Imitation, it is said, is the sincerest form of flattery. The publication of "Virgin Territory" in Paris created not only an overnight sensation even in that blase home of the "avant garde" literary men, but also produced a horde of imitators. The brilliant young English author, who handled the hitherto taboo themes so expertly, made his reputation as the most courageous innovator of the decade, nevertheless.
The introduction of the hero, in the prime of his virile manhood, to types of sex practices never encountered on the "playing fields of Eton" and his reactions are extremely realistic and probably autobiographical. From his introduction to the passionate delights of interracial amour, to the descriptions of prostitution and perversions he encounters, the writer is unflinchingly frank and honest. Combined with a fast-paced, dramatic story, the emotional honesty of "Virgin Territory" carries us along to one of the most dramatic conclusions in the modern novel.
The author followed "Virgin Territory" with "Society Doctor" a searingly frank expose of certain types of charlatanism rampant in the London medical profession.
Never before have the sexual abuses perpetrated upon helpless women patients by doctors, safe in the cloak of professional immunity, been so vividly described.
Continental Classics is fortunately able to present both these stories in this edition. Both stories are complete, unabridged and unexpurgated. This edition is recommended only for mature, adult readers.
Al Saunders, M.A. New York City, August, 1967
CHAPTER I
"BLACK BUT COMELY"
George stared at the beautiful colored woman standing in the doorway. She seemed sensuality incarnate to him, with her strong but beautifully proportioned head, the bronze flesh that melted into the long, supple neck, and into the wide, uncovered shoulders that led down to the powerful hips.
Her hair was curly rather than fuzzy. Her thick lips curled back to show even teeth, and seemed to demand passionate bites rather than kisses.
Instead of hiding her breasts, her corsage emphasized them, and the white hem of her skirt fanned out tantalizingly round the perfect legs, raised up on high-heeled shoes, legs whose contours were both hard and tender.
Her black eyes had little gleams of amusement, comprehension and flippancy that added gaiety to her full figure; her eyes added spice to every movement, and her gestures which were invitations more eloquent than words took on a new piquancy, became almost witty, thanks to her smiling eyes.
This exciting body attracted attention before the white dress, as if the full-blown flesh had succeeded, not in escaping its prison, but in impregnating the material, in absorbing it into its own physical substances and sensual structure. It was no longer a dress, but the very expression of this voluptuous complexion, a pose of these lascivious curves, the aspect of her skin at certain times, a more stimulating shade of this animal of pleasure.
"May I speak to Mrs. Akar?", he asked. "Myself," she replied, smilingly. "George Moseley, I presume." He picked up the heavy suitcase, he had placed in front of the door and murmured timidly, "How do you do." She held out her black hand. He shook their slim ringed fingers and a flame went through him at their touch.
"I was waiting for you," she said. "The college reserved your room. But please come in." She had a guttural accent when she spoke, but it was clear and correct. George was in receipt of a scholarship from the National Institute of Scientific Research, and had come to Kingstown to get material for a thesis, the theme of which was the influence of Europe on black art. According to his theory, civilization would finally transform the primitive soul, and modern man would be unable to return to barbarism, even if he wanted to. George believed in progress and fought against those who saw in the fruit of the two cultures signs of the decadence of the most developed race, corrupted by the savage. He intended to spend a few months in St. Lucia, in order to consult certain documents concerning the relation between red, black and white art which had met and mingled for the first time on this island.
Mrs. Akar asked him one or two banal questions about his journey; he had arrived from Liverpool, and had had a good crossing; the weather was perfect, and he had come straight to his rooms in Mount Street. He followed the Negress up the wide mahogany staircase that led to his room on the first floor. "I only let one room in my flat," said Mrs. Akar. She lifted the latch and swung the door open before standing back to allow him to enter the room first. It was simply furnished; one large bed, two wardrobes, a table, a chair, an armchair and several shelves. On the wall, two reprints of Gauguin gave 'local color. The window looked on to a quiet avenue bordered by pine trees. On the other side rose the walls of a villa built in the old colonial tradition.
"My last tenant, Mr. Martin, stayed three years," she said proudly. George was not used to the simple vanities of little people and did not know what to reply. "I hope to give you ... as much satisfaction ... as Mr. Martin," he stuttered finally.
She examined him from head to foot. George Moseley was tall and slim, with fair hair and blue eyes and an aristocratic Roman nose. He was wearing a yellow tie with a blue suit and had the elegance of a provincial student or of a Civil Servant. His hostess thought him very handsome, and his intellectual prestige did the rest; her eyes were full of admiration. With certain women, love and admiration are closely allied. Mrs. Akar spoke through a veil of tenderness as she murmured, "Make yourself at home. Dinner will be served at eight in the dining-room, if that is convenient to you."
"It will suit me perfectly," he replied. He did not enquire about terms. The University had settled prices for him.
He arranged his clothes in the wardrobe and his personal affairs around the room, which soon acquired the personality of its new tenant. The voyager has so many things to do, so many things to discover! George did not know where to begin. He decided to spend the afternoon exploring Kingstown. The house was not far from the port, and he would have liked to see it now at twilight, after his first view of it on arrival, cluttered with liners and cargoes, launches and yachts.
He thought too about his fianc�e in Kensington. A virgin, still in her teens, daughter of a school-teacher, intelligent and good, who was patiently awaiting his homecoming.
He ought to write to her; and decided to do so that evening when his impressions would be more clearly defined, and his projects mapped out. He went down the steps and left the house. His hostess was standing on the doorstep, staring into space. George thought there was something provincial in her pose; often in some little English town, he had seen women idle away a fine summer afternoon on their doorsteps. But this simile was not enough; the Negress's posture had profounder, more secret origins; she looked like some splendid animal at rest; she must have the same state of mind as the first living soul to throw a bored glance around the world. She was abandoned to herself, to the mysterious rhythm of her body, to her real nature. Standing there, she looked as if she had been thrown defenseless, conquered by the wild forces at work in her flesh, trampled on by her own dreams. She looked as if she were offering herself to a lover, a man of smoke conceived in her imagination.
"A fine example of the erotic positions of Mrs. Akar," said George to himself...he had learnt at University to be lucid and cynical about his own desires. "Good afternoon, Madam," he said with a charming smile. The Negress quivered with joy. She did not know how to hide her feelings. Her most intimate desires were immediately translated by her comportment. Her powers of dissimulation were rudimentary, and their very simplicity seemed strange to a young man, used to the European guide to conventional lies.
She was happy to see him. He pleased her, that was obvious; it was even indecently obvious. George's modesty suffered a little. He was already only too conscious of his resemblance to these little European failures, to whom the colonial peoples give superiority complexes and the ridiculous attitudes of white gods. But Mrs. Akar was none the less desirable, and everything that pleased her excited him. He was ready to become to god to seduce her.
"Good evening, Mr. Moseley." They looked at each other with emotion. "So you like our capital," she asked. "I haven't had time to see it yet," he replied. "I was just going out for a little stroll." He raised his eyes to the heavens where the first stars were already gleaming. "It's a beautiful evening. I'm sure that the view must be lovely now."
She smiled at him, half happy, half afraid. This handsome young man had just arrived from Europe, he had a degree, he spoke beautifully choosing his words and weighing his sentences. She liked him but was afraid of a snub. She was unaware of the grace of her body which consumed George like a flame. And he, all things considered, wanted to feel rather than see. St. Lucia was not a photograph album so much as a field of physical experience for him. The island resounded for him like certain cosmopolitan ports in the ears of green young cabin-boys. George would far rather get wise to things than go running round the beauty spots. He would have been annoyed not to have some feminine adventure on the island, some strong belly affaire, particularly with a colored mistress. To his mind this little excursion would exalt his senses and give him material for a tale to delight his friends on his return to Paris. What is to be, shall be.
And now this adventure was taking concrete form, in the shape of a creature with definite contours, real features. The truth of the woman swept away his cynical reflections, leaving only those which were suitable to presence. Only the Negress mattered now. "Yes, it's a fine evening," said Mrs. Akar, who hesitated in emotion before continuing: "I think I shall take a walk too before dinner."
"A wonderful idea," he cried. "I should be most grateful if you would act as guide for me, show me some picturesque corner of the island known only to those fortunate enough to have been born here." George got drunk on his own words. He was on form because he was in a state of grace; luck was smiling on him and he couldn't fail. She pressed on her Mps with her hands to stretch out her bust. It is with this gesture that many women make their spring. However, she continued to protest for form's sake, for all their conversation obeyed some ancestral rite. "But I don't want to bother you. You could find someone much more amusing to go with you."
"Modest too," thought George, who took her arm to show her he was sincere. "Oh, Mrs. Akar, I'm sure that I couldn't find anyone more charming than you to escort me on my first visit to Kingstown. We should make use of this stroll to improve our acquaintance." Through the thin material the woman's arm was burning. George felt his palm grow stiff, his veins swell and all the blood in his body rise with unaccustomed force. As they advanced, he continued to talk, mechanically. "So kind of you to accept, to guide a stranger here. But we took to each other from the beginning, did we not?" Pleased with his boldness, he twined his fingers round the coal-colored ones.
The tar fingers and the white ones made one organism and gave an intimation of a mingling of colors that stimulated George. He had never been out with a Negress. At Kingstown, it was natural, like taking liberties in a masked ball. The event in itself placed him in another sphere, in another light, at a height that made him giddy. And there was the presence of Mrs. Akar. She troubled all his senses; his eyes were blinded by the color complement; his hand trembled at the touch of her burning skin; his ear was thrilled by his companion's cooing accent, by the harmony of sighs and laughs, words and exclamations; the bitter, spicy odour of her flesh excited his nostrils; his palate was irritated by the anticipation of a new taste which would charm his tongue. And the prick of sexuality ground all his senses in a pail of seething poison. George walked along like a drunk. She was as moved as he was. Obviously this young Englishman was pleasing to her. And the answer to his secret thoughts that he read in his companion's behavior added to the joy of the male.
They headed for the decayed forts which evoke historic souvenirs for the inhabitants. There were very few people around at this time of day: the men were dressed in white, some of the women carried enamel bowls on their heads or baskets filled with good things. They walked with swinging hips, sensual even in the simplest acts. Through his companion, George was discovering a new town, close to the earth, protected by the starry night.
In his heart of hearts, he despised Mrs. Akar. These were so many things she didn't have, was incapable of possessing, from the simplest spiritual refinements down to the latest material inventions. But he was afraid of his own contempt which might prevent him from seducing her; he trembled because of his lucidity which held up action and let the prey escape. George knew the limits of his capabilities. He refused to descend from his intellectual pedestal which brought him very real satisfaction and moments of spiritual exaltation. But this woman corresponded to something visceral, to carnal desires which his coherent system could not control; she stimulated mysterious desires that he considered as secondary but necessary. Whatever was low in him centered round these forms of lowness, whatever was compromising desired to mingle with this incarnation of Compromise itself, with these thick lips turned back on sparkling teeth, with these breasts quivering in the low-cut corsage, these tempting hips, this curving belly leading to the long, vigorous legs, defiant in their high heels. He would never have dared to walk out with her in London, but here this vulgar fraternization seemed not only admissible but obligatory.
His hand pressed hers. She replied to the pressure of his fingers, gripped his hand. In this dumb play, she said "Yes" to all the demands of her companion. But George's moods of bravado were brief. He went no further for each of his acts became schizophrenic, became reflection, raised doubts. His first leap had changed into a pawing of the ground. He didn't know how to proceed. He contented himself with pressing the hand he held like a precious gift. Fortunately there is a movement in walking which is allied to love, as if walking itself were but a tributary of mating and desired to rejoin its source.
As they walked down the dimly lit avenue, George's elbow rubbed against the Negress's body, going beyond the peninsula to the forbidden continent. The corsage was one with the skin, impregnated with the smell and the heat of his partner. All the Englishman's thoughts were concentrated on this new conquest. Tumult sprang from this corner as from a fountain before spreading to the rest of the body. He had the impression that there was a wound by which powerful forces, bitter-sweet, invaded him, overturning his whole being. Mrs. Akar seemed to feel the same intoxication at this friction, for she softened, made the caress last longer.
"Here is the fort," she said. Her voice had become more husky, less comprehensible, nearer to simple resonance and a purely sensual timbre. The words, attached still to the exterior, conventional landscape, having no contact with their thoughts, gave up the effort. They were on the edge of an open garden. The words were replaced by a silence which did not interrupt the couple, obsessed by their embrace. George tried to find some way of advancing his project, and found nothing better than the old clich�, "Look at the stars in the sky. To-night was made for lovers." But the worn phrases shone with a fresh emotion, they were fed by the waves of a new passion. In turn, she raised her eyes to the canopy above and laughed, a carnal laugh that went with the curves of her body. George withdrew her arm from his and placed it round her neck.
She did not protest, not even a conventional gesture. He slipped his hand inside her blouse and caressed her shoulder. The rounded flesh was more heady and more delicate than the hand. He fingered the silky skin, but was impatient of the distance that separated him from the hidden, secret parts of the woman. He took her waist. George realized that she would have yielded far sooner, would have encouraged him even, had she not been afraid of a snub. The beautiful West Indian was afraid that the European would end by making fun of her. She turned her luminous eyes towards him. Her face had suddenly acquired a new dignity, only her mouth with its thick, full lips, retained its exciting vulgarity.
She was waiting for him, her impatience was almost exasperation. He leaned towards her. Their lips mingled, while his hands succored his greed by caressing the arched body. His tongue slipped between her teeth, exploring her mouth as far as her throat, a mime of that other penetration that both desired. She had placed her arms around his neck, the better to guide the head from which she took her nourishment, her sap. "Darling," she pronounced finally.
These words were a bizarre avowal, a rapid and unexpected declaration that excited him more than an erotic appeal. She kissed him with fury, wriggling her burning hips and rubbing her abdomen against George's legs. He pushed his leg into her groin, crushing her already by its presence. Then, he withdrew his leg and held her body against the source of his pleasure. He kissed her on the lips, on the cheeks, in her neck, then climbed again, the mouth, then the little black ear, adorned with a bizarre earring, and began to nibble at the lobe under the hair. She groaned, her head thrown back.
George's hand travel, frustrated, over the round buttocks, feeling the solid muscles through the thin material, then higher and higher, exploring her covered forms. He seized one swollen breast, full, and harder than he would have thought. Still kissing him, she retreated several paces, to bring him among the trees, into the obscurity that was more propitious to their play. All her senses wanted to deny the embrace, and the little lucidity left to her trembled at the thought of the passers-by who might see them, disturb them, stop them from making love. George followed her into the leafiness, into the darkening night, without loosening his hold on the breasts whose curves he was still caressing. He played with each of the nipples, rubbing them between thumb and index-finger, making the swell with desire. She must have been particularly sensitive to caresses on her breasts, for she groaned, leaned on his right arm, suddenly came back to the attack, kissing him again: "My darling, my darling," she whispered.
One after the other, he brought her breasts out from the dress. He covered them with kisses, nibbled the erect nipples, filled his mouth with their roundness, taking a savage pleasure in the impression of smothering it gave him. She stammered a few tender incoherent words, hardly perceptible amid the groans and sighs, the most profound and sincere expressions of her soul. He left her breast uncovered by the blouse, raised up by the material, while his hands descended feverishly towards her legs, caressing her calves, then hazarding under her skirt.
She wanted to resist him and automatically seized his wrist to stop his progress, but, straight away changed her mind, and let his hand move up towards her briefs, toward the elastic that squeezed her thighs; she felt him fray his passage with decision. He touched the Negress's hair; each new part of her body left him breathless, like a revelation. The success of his audacity surprised him. His fingers wandered in search of a further secret. The moment was strange, for he depended on a stake. His partner yielded because she trusted him, but he was sure that a clumsy movement on his part could make him lose everything he had obtained.
He groped over the legs and found the place he sought. She sighed and relaxed completely, completely woman now that she had been touched at the core of her being. She leaned against a tree, to be closer to the love-position during these critical moments. He lived the excitement of his task. He was full in forbidden territory and was acting with all the febrility of a house-breaker. Hanging on her partner's fingers. she was nothing more than the instrument she had been throughout eternity. She had placed her arms on George's shoulders, not only to support herself but to help him in his movements.
She was happy to be forced to abandon herself, and yielded to the man who had made her a slave of pleasure. She loved voluptuousness, but as the social system forbade it to her, she was grateful to her partner for having violated her modesty. Having done her duty as regards the tribal law, she could taste the joys of love. At that moment she worshipped the man whom she had hitherto respected. Her body and soul met and mingled in a single thrill, that she expressed in a rhythmic sigh. He caressed her clitoris, pressing on the edges, advanced towards the deeps of the vagina, and came back to the soft, wetted lips. Mrs. Akar's sex formed a universe, and entity, a shallow well, uneven and indented where his hand wandered as if in search of something. The woman's panting became more rapid, as guttural as a plea, demanding the supreme liberation. Her nails dug into George's shoulders, hurting him. He hastened his movements, made them more violent, more masculine. He changed their emphasis, touching different zones of the same target. She cried aloud, then, gritting her teeth in order not to cry, she flung her head back, her eyes staring. Then she breathed out, holding on to her partner to stop from falling, at the very moment that she slid down the slopes of ecstasy.
He continued to caress her vagina to accompany her pleasure, to finish it off, to allow the woman to lean on this caress until the end of her journey. The Negress regained consciousness, discovered the outside world with an eye veiled in memories. "It was good," she said, kissing him on the mouth, the cheeks, the neck. "But what about you, my darling?"
Greedy lights illumined her regard. She thought of George, excited herself as she stood up, ready to take care of this young Englishman who had pursued his caress to the end. She had the reaction of a hostess, preoccupied by a guest. "And did you have fun?" She couldn't let him leave until he had taken part in the festivities. Her hands were already gliding over his body, feeling his trousers, measuring the extent of his desire, carried away by the discovery of his swollen penis. She unveiled it. The heat of her black hand burned the most intimate part of the young man. In the woman's gentle, friendly hand, the flesh of the prick was beating like a pulse, like a living heart. It was the woman's turn to show her skill. In fact, her task was less difficult, less mysterious: she was acting openly with a male soul, breathless in his pride. Her movements filled them both with new emotions, they trembled, linked as they were to a mutual chain, of which they held the ends. They were born again in ecstasy, more closely attached than Siamese twins, intoxicated with the liaison that justified their existence.
George's mind followed the pleasure of his sex, growing bigger and bigger, nearing the maximum. He felt the moment coming, when his joy would burst forth, blinding him. Suddenly bliss descended on him and swelled him out. He held the Negress like a believer holds an idol and kissed her with unearthly joy, while his sperm spurted spasmodically from his penis. The woman's hand collected the proof of his pleasure. As if struck by lightning, he let himself go completely. He bit the strong neck of the Negress who met the storm without flinching.
Then he came to, to find just a colored woman with an obscene smile in front of him, who was looking for something to wipe her hand. "Have you a handkerchief?" she asked. He brought a square of cloth out of his pocket and she used it to wipe her hands and his limp prick. She asked. "Good, wasn't it?" She wanted his approval. She feared perhaps the way he would judge her abandon. George didn't remain gloomy for long; he had been brought up to be polite. His family, his teachers, his friends had taught him to put up with transitions gallantly, not lose confidence in bitter moments, and to think of the future. His partner no longer pleased him. He would have liked her to disappear so that he might go on alone, but, alas, pleasant things last longer than the joys they procure us. The world is cluttered with things that we don't use all the time. Now, Mrs. Akar was an encumbrance to George. But the young man's European education taught him prudence. His past experience helped him to bear the present with equanimity, born of hope.
After putting the handkerchief back in his pocket, Moseley smiled at Mrs. Akar and took her arm. He kissed her and she responded to his embrace. They left the obscurity and came out into the avenue. Really George was very happy. Once more he despised his companion, but he was pleased that he despised her after his pleasure and not without it.
She ignored his feelings about her, she was merely satisfied with what had just accomplished and vaguely excited by the movements which had aroused George. She kissed him as they strolled towards the sea. He answered her kisses, bored at first, then with more and more conviction. He felt desire creep over him, but this time, his voluptuousness was slower to come, heavier, more bitter. Sure of himself, he didn't bother to use precaution in his caresses, introductory work seemed unnecessary to him. All her body belonged to him, he could use it as he liked, caress it, explore it. But it was this very freedom that upset his plans, weighed on his desire, turned him from the direct path.
To stimulate his desire, he held it back. He knew that this woman was his. He could have taken her there in the grass. But he preferred to irritate his impatience, wait a little.
They returned home, their minds fixed on the image of their embrace. She talked about it naturally as if it were a normal thing. In the house, she laid the table in the salon, and as he hardly stopped caressing her and kissing her while she prepared their light meal, she drew the curtains. It would never have done for the neighbors to see what was going on at Mrs. Akar's! She had prepared a very light dinner; hors d'oeuvre, ham omelet, cheese and cream caramel. The intimacy of the room and the delicious wine stirred George's senses. He unbuttoned her blouse and undid the belt around her waist. He wanted to take off her dress. "Oh no, darling, be patient."
"Please," he asked, like a spoilt child. He came back to the attack, insisted. She locked the door for fear of interruption and took off her dress. She was wearing a slip of white silk decorated with lace that made her skin look even darker. In this state of undress, she looked half ridiculous, half indecent. But the ridiculousness added to the indecency. She served at table, dressed like this. Still eating, he touched the brown body, feeling the half hidden contours. She yielded smilingly to his touch. Later he took off her slip and she was left in her panties. He kissed the firm breasts, the belly, the black thighs, After dinner, she cleared the table. He followed her into the kitchen teasing her all the time, playing with the bushy hairs of her vagina and touching her clitoris.
She invited him into her room, an ordinary woman's room, mainly occupied by a double bed. She removed her briefs and opened her thighs. He didn't take long to crush her with all the weight of his body. She groaned in pleasure. Mrs. Akar had vulgarly healthy ideas about love; she was satisfied with his every gesture, with his successful caresses and with his clumsy touch. At last he slid his cock into her vagina. It was the first time he penetrated so deeply into her intimacy. She welcomed him with a voluptuous sigh, she became serious, all attention to the evolution of her lover in her body.
Penetrated to the profound at regions of her flesh, she breathed deeply before replying with rhythmic jerks to the movements of the young Englishman working her. The two lovers reached the paroxysm of pleasure together and discharged themselves with a cry. George remained in the Negress's arms.
Much later, he remembered that he hadn't written to Marjorie, his fianc�e; at that moment, in London, she must have been thinking of the man who was betraying her in the arms of a strange woman. "Tomorrow... I shall..." was all he had the strength to say before dropping off to sleep.
CHAPTER II
HALF AND HALF
He was leaning on the window sill when he saw her for the first time. She was on horseback. The great iron gate had opened like a curtain and she appeared proudly on a splendid chestnut. George was never to forget the picture she made at that moment; this first appearance engraved itself in his memory until his dying day. The morning sun fell on the amazon like a reflector on the star of a show, increasing the theatrical impression she made in the deserted street. The light emphasized the delicacy of her features, adding at the same time an ethereal brilliance. She seemed at the same time terrestrial and heavenly. Her head was tiny like that of an idol, her skin was white, her eyes black, her lips perfect. Only the slightly flattened nose with is quivering nostrils betrayed the color in her. Her black, plaited hair raised in a chignon seemed to support the black velvet cap she wore slightly tilted forwards. Her body was small and delicate, still in the saddle, but betraying nevertheless its natural softness and suppleness. A black cloth jacket, brown jodhpurs and soft leather boots gave her a faintly masculine appearance, bringing out her child-likeness and adding nobility to her expression.
