Carol Mallatesta worked for the Credential Insurance Company as a claims investigator. Though she rarely left the home office of the Credential Company, she was the one who, based on data given her by field investigators, decided whether or not to pay a claim. It was a pretty straightforward job, and Carol did it to the best of her ability, which was to say, with a vengeance. Carol was a man-hater. She hated any and all creatures with a cock, from a fruit fly to a whale. As far as Carol was concerned, only the female of the species had any value to her.
Naturally, more than ninety-five percent of the claimants were men. The other five percent, the women, received their money almost immediately. But every man was put under careful scrutiny, and if Carol was able to find any reason whatsoever for denying a claim, she did so. As a matter of fact, she often denied a claim was valid, and the claimant, unaware he had recourse to the State Insurance Department, usually let the matter drop.
Now in her early twenties, Carol had discovered, against her will, that she was highly sexually oriented. However, hating men as she did, Carol did the only thing she was able to do under the circumstance; she became a lesbian.
Where she was a dominant figure at the insurance company, bossing men around, shoving underlings hither and thither, Carol was most definitely the cow-dyke in her relationship with Ann Mason, a sixty-two year old bull dyke with whom she had become friendly a year earlier. At home, Carol was extremely subservient. What made Ann a very powerful bull dyke was the fact that she hadn't discovered her lesbianism until she was in her mid-forties. Ann had fucked around routinely with men, but had always found it unpleasant. Then, immediately after giving birth to her illegitimate son, Albert Kalawrence-giving him his illegitimate father's last name-Ann had enjoyed a most satisfactory relationship with a hospital nurse. The nurse had, herself, been a cow-dyke, begging Ann to whip her, kick, and humiliate her, and Ann had discovered an immense amount of pleasure in doing so. As her son grew to adolescence, Ann began living with other women, and her latest live-in love was Carol Mallatesta. Ann had to admit, Carol was the best one of them all, to date.
What Ann enjoyed most was humiliating Carol in front of her growing son, whom she insisted keep his hands off Carol. Not that Albert was going to be a normal human being anyway. He was already much too short for his age, and he had a huge inferiority complex, especially when it came to girls, which pleased his mother to no end. The boy was a little jerk, and she detested him.
Carol also detested Ann's son, but the fat old bull-dyke's hold on Carol was, at that moment, too strong. Carol was unable to get away.
However Carol continued being a bitch-on-wheels at work. Most of her correspondence with claimants was through the mails. However, every now and again they called up on the phone to try and find out why she was denying their claim. Carol always recorded these phone calls. This way, if anyone claimed she was discourteous, she would always be able to play the recording back for her supervisor, a woman, and prove there was never any discourtesy on her part. But Carol had a way with words that aroused the anger in men so that they almost always ended up calling her some kind of unsavory name on the phone, which was all the excuse she ever needed for hanging up. She almost always knew what to say in her acid-sweet voice.
For instance, that was that conversation with that architect.
Chapter Two
It had started out as an ordinary day, and indeed, as far as Carol was concerned, it ended as an ordinary day. She had denied about eighteen claims that day, receiving a rich sense of satisfaction from the denials.
Her most satisfying denial came at about three in the afternoon. In this instance it had to do with a self-employed architect by the name of Randolph Forrest. According to the folder Carol had on Forrest, he was forty-one years old, had been stricken with pneumonia two months earlier in February, was supposedly forced to lie flat on his back while recovering, and claimed that being unable to work, he wanted some money from the Credential Insurance Company. Granted he had a disability policy with the company; granted he always paid his premiums on time; granted he had never made a claim against the company in the seventeen years he had been paying the premiums. However in spite of letters from the man's physician, it was Carol's opinion that an architect sat at his drawing board all day, and didn't have to brave the elements. Therefore, in spite of the pneumonia, there was no reason why Mr. Forrest would not have been able to continue with his normal activities. Ergo she had denied the claim.
When she received the phone call at three in the afternoon, she was, as always, acidly sweet to the man on the other end of the phone as she turned on the recorder.
"Miss Mallatesta speaking."
"Miss Mallatesta, this is Randolph Forrest. I'm calling in regard to claim number DI804 389."
"Just a moment," she told him, pressing a button on her computer screen, seeing the claim light up. However she made the man wait as if she was going through her files.
After making him wait for more than a minute, she said, "Oh yes, Mr. Forrest. According to your records there is no reason why you claim total disability since even in bed, if necessary, you would have been able to pursue your occupation."
"That's not quite true, Miss Mallatesta," he replied. "As an architect I often have to go to the area where the planned building is to be erected, and I have to double-check measurements. Besides, pneumonia subjects one to continual coughing fits which would make any kind of architecture impossible."
"I'm afraid that sounds a bit ridiculous Mr. Forrest. No court of law would believe anything like that."
"Well, I'm afraid we may have to test it in a court of law," he replied. "Because I intend suing. You see, Miss Mallatesta..."
"Mr. Forrest, if you feel you have a good case, then by all means sue. But I'm not the least bit interested in your personal history."
"This has to do with my case..."
"As far as we're concerned, your case is closed, Mr. Forrest. I have quite a few other cases to examine, so if you'll excuse me..."
"Your manners are somewhat wanting, Miss Mallatesta."
"Then by all means write to the insurance company and complain, Mr. Forrest. Good day!"
She gently put the receiver down, not listening to the words he was saying to her as she hung up. That had felt especially good.
"Who was that?" a female co-worker of her asked.
"Another deadbeat," Carol shrugged. "Wants something for nothing. Hah! Let him go hang."
But it wasn't Randolph Forrest who was slated to hang.
Chapter Three
There was always something dreadful about facing Ann. Carol had to admit she liked what she and Ann eventually did. But she hated doing it all in front of the woman's pimply-faced kid, Albert. Recently, she had gone to an analyst, recommended by Ann, and had spoken at length with the woman. It had been a female analyst, naturally. She would never have had anything to do with a male analyst.
After only three sessions with the analyst, the woman had suggested that Carol had best stop living with Ann and find a healthy relationship with a male, in spite of the "horrible experience" she had undergone when she had been younger. In spite of what Carol believed, she was really heterosexual.
"I refuse to believe that," Carol replied.
*****
Carol's experience had taken place seven years earlier, in her mid-teens. She had not thought of her parents as being out-of-the ordinary, though she had to admit in the last year, ever since she had developed, her stepfather, who had lived with her mother for as long as Carol had been able to remember, had been looking at her in a funny way.
One evening, she had come home from school late, and had put her books on the hall table in the small ranch house. Actually it was a living room table, because there was no real hall. As one entered the house, the living room was on the left, the hall closet was on the right.
After hanging up her coat in the hall closet, she had been about to walk straight ahead into the kitchen when she had heard smacking sounds off to her right, just past the hall closet. The sounds were coming from behind the partially closed door of the master bedroom.
Carol had no idea what the sounds might be, and at first was frightened enough to want to call the police. She was afraid someone had broken in and was hurting her mother and stepfather.
Carol moved closer to the bedroom door, listening, trying to decide what to do. Seeing the door more than a little ajar, she pushed it open and looked in.
Carol was unable to believe what she was seeing. It seemed like something out of a bad dream. There, lying on the bed, in an incredibly bound position, was her mother, totally naked. Her arms were free, dangling down on either side of the twin bed, but her legs had been yanked up over her head and her ankles had been tied to the headboard. All her weight was on her shoulders and back.
Carol saw her mother's buttocks and vagina were completely exposed since her ankles were tied wide apart. The woman, who was neither pretty nor ugly, looked extremely uncomfortable in that vulnerable position. Her stepfather was standing there, a flat leather belt in his hand, his arm back, ready to strike. He, too, was naked, a slightly paunchy, grizzle-faced man, about five-feet-eight-inches in height who always spoke in short grunts. He was covered with hair and looked like a gorilla.
Up until that moment, Carol had no idea her parents even indulged in sex, much less anything that kinky. In fact, she and some of her girlfriends would often joke about their various parents, trying decide which ones wanted nothing to do with sex, and Carol's parents invariably headed the list. Therefore this was quite a surprise for the young girl.
Carol's stepfather looked as if he was in a rape, and her mother's rounded, red asscheeks appeared to be paying for the man's anger. Each time the stout man whipped her buttocks, the helpless mousey woman on the bed would scream, and another large, flat red mark would adorn her buttocks.
All this time, Carol's stepfather had his back to her, but when he moved around to the other side of the bed to get a clear shot at her mother's right rump, she had a good look at the front of the pot-bellied man, At first, all she saw was a mountain of hair. He looked like something between the Abominable Snowman and Bigfoot. There was so much hair on him, it was impossible to see the flesh on his chest.
But what drew her eyes was his hard, red cock, standing stiff and straight at attention. It bobbed this way and that as he walked, but Carol had never imagined it would be so immense.
"I'm mad as hell at you, Velma," the hairy man was roaring. "All these years you made me think you liked what we were doing, and then I catch you doing freaky stuff with the guy down the block."
"Drop dead!" the mousey woman snapped at her husband. "It isn't my fault if you can't stand the truth."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me a long time ago? I woulda modified myself to suit you."
"You fat smuck! You thought I was attaining orgasms all the time. Hell, even I thought I was getting off. How the hell was I supposed to know I'd never really had any kind of climax until that time with Joe Collyer? Except for my first husband, who was worse than you, I'd never been to bed with any other man. Jesus! Twenty years of lousy fucking, and I'd never even known it."
"Oh, you're a real fucking bitch, aren't you," he bellowed at her, bringing the belt against her buttocks all the harder."
Then he started lashing away at the sides of her body, the belt reaching in and hitting the woman's breasts, as well. He reached out, grabbed a nipple, and started twisting, and that was when the woman began screaming all the louder. He grunted, and then laughed at her.
The woman tried clawing at him, but he moved back out of reach. All the time he was in a rage.
"Now I'm gonna do something to you you ain't had done by me before, you bitch!" he roared at his wife. "Tell me, did your new lover ever fuck you this way?"
He kneed his way onto the narrow bed, moving his jutting cock at the woman's helplessly puckered asshole. As he rubbed the head of his cock against the woman's anal opening, Carol saw her mother beginning to weep out loud. What her stepfather was doing was obviously abusive and humiliating. It was wrong!
The girl watched as her mother shrieked, and she began worrying that the neighbors might hear and call the police. Her father was also screaming aloud, cursing her mother, telling her what a hot-assed, fucking bitch she was, who didn't know a good cock when she had it, and was going to pay for going elsewhere.
He was pushing his cock into the woman's, asshole, and as Carol watched, she saw the organ sink all the way in. He began pumping back and forth, and each time the cock came out, it was just as clean as when it went in. It seemed to move easily enough, yet Carol was certain her mother must be feeling some kind of pain.
Her stepfather was justified in being mad at her mother for cheating on him. But it was obvious his real anger was not so much in her cheating as in discovering that she preferred her lover to him.
While the man continued fucking his wife's ass, his fingers reached out and poked themselves into her widespread cuntlips. He pushed his fingers in and out. At first, he was poking one finger into her. Then he poked a second finger into her. Soon he was working in three fingers. After a while it looked as if he was going to ram his whole fist into her mother's tiny little vagina. All the while, Carol saw her mother was reaching out and trying to scratch her father. Now and again she managed to cut his skin with a fingernail. But the man seemed to be ignoring what the woman was doing to her. In fact, he seemed to be loving it, and this seemed to be the reason why he hadn't bound her wrists to the bed, as well.
"I'm gonna make your cunt so wide, a Mack Truck'll drive right through it," he snorted. "Then no other cock'll fit in there."
Carpi was aware of how thick her stepfather's fist was, and she was only too aware of the fact that he really intended punching into the tiny little interstice between her mother's labia. She didn't dare allow this to happen, and so she stepped into the room, screaming, "No! You'll kill her! Don't do that!"
The two people on the bed whipped their heads around to look at her, both totally taken by surprise for an instant. Her stepfather tugged his hand away from her mother's cunt, and his bright eyes seemed to be glaring at her with unrestrained anger.
Perhaps the thing that confused Carol was the fact that her own mother seemed to be glaring at her with anger, too. She actually looked irritated that Carol interrupted what was happening.
That was when the horror began for Carol. Her stepfather pulled his cock from her mother's ass and leaped off the bed, coming for Carol.
Having no desire to face the man's wrath, the girl turned and ran from the room. But before she had gotten to the front door, her stepfather's heavy hand was gripping her arm and yanking her back.
Carol struggled, kicking, biting, scratching, but the gruff man appeared to be enjoying it all as he smacked her face, then threw her to the floor. He dragged her by her ankle back to the bedroom, then bent down, hoisted her, and threw her on the bed against her obscenely bound mother. He ripped at her clothing, tearing her blouse. She spat at him, kicked, struggled, and screamed, so he jammed a dirty hanky into her mouth. When she tried pulling it out, he gripped both her wrists, tugged them behind her back, and used her skirt-belt to tie them there. Then he pulled her shoes from her kicking feet, ripped off part of her nylon pantyhose, and tied the gag in place.
"You've been a nosy little bitch, Carol," he roared. "The time has come for an inquisitive little cunt like you to find out just what really goes on when a man's cock hangs out."
She was already half-naked. Her blouse was wide open, her skirt loose and falling down around her ankles. Her bra was still on. Her stepfather didn't bother removing it. He merely pulled her breasts out and left the bra on, beneath. The remnant of her pantyhose, and her panties were still covering her lower parts, but not for long. The man ripped them to shreds as he pulled everything from her body.
"Well, Velma," he laughed. "You got yourself one hot little cunt for a daughter. I'm gonna give her the benefit of her stepdaddy's cock, and well see if she thinks I'm as lousy a lay as you seem to think. "Y'know, it's one thing when y'fooled around with that Joe, but I found out about that dyke, Louise, too. You tike pussy as much as most men. Well that's good, that's real good."
"Will, you leave Carol the hell alone. What'd you think you're doing with her? She never did anything to you. You want to take your anger out on me, that's one thing, but leave the girl alone," the mother cried.
"Shit no! You went out and got yourself another guy, didn't you, so I'm gonna get me another broad. The only difference is, I don't have to go out and look for one. We have one right here. I got me another cunt right here on the bed, and I'm gonna use it."
Carol gasped, unable to believe her stepfather was planning this dreadful rape. She had never felt anything one way or the other where he was concerned, and though he had been looking at her kind of funny of late, she hadn't given it much thought.
He hoisted Carol up, then rammed her down so that her face was over her mother's, and their breasts were pressing one against the other after he had unbound his wife's legs from the headboard and had tied them, wide apart, to the foot of the bed. He pressed on Carol's ass so that her vagina was rubbing against that of her mother.
"You like playing with broads, Velma," the man grunted. "Well, I'm gonna letcha play with my new broad, for a while. Maybe she has the same dyke tendencies you got. So come on, you two cunts, start kissing."
Carol stared into her mother's wide eyes and saw the woman was just as frightened as she. Neither of them knew what to do, and both were totally helpless.
Then she saw her stepfather moving from the corner of her eye. He had his flat, leather belt in his hand, and he proceeded to bring it down on Carol's buttocks, and she tried screaming through the gag.
"Hey now, we can't hear no screams," the stepfather laughed. He untied the stocking remnant from around her face, then pulled the filthy handkerchief from her mouth and dropped it on the floor. Carol began sobbing out loud.
He lashed between their legs, the belt hitting Carol's ass and vagina at the same time, and flicking against her mother's vagina, as well. This made both women jump, but they were unable to move, the mother's ankles being bound to the bed, and Carol's arms being tied behind her back. The mother surrounded Carol and held her tight, and when Carol tried shutting her thighs, her brutal stepfather beat her back, yelling, "Get those legs open, bitch!"
He began lashing them in regular cadence, and their bodies began rubbing against one another, the friction of one clitoris massaging the next. Large red bruises began to appear on Carol's back, as well as on the outer lips and inner thighs on her mother's fulcrum. Both females gasped aloud as the man kept beating them, snarling, "Kiss, you fucking dykes, kiss! Come on, let's see some action here!"
Sobbing, the mousey older woman lifted her face and began kissing her daughter on the lips. Carol was startled, tasting the salt of their tears in the kiss, and she gasped, aware of her mother's tongue flicking itself into her mouth. She didn't like it, she didn't like it at all. What turned her off for the most part was the fact that it was her mother. She tried turning her head away, but each time she turned her face to the side, her stepfather's belt landed on her shoulder, almost touching her cheek. She feared he might accidentally hit her in the eye.
Then the lashing stopped. She felt more weight on the bed as her stepfather kneed his way on behind her. She gasped as she felt his penile head rubbing against her vaginal lips. Oh God! Aside from the additional pain she knew she would feel, this was totally degrading.
She started to cry. Her mother whispered, "You should not have interfered, Carol. Now you'll have to do as Will says or he'll whale the tar out of both of us. He can be meaner than hell."
"You're a stupid little bitch, Carol, but a pretty one," her stepfather grunted. "Now you do like yer ma says, and well get along just fine. Just keep them there legs spread wide apart, and don't you fight me."
She gasped, as he pressed the thick head of his cock between her labia. Little by little he was pushing it into the tiny little entry of her vagina.
"It huuuuurrrrrtttts!" she wailed.
"Yeah, well it's gotta hurt the first time," the man grunted. "Jus' think of it as me doin' you some kinda favor. This way, the next time you get laid, you won't feel no pain, and you won't have to hate the guy fucking you like you must hate me now. Yeah, someday you'll see, I'm doing you a big favor."
Little by little he forced the thick branch of his cock deeper. Her inner walls were stretching, and the agony was becoming too much. But when she opened her mouth to scream, she felt her mother's mouth kissing hers, absorbing the shouts, sucking on her tongue as if trying to tell her to shut up, for heaven's sake.
