Donna is a respected professor at a college in the Northeastern United States. But the discovery of pornographic home movies of a bizarre orgy upsets her rigidly ordered life. Her spare hours are haunted by dreams of slavish submission to a corrupt and cruel order of lecherous monks. Traveling in Europe, Donna is horrified but aroused to discover her dreams of sexual slavery coming true-in the flesh.
Emily is a grade school teacher in a bleak rural town in the Appalachian mountains. Her quiet life is disrupted when she is arrested by the corrupt town police, brutalized, and raped. From then on, her life is filled with fantasies of revenge and degradation. But both her desires to submit and to punish are gratified when she joins a fascistic society which uses rape and sexual terror to accomplish its aims.
Barbara is a missionary in Southeast Asia. She is working to help hold off a famine among the peasants. She is a virgin, and her nights are filled with dreams of cruel conquerors who will take her by force, and make her violate every law of decency and morality. But, when a gang of modern-day pirates invades her village, she is caught up in a real-life nightmare of rape, torture, and sexual slavery.
These are the three fantasy fetishes of Donna, Emily, and Barbara, respectively.
They are normal, modern American young women-and yet, beneath the seemingly calm and collected false fronts they present to the outside world, their minds seethe with bizarre fantasies.
Fantasies which become reality-to their pleasure, and their pain.
* * *
SLAVE OF THE MAD MONKS
CHAPTER ONE
I sat alone in a dark room watching the film. On the movie screen, an orgy was taking place.
My name is Donna Heland. I am thirty years old. I am a professor of art history, specializing in the Renaissance.
Now, I was seeing a different kind of art history-the kind that doesn't get in the textbooks.
Recently, my mentor, Dr. Elias Lobar, passed away. I was his pupil and his friend, and was named as the executor of his estate.
Dr. Lobar was himself a renowned historian, famed for his studies of the Borgias and the Medicis, those noble families who ruled (and misruled) Renaissance Italy.
One gray Sunday in November, I was going through a collection of Dr. Lobar's private effects.
I was in the dusty attic of his home. I was alone in the house. As I rooted around through cartons of his old papers and monographs, I came upon a trunk hidden in the corner.
It was a small, brass-bound trunk, of great age. Since it had been hidden from the rest of his effects, I had hopes of making some novel find, perhaps of some of the Doctor's unpublished manuscripts.
I made a find, all right-one which would change first my fantasy life, and then my real life.
Inside the trunk were a number of reels of 8-millimeter film.
I was most excited. Dr. Lobar was as noted for his work in the field as he was for the wide-ranging knowledge of his published works.
Here, I thought, was an unexpected bonus. Here were films taken by the Doctor nearly half-a-century ago!
What a stir this would cause in University circles, and among scholars everywhere! I flattered myself that I, too, would share in some of the acclaim, although the credit, naturally, would have to go to the Doctor.
Then I saw the films.
When I had seen them all, I knew that I would never, never show them to the world.
I had no ideas of their contents when I examined the trunk. I remembered that the late Doctor kept a movie projector and screen in his study on the third floor.
Eager and excited, I went to the third floor room. I pulled down the movie screen, and set up the projector so that it faced it.
On the reel, a label identified the film only as "Capabaria-1933".
The word, "Capabaria", seemed tantalizingly familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I decided to look it up later.
The film itself was quite old and scratched. I delicately threaded it on the spools of the movie projector.
I started the projector, and turned off the lights. I sat on the edge of my seat, wondering what this legacy from beyond the grave would be.
The film was grainy and scratched, making it somewhat difficult to see. It was in black and white, and there was no sound, of course.
The opening was an establishing shot of a black castle standing by a rugged and lonely mountain pass.
It was difficult to tell, but I guessed that the castle was located somewhere in the Alps.
The camera lingered on this bleak fortress of stone. I judged that it had been constructed somewhere around the time of the Fourth Crusade.
The next scene was inside the courtyard. The court was quite a contrast to the forbidding exterior of hard stone.
The court was filled with gardens and fountains and marble statues. Some of the statuary looked quite rare.
I was disappointed that the camera didn't close in on those art works.
