enovel Diary Of A Hooker Alma Ballou [Future Story Codes]

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Diary Of A Hooker ....(93k)    by Alma Ballou

CHAPTER ONE

You have heard of us. Whenever sex is discussed as the art it can and should be, the name "Manton" will be spoken. If there is a rich man in the group, he may get a faraway look in his eyes.

"I spent a night with a Manton once," he remembers. "God, what a woman! What a night! Oh, it wasn't a virgin night. I was never fortunate enough to attend an auction. But, all in all, it was something to remember."

Our family name is famous among connoisseurs of femininity all over the world for good reason. From the time we are born we are trained to have one aim in life: to please and satisfy men for a price. Our fee is high, but we are worth it. We have to be. The field of harlotry is overcrowded by amateurs and dilettantes.

Why do men come to us? For every man a different reason, but they all can be reduced to one thing. They want a night to remember; the best they have ever had. We give it to them and they pay for it-at least a thousand dollars. But when the nights are over and they stride out of our rooms, they remember the night and forget the cost. If they can afford it, they come back for more. In later generations they send their sons.

This is my story. My name is Silver and I am one of the Manton Women: A Dynasty of Whores.

The day a Manton Woman leaves home for the first time should be the happiest of her life. On that day, she begins to fulfill her destiny. So it was with me, but first I had to swallow two disappointments.

A year can be a long time. It seemed like forever since I had seen my sister, Golda, and today she was coming home but I was leaving. There is just a year's difference in our ages and we have always been very close. We needed hours, even days, to talk about her adventures and the things she had learned and done. Instead we would have only minutes.

My second disappointment came when we learned that Mother would have to fly to one of our northern plants on business. Money is nice, but sometimes the handling of a fortune can be demanding. As financial head of the family, Mother is sometimes forced to be away from us for weeks. She does it because it is her duty and enjoyment of duty is the foundation of our lives. But it can be an aggravation, just the same, and she said as much.

"Be a good girl, Silver, and do as they tell you," she instructed. "It won't be for long, just a year, and you'll be back home again."

I started to protest, "I want to stay here with you and Golda."

"Don't talk nonsense," she smiled. "All the Manton Women go when it is their time. We all go and we all come back set up for the rest of our lives."

She pulled me close to her breast, hugging me and kissing my cheek. Then she was gone down the front walk to the town car where Stuart held the door open for her. As he walked around to get in the chauffeur's seat, I went out on the porch to wave to her. She smiled gaily and waved back as they drove away.

As soon as they were out of sight, Grandmother called me inside to get ready. She had dismissed the servants for the afternoon. My little sisters, Pearl and Ruby, had gone on an outing with our old governess. They wanted to stay behind, but Grandmother hurried them away, telling them, "Your time will come soon enough."

As Grandmother helped me into the perfumed bath, tucking my long, blonde hair up from the water, I chatted away.

"I can't wait for Go Ida to get home. I wish I could stay and visit with her. We have so much to talk about."

Grandmother laughed at my chatter and started to soap me with the fine, french-milled soap she and Mother have always insisted we use.

"You'll have even more to talk about when your year is over. Now be quiet or you'll get soap in your mouth."

Although our house is filled with servants, Grandmother and Mother have always insisted on the ritual of bathing each of us girls once a day. In their hands we are treated like pieces of fine china. They are as careful of our bodies as they are of their own. No blemish is ever found on our skins and, all through our growing years, we are guarded against cuts and scrapes that leave ugly scars.

I relaxed under her ministrations and enjoyed the pleasant excitement as she stroked the rich lather on my breasts and into the hollows of my arms.

To be a Manton Woman is special. You are loved and petted, cared for and sheltered. No man servant ever sets foot in our house. Even Stuart, the chauffeur, always waits at the curb and takes his meals in a special room next to the garage with old Hawkins, the caretaker, and Nori, the gardener. We never go to public schools but are tutored by carefully chosen women who arrive punctually at the school hour in the morning and depart promptly at two o'clock when lessons are finished for the day.

Then another class begins, tutored by Mother or Grandmother. From these lessons we learn the destiny of a Manton Woman; the rewards and the duties.

A thrill swept over me as I stepped from the bath and dried myself. I was more than ready to begin my life as a Manton Woman.

Grandmother brushed out my hair, leaving it trailing long with just a little curl at the ends. I slipped into a filmy, pale green wrapper that stretched tight against my full breasts, the nipples making small pink spots against the soft green cloth. The full folds of the skirt gave just a vague outline of the soft, golden pubic hairs.

Grandmother gave me a whirl before the mirror. "You're a Manton, all right. Beautiful and perfect."

Grateful for the compliment, I threw my arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. Just then the front doorbell sounded in the hall below.

"Hurry now," she whispered, conspiratorily. "They're here!"

I hurried ahead into the parlor as she made her way to the door. I could hear her joyous greetings with Golda and the low tones of a man's voice. That would be Wade, the man coming to take me away.

"Wade, Wade," I whispered the name over and over. I had never met a man before and I wondered what he would think of me. Would I measure up to the Manton standard? I wanted to stay behind with Golda so badly, but I wanted to succeed as a Manton even more.

Then they were coming into the room. Golda winked at me and made a silent clap of her hands behind their backs, approving of my appearance. Then my gaze was on Wade and I forgot my sister entirely. God, he was beautiful!

Rich black hair waved back from his temples. He was tall and had broad, thick shoulders. The backs of his powerful hands were covered with thick, curling hairs. My eyes fastened on his manliness and I had to suck air into my lungs to control myself. He was huge. His pants stretched tight across that appealing male bulge. I wanted to go to it, put my hands on it and watch it flower as I had been taught it would.

A pulsing started in the pit between my legs and I could feel a moisture starting to form as desire for him swept over me.

Wade took the chair my Grandmother offered. Golda sat nearby, watching, her tongue wetting her lips.

A silence grew in the room as Wade returned my gaze. Then his eyes slipped down to my breasts. I turned around slowly for his inspection, but my eyes went back to the bulge in his trousers. Fascinated by his male hugeness, I wanted him now.

Wade broke the silence.

"All right, let's have a real look at her," he said quietly.

"Silver," Grandmother prompted. But I didn't need reminding. My hands hastened to untie the bow at the neckline of the wrapper and let it drop to the floor.

Wade stood up and walked toward me. My brain reeled and the points of my breasts began to burn. I wanted to touch and be touched.

Grandmother's voice cut through the roaring in my ears.

"She's a Manton. There's not a blemish on her. She's virgin and she's been well instructed."

He waved at her to be silent. "I can see for myself what she looks like. But what's underneath?"

Then his hands were on my naked shoulders and I could feel their warmth flooding through me.

They were rough and male, like wool against the skin. His palms moved down to cup my breasts; his thumbs reaching over to rotate and press against the nipples, which became hard as rocks. I pushed against those hands, wanting more of this new feeling. He laughed and let'me go.

"Oh, she's Manton all right. You're a ready bunch, aren't you?"

Then he pulled me to him and I could feel the outlines of his penis through his pants as he pressed against me. He began to stroke my buttocks, building a fire that only he could quench. His finger slipped between the soft mounds and entered my anus. I let out a sharp cry of delight as another passionate drum began to beat.

Then he pressed me back on a chaise lounge and his hands pulled around to spread my legs. He began to stroke the golden triangle of hair. Then he spread the lips of my vulva and began manipulating my clitoris. I moaned with joy, unable to contain the expectation and delight that I knew for the first time.

Then he pulled away again and put his hands on my soft belly.

"Be still, Silver. Be still. Quiet down," he ordered. "I'm going to feel to see if you're still a virgin. I don't want to hurt or break you."

I gasped for air several times before I could slow the desire that was driving me against his hands.

Grandmother's voice cut in sharply. "Silver, you are a Manton. Now prove it!"

I tensed my legs and pulled my thoughts away as his fingers went into my vagina. He spread the lips carefully. Then one finger of his other hand slid inside me, pushing softly at the protective wall of my hymen. I screamed and pressed against that finger, but he snatched his hand back.

Grandmother rushed over and grasped my shoulders, pulling me back down on the chaise lounge.

"That's okay, Mrs. Manton," he laughed. "I felt it. It's still there."

Grandmother stroked my shoulders to pacify me as I gasped for air and tried to quell my desire. I looked over toward Wade, my eyes pleading with him to come back, to enter me. He stood a few feet away, starting to remove his clothing.

I watched, fascinated, as his barrel, muscular chest was revealed with the hard, papillary coins. Thick black hair made a virile mat on his body. Then he removed his trousers and his masculinity was there for me to see. It was huge and erect; the soft pink point broad and flat. The full, double sack below pulled at me like a magnet and I hurried to kneel at his feet.

Now it was my turn to feel and my hands went wild with desire as I cupped his balls in them. I could feel an answering pulsation building up inside him. I cradled his penis between the soft mounds of my breast and began to rub my roseates in his rich hair.

Then I began to stroke his penis, pulling the loose skin back and forth with my hand. It answered by becoming harder and fuller. I pressed my lips against the satiny head, which was softer than anything I had ever felt before. Heat pulsed through my mouth and I opened it wide to admit more of the pleasure. I took all of him I could and then began to suck and pull at him. My hands slipped around his hard, tight buttocks to pull more and more of him inside me.

"Let him come," I begged silently. "I want to taste it. I want to feel him in my throat."

But he pushed me away before I could complete him. I tried to lunge after him, but Grandmother held my shoulders again and pulled me into another chair. She stroked my hair, soothing me with her soft voice.

"Watch, Silver. Watch them carefully. This is the way you ultimately please a man."

Golda had stripped now and was stretched out on the chaise lounge, her long legs spread slightly, her breath coming hard and fast. Wade dropped himself on top of her and her arms and legs twined around him. His tongue made a hard shaft that plunged again and again between her lips. His hands pulled against her breasts, tugging them into quivering mounds with hard points of desire that pressed against his own chest mounds as if seeking forbidden entry.

Golda's hands grasped the hard shaft of his penis and began working it up and down against her clitoris. Then his legs spread hers wide apart and she pushed her hands down between her legs and placed the pulsating pink head at the mouth of her vagina.

"Now, now, now," she moaned.

My heart thundered in my breast and I felt a warm pool of liquid between my own legs as he poised for a moment over that waiting opening. Then he plunged inside her and I had to close my eyes to shut out the sight or go mad.

Golda screamed sharply and I had to watch again. He was pressing deep inside her, pushing and pushing, but still the entire shaft was not in her. Her legs wrapped around his waist and helped to pull him in. Her face was twisted in painful ecstasy as he pushed more and more of his male instrument into her body.

"All of it," she moaned. "Don't cut me short this time. Give it to me."

"You're going to get it," he answered. "Every last inch, just like I promised."

Then she had all of him. Her vagina was pressed close around the base of his penis and she twisted her hips back and forth on the lounge, enjoying the strain of his entry. Her flat stomach was pulled into a tight knot of pleasure.

Then he pulled back and plunged into her again. She screamed in pain and he pulled back once more, but her legs tightened him to her again.

I could feel the pain in my own loins and my hand reached down to my clitoris and I began to rub it as I watched. The desire was building up inside and I knew I had to find some way of release. But Grandmother pulled my hand away and held it.

"Watch, Silver," she commanded. "You'll have to wait for yours."

So I watched as the frenzy of their lovemaking built in intensity. The rest of the world disappeared except for their two splendid bodies joining, parting and joining again.

His touch moved over her, giving pleasure and pain. His hands closed over her breasts, squeezing them tight. Only the hard, red nipples rose from his grasp. His mouth closed first on one and then the other as he pulled on them with his teeth and stroked them with his tongue. Golda's body arched against his, convulsively, and he drew back his head and laughed.

"Wait for me, baby," he gasped. "I'm starting now."

Golda moaned and increased the pumping of her hips. His hands moved down to her buttocks and pulled her hard against him. She screamed helplessly and her body twitched as she gave herself up to a tremendous orgasm. From deep inside him, a gasping roar came from Wade as he joined her.

My own body twitched with excitement and vicarious joy. Juices poured forth between my legs and my fingers gripped at Grandmother's hand.

They lay gasping together for a few moments before Wade withdrew from between her legs. Golda rolled over and put her feet on the floor. He gave her a small slap on the fanny.

"You're a damn good piece, Golda," he said. "Too bad you aren't my type."

"You do all right, considering," she answered. Then she moved toward me with her arms outstretched.

"See, Silver," she said, joyously. "It's wonderful."

My eyes remained fastened on Wade as he stood, naked, across the room. His manhood was depleted and it hung soft and vulnerable. I wanted to go to him and excite him again with my lips, but Grandmother was bustling around the room.

"Now run along with Golda," she told me. "Wade and I have business to discuss while you get ready for your trip."

I left reluctantly, hardly able to tear myself away from Wade's company. Golda insisted. We had a lot to talk about, she reminded me, and so little time.

As I dressed in my street clothes we chattered like magpies, trying to make up for the year just past and the long twelve months ahead. Most of my questions were about Wade. I could not keep my mind off of him for even a moment. Golda sensed that I was more than just interested in him.

"Watch out for Wade," she cautioned. "He's only interested in women for the money he can make from them. Being a Manton will get you exactly no place with him."

I tried to laugh at her warning, but she went on.

"And don't get too friendly with Nikki. She's your boss while you're at the Town House and don't forget it. But don't get involved with her.

She's dangerous."

"You make it sound like I'm heading into all kinds of dark intrigues," I laughed.

Her face softened and she took me in her arms and held me close.

"You'll have a fine year," she said. "You'll learn about sex and men and come home ready to take your place with the best of the Manton Women."

"How does it feel to have your year over?" I asked.

Golda looked around the quiet elegance of our home.

"Wonderful," she said. "I've graduated. From now on, I screw for fun."

CHAPTER TWO

The story of the Manton Women began in the months just after the Civil War when the South was ground in poverty, invaded by blue-coat soldiers and beaten to its knees.

Crystal Manton and her three younger sisters were left alone on their devastated plantation. Their slave owner father had deserted them by putting a dueling pistol ball through his own head. The four young girls huddled together, starving while the cotton crop rotted in the fields, trying to figure a way out of their predicament.

Then, in the middle of the night, the drum of hooves on the road before the house awakened them. A group of Union soldiers was riding up to the front door.

Crystal quickly sent her sisters down the back stairs with orders to hide themselves in the fields. When they were safely gone, she went alone to answer the thunderous pounding that threatened to shake the door from its frame.

Five drunken troopers stumbled into the entry hall. The first one grabbed her and started to kiss her while the others raced for the stairway.

Crystal pushed the man away from her.

"Gentlemen, my sisters are gone," she lied. "I sent them into the city for safety."

"She's telling the truth, Marty," called one of the men from the top of the stairs. "There's nobody up here."

Marty pulled her against him again, pressing her body against the hard rod of his penis, grinding himself against her. His rough hand reached inside her nightdress to cup her firm breast in his palm.

"You'll have to do for all of us, then," he grated.

She struggled in his grasp and pushed him away again.

"I intend to," she said, coolly. "But I will not be handled this way."

One of the other men intervened. "She's got guts. Give it to her easy. If the gal is willing, there's no need to rape her."

"Of course not," said Crystal. "If you rape me, you might damage me and I wouldn't be able to do justice to you all."

Her mind raced as she moved away from the panting Marty, enticing the men into the drawing room. She and her sisters needed money and these Union soldiers should have their pockets full. If there was no other way to get it but to offer her virginity, she would do so. But first she must make sure that money would be given.

In the drawing room she hurried to light candles. One of the men struck a light to the small fire in the grate. In the flickering glow she turned to face them.

"You are men of means and intelligence," she said. One of the men guffawed, but she ignored him. "You apparently have a taste for better things than town girls and wenches or you wouldn't be here after me and my sisters."

Marty agreed, "You're right, woman, We've had enough of those clapmongers. We decided to get something clean tonight."

"Very well, then," she said. "You should be willing to pay for it."

"You spoke the truth," laughed Marty. "She has got guts."

"Okay, little woman," laughed Emery-he had intervened in her behalf. "How much do you want?"

Her hands moved to the strings that bound her nightdress at the neck. She shrugged the thin cloth down over her shoulders. It caught for a moment and hung on the erect points of her full, upthrust breasts. Then it slipped to the floor, revealing her gently rounded hips and the soft mound of golden hair between her long, tapered legs.

The men became alert, their hot eyes moving over her creamy body. They leaned forward like stalking animals sighting their prey. She began to walk around the room past each of them.

"What am I offered?" she asked, softly. "What am I bid for a clean virgin of seventeen?"

The only sounds in the room came from the crackling fire and the harsh breaths of the hungry-eyed men.

"Who will be first?" she asked. "Surely he should pay more for the pleasure-and I guarantee you pleasure for I'll do more than just submit."

"Ten dollars," breathed the leader. "Shit, Marty, that's worth a hundred," growled Emery.

"Are you bidding that much?" asked Marty. "Hell, yes," said Emery. "I have a hundred and ten," called Leveque. "One-twenty," yelled Billy, a fresh-faced youngster.

"Two hundred Yankee dollars," shouted Jemmy, a farm boy.

The bidding grew wild as Crystal moved among them, working the men against each other. The raises finally halted at five hundred. Emery had won. He laughed at the amount and said he could steal more where that came from. He moved toward her, but Crystal held up a hand.

"Now, how much from the others?" she murmured.

The men howled with laughter at the gall she was displaying but they haggled money for a few moments, then settled on a total price of a thousand dollars.

Crystal moved among them, her white body gleaming in the candlelight, as she collected first. Then she went to the brocade couch and reclined on it.

"Now," she invited Emery.

The big man stood over her, his eyes taking in every inch of her curved flesh. Then he began removing his clothing. Thick, coarse hair matted his chest and arrowed toward his genitals. His hips and thighs were blocks of muscle. He knelt on the couch between her legs and began to stroke her breasts.

The other men stripped down, too, unwilling to waste time when their turns came. Billy began to mastrubate.

"Save it, sonny," growled Marty. "When you shoot your wad, do it in her."

Emery made no move to enter her at first. He pressed his penis into'her soft pubic hair and fitted his balls into the warm pocket between her legs. Lowering himself upon her, be began to kiss her; his tongue darting in and out between her teeth, gripping at her tongue and sucking it into his mouth. Then he tilted her head back and kissed the hollows of her neck. His hands began to stroke her breasts and when they were hard, erect points of passion, he closed his mouth over one of the peaks. Crystal let out a gasp of pleasure and pulled his head hard against her breast. She rocked her hips back and forth, rubbing his penis with excited intensity.

He continued to fondle her until her hips were undulating madly. Then he pulled back from her.

"Okay, hellcat. If you want it, you're going to have to take it. I'm not going to break your maidenhead, I'll let you do it."

He took her hands and placed them on his penis and helped her guide it to the vagina. He inserted it just far enough to rest against the protective wall of her hymen. She shuddered at the contact, a small orgasm sweeping over her. He pulled her legs up around his waist and told her to grip him.

"Now, when you want it, you'll have to pull it in," he told her.

He began to tug at her breasts with a steady, milking motion, each stroke ending with a slight tweak of the nipple. She gasped from the small pain and another little orgasm caused her to tighten her legs.

Emery's hand moved to her clitoris. Then a larger orgasm gripped her and her legs clinched him, pulling his shaft inside her.

The other men in the room cheered as he began to pump up and down between her legs, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Give it to her, Emery," yelled one of them.

"Screw her raw," Marty screamed.

But Emery was not listening. Blood roared in his ears and the only thing in the world was the twisting, throbbing white body that pressed against him, hips pumping in rhythm with his own. Her hands were moving over him, gripping at him with pleasure as if trying to pull all of him within her. Her lips moved over his rough, bearded face, tongue licking out to touch him, small teeth biting.

Crystal knew nothing of control at that time. She had never been taught to hold herself back to bring a man along slowly. Caught in her own passion, she was entering into the love act with greedy abandon. All she could do was drive herself against the hard rod of pleasure inside her loins; seeking for a flood that would quell the raging fires inside her.

Emery had never felt such desire in a woman before. He had serviced tavern bitches, farm girls and listless whores, but this was the first time he had ever laid a woman equal to his own stamina.

Love juice was squirting into the hair at the base of his penis, but the tight, hot mouth of the vagina held him locked inside. Her orgasm began to build regularly with growing intensity and his own orgasm was beginning to grow. He felt like a man mounting a throne. One more step and he would reach the top. One more, one more....

He drove deep inside her, the flood of semen bursting from him in a torrent. Hot flames licked at the base of his spine as he tried to plant it further, further, further inside. He gasped at the release and buried his bearded face between her soft breasts.

Crystal let out a long, sighing moan and her own body gave itself up to one large, twisting orgasm that pulsed from her throat to the points of her breasts, down through the juice-filled canal of love and out along her throbbing, clenched legs.

There was a moment of silence in the room before Marty put a rough hand on Emery's shoulder and pulled him from between Crystal's legs. Weakened from his orgasm, Emery tumbled aside and lay on his back on the floor, gasping for hair. His huge rod was small and limp and he could not find strength to rise-Marty was a stranger to the refinements of sex and he was feeling cheated. Emery had taken it all, it seemed. There could be nothing left in the woman for him but a wet channel for his pecker to pump in until it burst.

Crawling between her legs, he placed one hand under her buttocks and, using the other hand to guide himself, placed his penis in her vagina and drove it in.

Feeling the new, strong instrument inside her, Crystal came alive again. The vast orgasm that had swept her a moment before was forgotten as she took this new tool and began to work it. Knowing now what was at the end of the act, her body was eager for more of the new, engulfing sensation.

Her legs locked around him and her arms went around Marty's neck, pulling his mouth down to her breast. When his lips and teeth closed over the nipple, she began to grind her breast into him, her hands locking on the back of his head to hold him closer and closer. Her small tongue found his ear and began to seek entry, flicking in and out with the same stroke that he was keeping as he pounded into her.

Now that he was getting something for his money, Marty wanted it all. He wanted her to come with him and he had his own trick for causing that. Her body was twisting again in small, fierce orgasms, so he knew she was enjoying the act. But he wanted that last, great surge to come in time with his own.

As he felt her pace quicken and his own orgasm was throbbing toward conclusion, with one hand he lifted her buttocks enough to let the other hand land a stinging slap across the taut, white cheek.

Then they came together. Their bodies locked in communal ecstasy, each feeling the drum beat of the other's satisfaction.

Leveque, the French immigrant, was next and he had his own tastes. The hollow between Crystal's legs was filled with the combined juices of three passions. He buried his face in this musky moistness, his beard scratching at the inside to her thighs as he nuzzled her. The faint taste of blood from her broken hymen heightened the pleasure and he drove his tongue deep within her to lap at the wetness. Crystal rewarded him with another small orgasm and her hands reached for him.

Without removing his face from her crotch, he twisted around so that his male instrument pressed against her face.

Instinctively, Crystal knew what the movement meant. She gripped his penis with one hand while the other began to explore the taut sacks at its base. Then her tongue licked at the soft head, testing it and savoring it.

Leveque pushed himself against her mouth, and she opened wider to admit more of him, her lips slipping down around the shaft. He began to pump up and down in her mouth, gently, as her tongue continued to explore. She started to suck, matching the "pull of her mouth with the prod of the wet, darting instrument within her thighs. Her hands locked around his hips and her legs closed around his head, binding him to her.

Then she and the Frenchman were deep in a joint orgasm. The gush of juice in her throat caused her to strangle a little, but she swallowed deeply several times and continued her assault on the dwindling penis. She gained one last, small squirt of semen for her efforts and Leveque lifted his head from her legs and gave a vast, satisfied sigh.

The two youngest men were next. Billy, the first one, had become over-excited by the scene and ejaculated as he attempted to mount her. He sobbed with expended passion and emotion but Emery assured him he'd get another chance.

Jemmy, the last boy, hung back.

"What the hell's the matter with you, boy? Get on her!" ordered Marty.

"I never done it with a woman before," the farm boy protested. "All I ever had was pigs and heifers."

"She's sure no pig," laughed Emery. "But do it ass-hole if that's what you're used to. She promised to give us anything we want."

Leveque had an idea that would solve two things at once. He had Billy sit on a table, his limp instrument dangling between his legs. Crystal bent over him and took the lifeless object in her mouth and began to suck.

Jemmy stood behind her, his hands stroking the soft rounds of her buttocks. Then he parted them and his finger began to explore the small, tight rose of her anus. He inserted a finger into the round hole and began to probe.

"God, she's tight," he moaned. "I don't know if I can get it in her."

Crystal welcomed his fingers and twitched her hips, pushing her buttocks toward him, asking for his entry. She began to suck harder on Billy's penis, which began to erect. Her arms encircled his waist and he reached down and took a breast in each hand and began to milk and tweak them as he had seen Emery do earlier.