The cock pressed against something very delicate inside her, and the agony increased tenfold as he continued pushing, tearing through her hymen.
"Gggwwwwaggmmmmhhhhh!" she gagged into her mother's mouth as torment ripped through every nerve-ending in her shuddering form.
With a single final lunge, the man's thick cock rammed itself all the way in, stretching her narrow, virginal walls as never before. Never before had she felt such overwhelming torture. She wanted to cry out to her stepfather to stop, but her mother's eager kisses gagged her and she was unable to do so.
"Your daughter's the same kind of bitch as you, Velma," the man grunted out loud. "She deserves the full extent of my cock. I might keep her here until she learns to love this cock. Hell! If I want, I'll have her on her knees, slobbering all over it. I'll bet she'd be a better cocksucker than you."
The agony was slowly beginning to abate as the man mercilessly moved his flaming poker in and out of her teeming terebration, pumping violently so that little by little her interior was beginning to get moist from the oils within. It was already moist, to some extent, wetted down by her blood when he had broken her virginal membrane. But now the fluid inside her was more slippery, and though her walls were still unused to the prod working through it, the fluid caused the pain to change to discomfort.
Her stepfather gripped her hips and he began pulling her back as he continued stroking his mighty plunger into her helpless depths. Each time he slammed forward, he tugged her back the littlest bit, and soon she found her face was against the small balloon of her mother's soft, floppy breasts.
"Now, start suckin' the old bitch's tits," he roared. "Come on, seein' the way they sag, I'll bet yer mother used her tits to breastfeed you, anyway. So start suckin' again, and make it a nice, loud, slurping sound."
Carol was unable to believe what she was hearing. This man who had married her mother had to be the single most gross animal in existence. But what made it even worse was the fact that staring at her mother's breasts, she saw the nipples so thick and huge and stiff. The mere suggestion that she do this was affecting her mother perversely. By the expression on the older woman's face it was obvious her mother was looking forward to her doing what her stepfather had ordered. The woman was actually beginning to smile. It was as if she felt a great burden being lifted from her; the humiliation previously being suffered had now been passed along to Carol. The mere idea that her daughter was now shouldering what she felt to be a twenty-year-old burden eased the previous torment she had been feeling. In fact, she began moaning, and it wasn't with pain.
"Come, come, darling, come and suck my nipples. Pull the milk from my breasts the way you did when you were a baby. You were such a hungry little thing, and you had such a strong mouth. I used to have little orgasms just from the way you sucked my breasts."
Before Carol had an opportunity to respond, she felt her stepfather clutch her by the hair of her head, ramming her mouth firmly against the upthrust right nipple on her mother's chest. The sagging mound of white flesh surrounded her nose and mouth, cutting off her breathing.
Her mouth opened unwillingly, if only to breathe, and the thick nipple suddenly slid between her lips. Oh God! This was monstrous! She began sucking, sucking hard, sucking heavily, hating it.
Years later she would attribute her latent lesbianism to this more than anything else. Yet at the time she detested all this. Her detestation stemmed from the fact that this was her mother with whom she was being forced to do these terrible things. Had it been any other woman she would have closed her mind to it and tolerated it, and afterward might even have forgotten about it. But this was her mother, and she was being made to perform abberative acts with the woman, who in turn, actually seemed anxious to do these things.
All the while, her stepfather continued stroking into the widening delta of her womanly breach. The friction was causing a mixture of sensations in her body. Pain was slowly diminishing, and in its place there was something else, something she was trying to reject, but it was getting stronger and stronger until it began flooding her body. She was feeling a sense of pleasure she had never before dreamed existed. This pleasure was being brought on by the hated delving of this vile man's cock into her helpless vaginal valley. The fact that he was behind her, and she was unable to see him, took away from the villainousness of all this, and allowed her inner feelings to continue enlarging.
He had her knees beneath her for a moment, grabbing pillows from under mother's head, leaning against her asscheeks, then lifting her mother's ass all the higher and propping all three pillows her mother used to sleep with, beneath her buttocks. Then he forced Carol's knees out from under her again, slamming her clitoris against that of her mother's upraised pussy, while he lay on her and continued violently fucking his hard cock in and out of her seething inner chamber. Now he slammed his cock into her with all his might, enhancing the lustful thrills she knew she ought not to be feeling. The desire to feel more continued swelling through her, and even while lying flatly against her mother, she responded to her stepfather's fucking thrusts by humping her ass upward each time he plunged into her seething hotbox from the rear. What enhanced it even more was the fact that her mother had lifted a knee against her groin, pressing it against her clitoris. This built the intensified desire even higher.
The man had a firm grip on her hair, and he moved her mouth from one breast to the other, making sure she sucked long and loud on each nipple, enjoying the groans and sighs coming from the older woman.
"Well this is one time you can't say you're not comin' off," he snapped at his wife. "I'll bet this is the best fuck all three of us ever had. Shit! It has to be Carol's best fuck. To date, it's her first fuck! I popped her cherry goin' in."
Carol's face was stinging from the way her stepfather kept ramming it against her mother's breasts, but it didn't stop her from continuing to hump her ass up and down. Soon she began feeling the way her stepfather's cock was pulsating inside her as it swelled even more. She knew what was going to happen, and a mingling of thoughts ran through her quivering mind. First, she was terrified he would come too quickly, before she was able to achieve any kind of satisfaction. Then she was afraid he would make her pregnant. Not that he would give a damn. He would send her to one of those free-abortion clinics, if necessary.
He pumped faster now, and her mother's knee rubbed all the more solidly against her clitoris. She was about to achieve her first orgasm. Oh God!
She gagged with her mother's breast jammed all the way to her throat as she came, her hot oils splashing out all over her stepfather's balls.
Then she felt the hot syrup of his sperm as he fired into her vagina. The wash of hot fluid was a balm against whatever remaining pain she felt, but the fear of pregnancy made her shudder and took the edge off her own orgasm.
"You like it!" the man roared, feeling the way her cunt squeezed around his exploding cock. "Yeah, you like it, I can tell. You're gettin' off, which is more'n your mother ever did."
He reached under her body and grabbed for her breasts with both hands on either side of her. He cupped the large swells of her breasts, muttering something about them being firmer and bigger than her mother's, and then his fingers searched for, and finally found her nipples. He began pinching them. The pain stimulated her, further.
She felt his cock go limp, and it finally slipped out of her cunt. The girl inwardly sighed with relief, thinking it was all over. But she was wrong.
The man finally pulled her back, but kept her arms bound behind her. He had her kneel above her mother's vagina, facing toward the woman's bound ankles. She remained upright, keeping her weight on her knees, and as a result her dripping cunt hovered almost a foot over her mother's head. Carol had no idea what her stepfather had in mind.
"Now you're gonna feel how good it is to have a tongue in your pussy while your ma eats out my come," he laughed.
Carol remained frozen, on her knees, staring at the ankles of the older woman, seeing the ropes cutting into them. She kept her cunt high above her mother's face, until her stepfather walked over and pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her to scrunch her pussy solidly on her mother's mouth. She heard the woman gagging, below.
"Come on, Velma," he roared, laughing. "You love the taste of a good cunt, so start sucking. After all, this is your daughter's cunt, her virgin, bleeding cunt, filled with a nice fresh load of creamy sperm."
It was when her mother's tongue flicked against her clitoris that Carol lost whatever sense of shame she ought to have had. The pressure of the warm, wet tongue was so good, it occurred to her that perhaps she was a lesbian. Not once did she thick that a man's tongue might have felt even better. She did feel as if the humiliation she had been made to suffer for her mother was not being passed back to the older woman. It was back where it belonged, and some of the burden of guilt was lifted. As a result, she was able to enjoy the licking of her cunt more than she might have, and so began believing she had lesbian tendencies.
Carol gasped as her mother's tongue delved into her cuntal cupola and pulled out the white, frothy sperm her stepfather had deposited in there. It felt, to the girl, as if her mother's tongue was almost as long as Will's cock. Then the older woman was pursing her lips at the daughter's teeming little vaginal perforation, and Carol all but shrieked out her pleasure as she felt the suction. The tongue started moving across her clitoris again, and the girl bucked back and forth.
Suddenly she felt a hard crack across her face, and her stepfather was roaring at her, "What the fuck's the matter with you? Shit! You're really diggin' this! You're gettin' off on it!"
"No, please," she gasped.
"Don't hand me a load of shit, honey," he snapped. "You really dig this. I dunno if it's 'cause you dig bein' forced to do this yourself, or if you're like your ma and love havin' a woman lick your cunt, or if y'just like to see your ma bein' humiliated. I think there's only one way to find out. Let's see if you dig a little abuse yourself, you stupid little twat."
Chapter Four
With great effort, the weighty man managed to climb onto the bed, standing on it, gripping the headboard for support. He had his ankles straddling his wife's body, and his groin was directly in front of his stepdaughter, who was still sitting upright on her mother's face while the latter, oblivious to what was happening, began licking even more strongly into her daughter's cunt so that the helplessly bound girl found herself feeling even more aroused, albeit against her will.
He gripped Carol's head for balance, tugging hard on her ponytail. She opened her mouth to cry out, and suddenly he crammed the cock firmly inside. He pushed it right to the back of her throat, coated as it was with his sperm, her oils, and her blood. He jammed the head into her gullet, gagging her, then shoved it even more deeply into her. If she had thought the organ huge before, she was aghast at it's size, now. It was the most immense log in the world.
For the moment the girl began pitying her mother. She wondered if the poor woman had difficulty achieving satisfaction because of the obvious pain she must feel each time her vagina was stretched by this massive baton of flesh, blood, and muscle. It made her wonder if any woman was capable of attaining satisfaction with such a humongous cock, and then a moment later realized she, herself had climaxed quite overpoweringly with it lodged in her cunt. Nevertheless, was it possible for a woman to handle such a monster over a period of time and not get inwardly stretched out of shape? No damn wonder her mother was unable to come with the man.
Her eyes began bulging, but the man didn't give a damn. He just kept on cramming more and more of the throbbing cock into her gullet. She was choking, her face turning blue, and still he refused to pull back. For a moment she was certain she was going to die this way.
Finally he tugged his cock halfway out of her mouth, not out of kindness, but merely to begin feeling friction. While he had been watching her mother suck her cunt, he had become stimulated again, so his organ was more solid than the rock of Gibraltar. He began fucking his powering prong ever deeper into her mouth, and without realizing it, she began sucking, if only to keep her saliva from going down her larynx and choking her. He gripped her ears and tilted her head so she was forced to look past his overhanging belly on each outstroke and see his evil, grizzled face. Each time he rammed the cock all the way down her gullet, she all but strangled, and he sighed, as if enjoying the intense pressure building in his balls. What made it even worse was the stimulation of some part of her gullet, so that as her throat widened just a little and she no longer choked, she also began feeling aroused. Between the licking of her cunt by her mother, and the pronging of her throat by her stepfather, she was being lifted to Heaven's Gate all over again.
"Christ! You're better'n your mother can ever hope to be," he laughed. "Lookit the way you cop my knob, baby. Jesus! You can really suck up a storm. Shit! To think you been in the house all this time and I've been lettin' you go to waste. Well no more, honey. From now on, you'n'me, we're gonna have ourselves regular fun sessions. Oh yeah! Sometimes we'll even bring your ma into it, but most of the time it's just gonna be the two of us, you'n'me."
Her ears rang with her stepfather's declaration. He was telling her he intended doing this with her on a regular basis. This was sheer cruelty. As she became more terrified, so did her body become more stimulated. Not only that, but his body was also becoming more aroused as he pounded into her gullet all the more powerfully. He fucked her mouth again and again and again, his weighty phallus crammed completely into her pharynx, making her entire physical being tingle. Even more stimulating was the weight of his balls banging against her chin as they slowly were tugged up into his shrinking scrotum. They were slamming against the point of her chin so hard, she thought she would drill a hole right through the wrinkled red sac all covered with gray hair.
His hands reached down and he began pulling on her nipples, twisting and yanking on them, and though she ached to bit his cock off, she knew long before she got her teeth halfway through the hardness of it, he would have killed her. God! At the moment it felt as if he was going to pull her breasts off. It also felt as if she was going to have another orgasm as a connection seemed to form between her clitoris and her throat, sending sizzling fire through her arteries.
"Gggwaugh" she gagged out, as she came as fiercely this time as when he had fucked her. She hated herself for coming, despised herself, in fact. How was it possible for her to attain satisfaction while being so abused?
Then her stepfather began firing whatever sperm he had left into her mouth as he bellowed.
His cock throbbed unmercifully in her gullet, and the hot goo spurting into her throat refused to go down. It came up and slipped out of her mouth from the corners. Some slid down her chin. Seeing this, the gruff man slapped her face with his cock still locked between her automatically sucking jaws.
"Damn you, you fucking bitch!" he snapped. "That's my sperm! It's liquid gold. You gotta swallow it all, do you hear? It ain't no good unless you swallow. Y'gotta take every last little bit of semen when y'suck. In the future that's just what you're gonna do. Remember, if you don't swallow the stuff, I'll pump it into your cunt, and well start makin' babies, you'n'me."
The man was treating her like some kind of tramp, abusing her, behaving as if she wanted all this to happen. Even is she had achieved two orgasms, she didn't like any of this. God! How she hated that disgusting man, and she hated her mother for having to go along with whatever the man wanted to do.
He climbed down off the bed, yanked her from her mother's face, gripped her by the neck and pointed to her mother's cunt.
"That's where you came outta," he told her. "Next time, when I shoot my load in there, you're gonna climb right back up in there and lick it all out, just like your ma licked the cream outta you."
He unbound her wrists then, saying, "Take care of yer old lady," and he went to the bathroom.
Carol quickly got dressed, as did her mother. She had to go to her own room to get fresh clothing, but she felt dirty from having been touched by her stepfather.
When, after an hour, the man didn't come out of the bathroom, her mother tried to doorknob. It was unlocked. She opened the door and found the man dead, sitting on the toilet. He'd had a heart attack exerting himself trying to eliminate, after all the exertion he'd had fucking his stepdaughter's cunt and mouth. Carol was glad, and yet she was sorry, because she wouldn't have the chance to make him pay. As a result, she made all other men pay.
Chapter Five
Returning to the apartment she shared with Ann Mason and the later's son, Albert Kalawrence, she found supper being made by the pimply-faced, long-nosed boy. His mother made him do all the menial work around the apartment.
"Well?" the overweight bullish-looking woman asked, her black dress hanging on her like a tent as the well-dressed Carol walked in. "Did you have a good session with the analyst?"
"It was all right," Carol nodded, hanging up her coat.
"Hey, what is it," Ann asked. "Come on, come on, no secrets, remember. Spill it, Carol."
"Well," Carol shrugged, "the analyst says I'm not really a lesbian. She claims I should try for a heterosexual relationship."
"S'that a fact? What led her to that conclusion?"
"Well, when I told her how I managed to come when my stepfather attacked me."
"No fooling?" Ann muttered. 'I know you told me about the way the slob attacked you, but you never said anything about liking it."
"What am I supposed to say?" Carol shrugged. "How d'you admit you like being raped? How do you admit the most disgusting man of all time made you feel the first bit of sexual pleasure you ever felt?"
"I don't know," Ann muttered, undoing the black belt from around her dress, sliding it out slowly from the loops. "But I do know that good friends ought not to keep secrets from one another."
"What was between the analyst and myself is private," Carol insisted.
"Bullshit!" Ann screamed in her highpitched, whiney voice. "You and I are more than friends. We're lovers! You lied to me, Carol, you made me believe you had told me everything about you, just like I told you everything about me."
"I didn't lie to you, Ann," Carol mumbled wearily. "I just didn't tell you everything."
"You were supposed to tell me everything," Ann insisted. "What you're saying is, you still don't trust me."
"Come on, Ann, that's not what I'm saying and you know it," Carol muttered, backing away from Ann, who was circling so that Carol had to back into the apartment rather than toward the door.
It was a small apartment. It had only two rooms. There was a bedroom, where Ann and Carol slept together in a full-sized bed, and there was the combination living room, dining room, kitchen, where the sofa opened up so that Albert was able to sleep on it.
Right now, Ann was backing Carol toward the sink off to the left, and Albert, seeing what was about to happen, moved out of the way, crossing to the other side of the room. His mother always let him stay when she humiliated Carol. He loved watching it all, and at his mother's instructions, even pulled out his cock and jerked off while she was making it with Carol. Ann's most potent threat to Carol was that one day she would bury her son's cock in Carol's body.
At the moment, Carol was backed up against the porcelain sink, unable to move. She began quaking, then watched as Ann reached out with the leather belt and wound it around her neck, her weighty presence making Carol feel submissive. Carol knew for a fact that her stepfather's treatment had caused her to feel the need to be humiliated in order for her to come. She had tried making it with one or two lesbians who weren't too overbearing, and had been unsuccessful. This was why she had enjoyed being with Ann. The even more humiliating event of always allowing her son Albert to watch what was happening seemed to heighten everything that much more for Carol. In her mind, sex was a humiliating, degrading thing, and so the only way for her to enjoy it was to be abused, first.
Ann pulled the belt all the more tightly around Carol's throat until she had left almost no room for breathing. Then she slipped the end through the buckle and made it fast so it wouldn't loosen.
"On your knees, you miserable excuse for a cunt," Ann squeaked, her voice taking command in spite of its high pitch. "On your knees like the bitch-dog you are, and then we'll talk a little more."
"No," Carol gagged. "The analyst said we have to talk face-to-face."
The graying haired woman slapped Carol solidly across her face, and the younger woman felt the fire stinging her cheek. The instant she was smacked, she fell humbly to her knees, but Ann still had a firm grasp on the belt.
