R. Van Dorne, author of this topical and realistic novel, has brought out with clarity and lucidity the problems which present themselves to the women of our fighting men overseas. Although his study is confined to this particular topic, it, of course, exceeds - as does any work of art - the specific boundaries of its subject to reach a much more general applicability.
The problems Mr. Van Dome documents apply equally well to any woman who experiences long periods of isolation and worry - be she the wife of the traveling businessman, the long-haul truck driver, or the highly placed corporate executive. There has been a tendency in contemporary American society to forget that women, just as men, are physical human beings with the same emotional and physical needs. Perhaps this is accounted for - as many in the women's liberation movement would tell us - because this judgement both in the social and legal sense has always been made by men.
The timing in presenting a novel documenting this subject area is especially relevant since it comes during a period of increased social and economic freedom for the female sex. They are being judged ever more by the same standards of conduct as the heretofore masters, the male sex. Society has now recognized that women do have the same drives, and the same weaknesses, as men, and with this recognition comes also the same types of problems. Sometimes the greatest moral strength can be conquered by others who use unscrupulous means to achieve their ends. In such a situation the crucial moral strength of a person can become his own antagonist and be turned against him.
Mr. Van Dome has clarified this latter point vividly in the poignant story of "The Blackmail Club". In so doing, he has divided his portrayal into two of the key elements of the complex emotion love. First, he has isolated the element of loneliness, and shown how the main character Rosemary White, when dominated by this element, is slowly drawn through the evil designs of others into a situation which, under normal circumstances, she could easily control by the strength of her convictions against sexual promiscuity. , Rosemary does indeed recognize the escalating danger points as her position worsens with each further retreat she makes from conscience, but the only avenues of escape she finds open to her are more of those same retreats. Her judgement is dimmed by the overwhelming loneliness she feels, and the resultant physical stresses placed on her; then too her normally sharply critical faculties are dimmed by the use of alcohol and drugs. Yet the alcohol and drugs do not, in the final analysis, compel her to commit the acts she commits; rather, they function only to protect her concept of herself as a faithful wife from being utterly shattered during the most trying of circumstances. Ultimately what saves her is no outside force, but rather the very strength of her own moral character which, as the novel clearly demonstrates, cannot be diverted by any means, no matter how persistent or perverted.
The second element that Mr. Van Dome portrays so lucidly is the reaction of Rosemary to the threat of blackmail from Vance Winston. Although circumstances might well excuse her, it is apparent that she holds only herself to blame for the momentary weakness which allowed the possession of the blackmail films by Vance. She is so excusing of others - and conversely so critical of herself - that one cannot help sympathizing with her as she struggles within her own mind over the alternatives of submitting within her own mind over the alternatives of submitting to Vance's depraved demands and therefore forfeiting the shreds of self-respect she retains, or the total destruction of her husband, who is an absent and unimplicated party to the entire sorry affair.
Her bravery and unselfish dedication must be admired when her strength comes to play as she is confronted by these alternatives. She accepts almost stoically, as did Christian martyrs under Roman persecution, any punishment necessary to extricate the innocent party - her husband - from any damage which could result from her one fatal moment of weakness. It is a tribute to Mr. Van Dome's writing that in the highly varied emotional situations with which Rosemary is confronted, she remains fully a human being throughout. Her predictability is constant as her character to the very end, in the best tradition of the late Victorian English novels as she faces insurmountable odds - and emerges victorious over those individuals with less strength of purpose. In this way she is similar to David Copperfield in Charles Dickens' novel of the same name; but since Mr. Dickens' times the natures of the pitfalls and antagonists have changed, and in this sense Mr. Van Dome's study represents a needed updating. Rosemary is such a compassionate and selfless person that her acts in the end put to shame those devious individuals such as Vance who cause her to commit them. Particularly noteworthy in this connection is her brave acceptance of having sexual relations with the one person she most loathes - the half-idiot Clark - in order to save her innocent cousin from the same fate. The most critical reader will look in vain for any trace of a selfish motive in this.
Through its thoroughly human, sensitive approach, this novel speaks to everyone. Each of us - at least once in a lifetime - is compelled by the force of an emotion, be it loneliness or something else, to commit an act of which we are ashamed and which we would not otherwise commit but for the force of the emotion. And we should be judged by how and why we recover from the impact of such an act, rather than by the act itself considered in isolation from its context and consequences. This strength of recovery is, indeed, where human courage begins. Author Van Dome has demonstrated with compelling boldness the courage of one such person, Rosemary White, whose story we present in the following pages . . .
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
She lay sunning herself, stretched luxuriously on the chaise lounge and dreaming, mixing the sound of the gulls overhead with her dream. The dull aluminum frame of her chaise, the summer-burned grass, the parched and peeling plants, all contrasted sharply with her lustrous long black hair and her richly bronzed flesh. She looked very much alive; she had indeed always met life head on - just as directly as she now met the sun with her exposed, relaxed face. Her eyes were closed, not squinting, and without sunglasses; her face looked young - as twenty-five should - and possessed a magnetism to which the people she'd met over those twenty-five years had invariably responded. The bronze color of her face, her arms and shoulders and legs, was interrupted by the black lower half of her bathing suit - and by whiter, softer shades where the upper half should have been. Her exceptionally full breasts pointed free and upward toward the sun; they had such tiny, pink-tan buds at the end that they looked like over-ripe fruits trying to burst. When people compared Rosemary to Sophia Loren it was not only for her long black hair.
A dense ring of bushes and trees surrounded the yard, guaranteeing Rosemary the privacy needed to for once let some sunshine fall on her naked young breasts. The yard was well-populated by flowers - it retained the look of prosperity which had been planted into it. The grass, however, was browner than it should have been for this part of California in early summer. The grass had been Kevin's job. The same combination of solidness and neglect might be seen in the house itself. Large, new and sturdy, the house gleamed its cream-color in the sun; yet a closer gaze revealed some things which needed doing - a loose screen-door hinge, large blisters of paint hanging from the window frames, a busted water-hose connection. These things Kevin would also have fixed, had he been here. And all of these matters were only trivialities compared to the real lack Rosemary felt - the lack of emotional and bodily satisfaction Kevin would have provided her.
Would have, if he were there!
He was in Vietnam. They had lived together quite happily until he got drafted and left her, of necessity, to her own devices. He'd had a good job, as a junior executive in an engineering firm, and they'd been able to afford this house and large spread of land in prestigious, rural Redwood City, and the rest of the material life-standards that went with it. Rosemary did still manage to keep things financially together: Kevin sent her his army pay and she now worked part-time as a receptionist to supplement it. Money was not the root of her problems. The root was Kevin's absence, his absence which now spanned nearly two years . . .
The doorbell rang. Rosemary, startled from her dreamy half-sleep, reached on the grass beside her for her bathing-suit top, which she then hastily kneaded her full sensuous breasts into. As she clamped it shut behind her back, she was already running into the house tugging at the bottom of her suit to make sure it, too, was in place.
A Western Union boy stood holding a crisp yellow envelope for her.
"You Mrs. Rosemary White?" he asked.
"Yes, yes," she said, "give me the telegram!" She yanked it from his hands and closed the door, the duty of tipping him never occurring to her; she ran into the living room where she sat in a chair and tried to calm herself, still holding the unopened telegram. It could mean one of two things: either Kevin was dead, or he was coming home. She stuck a fingernail under the flap and with her trembling finger raked the top of the envelope open; she nearly destroyed the little paper inside pulling it out.
Kevin was coming home!
In three months!
She sank into the chair. She could feel her heart pounding at every point where her body touched the chair. She'd thought. .. she'd thought.. . But no! He was coming home, and so soon! God almighty was that good news, the one piece of news which she needed more than anything. She sure wanted that, all right. Kevin home!
She began to relax, her heart very gradually slowing, and already visions of a bright new future with Kevin filled her head. She slowly pulled herself up, walked to the liquor sideboard, and poured a small, weak gin and tonic, which she carried into the backyard. Standing over the chaise, she reached behind her and undid the top of her bathing suit: she tore it off and exuberantly gave it a strong fling across the yard. She felt very free, refreshed, and healthy now that Kevin was coming home. "Let the boobs out," she thought. Kevin sometimes used words like that, and when he used them she didn't mind. Kevin had a plucky character, in fact, that was one of the things which had drawn her to him; he used common words and also his own invented words to speak of her body, her voluptuously ripened body which he loved. How he loved it! The wedding night she had practically been eaten alive, and all of their married months following the wedding night - and there were not many before he got drafted - his attention and devotion to her had never flagged. She had lived encased and protected in a sort of web of devotion - physical, emotional, spiritual.
Yes, let the breasts out; let them out into the jiggling, erratic freedom they now enjoyed as she again settled into the chaise, gin tonic in her hand; let them get a little brown for Kevin would like that. It was all for Kevin now, everything, each single breath she took, each gull that passed shrieking overhead, each ray of sunlight which imperceptibly darkened her body. It was for Kevin, all of it, for their new life together, for their happiness, for something different from the hell she was in now . . .
My god! she thought, the bright, confident vision of her future rising in a single bubble which then burst in the sun, the fragments evaporating. Tears formed in her eyes.
Christ! If only it wasn't true, if only she had actually gotten out; Lord knew she had wanted to for several months, but that ruthless Vance . .. No, she stopped herself, she had never yet actually tried to get out; and perhaps if she did try Vance might in fact let her out - let her out without blackmailing her later. The whole business was just such a nightmare: the whole business with the group, the group she was in!
Months ago she had promised herself she would get out of the circle before Kevin came home; and, once she'd made that promise, she'd slipped into the sort of mental half-lethargy, half-hell which had been her life for so long now, thanks to the circle. Worst of all, had she even - if she were honest with herself - enjoyed some of the group's activities?
She sank deeper into the chaise, her face covered with tears. She knew the answer to that question. God help her, she had! She had enjoyed some of those parties, all right. She looked down at her body - at her ample hips, long sculpture-perfect bronzed legs, white mounded breasts with the tiny tips on the ends. She began to sob out loud. She was a whore! A common whore! she thought, for how many others had gazed over that body she now looked at, that body she would like to think was just for Kevin. For Kevin - hah! If he knew how many others had not just looked at that body but possessed it, over the last months, why - why there would be no more of the two of them. That was for sure. She could not even pass the thought of all the things she had done through her own mind without a shiver of disgust. Sure she'd been drunk, sure she'd been desperate - but the depths she had sunk to, the incredible depravity of the acts she herself had committed in Vance's circle! Why did it have to be so? Why did Kevin have to go away in the first place leaving her accessible to traps like the one she had fallen into? Why could she not now, right this minute, be free of the circle, free to enjoy the future with Kevin she so desperately wanted and needed?
Whatever could she do? she sobbed to herself in total desperation.
The months of depraved, wanton activities fused into a whirling delirious nightmare of horror as she lay crying with her eyes shut, the sun which beat down on her closed eyelids providing a red background for the images which danced before her. Images in which she appeared, sometimes in the very middle, the central figure, others working her curvaceous form over like a delicacy to be sampled or a piece of meat to be consumed whole. In some scenes she hung off to the side, a minor player in some hellish vision of obscenity, an insect gnawing on some pathetically small bit of carrion. Sometimes too she played the part of the sex-hungry antagonist, the one circling over the frightened central figure, swooping with a buzzard's watchful patience induced by a complete certainty about what would follow, time being the only uncertainty. Then she pounced and the vision became a tangled cacophony of nakedly intertwined arms and legs, heaving breasts and gyrating curly-haired loins and milk-white trembling buttocks, in a union sealed by frustration, by drugs, and by the liquor which washed over the entire orgiastic scene like a brown rain. The visions swirled ever more rapidly before Rosemary's eyes, until they were all her - her in her weakness which had become obscenity, the delirious red-blurred scenes surely a direct glimpse into hell itself.
She opened her eyes, still sobbing.
"My god! My god!" she said to herself, her desperation total, the vision she now saw of the future completely black. So alone as Rosemary was, her moods were volatile, in these few minutes she had gone from the shock of the telegram to the joy of an unblemished future with Kevin, only to remember her hellish present which kept that desired future from her. And her dejection was the more extreme, because of the extreme joy it had destroyed.
Yet already she felt a change. She had sunk to such an absolute bottom of depression that her raw thoughts made contact with the flint-hard core of strength in her being; the strength which - if it sometimes helped her get into trouble - was also capable of getting her out. She stopped sobbing and stared blankly before her in intense concentration.
She knew what she would do, all right. And she would do it today.
CHAPTER TWO
Rosemary - dressed in the oldest and least attractive dress she could find in the house - drove in her Porsche through the hills out of Redwood City. She passed the long wooden fences, the horses, the occasional houses. On a weekday there was no traffic going toward the coast; she drove fast - as fast as the road curving through the coastal hills would allow - because she wanted to get there before the tiniest grain of her determination might disappear.
The bright, close summer sun beat down on the car; Rosemary, in her long dark dress, sweltered and did not realize she might have rolled down some windows and improved the situation. She was the picture, the embodiment, of resolve, and the fuel she ran on was the prospect of Kevin coming home in three months.
How she wanted to be pure again for that time! How she wanted it!
On the coast road now, she could already see the mansion. It swung in and out of her view from a distance of about two miles. The way it perched on the very edge of the coastal shelf, just an arm's length from the sheer rocky drop down to the Pacific, made it look like some medieval castle up on a protective promontory, its site both its protection and its biggest danger. The mansion, as it neared, swinging in and out of view as Rosemary navigated the curves of the coast road, looked threatening and sadistic as the waves crashed and foamed on the rocks below. Yet it also looked impressive, beautiful, romantic.
It sported four towers, each in a slightly different style, like a real castle should. The balconies were wrapped in a lace of wrought iron; windows appeared everywhere, in asymmetry, and some of the smaller, oval-shaped windows tucked in the towers had stained glass like jewels; the stone-work was heavy yet delicate, a mosaic composed of shades of gray the same color as the rocks the mansion perched on - and it was not easy to determine at what point the stone of the mansion stopped and the rocks of the California coast began.
This house, in its uniqueness and romance, was one of the things which had drawn Rosemary to Vance in the first place, with its large glass panes looking directly out on the foggy ocean, its room after room of rich polished old wood, the well-kept, delicate Victorian furniture. This mansion - Vance's castle - was as ambiguous and ambivalent as Vance himself.
Both man and house had their romantic and exceptionally attractive side; and both had their dangerous, threatening side; Rosemary was not, to this day, ever sure which side was the more dominant in Vance. She would never know. What motivated him was anyone's guess. He had fine, understanding characteristics such that Rosemary might have considered him a friend; yet his darker side was so totally dominating, so selfish and unpredictable, that any moment when she lowered her guard with him and considered him a friend might be the very moment Vance chose to trick her into a deeper servitude.
She pulled in the driveway. She did not like to be on this side - the coast side - of the road unless she was actually in the house. She had driven the entire length of California's coast road and knew that there were few houses on it, and virtually none at all on the coastal side of the road. The difficulty of construction - the cost - was one reason; desire was another. Rosemary looked down at the cascade of boulders which dropped down from beside her parked car to the thudding waves. Much as she hated the view, fearing it, and much as she longed to be within the relative protection of the house's walls, she remained in the car in order to strengthen her resolve still more. She knew Vance, or one of Vance's servants, would already have noticed her presence; but it didn't matter - the important thing was that when she did get up the nerve to go into the house Vance would find her a powerhouse of resolve.
She could write a book about it, she thought. Except that she had no talent for writing. But there were few characters in literature who were so multi-faceted as Vance, so enigmatic, so compelling. For some time now - nearly an entire year - Rosemary had lived in fear as well as awe of Vance. She did not like him but she respected him. Gradually, bit-by-bit, he had come to have absolute control over her sex life. Vance now had more to say about her body than she herself. Watching the waves rise toward shore, thud into the rocks, and splinter into thousands of glittering fragments, Rosemary pondered Vance's circle of friends and how she'd gotten into it.
The circle was a group of over a dozen people who conducted, under Vance's seen or unseen guidance, sex parties together. The people were young, all of them, and attractive - incredibly attractive, healthy-looking, friendly. Vance had good taste; and though he was older - pushing forty - he himself was the most attractive, with his superficially charming manner, his easy smile, sturdy build, the power he had of making those around him feel relaxed and reassured. Rosemary had met him through her job as receptionist; Vance, a financial entrepreneur, conducted his own business from his home but had had, for a period of some weeks, dealings with Rosemary's firm, loaning them the capital to expand.
In the course of those few weeks the wealthy middle-aged man had passed many times through her office, at first just glancing at her respectfully, pleasantly; then exchanging a few words of small-talk; and always in the background, influencing the way Rosemary thought of him, were the comments about Vance which she overheard from influential people in her company: "Vance was easy to deal with;" "A humanist among dogs compared to other financiers." "A solid, decent businessman." Rosemary might have been naive, but she was not stupid. Vance's appeal was such that he had tricked many far more worldly and cautious people than Rosemary into his web. When Vance finally, nonchalantly, asked her to dinner, she accepted.
"What's the harm?" she thought. "I need some contact and some friends while Kevin is away. Kevin himself said that, before he left. I don't want to turn into a vegetable before he comes back. Nor, on the other hand, do I want to actually date anybody; but dinner, some parties, what's the harm?"
There was no harm, in the beginning.
Vance called for her in his chauffeur-driven Jaguar, sat a respectable distance from her in the back, and took her hand only in guiding her in and out of the car. The restaurants the chauffeur drove them to were superb and unknown to Rosemary; and Vance himself, though he spoke little of his life or business, was good, understanding, company. Rosemary did, of course, say a few words about Kevin. She even said point-blank she was very lonely without him.
Once on a Sunday Vance drove her to his house. She fell instantly in love with it and, as Vance guided her from paneled room to paneled room, and up the twisting staircases of the towers, the Pacific always just on the other side of the glass beside them, her impression of Vance improved still more. He was shy even in taking her hand or touching her on the back to show her which way to go. He never really tried to touch her, he never kissed her; he seemed to live in a realm apart and their relation was, she thought, touchingly platonic. Kevin would approve! As they stood gazing out at the ocean Vance mentioned casually that he was giving a party here in a few days and he would be delighted if she would come. It took Rosemary only a moment to reflect: she loved the house, would love to be in it again; and she wanted to meet the people who would be Vance's friends, at least once out of curiosity, for she'd had nothing whatever to do with the really moneyed class - the class to which she would, together with Kevin, belong someday.
The party was, of course, a sex party.
It took Rosemary a long time to realize that's what it was, for it began quite innocuously with cocktails and standing conversations as the sun set through the huge glass panes beside them. Vance's house was enormous, each room having the air and spaciousness of a gallery or museum, and the guests moved about freely throughout it. A few seemed to get lost up in the towers, but that sort of thing happened at most parties, and Rosemary was not shocked. She had no desire to dictate others' morals - just her own. When several people drifted down to the basement, she followed: from her own free will, no one forced her. The conversations continued in a sort of parlor down in the basement, and the trays of drinks continued circulating throughout the crowd, borne by servants dressed in white dinner-jackets. When Vance announced that the film room was now ready if anyone cared to come in, the people flowed through the door into the room.