Black-cowled monks and nuns crossed over the winding paths in the gardens. This helped to explain things.
Undoubtedly, the castle was the home of some monastic religious order, whose members had come there in a quest for solitude, and to escape the outside world.
The next scene took place indoors. It was dark and shadowed, quite a contrast from the sunny outdoor scenes previously.
It was in a great domed hall of stone. Arches and corridors receded in the distance. Wherever this impressive hall was, it had to be on an underground level of the castle.
My attention was caught by a young woman, a nun.
She was tall and slender and moved with solemn dignity. She wore long black robes which covered her from the top of her head to her toes.
She wore a black hood which covered her hair. Her face was a pale, shining oval of light contrasting with her dark clothes.
She was facing the camera, and obviously aware that she was being filmed. Her lovely, angelic features widened in a smile.
She fumbled with something at her chest. At first, I thought that she was reaching for her rosary beads, or, perhaps, a cross.
I assumed that she was about to make some simple yet touching demonstration of her faith for the filmed record.
Indeed, she was about to demonstrate her faith-but whatever it was, it was not the worship of God.
The young nun's long, pale hands traveled down the front of her habit. Suddenly, I realized with shock that she was not performing religious devotions at all!
She was unbuttoning her habit. She opened the long black robe, which divided into two halves running down the front of her.
She pulled the robe off her shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.
She was stark naked underneath the robe. Naked, that is, except for a pair of black silk stockings and high-heeled shoes!
The stockings reached from the tops of her thighs to her toes. They were held in place on her legs by a pair of circular garters, which slipped over the stockings and held them to her thighs.
She was young, not more than twenty-three or twenty-four. She was buxom, with a slender waist, wide, womanly hips, and plump thighs.
Her hair spilled down over her shoulders and breasts. Her breasts were unusually large and heavy.
They were white masses with fat, dark nipples. Her belly was round and soft, and she had a dark, thick pubic bush, a triangle of curly hair which almost, but not quite, covered her fleshy pussy lips.
The black stockings and high heels made her nudity even more lewd and shocking. The stockings transformed her legs into wicked, alluring things.
The camera followed her as she turned and walked to a stone pillar. For an instant, her back was to the camera.
Her buttocks were plump and white and shining. They were soft, smooth globes of flesh, split down the middle by the crack of her ass.
The lush flesh of her buttock cheeks jiggled and rolled as she walked boldly and insolently to the pillar.
Set high on the pillar was an iron holder with a flaming torch in it. The torch flickered and shifted, throwing weird shadows on the already eerie scene.
A second figure entered. This was a man, a large, powerful, forbidding man dressed in the peaked hood and cape of a monk.
His face was hidden in shadow, but I could see it more clearly when he stepped under the torchlight.
He looked proud, cruel, and lustful. His was a face that might have belonged to a ruthless Renaissance prince or duke hundreds of years ago.
He had deep-set, brooding eyes, and a pointed black beard. He looked like a dissolute and godless man.
The nun turned and leaned with her bare back against the stone pillar. She waited for the monk to reach her.
The scene was replaced for an instant by a hand-lettered sign which identified the two as "Rodrigo and Teresa".
I realized that the identifying caption must have been inserted later, by Doctor Lobar.
The scene immediately returned to the interrupted action. The man must be Rodrigo; the nun, of course, had to be Teresa.
Teresa lifted her hands, and cupped her lush breasts, lifting them in offering to Rodrigo.
The monk embraced her, and pulled her to him. His strong hand rested on the swelling cheeks of her bottom.
He threw back his cowl, revealing his lion-like head. He looked like Lucifer in the flesh.
He lowered his head to her bosom, and began kissing and licking her breasts.
Teresa spread her legs shoulder-width apart, and leaned her bottom against the cold stone pillar.
Rodrigo opened his mouth, and his tongue slithered out. The tongue was long, with a pointed tip.
He flicked the tongue over her nipples. The nipples were brown and hard. They glistened with saliva.
Both Teresa and Rodrigo's faces were stamped with lust.
Rodrigo reached between Teresa's legs. His strong hand began fondling her pussy.