Jemmy pressed the head of his penis against the small, tight round hold and gradually began to work himself inside. He gasped with pain several times before the head slipped through. She worked with him, her hips moving to help as he pushed more and more of the hard rod into her.

Billy was feeling the strength of her renewed desire as she sucked and bit at his instrument. His hips worked in answer and his breath came in short, hard gasps.

Jemmy leaned over Crystal's back, his hands reaching around to claw at her crotch. Her sensations quickened as she felt his urge growing. His penis throbbed within her anus and a similar pulse grew in the one in her mouth.

Jemmy gasped as he came within her and his knees buckled. Billy groaned as he pushed up with his penis into her mouth. Crystal started on her own massive orgasm as he came, spurting juice into her throat. Before she was through, the limp Jemmy behind her was pushed aside and Emery mounted her dog style. Marty pushed Billy aside and thrust his own stiff instrument into Crystal's dripping mouth.

At dawn the five men rode from the plantation, satisfied with their bargain. Each had taken her at least three times. Leveque had attained a fourth orgasm when he introduced Jemmy to anal penetration in reverse. All of them were weak with exhaustion from their efforts.

Crystal, too, was tired, but she had things to accomplish that day. Using the Yankee dollars they had paid, she bought a tired old horse and hitched it to the last remaining carriage on the plantation. She and her sisters hastily packed their few belongings. By nightfall they were on their way to New Orleans. Then she slept.

CHAPTER THREE

As Crystal told her sisters later, "From the moment I first felt Emery's hands on my breasts, I knew that I enjoyed sex. Before that I had never really looked forward to it. Most of the women I knew took little pleasure in bedroom duties and their husbands were happier pestering slave girls than struggling for satisfaction from their cold wives. But when that bearded stranger touched me, hot fires began to burn in my loins and I knew that I was different."

She continued; "Sex is an art. From that moment on I dedicated myself to becoming its master and its slave. But my reasoning went further than that. Five rough, drunken rapists had been cajoled into paying a thousand Yankee dollars for something they could have taken freely. In the proper setting, with the right handling, what price would men of good taste and breeding pay?"

In New Orleans she used her remaining money to rent a small house in a quiet section of the city. Here she began readying her sisters for their roles in the Manton future, while she "entertained" carefully selected officers from the Yankee garrison.

As she gave herself to each new man, she slyly dropped hints of future pleasures in her house. A whispering campaign started among the men in the city and in a few weeks some of the Southern aristocracy, left suspiciously rich in spite of the Yankee invasion, were calling on her. At the end of several months she felt that the time was right. She discreetly passed word to all the past callers that she was holding a Grand Soiree.

The richest men in New Orleans gathered there that night. French wine flowed freely and the soft, flickering candlelight gave the small living room an unwarranted patina of elegance. Expensive cigar smoke plumed the air. A small Negro maid with artfully bared breasts moved among the men, lighting their cigars and refilling their glasses.

At the moment when all the men seemed most relaxed and ready for an evening's entertainment, Crystal swept into the room leading her eldest sister, Opal, by the hand.

Opal wore a filmy white chiffon garment that did nothing to conceal the new fullness of her breasts and the soft curve of her hips. She stood in the center of the room, turning slowly for their admiring inspection.

"What am I offered, gentlemen?" Crystal asked the men in the room. "What am I offered for a Manton virgin? The bidding will start at a thousand dollars, payable in Yankee gold."

Four years later, when the last of the Manton sisters was introduced at a Grand Soiree, the interest in the auction had grown. Not only was the winner guaranteed a virgin like none he had ever seen before, but the prestige was tremendous. To be able to burst the maidenhead of a Manton-to be rich enough to afford the bidding-these were the things to brag about for many years to come.

Garnet, the last sister, brought a price of fifty thousand in the Yankee gold that Crystal always demanded. The second man in line had willingly paid twenty-five thousand for the honor and the third man handed over ten thousand, knowing that with a Manton he would still have pleasure enough for his money!

At the end of ten years, Crystal retired to the home plantation which she had long since restored to its antebellum beauty. She wanted to leave the business before her asking price of a thousand dollars a night was refused. She also wanted time to concentrate on good investments for the hoard of Yankee gold she and her sisters had amassed.

Further, and most important, Crystal wanted to devote herself to the instruction of the five little Manton daughters who lived on the plantation. Two of the beautiful little girls were her own, one of them sired that first night in the parlor when the Yankee troopers came calling with rape in mind.

Becoming pregnant never distressed the Manton's. They merely retired to the home plantation for a few months, then came back to the "Town House" in New Orleans aware of a further satisfaction awaiting them as a result of their work.

By the time Crystal's eldest daughter was of age, all the sisters had returned. The "Town House" was sold to another operator who frequently sent word that men of rich tastes around the world were clamoring for a renewal of the auctions.

Crystal had done such an extraordinary job of investing their money that the sisters were millionairesses several times over. It was reassuring to know that their daughters would never want for anything, but each had a nagging suspicion that none of the daughters, who now numbered nine, would appreciate the wealth unless they did their part to earn it.

So it was that they laid down the rule that holds fast to this day. Unless a Manton Woman spends a year in the "Town House," she can have no share in the family fortune.

Through the generations that have followed, it has been a duty that all but two of us have fulfilled with pleasure. Those two left the house because of love for one man, rather than love for all. We do not know what became of them. We never ask.

This was the legend I was asked to further. The blood of Crystal Manton coursed through my veins. Would I be good enough for that blood? It was the same liquid that warmed the two with lost names who had failed. Why had they deserted the family and cast tradition aside?

These thoughts worked in my mind as Wade and I drove toward the "Town House." The location had long since been moved from New Orleans to another city, closer to the home plantation, so the drive was short.

Just sitting in the car with Wade, close enough to reach out and touch the fascinating bulge in his pants, made me squirm in the seat. His strong hands on the wheel caused a flush to run over my body as I remembered their brief contact.

Wade sensed my excitement and reached over to tweak my breast. I moved closer to him but he gave me a gentle push back into my corner of the car seat.

"Silver, honey, you may be hot to trot, but old Nikki will have my balls if I bang you," he said.

In spite of the rejection, I felt myself more drawn to him than ever.

"But you will?" I asked. "Promise?"

"Sure I will. When the time is right," he agreed. "But you'll have to square it with Nikki first. She doesn't like me getting free samples from a thousand-dollar job."

"You seem frightened of her," I teased.

"Sure I am," he admitted. "I'd be a damn fool if I wasn't. But don't you worry. She'll go for you like a shot."

In spite of Wade's admitted fear of her and Golda's warning, I was unprepared for Nikki. People can tell you about women like her, but until you meet one, you will never really understand what they mean.

When we reached the Town House, Wade showed me into the Grand Parlor and told me to wait while he took my bags up to my room.

"Nikki's busy right now," he told me after he checked the door of a side room. "She'll see you in a few minutes."

While I waited, I roamed the large room. It was almost as huge as our parlor at home and was decorated in the same kind of subdued elegance. Several good paintings hung on the walls and the floor was covered with a costly white Persian rug that repeated the colors of drapes and upholstery in its exquisite border pattern. Two large sliding doors opened into the adjacent ballroom and a small one led to the room Nikki used for an office. When I wandered too close to this door, I heard angry voices arguing inside.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, I had started to move away from the door when the voices were punctuated by the sound of a hand slap. The door opened and a small, dark girl ran out. Her face was stained with tears and one cheek bore the red imprint of the blow. When she saw me, she buried her face in her hands and hurried past me out of the parlor.

"Teresa's the hysterical type," a low voice said from behind me. "Sometimes I have to get a little rough with her to calm her down."

I turned to comment that the blow hadn't been soothing to Teresa this time, but my first sight of Nikki stopped the words in my throat.

Nikki was a tall, slender woman. Her dark brown hair was cut mannishly short in the latest fashion. She wore a pair of hip-hugging capris and a tailored, full-sleeved blouse. The outfit was expensive and in the latest style, but the clothes looked different on her. She took the feminine clothing of today and made them seem masculine and hard-lined. Her fingernails were cut close and unpolished; her face was devoid of makeup. But she was beautiful and she exuded an aura of sexual magnetism that caught me unprepared.

"You must be Silver Manton," she said, walking around me and giving me an appraising look. "Did Wade take good care of you on the trip from your home?"

I nodded that he had.

"It's a good thing he did. That bastard sometimes gets carried away with his duties. Well, come on. I'll show you to your room."

She led me out of the parlor and up a flight of curving stairs to the second floor. We passed down a long hall with numerous doors facing onto it. This was the heart of the Town House. The lower floor was reserved for gracious living and the third-floor housed small private apartments for each of the residents. Most of the work was done on this level.

Behind the doors I could hear the faint sounds of laughter and the low voices and movements of people.

"Business as usual," remarked Nikki, as she waited at the foot of another flight of stairs.

The reminder that behind the closed doors were people involved in acts of love caused a thrill to race through me and a pulse began to throb in the pit of my stomach.

We reached the third floor and entered the apartment that would be mine for the next year. My suitcases were already there, as well as another set of luggage which stood just inside the door. The unfamiliar suitcases were battered as if they had received much wear in their time. Nikki picked them up and moved them outside the door, handling them easily.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "These were brought here by mistake."

My attention, however, was on the apartment itself. It was a large, comfortable bedroom-sitting room with a small private bath opening off to one side. I looked around at the furniture which was so reminiscent of home. Over the head of the chiffon-covered bed hung miniatures of the former occupants. I recognized the faces of Great Grandmother, Grandmother, Mother, Aunt Garnet, and dozens of cousins, as well as a new picture of Golda. Looking at the miniatures was like reading a history of the Manton Women. Each woman represented another jewel on a necklace of dedication. Tears of pride stung my eyes and I turned away.

Since the Town House opened its doors for business in the 1890's this space had always been reserved for us. When there was no Manton in the House, it remained vacant. Since we own the house and only contract the management to a private individual such as Nikki, it is our right.

I moved around the house, touching the furniture, stroking the polished grain of the antique chairs, and finally came to the dresser which held a bouquet of white roses. A small card leaned against the vase. I opened it.

"I love you, little sister," it read. It was signed with Golda's carefree scrawl.

I buried my face in the fragrant flowers. Tears of pride had turned to a homesick torrent. Nikki wasn't fooled by the gesture.

"I warned Golda the roses would get to you," said Nikki. "Do you want me to take them away?"

I shook my head and tried to regain composure.

"When ... when is the auction?" I asked, tremulously.

"Tomorrow night," she answered. "We have a full house."

I had moved to the closet to take off my coat, but the answer made my knees buckle and I sat down on the bed, trembling.

"Are you all right?" Nikki's voice was muffled by the roaring in my ears.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "I'm not sure I can make it until tomorrow night."

"Oh, your poor kid," Nikki said, putting her arm around me. "I know what's the matter. They got you all excited and now you're left hanging by your fingernails."

"Yes," I whispered. "Wade. I want him now."

"Sorry, Silver," she said. "You can have him any time you want him after tomorrow night. But until then he's out of the question. Too many people are scheduled for this auction. Besides, your family would take the roof off if I delivered you with anything missing."

"But what can I do?" I asked. "I don't think I can wait."

"Yes, you can, dear. You'll make it. Nikki will help you."

She took my coat and began removing the rest of my clothes. Her strong hands slipped off my shoes and raised my skirt to strip the hose from my legs. She stroked the leg from the outer thigh to the ankle. I shuddered with longing at the caress. I was fumbling with the zipper of my dress but I had to stop as a twist of pleasure constricted my hands.

Nikki hastened to open the zipper and pull the dress down over my hips. Her fingers worked quickly at the brassiere hooks.

Now, with my body restricted only by the silken touch of my panties, I could breath more easily. I relaxed against the soft pillows of the bed, taking deep breaths into my lungs and trying to regain control.

Nikki stroked my naked shoulder and her lips touched my forehead in soft, tender kisses.

"Poor child," she murmured. "Poor sweet child."

Then her lips began to move over my cheek and the caressing fingers sought the curve of my waist and moved down to pull the panties from my hips.

Rather than soothing me, her touch began to excite me and I tried to pull away, but Nikki held me close.

"Don't, baby," she said. "I can give you what you want and no harm will be done. Just go along with me. You'll see."

Her lips closed over mine and her hot tongue darted between my teeth. I found myself responding, my tongue moving to meet hers.

Her soft-hard hands cupped my breasts and, as the fingers brushed over my nipples, I was twisted with a small, tension-relieving orgasm.

Nikki pulled away from me.

"Feel better now?" she asked.

"Yes," I lied. "Much better."

She stripped off her own clothing, revealing a slim, small-breasted body with flat stomach and faintly rounded hips. She lay down on the bed beside me and rested her palm on my stomach.

"You'll feel a lot better when I'm through with you," she promised.

Her hands began to stroke my breasts again, warming me with her touch. She fitted my nipples to her own and pushed her body on mine. Her lips caught mine again and her hot, searching tongue prodded at my teeth and then into the ready recess of my mouth.

Her fingers stroked at my inner thighs as I clung to her, uncertain of my own reaction, but caught up in the delicious excitement of her touch.

Her lips moved to the hollows of my neck and then down to the valley between my breasts. I found myself instinctively turning so she would kiss one nipple. Her mouth closed over it and her tongue began to press against the point, sending a hot flame shooting toward my vagina.

As if aware of the longing there, her fingers went to the mouth of my vagina and dabbled at the wet pool of longing between my legs. Her moist touch moved up to my clitoris and she began to rub it, at first gently and then with more intensity.

I matched her actions with my own, trying to thrill the slender body next to mine as much as it excited me. I touched the soft triangle of hair at the cleft of her legs and her body moved so that my fingers rested against her clitoris and she began to rub herself against my hand until my own movements took over, making her shudder with ecstasy.

She turned on the bed so that her kisses could travel down over my stomach, pausing to close over my navel, her tongue shooting in and out of the small enclosure. Once again I imitated her actions and then her hands were spreading my thighs so that her kisses could reach the soft, tender skin between my legs. Her face lowered to my vagina and her tongue began to lick at the lips.

I tasted the musky sweetness between her legs and echoed her movements as her tongue darted into my body.

We blended into one being aware only of its own desire. Lips of mouth against lips of vagina. Touch exciting skin and skin exciting touch. Taking and giving with a single motion.

My thighs closed about her head to trap her inside me as I was trapped between her strong legs.

Then a vast orgasm pulled at the muscles of my throat, emptied my breasts of heat and swept through my body to the tips of my toes. I was released and fulfilled, satisfied and warmed. Nikki joined me in rapture, her own body twisting with a violent spasm of completion.

Long moments passed, filled only with the sound of our heavy, contented breathing. Then Nikki pulled away from me. She rose and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later, fully dressed.

"You'll be all right now," she said, bending over to kiss me on the forehead.

I nodded, contentedly. Then I remembered the promise I intended to get from her.

"You said I could have Wade after tomorrow night," I reminded. "Will you promise me that I can have him the next day?"

"Wade? That bastard!" she said angrily.

"I want him," I said, watching her move toward the door.

"Sure," she answered harshly, just before she slammed from the room. "You can have him any time after tomorrow night-if you still want him."

CHAPTER FOUR

"Miss Nikki say you got a busy day ahead a'you," the maid whispered as she opened the drapes. "She want you to stir yourself early. She got a hairdresser comin' an' the man with the clo's. An' my, don't we have a bunch of 'em comin' tonight!"

"What time is it?" I yawned sleepily. The strong light from the window nearly blinded me.

"Almos' ten, honey," she answered as she moved to the door and opened it. "Breakfas' time in about forty-five minutes downstairs with the others. Now don't you be late!"

Almost ten o'clock! I sat up in the bed, startled. Sleeping to such a late hour was unusual. It must have been the result of Nikki's visit to my room, I reasoned.

The memory of her hot, teasing tongue caused a flush of warmth between my legs. The points of my breasts contracted as a thrill swept over me. At the pit of my stomach, a pulse throbbed with anticipation. The orgasm with Nikki had been sweet and satisfying, but tonight I would know the true meaning of fulfillment. In just a little more than twelve hours I would be presented at the auction and know my first man. Then tomorrow-if Nikki kept her promise-tomorrow there would be Wade!

Wade! The handsome strength of his great body was imprinted on my mind. He was made to please a woman just as surely as I was made to please men. How would it feel to have that hard, muscular frame molded against mine? I tried to imagine the feel of his manhood pressing deep inside of me. It would be painful at first, I knew, but my mind could not visualize the pain nor the joy.

My fingers crept down between my legs and I gingerly felt around the moist slit. How could it ever stretch enough to accommodate him? My finger touched a pleasant spot in my vagina and a sharp pang gripped me. I knew then what I had to do.

Around me I could hear the others in the house awakening. Doors were opening and closing. Bath water was running. Footsteps padded up and down the third floor hall outside as the other girls in the house rose to start the day. A nagging fear of discovery got me out of the bed long enough to lock the door. Back beneath the covers, secure against interruption, the sounds of the house faded away as my world became focused on the fingers that worked at the nipples of first one breast and then the other. My other hand had business of its own, rubbing harder and faster at the greedy point of stimulation between my legs.

During our classes in erotic sex in the schoolroom at home we had learned of the sense of guilt that usually accompanies an act of masturbation. I was surprised to find myself experiencing this feeling of wrongdoing, but powerless to stop. My body was rebelling with need, fighting for a release, and my hands recognized that desire. It had to be satisfied, even at the expense of guilt and the gnawing incompletion that goes with a self-induced orgasm.

The sense of guilt lessened as my stroking fingers produced an excitement almost as great as the orgasm that was soon to come. I found myself fighting against the final moment, reluctant to end the self-love. My hips tightened and the muscles within my vagina tensed; all pulled to a hard knot of concentration on the fingers between my legs. But the release had to come and I forced my quivering muscles to relax even as my fingers increased their activity.

The limb-jerking spasm doubled me up in the bed, then stiffened me flat again. My fingers continued their frantic movements for at least another five minutes as I experienced lesser orgasms until, at last, I sagged against the pillows, spent. My stiffened fingers withdrew and became just fingers again, cramped and sticky; no longer instruments of erotic love.

I fell into a dozing sleep from which I awakened with a start. The maid had told me to be ready for breakfast in forty-five minutes!

I scrambled out of bed and found my wristwatch on the nightstand. Only fifteen minutes left! My lonely journey had taken half an hour. I rushed into the bathroom to clean myself and get ready for the day ahead.

* * *

In spite of the haste with which I showered and dressed, I was ten minutes late to the breakfast table. I was too nervous to connect names with faces as Nikki hurried to introduce me to the other girls.

There were nine other women in the house. All of them seemed pleasant and friendly with the exception of Teresa, the small, dark girl who had rushed past me in the drawing room the day before.

When Nikki called her name, Terry gave me a look of venomous hatred which was frightening in its intensity. I had never sensed dislike in another person. For some unknown reason the small girl was my mortal enemy and I found myself unprepared to cope with her reaction.

"How d-do you do?" I stammered.

"Not as well as you, apparently," she snarled.

"Terry! Stop that or leave the room!" snapped Nikki. "We don't need your vile temper at the breakfast table-especially not today."

Teresa stood up and pushed her chair back, her small, taut breasts heaving with rage. She turned toward Nikki, who sat poised at the head of the table.

"She's no better than I am," Terry began. "Just because she's a Manton is no reason-"

"Get out!" Nikki ordered.

Terry opened her mouth to continue, then snapped it shut. She threw her linen napkin into her plate and stalked from the room with her dark head held high.

"What was that all about?" I gasped as the door slammed shut behind her.

Nikki's voice cut off the excited babble as the other girls each started to give her own opinion on the outburst.

"Quiet! Quiet, please. This isn't the place and we haven't the time to go into it now," she said when the others stopped talking. "Be a good girl, Silver, and eat your breakfast. The hairdresser will be here in a few minutes."

"Be a good girl, Silver!" All my life that phrase had been used by Mother and Grandmother as a form of gentle discipline. Now those same words were being spoken to me by the strange woman in much the same fashion. I resented the familiarity and started to tell her so but the door behind her opened and all thought of anger left me.

Wade came into the room and leaned over Nikki's chair. The other girls called out names of endearment or friendly insults to him. He laughed and answered them all as he glanced around the table.

A skin-burning blush started at the roots of my hair and flooded down over my body. I wanted him. I had starved for someone like him all my life. Now I wanted to feast.

Nikki rose from the table and started for the door.

"Come, Silver," she called over her shoulder. "The hairdresser is here."

In order to follow, I had to walk past Wade. My cheeks burned and a hot pulse throbbed between my legs.

"Hi, Silver! Are you still my girl?" he asked, winking at me.

He was teasing me and I knew it, but I could only nod.

"Did you speak to old Nikki about us?" he asked. "I'm still ready to take a crack if you are."

I nodded again, trying to form words in my constricted throat.

"Well, what did she say?"

"Tomorrow," I croaked. "She promised."

He threw back his head and roared with laughter as I darted past him out of the room.

Nikki and York, the hairdresser, were waiting for me in the sun room, a comfortable lounge with looked out into the garden and swimming pool.

York was a fashion designer as well as a hairdresser. He had made my gown for the Grand Soiree, a fantastically beautiful creation molded from silver cloth supported by fine, concealed wires. The gleaming material swept around my hips into twin pillars of flame that curled upward to cover the points of my breasts.

I stripped down to try the dress for size and he fiddled and fussed with the fit, his fingers touching my breasts as he adjusted the hidden wires. His touch sent a small thrill through me until I realized I was causing no answering excitement in him. I might have been a statue for all the attention he gave me.

"She'll have to strip off at least an hour before she puts on the dress," he called over his shoulder to Nikki. "I don't want an ugly bunch of red lines showing from her underwear."

Nikki promised to see that I undressed in plenty of time. She sat quietly in one corner of the room, sipping coffee and watching us. Unlike York, her eyes moved greedily over my body with an open statement of desire.

As York worked, I studied him carefully curious about this man who showed no interest in a woman's body. He was a slender blonde man with heavily lashed green eyes and small, deft hands.

Once the measurements for the gown alterations were noted to his satisfaction, York turned his attention to my hair. He again directed his remarks to Nikki, ignoring me. He outlined a simple, effective style that would complement the dress. Nikki nodded her agreement and he went to work.

I sat under the hair dryer, alone inside a storm of hot air rushing around my ears. Nikki and York sat close together on the far side of the room, chatting as his swift fingers guided a needle through the silver gown.

The minutes dragged on and I lost interest in them. Then Wade came into the room. York smiled coquetishly and moved aside to offer Wade a place to sit. Wade shook his head and glanced at his watch. Nikki was not so gracious. The dryer's roar kept me from hearing her, but she seemed to be telling him to leave. As he turned to go, Wade ruffled York's hair. The smaller man smiled again and his eyes followed Wade across the room. My heart was thundering as he stopped beside me long enough to pat me on the knee and give me a wink.

York gave me a look of open hatred as strong as Terry had shown at the breakfast table. Suddenly I felt very alone. Nothing had ever prepared me for people who were ready to hate me on sight for reasons I did not understand. If only I could talk with Mother or Golda. They could explain it to me.

Tears streamed down my cheeks but I struggled to hold back the sobs, not wanting the others to know I was crying. Nikki was too observant, however. She saw the tears and rushed over to me, tilting the dryer hood out of the way and cradling my head against her warm body.

"Poor baby," she soothed. "Don't cry. It's going to be all right."

York hurried over and started fussing with the hair rollers to make sure they weren't knocked out of position.

"Christ! The little bitch is crying. She'll ruin her face. Slap her or something and make her stop."

Nikki turned on him, using one hand to push him away.

"Get out of here, you Nelly-bastard. I'll call you when she's ready to comb."

"If she looks like hell tonight, don't blame me," York screamed as he slammed out of the room.

Nikki continued to rock me against her and make small noises of endearment.

"Why do they hate me so, Nikki? They don't even know me," I sobbed.

"It's a long story, Silver," she answered. "Long and filled with twists and turns. Probably the greatest reason is that they're jealous of what you represent. You're all of sex in one beautiful bundle. Neither of them can compete with that. Let's worry about them another day. I'll see that they don't bother you."

She stayed with me until I was calm and then left the room. Even with the dryer roaring in my ears, I could hear their angry voices as she argued with York. Nikki was alone when she returned to her seat in the sun room. She picked up a nearby telephone and made a call. When my hair was dry a new hairdresser appeared to comb it. York had been replaced by a gossipy man who was just as effeminate but far more friendly. By evening the Town House was seething with activity. The other girls were busy arranging their own hair styles and getting ready for a long night. Everyone in the house would participate, as well as ten former residents who were returning just for the Grand Soiree.