At this point - seeing the peculiar room - innocent Rosemary should have suspected something. The room was odd - the vibrations rang wrong. But the whole house was so strange and new to Rosemary that this room did not, at first, seem stranger than the rest. And the people themselves - so confidently wealthy, so exuberant and young and healthy - she trusted. Buoyed up by the charm of the guests and of Vance himself, by the beauty of the house and by the quantity of liquor she had already consumed, she went all the way into the film room and sat down without suspecting a thing.
The film room amounted to about twenty booths, separated by shoulder-height, upholstered partitions, each booth facing the front of the room on which was a screen as big as those in theaters. Rosemary settled into a booth along with a shy, handsome man named Hank Masters. The booth was large and they sat a respectable distance apart; at each end was a small shelf for drinks, and Rosemary put her purse on hers and got comfortable, for it was clear by now they were going to watch a film. The seat portion of the booth was a little strange: a single-bed-sized mattress, with a mattress cover Rosemary assumed was to catch any stains from the drinks. The mattress itself gave her pause. She glanced repeatedly down at it, verifying that it was a mattress and not just some sort of cushion especially appropriate to film-viewing.
A waiter came by, asked with what should he fill their glasses, and then filled them. Rosemary drank and studied the odd room - she wanted to ask her companion about it, but yet was afraid to for fear she would be committing some social blunder. The room had a large bar running the entire length of one side wall. There was food here, too - refrigerators, a freezer, a stove. The place was stocked well enough to endure an atomic siege; perhaps that's really what it was, Rosemary thought, a fallout shelter! There were no windows whatever. One corner contained a stack of blankets and pillows and next to it was a long row of clothes-closets, a woman's toilet, a man's toilet, and a door marked "Showers" which did not seem to make a distinction between women and men. Rosemary now began to get worried, but the lights had already dimmed, conversations hushed, and she stayed sitting frozen where she was for fear of calling attention to herself or making some unknown social blunder. In the rear of the room, from a slightly elevated, glass-walled projection booth, some rays of color began to shoot out and over the heads of the audience.
"One for the road - and four for the bed," announced a voice - Vance's - from large loudspeakers located on either side of the movie screen. Preliminary, scratchy frames began to flicker across the screen, without credits and without title - Vance had supplied that.
In a few moments there were actors in living color wildly fucking before Rosemary's astonished eyes!
She had never seen anyone else making love; she had never even considered how it might look, for sexual intercourse was something private between her and Kevin and not to be shared. Soon she noticed heavy aroused breathing in the nearby booths and white patches of naked quivering flesh began to appear suddenly all over the room. Some people went to the showers and came back into the room totally naked. From where she sat she could see clearly three couples actually fucking, their lewdly pumping bodies flailing about as loud groans of passion sliced into the room's silence. Horrified as she was, the naive young wife was afraid to move! And she became, despite herself, involuntarily stimulated by watching the impassioned screwing on the screen and the even more impassioned fucking in reality nearby - which she could hear ever more distinctly. By the time Hank Masters made gentle advances toward her she was so desperately altered by the liquor and her hungering need which the long, long absence of Kevin had left unsatisfied - turning the love-starved wife into a powder-keg of frustrations - that Hank found a fairly easy conquest.
Hank Masters fucked the shamelessly aroused girl, from several different exotic positions - most new to her - and at the end Rosemary had such an overpowering orgasm that she screamed uncontrollably and almost passed out as her naked young body convulsed beneath this stranger.
It was only after she had groaned and fitfully twitched out the last receding tremors of her adulterous passion that she saw Vance - fully clothed - standing several feet away operating a movie camera. The movie camera which sealed her doom.
He had made a film of it!
Even now, sitting in her parked car watching the waves pound and shatter below, the thought of that film gave Rosemary chills. That was how she got into the orgiastic circle, all right: by one large but forgivable slip in her will power, which Vance had filmed and kept as an unspoken but crystal-clear threat of blackmail. That prospect of blackmail, hanging above Rosemary's head like the sword of Damascus, had served - served very well - to keep her in the group, to pull the friendless and trapped young woman ever deeper into the circle. By now, almost a year after that first fatal party, Vance owned many films of Rosemary engaged in various acts of sexual degradation. Which - she shuddered - she had licentiously enjoyed! What a whore she must be! Vance had never spoken a word of using the revealing films for blackmail, nor had he ever showed any of them to Rosemary; yet Rosemary and the other club members knew very well about the threatening film collection Vance had, of all the members, and about the guarantee they provided that the members would abide by the club's rules.
Rosemary, by now, knew the rules well - no brutality; no activities which would leave marks, for discovery by a husband or relative could bring the police; no mention of the circle to anyone; no absence from circle meetings except due to real illness or, in the case of women, menstrual periods - and Vance actually kept a chart of these and knew when to expect them; and there were certain rules about skipping a session, or leaving the circle entirely, which Rosemary knew well and which indeed it was her desperate intent now to get Vance to alter for her.
Definite as the rules were, they were all subject to alteration or softening by Vance. Vance was in effect - since he had all the lewdly incriminating films - the club's dictator.
The pretty brunette left the car and - keeping distant from the cliff - walked purposefully to his door, ringing until a servant appeared.
"Is Vance here?"
"Yes, Miss, he's in his study. Would you like to go in?"
"Thank you," said Rosemary, and she headed directly for the study. The servant, seeing that she knew her way, left her.
"Ah, Rosemary!"
Vance swirled in his chair, rose with extended hand, and seemed genuinely pleased to see her. "You bring an old man pleasure! I must say, I'm tired of this dreadful stuff." He pointed with a sweep of his hand to the papers strewn over his desk. "I'm thinking about giving it up. Thinking of retiring, so to speak. Just clip the coupons."
As usual he succeeded in disarming her. If only he looked and acted like the bastard he was, her job would be so much easier!
"Vance," she said, "I've just gotten a telegram."
Vance sat again in his chair, leaning back to listen.
"Kevin is coming home."
Vance sat silently, his eyes averted now to stare out at the sky and ocean. That was sympathy Rosemary saw in those little creases around his eyes now - Rosemary knew it! Perhaps she really could get what she wanted from him.
"Vance," she hurried on, "I want to leave the circle. Because Kevin is coming home." She paused. "If he found out, that would be the end of my life."
"I understand," Vance said, still staring reflectively out the windows, "I understand." He glanced at Rosemary for a second, taking in for the first time the length, age, and the purposefully planned ugliness of her dowdy dress - and a faint smile seemed to cross his lips.
"But Rosemary," he continued, reaching into a drawer at his side and pulling out a piece of paper, "there's this." He pushed the paper toward Rosemary.
It was a schedule.
And on it Rosemary was already slated for more depraved activities for the next two months, including the big weekend-long orgy down in Vance's summer house in Monterey which would take place in two months.
"We all know the rules," Vance said. "Any session you don't want to come to, you have to find a substitute for. An acceptable substitute - we don't want just anyone in here, of course. In fact, Rosemary, I really wonder that you've never had a substitute come to a meeting for you - most other members do it regularly. Heavens - even I do it!"
"I don't know anyone like that, anyone who would ..."
The circles around Vance's eyes tightened, and Rosemary knew she'd said it wrong. "I don't know a substitute," she corrected.
"Well then, Rosemary," Vance said softly, "I don't see how you expect to get out of the circle. You know the rules for quitting - bring two new girls into the circle to replace you. And if you don't know one substitute, however do you expect to find two?"
Rosemary sank into a chair near Vance, her head spinning. Of course she didn't know any substitutes - not one, certainly not two! Never in her life had she known anyone who did things like that; never; she herself had never done things like that.. . before getting trapped in the awful sex-circle! She knew the others had substitutes, she'd seen them at the various orgies and she had, god help her, once been had by a couple. But the others in the circle seemed to have it easier than Rosemary, in all ways. Who could she get to replace her? No one. No one but her could fill her place. But she had to get out! Christ!
Vance sensed her confusion. "Rosemary," he began, sliding his chair closer to her. "You know I can grant some special favors. I mean, I shouldn't - there's some danger." He touched his hands together by the fingertips. "There are several others who keep rather a close eye on what I do, who would like to divert the whole circle from me to them in one fell swoop, as it were, if I should turn out to be doing them wrong. Did you know that?"
Rosemary shook her head no. Once again Vance, in his soft, reassuring way, had calmed her and completely diverted her attention to his own problems.
"It's not quite the dictatorship it might appear. Any group, any undertaking, has always got several people waiting nearby, like hungry buzzards, to swoop in if the leader should show signs of weakness. But. .. we're getting sidetracked. That's not your problem, but mine ..." He raised himself from his chair to stand closer to Rosemary - but he still did not touch her.
"Rosemary, I like you. I'll help you - I'll take the risk. I'll either have to find the subs myself, or somehow snow the other irritated members. . . but I'll do it. If... if..." He allowed his hand to drop affectionately onto her shoulder, to even slide somewhat from her smoothly sloping shoulder downward to the beginning swell of one round, firmly set breast.
From Vance, that was a shock!
He had never taken part in any of the group's wildest sex activities - never - except to watch or make films, himself fully dressed. And he'd never touched the almost irresistibly sensuous Rosemary except in the dating days when he'd helped her in and out of cars and rooms. Now, hungrily, almost pathetically, he had allowed one hand to slip down almost to the faintly visible nipple of her curving breast. And though Vance had personally seen her voluptuous and naked body being fucked, this present sly action, from him, was somehow even more obscene. She felt like a whore. A whore! Vance's hand, shy as a schoolboy's, had now established tentative contact with her involuntarily erecting nipple beneath the coarse material of her dress.
"I'll let you out, Rosemary," Vance said, recovering himself, if you'll... do me a favor. A personal favor."
Rosemary shuddered, beginning to get the drift.
Vance added: "And if you do that little favor, I will, I promise, return the films to you. Every one." He went nostalgically on: "Even though several are personal favorites of mine."
Rosemary's flesh cringed at that last. The bastard! What did that queer do with the films, show them for himself in his spare time? Masturbating all the while, perhaps? People told obscene stories like that about Vance, though they were only idle rumors - no one knew for sure what he actually did. But - from what he just said about the lewdly implicating films of pretty Rosemary - she wondered if there might be some truth to them!
"What do you say, Rosemary?"
"What CAN I say?"
Vance spun away from her and stood before a window. After a minute's silence, he said: "I don't want it to be like that. I'm not a beast, Rosemary. I like you - it's really as simple as that. Don't be bitter, Rosemary. Would it at least be possible to have sex as a favor - if not enjoy it?"
"If I may ask - how do you want it, Vance?" She shuddered.
"Quite normally. You on the bottom, on your back, me on top. We can go in a bedroom if you would like to be comfortable."
Rosemary gritted her teeth. She had to summon every ounce of courage for this task, for somehow being touched by Vance of all people, and in so cold and calculated a fashion as this, was more humiliating and obscene than anything she'd ever done. Yet she had to do it - if only for her dear husband Kevin. She had to lay on her back and let this disgusting man do it to her, and she could only hope that that was all. She was clenching her teeth so hard they began to give her pain, and finally she stopped, resigned, her tanned face glowing pinkly with anger. There was no alternative: she had to submit.
"We don't need to go to the bedroom," Rosemary said. "We can do it here. Wherever you want." Anything to just get it over with. Obscene it would be, no matter what. Just get it done.
"The rug there is thick," Vance said, motioning with his hand. "Perhaps that will be adequate ..."
"It will be adequate." She paused. "Shall I. . . undress now?"
"Please. But let me get my camera."
"Vance! You bastard! Don't take more pictures of me! What do you mean, you're letting me out, if you're going to make still more pictures?"
Vance walked next to Rosemary and put his arm around her, not seeming to notice that she cringed. He said softly - though his voice trembled with lascivious desire - "Rosemary, as a special favor for me, please let me make some pictures of your beautiful body. To remember you by. I like you, you know. You'll get all of the movies back, but I would like now to just make a couple of still photographs of you which do not include the head. Nothing to worry about. I'll use my polaroid, and you can see for yourself that they don't include the head."
Rosemary, tears running down her cheeks, unzipped the back of the long, ugly dress and let it fall to the floor. Underneath she had forgotten to dress ugly - she hadn't expected anyone to be seeing underneath! She had on, as was her habit, white bikini panties and a white half-brassiere which fringed into lace just where the still faintly apparent nipples were. Vance took one picture of Rosemary in her underwear, and Rosemary jerked - startled - at the camera's click. Then she stepped slowly and trembling out of her sheer nylon panties as Vance kneeled down across from her.
"Spread your legs a little," he ordered.
The nerve of the man! She had never before blatantly posed for pictures. He had made the films of her, but he had never given directions, he had shot them spontaneously and usually she hadn't even noticed him hovering nearby with the camera. But this - this business of posing, of him telling her just exactly what to do with her helplessly exposed body - it really shamed her! Yet what else could she do, what else could she do but obey?
Reluctantly, she spread her thighs slightly.
"Wider!" Vance shouted. "Don't be such a prude."
Rosemary slowly separated her feet outward, as Vance zoomed in and shot a picture of her exposed pussy mound, with its thin "vee" of intensely black hair running down between her provocatively parted legs, revealing the contour of her pink cuntal slit where the sparse hair thinned out and the deep blushing color of her vaginal lips showed through. Rosemary was built, all right. And as with any woman, she had a slight streak of the exhibitionist in her, and under the right conditions she did like to have her enticing young body observed. But not now, not in this cold, obscene way by this creepy Vance!
After taking the picture of her spread vagina, Vance developed it and then showed it, along with the former picture of Rosemary in her skimpy white underwear, to the relieved girl, so that she could verify that it did not show her face and could not be used for blackmail. She laughed inwardly at the one of her in her suggestively skimpy underwear - it was like something from a pin-up magazine. But when she saw the second, the one shot upward from between her brazenly separated legs, she did not laugh - by the geometry of things she had never seen her own naked pink vagina from below. She'd never seen any of the films Vance had made. This picture was so obscene, so disgusting to her because it was all black pubic hair and rose-blushing cunt, with very little figure around it. Is that the way Vance wanted to remember her individuality? "And now from the back," Vance commanded.
Damn the man! Damn him! And to think she had sometimes begun to consider him her friend! Why couldn't he do the moving, why did it have to be her as though she were some trapped butterfly being mounted on a pin for scientific study? She turned around until her smooth sloping back was facing the camera and, sighing, spread her slender legs again as she had done before, planting her feet invitingly outward to a revealing distance of four or more feet apart. Was that good enough? she wondered, blushing furiously from shame.
"Bend forward!" Vance ordered, answering her thought.
Rosemary leaned slightly forward, the position a strain for her stretching body until the camera finally clicked. Soon Vance brought the picture to her - a pair of large firm buttocks in the center of the picture, a glimpse of wispy black hair beginning near the bottom of the deep narrow crevice between them and dropping to expand into the fuller curls of her pussy mound which was presented in a flat pink plane, with the entire softly glistening length of both her outer and inner vaginal lips visible.
"Now spread the cheeks, please," Vance said.
She took the curving mounds of her naked buttocks in her hands and pulled them widely apart, feeling the cool air rush into her provocatively exposed genitals.
Vance clicked, waited, pulled the picture out and waved it excitedly before her. God! God almighty! She was providing grist for a pornography shop! There was a woman - could it be her? - with an ass-cheek clamped in each hand and pulled so far apart that the brownish pink crevice between her fleshy buttocks was a strained, taut expanse of tender skin, and there was the hairless little ring of an anus - so opened from the stretching that she could see into it for half an inch - and her soft, full-lipped cunt protruding so far and spreading so wide that it seemed to be turned inside-out with several moistly gleaming inches of the pink vaginal walls visible. That was her! That exposure of womanly vagina in sufficient detail for a medical text was her! And, worst of all, she could see in the picture what she could now begin to feel so excitedly between her legs: her cunt was slick and wet.
Her shamed blushing increased still more at her terrible awareness that she - despite herself - was getting some lascivious pleasure out of this photographic abuse. The warm moisture beginning to trickle so glisteningly between her legs gave her away.
And Vance would be sure to take notice of it. "Now from a chair," Vance commanded.
Rosemary sat on the arm of a chair, her legs dangling, feeling the air stimulatingly graze her moistened pussy.
"Now on all fours."
Rosemary obeyed, and the camera clicked.
"Good. Now stay like that, but spread the lips with your fingers." And Rosemary brought one hand up between her legs, obediently stretching the hair-lined outer lips with two fingers. Again the camera clicked. Vance brought her a picture the center of which was consumed by a wide sparse curl-fringed crescent of rosy vaginal pink.
"Now the last, up on my desk. That's right, on your back. Knees up. Legs wide, wide apart. Separate the lips nicely with your fingers. Good. Now stroke the clitoris so it gets nice and big. Come on, more! Good, good, very good, Now - see that letter opener next to you, the one with the wooden handle; Big, isn't it? That nice carved, Victorian wooden handle has - shall we say - been places most letter openers haven't been. You'll find a little knob at the side to disconnect the blade; do so, put the blade away, I don't want you to hurt yourself. Right, blade away. Now . .. stick it in."
She hated this, all of it, the pictures that came out were too obscene, and Vance's lustfully building gaze and intentions were too demanding and possessive. She knew that he could, just by looking at her, realize how wantonly excited she was getting despite herself. And he could see her shame, too, he could see her violently flushing face though he kept it out of the horrible pictures. She grasped the long wooden handle in one hand and, using the fingers of the other, guided it slowly and reluctantly toward the fluted flowering opening of her vagina. The ornately carved shaft just touched the black hair-fringed, swollen lips. It was so cold! And hard, and unlubricated. She did not want anything like that inside of her.
"Come on now, be a good girl!" Vance said.
She teased the hair-lined lips of her reluctantly receiving cunt with the wooden shaft, getting used to its coldness, and then gritted her teeth tightly and pressed: the shaft slid just inside her wetly throbbing pussy. Rosemary started, groaning slightly. It didn't hurt her, it was just so hard and cold and such a strange feeling to find up her warmly moistened cunt. She pressed harder and the tiny elastic ring of her stretching vaginal opening admitted another one . . . two .. . three inches. She took her hand away from the handle and let it remain where it was clasped only by the resilient muscles of her tight little cunt. Her heart was beating so fast that the handle, sticking up in the air, quivered lewdly with each beat of her racing pulse.
"Now, Rosemary, slide it in and out until it gets wet. Until you get good and wet. For I want that too to show on the photograph."
Rosemary sunk the smooth, wooden shaft in another two inches, and then pulled it out, feeling the hard, foreign object ripple her tightly clinging vaginal flesh in little waves as it tugged with some difficulty outward. Then she pushed it in again to six inches and felt wild tingling sensations as the same tiny waves of flesh rippled up and down the whole length of her rapidly adjusting vagina. She began to pump impatiently faster, becoming excited, despite herself - and despite the obscene man standing three feet away with his camera poised. As she pumped, the sensations of fucking came to her, though this shaft was narrower and wood-hard, with little protrusions and indentations from the carving which grazed the walls of her cunt and caused a slight, bearable overtone of pain to mingle almost enjoyably with the pleasure. The secretions now gushing from her excited cunt smoothed the whole process, making a slight slurping sound as the handle slid in and out. She pumped still faster, forgetting herself, forgetting the purpose of this and swallowing even her shame, gyrating her full, firm-fleshed buttocks down against the desk in lewd little circles and clenching her tight cuntal muscle to speed the swiftly building approach of a climax.