I noticed that he stood to one side of her, not blocking her from the camera eye. From the positions they both took, all their moves and motions were revealed to the camera.
That showed some degree of sophistication, particularly in the mid-1930's, when the general public was hardly as aware of the camera and the media as we are today.
Suddenly, I realized that what the pair of them were doing was being done for the benefit of the camera-they wanted their lust to be preserved on film!
Rodrigo's middle finger was buried up to the knuckle in Teresa's pussy. She raised her hips from the pillar, and gyrated and shoved them in the air.
She performed the movements of copulation. She was literally being fucked by the monk's finger!
Teresa reached up and fondled her breasts, playing with the hard nipples, teasing them, pinching and pulling them.
With his free hand, Rodrigo caressed her face. Teresa opened her mouth, and the monk slipped his finger into it.
Teresa sucked his finger like it was a penis.
After a moment, Rodrigo tired of this sport. He took his fingers out of her mouth and pussy.
He loosened the rope belt which held his monk's habit together. By now, I was hardly surprised to see that he, too, was naked under his robe.
He had a splendid body, with broad shoulders, a hairy, muscular chest, a flat belly, and thighs of iron.
He gripped his cock. It was full and splendidly erect. It was a thick rod of flesh with a swollen head, and it jutted out from his hips.
He gripped his member at the base of the shaft. I could see that his balls were swollen in their hairy sac.
With his free hand, he fondled Teresa's long, shimmering hair. It fell across her smooth, white shoulders and partially veiled her plump breasts. Her hard nipples lewdly peeked through the strands of hair.
Now that he was no longer fondling her, Teresa had taken herself in hand. Her fingers moved like spider's legs over her hairy pussy.
Rodrigo wrapped her hair around his hand. A cruel smiled flickered on his face as he tightened his grip.
He pulled her hair. A mingled expression of pleasure and pain crossed Teresa's face.
Rodrigo pulled downward. Teresa was forced to follow. Her breasts jiggled as she went to her knees.
She knelt on the stone floor, her legs folded under her. Her plump bottom rested on the heels of her shining shoes.
Both she and Rodrigo were in profile, so the camera could catch all the action.
The monk loomed over the kneeling nun, still holding her by her hair. Her head was on a level with his cock.
With casual brutality, Rodrigo slapped her twice across the face-once with his palm, and once with the back of his hand.
The blows were hard. Teresa's head was knocked from side to side by the force of them.
Even though the film was in black and white, I could see the imprints of his hands where they had struck her face.
Teresa faced him, staring steadily up at him. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of her mouth.
She took his hand, and raised it to her lips. He wore a glittering ring. She pressed her lips against the ring, kissing it.
Rodrigo stepped forward, and shook his cock in her face. Teresa stuck out her fat tongue, and licked her lips, wetting them.
Holding the base of his member, Rodrigo guided it into her mouth.
Teresa puckered her lips, pressing them against his shaft. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked inward on the member.
Rodrigo pulled on her hair, using it as a kind of reins to guide and steer her head.
He pushed her head forward, then back. Back and forth, back and forth. He shoved his hips in response to her movements.
When he pulled her forward, she would take his cock deep in her mouth. When he pulled her backward, his cock, glistening with her saliva, would appear and emerge from her puckered lips.
As he moved, the robe fell from his shoulders. He was a magnificent figure of a man, like a nude by Michelangelo.
His buttocks were taut and firm and boyishly rounded. They were tight and clenched as he moved back and forth.
Teresa sucked him with frenzied abandon. I was amazed by how deeply she was able to take him into her mouth-perhaps into her throat as well, since his male member was unusually large and firm.
Rodrigo's face and body were electric with excitement. All too clearly, he was enjoying, loving, his exercise of sexual domination over the corrupt nun.
The room was very silent. I heard the slow, mechanical ticking of the film as it wound through the projector.
The only other sound in the room was my deep, excited breathing.
Rodrigo reached the peak of his excitement. He pulled backward, withdrawing his member from Teresa's wet mouth.
Teresa looked up at him. He held his cock with the head pointed at her shining face.