"Now my little doggie-bitch," the older woman said to the younger one as her big-nosed son began opening his pants and pulling out his miniscule penis. "I want you to tell me everything you told that damned analyst-everything. Don't leave out anything."
Carol was aware of her entire body quaking, though she didn't know if it was with fear or anticipation. It didn't really matter because even if she began by feeling fear, it always changed to anticipation. She gnawed on her lower lip to keep her voice from quavering, and then gagged as she felt Ann pull the leather belt a little tighter around her throat. She was choking just the littlest bit.
"Come on," Ann urged. "I want to hear everything, every last thing you told that hard-nosed cunt who still prefers man, herself. You're my mistress, Carol. I pay for everything here, including a lot of your clothing. I've taken good care of you, so you've been able to bank almost all your money. Now you tell me just what it was you said to the analyst, sweet bitch!"
Ann used the free end of the belt to slap Carol viciously across her face, and she knew if she didn't start talking, Ann might cause some permanent damage. Certainly she needed her voice, because she loved talking on the phone and denying claims. So she nodded and Ann loosened the belt a little. She told her lover everything the fat woman wanted to know, about her having enjoyed what her stepfather had done to her, and how she had hated him, and had been glad when he had died, though she was sorry she was only the indirect cause of his death.
As Carol kept talking, Ann began undressing, though she maintained a tight hold on the leash. She removed her dress, displaying her large, hanging breasts. They looked a lot like her mother's, which was one of the reasons why Carol was so aroused, although her mother's were much smaller. Still, the tan coloring, the brown nipples and areolas, and the hang all seemed to be much like her mother's. Then she was removing the half slip she wore, kicking off her low-heeled, black shoes. She had no stockings on, having taken them off when she had come home.
Next she removed her panties, revealing the full, swollen liver-colored lips between her thighs, lips that were already juicily wet, making Carol unwittingly lick her lips, and she stood directly in front of Carol as the latter continued talking, letting her see the pussy and even inhale the muskiness of it. Ann might have been old, but she was clean, and the vaginal aroma seemed to do something to Carol. She actually thought of it as almost being her own vagina, even though her cunt was smaller, fuller, and much pinker.
Chapter Six
Carol stared at the ooze dripping from between the lover-colored lips of Ann's vagina, noting that the oils were seeping into Ann's thick, gray pelvic bush. The more Carol talked, the wetter Ann got, and soon the ooze was dripping down Ann's meaty thighs, falling to the floor. The aroma was almost overpowering.
"What else did you do after your stepfather fucked you?" Ann insisted on knowing, tugging Carol's lovely face the littlest bit closer so that the younger woman's mouth just barely missed touching the pouting swells of her cuntlips.
"Then he made me suck his cock until he came in my mouth," the kneeling younger woman replied.
"What else happened?" Ann insisted on knowing. "You already told me once before that your stepfather forced you to fellate him. What makes it so significant now whereas you glossed over it quickly the last time, bitch?"
"I came with his cock in my throat," Carol readily admitted.
"You're a lying dog," the older woman squealed at her in that irritating highpitched voice of hers. "You never mentioned that the first time you told me about it."
"I just didn't want to admit it, even to myself," Carol insisted. "The idea that a man that horribly gross was capable of making me feel things I was supposed to feel only with people I would learn to love made me sick. I just wanted to forget it."
"Oh you are such a rotten liar," Ann snapped. "What I ought to do is make you suck Albert's penis until he shoots down your throat. Then I'd be able to see if you really did come that first time."
"It wouldn't do any good," Carol cried. "Albert's penis isn't long enough or thick enough. I wouldn't feel anything in the part of my throat that counts."
"Hmph! All the more reason to shoot my son's sperm into your mouth. That way you'd get all the unpleasantness of sucking a penis without any of the enjoyment."
"Oh no! No! You wouldn't..." Carol begged.
The older woman up her hand behind Carol's head, and tugged so that the younger woman had her face jammed into her gray, furry muff as she humped her fulcrum forward a little.
"This time I'll let you get away with not telling me everything," Ann replied. "But if you ever hold anything back, I'll give you Albert's puny cock for sure."
"Mmmphhh!" was all Carol was able to mumble.
"Eat my cunt, Carol. Eat my cunt and pretend it's your mother's. Obviously, the only reason why you enjoy eating the cunt of an older woman is the idea that you're lapping your mother's cunt-the same mother who lapped your cunt the day your stepfather fired his wad down your throat and made you choke with orgasm. Eat me, bitch!"
Without thinking, Carol lanced her tongue out and felt it wiggle through the gray hair, reaching the slimy slit, delving into the tender center of the older woman's cunt. She was well aware of the way her own body was instantly responding to what she was doing, but she was also aware that her inner response was not nearly as strong as it used to be. She was thinking that perhaps the psychoanalyst was right, and maybe she wasn't cut out to be a lesbian. Maybe she had turned to lesbianism as a defense, terrified she might be forced to do something with another man she hated, and thus like what he was doing while hating the man, himself.
Carol shuddered, feeling Ann launch her cunt back and forth, and since there was really almost no room for much thrusting, each time the older woman pressed her crotch forward, her flabby vaginal lips would slap Carol not only on the mouth, but all over her nose and chin as well, greasing up all of Carol's face. The abrasiveness of her pubic hairs scratched Carol's cheeks, hurting them.
But the younger woman refused to stop what she was doing. Her tongue consistently lanced out and buried itself in the simmering depths of the older woman's vagina. Her hands slid upward and moved back to get a firm grip on Ann's wobbly, flabby asscheeks.
Carol was able to feel how wet Ann was, and how the flow was even seeping into her asscrack and spreading to those cheeks she was firmly gripping. It meant that Ann was becoming more and more aroused by what she was doing, and this pleased her, because deep down Carol had this overpowering urge to please and satisfy.
She started massaging Ann's buttocks, but when she began working her forefinger into the other woman's rectum, the older woman pulled her collar a little tighter.
"Don't do that," she screamed. "I have hemorrhoids. I have medicine in there, and unless you want to lick Preparation H off your fingers, keep them out."
Carol pulled her fingers back and tried catching her breath for a moment. She felt so terribly worked up, and so crowded as Ann's body pushed her back against the kitchen sink again, giving her almost no room to breathe.
Ann gasped, coming spasmodically, and Carol began moaning as she felt Ann's cunt twitching and jerking and sputtering hot, colorless oil. She sucked out more and more of the blasting viscous fluid, feeling her own vagina getting sodden with need. As a result, she clamped her thighs together very tightly.
"You see, you cunt-loving bitch!" Ann gasped, moaning as she came down from the peak of her orgasm. "You see, you still love pussy. You'll always love pussy, and no dumb shrink will be able to tell you otherwise. Do you know why I sent you to the analyst? I thought you were getting bored with me, and I wanted to stimulate your interest. I thought the analyst would do that instead of trying to turn you away from me. But I just proved that in spite of what the analyst says, you still love sucking a good cunt."
Carol was all set to burst out crying. The tears filled her eyes as never before, because deep down, what the analyst had told her remained constantly fixed, and she was beginning to question her lesbianism. Usually, when sucking Ann's cunt, she, herself, would have an orgasm simply from the power of Ann's climax. Now, all she felt was anxiety. Damn! She wanted to feel good! She wanted to come!
She began sobbing, and as she cried, she heard the way Ann was laughing at her. The older woman stepped back a little, then turned around. She held tightly to her end of the belt and began walking toward the bedroom.
"Come along, you beautiful slave-bitch," she said to the helpless Carol as her large buttocks wobbled from side to side. "You come too, Albert. I want you to watch all this."
Carol let herself be led, walking on her knees and the palms of her hands as if she were some kind of dog. Once again she was the obedient, trained pup her roommate wanted her to be.
But the plain fact was, she wasn't enjoying this kind of domination as she once had. There was no doubt that she wanted to be ruled, controlled, but not by a woman. Even so, the alternative, a man, was too abhorrent for her to consider.
Once in the bedroom, Ann turned to Carol and said, "All right, on your feet."
Carol rose and faced the older woman, who pointed to the straight-backed chair in the bedroom. Carol sat, and then Ann gripped her ankles and tugged her lower half forward until her buttocks were on the very edge of the chair, not doing Carol's spine much good. She had Carol bend her legs so that her ankles were wound around the legs of the chair, and thus her vagina was protruding outward.
"Now masturbate!" Ann ordered, "both you and Albert. Look at each other's genitals and masturbate!"
She had the skinny boy stand directly in front of Carol, his thin wang sticking out as he pulled on it, staring straight down into the pink of Carol's rich pussy. He licked his lips, because the boy, for all his perversity, was definitely heterosexual.
"You pussy isn't red enough," Ann insisted, and walking over to a bureau, opened the top drawer and pulled out an oldfashioned riding crop. Walking over to Carol, she proceeded to lash Carol's cunt with it until the mucous membranes turned a brilliant red. "Now, rub that little clitoral button," she insisted.
The chair in which Carol was seated had a circular section of wood in the middle of the seat that was removable. Ann knelt, found the little pieces of wood that held the circular part of the seat in place, twisted them, and the circular section of the seat dropped out, causing Carol's buttocks to fall partway through the seat, itself. Her ass and part of her lower cunt came through the chair.
"Now both of you masturbate!" Ann screamed, and proceeded to use the riding crop against the bare bottom protruding through the seat. She whipped Carol's buttocks wickedly, and the harder she hit, the faster Carol rubbed her clitoris, and the faster the skinny little boy in front of her jerked on his cock.
Albert was becoming more and more excited. He was at an age when sex was really fascinating to him, and he realized what an arousing woman Carol was. Whereas his mother was a flabby pig, whose body made him sick, Carol had the kind of body he was dying to fuck. The boy, for all he was witnessing, and for all of his masturbating, was still a virgin. No one in school would let him touch them. But he was hoping his mother would one day let him fuck Carol.
Looking at Albert put a damper on the whole thing for Carol. She usually loved masturbating when Ann beat her, but the sight of the boy turned her stomach, and she wanted to stop. She rubbed insanely, hoping to come quickly and end it, but she was unable to come, and Ann would know if she was faking.
Her hands, especially her wrists, became tired, after a while. She was unable to continue and her arms fell to her sides. That was when Ann really went to work on her with the riding crop, beating her buttocks again and again. The stinging pain made her jump each time the riding crop landed, and it apparently stimulated Albert, because he jerked a little faster, and then suddenly he was coming, shooting his white cream all over Carol's front.
Chapter Seven
It had been the first really unsatisfactory experience Carol had known with Ann. The latter, realizing her son was a disturbing influence on Carol, sent him out of the room and then proceeded to whip Carol's clitoris a dozen times before ordering her onto the bed where she lapped Carol's cunt until the latter finally came. But what made Carol come was closing her eyes and imagining that it was a man, of all thing, down there, licking her cunt.
The following morning, the two roommates, acting as if nothing had happened, went to work while Albert went off to school. Sometimes there would be a lot of days going by before Ann would insist Carol do something with her again. In this instance, the weekend passed without anything taking place. Then, on Monday morning, when Carol, dressed, as always, in a white, man-tailored blouse, this time with a matching gray skirt, went to work at the Credential office, her supervisor came over to talk to her.
Mike Leechmann was a typical male, chauvinist pig. In many ways he reminded Carol of Albert, Ann's son. To begin with, he was short. Second, in order to cover an inferiority complex because of the fact that he was short, he was domineering without being dominating. He had a parchment-wrinkled face which led everyone to believe he was even older than the sixty-one he claimed to be. His hair was brown, but there was a good chance it was dyed. Everyone else in the office considered him the perfect male counterpart to Carol. In other words, he was a scumbag.
As always, he was dressed in a five hundred dollar suit, this time a dark-tan suit. He smiled at Carol, actually he leered, because as much as he enjoyed the discomfort of claimants, he loved seeing someone like Carol squirm even more. The reason was simple: Carol was there, a visible entity, and so when seeing her wriggle, he got a big kick out of it. True, he liked screwing policy-holders, but not nearly as much as he liked shafting someone like Carol.
"You received a claim by a Mr. Randall Forrest?" he asked her.
"I looked at it," she nodded. "He was a deadbeat, so I denied the claim. It was the right thing to do."
"Maybe," Mike shrugged, "but the man has written to the New York State Insurance Board. From what I hear, he's presenting them with a hefty amount of medical evidence. You know, Carol, it doesn't look nice for the company if a legitimate claim is turned down. It gets spread all over the newspapers, and then there's a big deal made out of it. It might cost us a lot of new policy-holders."
"You're making too much of this," Carol insisted, seated behind her desk, refusing to stand up when the man was nearby. She refused to stand in the presence of any superior, if said superior was male.
"Well see," Mike shrugged. "I'm assigning a field examiner to double-check this case."
"Who?"
"The best one we have, Micky Mantoparte."
"That woman is crazy for anything in pants," Carol objected.
"Then it might be a good idea if you took the day off tomorrow and watched her, discreetly, from a distance, and make certain she doesn't behave unethically and ruin the name of Credential."
"I think I'll do just that," Carol nodded. "This is one claim that is not going to be paid."
"If it is, your ass is in a sling, Carol."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mike."
Chapter Eight
Michaela Mantoparte was young to be the top field investigator for Credential. How she had attained her position was somewhat unorthodox. She had joined the Credential department about ten years earlier, at the tender age of eighteen. She had started as an assistant field examiner, and had proven pretty bad in the beginning. But Micky, as everyone called her, was such a pretty little thing, with bright red hair, big brown eyes, a bunnylike nose, and a pert little mouth, as well as a gorgeous body underneath, that no one had the heart to fire her in the beginning.
Not that anyone made physical headway with Mickey. She might have been dumb in some respects, but when it came to her body, Micky was very particular who touched it. At the time, she had been a virgin, and no one had been allowed to touch her. She was shuttled from one field investigator to another, all of whom taught her a little of what they knew, so that eventually Micky knew more than all of them. However, all the field investigators at Credential had been in their mid-fifties at the time, and as they retired, one by one, new, young assistants were being hired. Soon, Micky was made a full-fledged field investigator. By that time she was twenty-two, and fairly good at her job. She was also no longer a virgin, though she had given her virginity to a boy she had hoped to marry. Unfortunately, it just didn't work out, and after a few months, they separated.
As the years passed, other investigators retired, and new assistants were hired, while former assistants were slowly promoted to being full investigators. But when Micky reached the age of twenty-six, she suddenly discovered that everyone who had been there before her, in the field, had retired. She was the senior investigator, and she got all the tough cases. Surprisingly, she did rather well.
As Carol had observed, Micky had become very hot for almost anything worthwhile in pants. It had nothing to do with her job. She just liked to fuck like the bunny she so resembled. She had a very short sex fuse. What was more, she knew how to come, and she came one helluva lot.
So Carol was assigned to discreetly follow without Micky knowing about it, and she was to observe Micky's behavior. What she observed that particular Tuesday should have been enough to kill Randall Forrest's case. Unfortunately, for Credential, though fortunately for both, Micky and Randall Forrest, Carol didn't think to bring either a camera or a tape recorder with a unidirectional microphone along, and so it would be Carol's word against that of the other two.
That Tuesday, Carol sat outside the Credential building in her car, a five-year-old Chevy Malibu. She watched as Micky came out, all flashy in a bright red coat to go with her hair, and slid behind the wheel of a bright-red, brand-new Firebird, and drove off. Carol followed.
The address was correct, in Old Westbury on Long Island, where a lot of the elite lived. It was a large house with a turret-shaped living room that extended out beyond the rest of the house.
Micky parked her car in front of the steps leading up to the house, in this case a flight of narrow cement stairs, thirty-five of them. Carol waited until Micky had rung the bell and had been let into the house, and then she got out of her car and climbed the same stairs. She had no doubt the architect had designed this house for himself. Once at the top of the stairs, she circled the house, walking on a flagstoned path around the house. She saw a little extension at the rear of the red-brick mansion, and approaching it, saw it had a slightly open window. Standing off to the side, she peered in, and noted it was where the architect did his work. There was the stool, the workbench, the pigeonholed armoire wherein he stored his rolled-up designs. Off to the left was a sofa.
Micky preceded Rand into the office, and the moment Carol saw him she was certain he was going to be trouble. Rand Forrest was six-feet, three-inches tall, with soft, brown wavy hair, a deep tan complexion, dark, dancing brown eyes, a short, straight nose, and a rugged jawline. He was the kind of man most women flip for, and Carol detested him immediately. She detested him because something deep down inside her wanted to love him. But she, herself refused to accept love for a man, and so turned the feeling to automatic hatred. He was wearing a simple short-sleeved brown shirt and brown slacks. Micky, now that she had her coat off, revealed herself to be wearing a pink sweater and a flaming red skirt.
As she watched, she also listened, and for the first fifteen minutes it was all straightforward business. He was showing Micky various notes from the different doctors who had attended him. He showed her the dates, then showed her his policy, one that had a no-week elimination period in it, and one that would pay as much as two thousand dollars a week for every week he was out sick. For such a policy he was paying four thousand dollars a year in premiums.
Micky looked at everything, evaluated it with everything the company had given her, and finally said, "You have a reasonable claim, Mr. Forrest. I think we can convince the company to pay it. I think I had better be going now."
"I don't think you really want to go," Rand said to her, and that was what made Carol suddenly aware of his charm.
Chapter Nine
Returning to her office, Carol walked over to Mike Leechmann and said, "I followed your senior field adjuster, all right. But she didn't do the adjusting. Randall Forrest did all the adjusting, and on various parts of her body. She'll give him what he's looking for."
"Well then, looks you might be in trouble with the company," Leechmann insisted.
"I'll fight it all the way," Carol snapped. "Mine was a perfectly good decision. I won't let that miserable redheaded bitch ...."
