, even if he was old enough to be her father, and she'd often fantasized about marrying a rich old king. And he did like her; she felt quite certain that this wasn't something he tried to pull on other girls he caught shoplifting. And when it came right down to it, the way he was moving his hand up her leg and pulling her closer by her shoulders, she didn't have any choice but to be swept into his arms and kissed.
Connie hadn't been kissed very often. Those that she had known were furtive, frenzied contacts, always taking place in the dark. This was wholly different. He held her crushed against his big, well-tailored chest with his powerful arms wrapped so tightly around her that she could scarcely move, and he was taking all the time in the world about kissing her. Far from being furtive, he was doing it in broad daylight, as if there was nothing shameful at all about her or the embrace, and Connie found that she was enjoying it.
The rasp of his tiny whisker stubble was a sharp reminder that this was a man who desired her and not some acne-ridden boy, and the strength with which he held her showed he desired her a great deal. And he knew just where and how to touch her without getting nasty and grabby, making it safe for her to slide her arms around his amazingly thick neck while he strongly stroked her back and the upper swells of her buttocks. If this was the way to her freedom, she was only sorry it hadn't happened the day before.
His tongue sliding into her mouth shocked her, not only because it was so huge, but because he inserted it with such ease that she was sharply fearful of how easy it would be for him to force his thing into her. But even that fear passed, for after all, it was only a French kiss, something that her mother indulged in all the time, even if it was a rarity for her.
She had to respond to him, and doing so, timidly tangling tongues with him, she began to see what the fuss about French kissing was all about. His caressing hands had warmed her captive body in his arms, but it was his tongue that made her twat feel so loose and open in unwanted expectancy of that part of him that was shaped so much like his stabbing tongue. Being so passionately kissed, so adoringly held, she was undecided about just how she'd react if he insisted on going all the way.
But he broke the kiss and leaned back a little, and then he got vulgar by sliding his hand over and covering her breast with it, and saying, "You've sure got nice tits for such a little gal."
She had to take a deep breath before she said, "Hey, don't."
"Don't worry, little gal," he said with a chuckle. "I'm not about to hurt you. Just want to have a little fun, that's all. Let's see 'em, Connie. Let's see if they look as pretty as they feel."
She had to submit to it. Tight-jawed, she leaned back on the sofa and stared out the window as he opened her dress, then her bra, and proceeded to feel the texture and weight of her breasts with the balls of his fingers.
"Yeah, you've got beautiful little tits, honey. And not so little for a fifteen-year-old kid. Nipples are up as hard as my pecker. So pink and pretty. Gotta taste those."
She bit her lip and rolled her head away as his massive head descended to her chest and the lips that had been on hers sucked in a turgid nipple. Like an enormously overgrown baby, he was nursing at her breast, sucking on her nipple, and making it feel like it was growing to twice its normal size in his mouth. Quite amazed by the sensation, she had to look down at what he was doing, and the look of bliss that softened his craggy face was such that she warmed still further to him and without thinking touched her hand to his head. His eyes opened to slits and he made her gasp by starting to lick the nipple he was sucking, and the tingling produced by his tongue could be felt shooting down to her loins with frightening rapidity. She stood it for as long as she could, tensed and quivering, before she pushed him away.
"Oh, stop. Jesus, that's enough."
"Maybe enough for that one," he said, and descended on her other nipple.
She writhed and struggled, panting, under his sucking, tonguing kiss, for now the tinglings were excruciating and she was again afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop. Already his hand was sliding and softly kneading high on her thighs, and if he felt the inner emotions she was feeling, it would soon be his thing that was pushing and probing at her there, and that couldn't be, that was not a part of this weird, wicked, fantastically exciting bargain. She asked him twice to stop, in increasingly urgent tones, and when he continued to slurp and suck so passionately on her breasts, she summoned up her waning resistance and resorted to tears.
Blessedly, it made him quit. He raised his flushed face from her throbbing breasts, took her in his arms, and said, "What's the matter, baby? I'm not going to hurt you. Don't you like to get a little hot?"
Before she could answer he was kissing her on the mouth again and feeling her saliva-wetted breasts, and now his fingers were delivering the same awful, wonderful feelings that his tongue had. Unable to breathe, she writhed helplessly against his big body, jerking spasmodically and feeling quite afraid of the very strong emotions surging in her.
"Just relax," he said, kissing her tear-streaked cheeks, nuzzling at her ear, and plucking and tweaking at her highly sensitized nipples. "I'll quit, but not yet, not now when we're just getting worked up good. Yeah, you're a hot one, honey."
Before she could tell him differently, he was kissing her again, and then she knew she really was a hot one, just as hot as her mother, or even more so.
Her tears were turned off. She couldn't start them again. All she could do was cling to this passionate, adoring man and trust him to have the control that was lacking in her.
"Yeah, that's better," he said with a smile, and bent to place loud, smacking kisses on her nipples, each of which made her jerk and squirm convulsively. "Love those tits of yours," he muttered between kisses, and looking down at their glowing pink softness, she could see why.
They were gorgeous. Perfectly formed, and proudly standing, ready to yield to every pressure of his hands that fit them so well, and with nipples that had been made to precisely fit his hungry, heavy lips. They were beautiful and so was she, and she had to say, "I just love it when you kiss 'em like that."
"I'd like to kiss you all over," he muttered, pulling her dress open even farther and jerking her twisted bra up around her neck to get at more of her pink-blotched chest. "But don't worry, honey. I'll be good. You like it when old Jack sucks on your titties, eh?"
"Yes! It feels so ... so wonderful to have you do it."
"To do what?"
"What you're doing," she panted, feeling his kisses spread through every part of her now, and not minding at all the big hand that was warmly clamped about her thigh.
"Say it. Say you like me to suck your titties. I like to hear it, honey. Go on. That won't hurt you."
"I like it...." she gasped, as for a moment the exquisite sensations bordered on pain, " ... when you suck my ... my titties."
"Sure you do," his voice rumbled, and he gave her such a lovely tongue-washing there that she had to hold onto his shaggy head with both arms and clasp him even closer to her. With his thumb sliding in the leghole of her panties, he murmured, "Hot as a little firecracker. You feel like you're just about to come, honey. You like to come? Have you done it before?"
"I don't know," she moaned. "Just do it."
He chuckled and said, "Don't know if you came before, or don't know if you like it? Which, baby? Huh?"
"Just do it," she whimpered, far hotter than she'd ever made herself.
"Oh, no. That's part of making out, Connie. You've gotta tell me what you like, and you can't be embarrassed about it. If you like me to suck on your pretty titties, you've gotta tell me, and if you'd like me to play with your pussy, you've gotta tell me that, too. Otherwise we're just a couple of animals."
"Suck my titties some more, Jack," she panted. "Oh! Oh, I just love that!" she exclaimed, and it seemed to make it even better when she could say what she was feeling. "You're so wonderful to me."
"Yeah, and now you be wonderful to me and lift up so I can take down your little panties. They're all wet, honey. Why's that?" he asked with a grin.
"'Cause I'm so hot," she blurted, heaving her trembling hips up off the couch so he could haul down her damply clinging panties, and not caring anything at all about her modesty before this wonderfully loving man. "You made me so hot."
He whistled when he saw her bare loins, and coming from anyone else, it would have been a very dirty whistle, and then he really embarrassed her by pushing her legs apart as far as her panties would permit and opening up her slit with his fingers. He said, "Beautiful little pussy, all wet and hot. I bet it's as tight as a mouse's ear. Want me to find out for myself? Hmm? Want me to slip my finger in your pussy and find out how tight it is? Do you? Maybe make you come real good?"
"Yes!" she gasped, throwing her hips forward as his big, thick finger continued to slide up and down the length of her flaming, juice-leaking twat. "Do it all to me. Anything. I ... I love you."
"You love sex, baby. Just like all of us," he said, rubbing, massaging, feeling of her delicate pink labia and her burning, swollen clitoris. "What is it you want now? Hmm? Want me to finger-fuck you a little while I suck your pretty titties?"
"Fuck," she gasped. "Finger-fuck me. My twat, my pussy, oh it's on fire. And my titties. Jack, suck 'em. Make me feel good all over."
At the same rate as his mouth descended to her upthrust nipple, his thick finger slid up in her pussy, and as he simultaneously sucked strongly and worked his finger slowly, she began to come in earnest. She'd been orgasming all along, harder than ever she had when she used to masturbate, but that was as child's play compared to the soaring, sweeping crescendo of feelings evoked from the combination of his lips and tongue on her nipple and his finger in her pussy and his thumb squishing her clitoris. She writhed and moaned in a frenzy of ecstasy, not caring how big a fool she made of herself in front of him, and she would have screamed in her agony of delight had it not been for the paper-thin walls. Still her rapture increased, threatening to drive her out of her mind, and at that point she would gladly have gone insane for one more moment of that delight, for one more step up the dizzy spiral to total ecstasy, and it was then that he stopped.
One moment he'd been passionately attacking her and gazing up from his suckings with complete adoration, and the next he was sitting up by her side, wringing his hands, while she struggled alone to regain control of her runaway emotions. But that was a hopeless task, and not caring about anything but him, she reached out and clutched his hand and panted, "Go on. Go all the way. F-Fuck me. I ... I want you to."
He shook his head and said, "Baby, there's nothing I'd like better, and someday I probably will. But this isn't the day. I made you a promise, little gal. But, whew! You make it hard on a guy to stop. You make it damned hard," he said, and he chuckled and used his hands to outline the big, long bulge in his pants.
Connie was at once fascinated and repelled, and in her condition of high heat, she couldn't take her eyes from it, even though it embarrassed her to look. Still looking sidelong at it, she started to close her bodice and her legs. He stopped her.
"No, baby. I like to look at you. You want to see what old Sergeant Jack's got? A little look won't hurt you."
Mouth hanging open, mute, she nodded, and he leisurely began to undo his belt buckle, saying as he did, "Yeah, you're really a beautiful little tomato. Your tits, your cunt, every bit of you. Open up that dress some more and show me those nice tits, honey. I love to look at 'em."
She did. She'd have ripped open her breast and showed him her heart, the way he was looking at her.
"Show me how you play with 'em, baby," he said, taking his time about showing himself, and as excited as he obviously was, even pausing from sliding down his zipper to move his attache case on the table.
"Show me," she panted, squeezing her bulging tits for him, and for herself as well.
"Oh, you'll see plenty of peckers in your time, little gal. Some even bigger than the old Sergeant's.
It's so big it takes a long time to get it out. While I'm doin' it, show me some more of yours."
"Jack, you're not old," she managed to say, beside herself with adoration for him, and just as he wanted, she spread her legs wide and showed him that drooling, seething part of her that he found so beautiful.
Gasping, she clutched herself there when his penis sprang out, enormously thick and long, with a shaft that was lined with ropy blue veins and a sharp ridge that started the great, bulbous end with its single staring eye.
He laughed softly at her alarm and said, "It's nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all. It won't be long before you think a man's cock is about the prettiest thing in the world. Touch it, Connie. Go ahead."
"I ... I...."
"Go on, gal. I need it. I need to feel as good as I made you feel."
Still staring, she shook her head, and showing the first impatience she'd seen in him that day, he grabbed her by the wrist and thrust her hand about the shaft. It brought a sharp little cry of consternation from her, but then her fear at once vanished for she found it to be quite soft in texture, despite its great inner strength.
It was very warm, sc much so that its warmth permeated right through her hand to her belly, and she offered no resistance when the smiling man who was her lover took her other hand and placed it about that shaft.
"Play with it, honey. Give me a little hand job. That won't cost either of us anything. Yeah, baby. Yeah, that's it. You learn fast, Connie."
There was nothing to learn. It was easy and it was very pleasant to slide her two hands up and down that shaft, feeling the softness of the veins and convolutions that looked so hard, and best of all, feeling him become as aroused as he'd made her feel. She still felt hugely excited, but it was now more from the excitement she was inducing in him than what was still boiling inside her. She actually felt a power over him, this great big authoritative man, just by fondling his big pecker, and she liked the feeling of power just as much as the texture of his turgid flesh.
Panting very heavily now, he said between clenched teeth, "Gonna give it a little kiss, honey? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you to do that?"
"I ... I don't know," she said, wanting to in a way, but knowing that was too terribly wrong to do.
"Feel how soft and nice the head of it is," he murmured, and moved her hands up until her thumbs were on that big red ridge that ran around its girth.
Amazingly, it was quite soft and smooth. But then again, that wasn't so amazing, for everything he'd told her had been just as he'd said it would be. She sampled more and more of the velvety softness there with her moist fingers, and wondered at the drop of glistening clear liquid that was oozing out of that eye.
"Kiss it once," he murmured, rubbing her head, fondling her leg. "Just touch your pretty little lips to it like I kissed your titties, honey. You'll like it, I know you will, trust old Sergeant Jack. Go on. Don't think about it. Just do it."
Quickly she bent and touched her lips to it and she found it as soft or softer than his lips had been. He groaned and she just knew he was going to shoot, but she couldn't straighten up and get out of the way, for now he was holding her there with hands that trembled with their contained strength. She tasted the wet stuff on it and tried not to think of anything but the fluttery good feelings inside her, and then with a muttered curse and a groan, he let her up, and closing his hands about hers, began manipulating them very fast on him.
He only had to do it for a moment, for now that she was out of danger, she craved with every part of her to make him come, to see it happen to him. He groaned anew and fell back, she felt his cock stiffen and swell in her flying hands, and then he was groaning even louder and his enormous organ was jerking and spitting out the white stuff in great gouts of heat that spurted into the air and fell back on her sweating hands and on the rumpled shorts that hid the rest of him. Power surging in her now, she manipulated it faster still, greatly alarmed at the diminishing of the jets of white, until with a final groan he clasped her to his shuddering body and let her share as completely as he could in the wonderful orgasm that she'd brought to him. Feeling his heart thudding against her own, enjoying to the fullest each of his waning shudders, Connie felt blessed by at last learning the full meaning of sex and love. She wanted to tell him exactly how she felt about him, but there were no words to say it beyond those three simple ones. Before she could utter them, he fell back from her, sighing heavily.
"That was a dandy," he said. "You are one hot little tomato, and baby, we're going to have a lot more fun together if I have anything to say about it. But now we gotta straighten up and get dressed. Georgia's waiting."
CHAPTER FIVE
She would have sat right beside him as they drove the few blocks to Phipps, but he wouldn't permit that, and of course he was right. As it was, she was content to sit by the passenger's door and gaze lovingly at him, this kind, lonely man with the gruff exterior who had shown her the way to love.
He drove the car into a subterranean parking lot and parked it in a corner, and when they got out, his discretion was such that he wouldn't even give her one little kiss in the dark. She understood. Even though she yearned for him with all her heart, even though her young body was still seething with passion for him, she had to consider his position as Security Chief and the scandal it would cause if their love affair became known. She wasn't even thinking about herself. Even going to jail was secondary to what she felt for him, but of course she knew he'd never let her go to jail, not now.
There was a phone booth there and he used it while she watched him through the glass, smiling at his stern, averted face, and holding her hand over her tummy to try to contain whatever she could of her good, warm sex feelings for just a little longer. Perhaps after her interview with Miss Colby he'd take her to his lavish, bachelor apartment and serve her a sumptuous dinner there before he made whole, complete love to her. Or perhaps he was married!
That thought chilled her, and she tried to decide if she could ever become the mistress of a married man, even such a wonderful, masterful, kind man as her Jack. She wanted to bring up the subject of his marital status when he emerged, but then he was in such a hurry that there was no opportunity for it.
He bustled her through dank, dark tunnels, briskly unlocking two steel fire doors, and then she was on the street again, blinking in the bright light. The Phipps Security Office was right there, and he quickly entered them into it as he explained that an emergency was calling him away and that he'd see her later. Into the anteroom she went without a chance to ask him about putting in a good word for her with Miss Colby, and then she was given a pat on the fanny and sent through the other door, which clicked shut behind her.
Miss Colby's orderly desk was vacant, and her voice came from the direction of the bathroom, sounding apprehensive.
"Who's that? Jack?"
"It's me, Connie Turner," said the girl, looking cautiously into the bathroom.
Miss Colby was looking back at her, her blue eyes very wide. She was standing in the shower, holding a big white towel in front of her, even though all that could be seen of her was her head and one shoulder as she peered from behind the open doorway.
"Is Sergeant Fisher there with you?" she asked.
"No. He got called away on some business."
"Whew," she exclaimed, and stepped forward from the doorway, wrapping the towel around her, but not before Connie had glimpses of pale white flesh in contrast to her tan. "I went out shopping at lunch and got so sweaty and warm I decided to take a shower. It's one small advantage of working here. Another minute and I'd have been in it. That'd be just the time for Jack to come storming in here. I fear our security chief is something of a lecher. I hope you didn't discover that the hard way, dear."
"He was a perfect gentleman with me," said Connie, smugly smiling.
"That's a relief," said the big brunette, retrieving the towel just before its descent exposed all of the big brown nipple in its bulbous field of white. "I can't tell you how many times he's tried to get his hands on me, and Mr. Phipps himself almost fired him for having some sort of an affair with a suspected shoplifter. He told her he'd see that she got a break if she-cooperated with him, but he couldn't come through, of course. I don't know. Perhaps the poor little girl didn't mind. She wasn't too bright, and I suppose there is a strange sort of a thrill in going to bed with a former policeman. Lord only knows how many other girls he's...." She stopped in mid-sentence and frowned at the way Connie had so suddenly blanched, and then took three quick steps forward and put her arms about the girl as Connie burst into tears.
"You poor dear," Miss Colby went on. "What did he do to you and when did he do it? Oh, dear God, it must have been just now, you're still so hot and sweaty. Tell me, dear, did he actually ... penetrate you?"
Through her tears, Connie nodded solemnly, and Miss Colby stiffened with righteous indignation. Then the big body of the secretary relaxed again as Connie held up her finger and said, "Like that."
"Oh! He had his dirty, nasty finger in your poor little tush. Thank God, though, it could have been so much worse. But come. Don't talk about it now. Into the shower with you and wash off all the dirt he put on you with his slimy hands and his ugly, ugly mouth. But tell me," she said, pausing as she turned the sniffling girl toward the shower, "did he ... kiss you there?"
Miss Colby's eyes darted down to Connie's loins, and the girl, flushed with remembering how she'd wanted him to perform that perversion at the time, shamefacedly shook her head.