He pulled and stroked his member. After only three or four long, quick strokes, semen spurted from his cock head.
The semen jetted explosively in liquid spurts. He aimed it so that he came all over Teresa's angelic face.
Far from being repulsed, as I certainly would have been, Teresa seemed to welcome, even love, this indignity.
Semen spurted over her nose and cheeks, running down her face in sticky smears.
Rodrigo smiled down at her.
A driblet of semen trickled down her cheek, and over her chin. Teresa opened her mouth, and let her tongue flop out.
The fat tongue licked up the semen, and lapped it up into her mouth.
Rodrigo squeezed his cock. A single, fat drop of semen was squeezed from the head of his member.
Teresa pressed her lips to the head of his cock. Her tongue flicked out, and she licked up the semen.
She touched her tongue tip to the divide in the center of his sac. She licked upward along it, touching the base of his shaft, and slurping along the underside.
Teresa tongued and licked his member clean. Finally, Rodgrigo took a handful of her hair, and wiped his cock with it.
He turned and stared directly into the camera. His lips drew back over a mouthful of strong white teeth as he smiled mockingly.
I had the eerie sensation that he was staring at me.
The scene was replaced with a square of bright white light. The film had ended.
I turned on the lights. My hands were shaking. I am not a drinker, but I poured myself a glass of sherry and gulped half of it in an effort to calm my nerves.
What had I discovered?
My first thought was that I had unwittingly stumbled on a private collection of Dr. Lobar's.
I told myself how little we ever really know about what goes on in people's heads In the years in which I had known the good Doctor, I had thought of him as a saintly, good-humored, benevolent old fellow.
Surely this vile film couldn't have been his could it?
It certainly wasn't like any run-of-the-mill pornographic movie I had ever seen. That was my first thought, of course-that I had somehow stumbled on the doctor's collection of erotic films.
But Teresa and Rodrigo hardly seemed like actors. And the notation-"Capabaria-1933" was in the same spidery handwriting of Lobar's that I had seen many hundreds of times before.
My hands trembled as I opened the next reel of film, and threaded it onto the projector. I started the film, and turned off the lights, and sat breathlessly in the darkness until the picture started.
A handheld caption read-"Capabaria 1936". Then, immediately following it, was another caption-"Rodrigo, Greta, and Juliet".
This scene took place in a smaller room of stone, one not quite as vast and impressive as the one in the preceding film.
It was a chamber with stone walls, a stone floor, and a domed stone ceiling. A multitude of torches provided the light.
As the camera panned over the chamber, I saw grim, rusted machinery, black and bulking and ominous.
With a shock, I realized that I was looking at the Iron Maiden, the rack, the boot, and the wheel-medieval instruments of torture.
A girl was chained to a chair in the center of the room.
She was young and blonde, and couldn't have been out of her teens yet. She was slender and girlish, with long legs and high, firm, pert breasts.
Oh, yes-she was naked.
She sat in a high-backed, massive wooden chair, with arms and strong legs. She was facing the camera.
Her forearms lay along the tops of the chair arms. I saw that iron manacles held her wrists to the wooden bars.
Her ankles were also fettered. Iron bars circled her slender ankles, and held them pinioned to the chair legs.
She was slim and slender. Her breasts were full and upturned, with soft, neat nipples.
Her skin was smooth and flawless. She was chained so that her legs and thighs were open to the eye of the camera.
Her pussy was lightly bushed. Her pubic hair was very pale and light in color, and made her look even more youthful and vulnerable.
Her rosebud lips were forced open by the gag in her mouth. As I watched, she writhed and twisted in her chains.
She couldn't speak, but her eyes silently appealed for help from the camera. If she was an actress, then she was one of the supreme undiscovered talents of all time.
And if she wasn't an actress-then that meant that this wasn't a drama, but that she was actually being held prisoner in a sinister dungeon!
On the right-hand side of the screen, a massive iron door opened into the chamber, and two figures entered.
They were a man and a woman. They wore black robes with high, peaked hoods.
The man I recognized immediately. It was Rodrigo.