"Now stop!" Vance ordered.
Rosemary, deeply panting, stopped only by an act of considerable will power. While Vance moved in still closer and the camera clicked. In a moment he held a picture before her nose of a headless woman laying naked on a desk with a strange carved wooden stick pruriently half-sunk into the wet hole between her wide splayed legs, the remainder of the stick a shiny glistening wet from the woman's aroused secretions. Even the surface of the mahogany desk between her legs was darkened with wetness.
"We've made enough photographs," Vance said softly. "Thank you, Rosemary. I shall always treasure these."
The unwillingly aroused young girl lay still on the desk in a haze of confusion and shame, the handle still obscenely embedded in her besieged vagina. Her near-climaxing vaginal muscles clenching and unclenching every few seconds. She'd been so close to a climax; she still breathed heavily and irregularly, and sweat formed all over her naked sun-bronzed body in little beads.
Across the room, Vance removed his clothes.
CHAPTER THREE
Rosemary was so shamelessly aroused that she needed only to reach her hands down to her throbbing young cunt, make a few more stabs with the rounded wooden stick to have her climax.
And Rosemary was so ashamed and confused that she never considered jumping off the desk, gathering her clothes, and running from the house. The dictatorial financial entrepreneur had abused her, humiliated her - and also wildly stimulated her - and in the few moments she was left to her own devices lying on her back on the desk she might have done anything.
Vance, now undressed, seemed to realize this, for as soon as his clothes were off he wasted no time going straight for the desk and the nakedly hesitating young wife.
Rosemary rolled her eyes in Vance's direction and then stopped short: that was Vance? Solid, sun-bronzed shoulders, narrow athlete's hips, bulging muscular legs - and rising from a patch of graying pubic hair between his narrow untanned hips ... a short fat little cock.
No wonder he relied on others to do it, while he watched; no wonder he made films and all the rest of it. For his fully erected penis was only a scant four inches long - if even that. Undoubtedly it could satisfy a woman who was prepared sufficiently - my God, Rosemary thought, that's why he had me prod myself so long on the desk! - but the small thick cock just looked so ridiculously out-of-scale against his he-man frame.
So this was why she'd never seen him take part in the group's orgiastic sex, never even seen him naked until now: for to see him so was almost laughable. And yet it wasn't! That short little cock combined with the knowledge of who Vance was and what extravagant sexual desires he had - was also terrifying. Somehow, this whole demeaning session with Vance up to and including this doom-filled minute was more obscene than anything Rosemary had previously been through. It was a nightmare, one she wished desperately she would wake up from.
Yet she had to go through with it, and could only sigh in total despair.
Vance moved up close to the desk and between her legs which were splayed wantonly off the sides; he misinterpreted the sigh as anxious desire.
"Now we're going to do it, Rosemary," he said, coming onto the desk top with his knees and bending down over her voluptuously ripened body to fasten his teeth harshly into the painfully distending nipple of her heaving breast.
Rosemary groaned in anguish, attempting to twist away from the sudden cruel abuse, but his hands - now traveling fast over her squirming thighs and hips - held her down tight. Vance's lips roamed wetly over the milk-white quivering mounds, pausing to suck with more gentleness at the pink stiffened buds at the ends, and this caused a blissful twitch which ran feather-like down to Rosemary's already stimulated vagina below. She did not want to notice it, - especially after the degrading business with the letter-opener - yet she was excited. Her firmly rounded buttocks began a slow impatient grinding and as she twisted them down against the desk she contacted her own secretions which had made the wood warm and slippery.
"You are getting hot," Vance said in a half-moan as his lips traveled erotically over the soft sensitive parts of her pinioned body, his eyes now hard and fixed in the greed of his desire.
Rosemary wanted to say no, to protest this comment that she was hot, but she kept silent for she didn't dare offend Vance or do anything which might prolong the whole humiliating experience.
"I want you to do it like you've never done it before," he moaned. "I want to remember this. I want you to beg and scream for it."
Rosemary lay frozen under the prodding of his abusive words. Yet their lewd overtones did faintly excite her, in her still half-aroused condition. She was fighting; she would not contradict Vance, but now she also fought secretly within herself against the final building surrender which Vance seemed to want.
"Spread your legs wider, Rosemary, I'm going to come in now," he was already grinning in triumph above her.
Trembling - in fear but also in unwilling lewd anticipation - she opened her full white thighs wider apart as commanded. Vance levered anxiously up over her, his arms stiff, his hands resting now on her smooth tanned shoulders. He lowered one hand down between their naked bodies and took his lust-thickened cock between his fingers to guide it forward, using the thick rubbery head to slowly separate the full, fleshy lips of the young wife's cunt. Rosemary turned her head to the side for she could not stand to watch, could not bear the sight of his penis touching her defensively open slit. She closed her eyes with a shudder as she felt the soft electrical contact against the sensitive fluted edges of her passion-slick cunt. She drew in her breath and held it for what seemed an eternity, holding it in fear, in mounting desire, not daring even to breathe.
"Ooooooooh," she sighed as she felt now the beginning hard thick pressure against the tight elastic opening of her vagina.
Vance grunted heatedly above her, and pushed.
"Aaaaagh," she coughed, as the thick blunted tip slid through, stretching too suddenly the tight rubbery opening until Rosemary felt that her thighs were splitting apart from the expansive outward pressure.
"Not so fast!" she screamed fearfully. "You're hurting me, you're hurting me!" She opened her dark flashing eyes and saw his lust-filled expression as he watched her impalement. He was killing her, and he was enjoying it! That little cock was abnormally thick and he knew it; he knew if he put it in so impatiently fast like that it hurt! Yet already Rosemary was adjusting to it; the thick blood-swollen head was through, indeed it was fully in; and the throbbing cock-shaft which her vaginal opening now tightly clutched was narrower than the monstrous head and more acceptable. As Vance hung motionless above her, now enjoying a slower penetration, Rosemary found her dilating vaginal walls beginning to respond to the heated contact with his lewdly thick instrument. She began to like it!
"I'm sorry I screamed, Vance," she said, adding an insincere "darling."
Her panting torturer advanced another excruciating third of an inch, his muscular frame trembling from the willpower it took to keep from sinking it suddenly into her. Yet he wanted to make her plead first and he knew that soon she would be ready to beg. She was already excited, from the obscene self-abuse he had put her through and from Vance's unexpectedly cruel entry of her cunt.
"It's nice, Vance! Put it in farther, let me have more!"
He rocked slightly above her, instead, pulling it out half an inch, then painfully sliding its thickness back into her warmly throbbing pussy. He increased the pitch of this, never letting more than the rubbery head of his cock inside, and he felt her flex and then relax her tight little ring of vaginal muscle in a growing pleasurable response to his tantalizing rocking.
"Oooooooooh," she mewled. "Uuuuuuummmmmh."
Suddenly the sadistic grin on Vance's face faded and a twisted expression of raw lust replaced it. He could stand it no more, watching this helpless voluptuous woman whom he had so often seen having relations with others spread-eagled desirously beneath him with the head of his cock disappearing into the rich raven-black hair of her waiting pussy.
He had to fuck her - he had to - and quick!
In one motion he fell forward, his muscular weight smashing her full firm breasts tightly back against her chest. He thrust his hips forward at the same time and his cock slid into her cuntal softness for the entire remainder of its short throbbing length. Vance grunted like a beast as his sperm-laden balls smacked into the upturned white cheeks of her tightly clenched ass, making it quiver against the desk top.
"Oh God! Oh, ohhhhhhhh, take it easy!" she cried startled beneath him.
It had been so fast and unexpected, and the thing was so damn thick! She really did feel filled, though in fact nearly half of her narrow, clasping vagina was still not reached.
"Oooooh!" she cried. There wasn't one tiny ridge of pulsing skin on it that she could not feel as it pressed against the elastic walls of her tightly clinging vagina, encased in the warm moist sheath like a sword slicing cruelly into its victim's belly.
He lay still for a moment, his face directly over hers. Rosemary, too, lay immobile, afraid to move for fear of the pain it might bring. Neither made a sound for a long period, and then she felt him begin to pump, jerking the hard thick penis out quickly and then slowly and teasingly burrowing it back in, the warm flesh of her cunt gripping the invading shaft and receding before it on the in-strokes in little quivering ripples.
Above the obscene sound of naked flesh against flesh, Vance said, "Like it?"
"Yes," she answered quietly, afraid to offend him, for in fact she still felt fearfully split-open throughout her entire trembling belly.
"Beg, then," he hissed with a coldness Rosemary had never before heard from Vance.
"What?"
"BEG, I said," he repeated with cruel annoyed arrogance.
"I ... I can't," she whimpered beneath him. What did the bastard want? He had her, pitifully skewered by his strange lewd thickness; and he had just made a small collection of full color photographs showing her in various positions of degenerate abuse; what more did he want?
"Beg me to fuck you. Now!" the older man said, at the same time jerking his short hard penis nearly all the way out and then immediately jamming it back in.
"Oooooh, God, don't, don't, I can't," she fought with the last ounce of resistance she could find. Sure she wanted to get out of the circle, but she was not going to sell herself totally to him. Wasn't she allowed any last little bit of pride although he had possessed her body?
"Do what I say," he commanded, his fingers digging cruelly into her soft sloping shoulders.
"Oh, all right," she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Do it to me. Have me. Take me any way you want me!"
"That's not enough. Say fuck me," he insisted.
"Oh, fuck me!" She was so angry she felt ready to burst. "Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK me!" she screamed through her trembling, tightly drawn lips, shamed tears forming in her deep dark eyes as she spat out the obscene words. There was really nothing more she could give now. The sex-group leader had the pictures, he was fucking her, he could determine just when and how she got out of the group; cruel, sadistically inclined Vance had seen and commanded every inch of her defenseless body and moreover he was making her beg for it. What a whore she was! Really, what a whore!
Vance recognized the departure of the last ounce of resistance from the sobbing Rosemary and he pressed his lips down wetly on hers, thrusting his tongue down her throat as he began a slow, regular rocking motion between her white, wide-spread thighs. He could feel her narrow vagina widening with each stroke as she groaned in helpless defeat beneath him, her long black hair flailing back and forth on the hard surface of his desk. She was like a live insect being pierced by the collector's pin. Her cuntal softness was so tight and resilient that he could scarcely believe it - and yet, he was personally responsible for its being in such good condition, he had carefully kept the more brutal, and more largely endowed, circle members away from her.
In the entire year's activities she had been fucked a scant twenty times, for Vance had always seen that men went to her for oral satisfaction, and that the two girls in the circle who were avowed lesbians often came to Rosemary and covered her unoccupied and exposed pussy with their licking tongues. He'd saved her, all right. Though she did not know it, he'd saved her. For himself! Yes, how often had he looked forward to this day when at long last he could have her all to himself, unobserved, alone, to fuck her resiliently grasping cunt! In his entire life no girl had ever appealed to him so much as the voluptuous, dark-haired Rosemary.
The naked young wife began involuntarily to react. There was no longer any shred of a reason to fight the lewd flames of desire pulsing through her veins. She had lost the small points of battle with him and even the thought of the coming total surrender before him, and of the obscene photographs he had made, now sent lewd chills running along the base of her spine as she reacted to the slow steady rhythm of Vance's hard, stiffened penis tunneling wetly into her.
Her whole nakedly curvaceous body writhed and flailed beneath him and she groaned now incessantly up into the moist cavern of his mouth, seizing a moment when his prodding tongue relaxed to insert her own deep into his hot mouth. Low hums of servile acceptance - and a still unquenched, unbearable desire - came from deep in her heaving chest, her face twisted with lust, her mouth working, veins on her neck straining out, nostrils flared, a light sweat breaking out over her entire impassioned body.
Vance lowered both hands down the sides of her body and slipped them under her moving, soft white ass cheeks, taking one firmly in each hand. He recalled how often he had seen her phenomenal buttocks working, clenching and unclenching, in quickening response to the hard lustful thrusts of others. And now it was doing it for him! This day was a dream, really, a gift of providence! He felt her smooth-fleshed buttocks oozing around his trembling fingers as he clenched them more tightly, pulling her cuntal split up harder to him, feeling her long full thighs flaring backward a little more so that her tight wet hole flowered to receive his impaling member without resistance.
Rosemary no longer had any thought but the delicious sensation of lying beneath this man who was fucking her against her will and giving back to him the pleasure he was giving her. The cords in her neck and thighs stood out beneath the sun-bronzed skin as she wantonly writhed beneath him in the intensity of her feeling. Her eyes were closed and her tongue worked into his mouth as small velvety sounds of pleasure escaped wetly from deep in her throat. Her hips gyrated in practiced, lust-inciting, obscene circles around his throbbing hardness as she tightened and loosened her buttocks and cuntal muscle to heighten the feeling.
Vance could feel his churning balls slapping against the unprotected crevice of her eagerly upturned buttocks. The noise of this slapping, her animal mewls, and the lewd sound of fucking itself, filled the room. He grinned above her at the thought of further humiliation, sliding his fingers down over the taut, rounded skin of her ass-cheeks where the buttocks separated until he found the small puckered anus nestled so defenselessly below. It was warm and rubbery, and he felt it expanding and contracting with the motions of her heatedly gyrating buttocks pressing against his loins. That her small pink anus was to this day unviolated was also, he reflected, thanks to him. If only Rosemary knew how much he had protected her! How much he had saved her for himself! He pushed his extended middle finger against her tiny rectal opening with a sudden quick movement, feeling the soft rubbery flesh yield slightly before his attack.
"Aaaaaagh!" she gasped at this unexpected outrage against her defenseless little anus.
He thrust harder, taking a pleasure in hearing her mewls of protest.
"Ooooooooh!" she groaned louder this time. But there was no respite.
He worked his finger around inside relentlessly, stretching the rubbery softness wider and wider as he ground into her. His extended middle finger was in past the first knuckle and he slid the adjacent finger in as well, feeling the tight resistance now give way completely as he prodded into the soft warm depths of her rectum.
The deep groans coming from her chest changed into whimpers of pain for a moment and then subsided into the more familiar mewls of pleasure as her virginal anus became slowly accustomed to the strange, unnatural invasion.
The swap group leader felt triumphant as he felt her begin slowly screwing her rectum back on his sodomizing fingers as he probed them methodically around the warm rubbery depths. She was impaled between his thick throbbing cock in her vagina and his fingers shoved unrelentingly up inside her rectum. And now, moaning out her pleasure beneath him, she began squirming and twisting her hips in abandonment under the double ravishment of her excited loins.
He moved his free hand up over the curvature of her smoothly rounded ass to where his cock was pistoning in and out of her cunt. There he saw the soft black hair-lined folds of pussy flesh clasping tight to his impaling white cock, and he could sense their softness pulling and giving with each long hard thrust into her. He fondled the flaring lips of her vagina where he entered her, bringing softer moans of pleasure from her mouth, and at the same instant he felt the ever-widening passage of her wetly throbbing vagina flowering in the desire to swallow and consume his thick pole of lust-hardened flesh. He quickened his thrusts as she thrashed her naked young body passionately beneath him. She was ready to cum, he well knew, and her long lithe legs jerked up on either side of his hips while her ankles locked in a death grip around his back. He ripped his fingers from her rectum, making a wet gushing sound, and pressed her buttocks up tightly and flatly to him, the plane of her throbbing pink vagina now wide-open to the staccato thrusts of his impaling cock.
"Uuuummmmhhhh, oooooooooh," she mewled frantically beneath him. "Uuuuuummmmhhhh." Her face was contorted into a mask of wild straining lust as Vance grunted and groaned and pumped still faster, and suddenly she shivered electrically beneath him.
Vance could feel her wildly orgasming cunt open still more around him as warm torrents of her secretions flooded out around his pistoning cock which was thrusting faster, his balls smacking her loudly each time. He wanted to remember this, to remember Rosemary this way, and he savored this sudden torrent of climaxing wetness and his own building passion. Her breath came in short desperate gasps as she tightened the lips of her cunt hungrily around his cock, jerking out the final throes of her orgasm.
Suddenly Vance felt his own white hot sperm gush into her soft quivering belly in wildly jetting pulses, and he too groaned, their orgasmic juices mingling inside the young wife in a wet pool of passionate lust as each continued spasmodically twitching their hips, grinding out the last particle of delicious feeling.
Then the depleted young woman went limp as a fish, her long tanned legs splayed out on the desk, her wavy black hair disheveled, her eyes clenched tightly shut. Vance withdrew his shrunken shaft of male flesh and watched the girl whom he had subdued lying lifelessly on the desk with her matted pussy mound and the desk under her legs wet from their cum. He savored the spectacle of his lewd white sperm seeping from her open vagina. An idea occurred to him: he sprang off the desk, grabbed his camera, and shot a close-up of Rosemary's cum-covered cunt, to record for all time this imprint of his passion. And he was being honest - there was no head in the picture. Only Vance himself would know - know so well - the obscene picture was of Rosemary. Of Rosemary possessed at last!
Another thought occurred to Vance. Though he'd given it good to Rosemary, he knew he didn't possess that much to give. The innermost half of her vagina still remained forever untouched by him. A smile played across his lips.
He rang a bell at his side.
Rosemary, still splayed out in exhaustion on the desk, started at the sound of the bell. What was it for? she wondered; and she was about to sit up on the desk but it was already too late. For Clark - Vance's servant - had already entered the room in response to the bell.
Clark was an enormous, crude, semi-idiot. He glanced first at Vance, and then at the desk - and the sight of the voluptuously naked brunette laying there with her thighs spread glisteningly apart captivated him. Clark advanced across the room toward Rosemary, who raised her eyes to him in abject terror. The idiot walked in a half-crouching position toward the desk, his eyes hungrily drinking in the salacious spectacle of the naked, frightened girl, a hard bulge in his straining pants clearly announcing the state of his desire.
"VANCE! VANCE!" Rosemary screamed at the top of her lungs, well aware now what this lust-incited idiot would proceed to do. She was terrified. She had never bargained for anything like this. "GET HIM AWAY!"
"Easy, Rosemary," Vance said. "He's harmless. He's under my control." A flicker of humor played across his eyes.
"Vance, I won't stand for it! We didn't agree to this! Didn't I give you what you wanted?"
"You did." Vance reflected. "You more than gave it to me. Exceeded my wildest expectations."
"Then get this ugly bastard away!"
Clark, hunching ever-closer to the desk, jerked when he heard Rosemary say "ugly bastard." It had been the wrong thing to say. Clark had feelings, and they had just been hurt. Had Vance not been present in the room as a restraining factor, Clark would have now raped the proud little bitch in as brutal and unfeeling a fashion as it was in his power to do.