"Whoa!" Mike laughed. "Take it easy! You're making this a personal contest, as if you should have been the one worked over by this guy."
"Don't be disgusting," Carol snapped, but even as she spoke, she felt her vagina beginning to ooze oils.
"I think," Mike told her, "you'd better take the rest of the day off and relax. Tomorrow you can come in and put together your arguments for not paying the Forrest claim. You know, if you can get Micky to admit in public that she screwed for the man, the board'll decide in your favor."
"Well then, that's what I'll have to do," Carol nodded.
"Now go home," Mike Leechmann insisted, "unless, maybe, you'd like to come to my home."
"Don't say things like that," she insisted.
"Hey, you might need a lot of friends on your side," he told her. "I can be a good friend... provided you prove you can be a good friend, as well. I can quash anything the company'll bring against you, Carol."
"I've kept this job on my own, so far," Carol told him. "I'll take my chances."
"Lotsa luck, honey," he shrugged as she walked away.
Taking his advice in one respect, she did go home. But the moment she entered the apartment and saw Ann there, she had the feeling she was in for trouble. It had been some time since Ann had beaten her, and it was obvious the sadistic bull-dyke was in one of those moods.
Fortunately, Ann's son, Albert, was in school. At least he wouldn't be witnessing whatever humiliation Ann had planned.
After hanging her coat up, Carol walked over to where Ann was sitting on the sofa and gave her a lover's kiss on the lips. The bloated older lady, her froggy face grimacing on top of her huge, brown tentlike dress, sniffed, stared at Carol, and said, "You've been sexually involved with someone, Carol."
"No!" the younger woman gasped.
"Don't hand me that crap! I can smell the sex all over you," Ann said, standing up. "Was it another woman, or have you decided to try a man this time?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Ann," the shuddering woman replied.
Ann had quick hands. She slammed Carol across the face twice with her open palms-first the left hand, then the right. It made Carol stumble, and then she fell on her knees in front of the older woman, who rose to her feet. Carol began crying tearfully as Ann reached down, got a firm grip on her ponytail, and tugged her head back. She stared into Carol's face, then sneeringly said, "I can tell you've been fucking around with someone, Carol. You smell of cunt! My God! I'll bet you must have come at least a dozen times."
"No, no, it's not true, I didn't come at all," Carol gasped, and then fell almost flat as Ann gripped her by her hair and began to literally drag her toward the doorway where Albert's chinning bar had been installed.
Ann forced Carol to her feet, then pulled a small footstool from a nearby chair over with her foot and forced Carol to stand on it. She stood on it as well, as she quickly tied Carol's ponytail to the chinning bar. Then she kicked the stool out from under Carol's feet so that the brown-haired girl simply dangled there, the pain in the roots of her hair excruciating. She knew her hair wouldn't be pulled out. She had a very good scalp, and her hairdresser had told her more than once that hers was the kind of hair that was able to be brushed again and again, vigorously, and not one strand would come out. She had seen TV programs where female acrobats had been suspended by their hair, spinning around, and their hair had not come out of their heads, so Carol knew her hair would not come out. Not that it was any consolation to her at this point because the pain of having her weight pulling against her hair roots was indescribable, making her scrunch up her face.
Carol was unable to believe this cruelty. Usually Ann did something merely humiliating to her, which would allow her to come, but this time it was painful, as well. Now, with her hair knotted around the chinning bar, even with her hands free, because she had no support for her feet, the woman was unable to move too much. Ann began stripping Carol, and the latter knew that if she tried fighting and struggling, Ann might very well tie her hands then leave her hanging there until Albert came home, at which time she would let her son push his piddling pidookie into Carol's cunt and shoot a load into her that might impregnate her.
She was totally naked now as she hung with her stretched toes not quite able to touch the floor while Ann walked around her, leaning close to her, sniffing now and again. The frog-faced woman also touched her between her thighs, feeling the oil smears.
"Look at your cunt!" Ann was screamingly squealing. "Just look at how wet that gash of yours is, you rotten little liar. You came, all right, but I don't smell any sperm. You must have had contact with another woman, even if I can't smell her musk on you. I'll make you tell me everything before I'm through with you."
Ann walked into the bedroom, then came out a moment later, holding the riding crop she had used on Carol the last time. She smiled an evil smile, and Carol, whose body had just totally recovered from past beatings, knew she was about to gain a whole new series of welts. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she was able to say anything, Ann lashed her right across the belly with the crop.
As Carol felt the stinging she became aware of yet another humiliation. It was as if Ann had planned this with the man who lived across the courtyard from them in the same building. Ann tugged the shade up, then turned the living room lamp on, tilting the shade so that Carol's body was bathed in light. Carol saw a man standing in the window across the courtyard, watching the entire scene, saying nothing. He was fully dressed, but the moment he saw Carol's naked body, he undid his pants and dropped them, exposing his erection, which looked to be slightly shorter than that of her stepfather, may he never rest in peace. Like Albert, the man began jerking on his organ, and the more Carol thought about it, the more she was certain Ann had planned this so the man would be able to watch. Not that Ann intended giving the man any cunt, either her own or Carol's, but she knew Carol felt that much more despised and humiliated when someone was watching her.
Ann returned to Carol, and then began going to work methodically with the riding crop. She beat Carol's buttocks, one at a time, then her lower thighs, front and rear. Turning to look out the window and making certain the neighbor was still watching, Ann laughed, saying, "You seem to attract an audience, dear lover. Look how anxious that man is. How would you like me to let him in so he can fuck you?"
"No!" Carol gasped, the truth being she wanted nothing to do with any man other than Randall Forrest, for having seen his cock, no thinner or shorter organ would suffice.
Then Ann proceeded to whip Carol's belly again, and when Carol lifted her hands to protect herself, Ann warned her to put the hands down or she would whip Carol's face, as well. Carol had no choice, but to hang there by her hair, turning a little to the left, a little to the right, and shuddering as Ann continued beating her.
Then the riding crop hit her breasts. Ann seemed to take special care in making certain she hit Carol's brown nipples, making them swell with pain. There might have been a time when Carol would have responded sexually to such humiliation, even if the pain was too much for her. But right now, her mind still had a picture of the way Randall Forrest had fucked Micky, the field adjuster, and that cock was the only thing Carol really wanted.
"Ghhhuuuggghhh!" Carol gasped, as Ann reversed the riding crop and began ramming the handle between Carol's cuntlips. She pushed the plastic handle as far into Carol's cunt as possible, and Carol gasped and screamed, aware the handle was considerably thinner than Randall Forrest's cock. She was glad at this point that her cunt was so sodden, otherwise the whip handle would not have fitted inside so nicely. Then it would have really hurt her. As it was, Ann was trying to hurt her by driving the handle in and out, in and out, but all it did was make Carol think of Randall's cock moving in Micky's cunt.
There was no pleasure in this particular degradation, though she was definitely feeling arousal as her mind continued to think of the crop handle as being a cock. For the first time in a long time Carol didn't seem to give a damn about what was happening to her, and as a result no longer felt humiliated. Though what Ann was doing to her was not designed to feel good, it did feel good. She was on the verge of orgasm, if only she would be able to make Ann keep that up a little longer.
"Come on," the older, frog-faced woman snorted, certain she was causing Carol all kinds of agony as she turned and twisted the riding crop while driving it in and out of the poor girl's tight cunt. "I want you to tell me why you're home from work so early. I also want you to tell me what you did today, and with whom. I want to know every last little bit of it, and if you lie, I'll whip you until you bleed all over, and let a crust of scabs form all over your body. Then I'll let Albert fuck into all three of your holes."
Carol hated it when Ann brought up the subject of her son. It was as if the older woman was looking for an excuse to get her son laid, one day. She seemed to be grooming Carol for the job since it was obvious no sane girl would willingly have anything to do with Albert. There was a broad smile on Ann's face as if daring Carol to defy her.
"All right, all right," Carol began moaning, and Ann stopped ramming the whip-handle in and out for a moment, then continued, but more slowly. "I'll tell you what happened this afternoon. You'll think I'm lying, but I'll tell you anyway. I just hope to God you'll believe me."
"Cut the damn waltzing around and give me the story straight," Ann insisted.
"One of the claims I denied was being double-checked by a field representative," Carol gasped. "I was asked to go along and make sure the claimant didn't try handing the field rep a line. The field rep was a woman, famous for her sexual escapades."
"Oh? So you decided to take matters into your own hands, or perhaps your own mouth and eat this cunt ahead of time to keep her from getting all hopped up by this guy, huh."
"No, no, wait, let me finish," Carol gasped as Ann speeded up the thrusts of the whip handle into her cunt. She was getting there. A little more, and she would come.
"Nothing happened," Carol lied. "I didn't do anything, and neither did the girl. We spoke to the claimant, who's still a deadbeat, and I know he propositioned Micky, that's the girl, but in front of me she didn't dare agree. But she kept telling me, all the way back, in the car, how hot she felt for this guy, and her talk of arousal sort of got my own juices going. Hell! I wouldn't cheat on you, Ann. Besides, this other woman wasn't an AC-DC. She only goes for guys, so it would've been impossible for me to get it on with her.
Ann looked at her in a funny way, as if not knowing whether to believe her, but she kept the crop handle moving in Carol's cunt, and as a result, hot juices came splashing down all over the crop as Carol finally came.
Ann smiled, nodding, saying, "You wouldn't have come so easily if you'd had anything to do with anyone else. All right, Carol, I believe you."
She pushed the stool under Carol's feet and then untied her hair from around the chinning bar.
"Just remember," Ann warned, "if I catch you lying, you'll pay."
Next time, it'll be your turn to pay, Carol thought.
The analyst was right. Carol was not a homosexual. These last few years, Carol had been living a lie, believing she was queer. What her stepfather had done was push her down the wrong road because of his roughness. But Carol realized the truth was quite simple that she needed to be mastered without being made love to by a woman. She needed domination without dominance. She needed a man to tell her what to do but it had to be a man she was capable of respecting. She wanted to be humbled, but not humiliated.
To find a man who would do all these things was obviously impossible. Carol knew better than to hope. After all, in order to find such a man, she would have to explore relationships with countless men. There would be the momma's boys, the weaklings, the ones, who, themselves wanted to be dominated by a woman. Then there would be the bullies. They would deal out pain with no thought of pleasure for anyone but themselves. The so-called ordinary, everyday man never really existed. Even if he did, he would be a hard worker who would have little, if any, time for Carol. She needed a man who washable to give her a lot of his time. Carol accepted the fact that she was not the everyday American woman. She needed more attention than such a woman. She needed attention in two respects; first in that she wanted a man to let her know how much he loved her almost all the time, and second, in being able to fawn on such a man and give him the kind of loving and care he deserved without his becoming disgusted with such attention.
However, to find such a man while living with Ann was out of the question. After she finished with this Randall Forrest nonsense, she would put in for her vacation, a full month, then move out to Ann and find private living quarters where she might set her life in order.
Chapter Ten
The following day, when Micky Mantoparte's recommendation came in that Randall Forrest's claim be paid, Carol didn't realize that in spite of Mike Leechman's claim, the company would have done nothing against her, simply because she, for the most part, seemed to be looking out for the company's good-or so it seemed. Carol believed Leechman, and so when she saw Micky's recommendation, she put in a counter-recommendation, calling for a hearing.
The company preferred having a private hearing rather than bringing everything up before the State Insurance Board, and so asked that Mr. Forrest, Miss Mantoparte, and Miss Mallatesta be present at the home office inquiry to be held the following week. Carol agreed.
The following week, Carol was surprised when Randall Forrest turned up himself, rather than send an attorney. He, along with Micky Mantoparte and Carol, sat before the board, then presented their evidence. The board listened, and knew they didn't have a chance in hell of getting away without paying. A court battle would only mean having to pay court costs, as well. So they finally agreed to make the payment.
When it was all over, the men from the insurance company shook hands with Randall Forrest, assuring him of their honest intent all along, and promised a check would be forthcoming in the mail within the week. Rand smiled and assured them he held no grudges.
"I'm surprised you didn't ask them to pay for your time in coming down here," Micky said as they walked out of the hearing room. "They probably would have compensated you for this, as well."
"Well, I'll tell you," Rand smiled. "I'm going to be compensated by you, dear girl. Suppose you and I spend the rest of the day compensating one another and we can call it square."
"I don't think it's quite fair," the girl replied. "I mean, your time is extremely valuable. Would you think it more reasonable if I stayed a weekend?"
"Hmmm... sounds fair to me," Rand nodded.
In the hallway they confronted Carol who was standing there, waiting for Rand Forrest to come out. She stared defiantly at him and said, "You think you've pulled something on the insurance company, is that it, Mr. Forrest? Well let me tell you, by the time I'm finished sending the word around to the other insurance companies what a cheat you are you'll never be able to get a nickel's worth of insurance again."
"Come now, Miss Mallatesta," Rand shrugged. "You were wrong and you know it. Why not 'fess up to it, shake hands, and forget it?"
"You bastard! I know what you're going to do, now. You're going to reward Miss Mantoparte here for her testimony, right? What's more we both know how you're going to reward her. Well I have a vacation coming up starting Monday, but when I get back, next month, I'm going to see to it Micky loses her seniority. If possible I'll see to it she loses her job. Thieves like you are the reason why insurance rates go so high."
"Dear Miss Mallatesta, I'm the one who should be taking this personally, not you," the man said quietly, authoritatively. "I would advise your leaving Micky alone, since she did a fair and honest job."
"Hah!" Carol snorted. "Well just see. Enjoy the next month, Micky, because when I return, I'm going to make trouble for both, you and this horse-cock friend of yours."
Rand said nothing more, realizing that words were fruitless. He merely ushered Micky away from Carol, but there was a definite gleam in his eyes as he said, "Micky, let me show you the special cellar I've designed."
Chapter Eleven
It was Monday. Carol had packed her bags, ostensibly going on vacation, sneaking out of her apartment so Ann would not realize she was gone until it was too late, and she was getting into her second-hand car. She was seated behind the wheel when a figure popped up from behind her, a figure in a white ski mask, and suddenly a knife was being pressed to her throat as the man whispered, "Start the car."
She finally managed to start the Malibu, and then she drove where he directed. It was a small place on Long Island, a place with which she was totally unfamiliar. Carol was terrified, certain this slasher, for to her, any man with a knife was a slasher, was going to either rape and kill her, or kill, then rape her dead body.
"W-what do you want?" she gasped.
"You!" the man whispered softly.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Guess," his whispering voice teased.
"My God! Not rape!"
"Not the kind you're thinking of," he laughed. "You don't deserve a good dick in your quim, bitch! When I fuck a woman, it's because she either earns the right to be fucked, or she's worthy of it right from the start. We're going to have to make you worthy of a good fuck."
"You're sick!" she gasped.
"Well see," he snorted.
"You're going to hurt me," she whispered.
"Sometimes the only road to salvation is through some kind of pain," his whispering voice insisted. "Park at the curb."
She did so. He took out a small flask, opened it, and said to her, "Drink!"
"N-no," she insisted. "I won't poison myself. If you want to kill me, you'll have to do it, yourself."
"Fine!" the man said, showing the sharp-edged knife to her. "I'll do it a little at a time. First I'll cut off part of a finger. Then maybe an earlobe. Then a nipple, both nipples, in fact. Then I'll cut off your clitoris."
"My God, no!" she gasped. "Please!"
"Then drink!" he insisted.
She took the flask with trembling hands, tilted it to her lips, and drank. She felt the sweetish liquid in her mouth and wanted to spit it out, but didn't dare, not with that knife so close. Finally it trickled down her throat.
"What did I drink?" she asked.
"Chloral hydrate," he told her. "Not enough to kill you, bitch. Hell! I don't want you dead. You have to be re-made into a human being."
Carol was horrified. She knew the people at her place of business wouldn't miss her because she had a month's vacation coming to her. When Ann found her missing with all her clothing, she would call her office and discover Carol was on vacation, and would think Carol had left her. No one, no one at all was going to miss her.
Carol was already beginning to get drowsy.
"Why?" she murmured.
"I don't answer questions, lady," he whispered. "From now on, you'll do like you're told. If you don't, I promise you, you're in for one helluva lot of pain."
"Oh no," Carol murmured, her head lolling to the side, and then she fell asleep, no longer able to stay awake in spite of her heightened sense of fear.
Chapter Twelve
Carol's head hurt. She wasn't quite sure what kind of pain she was feeling, but she was definitely dizzy. The pain was in the center of her head, a rotating, whirling pain that was more dull than painful as she slowly rose from the black vortex of total unconsciousness. She had obviously been drugged, just as the man in the ski mask had said.
She was cold, and shivering, tried touching her head, only to find neither hand would respond. Not only that, but the pain in her head was starting to intensify.
That was when she heard a loud ringing in her ears, and wondered why someone had a gong nearby. Oh God! The ringing hurt! Her eyes fluttered open, and then panic washed over her like a black tidal wave. The exterior of her body felt chillingly cold, but her bowels were burning from the liquid she had been forced to drink.
What she saw when she awoke was so horrifying, she wanted to faint again, but was unable to do so. She saw a huge hammer flashing near her face, a short sledge hammer. For a moment she thought she was going to be killed instantly; that the hammer was going to cave in her skull. But instead of feeling the crushing impact of the hammer on her head, she once again heard a loud metal ringing, as if the hammer was striking some kind of metallic object.
She opened her eyes, just a little. She was terrified, and there was no way to hide her fear. She was glad she had emptied her bladder just before leaving Ann's apartment. Otherwise she was certain she would have voided then and there.
The hammering continued, and so did the ringing. She recalled being in the car with the man in the ski mask, and then blacking out. Now, everything was slowly but surely coming into focus.