Two bartenders appeared in the drawing room to set up a service bar. Several maids appeared on the scene; ready to serve highballs to the guests and make sure that no man ever held an empty glass in his hand. A long buffet table gleamed with silver and crystal while, in the kitchen, a French chef created masterpieces to be displayed on the table's white linen surface.

Twenty invitations had been sent to selected men around the world. All had accepted; a thousand-dollar check accompanied each reply. For their benefit, the ballroom was receiving the most attention.

Twenty red couches were arranged around the room like spokes in a wheel, with the center hub formed by a circular platform which held a pale pink couch. The heads of the twenty couches were arranged so that the guests could mount their women and still watch the activity in the center of the room. In this way, even the men who were unsuccessful in the bidding could participate vicariously in the entry of a Manton virgin.

At one time it was the custom in royal marriages for the wedding bed to be attended by members of the court who acted as observers to witness that the marriage was consummated. I have heard that the custom is still practiced in some parts of the world. As I wandered through the bustle of preparations, feeling much like any bride on her nuptial night, I wondered if the practice shouldn't be more popular. Almost any wedding is accomplished with at least some degree of pomp and circumstance. In fact, the richer the bride's father, the more barbaric the spectacle. Then, for the greatest and most important moment of their marriage, the newlyweds retire furtively behind a locked door, commiting the sex act as secretively as a crime.

Nikki found me watching the last of the preparations in the ballroom. She led me to a curtained alcove and showed me the hidden flight of stairs down which I would come for my entrance during the auction.

We paused on the second floor landing and she pulled me to her.

"Are you nervous?" she asked softly.

My arms went around her and I snuggled close to the security of her breasts.

"No, just excited and a little confused. I'm not used to having people dislike me. York and Teresa seem so hostile."

"Forget it," she said. "The other girls will make up for Terry. When you get acquainted with them, you'll find out they're a great bunch.

Her hands began to explore my breasts and her warm lips moved over my face.

"I'll look after you," she said huskily.

My body responded to her touch, blazing into a fire of desire. I leaned against her, my lips searching for hers, yearning for that hot, probing tongue.

Our hips locked together, grinding toward stimulation. Our mouths met, hot and open, and our tongues battled in entry and withdrawal.

She pulled away and opened the hall door.

"Let's go into one of the rooms," she said. "We have just enough time."

CHAPTER FIVE

"What am I offered for a Manton virgin?"

Nikki's voice reached me over the babble of many voices in the ballroom.

"Gentlemen, I present Silver Manton!"

My legs trembled as I stepped through the alcove drapes and let them close behind me. The voices fell silent and I could hear the intake of breath as I stood before them. Their faces were a blur as I walked through a path of flickering light toward the raised platform and the pink couch. A spattering of applause began and grew to a small ovation. I turned around on the platform and smiled my appreciation for their compliment.

My eyes became accustomed to the candlelight and began to focus on the details of the room. The twenty couches were filled now with naked men and women. Of all the people in the room, only Nikki and I were dressed. My glittering costume reflected the glow of the candles and she wore a tight toreador suit fashioned from sleek black leather. I looked toward her for assurance, trying to find some trace of my tender lover of an hour before, but her face was blank.

"Who will start the bidding?" she asked the men in the room. "Do I hear fifty?"

Fifty? So low? I felt a moment of shame for the small price before I realized that she was speaking of ten thousand dollar units. The bidding was to start at fifty thousand. Then I wondered if anyone would pay that price.

"Fifty!" called a short, stocky man.

He sat on the edge of his couch with his hands on his knees. One of the girls had her head buried in his lap as she sucked him, but he ignored her.

"Fifty-five!" called another voice.

"Please, gentlemen, remember the rules!" Nikki scolded. "In increments of ten only."

"Sixty!" the man corrected.

He was a slender, white-haired man. His girl was face down on the couch and his rod was buried between her buttocks. He worked his hips slowly as he looked toward me and the girl beneath him writhed as he drove himself into her.

"Seventy!"

The bidder was a tall, well-built man in his middle thirties. His broad, muscular hands caressed the breasts of the girl on his couch. His penis stood erect from the dark mat of hair at his loins. He saw my interest and smiled, rubbing his hand across the beckoning tip of the shaft. It seemed to grow longer and harder as I watched.

"Eighty!" sounded another voice.

I had to jerk my eyes away from the one man in order to search for the other. He was a thick-set, bearded man with coarse black hair covering his body. He was in the sixty-nine position on his couch with Terry; his head raised from between her legs in order to look at me. A creamy moistness glistened on the brush of his beard.

By the time the bidding had reached the hundred mark, my body was demanding to become part of the play in the room. The delicate chiffon cups that sheilded my breasts from the silver cloth seemed to chafe the two hard points. My hand went to the fasteners at the waist of the gown and it fell away from me. Free of the cloth, my skin drew in the glow of the candles and I turned slowly around on the platform.

A great silence fell over the room as I stood before them naked. I could feel their eyes on the globes of my breasts, as hot and exciting as a kiss.

"The bidding stands at a hundred," Nikki's voice reminded them, softly. "Do I hear more?"

Three men called out at once and the pace of the bidding quickened. I prowled the platform, restlessly impatient for it to be over, hungry for my lovers for the night.

As each man called out his offer, I turned to him, hoping that he would be the one. It did not matter what the final price was, not how the man looked. There were twenty men in the room who could give me what I needed. The faces blurred before my eyes and all I could see of any man was his penis.

Blood pounded through my ears and I did not even hear the bidding end. A round of applause broke through the surging desire and I realized, startled, that it was over. One of the men was walking toward me.

His hips and thighs were strong and muscular and his erection was full and firm. The two sacs beneath the stiff rod were taut and pink. I didn't bother to look at his face to see which man had won as I moved toward him.

I knelt at his feet and lifted the soft, mysterious globes of his testes in my hands, my lips moving over them and my tongue lapping at the coarse surface. Then my arms encircled his hips as my tongue, teeth and lips moved up the hard column of flesh until they reached the satiny knob. It was broad and hot and I could taste the juices from the body of the woman he had just left.

He pressed against me, driving himself back into my throat, almost choking me. His hands reached down to cup my breasts and squeeze them with gentle pressure as he lifted me to my feet. My mouth released him, reluctantly.

He pushed me back against the couch and began to explore my body. Nikki's hands had moved over my breasts before his, but hers had been gentle and persuasive while his were rough and demanding. I writhed in a small spasm of ecstasy in answer to his touch. I reached for him, trying to pull him into me, but he held me away as he continued his exploration.

His fingers moved over my stomach, pressing against the navel and then traveling back to stroke and grip my buttocks. I twisted on the couch, wanting his male body pressed against me, but again he pulled away. Then his touch moved around to stroke the hair at the base of my stomach. My hips lifted to him as his fingers found the throbbing folds of flesh and parted them. His movements were deliberate and maddening as he ignored my need for him, interested only in the slow investigation of his purchase.

He stroked my inner thighs and I began to moan and plead with him as his fingers neared the moist, dripping opening which I thrust toward him. Then he spread my legs and sat at the foot of the couch between them. My breasts and thighs ached with anticipation but his movements remained unhurried.

He spread the lips of my vagina and pressed a finger inside, lowering his face so that he could look into the opening. A small spasm twisted me as the probing finger poked against the wall of the hymen.

"God, she's tight! I don't know if she can take me," he said loudly.

His first words were not spoken to me, but to the other men in the room. To this man I was a body, not a person. Anger flooded me and I promised myself that in a few minutes, if he would ever stop his tantalizing inspection and get on with it, he would think differently.

His finger continued to press against the small, tight opening inside my vagina. Then I could feel the fingertip slip through. I thrust my hips toward him, gyrating and drawing more of his finger inside. For the first time he responded to me, his finger jabbing and twisting.

He moved up on the couch and lowered himself on me, his hard chest muscles rubbing against my breasts and the coarse mat of hair scratching against my skin. His demanding lips found mine and his tongue pushed deep into my mouth. My tongue parried his and then thrust into his mouth.

He circled me with one arm, drawing me to him as his hand continued to press into my vagina. The probing finger was joined by a second, which worked for entry into the straining hymen, and I felt a small pain as it slipped inside.

His teeth nipped at my ear and neck and moved down to my breast. There was no teasing here. His mouth closed over the nipple and he began to chew and suck at the point, pulling more and more of my breast inside.

I had reached a stage of sick excitement when his hand withdrew from between my legs. He grasped his penis and pushed the bulbous head into my vagina until it met the hymen wall. It did not give at his first thrust. He pressed harder, but the shield still resisted. Then he pulled back and ripped through the membrane with a hard, brutal thrust.

My body churned with excitement as I felt him move inside of me. The hard rod seemed to fill me, yet our hips were still apart. I arched toward him, painfully drawing more of him inside. Then my fingers were clawing at his back as an orgasm contorted me. When it passed, I fell back on the couch and my loins relaxed. He used the moment to drive himself still further inside. On his third stroke our hips touched and I could feel the slap of his testicles against the mounds of my buttocks.

His hips twisted forcefully between my legs and our crotch hairs matted together for a brief moment before he pulled back and lunged again.

My body answered his and desire returned to my loins, stronger than it had been before. He withdrew almost the full length of his penis and plunged again and I met him half way. My legs lifted and joined around his waist. His arms encircled me. His face pressed into the curve of my shoulder and his harsh breathing filled my ears as he began a steady, hard stroking inside of me.

We drove ourselves against each other savagely, each body trying to force the other into a submission. Once he tried to stop the rhythm but my hips tortured him and I continued to drive myself against him.

His breath quickened and came in short, rasping gasps. He renewed his assault upon me, driving deeper and deeper, harder and harder. I could feel the head of his penis throb and grow and the vibrant movement brought my second orgasm closer. He drew back one last time and plunged inside with a small, child like cry as the hot semen spurted inside one once, twice, three times. Then I allowed my orgasm to sweep over me. My legs dropped away from him and I fell back on the couch with out-flung arms as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through me.

His limp weight pressed down on me for a second. Then a hand clapped him on the shoulder and he moved aside.

The second man crawled on the couch with his knees toward my head. Without any play or investigation, his head went between my legs and his hot tongue began to lap at the moisture. He spread his legs to straddle me with his rod and testes pressed against my face. I pulled the shaft head toward my mouth and pressed it inside, letting my teeth close around the base. He gasped and pressed harder, scraping past my teeth. He seemed to like the dangerous feel of working the tender skin of his penis against the hard ridges in my mouth. I tightened my jaw a trifle and he pulled back and drove again and again, each time filling more of my mouth and throat.

Our bodies began to speak, telling each other the path to frenzy. He moved his lips and tongue away from my vagina to the small peak of my clitoris. With his tongue working against the small bud, he began to suck hard. A nerve twist of pure pleasure went through me and I opened my mouth to scream with satisfaction. Free of my teeth, his rod sank deep inside my throat and throbbed as he neared ejaculation. He pulled back only a little way and then drove again and I felt him burst as the hot, sticky juice spurted deep in my throat. I gasped and strangled, but swallowed. He sucked on me again, this time opening his lips wide and drawing my clitoris far back between his teeth. He bit down just as I came again and my twisting climax pulled me free of him. His penis throbbed again and again as more semen gushed into my throat. I nearly gagged on the hot, sweet flood before he lifted far enough for me to breath and swallow.

Then he was gone and new hands gripped my buttocks as the third man lifted my legs. He pulled me into a sitting position straddling his lap. Then he pulled my hips up and forward, lowering me so that my vagina rested around the point of his hard penis. Then he yanked me down, impaling me on the rock-like shaft.

The different position brought him in contact with a new thrill spot and I squirmed with pleasure. His hips churned and lifted as he pushed up. I pulled myself up until I was nearly free of the head and then dropped myself upon him again. His breath rasped in my ears and he grunted in satisfaction. He stopped his own motions and let me become the attacker.

It was the same self-seeking act as masturbation as I took his tool for my own purposes, twisting and working my body so that I reached new and exciting spots with each movement. Yet I was giving him as much pleasure as I received. He groaned and cried out with pleasure as I pushed myself upon him. Our mouths locked and I crowded my tongue between his teeth, trying to push myself far inside of him.

His penis touched a point of ultimate satisfaction and I quickened the beat, driving the tiny spot against him until it grew to fill my loins. Then he grabbed my hips and pulled them down tight against his own as he lunged up, standing as he drove against the spot and exploded with the contact.

Free of the couch, I was literally speared with him as he came inside of me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him as I joined his orgasm and our mingled juices gushed forth between my thighs and ran down his legs.

His penis shrank back and became limp. Then he gently lowered me back to the couch and my legs parted.

The first man returned and rubbed his hand in the moist slit between my legs. I responded immediately this time, begging for his fingers inside of me, but he pushed in with his rejuventate rod and fell upon me.

We went immediately into a driving, pumping rhythm, our bodies intent upon each other. The second man lowered himself over our heads and pushed his penis into my mouth. My lips slipped down over the shaft, which was only partially hard, and I felt it grow, blossoming into a full organ.

The third man stood close to him as the second man reached for his limp fall of skin and pulled it toward his mouth. By the time the first man had come for the second time, the third man was ready again. The second man never again moved his penis from my mouth. He would come and leave the soft wad inside my lips as I swallowed around it. Then my tongue would tease it back to life again. Meanwhile, he would work to excite the other two men when they waited for their turns.

Orgasm after orgasm passed over me but every time a new, hard rod plunged into me, I found myself working with it, building to a peak of ecstasy that continued unabated for an hour.

The men tired and fell away before I did. Finally the first man was unable to raise himself again and he staggered back to his couch and fell asleep. The third man sat down on the platform, his legs too weak to carry him. Only the second man continued with his penis pressed into my mouth. After a long period of coaxing, it became obvious that he was finished.

Then Nikki was beside him, pulling him away. He stood beside the platform couch as she told him that he was through. He nodded and sat down at my feet. As she pulled me up to leave, he leaned over sideways and gave a long, contented sigh.

Nikki led me up the hidden staircase to the third floor. My body still throbbed with desire and I tried to pull her to me, but she resisted. My legs were weak with exhaustion and she practically carried me into the bathroom as still I fought for her body.

She turned on the shower and pushed me under the warm, soothing water, letting me sag against the hard tile of the wall while she stripped to join me.

My hands tugged weakly at her small breasts as she scrubbed me with soap, but she pushed me aside. She left me rinsing under the water as she stepped out and filled a douche bag and washed me out. The thrust of the douche nozzle and the gush of warm, medicated water caused an orgasm which drove me against the hard, plastic shaft. She patiently douched me again and then turned the shower knob to cold and let the icy water drive against us.

When I started to shiver and my lips turned blue, she turned the water off and toweled me. When her movements reached my legs, she thrust the towel into my hands and ordered me to dry myself.

Then she led me, cold and naked, to my bed and tucked me in between the sheets. A drowsy warmth stole over me.

I felt her soft lips on my forehead just before I fell asleep.

CHAPTER SIX

The house was quiet when I awoke the next morning. My first steps away from the bed were agonizing as newly used muscles in my inner thighs pulled painfully. The temptation was strong to crawl back in bed and spend the day. I had earned the right to pamper my aches. But a greater temptation drew me.

Wade! This was the day Nikki had promised I could have him and, in spite of her reluctance, I was going to make sure she kept her word.

The hot shower spray helped unknit the complaining muscles and I stood for long minutes under the driving water, massaging and kneading my legs. Memory of the building excitement of the night before stirred hot points of passion inside my loins.

Wade! Before the day ended, his hands would touch me and his body would be inside mine. I turned the shower on to full strength and let the sharp needles of water knife against my breasts as I tried to imagine what the moment would be like.

After drying myself quickly, I slipped into a loose sweater and a pair of skin-tight capris. The rough wool of the sweater rasped across my nipples and the tight crotch of the capris ground into the tender skin, waking me to an urgent need.

Wade! My hunger for him was far past desire. Until I had him, the world might as well stand still.

Leaving my room, I hurried toward the stairs. Along the third floor corridor I could hear the sounds of the other women rising, showering, and dressing for the day. Descending to the second floor, I saw a busy crew of maids cleaning the salons and making ready for a day's business.

The Town House could never be confused with a common "crib" or whorehouse. Casual visitors are not allowed and appointments are booked far in advance. Patrons are treated with every courtesy once they arrive at the door, but they know better than to do so unannounced. Most of the men who frequent the house have standing appointments. They may continue to visit the same girl or try each in turn, according to their pleasure. Loud or obscene behavior is not permitted in the drawing room, whatever course of action the man cares to take inside the confines of the private salon.

Before he is ushered up the curving, carpeted stairway to the second floor, each patron knows that he has been given a discrete check for reputation, character and financial worth. During a brief visit with Nikki in the drawing room, or in her office if he has an account to settle, the man is made to feel welcome and secure that his business in the house will remain his own secret.

All of this effort to maintain a discrete establishment would be worthless if the women who inhabit it were not worthy of their hire.

A good whore is a rare object. First, she must enjoy her work. Second, she must have either great beauty of a fascination that surpasses physical attributes. Third, she must have that mysterious ability to make a man feel that, sexually, he is more than a rutting animal; that he is a god-like creature offering a priceless gift.

An operator such as Nikki recruits her women carefully, avoiding the "hung up" alcoholics and pill-poppers. Although liquor flows freely and without cost for the customers, the workers are forbidden to drink more than a glass of wine with meals. Possession of any kind of tranquilizer or narcotic is grounds for immediate dismissal.

Not every porstitute would be intelligent enough to appreciate the latitude and rewards given to her in the Town House. In order to maintain her standards, Nikki sent Wade to find the more brainy showgirls of New York and Miami; beautiful, bored schoolteachers from the Corn belt; and ambitious, practical secretaries.

Most of Nikki's women stayed with her for a year-two at the most. During that time the bulk of their earnings was saved for them with a bonus from the house for each month of their stay. The working day was from two in the afternoon until two in the morning with a two-hour break for dinner. During the working period, each girl served six men; sometimes less, but never more. Each girl was given two days off each week and was free to leave the house if she chose.

The day after the auction I started getting acquainted with the girls in the house, each of whom was there to reach some specific goal, just as I was.

Penny was already in the breakfast room when I arrived.

"Good Lord!" she gasped when she saw me. "What are you doing here? We didn't expect to see you on your feet for days!"

"I'm all right," I said shakily. "Just a little tired and stiff."

"Well, sit down and take a load off," she ordered. "Let me get you something. Coffee or milk?"

She tilted her head and looked at me with a teasing smile as if asking which I was old enough to drink.

"Make it both," I said. "I'm starving."

She bustled around the side board, pouring coffee and serving up two large plates of food. Her long red-gold hair bounced around her satiny shoulders. She wore a bikini that revealed more than concealed her long-legged, full-breasted figure. As she worked, she chatted about the auction.

"They told me about it, of course, but I didn't believe them. Who would? It was utterly fantastic! When your first man stuck his peter in your sweet little old crack, I thought my John would bust his nuts. He plowed into me hard enough to drill a hole in the couch. Then he came on the first stroke and it took me half an hour to get him up again. Too much!"

"You weren't here for Golda's auction, then?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"I've only been here about three months. Just long enough to learn my way around. I'm going to stay another year, then I'm headed back to the university for my master's degree in anthropology."

The other girls straggled into the breakfast room then and I began to connect names with faces. Tanya, the faintly oriental girl with straight black hair and almond-shaped green eyes. Cheryl, the peaches-and-cream blonde with a tiny waistline and full white breasts. Marie, a small French girl who seemed almost homely until she smiled. Beth, a tanned outdoor girl from the Midwest. Christy with red hair and a book always in her hand. Jen, who had a dozen frantic appointments with agents and photographers as she tried to break into show business. Lou, a lazy, smiling English girl with impossibly beautiful legs.

Tall, short, slender and curved, they were all exquisite and charming. Every one of them was bubbling over with conversation about the night before. The first morning they had been cool and distant but my night in the ballroom made me one of them. Now I was not only the talking point of their conversation, but a welcome participant as well.

Nikki and Terry came in just as the babble reached deafening proportions. Nikki went to a bulletin board and posted a list of appointments for the day and the other girls crowded around her.

Terry seemed to swagger a little as she walked to the sideboard to serve herself. She gave me a triumphant smirk as she carried a coffee cup and plate back to her place at the table.

Then the realization came to me and I understood the depth of Terry's problem.

In the Manton school a whole course is dedicated to the subject of Lesbian sex. There is nothing in our teachings which prohibits sexual encounters with women. In fact, it is one of the arts we must master because we are occasionally called on to serve women in our capacity as whores. But the warnings are stern about forming romantic attachments to other women. Making love to and being in love with another woman are two entirely different matters. One is pleasantly satisfying. The other is a dark road of despair. It was obvious that Terry was traveling that road.

"Let her have her beloved Nikki," I thought. "All I want is Wade."

Aware that even my talking to Nikki might anger Terry, I still had urgent business to discuss.

"Nikki, I want to talk to you after breakfast," I called down the table.

"About what?" Nikki asked.

"The promise you made me the other day," I said.

"I don't remember any promise," she said innocently.

She was toying with me; trying to humiliate me in front of the others. There was only one way I could fight her and that was by being a complete brat.

"Perhaps I really want to discuss the call I plan to make to my mother," I said sweetly.

Nikki's face darkened. Her bluff had been called.

"All right, then," she said, coldly. "We'll discuss it in my office right now."

She rose angrily and strode out of the room. I followed with shaking knees, but determined to see the matter through.

After she closed the door behind us, she tried to pull me into her arms.

"Come on, Silver," she whispered in my ear. "You don't really want to tattle to your mother, do you? Just because Terry and I."

"Terry has nothing to do with it," I said, pushing away from her. My voice was uneven from anger as well as fear. "Whatever there is between you and Terry has nothing to do with me. I'm talking about Wade. You made me a promise."

"Wade? That two-bit pimp? I can't let you waste yourself on him. He's no good for you!"

"Neither are you!" I shouted. "Now I want Wade today, as you promised, or I call my mother and tell her what you have done. I don't think she woud approve of your using me in some kind of plot to make your girl-friend jealous."

"Is that all you think there was to it?" she yelled.

"Yes, that's all. What else could there be?"

She didn't answer, but went to sit behind her desk with her face twisting in fury. When she did speak, her voice was quiet.

"Very well. You shall have Wade if that's what you want. He lives in the guest house with his friend, York. It's the small cottage behind the swimming pool."

"Thank you," I said, sighing with relief. My heart was thundering in my breast and I turned to leave.

"Just a moment," she called after me. "I better call first to make sure he's alone."

I waited with growing impatience as she dialed.

"Wade, this is Nikki," she said. "Silver is on her way over. You better get York out of there."

Her fingers drummed on the desk as she sat listening to Wade's voice on the other end of the phone line.

"I don't give a damn about putting Yorkie's nose out of joint," she barked into the mouthpiece. "She'll be there in fifteen minutes. Be ready for her!"

Before she had time to cradle the receiver, I slammed out of her office to prevent any further argument. I hurried up to my third-floor room to put on fresh makeup and brush my hair, but the seconds dragged until the fifteen minutes were past.

My window gave me a broad view of the swimming pool and the cottage behind it which was screened by hedges and low trees. Beyond that was a garage and parking area that had been converted from the stables and paddocks of earlier, more gracious days.

I saw York emerge from the trees around the guest house and go to a low-slung sports car. Even from that distance, I could hear his tires squeal as he drove away.

Wade opened the door for me when I rang the bell and let me into a living room furnished with large, masculine couches and chairs. But I wasn't allowed to linger in the room. He took my elbow and propelled me into the bedroom where a rumpled king-sized bed showed evidences of recent double occupancy.

He was wearing nothing but a dressing robe which he started to shed immediately. Once again I felt my heart pound and my pubic muscles contract as I looked at his perfectly formed body. Today, however, his penis was an unexcited roll of skin that dangled limply against his crotch.

"Okay, baby. Get it off and let's have at it," he said.

He stretched out on the bed, waiting for me, while I hurried to shed my clothing. I crawled on the bed beside him and took his penis in my hand and started flexing it.

"You're going to have to really work at it," he said. "I had a big night."

"Were you there?" I asked. "I didn't see you."

"At the auction? Of course not. Old Wade was busy with his homework," he grinned.

I rested my head against his thigh as I worked on his soft, unresponsive prick. This was the moment I had yearned for since I first saw him. But somehow it was not as exciting as I had imagined. He seemed unenthusiastic about our meeting, almost as if he had a tiresome chore to finish and wanted to hurry and get through with it.

"I pretended you were there," I told him. "I didn't even look at their faces. I just imagined they were you."