"Think it over, Rosemary," Vance said, carefully pulling on his trousers. He proceeded to button his shirt and re-tie his tie, taking occasional glances at her and at Clark who hovered hungrily over her.
"Clark," Vance said, "take off your clothes. Show the girl what you've got. Maybe then she will become more agreeable!"
The huge idiot dropped his trousers and eagerly peeled off his underpants, and to Rosemary it seemed he had a cock the size of a horse's! It jerked menacingly upward with his pulse, straight upward toward the frightened girl, who watched in frozen, wide-eyed terror.
"Now what do you say?" chided Vance.
So this is the depraved sort of thing that turned Vance on, Rosemary thought despite her terror. Watching others do it turned him on, because he did not have much to do it with himself. Well she would foil his little game. She would under no circumstances let herself be touched by that big idiot Clark. His cock was enormous, and the man himself so thoroughly ugly! So frightening! It was just so unfair of Vance, this new, obscene demand.
"Get him away, Vance," Rosemary said. "You've gotten what you wanted. Now give me the films, and I'll go." She twisted on the slippery desk, coming to a sitting position on the end most distant from Clark, trembling from fear and because her naked body was cold.
"Rosemary, my dear," Vance said calmly, "you have to consider the feelings of others. You see that Clark likes you. As a special favor to me, let him fuck you. Then you'll be out of the circle. Then I'll give you the films."
It was too much for Rosemary. Something in her mind snapped at that last. She had been debased to such an extent already in this room, and now this slobbering hulk of a moron was breathing just two feet away from her with his big horse-prick standing up lustfully in front of him. She wanted desperately to get out of the circle; so desperately, she had until now, done everything Vance had asked of her. She'd made herself a whore! She'd begged for it, she'd groaned and screamed and begged for it, she'd given him back every little lewd jerk he'd given her. But to now take this monstrous, foul-smelling Clark? No! No, never under any circumstances! She'd heard of girls who fucked animals, but she was not one of them. And that's what Clark was - as bestial in his sex urges as an animal!
Rosemary, sitting on the edge of the desk and crying, trembled still more. Vance's demand had so enraged her sense of justice that once again she was sunk in her thoughts to the basic, fundamental core of her being - which was so strong she could count on it to pull her out. She was at absolute zero now. She had to act.
As Clark slobbered nearby, and as Vance stood across the room with his confident, possessive smile - certain that Rosemary was very near to capitulating and that it was only a matter of time - Rosemary herself slowly, imperceptibly shifted her weight on the edge of the desk. It took several motions, but then she was ready to spring. She tensed her arms, took a deep breath.
She sprang!
Clark seemed to jerk at the sudden motion, and to lumber slowly after her, but of this she was not sure for her back was to him and Vance as she scurried naked around the room scooping up her clothes. She'd done it! She'd almost done it! Finding her panties and crumpling them under her arm with the rest of her clothes she shot like a bolt straight for the study door - wondering "What did I forget? What did I forget? No time to put on the clothes, don't worry about that. But what did I forget?"
Holy Christ! The car keys! In the purse!
She shot back into the room. And Clark lunged at her, his fingertips just grazing her nakedly rounded buttocks as she jumped away and Clark crashed flat on his face on the floor with a pained groan. Rosemary ran the few remaining steps to her purse, picked it up and started once again for the door. She cast one quick look at Vance and saw that he was laughing, the bastard!
Laughing! She would never forgive him for that! And moreover he was watching her nakedly fleeing body, watching her firmly jiggling buttocks flex and unflex as she ran, watching her full, ripened breasts bounce in uncontrolled abandon. She had no choice but to run naked and he - the bastard - was enjoying watching her!
She leaped over Clark - who was up on his knees now - and flew out of the study already fumbling in her purse for the keys. She found the door out of the mansion and emerged naked, clutching her clothes and purse, into the open air.
She slid into the car, her eyes recording the drop-off at her side, the waves pounding on merciless rocks a hundred feet below, and though she jammed the keys in the ignition she did not immediately start the car. She had to drive away, and very soon, but to do so she had to be in control of herself. Desperate as she was, she had no desire to fly off that cliff. Take care, her mind warned her. Which gear is the car in? Neutral, good. Now start. Now carefully, very carefully, reverse . . . ,
CHAPTER FOUR
Run! Run! She could not drive any too fast from the situation! She floored the accelerator on the straightaway, down-shifted to squeal around the curves, and then floored it once more, watching the white lines blink by at her side and feeling that each line gained brought her nearer to safety. Was Clark following her?
She glanced over her shoulder. The road was empty in both directions.
She was safe so far. Yet she knew very well what would happen if he ever caught her - and she would sooner spring over the cliff than submit to that brute. Clark! Now she knew where she'd seen him before, why he looked vaguely familiar. She'd never seen him as a servant at Vance's before. But... in the films! Yes, she'd seen several at the parties which featured a man with an abnormally large penis and a rather hulking manner of moving about - Clark. Vance must simply have located the film's actor, and then hired him for his own purposes - such as to give her twice as much as she could take. She would not submit to him; no, she would sooner die than fuck him.
Rosemary sped on, yet her mind raced faster than the car - she had covered little more than a mile. At least right now she did not seem to be followed - in fact, the road was devoid of all traffic. And that was her luck for she was still naked. She pulled out at a scenic turn-off which hung directly at the cliffs edge, and hastily pulled her dress over her body, skipping the underwear in her haste, just to cover herself. Then - continually watching for traffic - she tugged on her panties, put on her shoes, and even managed beneath the dress to force her full supple breasts into her brassiere.
There! Though no one had seen her naked, she had felt obscene every moment, and now - though still there was no one to see her - she felt clean. She remained a few brief seconds staring down at the large waves which smashed onto the rocks at the base of the cliff. The tide was coming in and each wave seemed bigger than the last.
The water shattered into a million fragments just as it had at Vance's, yet watching this did not give her a sense of calm or peace but instead aggravated her awareness of the hell she'd just lived through. And she was not now that far away from Vance's - less than two miles.
Again she spun out onto the road.
Now there was traffic; but after several more miles of driving she realized she was definitely not being followed. No, if anyone had wanted to catch her, by now - in Vance's big cars - they would have. She heaved an enormous sigh and eased the pressure of her right foot on the accelerator, slowing the Porsche to a safer speed. God had that been a close call! But - she kept repeating to herself - she made it, she made it, she was home free.
Actually she had to. hand it to Vance. Following her would not have been his style. Sadistic bastard though he was, he never used physical force to achieve his ends. He used only psychological force; and of course liquor and drugs. Drugs - the man seemed to know as much about them as a pharmacist; most of the things he used as aphrodisiacs were probably only tranquilizers - inhibition-dullers - but they certainly did work. Rosemary knew, all right; she'd had them several times, at the group parties, and never voluntarily. Accepting any drink at Vance's meant risking accepting a drug as well. Somehow this bit of unfairness was not covered by the club's rules: Vance used the drugs to program the activities he wanted.
Rosemary kept driving - south, away from where she lived - to clear her mind.
The Pacific was beautiful, with such a purity to the wild coast, whose cold water you could not swim in; the coast and the mountains, the redwoods and pastures and orchards, and San Francisco nearby - these things she had loved. They had been a large part of her life with Kevin - the Sunday drives, the evening walks after he came home from work, the spins into the city. She was so used to thinking about the past when thinking about her life, because the present, minus Kevin, was so empty, just a matter of her job, holding the house together, and waiting... A period of limbo. And for fun, for relaxation? Nothing whatsoever. This was a void in her life; a void into which had crept the horrible aberration of the circle.
And now there was the future, too; it would soon all take place again, her life, the things she had waited for, the things she had placed in cold storage for the duration of Kevin's military stint. The future; the bright, fresh future. Only the group marred the prospect, and she decided not to let that worry her to the point of spoiling her happiness. She would get out, somehow; that's all there was to it!
She spun along watching the sun reflecting orange in the car's hood, the blue-green Pacific with its gulls and occasional freighters, the precipitous coast clinging to the land at the point where the lush, manicured green became rock. The beautiful scenery made her feel better. She could think now. These were the possibilities, she said to herself, feeling rational; these were the ways open to her to proceed.
First, she could simply never go back to any circle parties. Then Vance would give the films to her friends, copy them and distribute them all over the area. They would make their way - the milder ones, the ones where she was not actually fucking - into the San Francisco skin-flick houses. Kevin would find out.. . and her life would never be the same.
Then, of course, she could just tell Kevin, tell him now by mail, perhaps. But the shame would be just too great. Even if they moved out of the state to start a new life somewhere, things between them could never be the same again. This alternative, too, was unacceptable.
The idea she liked the best was to call the police. She turned that idea over, watching a group of gulls flutter down onto the top of a large rock far out in the water. Yet this idea too was no good: the police in Vance's small community would consider him a solid upright citizen, and any little problems could be eased by money. Vance could always say Rosemary was a disgruntled mistress making up stories. Even if she were to lead the police into the film room, what, really, would that prove?
There were the more violent alternatives, too, of course. Violence was foreign to Rosemary, but she wanted to consider every conceivable possibility now, to know just where she stood. She could . .. well, hire . .. someone to kill Vance. Or she could commit suicide herself. Unacceptable ... all of them unacceptable. Which brought her back to where she started - either continue to submit to Vance's will in the hope he would let her out, the first sordid duty being to be raped by Clark - or find new members.
New members! Two, no less. And she simply didn't know anyone, apart from those actually in the circle, who would do something like that. It was really hopeless, she told herself. Yet... she would find a way. She would think it through another time when she would be fresher - perhaps she could find someone to talk it over with - and she would find a way. That's all there was to it. And for now, she must relax.
Though she'd arrived at no course of action, she still felt eased. The awareness of all the miles she'd now covered made her feel better, actually happy. The sun hung at her side, a giant hot-orange ball with its lower edge just ready to drop into the ocean.
Her stomach felt like a bottomless pit; she turned off the coast road to drive into Santa Cruz, where she found a pizza parlor and went inside. She stopped there because it was the first restaurant she saw, but the choice was fortunate. The man dressed in Roaring Twenties fashion tending the player piano, the happy crowd sitting at the long wooden benches, the waitresses making their way through the noisy, merry room holding five beers in a hand - these things helped her to retain, to bolster, the peace of mind she'd attained on the drive.
Rosemary consumed one-and-a-half pizzas by herself, and the spare half she gave away on an impulse to the waiter sitting at the piano. Rosemary had a good heart. She would never have fallen into the circle if others had been so decent as she. She was a girl who cried over injured birds and animals, who loved her husband and would never do a dishonest thing. She also knew how to laugh and enjoy her surroundings in a spontaneous way. She was a good person, thoroughly sound and likeable, and full of life. Full of life for one man.
She ordered a beer, and the waitress brought her a big, foamy mug. She tipped it and got froth on her lips, which made her laugh, then leaned back and watched the crowd, some of which was dancing around the piano now, the others sitting and drinking, eating, joking. The atmosphere was smoky and loud and just about ideal for Rosemary's present frame of mind. She finished the mug and ordered another, again leaning back and drinking in the cheerfulness. She turned down an offer to dance. No, no thank you; she was friendly but aloof, saving herself for Kevin. She would attempt to enjoy life in the meantime, in innocent ways like this, so that the self she saved for him would be interesting. She ordered a third beer, drinking it nearly in one tilt of the mug, and then she walked out.
For someone who could not take much liquor, three large beers represented a lot of alcohol to Rosemary. Yet, she was walking straight and she found her car, started it, and drove away in a normal enough fashion. She felt as though she were floating on a cloud, high above all concerns, buoyed up by the music and laughter and beer she had shared. Tonight she would write a long letter to Kevin and tell him how happy she was that he would be coming home so soon. She wrote Kevin nearly every night anyway, but tonight would be something special, a long and intimate letter to help him get through his remaining months in Vietnam.
Thank God he was not actually on the front; he risked terrorist bombs and sporadic violence, but only from the relative security of Saigon. He did not write much to her about his present life. He would be hated there, by many of the people on the street; and he would be approached by others offering him everything from black-market money to drugs and ... and girls. This bothered her, the girls; he must, after all this time, have had something to do with them. Yet Rosemary was mature enough not to begrudge him an occasional prostitute if it made his lot easier ...
She drove northwards, directly toward home and the letter she would write to Kevin, skipping the coast road this time because it would be too slow to say nothing of dark. She drove at a safe speed and in her caution hugged a little too close to the curb. Saratoga, San Jose, Sunnyvale, Mountain View, Palo Alto ticked off one by one. She was about to turn off on the smaller road which would take her to Redwood City, when she noticed a drive-in theater which was playing a comedy.
That she could use, all right. Something funny. It would put her in a good mood to write to Kevin. To be honest with herself, she did not look forward anyway to the lonely, dark drive home on the small road she must take, nor did she look forward to spending any more time than necessary in the lonely house. For time there meant more opportunities to think once more of the mess she was in.
She pulled in the drive-in, paid her money, found a place about twenty rows back and parked. They were showing a cartoon before the movie started - that was all right with her, too. With three beers under her belt most anything was all right.
She went quickly into the refreshment stand to get two more beers, to keep her in the rather deliciously potted state she was in now. But she would be careful not to get so drunk that she would pass out or be unable to drive.
Walking back from the refreshment stand she thought the deep brown colored Cadillac parked next to her car looked familiar. That was Sally and Frank Adams' car! She hadn't noticed it was theirs when she'd pulled in beside it. Sally and Frank Adams - what a coincidence! Yet she couldn't be sure; the car was brown and had a San Francisco license, just like their car - but it was too dark inside to recognize the faces. Rosemary walked past without pausing. She slid into her own car, behind the steering wheel, balancing the beers carefully on the glove compartment lid.
The cartoon, advertisements, and previews ended, and the movie began.
What if that was really the Adams' car? They were nice people, decent enough to Rosemary that she could consider them friends. They were circle members, true, but at this instant that is precisely what interested Rosemary about them, the fact that they were circle members as well as friends. They might be able to give her some advice about how to get out of the circle. Yet... she didn't know if it was them; all she could see was two heads in the front seat, and two more heads in the back. The prospect that it might really be a stranger's car kept her from going over and saying hello to them.
The movie was humorous in a mediocre sort of way. After about twenty minutes of it the driver's door of the Cadillac popped open and a man emerged who walked toward the refreshment stand. He sure looked like Frank! She would wait until he came back to be sure.
Frank Adams came back balancing a tray full of food and drinks and spotted Rosemary sitting in her car, his face breaking into a smile. He raised his free hand, forefinger extended, to say "one minute," and he handed the tray into his own car.
Then he came over to Rosemary's; she slid to his side and rolled down the window.
"Rosemary, what are you doing here? Are you checking up on us?!" he joked.
"Hi, Frank. No, I came to watch this silly movie. Saw it when I was driving past and thought 'why not'?"
"Do you want to join us for a drink?"
"Well, maybe. To tell the truth I've had a bit already."
"Then why not have a bit more? Sally's in there, and also Benny and Elaine."
Rosemary hesitated. "Circle members?" she asked.
"That's right," Frank said, "they're new circle members. As I recall, they've been to only a couple of parties. Hey, why the long face?" He paused, studying Rosemary. "That's not a circle party we're having over there!" he continued. "We're here to see the movie and consume a bit of alcohol. The main thing for Sally and me, actually, is getting out of our child-infested house into the fresh air. Left the whole confounded mess in the acne covered hands of a baby sitter!" He glanced at Rosemary's worried face, his own beginning to wear a look of sympathy in response. "Come on, Rosemary, have a drink with us," he concluded.
"O.K., Frank," she said at last.
With a total of four beers now under her belt, she did not need anything more to drink. But she needed a friend. She needed friends like Frank and Sally Adams - who as circle members could understand what she was talking about - yet who as normal, friendly human beings could also sympathize with her.
As she locked up her car and followed Frank over to the Adams' automobile, she knew she could confide in Sally and Frank Adams, that she could tell them about her problem and get advice from them. She had to laugh at Sally's startled expression when she recognized Rosemary at the car window.
"Rosemary! Do come in!"
Sally was in an exuberant mood, obviously loosened up by the alcohol and happy to see Rosemary. The young brunette entered the car and sat in the front, while Frank got in the driver's seat and Sally sat between them.
"Rosemary White, this is Elaine Simson and Benny . .. Benny . .."
"Johnson," the man supplied, extending his hand across the large interior of the Cadillac toward Rosemary.
"They're both new circle members," Sally added. Frank gave her a eluding look - he knew, as Sally did not, that for some reason Rosemary now had something against the circle and circle members. Yet Sally in her ignorance went on. "Elaine's been to - let's see . . . two parties ..."
"Yes, two," said Elaine, blushing a deep, bright red.
"And Benny's been to ... " "One. Just one," supplied Benny. "That's where I met Elaine," he added with a slight leer.
Elaine squirmed in her seat and blushed still more. She looked twenty years old, if even that. She was blonde, slender, and attractive except for a loneliness which came through her eyes. Rosemary felt sorry for the poor girl, and wondered how Elaine had gotten into the circle. Was it, perhaps, through the very same trap Rosemary herself had fallen into?
"I'm glad to meet you all," Rosemary said.
"And now for some drinks!" Frank broke in, sensing the tenseness in the car and trying to change it. "I've brought back some more Cokes for the rum," he said. "And we've also got a good supply of gin and tonic. What do you take, Rosemary?"
"Rum and Coke's fine," she said.
Frank poured a drink into a paper cup and handed it across to her. He whispered something to Sally, in response to which Sally also turned to Rosemary with a look of inquiry. Frank turned up the volume of the speaker hanging on the window, to prevent the conversation which would follow from reaching the ears of the couple in the back seat. Then both he and Sally turned their attention to Rosemary.
"What is it, dear?" Sally asked.
Sally was nearly ten years older than Rosemary, and felt motherly toward her. This feeling was perhaps heightened by her lesbian tendencies - at several parties she'd had oral sex with Rosemary. Frank himself had never touched the lonely wife.
Rosemary consumed several swallows of her drink before answering. Then she said: "I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm at my wit's end. Do you know what happened this afternoon?" They didn't. "Vance -Vance - had me."
"Vance!" both Sally and Frank said in shock.
"Yes, Vance! And .. . and .. . afterwards, he wanted Clark also to ... to have me."
"Who's Clark?" asked Frank.
Sally answered: "He's that big lumpjaw from the films. Doesn't have a brain in his head. Vance just hired him."
"My God!" said Frank. "And did you ..."
"No," Rosemary said, "I ran away! I haven't been home since. Really, I'm at my wit's end." She paused and took more of her drink.
"Rosemary," Frank said, "why did Vance approach you, Vance of all people?"
"I asked him if I could get out of the circle. He said I could if I... if I... " "You poor dear," Sally broke in, pulling the sobbing Rosemary to her shoulder.
Rosemary went on. "You see, I got a telegram today. Kevin is coming home. Kevin - my husband. You don't know him. But he's "very good, and I love him, and I want to be clean for him ..." She broke down completely, sobbing onto Sally's shoulder, and everyone took a drink. Frank filled the cups.
"Yes, that's a problem, all right," he said. "Getting out. Wait - maybe Sally and I could find a new member for you!"