She was bound between two large wooden posts. Looking down, she saw she was totally naked. Her arms were wide apart, over her head, and rope was tied around both, her wrists and her elbows, keeping her firmly, securely locked to the posts. Her legs were spread apart, secured at the ankles to the same posts, her feet unable to touch the floor so that her weight was pulling against the ropes that bound her. The rope was made of some rough hemp that abrasively scratched her skin, and she felt agony in her tender shoulders because of the pull of her body. She looked down and realized she was suspended about six inches off the floor, just high enough so that her feet were unable to touch. The floor itself looked to be cold cement.
There was added pain on her body, and looking down, she gasped. Little clips had been attached to her nipples, clips that were actually electrodes, and wires from the clips ran to a machine off to the side. Her breasts wobbled back and forth as she shuddered, aware of the coolness of where she was. It felt wet and damp. Her nipples had been pulled out by the electrode clips, artificially induced to be swollen, thus causing her melon-shaped breasts to enlarge, as well.
A totally naked man stood in front of her, his body nut-brown, as if it has been in the sun a long time. He had on the ski mask. He was the one swinging the hammer, and what he was doing was securing a heavy metal slave collar around her neck with a metal loop in it through which one was able to attach a chain. The weight of the collar was, in itself, extremely uncomfortable.
"What are you doing?" she whimpered.
The man didn't even bother whispering to her, this time. Rather he put the hammer down, gathered her pony tail, tied a piece of twine around it, then secured the other end of the twine to a five pound weight. There was a beam overhead, and he tossed the weight over the beam, so that when it came down it pulled on the twine, which in turn pulled on her pony tail, tugging her hair upward, intensifying the headache she had. Not only that, but the pull of the weight altered her facial features by pulling her skin.
Between the weight tugging on her pony tail, and the heft of the metal collar around her throat, Carol felt ready to totally collapse and would have done so had she not been bound upright. She saw the man step back, as if finished with his work, and wondered why this was happening to her. He walked over to the machine where the wires were attached, flipped a switch, then turned a knob, and suddenly she felt a small, stinging jolt of electricity blast through both nipples. He shut the machine off, then nodded.
The fear gripping Carol made her want to throw up. She felt horrified beyond belief. All this seemed like some kind of nightmare from the great beyond. It simply wasn't happening to her. Yet she felt the perspiration breaking out all over her body, and her sensitive nipples felt raw because of the electrical pain that had shot through them.
Lord! She wanted to get out of this. It was something out of some masochist's nightmare, and Carol was many things, but not a masochist.
But the reality was there, and Carol knew there was no way out, but she did know she was here.
She looked at the naked man in front of her. His body might have seemed familiar had it not been for his nut-brown tan. It was difficult to determine the shape of his head because of the ski mask. The mask covered everything, with holes for his eyes and his mouth. She knew he had brown hair. This she was able to determine because of the pelvic stubble hairs above his penis.
At the moment the penis was quiescent, but even so, it was huge. She was certain that when it grew hard, it would be something of unbelievable size. Like the rest of him, it was nut-brown. Hard, she was willing to bet it was as large as the one attached to Randall Forrest. But Randall Forrest had a whitish-pink cock with a purple head. This man was brown all over, including his balls and his feet.
She wanted to somehow or other talk her way out of this, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he slapped her across the face, hard, signaling with a finger that she was to remain silent. Oh God! That weight on her pony tail was intensifying her headache. She felt the five pound weight swinging back and forth, tapping against the back of her skull.
Once again the realization that no one would miss her came to mind. By the time someone did think to look for her, it would be much too late. Looking around, she tried to see if there was a window through which she might look and see the time of day, or possibly a clock that might let her know the time. Nothing!
She seemed to be in some kind of bomb shelter. There were no windows, and if there was a door, it had to be behind her, out of sight. She was alone down here with this monster of a man, a man who, for the moment wasn't doing anything. He had dragged a hard-backed chair into the middle of the room, and he was sitting in it, looking at her body, nodding now and again as if to say he found it pleasing. But his continued silence horrified her and she began perspiring in spite of the coolness.
Consciousness slowly, painfully returned completely, and with it, and the details of the room in which she was being held captive, the girl felt fear began building ever more steadily in her, fear that had lowered for a little while until her conscious mind was able to truly comprehend what was happening to her. Now what was happening to her burst upon Carol's psyche with full force.
It was far worse than any nightmare her mind might have fashioned. Whatever had taken place with Ann had occurred because she had wanted it to happen, for the most part. Her subjugation to the older, porcine woman had all been part of a game until she had no longer felt like playing. But this, this was totally against her will. What was more, it was with a male. It was a totally unknown male. He had even clipped the hairs around his pelvis short to keep her from guessing the color, but he hadn't cut the hairs short enough. She was still able to see the medium brown stubble.
Carol knew she was bound beyond any hope of freeing herself. Her body was locked in place, her neck surrounded by a weighty metal slave collar with a metal loop attached to it so a chain might be hooked on.
The silence in the room was equally unbearable. But the worst thing was the sense of being completely cut off from the rest of humanity. There was no way for her to reach the outside world, nor was there any way for her to determine whether it was night or day, or, for that matter, what time it was.
Carol had no idea at all where she was, nor had she any idea what the man wearing the ski mask had planned for her, save that it was something she was certain she would not like. She wanted to ask questions, but she knew he wouldn't respond until he was ready to do so. Her body quaked, and she was only too aware that soon, certain basic needs would require attention. The last thing she wanted was for this unknown man to see her totally humiliated by either voiding or eliminating while hanging from the two beams to which she had been bound. She jerked her head, and it pained her, because the weight attached to her pony tail swung freely and hit her in the back of her head, hurting all the more. A cataclysm of hopelessness washed over her, and she quaked.
Carol wondered what she had done to deserve something like this. But then, men who did things like this had to be sick in the first place, and so it wasn't so much a question of what one deserved as it was how mentally ill this man who was imprisoning her was. Seeing the size of the man's penis made her think of Randall Forrest for a moment. It was just about the time she was denying his claim that she had gone to the psychoanalyst, who in turn, had made her conscious of the fact that she wasn't really lesbianic. Everything about him seemed to radiate trouble. She ought to have been intelligent enough to have allowed the claim once Micky had been seduced by him. Maybe that would have changed her luck, and this sickie wouldn't have bothered with her. She would have welcomed anything Ann had in mind rather than suffer what was obviously about to be a hideous fate.
The man sitting in the chair was holding his cock, and it was no longer soft, but semi-erect. As he massaged it, it grew longer, thicker, harder, and she had to admit, like Randall Forrest's, it was huge. If not the same color as that of Forrest's cock, this one was at least every bit as big. Now it was hot, hard, bloated with passion, and pulsating with lusty blood surging through it.
His cock, so erect and trembling, reminded her that her own body was crying out for masculine attention. It was ridiculous, but true. She wanted to be fucked. This time, thick as the cock was, she was certain it wouldn't cause pain as her stepfather's had done. God! What was wrong with her? She had been a perfectly healthy lesbian before, and now she was crying out to be possessed by this strange, horrible man whom she didn't even know.
She was panting with terror, and her body quaked, so that her full breasts jumped up and down, slapping against her chest. She felt embarrassed that any man should witness such reactions in her body.
At the same time she felt pain. There was the pain in her head from the pull of the weight on her pony tail. Then there was pain in her nipples, because of the pressure of the teeth of the clips that were attached. Even so, she made up her mind she would not cry. Her attention gradually began to focus itself more and more on the man seated in front of her. The details of the frightening room in which she was imprisoned were no longer vivid as her mind focused on the horrible man.
He lit a small, thin, brown cigar, and the woman's nostrils flared at the pleasant aroma of burning tobacco. Though she, herself, had never smoked, the aroma of the burning little cigar was reassuring. It was a touch of reality in an otherwise bizarre nightmare.
Again she tugged at the bonds holding her arms and ankles in place, but she was unable to move. The weight behind her swung against her head again, hitting her. Oh God! This horror was too real!
A scream of rage welled up in her slender throat, despair filling her large brown eyes, but she swallowed it. At the moment there was no way in the world to access the reactions of her masculine captor. The ski mask totally obscured his features. She had no idea what he looked like, although his body was certainly magnificent. It looked to be even more muscular than that of Randall Forrest, but perhaps that was because this man had an oiled body. As a matter of fact, the oiled body was actually frightening in appearance, far more frightening than the body of Randall Forrest had ever been. Every one of his muscles was limned in clear, magnificent detail against the rest of his torso. He was powerful, and his cock was also powerful, perhaps even more powerful than the one attached to Randall Forrest, though this might only be in her imagination. Though colored somewhat differently from that of Forrest's cock, it had the same magnificent shape. Her stepfather had possessed one of those uncircumcised penises, one that was hooded until he tugged the foreskin back by hand. This one was circumcised, and the very power of it seemingly frightened her. The way it visibly pulsated, its unseeing eye staring at her, the drop of seminal oil oozing from the tiny opening in the head.
Remembering how her stepfather had crammed his cock into her mouth, aware that his oil had tasted much like the oils oozing from the cunts of the different women she had licked, Carol felt her mouth watering. She was astonished that she actually wanted to taste it. As a result, sexual frustration surged through her shuddering form.
"Oh God!" she finally gasped in despair, and she felt totally exhausted, as if what she had drank had drained the strength from her so that when she had awakened, she was still weak. She relaxed completely, letting her body-weight drag at her bonds, which merely served to increase the discomfort in her shoulders.
As her head fell forward she felt folds of skin caught at the edge of her metal slave collar, cutting into the softness of her flesh. She partially lifted her head, only to feel the weight swinging from her hair again. Sharp, stinging prickles of pain in her scalp told this was worse than when Ann had bound her by her hair to the chinning bar, even though there was a lot less weight pulling her hair, this time.
The tension between them mounted, and the silence seemed to weight her down as the hooded man finished his little cigar, smoking it through the mouth hole in his mask. He butted it out in an ashtray on the floor beside him and left it there.
Rising, he walked over to where she was bound, and he stared right at her. His coffee colored eyes burned right through her as they glittered evilly through the holes in the ski mask. She was almost positive she was able to see a twitching in his cheek muscle.
She wished he would say something, anything, or do something, even hit her to relieve the tension that had built between them. The suspense was agonizing. What was more, it added to her physical discomfort, increasing the mental anguish she was feeling.
Carol was certain if the man kept up this unbearable silence much longer, she would go insane. Every little pain pricked at her consciousness and defined itself, then added to the welter of agony surging through her bound form.
The man finally moved, and Carol had good cause to regret her wish that he do something. He walked over to a table that stood against the far wall of the dim room, and that was when she realized all the lighting came from two low-wattage incandescent bulbs which was why it was so difficult to make everything out. He picked up something from the table and came back to her. Carol suddenly realized it was the man's tweezers. Tweezers? What would a man be doing with tweezers?
Approaching Carol, he stood before her body, and she realized his head was level with her belly. He had bound her so that though her toes were barely able not to touch the floor beneath her, that part of the floor was two steps higher than the rest of the floor.
Without climbing the steps, the man merely leaned forward, and using the tweezers, began plucking the hairs from her pelvis one at a time. He pulled them quickly and expertly, thus yanking out the roots as well. Because he was taking them out one at a time, the process seemed to take forever. She twitched, wept, and cried, for a few moment insane with the little continuous pain running through her helpless pubis. It was a tortuous, constant, never-ending pain.
But the pain wasn't nearly as overpowering as some of the other agonies she was suffering. Nevertheless, it was like the constant stinging of a mosquito or a flea, and with her hands bound she was unable to relieve the discomfort. It became a screaming agony which finally took total possession of her.
The men finished, and even after her pelvis was totally relieved of its brown hedge she continued squirming, wriggling, feeling the stinging, hurting sensation in her plucked skin.
Looking down, she stared at the bare little mound of love, and gasped. She saw little dots of blood where some of the roots had been deeper than others. The little beads flecked her denuded flesh, making her think she might catch some infection.
Apparently the man was way ahead of her here, as well. He returned to the table, and she saw him pick up a small piece of cotton wadding and saturate it with what was obviously an astringent. The odor told her it was wood alcohol. She knew what he intended doing, and she was horrified. This would only cause her more agony.
He applied the cotton wadding to her pelvis, avoiding her mucous membranes, but the pain on her open little sores, caused by his plucking her hairs was excruciating, at best.
"Aaaahhhhh!" she screamed, her eyes filling with tears. She had the wildest impulse to laugh and cry at the same time as she realized the alcohol would at least protect her from germs.
The man sat in the chair he had been in before, but he had brought a bottle and glass with him from the table against the wall. He poured wine from the bottle into the glass, and sipped it. His drinking let Carol realize she was tremendously thirsty. Whatever it was that he had made her swallow that had knocked her out, had left her with a parched throat, and she was dying of thirst. She felt her dry lips cracking a little.
As the man continued sipping the red liquid, Carol's focus on him became more and more keen. His arousing body caused stirrings of delight to rise in her vagina.
She was shocked that she should feel arousal, just as shocked as when the analyst had told her she wasn't really homosexual. It was true. Her stepfather's actions had quashed her desires for a normal relationship, and so she had gone to homosexuality, keeping the brutality with which her father had treated her, but hanging onto a different kind of sexual thrill. Now she knew the truth of the matter. She had been looking for the glorious kind of relationship she had seen between Randall Forrest and Micky Mantoparte, but had been unaware of it. She ached to be dominated, but not harmed. Now she realized she was in a position where harm was the one thing of which she was assured, whereas being loved and maturely dominated was the one thing she would lack. The lips of her vagina became wet with desire as they swelled and pouted, and she was certain the man was well aware of what it was she was feeling.
Bound as she was, totally helpless, she realized that embarrassment was the most superficial emotion she might be able to feel. She sensed this and dismissed it. Besides, it was stupid to be embarrassed considering she was bound like a helpless lamb being tied to an altar on which it would shortly be sacrificed.
She kept the focus of her attention intently on the man, feeling the strangest abandonment of the senses as well as her sense of inner control, the one thing she had mastered for so long. The simple truth of the matter was, there was only one reality, and that was the fact that she was bound with her legs spread wide apart; totally helpless and at the mercy of this tall, bronzed stranger wearing the ski mask.
When the man finished his wine, he stood, walked over to the table, put down the glass and bottle, and picked up a flat leather paddle. He walked over to where the bound girl was hanging, but this time he mounted the steps behind her.
She turned her head, watching as he drew back his right arm, the one with the paddle, and then he swung-hard! Pain shot through the rounded cheeks of her buttocks as agony went blasting through her. The burning, stinging sensation shot through her pooled vagina, causing great gouts of colorless oil to blast from within her all over the cement floor. Much as all this hurt, because of all she had undergone with Ann, she was fast becoming more aroused with every passing second. She felt an uncontrolled sense of abandonment, and this, in turn, brought on a bizarre feeling of rapturous ecstasy, which made her body tremble like a tuning fork.
Her vaginal lips swelled and puffed up even more, the inner pink labia spreading themselves against the outer white lips, both of which more oil sprouted from within her, washing down her vaginal lips, making them gleam. Blood made the inner lips pout even more.
The sharp crack of the flat paddle against the cheeks of her behind was as brutal as it was arousing, and yet her body reacted to all of this, unable to control itself. She felt as if her rounded buttocks had enlarged to twice their normal size.
Her flesh was tingling, and it got to the point where some of the agony was no longer there. She knew she was still being hurt by the man, yet his beating her behind seemed more arousing than painful. The lovely woman was confused. Carol was unable to understand being beaten to the point where pain actually became pleasure. It had been one thing to revel in humiliation. After all, Ann had humiliated her countless times, making her enjoy it every time, but as the analyst had explained, unable to enjoy a normal relationship with a man, and ashamed, deep down, of her homosexual relationships, she took comfort in being humiliated, thinking she deserved to be treated that way for indulging in lesbianism.
Nevertheless, the pain she was feeling had translated itself into something entirely different. That different something was pleasure. But the erotic component of it all was far more powerful than anything she had ever known before. Desire had built to insatiable heights in her, totally unlike anything she had ever felt when with Ann.
The man finally seemed to tire of beating her backside. He put the paddle on the floor, but remained standing beside her. Everything he did, he did with maddening casualness, and this heightened the fearful sensations Carol was feeling.
He stood directly in back of her now, and she felt the head of his cock nudging between the cheeks of her ass. Carol stiffened, aware of the man's intent. It became even more evident when he tugged her beaten asscheeks apart and pressed the hot tip of his cock against the little pucker of her anus.
If there was on humiliation Carol had never undergone until now, it was being ass-fucked. Hell! She didn't want to be ass-fucked. As a result, she stupidly stiffened, and thereby heightened the torment as the man began rudely thrusting his stiff organ into the tightness of her narrow anal passage.
She screamed out loud, her shout echoing through the entire room, feeling a burning pain in her rectum. But the man's penis continued to brutally dig its way into her back trench, stretching her dry inner walls wide apart.
Carol felt her stomach churning in the center of her body, and she swallowed hard, forcing down liver bile. The perspiration began oozing from her body as the man slowly but surely continued pushing his penis deeper and deeper into her asshole. His weighty testicles hit against the pouting lips of her leaking vagina, making her gasp as she realized every last bit of his cock had been buried in her rectum.
The woman tried hard to relax and ease the pain a little. God! Her vagina was leaking more insanely than ever, washing his testicles. She stopped trying to relax, perhaps because she was straining at it, and it hurt too much. She surrendered to her agony, to her humiliation, for she was indeed being humiliated again, and to this bondage which was far worse than anything she had ever suffered with Ann. That was when she discovered the simple fact that in surrendering to everything, she was causing the veil of pain to be lifted. The torture in the depths of her rectum eased.