She hesitated an instant, frozen into a statue-like position, then, pulling gently on the reins, she turned her noble mount. One dig of the spur and the animal trotted "off with its beautiful rider out of sight of the young European. He remained breathless, wondering if it had been a dream.
"It's Sylvia," murmured Mrs. Akar beside him. He had even noticed her return, so absorbed was he in the beautiful horsewoman. He turned towards the Negress who looked at him sorrowfully; "The child is pretty, isn't she?" But obviously she was unhappy, jealous of the girl. He was unable to reply straight away and merely shrugged his shoulders.
Over breakfast, he got more information about the unknown charmer. His hostess told him all she knew about die young girl; she liked to tell a story for the pleasure of the telling; it was her way of showing her education. Women hare no other culture than the local gossip, that is why they consider it so important. Mrs. Akar related all she knew about Sylvia de Salazar, the way a schoolboy recites his poetry lesson. George learned that the beauty's father was a Portuguese aristocrat and her mother a native.
George knew that in the beginning St. Lucia had suffered from a lack of white women, less eager than men to seek their fortune overseas. In reply to the demands of these men. the Government had sent over some dregs of women picked up in the gutter. Those who didn't wish to marry these objects took to wife or concubine some native woman, and their offspring mixed the two races, a healthy hybrid. Now he was to learn that mixed marriages were still frequent on the island. But according to Mrs. Akar a terrible tragedy had shattered Sylvia's life. Both her parents had committed suicide when she was still very young by throwing themselves off a cliff. No one ever knew the reason for this suicide, and it was attributed to some secret sorrow or a spell cast by some voodoo sorcerer. The rich Iberian had left his money to his daughter who had been brought up by the good sisters. Now she lived alone with two faithful servants and an old valet who looked after the house.
At the thought of the beautiful Amazon, George was embarrassed by his companion. The comparison with the magnificent teen-ager made the Negress appear even more vulgar. But he kissed her on the cheek before leaving.
On returning from the library that evening, where his thoughts had been entirely taken up by the beautiful half-caste, George made a detour. Sylvia's house was behind his and he walked past the iron grill in the hope of seeing her again, but the gate remained closed. He returned home disappointed.
The Negress was just laying the table. She was wearing a blue dress which suited her very well. She was pretty again, and the warmth of her smile and the contours of her body attracted George. He was not dissatisfied with his contacts with this woman, and he was sure he would pursue them with fresh pleasure. His disgust of the morning had given way to desire and it seemed that sensuality acted on him like the ebb and flow of the tide. Mrs. Akar was in the kitchen when she cried: "Dash, I forgot to buy the fruit." George rose, used to being gallant with ladies and offered to go. She protested but he assured her that it would amuse him.
He walked quickly down to the greengrocer's where several woman of all shades were already waiting near a basket of fruit, his attention was caught by a book. It was the poems of Paul Eluard. He smiled to himself. Who on earth could be reading these surrealist poems in this place. Suddenly he saw a white hand...with long, slim fingers, well-kept nails without varnish...wearing a heavy gold ring, reach out and pick up the book. He lifted his head and saw Sylvia del Salazar. She was wearing a simple summer dress with short sleeves and a low-cut neck with a lace color. She was carrying a bag of cherries.
He stared at her in surprise; she lost none of her beauty in this simple dress. Or perhaps the vision of her as he had seen her that morning was superimposed on the present one without his realizing it. His stare was too insistent for it to pass unnoticed. She raised her head and saw him. She discovered his existence. Her deep pupils were fixed on the young man's eyes. For a few seconds that appeared an eternity, they confronted their souls. It was he who lowered his eyes the first. He had the impression that she had learned everything that was to be known about him, whereas he had discovered nothing about her. Perhaps because his male thoughts were vulgar and full of desire, whereas she was pore and without mystery. She seemed to have no other secret than her beauty, but this enigma excited George uncontrollably. He even had the feeling of knowing everything about the girl, but that this knowledge even was ignorance. The delicate, nonchalant body glided in front of him in high-heeled shoes that arched the slim legs, so childlike yet so adult.
All that evening he thought only of Sylvia, the whole Caribbean was but a setting for this one precious stone.
Late that night, he was walking home, after wandering alone around the town, thinking about this adolescent born in this Tahitian scenery, near these waves that climbed the cliffs like ivy. He turned into a side street of the port, and heard a noise of laughter and of anger. Soon he found himself in the midst of a group of people; a drunken sailor was pressing a young girl to him, while a nun was trying in vain to force him to loosen her. The sailor was laughing as he embraced the girl who appeared stiff with fright. A few drunks were watching with amusement.
George was not strong but he had learned to be brave. He threw himself on the sailor and struck him in the face. The blow was not heavy but it surprised the giant who released his victim. In amazement he looked at the stripling who had dared to attack him, and raised his arm to strike. At that moment several of his comrades arrived, singing as they went and, seizing him by the arm dragged him off. The giant forgot the incident straightaway and joined in the song.
George remained with the two women, whose faces he could hardly see in the obscurity. The nun came up to him and thanked him courteously for his assistance. The young girl remained silent, as if stunned by what had happened. Suddenly a car passed and the headlights lit up the scene for a second; the young girl was Sylvia, his beloved half-caste. She looked at George, silent, then turned on her heels and fled. The nun murmured: "Forgive her. She is so shy." Then she too followed her charge and both were swallowed up in the night.
George walked home in a dream. At dinner he was distant and preoccupied, and Mrs. Akar asked him several times if anything was worrying him. She had drunk a little too much wine and her eyes gleamed lasciviously. A simple gleam is enough to change a whole woman. George had not known that her eyes could shine so. He was attracted by this before noticing how much it changed the woman. He realized that this was an unknown entity, not the woman who had been so prodigal of her charms the night before. He was happy to forget the elusive Sylvia with a voluptuous mistress.
Mrs. Akar realized from her lover's attitude that he was attracted by her, and came over to sit on his knee. She unbuttoned his skirt and kissed his breast, sliding her lips up and down the rather thin chest. Her greedy mouth made him quiver. As she kissed him, she undid his trousers, her hands excited but skilful. She didn't take off his trousers, but opened it wide, impatient to reach her goal. Her tongue wandered over his chest, his navel, his belly. All her caresses were aimed at the secret mysterious place of a man's body. Without shame, with an immodesty as natural as modesty itself, she brought out his weapon which she measured with her mouth. Her white teeth nibbled at her lover's flesh, careful to excite but not hurt. Her teeth, made to bite, had learnt to embrace. George groaned, excited. He was grateful to the Negress for the skill with which she plied an art as old as the world.
Between George's knees, Mrs. Akar's head moved backwards and forwards in regular rhythm, a rhythm of sensuality itself. She belonged almost to his body but the variety of thrills she roused made her ever original. He rejoiced incessantly at the application of this skilled mouth and trembled lest it should stop before emptying him. And the contacts became more and more fascinating. The woman's cheeks caressed his thighs and its indirect pressure increased his direct pleasure, by setting up new reactions in him.
She felt the man stiffen beneath her kisses. All George's essence rushed in a long, intoxicating flame towards his penis. She multiplied the intoxication by skilful movements of the tongue. The lover swelled with ecstasy; he stammered a few incoherent phrases, linked only by the joy he felt. His eyes were fixed and empty. He reared on his chair in a mad scream; he could stand no longer the tension she had provoked and was dying to burst. His body enraged beyond measure emptied itself in a single spasm, a spray of grey sperm.
The Negress's mouth was distorted. The lips which had foreseen the result of their task, imprisoned unctuously their defeated prey. The prick emptied itself with several spasmodic jerks, like the shakings of an epileptic. George's exhaustion was coated with pain and well-being. She drank her nourishment as at a spring, with all the greed of a thirsty person. She seemed happy to accept his homage in this way. She rose and begged him to come into her room. He followed, ready to be engulfed once more by desire. With wet lips, she tried to continue her task, but George refused to allow this. He began to stroke her with his finger until she became dilated. Panting, she begged him to take her. He did not obey in the sense she intended. He leant between her bronze thighs and lovingly pressed her body against his face. She arched herself, burning with desire, and offered her vagina to the clumsy, insistent tongue. The strong odor of the Negress tickled pleasantly her lover's nostrils. He was almost faint as he advanced in this black, stifling undergrowth. He explored his partner's pussy with passionate lips, particularly the clitoris, irritated by his limited capacities, impatient to explore the furthest confines of her body. But the repetition of these contacts finally acted on her nerves, she opened up with a cry and steadied herself against his shoulders. She was maddened by the excitement that swept across her from head to toe and shook her hips furiously lest the climax should be lost in ineffectual caresses. George's mouth finished off the job so well begun, happy to have made her happy. Until now he had never provoked an orgasm with his mouth and he was pleased at the discovery of this new talent.
While the woman regained her breath, George was convulsed with desire, his envy multiplied by her lascivious eyes, the mouth still twisted with pleasure, the curving throat, the hard, high breasts, the bronze belly, the indecent legs, spread out to welcome his sex. "I want you," he said. She smiled happy at this proof of his desire, and draped herself across the bed. She was no longer in rut, but pleased by his behavior. George guessed that she was not yet excited and with his finger he caressed her clitoris until her lust was awakened. The tempest overtook her in successive waves. Already her body was trembling, a prey to a combination of pain and pleasure. She murmured words of impatient love. At first, he decided against taking her, his pleasure was too great to lose in a brief orgasm, no matter now celestial. But she was panting uncontrollably; her hands joined in the prayers, and while her body wriggled furiously, she tried to raise him, to seize his flesh and make him one with her. He was unable to resist for long, he came to rest on her breast and this fresh contact sent a shudder of anticipation through him. She helped him to direct his prick inside her. He threw himself into the attack with all his strength while she screamed her gratitude for this brutality.
CHAPTER III
THWARTED DESIRE
As George came out of the library, he saw Sylvia standing on the steps. She was alone in front of the huge stone building. Slim and delicate, her skirt billowing in the breeze, she resembled an allegorical statue erected in front of the skyscraper or some ship's figure head. She had a book in her hand, and was looking straight ahead absent-mindedly. He walked up to her, wondering if he might accost her. She turned her head and saw him, but not a muscle moved in her face. He greeted her, but she did not reply. George decided that she didn't recognise him and walked on. Suddenly, she came down the steps toward him and said: "Was it not you who saved me last night?" Surprised at the abrupt question, George let several minutes go past before replying. Finally he stammered: "Yes...yes... It was I... but... but... anyone else would have done the same."
"Not anyone. I wanted to your pardon for having run off without thanking you. Sister Madeleine, my guardian, says I'm very rude...but how not to be rude among rude people." She spoke perfect English, but what was most astonishing in this proud adolescent was femininity betrayed by her voice, a sweet femininity which she herself perhaps did not even suspect. Suddenly, George saw the title of the book she was ring. "Ulysses" by Joyce. At least her choice of books was intellectual. He tried to make the conversation light and with a laugh said "But there are as many ill-bred people in the capital as here."
"Ah, you're from the big city? I realized you weren't from here."
"It must be wonderful." She seemed sad and George, to cheer her up, said, "But you'll go there one day. And anyway Kingstown is a charming place." The effect of these words was unexpected; her face took on an expression of profound disgust: "Charming! Kingstown! It's easy to see you're a foreigner and you only see the picturesque side of it. But you see the men and the things superficially, from the outside, reduced to the size of a postcard." Stunned by this reaction, George murmured: "But people seem so full of joie de vivre - it's like heaven on earth."
"Are you making fun of me?" she asked in anger. "But I assure you that I had no such intention. You don't understand." She stepped back and spat cut sarcastically: "Of course, a mere half-caste can't be expected to understand a white man who comes from the capital." With that, she turned round and walked angrily off. But the movements of her body belied her attitude, so heady with tenderness were they. George realized he was in love with her.
He saw her again two days later. As he walked in the sand at the edge of the swimming-pool, he came across a chaise-lounge on which lay "Ulysses". He picked it up and began to leaf through it to give himself countenance while waiting for her return. He didn't have to wait long. First came a tinkling laugh from behind him; them: "Having fun?" came her voice. He swung round. The young girl was just leaving the water, wearing a one-piece bathing suit which moulded her supple body to perfection. He was stunned by this vision of her long legs swelling out to full, bronzed thighs, the slim waist which burst out into two hard breasts; her shoulders were wide and graceful, very feminine in spite of the pure face above, but the sensual contours of the mouth confirmed their feminity. Woman and child, she was an eternal paradox.
She excused herself for her behavior of the other day, explaining that it was her mixed blood which caused her to burst out in this way. She asked him to forgive her. George stammered that he had nothing to forgive, all he desired was to know her better, become her friend. She smiled at him, looking deep into his eyes, and, sitting in the chaise-lounge, asked him to talk about life in the capital, the books that were being read, the sows that were on. George sat on the sand beside her and started to talk. Suddenly all constraint had disappeared between them. They were friends. And George talked on, about life, about himself, his rather melancholy childhood. Sylvia was touched by his confidences and was induced to make some of her own, explaining that her life was far from happy. When George cried that at least she was free and rich, she replied sadly that her fortune was in the hands of her tutor Sister Madeleine and it would come to her only on her marriage. With a smile she added: "it is very difficult for me to marry. I intimidate most boys; perhaps I'm too violent, and even so my guardian would not allow me to marry just anybody, because of my fortune." George thought this was very romantic; to him she seemed like the heroine of some fairy story, the lovely princess locked in a castle, waiting for a handsome young knight to rescue her. He didn't really consider abandoning his fianc�e but he would have liked to be the knight.
They talked until twilight fell, then it was decided that after they had dressed, George should walk her home.
He took her by the arm. He felt her quiver, rear back, ready to disengage herself, before finally abandoning herself to the male grip. George understood the moral combat revealed by these gestures. She kicked against the masterly attitude of her partner, then, realizing the uselessness of all defense, she lay down her arms. But he knew also how delicate was his victory, she could still run away. And how far could he go with her? He pressed her arm and her hip rubbed against his. The warmth of her, through the thin material, excited him.
He raised her hand and covered it with kisses. She trembled and watched him as he kissed her. He seized her to him by the waist and sought her mouth. "No, no, please," she said with real fear in her voice. Then she yielded up her lips so clumsily and yet so passionately, that George wondered if he was the first man to kiss her. His tongue explored her mouth while his hands caressed the breasts protected by her dress. "No, no," she murmured. This little game amused George, who skillfully unbuttoned her dress. Before she could resist, he held the warm, silky flesh in his hand. Her efforts to escape were too weak to succeed, particularly as her own sensuality fought against her. He kissed her again, imprisoning her mouth, exploring its recesses, making her a partner in his game. He bent his head to the open dress and covered with kisses the space between her breasts before seizing the perfect globes to kiss them in their turn. She leant back against a railing and yielded up to her companion. He caressed her waist, her hips, her thighs and finally reached the hem of her skirt which he lifted slightly. She seemed too astonished to react.
Her surprise was mixed with curiosity and expectancy rendered her immobile. She felt his hand slide over her knees, between her legs, reach her panties. He thought he had already won the young girl for he stretched out his arm, seized her briefs and slid them down over her belly, over her thighs, down her long, slim legs. He undressed her there in the shadowy street. He stretched his forefinger towards her most secret place, towards the downy pussy. For a second she accepted the caress between the lips of her sex and quivered slightly. Then, without a word, she bent down, picked up her briefs and put them on again.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?," she asked, tearing herself away from him.
"But your body is made for love," he stammered.
"I shall belong to no man but my husband," she replied. "I am a virgin and I intend to keep my virginity as a gift for my husband." She was so beautiful that these banal sentences seemed logical and intelligent to George, as he watched her walk away, a puzzled frown on his handsome face.
For three days he didn't see her. The heat was overwhelming. Mrs. Akar spent hours under the shower to refresh herself. It was obvious that she expected some amorous sign from George but he was obsessed by Sylvia. On the evening of the third day, he decided to pay her a visit. He crossed the road, and rang the bell on the great iron gate repeatedly. An old Negress answered the door.
"May I see Miss Salazar?," he asked. "She is in the library," came the reply. And without any further explanation, the servant walked off in the direction of the outhouses.
George hesitated an instant, then, hearing faint strains of music, walked over to a brightly lit window on the ground floor. Suddenly he decided to surprise Sylvia. Through a slit between the curtains he could see into the room. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. She was dancing naked. A modern record changer was playing in the corner, George had already had already admired Sylvia's body in a bathing-suit, but he had never seen it naked. A woman's body is completely transformed naked. Sylvia's head was suddenly far less important than her firm young breasts, so clearly outlined, and then her pubis which was covered with hair. Her legs by themselves were unimportant, were only the pillars of her golden thighs, the frame in which was set her down secret. His eyes were amazed at the contrast between the clustering womanly mass on her pubis and the adolescent belly above. Her buttocks were round and feminine. He imagined the pleasure he would take in caressing them. He drew back to admire her in entirety, The music tormented her. In obedience to the nightmare rhythm of the music, she wriggled and shook her whole body. As beguine followed rumba and mambo followed calypso, she danced on; her erotic movements giving unity to the passionate tropical melodies. Her hands veiled and unveiled her nudity, her hands implored some invisible god to deliver her from the flame that inhabited her body, twisting her in lascivious madness. She seemed to make love with an unknown, with her own imagination, with the violence that agitated the breasts she caressed with her warm, excited palms. She arched herself as if some male had entered her, and wriggled her hips to the rhythm of the drum. She breathed heavily as if in the embrace of some lover. She was in fact mating with an invisible partner, with herself. Her magnificent body moved in invitation to love. She was hypnotized by her own lust, and she hypnotized the man who watched.
Still naked, she stretched out on the thick carpet, as if thrown there by the weight of her mate. As if in a trance she undulated, her eyes half-shut, her mouth open, her breasts trembling slightly. The tom-tom faded, but still enraged her with it muted beats. She was used to this noise which mingled with the hot summer night, with the pictures conjured up by her desire, with her impatient lasciviousness. And lying on the carpet, Sylvia forgot the dance, thinking only of love, hoping for deliverance.
Opening wide her legs, she allowed her right hand to caress her vagina. She needed more direct contact, more distinct caresses to reach her orgasm. Through the open window, George watched her caress herself, offering herself the pleasure she didn't dare to seek with a man. With her forefinger she imitated the male attack. George was stunned. She was so beautiful that her action resembled a continuation of the dance. As she lay stretched out, her head thrown back, her eyes staring, her breasts swollen, she was shaken with a sudden trembling, a movement that was both animal and divine; her action proved that the young girl was a woman, that the statue was alive, that her nature was sensual, that she knew how to give pleasure.
With a sudden click, the record-player fell into silence, but Sylvia heard nothing. She had forgotten the rhythm of the music, she was dominated by the rhythm of the music, she was dominated by the rhythm of her desire, by the cadence of the finger on her clitoris which was bringing her nearer and nearer release. Frenziedly, her finger accelerated its movements; she accompanied it with heavy breathing. George could stand it no longer. In spite of himself, he stepped over the window ledge into the room and in one bound stood before the pretty half-caste girl who was caressing herself so intently. She looked up and, seeing him, screamed. Petrified, she watched him unbutton his fly, withdraw his swollen penis and lean over her. His appearance dissipated her desire, froze her. "What are you doing?", she murmured in fear. "I am here to help you do what you were doing so badly."
"No," she cried, making a movement to rise. But he gripped her arms and throwing her back on the carpet, pinned her there with the weight of his body, while his legs thrust hers open. "What are you doing?" she repeated with anguish in her tone. "I am a virgin. You have no right to take advantage of my weakness. You'll go to prison if you rape me." She was so beautiful and so sexy that George would have gone to hell just to have her. But her eyes were filled with tears. Her body yielded to his embrace, but her face took on a sort of heavenly beauty. The role of victim suited her perfectly. Her very position defended her. George felt her hairs on the end of his dart. He only had to press a little to open her and enter into her, to feel the voluptuous flesh, but her eyes paralyzed him, prevented him from going on.
She felt that she had won and the anguish left her eyes to be replaced by a smile. She relaxed. Then slipping her arms around his neck, she sought his lips with hers, murmuring, "If you only new how much I love you. I have never loved anyone as much as you. But I could only belong to you if we were married". His face darkened. She smiled sadly. "Of course, you can't marry me. You're white and I'm mixed. But I'm Catholic and I shall belong only to the man who is my husband in the sight of God."
George rose and buttoned himself. She rose with him. "I'm sorry," she said. "Particularly as I love you very much. But perhaps one day you'll come to me with more serious intentions. I should be very happy to be your wife." With that she disappeared.
George walked home in a daze. Mrs. Akar was sitting at the table in a dressing gown which revealed her brassiere and her belly, but George was in no way moved by the spectacle. He allowed her to kiss him, but explained that he was very tired because of all the work he had done that day, and this gave him an excuse for not talking during the meal. Be was obsessed by the thought of Sylvia. No one had ever proposed to him like that before. In bed that evening, he was thinking about her. She was young, pretty, innocent. If he married her, she would inherit the money of her parents, they would be rich. He had already forgotten his fianc�e.
Suddenly Mrs. Akar appeared in the room. She came over to the bed and kissed him on the forehead. This evening the strong odour she exhaled made him feel sick, but he allowed her to kiss him several times. Encouraged by his indifference, she covered him with kisses, but he turned his head away and snapped in irritation: "Leave me alone please. I am very tired this evening." She was disappointed and a little humiliated but said "Good night" and left the room. The moon lit up her buttocks as she walked and George who had never before seen her rear contours so clearly, felt desire rise in him at the sight of these splendid rotundities. After she had disappeared, he hesitated about following her. He had no desire to rise, but was afraid of being refused on the morrow what he desired that night. Finally, he threw back the blankets and tiptoed in the dark to her room. They embraced tenderly and he caressed her rump which was all that interested him that evening. "Turn over," he said. "I want to take you from behind." She offered her back. Her buttocks were beautiful. They were clean and fresh and smiling like the cheeks of a milkmaid. They offered themselves with rustic simplicity. George opened them and introduced his weapon into the anus. Mrs. Akar's bottom was very willing but had its limits. She began to groan: "Don't be cruel, darling. You're hurting me. Go gently. You'll penetrate me if you take it easy, otherwise it will close and you won't be able to get in." George withdrew his weapon and wet it with a little saliva to help its passage. He was full of passion and of hate for her rump. He was dying to dirty them and rip them. If he had not restrained himself, he would have spat on them or trampled them. Lust is always mixed with sadism. George had wet his penis to make his cruelty more subtle, more hypocritical, but what excited him most was the thought of the pain he was going to cause his mistress. It wasn't long before George managed to wriggle himself completely into her ass-hole. Then he withdrew and attacked the Negress without any concern for her suffering. He caused her enough pain for him to take pleasure in it but not enough for her to expulse him. In the half-light he saw his weapon coming and going, laboring the black buttocks with an irregular rhythm. As she became used to the presence of his prick in her anus, Mrs. Akar began to take pleasure in it. "Drive it right in, darling," she panted. "Charge me harder! Harder!" With a loud cry he came, and on feeling her ass-hole fill with his sperm, Mrs. Akar quivered and let herself go in a long moan of delight.
George slept happy that night, after deciding to ask for Sylvia's hand in marriage.