"Two new members," Rosemary corrected.
Sally broke in: "We might be able to. But it would take months. It's such a delicate matter, really - finding them, sounding them out, preparing them to come to a party in a state of willingness - for if anything goes wrong they will spill the whole pot of beans. And then we are all in very big trouble. The police would be the least of it. Vance would be the trouble - what he would do to us all, out of hate, if we messed up his circle for him."
"When's Kevin coming home?" Frank asked.
"In three months. But I want to be out now. Now!" Rosemary sobbed.
"You poor dear," Sally said, stroking her hair.
"It's really an unfortunate business, this circle," Frank said reflectively, filling the cups again up to the brim. Everyone was now in a state of drunken melancholy. "Why do people come into it? Frustration, that's why. And society - which is schizophrenic and pushes everything into compartments. Sex, instead of being worked into a whole life, is a compartment. Sally and I felt the need for it, and we wanted to get out of the house and away from the kids a bit. If we had just had friends, there would have been no problem. But no, instead we had to go out of the house and seek these specialized friends. Sex friends. It's a special situation for Sally and I, for we both like girls ..."
"Shut- up, you old whore!" Sally broke in.
"It's true. And we do get some satisfaction in the circle. But still it's sad there have to be circles, instead of just friends and wholesome, well rounded lives."
"You said it!" said Rosemary, sipping again on her drink. She was nearly to the point of passing out, stone drunk.
"And there are people who really do thrive on things like the circle," Frank continued. "Vance is one, of course." He moved closer to the girls and added in a whisper: "And so is that Benny in the back seat. I'm really sorry we asked him to come along tonight. I've decided I just don't like the bastard!"
They all stared bleary-eyed toward the screen where the comedy played on. Everyone was drunk. And Rosemary felt herself becoming increasingly depressed as she realized that her friends weren't going to be able to help her. Sally had said it would take months for them to find substitutes for her, and they knew many more likely subjects than she did.
Rosemary couldn't think of a single one! It all boiled down to the fact that there was absolutely no one to help her but herself!
"Hey ... Where you going?" Frank slurred as she began to pull from the seat.
Rosemary opened the side door and stepped out, leaving Frank and Sally looking startled at her.
"I - I don't feel to well. I think I'll just go home," she said from behind the still open door.
"God, girl, I don't know that you should drive in this condition," Frank said. "Come back in and watch the movie a while. Better if you sober up a bit first."
"No, I'm fine," she forced a laugh and gently closed the door, waving at them in a confident way as she slipped back to her own car.
She crawled behind the wheel and closed the door, backing the car out immediately before they could come after her. The car slid a bit in the loose gravel as she turned but she righted it quickly out of sheer desperation to be away from there. All she wanted at this point was to go home and have another few drinks until she finally forgot her horrible situation. How could she enjoy a comedy at this point? To hell with the movie!
CHAPTER FIVE
The sun burned through the puffs of morning mist at about ten, leaving the sky a fresh washed cloudless blue. Several days had passed, and each of them had been as pleasant in appearance as this one. Since her submission to Vance, Rosemary had driven to her job each morning, sat in her plush, colorful receptionist's area, and looked pretty. She had also tried to look happy, to put a friendly ring in her voice on the phone, and to help people who came through the door find their destination instead of - as did some receptionists - hindering them.
Now it was Friday and, already as she sat at home over lunch, her job done, the weekend stretched before her. Beautiful, yes - just a glance out the window confirmed that; but. . . but. . . there would be all of those chances to think. All those lonely moments bouncing around this house filled with memories of Kevin.
And - worst of all - there would be the circle party that was held regularly each Saturday night.
It was enough to put Rosemary into the depths of despair.
The telephone rang, from way at the other end of the house, and Rosemary sprang up from her lunch to run for it.
"Hello, Rosemary," said the voice, "this is Linda."
"Linda? Rosemary wondered. Was there a Linda in the circle? Rosemary said "Yes?" in her receptionist's tone.
"Linda Kingsby," the voice went on.
"Oh, Linda!" said Rosemary, now recognizing her cousin's voice. "How are you, dear? How's the school break?"
"Just fine, Rosemary," Linda said.
"Did you hear Kevin's coming back?" asked Rosemary.
"Yes, we just heard. We're happy for you." Linda was a second cousin on Rosemary's mother's side, and had seen Kevin only on a few visits. "Say listen," Linda went on, "how's the spare room situation? I mean, my friend Ingrid and I would like to spend two weeks in Redwood City. The school vacation's so long, and we're getting tired of sitting home in San Jose. We thought maybe we could visit you for the next two weeks. What do you say? We wouldn't be any trouble, Rosemary, and we could help you around the house."
"Sure, Linda," Rosemary said. "I'd love to have you. Sure, bring your friend too. I could use some company around here - it does get lonely."
"Great! Can we come today?" Linda asked.
"Whenever you want," said Rosemary.
"Good, we'll have Mom drop us off sometime this afternoon, O.K.?"
"Yes, Linda, I'm happy about it. See you then."
Rosemary went back to her cold lunch and began eating the now tasteless food, happy that she would have some company around the house for a few weeks. She could use that, someone to talk to, someone to do things with . . .
She froze stiff, a fork with it load of food clamped in her mouth.
Two girls, she now realized. Two attractive, teenage girls! Who lived nearby. Two acceptable . . . new members . . .of the circle!
This idea came to her with such force that it made her blood run cold, and she removed the fork from her mouth, swallowing the food in a lump. All through lunch, her conscience was telling her no, was making her sit frozen stiff and trembling, her pulse throbbing in her temples. Of course, she shouldn't do it, but if she were to do it? If she did actually succeed in doing it. . .
Then she would be free!
After finally finishing eating, she got up and began to rapidly pace the living room, beating a path from the coffee table with Kevin's telegram all the way to the hall with its little gallery of Spanish etchings, and then back again, her gaze on the floor and her mind locked in a rapt concentration. She did not know how long she paced like that, but it must have been a half hour or more. Of course, it was wrong, she thought over and over. But if. . . If, if, if Linda was - Rosemary remembered - rather young and tender, to say nothing of being a relative. But yet... a second cousin was not very close; a second cousin was, in fact, almost no relative at all, Rosemary told herself. And the other girl Rosemary remembered meeting once. She was indeed no relative at all, and a miniature Jane Mansfield; quite likely she would be no bastion of innocence .. .
Less than two hours after the girl's phone call, the doorbell rang.
Rosemary stopped to check herself in the hall mirror. Did she look like a corrupter of children? Of relatives? Did she look like a woman who would be capable of doing a such vile thing? Did she look like she was wildly and desperately plotting, scheming?
No-no to all of them.
Which only showed how appearances lied, for her mind was now resolved to use any trick in her power to trap these two unsuspecting girls into the circle, in order to buy her own freedom.
She rushed to the door.
"Rosemary!" said Linda, who was taller than she, and a natural blonde. "You're looking great. It's good to see you again."
Ingrid, too, extended her hand. "It's nice of you to take us, Mrs. White," she said. Ingrid was tall and more fully built than Linda, and her blonde hair was peroxided.
She wore hot pants out of which peeked the lower curve of her firm young buttocks.
Rosemary motioned the girls inside, carrying in their suitcases, and took them on a tour of the house since Ingrid had not been there before. She showed them the recreation room downstairs, the little wine cellar, the collection of Spanish prints in the hall by the living room, and upstairs the guest room; on the return trip she paused before her own bedroom.
"This is where Kevin and I slept," she said.
The girls nodded, thinking that was perhaps a strange way to point out the bedroom.
"And to tell the truth," Rosemary added jokingly, "we did a little more than just sleep here!"
Linda flushed a bright red; Ingrid chuckled throatily; and Rosemary took note of both reactions. She was plotting.
The assembly headed back toward the living room, Rosemary following the girls and watching Ingrid walk bouncingly in her hot pants. Her skin was tanned but enough of her buttocks peeked out to reveal a strip of white as well; her young rounded ass cheeks were so firm that they rose and fell in one motion, as single, rounded pieces of flesh, with now quivering whatever about them. Rosemary unobtrusively studied the girls' figures in this way, making note of good points and bad, as though she were the madam of a brothel planning to entice some new innocents.
"Tell me," she said as they all sat again in the living room, "how old are you? I've forgotten, I must confess."
"I'm almost eighteen," said Ingrid, accepting Rosemary's proffered cigarette.
"And I'm sixteen," said second cousin Linda, refusing the cigarette.
"And I'm twenty-five and my name is Sexually Frustrated!" said Rosemary jokingly, taking note of the girls' reaction Ingrid laughed with her, drawing on her cigarette; Linda uncomfortably crossed her legs.
It was enough for now, Rosemary decided. She would have to be careful discussing sex with them, particularly with Linda, and for now she would drop it entirely. She would talk about other things with them, in a friendly way, so that they would learn to trust her and lower their guard.
Rosemary fixed the hungry girls a lunch and brought it to them in the living room. "It was nice of you," Ingrid said, "to let us come here. Redwood City is so much more rural and pleasant than San Jose."
"Yes," added Linda, her legs crossed in such a careless way that Rosemary could see one tight elastic leg band of her sheer white panties. "It will be like a real vacation to us. We can relax, and sun in the yard."
"And swim," added Rosemary. "We've got a pool."
"Gee!" said Ingrid.
"And ride," Rosemary went on. 'There's a stable just down the road, where they board horses. One of them is mine and you can also take out Kevin's. We've got lots of good riding trails around here. Do you know how to ride?"
"Yes, certainly," said the older peroxided Ingrid.
"No," said younger Linda. It was amazing, Rosemary reflected, how thoroughly virginity penetrated a personality.
"Then I'll teach you," Rosemary said. "I'll teach you everything!"
The girls had a nice evening and later Rosemary put them to bed up in the guest room, retiring herself in the big master bed, her head full of the nuances of her plot. It mustn't fail, she told herself over and over again.
They all slept in on Saturday until the sun had nearly burned through the morning fog - about nine-thirty, then Rosemary heard activity in the adjacent guest room. The girls were up. Rosemary herself got out of bed, wrapped a bathrobe around her, and walked silently to the guest room where she flung open the door. She'd caught - just as she had hoped - both girls just as they shed their pajamas, both revealingly naked.
"Oh!" Rosemary said gently, "I'm sorry, I thought you were still in bed," she lied, unobtrusively studying their young curvaceous bodies. She had to see, after all, if they would be acceptable to Vance - if their bodies weren't good, there was no point in going through all the rest of her plot to bring them to the circle.
Linda had ripely budding breasts with small round nipples that were positively pink. Her body looks fresh-born and untouched, her pubic hair a sparse wispy blonde matching the long natural blonde hair on her head. Her legs were youthfully slender and curvaceously formed. Rosemary could see no scars or abnormalities in Linda's body and was content.
"I just wanted to tell you about the bathroom," Rosemary went on. "The towels and washcloths on the right of the sink are yours, and with the shower you've got to run the hot water for a couple of minutes before getting in, there's something wrong with the hot water heater. I'm saving it for Kevin to fix." In the length of these few statements Rosemary had also confirmed her good impression from the previous day of Ingrid's fully matured body.
Ingrid's soft cunt curls were coal black, in contrast to the peroxided hair on her head. Her breasts were large hanging much lower than pert Linda's or Rosemary's own beauties - but well-shaped, full, and capped with large, deep-red nipples. Though Ingrid was the type who would probably like to run bra-less, she would have to wear one simply because of the size and weight of her enormously formed breasts. As with many young girls, the deep narrow crevice between her firm curving buttocks began surprisingly far down her back - and the white portion which had been covered by her bikini began still farther down. Unlike Linda, Ingrid had not the tiniest ounce of baby fat on her body - she was lean, fully developed but trim, and most likely already knew what sex was all about.
"Thanks, Rosemary," the girls said, thinking she really came to tell them about the bathroom. Rosemary returned to her own room and dressed bra-less and in skimpy hot pants. She was going to set the hopefully impressionable young girls an example today.
Over breakfast she got them to talk about boys. She listened patiently to stories about football heroes and unattainable rock idols, but the stories were disappointingly chaste. Rosemary pressed on, for the girls now clearly trusted her and were talking freely with her.
"There's a party tonight," Rosemary began, "at the house of an acquaintance of mine. Or rather, his castle. It hangs on rocks right over the sea. He has gobs of money and nice friends. I was planning to go, and he already said I could bring some others if I wanted. Would you like to come?"
"Sure!" chimed the girls in unison.
At about noon she took them riding, giving Linda her own gentle horse, Ingrid Kevin's, and riding herself on a rented mare. The three rode side by side, but Rosemary waited until the time was ripe, and then she said: "You know, I'll confess something." The horse bounced her up and down on her sensitive spread apart loins on the saddle. "Do you know one reason I like to ride?" she grinned over at the teenage girls.
Ingrid caught her meaning. "Because," eighteen year old Ingrid said, "because ... it feels good."
"Right," Rosemary laughed. "Horse riding is made for us women. God knows," she went on in a more serious vein, the girls bouncing along beside her, "I don't have any sexual satisfaction these days. I mean ... I think I can talk to you like adults, can't I?"
The girls said she could.
"I am one frustrated woman," Rosemary said. "Kevin has been gone almost two years. And he knew how to play my body like a fine violin. And I got used to it, like a wife is supposed to. I need it. And what do I have now? The back of this horse!" she laughed.
Both girls laughed with her. Rosemary switched to talking about the terrain, where the trails led, and then she returned to her subject.
"I will confess something - but promise you won't let it get any further than us three."
"It's a secret," the more naive, sixteen year old Linda said.
"We are going to a party tonight, right? You know how it is sometimes at parties - there are rooms away from the main crowd and, well, sometimes things can happen there." She paused. "Well, this is one frustrated woman who won't mind if something happens there!"
Linda blushed and was silent. Ingrid, though, caught up in the free talk, said, "And this is another!"
Rosemary seized the opportunity. "Are you a virgin?" she asked Ingrid point blank.
"No," answered Ingrid. "I was until -well, until I was Linda's age. But I've had intercourse several times now. Not with just anyone, of course! But ... I mean ... if the situation's right... I wouldn't mind."
The girls rode on, coming now onto a field from which they could glimpse the distant blue Pacific with its white breakers. There was a silence because it was the younger, natural blonde Linda's turn to confess. Rosemary helped her cousin.
"Linda, I think you are a virgin, right?" Rosemary asked.
"Yes," replied Linda. "I've petted with boy friends. But I've never . . . gone all the way." There was an awkward silence among the three. "But I've nothing against it," Linda added.
"Perhaps you shouldn't come with us tonight," Rosemary said, using reverse psychology, "because knowing these particular people, there is a fair chance something might happen. It's a pretty fast crowd. I mean, it's up to you."
Linda swallowed. "I'm game if you are," she said.
'Then we'll all go," Rosemary said, "and have a good time. And if, in the course of duty, we have to lower our drawers ..." she joked, leaving the sentence unfinished. The girls rode a broad circle around the field and headed back toward the stables.
There was still one more thing left in Rosemary's plot. She had the girls prepared now - at least in theory - to have intercourse tonight, but they weren't prepared to take part in the planned, orgiastic sort of group fucking which would take place at the circle party. The remainder of her intricate plot was to advance the girls' preparation until they would be ready for even this. Although Rosemary was doing something wrong in trapping the girls into the circle, her conscience at least made her prepare them as much as they could be, instead of simply leading them there like sheep to the slaughter.
The medium for this last instruction was a little cabinet full of books in the basement by the wine cellar. Kevin had collected the books in his travels as a single man around the world, and Rosemary hadn't minded his keeping them when they got married because she herself liked them.
"Let's have some wine," Rosemary said, leading the girls down to the wine cellar. She picked a bottle, blew off the dust, and on the way back pointed to the little cabinet and said, "For God's sake don't look in there! It's not locked, but I'll trust you. It would corrupt you. In there are Kevin's pictures of things that aren't so nice."
They all drank wine in the living room. Then Rosemary said she had to go out - and she did: to the garden where she could watch through the basement window what transpired. First Linda, and then Ingrid, came down in the basement and sat before the cabinet greedily pulling out the contents and examining the photographs and etchings from Japan, France, India . ..
Rosemary gave them a good hour of the forbidden surreptitious looking before she came loudly down into the basement saying, "Now where did I put that iron?" She caught, of course, the two girls red-handed and frightened.
"I'm surprised at you!" Rosemary said, softening her anger to a smile. "You girls must be faster than I thought."
Caught in the act and blushing, the relieved girls - glad that Rosemary wasn't mad or threatening them with telling their parents - agreed. Rosemary came and kneeled on the floor beside them, their slighted sex-flushed bodies.
"This one is nice," Rosemary said, flipping through the obscene book Linda held tremblingly before her. "From India." She pointed to a photo of a woman thirstily sucking a man's long white cock: "I've done that," she said in a low husky tone of confession. "Would you?"
"I've done it, too," Ingrid came back.
"And this," Rosemary went on, pointing to a lust-stirring etching of sodomy, "I have not done, but I wouldn't mind it." In this way, the three girls all continued flipping anxiously through the pages, showing especially good pictures to the others.
When the impressionable young teenagers were panting with growing desire and Rosemary could see Linda secretively grinding her heated little cunt against her heels she kneeled, Rosemary added in confidence: "I'll tell you a secret. Tonight, we'll have the chance to do all of it. I'm positive it's going to be a sex party and turn into a regular orgy."
"Oh good!" said Ingrid passionately.
"Neat!" said Linda, so helplessly excited was she.
Some hours later the pretty adolescent girls got ready to go to the party. Car keys in her hand, Rosemary paused before the door. She pushed up her short skirt and yanked at her silk bikini panties until they came down to her knees, and then she stepped suggestively out of them. She flung the panties casually across the room.
"Might as well do it now as later!" Rosemary said.
And, in excited imitation, the two malleable teenage girls did the same. So thoroughly had Rosemary broken them down, from proper young women this morning - one of them a virgin - through various well-planned passion inciting stages in the afternoon until now finally they were more than eager to go out whoring.
Sitting in the Porsche speeding toward Vance's mansion, the short upriding skirts of the tall, lithe girls did not even cover their pantiless vaginas.
CHAPTER SIX
"Good evening, good evening," Vance said to the couple approaching the mansion door ahead of Rosemary and her young pretty companions. "You're looking well, Janet," he said to the woman, who smiled her answer back to Vance. They passed through the portal. Vance stood in the doorway's arch looking out into the night, the twilight making his hair glint silver.
He strained his eyes to see through the encroaching dark. That did look like a Porsche parked way over by the cliff, but getting out was not just Rosemary but a group of people. Ah, women! Vance could tell now, watching the short micro-skirts of all three women flick back and forth with their approaching walk. Was it possible . . . did Rosemary really bring friends? Yes! Yes, indeed! This caused a very mixed emotion in Vance.
"Rosemary, my love," he said before she even touched the first step, "we're glad to see you."
"Hello, Vance," she said brightly. "Vance, this is Linda.. . and this is Ingrid." She motioned to each enticing teenaged girl in turn.