"You're crazy!" he laughed. "Look, kid, we may get together and have our kicks in bed, but there's nothing in it for us. You realize that, don't you?"

"At least for a year," I answered.

"Longer than that," he said. "By the time the year is over, you'll forget all about me."

His penis was beginning to stiffen a little.

"No, I won't," I told him. "I know what I want."

I pushed the loose skin back and revealed the broad pink tip. My tongue began to lick over the surface, stroking as hard as it could. He stiffened even more and I could hear him take in a sharp breath.

"That's getting it," he gasped.

I held onto his rod and had the thrill of feeling it come to life, growing and filling my hand. As it grew, my body began to writhe with anticipation. I turned toward him more so that I could rub my hot breasts against his leg.

"You're a ready little piece," he gasped. "You're a whole lot like your sister."

"Like Golda?" I asked, pleased. "Did you two get together like this?"

"A couple of times. It nearly blew old Nikki's mind. She puts a reserve sign on you Mantons the minute you step in the door."

"But it's different with her," I told him. "It's nice but it's relaxing-sort of like taking your medicine."

He choked with laughter and reached around me to spank me on one buttock.

"God! I'd like to tell her that," he roared. "Relaxing! She thinks that ten-pound tongue of hers is the maiden's delight!"

"Please, Wade, you mustn't tell her I said that!" I protested. "She's been sweet to me most of the time. At first I thought you two were my only friends in the house."

"Okay, baby, I won't give Nikki the needle. Now, let's get on with it. If you're going to do it with me, you have to learn that I'm an ass man and we do it my way. Turn over."

I turned on my stomach, obediently. He took a jar of cream from the nightstand as he spread my legs and got between them.

"Did you get it this way last night?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Nobody asked for it."

"Well, then," he said. "In my own way, I'm going to get a cherry."

His hands stroked the tight mounds of my buttocks. Then he parted them and rested his full, hard rod in the slit. He pressed the cheeks together and began to push himself back and forth in the dry slot. My heart was thundering. How could the tight opening take such a large, firm instrument?

He opened the jar and scooped out a big daub of cream with his index finger. Pulling back from me, he smeared the cream on the tense, puckered hole.

"Relax, baby," he breathed. "You haven't had it until you get it through the back door. It's good."

His rubbing finger spread the cream all around the anus and then began to work at the opening. I jerked involuntarily as the finger poked at the small hole and slipped through.

With his finger inside me, he leaned forward and covered my back with his broad chest. He began to talk softly in my ear.

"You have to relax, Silver. Don't be afraid of me. I'll be very gentle when I enter you, but you have to let go."

As he talked, I concentrated on the tight muscles and they gradually relaxed. He started working his finger in and out of the anus rapidly. A warm, comfortable feeling spread over me. I could feel his hot, stiff penis burning against my leg. I wanted it inside me, any way and any place I could get it.

Desire for him took over and crowded the physical fear out of my mind. His finger inside the anal opening became a sensual object and my rectal muscles reacted to it. I worked myself against the finger until a small orgasm shuddered through me.

"That's the way, baby. That's how you do it," he whispered. "Let it all go and let Old Wade get his pecker inside of you where it can do some good."

He pulled the probing finger away and with one hand on each cheek, spread my buttocks wide apart. Then there was a smooth, round object pressing against the hole. It was infinitely more gentle and appealing than his hard finger.

He reached up to the head of the bed and pulled one of the large pillows down and stuffed it under my hips, raising me from the bed. With one hand he reached around to stroke my clitoris while the other hand continued to work his penis against the tight opening of my anus.

Then I could feel the head slip inside and a throbbing sensation of fullness pulled over me like a warm blanket. He was right. It was good. No longer tense, now more than eager, I thrust my behind toward him.

"Do you want it all, baby?" he gasped in my ear. "Tell me you want it, tell me."

"All of it," I answered. "Don't hold it back. Give it all to me."

He pushed into me deeper, stretching the rectal canal to fit his penis. Excitement grew as he buried it, inch by inch. The opening spread to take in his fullness with the cream easing the way.

It was a slow, tantalizing operation with just a little pain but not nearly as much as I had anticipated. Perhaps his fingers on my clitoris diverted my attention. They scrubbed against the tender ridge, inflicting painful excitement. The rough play started to bring me near to a climax and I worked myself against his clawing hand. He increased the pain-play activity and then seized the opportunity to drive himself all the way inside.

I clawed at the sheets and a great orgasm contorted me at the end of that final plunge. My pubic muscles contracted and for one brief, glorious moment I could feel every part of his erection inside me.

His own desire heightened in response to my writhing motions. Wade began to pump himself into me in a rhythmic, thudding movement, gripping and pulling at my hips to keep them in the position that gave him the most pleasure. The push and pull of his rod caused small sucking sounds. Each sound and pressure sent a jolt of excitement charging through me. Within his hands my body began to work and pump with him.

His shortened gasps of breath let me know that he was nearing his own climax.

"I'm going to shoot," he gasped. "Say it! Say 'shoot'!"

"Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!" I yelled, over and over.

The frantic words excited him even more. He increased the speed with which he pounded into me. The yell in my throat turned into a final scream as another orgasm seized me.

His penis throbbed and I could feel the buried head pulse. Then the hot liquid was spewing forth inside of me. He ground his hips, giving the base of his penis one last, brutal twist inside of me as he went limp across my back.

"Oh baby, you were good," he moaned. "That ass of yours is made for it."

He flopped off of me and lay supine, arms and legs out-flung. I moved over to snuggle close to him, but he pushed me away.

"Not now, kid," he gasped. "You've had all there is today."

I stayed around a little longer, trying to stir some kind of interest in him, but he insisted that he was too tired and that he had to save something for the night.

Feeling strangely unwanted and dissatisfied, I dressed and left.

Wade didn't even bother to see me to the door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next few days were busy ones as I began my duties in the house. I was assigned to a comfortable salon on the second floor. Just as the apartment on the third floor was my home, this was my work room.

It was a large room with a broad king-sized bed dominating the space. A heavy, gold-framed mirror was set against the wall over the head of the bed, relecting the glow of two massive brass lamps which stood on stands at each side. Opposite the bed was a small bathroom with a stall shower. In that same wall was a closet which held a variety of wrappers and other working garments or devices. There was a deep cushioned easy chair and also a straight back chair that sat in front of a vanity table. It was much like any bedroom except that the outside windows had been sealed off the prevent any observation by uninvited watchers.

In spite of the excitement of the working hours, I thought of Wade all the time. I watched for him out of my bedroom window each morning, but I didn't see him during the next week. Hungry even for news of him, I tried to work his name into a conversation with Penny. While she was telling me of her recruitment, she gave me an opening.

"I was busting my little old butt slinging hash at night so I could study at the university during the day," she recalled. "I was beginning to think I was going to die tired, broke and uneducated when Wade showed up with his proposition. He nearly screwed me blind before he convinced me that I should be selling what I was giving away. Eighteen months in the Town House equals one master's degree, so I took him up on it and here I am."

"Is he away now-recruiting?" My throat was dry as I waited for her answer.

"No, not now. For some reason Nikki told him to stay out of the house except by invitation. I think she's the only person in the world he's afraid of outside of York."

"York? How could Wade be afraid of that little pipsqueak?" I laughed.

She gave me a questioning look and then changed the subject. Since it was time to go to work, I didn't have time to get her around to the topic of Wade again.

At two o'clock each afternoon we were expected to be in our salons waiting for our first clients. At ten minutes before the hour, Nikki made a brief inspection to make sure each of us was well groomed, dressed in a fetching wrapper, and in the right frame of mind.

Simply because it was more convenient, all of us stood in the long hall just outside of our salon doors. Nikki walked down the line, pausing a moment in front of each girl. She seldom had to call anyone down for poor appearance and she always passed me by without pausing, indicating that I was either above the inspection or beyond it. More frequently than any of us, Terry bore the brunt of Nikki's dissatisfaction.

In spite of the belligerent look that usually twisted her face, Terry was an exquisite creature. Her dark hair was arranged in a high-fashion coiffeur; her tiny hands and feet were groomed perfectly; and her slender body and high-pointed breasts seemed too well proportioned to be real. She reminded me of a delicate French doll upon which some master artist had painted a permanent frown. None of this seemed to please Nikki, however.

"Did you get your hair done today," Nikki would ask, abruptly. Then, before Terry could reply, she would continue. "It looks like hell."

Terry would duck her head in shame and mumble some kind of reply.

"I'm sorry you don't like it, Nikki. I'll go change it right now."

"No, you don't have time," Nikki would snap. "It's this wrapper I'm worried about. The color makes you look sallow. Get into something else!"

Terry would hurry into her salon to change, but by the time she returned to the hall, Nikki was always gone. None of this was deserved and I marked it down as Nikki's way of hiding her preference for Terry in front of the other girls. Then one day I learned that Nikki's harsh treatment extended to Terry's apartment as well.

I was still unfamiliar with the house and while looking for Penny one day, I stumbled into Terry's room by mistake. She was sitting on the bed, buffing her nails. I quickly stammered out an apology.

"I ... I'm sorry, Terry," I said. "I thought this was Penny's room or I would have knocked."

She glared at me before answering.

"You Mantons own the place," she said, bitterly. "I suppose that gives you the right to barge right in whenever it suits you."

"It doesn't suit me to be impolite," I said, trying to be civil, but unable to keep my eyes from glancing around the room.

It was a tiny box, barely large enough to hold the bed and dresser. The walls were partially covered by a peeling paper and the rug was worn and unmended. Water-spotted, threadbare drapes hung over the tiny window. The lumpy bed and warped dresser mirror looked like they had come out of basement storage from the previous century. Stacked at the foot of the bed were the battered suitcases I had seen in my room on my first day in the house. They were the only personal touch in the room. It was as clean and bare as a monk's cell.

"Take a good look, why don't you?" she snarled.

"I have," I countered. "Would you like some help with the decorating? We have some very nice furniture at home that we aren't using. I could ask Mother to send it."

"No, thank you," she said, turning her attention back to her nails. "I won't be here long. I'm just staying in here until my room is vacant."

"Oh, is someone leaving?" I asked.

"If I have my way about it," she answered. Her eyes flashed and she gave me a mysterious smirk. "Close the door on your way out."

As a further demonstration of Nikki's lack of favoritism, Terry carried the largest work load in the house and was called on to serve the most disagreeable clients. Several times she had to spend days recuperating from these brutal encounters, one of which left her eyes blackened for weeks. She never complained, however, as if all this was a small price to pay for the hours she spent in Nikki's luxurious suite on the first floor.

Whether by accident or Nikki's design, I was fortunate enough to be spared from serving any sadists. Most of my clients were agreeable, enthusiastic men with normal tastes.

For the first few days everything was so new to me and I was so eager for each appointment that I paid little attention to their faces or personalities. It was enough for me that they were all well equipped to give satisfaction. Then the "new" wore off and the men themselves began to come into focus.

He was my first appointment of the day. As usual, I was waiting in my room dressed in a pale rose wrapper which set off my blonde hair. I curled up on the bed, pulling the wrapper around me so that the client would not lose any later effect by walking into the room and being greeted by total nudity. Most of them preferred to remove the wrapper themselves, as if opening some special present they had given themselves.

This man was different from the others. He made no move to undress but flopped into the easy chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him with a little groan. His dark-brown hair was rumpled and he seemed pale from lack of sunlight. He slumped deeper into the chair, rumpling the creases in his expensive summer suit.

"Would you like for me to undress you?" I asked tentatively.

He shook his head.

"Just let me sit here for a few minutes," he sighed. "I've been working like hell all day and I'm beat. No use taking my clothes off if I'm too tired to do anything."

"Can I get you anything? Some coffee or a drink?"

He shook his head, then turned to look at me directly.

"Honey, you'll have to forgive me," he said. "If I hadn't made this appointment six months ago, I wouldn't be here. I'd be back at the office on the treadmill."

I got up from the bed and went to him, kneeling at his feet and removing his shoes.

"If you're that tired, you should lie down for a few minutes," I insisted.

"Maybe you're right," he said.

He stood up wearily. I tugged his suit jacket off as he reeled toward the bed. He fell face forward into the pillows with a faint groan. His shoulders looked tense, so I started to massage the knotted muscles.

I dimmed the lights and got up from the edge of the bed, completely lost; wondering what to do for the next two hours while he took a very costly nap. My pubic muscles had started to throb with anticipation the moment he walked into the room. I resisted the urge to tease him awake. He needed rest much more than he needed me. Since I had two long hours until my next appointment and no way to fill them, I came to the conclusion that the best solution was to join him. Moving carefully so that I would not disturb him, I went around the bed and got on it. I curled up beside him and fell into a light, frustrated sleep.

About an hour later I was awakened by a wet tickling on my breast. I opened my eyes, dreamily, to see his head bent over me and his tongue teasing the pink nib.

"Do you feel better?" I yawned.

"Like a new man," he answered. "Want to feel it to make sure?"

My hand went to his fly. A firm erection pushed against the opening. I pushed my hand in behind his belt and my fingers brushed past the hard rod to play in the hair at its base. His lips pinched delicately at my breast.

"You better get undressed," I whispered. "We've lost a lot of time."

"We'll do it twice as fast if you help," he murmured against the soft white mound.

While I slipped his tie free and unfastened the buttons of his shirt, he held me close. Under my wrapper his hands moved around my buttocks, squeezing them gently and grinding me against the hot growth in his pants. I unfastened his belt and slid the zipper down, then pushed his pants toward the floor. When I tugged the elastic band of his shorts down over his hips, his penis sprang free. He pulled me to him, the feverish, ready column making a furrow of warmth up the surface of my stomach.

A warm seepage start between my legs and I moaned and rubbed myself against him, letting my arms fall limp at my sides. He pushed the thin wrapper down over my shoulders and arms and it fluttered to the floor beside the growing mound of clothing.

His lips closed over mine and his tongue pressed into my mouth with gentle authority. My knees trembled as a pulse began to throb inside of me.

He picked me up and lowered me to the bed. His hand slid over my buttocks, then down the length of my hip, thigh and leg. He gripped my ankle, then released it and moved his hand up my calf and inner thigh toward my vagina. I spread my legs slightly and opened the mouth to receive his fingers. He stroked it gently.

"Ummmmmmm!" he murmured again when he felt the hot pool of vaginal juices.

My hands were busy with his penis, pushing and pulling at the loose skin until it was fully formed.

Our movements were slow and unhurried, each savored for its own delight. His body was magnificent and his touch was firm but gentle, moving from one spot to another to stir every point of desire. He stroked along the faint ridge of my clitoris and my legs spread wider of their own accord. I rocked my hips toward him, pulling his penis toward the hot slit.

He got between my legs and let me press the head into the warm juices. Then his hips undulated as he pushed himself inside about an inch. For a few moments we rocked our hips in unison, enjoying the tantalizing newness of our union.

His lips ground against mine and his tongue pressed deeper into my mouth. I began to press my own tongue against his, pushing it away and then sucking it back in again. I sucked hard and he answered by sinking himself between my legs until our crotch hairs were matted together and his balls rested in the curved pocket between my vagina and buttocks mound.

Even my usual preliminary orgasms seemed to be caught in the dreamy quality of our passionate meeting. Instead, my body was reserving itself for one tremendous burst of excitement.

He began an easy, full stroke and my body met his in rhythm. My legs lifted and locked around his waist and my arms circled his back.

Neither of us realized the moment when the dream was over and the hot fires inside of us went out of control. Suddenly we were beating against each other. An urgent need surged inside of us. His penis seemed to grow wider and longer and the smooth head pulsed. My breathing changed to panting gulps.

I felt a hot spurt of semen burst from him. My vagina and legs went loose and then my orgasm started, jerking every muscle in my body toward the wet flame of his manhood. He shot again and another wave of ecstasy contorted me around that burst. He shot again and I tried to pull my legs tighter, wanting to bury him even deeper as my pubic muscles contracted around the softening rod.

Our bodies parted reluctantly and we sprawled on the bed with our legs still entangled. It was several minutes before my spasmodic orgasm aftershocks disappeared. I started to move toward him, hoping to arouse him again for another dreamy adventure, but the small buzzer alarm sounded. His time was nearly up. I rubbed his loose penis with my hand and gave a small groan of disappointment.

He smiled at me and shook his head.

"No more, honey," he said. "If we go around again, they'll have to drag me out on a stretcher."

My next client was a far different sort. He hurried into my salon just as I was getting back on the remade bed. His eyes were hot and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as his gaze fastened on my breasts beneath my wrapper.

"Get it off," he ordered, unzipping his pants.

He was nearly undressed when he reached the bed. His hands went immediately to spread my legs. He buried his face in my crotch and his tongue drove into my freshly douched vagina, licking it into desire. As soon as he tasted the musky sweetness of my juice, he withdrew his tongue and drove his penis inside. Unmindful of my needs, he bashed his way to a quick come.

When he was limp, he withdrew his penis from between my legs. He pulled my head down over his penis, driving himself up into my mouth until he shot a hot, surging burst in my throat. The sticky fluid seeped through my lips and ran down the shrinking rod to form a pool at the base.

I once more sucked him to another erection. This time he flipped me over on my stomach and pressed the hot point against my anus. His thumbs stretched at the tight skin, pulling the hole open so that he could plunge inside.

The urgency of his ejaculations had passed with the first two comes. Once inside my anus he had to pump himself for almost an hour before he came again. During this time I experienced several of the orgasms that had been denied me those first two times. None of them made the least impression on him, so intent was he on his own satisfaction.

When the buzzer sounded and it was time for him to leave, he dressed in the same hurried, no-nonsense manner.

After he left, I dressed to go downstairs for my dinner hours, but my mind stayed on the afternoon. In four short hours I had run the gamut from the passionate partner all women desire to the selfish sex glutton so many women get.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nikki and I settled on a silent truce for several weeks after I slammed out of her office. Our conversations were polite and business-like at first. Then we gradually relaxed with each other and were able to adopt a friendly, easy, working relationship. This suited me fine because I was not finished with the matter of Wade.

It was useless for me to recall those moments when he pumped himself between my buttocks. Those had been savage, animal motions that resulted in a clinical orgasm for us both. But there had been not one trace of romance or affection connected with the act. I had walked into his bedroom with my whole body aching for him, but he displayed less interest in me than he had demonstrated with Golda during those moments in our parlor at home. There had to be some way to get through to him and I was determined to find it. Every time I saw him in the house or moving around the grounds, my love for him deepened and my sense of frustration increased. Being demanding and hasty had been a mistake I was determined not to repeat. Next time he would be the aggressor, I promised myself, and I was determined that there would be a next time.

Nikki ran the house with an iron fist, as rough with some of the clients as she was with the girls. I came to appreciate her tough dictatorship as I fell into the routine of the house and went to work. Although she was exacting with her demands on us, she was equally strict in seeing that we got enough rest, food and relaxation. I was surprised to learn that she sometime served in the house, but I should not have been. There are certain men who are satisfied best by sexual contact with a dominant Lesbian.

I was sunbathing by the swimming pool on one of my first days off when Penny came up to see me, very excited.

"Would you like to see something really funny?" she asked. "One of Nikki's fans is coming to call this afternoon."

I tried to beg off, fearful of any social contact with Nikki which might fan the flames of Terry's hatred. Penny insisted.

"Come on! She doesn't mind if we watch. In fact, the bigger the audience, the more she likes it."

I slipped on a short robe to cover myself and followed her up to the second floor. Penny stopped beside a section of bare wall between my salon and its neighbor and looked around furtively. When she was sure no clients were watching, she pressed on a section of wall molding and a panel opened inward. We stepped inside and she quickly shut the secret door.

We were in a small room that had evidently been converted from, a closet. Two rows of comfortable chairs were terraced in front of a glass opening into the salon in which I worked.

"It's a two-way mirror," Penny whispered.

The broad mirror hung at the head of the bed and gave the hidden viewers an excellent sight of anything that went on there. I thought of the customers I had entertained, unaware that we might have an audience.

"Have people been watching me?" I asked.

"Of course they have," Penny grinned. "You've been playing to packed houses since the day you got here. Come on, I'll show you how the gadgets work."

She pointed out a small panel of switches. One of them activated a tiny light in the salon which let the girl on duty know when the viewing room door was opened. Another sounded an alarm bell that rang throughout the house. Another activated hidden microphones in the viewing room and the girl in the salon could then hear the voices breathing in the secret room. Penny made sure all of these switches were in the "Off position, but flipped a fourth switch to "on." This turned on small microphones in the salon and would allow us to hear the conversation in the room. Penny explained the good features of the little room.

"Some men get their kicks out of knocking a girl around. If you draw one of those, Nikki or someone else is in here watching to make sure it doesn't get out of hand. Then there are customers who just want to play to an audience or some who just want to watch."

"You mean exhibitionists and voyeurs?" I asked, giving the names I had learned in the classroom.

"That's the nice way of putting it," she said. "I call 'em dong wavers and Peeping Toms."

The panel opened silently and Tanya and Cheryll came in to join us.

"Shhhh," Tanya hissed. "Nikki's on her way up and the creep will be along in a minute or two."

We were hardly settled in the lounge chairs when the salon door opened and Nikki entered. She looked toward the mirror and gave us a low, flourishing bow. Penny flipped on the booth microphone long enough for Nikki to hear the round of applause we gave her entrance, then flipped it off again. Nikki walked around the room clasping her hands over her head like a prize-fighter. She was dressed in tight black leather pants with high-heeled, knee-length boots hugging her calves. The crotch of the pants had been cut out so that her vulva and vaginal slit were in the open. She wore a short leather jacket which buttoned across her breasts. A wicked-looking leather whip dangled from a thong around one wrist.

Throwing a blithe kiss toward the audience, Nikki took up a position behind the hall door just as it began to open. A small, pink-faced man in an expensive business suit opened the door cautiously, then crept inside. As soon as he closed the door, Nikki was upon him. She caught him in a judo hold and forced him to the floor where she straddled his chest while keeping his arms pinned to the floor with her knees.

"What the hell are you doing here, you crummy bastard?" she yelled. "I told you to go to room five."

"No, Nikki!" the man screamed. "You said room six. I heard you!"

With her legs spread to hold him to the floor, Nikki's genital area was fully revealed. The little man stared at her, fascinated.

Nikki slapped him, hard.

"You stupid creep," she yelled. "You know what I do to shit-heads like you!"

"Don't, Nikki. I'll go to the other room. Don't be so mean," the little man was begging. Then he opened his mouth to scream in pain as she dug her knees into his arms.

"His pants! Look at his prick!" Penny whispered beside me.

A tight erection tented the little man's pants away from his body. Then a broad wet spot grew at the peak as he came. His body twitched and he moaned.

Nikki stood up and stepped away from him.

"Look at yourself," she thundered. "You're a goddam mess. You call yourself a man? Get up and go clean yourself."

"I can't Nikki," he pleaded. "Just let me stay here a minute."

Nikki brought the whip into play, snapping it around his legs.

"How dare you talk back to me," she yelled. "Just for that I'm going to make you eat pussy until your ears are raw. Get up on your hands and knees. Move!"

She flicked him with the whip several times before he pulled himself up on one elbow and started to rise. Nikki stepped close enough to grab at the wet spot in his pants.

"What the hell is this, you cheating fake?" she screamed. "How do you expect to screw me with that limp rag?"

Her hand twisted viciously at the man's crotch.

"You're hurting me, Nikki," he whined. "I'll get hard again. I just came."

"You've got a lot of nerve coming without me!" she raged. "Now get on your knees and make me come. Eat some good pussy, you pants-sere wer!"

The Little man got on his hands and knees and buried his face obediently in her leather-circled crotch as she continued to berate him and flick at him with the whip.

"What's the matter? Has your tongue gone soft, too?" she yelled. "Get it in there. Deeper!"

She reversed the whip and started striking him across the buttocks with the heavy handle.

"You gutless creep, you don't even know how to give a woman a decent muff job." she complained.

His pants were beginning to tent out again when she raised a probing boot toe and prodded at his penis.

"You selfish bastard," she screamed. "You're getting hard again. Why are you trying to hold out on me?"

She ground her toe into him, brutally. Then, removing the toe, she spread her legs even wider. The whip dangled free as she grasped his ears and pulled him to her, rubbing his nose across her clitoris.

"You haven't even started to get me hot and your rod's ready," she yelled. "Now get with it."

He increased his frantic tongue action as she ground his face into her legs, nearly smothering him. Then he twitched again and the wet spot in his trousers grew larger. He was still in the midst of his come when she lifted a leather-clad leg and kneed him away from her, knocking him back to the floor.

"You came again without me," she screamed. "You told me you were some kind of goddam hero in bed and you've messed your damn pants again. Get in there and clean up!"