The woman was dark and boldly beautiful. Her hood fell back on her shoulders, revealing a thirty year old brunette with an exquisite face framed by tumbling masses of midnight-black hair.
Her lips were wide and sensuous and she smiled coldly. Her eyebrows were dark and dramatically arched.
She had high cheekbones, and wide, dark eyes. I assumed that this was Juliet.
The captive girl, the lovely prisoner, was fair and very Nordic looking. Her hair was fine and so blonde that it was almost white.
Since Greta is a Northern name, and since the prisoner was from North Europe, I deduced that she must be Greta.
Greta twisted in her bonds, looking fearfully at Rodrigo and Juliet as they entered the torture chamber.
The pair of tormentors stood on either side of her. Juliet unfastened the clasp holding her cape together, and let it fall.
Under the cape, she wore an ultra-sexy corset, an old-fashioned foundation garment somewhat similar to a Merry Widow.
The corset laced up the back, and was fastened tightly, transforming her already lush curves into a classic hourglass figure.
The corset had satin panels decorated with elaborate lace embroidery. Garters hung from the bottom of it, and were attached to the tops of the dark silk stockings she wore.
The corset had half-cups, which lifted and plumped up her lush white breasts, as though offering them to the world The half-cups didn't cover her nipples, which xwere the size of the first joint of a finger. The rosettes were brown, and wide as silver dollars.
The bottom of the corset came only to her waistline. Beneath it, she was naked, and her black-bushed pussy was lewdly framed by the garters and the stocking tops.
Her masses of jet-black hair spilled down her smooth pale shoulders. She held a whip, a cat-o'-nine-tails with a thick, foot-long handle.
Grinning evilly, Rodrigo fondled Greta's trembling breasts. He alternated sensual caresses with cruel treatment.
He would lovingly stroke her breast, and then, without warning, he would grasp her nipple and squeeze and twist it so that Greta writhed in pain.
Juliet took off Greta's gag. Greta sobbed and pleaded with them. There was no sound, so her words were a mystery to me.
However, it didn't take much of a genius to figure out what she wanted. She must have been begging them to let her go, or at least to show some mercy to her.
Rodrigo and Juliet sneered and mocked her. Juliet reversed the handle of the whip and raised it to Greta's face.
I gasped when I saw that the leather-covered handle was actually a dildo-it was shaped like a male member, and had a thick, swelling head at the knobbed tip of it.
Rodrigo pinched Greta's abused nipple. The girl's mouth opened in a silent scream-a scream which was cut off when Juliet shoved the dildo into her mouth.
Juliet twisted Greta's hair, and forced her to suck on the dildo as though it actually were a real cock.
Shamed and degrading, tears of humiliation running down her cheeks, Greta obeyed.
Her cheeks hollowed and her lips puckered as she sucked on the dildo. Juliet was excited by the girl's submission, and began fondling her own pussy.
I leaned forward in my seat, wondering what would happen next.
When Juliet took the dildo from Greta's mouth, it was glistening and dripping with the girl's saliva.
Greta squeezed her eyes shut. Her soft breasts rose and fell as she sobbed with shame.
Juliet knelt at the side of the chair. Greta opened her eyes in shocked suprise as Juliet began fondling her pussy.
Juliet rubbed the head of the dildo against the softness of Greta's pussy lips. Flinching, Greta shrank back on the chair.
Juliet guided the head of the dildo between the young girl's labia. The tender lips were forced to the sides as Juliet, smiling wickedly, slowly inserted the leather-coated member into Greta's young pussy.
Rodrigo opened his robe, and stood near Greta. His cock was hard and erect. He rubbed the swollen head of it against Greta's breasts.
He took hold of Greta's hair, and pulled her head down to his cock. Greta opened her mouth, and he shoved his cock inside it.
Fat, glistening tears rolled down Greta's cheeks as she was forced to suck the monk's cock.
Simultaneously, the cruel Juliet thrust the dildo in and out of the helpless chained girl, fucking her pussy.
Suddenly, the film ran out.
I was shocked back to reality. I was hot and sweating and trembling. My stomach was knotted with tension.
I looked down at my crotch. I had been exciting myself during the film.