Miss Colby brightened visibly and said, "Lucky for him he didn't, the brute. Luckier still for you that he didn't force that on you. Ugh. When I think of his big, vulgar mouth on your sweet little tush, I just ... ugh." She shuddered and the towel slipped from around her body. She caught it under one arm as she led Connie toward the shower. From the corner of her tear-filled eye, the girl could see the big, white, brown-tipped tit bobbing at her side, and below it a flash of black thatch as big as her mother's, where the white towel ended and the white triangle from Miss Colby's bikini bottom began.
Connie could have seen even more of the woman by the entry to the shower, for there she was turned to face her while her clothes were being removed. Miss Colby's towel had dropped away. She was showing much less modesty than even the boldest of the girls at gym class as she unbuttoned Connie's dress, and all Connie had to do was look down to look directly at that curvaceous body that was at the edge of her vision. She continued to look up at the beautiful, sympathetic face as Miss Colby opened her buttons to the waist.
Just then Connie remembered that this was the woman she'd suspected of being a Lesbian, one of those perverts that her mother said did such horrible things to girls, and at once she tried to close her dress around her.
Miss Colby laughed and said, "Modesty may be becoming, dear, but not at a time like this. We've got to get you in that shower and wash away his dirt from you, and I've got some lovely French soap that you'll just adore."
Connie was turned about to face the desk and her dress was pulled down around her ankles from behind. Miss Colby just couldn't be a Lesbian, she thought. She was too beautiful and good, and her only aim was to save her from the contamination that awful Sergeant Fisher had put on her with his dirty hands. She wanted to cry at the way she'd been taken in by him, but this was no time for more tears, for already her shabby old bra was coming off and she knew from the way Miss Colby clucked that she had every reason to be ashamed of its age and cheapness. Then it was off her and she was holding her hands over her tits, looking down at them and wondering what sort of disease he'd transmitted to them with his dirty, vulgar mouth. Zip, and her panties came down, making her flinch as their wet crotch pulled at her hairs, and she stepped out of them as naked as the woman behind her who, if she was indeed a Lesbian, was giving the girl very little time to dwell on it.
Her fanny was slapped quite smartly, and as she wheeled about, holding her hands over it, the laughing brunette said, "Come on, Connie, in you go."
She was slap, slap, slapped right into the big, tiled shower. The playful, sharp little blows didn't really hurt her, but they had the effect of making her leap forward at every one of them, with a sensitivity to the very minor pain that she'd never known before. Poking her in the ribs and slapping her on the bottom, the gaily laughing Miss Colby drove her under the enormous big shower head, somehow making Connie giggle right along with her. She was aware of the woman as a pair of hands that simultaneously stung her and tickled her, backed up by a broadly laughing mouth and sparkling eyes, and somewhere in the background, the full, lush equipment of a mature and lovely woman.
Water from the shower head hit her full force, and she leapt and squealed, "Miss Colby!" for it was icy cold. She couldn't draw a breath, and she would have run out of the shower had not the merrily laughing woman caught her and wrestled her back under the torrent. Connie couldn't properly struggle against her without her hands coming into contact with her private parts and her big tits, which seemed to be everywhere, and as it was the girl could feel the woman's warmth even through the cold slickness of her wet skin.
She couldn't get her breath until the water warmed up some, and by then Miss Colby was already lathering up her hands with a bar of the wonderfully fragrant soap. "I'll do your back and you do mine," she said. "Just like in school."
With hands crossed before her breasts, Connie said, "We're not supposed to even touch each other in the showers."
"Poo, what a dumb school," said Miss Colby, turning her about and, just out of range of the water, lathering up her shoulders and back. "I went to a private school and we had all sorts of fun in the showers. We were always late for the class that followed gym."
Miss Colby questioned Connie about herself and prattled merrily on about her school days, liberally applying the rich, perfumed lather and easing away the tensions that still existed in Connie's mobile little body. Miss Colby was obviously from a wealthy family, Connie thought, looking down at the thick white suds that were trickling over her breasts and belly and luxuriating under those rapidly massaging hands. They caused her breasts to jiggle from side to side as they went down her back, washing her everywhere, and then brought a tiny startled gasp from her as they delved quickly through the deep groove of her ass before sliding down over the backs of her legs. Still talking, Miss Colby ran her soapy hands up Connie's sides, and the girl had to elevate her arms when, without a pause, the woman worked more lather into her armpits. She swallowed a gasp when the red-tipped fingers went right on to apply a coating of scented suds to her breasts, and she heaved a heavy sigh when they slid down over her belly, then felt herself go all tight down below as they worked up a thick lather in her pubic hair. She felt Miss Colby squat again as she soaped the front of her legs, and then she leapt as if she'd been shot when the woman stood up and gave her a slap on her fanny and informed her she was clean.
Connie was turned around, the soap was thrust in her hand, and Miss Colby turned her back on her before she could get a good look at her big tits. With Miss Colby lecturing on the virtues of cleanliness, Connie tentatively began lathering her broad, tanned shoulders, having to reach up to do it. It felt very nice to have that softly solid flesh under her hands, and the slick, warm suds made it feel even better. She was hardly hearing the woman's words as she worked over her back, broad and vee-shaped, deeply grooved along the spine, nicely tanned, save for the stripe of white left by her Bikini top, an area of flesh undoubtedly more sensitive than the sun-baked part of her.
Her waist was nice and thin, but still very solid, and her lips magnificently sweeping. Her big bottom, marked with a broader patch of white, was very pleasant to the touch. It yielded and jiggled so nicely that Connie wanted to linger there, but instead she took a deep breath and dutifully slid one soapy hand down the clinging cleavage between those big, oval buttocks and crouched on the floor to lather the backs of Miss Colby's legs, looking straight ahead as she did at that perfect big bottom that dripped and glistened with heavily scented soap suds, not two inches from Connie's nose.
Up her sides and over those marvelously swelling hips her hands went, and she was gratified when she brought forth a giggle from her friend by tickling her armpits through the suds. Then at last she reached around her to wash her big, heavy tits, and the weight of them and the feel of them in her slippery hands was such that she wanted to linger there for a long time. But that was a very queer notion and Connie shunned it, although she simply couldn't resist giving those big nipples, projecting like thumbtips, a fast, surreptitious pair of pinches.
"Ouch! You little imp," Miss Colby said, as the blushing Connie quickly lathered down her softly swelling belly. "Want to play games, do you?"
"I didn't mean to, Miss Colby," said the hugely embarrassed girl, very quickly lathering up the fur around her twat, and then having to come even closer to that splendid ass as she washed the front of her perfectly tapered legs.
Miss Colby turned around. Her hairy, soapy twat was right there before Connie's face. She was almost sick with her need to have a look at it, but of course she could not. She couldn't get up, either, for her legs had gone all weak and rubbery. All she could do was crouch there, quite miserable, and rub the bar of soap over Miss Colby's perfectly sculptured foot while she gazed up at her. up past those glorious big tits to her imperiously smiling face.
"So you like to play shower games, do you?"
"I didn't mean to," Connie implored. "My ... my hand slipped."
"Both of them?" she asked, her smile impishly ominous now.
"I'm so sorry if I hurt you. Really I am. I wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world, Miss Colby."
"Oh, you didn't hurt me," she said, tangling a finger in the girl's wet hair. "It takes a good deal more than that to hurt me. What you did was challenge me. and when it comes to shower games, I'm the undisputed champion."
With that she swooped down and began tickling the girl, unmercifully. Whoops and shrieks and gales of laughter echoed through the shower as the two females, still covered with lather, slid and skidded over the tile floor, in and out of the water, tangling and tickling and shouting in their girlish glee. Miss Colby proved she was a champion. She wound up astraddle the giggling, beaten girl, pinioning her arms to the floor, and grinning down at her from above those beautiful big tits that swung heavily over Connie's.
"I give," Connie giggled. "I surrender."
"You'd better, young lady, and the penalty I impose on you is that from now on you have to call me Georgia. Now, up with you!"
Connie was hauled to her feet, bumping against her friend, and together they rinsed the remnants of the lather from them. Starting to leave, Georgia said, "Wait. I have to pee. Do you?"
She was holding Connie's hand, and she didn't let go of it as there in the shower she spread her legs and, smiling and facing Connie, loosed a heavy stream of urine between her feet. It spattered on Connie's toes, and she stared down at the source of it dumbstruck. She hadn't had to go herself, not up till then, but then she was peeing right along with Georgia and they were smiling and looking into each other's eyes as if they'd been the closest of friends for the longest of times.
Georgia took thick towels from the cabinet behind the sofa, and as they rubbed themselves dry she informed Connie that she had a surprise for her. Glowing with warmth from the friction of the toweling, the girl was jumping up and down in her eagerness to see what it was. Producing two boxes from the cabinet, Georgia handed one to the naked, excited girl.
As Connie tore it open, Georgia said, "I got you this, dear, to show you there's more than one way to get what you're after."
It was a beautiful imported panty-bra set, white and rather plain, but in her exact size and obviously very expensive. The other box contained a set in Georgia's size, black, less sheer than Connie's and cunningly trimmed with see-through lace. Thanking her profusely, Connie cooperated with her benefactor in getting them both dressed in them, and then they sat down on the couch to brush out their wet hair and talk.
Connie had never felt so good in her life. She had a real friend at last, one who gave her presents, one so ravishingly beautiful that she should have been in films rather than in that little, windowless office, and she could ask for nothing more. Georgia truly was beautiful as she straightened the tangle out of her long, raven hair. When she'd been naked, the white triangles from her Bikini had seemed to draw attention to her erogenous zones, and now the black lace garments did the same. They fit the triangles almost exactly, showing only tiny stripes of white skin between their black and the tan of the rest of her. Further speckles of white showed through the lace, and she didn't mind at all if Connie looked.
Connie looked as they chatted and she looked when Georgia got up and bolted the door, and although there was a certain queasiness she felt in being locked in with the lovely, near-nude woman, she kept on looking as Georgia smeared a coat of scarlet on her full lips and sat down on the couch again.
They sat close, with hands on each other's shoulders, and Connie felt she was prepared for almost anything except the question Georgia asked her.
"What was it Jack did to you, dear?"
Filled again with hot shame, she replied, "You know. He did it with his finger. He kissed my ti ... my breasts. He ... he made me play with his thing."
"Poor dear," Georgia said, placing a hand on Connie's leg. "And did you like it at the time?"
"I hated it. Every second of it. He's a ... a vulgar brute."
"That's true. But in a way, I really can't blame him. You're a beautiful girl, Connie. Probably very responsive, too. Tell me, did it make you come?"
"Oh, no!" she lied, but it didn't seem like a lie, for at the moment that hand lightly brushing her thigh felt better than anything else in the world could possibly feel.
"I hope he didn't rupture your hymen when he touched you here," said Georgia, indicating with her finger where she meant.
"I didn't bleed," Connie softly said, looking down at the blood-red fingernail all but buried in the plump bulge of her crotch.
"We'd better find out for sure, hadn't we?" Georgia murmured, looking straight into Connie's eyes, and moving her finger very slightly.
"You better," Connie blurted, and gave herself over entirely to the hands of her friend.
Silent, using only her hands to direct her, Georgia had Connie get up on her knees facing her on the couch. There was the hint of a warning in her deep blue eyes as she began to draw Connie's new white panties down, and Connie chose to ignore it. She couldn't ignore the feelings that rippled through her when Georgia's soft, gentle fingers parted her delicate and inordinately sensitive labia, but she could conceal those feelings.
Holding the girl's labia open with her left hand, Georgia lowered her gaze to that point while she used her right hand to work the white panties down to mid-thigh. A shudder went through Connie as she saw two of Georgia's red-tipped fingers enter her red-smeared mouth. Georgia wet them liberally, and as she approached Connie's pussy with them, said, "I won't hurt you, dear."
"I know ... oh!" said Connie, so galvanized by the touch of those soft wet fingers on her vulva that she swayed forward on her knees.
"Hold onto me, dear," said Georgia, and wet her fingers in her mouth again. Touching Connie's open pussy again, she said, "You're very dry, and I don't want to hurt you."
Connie didn't feel dry. Her pussy felt as wet and slick as it had been when it was soaped up in the shower, and it was getting wetter still each time her beautiful friend touched it with her wetted fingers. Georgia's fingers looked just as wet on entering her sensual red mouth as they did on leaving it to delve softly in Connie's extremely warm twat. They went a little deeper each time, in search of her hymen, as Connie recalled, but incidentally doing very wonderful things to her along the way. Georgia spoke to her as she proceeded with the slow, sensual examination, addressing some of her remarks directly to Connie's seething pussy, and Connie answered as best she could, sometimes with words, sometimes just with pressures of her hands on Georgia's soft, warm shoulders.
"Did he put his finger this deep in you, Connie?"
"Deeper. Yes, deeper."
"And you didn't like it at all?"
"He was ... so rough ... so hard."
"Only a woman knows how to touch a woman here," said Georgia, and licked her two fingers individually, then slid them together over Connie's slick, wet clitoris and through the shallow slit into her vagina, stretching it just right. "Does this feel at all nice, dear?"
Too breathless to speak, Connie squeezed her shoulders and ran one trembling hand briefly over her wet, warm hair.
"Did you like it when he kissed your breasts, dear?" she asked, looking at them, sliding her finger in and out of her.
"I ... Yes, but ... but his whiskers...."
Georgia licked her lips slowly, and softly said, "You have such beautiful breasts. I couldn't help staring at them in the shower."
Connie had to give her lonely Lesbian friend what she wanted, not just because Georgia had been so good to her, but because Connie wanted it too by then. She took a deep breath, pulled up her bra cups, and said, "D'you really think they're pretty?"
Nodding her assent, Georgia leaned forward and placed her lips on Connie's nipple. Now there was no longer any pretense about it. Now Georgia's Lesbianism was out in the open and now Connie could better handle it. With no secrets between them, they could be even better friends, even if Georgia had fallen in love with her.
Connie hugged Georgia's head to her breast with both arms, crooning her delight as the dear, dear woman sucked and licked her nipple in a far more sensuous way than the sergeant had, and all the while kept massaging her pussy, inside and out. so steadily and lovingly that Connie's physical joy was rapidly approaching her emotional joy. It was utterly, utterly beautiful to be so adored, so worshipped by this lovely though confused woman who asked nothing of her but to allow herself to be pleased, in every way. Connie hugged the raven head closer to her breast, boldly bent down and placed her lips to it, and felt herself soaring on such wings of joy that she feared she might never come down.
"Georgia, stop," she panted, quite close to delirium from the combined assault on her senses. "Please stop now." The Lesbian was losing control of herself! "Georgia, that's enough!" Connie tried to fight free of her, but a strong arm was around her waist and it tightened, and the mouth on her nipple sucked and whipped harder, and those fingers in her pussy fairly flew, and it was suddenly Connie who had lost control.
She was still struggling, but now it was to get even closer to the Lesbian and all the tremendously good feelings she was getting from her. It was insanely good, and she writhed and hugged her head, squealed and cried out in her rapture, and gloried in the way her young body was rapidly squirming to better fit against Georgia's mouth and tits and fingers. The Lesbian's breath was blowing hot through her nostrils against Connie's tit and her fingers were flying, making delicious wet sounds in her pussy, and still the good, wonderful, fantastic feelings mounted.
"I love it!" Connie squealed. "I love you!" she cried out, and it all combined to burst from within her with such force and beauty that she very nearly fainted.
As it was, she collapsed against the back of the couch, panting, not at all sure what had come over her. Her smiling friend had at last given up sucking her tingling nipple, but she continued to massage her pussy, very gently now, as she spoke to her.
"You come very hard for such a little girl, Connie."
"Never," Connie panted, "never before ... like that."
An avid light showed in Georgia's eyes, and she asked, "Really? It's never been that good before?"
"It ... it exploded ... I exploded at the end."
"I think, my dear, that you've just experienced your first real orgasm. I'm sure you'll know many more, just as good. And if I'm not mistaken, you could stand another right now."
CHAPTER SIX
"Oh, no," Connie said, knowing that only once in a lifetime a person could go through an experience like that. It had left her so weakened she couldn't even stop Georgia's fingers as they continued to massage her sodden pussy.
"Oh, yes," Georgia contradicted. "Almost all women are capable of multiple orgasms, and even though you're not legally of age as a woman, I'm pretty darned sure you're physically of age. Shall we find out?"
Connie shook her head. She was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to lie there and bask for just a few minutes in the very nice feelings that Georgia's fingers were producing in her. They were so sweet, so reminiscent of the cataclysmic feelings that had been entirely too much for her to handle.
"Rest a minute," Georgia told her. "And while you do, I hope you don't mind if I enjoy myself a little. A woman like me gets very frustrated watching a lovely girl like you having so much fun."
"Anything you want," Connie murmured, and then moaned as the fingers were withdrawn from her open, leaking pussy.
She watched while Georgia licked those fingers, and she felt an odd little thrill at the expression of deep enjoyment in the Lesbian's eyes. She could smell herself, and it didn't smell at all good, but the Lesbian obviously relished the taste of her. Perhaps pussy tasted different than it smelled. In any event, hers certainly felt different than ever it had before. She wondered if for the rest of her life she'd be so aware of her pussy as she was at that moment.
There was very definite lust in those blue eyes now as Georgia slipped her bra up and bared her gorgeous big tits, the milk-white mounds close to bursting. The corrugated brown nipples standing up hard, and there was wicked enjoyment in those eyes when Connie reacted with shock as Georgia lifted one big breast and sucked its nipple into her mouth. Cheeks sunken in, with tongue and even teeth obviously working, Georgia seemed to enjoy watching Connie as much as she was enjoying this weird form of self-indulgence. Fleetingly Connie had thought of doing that to herself in the past, and now it came back to her as she watched the lipsticked mouth and the lacquered fingers sensuously working over that lovely big breast. Jusi watching it, Connie could feel her own nipples getting erect again, and the feeling was accompanied by an insistent little itch in her thoroughly sated and slightly sore pussy. She refrained from itching it, and from looking down to confirm the state of her nipples, for her Lesbian friend commanded all her attention.
Transferring her other nipple to her mouth and managing to smile around it, Georgia lifted her hips high enough off the couch so that she could drag the black panties down to a point where much of her curly pubic hair was showing. Connie found herself wishing she could see more of her there. The hand that had been in Connie's pussy went inside the panties and then Georgia's expression registered even more enjoyment, and made Connie remember even more clearly how good she'd felt just minutes before. She had to give her itching pussy a good, hard scratching, and when she did, Georgia made her blush by giving her a broad wink.