Ever since being raped by her stepfather, she had almost no command over her own life. There had been nothing other than the brutal helplessness of many years, and what this man was doing to her made her feel more helpless than ever. As she surrendered to him, the powerful man started ramming his cock in and out of the narrow fissure of her asshole, his violent movement so jarring, it set the weight tugging her hair down into action, and it banged lightly against the back of her head.
His throbbing penis moved in and out of the narrowly tight back tunnel with a strong, steady motion. She was aware of his hairy testicles slapping against the lower part of her ass as well as her cuntlips as his weighty cock continued reaming through the tightness of her tiny rectum.
A weird agonizing ecstasy began tingling through her quaking form as she realized she was on the verge of an orgasm, of all things. Her waist was being gripped firmly by both his hands, keeping her body steady as he continued lunging inward, piercing the depths of her newly opened asshole.
Vaguely, as she gave up each rational process, she felt the pleasure wash all the more strongly over her, wallowing in the sensual experience of being wildly ass-fucked as never before. She wondered now, even with all the pain, why she had never wanted a man's cock again. This one had started out hurting her far more than her stepfather's and yet she was mad about it. She felt as if her body was being totally possessed as the man continued impaling her deeply on his thrusting cock, with an increasing ferocity. Her ears picked up the man's grunts and she felt his cock swelling in her aft-tunnel, enhancing the sensations in her depths that much more.
Her tight, doughnutlike sphincter clamped greedily around his throbbing organ and the center of her body was suddenly a maddeningly wild welter of total pleasure as the painful sensations slowly began receding.
She was not a masochist - at least not in the sense that she enjoyed pain. What she was enjoying was the pleasure following the pain, but her mind reasoned that what she was feeling was definite pleasure. For some reason, the movement of his cock in the rear tube of her body was causing enthralling sensations. What was more, the harder he plunged into her, the more she enjoyed what was happening. Her body was responding.
"Aaaaaiigggghhhhh!" she screamed, as the orgasm suddenly took total possession of her.
It was her first rectal orgasm, and was far more powerful than the vaginal and oral ones induced by her father, or the many clitoral climaxes she'd had brought on by women. A hot gush of vaginal fluid came from the depths of her self and splashed out all over the stone floor. Her vaginal walls tingled with the sensation of the anal orgasm, and a subtle, strange kind of thrilling sensation centered from her rectum spread to her vagina, and then to the rest of her body as she twitched and jerked while coming.
The man's hand reached out and turned the knob on the nearby machine. He was barely able to reach it without pulling out of her vagina, and electricity sizzled through her nipples shocking her, heightening the orgasmic effect that much more. Her tightly pulled-back hair seemed to prickle, and goosebumps formed all over her sweet flesh. She began perspiring profusely, causing her beautiful white skin to take on a delectable sheen. Soon her body was actually glowing with radiance.
For the first time since her father's touching of her, Carol felt beautiful. In the midst of this total degradation she felt more lovely than she had ever known herself to be in her life. She wasn't certain if what she was feeling was philosophical, mystical, mental, or actually physical, but she did know she was coming more wildly than she had ever been able to before.
Hot juices continued spurting from her vagina, squirting all over the floor and steps in front of her. At the same time her rectal muscles responded to the cock in her rectum, squeezing and crushing it.
He was panting heavily, and it seemingly took all his willpower not to shout as he began firing into her rectum and colon. Hot, white salve washed through her rectum, washing down the burning walls, coating the violated interior, easing the passage of his huge pole as it continued moving in and out of her crushing anal vise. He turned off the electricity.
Carol felt as if the massaging cock was trying to cut through to her belly in the hope of shooting some of that hot oil into her mouth by way of her belly. He continued slamming into her until he had emptied his balls into her. By that time, his cock had shrunk.
Pulling out, he looked at her, then hosed her down, the cold water shocking her, but washing the perspiration from her. Then he left her, walking out of the room, turning off the dim light, leaving her in darkness. She was all alone.
Carol no longer cared. She was too tired to care. She hung, suspended in mid-air, bound to the posts, and this way she finally fell into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
When Carol awoke, it was still pitch-black in the room. Her eyes saw all kinds of crazy things. In the darkness she felt as if she was envisioning brilliantly colored geometric designs, shapes that formed, then dissolved, changing from one pattern into another. Something like the innocent idleness of childhood took hold of her as she remained suspended where she was. She allowed her mind to play with the different shapes, and all the discomforts which were still plaguing her were nothing other than a part of her present condition. Time seemingly stretched out, becoming totally irrelevant. She began perceiving time the way an infant might. The time was only the duration of watching each geometric shape change. Each change brought a change in time to her helpless mind.
Her bladder was swelling. If she remained here much longer, she would be forced to urinate, and the idea didn't sit well with her. In spite of all she had been through, Carol still regarded herself as a dignified individual, and didn't want to be reduced to nothingness.
She jumped when the dim light flashed on again, hurting her eyes for a moment. She looked almost blandly as the man in the ski mask suddenly appeared in front of her.
Once again she allowed her attention to wander around the room, looking at, and taking in, the different details. She was no longer horrified at this situation in which she was involved. She had come to accept it without questioning.
The man seemed to sense her attitude, and undid the ropes around her ankles, then unbound her wrists and elbows. Tingles shot through her skin as blood coursed through her, bringing to life those limbs which before had felt so dead. As blood flashed through her body, her behind, which had been in so much pain, began hurting even more, and she began crying softly as her strained flesh screamed with pain.
He released the twine holding the weight on her hair, and he unsnipped the electrodes from her nipples. Then he attached a dog leash to the metal loop of her slave collar and he yanked on it.
She fell to her knees, and when she tried getting up, the man made her understand that she was to stay on all fours like a dog. This was nothing new to her. Ann did it to her all the time.
She crawled along the cement floor to a door that had been off to the side, all but invisible in the gloominess of the room. The man opened the door and made her crawl in. It was a bathroom, a small one, but a complete bathroom, nevertheless. The tub was filled with steaming water. He attached the other end of the dog leash to a hook over the sink, between the toilet and the bathtub. Then he left the room.
Carol was free to tend to her needs, and she did so, immediately, thankful he hadn't dehumanized her by making her void all over the floor. She also relieved her bowels, for his oily spray in there had loosened her up.
After, she slid into the tub, finding all kinds of scented lotions on a glass shelf. She selected the scent she wanted, added it to the bath water, and washed away much of the agonizing pain she felt. The soothing warmth of the water was like a balm, and she nodded off.
She was startled awake, sitting up abruptly as she felt a tug on the collar around her throat. Oh God!
Carol realized her face had been sliding into the water and she might well have drowned before awakening. But the man was in the bathroom by the side of the tub. He had the other end of the dogleash in his hand, and he had tugged her upright. He had prevented her from drowning, but she had no illusions about his doing it as a favor to her. If she were dead, he would be unable to make her suffer.
She rose and sat on the edge of the bathtub, then swung her legs around onto the bath mat as he let the water out of the tub. He rubbed her down with a fleecy towel, but made sure she remained seated on the edge of the tub. His cock was hard again, and he was standing in front of her, the rigid length of the organ pointing toward her face. Carol knew what he wanted. He didn't even have to push, this time. The penis was thick with the need for relief, standing out as it did from his pelvis with its brown stubble.
Although this was not the first time she would be taking a cock into her mouth, this time she felt no revulsion at all. To her, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
She parted her lips and quickly enclosed the head of the man's plunger in her oral orifice. She used her tongue to wash the entire penile head, licking at the tiny little opening in it, tasting some of the rich fluid oozing from it, colorless at the moment, but thick.
His lubrication was tasteless, and yet curiously arousing. She started moving downward, then stopped when she felt the head of his cock butting against the entrance to her gullet. Her father had insisted she take the penile tip in her throat, so there was no reason to assume this man would settle for less. She gagged, but didn't resist when he placed his palm on the back of her head and pushed. He wanted her to ingest every last bit of cock, but she wondered if it was humanly possible, considering the length and breadth of the thick cock. Oddly, she tasted coffee as she sucked, and gagged as he crammed more and more of the penis into her throat. When, at one point, she stopped, he pressed harder on her head, and she resumed, until her nose was pressed against the itchy stubble on his pelvis.
She felt somewhat chastened and rebuked as it was, even though gagging and choking violently as the huge penis pushed even deeper into her gullet. He was helping a little by thrusting forward with his hips.
All this time he made no sound and said nothing. The woman's face almost turned purple from lack of air, and her stomach was tied in knots before she discovered that by simply swallowing and relaxing her throat, she was able to take more of the penis inside, until the weighty testicles, also smelling of coffee, pressed against her chin.
He began sliding his cock in and out and a curious thing happened. As she sucked, she realized that his cock seemed to be getting a little whiter. Not only that, but at one point, when she gripped the phallus with her right hand and took it out of her mouth, licking around the head, the deep brown color changed to purple. But she have it no thought at the time. Once again the penis was almost violently thrust back into Carol's mouth, the man rocking forward and driving the tip all the way into her esophagus. In, then out, then in, then out.
She was drooling, her mouth crammed to capacity, unable to accommodate her own dribbling saliva as the man's throbbing cock pulsated in her burning oral orifice.
Of her own free will she reached between his legs and cupped is dangling sac. She squeezed them lightly, feeling them roll around in the heavy, wrinkled sac.
Little by little she became aroused. For the first time she realized she actually liked sucking a cock. This one had a tang to it, and the breadth of it seemed to swell in her mouth, yet filled it delightfully so that while panting through her nostrils, she was able to enjoy the tasty, meaty flavor of his organ. The head of his penis rubbed against nerve-endings in her throat, the same nerve-endings her stepfather's penis had massaged, but because this cock was so much longer and thicker, the pressure, and pleasure, was that much more intense. If she was unable to have the kind of loving she had seen Rand Forrest give Micky, then this kind of bondage, painful as it had been so far, had to be preferable to what she had undergone with Ann. She only hoped this strange man wasn't intent on killing her when it was all over, because she felt a need to service him. She wanted to live purely to be his slave, unless there was some loving way of winning him over.
She moved her tightly ringing lips back and forth over the man's throbbing cock. All the while her tickling fingers continued to massage his testicles.
She was going to come all over again, and this from merely sucking his cock. If there was any way in the world of making this man fuck her with his wonderful cock, she would find it. God! She had fallen in love with this massive sex organ.
Thoroughly aroused now, needing to come badly, she sucked all the harder, feeling his cock swelling even more in her mouth. The oils were flowing freely through his urethra and into her mouth.
The man was almost brutal in the way he pounded his cock into her narrow gullet, choking and gagging her each time. His hands were woven through her brown hair, tightly tugging back and forth as he kept on cramming every last little bit of his penis into her mouth.
Carol whimpered, aware she was on the verge of orgasm. He rammed his massive organ into her gullet again and again, and she started sucking all the more feverishly on it, because in doing so, she intensified her own desire to come. Raging lust blasted through her and she was aware of stronger sensations than ever.
Her clitoris, at the apex of her inner lips, tingled. Her vaginal meat was delicately stimulated by the oils flooding out of her and running down her inner thighs. The agony of her desire continued building in her until she thought her vagina would scream because of the ache to climax. Then she was doing just that, climaxing all over, unable to control herself, coming as hot oils splashed from her cunt onto the feet of the man standing before her. She sucked even more violently.
Then she felt the hot, needle-thin spray of his seed spurting into her mouth. She swallowed furiously, trying to take in all his sperm. There was too much of it, even now, when it was his second orgasm. She began wondering just how much time had passed while he had left her alone in the dark.
The fluid welled up in her mouth, and she swallowed, remembering how angry her stepfather had been when she had allowed some of it to leak out the corners of her lips. This time she was more careful, certain this dominating man might punish her even more hardily than with a few face slaps as her stepfather had done. The last of his sperm entered her mouth, and all the while her lips had continued their massage of his penis, even as it shrunk. Now, short as it was, it was also clean.
He tugged his cock from her mouth, and she was about to stand. A tug on the dogleash made her aware she was to crawl. He led her from the bathroom through the other room, upstairs, to a boarded-up house.
She had been in a boarded-up house. The room where he had kept her prisoner had been the basement. But even in the boarded-up house she had limited freedom. There was the huge, circular kitchen, with the windows so tightly boarded up she was unable to tell daylight from darkness. The same was true of the small dining room window. Large doors, leading to almost all other parts of the house were shut, locked, and sealed so she was unable to see into any other rooms.
Behind the kitchen was a small, windowless room, In it, was a bed, a nightstand, and a lamp. The floor was wooden, with a small throw-rug near the bed.
The man removed the dogleash and instead, used a long dog chain, hooking one end to her collar, and the other end to a ring driven into the wall in the windowless room. This way she was able to walk the full length and breadth of the kitchen unhampered.
He gestured to the stove, the cabinets, and the refrigerator. He wanted her to do some cooking. Carol knew better than to argue with him. She went to the refrigerator, found one steak, one package of lamb chops, one potato, a single serving of different kinds of vegetables, and one pudding, one gelatin dessert, and one slice of cake. Without being told, Carol understood she was to cook solely for him, and not for herself.
She prepared the lamb chops with a baked potato and some asparagus. Then, while she put it on the table, she saw him take a can with no label, open it, and dump the contents into a dog dish. God! Not dog food, she hoped, not dog food! She had to get down on her belly and eat it without using her hands. It smelled like corned beef has, but she was uncertain. After, she stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, then he led her into the little room and lay on the bed, gesturing for her to lie on the throw-rug. He turned out the lamp, and they fell asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Micky Mantoparte had dated Rand Forrest for the few days she had known him, ever since he had gotten his settlement from the insurance company. He had seen her on and off, and she knew he would never get serious with her, but nevertheless, she was so enamored of his lovemaking technique it had come to a point where she was willing to do anything and everything to please him.
Randall Forrest was the kind of man who loved dominating his women. There were some intelligent women whom he knew he would never be able to dominate, and so he hadn't gone after them. Then there were the sweet, innocent women. These, he preferred leaving alone, as well. They were destined to be not-too-happy housewives, and he had no intention of merely being a temporary bright spot in someone's life. Then there were the delightful, fuckable nymphs, like Micky. These were the women Rand enjoyed most of all. They knew a good cock when they saw it, and they did anything and everything to please the cock. As a result, Rand got in some pretty good lays with these women.
Even now, on Tuesday, Micky was ringing his doorbell, wondering where Rand was. She noticed one small side of his multi-faceted home had been boarded up. The rest of it looked unoccupied. She looked very smart in her gray tailored suit with the white blouse. It was already late in the month, and she didn't need an overcoat.
Eventually the front door opened and she found herself facing Rand, who was wearing a bathrobe.
"You look like you've been to Florida," she commented, noting what looked like a tan under the robe.
"That's just coffee dye," he told her, stepping aside and letting her in. "I told you I would be busy these next few days," he said.
"I didn't mean to be disobedient," she assured him. "It was just that I was aching to see you so much. I know I don't really mean anything to you other than a good lay. I've accepted that. Someday, I don't know when, I'll stop bugging you, and I'll settle down and marry some nice guy. But until then, I find it all but impossible to live without having a good fuck at least once every two or three days from you."
"I'm in the process of teaching a very important lesson to a rotten little bitch," he told her. "If you wish to join in, you'll have to do as I say."
"I'd love it," she replied, "on the condition that before we start teaching any lessons, you give me at least one good, quick fuck."
"Fair enough," he nodded, and she walked into the house as he shut the door behind her.
Without another word, she walked into the living room, went over to the sofa, and hiked up her gray skirt, bending over the sofa-arm. She tugged down her panties, kicking them to the side, baring her beautiful white ass. Unlike Carol's, Micky's white cheeks had no bruises on them. Though Rank loved dominating his women, he didn't often flagellate them. Beside, Micky's tight, round buttocks were so small, one of his palms would have covered both cheeks.
Her vagina had begun getting wet the instant Rand had allowed her into the house. He had already loosened the belt around his robe, and now he took it off and tossed it on the sofa.
His phallus was only semi-erect, but the instant it was freed from its confining cover, and it "saw" Micky's naked white buttocks, it reared its purple had and swelled.
"We don't have much time," he told her. "That bitch will be wakening any moment now, so you'll have to take it without a warm-up."
"I'll take it any way I can get it," she assured him, smiling with her head turned to look at him while he stared at her bent-over ass.
He pressed the throbbing purple head of his shuddering cock against the lips of her hotbox. They folded inward, sucking his cock inside, sinking deeper and deeper.
"Gghhoonnngghhhhh!" the lovely redhead moaned, quivering in the masterful way this man was once again taking possession of her surrendering body.
Rand would never have done anything to Micky similar to what he had done to Carol. He had shown Micky his special basement, with the crossbeams in the center, and the posts with ropes, explaining he had built it in a fit of rage against Carol, and one day he would use it on her. It was obvious to Micky yesterday had been the day. Besides, Carol had much larger, shakier buttocks, and they really wobbled when he whacked them, which was why he had taken a long time hitting the day before. He had gotten a big kick out of beating her buttocks. He had enjoyed fucking her ass, after. He knew from her reactions she had never previously been ass-fucked. She was no virgin. He didn't have to delve into her vagina to find that out. The way she creamed when he had ass-fucked her told him she was used to a cock somewhere in her body. Later, when he had made her suck his cock, he knew for a fact that her mouth wasn't virginal, either. But her ass... her ass had definitely been virginal.
Now he grunted as he plugged his thick cock into Micky's meadow of lust. He shuddered as he felt her hot, wet walls drooling all over the organ he was driving into her.
Her tight, elastic inner walls continually surrendered to the driving force of his penile prodder. The spear of lust moved in and out, feeling just the right amount of resistance. He rammed into her until his dangling balls were beating against her clitoris, enhancing the thrills that much more for Micky.