CHAPTER TWO
It was not until one year later that I finally solved the mysteries of Capabaria.
Almost one year to the day from the afternoon on which I unearthed the bizarre films of the monastic castle, I was in the bedroom of a small hotel in the foothills of the Italian Alps, near the boundary of Italy and Austria.
It was night. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room, and stared at the reflection of my naked body.
I am thirty-one years old, five foot seven, and weigh one hundred and ten pounds.
Basically, I have a slender build, except for my breasts, which are, in all modesty, voluptuous.
I first got my period when I was twelve years old. By the time I was fifteen, I had the body of a sexually mature and desirable woman.
I suppose that might explain why I threw myself into the obscure field of art history.
I had been a sex object since my early teens, and had grown up being courted and chased by horny teenage boys and lustful older men.
As a result, I welcomed a field where scholarship was the only thing that counted, and where I could be recognized for my merit, rather than being merely desired for my body.
I peered at my image in the mirror. It was dark outside, and there was only one light on, which made my nude body glow in the looking glass.
My shoulders are wide, which is fortunate, because they help to support my heavy breasts.
My bosom is high and firm, and shows no sign of sagging or drooping. You can't imagine how many hours of exercise I do to keep my body well toned!
I have brown hair, straight and fine, with blonde highlights. My face is lean, with high cheekbones.
I have a small waist and flat tummy. Below my navel, my pelvis gently rises to the softly tufted curls of my pubic mound.
My legs are long and lean and lithe. However, just as I have been generously gifted by nature with full breasts, my bottom is rounded and saucily curved.
I stood in front of the mirror, combing my hair. My hair is fine and straight, and simply cut, with a part running down the center, and the ends brushing my shoulders.
I heard footsteps approach down the hotel hall, and there was the rattling of a key in the locked door to my room.
I glided across the floor, and hopped into bed. I pulled the blankets up to my neck.
Steve entered the room. "Hello, beautiful."
He was twenty-eight, younger than me. He was tall and handsome and athletic, and he was my lover-at least on this trip.
He had long dark hair, a brown moustache, and green eyes. His torso is the lean, compact torso of a long-distance runner. His legs are long and strong, and he has the cutest bottom.
"Hello, yourself," I said. "Is everything set for tomorrow?"
"Yes. I spoke with the hotel manager. The trip's all arranged. Tomorrow, you'll finally see your mysterious monastery."
"That's tomorrow. This is'tonight," I said.
I threw back the blanket so that it fell at my feet, uncovering my nude body.
I rolled on my side, curling my legs. I held my head propped up on my hand.
Steve pulled off his sweater as he came to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and socks, and opened his pants.
He pulled his trousers off his slender hips and let them to fall to his feet. He stepped out of them.
He wasn't wearing any underpants. He was as naked as I was.
"Yes," he breathed, "this is tonight."
He climbed on the bed and embraced me. I pressed against him, loving the way my flesh glided against his.
When he touched me, I felt a warm moistness inside my pussy. My nipples puckered and stiffened.
Steve rubbed against me. His beautiful cock was hard and ready. The head was hot; I felt its warmth against my smooth thighs.
We kissed, thrusting our tongues into each other's mouths. Our groins rubbed together.
He pushed me over, so that I lay on my back. The clean white sheets were fresh and smooth against my back and my sensitive bottom.
I broke free from his kiss. "Steve ... "
He fondled my breasts as he looked down at me. "Yes, lover?"
"Steve, I...." I licked my lips. "I want you to do something for me."
"Anything."
"It may sound a little strange...." I paused, not knowing how to continue. There was a tightness in my throat, and I swallowed hard.
I said, "Would you ... would you please tie my hands-tie my hands, and take me rough-hard!"
He stared at me without speaking.
I said timidly, "I suppose you must think that's kinky-"
"Not at all," he said coolly. "As a matter-of-fact, I've been thinking for some time that that's just the kind of treatment you need."
"Oh, Steve," I sighed.
He put his finger on my lips. "Shhhh. Not another word. I don't want to hear another sound out of you."
He slid off the bed, and stood up. "Lie there, and don't move."