"Well!" responded Vance. "I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Vance Winston. Tell me - do I detect a bit of the family resemblance with you . .. Linda?"
The blonde-haired virginal girl met his inquiring look boldly and without blushing. "I'm Rosemary's second cousin," she said.
"Ah! Yes, beauty does run in your family." He guided everyone inside and followed himself, still talking. "Just as beasts run in some other families - namely mine!"
He turned to the more curvaceous, peroxided Ingrid and said "Beauty runs in your family too, my dear, yes, I can tell. There are not three lovelier young women at this party. Come..." They were already in the parlor and now they moved through it toward the first of a chain of many introductions.
Vance really was being nice, Rosemary thought. He wasn't shocking the slightly nervous girls, and also he'd had the good sense not to welcome them to the sex-circle - realizing they might not yet know they were in the circle. "You did well," he whispered to Rosemary, motioning her away from his little traveling group of teenaged beauties and the obligation of introductions. Rosemary went to the bar and asked for a gin tonic, not noticing who gave it to her.
The sensually budding girls were indeed attractive as Vance guided them throughout the room. They had an air of propriety about them quite inappropriate to the fact that they wore nothing beneath their short' micro-skirts. Whenever Ingrid shook hands with someone she automatically leaned slightly forward, and Rosemary saw a bit of her firm white buttocks peek tantalizingly out of her skirt. Rosemary laughed inwardly when she saw that - it was so silly, and yet such a pleasantly new feeling, to have no panties on, feeling cool rushes of air up her long, lithe legs against her naked pussy. No one knew! Such a proper room, impossible really to think of all these people as anything other than repressed cocktail-pushers. The young girls - outwardly proper, but secretly without panties - fit in perfectly, for every other soul in the room would very soon be rapidly removing his or her own panties, and every one knew it full well as they stood around chatting and sipping Vance's drinks. Rosemary finished her gin tonic and turned to the bartender for a second.
Good god! It was Clark who stood just a few feet from Rosemary behind the bar, dressed in a long white coat, the buttons of which nearly popped as the coat strained over his powerful chest.
Clark! And he knew whom he had before him, all right! He leered shamelessly at voluptuous Rosemary, towering over her by several feet and hunched threateningly forward, a malicious gleam in his liquid animal-like eyes. Rosemary flinched uncomfortably from his hungry appraising gaze and scurried across the room with her new drink.
It was quite a shock to see Clark in the assembly, the single bit of ugliness among the young, attractive circle members. He was like the bull in the china shop, or more accurately, like the ape in Vance's parlor. Why did Vance have him here, was he just going to tend bar and cast his devouring, obscene glances at the attractive females in the room like he was now doing so shamelessly, or was he going to actually take part in the orgiastic activities? Rosemary cringed at just the thought. Well, whatever, Clark was not going to get her. True this was a regular circle party and she would have to - she sighed in pleasant anticipation - have sex tonight, most likely getting fucked; but forcing was not allowed in the circle. One could use persuasion but not force - if she didn't like someone, she didn't have to have him if she was persistent enough in her refusals. And if anyone tried to foist Clark off on her she would be persistent, all right! Having Clark even touch her was totally out of the question. Bah! - she shivered again with revulsion as she cast another glance at his monstruous, muscular form, so huge and repulsive, an eyesore, even behind the bar in his white servant's coat.
"We're going downstairs now," Vance said, returning to Rosemary with the vivaciously animated girls. "Do you want to come, Rosemary? As I was just explaining to your little beauties, we have a quite interesting and unusual film to show down there." Rosemary followed Vance, Ingrid and Linda as gradually, did everyone else in the room.
Vance started the film running and then came out and sat closely in the booth with Rosemary. Linda and Ingrid sat snugly in the next booth with the two circle men, the booth barely large enough to contain all four. Rosemary looked over at them - they watched the screen still in complete ignorance of what would appear on it when the preliminary frames stopped. This film, in color, had credits and a title: GIRL OF INDIA.
In the middle of a lush green landscape a pale and completely naked young girl appeared, scarcely fifteen. Her budding little breasts bounced tautly up and down as she walked; her dark eyes were small and downcast, her expression resigned; the camera circled completely around her as she walked to catch all the curving angles of her developing young body. Her buttocks were tight, firm, and not too prominent, as though she were still a child; only her tautly bouncing breasts, and something in her expression, announced that she was sexually not a child. She walked quickly as though impatient to reach a predetermined spot - as though, indeed, to get it over with. Suddenly she reached the spot - a little plateau of closely cropped grass - and stopped, abruptly sitting down on the ground and spreading her slender white legs revealingly wide apart like the blades of a pair of scissors. There was scarcely a single strand of pussy hair between her widely parted legs, just the little pink "vee" of her youthful cunt. The fleshy pink vaginal slit was too tightly shut to see the secret inner lips of her vaginal opening. Only a small swath of the interior of her virgin's cuntal lips showed pink and fleshy, a narrow strip of glistening flesh on the screen.
A man appeared on the screen, naked, his long hard cock standing out before him like a huge thick stump. He quickly knelt between the girl's enticingly spread legs, and her eyes darted down to his stiffly erected penis, then flinched away in shame. Yet she knew - or was being told - what she must do. For in less than a minute she had wetly covered both of his desire-tightened balls with her tongue and ended up with his hard thickened cock stuck deep in her oval-lipped, straining mouth. She began bobbing heatedly up and down on the fleshy upstanding perns, all of her delicate white body straining with the effort.
"Well, you brought the new members," Vance said softly to Rosemary - softly enough that the red-faced, shocked girls next-door could not hear. "Rosemary, I see now that you really are going to leave us." He paused, letting his eyes wander to the screen for a moment and linger there, and then drop away - there was nothing new, he'd seen it all.
"I'm sorry Rosemary, you know," he said.
"I'm sorry too, Vance," Rosemary lied.
"Yet... they're very cute girls you brought, quite acceptable. I'll let you go, Rosemary." He reached down below the booth's mattress frame and pulled out a stack of films, pushing the entire pile along the floor toward Rosemary. "Here," he said, "they're yours. And I have no copies."
It was all going so wonderfully smooth! Rosemary was delighted - to get the films back so effortlessly, without doing a thing and with no tongue-lashing from Vance was a dream fulfilled. Perhaps she should walk out with them right now, not taking any part at all in the evening's orgy.
But Vance continued: "You know, Clark did get quite an itch for a fuck that time. And he's rather choosy - he doesn't like just anyone." Vance paused, studying Rosemary's face from which the beam of happiness had just faded, being replaced by a look of frozen horror. "He liked you," Vance said. "But. .. now you're going from us. So I think Clark might like to sample one of the two new girls; one of the two girls now sipping the aphrodisiac; say . .. Linda ..."
"Eeeeeeeeeeehhhh!" Rosemary screamed in shock and revulsion at the idea. Heads all over the room turned, but seeing that Rosemary was not being harmed, the heads soon enough looked away again in disinterest.
That lousy bastard Vance! That was his trump card, all right, and he was using it now to the best possible effect. True Rosemary did - despite her conscience - arrange the trap for the girls, but having Clark break in poor, virginal Linda would be just too much! Rosemary had done something bad, very bad, already; but she still had enough human decency, even in her fight for freedom, to see that those tender young girls were not handled by beasts.
She turned her tearful eyes to the booth next to her. The men had their arms around Rosemary's friends, but matters had not progressed further, and all watched the film. On the screen the man had moved to the side so that the unfortunate young girl, still thirstily sucking him, could in a sitting position receive a second lover, this one in her little girlish cunt. The man's excitedly stiffening cock was just now worming its slow, teasing way through the wetly glistening lips of her pussy and into her soon-to-be-ravished little vaginal entrance, while the girl's face - distorted from the cock-sucking - twisted still more from her frightened wincing cries. The tears brimmed over Rosemary's eyes and flooded her cheeks at the guilty thought that soon Linda would be getting something like that girl on the screen, and it would be Rosemary's doing. But... it would not be Clark. NO!
Rosemary gritted her teeth. "I'll take Clark," she said in a trembling voice to Vance. "Once. If you promise he will never get to touch the girls. Never."
Vance took Rosemary's hand, his attitude suddenly became eager and excited. "I promise," he said. He squeezed Rosemary's cold, trembling hand - and simultaneously with the other he loudly snapped his fingers.
Clark immediately appeared and Vance nodded to him; Clark understood.
The pleased and excited sex-group leader slipped away from the booth, to hover voyeur-like nearby; the shapely teenagers had snuggled into their companions' arms, still sitting properly; and around the room lewd action was slowly beginning which left here and there a naked breast exposed, some eagerly pulsating cocks, here and there but as yet no contact. Only the film showed contact with the girl being skewered now in her sucking mouth and in her tight, helplessly straining virginal cunt from which a thin trail of blood could be seen trailing down her trembling young thighs.
In Rosemary's booth, the action was quite different from the rest.
The idiot Clark muttered something - could he not even talk? and mentioned demandingly to Rosemary to take her clothes off. Rosemary moved instinctively away from the hulking man on the mattress, as far away as she could get, and began to unbutton her blouse, gradually exposing enticing patches of her sun-bronzed flesh. She shrugged the blouse off her sloping shoulders, bringing her naked breasts into view with their tiny pink nipples bobbing sensually around from the movement of her slender arms.
She bent forward to slide off her shoes, and then - still sitting - she unzipped her short skirt and tugged dutifully at it, her beautiful face as resigned as a lamb being led to the slaughter. As she raised her firmly rounded buttocks just enough to let the brief skirt slip beneath her it was apparent to Clark - and the nearby Vance - that she'd worn no panties. The moronic servant smiled lewdly and possessively as she dropped the skirt to the floor and lay back on the couch, mechanically - like a obedient robot. Her brown, thickly fringed eyes glazed with resignation and suppressed fear as she turned to face Clark, lying on her side. There were tears on her face, and her tortured mind spun with the effort of controlling her racing disgust for the bestial, overly-muscled man who now breathed so close to her that she could smell his breath. She vowed - anxious to save some last little bit of self-respect -that she was not going to look at him and she clamped her eyes tightly shut.
"Aaaaaaaaagh!" she groaned loudly, startled at the greedy hands which reached up and began to heatedly knead her full exposed breasts with thick, crude fingers. But she didn't scream again, she just bit her lips to squelch her utter humiliation.
The dim-witted muscle man lay next to her, his face even with her fearfully quivering breasts, and his tongue snaked out eagerly to tease the stiffening nipple-buds, making them palpitate into lewd erection. Involuntarily a mewl of pleasure escaped Rosemary's lips - it was nice, having someone play wetly around her sensitive breasts, if she didn't stop to think about who it was.
Now the tongue snaked warmly down her heaving belly and into the soft indentation of her navel, darting in for a moment, before continuing to trace a wet tormenting path all the way down the smooth flat plane of her abdomen, and finally into the soft black pussy hair guarding her moist, lust-incited cunt. With a grunt Clark dropped his arms and placing a hand on either trembling leg, pried them apart; then with one thumb on each of the fleshy, hair-lined lips of her now-exposed cunt, he pulled them gently apart. The warm fleshiness of her cunt glinted softly pink, and she was spread wide enough that he could see a little way into her small tight vaginal opening. Clark's head jerked forward and his tongue buried itself with a wet sluicing sound in the warm quivering opening.
Rosemary groaned involuntarily. God knows she didn't want sex with the muscle-bound idiot but having no choice, she might as well get on with it. She recalled with spine-chilling horror the size of his huge thick penis when she had seen it exposed, jerking lustfully upward toward her, when he had almost taken her in Vance's study. Soon tonight - somehow - that enormous thickness would be inside of her vainly resisting cunt. It was so big it would break her in half! She was afraid of the prospect of that long hard penis inside of her more than anything; and for this very reason she now decided to abandon herself to whatever little grain of lascivious pleasure she could get from the foreplay. She hoped to prepare herself and also in this way to please the lust-crazed idiot - so that when it came time for him to actually stick it in her almost virginally small cunt she might be able to persuade him to do it gently. God how she feared that big, thick cock! And, conversely, how she loved the licentious electric tingling now creeping up her belly from his tongue worming wetly in her vagina.
She surprised even herself when she moved her feet further apart and tangled her hands in Clark's hair pulling his face tight into her hotly throbbing cuntal mound. She began to grind her hips sensuously in time to the moistly darting tongue that probed up into her love-starved pussy. Her eyes were still clamped shut, and her mouth began to hang open in undisguised pleasure - undisguised because she wanted the idiot to see it. She goaded the big deformed man on with her hands and with her wantonly pumping hips, like a nymphomaniac gone wild. Her muscles strained under the tightness of her naked flesh, standing out like stretched ropes ready to snap against the pressure of his repeated forward tongue-thrusts into her insanely throbbing cunt.
It might not be so bad to fuck Clark after all, she thought. She did not see the shadowy figure standing nearby - Vance was enjoying this so much that it was a supreme effort for him not to make a film of it. Yet in this respect he was trustworthy; but in another he was not.. .
"In the ass!" he whispered to dim-witted servant.
Rosemary didn't hear the obscene words, but she was aware that Clark's tongue had stopped the wild probing of her steadily pulsating vagina, stopped it when she had been very near to having a climax! She opened her eyes and saw the lust-driven idiot hurriedly removing his clothes. She saw also another figure hovering excitedly nearby: Vance! Well, let him watch, let him have his fun, why not, just this quick fuck and she would be done with it, she thought, clamping her eyes tightly shut again.
Hands came onto her nakedly quivering thighs - she didn't realize there were four hands - and tugged at her voluptuous body until she had turned over. She obeyed, laying on her stomach now, her widespread legs hanging obscenely from both edges of the mattress. Clark ducked down between them as he grabbed her ankles and spread her legs still wider apart. He then spread the resilient cheeks of her ass with his hands, exposing the tiny tight pink anus nestled invitingly in the crevice. He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh all the way to the wetness of her moist open cunt and his head dropped to wetly kiss the smooth oval buttocks, his tongue trailing down to lick the deep narrow crevice between them, pausing to twirl lewdly around her pulsating little anus.
The taut puckered skin strained around the little anal opening as Clark's thumbs pulled excitedly at the tender pink flesh. Now his outstretched finger began to probe at the puckered little inlet while Rosemary groaned in growing humiliation.
"Spread 'em wider," Clark said.
Rosemary did as told until her long white legs could now be spread no wider. Clark was going to fuck her from behind, she thought naively, but why was he fumbling so lasciviously around her anus? She did not especially like that, but was willing to put up with almost anything to keep him happy, to get on with it! To get it over!
The thick finger probed forcefully and Rosemary groaned loudly as it suddenly popped through the little puckered ring. She jumped slightly forward from the sharp pain, her mouth wincing in unheeded protest, straining away from the intruding finger as her warm rubbery rectal flesh closed tightly over it in forced acceptance. Another groan of protest escaped her pain-tightened lips as the finger cruelly dug into the first knuckle.
Clark rotated it harshly around in the tight expanding hole in eager preparation for what would follow, sawing in and out and expanding the tiny resisting anus ever more. And Rosemary began to wriggle her hips desirously back against it, beginning almost to enjoy it, still thinking Clark was just fooling around in prelude to a regular screwing - the barbaric cruelty of sodomy never crossing her mind.
Clark brutally dug another finger in and Rosemary squealed, burying her face in the mattress, any further enjoyment suddenly out of the question. He placed one hand on the small of her back to pin her voluptuous naked body firmly down as he screwed both fingers into her mercilessly, stretching the tiny puckered anus until she grunted in pain each time he twisted his hand. She was being skewered like a helpless animal on a spit as the cruel sodomizing fingers worked around and around deep up in her virginal wide-stretched rectum.
Clark relished what would follow. This stuck-up little bitch, he thought, is the same one that was too good to have him that time in Vance's study. But now he had her, all right, he'd made her groan with pleasure and now he was prodding her defenselessly straining anus like an avenging angel, pinning her hard to the mattress at the same time, allowing no possible escape. His painfully throbbing cock was fully erect and soon he would shove it in. How good that would be! This bitch who'd called him an ugly bastard would be naked and totally subjugated before him, not just being fucked, but being involuntarily fucked up her resisting virginal anus.
Ready, Clark pulled his two extended fingers out of the writhing brunette, and the fingers seemed to come out reluctantly, the pink clasping skin clinging tightly to them until they withdrew with a wet vacuum-like sucking noise.
He pushed the smooth rounded ass-cheeks wide apart again with his hands and lowered his face into the narrow, exposed crevice. His tongue licked teasingly at the throbbing hole until the surprised raven-haired beauty could not stand this abusive, tickling torture another minute.
"Stop! Oh, please stop! God, don't do that!"
"Kneel, you cunt," the idiot commanded from behind her. She obediently got up to her knees, presenting the rounded white half-moons of her naked buttocks up to the now wildly aroused Clark. He stood up behind her, directly between her widespread curving thighs, and leaned forward, his hands bracing his large body on the mattress, his huge stiffened cock standing straight out with its blunt bulging head resting obscenely in her split rear crevice.
"Tickle my balls, you whore," he said. She was totally at his mercy now, and he intended to take full advantage of it. Rosemary reached back under her nakedly kneeling body and gently stroked at the large hairy testicles dangling heavily down between Clark's thighs. She stroked at the flaccid-skinned balls hungrily, in the hope that being nice to Clark might produce mercy - for she now had a horrible inkling of what he intended to do.
"And now, my sweet bitch," he said, "stick it in." His voice was rough and crude, the words passionately slurred. Rosemary's hands moved hesitantly from the softness of his testicles and grasped his huge rock-hard cock. A sudden expression of fear flashed across her face as her fingers closed around the heavily pounding shaft flesh and she realized again just how enormously big it was. It seemed even bigger when she held it than it had before when she had only seen it! She stroked the long throbbing penis experimentally, indecision apparent on her tortured face.
"Put it in, I said!" he snarled. "Put it in your ass!" He savagely dug his talon-like fingers into the sensitive flesh of her hips, holding the abjectly kneeling young wife in place.
Her ass! God! Yet, totally subjugated, her young mind swirling in confused circles, she tremblingly submitted to the cold command and the cruel pressure of his hands by placing the hard, blunt tip of his warmly pulsating penis against the tight little opening.
Immediately, the massively throbbing cock began probing and working against her tiny puckering anus, the muscles of Clark's stomach standing out as he strained his naked body forward. It looked like a giant battering ram trying to force its way into Rosemary's helplessly quivering rectal opening. She clenched her eyes more tightly shut as she felt the straining little nether ring suddenly give way before the relentless pressure, and the lust-swollen cockhead pop inside with a sudden rush.
"Aaaagghhhh!" she shrieked, her face contorted in pain from the brutal ravishment of her virginal, defenseless anus.
Vance's servant watched the nakedly kneeling young wife trying to pull away, trying to escape the unwanted obscene impalement. Grinning sadistically, he grabbed her warm-fleshed thighs tightly, pulling her back toward his massively swollen cock, locking her in position as he thrust his hips forward with all of his strength against her helplessly upturned buttocks.
"Oh God, it hurts, it hurts. It's too big -oooooohh, it's too big!"