The shamelessly masturbating Lesbian allowed her kiss-gorged tit to fall from her mouth-both mouth and nipple red smudged with lipstick, as much as Connie's tits were-and she got up on her knees beside the languidly reclining girl. "Was I right, Connie? Could you come again now?"
Connie quickly shook her head, and took her fingers from her pussy.
"I could," Georgia smiled, rolling her lovely big tits in one hand, slowly rubbing her pussy with the other. Connie could see some livid red there now, for Georgia had pushed the black panties down a bit farther. "Would you help me come, dear.' Just a little? You don't have to, but it would be so nice."
The trouble was, Connie wanted to help her, both as a friend would help a friend and because she wanted to see that lovely big body seized with the same passions that had so thrilled her.
"All you have to do is touch me a little, no more than you did in the shower," said the beautiful woman, somehow even more beautiful now in her rising heat. "And if you did help me just a little, I'd see to it that you had an even lovelier come than before."
"You wouldn't have to do that," Connie said, frankly staring at the tongue that licked Georgia's lips as she was helped up to a kneeling position facing her.
"But I'd want to," Georgia candidly confessed, and returned to licking her lips as she placed Connie's unresisting hands on her body.
She put both of them on her tits, and now Connie could feel all she wished of them, as she'd been unable to do in the shower. Without the lather, they seemed still smoother and definitely more erotic to the touch, and her hands on them felt just as good as Georgia's hands on hers. They communicated with their eyes and with their hands, telling each other where to be gently soothing and where to tweak and pinch a bit. Timing was important, Connie learned, and a surprise pinch had a lovely effect on her as well as on her dear, sweet friend. Georgia was hotter than she was, of this she was pretty sure, and that was going some since her excitement had risen very quickly. But she had already had her orgasm and Georgia was left behind in this, and so Connie offered no objection at all when Georgia's black panties were pushed down as low on her legs as her own and her hand was gently but firmly guided down to the big black patch of fur that she could only see through her lower eyelashes.
The Lesbian's cunt was shockingly wet, and the odor that arose from it was such that Connie swayed back for a moment. Georgia's fingers closed on her nipple to pull her forward again, and once that first shock of discovery had passed, the girl found the hot, sodden interior of her friend to be quite a fascinating thing to the touch. She could feel her clitoris-enormously distended-and her fleshy, scalloped labia and even insert her fingers inside that soft and readily yielding hole, and thus learn all about the construction of her friend's most secret parts, while at the same time very noticeably thrilling her.
Every one of Connie's actions was reflected in Georgia's lovely, passion-swollen face, and while the girl would have been more than content just in exercising this power she had to thrill a mature Lesbian, she was being further rewarded by Georgia returning much of the physical thrills she was experiencing. Still without speaking, Georgia was showing her with her fingers in her cunt how a woman is best pleased, even though Connie felt she knew it all by now. She knew she was pleasing Georgia mightily, and that was a great thrill to her. She could see the woman's orgasm building in her facial expressions, and she performed her sweet and exciting task with greater speed and urgency as she avidly watched the need build in Georgia's glazed eyes and trembling mouth.
"Nnnnng!" Georgia uttered a wonderful, thrilling cry, and Connie reveled at the knowledge she'd made her come.
The fantastically lovely, wickedly perverted woman groaned even louder, gave up finger-fucking Connie, and threw her strong arms about her to drag her into a kiss. Mouths mashed together, Connie couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop her tongue irom tangling with the Lesbian's nor her fingers from rubbing harder in that lovely, contracting cunt, nor her body from writhing very hard against that of the woman she'd brought to the very peak of human experiencing. A disgusting, thick flavor had come to Georgia's mouth, much like the odor of pussy, and as awful as it was, Connie delved for more of it with her tongue. She sucked and licked for more of it, not realizing just how close she was to an orgasm herself until with another great groan, Georgia threw her down on her back and buried her mouth in her crotch.
This orgasm burst on the girl like a thunderclap, and she heaved and writhed under that stabbing, licking tongue and those strongly suctioning lips, shrieking and groaning, exploding with her joy, clutching at Georgia's burrowing head and eagerly wriggling her toes when she found them enveloped in the hot wet gash that was Georgia's orgasming cunt. It lasted for an incredibly long time. There might have been several orgasms in rapid succession. She felt she might have gone on coming forever if Georgia hadn't stopped and sighed and then came up to cover Connie's body with her own and mash her cunt-reeking lips on hers.
Connie stood it until she could think again, then twisted her face away. Georgia sat back, sighing heavily, smiling down on her as she weakly tried to cover her exposure.
"You're a marvelously passionate girl, Connie."
She wiped her mouth, wanting to spit. "I've got to go to the john."
"Of course. And I've got to get some work done. We've loved away the whole afternoon, and I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come back tomorrow to do what we didn't do today."
"Okay," said Connie, extricating herself from the softness of the Lesbian and hurrying toward the bathroom, unable to avoid a sharp spank on her fanny in passing the Lesbian.
She wanted another shower, much more than before, but more than that, she wanted to get out of there.
She rinsed her mouth, wiped her twat, urinated and wiped it again, tried to clean off the pink smudges on her breasts, and quickly brushed out her hair. Georgia was languidly smiling at her when she returned to the office, stretched out on the couch, showing no remorse for the perversions she'd just imposed on the girl. Connie shakily and quickly dressed, much as she wanted to simply lie down and sleep, and she refused Georgia's offer of taxi fare when it was made. Georgia, still terribly naked, walked her to the door and opened it for her.
"It was a lovely day. I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
"I don't know if I can co ... if I can make it."
"I'm afraid you'll have to, dear. You're still in a great deal of trouble. I hope you don't think what went on between us today changes that in any way."
"Oh, of course not," Connie said, only then recalling why she'd come there, and keenly disappointed that all her sacrifices to the Lesbian's lust hadn't helped her at all.
"Bye bye, dear. Think of me," Georgia said, and pressed her lips to Connie's.
* * *
Connie thought about Georgia all that evening. About her and Sergeant Jack. She hated them for having taken advantage of her, and she hated herself for having so enjoyed it at the time. Alternately, she loved them for awakening such wonderful feelings in her body and she loved her body for being able to house those wonderful feelings. It was all very confusing, and her mother's mood that night didn't help. Contrite after her latest drunken escapade, Viola was being maternal and solicitous, and didn't leave Connie alone with her thoughts until she was at last under the covers on the couch.
It was the same couch on which she'd gone so mad with love for Jack, only to betray him to a lusting Lesbian less than an hour afterward. It could very well be that he was a lonely man on the brink of falling in love with her, and just as possibly, he was a vulgar brute who preyed on young girls through their fears, just as Georgia had said he was. And for that matter, Georgia might not be the dreadful pervert she seemed to be. She hadn't really forced Connie into doing anything to her, and it had been just as physically thrilling-if not more so-than her embraces with Jack. It was possible that this had been Georgia's first real Lesbian experience, brought on by the strange chemistry of a love that she felt for her.
Heck, anything was possible. She might be married to Jack in a week. Or in that week, she might have cut her hair off and be cruising the streets in search of good-looking chicks. Or she might be in jail. The possibilities kept running through her tired, confused brain until she dropped off to sleep.
* * *
Connie came awake with a bound in the morning. The night's sleep had completely restored her healthy young body and she felt on top of the world, until she remembered the events of the day before. Even then they didn't seem so bad as they had when she'd been trying to sleep. She supposed that she'd sorted it all out in her brain, and that things would be all right now just as long as she made it clear to both Jack and Georgia that those incidents would not be repeated. No matter how mature she was sexually, she wasn't ready for complete sex, especially not with adults, and they would certainly understand that. At that point in her life, she decided, it would be best to stick to the tried and true masturbation as a means to relief. This she did, the minute Viola had left the house. She found the soreness in her twat was gone and the orgasm she reached was particularly good-though of course not the sensational blast she'd known with Georgia-and the only thing wrong with the experience was that Jack's rugged face and stalwart penis, and Georgia's lovely countenance and beautiful body, kept cropping up in her thoughts. Still she was resolved to end her amorous relationships with them that day, without fail.
She felt that Jack would have picked her up, but not wanting to owe him anything, she walked to Phipps. She knocked several times at the camouflaged entrance to the Security Office before she found a bell button, thought about turning around and heading for home, and then pushed it. The door was soon opened by Jack, smiling broadly, and he ushered her in, not without making several very vulgar grabs at her behind. Georgia was on the couch, looking as lovely as ever in a rather mannishly cut dress, holding a manila folder on her lap. Connie was told to sit down next to Georgia, Jack sat on the other side of the girl, and the folder was given over to her for her examination.
The first thing she saw was a copy of her confession, and being urged to read it carefully, she now saw how damning it was. This was followed by several 8x10 glossy pictures of her which made her blush and feel nauseous. They made her look at them.
The first ones were of her and Jack on the couch in her apartment. Jack's face could be seen in none of them, but hers showed up very clearly, and in all of them it was her expression of mindless idiocy that distrubed her as much as her actions. She had that look as she watched him sucking her breasts and as with panties at half-mast she allowed him to finger-fuck her, and a certain disgusting eagerness showed through it when she was placing her pursed lips on the head of his cock, and it even showed through her surprise when his penis was spitting at her in her hands.
The pictures of her and Georgia were even worse. The ones in the shower weren't so dreadful, even though the hidden camera had caught her with some very wistful looks on her face, but those on the couch were just dreadful. Her idiocy showed through her soulful looks at the Lesbian as she was being masturbated and it was there as she faced the Lesbian, tit to tit, and masturbated her. The look on her face while the Lesbian was performing cunnilingus on her was so bad that she hung her head and wept, her tears splattering down on the terribly incriminating photos.
They let her weeping run its course, talking casually about it all as Georgia gathered up the pictures.
"I think they're really quite good," said Georgia.
"Yep. But I could have got some better ones if I'd been able to snap the shutter myself on that camera in my attache case. The little gal's pretty photogenic."
"She shows up well in a lot of ways."
"A great little chick. Cute as a bug's ear and hot as a two dollar pistol."
"And able to orgasm like few women twice her age," the Lesbian said, and gave her a pat on her knee.
"Don't touch me!" Connie spat, and threw off the offending hand.
"My dear," she was gently told, "with what's in this folder, we could do a good deal more than touch you. We could send you to jail, of course, and we could totally disgrace you, not only in school but in your neighborhood, not only now but for the rest of your life, wherever you go. You know that, don't you."
"I hate you. I'd like to kill you."
"Impossible, and very impractical. Even if you could kill one of us, you couldn't get to us both, and the survivor would have copies of all these charming pictures. And if you did it and escaped, you'd be a fugitive for the rest of your life, whereas we have a much brighter picture of your future, dear."
"I can imagine," Connie hotly said, now slapping Jack's big hand from her other knee.
"I mean it, dear. Be a good girl, cooperate with us, and you'll be rewarded. You like pretty clothes, they're at our disposal. You like to draw, we might arrange a little scholarship for you. Really, there's no end to the nice things that could happen to you if you do things our way."
"What's your way? What do you want me to do?" Connie sullenly asked, wiping away her tears.
"Not much, really," Georgia went on. "Nothing that women don't do every day and, for the most part, find very enjoyable."
"Shit, she'll really dig it," Jack said with a chuckle.
"If it's got anything to do with either of you I sure won t, Connie angrily said.
"Oh, it does, in a way," Georgia said. "But we're not the main ones involved, though in a way, I wish ... well, that's beside the point. What we want you to do, dear, is to be a bride."
"I'll be damned if I'll marry some queer like you two!"
"You'll be damned if you don't do as we say, dear. How do you feel today? How's that pretty little tush of yours?"
"It hurts. I've started my period. I think I have the clap."
"Best have a look at it, dear."
"Yeah, strip off, little gal."
"No!" Connie said, and then had a hard time convincing them that she was all right and in no need of an examination. When she'd done that, she was unable to convince them that she couldn't possibly go along with their plans that day. She said her mother was expecting her home, they said they were ready to put the evidence of her sins on display, and she wound up calling Viola and telling her she'd be late at the library that day. She had to suffer through a kiss on her cheek from the Lesbian and then she was trudging through the underground tunnel to where Jack's car was parked.
He drove her to an exclusive neighborhood of apartment houses near the downtown area, parked the car, and put an odd pair of sunglasses on her. At least they looked like sunglasses, with heavily shaded sides. like the blinkers on a race horse. When they were on her-and they were on her good, for Jack somehow fastened them behind her head-she could see nothing at all, ahead or to either side. He started driving again.
"You don't work for Phipps at all, do you?" she said.
"Smart little gal. Nope, we're in business for ourselves. We just get our merchandise from Phipps."
"Like me."
"Yep." he said, and made her jump by pinching her knee with his dirty hand.
"Who's the boss? You or her?"
"What do you care? Just shut up and enjoy it, if you can."
"What if I go to the police?"
"Sure. Do that. We've been in business a long time. We've got money and you don't, and you know how money talks in a court of law. If. that is, you could get anybody to believe you."
"Who are you taking me to ... to see?"
"A very nice guy. Name of Steve. Very lonely guy. He always wanted to have a bride ... a young one. You're it."
'He's going to f-f-f-...."
"... fuck you? Yes, if he feels like it, if he likes you."
"He won't," she said, and was immediately sorry for that.
"If he doesn't," said Jack, "that'll be your fault. And if you don't play the game right, you'll be real, real sorry."
She fell silent and was completely disoriented by the time he parked-the car. He led her briskly out of it into air-conditioned surroundings and marched her a short distance over a concrete floor before he stopped to unlock a door. The smell of incense assailed her nostrils, repelling her, but he pushed her into a room where her feet sunk into a deep carpet. With one hand out before her, she was led through another door, Which closed behind her. Gentle hands removed the sunglasses/blindfold, and when she blinked her eyes open, she found herself surrounded by luxury.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Small as it was, the dressing room was luxurious. The walls were covered with patterned red velvet and hung with miniature paintings, and overhead was a small, glittering crystal chandelier. There was a deep carpet of a richer red on the floor. A dressing table was well stocked with the most expensive cosmetics and perfumes, and its edges, like those of the fur covered stool before it, were widely flounced with starched white lace. The mirror over it was elegantly wrought with a wide gold frame, and in it Connie could see banks of drawers and a closet behind her, as well as the pretty young girl in the maid's uniform who had removed her blindfold.
She was several inches taller than Connie-as most people were-and very slender, though well-shaped. Her face was saucy, her little nose upturned and her mouth small and full. Mischief danced in her eyes though she tried to conceal it with a very serious look. She had dark blonde hair, cut in a mod shag, and atop this crowning glory was perched a little white cap trimmed with black velvet ribbons that matched her uniform both in color and brevity. A black velvet choker with a gold locket was around her slender throat, her diminutive breasts were bulged over the white-edged bodice of her uniform, and her velvet skirt rode a good eight inches over her nylon-sheathed knees. Connie turned about to face her.
"Who're you and what's going on?"
"I'm Candace," replied the girl, "and I am to help you meet the master. That is all I can tell you."
Indeed that was all Connie would get out of her. Though she yelled and threatened and did everything but lay hands on her, the maid uttered not another word, but merely smiled her mischievous smile and shrugged, and at last opened a door that led to an even more luxurious room.
It was a bathroom, all done in black and white marble and trimmed with gold, with fixtures that Connie didn't even recognize and a threefold sized bathtub sunken into the floor, filled with steaming, froth-covered, fragrant water. Despite her better judgment, Connie had to enter that next room on the way to her ultimate fate, and once she'd tilled her lungs with the humid scent of the tub she offered no resistance when her maid for the day began disrobing her. Ten minutes after she'd arrived, angry and frightened, she was being soothed by the lovely, warm water.
She wouldn't let the maid help her bathe, for she'd foresworn the touch of any female hands on her body for the remainder of her life. She soaped herself leisurely, enjoying the fragrance of the soap and hoping it was of better quality than Georgia's, and she was planning on staying in the tub until they dragged her out-whoever They were until Candace began draining the tub.
The water running out left her feeling cold, reminding her of her cold fears at the thought of facing an unknown and counterfeit bridegroom.
He was probably a withered old buzzard who couldn't do a thing, but then again, with all this wealth, he more than likely had had monkey glands grafted on his wrinkled old body, and the thought of the first penis inside her being that of a dead gorilla made her shiver so that she had to get out of the tub.
Candace would have dried her off, but she snatched the huge, soft towel from her and did it herself, and as its friction warmed her skin she thought some more about the fate and the man who awaited her. There did exist the bare possibility that he was really groovy. He could be young and handsome, an exiled prince who was looking for a life-mate while he hid from Communist enemies. Stranger things had happened; Cinderella stood as an example of a really bizarre quest for a queen. She dwelt on this as her very own personal maid dusted her body with powder, brushed out her hair, and helped her into a simply stunning wedding gown.
It was white satin, the heaviest Connie had ever seen in all her days of shoplifting, and it made her shiver warmly as it was slithered up her nude body. Its bodice was daringly low, exposing a creamy white decolletage that Connie had not known she possessed, and its back was far, far lower. Looking over her shoulder into the mirror, she saw that the swooping back exposed an inch or two of yet another decolletage, and clearly showed the two dimples there at the top of her protuberant buttocks. Its skirt reached the floor-it had obviously been made for her-and it was slit so high up her leg that she'd have to be very careful how she curtsied if the dowager queen was present at the ceremony. The gown was quite daring for a royal wedding dress, but then, as Connie chanced to look more closely at one of the miniatures and saw that its subject was a very lewd one, she felt somewhat relieved that her gown was really quite conservative for a wedding night negligee.
When the maid took her elbow and turned her toward the door, Connie started to resist. But it was too late for that. Her fate had been sealed on Georgia's couch, and before that on her own couch with Jack, and before that when she'd stolen those damned black panties, and even before that when she'd swiped her first candy bar. Ah, well. The fate that awaited her beyond that door might be more painful, but it couldn't be any more degrading than what she'd already suffered at the hands of Jack and Georgia. She entered through the door.
The lighting was subdued, a thick, almost touchable haze of red that barely illuminated what she knew to be very opulent and sensuous surroundings. The walls were covered with the same red velvet, the same thick carpet was on the floor, and she was sure the paintings on the walls were as lewd as those in the dressing room. Deeply thrumming music was issuing forth from the speakers of a tape deck on a bookcase. Thankfully, there was no bed to be seen, but there were two couches, ominously k and wide, one black and one white, and a big black modern easy chair, beside which stood a silver champagne bucket. The absence of the bed made her breathe a little easier-perhaps this was not the room in which her fate would be sealed-and the absence of her pseudo bridegroom relieved her still more.