I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. I was very excited and my heart beat at a very rapid rate.
My breasts rose and fell as I took deep, slow breaths. I tried in vain to calm myself, to still the raging excitement in me.
Steve came back to the bed. He held the sash from one of my robes, and a long black scarf.
I saw that his erection seemed firmer and harder than ever-it was as big as I had ever seen it.
Then I knew that he was just as excited as I was.
He said, "Hold out your hands in front of you."
My breasts bobbed and jiggled as I sat up. My nipples were stiffly erect. I felt a delicious sense of surrender as I obeyed.
Steve crossed my wrists. He knotted a loop in the sash, and slipped it over my hands.
He pulled the knot tight, and the cord cut into my wrists. I liked the sharp, sudden pain of it.
He threw a hitch over the loop, and knotted it securely. Now my hands were bound.
But he wasn't finished yet. He used my scarf as a blindfold. He covered my eyes with it, and knotted it behind the back of my head.
This was even better than I had expected. With my vision cut off, and my hands bound, I felt weak and helpless and excited.
My pussy was dripping wet. I clenched my legs together, squeezing my thighs.
Steve's hands were on my breasts. He pushed me backward, back down on the mattress.
He said, "Donna."
"Yes, master?"
"I am your master."
"Yes."
"Donna, put your hands on your pussy, and play with yourself. I want to watch you."
My long legs rustled against the sheets as I spread them. I spread my legs wide, and felt my heels resting in the corners of the bed.
My bound hands dropped to my pussy. Perhaps because my sight was blocked, my sense of touch seemed unusually acute.
I lay in darkness, toying with my pubic bush, feeling the soft, tight curls.
My fingers rubbed my soft, sensitive pussy lips. I quivered at my own touch.
I parted the labia, and found my clitoris. The tiny button felt like a a throbbing pearl of flesh against my fingertips.
I played with myself, stroking heat into my pussy. I felt very distant, very far away.
Some time passed, I don't know how long it was. I lost all track of time.
The mattress sank as Steve climbed on it. He seized my bound hands, and raised them back behind my head, pinning them to the mattress.
He didn't say a word as he mounted me. He got between my legs and pressed against me.
His cock head bumped the sensitive flesh of my pussy lips. I gasped.
Steve guided his member inside. Usually, we have lots of foreplay, with lots of kissing and fondling and oral sex to get me ready.
This time, there was no foreplay at all except for the stimulation I gave myself when I played with my pussy.
Steve entered me quickly, efficiently, and brutally. His cock head pushed my pussy lips to the side as he thrust into me.
I groaned as he penetrated me. I was hot and wet, but somewhat tight. His cock fit inside me like a finger in a rubber glove.
I bit down on my lip, and stifled a moan.
He held my hands pinned to the bed. My arms rubbed against my cheeks. The blindfold pressed down on my eyes.
He pinned my hands with one hand. With the other, he roughly fondled my breasts, adding to my excited confusion.
My nipples were hard. He pinched them between his nails until I cried out. The pain mingled with the pleasure his thrusting cock gave me.
He plunged in and out of me with slow, deep strokes. He lay on top of me, and my breasts flattened under the weight of his muscular chest.
His chest was hairy, and the hairs scraped against my nipples, irritating and exciting them.
I moaned. He crushed my lips with his, and his insolent tongue invaded my mouth and tasted it.
I was wet, lubricated. His hot cock glided against my slippery pink membranes.
There was voluptuous enjoyment in being taken this way. I felt like I was being ravished by a masterful lover.
Steve's belly slapped against my own, and his hipbones rubbed mine, chafing them both.
As he fucked me, I drifted off into a dream of erotic fantasy....
In my fantasy, I was hundreds of years back in time. I was in the gilded palace of a powerful and infinitely corrupt Duke.
Beautiful, aristocratic couples performed courtly dances on the marble floor. They whirled and capered to the music of an unseen orchestra.
The men were handsome; the women, beautiful. The women wore rich, brocaded gowns, with wide, flaring skirts and scandalously low-cut dresses.
The gowns were cut so low, and their corsets so tight, that these ladies seemed permanently in danger of their breasts bursting free from their gowns.