CHAPTER IV
VIRGIN PLEASURES
George stood in front of Sylvia. She was still wearing her wedding dress like a suit of armor, but his rising desire gave George confidence to continue. He kissed her long and hard, then, taking her hand, placed it on his pecker, stiff inside his trousers. Embarrassed at first, but becoming more and more at ease, she caressed his sex, measuring it, calculating its force. He pushed her towards the bed. "Not yet, darling," she whispered. "Undress me first." His lips imprisoned hers, while his hand groped over her back for the zip fastening. He pulled it open and his wife's dress opened in two over her shoulders and the foaming tulle and brocade slid to the ground. Sylvia was left in her nylon lace brassiere, her nylon lace suspender belt and her black panties. The virginal bride had changed places with a sensual animal with long tapering legs, and high-heeled shoes. Soon only her panties were left and this scrap of lace made her all the more exciting. George undressed in turn, Sylvia helping. She stared a second at his bare chest, then leaning forward, covered him with kisses. Her velvety lips thrilled him and his organ sprang hard and high between her thighs. She pressed her legs together and imprisoned his penis, while he kissed her back. She began to pant heavily. Suddenly she flung off her briefs. The thick black hairs of her pussy sprang into sight. They stood back, the better to admire each other, then moving together again, began to feel each other with insatiable hands. They examined their nude bodies, their hands sliding over breasts, thighs, belly, sexual organs. Like blind people they used their hands.
Now it was she who dragged him towards the bed. Georges' hand slid over her knees, over her thighs, over her pubis. He played gently with the hairs, before adventuring blindly between her lips. He found her clitoris, a little mound of flesh, and took its measure with his finger. Then, gently, he began to rub it. Sylvia panted in excitement. His finger penetrated further and further between her lips, but he was afraid of being too brusque, of hurting her. He increased the pressure of his finger and moved it further in. The young half-caste seized his cock and began to knead it. Excitement rose in him like milk on the boil He gritted his teeth to resist his own pleasure. He was afraid of coming before he had taken her. He wanted to fulfill his duty, which was to deflower Sylvia. He had to make a woman of his wife. He stopped caressing her, and kissed her as he moved his body on to hers. Soon he covered her completely. He was ready to hurt her, expected her soon to scream in pain. He looked at her attentively but there was no fear on her face. Rather was she looking at him curiously, as if she was trying to guess what he was thinking.
"Darling," she murmured, as he placed his stiff prick at the opening of her vagina, "I have something to confess". He looked at her in amazement. "Darling, I'm not a virgin." He was stunned. He couldn't understand what she meant, tho' God knows the words were clear enough. "I told you I was a virgin, because I loved you and I wanted to marry you. But I am no longer a true physical virgin. A man seduced me several years ago." He stared at her, wondering if she was joking, tho' it was hardly the moment. Sylvia went on: "But he only took me once or twice, and since then I've been very unhappy. I even wanted to kill myself for having sinned in this way. Now you can despise me, turn me out. I know I deserve the worst of punishments." George felt the world wheel round him.
The fleshy union he had so long desired seemed prosaic, ridiculous, contemptible. And yet, he couldn't believe in her confession. It was impossible that anyone should have possessed her before him. He wouldn't admit that the creature he held in his arms had a past. Since his penis was still erect, he thrust it into her vagina; it went in up to his testicles. Sylvia groaned but in pleasure not in pain. George felt cheated because he had expected cries, blood, tears. He felt as if he had paid the price by marrying her, but hadn't received the proper merchandise in exchange. He continued to labor her but without pleasure. She was all flame in response to his movements, and finally her wriggling won the day. Suddenly he was convulsed with pleasure and came inside her.
Sylvia had not had her orgasm; she continued to wriggle but he did not respond. He was much too wrapped up in his sad thoughts. She leaned over his dangling organ and seized it in her mouth, covering it with skilful licks. Who had taught her this immodest caress? He let her suck his penis, while all sorts of questions rolled round his head. Her greedy mouth labored over his prick with passionate skill, her teeth nibbled at the flesh, hardening the pendant prick. Then her tongue slid down further towards his balls, playing gently with them, licking them. George shivered voluptuously. Now her mouth sucked his prick while her hands played skillfully with his balls. His penis sprang erect, but he made no move to take the woman, still bitter at his disappointment. He looked at her in disgust. But even if she was no virgin, she was a very exciting woman as she lay there with her hard breasts jutting out, her legs wide open to reveal her thick black hairs. He climbed on to her. She smiled greedily and her eyes opened wide as she waited for the attack. He entered her and began to labor her with hard dry strokes. She opened her mouth and let forth groans of voluptuous pain. Her hands gripped his shoulder, as she encouraged him with little cries, half-finished phrases. Then she pushed him away a little to watch the sexes at play. He followed her glance and saw his swollen member enter and leave the hairy ring like some strange pumping piston. Sylvia panted and groaned without achieving her orgasm.
"Squeeze me harder," she grated. "Crush my breasts if you want me to come." Such lecherous words in the mouth of one whom one hour ealier he had believed to be a virgin no longer surprised him. His hands gripped her hard nipples and twisted them violently. She screamed in excitement and screwed harder. She gritted her teeth and thrust her belly against her partner's. Suddenly she stopped and said: "No, I shall never come like that. Not with you darling. You'll have to take me from behind, I'm much more sensitive in my anus." She thrust him away, then, turning over, offered him her rotund, bronzed buttocks. "This way, darling. Penetrate me this way." He admired the voluptuous curves of her back. She was no longer his wife, merely a woman with whom he liked to mate. Impatiently her hand seized his weapon and guided it towards her posterior. "Here darling.
The back way." As George complied with her invitation, she guided him. "Gently at first, my sweet, so as not to hurt me. Stop, you're hurting. Now push a little. Stop. Carry on" ... and so on until his weapon had been swallowed up by her anus. "It's good, darling. Now hurt me." But his passionate thrust excited him much more than her, and with a loud cry, he discharged his sperm into her anus. Sylvia had no orgasm that night.
Slowly she recovered from her excitement. Though disappointed, she refrained from reproaching him for failing to satisfy her; and sleep overcame the tired lovers.
CHAPTER V
A WHIP IN THE HAND
The next morning Sylvia was all attention, busying herself around him affectionately, and George played the game too, though a thousand questions were whirling round inside his bead.
But that very afternoon, as he was walking back from the library, he saw Sylvia walking down the street ahead of him, wearing a provocative sun dress. Two men at a sidewalk cafe hailed the bronzed beauty, and to George's utter astonishment, his wife replied to their crude remarks and walking over to their table, caressed the chest of the stronger of the two. George followed her to the table without saying a word. Suddenly Sylvia looked up and saw him. Without any other reaction, she turned to the two men and excused herself for being unable to stay, and walked off down the street in the direction of home.
George walked after her, wondering how to deal with the situation. When he arrived home, he found Sylvia sitting in front of her dressing table, calmly brushing her long black hair, with the same expression of grave dignity that had so impressed him the first time he met her. He was seized by an uncontrollable rage. Twisting her arm, he dragged her to her feet. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, to speak to strange men in the street like a bitch in heat." With hate in her eyes she looked at him and hissed: "Is it my fault that you can't satisfy me?" That hurt him. "Whore," he shouted. She tore herself away from him and screamed at him to get out and stay out. The realization struck him that she no longer wanted him, that she was putting him out, and he realized also for the first time how much he needed her, how much he loved her. He took her by the arm, and pulling her towards him, covered her with kisses, caressing her rounded contours. She pushed him away. "Get out. You make me sick."
"But you're my wife," he murmured
"Not any more," came the reply.
George reached out an arm and catching hold of the neckline of her dress, pulled on it, ripping the dress in two. Brutally he ripped off her brassiere, then struck her hard across the face. Tears streamed down her face, which seemed lit up by a new beauty. "Go on darling, hit me." George was excited by the lascivious expression on her face and hit her twice more across the face, but she hardly flinched as if she were disappointed at their strength. Enraged by her scorn, he seized her by the hair and threw her on the bed, her buttocks in the air. He leaned over her and began to strike her rump with his fist. Sylvia started panted and sighing as if they were making love, "Hit me harder, darling. Prove you're a man. Hit me." He noticed her riding crop on the wall and tearing it down used that on his wife. She jerked at the shock, and with a rattle in her throat, murmured: "It's good, darling. It's good."
He had time to wonder if she rode because she liked to use the whip. Her rump was slowly being covered with blue weals, and he felt slightly sick, but Sylvia hissed at him; "Hit me harder, stupid if you don't want me to leave you." He imagined her in someone else's arms, or being whipped by an unknown, and his jealousy made him strike with renewed vigor. Soon her whole back was marked by the lash. Suddenly she turned over, panting, near her orgasm.
"I'm going to come, darling. Hit me on my thighs, on my sex. Hit me hard you dolt. Fool! Idiot! Bastard! Impotent! Hit me!" Her insults achieved their object. Maddened George whipped her legs and pubis, stimulated from time to time by more insults from Sylvia. She groaned then let for a scream of liberation "I'm coming, my darling. I'm coming." She gripped the bed covers and rolled over and over in pleasure, then fell still. George threw himself on his victim and took her normally.
CHAPTER VI
OUT OF THE BLACK PAST
George could never remember when he saw the large black for the first time. He had noticed his athletic build, his chiseled features, his beautiful mouth. He had a gymnast's body; large shoulders and a slim waist; and the head of a Greek God. On morning just outside his house, the black had appeared from no where and had remained upright in the sun as if waiting for someone. George couldn't help feeling jealous when he saw him, he was so puny beside this magnificent creature. Then suddenly he had the impression that the black was following him. He couldn't see him, but he felt his presence. The next day he met him as he left the library. The black stiffened slightly on seeing George, then looked him up and down with a mocking smile.
The following evening, as he returned home, he saw the black talking to a woman in front of his house. The woman was Sylvia and to judge from his intimate attitude he knew George's wife very well. She appeared to be angry, and when the black seized her hand, she snatched it away and ran off home in a temper.
When George arrived home, he found his wife looking pensively out of the bedroom window; "You saw me talking to Sam," she said. George nodded. "He was my first lover," she added. George was stunned. It had never occurred to him that his wife's first lover had not been white.
"What does he want?"
"Me," she replied in rage. "He abandoned me to go and make his fortune and now he thinks I'm going to fall into his arms at the drop of a hat." George leaned forwards in a defensive position.'
"What are we to do."
"Kill him," she answered. "Kill him." Her mouth was twisted with rage and George thought to himself how much she must still love Sam to hate him so well. And he knew he could never kill him.
Mosely was looking into the street through the attic window. He saw Sylvia opening the door to Sam. According to their plan, she was to take Sam into the house where he would surprise them and kill her first lover. He knew that juries always acquit betrayed husbands and he wanted to have the law on his side. Sylvia was talking to Sam. George imagined the surprise of the Negro at the sudden change in his mistress's attitude. Sylvia was to explain that she loved him, that she couldn't forget him, that he and he alone mattered to her. Instead of feeling jealous of the declaration of wife was making to Sam, George felt excited. He could imagine the desire of his rival for the woman he had abandoned but whose perfect body haunted him still. He saw Sam follow Sylvia into the house. Picking up his rifle, he tiptoed down to the first floor and hid in the bureau. He could hear the couple coming up the stairs and heading for the bedroom. "He won't be back until late," his wife was saying to the Negro. "I love you, you know. I was hoping that
George would be able to console me but he only made me realize all the more how much I need you." George peeped through the half-open door. He saw her put her arms round Sam's neck and kiss him passionately. He felt a pang of jealousy. Sylvia knew he was watching but was she really pretending. She looked as if she were really enjoying herself. When the black let her go, she seized him to her and devoured his mouth greedily. George said to himself: "She can't pretend a passion she doesn't feel. She must have a thrill at being squeezed by those enormous arms, crushed by his warm sensual presence."
George quivered voluptuously at the very idea. It was stimulating to see his wife swooning in his rival's arms. She murmured in Sam's ear: "Take me darling. If you knew how many times I've thought of this moment, dreamed of being in your arms. If you knew how many times I have masturbated myself pretending it was you."
The black hands were sliding over her dress, feeling the pointed breasts, the curved belly, the rounded hips. His thighs rubbed against hers; his knee forced open her legs. She was breathing with little whistling noises, and her fingers were groping over his trousers in search of his prick. "Darling, you're erect," she murmured. "Take me, take me please." He unbuttoned her dress and it fell to her feet, revealing a pink lace petticoat that George had never seen before. "I put this on for you darling," she whispered to Sam. "It's still bloodstained. It's the slip I was wearing when you raped me. Do you remember the day you met me in the woods. You hardly said a word, just dragged me on to the grass and raped me. God! How I hated and worshipped you that day. You made a woman of me. I've been yours ever since."
Sam said nothing. Brutally he lifted her petticoat. There were no panties underneath. His hand moved into her cunt, sliding between its lips, while she slipped her petticoat over her bead and flung it into a corner. Sam picked her up with no effort whatsoever and flung her on the bed. Rapidly he took off his trousers and pants; Sylvia undid his shirt for him. Now they were both naked. Sam opened out her legs and placed his truly enormous cock at the opening of her vagina, then entered her slowly but surely. "Ah! Your penis. How big you are. How I've dreamed of this moment. You're martyring me! Oh! You're the only one capable of giving me an orgasm in my cunny!"
George's pleasure, in watching the scene, was almost as great as theirs. The two bodies met and moved with un heard of voluptuousness. Suddenly Sylvia's cries became more urgent. "I'm coming, darling; I'm coming. Don't stop. Don't stop." The strokes used by Sam became more and more irregular, more and more complicated. He moved his penis inside her vagina in order to explore her furthest recesses. Finally, she yelled: "I've come. I've come. I'm all yours." After some fantastic jerks, she lay still on the couch, but Sam carried on hotly and laboring her until he too cried out and, biting her bronzed shoulder, jetted copiously into her vagina.
Then Sylvia sat up, and, leaning over his exhausted penis, began to suck it skillfully, covering it with little jabs of her tongue, gradually encouraging it back to its enormous proportions. To hasten the result, she manipulated his testicles with her hands. "I want you to take me the back way," she pleaded. The Negro smiled as his hands wandered over the roundness of her hump. He turned her over completely and began to kiss the smooth silky back. His tongue moved down down to the buttocks, found her anus and caressed it tantalizingly. Sylvia groaned in her excitement. "Take me darling," she begged. You know how I love you to penetrate me here." He separated her buttocks and slowly entered the narrow channel. "You're killing me," she cried. "How wonderful it is." She continued groaning, half in pain, half in pleasure while he assaulted her with regularity. "You've reached the end, my love," she moaned. "Oh! how I love it. Oh! how you hurt." She twisted and turned as if in agony. The man looked as if he had taken root in her, as if he grew from her. Suddenly he screwed her more brutally than before and both screamed out together and came in a single, united orgasm.
Without realizing what he was doing, George entered the room in order to watch the rest. Sam turned round, and on seeing George, still carrying his rifle, he leapt upon him. George had completely forgotten his murderous intentions, but took fright at this sudden attack. He lifted his rifle and fired twice. Sam sank to the floor, his eyes already glassy in death. Sylvia flung herself on the corpse and covered it with kisses. The renewed lovemaking with Sam had made her realize how much she loved him, how much she always would love him.
CHAPTER VII
STRANGE SATISFACTIONS
Nowadays George and Sylvia rarely made love together although they shared the same bed. George was far too afraid of his hot-blooded wife, and anyway, he slept too well at night. In spite of this profound sleep he had a splitting headache every morning when he woke up as if he had been out on a super-binge the night before.
One night he woke up about two in the morning. He turned over to look at Sylvia and discovered to his astonishment that there was no-one there. He looked all over the house but there was no sign of her. He decided to wait until morning before fetching the police, but when he awoke the second time. there was Sylvia sleeping calmly beside him as if nothing had happened.
After that George began to watch her carefully, and one night he noticed her slipping something into his food. He realized that his headaches were caused by some sleeping potion that she gave him every night so that she could slip out. But where did she go at these unearthly hours? He decided to follow her one night. The next time she poured the drug into his wine, he was careful to pour it all away. After dinner, he excused himself, sayin he was tired, and he undressed and went to bed. Sylvia rejoined him shortly afterwards and snuggled against him as usual. George was so excited at the thought of the coming night's adventure that his prick was erect and they made love for the first time in ages. Afterwards he dozed off but was startled into wakefulness by the sound of Sylvia tiptoeing out of the room. He jumped out of bed and pulled a pair of trousers and a sweater on over his pajamas. He was just in time to see her disappear ghostlike round the corner of the garden. She took the road leading to the port, without turning round once, so sure she was of herself, so obsessed with her goal. George was close behind her as she headed for the notorious district of Kingstown, streets that no honest woman enters even by day. Drunken sailors, powerful Negroes, third rate gangsters, all tried to intercept Sylvia, but she repulsed them all. Finally, she entered a shabby looking building that housed the best-known brothel in Kingstown. George stopped in horror when he saw where she had gone, but he didn't hesitate for long. He plunged in after her, and was in time to see her disappear through a small door at the other end of the main hall.
The Madam surged up in front of him, and George explained that he was interested in the young person who had just come in. "Sylvia?" came the reply. "Yes, lots of men like her, but there aren't many that she likes. But she is a day-girl, if I may use the expression. She doesn't live here and is therefore allowed to choose her partners. She has already chosen her five for tonight, plus her girl-friend; she likes to have her pleasures organized in advance."
"I am not", said George, "particularly interested in making love to her. If I could just watch...?"
This could be arranged for a consideration, and a few minutes later he found himself in a cheaply furnished room looking through a cunningly concealed slit into Sylvia's room. She was not alone. A white girl was sitting with her back to the wall, and a large Negro rather like Sam, was obviously awaiting instructions.
"Take me, my handsome", said Sylvia. The colored boy unbuttoned her dress under which she was wearing a black nylon brassiere and panties. Her most secret places were hidden and nothing is more exciting than this mystery. The black slid his left hand under her bra and began to knead her breast with obvious pleasure. His right hand was busy under her panties. Imaging this black hand caressing her pubis, the warm, moist lips of her cunt, the rosebud clitoris, George was beside himself with jealousy. But the pleasures the Negro was taking with Sylvia made her soon more exciting than ever, and George's penis was ticking like a pulse at the thought of their pleasure. Sylvia, who was being caressed in her most sensitive places, was wriggling with desire.
"Take me", she croaked. "Take me". The black slid her briefs down to the ground and her black bushy pubis was offered to the light. He wanted to push her onto the bed, but Sylvia refused. "No, take me standing up", she said. "Perverted eh?", he murmured. "Yes, I'm perverted", she replied excitedly. "I like being fucked by blacks like you", Her companion stripped, revealing a beautiful athletic body. He asked his partner to step over to the bed and raise one foot onto it, so that he could get at her more easily, When she was in position, he took his cock and, groping slightly between her thighs, placed it at the opening of her pussy. He leaned forwards slightly to give a better thrust. She snuggled up against him and he entered her right up to the balls. "How big you are", she murmured ecstatically. "You fill me completely. Now fuck me properly". Gritting her teeth she replied to his attacks with assaults of her own.
His method of taking her was rather peculiar. He withdrew almost completely then waited a second before driving it again right to the bottom. It was as if each stroke was the introductory one. Everyone knows that the most voluptuous moment for a woman is the first complete penetration from lip to furthest recess of the vagina. This erotic style made her senses run riot. She was swooning in his arms, crying words that had no meaning for him, though they were only too bitter for George. "You're another Sam for me. You fuck me as well as he does. I had you killed but you have risen again to punish me. Take you revenge oh! my darling. Hit me, spit on me while you fuck me." The black didn't obey her and she began to cry in desperation. "Spit on me, darling. I beg you. Beat me, spit on me, please.
The male began to strike her across the face and to spit in her mouth, without discontinuing his treatment of her vagina. The half-caste wench seemed to enjoy this humiliating treatment. She kept her head still so as not to miss one blow, and at the same time thrust back with her belly in response to his attacks down below. Suddenly she began to scream: "Hit me harder, you filth. Hurt me with your prick. Hit me. I'm coming. I'm coming." And with a last jerk, she collapsed in her partner's arms, while he in turn had his orgasm.
Other men were waiting their turn. "Bring in the second young man", she said to the blonde sitting on the divan. "Why not the old man?" she asked. "Not yet", replied Sylvia, washing herself over the bidet. "I don't feel perverted enough yet."
The second black who came in was smaller than the first but stockier with huge biceps and enormous muscles in his back. He looked as if he had been made for violence, particularly erotic violence. Sylvia informed him that she expected him to take her the back way, and he showed himself eager to obey her desires. When he was naked Sylvia began caressing his hairy body and finally reached his genital organs which hung like a bunch of fruit between his legs. "Why, you're not even erect", she cried with an obscene smile. "I'll soon see to that". She pressed herself against her partner and began rubbing her cunny against his penis while her hands played with the balls. "Now you're erect", she gloated. "Hellishly erect. You'll probably rip me". Turning round, she offered him her attractive buttocks. Touched by their beauty, the black leaned forward and kissed them with almost religious fervor. "How lovely you are," he whispered. "I've never seen such a lovely ass." He was naive and vulgar, but not unpleasing in his simplicity. He separated her buttocks and began to drive his monstrous prick into the opening. Sylvia breathed heavily. It always hurt her when the organ began to enter her anus, but afterwards she found the burning sensation caused by the friction of the male organ against the walls of her asshole highly voluptuous. It never failed to happen, and so once again her cries of pain were soon transformed into moans of pleasure. Not only did his male attacks no longer hurt her, they didn't even satisfy her. She needed more suffering, more pain. "Bite me, darling," she screamed. "Bite my back, I beg you. Drive your teeth into my flesh, rip at me, bite me." But no sooner had he sunk his teeth into her flesh than she began to come with long screams of pleasure. Her orgasm was far more violent this time, because it was the second and had been more difficult to achieve. She clapped her hands like a wounded bird. At the sight of her, her partner spurted his hot sperm. Next Sylvia called for the old man, and the blonde girl brought in an aged white man, his hair completely turned grey, his face covered with wrinkles, his back bent and his flabby hands shaken by a continuous trembling. Only his eyes were young, the shining happy eyes of a pervert or a madman. When he had undressed, the body he revealed was hideous in its skinniness, covered with veins and blood bruises. He caressed Sylvia's breasts before slipping one lecherous finger into her pussy. "I know I can't have an orgasm," he said in a light gay voice, "But I wouldn't be surprised if I had an erection." Sylvia knelt down and seized his dangling penis with her mouth. She began to suck it as if it were a stick of barley sugar or a lollipop. Her companion quivered voluptuously. "And they think that impotent people will never know the delights of love," he said. "But the sensations I get from your caresses are most pleasant." The session lasted quite a long time and George began to find it amusing, when suddenly the old man cried; "If you whip me now, I'll get an erection." She released his still shrunken organ and stood up. The old man walked over to the bed and lay on it with his buttocks upward. Sylvia began by hitting him with her hand, rather violently even, and her partner wriggled on the bed and encouraged her efforts. "Harder. Hit me harder. Spare no pity for my rear. It's committed many sins. Many men have known it. Strike it, beat it." Sylvia realized that her hand was not enough and took from a cupboard in the wall a superb cat o'nine tails with which she belabored his rump, then his whole back, was red with delight, she took an obvious pleasure in the pain she was inflicting; and the old man was moaning with pleasure. Suddenly he contracted himself, and dribbled slightly onto the bedcover. "It's come, my darling. I'm erect." Sylvia stopped immediately and asked to see it with a horrible greedy expression in her eyes. Proudly the man rolled over and indeed there was his penis upright between his thighs, quite stiff enough to make love. Sylvia kissed it tenderly. "Can't you put it in me?" she asked. "But I can't have an orgasm" replied the old man. "That doesn't matter. I think it would be very exciting to feel your prick rubbing the walls of my vagina. Please don't refuse me."
"I must," said the old man. "The doctor has told me not to stay erect too long."