Then with startling suddenness her wrist was grabbed and she was whirled about and caught in a tight embrace, with familiar lips pressing demandingly on hers. At least they were familiar for an instant. For that instant she thought she was being kissed by Georgia, for the lips were soft and the eyes an inch from hers were blue, but then she knew it was a man, one she'd never seen before. He was shorter and less powerful than Jack, but still quite strong enough to force this unwanted kiss on her. Her struggles against it were reflexive at first, but then she relaxed, telling herself resistance was not only futile but harmful.
He let her go, holding onto her hands and backing off so she could get a look at him. She'd been wrong about him; he was neither old and ugly nor young and handsome, but somewhere in between. Perhaps in his mid-thirties, he had thinning, sandy hair and a face that was really rather ordinary save for the heavy lips that were curved upward into a smile that reflected no amusement whatsoever. He was dressed in slippers and a knee-length robe of brocaded satin with black lapels, and the tent-like bulge in it at his loins made Connie try to get free of his hands.
He laughed and pulled her toward him, slipped an arm about her waist and guided her toward the easy chair, saying, "I'm Stephen and you're Connie, my little bride, and it's high time we got acquainted. You're a pretty little thing, all plump and round and sweet, and I'm told you have some spirit in you. Is that right?"
Before she could even think of what to say, he'd pinched her fanny quite hard, making her jump, and then, laughing, he sat down in the chair and pulled her heavily down on his lap-and on that big bulge that he intended soon to force into her.
He began feeling her all over, as if he owned her, and when she tried to resist, he pinched her nipple so hard that tears came to her eyes. He just laughed and said, "What's wrong, are you shy? I'm told you like nice things, and so you should like this place-and me-very much indeed. Champagne? Do you like champagne? It's the best, of course."
"I don't drink," she managed to say, close to tears from the way he was so possessively exploring her with his hands.
"I do," he said, "and so you do too. Candy!"
The maid appeared at once, and now Connie's hot embarrassment was doubled as the man went right on feeling her titties and running his hand up through the slit in her skirt, as if the smirking maid wasn't even there. He just went right on, making her writhe and squirm, while the maid laboriously opened the bottle and poured two glasses full, softly tittering as she held them out. Connie felt very unclean, as if she'd never had that luxurious bath.
Biting her lip to keep from crying, she shook her head when the glass was held before her face. He took it from the maid and said, "Drink." And when she did not, he pressed its rim against her lips and tilted it up, emptying its contents down the front of the lovely gown, and laughing at the way she jumped when the icy wine poured down over her titties and formed a frigid, leaking puddle in her lap.
The maid's soft titterings turned to giggles, and he said with mock sternness, "Now Candy, you shouldn't laugh at my little bride's clumsiness. Or is it a lack of etiquette you have?" he asked, turning his sardonic smile on Connie, who was by then softly weeping. "Or is it just that your little body is so hot for mine that you just have to cool it off? Is that it? Yes, I think it is. Candace, the bottle, please."
The maid handed it over and curtseyed, and then covered her mouth with her hands and squealed with laughter as the smiling man poured it over Connie's head. It ran through her hair and down her spine, over her face to blend with her tears and further chill her to the very marrow. It was trickling through her slit and down the crack of her ass, and though it brought gooseflesh to her, it didn't seem to have any effect on that bulge she was sitting on.
"Whoops, it's all gone," he said, handing the empty back to the maid. "And I didn't get a swallow and now I'm afraid my little bride's been cooled off too much. Ah. I know a way of solving both those problems at once."
His hand went up to her bodice and he savagely ripped open the expensive gown, he gripped her right breast very hard and jerked her closer so that he could pull her nipple into his mouth. He sucked and licked it, making little sounds of enjoyment, and licking the mixed wine and tears from her lips, Connie looked down at him with deepest scorn. She hated him more than she believed possible, and if she had the means, she'd have killed him. Cruel as Jack and Georgia had been in delivering her to him, they at least had the motive of money behind them, whereas his cruelty was obviously rooted in a sadistic personality. She loathed herself for having had previous thoughts about getting it on with him, and now she became grimly determined not to react in any way to any of his advances.
Her resolve was broken almost at once, for she stiffened and gasped when he suddenly bit her nipple, quite hard, but then she set her mouth and endured that pain, as she would any other he might inflict on her, either physical or emotional. She got a grim satisfaction from remaining unflinching and entirely cool when he sucked and licked and gnawed on her other nipple. She would bear the pain, even welcome it, for it would give her something to cling to if there should appear a danger of her being swept away by the sensuality mixed in with it.
"A nice sample," he said, straightening up. "but not enough. "Stand up facing me on the seat, my blushing bride, and I'll have some more. Candace, help her up, you lazy slut."
"Yes, Master Stephen," she said, and began to tug at Connie's arm and pull at her waist.
Connie had to go along with it. She tried to push away the helping hands, but the grinning maid was persistent, and before Connie was fully mentally prepared for it, she was standing astraddle his thighs on the chair seat with her loins right before his face.
He could easily have got to what he wanted by drawing aside her sodden skirt, for the slit in it came very high, but instead he chose to rip the wet satin up higher still. Then he ran his hands around her and clutched his fingers into her shivering cold buttocks and pulled her twat against his mouth. He moved his head around and delved in her wine-wet hair with his tongue until he'd found her clitoris, and she tried to think of other, even more unpleasant things to keep her mind off the warm tickling taking place there.
But his tongue was very warm, and getting warmer by the moment, and Connie was having a very difficult time in hewing to her resolution. He was sucking on her clit as well as licking it, and it was the suction that was making it feel so enlarged. She shook her head mentally and concentrated on remembering all the geometric theorems they'd given her in school, and just when she thought she was losing her battle, he gave her some relief by pulling her closer, ducking lower, and licking down through the length of her slit.
Her relief was short-lived. She was getting wet down there, and it was not from the Champagne and not all from his tongue. He'd found her hole with it and was searching distressingly deep there for the source of her wetness, and bringing on that little itch she so dreaded now. Her mathematical concentrations were becoming confused and she had to fight the urge to grab him by the hair and pull him closer, and then the maid inadvertantly helped her by distracting her with a hand running up the back of her leg.
Connie glared at her and said, "You damned little dike, I sure didn't agree to let you touch me."
"She talks," said Stephen, backing off and giving her a chance to recoup her staggering senses. "Listen, my innocent young bride, Candy is your personal maid today, and as such she may become very personal with you. Accept it, be grateful for it."
He resumed sucking off her clitoris and the maid stuck out her tongue at her and made a face, which Connie returned, glad for the opportunity to focus on someone to hate. But oh, it was so hard with the way he was licking all around her pussy now, holding out the lips to give his warmly swirling tongue even more access to her most sensitive parts. The maid was tickling him in the ear with one hand and using the other on Connie's fanny, smoothing it over her ass in what was supposed to be a nice way, then pinching her and trying to work her fingers in between Connie's tensed and trembling buttocks. She had to hang on to Stephen's moving head to keep from swaying, and now she was panting with the effort to go on ignoring the insidious warmth that was creeping up from between her open legs to the pit of her stomach. At last he stopped, and not a moment too soon.
"I think they've brought us the wrong girl," he said. "This one's cold as a fish."
"She sure looks like the one in the picture giving head to Jack," said the maid.
"Yes, and she certainly looked like a lusty little thing then. Do you suppose that's what she needs to get herself going?"
"It sure wouldn't hurt to try," said the maid. She smiled winsomely and said, "Want me to show her how it's done?" She licked her lips and ran her hand up his leg.
"I think she knows how," he said.
"No!" Connie said. "No, I don't know how. And I don't like it, and ... and I don't know how."
"You may show her, Candy," said the man, and Connie eagerly scrambled out of the chair and away from him.
Just as eagerly, the slender blonde maid went to her knees and bared the man's cock. Seeing it like that, Connie realized it was every bit as big as Jack's. She glanced about for a way of escape, and then a weird tingling went through her as she saw how lovingly the maid took her master's cock in her small, pretty mouth.
The stout shaft made Candy's mouth look even smaller, made her girlish face look more girlish still as she bobbed and nodded her head over it, cradling his big, hairy balls in one hand and lightly fondling his shaft with the other. It was absolutely nauseating to see how much she obviously liked doing it to him, and yet there was something fascinating about it.
"Mmmm. Mmmm." Candy's little murmurs of contentment were quite audible as she sucked on it. As full as her mouth was, there was room enough for the corners of it to turn up in a little grin, as she slid her wetted lips up and down that big, heavily ridged organ. At the top of her head strokes, she'd purse her lips to kiss the very end of it, then lick the ruddy end of it like it was a lollipop of some delicious flavor, before she went down on it again. Stephen patted her head as if she was some kind of a pet animal, and an uneasy gnawing in Connie's belly replaced the warmth that his pussy-kissing had unavoidably started there, for she knew that she was next. She almost wished that she'd gone first, for if she had, the worst of it would be over with by now. As it was, she stood beside them, clutching at her belly, wildly hoping that the ministrations of Candy's knowing mouth might make him come and thus have things over with all the sooner.
No such luck. Although Connie would have obviously been content to suck his cock all day long, all too soon he looked up at Connie and smiled. "Your turn now, dear. Think you can do it as well as Candy?"
"No. I can't. I ... I...." Connie stammered protests as, with a final kiss on the blunt end of his cock, Candy got to her feet and led her forward, between the lunging Stephen's outspread knees. "Please," she said, but relentlessly, the maid was pushing her down to her knees and Stephen was pulling her forward with his hand.
The big penis loomed ever larger. Connie closed her eyes tightly, extruding a pair of tears from them. Blindly, she grasped the hot, hard shaft, and helplessly, she took it in her mouth. There was a faint taste of perfume there, left from Candy's mouth, and Connie panted for breath through her nostrils as she erased that taste with her mouth. There was another taste too, one of strong maleness, which only increased as she sucked and licked, mimicking what she'd seen Candy do, and trying to make it all very mechanical. She gripped his shaft harder and began manipulating it, hoping to make him shoot. Even if he did it in her mouth, it would be better than if he did it in her vagina, and in the doing of that, break her hymen.
Now it was he who was making nice sounds, and she sincerely hoped she was pleasing him, just to have it over with. He grasped her hand to keep her from jerking him off, and she increased the ardor of her cocksucking. She told herself it was really good, that she really liked it, and she sucked and tongue-swirled almost as expertly as Candy had. Come! Come! she said to herself, and the need for him to come was so great she could feel it in herself.
Her pussy was itching more and more, and she cast a glance up at him lest he see her scratching at it. She was shocked at what she saw.
Stephen and the maid were engaged in an open-mouthed kiss. She was again tickling his ear with her fingers, while he tickled her pussy with his. Sitting on the arm of the chair, her legs were opened for him, and since she was wearing no panties, Connie could clearly see his fingers delving about in her tan-fringed pink slit. She seemed to be loving it. Certainly she had an itch far greater than that between Connie's legs. And of course he was enjoying it all immensely, as what man wouldn't with two young girls attending to him so thoroughly. She couldn't help wondering which of them was doing the most toward stiffening his cock. She wanted to scratch her itch just a little, but knew that was just the wrong thing to do. Then, remembering her purpose, she began sucking harder, licking more warmly, moving her lips up and down him, trying hard to make him come.
He ended the kiss, and still fingerfucking the maid, looked down at her, smiling, and said, "Yes, she's doing a fine job now. She loves to have a nice hard prick in her mouth."
Connie closed her eyes again as the maid looked at her and said, "She may be able to suck cock okay, but not as good as me, Stephen. And we'll have to see how good a fuck she is for you."
"Oh, she'll be good. Even on her first time out. We'll see to that."
"We sure will."
The maid softly laughed, and when Connie peeked at them they were kissing again, but only with their tongues, for their lips were not touching. It disgusted her to think of how the kiss must taste after his kissing her pussy, but the maid didn't seem to mind it at all. She obviously wasn't a Lesbian like Georgia, and she wondered if it was possible to be just part Lesbian, to like men as well as women, and thus to double the areas for sexual experience. No, it wasn't possible. The maid was doing it all for money, most likely, and as sexy as she looked she probably didn't really dig sex at all. Connie quickly scratched her pussy, thoroughly wet, and it felt a little better, and then she concentrated all her efforts on making him feel so good he wouldn't stop her until he'd come-right in her mouth, if necessary. She felt she was just hitting her stride when he stopped her.
"Yes, that's fine. If nothing else she's a good cocksucker. Stop now, dear, and sit up here beside me."
She took the place he patted on the other chair arm and had no sooner sat down when he swept her into a kiss, inserting his tongue deeply between her lips, still warm from his cock. At the same time he ripped her skirt farther up and burrowed his fingers-wet from the maid's pussy-into Connie's twat. It took her a moment to remember to stiffen and not relax.
"Is she warming up any?" the maid asked.
"Not much, though her little cunt is quite juicy now," he said, ending the kiss, but not the fingerfucking.
"Maybe she knews how to do it herself better than you can."
"Oh, Candy. D'you suppose my little bride masturbates?"
The maid leered. "Shit, yes. I bet she jerks herself off all the time."
He turned to her. "Do you, Connie? Now, don't fib."
"I've ... done it." There was no use lying, and even conversation helped in getting her mind off the fingers twiddling and tickling in her pussy. "Heck, everybody does sometimes."
"Would you like to do it now? Would that help, dear?"
She quickly shook her head. She was blushing and she couldn't help it. Even her tits were blushing, and the nipples were standing out of her torn dress was right next to his smiling face. She was really getting hot and he should know that from how wet her pussy was, but she had to conceal it. She had to.
"I think it would help," he said. "Get over there on the couch, facing us, and show us exactly how you go about your self-abuse. Go on."
She dragged herself across the room in her torn, bedraggled gown and sat down. Still blushing feverishly and fighting to control her breathing, she put her hand inside the tear in the wet satin, touched her hair, and began moving it a little.
"Open up your legs and show us, girl," he chided her. "Don't be afraid. You're among friends. And if you go to jail, everyone will be able to see you when you play with your cunt."
She couldn't do it. She couldn't even look at them, not until he said, "Candy, you go over there and show her how. Get her feet up on the edge of the couch so I can see her cunt, and if she doesn't use her fingers right, you use yours."
"Wait!" said Connie, even as the grinning maid was starting to get up. "I'll do it! It's just that I...." There was no point in protesting further, and there was no way in the world she could let that snippy Candy touch her twat. "I'll do it."
She took a corner of her mouth between her teeth and bit on it while she pulled up the long, wetly clinging skirt, obediently placed her heels far apart on the couch to expose herself to him, jammed her finger in her hole, and looked at them defiantly.
They were smiling at her. He was still fingerfucking the maid and she was playing with his pecker, sitting beside him in the chair now, and they were smiling at her.
"Move it, kid," said the maid, and she did.
She moved her finger in and out in her vagina and all around, and found such relief in at last being able to assuage that persistent itch that her mouth came open and she could no longer bite her lip. But she could keep control of herself, by God, and she did. She settled back and played her fingers all up and down her hot, juicy cunt, even pulling and pushing her throbbing clitoris, and throughout it she didn't change her cool expression by one iota. She was flushed and breathing heavily but that didn't matter. The red lights would cover her high color and by then the other two were so hot they were panting too, so they wouldn't notice her. She might even be able to come this way without their being any the wiser....But no, that would be too dangerous for a woman like her who was able to enjoy orgasm after orgasm, endlessly.
"She's not doing herself much good," the maid said, "but Daddio, you're sure gettin' the job done on little old me. I'm about to go ape."
"Save it," he said, and wiped his hand on her leg, terminating his fingerfucking and disappointing Connie, for she'd have loved to see that snotty bitch lose control of herself in a big, moaning, grinding orgasm. "Candy, go get her the vibrator."
"Groovy," said the maid, and got up to go to a cabinet, scratching at her pussy under her skirt as unashamedly as he was now stroking his cock. Connie went on playing with herself and hating them both.
As soon as she saw the vibrator she knew what it was for. It wasn't as big around as a penis, but it was long and hard, and when the lewdly leering maid pressed it against her inner knee and turned its base, she knew its buzzing vibrations would be intolerable.
"Please. That isn't fair," she pleaded, already far too hot.
"Oh, it's lots of fun," said the maid, and laughing, pressed it against her exposed nipple.
Connie writhed away from its electrifying touch and feebly struck out at the maid with the hand that had been in her cunt. Quickly, though, she began masturbating again when the maid pointed it at her loins.
The maid knelt beside her on the floor and buzzed it up her open legs and over her satin-covered belly and all around her quivering tits. She held the humming instrument against her lips and ear and tickled it about her throat before she went down with it again. And Connie stood it, she somehow stood the fiendishly tickling touch of the vibrator and kept on rubbing her streaming, steaming cunt and maintained control of herself all the way.
"Enough," said Stephen, rising from his chair and advancing across the room, his stiff prick and his huge, hanging balls looming ever closer. She hadn't really seen a pair of testicles before, and they both fascinated and repelled her so that she could hardly hear what he was saying.
"... bad little girl to be so unfriendly to me after all the fun you had with Jack and Georgia, and do you know what I do with bad little girls? I spank them, very soundly. Come, Connie. Lay across my lap."
The heavily panting and thoroughly dazed girl was rudely hauled to her feet and held there swaying by the maid while he leisurely sat down on the couch. He opened his robe farther, patted his lap, and she was thrust face down across him, her feverish cheek on the soft leather, her ragingly hot loins on his soft thighs. He ripped her skirt up the back, and the sound of it tearing cut through her like a hot knife, and then she. could feel his cock, hot and hard, against her bare hip.
"The vibrator, please," he said, and then she had to claw at the leather and bite her lip as it was screwed down between her tightly clenched thighs, all wet and lubricated from the copious cunt juices her fingers had dredged up. She had to bite the leather when he turned it on, for its vibrations were perilously close to her throbbing, pounding cunt, and it didn't help at all to either squeeze her thighs around it or to try and relax and let it fall away.
POW! Then he hit her across the buttocks with his hand, with such force that she arched backward. POW! POW! POW! Three more blows came with such shocking rapidity and stinging force that she almost did lose control of herself, not with lust, but with the sheer surprise and the penetrating pain.