Now he began pounding in and out of her, moving faster and faster, his throbbing cock getting harder, turning hotter as he felt the softly caressing walls of her teeming vagina suck on the full length of his mercilessly battering cock.
Micky was once again in a heaven all her own. She had never, in her life, met a more masterful man. Nor had she known a more wonderful man. This wasn't the kind of man who married. He would go through life having women act slavelike to his mighty cock, and barring something unforeseen, he would have a good erection right up to the day he died.
His voice, which always carried such authority when he spoke, caused leakage to spill from her vagina. There was something so totally dominating and wonderful about the man, Micky knew now why she had never married. She would never settle for a less wonderful man than this one, and men like this weren't the marrying kind. Looking into his hungry brown eyes always turned Micky's knees to jelly.
She was envious of any and every other women who had known him, yet she knew none had been thrilled quite as much as she. She was even envious of Carol, to be tamed by this master cocksman.
"Uhhhooooahhhhhh," she moaned aloud, as a particularly violent thrust of his slammed her body firmly against the arm of the sofa.
Her pink-tipped, white-fleshed breasts swelled and throbbed with violent passion as lust continued building inside her. One of the things Micky really enjoyed about this man was his ability to fuck her a different way each time, and make her think she was getting it for the first time all over again. True, this time using this position had been more her own idea than his, but if she hadn't adopted this position, he probably would have flung her on the sofa and fucked her quickly there, thus taking a little away from what they had, because she liked doing things differently with him. Still, now that he was plugged in, all she had to do was wait, and she knew both of them would climax abruptly.
She clenched her fists as the sweet delight of her own orgasm began building in the seething depths of her tantalized cunt. Micky would not dream of asking this man to hold his orgasm back, yet he was masterful enough so that somehow or other he knew how to make her come long before he did.
As the man's massive cock continued plummeting through the tantalized depths of her vagina, the girl began moaning. Micky felt her heart seemingly enlarging in her chest, feeling it blocking her passion constricted throat as the mighty organ continued rocketing in and out of her tight and narrow pussy. Christ! He was a regular tiger when it came to fucking!
She was aware of his hands, firm and strong as they gripped her shoulders from behind, balancing himself, as his massive organ continued to ream in and out of her seething vagina. She quivered with mounting delight as passion took total possession of her. Whatever rationality she had left was finally short-circuited, and she wallowed in the carnal delight enveloping her.
The weight of his twin testicles slapped solidly against her swelling vaginal lips as he continued lunging into her again and again, his weighty cock wreaking a sweet havoc in the depths of her creaming feminine vessel.
The girl started to melt, to feel as if her body was turning into a pool of liquid passion. She was helpless whenever fucked by this man, but it was such a wonderful helplessness.
She clenched her asscheeks and was startled by the quick, all too clear fantasy that she would have liked the man to beat her asscheeks with just enough power to stimulate her to orgasm. He had that kind of effect on all women.
The very thought of his hitting her made her vaginal oils come oozing out that much more quickly. Her thick womanly juices coated and oiled the man's hard, pumping cock so that it rammed in and out of her sucking vagina that much more swiftly, moving faster, pushing harder.
She was aware of his hard cock swelling all the more in her aching vagina, feeling the powerful penile head slam into the backwall of her tunnel. She continued shivering with a mounting pleasure, and pressed her rounded little apple-shaped breasts against the arm of the sofa. They flattened a bit and the rubbing pressure of her nipples against the sofa arm caused her breasts to throb even more strongly.
Her nipples tingled. They had long since gone from merely puckering to swelling with sheer delight, the sensitive little pink nubbins sending shards of piercing pleasure rapturously vibrating through her body right to her soul.
She lowered her head and pressed her burning cheek against the sofa, feeling the herculon material rough against her cheek as she closed her eyes. Behind her tightly closed eyelids, bright flashes of colored light seemingly exploded. Thrills seeped through her already lust-besotted body.
Rand's blistering cock continued to hammer in and out of her wetly sucking cunt. The bristles of stubble where his pubic hairs had once been were sodden, as was his pelvic flesh, covered for the moment with the thick oil of her desire as it flowed soddenly from the depths of her soaking wet cunt.
The interior of Micky's cunt became more inflamed than ever before. Her clitoris became elongated and popped out of its fleshy hiding place, and she moved forward on the arm of the sofa until it, too, rubbed against the rough, herculon fabric, while the hard cock continued stuffing itself into her tight passageway again and again.
Then Micky felt her stomach turning a maddening flip-flop in the depths of her teeming belly. Her vagina seemed to close in on itself like a soft fist, and hot, thick honey poured more lavishly from the convulsing depths of her aching cunt.
"AAAAAIIIIGGHHH!" she shrieked as her hips rotated out of total rational control and began humping up and down as she came.
She felt as if her vagina had turned into an oral kind of mouth, one that gaped and sucked as his hard prick rammed in and out of her tight cunt with a maddening fury. Oh God! It was too good, much too good!
Micky was aware of hot perspiration bathing her young body, causing her man-tailored blouse to stick to her body, but she ignored it because of the unadulterated bliss shooting through her. She writhed as her hips continued to buck backward furiously, her inner membranes washboarding as she slammed against the hardness of Rand's thighs.
Her convulsions, instead of easing, intensified even more, until, at the peak of her orgasm, she felt his hot seed washing into her. Then the delight ever-so-slowly began to fade away.
Even so, her vagina was sucking up the slimy robes of sperm he was firing into her, which, after a night's rest, poured abundantly into the quivering depths of Micky's red-hair-rimmed snatch. Again and again he fired, and her cunt was there to suck up every drop.
The lovely redhead writhed insanely beneath his body as he fired burst after short burst of his thick, pungent oils into her teeming tunnel of love. God! She was on fire and unable to control herself. Even now, after coming, she knew she would be able to come a second and a third, and perhaps a fourth time with this man.
Finally she heard him groan softly as the last of their joint spasms faded away. It was the best one, yet, and she knew that any future orgasms would be even better.
She felt all sodden and hot, and her body was all rubbery. God! She was quivering with a sort of post-orgasmic delight.
The man's torso collapsed on her back and he lay there for a moment catching his breath. His huge, wonderfully erect cock was going limp in her quivering quim, and she didn't want to let go of it.
Finally he pulled out of her. She whirled about, knelt in front of him, and began sucking the penis until it was clean. He, in turn, took some tissues from a nearby box and used them to dredge out her cunt. Then he closed his robe, while helping Micky to undress the rest of the way.
"Now," he said to her, "I'll dig out my spare ski mask for you, and the two of us can really go to work on our delightful bitch. One thing, though. I think you should let me shave your pussy. We don't want her seeing the red hairs and guessing who you are."
"Good idea," Micky nodded.
Chapter Fifteen
Carol fought to restrain her tears as she saw what she felt was sperm that rightly belonged to her going into another woman.
"Look at that miserable excuse for a female," the man said, leaping to his feet, climbing the two steps and wiping his wet cock on Carol's thigh. "You're sniveling again, you bitch. You'll hang there until you understand that I am the ruler, and you are nothing other than a humble sex slave."
"I know," Carol moaned.
"We shall see," he snapped, and turning to Micky, who was just getting to her feet. He pointed to the bathroom, saying, "Go in there and pull open the middle drawer in the counter. Take out the rubber enema bag."
"Yes, master," Micky nodded, smiling.
"Oh my God!" Carol gasped. "Oh no, you wouldn't, you just wouldn't. You can't!"
"Shut that nasty little face of yours, you little bitch!" he snapped.
He slapped her face brutally a number of times, not hitting her hard enough to bruise her, but slamming her face just hard enough to be painful. Carol felt her inner cheeks being cut as they hit against the sharp edges of her teeth. She tasted her own blood and she was horrified. She would do anything he wanted. Why wouldn't he understand that and release her from this captivity?
When the other woman finally came back, she was carrying an enema bag, and from the look of it, it was filled. The water was hot because Carol saw steam rising from the bag. God! He was going to pump it into her while she hung here. She would dirty herself in front of him.
Micky walked behind Carol, mounting the two tapes, then, at a signal from the man, she slowly pushed the unlubricated bone of the enema bag into Carol's rectum.
The helpless brown-haired woman cried out as she felt the plastic bone spreading her rectal walls apart. It wasn't nearly as thick as the cock attached to the man, but it was unyielding in any way. Through all this, the man sat and crossed his legs, smoking another of his thin, black cigars.
Carol stiffened, gasping and quivering as she felt scalding water pouring into the depths of her plundered rectum the moment the assistant released the metal catch holding the water back. She felt the burning fluid slither into the entrails of her body, bloating her belly. Her stomach lurched and juddered uncomfortably, turning all kinds of somersaults. The pit of her belly hurt as liquid fire filled her. The entire enema bag had been full, which meant more water would be pumped into her bowels than her body might be capable of holding. It might conceivably back up into her small intestine, and even into her belly. Fire filled her as more and more of the oozing liquid rushed into her body.
The man rose, and he began pacing in front of her. Then he stared at her and said, "You'll hold all that water inside you until I decide to let it come out."
When Micky showed him the bag was empty, he had her remove the nozzle, and then he handed her a rubber plug which she jammed into Carol's ass before the latter was able to let any of the fluid seep out.
"Good girl," the man nodded. "I think this bitch is no more capable of holding the water in her than she is of holding back those stupid crocodile tears. I don't know why I'm even bothering with this bitch. There are so many lovelier women around."
"Oh my God!" Carol wailed as Micky made certain the ass-plug was firmly locked into her rectum.
Carol heard her belly and intestines rumbling and burbling as the water moved through her internal passages, loosening everything. She felt strong pressure in her vagina as a result of all this. Oh God! She ached to be fucked! Even now, filled as she was with water, she wanted the cock rammed into her cunt.
She twisted and turned against the ropes holding her wrists and elbows, weeping out loud. There was no pleasure in any of this. What he was doing was domination for its own sake. It was obvious the man had no intention of teaching her to love agony. He was doing all this as a lesson to her, to make her understand that he was the lord and master of her body and soul.
Her sense of inadequacy continued to mount as she found herself perspiring profusely, writhing on the posts to which she had been bound. Cramps were beginning to tighten in her belly. Each time a particularly painful cramp shot through her, she would stiffen. The perspiration was now pouring all the more heavily from her body, trickling into her eyes, stinging them.
Oh God! She felt as if she had been bound between these two wooden posts forever and ever. Then the man snapped at his assistant with his fingers, and the two of them walked out, leaving the lights on this time. With her body swollen with water, the helpless Carol waited all over again... and she waited, and waited.
When the man came downstairs again, she knew she dared not say anything to him, for no matter what she said, he would misconstrue it as something it wasn't meant to be, and he would hurt her even more.
"You miserable bitch!" the man snapped loudly. "You still can't stop that insipid whimpering."
Once again he picked up the thick, flat rubber paddle and he walked over to where Carol was hanging. Her eyes widened for she saw he wasn't standing behind her this time, but in front of her. Oh God! This would be the most degrading thing of all. She would soil herself in front of him, and then he wouldn't want anything more to do with her. What little esteem he might be feeling for her would be lost forever.
"Ayyyahhhh!" she cried out as he brought the paddle down firmly on her belly; the belly bloated and distorted, rumbling and filled with burning water.
The muscle in her ass cramped together, and her sphincter clenched tightly around the rubber plug that had been inserted. There was tremendous pressure on the load in her belly.
Again and again the man continued paddling her stomach until it turned a livid red. What he was doing stung miserably, shooting waves of uncontrolled pain coursing through her piercing interior, cutting through her brain like ragged glass, until thinking was no longer something she was capable of doing. All she was able to do was feel, and she didn't feel good.
Even so, something else happened in the depths of her vagina. It was at that point that the helpless girl felt some sort of sexual relief as an orgasm actually wended its way through her shuddering body. She moaned as the lips of her vagina swelled, and even though her legs were spread-eagled, she felt the shock of the mini-orgasm charging through her. Her vaginal walls closed in on themselves, and the pleasurable impact reverberated through her quaking inner flesh. Clamping her eyes shut, she surrendered to a purely sensual experience of being bound and tortured for the moment. Even the cramps in her belly seemed to add to the strange carnal bliss she was feeling, a bliss that was totally irrational, letting her know that even if she was not a deep-dyed masochist, she, like everyone else in the world, had some little masochistic tendencies within. How it was possible was something incomprehensible, yet it was happening and she was responding to it.
At that point the man stopped what he was doing, and with the help of the ski-masked woman, released her from her bonds, allowing her to make a bee-line for the downstairs bathroom. She just barely made it, having to reach behind her and push her finger through the loop in the plug in order to pull it from her rectum, and then the hot water, and everything else in her came cascading into the bathroom bowl. She quivered with blessed relief.
Oh God! Oh God! It was horrible! Imagine being made to come that way the rest of her life! Oh God!
It took a while before she was able to completely clear her colon. When she did, she took another bath, cleaning herself from head to foot, and then finally climbed out of the tub. When she walked into the next room, the man and the woman were waiting for her. They guided her upstairs, and she turned around to face them in the kitchen, saying, "Please, oh please, I don't know what I did to deserve this but please don't do it to me again. I'm willing to be your body slave if you wish. I'll serve you in any capacity, but please, please don't cause me pain."
"There's still one more treatment you have to undergo before we can decide if I'll let you stay with me," Rand Forrest murmured.
"Will you fuck me, the right way?" she queried.
"That can be arranged," he nodded, "provided you behave and do as you're told."
Chapter Sixteen
The two men were standing side-by-side throwing pieces of bread to the ducks swimming in the nearby pond. One of the two men was Randall Forrest. With Micky in the house, he was able to leave and not worry that Carol would break out. Carol had been Rand's slave for two weeks.
"It's quite simple," he said to the other man. "I have a woman in need of a good ass fucking."
"Yeah, but how do I know you're not trying to set me up?" Fred Commente asked. "My wife would take a dim view of it if I did something like this."
Fred Commente was barrel-chested, a little barrel-bellied, and he worked for the same insurance company as Micky and Carol. Fred was the insurance agent who sold Rand the policy on which he had collected.
"You wife will never know," Rand assured him. "Hey, you know that Carol Mallatesta."
"You mean the one who keeps turning down claims?"
"Right!"
"Yeah, well if anyone deserves an assfuck, she's the one."
"Well she's the one I'm offering to your cock."
"But shell know it's me," Fred protested.
"Not if you wear a ski mask," Rand replied. "Pick one up in a sporting goods store, then come to my house."
"I don't know."
"I'll throw in Micky Mantoparte's cunt for good measure."
"Ah! Now you're talking! That Micky has to be the hottest little piece in all of Christendom."
"So, let's go and give her what she needs most, but first, Carol!"
"All right," Fred nodded. "I'll stop by at eight, this evening. I'll tell my wife I'm out on a case."
Chapter Seventeen
Two full weeks had passed, though to Carol they seemed like two years. In that time, she had been used, abused, reused, insulted, kicked, beaten with the flat paddle, made to withstand long periods of loneliness in the dark, forced to sleep on the floor, ordered to crawl about like a dog, allowed to sit only when alone in the bathroom, or when cooking the three meals she had each day with the man, to of them with the hooded naked woman, as well. It became a way of life for Carol. She kissed the hands of these people, bowed to them, thanked them when they pointed out a flaw in her behavior and punished her for it. She licked the cunt of the woman each day, bringing her to orgasm, sucked the cock of the man once a day, attaining some sort of orgasm herself, and was fucked in the ass at least three times a week, where she also had some kind of climax.
Then came the day when the man made the glorious announcement that Carol had finally earned the right to be properly fucked. Carol was overjoyed. For this occasion, Carol was led through what had been a previously barred door to her. She followed, on her hands and knees, the man and the woman, and when they led her into the small room, she knew where she was and with whom. She had seen Rand Forrest fucking Micky in this room the first time Micky had visited him. Her captor was Rand Forrest, but instead of hating him as she had wanted to, she realized she all but worshipped him. She adored him for in his punishment of her, he had cleansed her body for having committed the horrible sins of lesbianism. Licking Micky's cunt didn't qualify as lesbianism to her, since it was something she had done under duress.
Rand was aware she would know who he was eventually, but didn't know she knew him at that time. He motioned to the sofa in the small room after opening the bed in it, and she lay down on the mattress, spread-eagling herself. The hooded Rand mounted her, and she felt the soft lips around her aching vagina being tempestuously, roughly forced apart by the wedge of his cockhead. The elastic-rimmed tightness of them offered some little resistance for a moment, and then slowly surrendered to the overpowering pressure. She groaned with desire. God! He was so long and so thick. His cock felt much harder than anything she had remembered from her stepfather. He shoved against her tiny little orifice, and she let him know how much she desired this particular stretching by groaning out her lust.
Staring at him with the ski mask made this whole thing seem ludicrous. She wanted to see the face of her lover and know he was feeling as much from all this as she. Abruptly, the man rammed forward with all his strength, sinking his lust-bloated phallic lance all the way to the balls in her sucking vaginal embouchure. She felt the weight of his heavy balls slap against her winking anal opening. The girl, unable to otherwise, screwed her ass deeply into the mattress, for the moment attempting to escape such a powerful thrust because it was cruel, but her long, lithe limbs splayed themselves out wide on either side of the man's passion-strained body, and unable to stop herself, she reached out and pulled off the ski mask.
"Rand Forrest!" she gasped. "It is you, I thought so!" she cried out, and she tried to wriggle backward in the hope of pulling away from him because the pressure felt as if it was too much even for her tiny pussy.
But Rand held her there for a long, long time, feeling her interior widen and surrender to him, as he said, "This is the last punishment, Carol. After today, you'll be treated with respect and love, and you'll come to live here with us, if you pass the test."