Sylvia was disappointed but turned to her female companion for consolation. The blonde began to caress Sylvia's body with obvious pleasure, then, kneeling in front of her, began to lick her pussy skilfully. Sylvia propped herself on the woman's shoulder and thrust forward her abdomen so that her task would be easier. But she murmured: "I don't think I'll come this way. It's never worked yet. Try with the false penis." A little put out, the woman fetched a large rubber prick from the cupboard and tied it on. Then the two females embraced each other passionately, plucking each other's nipples and caressing their round rumps. In the meantime the woman was rubbing up and down Sylvia's clitoris with the penis, and finally she inserted it into the vagina. Sylvia sighed and murmured: "The rubber is worn and rough, but that makes it all the more agreeable." Later she added: "Try in the anus. I'm more sensitive there. I'll never come here." The lesbian separated her buttocks and began sliding the organ into the hole, while Sylvia moaned and panted: "That's better now I can feel it. It's gone right to the bottom. It's taken me all the way. It's wonderful," But it was obvious that she took far less pleasure in the proceedings than her partner and that she indulged in these homosexual practices more through curiosity than desire. The blonde shook her head sadly, saying: "I shall never be able to show you the pleasures of love. You need more brutal embraces." Sylvia removed the penis that had penetrated her and said "It doesn't matter. Send in the other two Negroes." Two lusty colored fellows came in. They had the proportions of a house and about as much intelligence. Sylvia greeted them with the following words: "I want you both to take me at the same time. You in front and you behind," she pointing to one after the other. They stripped for action and it was to be seen that they were already erect. Then they took their places. The Negro in front of her raised her leg and placed it over his right arm. This gave him free access to the vagina. In the mean time the other was caressing her buttocks from behind. The front one inserted his organ into her vagina with great delicacy. He was very attentive about his movements and appeared to be acting in slow motion. His partner was much more brutal and drove his penis into her anus with such cruelty, that he looked as if he wanted to rip her open. She screamed with pain, and the pleasure that the first gave her by his slow entrance was mingled with pain at the brutality of the second and increased her enjoyment. Then both men humped her together. But each took her in his way. Sylvia must have been split between two simultaneous pleasures, so different one from the other, but which met on another plane in an erotic earthquake. She swayed between them, beautiful to see, suffering and exalted at the same time. The blonde woman sat on the bed, her eyes wide in admiration and envy.
She felt like taking part in the act and, climbing onto the bed, she offered her pussy to the half-caste girl, begging her to caress it. Sylvia was happy to find new food for pleasure and with one hand she played with the blonde's clitoris. Then she noticed the old man still sitting in a corner. "I want to make everyone happy," she cried. "I want everyone to come and with you all I shall know delight as I have never know it." She used her mouth to play with the Lesbian's clitoris, jabbing at it with her tongue, and she employed her hands to knead the balls and penis of the old man. It was monstrously beautiful, this scaffolding of flesh all lost in the pleasures of love. It seemed eternal and traditional, the essence of eroticism, far beyond the petty exigencies of modern standards. It defied narrowness and exclusiveness, it was almost divine.
George realized that in Sylvia, the girl of mixed blood, it was the primitive that had won. She had tried to join the civilized world, but her rich temperament had burst all dams. He realized also how stupid he had been to try and keep her for himself. He left his position as peeping Tom, left the room, left the building. He went home and there he packed his suitcase, and took the first boat leaving the island.
CHAPTER VIII
ORIENTAL SURPRISES
George organized his life very well on his return. He obtained a divorce without any difficulty and married his original fianc�e. He had the satisfaction of deflowering her, which bolstered up his fading self-esteem and for several years they were very happy. Then came the war, and after the war, George was sent to Indochina on a mission. In Saigon the population was suffering from famine but the victorious troops lacked nothing. Many officers of the Allied Army spent their time in continual orgies, and not least George.
One evening he was invited to a 'party' given by an
American colonel. In his flat, apart from a few carefully chosen men, there were a dozen beautiful Indochinese girls. They had gone very hungry during the war years and were prepared to offer anything in exchange for a good meal. The tables were groaning under the weight of the food, and 'wine flowed like a fountain'. The lovely, slant-eyed females flung themselves on the buffet and did honor to their host's offerings. The men watched in amusement. They had the impression that they were fattening the calf before the sacrifice. The lucky guests couldn't drag themselves away from the food. They wondered when they would ever see such a feast again. The men encouraged their gluttony. There was something foul and lecherous about their abandon.
Red and sweating, their breath stinking with the smell of alcohol, their bellies stuffed with food, the courtesans rolled onto couches or on the carpet, waiting for the men's embraces. They hoped to digest the excess of food by the gymnastics of love. After the feast, love. It was only natural. The woman hoped the men would crown their pleasure by taking possession of them. In all three rooms, women were begging for caresses, raising their dresses to show their rounded bellies.
George was confronted by a delicate Indochinese girl with intelligent eyes, who asked him if he wouldn't like to make love with her. He was a little embarrassed by this direct attack, and she thought he might be impotent. "If you like I can just suck your prick," she offered and, kneeling down, she began to unbutton his fly. George found this exciting and let her continue. In spite of her apparent youth, she lived up to the reputation of Oriental woman, and soon George began to pant in desire. The adolescent's tongue tickled the edge of his prick with unheard of precision, then slid down to the balls with delicate skill. While she sucked him, she continued undoing his trousers and, with his help, took them off completely. With velvet hands she caressed his buttocks, then inserted her finger into his anus. It wasn't long before he came.
Everywhere, on the couches, on the floor, rutting women were offering their vaginas or their anuses to the soldiers, and soon cries of pleasure filled the air from these couples. And these cries seemed to provoke more, to stimulate louder screams, as if all the men and women in the place had been harnessed to the same difficult task, as if they were all attached to the same rope that rose towards the unattainable summits of pleasure.
Those who had finished their task, wandered round watching the others, commenting on their methods; some of the Frenchmen, when they found someone particularly clumsy, thrust him away, continuing the good work themselves and saying: "Look at that. That's the way to fuck, man."
Some of the women, knocked about a bit too much, vomited during the erotic proceedings and sperm and vomit were mixed. Others, whose males had freed them, remembered the buffet, and wandered off naked to have a snack. This was too much for some of the men, and soon girls who were calmly eating a cheese sandwich or drinking a bottle of beer, were being fucked or bugged at the same time.
Suddenly a very beautiful woman, skillfully made up entered one of the rooms. She was dressed in a transparent skirt through which her black underskirt was clearly visible, and a brassiere. In her thick red hair, she wore a garland of holly. Her face seemed vaguely familiar to most of the men but no-one could place it, least of all give it a name. One of the Americans spoke to her, and she replied very gently in perfect English, which added to the mystery. The soldier took her in his arms, but she slid out of the embrace "I am very delicate, but if you would like to kiss my shoulder I'm willing." The soldier kissed the tender flesh greedily, and the woman quivered voluptuously, and fell back onto a couch. When the American wanted to take her, she rolled over and offered her anus. He hesitated a second, then, separating her buttocks, penetrated the strange woman, who moaned with delight. When he had come, he withdrew from his partner, but couldn't resist the pleasure of caressing her smooth round back. He played with her hair, until he suddenly had the impression that the whole head of hair moved with his hand. He continued the movement and a wig came away in his hand to reveal cropped hair. He wondered why she had disguised herself but was too preoccupied with her body to pay much attention. His hands slid over the plump flanks, but when they moved lower down, there was an awful sock awaiting them. His mistress was not built like other women. She had a cock instead of a slit. It was a man disguised as a woman.
In horror, the soldier rolled his partner over and under the makeup he recognized his host, the colonel, who had profited from the general confusion, to dress in his favorite clothes and offer himself to a man. The soldier vomited on the carpet. His partner tried to comfort him, but the soldier threw him off with his fists. The colonel laughed the happy laugh of a woman beaten by her lover.
Suddenly a young soldier came up to the colonel and said: "I know you like men, and that you like to bugger them as much as you like being buggered. If you like I'm willing to let you take me." George started, for the soldier was the image of Sylvia, the same sleepy eyes and perfect mouth, the same rather broad nose, and most of all, the same pure, perfidious expression. The colonel smiled and asked his new friend to present his rump. The soldier turned round, and half dropping his trousers, offered his bottom to his superior officer. When he saw the pretty white ass before him, the colonel had an erection straightaway, and, seizing the young man by the hips, thrust his enormous penis into the anus. The boy quivered with pleasure.
"Those are Sylvia's buttocks," thought George. "And she likes being taken like my ex-wife." The colonel was laboring the soldier's bottom, and exclaiming: "No woman has an ass as pleasant as a man's. I'd give all the cunts in the world for this imp's ass. It's a real treat, this ass." His partner wriggled lecherously at these words. Suddenly the colonel cried: "It's coming, you rascal. It's wonderful....Aaaah! I've come. I've come."
"You're filling me with sperm," cried the soldier. "I've come too. I haven't been so well buggered in years." At that moment, the officer wanted to touch his lover's penis, but cried out: "Where is your penis? You haven't got one. You've been castrated!"
The soldier turned round and dropped his trousers completely. It was a woman, with hard pointed breasts and a downy pubis. "A woman," threw in one of his guests, a diplomat. "I asked her to dress as a man for you. You played the reverse trick on me once and I've never forgotten it."
"A woman," spat the colonel in disgust. "A woman. It's enough to make you sick; I'd rather eat dung," and he stumbled put of the room.
George walked over to the woman. "Good evening, Sylvia" he said. She looked at him without blinking. "You don't remember me?" She smiled; "Should I ? I've made love with so many men, women and beasts that I can't remember everybody." George felt his heart break again. He realized that he still loved his nymphomaniac half-caste. She must have read his thoughts, for she looked sad and she said: "I'm sorry I don't remember you. But does it matter. Do you want to make love to me? Go ahead. Fuck me ... bugger me. I don't need to know your name to have an orgasm." But these words took away all his desire.
But if he didn't want her, others did. One of the guests came up, and as she raised her right leg to help him, he penetrated her with a penis that would have been worthy of a horse. But even that was not enough for Sylvia. She asked someone to hit her from behind, and soon she was surrounded, caressed, beaten, buggered. Sadly George walked away and sat down beside his little Indochinese girl, who was snoring off the effects of food and love.
A friend of his came over and joined him. He had no inkling of George's sorrow, and told him what had just happened to him. "Just think, old man. There was this lovely brunette, dressed in a grey birds-eye sheath dress. I flung her on the carpet and made love to her. She screwed like a madwoman. When I got up one of the boys asked me if he could take over, and me, always gallant, I let him carry on. But, dear boy, I've hardly moved a step when I see this same luscious piece wearing a white woollen dress. I think it's a hallucination. Even Leigh couldn't change that fast. Any way she calls me darling and starts caressing me. At that moment another of the fellows comes up and tries to cut in. I let him get away with it and turned around to walk off, when, damn me, if I don't see the same wench wearing a dark green decollete. Dress was most exciting so I fucked her there and then. Two minutes later I see her standing in front of me in the grey dress. I begin to get worried, ol boy, and I pop my head under the tap in the kitchen...but straight after I see her in the white dress. It's too much for any man, so I ask the girl how she manages the quick changes. Damn me, if they weren't triplets. But I tell you, it's much better to have one woman who changes her dress often, than to have a harem of triplets. It's too confusing."
From afar George heard the voluptuous cries of his ex-wife. Then she disappeared with the man who had incited her to dress as a soldier. The colonel's Alsatian was invited to join the party, and didn't have to be asked twice to lick her pussy with his sandpaper tongue.
Finally, she dressed in her own clothes and jewels, and, very elegant, came back into the room where George was sitting. Several men and an Indochinese Lesbian threw themselves upon her.
George watched the beautiful half-caste, who was being fucked and buggered simultaneously by two Americans. He rose and sadly left the party.
He never saw Sylvia again.
THE END
SOCIETY DOCTOR
CHAPTER I
This morning was an exciting one for me. As I put on the heavily starched blouse and stuffed my hair under the immaculate nurses cap. My heart beat wildly. This was to be my first day to practice my profession as assistant to a renowned specialist of this city. At last the dream I had long nourished was about to come true.
Before going too deeply into my experience, however, I presume I should introduce myself.
As of a month I am twenty five years old, of medium stature, slight and proportionate but, to quote my interne friends, "well turned." I wear my mass of auburn sun-tinted hair in a chignon poised over my neck.
That about does for a description of me. Oh, but wait, I had forgotten my eyes are gray green or green gray I don't, of course, know too well myself. But I have always been told that they are of a very special tint. As for my mouth I recall the description of the director of St. Luke's Hospital who said it alternated between being shaped by petulance and disdain.
My dear parents gave me the ridiculous name of Antoinette. In school the other girls and the boys with whom we amused ourselves called me Tony. My dear friends, however called me Minouche which, I believe, you too will find nice and more becoming to me.
While still a brat, and even later in the high school of the village of my youth, nothing ever indicated my future vocation.
My mother wished me to become a teacher. My father on the other hand saw me in the solemn robes of a lawyer, perhaps later even a judge. Picture yourself their deception and anger when I announced that I wanted to become a nurse.
In the beginning they thought this to be another youthful and passing dream. As time went on, however, and I continued to refuse the black robe of lawyer and persist in my preference for the white one of the nurse my father, whose nature was lively and extrovert, began making scenes. There were cries and even beatings, punctuated by the tears of myself and my more tolerant mother.
I finally tired them out by my insistence. One day after another talk with my mother my father said, "That since I was more stubborn than all the mules of Spain, and that as he was wasting his breath and energy trying to prevent my mistake, that I could with his permission study nursing. Sarcastically he added, "that I could still register for the study of law when I should have enough of diapering babies and emptying smelly chamberpots."
Shortly thereafter with a small sum of money offered by my parents I arrived in Blackpool. I registered at St. Luke's Hospital to study and work for my diploma as registered nurse.
I suffered difficult years. Especially difficult, as the life was not as I had naively envisioned it. Instead of the white blouse, I was wearing some rough blue costume. And instead of promenading as the white angel through wards and corridors I would visit them clad in my rough blues, and then only to wash the tiles, to empty the filthy bandage receptacles and, of course, bed pans and chamber pots.
Tearfully, I would often want to throw over the whole idea. Cracked with fatigue, revolted to vomiting by some of my tasks I certainly was in a negative state of mind and mood. My pride was stronger however I swallowed my tears and controlled my discouragement until one day this level headedness bore its victory. I was able to discard my horrible blue costume and don the lovely white I had so long aspired to.
I was put in charge of the laboratory. Later, after a brief special work-study I was made assistant to one of the directors.
As I thought of myself, however, I realized that though my dream had become concretely realized many of my youthful illusions had vaporized into nothing. I no longer idolized the nursing profession I liked very much.
On exchanging the blue for the white costume I had also ceased being the buffer for the unhappy nurses and interns who would spend their dissatisfaction and frustration calling me names such as sponge, towel, bedpan etc. I had once again become Toni, and for a certain few even Minouche.
Life in a hospital was entirely different from what we called the normal universe outside. The special atmosphere of a hospital, the freedom of expression existing between nurses and interns, the building and corridors impregnated with ether and iodine stimulated the girls. They offered a thousand opportunities to accept the propositions constantly offered by the young men.
In logical consequence I became the mistress of Doctor Martin an intern in his third year.
CHAPTER II
James Martin was one of these big and jolly fellows, always playing tricks telling stories and laughing. In spite of his unmitigated gall, or perhaps because of it, it was understood, and especially by the direction, that James would become a great physician. He was consequently always forgiven his deviltry especially toward the female personnel.
Our relationship began while on night duty I encountered him in a deserted corridor. Calling me with a persuasive, professional finger into his office he began at once to tell me how much I pleased him, how I was too beautiful to remain alone and all the usual vocabulary of compliments before kissing me heartily and sensuously on my full lips.
I had been lonely and loneliness became painful especially as I was frequently an involuntary but not unwilling observer of love scenes between my fellow nurses and the interns. Since he was a good looker I gave myself to his kisses with much ardor.
Our tongues contorted themselves in a long spine-creeping kiss which left me tenderly limp in his arms.
I had thrown my arms around his neck. He held me in such a tight embrace that I felt against my thighs the hard assurance of his desire for me.
Sensing my abandon he released one of his arms to begin caressing my breasts through my clothing. Not finding sufficient enjoyable contact, his hand wandered to my back where he at once sought to unbutton my uniform, knowing very well that we nurses wore but the briefest undergarments.
I tried to protest mildly and timidly, whereupon he put his other arm around my waist pulling me assuringly towards him. A constant flow of soft endearing terms soon stifled my protests.
I felt my bra open and a gentle and caressing hand imprison one of my breasts. My youthful breasts could not resist this soft and lovely massage.
The twin nipples began to harden between the rolling caress he gave them between his thumb and index finger. I could not repress a moan of joy. His manly mouth and penetrating tongue choked the second one out of existence.
I tried brusquely, taking advantage of surprise, to free myself. I felt his hand which had been caressingly resting on my back trying to pull up my blouse. My tentative resistance was unsuccessful however, for at this very instant James' mouth left mine and his face sunk into my breasts. With a delicious shiver I felt his soft tongue, warmly wetted with saliva titillate the strawberries of my pleasure hardened breasts.
A sudden chill brought me back to my senses. I realized that he had undressed and uncovered my back up to my belt. His two hands were nervously caressing my mound of venus trying to insinuate themselves into my panties.
"Ah, lovely kitten how you delight me," he purred while delicately biting my ear.
Both he and I were so excited that he would have taken me right there on the office rug if the house phone had not interrupted our frolics.
At first James pretended that he heard nothing. With the insistence of the ringing however his sense of duty returned. Tearing himself away he took up the phone. It was the nurse from the emergency ward requesting his immediate attendance to a patient having a serious hemorrhage. The professional again, James gave curt orders and said he would be there at once.
"Don't worry my chick. It is only a postponed game. You lose nothing by waiting." He embraced me on the run and was gone. I quickly set about to put my clothes in order. Having straightened my nurses cap I made a quick survey of the corridor to make sure no one would see me leaving an office where I had no business.
Three days later he made me his mistress.
We were both off duty. After taking me to see a new film he led me to a small and charming hotel. Apparently he was known there for we were immediately received with a knowing but discreet smile and indication of room number. Contrary to my fears the room was charmingly and intimately furnished. It was a studied effort to make one forget where one was.
No sooner was the door closed when James took off my coat and proceeded unhesitatingly to undress me, interrupting only occasionally with kisses and caresses here and there. These made me laugh and blush alternately.
The moment I stood completely nude before him he threw me on the bed and began to cover me with caresses more and more precise and maddening.
Studiedly his wanton hands explored me. His mouth wandered deliciously over my feverish body, annointing my hardened nipples with his saliva and probing my navel with his pointed tongue. Soon he had thrown my legs apart and sunk delight provoking lips into the curly fur of my pussy.
I was immodestly stretched out on the bed rolling with sensual pleasure when suddenly he tore off the remainder of his own clothes.
With langor fear and joy I regarded his solid muscular body while he undressed. Turning with a smile he stood there with his virile vibrating pecker aggressively outstretched toward me.
Immediately he joined me on the bed. Placing me in the desired position he sunk his cock into me with such force that I could not refrain from giving a painful cry. At once he began a rolling movement of a slow and deep rhythm. In a cracked voice he murmured mad, impassioned terms to which I could only reply with long repeated, moans of pleasure.
Alas the pleasure was short lived. I had only begun to taste the delicious fruit and its sensation when the sensation began to subside. Spent and groaning James had fallen to my side. I understood at once that James would always be too fast. With him I would never taste the joy of orgasms in their full splendor.
Nevertheless our adventure lasted for almost six months during which time he was always kind and tender. I noticed, however that he was becoming more and more distracted and that our meetings became more infrequent. The reasons be advanced were feeble and futile. Others of the staff told me with obvious sadistic pleasure that James was playing court to a nurse, recently arrived from another hospital for some postgraduate study.
Our liaison ended as suddenly as it had begun, and without too many regrets. For some time thereafter I remained calm and aloof concentrating on my studies until one day I was called to the head nurse and informed that I had been assigned to section A. I was to become assistant to Professor Roach, the celebrated nerve specialist.
It was an unexpected and even unhoped for advancement for me. Felicitations or jealousy were offered me by everyone. Jealousy predominated however as it had become rumored that the eminent Professor himself had requested me.
CHAPTER III
Doctor Hector Roach differed in every respect from my ex-lover, Doctor Martin. Doctor Martin had always been extrovert, loud talking, and always laughing heartily, Doctor Roach, on the other hand, was superbly poised and of an outstanding distinction. His temples bore the silver patina of the approaching fifties. Never in his relationships with patients or staff did he depart from an extreme courtesy.
I had known him for some time already having taken one of his courses. Also I had not failed to notice the undressing looks, he would give me when thinking I was too busy to observe them.
I knew from the prolonged handshakes exceeding his usual courtesy, as well as from a certain flair he had when meeting him in the wards or hall-ways that my youth had irresistibly attracted him and that he desired me.
He was very timid notwithstanding his great renown and his high position. I, on the other hand, was deterred by my profound respect and his polite and distant attitude. I was later to learn that this attitude was but a cover up for an extreme timidity. Never would there ever have been anything between us had it not been for a lucky accident.
One of our surgeons had been awarded a national honor in recognition for his work in cardiography. Naturally the personnel of St. Luke's organized a celebration which terminated in a ball. During a waltz Professor Roach confessed having a great liking for me. The ice had been broken and having gained courage he invited me to the buffet supper. While supping I learned that under his cold exterior Professor Roach was really warm and gentle.
Discreetly he made it known that he did not get along too well with his wife. Following the birth of their second child she had been very ill. Since that time she suffered with impatience and annoyance his occasional entry. He however, as I soon learned, remained not only himself in sexual matters but became even more absorbed by the question of sex.
This same day he made me understand with the utmost tact how much he desired me. As for myself, little nurse, I was extremely flattered to be desired by a man of his distinction. Then too, he actually pleased me very much. After the required reserve including a gentle refusal which he soon countered with soft endearing pleading, I accepted.
He fixed our rendezvous for the morrow in a discreet small apartment he owned in the city.
I awaited him with great impatience at the appointed place. When he met me in his car we regarded each other with the sly and joyous smile of children up to mischief.
Once there he drew heavy curtains over the window and lighted two lamps whose rose tinted shades gave a light accentuating softly the cosy intimacy of his tasteful apartment.
Having passed a few delicious moments in standing embrace he seated himself on the bed and asked that I should slowly disrobe before him to stimulate his excitement. As he showed himself such a master at gentle, sensual persuasion that I soon stood before him clad only in stockings and garter belt. Before I had found the daring to remove these of my own volition, he propelled me bottoms up onto the large low bed. Instantaneously he covered me with passionate caresses.
I realized at once that he had had much experience in seductions, as the gestures and the movements of his caressing hands never failed. Expertly they found the most sensitive parts of my body.
Still slightly intimidated by him, I was stretched out and given without defense to his perverse desires. Self conscious because of being nude I closed my eyes. Held tightly in a caress, I had not noticed that he had succeeded in undressing himself. When a moment later he asked me to open my eyes I gave a cry of surprise and bashfulness as I saw that he was completely nude and that his prick was asserting it's virility in a total erection. It was like a flower balancing itself with difficulty in the wind. Instantly he was lying beside me and continued his kisses and caresses. Slowly his mouth, which had been hungrily backing my breasts like a nursing infant wandered further over my body and approached my pussy, humid with excitement and impatience.
His lips wandered tickingly over my thighs and embedded themselves into the downy hairs of my mound of Venus. With his two hands he tenderly forced open my thighs and at once his mouth sought the open lips of my pussy. A cry of ecstasy accompanied the delicate sensation of his tongue insinuating itself into the folds of my pussy, already moist with tears of love.