She started lashing him with the whip, driving him toward the bathroom. He crawled across the floor painfully, trying to protect himself from the taunting braid of leather. Inside the bathroom we could see him pull himself up at the wash basin. He shuddered convulsively as he stripped off his semen stained clothing. Then he washed his face hastily.

While he was in the bathroom, Nikki continued to scream insults at him through the open door. Meanwhile she slipped off her short leather jacket, revealing her small, firm breats. She waited just outside the door for him as he came back into the room. His prick was limp and he staggered weakly.

C-R-A-C-K! C-R-A-C-K!

The whip snapped twice across his bare buttocks and his penis immediately erected as he fell to his knees and rolled over on his back, sobbing. He saw her bare breasts and gasped. Nikki stung him on his soft belly with the whip.

"What are you looking at, you little sneak?" she screamed. "I've told you before you weren't supposed to look at my breasts. They're reserved for men with pricks."

"Look, Nikki! I'm hard. I can do it to you now!" he moaned.

"Maybe you think so, shit-head," she said. "But I've seen better pricks on two-year-olds."

She knelt on the floor, straddling him and lowered herself on his penis, taking it all up inside of her.

"See that, you two-bit phony?" she yelled. "I got it all up me and I can't even feel it. Now try to do me some good for once."

He began to twitch his hips wildly, driving himself up inside of her. She ignored his frantic efforts but with each stroke, she slapped him in the face.

"You're no-stroke, slap-damn good. You can't-stroke, slap-screw a woman. You should be-stroke, slap-screwing dogs."

He was only able to stand a few minutes of this treatment before he came in her, gasping and trying to drive himself up deeper inside of her. Nikki pulled away, leaving him spurting into the air, splashing the creamy liquid on his own legs and the carpet.

Nikki exploded into a new tirade of abuse as she watched him come. She kicked at him with the toe of her boot, forcing him to turn over on his stomach.

"I'll teach you to make a mess all over my carpet," she screamed. "A filthy bastard like you needs someone like me to teach him a lesson."

She knelt behind him, reaching around to grab his spent penis in her hand. Grasping the whip about six inches below the butt, she pushed the hard leather handle into his anus and began to work it in and out. When he tried to pull away, she yanked on his penis.

Tears of pain and frustration steamed down the little man's face as she worked him from two directions, shouting abuse into his ear.

"That's a new one," whispered Tanya from behind me in the viewing room. "She's never pulled that on him before."

"Look at the little creep. He loves it!" giggled Cheryl.

"Shhh! Shhh!" exhaled Penny. "She's getting him again."

The man writhed and moaned as Nikki continued her painful assault, but his plump hips were working with the whip handle. Then semen spurted from his penis, covering Nikki's clutching hand. She quickly withdrew the whip handle from his rear end and released her hold on his genitals. He fell face down on the rug, his chest heaving.

Nikki pulled away from him and left him on the floor alone. She slipped silently from the room.

The little man rolled into a fetal position with his knees tucked close to his chin. He called out.

"See, Nikki, I made it clean. I did a good job. Nikki? Nikki? Where are you? Come back and let me apologize! Nikki?"

He searched all around the room for her, calling her name. He even looked under the bed before he collapsed on its foot in sobs. Long minutes passed before he pulled himself together and went into the bathroom to shower.

Nikki came into the viewing room through the secret panel. She accepted our compliments on the fine job she had done on the little man but she seemed a little surprised to see me with the others.

"Don't stop watching him," she whispered. "The killing stroke is yet to come."

The man came out of the bathroom, toweling himself. Then he went to the closet from which he took a clean change of clothing. He dressed hurriedly and then went to the little bar and poured a drink.

His satisfaction with the sexual activity was evident as a blissful, rested smile crept over his pink face. Then his head whipped around and he almost dropped his highball glass as the hall door opened.

One of the maids entered carrying a stack of fresh towels. Although I had seen her around the house several times, I hardly recognized her. Usually she was as neat as everyone else in Nikki's employ, but that day she wore cracked shoes, laddered stockings and a ragged uniform. Her hair was drawn back in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. She looked like everyone's idea of a poor, hard-working slattern.

The maid gave the little man a dark look and walked past him into the bathroom. He blushed as she started throwing his dirty clothes out into the salon. She came to the bathroom door and glared at him. Then she saw the semen stains on the carpet and shook her head in disgust. Taking a towel from the bathroom, she got down on her hands and knees and started swabbing at the mess.

"Goddam filthy bastards!" she muttered. "Goddam highnosed rich creeps messing up the place like a bunch of goddam two-year-olds!"

The little man gulped down his drink and ran from the room, crying with shame.

When the door closed behind him, the maid stopped working and looked toward the mirror.

"How'd I do this time, Miss Nikki?" she asked.

Nikki flipped the viewing room microphone on and told her she had done a good job. The maid grinned broadly and went back to work.

Nikki sat in her chair and laughed.

"I only wish I could be there for the finish," she told us.

"The little creep and I haggled for half an hour before we agreed on a price of two hundred. In about two weeks I'll send him a bill for three-fifty and write him a note threatening him with dismemberment if he doesn't pay. He'll love being cheated and threatened. I'll bet he gets his rocks off before he can reach for his checkbook. It should hold him until he can get back here again."

"Do you mean he'll come back for more of that?" I gasped.

"Come back! He'll practically trample the door down to get at me," Nikki bragged. "He's one of the hottest masochists I've ever seen. Besides, Cuddles and I go way back. We've been doing this for five years!"

The other girls found the show amusing but I left the secret room with a sense of fear. Nikki had done an excellent job of giving the little masochist the things he wanted but that was not frightening in itself. Any of us would have done the same thing, or more, if we had been called on to do so. What bothered me was not the fact that she had inflicted pain and degradation on the poor man, but that she had thoroughly enjoyed her work.

CHAPTER NINE

After that day I avoided Nikki as much as possible, limiting our meetings to business discussions and making sure even these were conducted in a room with open doors. She saw through my precautions with some amusement.

"What's the matter, Silver? Are you afraid I'll rape you?" she asked one day.

I pretended to ignore her, but my hands shook for hours after that. Nikki went on with her instructions for the care of a special client as if the question had never been asked.

Terry was another problem entirely. It was impossible to eliminate all contact with her. We had to meet at meals or pass each other in the halls several times a day. I tried a few times to speak to her, wanting to assure her that I was through with Nikki and regretted the events of those first few days, but she would not listen. The small girl continued to hate me, ignoring me entirely or making taunting remarks to my back, but never speaking to me directly.

The other girls tried to compensate for Terry by being more friendly than was necessary. Penny, especially, became my good friend. We spend several long hours together, getting acquainted and exchanging life stories. I told her everything there was to know about me except my feelings for Wade. My love for him was too personal to discuss with anyone.

In spite of Penny's friendship, life in the Town House would have been almost unbearable had it not been for the hours during which I worked. The infinite variety of sexual encounters gave me something to look forward to each day. Each new man piqued my curiosity and I found new heights of sexual satisfaction as my experience and knowledge grew.

Perhaps the most difficult thing a good whore does is to cater to the wants of a man with unusual sex drives. There is much more to prostitution than allowing a strange man to work himself between your legs. During the year in the Town House many men entered my salon and received satisfaction without entering my body as well.

One of the things we learned in the classroom at home was that any sexual act which requires the participation of two or more people can be mutually satisfying if all parties work to make it so. For instance, my first experience with frottage nearly left me climbing a wall before I remembered to relax and enter into the act of sensual play with the man.

Nikki had given me some brief instructions on how to handle the client. They were concise but comprehensive and indicative of the thoroughness with which she did her job.

"He's an odd character, but nice," she told me. "He'll go all over the outside but don't expect him to stick it in you. Don't try to grab hold of him. He won't kiss you on the mouth and he won't let you touch his genitals. Just go along with him and let him do his thing."

"How am I supposed to come?" I asked.

"If you feel a little uptight when the appointment's over, let me know. I'm always glad to oblige." She smiled pleasantly.

"No, thanks," I laughed. "I don't want to start that again. I'd much rather Terry looked daggers at me than threw them."

Nikki became business-like again.

"You probably won't get any kicks out of this john, but he's entitled to his-he's paid for them. Remember that and you won't have any trouble."

It started off to be a long, maddening session before I learned to enter into the game. He was as nice and harmless as Nikki had told me, but I had not been prepared for the fact that he was also very handsome and better equipped, sexually than most men.

It seemed a tremendous waste as he wound both of his legs around one of mine and rode himself to ejaculation against my hip, but he flopped away from me as satisfied as any man who has just completed a normal sex act. He was on his back, gasping and spent, apparently unaware of my presence in the bed beside him. But I noticed that his body was moving, almost imperceptibly, so that his hip was almost touching me.

I decided to see if it was a cue for some kind of action on my part. The worst thing that could happen would be a rebuff from him. Following his example, I wrapped my legs around one of his and began to rub my clitoris against his hard, muscular hip. Rather than upsetting him, he seemed to find my activity exciting although he made no attempt to join me. His breathing seemed to stop and he waited, motionless, as I ground myself against him.

It was too much like masturbation for me to reach a quick climax and before I could achieve orgasm, his penis was once again full erect. This time he pressed himself into the hollow of my armpit, holding my arm tight against my side. Now it was my turn to submit passively as he drove himself again and again toward the mattress until the hot semen spurted into a puddle on the sheet.

In desperation, I grapsed his leg below the knee and started working the hard knob of his ankle bone against the ridge of my clitoris. To my surprise, he responded immediately by rubbing the head of his penis against my breast nipple.

With both of us working together toward mutual, although separate orgasms, the act lost all similarity to masturbation and became what it was: frottage-the ecstasy of working one's body against another. By the time I heard his groan of delight and felt the hot juice wash over the curve of my breast, I was realizing my own completion against the unyielding gristle of his leg.

One client was a huge bull of a man who got his enjoyment from having me ride him around the salon like a horse. I soon learned that he received the utmost gratification from feeling my vaginal juices smeared up the ridges of his spine. I tumbled off him several times before I became adept at clasping my legs about his waist and gripping his broad shoulders as he lumbered about the room on all fours. The faster he moved, the harder I rubbed, and the more excited he became. He finally shot a hot stream of semen into the carpet while giving a whiny-like cry of satisfaction.

Once I received a visit from a delightful man who enjoyed quoting Shakespear while wrapped in a tight leather mesh bondage from which his ready penis protruded.

""Take but degree away, untune that string,'" he emoted while I mounted him and rode us both to panting silence. '"And, hark! what discord follows; each thing meets in mere oppugnancy; the bounded waters should lift their bosoms higher than the shores and make a sop of all this solid globe.'"

He obviously had a great preference for Troilus and Cressida because his parting words were from that work.

""All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.'"

But he winked at me as he went out the door.

"You, my dear, are a most noble exception."

CHAPTER TEN

One day I thought Nikki had decided to turn her anger on me. I received word to come to her office dressed to travel. The terse summons frightened me. I was sure she was sending me home and I tried to think of any cause I had given her.

By the time I reached her office, my knees were shaking and I was struggling to hold back my tears. She was as observant as usual and saw my worried face. A faint smile picked at the corner of her lips.

"Come in, Silver. I have a special job for you."

Then I noticed the little man seated across the desk from her and relief routed my fears.

He was dressed in a casual sports suit that looked expensive but rumpled. A huge cigar was gripped in one corner of his mouth, almost obscuring his small face. Nikki introduced him.

"This is Bud Kramer," she told me. "He works for James Laughlin, the actor. I think you've heard of him."

Jim Laughlin was one of my favorites from television. He had started making motion pictures and was on his way to becoming a big star. I liked him best in a part where he played a young, sensitive priest fighting against ghetto oppression. I told Mr. Kramer so.

"Bud, baby. Call me Bud, everybody does," he said. "Would you like to work for Jim for a week?"

I nodded, eagerly. "Oh, yes. That would be wonderful."

"Okay, then," he said, talking around the cigar. "We're in town on location for his latest picture. He likes a little something between takes. His regular girl couldn't leave her kids in Hollywood, so I need to call on the local talent."

This information surprised me. I had read several articles in the fan magazines which praised his happy marriage and showed pictures of Jim Laughlin with his beautiful, smiling wife. It was a shock to learn that he had a regular "girl" in Hollywood and was now looking for one in our city.

A few minutes later Bud and I were in his big convertible weaving through traffic and I was wondering what "a little something between takes" would be like with such a famous man.

The picture was being filmed at one of our small boat marinas. It was cluttered with cables, light reflectors and microphone booms. Out of range of the cameras stood several house trailer dressing rooms. Guards were posted around the marina to keep out the curious spectators that threatened to mob the set. Down the dock a small knot of technicians shielded the action that was taking place in front of the camera.

Bud led me away from the excitement toward one of the trailers. There was a star painted on the door and the name "Jim Laughlin" was lettered in gold beneath it.

"This is it," Bud told me. "We better get you undressed and ready to go. He'll be here as soon as the scene is finished."

The air-conditioned trailer was furnished with every luxury possible in its small space. The living room held a long, broad couch and two easy chairs. A stereo gave out soft strains of music and the coffee table held a chess set which showed a game in progress. A blank-eyed TV set was placed across the room from the couch. A well-stocked kitchen was next, then a tiled bathroom with, unbelieveably, a sunken tub. The last room contained a king-sized bed and nothing else.

I went into the bedroom to change into a wrapper and unpack my suitcase. Bud mixed himself a drink from the kitchen bar and talked to me through the open door.

"Will you be comfortable in here?" he asked. "Jim spends his nights at the hotel with Cara. There are guards on duty all night and we'll leave a car for you so you can get around town a little. You could stay at home, but shooting starts early and goes as long as the light lasts."

"This will be fine," I said. "Who's Cara?"

"His wife. Who else?" Bud answered, swirling ice cubes in his glass. "I work for her."

I hadn't recovered from this revelation when I heard the door open. Feeling foolishly shy, I hurried down the hall to meet my idol.

He was bigger than I had pictured him-at least six inches taller than the average man, but bone-thin and muscular. His handsome, rugged face was covered by a thick coating of orange make-up which didn't hide the tense, nervous lines around his eyes. He slumped to the couch and his hands shook with exhaustion as he lit a cigarette. Perspiration plastered his shirt and pants to his body.

"This is Silver, Jim," Bud told him. "Okay?"

"She'll do. Catch you later?"

"Right," agreed Bud, letting himself out of the door.

"Come here-Silver, is it?"

"Yes, Mr Laughlin."

"This is going to be a little odd," he seemed to apologize. "I can't mess up my makeup so I'll have to go in backwards most of the time. Is that all right?"

"I'll do it any way you want," I answered.

Just talking to him sent a thrill of expectation through me and caused a rivulet of moisture to run between my legs. In spite of his apparent exhaustion, the moment he removed his pants I could see that his penis was erect and that he had an oversized instrument.

I backed up to him and bent over. His hands parted my buttocks arid his fingers worked in the vaginal slit.

"You're okay," he said. "Wet already. I like that."

"It's exciting to meet you," I told him. "What's this? Am I about to screw one of my fans?" he asked.

"That's right. I've seen all your pictures so far."

"Don't tell my wife that when you meet her," he said. "She thinks my fans should be gathered together and sent on a one-way trip to Mars. They give her fits the way they sneak around and try to get into our house."

Meet his wife? Good grief! What had I gotten myself into this time? But there was no chance to speculate on his wife's reaction to his "between takes" affairs. The head of his penis was pressing against the slit and he was burying himself inside.

His hands held my hips steady and he worked rapidly, driving himself in with frantic force. His extra-large instrument played havoc with my control. On the fourth or fifth stroke I experienced a small orgasm.

"Hey, hey!" he exulted from behind me. "Maybe I'm in the wrong racket. Got any place in that house of yours for a male whore?"

"I'll speak to my boss about you," I said, going along with his easy manner.

He seemed to enjoy carrying on a casual conversation while working himself inside.

"This business is beginning to get through to me," he complained. "We've got one scene coming up where I start to take the boat out of the harbor. I pull away from the dock and go down the channel and the camera does a slow zoom to follow me. I'm all alone, headed for the open sea. That son-of-a-bitch director doesn't know it, but the first time he calls for a retake I'm going to open up the throttle and just keep going."

"You wouldn't do that," I objected.

"Oh-wouldn't-I?" he grunted, spacing each word with a hard thrust.

"I'm going to come again," I warned him.

"You're not putting me on?" he asked.

"Oh, no-noooo!" I gasped.

The orgasm was complete and left me weak. His strong hands kept me from falling to my knees and he continued working himself with no visible sign of an approaching ejaculation. Then someone knocked at the door and a muffled voice called to him.

"They're ready on the set, Mr. Laughlin."

"Be-right-there," he called.

He stopped talking then and battered himself against my buttocks until he came, his large penis extending itself to a painful length just before he ejaculated. I gasped at the pain, then quickly forgot it and experienced another climax as he withdrew.

The change in him was miraculous. Years had fallen away from him and all the tired lines of tension were gone from his face. He hurried into the bathroom to clean himself. I brought his costume to him as he was toweling himself dry. Once dressed, he patted me on the fanny and went out the door, whistling and apparently rested.

A few minutes later, Bud knocked at the door and entered the trailer without waiting for me to answer.

"How was it?" he asked, heading for the bar.

"All right, I guess," I told him.

"Did he come?"

"Like a cannon," I answered.

"That's our boy!" Bud said, nodding his head with satisfaction. "Well, I guess we're in business. Care for a little gin while he's gone?"

"No, thanks. I don't drink."

"Gin, baby, gin! With the cards!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I told him. "I don't know how, but I'm willing to learn."

"Beginner, huh? I'll make it easy for you. Half-cent a point."

He got a pack of cards from a drawer in the kitchen and dealt them out on the coffee table. I sat across from him and let him explain the rules. An hour later, when Laughlin came back, Bud owed me three dollars and was beginning to scream every time I said "gin."

Bud started to gather up the cards, but Laughhn told him to stay.

"I don't want to break up a good game," he said. "I'll sit this one out."

"This broad is murdering me!" Bud complained.

"Do you good," Laughlin told him. "You're beginning to think the world is populated with pigeons."

Laughlin stripped off his costume again and sat in the easy chair I had been using. While Bud dealt the cards, Laughlin worked his fingers in my vagina until I was wet. Then he pulled me down to sit on his lap with his penis shoved up deep inside me.

Bud seemed totally oblivious to the fact that Laughlin and I were engaged in a sex act in front of him. He was intent on the cards and nothing else. Laughlin watched over my shoulder, as interested in the game as we were. He didn't seem to expect me to make any titillating movements; my reaching for new cards was enough. But, once again, the size of his penis was too much for my control. Every time I moved, I could feel it inside.

"You must have a really good hand," Bud said."

"No, but I think I'm going to-commmmmmmmme!" I said, fighting a losing battle against the orgasm. The cards clattered in my hands.

"I'm going down on three," Bud barked beligerently, daring me to do better than that.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bud. I can play down to one." I apologized.

As I leaned forward to spread out the cards, the hard rod twisted me into another climax and I had to wait until it passed.

Bud had lost another two dollars before the muffled voice called through the door again.

"Coming!" answered Laughlin, and he was.

He lurched upward from the chair and pulled me down on him at the same time. A loud sigh exploded from his lungs as he shot a hot bolt of liquid into me.

He dressed just as quickly and was gone out the door in a minute, calling back to us.

"That was fun. Whip his ass good while I'm gone, Silver."

The game continued until shooting was suspended because of darkness. During every break, Laughlin came dragging into the trailer. I sat on his lap and played cards with Bud, beating the little gin shark almost every hand.

One time the phone rang for Laughlin. Bud handed him the receiver and he talked into the mouthpiece while I kept my seat, impaled on his rod.

"Hi, darling-Yes, she's here-Blonde-Sure she's pretty, in fact, she's beautiful. You know how Bud can pick 'em-Just a minute, I'll ask her."

He held the mouthpiece away from him and spoke to me.

"Silver, my wife wants to know if you need anything."

"N-n-no," I stammered.

He spoke into the telephone again.

"She says she's fine. Okay, I'll tell her. What are we doing for dinner? Oh, great! They're nice people. Wear that red job. It turns me on-bye, sweet. I love you, too."

He hung up the phone and spoke to me again over my shoulder.

"Cara asked me to tell you she's sorry she can't get down here today to meet you. We have company coming in from New York."

"I didn't really expect-" My voice trailed away. I didn't know what I expected.

"You'll like her. She's a great girl," he stated, looking over my shoulder at my hand of cards.

"Bud, she's got you going again. You better gin or be damned!"

"Shut up and let me think," growled Bud, chewing harder on his cigar, which I never saw him light.

Several times I dressed and went out to the set to watch him work. I could see that it was slow, tedious monotony except for the brief moments when the camera was turning. The director, an obscenely fat man with a shrill voice, seemed to be everywhere. He screamed and ranted with performers and technicians alike. I didn't blame Laughlin for his threat to "just keep going." One time I saw him looking at me, his pale blue eyes holding on my breasts. When Laughlin was through with the scene and started toward the trailer, the director caught his arm and asked him something in a low voice, a nasty grin on his face. Jim yanked his arm free and came toward us, a deep scowl furrowing his make up.

"Of all the goddam gall!" he thundered as he stormed into the trailer. "That son-of-a-bitch wanted me to invite him over to take a bang at you. I may have to kill him yet."

"But that's what I'm here for," I protested.

Laughlin pulled me close and gave me a very brotherly hug.

"Not on my time," he yelled, but the anger was going out of him. "He's hung like a stud field mouse and that makes him mean with women. Cara would have my hide if I turned him loose on you."

After that, I didn't go on the set anymore. Bud picked me up for breakfast early in the morning and took me to dinner in some nice restaurant at night. Once we even went dancing and he turned out to be an ex-professional hoofer. We waltzed until my head was spinning while he told me stories about some of the Hollywood stars. I noticed that I was never left alone until it was time for me to to go sleep behind the locked trailer door. Several times someone knocked in the middle of the night, but I thought of those pale blue eyes sunk in the bloated red face and didn't answer.

Cara didn't show up until the fourth day. She knocked at the door and entered while Bud and I were engaged in our never-ending gin game. Laughlin was busy on the set.

Mrs. Laughlin was truly a beautiful woman, but more than that, she was intelligent. Humor, vitality, good grooming and a low, bubbling laugh were all part of her charm. She shook my hand warmly and sat at the other end of the couch. I might have been any nice young woman she had met casually, not her husband's hired lover.

As soon as we had finished our gin hand, Bud excused himself and left us alone. Muscles tightened at the pit of my stomach as I waited for some kind of verbal abuse. But none came.

"I'm very glad Bud was able to find you on such short notice," she said. "Rita-that's Jim's regular girl-had to stay home. One of her children is having his tonsils taken out."

Curiosity made me speak out.

"Mrs. Laughlin, I don't understand what's going on here. Either you're the most remarkable woman I've ever met or I don't know much about married life."

She laughed, enjoying my confusion.

"Poor child," she said, finally. "You don't seem to realize that you're my husband's tranquilizer. This is a nervous, maddening business. Jim is overtense and oversexed. If he isn't making love, he's eating or dinking. When he eats, he gets fat. When he drinks, his face gets puffy and those cameras don't lie. If he's deprived of eating, drinking and sex, he comes home in a rage and we start to fight. Silver, I love my husband. We've been together since we were kids tying to get a break on Broadway. He loves me, but he needs more sex than I can give him. I tried staying on the set with him once, but it was bad for both of us. You're the best answer. I'm not afraid I'll lost him to another woman as long as he comes home relaxed and contented. If you weren't here, then I'd worry!"

"I think you're the smartest, most beautiful woman I've ever met, except for my mother," I blurted.

"How old is your mother?" she asked, skeptically.

"Thirty-eight-no, thirty-nine."

"Lord!" she exclaimed with relief. "Then I should feel complimented. "I'm looking forty-five in the face next week."

I must have looked stunned. She smiled.

"Did you think I was younger? Our hero is almost fifty, although his agent would scream his pretty pink lungs out if he heard me admit it."

"You're both just a little too much," I said.

"Aren't we, though?" she laughed. Then she went out on the dock to watch the filming.

The week passed too quickly. The picture equipment was being packed to move back to Hollywood and my work was finished. Jim and Cara left for the airport to fly home. Bud remained behind, listening to me enthuse over my full-length ermine coat "bonus" while I packed.

I brought my small suitcase into the living room and looked around the area that had been so pleasant for those few days.

"Bud, could I have something before we leave?" I asked.

"Sure, baby, name it," he said, counting out the gin money he owed me.

"Their home address. I want to send something."