She was panting more heavily than ever when he gently ran his big hand over where he'd hit her, and she was just about to pull herself together when he began spanking her again, just as hard. POW! POW! POW! POW! POW! She counted five or six before he stopped to soothe her injured bottom and to work the even more soothing vibrator closer to her pussy, the only part of her that felt good, and oh, it felt so very good then, as good as when he'd had his tongue in it, as good as it had ever felt in her life!
POW! POW! POW! The blows started up again and she had a flash of knowledge that he was just doing it to make her hotter, just as that other man had slapped her mother on the ass to get her going. But God, she didn't care. She couldn't care by then, for she was feeling warm all over, not just in her fantastically hot little cunt. Little? It felt hugely open, ready to receive the entire hand that was either spanking her hot, quivering ass or massaging it.
She stuck her ass up in the air for him to make her feel even better, and for her to slide her hand down and feel how nice and hard his cock was. It was wonderful in her hand, marvelous against her hip, and it would be even better plunged into her seething, itching cunt. Through her not, hungry pantings she heard them talking.
"I think she's ready, Stephen."
"She is," he said, and made her writhe and grasp at him by parting her buttocks widely and pushing the point of his finger in her asshole. "She's ready to be fucked ... right here."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Still retaining her grasp on his cock, Connie rolled over on his lap and panted, "Fuck me, Stephen. Take me. Oh, I'm so very ready!" She thrust his hand, hot from its spanking, against her cunt, the readiest part of her body.
"Fuck her in the ass first," said the awful maid. "She's got such a nice one."
"Oh, we'll get around to that," he said, able to joke even in this time of great passion for his little bride, and frustratingly slow now that she was so eager. "But first I'm going to fuck her in a very conventional way, face to face, so she'll never forget the man who broke her cherry.
"Break it," Connie moaned, trying to jam his fingers in her hole, so close to coming, now that she'd given up her foolish notions about resisting this wonderful, forceful man.
"Get a towel and dry yourself a bit, my dear," he said, and she groaned in protest, but rose to obey him.
Her legs were so weak she could barely stagger into the bathroom. Her cunt and thighs were so wet that it was dripping down her legs, and the temptation to frig herself hard and long was very great. She tottered back into the wedding chamber, hot desire rocking every part of her body, but then the sight of that damned maid sucking his cock-her cock!-gave Connie the strength to rush forward and jerk her away by her taffy hair.
The maid yelled, and Stephen laughed and said, "Easy, girls. Don't fight over me. Candy, prepare the bed. Connie, let me see how wet your pretty cunt is."
She parted the dewy, swollen lips. It felt good, natural to do it. At that moment, she felt as if she might never be able to put her legs together again. When he told her to suck him, now she quickly did it, and there was nothing feigned about the enjoyment she got from it. Halfway done with the job, she discovered the beauty of his balls, and she kissed those soft, hairy globes with loving zest, while he chuckled and patted her head and told her she was a good little girl, a fine little bride.
Gallantly, he helped her to her feet, and she hugged and kissed his tanned, nearly hairless chest while he shucked off his robe, exciting her further by letting her rub up against his strong, hard prick.
When he turned her away from the couch, she was startled to see that a large bed had appeared in the center of the room. "It's hydraulically operated," he explained. "It rises from the floor."
The appearance of a Sherman tank wouldn't have bothered her just then; she just wanted to get into that bed and get fucked-fast.
She started to slip the remaining shoulder strap of her tattered gown, but he stopped her, saying, "That's your wedding nightie, dear. Leave it on, and lie down."
She did, fucking it up about her waist in front, and then holding out her arms to him as he stood smiling crookedly down on her. He put one knee on the bed between her feet and said, "Candy, be a dear and help us along."
The maid clapped her hands and darted forward. She knelt on the bed beside Connie and had the frantically aroused girl elevate her knees. She took his big, throbbing prick in one hand and used the other to widely part the highly inflamed lips of Connie's cunt. Her touch was abhorrent-until Connie realized it was bringing her closer still to being fucked. "Fuck her good," said Candy, and brought them together.
"I always do," he said, when Connie felt the first sweet touch of cock at her cunt, and then he dropped his full weight on her, plunging his cock in to the hilt.
She screamed, for the pain was piercing, "but then she wasn't sure if it had been painful at all. As when he was spanking her, the hurt and the nice were all mixed up together. If that first insertion had been painful, it was now not even a memory, for Connie was orgasming, very hard.
Like a thing gone mad, she was bucking and heaving under him, gasping and squealing, with wonderful explosions ripping everywhere through her body. She was sweating heavily and tearing at her gown, and vainly trying to get her arms about her wonderful, beautiful lover, but he would not cooperate. He was backed off from her in a push-up position, smiling down at where they were so tightly joined, and she was helpless to do anything but go on bucking and fucking, legs wrapped around his hips, until she'd reached a truly blinding flash of pure pleasure.
She stopped, utterly spent, and then found she could move again and moan quite loudly when he jerked his prick out of her exhausted and badly leaking hole. He snatched her hand away when she tried to cover herself there and fell on it with his mouth, sucking and licking it voraciously, and in a trice her exhaustion was gone and she was coming again.
Or had she ever stopped coming? And had her wish come true and would she never stop? How wonderful! How beautiful! She groaned in deepest ecstasy and grabbed him by the ears, whereupon he shook his head vigorously and threw his body atop hers.
His panting mouth not only reeked of cunt, it was bloody as well. She shrank from it and he grabbed her face in his hand and kissed her very hard and deep. She thought she was going to be sick. She tried to twist away but couldn't. He reached quickly down and pressed her clitoris hard and wriggled his finger as fast as the vibrator and she was coming again, and in the dizzy midst of the orgasm the taste in her mouth was wonderful!
It was as intoxicating as the champagne of the gods, and she grabbed him by the head and mashed their mouths closer together, probing with her tongue for more of it. She squealed through the exquisitely delicious kiss as he ran his fingers down through her gushing slit, and when he wrenched his head back and smeared that hand over her mouth, the smell of it filled her nostrils and her lungs and she licked greedily at it, murmuring, "Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm!"
"Candy, help me get her up on her hands and knees," he said. "She's in store for a lot more fucking."
"Yes!" Connie panted, uncoordinated in her efforts to change position to suit him. "Oh, yes!"
She swayed there, looking down between her hanging tits and smiling as she saw Candy's dear hand guiding her lover's cock into her hot, hot cunt once again. The balls she'd kissed were hanging heavily, still filled with the good stuff of his manhood, and her hips were being squeezed by his hands, still wet with the rich goodness she could taste and smell.
They were joined, and her head flew back and she groaned, for his first swift entry had stuffed labia and hair in her cunt, and it was fantastically good! Then she looked down again, watching the trickles of pink run down her legs, seeing herself orgasm strongly as he used his hands on her hips to urge her to rock backwards and forth on her hands and knees, tingling everywhere with delirious pleasure.
"Harder!" he urged her. "Faster!" he cried, and began spanking her again.
At least she thought he was spanking her. She could hear the familiar sound of his hand on her ass, but there was no pain to be felt, only sharper stabs of pleasure that coincided with each of the loud POWS.
THWACK! That one had really hurt, so much so that she sagged toward the mattress and looked back over her shoulder. THWACK! The damned maid was doing it, driving her down to the mattress, hurting her with what looked like a riding crop. THWACK! It came again, with tremendous force, and Connie screamed out an awful curse and collapsed, sobbing, coming.
"Now!" she heard her lover snarl, and then there were too many hands working on her throbbing, swollen buttocks, pulling them too far apart. She tried to protest through her flood of tears when she felt him drag himself out of her and try to force his way into the wrong hole, and then she was screaming and struggling wildly as he pushed his big, awful prick into her asshole.
"Lookit her kick," he chortled, forcing himself deeper still.
"Turn her over!" said the maid. "Turn her over!"
"Stop it! Stop it!" Connie shouted as he sawed back and forth in her, filled with shame and pain and sick with disgust.
He punched her in the ribs. "Move, damnit! I'm almost there!"
"Stephen, turn her over!"
Kicking and thrashing, she was rolled over on top of him, with that awful wedge still deep inside her, and the moment she was on her back, before she could try to get up, the maid held her down and began licking her cunt. It robbed her of the will to resist, and for a moment she simply watched that lovely, curly head at her loins and felt the darting, flicking tongue tease and tickle all about her cunt. Then her body arched and undulated like an ocean swell and she was coming again, reaching down to hold Candy's lovely mouth where it was and glorying in the wonderful feeling of his cock in her ass. Her orgasm was of such great magnitude that it was as if she had two cunts, and then he made it even better by groaning and grunting in her ear:
"Shooting! Right in your fucking ass! Urrrrgh! Nnnng! Ahhhh...."
The beautiful Candy stopped eating her and she came to rest exhausted again, filled with sperm and cock and love. She could have laid on the panting body of her lover forever, could have gladly died there, but as it was she was rolled unceremoniously off him, gasping again as his body was torn from hers, and lay there on her belly, too spent to ever move again. It took all her energy just to hear them talking.
"Just relax, Stephen, and I'll clean all that nasty old stuff off you. Was it nice? Did you have a good time?"
"She was good. Best I've had in a long time."
"'Cept me, of course."
"Of course. Now get her nightie off her, label it, put it away."
Connie was starting to doze when she felt what remained of her gown being tugged at. She winced as she was rolled over on her back, for her buttocks were very sore now, and she smiled weakly up at the lovely girl who was stripping her naked, and murmured, "You were so sweet to me, Candy."
Candy spitefully stuck out her tongue at her, jerked her gown free of her body, and used it to roughly wipe her between her legs. Holding it up to Stephen then, all bloody and torn, she said, "She didn't bleed as much as I did, but it sure is messed up good. Would you like me to use the dildo on her now?"
"No, I think she's had it," he said, sitting on his chair, sipping a drink.
"She certainly has!" The voice came from Georgia who suddenly had joined them. Connie had been facing the door, and the Lesbian must therefore have been in the bathroom or dressing room throughout her defloration. Still clad in the mannish dress she'd been wearing in the Security Office, she looked irate as she approached the recumbent girl, basin and wash cloth in hand. "Look at the bruises on her lovely bottom! Stephen, someday you're going to go too far. Just lie still, Connie dear, and I'll clean you up and make you feel better."
Stephen yawned. "She'll be all right."
"It was all in fun," Candy said, sitting on the arm of his chair.
"You be quiet!" Georgia snapped, gently laving away the stickiness all around Connie's loins and buttocks. "And don't be using my dildo on Stephen's brides."
"And you, my dear," said Stephen, "don't forget who's in charge here. The girl's all right. Heh. She was better than all right. I might even keep her on for a time."
"You'd have two maids of honor?" Candy uncertainly asked.
The conversation made no sense to Connie. The only thing that mattered just then were those soothing hands that smoothed cooling balm on her fiery backside, and the presence of that lovely woman who had first shown her the way to the deep pleasures that resided in her young body. She rolled this way and that under the pressures of Georgia's soft hands, and on her back again, all cleansed down below and having her face gently washed, she smiled warmly at her friend.
"You're so sweet to me, Georgia."
"Rubbish. You're the one who's sweet. All I did was take advantage of you."
She kissed Georgia's hand and said, "I like you, even if you are a Lesbian." The secret confession was easy to deliver, for Stephen was engaged in kissing Candy.
"At least I never hurt you," Georgia grumbled.
"You sure didn't," Connie said, and shyly put her arm about the big hips sitting beside her on the bed, so smooth and full, so warm under the tailored linen skirt.
"I heard you might have a new bride for me," said Stephen.
"We'll see how she works out," Georgia said over her shoulder, her tone not reflecting the limpid warmth in her eyes. To Connie she murmured, "I'm so glad you ... like me a little."
"You're so pretty," Connie said, smoothing her fingertip over Georgia's knee, "that anybody'd like you. And now ... now I understand a little better about ... you know ... your liking girls."
"Do you, dear?" she asked, flushing darkly. "Do you?"
"Mm-hm," she softly murmured, and placed her fingertip just so on the blunt end of the big tit she'd once kissed.
"What have we here?" Stephen's voice broke in. "A Lesbian show in the making, after all she's been through?"
"Oh, shut up!" Georgia snapped. A tremor rippled through her, she took a gigantic deep breath, and she said, "I like you too, Connie. Too much. We'll ... we'll talk about it later."
"No time like the present," said Stephen. "Candy, go fetch Georgia's box of dildos."
Georgia groaned, and Connie found bare flesh under the back of her blouse with one hand and under the hem of her skirt with the other, as she asked, "What's a dildo?"
Georgia squirmed and said, "It's something that can be very nice, once you're used to the idea."
"Like the taste of pussy?" Connie asked, finding the increasing warmth up Georgia's leg to be very enticing.
The gorgeous brunette blinked and swallowed hard. "Something like that," she said, and shifted around to pull her binding skirt up over her hips.
Youthful energy was flowing back into Connie's body, and the sight of crimson and tan separated by a strip of alabaster gave her the strength to roll over. With her chin on Georgia's knee, she said, "Gee, what pretty panties. Are they new? You look so nice in red." She ran her finger along the lace-edged leg-hole and found Georgia's untanned flesh to be as soft and smooth as the bronzed skin against her lips.
"New shipment," she replied, breathing heavily and shifting about so Connie could see more of them. "Morgan just brought them to me today."
"You shut up about him!" Stephen said, and just then a pink box was dropped on the bed beside Connie.
She hardly noticed it. She was too absorbed in using her finger to trace the intricate stitching of the seams which held the bulging red crotch together, while Georgia accommodatingly opened her legs to give her a better view.
Still in the golden afterglow of sex, and feeling extremely warm and close to her Lesbian friend, Connie carefully tucked in the stray hairs that the fully stretched crotch could not contain, dreamily explaining as she did, "Those don't look nice."
Georgia, knees up and leaning back on her hands, was breathing too hard to answer, but Stephen did, and his voice was louder for now he was sitting on the bed with them. "No, Connie. They look very nice indeed. Take some more out. You'll see."
The completely contented girl did as she was told and found that again she was wrong. The long, slightly curly hairs did look very nice arranged so carefully against the background of the red panty crotch and Georgia's soft golden inner thighs. She reached within for more, found them damper and warmer, and Georgia made no objection other than a soft moan, and so she moved in for a closer look. Two hands, a big one and a small one, were moving nicely on the backs of her legs.
"You smell nice, Georgia. Are you wearing perfume down here?"
"Yes, it's ... it's ... Oh, I can't think of what it is!"
"Whatever it is, I like it," Connie said, and inched closer on her belly, dragging her tingling tits across the velvet bedspread, to fill her lungs with the deeply satisfying aroma.
But it wasn't all that satisfying, for each deep breath of it called for more, and Connie inched closer with each filling of her lungs, until at last her nose was brushing against the crimson-covered source of it. Still it wasn't enough! She pressed nose and mouth both against the wonderfully soft, warm cushion and thrilled at being able to taste it a bit as well as get the full body of its aroma. She dug her fingers into marvelously yielding flesh and burrowed her face against the hot, fragrant pillow, and the pressure she exerted seemed to squirt the steamy smell out as if from a squeezed balloon.
The panties that had caught her fancy were lovely, but they were in the way; their gossamer texture was very smooth, but it was harsh in comparison with what Connie's lips could feel through them. Her wonderful Lesbian friend Georgia, understanding her need, quickly lifted her lovely big ass off the bed and was helping her claw down the flimsy little garment that was so much in the way. Connie, consumed with that need, knew she was not helping the situation by persisting in trying to press her mouth there, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't just the taste and the smell, it was also the wonderful feelings she could bring to her friend, feelings which she knew so well that she was experiencing herself then.
She was coming-or close to it-and in the great joy of it, she wanted Georgia and everyone else in the world to feel it with her. And then it was there and she could do it. Georgia's big, luscious cunt was there before her face, all glistening pink in the lush thicket of dark hair, steaming hot and stinking good, oozing with perfume and ready to be eaten.
Connie ate it. From bottom to top she licked off the superficial layer of goodness, sucked hard on the miniature cock to help Georgia feel as good as she was feeling, slithered her tongue from side to side down the deep trough to the tight hole there. It was just as wet as before when she started up again, holding tightly to Georgia's marshmallow buttocks with both hands while she licked and swallowed her way to that magical little organ called a clitoris. She nursed greedily on it, avidly enjoying each of her friends guttural outcries that signaled yet another peak in her orgasm. Sucking hard, she clung like a leech while Georgia thrashed about, ripping off her clothes, and she thought her joys were unbounded until she felt a prick being inserted in her cunt.
At first she thought it was Stephen's, of course, but then she knew it was not. She was on her back by then, pulling Georgia's cunt down even harder on her mouth, though it threatened to suffocate her with its goodness in that position. And in that position, looking up past Georgia's big, bouncing tits, she could see Stephen's naked body. It couldn't be his cock then, but it was certainly there-long and tapered and hard and limber, sliding in and out of her-and it certainly did feel good!
Then that lovely big orgasming cunt was ripped from her mouth, and as fresh air rushed into her lungs she heard Georgia's irate voice saying, "Stop that! That's my dildo!"
She looked down and saw Georgia push Candy violently away from between her legs, and to her surprise she saw that the girl in the maid's uniform had sprouted a big black penis, the same which had been so quickly jerked from her cunt that she was left breathless.
But Georgia-naked as sin and much more beautiful-quickly came to her rescue. From the box she took a long white device that resembled two penises placed back to back, and with a great sigh she inserted one end of it in the cunt that Connie still ravenously hungered for. Quickly then, she got astraddle the supine girl's hips and used the flexibility of the thing that protruded from her cunt to slip it inside Connie's cunt.
The filling of her body brought Connie another lovely orgasmic peak, and then Georgia improved on it by grabbing hold of her tits hard-and scrunching down until Connie could clearly feel the Lesbian's erect clitoris mashing against her own smaller but no less sensitive organ. She was in heaven yet again, and her joys would have been complete had it not been for the sight of Candy.
She was on her knees on the bed over Connie's head, looking sulky and sullen but trying to smile as she asked the smiling, reclining Stephen if he'd like to have a little fun with her.
Watching Georgia going wild on the double-ended phallus she shared with Connie, he said, "No. I'm enjoying myself as it is. I've never seen my ... never seen Georgia with a dildo in her, and I must say I'm enjoying it immensely. Good, look at those awful, ugly tits of hers bounce."