Sensing that I was about to come and swoon with ecstasy in response to his prodigious and most agreeable caresses, he came on top of me. He moved slowly and with a studied refinement which sent me into deliriums of pleasure. His cock, now at its peak dimension caressed me so much more agreeably than James'.
In a raucous voice, which I no longer recognized, he began giving instructions to increase the joy of our experience.
"Open wide, my little angel...wider, wider still... lift your legs up into my arms...you will feel me better...that's it, like that., .do you feel how well how deep it goes in...
Attentively devoted to prolonging our sex act, desirous of having me taste as long as possible the pleasure of love, he would wisely with much expert understanding and control vary his movements and their intensity. Finally feeling my exhaustion, and realizing that we had reached the extreme limit of our immediate resistance he spurted in a fiery orgasm.
Still holding me tightly against him, his spent pecker now only lightly caressing, he passed a hand beneath my inflamed pussy. Playing lightly at first, he suddenly sunk an inquisitive finger into my most secret and intimate part, my anus.
I cried out loud under the surprise of this intrusion. I lost completely consciousness in an apotheosis of sensations. I seemed to explode, my whole being seemed to dissolve in an iridescence of light and colors, here and there punctuated by my actual cries of a delirious orgasm. It was the first time I had tasted the pleasure of sex in such blissful completeness. Having regained somewhat my self control, I threw myself against his breast, still heaving from the effort, to thank him. Naturally I became mad for him. Our liaison soon proved a long series of love scenes in the little apartment which so sheltered our amorous secrecy. I had made a profound discovery. Whereas his age had deprived him of prolonged resistance it had given him an incomparable knowledge of the pleasures of the flesh. Our understanding was perfect. Never did we reveal our secret through a betraying gesture or word. He made me understand that his social position could not tolerate the slightest scandal. He was widely known to lead an irreproachable life. The fact of having taken a mistress from among the nurses, he being the father of two children of a marriageable age, would have cost him the esteem of his fellows and most certainly of the puritanical society of Blackpool he frequented. As for myself I loved him too much to have caused him the slightest concern. At St. Luke's all our relationships and associations remained strictly professional. Once we were united in our hideaway, however, life was a veritable orgy of caresses and pleasures. Correct, impeccable and cold to all who did not know him intimately, he was to me everything every fault and quality, being a male could imply.
It was he who taught me everything two lovers might do for mutual enjoyment and indulgence. I was ignorant of all the subtleties of eroticism. Obsessed to learn everything I could I ceded to his most perverse desires. From time to time I would nevertheless become shocked by this or that position, one more obscene than the other. At such times I would laughingly call out:
"A great man you are but you are also certainly a pig and a vicious one at that!..."
His eyes would light up with pleasure and his response would be even more audacious kisses and caresses.
Naturally we took advantage of every moment of freedom to be together without risks for him.
One day with some pretext or other he called me to his office. Once alone he announced joyously that we would at last be able to spend a night together. This was something we had long anticipated but had been unable to realize as he was obliged to be most prudent in respect to his wife.
Since I was most visibly surprised he told me that an international conference of doctors was to meet in London to coordinate the research undertaken throughout the world.
This conference, which would give voice to the most eminent practitioners of medicine throughout the world was to open in three days. My lover however had announced to his associates and his wife that he would leave that very evening so as to make contact with certain colleagues in London before the actual opening of the conference.
Actually he did not leave until the following day giving us one most delicious total night of love.
What might I recall and tell of all the follies of love we enjoyed this night? Yes there is one episode however when Hector taught me a way of love completely unknown to me.
I was languorously stretched out full length on my belly relaxing. My lover's hands were caressingly promenading over my pussy and nude bottom. I let him amuse himself while I tasted with pleasure my reactions to his soft and warm hands. Feeling his fingers becoming suddenly curious I tried to turn around to face him. Too late! Lying his full length on top of me he took my face in his hands and after several light, delicate playful kisses he pleaded his strange request into my ear...
"But darling you are not serious?" I replied having overcome the first shock of surprise at his request.
"Yes, my little girl. It is one of the great proofs of love a woman can give her lover. You must consent. I adore it and I adore you."
"But darling, see for yourself...it is so small...so very small..."
"Nevertheless, my angel, it can be done I assure you. Won't you at least let me try?..."
Frightened by the unexpected proposal of this sex act of which I had never even thought, I resisted for a long time. So well did he know his powers of persuasion however that after many protestations of love, promises of joy and playful bantering I finally consented to submit to his strange caprice.
Feeling me conquered and at his mercy Hector placed me in required position. I was crouched on all four paws, my breast dangling provocatively. I resembled a little nude Mohammedan in prayer.
I turned my head to give a worried look behind me where he had placed himself ready for action. My eyes caught a mirror which reflected our immodest and daring position. I had the impression that I was looking at a vigorous and savage centaur preparing to impose his desires on a young mare trembling with fear.
As his strange possession of me began I screamed and sought to bend my body to escape the burning shaft so cruelly penetrating my ass-hole. Held vice-like by my thighs escape was impossible. I had to suffer this painful initiation.
When for a moment I turned my tear stained face toward him he bit and embraced my neck while with a voice hoarse with desire he asked if I wished him to stop.
Indeed, I felt like asking for mercy. As I realized that this would deprive him of joy and satisfaction he had no doubt long contemplated I refrained. Moreover, in spite of the painfulness of this embrace I was feeling a bitter-sweet pleasure being thus brutalized by the man I loved. Shivering and still fearful I told him to continue. To the end I suffered the torture which he inflicted on me with fierce, and merciless, ardor. With strong, deeply penetrating strokes I was nailed crying and shivering, though strangely happy to the bed. A miserable butterfly impaled on the shaft of a sex-mad doctor.
CHAPTER IV
One day, our luck which so far had so favored us, changed. My studies were almost completed, when suddenly Hector received the offer of an exceptionally important position in a large French hospital.
For some time he withheld his decision. He knew very well that acceptance would break up our love affair as it was out of question that I follow him. Nothing seemed to justify my doing so.
We were desperate but reason proved the stronger eventually. He made his departure as saddened and depressed as was I, in spite of the honors his new position promised. But alas, what could we do?
While I had been indifferent about the breakup with James the departure of Hector plunged me into a terrible sadness. At every slight provocation I would begin to cry. I had lost all interest in everything. My heart was broken for I had truly and sincerely loved this man so much older than myself. He had been so good and so kind, so very very much in love and with his little angel as he called me in our unforgettable moments of happiness.
Eventually time, which heals all wounds, decided to appease my unhappiness which all the time had seemed inconsolable.
Little by little I could finally think of or hear the name Doctor Roach pronounced without breaking into tears. I applied myself to my work again, guarding in my heart the precious and unforgettable moments passed with my lover Hector.
A few months later I passed my final examinations and left St. Luke's. With ease I found a position in a large dispensary in town. My salary was not very high but I succeeded in working and living quite well.
I was living with a friend, also a nurse, with whom I shared lodgings and expenses. As she was very agreeable we lived together harmoniously.
The only thing I could possibly reproach Dorothy was her flighty character. She would happily pass from one flirtation to another never attaching herself sufficiently to any young man to really learn to love him.
Thoroughly surprised at my being alone she felt herself called upon to remedy a situation which to her was impossible. She insisted on presenting me to a number of nice young men. Though I found some of them charming I would scon find myself comparing them to my old lover. After a hopeless comparison I would simply leave them and go home alone.
During the hours not spent at work I read a great deal, went to the cinema for walks with Dorothy and other friends. In spite of all my efforts, however, my loneliness weighed heavily on my spirits.
My body and my senses protested agonizingly the chastity to which I seemed condemned. It was insufferable after having been satiated, even feasted, with love and its many varied pleasures.
Frequently, when alone in bed, I would toss and turn unable to sleep or even relax sufficiently to prompt sleep. To calm my exasperated senses I would let my mind wander recapturing a kaleidoscope of the mad and happy hours with Hector in our love nest. Unable to continue my resistance I would indulge myself in the solitary pleasure of masturbation. Though this would prostrate me in spent desire, it lacked the joy, abundance, and variation I had known in the arms of my lover.
Such was my dull life for almost a year until one morning a letter brought a change of destiny.
I knew at once that the letter was from Hector for it bore a French postmark. I was terribly excited and curious for we had agreed on parting not to communicate so as to make forgetting easier.
I locked myself in my room to escape the curiosity of my roommate, Dorothy. No sooner had I torn the envelope than tears inundated my eyes for he had begun his letter with, My Little Angel." It seemed I heard him murmur this endearment I had loved so well.
He wrote that he was director of one of the largest hospitals in France and that his work was of the great interest to him.
Sighing, adoring, I read and reread the passage to follow:
"My thoughts remain pre-occupied with the image of my angel in spite of my efforts to dispel it. Often I feel like abandoning everything and coming to you. Sometimes I would give the finest hospital in the world to be again at St. Luke's, to sense and feel you near me awaiting our next secret rendezvous."
Coming to the purpose of his letter he wrote, "I have recently met an old friend who specializes in some aspect of psychoanalysis, treating women's nervous ailments. He has a small private hospital in London catering to a clientele of high society.
I have told him all about you, giving him especially my appreciation of you. I believe he is desirous of engaging you as his personal assistant. He will write you himself using my name as reference.
If this interests you I shall be infinitely happy to have provided you some small pleasure even from this distance. This, alas, is the only means I have of showing my appreciation of the great happiness you were able to give to this old man, or should I not say, old pig. Do you remember how often you so tenderly mocked me with such names?"
The letter ended with such tender sentiments so beautifully expressed that I threw myself on the bed and burst into uncontrollable tears.
After the passing of two weeks I had begun to wonder if the job offer by the friend in question had not been forgotten, when I received a long letter offering me the position of assistant on the recommendation of my former superior at St. Luke's.
His name was Doctor Smetena. Later as I expressed curiosity as to his strange name he told me that he was the son of a Russian having emigrated to England during the revolution. So as to avoid an extended correspondence and to discuss matters Doctor Smetena suggested that I come to London so that I would see for myself the work expected and the conditions offered.
He concluded his letter saying that he felt confident of our agreeing, and that even if the contrary should prove true my entire expenses would be reimbursed.
The following day I asked leave for three days and took the night train for London.
Once arrived in London the following morning I registered in the hotel which had been recommended to me. Having attended to my toilet I went at once to the given address.
Dr. Smetena's establishment was situated in a very chic section bordering on Hyde Park. My taxi brought me to a large villa surrounded by carefully groomed lawns, and sumptuous trees.
I rang the bell of the grilled gate. A young maid came to open and to inquire as to my wishes. Having told her that I had been called to see the Doctor I was shown into an exquisite waiting room. The Doctor, I was told, was out but would certainly not be long in returning.
My wait proved long. For fully an hour I waited without anything happening to distract me when suddenly the door opened and a smiling distinguished man came toward me offering me his hand in genuine cordiality.
"You are Miss Turner, I believe. I am truly delighted to know you, Miss. My very dear friend Roach has spoken of you in such impassioned terms that I have been anxious to meet you. I hope that you have had a pleasant trip. How do you find London?"
I replied laughingly that I had not had time to make the acquaintance of the vaunted city having arrived only that morning but that I counted on becoming acquainted with the capital during my short stay.
When I told him that I knew no one in London he insisted on inviting me for the day. Ringing the service bell, he gave orders to that effect to the young maid who had welcomed me. Then he led me to another charmingly furnished room which served as his office.
Having disposed of my coat and seating me in an arm chair facing him he questioned me about my studies, abilities and experiences. Then he asked me about a number of doctors at St. Luke's where he appeared to have a number of friends.
When we reached the subject of Hector he told me what praise my former master had given me.
"From every point of view," said my questioner with a rather bizarre smile, "he assured me that you were a pearl." Without leaving me time to ponder this compliment which I found a bit ambiguous, he continued that on his faith in these warm recommendations he wanted me to become his assistant.
"As you will see later, I have transformed a wing of this villa into a small hospital. Though actually the term hospital is not exactly applicable to what this place is.
There are five rooms ready to receive clients desirous of following a treatment necessitated by their nervous condition. Or, to put it more simply, those who aspire to a cure through rest and relaxation.
Since I am engaged all morning in one of the city hospitals my private practice takes place in the afternoon only. Actually all my clientele is composed of women, and as far as possible beautiful women. During my morning duties I am called to witness so many ugly and unappetizing illnesses and conditions that I consider it my right to select my private patients.
I will undoubtedly shock your good nurse's conscience, but you see I do not hold with the same reasoning as I would were I practicing general medicine. Being a specialist in psychoanalysis and nervous disorders is not the same thing.
You will see quickly for yourself, my dear Miss Turner, if you consent to being my assistant, that our patients are all rich, beautiful and idle women whose most serious affliction consists of a nymphomania more or less advanced. Their state of cerebral sensuality and nervousness necessitates a very special treatment which differs totally from those taught you at St. Luke's.
I cannot go into detail at this moment but you will soon see yourself the care and treatments they require. These latter
I have developed personally for each one of them and they are enchanted to find them here."
After this obscure preamble Doctor Smetena informed me of the conditions of my employ. These were so far removed from my own ideas and hopes that I thought he was amusing himself at my expense.
He offered me conditions superior even to my dreams.
I would have an apartment including private bath in the villa itself. I would have the entire staff, that is the maid who received me, a chamber maid and the chauffeur who drove the Doctor's car, at my disposition. In fact, all personnel would be under my orders as I was to be a sort of right hand to the Doctor.
Since I remained speechless and dumbfounded by these brilliant perspectives of my employ my future boss stood up and invited me to make a tour of the premises with him before giving him my definite answer.
We mounted to the second floor where he showed me the rooms charmingly furnished and decorated for his patients. Crossing to the other wing, reserved for himself and staff, he showed me the room I was to occupy. Impressed I accepted to remain.
Everything was lovely and I was delighted with the thought of soon establishing myself in such a beautiful house.
Returning to the ground floor he showed me his consultation room which was entirely different from any I had known.
Small, intimate and luxuriously furnished with an immense couch, a small table, a deep inviting armchair sided by a large floor lamp. The floor entirely covered with a deep rug which would muffle all sounds.
My surprise showed clearly on my face for Doctor Smetena soon assured me that it was the classical consultation room for a psychoanalyst. This specialization does not require an installation of complicated apparati, but," he continued opening a door which had been imperceptibly hidden behind one of the silk drapes, "if you'll step in there you'll find yourself in your habitual environment."
Brilliantly lighted, painted in heavy white enamel, the usual examination table and glass cases of chromed instruments this room did make me feel more at home.
Having returned to his office, he asked me if I thought I would accustom myself to his branch of medicine.
I thanked him heartily for all he offered me in respect to the position. At the same time I told him that I did not think my qualifications and knowledge of psychoanalysis were commensurate with the excellent conditions offered. I told him that I feared disappointing him.
Showing again the bizarre smile he had shown at the beginning of our interview he assured me that he was confident of my success.
"Doctor Roach has given me every detailed assurance of you abilities." The manner in which he regarded me as he said this made me visibly blush.
The thought that Hector could have given him precise details of our relationship disturbed me. No, I thought trying to quieten my anxiety this could not be.
Being certain of my acceptance of the position Doctor Smetena introduced me to his staff as his assistant. They were to consider my orders and instructions as his own.
There were Jean the young maid, Barbara a young woman about thirty who was the house keeper, Rachel, a fat jolly woman was cook and Sanders a taciturn dark type, who was chauffeur.
The day passed in the most agreeable manner. It was decided that I would return to Blackpool to resign and pack. Doctor Smetena would send his chauffeur to bring me to London. Naturally this would help me and expedite my return with my luggage.
"Everything then is arranged and agreed to our mutual satisfaction. There is only one more thing if you are going to work for me. With your permission rather than calling Miss Turner here and Miss Turner there I will simply call you Antoinette. And as for me, after having called me Doctor during the professional day I want you to call me Serge. Serge is what my friends call me. I hope that you and I will soon become friends, good friends."
I returned to Blackpool enchanted with my new boss. Naturally I had to give a complete account of good luck, which fell out of a blue sky, to my roommate Dorothy.
She cried at the thought of our parting and so, for that matter did I for I had formed a true affection for her and her delightful eccentricities. Rolling speedily toward London three days later in the automobile driven by Sanders the thought of my good fortune cheered me up again.
With the aid of Barbara with whom I immediately made friends I installed myself in my new home. The young woman was truly kind and amiable. I was happy to have found a new friend. I had been a bit apprehensive about my first contact with the staff for I felt that they might consider me an intruder.
Mentioning this fear to Barbara she assured me that since I was Doctor Smetena's assistant it was only natural for me to give orders. "Also," she continued "we all get long here splendidly together and our boss is wonderful, generous and considerate."
CHAPTER V
I was to see our wonderful boss that evening again as we dined together.
After concerned questions about my trip and my having made myself comfortable in my quarters he inquired if I would be able to begin my work the day after tomorrow.
He explained that mornings I would have very little to do and that I could practically dispose of my own time as I pleased. Jean took care of such secretarial duties as answering the telephone and making appointment for the afternoons.
"Jean, as you have seen," he told me, "is still a brat. She is hardly fifteen. She is the orphaned daughter of a friend of mine killed during the war. I have, so to speak taken her under my wing. I had wanted her to take up studies but the little rascal prefers staying here. At present she serves me as secretary.
The child is a bit strange and I would recommend that you be firm with her. Sometimes even severe. A good spanking from time to time is the only way you can keep her in hand for if she thinks you too easy or indulgent you will have to suffer all her caprices."
Quite surprised by these unprofessional instructions I told him that I was not sure if I could administer a spanking.
"Don't let it worry you," said the Doctor. "In case of need you may call Barbara whose job it is to administer these occasional spankings. I merely want you to know that you have carte blanche."
We finally came to my actual work and he asked me first of all to put the file case histories in order as they were a bit mixed up since Jean had put her distracted fingers into them.
As he continued to give me instructions I was able to observe the man. He was actually handsome and possessed an unusual magnetism.
He was tall and slim with a long oval face adorned by two smile dimples. Like most voluptuous people he had rounded and full lips. His graying temples accentuated his black hair and his unusually clear blue eyes. His clear and animated, blue eyes saved his face from appearing too sensual.
Two days later I officially began my duties. On my way to the office I met Jean who with a light and impertinent air told me that she thought me delightful in my nurses cap. Then she offered to help me saying she knew all the patients only too well.
Amused by her little important airs I accepted and we began putting the files in order. All the while she would give me her opinions about every one in a running commentary.
As I came across a file marked Mme Foley, Jean, contracting her nose, exclaimed:
"Oh la la, what a vicious one. I hate her. She is mean."
I raised my eyes to look at her, surprised by this vociferous description.
Smilingly I said, "Quite a set opinion you have there. Won't you explain why?"
"When you have learned to know her you will see," she explained. Becoming animated and voluble she continued:
"Once when she had first begun coming here she was seated in the salon awaiting the Doctor she asked me if I was a good girl. I wanted to tell her that I was not a little girl but not knowing what might lie behind her remark I simply replied that I was a good girl. In response to my answer she said no more but looked at me long and strangely, smiling in a manner I had never seen before. I was about to leave when she asked me to bring her a glass of water as she was very thirsty.
Offering the glass of water on my momentary return I don't know what happened exactly for while doing so her quick movement pushed my hand and knocked the glass out of my hand spilling the water all over her dress.
Screaming she jumped to her feet and held the front of her dress up and away from her body.
I had immediately taken my handkerchief to dry her dress but she pushed me away and treated me like an imbecile. I was red with shame and confusion, demanded her pardon for having been so clumsy and assured her that I had not done so on purpose and that it was only water.
Sarcastically she cut into my apologies saying that it was all very well that I realized my stupidity but that this did not alter the fact that she was wet and that she would tell the Doctor about the incident.
I pleaded with her not to say anything to the doctor but all my appeals fell on deaf ears as you will see."
"But my dear Jean," I said in a tone of faked surprise, "why needed you be so frightened of the Doctor hearing of this? That sort of an accident can happen to anyone." Of course, I knew only to well that it was the spanking to follow which had frightened our little darling.
"Well, you see Miss, the Doctor is not my boss. He is my guardian and tutor and he still thinks of me as a child. And," she continued with vexed air, "when I commit a folly or blunder I get the punishment of a brat."
"Ah, I understand now. But what kind of punishment do you mean. It seems to me that the Doctor is not severe," I added hypocritically.
"Yes but I am... I receive... I don't dare tell you," stammered Jean having turned as red as a tomato.
"Come, my cabbage don't be afraid of me. Don't you want us to be good friends," I reassured, passing my arm around her shoulders.
Again blushing deeply the young woman confirmed with difficulty that which I had already known from the Doctor's instructions.
"Don't tease me please. But it is true I get spankings on my bare bottom."
"My poor darling," I sympathized," who treats you this way?"
Sulkingly, she confessed, "It is Barbara who administers the spankings. But she is also very kind. I love her very much and do not hold it against her. Sometimes it is the Doctor himself who spanks me."
"I see, but you must tell me the rest of the story of the glass of water. I am anxious to hear it."
"Ah yes. Well after Mme Foley told me she would tell the Doctor I was terrified and ran to seek refuge in my room. An hour later Barbara came to tell me that my guardian wanted to see me in his consulting room.
Entering, devoured by fear, I saw Mme Foley was reclining on the couch and the Doctor seated in an armchair next to it.
"Jean," he addressed me sternly, "it appears that you have spilled a glass of water on Mme Foley and stained her robe."
I protested that it was not I who had spilled the glass but that it was she who had knocked it out of my hand.
"So. But the result is the same, is it not? Have you at least apologized?"
"Yes," I replied sulking.
"But Doctor," exclaimed Madame regarding me with a strange leer, "excuses are insufficient to pardon this little fool. Believe me I would never let a thing like this pass without punishment. She is most fortunate to be in your services. You are too easy with her, you are spoiling her."
"And what according to you," he demanded a bit annoyed, "should I do?"
"Well, she is first of all still only a brat and should be punished like one with a good thorough spanking."
"I had not thought that this would go this far."
"You asked my opinion and I have given it," she replied with a slight vehemence showing in voice and manner.
They exchanged a curious look and I gathered from it that they understood one another perfectly without a word being spoken.
The Doctor reopened the conversation saying calmly, "You know, Janet, that if I subscribe to your caprice you will in turn have to satisfy mine."
"You know only too well," said Madame her voice changing to a lower and excited tone, "that if you accord me my wish I will do whatever you wish."
My guardian rose to his feet and while tenderly caressing my hair said, "It's true, my little Jean you do not obey nor listen to gentle remonstrances. And as it is said that every mistake merits correction, I believe Mme Foley is right. You deserve a good spanking."
Still speaking he pushed me gently toward his client who with a nervous hand instantly held me by the wrist.
Laughing nervously she said, "since I am the offended person it is only just that I administer the prescribed punishment."
Enraged at the thought of her administering the hated spanking, and even more of having to show my naked bottom to this stranger I tried to escape her grip.
"No, no... not before her... no please spare me this time...have pity!" I implored, my voice raucous with fear, tears ready to burst from my hot eyes.
Eyes shining like unknown black gems, wet lips parted in a cruel smile Mme Foley seemed to delight in my hopeless supplications. Each word of protest, each inkling of fear, each gesture of appeal only seemed to heighten her enjoyment.
With one surprising pull she had my lying on my stomach on her knees in the position which, alas, I already knew so well. One strong hand on my. shoulder held me in my unhappy position while the other raised my dress and petticoat. Weakened by my fear I did not even have the strength to struggle. Instantly her knowing fingers brought down my panties.