"Us?" Micky broke in, her ski mask still on. "Do you mean I'm ...."
"Both of you," he nodded. "Along with a few select others over the years. But from now on, you two are the core of my harem, unless you'd rather not be."
"One day with you is better than a year with any other ten men," Micky insisted. "I'll stay!"
"And you?" Rand asked Carol. "If you wish, you can leave."
"No," Carol told him, shaking her head. "I want to stay. I want to be loved as a woman, for myself. I'll accept any test you want me to undergo."
"Good girl!" he nodded, feeling her vaginal flesh seemingly melt around the thrusting length of his long, hot, hard cock. He flexed it inside her, slowly, deliberately, causing a mounting pleasure to spark inside her. Her cunt responded as if it were a trapped animal, softly opening and closing around the impaling penile length.
Without moving, Rand Forrest continued the slow, rhythmic throbs of his swollen penis in the searing depths of her naked belly, skewering his cock deeper and deeper. It took a lot of willpower to contain himself as her groans and moans resounded through the tiny workroom. This was the moment for which he had been waiting ever since he had first been confronted by Carol. He watched with infinite satisfaction as her lovely, barely-used body began coming to life. God! He was willing to bet she had never had it this deep.
Carol shuddered beneath the man, and whatever pain she had felt from his initial thrust slowly faded away, giving way to an electric tingling; electric in spite of the fact that no electrodes were attached to her, this time. She rotated her hips from side to side, her hot cunt working circularly around his thrust-in cock, her vagina dilating itself in time to the wild pounding she felt in her arteries. The flame of his inner contact with her secretly frustrated vaginal flesh spread from the beating hardness of his magnificent phallus inside her to her thighs, into her belly, and to her breasts, which wobbled against his chest.
Dear God! It was wonderful! There was no denying that much. It was the single most marvelous thing Carol had ever felt. Her thoughts of her stepfather faded rapidly from her mind once and for all. She found herself concentrating with all her might, with every last inch of her heart and soul, on the deeply satisfying plunder of her body, a body which had been frustrated for so long.
Unknown to Carol, Micky had gone back to the front door and had opened it, letting Fred Commente into the house. He stared at her naked body and the ski mask covering her face, and it took all his willpower to keep from salivating. He had been sitting in his car for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for this.
Putting on the ski mask, Fred undressed in the living room and followed the naked Micky to the work room, his hand gripping and cupping the tight, white cheeks of her ass as they walked.
Rand saw the half-crazed smile of ecstasy playing across the lips of Carol Mallatesta. Her movement was becoming more and more quick with each passing second, her upthrusts against him becoming more and more urgent. She moved like a woman demonically possessed, her kissing lips crushing against his from time to time. She was straining for her orgasm, Rand knew as much. In the depths of her he felt a wet, sluicing kind of sucking as her vaginal walls continued contracting tightly around his throbbing organ. She bucked against him maddeningly as he strove to bury himself all the more deeply inside her. Then, with a deep-throated cry, she began vellicating uncontrollably, the crush of her cunt and the hot oozing moisture within so heavy he knew she was there. Her oils all but drowned his buried phallus with its heavily juiced warmth. She splashed so much of it against him, it oozed from around his cock down her thighs, onto the mattress.
"Come on, come on, come on," Rand gasped. "You can do it, honey, you can do it! You can come!"
"Oh God, yessssss, I'm coming!" she cried.
He reached behind him and grabbed her ankles, tugging on them so her knees were forced back over her own shoulders as he pounded his cock all the more deeply into the sucking depths of her creaming cunt. Once again she felt helpless, though she was suddenly aware the slave collar was no longer around her neck. It had been removed while she had slept, earlier. This was a different kind of captivity, a wonderful captivity, and she responded by continuing to come.
The widespread slit between her legs felt as if it was unable to widen enough. Carol yearned for more, more, and then more, her body crying out for the kind of climaxes it had been denied for so long.
Rand thrust into her repeatedly, but knew he would have to contain himself, if only to make certain she was prepared for this final phase. He didn't want to come too quickly. If he did, it would mean keeping Fred at least an extra half-hour while he raised a new erection, and it wouldn't be nearly as much fun. So reluctantly, he slowed his thrusts into her steaming center.
She rolled beneath Rand, crying out for more, as if his cock were some kind of narcotic, and the more she had, the more she needed. As it was, she had two more nerve searing climaxes, but tiny, relentless sparks of desire continued filling her womb, and she struggled against the hardness of his cock, hoping to come yet again.
Rand suddenly pulled out and got to his feet, and looking up, Carol saw another man with a ski mask standing over her.
"Like I promised," Rand told the man, "you can have her ass."
"I'm a front door man myself," Fred insisted. "Have you pumped anything into her cunt, yet?"
"Only a little lubrication, but it's mingled with hers so you can't tell the difference."
"Fine, then if it's all right with you, I'm going into her pussy, and you can handle the back door."
"Okay by me," Rand nodded.
The weighty man hurled himself on top of Carol, and she gasped as she realized his cock was no less thick than Rand's, even if it was considerably shorter. Her eyes were hazy slits of lust at this point, and her arousal so great, she didn't care whose cock plugged into her as long as she came. She lay there as the new man began pumping wildly into her shuddering pussy.
"Oh yessssss," she gasped, feeling his flushed body against hers as his cock continued stroking rhythmically in and out of her.
"Remember," Fred called out, "I also get Mickey before I leave."
"Right!" Rand nodded.
Rand and Micky stood there, watching, but it didn't bother Fred. All he knew was, now that he was plugged into Carol, he had to explore the hot upper reaches of her body with his hands while his cock delved into the mystery of her sucking cunt. She was the first woman he had fucked other than his wife since his marriage, eighteen years earlier. Even now, his only reason for doing this was in helping a friend-though the added sweetener of being promised Micky helped a little. Seeing Carol's naked body, he had realized she was no less arousing than Micky, and he was powerless to keep himself from fucking maddeningly into her squirming body.
Beneath him, the lovely brown-haired woman, her hair no longer in a pony tail, shuddered, torn between hot, molten lava scorching in her aching cunt as she felt the need for more cock, and the twinges of shame she ought to feel for allowing just any man to pump into her in this way. First Rand, now this strange man. Who would be next? Was this final test a whole slew of men? Did she have to take on a battalion in order to prove she would be loyal and faithful to Rand from now on? Hadn't she suffered enough? After all, even she had enough sense to know that by the time she got to the fifteenth or twentieth cock, assuming he had that many men lined for her, she would be rubbed raw inside. Yet as the hot cock continued thrusting through her feminine tunnel, she knew there was no way for her to resist what was happening to her.
"Fuck me!" she gasped to Fred Commente, her voice hissing out between tightly clamped teeth, the flames of desire for cock licking at her internal loins. She was spurred on by the sheer hopelessness of her position. The fucking was inevitable, and she loved it anyway, so why bother trying to fight it? Accept it and worry about pain if and when pain came.
Fred needed no further invitation, pumping his thrusting cock in and out of the sucking, sodden swamp that belonged to the beautiful brown-haired woman. He felt the moistly resisting folds of inner flesh massage his phallus and thrills charged through him. Though Fred would be the last to admit he loved being fucked this way, and that his own wife was still the best lay of them all, deep down, he had to confess to himself, that a change of cock-sheath every now and again did stimulating wonders for a man. Hell! The truth was, he would be able to appreciate his own wife even more, now, if only because he would be making comparisons, and his wife would come out first-best.
Beneath him, Carol was gasping out her delight at the way he was rummaging his cock in and out of her squeezing womanly tunnel. The blood-bloated cock, if not quite as long as Rand's, was certainly as thick, and thus afforded her monumental pleasure. The burning walls of her aching vagina clasped greedily around the fleshy cudgel as his balls continued smacking lasciviously into the wet crack between her ass, hitting her perineum and her asshole.
Carol groaned in delight as she tossed beneath this strange man, reveling in the complete filling of her cock-stretched tunnel as Fred began some deep, heavy thrusting into the lust-expanded grotto that was her teeming vagina. The brown-haired woman's lips opened in wildly abandoned ecstasy, and it didn't take long before she felt the thrilling sensation of orgasm beginning to mount all over again. She had come so many times before, and was primed for so many more, and now it was happening all over again while the hugely swollen phallus continued digging into her tightly screwing flesh like a wild jackhammer.
Her voice was a shrill plea of passion as she released another violent flood of vaginal oils. She whipped her head right and left, and then she felt a hand gripping her hair and keeping her head turned to the side as a bare vagina once more came into view. It was the cunt of Micky Mantoparte, though Carol was still a little unsure of Micky's identity, even is she was positive of Rand's.
Micky knelt on the mattress, then lifted a knee and brought it down on the other side of Carol's head, turning her face upright, and squashing her cunt down on the woman's mouth. Carol felt the hot, vaginal lips press into her open mouth, and she didn't think in terms of lesbianism or homosexuality. She thought in terms of merely enjoying any and all kinds of sex for its own sake. She sucked on the fleshy pink lips, pulling, licking with her tongue, lapping wildly away, eating hungrily, feeling the thrill of Fred Commente's cock as it continued pounding into the narrow trough of her pussy. Her body was unable to stop moving, and she was grateful the man fucking her was able to hold back his own orgasm for a time.
Her mind filled itself with the thought that she came with a cock in her rectum, more than once. How would it be if she was being fucked in her rectum while this other cock continued moving in the depths of her vagina. Lust built even higher in her in spite of the many climaxes she had enjoyed so far. The hot oils from Micky's cunt were spurting into her mouth, and she was thrilled to realize she had brought the slender, white-bodied woman off so quickly.
As if Micky was reading her mind, she turned to Rand and said, "Okay, she's primed, really primed. Now is the time to give it to her."
Fred turned on his side, and Carol turned with him. Micky also lay on her side, her white thighs clamping tightly around Carol's head as the later's tongue continued delving in and out of the succulence of Micky's pink pussy. Fred's cock continued pumping insanely into her shuddering vaginal tunnel.
Rand lay on his side against the tight, round bottom of Carol Mallatesta. With his two hands he began spreading her rear cheeks, his hot, hard anxious cock ready to tunnel into the back channel.
"This is it, Carol," Rand gasped. "The final test, and you're passing it with flying colors."
Little by little he began worming the thick head of his hard cock into the narrow little opening that was her anus, stretching her malleable sphincter wide. Carol grunted into Micky's cunt, squealing with delight, doing her best to accommodate both penises at the same time.
"Uuuuhhhhh!" she breathed into Micky's steaming vessel, as she accepted the thick plunge of Rand's driving cock with only the slightest amount of discomfort, at first. She had taken the cock so many times before, even with a penis in her vagina, making her back tunnel that much more narrow, she was able to accept the thrust of the organ into her rectum now. She felt the two penises in her rubbing on against one another, but was secure in the knowledge a thin membrane separated them. This made her shuttle her body back and forth all the more rapidly.
"Oh yes, yes!" she sighed, wrapping her arms around Micky's buttocks as she sucked at the later's cunt while continuing to hump her body back and forth.
Fred Commente was able to plant hot kisses on Micky's neck, and did so in abundance, and Micky responded, turning her head and letting the man kiss her mouth.
Carol felt enraptured as never before. She was being loved, loved by two men and a woman, though the woman was not of the lesbianic ilk of Ann Mason. She realized now it was possible for her to be bi-sexual and enjoy both men and women without being typecast as a dyke.
Her hot womb flared open as never before, and the sweetly resisting walls of her aching cunt seemed to flower even wider in order to receive the delightful thrusts of the thick cock in her most private flesh, while her asscheeks quivered unendingly, the long channel of her asshole seemingly expanding delightedly against the deep, hard thrust of the cock of Rand Forrest as it pounded in and out of her tight narrow rear shelter.
"Huuuummmmm!" she gasped, her ears picking up the sounds of the bedsprings creaking unceasingly now as she continued moving between the two men and the woman. The sounds of the quartet's strained grunts and groans filled the air, while the noise of their naked, wet, oily bodies smacked sharply against one another, sending out lasciviously viscous noises.
"You have one hot little cunt," Fred groaned to Carol as he pounded his cock into her cunt, his mouth now pressed against Micky's perineum, where his tongue joined that of Carol in the seething center of the later's body. He felt one cunt sucking at this tongue, while the other cunt was pulling at his cock like a mouth.
Fred felt the tiny little spermatozoa whipping wildly around in his testicles and knew it wouldn't be much longer before he blasted into the narrow pussy sucking on his driving cock. He also felt the sliding motion of Rand Forrest as said cock moved in Carol's rectum and the pleasure added to his delight. He was ready to explode by now. Wildly, he shoved his tongue even deeper into Micky's hot cunt, letting it twist around Carol's, his hand harshly kneading Carol's full breasts, and then he came, his hotly spewing cock sinking to the hilt in the butter soft center of Carol's teeming tunnel, feeling her walls suck on his massive probe.
"Hhhhaaaaaa!" he grunted into Micky's salacious pussy.
Carol felt as if her insides were splitting painfully as the two penises continued fucking insanely into her, one in front, already spurting its seminal contents into her, the other behind her.
Four hands traversed her heated body while two hands gripped her hair to make certain her mouth remained glued to the pussy it was sucking. Micky slammed her cunt insanely against the two mouths licking and sucking and slurping uncontrollably into her. The tongue of the woman was now concentrating into her. The tongue of the woman was now concentrating on her clitoris, while the man's tongue was delving into her feminine funnel, licking out the flowing juices as quickly as she manufactured them. This was a first for Micky. She had never had two tongues on her cunt, before. Her only sorrow what that her mouth wasn't filled with a cock, and her hands weren't able to massage at least one pair of balls. Even so, she ran her hands mercilessly up and down Carol's head and back, now and again touching Fred Commente's head, as well as she lay on her side, hunching back and forth.
"Fuck me, fuck me," Carol was groaning into Micky's soft pussy, her words directed at the two men whose cocks were jamming into her lower holes.
It was Micky's turn to come. With the two tongues working on her, it was impossible for her not to come. Hers was the one female mouth unencumbered at the moment, and she shrieked out a loud wail as she came unendingly, spurting loads of hot oil into the mouths of the two people continually sucking at her vagina. What she was feeling was relief more than anything else, and as a result knew she needed to be fucked in order to be satisfied.
Because of the pressure of Carol's cunt around Fred's cock, even though he had fired a stream into her cunt, he was slow in softening, and as a result, Carol felt her vaginal orgasm take hold.
She screamed against Micky's pussy, making the clitoral button jerk wildly this way and that.
Then Fred pulled out of her cunt and rolled onto the floor. Micky pulled off her ski mask and leaped off the mattress as well, diving head first onto Fred's sticky, softening cock. She opened her mouth and sucked the penis inside, licking it all over, sucking madly on it, knowing by now that if she sucked long enough and hard enough, it would soon harden. Then she would be able to fill her own cunt with it.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Carol moaned, now on her knees on the bed with Rand's cock still pumping wildly into her ass. No matter how much she had, it seemed to be never enough. The chimneylike organ flared all the more widely, then began spurting insanely into her rectum filling her colon with hot stuff. The fluid washed around inside her, bubbling this way and that, enhancing her own feeling, and she answered it by erupting herself.
After, she rested while Fred fucked Micky, and then was fucked again by Rand. She had passed all his tests.
Chapter Eighteen
It was a different Carol who returned to work a month later. She concentrated more carefully on the claims handed to her, having to be careful not to simply give away the company's money because it was a male making a claim. She was in seventh heaven, and did her job to perfection, because she knew what was waiting for her at the end of each day.
Carol had learned from a friend that Ann Mason had ended up in an asylum, where she'd had to undergo an abortion because she had been fucked by her own son, who had, afterward, killed himself by jumping off the roof of the apartment building. She felt sorry for Ann, but realized that had she not left Ann when she had, Carol probably would have been Albert's victim rather than his mother.
Carol had received another claim that looked somewhat suspicious and after checking into it, had decided to deny it. It was the first claim ever submitted by a woman that she had ever turned down. The woman in this case was a forty-year-old brunette by the name of Nora Cummings. Nora was a female executive, the head of a small publishing firm, and treated all men like dirt. She used them now and again to appease her physical hungers, but never treated any of them like equals.
When Carol learned that Nora was supposed to be astonishingly beautiful, she told her lover and master, Rand Forrest. Rand went and took a look at Nora, and thanked Carol for looking out for his good.
But Carol had done what she had done, not because she was looking out for Rand's good. Rather, she had developed a mild sadistic streak, and now that she was Rand's permanent paramour, along with Micky, she wanted to see what happened to this woman, for she knew Rand would certainly want to give Nora the same kind of treatment he gave her.
Carol knew Nora would never stand up to it, at least not as well as she. But more, she wanted to administer some of the pain. From what she had been led to believe, Nora deserved every bit of it, and more. The woman wiped her feet on all men.
Carol had been disciplined to know that one didn't try to humble a Rand Forrest. Rather he did the humbling, and Nora would prove an irresistible challenge to him. She wanted to watch, to see Rand break the woman down little by little, and then she wanted to participate. From what Carol had learned, Nora had never, but never put her mouth to a vagina. She wanted hers to be the first vagina Nora sucked.
Even before Rand admitted he intended adding Nora to his entourage, Carol was down in the basement, polishing everything, preparing it for use. Now she would be on the other end, and she would stand back and enjoy; for she had learned being dominated by a man like Rand was pure pleasure, even though he allowed her enough independence during the day so she would always be able to care for herself.
This was going to be the first of a few dominations Carol would witness, and she flushed as she admitted to herself that she was looking forward to it. She knew she would get the benefit of Rand's cock during these sessions, she and Micky, but Rand was almost insatiable, and always seemed to have enough for everyone.
Yes, Carol was really going to enjoy this, very much!