Of course they weren't ugly at all. In motion as in repose, they were just lovely. All of her was. All of Stephen was. And all of Candy was, even though that false penis, that dildo, did look a little strange jutting out from her loins. But it did hold up her skirt, and that gave Connie a fine view of her pussy. It was a smaller cunt than Georgia's by far and it surely couldn't taste so delectably good, but it might taste a little different, and it was very, very beautiful.
"Lemme eat it," Connie panted, and reached up a hand to touch what she was after.
"Eat shit, you fat slut," Candy snapped, and slapped her hand away.
Stephen intervened. He chided her for being rude and he personally took the dildo off her and had her sit her cunt down on Connie's waiting mouth. It wasn't nearly as strong or as wet as Georgia's, but Connie enjoyed it nevertheless. She did, that is, until the ungrateful wench broke wind, at which point Connie threw her off of her. Spluttering and wiping her face, she looked up to see Georgia apparently just as displeased as she was. Her big, tan and white body was in the last throes of her many orgasms, and she was spluttering and spitting as Stephen, standing on the bed and chuckling, directed jets of his white sperm into her twisted, grimacing face.
CHAPTER NINE
Connie lay on the big bed, happily exhausted, and heard the others talking.
Georgia, wiping the goo off her face, angrily said, "What a foul, nasty thing to do!"
Stephen chuckled. "I thought you might like it, dear. I thought it would be a nice change for you."
"I just love it when my Stephen-baby creams on me," said Candy, pressing against his side, and fondling his very limp organ.
"Well, I certainly don't!" Georgia said. "And if you ever do anything even remotely like that again, Stephen, I'm through with this whole business."
"You'll do nothing of the kind. You derive as much pleasure from our little arrangements as I do, and you'd do nothing to jeopardize it."
"I would if you ever did something like that again," she said, still wiping her face. "I'd go straight to Morgan and tell him everything. I'd see you lose your inheritance and sent to jail."
In two strides he was at her, and holding her by the hair, he slapped her viciously across her face. Connie gasped and sat up, Candy clapped her hands and giggled, and Georgia held her hand to her reddening cheek and hissed, "You bastard."
He hit her again and sent her sprawling on the bed with Connie. As Candy went to him to cling admiringly to his arm, he said, "I am in charge, and I will remain in charge, and there will be no talk of going to Morgan about anything that's done here. In fact, his name will not be mentioned again. Is that clear?" Georgia glared at him sullenly, and he went on, cheerfully now. "Now, then. This new girl you mentioned; tell me about her."
Before Georgia could speak, Candy said, "In front of her?" She gestured at Connie.
He smiled down at her. "Of course. Connie is to be my new bridal attendant."
Tears came to Candy's eyes as if she'd been slapped, and Stephen laughed and said, "Oh, come now. You knew it couldn't last forever. You're being replaced, my dear, and given a generous merchandise certificate so you won't be tempted to shoplift any more."
"But, Stephen," she murmured. "I love you. I don't want to be sent away."
"But, Candy," he said. "Didn't you just hear me saying that it is I who am in charge here? Be a good girl, turn over your duties to Connie without any fuss, and perhaps I'll find time to sandwich you in between my virgins from time to time. But give me any trouble, and Sergeant Fisher will see to it that something more unpleasant than going to jail happens to you."
"Doesn't the fact that I love you mean anything at all to you?" said the slim blonde.
"I am touched by it, but the fact that you no longer have a hymen means much more to me. Don't look at me like that, my dear. Look at the bright side of things. You've had some fun times, you've escaped going to jail, and you're coming out of all this with a nice new wardrobe and a lot of good experience."
"But it's you I want!" she said, slinging her arms about his neck, weeping now.
He roughly shoved her away. "Go bathe, and change into your street clothes," he said, in a tone that left no room for argument. Shoulders slumped, she walked dejectedly out of the room, and Stephen smiled and sat on the bed with Connie and Georgia.
"Now tell me about my new bride."
"Her name is Terry," said Georgia. "She's sixteen, has a fantastic little figure, she's pretty as can be, and she's black."
His eyebrows went up. "I've never had a black bride," he said. "It might be interesting. What was she stealing?"
"Jack caught her with some perfume and some costume jewelry. Her home life has been looked into, and it's just right. Poor family, absentee father, lonely mother who does her share of running around. Fin sure she'll go along with what we want."
"Is she frightened now?"
"About like Connie was, but a little more defiant."
"Fine. In that case, we'll just have to apply a little more of the whip. Connie, how do you think you'd enjoy whipping a black girl?"
"I wouldn't like it at all. I wouldn't like to whip anybody. What is all this, anyway?"
"All this," he said, gesturing about the sybaritic room, "is a little hobby we indulge in which, in the long run, helps wayward girls like you and Candy and this Terry-if they want to be helped. It's a rehabilitation program for shoplifters, you might say. And while our methods may be unconventional, our results are most gratifying."
"Gratifying to you two," said Connie.
He shrugged. "We offer the girls we catch opportunity. On the one hand, opportunity to go to jail, and on the other, opportunity to live a good life for a while and buy themselves some pretty things. When you leave here today, you'll be taking a one hundred dollar merchandise certificate with you, good at any of the Phipps stores."
"Wow! A hundred dollars? Do the people that run the stores know you ... do things with the girls you catch shoplifting?"
"I assure you, the powers that be at Phipps are aware of what's going on. They encourage us, in fact. Ours is a very advanced rehabilitation program, and I do hope you decide to go on with it by helping me with Terry. If not...." He shrugged most eloquently. "But come. Look around before you make up your mind."
He led her across the room and pressed a wall button which slid back a panel in the velvet covered wall, revealing a well-stocked bar and a miniature kitchen. Another panel slid back and exposed drawers which were filled with fancy lingerie, expensive wigs, ugly whips, interesting dildos, electric vibrators, and other devices which Connie was unable to identify, but which, he assured her, were all for the purpose of having fun. His brocaded robes hung in a closet next to a row of hangers, on which were satin gowns that were once as immaculate as Connie's had been, but were now torn and bloodied. Each was marked with a label-Mary, Helen, Bunny, Joy, Candy-and at last Connie's was removed from her and labeled and placed at the end of the line. Even after having been deflowered by this man, she felt most uneasy being naked in his presence.
"Well," he said, gloating down at her. "What will it be? Bridesmaid or jailbird, Connie?"
"That's not much of a choice."
"Indeed it isn't. And if you choose to help me with Terry, you'll be expected to be every bit as enthusiastic in your endeavors as Candy was with you. Once you get in the swing of things, it won't be hard. Will you do it?"
"I guess so," she said, looking down at the floor. "But wouldn't it be better to just use Candy? After all, she likes the work, and she's even in love with you."
"You'll like the work too, once you've done it, and you might even fall in love with me yourself," he said.
Connie doubted that very strongly, but he erased at least a portion of her doubts by taking her strongly in his arms and kissing her. Although she resisted by going limp, the kiss and the contact with his naked body insinuated warm little tinglings of desire in her.
At its termination, he said, "Come now. You'll have to do better than that, my dear."
Almost angrily, she threw her arms about his neck and kissed him, and was amazed at how quickly her feigned desire turned into reality. Her appetite for sex was back by the time the kiss ended, but Stephen's desires were too well sated to be aroused again.
"Good," he said. "You'll make a fine bridesmaid. You see, Georgia? I told you Connie would be willing. She just might work into the best bridesmaid I ever had. But now I have to go. See to it that Connie has a nice bath, and have Jack drive her home. Connie, we'll be letting you know when we want you to go on-with your rehabilitation," he said, and made her flinch by sharply pinching her bottom.
She dutifully kissed him goodbye and was led into the bathroom, and there she felt very guilty in passing Candy, coming out, her eyes red from crying. Georgia drew Connie another scented bath, and helped her into it. She lay back in total luxury, with the handsome Lesbian smiling down at her.
Connie smiled pensively and drew a circle with her finger around her nipple. "It's such a big tub. Do you feel like taking a bath with me?"
"My dear, I'm too worn out to move. You go on. There'll be other times, lots of them," she said, and with a kiss on Connie's cheek, left the bathroom.
She bathed luxuriously and well, and when she emerged, Sergeant Jack Fisher was sitting on the couch. He was smiling, looking at her with a little glint in his eye, and fiddling with the sunglasses she'd worn on entering. "Hi, little gal," he said. "Guess you're in a hurry to get home."
She looked at his watch while he fondly felt of the back of her knee with his other hand. "Not so much of a hurry," she said, and sauntered toward the badly rumpled bed. "My mom won't be home for a couple hours yet. I suppose I should do something about this bed."
"I'd like to do something on it," he said. Then he sighed and added, "But I'm just hired help around here. Let's get on over to your place, honey."
"Okay. But how does this work?" she asked, peering down around the sides of the big bed.
"Like this," he said, and got up to press a button in a panel by the dressing room door. The bed slowly and silently disappeared in the floor, carpeted panels slid over it, and in ten seconds there was no trace at all of the soft platform on which she'd been deflowered. He pushed the button again and the process was reversed, just as quickly and quietly.
"That's just fantastic!" she said.
"So're you, little gal," he said, grinning, running his big hands up and down her arms. "But let's get you dressed and get out of here now. Nice as this place is, it makes me nervous. I'm more at home in third-floor walkup apartments."
She started gathering up her clothing from the dressing room, with him close behind, and as she was straightening out the black panties she'd worn, he said, "Wait a minute, kiddo. I'll get you some new ones from his drawer. He'll never miss 'em."
They were lovely little things, yellow with pink rosebuds sewn on them, and she gladly allowed him to help her into them, and the bra that went with them. She liked the way he fussed around her as she dressed, and he apologized for having to put the sunglasses on her before he led her out and helped her into his car. When he told her she could take them off, she saw they were close to her home, and she invited him in for a beer.
"I shouldn't," he said, looking down at her largely exposed legs, "but I will."
On the crumpled sofa where he'd first been so good to her, she sat close beside him and looked up into his craggy face, and asked, "Are you married, Sergeant?"
"Nope. Never found a woman who could keep up with me."
The crease in his trousers was sharp, and she ran her fingertip up and down it several times in silence. "You're so big and strong and handsome, I bet you have lots of girls."
"Women, not girls. The only girls I get are at my job, and I don't get to get them all the way. But I make out. Not like he does, but I make out. I'd sure like to make out a little more with you, baby. Something about plump little gals like you that gets to me. I'd like to, but I won't even try. If he ever found out...."
His voice trailed off, and she tickled about his knee and said, "I don't know how anyone would ever find out, as long as you didn't tell."
He squirmed, and she enjoyed his nervousness, as he said, "It'd cost me my job if he found out."
"Then I guess we better not do anything," she said, and ran her finger over an interesting fold in the lap of his trousers.
"Better quit," he said, but he made no move to stop her.
She persisted with her hand, smoothing her fingers over the long, hard bulge in his pants, and sayingm"I know what this is."
He was breathing hard, and it was a distinct pleasure for Connie to be in the driver's seat for a change. It was exciting to be able to reduce this big, forceful man to jelly with just her hand and her smile. It gave her a feeling of power, and she was glad she'd decided to experiment with her new-found sexuality in this way.
"I gotta go," he said, sipping his beer, sweating.
"Just let me see it before you do," she said, and he made a tight little groan as she slid down the zipper of his pants. "Let me see if it's as big as Stephen's."
"Aw, hell. What's a job, anyway," he said, and moved to grasp her shoulders in his hands as she took out his cock.
Fondling it, she evaded his attempts to draw her into an embrace, and said, "It stands up like a flagpole! And it's so hard and strong and ... and pretty. It doesn't seem possible that it would fit inside me, but I just know it would. It is bigger than Stephen's. Is it bigger than Morgan's?"
"Hell, how should I know," he growled, still trying to draw her closer. "He's a damned faggot if you ask me."
His hand went under her skirt, doing nice things to her, and she said, "You mean he's a queer?"
"Hell, I don't know. But he sure spends a lot of time in Ladies Lingerie. How soon will your mother be home?"
"Not for a while," she said, and bending down, found it was quite pleasant to touch her lips to the big red end of his cock. "How old do you suppose Mr. Morgan is, Jack?"
"Mister? Hell, you don't know him at all! Have you just been trying to pump me? If you have ... Ahhh," he sighed, as she sucked the bulb of his cock into her mouth. "Little gal, you sure do learn things in a hurry."
She thoroughly heated the knob of his cock with her mouth, savoring the taste of the sticky liquid that was oozing out of it, and opened her legs to give access to his roving hand. Smacking a kiss on the end of it, she said, "I try to learn something new every day."
"You learned more than your share today, kiddo," he said, red-faced and breathing more rapidly now as she rolled over atop him to press his stiff cock against the bulging crotch of her little yellow panties. He began rolling her panties down over her plump hips, and she said, "Will I always have to wear those dumb glasses when I go there? Won't I ever know where I'm going?"
"I don't know. If you're good to him, he might let you in on everything. But I doubt it," he said, quite distracted by the baring of her body that he was doing, and by her caressings of his cock.
"And if I'm good to you, would you let me in on everything?"
"I'd lose my job, honey," he said, working his finger in her hole then, and making it very difficult for her to keep concentrating on her line of questioning.
"Like you said, what's a job?"
She let him think that over while she squirmed about, removing her panties and keeping in close contact with him all the time she was doing it. Then, with her skirt up about her waist, she straddled his lap, facing him, and warmly hugged his big, stiff cock against her small white tummy. Her cunt lips were opened in this posture, and the feeling of her wetted clitoris against the thick base of his cock was exquisite. Still, she kept her head, and was pleased at the control she could exert over herself. She moved up and down on his, being helped by the two big hands cupping her bare ass-cheeks, and she knew she presented a highly erotic picture to him, seated on his lap, squirming on his cock, thrusting out her titties at him while she smiled down at his lust-twisted face.
"Are they married?" she asked.
"Who?" he replied, panting quite heavily now.
"Georgia and Stephen, silly. Can a Lesbian like her get married?"
"That's none of your business," he said, trying to lift her onto his cock.
She covered her bush with her hand and evaded him, and said, "First tell me if they're married. I'll never tell."
"They're brother and sister," he said. "Now lemme slip it in. Man, I really need it."
"Do they really work for the department store?" she asked, moving her hips to slide her very wet vulva over the end of his upward straining cock. It felt so terrifically good that it was all she could do to keep her mind on her purpose. The big meat felt particularly good at the portal to her vagina, that little orifice that had only once tasted cock and now, it seemed, couldn't get enough of it. "Or is this something they've started up on their own?"
"Both," he said, and then grinned broadly and sighed loudly as the bulb of his prick popped into her hole.
It filled her with such a lovely tingling, with such a desire for more, that she at once decided she'd learned quite enough about her captors for the day, and began to wriggle and work her hips so that the stout shaft was inserted ever more deeply into her hot little body. It was almost in to the hilt when a sound from without paralyzed her.
"Damn!" she said. "I'm sure that's my mother on the stairs."
He pulled out of her so quickly it felt as if he might have dragged some of her internal organs along. There wasn't a moment to lose, but he lost several in fumbling with his zipper while Connie hurriedly got into her panties. His cock was still exposed when the door rattled from the insertion of a key, and in desperation, Connie threw his coat over his lap to cover his naked cock. They didn't look at all respectable when her mother entered, but in Viola's state of mild intoxication, they would pass.
"Hiya, Connie," said her mother. "How's it goin'? Hope you didn't spend all day sittin' in the window with your paper and pencil instead of ... Who's he?"
"This is Mr. Fisher, Mom. I'm going to work for him," she lied, since her mother was fair game for even the most outrageous lies. "He just drove me home from my job interview, and I invited him in for a beer. Was that okay?"
Viola smiled very warmly at her daughter's nervous, red-faced guest and said, "I wouldn't deny anybody a cold beer on a day like this. Get me one too, honey, while I get acquainted with your boss. What kind of work do you do, Mr. Fisher?" she asked, sitting beside him. "It sure is nice of you to hire Connie. I was afraid she'd waste her whole summer."
While Connie was fetching another beer, Jack stammered that he was in department store work and that Connie would be hired as a salesgirl. Returning, her mother told her to be a lady and hang up his coat, whereupon he clutched it to his lap.
"Oh, no! I'm just fine," he said.
He held it so tightly that Connie could see his hard-on out-lined under it, and perhaps her mother could too, for she moved closer to him. That was fine with Connie. She'd had a long day and was content by then to top off her sexual experiences with just the feeling of his cock inside her, brief as it had been.
Viola and Jack seemed to be hitting it off well, and her mother offered no objections when she said she was going for a walk. Fifteen minutes later, she was on the fire escape, watching them screw, and this time, it held no mysteries for her. Nor did it make her want to masturbate, for having tasted the real thing, her cunt would no longer settle for less than a tongue or a cock. Crouched there, watching the sweating, panting couple, she tried to sort out what she'd learned.
It was some sort of a conspiracy she'd been sucked into, one that she could probably get out of with the threat of exposure. But did she want to get out of the hands of the over-sexed brother and sister team? After all, the things they'd introduced her to hadn't been all that bad, and she had some genuine buying power in her purse now. She would stay on with it, she decided, at least long enough to find out who the mysterious Morgan was, and in staying, she'd have herself all the fun she could, for she deserved it.
CHAPTER TEN
First thing in the morning, gift certificate in hand, Connie headed for Phipps Department Store. It was a strange and wonderful feeling, having all that purchasing power at her disposal, even though it had yet to be turned into cash or merchandise. She had the feeling that the certificate wouldn't be any good, and it made her very anxious on the way to the store.
Once at the store, she went straight to Ladies Lingerie, and ignoring the suspicious looks of the sales girl and the lurking floorwalker, she idled away twenty minutes there in her favorite department, looking at the lingerie, looking at the people. At last she approached the salesgirl.
"Have you seen Morgan this morning?" she asked, knowing full well that nothing would come of her snooping.
The salesgirl looked down her long nose at Connie, and then surprised her greatly by pointing in the direction of the youngish, blond-haired floorwalker. "That," she said, "is Morgan Smith."
"Of course," said Connie. "How silly of me not to have recognized him."
Having come this far, there was no turning back, but still it took all her courage to approach the sternly countenanced man in the dark business suit. She said, "Could you help me change this merchandise certificate for money or merchandise?"
He began a smile, which faded when he more closely examined the certificate. "Hmmph," he snorted. "Another hundred dollars. How old are you?"
"Fifteen. How old are you?"
"Twenty-ni ... Never mind! Fifteen years old. My, my, my," he said, scribbling his initials on the certificate. "Where will their excesses lead us? Here. Take it to any cashier."