But the rock-hard, cruelly erected penis surged forward battering the rubbery resistant flesh before it without respite, sliding deep - even deeper - into her fearfully cringing rectum.
"Oooooooohh, oh God ... please ... stop! Ooooooooooohhhh," she yelled as his pelvis finally smacked loudly against the trembling softness of her cock-impaled ass cheeks. The thick rampaging instrument was now buried to the hilt in her hideously stretched anus.
Clark's lasciviscious grin shone from his face. He had her! The little bitch had no choice now, no choice but to be taken just as he wished. He had her, all right!
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the screen the young dark-haired girl momentarily broke contact with the wetly stiffened cock she was sucking to change position. The man who was fucking her from behind pulled back to he flat on the grass, his penis still buried deep up inside her vagina. She shifted her weight forward until she nearly fell - the man raised his hands and, turning her shoulders, lowered her gradually until she was lying flat on her stomach on top of him. During none of this difficult position-shifting had her tight little cunt broken contact with the man's long, embedded cock, and her pained face registered this fact clearly.
Now she lifted her small, girlish buttocks up in the air to try and pull away from the thick masculine cock which remained so deep up inside her. The man's response to this was to put his hands firmly on the cheeks of her trembling little buttocks to control her movement. When he wanted an out-stroke he let up on his hands and her young vibrant ass-cheeks rose in the air as though mounted on a spring; when he wanted an in-stroke he bore down on his hands again, pressing the girl's wide-splayed loins to his. In this way, he made her involuntarily do the pumping for him while he lay passively in position. It made an obscene spectacle, mainly because of the disparity in size between the heavy set older man and his big fleshy penis and the delicate, small girl whose barely developed pussy was being stuffed painfully beyond capacity. Her expression was an alternation between eyes-clenched, tendon-straining torture and moments when she relaxed temporarily and opened her eyes to reveal a pain-glazed expression as her tears poured out.
On instructions, the petite brunette propped the upper part of her barely adolescent body up on her elbows and moved so that her shoulders and face were no longer directly on top of the man but instead at her side. The other man, the one she had sucked, now returned for more and lay back on the grass after placing his eagerly jerking cock near the girl's mouth.
He then reached down and sadistically played with the helpless nipple of one pertly budding breast. Then he stopped as the girl took his impatiently pulsating cock once more deep into the warm moistness of her mouth, her pained expression increasing, her pale face tinged with the blushing overtones of shame. She was doing the same thing now as before the position shift - sucking one man and being vaginally raped by another - with one important difference: Her quivering buttocks were now defenselessly exposed.
The camera moved away from her face and circled around to capture her widespread, white legs from behind, showing her nakedly besieged cuntal area that was wet and matted. The man's massive cock was so out-of-proportion to the dimensions of her little straining vagina that the tight, elastic-rimmed opening looked as tautly stretched as a pink rubber band ready to break. When the man released the pressure on her round trembling buttocks and her buttocks rose, her receding vagina gripped his penis, tugging at the stretched cock-flesh as though it were reluctant to let it go. When the man bore down again with his hands, digging his fingers into the pliant flesh of her young buttocks, her vagina squeezed his cock so tightly that the loosening skin of his cock rippled all the way down to his desire-taut balls as the adolescent vagina advanced. When it had consumed all his penis to the balls, the man moved the girl's youthfully supple buttocks in lewd circular gyrations with his guiding hands, holding her pressed ever-harder against him. Over and over he moved her round girlish hips for her in forced gyration.
Then - miraculously - he released his hands and the young brunette's buttocks did not spring up in the air again, but instead she continued gyrating in tiny hungry circles on her own power. She was getting use to it! She didn't like it, but she was now for the first time taking conscious part in the lewd action.
A third man, naked and with a half-erected penis, stepped into the picture behind the dually impaled girl. He knelt between her slender, widespread legs and placed one hand on each firmly rounded ass-cheek; the chill jerked at the unexpected contact of these unseen hands.
The man spread her defenselessly exposed buttocks apart and poked an extended middle finger at her pink, rubbery anal ring, causing the girl to jerk again this time more violently. But there was no respite: The man spread her fearfully trembling buttocks farther and wormed his finger in, working it smoothly around inside in a forced reaming. His long thick cock became fully erected in his mounting passion at doing this and he raised it jerkily up the narrow parted crevice of her buttocks until it was next to his sodomizing finger. Then he yanked the extended middle finger out, and immediately guided his impatiently jerking cock down on the tiny anal opening. Then, grinning lewdly, he thrust forward until the defensively puckering anus gradually gave way. The girl - with one thrusting cock in her distorted mouth and another plunged far up into her tight little cunt jerked violently, but with so many hands holding her, escape was impossible. The third man's weight and continual pressure slowly succeeded in burying his lust-thickened cock up inside her tight young rectum to the hilt. As the girl clenched her insanely straining anal muscles it only incited the man's impaling thrusts between her defenseless little buttocks.
The unfortunate girl on the screen was getting the same thing as Rosemary, but in a more brutal way. The cruelty of her extreme youth and frailty, and the fact that she was now satisfying three older men, made the spectacle horrifying but also lewdly captivating to its audience. It was impossible to watch such a film without getting aroused. Throughout the film room couples breathed heavily as people simultaneously watched the ever-progressing film and began their own in-the-flesh sexual contacts. No one in the room was fully dressed anymore, with the exception of Vance - who stood watching the voluptuous Rosemary being sodomized - and the two teen-age girls.
And even their excitement over the film had reached such a fevered pitch that they had allowed their partners to seek about beneath their short skirts; no panties in the way, fingers quickly sunk into their moistened, hotly undulating vaginas. The fingers teased the girls' soft hair-lined pussy mounds in gentle stroking motions, and then began invading into the warmly moistened softness of tender vaginal walls. Excited secretions eased the entry and flowed out around girlish buttocks which ground impatiently into the mattress. Linda's little virginal cunt expanded with each lewd teasing rotation; Ingrid's vagina had already held more than fingers, and she moved around the probing outstretched finger with her hips gyrating hungrily in a more practiced freedom.
"Man, what an ass!" cried Clark as the helplessly naked Rosemary wavered on the end of his long, stone-hard cock like a pig on a giant roasting spit. He fucked away into her painfully quivering rectum as he continued spouting foul obscenities behind her, pausing now and then to gasp for breath as his sadistic pleasure at this salacious sight and feeling became extreme.
"Look at that little bitch shake it," the muscle bound sadist said, pumping rhythmically and without mercy deep within Rosemary's searing rectum bringing helpless sobs of misery and humiliation from her tortured lips. "Look at her wag it, look at the little bitch go!" he chided, adding his lewd words to the obscene physical revenge he, was taking on her subserviently kneeling body.
Rosemary had never felt so soiled and debauched in her life and her whole invaded behind felt wet and used as Clark lunged the full throbbing length of his brutally punishing cock into her rectum with long smooth strokes. He pulled tiny ridges of her clasping pink flesh out with the thick white base of his cock as he withdrew for another viciously deep lunge inside. Rosemary was dimly aware of Clark chuckling to himself with each long hard lunge the cruelly rampaging cock made into her upraised behind, commanding her servile kneeling body which was bent like an errant slave before its cruel master.
Rosemary's naked voluptuous body jerked and quivered and her thighs periodically convulsed as an extra deep hard thrust seared into her small tortured rectum. She could hear Clark's grunts of lascivious pleasure float obscenely through the room around them, and she hated herself and her enticing curvaceous body for the joy it was giving him though there was nothing she could do about it. In spite of her pain, she clasped tightly her strong constricting anal muscles trying to rip the cruelly plunging column of flesh from his body.
"Aaaaagh," Clark groaned, "God, she's a tight little thing! Man, is she nice!" he groaned, throwing back his head in ecstasy from the warm clasping flesh tightly enveloping his throbbing hardness. Rosemary didn't want this to go on much longer, not this indecent cruel sodomizing of her defenseless rectum, even though the physical anguish was lessening now. The terrible humiliation was too great! She had to end it, she had to, she prayed for the strength to please Vance's dim-witted servant in order to finally end it.
She began to move lustfully backward and meet his deep forward-thrusting cock, undulating her naked young body and swinging her full rounded buttocks in lewdly rotating circles, clasping it tightly with the slight throb of her sphincter muscles on the out-stroke. Clark perceived the change, he perceived that she was beginning to give him back now what he was giving her.
He surged deeply into her with renewed power...
It was all so strange to Linda, the rude but enjoyable explorations of her tender virginal cunt which sent such pulsations of wild excitement coursing so deliciously through her. And sitting immediately beside her was Ingrid getting the same exact obscene petting, and it seemed so very strange for Linda to be able to watch someone else heatedly doing the same precise forbidden thing as she. It was indecent, she knew, to watch someone else passionately having their private sexual satisfaction, yet with peroxided blonde Ingrid so exposed and undulating her hot, moistened cunt with such obvious satisfaction, Linda had to watch; just as she was aware of the older teen-age girl glancing sometimes at her, and of the two aroused men who drank in the entire salacious scene with hungry pleasure glinting in their eyes. It was so group-like, so brazenly permissive, this being touched and being seen by others at the same time. And all around the heated room in the semi-darkness were quivering white patches of nakedly impassioned flesh visible, and lewd movement, thighs pumping up and down, heads flailing, and all of it visible if anyone cared to concentrate on the strange perverse sights and pick them out of the semi-darkness. Why, even in the next booth, where Rosemary was, there must be something sexual going on ... Linda turned her head, rotating her exposed young body slightly - careful to keep her long lithe legs spread so the delicious fingering would not be interrupted - to look curiously into Rosemary's booth.
Oh my God! Rosemary's nakedly rounded buttocks arched up directly into Linda's startled view, wagging sensuously back and forth on the huge embedded cock of a repulsive-looking man! Rosemary was fucking! Linda had never before seen anyone fucking, except just now in the film, and it was very different to see it going on heatedly beside her. The man was so ugly! And - how did he get that big thing in Rosemary, it looked so incredibly enormous compared to Rosemary's pink stretched-tight little .. . hole ... the young girl gasped: That wasn't her curvaceous cousin's pussy the big man was so lasciviously skewering into! Linda looked carefully again, to confirm her terrible suspicion - she saw Rosemary's moistened, hair-lined cunt lips, and then well above the curving unseparated lips the long giant cock was furiously rocking in and out of - the pinkly straining orifice of her rectum! Linda gasped in utter shock and disbelief. The same obscene thing was going on in the lust-inciting movie, but here it was happening unbelievably right beside her -and to her voluptuous and married cousin Rosemary!
Linda nudged Ingrid with her elbow, and the shapely, older teen-ager turned, too, to watch the salacious spectacle in a lewdly fascinated horror.
"Is it... Rosemary?" whispered Ingrid.
"Yes!" said Linda.
"God!" gasped Ingrid.
Both pretty young girls could not draw their lustfully gaping eyes away; and the forbidden excitement of watching the cruel sodomy set their own palpitating adolescent vaginas into an automatic, hungry undulation which the fingers dipping into them could scarcely satisfy.
Vance was quick to perceive the change coming over the girls. He walked a few paces away from the obscenely impaled Rosemary to stare at the two half-naked adolescents, who sat on the mattress undulating their firm youthful hips with their short skirts pushed up, long white legs abandonedly spread, nakedly parted cunts glistening wet. Linda's cunt was covered with a sparse blonde shield of pubic hair and this particularly attracted Vance - natural blondes were rare - who studied the way her parted legs, having been spread far outward by her eager partner. Ingrid's exposed pussy mound was covered with the standard black hair, but it too was tight, and in her case Vance could clearly see the small, elastic-like vaginal entrance hungrily grasping the extended middle finger which fucked in and out of its soft warm opening.
A good pair, these young two! The sex-group organizer thought. They would make a good film. But Vance had become more excited than usual looking at the two quickly acquiescing girls, to say nothing of witnessing their cousin Rosemary's tight, impaled rectum waving back and forth on Clark's huge sodomizing penis in the next booth. He was too hotly excited to make the film himself - he wanted instead to get into the wild action. Rarely had he seen such ripely tender young girls.
"Charley," he said to a circle member returning from the showers, "there's my camera in the corner. It's loaded. Make a film, will you, of what goes on in this booth."
"Right, Vance," agreed Charley, retrieving the camera and standing unnoticed at a slight distance from the unsuspecting girls, ready to begin. The girls - still staring at Rosemary in a passionately excited horror - did not even notice the cameraman. They were not aware that anyone would make an obscene film insuring their continuing membership in the orgiastic, sex-circle.
Vance hurriedly lowered his pants, and heads throughout the room turned - no one had ever seen the group leader naked before. No one, that is, except his favorite Rosemary. Vance was so uncontrollably stimulated he'd dropped his usual cool decorum.
"Suck it!" he commanded to sixteen-year-old Linda, impatiently slapping his hard little penis against her cheek.
Linda jerked her widened blue eyes up to Vance in surprise. She saw the aroused, middle-aged man staring at her exposed, blonde-fringed cunt - and his short, thick penis directly and pungently beneath her nose - and blushed feverishly with shame.
"Wh-wh-what?" she quivered, fearfully.
"Come, take my cock in your mouth and do as you're told," Vance said, frenziedly slapping it again against Linda's blushing cheek. There was a drop of clear male lubricant on the end of the passion-stiffened penis and the exotic pungent smell made Linda's nostrils flare slightly.
"I... I don't know what you mean!" she said.
'Then learn!" snarled the exasperated Vance. He pinched her nostrils sharply together with his thumb and forefinger; in a moment she reflexively opened her sensuous, full-lipped mouth to breathe - and the older man slid his pulsing cock into it, feeling it slide over her soft red lips, gyrating slightly over the brittleness of her white young teeth, burrowing against her fleshy tongue until the lust-inflamed tip reached all the way back to the enticing moist warmth where her throat began.
"Do it!" Vance commanded. The girl looked up at him with pleading eyes, mouth bloated and her lips wrapped oval-shaped around his cock. But it was no use - Vance put one hand behind her head to hold her firmly and then began sawing his hips back and forth deep into Linda's young butter-like mouth, ignoring the frightened girl's stifled groans. All the while her original excitedly watching male partner continued fingering her moistened, splayed-out cunt which was still - despite Vance's forced cock-sucking - aching with lascivious pleasure.
Yet suddenly, regretfully, the finger-fucking hand slid away from her throbbing cunt. Linda raised her eyes in impassioned disappointment to her partner. Oh no! she thought, suddenly sick deep within; for she saw her other middle-aged partner hastily pulling off his trousers, his underpants, kicking off his shoes. Oh no! Not the same as the girl in the film, please not! But already she felt the man's hands gripping firmly on her knees. Vance stepped aside, forcing Linda to turn her head to continue the wet tonguing of his pulsating cock while, at the same time, allowing the other man to kneel quickly between her trembling young legs.
She was excited, and she did come to the sex-party expecting to do something, but yet having her virginity removed in this strange obscene way did not seem right. No, not with Vance stuffing his enormously thick penis into her sucking mouth and holding her head so close to it she could scarcely breathe; no, not with so many lewdly gaping people around to watch her impending ravishment; it just didn't seem right. Yet... it was happening... Oh God! Now there were fingers sliding up and down her fearfully quivering inner thighs.
The heatedly throbbing head of the man's penis burrowed into the hair covered lips of her virginal cunt as he firmly held her knees forced wide apart. The rubbery, blood-inflated head pressed slightly forward to part her pussy lips, and then with the help of the man's groping hand, found the tight virginal entrance and centered itself directly upon it. Linda closed her eyes, not wanting to watch any of it - not the wetly glistening cock slamming in and out of her wide-stretched mouth and not the stranger in back of her kneeling between her wide-parted legs who was about to brutally take away her virginity. She clenched her virginal cuntal muscle tightly shut; they couldn't fuck her in this depraved way. .. she wouldn't permit them.
"Aaaaaggh!" she groaned - the long, stone-hard cock had begun to press insistently against her small, resisting vaginal opening.
The man flexed his buttocks and leaned forward with nearly all his heavy weight; until this moment he hadn't realized the young teen-age girl was still a virgin, but with the amount of resistance that her tight little cunt was putting up it was plainly evident he was going to rip a hymen. The thought goaded him beyond reason and he bore down still more. Then suddenly - the vainly resisting little opening gave. The tight elastic ring popped open with a quick unexpected snap, and the huge blood-filled head slipped wetly inside with a sudden strong rush that left the besieged adolescent screaming in pain.
"Aaaaaaggggghhhhh!" she flailed her head wildly, nearly forcing Vance's eagerly thrusting cock from her mouth. Oh God!
Never had she suspected it would be this painful.
As she struggled, the man behind her gripped her knees tightly forcing her to remain in position. He felt her wetly heated cuntal walls slipping over his throbbing rigidity like hot melted butter, and his head fell loosely back as his excited loins buffeted forward and his thickened, rock-hard cock speared into the helplessly struggling girl without mercy. It raced into her like a fast whirling drill boring through the depths of the earth, cruelly battering and smashing all before it in great receding waves of warm moist flesh. Suddenly his pelvis smacked tight into her painfully trembling thighs from behind with a loud slap that reverberated through the room. Linda's incoherent moans of pain went unheeded as his long hard cock sank deep to its full pulsating length up inside of her quivering little belly; she felt the relentlessly surging hardness suddenly pressed tight against the cushiony end of her cervix.
She was had now, all right, there was no reason to struggle or fight anymore, she was no longer a virgin and her tightly encasing cunt could never be anymore stuffed than it was at this moment. Her naked young body went limp, all resistance gone, as she felt the man's greedily clenching hands come down under her buttocks. As he lifted up on them, she slowly began to rotate her hips, only experimentally at first to see if it might lessen the pain, but then later in order to take part in the lewd motions of the forced sex act. Now that the pain was not getting worse, but instead subsiding, the aphrodisiac and the prurient stimulation of the evening's orgiastic activities took priority; she moved her naked young buttocks back against the man's stiffly pumping cock in slow, lust-inciting circles just as she had seen in the movie. After all, with nothing more to lose, why not? she thought.
Just a few feet away on the mattress the older, peroxide-blonde Ingrid had been quick to notice what was taking place, and she'd been so passionately enthralled that she'd unzipped her partner's fly and gone inside for his lust-swollen cock, stroking it and then kissing it into even greater stiffness. The man was quick to take command of the lust-provoking situation and stripped the curvaceous young girl completely naked and had her kneel up on all fours. He intended to pump his long hardened penis into her tight young cunt from behind, from a position where he could simultaneously watch her virginal girl friend's impalement, and over the partition, Rosemary's sodomistic humiliation by Vance's moronic servant. Ingrid's body was so voluptuously exciting that the man leaned forward to play with her ripely swaying breasts, slapping the dancing white mounds against one another and kneading their soft warm pliancy with his fingers. Then he ran one hand down over her tautly curving belly and parted the extreme upper part of her hair-lined cunt to find her tiny throbbing clitoris. He pinched the aroused little bud, then dipped his outstretched middle finger nearer to her buffeting vaginal opening to retrieve some lubricant and then smeared it on the twitching clitoris, feeling it palpitate and expand heatedly in response.