"A fan letter?" he grunted, sounding a little disappointed.

"Not on your life! I'm still his greatest admirer, but I want to do something different. For her birthday, I want to send orchids to his wife."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The worried father paced the floor in Nikki's office as we talked.

"I'm afraid the boy will grow to be a ... well, you know," he told us. "Since my wife died, I've left his care to my sister. She's an old maid with a lot of funny ideas. Overprotective, prim ... Well, anyway, I don't think Larry's getting the right breaks. He's too shy with girls. He's at that age when kids need some kind of sexual experience. I want to make sure he doesn't get the wrong kind."

"Are you sure you want Silver to entertain him?" Nikki asked. "We have several women in the house who've had more experience with these cases."

"No, they're too old for him. She's more his own age. Look, I'd pair him off with a highschool girl if I weren't afraid he'd catch something or that she'd hit me with statutory rape or a paternity suit."

"What does Larry thing about this?" I asked.

The father looked up at me, surprised.

"I don't really know," he said thoughtfully. "To tell you the truth, I never thought to ask."

His father should have asked him, however, because the moment he arrived, I knew he was against the idea. Larry stood just inside the door of my salon, glaring at me like I was a creature from another planet. He seemed much younger than the age his father had given.

"Are you really fifteen?" I asked.

"Sure. Yesterday was my birthday and I think this is a helluva present," he grumbled.

"Your father seems to think it's time you learned about sex," I explained.

"Maybe he thinks so, but I don't. Look, maybe we could just sit here and talk or something," he almost pleaded. "Then we could tell him we ... uh ... did it and no body'd know the difference."

I shook my head no. I knew his father was watching from behind the mirror but, of course, I couldn't tell Larry that. I decided to be firm with him.

"Larry, you're stalling," I said. "Come over here and take off your clothes."

I moved over to the bed and sat down on the edge, glaring at him with all the anger I could pretend. He approached me but made no move to undress.

"Do you need me to undress you?" I said coldly.

"No! No!" he protested. "I can do it. Turn your head away."

"I will not turn my head. You may shut your own eyes if you wish, but I intend to watch every move you make. Now, get busy!"

With his eyes clenched shut, Larry reluctantly began to remove his clothes. First his jacket, then his tie, shirt, undershirt, socks and shoes. Fumbling like a blind man, he made slow progress. Eventually he reached the point where only trousers and undershorts remained to cover him. He started to turn away from me.

"Don't do that!" I snapped. "If you try to turn away, I'll take them off for you."

Since he was at least two inches taller than I and outweighed my by a good twenty pounds, I knew I couldn't back up the threat, but then I didn't think I would have to. In spite of his protests, Larry was getting interested. A small mound was growing in his pants, hinting at a partial erection.

His jaw set as he gritted his teeth, but he unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor. His small rod pressed against the woven cotton of his undershorts, tenting them away from his hips. He made one abortive move to pull the elastic band down from his waist and then stopped. A deep red blush spread from his hairline down over his body.

"You've seen naked statues of women and probably some paintings and photographs, haven't you?" I asked.

He nodded. The small muscles around his eyes twitched as he struggled to keep from looking at me.

"Have you ever really looked at a woman without her clothes on?" He shook his head.

"Open your eyes and look at me!" I ordered. His eyes flew open and anger blazed from them as he looked at me squarely, trying to outstare me like a petulant child. He was determined to look anyplace but where I wanted him to look. I lifted one hand to rub my face. His attention caught on the hand and followed it as I lowered it past my breasts to rest on one hip.

His interest was caught by the round fullness of my breasts and he gasped audibly. His gaze was inquisitive but furtive. Then he became more bold as his eyes slipped down to the triangle of pubic hair at the base of my stomach. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick at his lips. I turned around so he could examine the tight mounds of my buttocks.

"All right, now take the rest of your clothes off," I ordered him over my shoulder.

The small snap of the elastic waistband on the shorts told me that he was obeying. There was a rustle of cloth as he kicked shorts and trousers away. I wondered if his spinster aunt allowed him to treat his clothes that way at home.

I turned around and gave him the same close scrutiny that he had given me. When my attention reached his genitals, he started to cover himself with his hands. Then he straightened and stood before me, almost defiantly.

His well-proportioned penis was only about six inches long but, even at that, he had more to offer than some of the less fortunate adult males I had served.

I went to the bed and stretched out on it, making sure that I spread my legs just enough to give him a brief glimpse of my vaginal slit. He took a hesitant step forward, close enough so I could reach out and grip his hand. I pulled him onto the bed beside me.

His attention returned to my breasts. The nipples were still soft and unexcited. I spread his hand flat and placed it upon one of my breasts. A thin film of perspiration rubbed off on my skin. I rubbed his palm against me and the nipple contracted and became hard.

The change fascinated him and he quickly moved to rub the other nipple, bringing them both to hard, tight peaks. I moved my hip so that it pressed against the hot stiffness of his erection. His breath began to come in short, uneven bursts and I knew that he was going to have an early come. I wanted to make sure he had it inside of me rather than have him suffer the embarrassment of shooting semen on the sheets. I was only a little wet in my crotch, but my discomfort didn't matter. I spread my legs and pulled him on top of me. With one hand I grabbed his penis and drove it inside of me, my legs circling him and locking him inside.

He tried to withdraw but my legs let him pull out only an inch or two before I pulled him back inside. He lurched against me twice before he shuddered and fell across me as he came, spouting a small fountain of juice into me.

He buried his head in the curve of my neck and his breathing changed into small sobs of ecstasy as he continued to shoot, his rod pulsing and spurting hot bolts.

I put my arms around him and stroked his hair.

"All right, Larry," I whispered. "Now can we be friends?"

For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, Larry and I continued his lessons in sex. Until he recovered from his first experience, I made him remain between my legs which were stretched out in a broad vee on the bed. His limp prick and balls were pressed against my vagina, rubbing in the warm liquid of his ejaculation.

When his breathing returned to normal, I told him to stroke my body.

"Don't miss an inch," I ordered. "I want you to feel very part of me."

He complied eagerly, and cupped by breasts in his hands. He began to rub them gently.

"Don't be so pussy-footish," I told him. "Feel them, handle them. Women are tougher than they look."

He began to rub and pull at them with more intensity until, finally, he was satisfactorily rough with them. I let out a gasp of pain as he squeezed too hard. The sound excited him and he ground his hips against mine. There was a gratifying hardness between my legs as his strength renewed.

I pulled his head down to one breasts and told him how to lick it with his tongue and kiss it. He responded readily, and his hands were free to move down over my body, gripping at my buttocks and exploring the crevice between them.

My body caught fire with his touch and for a brief moment I regretted that I had not had a more normal life. How sweet it would have been to experiencing this searching, untaught love for the first time with someone equally inexperienced. I envied all the back-seat lovers of the world who had known their first sexual adventures in spite of the guilts, fears and mores of society, frantically seeking body with body in a new and exciting conquest.

Larry's hands moved around my hips to stroke at the tender plane of my belly and then into the golden, curling hair of my loins. His rod grew stiff and hard and cut into the folds of my vulva. His quick gasps and frenzied hip-twitching told me that his second orgasm was near.

I quickly reached down and grasped his penis and drove it into me once again. This time I did not need to hold him inside. He pumped himself into the hot, moist opening. Five, six, seven times he drove himself into me before the second orgasm jerked at his body, shooting a hot burst of juice as he fell across me and became limp.

I left him sprawled on the bed as I went to the silent butler and took out the tray of milk and sandwiches I knew would be waiting there.

"Don't go away yet," he called to me from the bed.

"Like the man says, 'that's only the beginning,'" I laughed as I brought the tray back to the bed.

I told him to sit up and eat a sandwich.

"Eat? At a time like this?" He was shocked at the idea.

"Growing boys need food," I told him. "You sound just like my aunt," he grumbled. I flicked a finger across his limp peter. "I'll bet I don't act like her," I challenged. He grinned and began to eat, wolfing down two sandwiches and draining a whole glass of milk before my naked body took on renewed interest for him.

One of the sandwiches was filled with cream cheese and jelly. A blob of jelly squeezed out from between the two slices of bread. He caught it with his finger before it could drop to the sheet. He raised the finger to lick it and then changed his mind and rubbed the sticky sweetness on my left nipple. He grinned at me impishly, as he pulled me to him and began to lick away the mess.

"Two can play that game," I laughed, grabbing the sandwich away from him.

Separating the two slices of bread, I rubbed the filling into his genitals. He tried to pull away at first, but I made him hold still while I licked at his small but well-formed balls and his rapidly hardening penis, until every trace of the cheese and jelly was removed.

By the time I was finished with the pleasant chore, he had a beautiful erection and had forgotten all of his initial shyness. It was time for him to become the agressor. His hands moved over my body, venturing wherever his curiosity took him and fanning a flame that burned at my pubic muscles. His lips closed over my breasts; hot, urgent and demanding. His legs spread mine apart and he drove himself into me. I welcomed his entrance with my first orgasm of the day. He held my jerking body tight and gasped in wonderment.

"Oh, God! You get it too, don't you?" he said. "Oh, oh, oh...."

His voice trailed away as he began to drive himself into me rhythmically, steadily, his movements still inexpert, but exciting. My initial orgasm passed and a new hunger grew inside of my loins, building toward another peak. I paced myself until I could hear his breath become short and his movements became jerky and irregular. Then I lifted my hips and ground myself against him as we came together in a wondrous, pulsating orgasm.

"It gets better," he groaned. "It gets better each time. I think I'm going to die just before I...."

He searched for the right word. "Come," I supplied the word. "Just before you come."

"I don't come, I go-right out of this world!" he amended.

I rolled him over and gave him a swat on the rump.

"That's a bad joke and you should be punished," I giggled.

"My aunt punishes me by sending me to bed," he offered.

"I'm more like your coach. I'm going to send you to the showers. Come on!"

I pulled him into the bathroom and we stood under the warm needle spray of the shower. I handed him one of the two bars of soap there and told him to scrub me. I began to smear the sweet-scented lather over him, down his buttocks, into the crack and around his anus. He twitched excitedly and began to rub soap into my vagina and up to my clitoris. He had been hesitant to touch me there before but the protective coating of soap on his hands gave him new courage. I next concentrated on his balls and his penis became erect as I built up a good lather. I turned my back to him and leaned over.

"Now scrub me out inside," I told him.

He didn't need any further urging, but slipped his soapy instrument into my vagina and began to work with hard strokes.

Small bubbles ballooned and burst as his hips met my buttocks and then parted. He was getting good and developed a firm, telling rhythm which caught me by surprise. My feet skidded on the slick tile floor as a thorough orgasm thundered through me. He held me to him, both arms locked across my stomach, and came soon after.

We toweled each other dry and returned to the bedroom. Twice more our bodies blended together, but now he was the master and chose the moments and methods. Sure of himself now, he knew what he wanted and how to get it.

As Larry dressed to leave, we talked softly.

"I want to take you away from this place, Silver," he said, "I think I'm in love with you."

Then I told him about my family and the traditions by which we live.

"I don't understand it," he said. "I want to be with you always."

"You'll understand in time," I told him. "Besides, you don't really love me, you just love what we did here today. There's a difference."

"I'll never forget you," he promised.

"Nor I you," I answered.

He kissed me once, gently, before he left. As he went out the door, his shoulders were squared and his head held high with confidence.

I had known many men before him, including Wade who continued to hold my heart, but he was different. Larry was my first lover.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When I was growing up I always hoped that some day I could join my mother as financial head of the family and help her manage the Manton fortune. The ins and outs of corporate intrigue enthrall her and she approaches a board of directors meeting with the same enthusiasm other women have for their weekly bridge club.

Crystal Manton started the whole thing when she purchased a textile mill and a small shipping line with her hoard of Yankee gold. In the ensuing hundred years, the Mantons have continued to invest and diversify until we control or own interests in a variety of corporations.

Under their many trade names, you probably sleep under Manton blankets, listen to a Manton radio station, stay in a Manton motel, and pour Manton syrup on your waffles. Through three wars, soldiers have marched on Manton leather and slung their guns on belts made of Manton webbing. Manton oil protects your car engine and Manton detergent cleans your dishes. Manton computers issue your monthly bills while a Manton press prints the checks with which you pay them.

After her year in the Town House, a Manton woman is free to do exactly as she wishes. She can flit around the world with the Jet Set, devote her life to good works, or enter a trade. There is a Manton woman at the top of the current Hollywood box office list. Her past is as carefully shielded from the public as if she were a master spy. Several Manton teachers grace the halls of learning and one is a photographer of international fame. All of them receive annual allowances from the family fortune which make them completely independent of any other income.

If a Manton decides to continue the line, she may live wherever she wishes and do whatever she wants, except that she cannot marry. She bears children by a variety of fathers who are never aware that they have been chosen specifically for that purpose.

Occasionally a son is born and the Manton must make a choice. She can give the boy in adoption to one of her many cousins who have married and left the line, or she can keep him and leave the line herself. Whatever decision she makes, her year in the Town House has earned her a share of the fortune for the rest of her life.

My own mother has had to make this decision twice and each time has decided to stay in the family line. To her four daughters she is a devoted, loving mother. When she visits them, as she frequently does, her sons know her as a beautiful, doting aunt.

During the time in the Town House it is easy to forget the purpose for a year inside its walls. The place takes on some of the aspects of a prison with days piling on top of days until count is lost.

The future and freedom are someplace ahead but they are too distant to be understood.

One day a letter came from Golda which made me realize that time was passing and that I was no further along in my relationship with Wade than the day I arrived. Looking back, I realized that my frustrated love for him chose that moment to turn me into a willful bitch.

Golda had grown restless at home and found herself bored with the leisurely, carefree life of a wealthy young woman. She decided to go to Rome to study. Her letter bubbled with enthusiastic plans and she told me that she wanted me to share them.

"I don't even know what I want to study," she wrote. "I'll probably have to learn the language first. I'm going to take an apartment and decorate it from the bare walls out. That's something I've never done, you know. I'll make sure there's room enough for the two of us, Sis, because I want you to come and stay with me for a while. It won't be long until you can join me-only five more months!"

Only five more months! The thought chilled me. In seven months I had not managed to be alone with Wade again, although I saw him almost every day. Everyone else was just as I had found them: Wade and York in the guest house and Nikki and Terry in the big house. Only I had changed, growing older, more determined and more thwarted every day.

The letter arrived on one of my days off and was brought to me as I was dressing for an afternoon beside the pool. After reading it, I found myself standing by the bedroom window, looking across the yard toward the guest house and thinking of Wade. There had to be a way to bridge the gulf that yard represented and let me reach his arms.

Nikki knocked on my open door and stepped inside. She leaned against the wall as if ready to turn and leave if I insisted.

"Bad news from home?" she asked sympathetically.

"No. It's from Golda. She's going to Rome," I answered.

"And you'd Like to go with her," said Nikki, jumping to the Logical conclusion.

"Not just yet," I said. My voice was shaking as a plan formed in my mind. "Nikki, do you still want me?"

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just answer yes or no," I insisted. "The reasons can come later."

She moved toward me, warily, like a black tigress moving in for the kill.

"Of course I want you," she said. "Every day I go a little more mad because of it. I'd do anything to get you and you know it by now."

"Will you even make a bargain?" My heart was pumping ice through my veins.

"On any terms," she breathed as she pulled me into her arms. The hard points of her breasts ground into mine and her hot, flicking tongue teased at my lips. I pushed her away.

"Then you can have me for a price," I said. "One time with you earns me a time with Wade. He'll do it if you order him to because he's afraid of you."

"Bitch!" she yelled.

Her palm slapped across my jaw, leaving a welt of fire along the bone.

"Take it or leave it," I shouted back.

She slapped me again, knocking me back on the bed. The bra strap on my bikini snapped and my heaving breasts sprang free. Nikki lunged for me, her hand upraised to strike again. I looked at her, waiting for the blow. She loomed over me, livid with fury and struggling to regain control. Then the rage went out of her and she buried her face against my naked breasts.

"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, Silver. Yes."

She flung the bra away, then followed it with the bottom half of the suit. Her movements were impatient as she took me in a nearly masculine form of rape, unmindful of my response.

When she finally left the room, my body ached from her assaults but I knew she would be back, just as I knew that Wade would be waiting for me in the guest hosue the next day.

Nikki, Wade and I formed a strange triangle. She would fight against her desire for me, growing grouchy and demanding with everyone in the house. Finally she would have to come to me and for a few frantic hours I would earn my passage to Wade's arms.

The next day I would walk across the yard, through the screening trees and up to his door. He always welcomed me with a glad smile, but he would hurry me into the bedroom where he achieved a hasty anal ejaculation and then made a dozen excuses to shorten my visit.

It would be difficult to judge which of us received the least satisfaction from our triangle or which was being punished the most. The other girls in the house soon became aware of the ludicrous play we were acting out and they watched us, some with amusement and others with growing alarm.

Penny, my only real friend, was the first to try to reason with me. We had been paired for a troilism appointment and were waiting for our client, who had called to tell Nikki he would be a few minutes late.

"Ten minutes to kill," she said. "That should give you enough time to run across the yard and let Wade bang your ass."

"I don't care if you are my friend, Penny, you have no right to talk to me like that," I said petulantly.

She ignored my complaint. "Tell me, Silver, do you two bother to get in bed or does he just tell you to bend over on the doormat?"

"I thought you were my friend!" I yelled.

"Of course I am," she grumbled. "But someone has to talk some sense into your head. Can't you see what you're doing to the people around here? Terry's eating her heart out in big chunks. Nikki acts like a mad bull. Old York is ready to put strychnine in your tea and Wade is getting worn down to a nub."

"I have no control over them," I said.

"Especially over Wade. Admit it, Silver, he isn't worth the effort. Wade is all prick and no guts. If there was anything like a man inside of him, he'd have sent you packing long ago."

"That's not the way it is," I stormed. "He cares for me. I know he does."

"Wade cares for Wade," she said. "He lives for two things: to show off that big dong of his and to collect his paycheck."

"I can't help it," I cried. "I love him and I don't know any other way to get through to him."

"I suppose you're right," she relented. "But I worry about you. York can be a vindictive little bastard when he's riled and Terry gives me the shudders. I wish we knew more about her."

"I thought Terry had been here a long time. She came here with Nikki, didn't she?"

"Terry?" Penny was surprised. "Hell, no! She showed up about a month before you came. She started putting on airs like she was something special and went for Nikki right away. I don't think she'd been in Nikki's bed for more than a week before you arrived. She gave Golda the same dagger-eyed treatment she gave you. She even wanted to move into Golda's room the day she left and tried to pull ass on Nikki to force her to put you someplace else. That was quite an argument!"

"I think I got in on the end of it," I said, remembering the first time I saw Terry as she ran through the parlor in tears. "If Terry was acting like that, I'm surprised that Golda didn't mention it to me."

"The last month she was here, Golda never saw a thing but the front door and the road to home," laughed Penny. "If you'll wait a few months and stop pushing people around, you'll be the same way."

I shook my head sadly. "Time won't change the way I feel about Wade. I know I'm using people and that I'm acting like a stinker, but I can't help it. Please, Penny, don't hate me for loving him."

She patted me on the head and pulled me over to lean on her shoulder.

"I won't, baby," she promised. "Heaven help you, You've got few enough friends."

"That's the way I like to find my women," our client boomed as he walked into the salon. "All cuddled up and waiting for Daddy."

Some troilists are true satyrs with an unsatiable appetite and want to move from woman to woman as they wear each one out. Others are voyeurs who want to watch two women engaged in sex, or exhibitionists who need an audience. Other men have unrealistic ideas about their own prowess and like to brag about taking on more than one woman at a time.

Our caller for the afternoon was a little of all of these. His abilities were prodigious, far past the sustaining power of the average man. The thing that set him apart from the others was his unique form of self-control.

He undressed quickly and stood beside the bed, waggling his penis at us.

"Look at that, girls. Aren't you going to have a good time with that?"

This opening is as old as our trade, but Penny and I went for him at once, pulling him onto the bed and mock-fighting for possession of his instrument. As we scrapped, his hands moved over us, tickling us into giggles. Penny finally won the battle for him and I moved up to his head, offering him my breasts for toys while she started to work on him in earnest. She pulled and pushed the loose skin up and down on his rod, stimulating it to its full size. Her body was turned to him in a semi-sixty-nine position so he could finger her.

"Ummmmmm!" he approved as Penny began to lick his penis.

His tongue on my breasts matched her movements and from his action I could tell when her mouth closed over him because he began to suck my breast, his tongue battering at the nipple. He rubbed my clitoris skillfully, then moved his finger down to the wet vaginal track and poked it inside.

Although I was turned away and could not see her, I knew Penny was receiving the same treatment. There is a kind of "mental voyeurism" in knowing that whatever someone else is experiencing, you feel also. The pleasure she gave him through his penis was transmitted through him to my breast and doubled and tripled by his practiced fingers.

Both Penny and I were getting hot and the room filled with the musky scent of our vaginal fluid.

My body began to writhe with the contortions of an impending orgasm. Sensing our excitement, he pulled away his hands.

Penny turned around and mounted him, lowering herself gradually. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back as she took more and more of him inside of her.

He pulled me around to straddle his face, buring his nose in my moist crotch. His tongue flicked at the lips of my vagina and then moved inside and stroked at the sensitive membranes.

Penny shuddered with ecstasy as she reached the base of his penis. Then she drew herself up until he was almost free and sat down again. His hips met her buttocks half way as he drove himself up to meet her, thrusting his tongue into me equally hard.

Penny pulled up and plunged down again to meet his upward movement. Then she began to set a fast pace. Her breasts bobbed up and down with each movement and her hips twisted from side to side.

His lapping tongue moved like an extension of her body to stimulate my pubic muscles to a churning frenzy. My orgasm was only seconds away and I tried to hold it back to wait for them, but he was licking away my control. My knees quivered and my stomach tightened for a climactic explosion just as Penny gasped.

"I'm coming," she whimpered. "Coming, coming ... oh...."

I let my body have its way, releasing all the tensed muscles, and we came together. Penny ground herself upon him in a circular hip motion, her stomach and legs jerking spasmodically.

He waited until we were through before he twisted free of us.

"Hey, gals! How was that for a start?"

He bounced on the bed happily, his penis as hard as when we started. I tried to apologize for coming before him, but he seemed pleased that we had climaxed first.

"This pecker of mine does what I tell it to," he bragged. "Now you just get on it and keep it warm for me until you gals are ready to go again."

" Penny and I changed places. She moved up to let him play with her breasts while I took the hard rod into my mouth and teased it with my tongue. As soon as the thrilling urge for him started at the base of my stomach, I took my turn at mounting him and rode to a quick and thorough orgasm while he licked Penny to completion.

Still his persistent hard-on remained.

We made a human sandwich with Penny on the bottom, me in the middle and him on top. I fitted my clitoris against hers and began to ride her while his enduring penis prodded into my anus. Penny and I lasted only about ten minutes in this position before we writhed in a joint orgasm.

He pulled free from me as fresh as before. For nearly two hours we worked over him, trying to break down his reserve and make him come. We sucked it, screwed it, licked it, and gushed musky juices over it, all without success.

He brushed aside our apologies, explaining that this was the way he wanted it.

"I could go on like this all night," he said. "In fact, I'm ready to hang in there for a week but I've got a plane to catch."

He didn't waste a minute but sixty-nined Penny and me. Then he performed an almost impossible feat of contortion. With his penis buried in her rectum, he reached around her back and my butt and stuck a finger in my anus. Surprise and pleasure both played a part in our rapid climaxes.

His rock-hard penis emerged none the worse for wear. He looked at his watch and shook his head sadly.

"Isn't that a shame?" he asked. "I was just getting started and now it's time to go. Well, I guess it's time for Daddy to get his!"

Pushing me to one side of the bed, he plunged into Penny "straight" and began to pump with long, hard, fast strokes. She hardly had time to wrap her legs around him before he buried himself inside of her and came. He tumbled off her and lay on the bed between us, gasping. I felt a little cheated that I had not helped to bring him, but he soon changed my mind about that.

"Okay, youngster, get it up again. Daddy's gotta go one more time!"

Creamy liquid was pouring out of Penny's slit and it seemed impossible that he'd have anything left after delivering such a load, but I was willing to humor him.

I picked up the limp wad of muscle and flexed it with my hand. It shot up into a full erection so fast that I jerked my hand away from the live, pulsating rod. Before I could reach for it again he jumped between my legs and pressed the broad head against my crack.

"Here ... plunge ... we ... pull ... go ... plunge ... again! On ... pull ... your mark ... pull ... get ... plunge ... set ... pull ... go!"

His penis pulsed and thickened, then shot a large stream of hot liquid into me.