Connie thanked him and left him, smiling back over her shoulder at his handsome but scowling face. At the cashier's window she had no trouble in exchanging the paper for merchandise certificates of smaller denominations, and with those in hand, she went on a shopping spree that exceeded her wildest imaginings.
She went from Footwear to Sportswear to Accessories to the Hose Counter, and she made it a point to be seen by Morgan Smith as often as she could while her lovely burden of packages grew. It wasn't difficult, for he seemed to be following her, expressing disapproval all the while in answer to her sunny smile. In Ladies Lingerie, she spoke to him again.
"These are awfully nice things you have here, but there's not enough of a variety. I still have forty dollars to spend, and I want to spend it all on panties and bras, but there just isn't enough of a selection here. Do you have more in the stock rooms?"
"We just got a new shipment in from France, but they're not on sale yet," he loftily said.
"Georgia and Stephen said I could have anything I wanted," she ventured, and his scowl deepened.
"Those two will ruin the store yet," he muttered. "Very well. Follow me," he said, and strode off.
He walked briskly and she had to almost trot to keep up with him as he led her away from the shoppers and toward the stockrooms. He knew just where he was going, past shoes and girdles and toys and appliances to an aisle whose shelves were stacked with the frothy, frilly garments that Connie had always found to be so irresistible.
He started looking through the lacy wares, crossly muttering that some lecherous stockboy had been in the items he was looking for, and Connie, perfectly delighted at the vast amount of panties and bras surrounding her, quickly set her packages in the aisle and began to look through the wares.
There were every type and color panty imaginable, large and small, daring and conservative, primly practical and utterly outrageous. The best thing about them was that she could afford to buy so many of them, and the worst thing was that there was so much to choose from she couldn't make up her mind. While he continued his search on one side of the aisle, she tore through the gossamer garments on the other side, and in her excitement she was not as neat as she might have been. When at last he turned to face her, face flushed and smiling, with his hands full of lovely red panties, Connie had the floor strewn with a wide array of other ones.
He was so shocked he dropped the ones in his hands, then knelt to start frantically picking them up, hotly saying, "Help me. These are precious. They mustn't get soiled."
"In a minute," she said, too excited by this veritable cornucopia of feminine underfashion to stop, and reaching to a higher shelf, she tipped a whole boxload of panties off it.
They tumbled down like a multi-colored snowstorm, and she gleefully held out her arms to catch them as they softly clung to her hair and face and breasts. They clung to him, too. He rose from the floor with his arms full of them, more hanging over his shoulder, and a red pair draped over his face that almost obscured his furious scowl.
"Those are adorable!" she said, and snatched them from his darkly flushed face, and caught by the heat of excitement, she forthwith began to try them on.
He gasped and dropped his armload, saying, "You can't do that here! Someone will see!"
"It'll just take a second," she said, already out of her old panties and balanced on one foot to get into the new.
"Not here!" he hissed, and with a wild look in his eyes, he whipped off his coat and held it spread across the aisle as a shield.
She snugged them up, and holding up her skirt, smiled and asked him, "How do they look?"
"B-Beautiful.... But you can't do that. Not here!"
She had to laugh, for she felt so good and he looked so funny in his panic, with his coat held out behind him and his shirt tail out. But then she stopped laughing, for there at the opening in his shirt was a touch of color that she'd never seen on display in Men's Shorts. As he cast a panicky look behind him at the main aisle, she reached out and took it between thumb and forefinger.
It had the unmistakable feel of sheer nylon, and as she pulled at the bit of pink lace, he frantically tried to close his coat about his waist. That knocked another big box of panties off a shelf, and when he tried and failed to catch that in mid-air, it gave Connie the chance to get a better grip on his underwear.
"I like these," she said, with a whole fistful of the waistband, pulling them tautly up from the top of his pants.
"Don't!" he pleaded. "Somebody might see!"
"Poo. Nobody's coming. Can I see the rest of them?" she asked, and quick as a wink, deftly pulled down his zipper.
He banged his backside on a shelf going into a i frenzied crouch, but she got her hand inside, and the feeling of half-hard cock encased in smooth sheer nylon was such that she couldn't let go. Lust was upon her like a rampant fever, and she reached farther until she had her little hand filled with his smoothly covered balls, and he was backed up against the shelving, frozen.
She rolled what she had in her fingers and she pressed the pounding pulse in her wrist against that in his cock, and she nudged his belly with her tits and said, "Yes, this is the pair I want. Let's have a look at them."
He tried to admonish her sternly, but there was no conviction in his voice, and then he resorted to pleading again when she began opening his belt buckle. When he tried to squirm away, she held him where he was by tightening the grip of her fingers. His balls were so big and soft she wanted to crush them, but she refrained, greatly fearing that would prematurely expel the good stuff inside them which she craved to feel inside her. Her pussy was getting all juicy wet without even being touched, and when his pants were opened and dropped, she quickly attended to that.
Scratching herself good and hard felt so good that she swayed against him, sandwiching her hand between his bare thigh and her cunt, mashing her tits against his shirt front, and sliding her other hand up and down the hot length of his slickly covered cock. His trembling hands on her shoulders felt wonderfully reassuring, but his words were not.
"Please, miss. You've got to stop. I can't be doing this."
"Relax, I'll do it all," she murmured, and burrowed her little nose between two buttons of his shirt and followed it with her tongue.
A shudder went through him, one that told her that she was properly titillating him, and she sacrificed the hand on her pussy to push his necktie aside and open a shirt button. He moaned and she opened another, licking through the sparse hairs and then making him writhe and clutch her shoulders hard as she tweaked the sweet little nipple she found there. Two more buttons were popped off his shirt before she could reach that nipple with her mouth, and then she hugged him strongly about his waist while she sucked it between her lips and nipped it lightly with her teeth.
He groaned and his arms flew back against the shelves, knocking still more boxes from them, and then a rush of almost orgasmic intensity shot through her as she felt those arms go around her, hugging her, and she writhed her soft little belly against his stiff-standing, gossamer-clad prick.
"Wait," he said, in a voice that was husky with desire. "Wait one moment while I make things safe for us."
Letting him go was very difficult for her, but she did it, and he kicked off one pantleg, took a few hops down the aisle, and kicked off the other. At the end of it, he peered both ways up the main aisle, giving her a poignantly lovely view of his little round buttocks encased in sheer pink panties, and then drew a green canvas curtain across the lingerie aisle.
"They'll think I'm taking inventory again," he whispered, kicking off his shoes and ripping off his tie and shirt, and advancing at her down the aisle, the look of lust in his eyes.
He looked so manly, even with those sheer pink panties on, through which could be seen his cock, hugged close to his hairy belly by their elasticity and with its rosy head just peeping out over the waistband. And she felt so very eager for him that she tore her dress in whipping it over her head.
As it came off, he caught her in his arms there in the lingerie-strewn aisle and took her breath away with a tightly-fused, deeply probing kiss. His hands ran down over her body as hers did on his, feeling flesh and nylon and warmth and shivery coolness.
He broke the kiss, and growled, "You're one of his little sluts and I shouldn't even be touching you."
"And you're a faggot who wears women's panties, and I should be laughing at you ... and I'm not."
They kissed again, and now it was Connie who ended it. She slid her hands down his sides and her mouth down his body, over the warm hollow of his throat, down to his heaving chest, and on to his belly button. She delved there with her tongue, feeling his hands on her head and the heat emanating up from under her face. She got on her knees and leaned back to look at his thinly covered cock, smiled and went forward to rub her bra-covered nipples hard against it.
She kissed its soft, rosy head and he groaned in a way that thrilled her deeply, and she made him moan anew by sliding her hands smoothly up inside the legholes of his panties, palms against flesh, backs against nylon. Then she nibbled her way down the length of his cock, wetting the flimsy pink fabric with her kisses, until she was crouching very low to mouth hungrily at the dark bulge of his balls.
From inside them, she pulled the panties down, and when his prick flopped out, she brought a whole series of gasps from him by catching it in the hollow between her shoulder and neck and squeezing it against her ear. She was panting hard against his belly and his breathing was coming even faster, and then he uttered a truly stimulating moan as she turned her head and took his cock into her mouth.
Her cunt was fairly burning with need for that magnificent tool, but once it was in her mouth, Connie simply couldn't stop. With one hand busy feeling his body through the slippery pink nylon, she used the other to rapidly stroke his shaft, while with her mouth she sucked it urgently, sliding her kiss-bruised lips over its heavy ridge and licking the head of it with her darting tongue. She knew he would come and she knew she should stop, but she simply couldn't, not yet.
A little more and she'd quit and feel it in her. She would only let herself enjoy his cock in her mouth and his moans in her ears for just a few moments more and then he'd be fucking her. She stroked faster, sucked harder, to get all she could of this delight before going on to the next one, and then she was shocked when it began spitting, shooting, erupting in her mouth.
She wanted to stop, for it didn't seem right, but if she took it out of her mouth it would be spitting all over her face. So she swallowed it, and still more was coming, and it was then that she realized how absolutely delicious it was. Compared to this rich, thick nectar, cunt juice was like water, and she sucked harder to get more of it, stroked his cock as if it were a cow's udder, and used her other hand to gently squeeze his spasmodically contracting balls, all the while licking and swallowing just as fast as she could, until at last she realized there was no more to come, and that made her feel very sad.
It was slowly deflating when she slipped her mouth off it, and she kissed its wet warmth fondly, trying to quell the empty feeling inside her, and telling herself she had nothing to blame but her own uncontrolled lust. He helped her to her feet, even though he was wilted back against the shelving with a look of great weakness on his face, and it was obvious their love-making had come to an end.
"My God." He sighed. "That was nothing short of heaven."
"I guess I should have stopped," she said, "but I couldn't."
"And I couldn't let you."
"Now I guess I better go," she said, thinking ahead to Jack or Georgia or Stephen or even Candy, but knowing none of them would be quite able to quell the rivers of molten lava slowly flowing through her system.
"Oh, no," he said, and the sudden firm grip on her arms showed her he was not entirely spent.
He crushed her mouth to his, proving this even more surely, and hope filled her heart as he ground her lingerie-clad body against his. He explored every pore of her over-heated lips and tongue with his tongue before backing off with a look of calculating lust in his bright blue eyes, and when his hands trailed out from about her, they took her bra with them.
He looked hungrily at her upright and throbbing tits, but he didn't touch them. Instead he groped on the shelves for boxes and emptied them out until the floor was ankle deep in soft nylons and satins in dozens of pastel shades, sprinkled here and there with spicy blacks and reds.
"You're going to mess them all up," she said, truly distressed and at the same time quite overwhelmed at all the frothy things fluttering about them.
"I'm going to mess you up, my dear," he said, and going to his knees, drew her down with him on the soft, luxurious bed he had prepared for them.
He laid her on her back, and she writhed against the softness in ecstasy, and her ecstasy was increased by his lavishing warm, moist kisses on her tits. She hugged his head to her breast, wrapped her legs about his waist, and squirmed her cunt against his hard belly. With her hopes renewed, she felt more passionate and loving than ever, and she crooned out her adoration for him as together they rolled in the softness. He used his tongue as an instrument of sweetest torture, trailing it down over her flesh in a zigzag pattern that searched for all the most sensitive spots on her soft white body. He found them, except that most sensitive one of all that radiated its heat from between her open legs.
This he avoided, although he showed no hesitation at all in covering every other part of her body with his lips. At first she yearned for it and tried to push his head in that direction, but soon she found she didn't care, for the touch of his lips and tongue elsewhere seemed to feel as sweet as any cunnilingus she had ever known.
Then lying on his belly in the fresh, clean lingerie, he began nibbling at the elastic-bound leg-holes of her panties, pulling them down. She arched upwards, preparatory to shucking them off herself, but he stayed her hands, tugging at them with his teeth, and she remained bent like a bow, swaying, the lingerie kissing her back and his hot breath kissing her inner thighs.
He worked carefully, going from one leg-hole to the other, and he was doing the job. When the tiny garment clung to her hips, he raised up and used teeth and lips at its waistband, then returned to pulling at them from below, and always keeping her heat at fever pitch by placing hot kisses where he was working, and by scooping up handfuls of lingerie to shower it G' on her.
She was almost sorry when he at last worked them over her bare feet, leaving her stark naked on their bed, but then her joy soared as his lips began an upward course. They were going over territory he'd already marked off as his own, and now the claim he was laying to it was much more demanding. Still he wouldn't be hurried, not even when she reached down and pulled at his slowly ascending head. He just shook her off and laughed, and proceeded toward her open, waiting pussy with a leisure that had her beside herself with wanting him.
She knew, of course, why he was going so slowly. He needed time to rejuvenate himself and be able to insert a fully erect prick in her richly deserving cunt but still she wished he'd hurry, for she was already orgasming. She was writhing and panting helplessly, completely unable to remain at rest, and each of, her nerve endings were so highly sensitized that the lingerie under her felt coarse compared to his tongue.
The first touch of it on her cunt was exquisite. It drove her to an unsurpassed zenith of pleasure as it slid its way over her dewy wet labia, and she groaned very loudly and thrust herself up at him. He accepted her. Where before he had been all gentle tenderness, now he suddenly turned savage, grasping her hard about the hips and boring in her cunt with his tongue. It seemed hard as a penis, and she cried out with her surprised delight, and a further delight was added by her feeling with her toe that his cock was up again, as hard as before!
She had to have it! His tongue was marvelous, but his cock, that was the thing!
She tried to grab it with her toes, but it was much too large for that, and much to slippery on those damned nylon panties. She tried to twist around and get it with her hand, but he was holding her so tightly that she couldn't reach it, and now each new twisting of her body was increasing the mad intensity of her orgasms.
It couldn't be just one orgasm, though. It had to be a whole series of them, coming one after the other in such rapid succession that there was no breathing space between them. And still they came, bigger and bigger, until she was screaming, actually screaming with her delight!
"Sirens," he panted, and threw himself on top of her. "Store's on fire," he gasped, ripping his panties down and jabbing, poking in her crotch with his cock. "Gotta put it out," he grunted, and his cock started into her. "Gotta hurry!"
"Yes, hurry!" she squealed, and slammed her hips up at him with such force that they both gasped, as his cock slid completely into her cunt.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" he panted, fucking like mad.
"Yes, hurry, hurry, hurry!" she agreed, fucking back so hard and coming so hard she didn't care if the flaming store was coming down over their ears.
"Urrrrrrgggggh! Hurry up, I'm coming!"
"Nnnnnnnggggg! I'm way ahead of you!"
"Arrrrrrgggh! I can't stand it!"
"Gaaaahhhhh! Neither can I!"
"Ohhhhhhhh! It's never gonna stop!"
"Ahhhhhhh! I hope not!"
"Uhhhhhh! I love you...."
"Oh ... Oh, I love you too...."
They ground to a halt, panting heavily, sweat rolling off their exhausted bodies to the matted bed beneath them.
"Gotta get up," he muttered at her ear. "There's a fire someplace."
"Let it burn," she said, sighing. "I'm in love."
"Yeh. Me too. I love you."
From the head of the aisle came a soft titter, followed by a sparkle of. applause, and when they looked, they saw several heads, male and female, ducking out of sight.
"Oh, rats!" he said. "They would have to see us. There goes my reputation as the only decent member of the Phipps family."
"Phipps? Like the store?"
"That's me, Morgan Phipps," he ruefully said, and with great and tender care, extricated his body from hers. "Was I okay? I'm not very experienced at this sort of thing."
"I'm not either, but it seemed just swell to me. I mean, it was the absolutely grooviest thing that's ever happened to me. I guess there is something to sex and love going together."
"I guess there is. But I don't even know your name?"
"Constance Turner. You can call me Connie. But you're not really a Phipps are you? I mean, I don't care. A floorwalker is groovy with me, as long as it's you."
"Yes, I really am Morgan Phipps, an heir of the Phipps dynasty of stores. They're all run by a board of directors, and I don't have to do a thing but collect my inheritance, but I work at the store, at the lowest job they'll give me, to make up for my brother and sister and what they do."
"You're their brother?" she asked, amazed at first. "I guess you do sort of look like them. And you're as horny as they are, that's for sure," she giggled.
"I'm disgusting. Just look at me, a secret transvestite, and acting righteous about Stephen's little sex racket."
"It's Georgia's too, isn't it?"
"Yes, but he controls it. It's he who's the debaucher of nice young girls like you."
"I'm not so nice any more, but I sure feel nice being with you," she said, snuggling closer to his warm, strong body, and smoothing her hand over the pink panties bunched about his thighs.
"It's got to stop. It's gone too far. I won't have them taking advantage of any more girls. I always thought the girls they snared were basically bad girls, but now I see that I've been mistaken. There's nothing bad about you, Connie. You're sweet and sexy and pretty and ... understanding," he said, looking down at the pink panties he was wearing. "If I only knew how their racket worked, I'd put a stop to it. Do you know how they do it?"
"I know how, but I don't know where. I'd help you stop it if I could. Gee, I think I'd do just about anything for you. Maybe I could help you. I'm supposed to be at Stephen's next sex orgy. Jack Fisher is supposed to take me there. You might follow us and find out where it is."
He hugged her closer to him. "No. I couldn't let you be alone with Stephen and Georgia now, not for even a minute. But tell me about how it works, and maybe we can figure out some way to stop them, permanently. Not here, though. We'd best get dressed. I'm taking the rest of the day off to work out a plan with you, and to be with you."
By the end of the day, they'd decided that Connie's spur of the moment plan was the best one, that she would alert Morgan when she was contacted by Jack Fisher and that Morgan would then follow them to Stephen's secret bridal chamber. Connie had also decided that this time she was really in love, and she thought she could see a reflection of that love in Morgan's clear blue eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The summons to serve as Stephen's so-called bride's maid came two days later, and Connie was not prepared for it. She'd been with Morgan almost all the time since their meeting, and in the idyll of their love, had almost been able to force Stephen and Georgia from her mind. With Morgan, she felt good and pure, no matter to what sexual excesses they went in the first bright flush of their love, but the moment she heard Stephen's voice on the telephone, she felt unclean and immoral. Still, she had to go through with it. When she hung up the phone, she immediately called Morgan at the store.
"Darling, it's today. It's now. Jack Fisher is going to pick me up in half an hour. Can you be here that soon?"
"I certainly can. Don't worry, dear. I'll be right behind you in my car, and I'll break my way into that phony bridal chamber if I have to before he lays a hand on you."