For a few confused moments I felt her hot and soft palms actually caressing my thighs which I was forcing together as tightly as possible. Then suddenly an avalanche of spanks fell on my bottom making me screech and moan with pain.
All my kicking, crying complaining, praying were to no avail. I suffered this treatment to the end.
When finally, because of being fatigued, my torturer released me my backsides looked like two large burning scarlet peonies. My eyes flooded with tears I pulled up my panties and escaped to the accompaniment of her delirious laughter."
"And you know," continued Jean, "that is not all. She comes regularly twice a week and each time seeks a pretext to repeat the performance. She will say that I made face behind her back, or that I was impertinent over the telephone, and other lies.
The Doctor has let her have her way. It is a wonder that I have a bottom left. But now I have found a place to hide until she has left.
So you see I have reason to say that she is bad and vicious. I know she loves to strip and spank me but I don't like it at all. I detest it."
A bit shocked by these strange revelations which threw considerable light on the special relationships of Doctor Smetena and his beautiful clients I returned to the work on the files. I had wanted to finish them that morning. Since Jean had to go on a errand for the cook I dismissed her.
Jean hesitated a moment at the door and regarding me timidly but blushingly begged me not to mention her having told me to the Doctor, who, she said, would surely be cross.
To this I replied with laughter and irony.
"And I suppose that his being cross would again call for a thorough spanking of the lovely behind of my friend Jean," I countered with laughter and irony.
"Rest assured my lovely one I'll not mention a word to anyone. However what would you think if I like Madame Foley would also want to treat you like a child? I am a nurse and is it not my role to take care of children?"
The young girl regarded me fixedly for a few seconds. Slowly a rascally smile spread of over her fair face. Just before closing the door she threw at me with a malicious and amused tone of voice. "With you Miss Turner I should like to. I love you very much!"
Disturbed beyond the importance of this little girl's attitude I returned to work while awaiting the Doctor.
It was not until the following day however that I was to meet one of the Doctor's famous clients.
In response to her ringing Jean ushered in a stylish young woman. By her extremely pale blond hair I knew her to be foreign.
Dr. Smetena, who had been advised of her coming, received her smiling a profuse welcome. Bringing her into the small salon he introduced me to her.
"My dear Madame Boleyn may I present Miss Turner, my new assistant, who will aid me hereafter in providing you the necessary treatment.
Antoinette this is Madame Ingrid Boleyn one of our most frequent clients and, I hope, also a friend.
Madame comes regularly from Sweden and on each of her trips to London comes to me for consultation and treatment."
After the usual friendly formalities of inquiring about her voyage etc., the consultation began.
Having removed her coat and shoes Mme Boleyn laid herself full length on the couch. Dr. Smetena placed a silk cushion under her head, turned out all the lights except the floor lamp near the couch, leaving her bathed in a soft diffused light while the remainder of the room was in half shadow. Beckoning me to be seated behind him, he took his place in an armchair.
In a heavy charged voice he began asking her questions. Her replies were given freely and gently, spoken him an accent unmistakably Nordic.
I soon realized that the questions were almost entirely oriented toward scabrous subjects. Becoming more and more precise about sexual behavior, details, intimacies and descriptions the questions and Mme Boleyn's answers soon began to intrigue me however.
What fascinated me most was that the only effect her erotic admissions had on her visibly was to tint softly scarlet her lovely high cheeks.
The Doctor spared no details but prompted her to reveal in every detail how she enjoyed being made love to by her husband, her lovers, how she liked to be taken, gently or brutally, the positions she preferred, when and how and with whom.
I understood from Ingrid's replies and manner that she was deliciously reliving her experiences through this revelation of every detail.
The more daring the question the greater her enjoyment.
Seated in the half shadow which hid us the Doctor and myself were in a most advantageous position to observe the effects on the senses of the beautiful Swedish woman which her confession, totally denuded of modesty, would have.
Her face previously so calm and so pale in contrast to her long golden hair hand now transformed itself. Her cheeks now bore the deep red of the fever that had invaded her. Her eyes though half shut had become brilliant, and her mouth, swollen of lip, opened gently and moistly like a ripe fruit.
Her firm high breasts rose and fell in the excited rhythm of her breathing. Her hands moved in sudden searching spontaneity on the velvet couch. Her lovely long legs, previously extended full length in repose, moved restlessly in the exciting provocation into which this account of her sexual aberrations plunged her.
These movements had brought her clothing into a roll high up on her hips.
The deep colors of the drapes and couch cover highlighted deliciously the immaculate dead whiteness of her nylon panties and the warm tint of the lovely bare thighs showing above her stockings.
I do not know whether Madame Boleyn was conscious of the provocative spectacle her abandon offered.
I must confess that I could not remain insensible to the erotic atmosphere created by her licentious confessions, her abandon thereto, and the exposure of her exquisite charms and beauty.
My whole being was plunged into a terrible state of excitement. Desperately I tried to control and overcome this new feeling, for I could not grasp how the body of a woman could so profoundly affect me.
Suddenly, in an impassioned nervous reflex she changed position throwing her legs apart, revealing for our enjoyment her abdomen and bottom, packaged like a lovely gift in those delicate white panties bordered with lace.
Had I been alone I believe I could not have resisted passing a caressing hand over these charms so freely and perversely offered. Naturally the presence of my boss restrained me from all but the desire.
Out of the corner of an eye I regarded him to see if the sight of these treasures left him indifferent or if...
A second's look was sufficient to see his state of tension. Burning eyes were devouring the charming spectacle of his beautiful patient in the grip of erotic delirium. His hands were tensely gripping the arms of his chair, and as I looked speculatively at his lower body, the protrusion of his trousers left no doubt as to his condition.
I was wondering how such a scene was going to end when the Doctor got to his feet without any attempt to hide his erect cock. Putting his arm around my shoulders he bade me in a low voice to go into the adjoining infirmary as he wanted to give her the treatment her condition required.
Though intrigued I did as I was told but could not resist giving a last sneaking look before closing the door behind me.
The Doctor had instantly begun opening the belt of his trousers!
So there you have Doctor Smetena's internationally famous treatment!
I must confess that this idea has already occurred to me and soon I would no longer have any reason left to doubt it.
From the consultation room which I had just left I heard unmistakably telling noises. Even through the wall the kisses, moanings, cries and pleasings of the young hysterical woman and her Doctor attested their mutual pleasure.
Unhappy, disturbed and excited I left the infirmary and went up to my own room. I remained there seated agitatedly until Barbara came to my room to announce that the Doctor wished me in his office.
After rearranging my costume I descended and went into his office.
Doctor Smetena was seated behind his desk, very calm and professional. Seeing my pouting manner, he smiled slightly. But with a cold professional air, as if the previous scene was a figment of my imagination, he asked me to transcribe certain information into the file of the lovely Swedish patient.
Having finished this task he asked why I had left.
CHAPTER VI
"Madame Boleyn was desirous of seeing you before she left and since you were no longer in the next room I had to tell her that you were with another patient."
My continued silence while blushing furiously prompted a sarcastic smile as he said.
"Ah, I see, you were shocked by my patient's revelations and no doubt also by the treatment following them."
Collecting my full dignity I replied, "I do not see what is derisive about that, and furthermore, Doctor, I do not see where my help is needed in a treatment so well perfected."
In spite of my angry face and tone of voice he broke out into hearty laughter. Taking me by the arm he made me sit down in a chair near him.
"Come now, Antoinette don't be mad. We are not going to argue the first day of our collaboration."
"Collaboration," I replied angrily, "is a big word. I am a collaborator shown the door and thrown out at the critical moment."
"Be calm, my little Antoinette, and forgive me for having put you out. I see that I should have explained the matter to you. Madame Boleyn, as you have probably understood, is an advanced nymphomaniac. Her greatest pleasure is to relate her sexual experiences under the guise of a medical consultation and thereby harvest the fruits of her effort, for it would be exceptional if any doctor could resist for long under the exciting stimulation of her confessions accompanied by her voluptuous movements of abandon.
The first time, Antoinette, I resisted making the slightest equivocal gesture in spite of the burning desire she provoked. Since then I have realized, however, that there was only one thing she wanted after the consultation: her legs in the air and me on top of her. If I would not or could not give her the desired satisfaction she would go to another, but less scrupulous doctor.
You must admit, Antoinette that I would have been indeed a fool not to have taken advantage of such a lovely opportunity and refused such a delicious morsel of feminity.
In addition, I must tell you that all of my patients are of about the same classification."
"But," I exclaimed, "I don't see clearly how in that case I can help you."
"Don't you worry, my dear, on the contrary you will be able to render me great service."
"How? Certainly not be being present at the beginning of the consultation and then being locked out in the infirmary."
"Why?" demanded Doctor Smetena, leaning over to me. "Is it that you want to see the rest, see the whole performance and to have your part of the amusement?"
Red as a poppy, I could not find the words to reply. He tapped me assuringly on the hand and holding me under the special fascination of his look he murmured, "Had not you thought of a case where the patient might prefer being calmed by the nurse rather than by the Doctor himself? Well, beautiful, in such and other cases you will have your role to play."
Dumbfounded I could but stammer, "Oh!"
With this the Doctor rose and putting his arms around my shoulders walked me to the salon while saying, "Let us not speak of that for now. I understand perfectly well that all these things are bound to shock you, but remember that from a clinical point of view these lovely ladies are no more sick than you or I. They come here for but one thing, the appeasement of an eroticism engendered by their lives of ease, idleness and luxury.
I want you to think about these things. I am confident that you will arrive at my conclusion that the appeasement they find here is clearly a treatment, although not orthodox, which brings them for an indefinite length of time a certain calm."
Actually I did come to realize that life being what it is, the things existing and happening in Dr. Smetena's establishment were natural, especially as these concerned, the habits of the idle and the rich. I could not see where I, a modest little nurse, could criticize an order of things so long established.
All this and, of course, the self-interested reasoning of the Doctor dispelled all my scruples. In a matter of days I no longer felt any repugnance in receiving the patients who came.
After a short lapse of time the Doctor announced that we would have the visit of Lady Bottomlay a case comparable to Mme Boleyn.
The announced day Jean opened the office to a young woman, elegant and slim in figure. Her face I thought too perfectly ovaloid, but lighted by eyes of a blue so tender that I could not help comparing them to cornflowers.
I was presented to Lady Bottomlay, who murmured that she was most pleased to have the presence of a nurse in case of a needful incident during her treatment.
Without the slightest embarrassment she turned to Doctor Smetena and asked if I were familiar with the special treatment she required.
The Doctor assured her and asked that I show her into the infirmary.
Once the three of us arrived in this brilliant white room lighted by a cluster of neon lights, the Doctor asked that I prepare the table for a gynecological examination while he helped Lady Bottomlay remove her coat.
"Should I place a screen?" I inquired professionally. "Oh no, quite unnecessary," replied the Doctor. "Iris loves being admired in the dress of Eve. Isn't that right Iris?"
The English lady gave a small rascally smile and began to undress before us. She was small, firm and fine, like a fine porcelain figurine.
Removing her dress, she rumpled her slip showing her legs high up. The smoky beige stockings seemed to cut the milk white flesh of her thighs. Soon only pale blue panties remained giving to her firm bottom, rounded like a babies', the quality of a budding flower.
My boss was becoming visibly agitated. I understood very well, for even though I had become thoroughly accustomed to nudity in it's most erotic sense I could not help but react to the undeniable attraction of this delicious body of a doll.
With a mutinous gesture, she dropped her last veil. I was asked to place her on the table for a thorough examination.
Smilingly she took her position. Her feet on the footrests, her body reclining the length of the table. Her legs were slightly parted.
Placing himself opposite me, the Doctor began to sound her chest.
Lowering his head he placed his cheek against her breasts, small, firm and shapely as two apples. Generally a doctor places a towel between his ear and the patients chest. None of this superfluity here however. The ear and cheek were placed directly on her soft satin skin.
I saw her two nipples, rosy as too small flowers harden and come to a vibrant life like two darts under the warmth of his breath.
Having also noticed this response, the Doctor threw me a conspiring glance and abandoned the chest to place his cheek on a softly rounded belly, extending and distending with excitement.
Although he made her breathe and cough I could see distinctly that he was delicately rubbing his face over the warm skin of the Lady. His mouth was near her Mound of Venus and his lips swollen with appetite and anticipation were being tickled by the blond silken hairs forming a perfect triangle reaching the junction of her thighs.
Observing all this I tried to press myself as close against the young woman without losing my position to observe the Doctor's maneuvers.
His mouth was now buried in the warm and perfumed fur his hands were gently massaging her shivering thighs.
Suddenly he straightened himself out leaving a casual hand on her breast and announced that we would proceed to an examination of her actual organ.
Back to my role of nurse I turned the crank of the table which would reduce the height of her foot position.
This little maneuver had the result of raising Lady Bottomlay's knees who now found herself with thighs wide open, her pussy well exposed. She showed everything but embarrassment. Her eyes were burning with fierce desires. Then suddenly
I felt her fine aristocratic hand caress my wrist. When I looked at her thinking that she might want something she smiled and continued to stroke my hand and wrist.
The doctor had bent himself between the elegant legs of our lovely patient in absorbed movements and concentration.
"Antoinette," he called, "would you pass me the speculum. The small one on the tray!"
I took the instrument and approached him thereby being able to admire the crevice of her cunt illuminated by his lamp...
It resembled a rose with petals deliciously curled still moist from the morning dew. The effects was even more dramatic as this rose unfolded in a cluster of golden fur.
The Doctor had most carefully placed his instrument when the hoarse voice of our beautiful patient implored.
"No, Serge, I beseech you not like that! Not with that instrument. I prefer it like other times; with your fingers!"
Laughing, the Doctor withdrew his instrument and began delicately to finger the membranes. Soon the movements of her body joined that of his fingers in a mutually reciprocal rhythm. This was certainly more a sex play than an examination.
His hand touching my arm brought me out of my reverie of fascination at this unusual spectacle.
"Would you increase the angle to facilitate my work" he demanded.
"No. No, not like that," he ordered brusquely. "Return to normal the foot position!"
Having executed this order and returning to the end of the table I could not contain a small exclamation.
The patient had assumed the seated position of a frog. Her legs folded under her the length of her body. Her wide open organ resembled a fig split open by the summer sun.
Speaking to himself the Doctor announced, I believe we will have to practice a sounding."
I regarded him astounded at such an examination but I understood. Lady Bottomlay already habituated to such prescriptions pleaded in a faint voice.
"Yes, Doctor. Yes, please do it. Do it please."
"To me your wishes are commands, my dear! Help me Antoinette!" He handed me the lamp and began undressing.
Though the young woman could not see us as we stood at the foot of the table I became terribly uncomfortable and turned vermilion, I believe, to my toes, as I understood what the sounding instrument was to be.
I could not resist a cry of stupefaction when I saw the size of his cock.
I would never had thought that a man could possess such virility and such an organ. I asked myself fearful with apprehension how this delicate little woman could possibly stand the insertion of this monster prick.
My fear proved unfounded however for everything went beautifully well.
To the accompaniment of the occasional soft cries of the victim the operation progressed steadily. Softly and not without consideration but with a calculated and controlled passion he continued until the depth of his soundings hid his enormous pecker from view.
So as not to hinder their action, which seemed to give both protagonists infinite pleasure, I moved to the other end of the table where, with parched throat and trembling legs I continued to contemplate the scene.
Covered with heavy sticky beads of the perspiration of excitement Tasked myself if I should remain or leave, just then Lady Bottomlay's hand sought mine and placed it on her heaving breasts.
Spellbound, I ceded to the demand for caresses by our lovely lady. Her face now was drained and pale. Eyes distorted out of focus and helplessly quivering lips bore witness to the powerful sensations which shook her every fiber.
When both were spent, the Doctor retired for a moment while I helped a now confused and shaken Lady Bottomlay to dress.
With extreme and exquisite politeness, she suggested that perhaps I found her contemptible. I assured her that this was not the case where upon she explained that nowhere could she find an appeasement to her wild passions except with Dr. Smetena.
She assured me that she was delighted to know that I too would be there at her service and promised me a lovely souvenir.
As soon as she had departed I left the Doctor alone in his study and went up to my room. My head was on fire. My senses terribly inflamed by the scene that had taken place before my eyes. The sexual restraint I had now been living with for some time had brought me to a high degree of unconscious desire but now, that I had witnessed such an experience I was completely beside myself. I was nervous as a cat before an approaching rainstorm.
I knew that in order to appease the flames devouring me I could have recourse only to masturbation. I was resolved to abandon myself to this solitary and secret pleasure that evening. I knew well that I could not solicit the lovely pecker of the magnificent Doctor Smetena.
There could be no doubt but what he knew the state in which I would find myself. But when we met at dinner a few hours later there was not the slightest proposal for my appeasement on his part.
On the contrary. He took a sadistic delight in orienting our conversation to Lady Iris and the orgy that had occurred in his consulting rooms.
I was a bit scandalized that he was carrying on the conversation on this theme in front of Jean who always dined with us. Though she had the air of being absorbed only by her food I knew that the little hypocrite was straining to hear every word.
Dinner being finished, we had a short conversation in the salon while Jean and Barbara cleared the table.
Smiling he asked me if, now that I knew the famous Smetena treatment thoroughly, I would have any scruples about giving the necessary treatments to our patients.
I replied that all being considered he would still have to leave me time to become habituated, especially after the complete treatment of today which held me spellbound and stupefied.
I had hoped that he would question me demanding explanations about these reactions, which would have helped to soothe this profound fever burning unquenchably inside me since this afternoon. My hopes were in vain. Ignoring the desired direction of my conversation and the balm of reliving Lady Iris' experience would have meant he switched our conversation to banalities. After a few moments of this I excused myself and mounted to my rooms.
Having undressed and bathed I went to bed with a book, desperately hoping that this would help me to find sleep.
In spite of all my efforts to interest myself in the text before my eyes I could not, however, control my thoughts which insistently returned to the picture of happenings in the infirmary.
In place of a page of type I saw the blond sex of the young Lady pulled taut around the piston of hard cock moving in a slow and deep rhythm.
Remembering her blood drained face, her cries of pain and pleasure, her delirious ecstasy I could contain myself no longer. I dropped the book, a trembling hand slid anxiously toward my pussy.
It had already been too long that my forced restraint caused me pain and torment. I could no longer resist. For lack of a lover I wanted through a solitary ecstasy to calm the fire devouring my body and dominating my thoughts.
My fingers had begun to caress the furry triangle when there was a knock on the door.
I jumped in surprise had hopeful anticipation that perhaps it might be Doctor Smetena, when I heard the voice of Barbara demanding if she might come in a moment.
Having entered and closed the door behind her, Barbara apologized for disturbing me and said she wished my advice about a small matter.
CHAPTER VII
Approaching my bed Barbara said that she had a small irritation high on her thigh and wished to know what ointment she ought apply to calm the burning it caused her while walking.
Showing surprise at the place of the sore she explained that she was wearing new panties. As they were too tight they had irritated the skin between the thighs.
"Would you like me to show you where it is," she demanded innocently.
Having given an affirmative sign with my head she took the end of her black skirt and pulled it up. Slowly unveiling her long well rounded thighs partly clad in contrasting rough stockings.
Still under the spell of my earlier turbulent thoughts I looked at the young woman thinking how beautiful she was.
As tall as I, she was slender and developed. Well formed breasts showed under her costume. Her generous auburn hair was worn in a page-boy bob reaching to her shoulders.
Suddenly her mounting skirt showed a small triangle of white, the briefest panties I had ever seen. Being so brief they were also tight thereby having caused a slight skin irritation through the rubbing of repeated movement.
Still holding her skirt up to her waist, Barbara approached to where her knees touched the bed. I had taken a position to see better, not her irritation but her beauty.
A wave of heat coursed through my blood as I beheld this beautiful girl complaisantly revealing her lovely body to me. Raising a hand I passed a light finger over the irritation.
Barbara gave a small cry and drew back but returned immediately to her position and excusing herself.
"Yes," I said with a professional and serious air, "there is a slight inflammation. It is advisable to apply a soothing ointment."
My lovely housekeeper looked at me with an teasing smile and moved her abdomen closer to me as she demanded in a soft voice.
"Won't you do this for me, Miss Turner, you have so much practice in this."
"Very well," I said rising, "I have a tube of ointment on my dresser. Stretch yourself out on the bed and we'll treat your little and troublesome bottom!"
Complaisantly Barbara let herself fall on the bed. Bottoms up! In doing so she had let fall her skirt again and I had to undress her to find the source of pain.
"Open your legs," I said pulling down partially the superfluous panties.
With the tip of my index finger I applied the ointment on the painful spot, in replacing her panties my fingers sensed the caress of her pubic hairs, soft as the fur of a kitten. In spite of myself my fingers lingered in their contact with these hidden auburn curls.
The same desire that had invaded me in seeing the voluptuous nudity of Lady Bottomlay overtook me again. This desire was still too unknown to me however to react to it spontaneously. Also, as I feared that Barbara would leave me alone again I dared not make an advance. At this moment a simple ruse came to my mind.
"I am afraid that the ointment will stain your linen," I murmured in a low voice while still holding her half-removed panties.
"Perhaps it would be better to remove my panties?" she asked, changing position to face me I could only reply with an affirmative movement of my head. My throat was been closed by a strange emotion. I could not articulate.
Passing her hand under the elastic border of her panties she slipped them down the length of her thighs and legs. Then, with a provocative movement kicked them from her to the floor.
"Is this better?" she asked in a voice heavy with emotion, at the same time offering herself in peaceful and unconcerned immodesty.
Instinctively my hands returned to rest themselves softly on her smooth white thighs. Slowly and deliciously I began to massage her warm flesh. It was of such a fine texture that one would have said it were of silk.
Little by little my caresses approached her Mound of Venus which pulled me like a magnet to it. When my fingers reached her pussy, Barbara gave a deep sigh of pleasure and gently opened her thighs, offering herself to me and to the pleasure awaiting her.
Assured that she was as desirous as myself to amuse herself I held back no longer but gave in to this new desire which troubled me with it's new perversity.
I divined the pleasures which two women would derive one from the other. I had heard speak of them but previously they had seemed incomprehensible if not repugnant to me.
The delicate caresses of my fingers provoked in Barbara such intense waves of sensation that she could no longer control her moaning.
I had lowered my face to better contemplate her humid and strangely perfumed flower when I felt a persuasive hand place itself on my neck pressing me lightly toward her in silent invitation.
After a momentary hesitation my curious mouth approached and placed itself on her secret lips.
For the first time I tasted the delicious sensation of the undying song of Lesbos.
What more can I relate except to say that in spite of my inexperience, or perhaps because of it, I provoked an orgasm so complete and devastating in the young woman that with the powerful contortions of her spasm she fell inert on the disordered bed.
Spent and lounging deliciously on the bed, regarding me with adoring eyes she confessed that she had desired me since our first meeting but that she had left intimidated and hesitant about approaching me.
Having learned from the curious rascal Jean, who had been listening at the door during the consultation with Lady Iris, what had passed, and having observed my uncontrollable excitement and desire at dinner, she had taken the pretext of her irritated bottom to induce me to accept what had been burning and torturing her to offer me.
As I reproached her for her rascality and pretext, my beautiful friend kissed me fully on the mouth and with a coy coaxing manner suggested that I taste the other side of the pleasure of lesbian love, its soft sensuality and particular charm.
Troubled by the this newly awakened sensuality and the unforgettably provocative events of the day I found myself incapable of thinking a word of refusal of this charming offer.