If the lust-incited, drugged blonde teenager needed any more encouragement to fuck for all she was worth, this thoughtful massaging of her sensitively pulsating clitoris was it. She felt the delicious sensations course through her entire body, merging with the half-painful, half-pleasurable reactions to the man's other hand which flicked back and forth over her stiffened pink nipples and squeezed her painfully full breasts, competing also with the strong ripples of excitement coming from his jack-hammering cock.
She began to twirl her hips, shaking them violently side-to-side to increase the tantalizing hard pressure of his cock on the sides of her clasping vaginal walls. She backed her firm young buttocks up to him on the in-strokes to speed the approach of his lust-swollen cockhead against the end of her cervix and to feel the sharp warm slap of his cum-filled balls against her wide-spread ass-cheeks. Ingrid loved it, loved it more than any of the several fucks she had had before in her young life, and she had to fight hard to avoid cumming immediately, for she wanted to prolong it as long as possible.
"Don't do that up there," she said to her partner, pushing his hand away from her hotly tingling clitoris. "It hurts," she lied; the truth was if he had left it there for another stimulating instant she would have cum! Now, clenching her virginal muscles and exercising her will power to the fullest, she could prolong the lewd pleasure.
Her partner was an experienced man, and he knew well that the young girl was reduced to a raw, passionate pulp of insane desire and as ready to cum as a cocked pistol was ready to shoot. He noticed Vance's friend standing beside him recording the lurid scene on color film, and he slowed his long hard strokes to keep the highly excitable girl from cumming and to extend his own pleasure, simultaneously motioning the camera closer.
He was an old circle member and used to being filmed, and he didn't mind as the camera lens moved in close to film the rippling pink flesh of the girl's wantonly palpitating vagina. It would be a good movie, he thought, this hot little bitch's young cunt so hungrily grasping around his pistoning cock, little furrows of her vaginal flesh rippling in and out of the small entrance like waves, drops of excited white secretions seeping out of her youthful cunt with each new stroke. The man spread the cheeks of Ingrid's wildly rotating buttocks farther apart, and the camera recorded exactly how the impassioned girl's hungry cunt swallowed and sucked at his deeply fucking cock.
Then the camera swung away, moving all the way around to the blonde's lust-contorted face, recording it in full so that there would be no doubt that this was Ingrid fucking in such an aphrodisiacal frenzy, no doubt of the film's potential for blackmail if Ingrid ever doubted her membership in the sex-circle. The older teenager's face was tightly contracted, her eyes rolling upward, as if in excruciating pain, although what Ingrid was feeling was not pain at all - her face convulsed so extremely because of the effort she was making to hold back her climax, to tone down her sensual super-sensitivity so that she could have more of this depraved fucking.
A passing circle member tapped on the cameraman's shoulder. "Want a sixth?" he asked. "Yeah. Why not?" said the cameraman. The passing circle member was already naked. He stroked his eagerly jerking cock into a greater hardness and then kneeled on the mattress directly before Ingrid's face. Her passion-dimmed eyes did not even notice him.
"Want a lollipop, honey?" the man asked.
Ingrid lowered her glance, saw the stiffly erected cock before her, and smiled in delight while the camera continued whirring away capturing her grateful reaction. She answered the man in kind.
"Need a suck, big boy?"
"Only as a favor to you, you hot little cunt," the man grinned. Ingrid's reaction was immediate: she took his impatiently waiting cock deep into her warm wet mouth, bobbed her head back and forth on it for several tight clasping strokes so that the man thought she really wanted to suck him and consequently relaxed. And then she bit into it with all her might!
"Aaaaaaaaaggggh! Christ, stop it, stop it!" the man said.
She stopped, having made her point. It seemed to the man that her soft sensuous lips, distorted as they were from grasping his penis, smiled mockingly up at him. Snarling, he rammed his painfully throbbing cock deep in her throat, his sperm-bloated balls smacking hard up against her chin. He would show the little bitch who was boss, by God!
The camera recorded all of it for posterity.
Once Ingrid was sucking his long thick cock in a regular pumping motion, without any more biting, the man shifted his position slightly so that he could reach over and fondle Linda's breasts. In this way he formed a connecting link between the two groups - Ingrid thirstily sucking his cock while another man fucked her accepting vagina from behind, as he himself fondled Linda's quivering breasts. Vance was still slamming his short thick penis in and out of Linda's wetly ovalled lips, and the other man was fucking Linda at a fevered staccato pitch to which the younger teenager responded in lewd circular gyrations.
There were six people on the mattress - two wantonly writhing teenage girls and four men. The camera circled around and around the group, ensuring that the faces of both ravished girls were given lots of footage, and that the entire cluster's lustfully orgiastic activities were well recorded for Vance's own private enjoyment. The lewd orgy had now progressed to the point that it was difficult to distinguish between the different naked bodies locked in a chain and taking enjoyment from each other. The group itself had a sort of life now apart from the excited individuals within it, and each person instinctively knew it. The entire obscenely intertwined group was now in such an explosive condition that the tiniest match could set it off.
This impetus was provided by Vance.
His wildly excited penis began to jerk spasmodically in Linda's ovalled young mouth as jets of his sticky white hot cum spurted frenziedly into Linda's throat; to keep from choking Linda as she swallowed, which produced a drawing suction within her contracting mouth causing Vance still greater joy.
"Oooooohhhhh," he sighed, "Jesus, is it good. God! Ooooohhhhhh!"
The young teenager came up between the group leader's legs with her hand and cradled his erupting balls, squeezing them gently as though to get more of the shooting sperm, while she continued sucking and swallowing hungrily, long strings of the viscous liquid trailing from her overflowing mouth and down her gulping white throat. Vance seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of sperm, and her cheeks bloated and hollowed as the warm, working cavern of her mouth filled and emptied, filled and emptied, while she swallowed desperately the pulsating cum spewing into it.
At the same time the man fucking into Linda's tight little cunt felt a gush of warmth around his thick pistoning cock as her orgasmic juices began to flow out from around the edges of his deeply embedded penis and down onto his emptying testicles.
Linda was cumming too, and she groaned out her ecstatic release as she continued her now uncontrolled gnawing on Vance's slowly deflating cock above. Linda's partner clenched his eyes tightly shut and felt his cum-filled balls begin to wildly erupt. His super heated sperm spurted like a fire hose through the end of his deep driving cock and squirted far up into the kneeling teenager's tightly convulsing vagina. He ground his pelvis around to dig the exploding head deeper and deeper into her hot little pussy and savor the last throbbing moments.
As Linda helplessly whimpered out the last throes of her orgasm, she groaned and dropped her head sideways, strings of hot sperm still lewdly connecting her face to Vance's withdrawn penis. Her other partner held his bursting loins close to hers, digging into the pliant flesh of her smooth firm buttocks to push her up to him as tightly as possible, until the last of his streaming cum was buried deep in her no longer virginal cunt, and then he slid his deflating cock gradually out of the wet, flooded hole of her cum-filled vagina. As soon as the man moved away, the camera zoomed greedily in to record the girl's passion-drenched vagina and the trails of their commingled juices flowing down her wearily trembling young thighs.
It was all too much for Ingrid, who had been holding her orgasm back for some minutes now, and her lust-secretions gushed all in an instant from her wetly palpitating vagina around the thick cock of the man fucking into her so deeply from behind. The kneeling blonde girl undulated her convulsing vaginal mound in buttock-wagging motions to get the most vaginal contact from the hard strokes which coincided thrillingly with her orgasm; and these very strokes set off her desire-crazed partner who ejaculated deep up inside her wildly clasping cunt in gush after gush of churning semen. The camera moved in to record this too - the fully debased, violated condition of Ingrid's wetly glistening cunt - as soon as the man withdrew.
The sixth person took only a moment longer. Ingrid during the throes of her orgasm had clamped tightly down on the cock she was so hungrily sucking and had twirled her tongue around and around on the sensitive part of his cocks head in an abandoned, automatic reaction to the orgasming excitement she was getting from behind. This set the man off, but Ingrid, in her excitement from her vaginal orgasm, jerked so violently that her mouth pulled away from the man's cock just as he began cumming. His hotly spewing sperm splashed on her forehead and cheeks and ran in lewd streams down her face. Putting her hand to her chin, she smeared the warm white sperm down to her mouth where she lapped it up, so hot was she, so anxious to consume the very last dregs of this forbidden orgy which had so turned her on.
Similar scenes were taking place throughout the room, with the exception that they were not being filmed. Vance's cameraman filmed away until all six satiated bodies lay collapsed on the couch exhausted, only dimly aware of what was going on elsewhere in the room.
On the screen the Indian girl was being sandwiched between the man's penis in her tight young cunt and the man embedded to the hilt in her rectum, and with a third male thrusting in her mouth. Suddenly she reached out her hands and the camera revealed two more eagerly squatting men, one on each side, so that she could fondle their stiffly erected cocks with her hands ... and then it was a five-way fuck ... one 13 year old Indian girl on her knees and five males . . .
Vance was recovering himself - recovering also his desire - and he avidly studied the film. It was one of his favorites.
No one knew, of course, that he had personally made it in the course of his travels. He had found the innocent young girl and paid her father less than ten dollars; he had found the grass plateau, hired guards to ensure that the filming would not be disturbed, and hired for pennies the five men the girl was fucking. The Indian girl had been an excellent choice - a real virgin and just child-like enough to present a stark contrast to the grown men possessing her. And yet, she was strong enough to consume them, to devour and satisfy them without damaging herself. It was quite a sight to see her now raising her slender young arms up and down like a bird trying to take off as she massaged the erect, blood-filled penises of the two men squatting anxiously at her sides, while simultaneously she bobbed her head back and forth on the pulsating hardness impaling her widely ovalled mouth. That alone would have been enough for any girl, but this one was also moving her small, rounded buttocks up and down like an oil rig, in a by now well-established lewd collaboration with the two men sandwiching her virginal cunt and equally virginal anus. She lowered her little white belly as the man below her pumped up into her hotly clasping pussy; then she raised her girlish, white hips up against the man reaming into her forever-stretched rectum. It was clear that she was masochistically enjoying all of this abuse, though she had not at the start; somewhere in the process the dramatic change had occurred. This girl was taking five violently aroused men and being filmed at it, and for money; given that, and given those five long shafts of male flesh stuffed into her helpless openings to the very hilt, she might as well enjoy it.
It was incredible how long the brutally abused girl kept it up, and with what insane relish. The camera now far enough moved away to show the strange, perverted forms and patterns the gyrating participants made. The group looked like a fantastic, well-oiled machine, of which the girl was the central, key moving part. She had coordinated the raising of her hips with the lowering of her mouth on the cock she was quickly sucking, so that her nakedly arched body rocked back and forth on her stomach as though she were the rocker of a rocking chair. When she rocked forward she took the lust-thickened cock deep into her hungrily sucking mouth and her elevating young buttocks vigorously met the squirming loins of the penis sunk so deeply in her rectum. Then she rocked back, receding from the long, blood-inflated shaft in her mouth, receding also from the cock buried deep up in her rectum in order to firmly meet the lust-thickened penis fucking into her cunt. All the while her hands stroked massagingly over the stiff, upright cocks of the two remaining men at her sides. All regular as a well-tuned machine! It was amazing, Vance reflected, that the film had come off so well.
And still more amazing was that he'd brought it all off with Rosemary. She was getting Clark in her virginal rectum and that was the ultimate abuse that Vance could demand of her. He turned his back on the film to see the progress of the cruel sodomy. It was clear that Rosemary was anxious to end the painful, obscene ceremony, so anxious that she was pretending to enjoy it. She hungrily followed the idiot's out-strokes with her nakedly uplifting buttocks as though desperate to retain the sodomizing penis in her rectum, and on the in-strokes she twirled her ass cheeks back onto Clark's wildly thrusting penis. Yet her expression was so neutral and grim that Vance - knowing well her strong character - could tell she was faking. She was trying to make Clark think - or feel - that she lasciviously liked it, in order to end her humiliating agony. Vance felt cheated - and he was by no means a man who could be easily cheated.
He paced back and forth before the obscenely copulating couple. Clark seemed capable of continuing forever. Other couples - done with their own salacious activities or else just drawn to Rosemary's piercing animal-like groans - began to gather in a little heated cluster around Vance to watch the muscular barman pounding into Rosemary's defenselessly flailing buttocks.
What can I do? Vance wondered, so drawn into his contemplation of subjugated Rosemary that he forgot he was revealingly naked in the presence of others, and that his short penis was again erect. Should I make a film? No - Vance had a kind of honor, and that would be breaking it. No ... no, he would do something else. He would give Rosemary a sort of final good-bye . ..
In the brief period of his conniving thoughts a change had come over Rosemary. Her grim expression had been replaced by one of authentic licentious enjoyment, and her wild buffeting back and forth on Clark's huge, wetly glistening penis had speeded up still more. She was no longer faking; no - amazingly - she was now actually enjoying it! Enjoying being sodomized by the sexually aroused idiot! Vance took note of how much secretions her wetly excited cunt was spewing down her sleek inner thighs.
"Clark," Vance said. The lust-maddened idiot fucked on, not hearing him or not caring to.
"Clark!" the group leader repeated.
The muscle-bound servant turned his head slightly to meet Vance's eyes, but so intense was his lewd excitement that his cock continued plummeting steadily in and out of Rosemary's wildly rotating buttocks in the same tempo.
"Turn her over, Clark, turn her over!"
her fairly shouted at the preoccupied imbecile.
Clark, barely hearing Vance's pleas, locked his brute's hands tightly to Rosemary's upthrusting hips and rolled to the side, pulling her nakedly voluptuous body backwards on top of him. His huge, throbbing cock was still sunk deep inside her clinging rectum as she lay full length on her back tight against his heaving stomach and chest. Her wantonly trembling thighs were splayed on the outside of his legs, a low pleading mewl coming from her wet, tortured lips. "Fuck me . . . keep fucking, Clark. Oh God! You can't stop now!"
The domineering group leader lost no time. He leaped excitedly over between Rosemary's widespread legs, straddling Clark's knees and pushed her frantically quivering thighs farther apart still. Vance grasped his hard, thickly aching cock in his hands and guided it without a moment's delay deep up into the moist open cavern of her waiting young pussy.
"Oooooooooh," she groaned as his thick shaft of hot male flesh slithered deep up inside her cock-hungry belly, joining Clark's long, distended penis already buried there in her penis-impaled rectum. She lay moaning and sobbing from the pain and the humiliation, the terrible shame of being cruelly sandwiched between the two of them, skewered helplessly between their two lust-driven cocks, with only the thin wall of flesh between her rectum and cunt separating the two wildly throbbing shafts.
There was no delay! The excited host was already so excited from watching Clark's cruel abuse of her tight virginal anus that he began to furiously fuck into her warmly moistened pussy, while Clark beneath began thrusting up with long hard strokes into the hot rubbery depth of her rectum. It took a moment, but then the two men began a natural, coordinated rhythm, a depraved rhythm of buffeting Rosemary between them like a sack of soft resilient foam rubber. She was uttering a single low whine which went on and on all the time they fucked into her, interrupted only occasionally by a deep grunt from her pain-contorted lips as they smacked into her naked young body with harder and harder force.
The two teenagers, Linda and Ingrid had joined the small eagerly watching crowd clustered around this unusual and sadistic scene. Linda watched mesmerized, her eyes a scant few feet from where the two thick cocks skewered into Rosemary's wide-stretched loins like twin battering rams. Her widened lust-dimmed eyes watched the wetly glistening penises - slamming in, pulling out... slamming in . ..
She could see the fluted pink edges of her cousin's cunt drawing out with Vance's unusually thick cock on the outstroke and disappearing smoothly back inside as he rammed it home again deep up in her subjugated belly. The same was true with the tightly clasping opening of her wide-stretched anus as the idiot Clark screwed up into it from below with an animal fury.
On and on it went as Rosemary experienced a strange kind of masochistic joy, perhaps from the very helplessness of her position or from the lewd, obscene thought of being fucked half to death by two men at once like this. Or by the realization that, when this was done, she would at long last be free. Whatever it was, she felt it, and all watching her could clearly see she felt it.
The young wife's hips began to move backwards to meet the upthrust of Clark's penis cramming into her tender young rectum and then forward again to quickly swallow the whole of Vance's thick plunging cock up into her steaming pussy. Her whole voluptuous body undulated now between the two building excited men, and her naked white buttocks pumped like a run away machine in tiny abandoned circles.
"Oooooh, oooooooh, ooooooooooh," she chanted on and on in time to their deep crushing thrusts against her helpless cunt and rectum. Wilder and wilder they became, unmercilessly punishing her between them like a puppet. All three of their lewdly aroused groans intermingled in a symphony of mad sexual abandonment.
Rosemary screamed first.
"Aaaaaaaaagh," and then a longer one. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaggggggh! Oh God, keep on ... keep on! I'm cuummmmmmm -mmmmiiinnng!"
The ravished young wife was out of her mind with masochistic desire now and began sobbing out her wildly mounting orgasm that seemed to go on and on. The men, sensing their total conquest of her body and mind, both plunged forward at the same time embedding their suddenly ejaculating cocks deep into her pussy and anus and wildly pumped their hot male sperm far, far up into her heaving belly.
Finally, they collapsed in a spent and satiated heap for a moment. Vance rolled from off the top of Rosemary's limp body, his penis, still thick and hard in spite of his orgasm, slipping gradually from her warm, wide-stretched cunt with a wet sucking noise that could be heard the full length of the room. Rosemary lay still, flat on her back on top of the huge panting Clark. His slowly deflating cock was still embedded far up in her no longer virginal anus, and she looked as though she were in a mindless daze. She lay there, atop an almost unconscious Clark, not thinking, not feeling ...
Vance, dressed again, remembered Clark.
"O.K., Clark, she's had enough now," he said, standing over the couple to make his authority more obvious.
The dull-witted servant pushed Rosemary's smoothly flaring hips straight up in the air with his hands until the end of his satiated cock slipped from her tightly clasping rectum, an obscene lewd pop of rushing air sounding throughout the room. As the idiotic muscle man scooped up his clothes and went back to the bar, the others returned to their various booths, many combining in threes to duplicate the prurient scene Rosemary, Vance, and Clark had so passionately demonstrated. The two teenage girls Ingrid and Linda took part in such a cluster of strange, unknown lovers, being willingly buffeted back and forth like limp rag dolls until their various partners had spurted the last of their white hot sperm deep up into their widely expanded twin passages.
But for Rosemary, the evening was done - and so were, she hoped to God, all such evenings. She eventually dressed and sat with her eyes and teeth clenched tightly shut, trying to ignore the salacious sounds and sights still going on throughout the infernal room dedicated to utter lasciviousness; she tried to forget, to bury, the shame of what she had endured and - God help her! - had even encouraged tonight.
As she left, with the cans of film under her arms, she looked back just once toward the two innocent young girls she had tricked into taking her place in the circle.
Then, tears streaming down her face, raced out into the night. .. toward freedom . .. and home . .. and a new life, without fear, with Kevin!