It was with a great sense of relief that Connie saw Morgan's little red sports car on the street before she got into Fisher's sedan. She was able to see it again through the back window before the big ex-policeman put the blindfolding sunglasses on her. When the glasses were removed in the subterranean garage, Morgan's car was nowhere to be seen, but Connie was confident that he was close behind her. Still, she entered the luxurious, red-lit room with many trepidations.
Clad in a green silk dressing gown, Stephen greeted her warmly, and it felt very peculiar indeed to be kissed and familiarly touched by the brother of the man she loved. He was quite excited with his anticipation and urged her to at once change into the abbreviated maid's uniform that was laid out for her on a chair. She tried to stall him, knowing that at any moment, Morgan would appear and put an end to the day and to the sordid sex trap that Stephen had been working so effectively. But Stephen's impatience was such that he'd tolerate no delay, and only minutes after Connie had arrived, she was stripping to change into the bizarre little dress and apron.
Stephen not only watched, he sampled what she revealed with his hands, and his touch raised gooseflesh on Connie's body. She tried not to shrink away from him, and to act as if she was enjoying his advances, but it wasn't easy at all. Also, it wasn't easy to keep from looking at the door through which Morgan would come at any moment.
Stephen was already aroused, and his attentions were such that Connie had to take his cock in her hand, as .he wanted her to do. By pretending it was Morgan's sweet prick, Connie was able to fondle it. He was getting so ardent that Connie was beginning to fear he'd fuck her, when at last a red light flashed above the door, and she was hurried into the bathroom with these instructions:
"Treat her much like Candy treated you. Remember, she's scared and she doesn't know what's going on, and that's just the way we want to keep things. Just follow my lead, and don't hold back on anything. It'll be a ball for all of us."
Connie listened at the bathroom door, and the first sounds she heard were those of the girl crying. Already she was more frightened than Connie had been at that point. Jack ushered her in and left her with a wink for Connie, who dutifully removed the sunglasses she was wearing.
She was taller than Connie by several inches, and very slim. Her skin was quite dark, and her hair was done in an Afro that Connie found to be very soft and pleasant to the touch. Her features were very Negroid, with a high brow, full lips, flaring nostrils, and very large, very black eyes. She was one of the prettiest blacks Connie had ever seen, even though there were tears streaming down her smooth, taut cheeks. She looked about her in all confusion, blinking rapidly.
"What's goin' on here? Where am I? What're you gonna do to me?"
"Hush, Terry. Everything's going to be all right. You don't have a thing to worry about. Just go along with it, and there'll be someone here to rescue you just any minute now," Connie whispered.
"He said I was going to be a bride? That I was going to get screwed or go to jail, and all's I did was take a little bit of perfume and some cheap jewelry."
"I know. The same thing happened to me, but everything worked out okay in the end. Trust me. You've got to trust someone. And take off your clothes."
"Man, I trusted that Georgia, and she wound up doin' some weird things to me," the black girl sobbed. "And that Sergeant Fisher, he did everything but screw me, and then they had pictures of me too. I just want to get outta here, that's all. I'll never steal nothing again, so help me God."
"It'll be okay!" said Connie, starting to lose patience with the girl's tears. "Go along with it. Undress, and get in the bathtub."
Crying and protesting all the way, the black girl at last complied, and as she removed her clothes, Connie saw that her figure matched her face. Her breasts were small and very sharply conical. Her waist was long and amazingly narrow, and her hips were slender and athletic, with buttocks that protruded most saucily behind her. Her legs were superb, and Connie envied their length. And all of this young, cunning figure was covered with that rich mahogany skin that was so very alluring that Connie could scarcely keep her hands off it as she helped the weeping girl into the tub.
Connie fidgetted about the bathroom and dressing room as the girl bathed. Time dragged by. At any moment Morgan should appear, and she wrung her hands waiting for him, all the while watching the girl and being quite fascinated by the contrast of her rich, dark skin with the rich, white lather of the bubble bath. Her heart leapt when there came a soft knock at the door. She opened it to find Stephen there instead of her conquering hero.
"What's taking so long?" he whispered.
"She was stubborn. I had to almost force her."
"Well, tell her she's going to jail today unless she hurries up. And remember, the same holds true of you."
Stephen's words moved Connie, and within minutes she had Terry out of the tub and into her wedding gown. Its white satin made her dark skin look even more delectable, and Connie's hands lingered where they touched her in guiding her into the bridal chamber itself.
Stephen approached her with lust shining brightly in his eyes. He held her at arm's length to feast upon her, chuckled at her tears, and then kissed her passionately. He said, "I'm Stephen and you're Terry, my new bride. I've never had a nigger bride before. Does it bother you if I call you nigger?"
Before she could answer, he was kissing her again, and squeezing her ass quite hard through the wedding gown. He dragged her with him to a chair and sat her down on his lap, laughing at her consternation as he ran his hands over her body. When he called for the Champagne, Connie was quick to bring it.
"Would you like a drink, dear?" he asked his bride.
"Man, I'd just like to get outta here," Terry replied, visibly shivering with her fright.
"Have a drink," he said, and held the neck of the bottle to her mouth.
He held it tilted up at an acute angle. Terry tried to bring it down, but she couldn't do it. She choked on the carbonated wine, and as Stephen roared with laughter, poor Terry spluttered and coughed, and the wine ran down over her immaculate gown. He ripped its bodice and attacked her breasts, and Connie could feel her own nipples grow stiff as she watched his gusto in sucking on the coal-black nipples of the lovely Negro girl who writhed on his lap. Terry's pearly white teeth were chattering and her eyes were rolling about wildly, looking for the help that Connie promised was on the way. She was still weeping softly, and weakly pushing at Stephen's shoulders as he sucked and slobbered over her sharply pointed breasts.
"Ahhh," she murmured, and an undulation rippled uncontrollably through her body, as Stephen slid his hand up her leg. Unbidden by him, her legs came apart as his hand disappeared under her slitted skirt, and as his hand found her crotch, her hips jerked spasmodically. It pushed her crotch against his invading hand in a manner that was both obscene and exciting, to Connie as well as to Stephen.
"You like that, do you?" he said, moving his hand under her skirt, making that dark, lithe body on his lap dance.
"Jesus Christ," she panted. "Oh, God help me."
"Get up, Terry. Stand up and let me have a look at your cunt. Connie, make yourself useful, and help her."
"Just lemme alone," Terry moaned, trying to shake off Connie's helping hands. "Shit, send me to jail."
Stephen gripped her jaw strongly, and said harshly, "That's just exactly where you'll go if you don't cooperate. And I'll see that your brother's parole is terminated too. Now, stand up, damn you, and show me your cunt."
She stood up on the chair, facing him, with her back very straight and her head held high. She looked as proud as pictures of Masai warriors that Connie had seen in National Geographic, until Stephen began kissing her cunt. The first touch of his mouth signalled the resumption of those jerking movements of her body, and her face contorted in a grimace as she tried to fight the good feelings that were obviously ripping through her body. She swayed on the chair and had to hold onto his head, while he smiled and made her slender body twitch and bounce, just with the use of the tip of his tongue. She was still weeping, more loudly now, and mixed with her sobs were unmistakable groans of pleasure.
It looked to Connie as if she'd never been eaten before, and that thought made her think of how wild it had been the first time for herself. Desire was creeping in on the plump blonde, despite her good resolutions, and she went forward to the chair and felt of the perky, jerky buttocks she'd been watching.
"Rrrrrrip!"
The satin was parted to the waist, as Stephen tore Terry's gown. Terry started to collapse, and Connie kept her on her feet by burrowing a finger in between those fine, black buttocks. Then Stephen's hands gripped those buttocks tightly, and from Terry's cries, it was obvious she was coming.
"Oh, Jesus Christ! My Gawd, it's tearin' me right up. Oh, man! Man, don't quit on me. Urrrgggh. Oh, Jesus! Yeah! Yeah, do it! Oh, you mother-fuckin', cunt-lickin' sombitch! Ahhhhh...."
He shoved her back, still orgasming, and she collapsed on his lap, her sweating body as languorously relaxed as that of a cat. He brought her back to reality by slapping her sharply on the ass.
"Don't you go hittin' me!" she snapped, suddenly very much awake. "I let you lick my pussy, and there's no call for you to go hittin' me."
"Perhaps. But now I want you to lick my cock. Do I have to hit you to get you to do that?"
He moved her, and then his cock could be seen standing stiffly out from the folds of his robe. She looked at it and swallowed hard. She said, "You don't have to hit me." Sliding off his lap, she began nursing on his cock with those full, dark lips.
Stephen said to Connie, "She knows what she's doing. Do you suppose niggers are natural born cocksuckers. Ouch!" He leapt in his chair, and grabbed her by the hair. "Don't you dare bite me!"
"Well, you got no call to talk like you do!"
"I will talk any way I choose to, nigger. Now get busy and suck my cock."
He forced her head down on it, and then as the end of it disappeared in her mouth, he began writhing and squirming in the chair in obvious agony, for it could be seen that Terry's strong white teeth were digging into the hardness of his shaft. She made him hoarsely shriek before she let up, and when she did, he was furious.
"Connie! Get me that four foot whip!" he said.
"Hey, now," said Terry, as Connie went to reluctantly obey him. "You don't figger on using no whip on me, do you?"
"You just watch," he said, and dumped her off his lap and onto the floor.
She edged toward the couch as Connie approached with the whip held gingerly in her hand. "Please, Stephen. Don't hurt her."
He sneered and took the whip from her. "You sound like Georgia."
Stephen ran the whip through his hands. It was leather, with a short, stout handle and a tapering, flexible business end. Terry watched it slip through his hands with eyes that were very wild-looking with her fright. She held her arm across her brow to fend off the blows from it when they came, but the first of them snaked over her back and made her leap and scream with its cracking report.
"Ow! That hurts!"
"And I've only just begun," said Stephen, and raised the whip for another blow.
As quickly as the whip descended, her thin black arm shot out, and the leather was caught in her fist. She drew it back, and catching him off balance, jerked the whip right out of his hand.
"Little nigger bitch," he said, and started for her, but a snap of the whip at his ankles sent him leaping back.
"You ofay motherfucker," she said, rising, flailing at him with the whip. "I'll teach you to use some goddamn manners."
Pow! Crack! Slap! The smartly delivered blows of the whip drove him back, knocking over the Champagne bucket, tripping over a chair, holding his arms out before him and begging someone to help him. Instinctively, Connie started toward him, then found a corner of her own when the enraged black girl gave her one taste of the whip.
By then Stephen was down on his knees, and the rich green silk robe he had on was badly torn from the blows of the whip. A spot of blood was on his cheek, and livid red welts could be seen on his chest. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry."
"You're about the sorriest sombitch I ever saw," she said, making him flinch with the merest flicking of the whip. "Only thing you're good for is eatin' pussy. Eat some more," she said, and taking a step forward, thrust out her crotch at him.
He mouthed so hungrily at it that Connie's own cunt itched, and when Terry gave him a flick of the whip on his back, he sucked and licked it harder still. Surprisingly, his prick was still standing firm, and in fact, it seemed to be swelling now. Terry waddled forward on her widely parted legs, and Stephen was bent backward. He was bent all the way down until he was on his back in the corner, with Terry squatting down with her cunt on his face. She twisted her shoulders and tossed her head, ground her crotch on him and held him by the hair, having the time of her life with his tongue in her. His slurpings were loud and fast, and his fingers dug deeply into the flesh of her thighs. And with the whip, Terry kept him going, swinging it behind her as if she was a jockey and he was the horse, heading for the stretch.
It flicked back and forth across his cock, as Terry bounced and squirmed on his face, squealing and sighing rapturously, coming hard. "Go, you motnerfucker, go!" she cried.
And then, to Connie's amazement, he arched his body off the floor, and a spout of white erupted from his cock. He was coming, and he transferred his orgasmic pleasure to Terry by increasing the ardor of his kisses to a point where she dropped the whip and clung to his head with both hands, until at last the ejaculations from his cock had dwindled and he sank back on the floor. His spent semen looked very white against the red weals she'd formed on his loins with the whip.
Terry started to rise, then sank back on his face with a wet slap as her legs collapsed under her. Connie helped her up, and saw that Stephen's face was glistening wet from her juices, and dazedly smiling.
"Oh, dear," said Connie. "I hope he doesn't send you to jail now."
"Well, I wasn't about to let him beat on me."
"I'll see that you're safe." It was Georgia, entering the room from the bathroom, which Connie knew had been empty. She was dressed in her business-like clothes, and she went straight to the black girl, saying, "Terry, you were magnificent! Such power, such beauty, I've never seen anything so stirring in all my life."
She started to put her arms around the girl, but Terry pushed her away. "Get your goddamn queer hands off me or I'll take the whip to you, too."
A visible shiver ran through Georgia's body, her full lips trembled, her eyes registered overwhelming yearning. She went to her knees and picked up the whip, and handing it to Terry, she said, "Please?" Then she parted the slit in the black girl's white satin gown and began to kiss her cunt. Terry looked at Connie and shook her head, then began to slash the whip down across Georgia's back, in slow, even strokes, each of which served to increase the ardor of Georgia's kisses.
"Crazy people, these two," said Terry.
"I'll say," Connie replied. "But I wonder how she got in here."
Connie went to investigate, for it was making her even more nervous to be in the presence of Terry and her two entirely submissive captors. She found a wall panel open in the bathroom which connected the room to the familiar shower room of the bogus Phipps Security Offices. She could hear voices coming from the outer room.
"You can't go in there, Mr. Phipps!"
"Don't tell me where I can go, Fisher. I own this building. Is that where you took Connie? Is it? Answer me! And unlock that door!"
Connie unlocked it for him. Morgan rushed into her arms and kissed her, then held her at arm's length to look at her. "Darling, I'm so sorry. I lost Fisher's car in traffic. I just knew that all sorts of horrible things were happening to you. And then I spotted Fisher when I was coming back to the store. Is this where they had you? Is this where their sex room is?"
"Yes, right in the Phipps Building!"
"If they did anything to hurt you, or the other girl, I'll...."
"Everything worked out fine, Morgan. Come look."
She led him through the connecting bathrooms and into Stephen's erstwhile bridal chamber. He expressed his disapproval all the way, and he gasped at the sight of his brother and sister, knocking heads with each other as they both tried to kiss Terry's cunt at the same time. The grinning black girl kept them at it with light flicks of the whip.
"You see?" Connie said, "They're not doing anything to hurt her."
"Disgusting," he said. "My own brother and sister....I feel I must apologize for them, Connie. But rest assured, their sex racket is at an end."
"I think Terry might already be seeing to that."
"She's beating them. On top of everything else, are they masochists too?"
"Let's worry about them later, darling," said Connie, smoothing her hand over the front of his pants. "Right now I think we should celebrate being together again, and I can't think of a better way to celebrate that than to make a little love."
"Let's go to my apartment. I can talk this over with Stephen and Georgia later."
"Let's do it here, honey," she said, opening his trousers and finding his cock, the better to guide him through the rooms on an inspection tour of all the sex aids that he might find of interest.
CHAPTER TWELVE
One month later, Connie and Georgia and Candy and Terry stood nearly nude before a multitude of admiring eyes. Each of them was dressed in panties, bra, and high heels. Breasts proudly pointing and hands on hips, they smiled at their audience of buyers who were seated in the Phipps showroom.
Connie was clad in a pair of lime green panties embroidered with yellow butterflies and a brassiere to match. They were her correct size, but they looked too small for her. Her plump, round thighs bulged at the leg holes, and her soft little tummy protruded over the waistband of the panties, and much of her fine young breasts could be seen over the top of the bra. Expertly made up, she looked appreciably older than fifteen. She had a special smile for Morgan, beaming from the front row, seated beside her mother. Next to Viola was an empty seat, for her new husband, Jack Fisher, had failed to appear for the show. His duties as the genuine Phipps Security Chief had kept him away. Next to his empty seat, Stephen sat smiling warmly at Terry, a striking figure all in black. He led the applause at the conclusion of the lingerie show, but it was Viola who led the way backstage. , "My little girl a model, I just can't believe it. Honey, I'm so proud of you. I just wish that goddamn Jack had shown up like he said he would."
"Don't forget she designed some of this lingerie too, Mother," said Morgan, slipping his arm around his young fiance's waist.
"You helped me, Morgan," said Connie, snuggling closer to him, thoroughly warmed by the admiring eyes of her audience.
Stephen came backstage last, and went straight to Terry, who was being congratulated with an embrace by Georgia. Candy clung to him the moment he appeared, but he scarcely noticed her as he took the black girl's hand. "You were grand, Terry. You made the show, in my opinion. It calls for a celebration. I suggest we adjourn to our offices next door."
"Stephen!" Morgan admonished. "Haven't you started tearing that place down yet? You swore you would."
"But I've been so busy since I've started actively working in the store," he said. "I'll get around to it, but in the meantime, it wouldn't do any harm for us to have a little party there. The girls deserve it."
"Sheeyit," said Terry. "You just want me to whup you and your sister down there. I know you."
"What's she talking about?" Viola said.
"Never mind, Mother. You wouldn't understand," said Connie, thrusting her ass back against the hand that had crept inside the seat of her panties.
"We should have some sort of a celebration," said Morgan. "But first, I'd better help you change, dear. Viola, will you trust me for a few minutes alone with your daughter in her dressing room?"
"Morg, anything you do is okay with me."
He took Connie behind the curtain that shielded her cubicle, and he got on his knees to help her off with her panties. The heat of his kisses spoke volumes about how excited he'd become during the lingerie show. She tickled her fingers through his hair and beamed down at him as he expertly used his tongue on her clit. She needed it, for the show had aroused her desires as well. Through the curtain, they could hear the voices of the others, and Jack Fisher's voice sounded grim as he joined them.
"Sorry I missed the show. Had a little trouble in Sporting Goods. Caught a shoplifter there, and I sort of hate to call the police."
"Is she good-looking?" Georgia asked.
"Is she young?" Stephen inquired.
"Never you goddamned mind if she's young and good-looking," Terry's voice snapped. "You two got enough on your hands just taking care of me and Candy. Tell Jack to call the police on her and that's that."
Jack said, "But it's not a her, it's a him. Nice-looking boy of seventeen, and he's scared shitless."
A lovely orgasmic tingle rippled through Connie's body, and she looked down at Morgan and said, "You know, it might not be a bad idea to keep Stephen's Bridal Chamber open. I think we could do a lot toward rehabilitating shoplifters, if we all worked on the problem together."