Penny and I were on the bed, exhausted, when he bounced out of the room a few minutes later.

"So long, gals! I have to hurry to catch that plane!"

Penny raised herself to one elbow. "Silver," she gasped weakly. "I think we've just been had by a man!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After my talk with Penny I began to have second thoughts about my relationship-with Nikki and Wade. It was unfair to everyone concerned but I was still not ready to let go of my determination to have Wade for my lover.

It was all Nikki's fault, I decided. She had no right to make demands of me. Who asked her to love me, anyway? Looking for someone else to blame, rather than myself, I turned my anger toward her and waited for the next time passion drove her to me.

Several weeks passed before she came into my room, as she always did. Her eyes were hot with desperation and her face showed sleepless lines. As usual, she paused just inside the door and waited for me to give her some signal of agreement. This time I held back.

Ignoring her, I moved around the room puttering with a few articles of clothing and straightening knickknacks.

She let out a long sigh of exasperation.

"What game are we playing today?"

"No game," I answered. "I've decided to get off the merry-go-round."

"Do you mean that we're through?"

Her voice was low, resigned. I could not bear to look at her face.

"Let's be truthful with each other, Nikki. We never really started. It's been a one-way street from the beginning," I told her.

"I can't belive that you're giving up on Wade," she said with an edge of sarcasm.

"Since I'm the one that suggested truth, I'll have to admit that I'm not. I'm going to get him yet."

"Not on your best day," she laughed. "I know what makes him tick and how to keep him here."

My answer to that had been carefully planned.

"If you mean money, I'm sure I'll be able to handle that in a few weeks."

"How much are you going to give him?" she asked.

"My share of the Manton fortune, if that's what it takes," I answered.

"Don't plan on spending it before you get it," she said harshly.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"You haven't finished your year, Silver. You may not be able to make it. Up until now I've seen that you had it easy. There's a rough side to this business that you don't know about yet."

"You can't drive me away with threats," I told her. "Anything you throw at me will be easy when I think of what's waiting when I leave."

"We'll see," she said as she turned to leave. "In the meantime, welcome to hell!"

The next day Wade was gone on an extended recruiting tour. It was some time before I could learn through Penny that he was not expected back for months.

For several days my clients were the ordinary rich men I usually served, neither better nor worse than any others in the past. I knew this wouldn't continue, however, and waited for Nikki to start her campaign.

At first the change was subtle. I found myself writhing inwardly at the verbal assaults of coprolalia enthusiasts or rushing to my third floor room to vomit after a session with a coprophiliac and his fecal antics.

Nikki always made sure she was around after these appointments. She would give me a taunting, appraising look to let me know she was testing to see how much more I could take.

In all the months before I had swapped blows with only two or three fanny-paddlers. Suddenly I found myself taking the pain-pleasure route at least once a day.

Once, when I was walking down the second floor hall toward my salon for one of the paddling appointments, I saw Terry slip through the hidden panel into the viewing room.

The idea that she was going to watch me take a beating, even if it was mild and pleasurable, enraged me. I stalked into the salon and looked straight into the mirror.

No answer came back through the intercom and her silence was as exasperating as her presence.

"Get out, you filthy little sneak!" I screamed at her.

But the glass panel only reflected my angry face and she remained silent. Anger peaked inside me and cold resolution took its place. If she wanted a show, I would make damn sure she got a good one.

One corner of the closet held two broad leather spanking paddles which were capable of delivering stinging slaps without cutting the skin. I brought them out and threw them on the bed and was waiting for my client when he arrived.

I was dressed in skin-tight cotton jeans which outlined the rounds of my buttocks. I turned my back on him and led the way to the bed, twitching my fanny to let him have a good look at the bobbing mounds.

"Oh, my! Would you look at those things!" he said appreciatively. "Come here, baby, and let me feel them."

I backed up to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his hands over the thinly stretched cotton. He rolled them around with his flat palms. I tightened up as much as I could to make myself seem even more firm.

"Those are real sweet cheeks," he exulted. "Do you mind if I give them a little slap?"

"Not at all. Be my guest," I answered, my teeth clinching as I waited for the blow.

His little slap was delivered at the end of a full swing. My bun turned to sudden fire. I gasped at the unexpected pain.

"What's the matter, don't you like it?" he asked.

"Sure I like it. Try the other one."

This time I was braced for the stinging blow and took it better.

"Oh, those were good ones! Got you, didn't I?" he chuckled. "Let me take a peek inside your panties. Oh, honey, you have two great big red spots on your butt. Can you feel them dance when I give them these little spanks?"

His "little spanks" threatened to loosen my teeth but I let my tense muscles relax so that the skin quivered each time he connected.

"Quick, get across my lap and let me play with them ... That's it!"

Thwap, thwap, thwap, thwapf!

The blows came harder and closer together. His penis grew hard, punching me in the stomach through the rough wool of his pants. A tingling warmth formed in my anus and burned into my vaginal cavity. It may not be my favorite way of attaining an orgasm, but it's as sure as any other. Tears streamed down my face, ignored as I felt his palm sting me toward an orgasm.

He came just as I thought I could not take another whack.

"Oh, would you look at that?" he gasped. "I came all over my pants and made a big mess. Now Momma's going to have to spank her baby.

The grown man pulled down his pants and stretched across my lap like a penitent two-year old so that I could administer the spanking that brought him to another erection.

With a great deal of horseplay, the paddles were finally brought into action. We stalked each other around the room, landing swats across each other's fanny pads whenever the opportunity presented itself. My arms were tired from wielding the paddle and we both were covered with angry red welts before he reached his desired frenzy and yanked me into bed. Entering me dog style, he timed his strokes and hand swats so that they coincided.

"I'm going to get you this time, little mother! I'm going to get you good ... good ... good ... mother ... mother ... mother."

After he left, I dressed and stormed down the stairs to Nikki's office without bothering to wash the tears from my face. I burst into her room without knocking.

"What's the matter, Silver? Have you had enough?"

Her amusement barely concealed the triumph that glittered in her eyes.

"Yes, I have!" I shrieked. "You tell that weird girl friend of yours to stay out of the viewing room when I'm working."

She seemed surprised. This was not the reaction she had expected.

"Do you mean Terry?"

"You know damn well who I mean."

"Tch, tch! Silver! You shouldn't swear. Profanity doesn't become a Manton."

"Neither does punching a bull dyke madam in the face. But I'm going to do it if you don't get her back in line."

She studied me thoughtfully. I knew that she was looking for another means of attack.

"Very well, Silver. Terry will not go into the viewing room again, although I don't know why you object. Since I was busy, I assigned her to watch you. It's safer to have someone on hand in case of trouble with a client. Your next appointment is a good example. I'm sure you'll want Terry to be on guard while you entertain him."

"No. It doesn't matter to me what his hang-up is, I don't want her watching and laughing behind that glass."

"You're sure of that? Terry will be glad to cover for you."

She kept goading me until I exploded and forbade her to let anyone watch me from the viewing room.

"I hope you don't regret your decision," she said, sounding certain that I would. "You've never entertained a man like this before. He's a necrophiliac."

"A dead-lover?" I gasped.

"Yes. They can be violent when they want to. Do you want to refuse the assignment?"

Since a refusal would have been a sure ticket to home, I shook my head numbly.

Nikki seemed unconcerned as she consulted her wristwatch and dismissed me.

"The maids should have your room set up by now. He'll be here in five minutes so don't be late."

My feet each weighed a ton as I dragged myself painfully up to the second floor. I stopped at the secret panel and pressed the button to open it. Terry was seated in one of the chairs. She looked up with a smirk.

"Nikki wants to see you in her office" I told her shakily.

"What about your...."

"There's no time to argue," I cut her off. "He'll be here any moment. Nikki will explain. Now, go!"

I stayed to make sure she had left before I turned toward my salon. I wanted to call her back, but pride wouldn't let me. As much as she hated me, even Terry would have been a welcome companion for the nightmare that I knew was coming. My hand was shaking as I turned the doorknob and used my last ounce of courage to enter.

The electric lamps had been removed and the room was illuminated by two candles, one at each end of the bed which had been pulled away from the wall. The pillows had been removed and the flat surface was covered by a loose white sheet. Flanking the bed on each side were funeral wreaths that sent up a choking, morbid fragrance.

My cotton capris were yanked off and tossed into the closet hamper. In spite of the tingling blows that had burned me to a hot fire just minutes before, I suddenly felt deathly cold.

A necrophiliac! My stomach twisted at the thought of them. From their ranks come the back alley murderers, men who will kill to get a corpse on which to vent their sexual drives. Cold, dead flesh excites them as warmth and vibrance never will.

But there was no time to dwell on the subject. When he arrived he must find me waiting, apparently lifeless. I stretched out on the bed and pulled the white sheet over me so that it draped me from head to toe. My arms went stiff against my sides and my legs straightened and parted slightly.

The hall door clicked as it opened and closed and I concentrated on remaining perfectly still as I heard him walk across the carpet. Through the sheet I could see his shadowy outline as he stood beside the bed, but I could not make out his features. He moved to a small stand and placed a portable record player on it. Every sound grated on my nerves as he opened the case and put on several records. He turned on the machine and it dropped a record into position and began to play. Mournful organ music filled the room.

His clothes rustled softly as he removed them and hung them on a chair. My danger-sharpened senses were so alert I could hear his zipper slide. I even imagined that I could hear the laces pull through the eyelets on his shoes.

Then I felt his hand tug at the bottom of the sheet and I am sure even my breathing stopped. He lifted the covering neatly and arranged it in folds across my neck, revealing my body but concealing my face.

The loose sheet folds across my neck became ropes of horror, the better to strangle me with if I made one movement or outcry. My heart pounded so hard I was afraid it would shake the bed and destroy the mood he had set out to create.

His hands touched my ankles and moved toward my panic-locked knees. Not even rigor mortis could stiffen a body more thoroughly than terror hardened mine.

A thousand silent screams echoed through my head as he pressed his body down on mine. He sucked at my inert breasts with a hell-hot mouth that wanted no response.

The head of his penis probed at the opening between my legs, then slipped through the dry flesh to bury itself inside of me.

He began to work himself with a slow rhythm which seemed to take its tempo from the unhurried funeral dirge that moaned from the record player. This was the most difficult part for me-to remain lifeless as his passion grew and his penis pulsed within me. Orgasmic responses begged for release. Beneath the shelter of the white sheet my teeth bit into my lower lip to stifle any sound.

The probing rod inside me grew hot and full and the man worked his hips harder, but no faster, until he finally shot a bolt of semen into me. An endless moment passed as he sprawled over me as spent and lifeless as I. Then he withdrew.

The limp object was removed from between my legs. The sheet was pulled down over my form. His clothing rustled faintly as he dressed. Then I heard him snap the lid shut on the record player and the music stilled. He snuffed out the candles and stood in the blackened room muttering an incoherent prayer.

His steps thudded across the carpet and the door opened and closed behind him. A cold death in eternity passed before I could allow myself to shudder. I threw the sheet aside and jumped out of bed. My feet tangled in the wreaths and I fell to the floor, crushing my face into the odious bank of flowers. I struggled to free myself, but only worked myself deeper into the grim bouquets.

From somewhere deep inside me life fought to return and I began to scream.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Wade didn't come back to the Town House until my year was nearly over. Then I would not have learned of his return if it had not been for Terry.

As Nikki continued her campaign to either humble me or drive me from the house, life became a long series of nightmares. Days would pass when all my appointments were normal, pleasant experiences. I would allow myself to hope that she had relented and that there were no more horrors in store for me. But every time my guard relaxed I found myself embroiled in another episode of degradation.

After these experiences I would drag myself to the refuge of my bedroom and lock the door, refusing to come out for meals or any other reason until it was time for my next appointment.

Penny tried to help. She smuggled meals up the back stairs for me and coaxed me away from the house on my days off. Several times she threatened to call my mother and let her know what was going on. But I refused to let her do so. Mother might insist that I go home with her and I feared that more than I feared Nikki's terrorism. I had endured too much and time was growing too short to endanger my chance at the Manton fortune.

There had been no word from Wade for months and I was afraid he would not come back in time. Only six days remained and I had reached the limit of my endurance the morning Terry knocked on my door.

"It's Terry," she whispered in answer to my question. "Let me in."

Surprised to hear her voice, I unlocked the door and opened it a few inches. She brushed past me into the room and closed the door behind her. Her eyes darted about the room possessively. I remember that, for some reason, she had tired to force Nikki to lodge her there.

"If you're planning to move in, you're ahead of schedule," I told her. "The present tenant is going to last six more days."

"I'll take over soon enough. Right now I want to tell you something."

"Don't do me any favors at this late date," I said, matching her bitter tone.

"Don't think I'm doing this for you," she said. "I came here for Nikki's sake. I don't give a damn about you."

I was too depressed to listen to any more of her poison.

"Then get out and leave me alone," I snapped.

"Don't you even want to hear about Wade?" she smirked.

"What about him?" My heart stirred.

"He's been back for three days. That's right, three days. Nikki told him to keep out of sight."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, suspiciously.

"I told you I was doing it for Nikki. If you and Wade go away together, she'll need me. Here in this room where I belong."

"Since you're not trying to do me a favor, there's no reason for me to say thank you, is there?" My tone was as hateful as hers.

"No reason at all," she spat and the door slammed shut behind her.

He was back! I raced to the window and looked out at the guest house, hoping to see some kind of movement behind the screening bushes. But the yard was empty in the early morning shadows. My only thought was that I had been this close to him for three days without knowing it. I had to see him, if only for a moment. York would still be in the house but I was determined that he wouldn't stop me from talking to Wade.

My hasty fingers fumbled at my clothing as I dressed. Then I crept down the back stairs and ran across the yard. York answered the door.

"I want to see Wade," I told him, crowding into the door so he couldn't slam it in my face.

"Go away, bitch! He doesn't need you," York squeaked.

"Let Wade decide that," I yelled.

Wade came out of the bedroom, yawning sleepily and tying his robe at the waist.

"What's going on-Silver? How did you know I was back?"

"Terry told me. It was her way of getting even, I think. Wade, I have to talk to you."

"Sure, sure. Just let me get awake first."

"Not in my house," York shrieked. "Talk to your whore someplace else. Bugger her in the yard if you want to, but you're not playing games in here."

To escape York's tantrum, Wade and I went out to the small hedged patio. He flopped into a deck chair and rubbed his fingers through his hair, yawning and blinking in the sunlight. I paced up and down the flagstones, trying to form the right words.

"Wade, you do care for me a little, don't you?" I blurted.

"Sure, Silver. I think I care more for you than any other woman I've ever known. That ass of yours is made for screwing."

"Then come away with me, Wade. Please! I love you so much that I'd do anything for you."

"No, baby, it wouldn't work. How would we live? This is the only kind of job I know."

"You won't have to work. In another week we'll have all the money we'll ever need."

He stopped yawning and shielded his eyes against the sun to look at me.

"That's right. I'd forgotten how rich you Manton's are," he said. "But honey, there's something you should know. I'm just not the marrying kind."

"I didn't say anything about marriage. I want you on any terms. I don't care how many women you have on the side as long as you stay with me."

"How do I know you'll still feel that way a year from now?" he asked. "You're big with the words now, but first time I look at another piece of tail, you'll change your mind and old Wade will get booted out on his can."

I had anticipated this objection and was ready for it.

"Not if the money is in your name. Everything I get from the estate will be yours-at least a million dollars in stocks and bonds. You'll be rich, Wade, and you won't have Nikki to push you around any more or York to hang onto you like a parasite. You'll be free to do anything you want as long as you stay with me."

I paused beside his chair and waited for his answer. He pulled me down beside him and buried his face in my hair.

"It sounds great, baby. When does it all happen?"

I snuggled in his arms for the first time in that long year. My lips began to move across his broad chest and I pushed aside the edges of his robe so I could nibble at the thick mat of hair between his paps.

"On the day you're supposed to take me home. We won't go there. We'll just keep traveling until we find a place we want to stay. Then I'll have Mother send me my share of the fortune."

"It might work," he said thoughtfully.

"Of course it will. Once I've finished my year no one can keep the money from me or tell me what to do with it. Tell me you'll do it, darling. Please!"

"Okay, baby, it's a deal! It'll do me good to get out from under Nikki. I've wanted to tell her to go screw herself for a long time."

"You haven't got the guts."

Nikki's voice cut into our scheming and Wade jumped up, pushing me away.

"Nikki! I didn't mean that! You know I didn't!"

Nikki stood on the edge of the patio. Over her shoulder York glared at me malevolently.

"You're too late, Nikki," I gloated. "I've talked with him and he's going with me when I leave."

Nikki's face twisted with fury and her hands clenched at her sides.

"Get back to the house, Silver. Wait for me in my office. Your year isn't over yet."

I left them in the patio and marched across the yard toward the house with my head high and my heart singing.

I had won! I had taken the worst that Nikki could give me and come back for more. Now that I had Wade's promise it all seemed unimportant. For six short days I could endure anything as long as I had the future to sustain me.

Terry was in Nikki's office when I arrived. Recent tears streaked her cheeks and her jaw bore the imprint of a hard slap. She did not look up to see my triumph but kept her eyes on the hands she twisted in her lap.

Nikki came in and sat behind the desk.

"I'm sending you on a job together," she said, coldly. "The maids are packing your bags now. Some clients want two girls to go on a cruise with them for five days. I think you deserve each other."

"No, Nikki!" Terry cried. "You can't send us together. I won't go!"

"You'll go or you'll get your ass out of the house for good. The same goes for you, Silver."

Five days away from Wade! What was that compared to the months I'd spent already? I rose from my chair and moved toward the door.

"Anything you say, Nikki. How soon do we leave?"

As we rode toward the docks, Terry haunched in her corner of the back seat. A dark scowl contorted her features as she watched the city slide past.

"It's going to be a long five days," I commented.

She gave me a level, scathing glance.

"Maybe for you," she said. "I've been on these things before."

"I don't mean that," I said. "I mean with you and me together on a boat. It could be fun if you didn't act like such a sorehead all the time."

"Why should I pretend to like you when I don't?" she asked.

I tried to make one last attempt to bridge the gulf between us.

"In spite of what you think, I never tried to take Nikki away from you. It was her idea from the beginning."

"I'll bet," she snarled.

Talking to her was hopeless. I held my tongue and sat in my own corner of the car seat. The chaffeur maneuvered the car through the heavy traffic skillfully, unaware of the tight emotions in the compartment behind him.

As we neared the docks Terry surprised me with an offer.

"I'll make a bargain with you," she said, quietly. "No mention of Nikki or Wade for five days and we'll play it friendly while we're on the cruise."

"That's fine with me," I agreed. "Then I'll be gone in less than a week and out of your life for good."

"Taking Wade with you, I suppose." she snapped.

"I plan to," I said evenly.

Her laugh was harsh and did not reach the hatred in her eyes.

"Lots of luck, Silver."

The car pulled up to a boat landing and stopped, cutting off further conversation between us. The chaffeur held the door open for us, then followed us with our bags as Terry led the way to a gleaming white yacht moored there.

"Hello, lovers!" she cried, gaily. "We're here. Where's the party?"

Four men were waiting for us when we came on board. The introductions were brief. Ron was a tall, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes. Vince was a balding blonde giant with an appealing bulge in his pants. Clay was in his early twenties; a tanned, slender man with hot, ready eyes. Sam had silver-white hair and a deep, even tan and was the owner of the yacht.

Rocky, Sam's huge, well-mannered German Shepherd, padded across the deck to greet us, too. His nails clicked on the hard wood surface. He sniffed at us, then sat down on the deck with his long tongue lolling out between his outstretched paws.

"You girls get below and change into your party clothes while we get this floating orgasm out to sea," Sam ordered.

Terry and I obeyed, leaving the men bustling around, casting off lines as Sam started the engines and eased the white hull away from the mooring.

Below decks there was a comfortable lounge with soft couches built along the walls or "bulkheads." There was a small galley and dining area and then a "head" on one side of the boat and a shower on the other side, each in its own little compartment. There were four cabins, two on each side of the companionway going toward the front of the boat. The area in the bow was reserved for storage of food supplies and gear.

Terry directed me to one of the cabins and she went into the one directly across from it. Her instructions came in brief grunts. As soon as the men were out of earshot, she dropped our pretense of friendship.

I stripped off my dress and underclothes quickly and opened my suitcase. Our "play clothes" consisted of a variety of sheer bikini bottoms and equally sheer open-front coat tops designed to protect our shoulders from the blistering sun.

I had just finished tying the side bows on my bikini and had one arm slipped into the top when the door opened and Clay came into the cabin.

"Hey, girl, don't get dressed so fast," he said. "I want go get in a little sack time while Sam gets us out of the harbor. Oaky?"

"Of course," I answered. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted it?"

"Tell, schmell. I'm a man of action, not words."

His hot hands fumbled at the bows on the bikini and yanked them free. He cupped my vulva in the palm of one hand and rotated it as his middle finger prodded into my vagina.

"Oh, baby, come on," he urged. "Get wet for daddy."

As he manipulated me and talked, I unsnapped his pants and slid the zipper down on his fly. He wore no underpants and his erect penis sprang free immediately. It was a firm, large instrument and seemed as tan as the rest of him.

As soon as I had pulled his pants below his hips he sat on the edge of the bunk with his legs between mine. He pulled me to him and began sucking my breasts. His busy finger scrubbed between my legs and warm liquid gushed down to cover his finger.

At the first sign of moisture he yanked his finger free and grabbed my hips, guiding me down over his fully erect penis. His suckling lips made small greedy sounds as he alternated between my two breasts.

Working "top side" has never been one of my favorite ways of achieving a climax because it seems unfeminine, as if the man were submitting rather than the woman. With Clay there was no such feeling. He held my hips securely in his strong hands and worked me to the positions that gave him the most pleasure. His upward strokes were devastatingly effective. Before the tenth stroke I could feel myself building to a complete orgasm. I leaned over his head and buried my tongue in his ear just as he drove his hips upward, thrusting his full length into me as we came together.

As quickly as he had entered me, he yanked free. He toweled his used penis dry, pulled up his pants and zipped them.

"Save some for the next guy," he called back over his shoulder as he went out the door, leaving it open.

Across the hall, through the open doorways, I could see Terry and Ron engaged in a sixty-nine position. When Vince's blonde bulk filled the doorway. I was reaching for a towel to dry myself but he pulled it from my hand.

"Leave it wet, baby," he ordered. "Save all the time of getting you ready again."

This time I managed to get on my back in the bunk while he unzipped his pants and let them drop. Then his broad hips spread my legs apart and his massive penis slid into me, filling every inch of my vagina. I tightened my pubic muscles in order to better feel the size of the great penis inserted in me. He pulled my legs up to lock around him as he began a driving, hurried conquest of my body.

In almost a year in the house I had been only with two or three really good sexualists. Now, in the space of ten minutes I was being mastered by experts. There was no need for me to tell Vince that he was good. I found myself grinding against him, clawing at him in ecstasy and moaning with delight as he lifted me through a series of small orgasms to a final shuddering spasm of completion. He came as thoroughly and with as much satisfaction as I had experienced. Then he was zipping his pants and heading for the door.

"Get dressed and come on up on deck," he called back to me. "The party is just starting."

Through the open doorways I could hear Ron leave Terry's room and Sam enter. Only a moment passed before I heard Terry cry out in surprised pleasure. Looking through the doorway I saw her bent over the bunk and Sam thrusting himself deep into her anus. Their contented, rhythmic sounds continued as I retied my binkini bows, slipped into the protective jacket and went up on deck.

By the time Sam anchored the yacht in a small cove for the night we had all become well acquainted. Later in the afternoon the four men had "changed sides" and Terry and I each served a new set of partners.

By then Terry and I were aware of the blackboard on which they kept score of how many times each man and girl came. So far the game was even. There was one unmarked column on the board, but I didn't think to ask it's purpose.

Supper was a rowdy meal filled with jokes and pinches served up with good food. Then Sam locked Rocky on deck while the other men pulled the couch pillows onto the floor and we all piled on them for a free-swinging wild romp. For a finale to the evening, Terry and I each took on two of the men at once. I drew Clay and Sam. Terry had Vince and Ron for her partners.

Clay and Vince stretched out on the cushions on their backs. We faced them and lowered ourselves onto their stiff pricks. Clay alone was enough to satisfy me and I'm sure that Terry was well contented with the body-filling length of Vince's penis. But that was to be only half the fun.

I leaned forward carefully, spreading my buttocks as much as possible to allow Sam to work his penis head into my rectum. Sam had nearly entered me before I felt my muscles tighten into an uncontrolled orgasm. Clay thrust into me hard and enjoy the working muscles. Sam held his pinched position and waited for the movement to pass. Then he started pressing himself in more deeply.