A moment later I lay completely nude on the bed, Barbara having already removed my flimsy nightgown.
Under the virtuosity and skill of her caressing fingers and tongue I lost all compunctions I may have had for this sort of sin.
Groaning and twisting, I came in Barbara's heaven.
Later when, at the point of leaving she asked me if I had enjoyed lesbian love I replied in a languorous voice that it was necessary for me to taste these pleasures again in order to understand my own emotions.
She made a coy dancing movement like a pigeon in love and said, "As for that, darling you needn't worry. I am too delighted with you to neglect you for long. See you soon, my little Toni!"
I was deliciously relaxed, appeased and content. I could not help smiling as I thought, if anyone should have even suggested the thought of what I had experienced since my arrival at Doctor Smetena's I would have thought him completely crazy.
How could I possibly have thought of witnessing a man and woman making love, a Doctor and his patient moreover, without feeling indignation. And then to have accepted initiation into lesbianism! That really completed my education. But it was lovely, I thought, with a feeling of complete well being before going to sleep.
To excite and complement our pleasure I had related in minutest detail the erotic deviations of the patients coming to consult Doctor Smetena. Barbara in turn confessed, that before my arrival there she would amuse herself with the young Jean.
Laughingly she added that the rascal was becoming suspicious of competition and jealous of being neglected.
"You know," said Barbara one evening, "I am sure that the little devil comes to the door to listen to what we are doing. She is a curious as a cat. But believe me if ever I catch her she will get the spanking of her life.
It is already a long time since she has had her last spanking. If she is not to lose her taste for them it is time I take her in hand again.
"You ought to try giving her a spanking some time. You will see how exciting this is."
"I should like to very much but I can't just take her and give her a spanking without cause."
"Ha, ha, ha," she laughed uproariously cutting off me feeble excuse. "A motive is the easiest thing. You have only to give her a difficult task to do and at the slightest blunder ... smack, smack, smack."
I admitted that I was excited at the prospect of having the cute young blonde completely at my mercy. Before we could put this amusing project into execution however an event took place which was to have tremendous repercussions on my future life.
One day which I shall always remember, we had the visit of a young lady and naturally the Doctor applied the treatment she had come seeking.
As customary, I had to observe and take part in the operation. If the patient and the doctor found themselves satisfied and appeased by the treatment received and given this was not the case with me, the nurse.
Once again I had to contemplate the complete abandon of a sex-crazed woman. In the condition to which this brought me I had hoped for but one ting, to go up to my rooms after giving a discreet sign to Barbara that I should like her to join me.
I had been mistaken this day, however, in thinking that the Doctor himself had been satisfied by the treatment given his patient that afternoon.
CHAPTER VIII
During the entire dinner which we took habitually together Doctor Smetena was more attentive to me than he had ever been since my arrival. The moment coffee was served he sent Jean to her quarters and asked me to join him in the salon...
Having seated me on the oversized couch he seated himself near me. Having smoked in silence for a few moments, he appeared to have arrived at a decision. Squashing a half smoked cigarette in an ashtray, he turned to me. Taking my hand gently in his, he asked if I was happy being here and if at last I had become accustomed to the events taking place in his office.
Since I replied with some reticence he moved closer to me and put his arms around my shoulder, and teased, "Come now, my pretty little assistant, I believe you are blushing."
"No," I answered, and with a determined effor continued, "but, Doctor, I believe I will have to resign."
Without appearing to be troubled he demanded, "and why are you taking this decision?"
"Well, to be perfectly frank, I can no longer assist at your... your..."
"Ah, you mean my enlightened treatments," said the Doctor breaking into laughter.
"As you will, but you must understand me clearly, Doctor. I may be a nurse, a good nurse but this does not eliminate the fact that, whereas you and your patients realize your satisfaction, I am left in a state of tension which is draining my strength and will make me seriously ill if I continue to help you under the existing conditions."
"If I understand you right," he continued fixing me with his strange pale regard, "you would have me understand that you too are excited and that if you are not calmed you will leave?
Your request, my charming one, is easy to fulfill and I find the idea devilishly seductive. Don't forget that I am a specialist in this matter."
Before I could say a word he had bent over and covered my surprised mouth with his sensual lips.
Nor was he wrong in claiming to be a specialist for his deep, wet kiss had me already intoxicated. I tried to regain my breath but he held me mouth to mouth. I shivered with pleasure.
When he released me after a long moment of silence untroubled except for my gasps for breath he watched me hungrily restore my respiration.
"What do you think of this little game of tongues?" he demanded smiling. Almost at once his smile became fixed in the hard grimace I had already noticed a number of times.
In a voice matching the strangeness that had come over his face he said, "Come, Come," and taking me by the wrist he lifted me erect and without further ceremony pulled me across the salon with such rapid steps that I stumbled over my high heels.
"Where are you going?" I stammered helplessly.
"To my room. Come!"
Without another word he pulled me through the corridor, up the stairs and into his room which he locked carefully. Still holding me by the wrist, he pulled me over to the bed. Releasing me he ordered in a hard voice, "Undress!"
In spite of the desire which gripped my entire being I wanted to affirm my independence.
"You are mad, Doctor. What has come over you?" I demanded in a voice trembling in spite of myself. "Let me go. Let me leave. You are not your normal self."
Regarding me in a mocking way he replied, "That I am not in a normal state is certainly true. But if I let you go now, you would be the one to suffer most. You want to as much as I. Did you think that I was not aware of your little games with Barbara?"
Helpless and red with confusion I could but utter a feeble "Oh!"
"Don't you understand," he continued sarcastically, "that I let you, even forced you to witness the treatments I administer to my patients so that you would desire me of your own volition.
And now you want to leave? Come now, beautiful darling, none of this childishness!"
While talking thus he had speedily undressed himself and without the slightest embarrassment stood there before my astonished eyes, completely nude in his powerful male splendor
My eyes descended his large hairy torso and fixed themselves on his taut pecker aggressively pointed to me. It was trembling like a live thing.
I have mentioned already that in this respect Do Smetena surpassed everything that I had seen and could compare in male anatomy.
The sight of fear written on my face further stimulated him with visible reaction in his prick. Arching his abdomen to still further to increase its enormity, he asked me diabolically if I had ever tasted such a big one.
I must have looked like a rabbit fascinated by a boa constrictor about to devour it, for I could not voice the slightest word of protest as he approached slowly and stripped me of every stitch of clothing.
I stood there completely nude. I felt his hands move all over my entire body as if he wanted to assure himself by touch that it was truly me living and real, nude and awaiting his pleasure and not some image projected in his imagination fierce with desire.
Knowing me to be as desirous of giving myself as he was of possessing me he ignored all preparatory playfulness. Not even taking time to place me on the bed he threw me on the heavy carpet covering the floor.
I lay there ridden by a moving, burning body rolling me under it like a furious wave.
This night was for me an initiation into the unknown. Never had I thought of attaining such astonishing voluptuous moments as Serge gave me in repeated embraces.
He made love with a brutal violence to which I was unaccustomed and which in the beginning frightened me.
I sensed myself pierced, distended and split apart by a phallus more enormous than I thought ever possible to support. I was shaken and agitated by a savage and merciless rhythm.
My moans and cried were mixed with sighs and exclamations of pleasure. During moments of lucidity I could see the passion ravaged face of my seducer hovering above me.
His features taut, his pale eyes brilliantly illuminated by an ardent fire, and the cruel enigmatic smile surrounding his lips gave him a resemblance to a beast tearing apart its prey.
The soft love pleasures I had known in the arms of Hector were crushed out of existence by this avalanche of sensations rolling over me in burning waves, suffocating me as one drowned.
I attached myself to the hairy torso of my new lover with desperation. From time to time I heard myself pleading in a little girl's voice, to stop this devastating hurricane.
Actually, my "Stop, Stop, Enough" actually meant "Again, More, More!"
Serge understood this only too well and turned my appeals and pleadings into an exciting encouragement to continue.
I do not know how many times he had taken me. I remember awakening in a stupor from the excess of previous pleasure only to feel his arms close upon me anew. He played with my body, as one plays with a doll placing me according to his desires in poses of increasingly terrible obscenity. I likewise gave myself to him like a Bacchante to a Faun, I ceded to his demands with a good humor and luxurious passivity I had never thought myself capable of.
Only at dawn did he stretch out exhausted alongside of me. Taking his weary and unconscious doll in his arms he pulled the covers of the devastated bed over us. Before plunging into slumber I heard him, as through a curtain of fog, whisper in a voice already asleep, "Ah, my sweet little one, how I love you. How you please me."
Late next morning I heard the telephone ring and Serge answer in a choked voice. Feeling him getting up I turned toward him and he embraced my face still hot with sleep. As
I lifted my arm to put around his neck he maneuvered his mouth to kiss the down under my armpit.
Finally he pulled himself away from the welcoming warmth of the bed and told me tenderly to remain in bed and rest as I was not going to sleep much that night either.
"You are mad," I retorted with good humor.
"Yes, about you! I believe my little Antoinette that I am going to love you more than I have ever loved any woman.
I am astounded myself at the sensation you stir up in me just from looking at you, just from touching you."
Saying this, his hand slid up under my night gown which had rolled itself up almost to my hips. He caressed me for a moment and I saw his prick becoming almost immediately erect. I thought he was coming back to bed, but he pulled himself away and walked quickly to the bathroom assuring me laughingly that he'd make it up on his return.
I fell instantly asleep again and did not even hear him go. Some time later I was awakened by a soft knocking at the door.
As I had not answered immediately the door opened framing the face of Barbara in it's opening. Seeing that I had opened my eyes, Barbara came in smiling, closing the door carefully behind her.
Arriving in the middle of the room she contemplated it's complete disorder; my things scattered about on the rug, the pillows on the floor, the bed covers completely reversed. Approaching me she put her hand under my chin. Seeing the purple circles under my eyes she screwed up her nose.
Laughingly she exclaimed, "Speak to me about the gentleness of love. Instead of gentleness I have the impression of being on a battle field! What you must have had to suffer, my poor darling."
"Don't speak of it," I replied stretching languorously. "I am more knocked out than if I had been literally beaten."
"Don't get up I will bring you lunch, poor pitiable little victim," she mocked on leaving.
Returning she placed the tray on my knees and seated herself on my bed.
"Tell me all. Everything," she demanded in a voice avid with curiosity.
"What do you want me to tell you, curious rascal? You know only too well what we had been doing."
Nevertheless I had to give her many details, describe nuances and deviations. These must have been most exciting for her for her soft warm hands sought to fondle me again in her intimate manner.
"Don't fatigue me too much," I appealed after a few moments. "You know I have to be on my toes and in good shape this evening."
"I understand," she countered sadly. "Now that you have found what you wanted, good bye Barbara."
"No, darling, don't say that. I love you too much and we will always be together when we want to."
"Yes, but what about him?"
"Fool," I murmured in her ear. "One thing does not interfere with the other. And meantime you still have your little student. Haven't you told me often that you and Jean are also in love?"
"Yes, that is true but you know how much I prefer you. Though I suppose that I'll have to concentrate on her again. Anyways she will be extremely happy."
After she had left with the tray I again fell asleep. On waking, I bathed and gave myself the most careful make-up. Thereafter I dressed and awaited the return of Dr. Smetena who was to take me to see a play of which everyone had been speaking.
The evening proved delicious. It was the first time that we had gone out together and Serge was most gallant and attentive.
After theater he took me to a bar then very much in vogue. With egoistical pleasure I observed that many women gave us curious undressing glances. That they envied me my handsome escort was unmistakably clear.
I must admit that Serge made no effort to attract this attention. He simply remained his natural self. His nonchalant bearing, the smile slightly cynical playing around his lips made him truly attractive.
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I remembered that we were lovers and that shortly this handsome man would bring me to delirious insensibility with his unusual penis.
CHAPTER IX
Returning to the house where everyone already slept we each went to our respective rooms. Once undressed however and having made my toilette I made my way silently to his room. I knew he would be awaiting me. In my transparent grecian nightgown and bare feet I looked like a penitent.
In response to the slight noise I made closing his door, he came out of the bathroom stark naked wiping the last drops of water from his furry chest.
He threw his towel behind him and came toward me. At each step his powerful prick in half-erection rocked like the arm of a scale. I could not refrain from a nervous smile thinking of the admiring ladies at the bar. If they could see him now.
I did not have long to dream these speculative pleasantries. Already his arms had closed me crushing me against his sex, his mouth violating mine.
With a yell of pleasure I felt myself being stripped, lifted from the floor and like a feather carried to the big bed. Our legs were crazily intertwined. Our bodies burned in a voluptuous drunkenness. I lost from consciousness everything not of our mutual desire.
Lying side by side relaxing while he smoked a cigarette, of which he would give me a puff from time to time, I learned from Serge something I had always wanted to know
It was true that Hector had told him everything about our liaison. He had even given him all details of my reactions to certain sexual pleasures as well as to my preferences.
I had begun protesting against this indiscretion when Serge closed my mouth with a long kiss. He then told me that Hector had done so only in the hope of making me happy as he himself could no longer love me. He had wanted Serge who knew all the techniques and manners of love-making to take care of me and give me the happiness I deserved.
"I hope," continued my handsome lover, 'that I have already succeeded somewhat, at least.
Tell me little kitten have you enjoyed what I did to you?"
"Must I tell the truth or disguise it a bit with a flattery," I demanded smiling.
"The truth, naked as yourself," he said placing his hand on my pussy, his fingers playfully occupied with it's silken curls.
"Well tell me!" A pioneer finger seeking to find entry into the lips hidden between my closed thighs seemed to ask the same question simultaneously.
"Darling, you have shown me a pleasure which I had never felt before I found it in your arms," I confessed in a low voice while giving myself to his locking embrace.
"Is it really true, do you truly have more pleasure with me than with any one before, even with Hector?" he questioned with persistence. His tone of voice was passionate yet at the same time sceptical. His eyes into which he forced me to look held me so overpoweringly that I could not read them.
"Yes most certainly yes," I whispered closing my eyes to the steely gleam of his searching look.
"But why, why," he insisted.
"I don't know," I stammered. "Perhaps because of you being more virile, more brutally certain of your power over women." And after a moment's hesitation I added, "Perhaps also because of your... your... you know what I mean only too well."
I was red as a beet and could only stammer and stammer and stutter blunderingly these last words.
"Yes, of course, I understand. It is because of my big prick. Isn't that so, my chick?"
Saying this he had taken my hand and forced me to take his enormous penis which was beginning to come to life in a slow pulsation in my hand. Constantly growing to my touch my hand could no longer circumference it.
Ravished, my hand began making forward and backward movements the length of his formidable phallus to assure myself of its unbelievable size.
"Do you like my big tool?" he teased. As I nodded my head without saying a word he breathed into my ear, "Well then give it a big long loving kiss!"
I answered him with a long smile. Then I slipped toward the foot of the bed. Supporting myself on my elbows I placed my lips tenderly on the phallus vibrating before my eyes.
"Again and with your tongue as well," instructed Serge. He pressed his hand on the back of my neck to make me understand better.
Like a little docile girl I opened my mouth wide. The large and magnificent cock, hard and burning, insinuated itself with difficulty between my lips moistened with the saliva for pleasure.
With my teeth aching from the pressure forcing them apart I made my head move gently and slowly. Cries of pleasure, moans of joy assured me that my lover was happy.
To heighten his pleasure he raised himself up on an elbow and avidly regarded my moving face wet with tears, for the slow but regular penetration of his enormous cock against the inside of my throat caused me intolerable pain.
As struck by lightning he gave cry of ecstasy and fell back on the bed. My mouth became filled with a velvety warm and salty liquor in such great abundance I was forced to swallow most of it in order to catch my breath for he held me riveted against his hairy abdomen, still heaving in joy.
To hide my confusion I rested with my face buried in the sheets. Soon I felt him pulling me softly to him. As I laid there pressed against him again he covered my face with a hundred kisses while murmuring his gratitude for the intense pleasure my soft lips had given him.
After a few moments spent in mumbling love names and endearments to one another he asked me if I wanted him to make love to me like Barbara with the mouth. Before I could reply he had spread my thighs. His upper lips and my lower lips met in happy union.
As soon as he had me crying and moaning with the caresses of his fingers and tongue he straightened up and taking me by the waist turned me bottoms up on my hands and knees.
No sooner had he placed me in this position but what I felt his enormous phallus touching me. Anticipated desire had again made it hard and palpitating.
Taking me by the haunches he pulled me to him and began to penetrate my ass-hole. I gasped uncontrollably under the powerful and dominating strokes inward.
My head between my hands I could hear mingled with my own moaning his feverish and ecstatic exclamations accompanying each of his thrusts.
"Do you feel how I fuck you, do you, darling? Open wide the cheeks of your ass so I can reach bottom! Ah, how I love to fuck you!"
Fortunately he was holding me tightly against him, otherwise each of his powerful thrusts would have sent me head over heels.
I had the terrible impression that I was being fucked by a bull, a furious bull and that my gasps and moans were mixed together with the bellowing of a beast in heat.
Just at this moment in a delirious crescendo his burning semen shot out into the deepest recesses of my being.
We fell asleep tied in solid embrace, a deep and dreamless sleep from which I did not awaken until late the following morning.
Now that our relationship had entered a new phase the use of my time had undergone some changes. I would spend a good part of the morning in bed. Having shopping to do I would pass frequent afternoons visiting the fine stores in the company of Jean whom I would take with me.
I was happy about the childish pleasure which I knew I could thus give her which I could so clearly read in her eyes when I would call her to prepare herself to accompany me.
I left Serge take care of the patients as best he could with exception of when he insisted I take an active part in the treatment given them.
Now that I was his mistress there was nothing to hide between us wherefore the visit of some of his patients prompted a love treatment between us three of such a lewdness that I do not dare describe it.
Imagine for yourself what three beings in the grip of luxuriance, eroticism and abandon might and could do and you will have a good idea of the scenes unfolding themselves certain afternoons in Doctor Smetena's office.
I had mentioned that I went out together with Jean. One day, quite by accident during one of our walks, my curiosity came to learn from her own mouth what had been going on between her and Barbara, who, I had noticed, had been pouting since a few days because of me.
For this occasion we went to have tea in a discreet little tea room. Between two pastries I began to interrogate with burning curiosity our little Jean.
At first embarrassed, the little darling let herself go with candor when I told her that Barbara had already told me all about their clandestine love affair.
Becoming excited she was soon telling me in a most gently animated flow of words all the amorous fantasies between this delicious Lesbian duo.
Remembering the tenderness of Barbara's caresses, I soon felt myself invaded by jealousy. An illogical jealousy, I must admit, for I had everything that the most exacting mistress could dream for herself.
Fall passed without anything happening to trouble my happiness. Only, perhaps one little incident which took place one evening during dinner.
I remember it was the evening of a terrible rainstorm. The wind blew in blasts and deposited the dead leaves against windows streaming with rain.
From a gas radiator a pleasant heat spread itself about us. We were having a conversation about a subject I no longer remember when, because of funny remark from her guardian Jean plunged into hysterical laughter which, had the unhappy result of upsetting a glass of wine. The liquid spread into a large vermilion and scarlet stain on the table cloth.
I myself had broken into laughter on seeing the look of consternation on the girl's face. I had not realized that the wine had spattered all over the Doctor's costume.
When I finally came to realize this the Doctor was wiping his suit with a napkin dipped in water while Jean was making profuse apologies when suddenly her nerves let go and she broke out into uncontrollable laughter.
Serge regarded both of us angrily. With a curt voice he called Barbara. When Barbara arrived he ordered her without a word of explanation or preliminaries to take the rascal Jean and give her a good spanking.
Accustomed to such orders the young woman took the poor little thing, now no longer in a mood for laughter, by the arm. Seating herself in the chair she had pushed away from the table she maneuvered the brat who did not dare rebel over her knees.
With accustomed agility Barbara had pulled up the skirt of the young girl revealing to us a delicious rounded bottom imprisoned in tight white panties.
The little panties were soon pulled down. Jean made a timid end useless protest on feeling the fresh air caress her thighs desperately contracted in apprehension.
"Make it a good measure," ordered Serge. "Make it a couple of dozen. It had been a long time since she had her last spanking and, no doubt, she must miss it."
During the first few smacks well applied with a firm hand my lover took my hand into his. We occupied first row seats to enjoy the spectacle as we were seated together on the opposite side of the table.
Soon Jean had begun to whine and sniffle. Her bottom acquired a deep rose tint. The generous slaps resounded dramatically through the dining room.
In spite of myself I felt a strange pleasure take hold of me in seeing this spanking generously applied to my young and tender friend's pretty bottom. My pleasure was most certainly shared by my lover for his trousers revealed a distortion which only an erection could have produced.
The last few strokes applied with full force brought screams and cries from our poor Jean and transformed her pretty ivory bottom into a peony of the loveliest and deepest scarlet.
Once the punishment was ended her panties were replaced and both she and Barbara left the dining room. I knew from the excitement on Barbara's face that she would console our little Jean in her own loving manner.
As for Serge, he helped me rise from the table and led me to the salon. There on the carpet on all four paws he took me with the same violence the spanking of his pupil had provoked in him.
In the beginning of winter he informed me one morning that I would be alone for two weeks as he had to go to the provinces to settle important matters and that unfortunately he could not take me with him.
I took advantage of this solitude to be with my beautiful and tender friend Barbara. The very first evening I called her to me, anxious for her sensitive fingers and tongue.
To revenge herself for my long absence and to increase her own notion of her value the villains played hard to get and wanted to be coaxed. Seeing that I was about to get mad she embraced me and asked my pardon, and in her mocking manner shouted with delight.
"Freedom for us! When the cat is away the mice will play. We may not dance but you see how we'll amuse ourselves."
Indeed it was a most delightful party we had, we three, for we decided immediately on Jean's participation in our love play.
Had Serge returned by some unhappy accident of schedule and opened the door to my room he would certainly have found a surprising scene to behold: Three nude bodies of women mixed together in a tangle of the lewdest possible embraces.
We enjoyed a thousand follies. Among these one I had long desired. To have myself caressed and sucked by Jean and more especially to caress and suck her, for I had often dreamed of holding her little nude body in my hands.
She proved even more delightful than I could have believed. She was a veritable doll, but a living, warm blooded doll, already delicately licentious.
Mad with joy Barbara and I covered her with kisses, teasing, fondling and caressing her like living doll she was.
The little darling gave herself with naughty delight to all our demands and fantasies.
When we asked her to masturbate she placed herself in a way which would satisfy our lewd curiosity to advantage. With her small hand in her yet immature pussy she began to play with her clitoris. The knowing rhythm of her movements, the manner of her caresses left no doubt of a secret sexual delight well practiced.
Needless to say the following morning we were totally exhausted. We found ourselves, the three of us, with deep circles reaching half way down our cheeks.
Fortunately the boss was absent, for we would never have been able to stop his ironical reflections and his knowing superior smile.
On his return I naturally quit my lovely friends and again consecrated myself to the desires of my lord and master.
In the villa behind the lofty iron grill the days rolled on in a soft tranquility until from time to time the visit of one of Doctor Smetena's beautiful patients would provoke a new storm of voluptuous pleasures.
It was on one such occasion that I saw running towards me shaking with emotion my little Jean.
As soon as she was near me she cried, "She is coming. She telephoned. She will be here this afternoon!"
"But who will be here?" I demanded completely nonplussed.
"Oh, my rotten luck," sniffled the rascal. "I thought she would not come again."
"Now come, my dear, of whom are you speaking."
"Of Madame Foley!"
"Madame Foley," I repeated without showing signs of recognition.
"But yes, you must remember I told you the story one day. It is she who loves to give me a spanking every time she comes. Please, Toni, I implore you protect me. Don't let her do it. She is too mean."