"Geez, Sam. I can feel the outline of your prick," Clay gasped.

"Don't let it give you any ideas," Sam grumbled.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

During the next five days we cruised in and out of the coastal inlets. The men taught Terry and me how to fish, laughing at our awkwardness when we tried to cast our lines away from the boat.

On the second day I caught a rather large fish and the rivalry between Terry and me renewed for a while until she caught one larger. When the men were around she was as pleasant as she could be, but when we were alone she lapsed into her usual ill temper.

I forced myself to put Wade out of my mind. The days were shining and the sea was clean and soothing. I forgot the indignities and horrors of the past weeks as if they had never been.

The four men were especially wonderful. They had planned the cruise for fun and were as playful as young boys. None of them drank very much; only a few cans of beer when the sun grew hot in the afternoon. Clay explained that they didn't want their athletic ability curtailed. It seemed to work well for them because Terry and I were kept quite busy.

We soon gave up wearing the bikini bottoms and moved about the boat wearing only our loose sun jackets. The men found our display of pubic hair enticing. They put out two cushions for us to use when sunbathing on the deck. Then they joined us frequently, their bodies shading everything but our legs from the sun.

Sam took great delight in giving each of us a daily covering of suntan lotion, smoothing it carefully over every inch of our bodies. When we protested that we hardly needed the oil on the lips of our vaginas, he studiously licked it clean. He bossed us around terribly, making sure that we didn't get too much sun, that we ate enough, and seeing that we got plenty of sleep. In every other way he was a gruff softy, but when he was aroused sexually, Sam became a demanding tiger.

Each of them had a job on the boat. Sam was the helmsman, Vince was cook, Clay was bottle washer and Ron was the deck hand. Terry and I offered to help them but Sam insisted that we had our work cut out for us. Our job was to be beautiful and ready. With such exciting playmates this was never difficult.

"There's something going on between you two girls I can't quite figure out," Sam said.

We were in the lounge on our last night, getting ready for our final group romp.

"They act like sisters," Vince said.

"Like sisters who are having a fight," agreed Ron.

"I don't fight with my sisters," I said. "Terry and I aren't related to each other."

"Don't be too sure about that," said Terry nastily. "You Mantons never can be sure who your relations are. You have to know your father's name before you can climb the family tree."

"I'm my mother's daughter, " I said, haughtily. "That's enough for me."

"Spoken like a Manton of the true blood," Terry jeered.

"See what I mean, girls?" Sam asked. "You two have been acting like you were under an armed truce since the moment you set foot on board. Now, the guys and I have talked it over and we've decided that there's only one cure for that. You're just going to have to cozy up to each other and become friends or Old Sam is going to be unhappy."

"No, Sam!" we both said at once.

"Nikki told me you were supposed to do anything we asked. Is that right?"

We nodded.

"Old Sam just wants to spread joy and light. Now I want to see you get together so that when you leave this boat all the bad feelings are behind you. Is that too much to ask?"

I could see what the gruff old sweetie was trying to do and I was willing to go along with him, even though Terry was glaring at me across the width of the lounge.

"I'm agreeable if Terry is," I said, looking her squarely in the eye. "How about it Terry?"

"Do you think I'm good enough to touch a Manton?" she sniped.

"We won't know until we try it," I said, but my temper was beginning to rise to match hers.

Terry walked across the lounge toward me; her small breasts were held high with arrogance and her hips undulated cockily. She stared at me with the hate she had concealed for days blazing from her eyes.

Ron spoke up. "First I think they should kiss and make up."

I looked at Terry, silently daring her to comply. She shrugged and joined me on the deck cushion. Her lips were cold, compressed and emotionless. I parted mine and sent my tongue out questing for hers and felt her flinch away. I pushed my tongue harder, separating her lips and flicking against her teeth. Then her jaw opened and our tongues locked in a brief, intense battle. We broke away from each other, panting, then came together like wrestlers looking for a hold.

My hands gripped her firm, small breasts and began to tease her nipples gently while my lips explored the hollows of her neck. Her nipples contracted to peaks and I knew that body lust was overpowering her hate.

Suddenly I felt a deep pity for this strange, angry girl. Everything I wanted was waiting for me back at the Town House-a future with Wade and freedom. She was going back to the uncertainties of her life; unsure of Nikki from one moment to the next. Our act of love meant nothing to me but another orgasm. To her it was the final humiliation; a betrayal of her cherished hatred.

My lips and hands moved over her, stirring her to desire, but she fought against them. I realized that caresses couldn't reach her. Our bodies would go on grinding against each other into infinity unless I used her hurt pride as a weapon.

I lifted my head and whispered in her ear.

"You're not good enough for a Manton," I breathed, too softly for the men to hear. "You can't come the way we do. You'll never be fit to live in my room when I'm gone."

The taunting words drew from her a cry of rage but they did their job. She pushed me over on my back and pressed her legs between mine, separating them. Her mouth closed over mine to still my voice and her tongue crowded past my teeth.

Small whimpering noises squeaked through her nose as she fought for control. Her hands clawed at my vaginal mound, spreading the skin back. Then the hard ridge of her clitoris pressed against mine and she began to ride me with crushing movements. The enormity of her fury was both frightening and titillating. Even the hard points of her breasts seemed to want to stab into mine.

A small orgasm seared through my legs and I felt her miss a stroke as her own body contorted briefly. She yanked her lips from mine and pressed them against my ear.

"How does it feel to get screwed by a cousin?" she hissed. "Our mothers were sisters but mine left the house. I'm as much Manton as you are."

"Then prove it and come," I whispered back.

Our clitorises locked in a desperate struggle for survival, each trying to crush the other. The tender membranes around the peaked ridges grew raw and inflamed as we scrubbed against each other.

"Come, come, come, come!" I screamed at her as the pain threatened to unlock my building orgasm.

"No!" she screamed once, but her body jerked as she climaxed against her will.

She sagged onto me and our muscles jerked together. Our hearts trip-hammered in our chests at the same rate. Blood pounded through tortured veins beneath our skin. Manton blood!

I held her head to mine and stroked her hair as she sobbed with released emotion. My cousin! One of the lost Mantons!

The knowledge of her secret unfolded in my mind. She had every right to hate me. Through no fault of hers, she had been cheated out of her place in the family, deprived of even a chance to work for it.

The men misunderstood our embrace and crowded around us, congratulating themselves for patching up or quarrel.

"See, girls, isn't that better?" Sam crowed. "What this old world needs is a little love, that's all!"

Terry pulled away from me and ran sobbing into her cabin. Clay started to follow her.

"Let her alone for a few minutes," I told him. "The best way to end a fight is with a good cry. She'll be out when she's finished."

"She better hurry," said Vince as he got on the cushion beside me. "We can't have any party-poopers on our last night."

His voyeurism-inspired erection was begging for attention and he pushed himself inside me for a quick job. By the time I brought him on, Terry was back in the room with us, her face washed free of tears and her laughter sounding shaky and too loud.

There was no chance to talk to her until we were in the car the next day, driving back to the Town House.

"I'm going to talk to my mother," I told her. "She can do something to help you. She'll want to when she learns who you are."

"I don't need Manton charity," she barked.

"It isn't chairty. You've spent a year in the Town House. That's as much as any of us do. You've earned the right to something."

"All I want is Nikki," she said, looking out the window. "She's all that matters to me now."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It was impossible to get another word out of Terry until we were back at the house, walking into Nikki's office to report our return.

Nikki looked up from her desk as we seated ourselves. Her eyes were flat in an expressionless face.

"You're back just in time," she told me. "You have a full schedule today. Do you have any complaint about that?"

"No," I told her. "My year ends at midnight. I'll do anything you ask me to until then."

She grunted, then turned to Terry whom she had ignored until this time. Nikki's voice was impersonal.

"We've made some additions while you were gone, Terry. Two new girls. We won't need you any more. Get your bags packed. When you bring them downstairs, I'll give you your pay."

The blunt order hung in the room like a thunderclap. Terry flinched back in her chair with a faint, defeated moan. Then she jumped up and ran from the room.

"You can't do this, Nikki," I objected. "She loves you. All she wants is to stay with you. Don't send her away."

Nikki glared at me.

"If I had a friend to speak for me would you listen? 'She loves you. She wants you to stay with her. Don't leave her.' Would any of those words make a difference to you?"

I shook my head, knowing that she was right.

"No, it wouldn't I can't pretend to love you when I don't."

"Then mind your own business. Your first appointment is in an hour. By the way, do you still insist that we keep the viewing room empty while you work?"

"Of course I do. Whatever it is, I'll handle it."

She grunted again and gave her full attention to the papers on her desk as a sign that I was dismissed.

I hurried up to Terry's room on the third floor and knocked. Although I could hear her moving about, there was no answer even when I pounded on the door and rattled the knob. I finally had to give up. Time was growing short and I needed to talk to Wade before I started to work.

Darting down the back stairs, I raced across the yard to the guest house. Just a few more hours and Wade and I could leave the Town House together. Later I would do what I could for Terry, but I mustn't let her spoil my triumph.

I punched the button and heard the muffled ring of the bell but no one answered. Disappointed, I started to move away. Then I heard voices coming from the patio and went toward them.

York and Wade were on the deck chair, their arms around each other in a lovers' embrace; their lips melding as their tongues darted together.

They were both nude. Discarded swimming trunks, suntan lotion and towels were flung on the flagstone beside the chair.

Wade grasped the smaller man's penis and began to work the loose skin up and down the shaft.

I wanted to cry out in shocked surprise. York's jealousy of Wade had been obvious, but my mind had never formed a picture of the two of them making love together. But I had promised Wade he could have anyone on the side he wanted. The promise would have include York as well as other women.

They broke the kiss and Wade began to plead with York and my last hope vanished.

"York, don't be jealous. I love you, darling. I always have. I'll only be gone until I get her money, then I'll kick the bitch out on her ass and we'll take off together."

"You're lying to me," York whined. "That two-bit whore has her hooks into you. You'll never come back."

"Sure I will, lover. There's nobody else, you know it. I've never had another man in my life and I don't want one. Every time I bugger her, I think about you screwing me. As soon as I make us both rich, I'll let her know what a pain she's been."

"You've been cold to me since you got home from your trip. You don't want to make make love with me like you used to."

"Sure I do. I'll show you how much I love you. Let me kiss it. Let me have it in my mouth."

Wade twisted off the chair and knelt beside York. His tongue darted over the small faggot's prick, licking at the pink satin head.

"That's sweet, sweet," he murmured. "You're the best there is."

Wade's own erection was ignored as he fondled his lover. York bent his knees and spread his legs. Wade reached between them to caress York's testes before his finger traced a line to York's anus and thrust inside.

York drove his hips upward, pushing into Wade's covering mouth, then pulled himself back on the prodding finger. Wade began to push his finger in and out, shifting his head up and down the shaft, working with familiar affection to bring his partner to a peak of stimulation, unmindful of his own needs.

From my hiding place behind the bushes I was watching a genuine act of love. I knew that this was something that could not be bought from Wade or anyone else. I wanted to turn and run in shame but I was afraid any movement I made would disturb them.

York jerked himself away from Wade and jumped off the chair.

"I want it in you," he gasped. "I want to bust your ass for all the worry you've given me."

Wade turned around and offered his butt to the other man.

"Do it to me, York. You know that's the way I like it. Make it rough when you stick it in."

They were facing me as York pressed his penis against Wade's rectum and thrust it in. The look on Wade's face was one of complete ecstasy. This was the one act I could not do for him and yet it pleased him most.

York reached around Wade's hips and grasped his penis with both delicate hands. Each time he pushed himself inside of Wade, he pulled back hard on the rod. It was rough, brutal passion, but it was their private act of love. Wade's eyes were closed and his head rolled loosly as he let York have his will. Then he began making small mewing noises in his throat and his hips moved jerkily. He shuddered convulsively and a stream of semen shot from his prick and spent itself on the flagstones.

York buried his shaft into Wade and let out a loud, glad cry. Then they separated, only to tumble together on the deck chair where they embraced again, each covering the other with kisses and murmuring the small words of endearment that I had never heard.

Tears blinded me as I stumbled back across the yard. For the first time I let myself face up to the enormity of the evil I had done. I had gone after Wade because I wanted him, unmindful of what it would do to York. I had used Nikki because she was a tool, not caring that Terry would be hurt. When sex and love failed to get him, I tried to buy Wade like he was a piece of flesh; a male prostitute; a bearded whore. The hardest truth to acknowledge was that Wade was willing to let himself be bought.

I raced up the stairs toward my salon. The day could not pass fast enough to suit me. The sooner it was over, the better it would be for everyone. Tomorrow I could go home and pick up the pieces; there was only the matter of getting through the hours and minutes until that time arrived. Work was the only thing that could speed the slow passage.

I washed my face in the salon basin and toweled it dry, hoping that my client would not see traces of my tears. I tore my clothes off and threw them in the hamper, then dashed for the closet.

There was not time left to go to my bedroom for a wrapper. I'd have to use the nightgown hanging there for the voyeurs.

The gown slid over my body like a chiffon bandage, reassuring me with its soft caress. I looked at it with nostalgia. This was the last time I would wear it, I told myself. This was the last day I would work. Whatever men were left for me that day, I wanted them to be good.

A small light flicked on and off on the far wall. Someone had entered the viewing room. I looked toward the two-way mirror, wondering who it was. Nikki or Terry? It didn't matter now. The world was welcome to watch as I completed my last chores.

I moved to the bed and waited, looking expectantly toward the door.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

He was a huge man with massive shoulders and a thick, barrel chest tapering down to slender hips and muscular legs. His hands were gnarled and powerful.

He stood beside the bed, talking to me as he undressed. His eyes glittered and his flushed face was covered with a thick sheen of perspiration.

"Do you like your work?" he asked.

"Of course," I answered truthfully.

"You mean you like to get screwed?" he asked.

A copralalia enthusiast, I thought with amusement. So much the better. Hearing every dirty word and being called every vile name in the book suited my penitent mood.

"Certainly," I answered. "I wouldn't work here if I didn't."

He slipped off his undershorts and stood over me naked. His penis showed no sign of an erection yet, but I could see that it was larger than average. When it became active after enough four-letter words were chanted, he'd be more than able to give me a good ride. He indicated the soft wad of tissue.

"You think you're woman enough to take this?" he asked.

"It looks bigger than anything else I've handled," I told him. "But I'm ready to try."

"Then take it!" he ordered.

I reached out to grasp his genitals in my hands.

C-r-a-c-k!

His open hand slapped across my face, knocking me back against the bed. The sudden blow sent stars flashing through my head and a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.

I remembered the blinking light and knew that Nikki was having her revenge. She had sent a sadist to me and now she was in the secret room, watching me suffer through my last moments in the house.

His hand gripped my gown and yanked it from my body, the straps cutting deep into my flesh before they broke. But this action gave me time to gather my wits. I would have to fight him, parrying as many of his blows as possible, or I would really get hurt. I brought my knee hard into his crotch and shoved.

He let out a wild, animal scream and doubled over at my feet. I started to move toward the door. His hand shot out and he caught my ankle, tripping me to the floor. I kicked out at him, but he held on. His hand twisted the skin and then my leg until I had to turn on my back to relieve the pressure on my knee joint.

"Bitch, whore, harlot!" he screamed at me in a never-ending chant.

Then he was on top of me, his strong legs separating mine. One hand pinned me to the floor while the other whipped across my face. The palm of his hand stung and the back of his hand bruised, inflicting hot fierce pain. Then he doubled up his fist and drove it against the point of my jaw. I felt bone crunch against bone and I started to sink into unconsciousness. My last sensation was of his penis pressing into me, tearing at the tender skin of my vagina.

I came to a few minutes later to find him sprawled on the floor beside me, his body relaxed as he gasped for breath. There was a small trickle of semen between my legs and I realized that he had come while I was out.

My jaw ached, but I made no move to touch it. His breathing was becoming normal and I hoped he would slip off into a deep, satisfied sleep. Then I would make my escape from the room. So far it hadn't been too bad.

I thought of Nikki in the secret room, just a few feet away from me behind the glass and hoped that she was disappointed. So far I had sustained no real damage. My cheeks burned and my ankle throbbed, but these were mild injuries. I was sure she wanted blood.

It seemed like hours before his chest stopped heaving and his breath came in slow whispers. Trying to make no sound, I pulled myself to my knees and started for the door.

But Nikki was not to be cheated. Something rapped sharply against the mirror glass, echoing through the room, and he was awake.

I ran for the door and my fingers touched the smooth knob just as his arm circled my waist and he pulled me away. He threw me away from him and I landed at the foot of the bed in a heap. Before I could draw myself up into a protective ball, he was on me, kicking at my legs and buttocks. I poised myself, waiting for another kick, then grabbed him around the ankle and twisted as hard as I could. I did not have the strength to make him do more than lose his balance. He fell on top of me, his fists pistoning into my hips and sides. Then his hand pulled at my hair again, twisting it unmercifully until he had me on my feet.

I clawed at his face and tried to knee him again, but his fist crashed into my stomach. I fell to my knees again, wretching. He yanked my head up and held me by the hair while he slapped me toward oblivion.

When I came to this time, he was sprawled on the floor blocking the way to the door and safety. One of his hands gripped my ankle so that any movement I made would bring him back into action.

The mirror over the bed was a blank, malevolent eye. How long would Nikki allow me to take this punishment? How much would it take to satisfy her? I thought of the alarm switch on the panel beside her. What would it take to make her turn it on?

I remained perfectly still, waiting for my head to clear and my strength to return before I tried another dash for the door. I was gathering myself inwardly for the attempt when he was awakened again. This time there was a muffled crash inside the viewing room as if from an overturned chair.

Had she done that while reaching for the alarm? I could only hope so as the man jumped to his feet and started for me again with knotted fists.

He sent me crashing into the nightstand this time, knocking the heavy brass lamp onto the bed. I grabbed for it, hoping to use it as a weapon, but he kicked me away. His fist smashed into my lips and nose bringing excruciating pain and sending blood streaming down my face and into my gaping mouth. I tasted the red flow gratefully. Now that she had her blood, surely Nikki would be satisfied. A small spot of hope formed as I waited for the alarm bell. But the only sounds I heard were his panting breaths and my grunts of pain.

He pounded me to my knees again, then kicked me in the stomach. I fell back against the floor, too weak to defend myself. I suddenly realized I was waiting hopefully for his crashing fists, yearning for unconsciousness and an end to this torture.

He lifted my limp left arm and brought it down across his leg. I felt the bone snap as it broke. Hot, sick pain brought vomit rushing up through my throat to gush across my face and hair.

He left me then and went for his clothes. I saw him tug at his pants and yank his belt free. It was a soft, woven mesh that looked unsuitable for him to use to beat me. I watched him twist it in his hands, forming a garrot.

He's going to kill me now, I thought.

My will for survival was the only strength I had as I got to my feet. But this time I did not try to run for the door. He was going to kill me before I left the room, I had already resigned myself to that. But he was not my enemy. She was behind that sheet of glass on the wall, watching the horrors with grim satisfaction.

He let me get to the bed and pick up the brass lamp. My left arm dangled uselessly and the metal base was almost too heavy for one hand to life. He stood a few feet away, twisting the web belt in his hands and laughing, knowing that he could fend off any blow I threw at him.

Then I swung the lamp. Not at him, but at her, my murderer behind the wall of glass. I put into the motion every ounce of strength and hate that was left in me.

The glass shattered and the mirror crumpled into a thousand shards.

Nikki sat in the chair nearest the switch panel, her eyes glazed and dying. Blood gushed from one corner of her mouth but not from any blow I had delivered. Behind her, pressed against the wall, stood Terry. As I watched, horrified, she raised a gore-covered knife and plunged it once more into Nikki's back.

"Terry!" I screamed. "For God's sake-stop!"

She looked at me with unseeing eyes, lost in a world of madness. The dripping knife raised again.

It seemed impossible that any spark remained in Nikki, but she moved, falling aside toward the switch panel and pressing the alarm as her last act in life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The ringing alarm brought the servants and the other girls running to my room. Even some of the clients answered the shrill summons for help and joined in subduing the thwarted sadist.

My broken arm and battered face were dismissed as part of my job. I wasn't able to tell them about the garrot in his hands before they made him dress and leave.

In the excitement Terry might have escaped if she had tried. Instead, she went into a state of catatonia with the bloody knife gripped against her breast like the most precious object in the world.

Policemen and reporters came, tramping up the circular staircase to the second floor for the first time in the history of the Town House.

Two ambulances arrived, one for me and Terry and one for Nikki. I passed in and out of consciousness as they fastened me to a stretcher with gentle hands. It took two strong men to wrestle the knife from Terry's hand and encase her in a straightjacket. As the siren screamed us through the streets, her blank eyes stared at some point in infinity where she could finally reach her desires.

Mother was there the next morning when I came out of drugged sleep. She buried her head against my shoulder and sobbed over the wreckage of my face. My eyes were black, my nose was broken, some teeth were gone, and my jaw was cracked in three places. My broken arm throbbed inside a splint.

But I did not want or deserve my mother's sympathy. Through a black veil of pain I grunted out the true story.

"Help Terry, if you can," I begged. "She's your sister's daughter. She's one of us."

Long months have passed since then. I'm sitting now on a balcony in Rome waiting for Golda to come home from her art class and join me. Not tonight, but some night soon, perhaps I'll find the courage to leave her apartment and to out into the city. Perhaps, someday, I'll even find the strength to go home.

The Town House is closed, Golda tells me. The windows and doors are shuttered and weeds are starting to grow in the yard. Penny has gone back to her studies and writes frequently from the university on the West Coast. The other girls have scattered to the winds and I doubt that we'll ever meet again.

Mother and Grandmother have done everything possible for Terry. The strength of the Manton fortune has been brought to bear on the judges in order to have her declared legally insane. The best doctors and psychiatrists have worked on her, but Terry clings to her madness. She lives now in a shadowy world of fulfillment. She is a Manton virgin and every day she lives is her auction night. The hospital has to guard her carefully against unprincipled men on their staff.

Somewhere locked in the dark rooms of Terry's mind is the truth of that night. Did Nikki really mean for the torture I took to go so far? Was there another moment when she reached for the alarm? Was that the time when Terry struck? I'll never know for sure.

Wade came to see me on my last day in the hospital. I had kept him away until then, pretending that I did not want him to see my damaged face.

He came into my room eagerly, flashing his charming, handsome smile. I let him pull me into his arms.

"It's all over now, Silver, baby," he told me. "As soon as they get the cast off your arm, we can take off. I have my bags packed and I'm ready to go.

"Where shall we go first?" I asked him. "How about a few months in Paris?"

"No, I never cared much for that town," he said. "Let's go to Las Vegas or Monte Carlo. We can get in a little action at the tables."

"How about Hollywood?" I countered. "I've always thought you'd do well there. You might become a star."

"Sure, baby," he agreed, "anything you say. Just point me in the right direction and old Wade will follow right along."

"Where will York be?" I asked. "Tagging along behind us or waiting for you someplace?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, astonished.

"Where will York be while you wait to get your hands on the Manton money?"

His face contorted.

"You bitch! You knew all the time!" he screamed.

His fists knotted and for a moment I was afraid that I was going to get another beating.

"I didn't know soon enough. Why didn't you tell me from the first that you were a fag? Why didn't you make me see that there was no hope for me? I was young and stupid, but I loved you. Why weren't you man enough to break it off before it started?"

His face flushed with angry blood.

"Because I'm just like everybody else. I like to stick my prick into a thousand-dollar whore the same as the next man. I liked it when I held you off and made you beg for me to give it to you in the pussy. You never got it that way, did you? I wouldn't give it to you because I was waiting for the money. That's all I ever saw in you."

He slammed from the room and was gone from my life, back to York and their private world. With him went the part of me that held youth, hope and illusions.

* * *

The visible scars have healed. Bones have been set back in place. Careful stitches have mended my broken skin. Some day I'll find the medicine to mend my heart. Perhaps the solution is already on its way.

A child is growing inside of me. It might be seed from the loins of the sadist. I hope not. I like to think it springs from that gruff man on the boat who forced Terry and me into sexual union, insisting that the world needs love.

It doesn't really matter who started the life growing there for its mine. If it is a son, I'll leave the line and keep him with me, loving him until my last breath.

But if I bear a daughter? What shall I do? Shall I go back to my home and keep her protected from life, teaching her the things she needs to know?

Will I see the moment when she walks out of our home on the arm of a man like Wade, ready to take her place with the rest of the Manton Women in the Dynasty of Whores?

THE END
Diary Of A Hooker ....(93k)    by Alma Ballou





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