"Now, now, calm yourself, kitten, we will see what strategy we'll use to escape this serious danger," I replied smiling at her fright and my own duplicity since I too wanted to enjoy the same pleasure as Mme Foley.
"Do you think we'll succeed?" she demanded showing an anxious grimace.
"We can certainly always try, especially as you prefer to pull down your own panties," I continued, watching the effect of my taunting on her pretty but disturbed face.
We spent the whole morning seeking a solution to permit Jean to escape the spanking with which her lovely ass was threatened to satisfy Madame Foley's personal perversion.
I could not think of any solution other than for the both of us to escape into town and return that evening only after the too demanding lady had departed.
The only thing that could have foiled our plan would have been Serge's announcement of her arrival, and his demand that I should assist with her treatment.
Fortunately he did not mention her visit to me.
Either he had forgotten or, perhaps, to stimulate his own pleasure he wanted to surprise me as I had not yet made the acquaintance of this unusual patient.
I asked Jean if her guardian had told her of Mme Foley's intended visit. This fortunately was not the case. She had overheard the telephone conversation only and being crazy with fear had immediately hastened to tell me.
Our chances therefore were good. I took Barbara into our confidence telling her that we would go shopping as if we didn't know anything about the visit of our sadistic patient. She was simply to tell the Doctor this, when with great surprise he would discover our unusual absence.
We passed an excellent afternoon. First we went to a cinema, thereafter, since Jean was hungry, we went to a pastry shop.
When it turned seven o'clock I judged it to be time to return. I surmised that the danger was past and that the patient had long since left.
Hardly had Barbara the time to open the door and to give us a sign, which, alas we didn't understand, when the door of Serge's consultation room opened. He stood in the doorway regarding us without a word but with a look not too reassuring.
I was of course quite troubled for I felt that he had had need of me and would certainly not be content that I had left without letting him know or asking whether or not I could thus absent myself.
As for the poor Jean who now pressed close to me in fear I sensed that she had escaped one spanking but would no doubt get another.
Nevertheless I tried a feeble excuse about having seen a special sale at the last moment. Not having wanted to miss it, and since he had not been there, and as no patient was expected that day, I had permitted myself...
He regarded me with an air of irony and skepticism. Without saying a word to me he turned to Jean and chastised.
"And you, you now take it upon yourself to go out without even telling me!"
"But, but, but I went together with Antoinette," she stammered.
"Yes," I hastened to the defense, "don't growl, it was I who asked her to join me."
"I see. Contrary to what you thought, however, my little Antoinette, I had the visit of a patient and have looked for you in vain. But," he continued smiling, "that is of no importance. Come in a moment both of you, we will have a serious talk!"
Saying this he stepped aside allowing us to pass before him.
Entering the room and advancing toward his desk I turned my head. In the corner I saw a young brunette in her early thirties nonchalantly smoking a cigarette as she watched our entry. She was elegant of figure and dress and wore her abundance of black hair in a pony tail falling down her sum neck.
As soon as Jean saw her she gave an outcry of panic and fumbled searchingly for my hand.
I understood at once that we stood before the famous Mme Foley.
I must admit I was surprised. I don't know whether it was Jean's fear and my concern for her which put images into my head. I expected a woman long matured and hardened. The woman before us was young, charming and really beautiful. I should, of course, have realized this for otherwise she would not have been Serge's patient.
She approached us slowly and passing a hand of long graceful fingers over Jean's fiery and reddened cheeks demanded in a most charming voice.
"Well, my little darling, how could you choose the day of my coming to disappear? I had hoped so very much to see you today. Fortunately your guardian counselled me to await your return otherwise I would have already left without having embraced you. That would certainly have been tragic don't you think?" she added with a smile full of mischief but also of charm.
Jean did not utter a word in reply. She appeared like a little mouse before the cat about to crunch it.
"Have you lost your voice, little charmer?" she continued. "I'll bet that very shortly you will have found it again and that we will hear your customary little chant. You know I have not shown such patience for nothing."
Turning toward me she threw me a speculative but friendly glance and asked the Doctor who had joined us after having closed the door.
"I presume this is Antoinette of whom you have already spoken. Well, she is charming and I am certain that she is more indulgent of her caprices than even you, my dear Serge!"
"My dear," he protested, "I don't know where you get the idea that I am over-tolerant of her caprices!
In any event I must admit that today's is hardly pardonable and since I know your immoderate taste for mis-sort of thing I delegate you the authority to punish this escapade."
"How wonderful you are, Serge," purred the lovely lady. "I did not think that you would have had me wait in vain. But," she added throwing me a malicious look, "have you realized that your charming assistant is also at fault? Perhaps even more so than Jean?"
"I have considered the question. For the moment occupy yourself with the younger culprit. We will see later about the other!"
Hearing this I felt a shiver of anxiety. What had he meant by this remark?
My reaction and reflexes were interrupted by a screeching of fear as my poor Jean sniffling and crying sought to extricate herself from Mme Foley's grip.
Seated in an arm chair Madame had already called Jean to her and was already removing her coat.
"Don't cry like that, darling, you will soil your pretty face," she said in a voice so soft as if her sole function were to console the little one.
Taking her own handkerchief she wiped Jean's wet cheeks while at the same time asking her to place herself flat on her stomach over her knees.
The feared command doubled the flow of tears of my young friend.
Without further ceremony Madame Foley pulled Jean's dress up to her hips revealing a lovely ass; half-hidden by the small panties bordered with lace which I myself had given her the day we had purchased lingerie.
"Ah," exclaimed the young woman. "Is it in my honor, little kitten, that you are wearing such delightful panties?"
With these words she eliminated the minuscule bit of white stuff covering the two lovely cheeks of her bottom, tightly squeezed together by her fear.
I began to understand the pleasure Madame Foley would derive. I too felt myself strangely moved by this licentious undressing and the view of Jean's delightfully rounded bottom.
Had I now had the power to restrain Madame Foley and to spare Jean this humiliating correction I would not have lifted a finger. Whereas I had sincerely sought to protect her I now felt a compelling desire to watch the spanking.
I was not to wait long. Already Madame Foley's hand flew into action striking with full force the tender globes which were instantly turning a deep rose. Soon the slaps reached the momentum of a long and uninterrupted salvo.
No doubt because of my presence Jean remained stoically silent for some time. Soon, however, her tearful cries alternated by her supplications formed a choir with the dry smack of the hands reddening the bouncing bottom of my poor friend.
When she was finally permitted to rise to her feet her face, literally bathed in tears, testified irrevocably to the smarting pains burning her lower back and ass.
With intense pleasure Madame Foley continued to play with her nude bottom for another few minutes.
After replacing the young one's panties herself, she embraced her moist cheeks and permitted her to leave.
When the door had closed on my poor little friend the alarming young woman turned to me and demanded smilingly what I would say if I should be treated in the same manner.
With a forced smile I replied that I thought I had passed the age of submitting to a treatment reserved for children.
"But certainly not," she exclaimed. "On the contrary it is a little divertissement one may enjoy at any age providing the subject be round and lovely and soft like you.
That would be most interesting. What do you think my dear Serge?"
The Doctor, who till then had limited himself to the role of silent spectator, declared the idea to be certainly most tempting and that for his part he desired to see if I were more courageous than Jean.
Horrified, I protested energetically and refused completely to lend myself to such an experience.
Whereupon my lover embraced me tenderly and whisperingly assured me that it was only a gentle game. Wouldn't I therefore amuse myself together with them?
When without a word I continued to hesitate he added that Madame Foley would stop as soon as I expressed the desire.
Wouldn't I consent?
I gave an uncertain smile but shook my head.
Serge gave me a big kiss and taking my wrists in both his hands pirouetted me to Madame Foley's easy chair.
She immediately began pulling my clothes up to my belt. I felt truly uneasy and fearful about this perversion when her cool and nervous hands began busying themselves with my under clothing.
Soon my bottom was bare.
I could not choke back a cry of shock and pain as the first slap struck me cruelly a few seconds later.
Before very long it seemed to me that my bottom burned as much if I had been sitting on a red hot kitchen range.
Unable to support more of these stinging, burning slaps I cried for her to stop as it burned too much.
My charming executioner played deaf however and gratified me with another good half dozen smacks for good measure. When finally my cries became screams of true pain she finally stopped.
It was certainly time. I could not have stood any more.
The hands a few seconds ago so hard and severe turned soft and caressing as she set about rubbing gently the painful region.
It even seemed to me that I felt two cool lips softly kissing my bottom now rendered scarlet by the rude treatment inflicted.
My lover who had all the while held me into the required bent position released my wrists and taking me into his arms asked smilingly if I had enjoyed this new pleasure.
I replied poutingly that if anyone had had pleasure out of it certainly was not me. On the contrary I found that it hurt terribly and that I did not like it at all.
"Exactly, my dear," pontificated Madame Foley, "the joy lies in the fact of knowing that the victim does not like it!"
"Oh, you," I exclaimed in an acid tone," I should like to see what kind of a figure you would cut if you were receiving the spanking instead of giving it!"
"Well, well," she retorted amusedly.
"Look, she is actually peeved, the poor kitten. Come now, frankly, did it really hurt as much as that?"
"Yes," I reiterated with an air of conviction.
Actually this was no longer true. I now felt an exquisite warmth radiating from my buttocks and coursing like liquid fire most agreeably throughout my entire body.
Madame Foley knew only too well these effects. Sensing that I would be in a state of torrid sexual excitement, at least unconsciously, she turned to the Doctor inquiring gently:
"Don't you think my dear Serge that our charming child deserves some sort of recompense for having so complacently given herself to our pleasure?"
"Yes, yes, I think you are right. But what do you envision as a just reward for her?"
"That is easy. You could fuck her. That is, of course, if she likes it. As for myself, I have a mad desire to watch you make love to her."
"My dear Janet," replied my lover growlingly, "you are becoming most demanding. Nevertheless I am ready to offer you that pleasure but I don't know if Antoinette will accept."
"Please, please, I beg you, Serge," pleaded Madame Foley. "I beg you, please, fuck her, fuck her in front of me. I want to see you do it."
I had remained silent during this dialogue asking myself if I should cede to my own desire and say yes and accept.
My lover spared me the need of deciding. Taking me boldly in his arms he catapulted me on to the sofa occupying a whole corner of the consultation room.
Since my buttocks were still bare he needed only to raise my skirt to my waist to have me at his disposition and ready to receive him.
At this moment Madame Foley precipitated herself toward us and in a voice surcharged with excitement begged.
"Wait, wait Serge. It is I who will prepare you. Let me, please!"
Before he could make the slightest indicative gesture she was on her knees before him, her hands furiously busied with the buttons of my lover's trousers.
Reclining on the sofa I could see her taking his cock between her caressing hands as if trying to judge its promise by its weight. Then with a light movement of the wrist she began to slowly and rhythmically caress my lover's magnificent phallus.
Under the slow backward and forward movements her fingers, curved into a caressing sheath, his prick began to swell and again take on its tremendous hard-on.
Suddenly, in total abandon, the beautiful young woman approached her face and opening her lips swallowed so much of this big pecker as to swell her cheeks beyond capacity.
With his head bent towards this kneeling beauty my lover watched with visible pleasure the gliding of the lips locked around his enormous penis and the slow movement of her face shuttling back and forth the length of this turgid, burning column.
When a few minutes later she straightened herself up it was to officiate further as master of ceremonies.
Taking the huge member, slippery with her saliva, in her hand she guided it carefully into my pussy, trembling now with anticipation.
The brutal stretching of my pussy by insertion of his phallus animated to enormous size made me cry out in utter pain. The imperious mouth of my lover choked the second cry into a sensual silence.
Only my agonized breathing, oppressed and accelerated by this fornicating assault of my dear boss broke the silence.
Madame Foley kneeling near the couch followed our movements with eyes burning with excitement. Then she reached out a hand and began lightly brushing our two organs united as if they were one.
Feeling the delicate caresses of the young woman on his balls which doubled his ardor and, no doubt, to offer a larger field of operations to the perverse fingers of his beautiful client Serge caught me by the ankles and folded my legs against me to where my knees touched my breasts.
In this foreshortened position I felt myself opened still wider, more accessible. When my lover's organ in all it's enormity and fire again penetrated me I believed myself torn ruthlessly apart
My desperate cry of pain brought only cries of delight from my cruel ravisher.
The slow and rolling forward and backward caresses to follow grew more and more voluptuous.
Together we attained the dazzling, shattering summits of the most intense orgasm of my life.
In the background of the moans and cries of our voluptuous abandon I heard the joyous and hysterical voice of our beautiful onlooker encouraging us in such crude and, licentious terms as I had never heard from the mouth of a woman.
When our mutual excitement had subsided we naturally felt slightly embarrassed. This was soon overcome, however, when Madame Foley with a smile of delight and sincerity said that I was truly a doll and that she understood the infinite pleasure of my lover fucking me whenever he desired.
It was understood before Madame made her departure that we would continue our interesting love match for three at an early date.
With a roguish air Madame Foley terminated.
"We shall add some agreeable variations, my dears!"
With the passage of a few months I noticed that Serge who had always been so attentive to me was acting strangely toward me.
My heart was stricken with fear. I felt that if my lover lost his sense of humor, and if at times he seemed so far away from me and lost in thought, it was because I no longer pleased him and that he was searching for a way to break our relationship.
I had come to be madly in love with him. My early attachment had become transformed into such a deep passion and affection for him that I wished never to be away from him. I wanted to be constantly near him, to serve his every desire like a slave, a happy slave who adores his master.
When finally I asked him what the matter was he would not tell me a thing other than assure me tenderly that all was well and that I was imagining things and entertaining a bunch of foolish ideas.
In spite of these reassurances I saw that he was lost in preoccupation while absent-mindedly watching me undress.
Fearful of displeasing him I contrived to satisfy all his tastes and appetites, that is to say I did everything he demanded of me. One day, or rather, one evening he demanded something which hitherto he had never openly demanded of me. He had indicated a strong desire on several occasions, but only through suggestions and hints.
Here is what happened:
The day being chilly I had put on a lovely pair of scotch plaid slacks to go walking with him in the woods.
During our walk he took advantage of there being but few strollers along certain walks to hold me against him and to caress me according to his desire.
At one moment while we were on a small footpath lost in the middle of thicket he turned about a moment supposedly to satisfy nature's urge.
On facing me again, however, he stood there with his cock in his hand. Reaching it toward my face he complained of the cold and teasingly asked me to warm his prick up in my mouth.
I was a little frightened of being surprised in such an occupation but he assured me saying that no one ever came to that part of the woods.
Reassured I squatted down before him and began to play with his thing while he braced himself against the trunk of a tree, ready for heavenly pleasure.
Under the pressure of my gliding lips and the slippery warmth of my saliva I felt his pecker slowly expanding. I had the sensation of feeling an animal awakening.
I had just sunk his organ farther into my distended mouth when a nearby noise troubled our tranquillity.
In one leaping movement I was on my feet while he strove to dissimulate the flagrant object. Laughing all the while I watched his difficulty, for his toy having been excited to it's utmost dimension no longer fitted into it's usual prison.
With a loud curse, which made me double up with laughter, he buttoned his trousers and assumed a pose of decency just in time for the appearance of an innocent stroller at the edge of the path.
What a shame, you were sucking me so beautifully," he growlingly complained as we continued our walk.
"Don't sulk, darling," I said laughing. In a lowered voice I continued, "If you wish, later when we have returned home, I will suck you completely. You know very well that I adore making you come in my mouth."
"Shut your mouth," he fumed. "You excite me too much. Come, we will make a tour of the lake."
He rented a boat and we began the tour of the body of water. Having rowed a short distance into the lake I became uncontrollably cold and shivered miserably. Curling up onto my seat I still felt the blowing of a light but penetrating wind which made me shiver.
Serge had noticed this and proposed that I should row to warm up. We exchanged places but his seat was too low for me so that I had difficulty in manipulating the heavy oars.
To my great astonishment I succeeded only in making a lot of noise and to send cascades of water spraying to the back of the boat and into the face of my lover who was mocking my clumsiness.
My experiment had warmed me however. My cheeks had become a fiery red when Serge decided it was time to teach me to row correctly.
"You will see," he said, "it is not difficult, but since the seat is too low for you you will sit on my lap."
I followed his instruction and did succeed finally in moving our boat in the right direction.
I was seated straddling his thighs, my bottom resting on his. I was delighted to discover that I was stroking the water and causing a rythmic and sonorous splashing.
We had reached the island in the center of the lake and the shelter from the wind it offered. Fatigued and winded from rowing I let myself fall back against the breast of my lover. Holding me around the waist he began passionately kissing my neck and biting my ear.
I was contentedly thinking how nice it was to see him again joyous, again attentive and affectionate when I felt a stiffness under my buttocks.
The soft movements of my hot thighs had reawakened his powerful phallus and it was now pressing hard against my back.
"You're making me crazy," he whispered in my ear. "Your warmth against me and your slacks make me feel as if I had a boy on my knees and was getting ready to make love to him."
As he said this half in earnest and half teasingly, I called him a villain and a pig which made him laugh and brought a sparkle to his eyes.
His eyes still glowing Serge said:
"Darling, what would you say if I treated you as a boy? You know how much I desire to taste this kind of pleasure with you. Tell me you would like to?"
"What a horrible idea," I exclaimed in reply. "No!"
"But why such objections?" he said smiling into my eyes.
"Maybe you will like it once you have tasted this forbidden joy."
"No, certainly not! I do not want to. Do you realize what you are asking. Don't you realize that you would hurt me?"
"But, my lovely darling, who is speaking of hurting you? On the contrary you know that I only desire your pleasure."
"Yes, yes! Useless to try to entangle me in seductive phrase," I said pointing a menacing finger for emphasis. "I know only too well that with your large organ you will hurt me and I don't want to."
"Come, my love, be generous," he continued trying still to persuade me softly, seductively. "You know how much I desire you. Shall we try it this evening?"
During all this persuasion, whispered softly into my ear, he had opened the zipper at the side of my slacks. Having lifted me slightly higher on his lap his hand had insinuated itself into my panties and was persuasively fondling the object of his desire.
"Well, if you don't want to do it is because you love me less than Hector regardless of all you have said to the contrary."
"Oh! Serge," I exclaimed pained by his remark.
"How could you say that!"
"You say you love me more than him?"
"I swear it, and I think you know it!"
"Well," he concluded triumphantly, "why did you do it with him and refuse to with me. Come now explain and don't you dare tell me that it isn't true for it was he himself who told me!"
"Serge, my love I want so much to give you pleasure, but I am afraid."
"And what about Hector?"
"It is not the same thing. I was surprised. He forced me to do it and it hurt me terribly. As for you, you are much stronger, much bigger than he. It would be terrible. I beg you not to. And why, my love, must you do this when we amuse ourselves in so many other ways?"
"All right. We won't talk about it any more!"
Taking the oars he began to row hurriedly toward the landing on the other bank.
After a few strokes he asked me to be seated on the other seat facing him as he feared to hurt me accidentally in rowing.
With a heavy heart I raised myself from his lap where I had been so smug and happy and took the seat facing him.
He had assumed a closed manner, his jaws tightly held together.
Seeing him thus I felt very sad and asked in a low unobtrusive voice. "Are you peeved Serge?"
He continued rowing without a reply as if he had not heard me. I could not contain myself any longer and fell to crying softly.
"Oh, stop your crying," he scolded. "I said we wouldn't mention the matter again."
"But darling, a short while ago you were so charming and attentive," I whined in the desperation of my unhappiness.
He did not reply however. After having returned the boat to the keeper we started home. He was walking hurriedly before me. When I tried to take his hand he had sunk them belligerently into his pockets.
Having trotted behind him for some time and feeling desperate and despondent I stopped in the middle of the walk.
I must have really looked miserable for suddenly he retraced his steps. Taking me in his arms he pulled me tight to him and kissing my cheeks wet with tears humbly begged my pardon for his wickedness.
"You know well that I adore you, my doll. It is because of this adoration for you that I am like that. My desire for you is so intense that I have a craving to please you and to hurt you. Do you understand this, my love?"
"Yes," I said still sniffling lightly but restored to serenity by his confession. "I too adore you, my lover and to prove it if you want to this evening you can do to me what you do desire," I added, relieved to have at last acceded to his lewd demands.
Overjoyed he began to caress and fondle me. While I was striving to regain my smile he announced that he had something of great importance to tell me. But so as to compensate me for my graciousness he would make this a surprise afterward.
That same evening when we were alone in our room he himself, devoured by desire and impatience, undressed me.
To remove my apprehensions and resistance he had me drink several glasses of liquor. These had made me drunk as a lord and put me into a most agreeable state of well-being.
Happily, laughingly and with the best intentions in the world I prepared to give myself to his desire by taking the required position; kneeling on the bed, my breasts prostrate on the sheets, my face between my open hands.
Chuckling with delight I felt him caressing my thighs and bottom and then spreading the cheeks of my ass to discover my folded daisy which had contracted on contact with the cool air.
Turning to sneak a furtive and apprehensive look I saw him lubricate the head of his phallus with saliva to make it slide in better.
Suddenly I had the sensation of being touched by a big, hard and hot thing.
I had hardly assimilated these sensations when I felt myself physically lifted from the bed by the merciless penetration of his enormous member.
It became instantly animated into vigorous and deeper penetrating thrusts.
The pain of this forceful penetration brought me back to my senses with burning and bitter tears.
All my pleas and complaints, all my appeals for pity fell on deaf ears. Serge would not let himself be dissuaded and continued accordingly to indulge his perverse desire until he reached his complete satisfaction in a screaming orgasm.
When he had finally released me and I had remained lying there prostrate he asked me with noticeable anxiety if I had been happy to have accorded him this very special delight.
In a voice still hoarse from my tears I replied that he was a brute and that he had certainly injured me as the pain had been excruciating, much more so than when Hector had sodomized me the first time.
He reassured me by saying that next time this would be much easier and less painful. Since I cried out in terror at the prospect of a new attack of this kind he gave an amused smile which let it be known that he would well know how to impose himself when he so desired.
Still smiling but this time less sardonically he asked me if I cared to know his secret.
My curiosity made me forget my difficulty and I began avidly to question him.
He played with me like a cat with a mouse making me make a pile of guesses. When he saw that I was still unnerved and was again about to break out in tears he announced:
"We are going to marry."
This was far from my expectations that I remained completely dumbfounded.
"You will become my wife," he declared explaining that he loved me so much that he feared losing me. Laughingly he added, "I will tie you to me by the chain of marriage. I will make you Madame Smetena."
"But," he inquired with marked concern on seeing me still speechless, "the news does not seem to have made you happy. Am I perhaps mistaken? Do you not love me as much as I have thought?"
I threw myself into his arms and reassured him on this point. My happiness at the thought of becoming his wife was so clearly manifest that I did not need to speak.
With a teasing smile he demanded if I would know my role as his young wife when the day came. Continuing in this gay vein he said that in order to avoid any unhappy incidents this memorable day we would proceed to have a rehearsal.
Pulling me full length under him he cajoled.
"I am going to marry you right now!"
Needless to say the rehearsal was a big success in every way. He did not leave me alone until I fell asleep in his arms, lifeless in delicious fatigue.
Is it necessary to recount the ending of my little love story?
For a year now I have been Madame Smetena. Our mutual love is increasing a little every day.
I am living a dream existence between my amorous husband and his little darling, my enchanting friend Barbara who shares all my intimate secrets, my little doll Jean who is becoming more and more licentious, and of course, all our lovely patient friends who now frequent our establishment on Lake Drive more than ever.