Also, the gowns were so low in the front, that the ladies' nipples were partially visible. The nipples themselves were tucked just under the concealment of the gowns, but the upper halves of the rosettes could be seen.
The men wore tights, and tunics. They wore swords on leather belts, and the blades rattled in their scabbards as they bowed and danced with the ladies.
At the far end of the hall, sitting on his throne, was the Duke himself.
He was a larger than life individual, about fifty, broad-shouldered, with a lion-like head of shaggy gray hair, and a pointed beard.
On his lap sat a nude fifteen year old girl. She had the face of an angel, and her hair was all done up in tightly coiled braids.
Her body glowed like a candle flame. Her breasts were small but perfect. Her curved buttocks nestled against the Duke's groin.
In one hand, the Duke held a golden drinking goblet. In the other hand, he cupped one of the girl's soft breasts.
I stood at the far end of the great hall. Unlike the members of the court, I wore only a simple, humble little white shift.
The fabric was thin and very sheer, so that the outlines of my body were clearly visible.
There was a simple belt of rope at my waist. My breasts were free, and they bobbed and jiggled against the front of my gown.
The gown was seemingly modest, as it covered me from my shoulders to my ankles. But it was really a mockery, because the sheerness and transparency of the gown left me feeling almost naked.
In this fantasy, which I watched unrolling like a movie inside my head while Steve ravished me on the bed, I was some kind of captive.
I stood between a pair of stern, armored knights. They wore chain mail tunics and swords at their sides.
Their metal gauntlets circled my wrists, holding me as efficiently as if I were manacled.
The knights started across the hall, pulling me along with them. I was barefoot, and the marble floor was cool against my soles.
As we crossed the floor toward the Duke, the dancers stoppped their dancing, and turned to look at us.
I saw that the women, while beautiful, were cold and cruel and wanton, shameless sinners.
The men were no better. Men and women alike leered or smiled cruelly as I was dragged past them.
The knights' armor clanked loudly. The music of the unseen orchestra died away, and all dancing ceased.
The knights threw me down at the Duke's feet.
The Duke pushed the naked girl off his lap. I saw that his manhood was stiff and hard against the crotch of his tights, and I blushed and looked away.
The nude girl stood shamelessly by his side, making no attempt to cover herself. Her pussy was lightly bushed, which made her look even younger and more immature than she really was.
She glared resentfully at me. Her hand dropped to her pussy, and she fingered herself as she watched and waited.
Obeying the command of their master, the Duke, the knights once again seized my arms, and lifted me to my feet.
The Duke came down the stairs to me. My legs were weak, and my knees knocked together.
The Duke stood face to face with me, grinning with triumph. He seized my face in his hands, and crushed his lips against mine.
He kissed me savagely. His embrace left me pale and trembling.
The Duke gripped the top of my tunic in his massive fists, and ripped it open down to my waist.
My breasts bobbed and jiggled as they were exposed to the Duke and his male and female courtiers.
Some of the Duke's roguish friends cheered and laughed and applauded his actions.
The Duke's fingers untied my rope belt. He handed it to the nude teenager.
He hooked his fingers into the waist of my gown, and ripped it off my hips.
Now, I was completely naked. I did not scream. I remember that clearly. I did not scream.
I stood, weak and trembling. I noticed that some of the courtiers were highly excited by my disrobing and degradation.
A bold whore with flame-colored hair threw her arms around the man sitting nearest to her. She pulled his head down to her breasts.
One of her breasts popped completely free of the gown. The breast was large and milk-white, with a fat brown nipple.
Grinning hugely, the man embracing her stuck out his tongue, and began licking and lapping at her nipple.
The Duke's hands boldly and roughly explored my body. He rubbed my breasts, squeezing them together so that they plumped up.
He caressed my flat belly. His hand dropped between my legs. He rubbed my pussy lips. I stood there, enduring it all like a martyr.
I groaned as the Duke thrust his finger inside my pussy. It was his middle finger, and he plunged it deep into me.
He reached around me, and fondled my bottom with his free hand. I stood there, my arms stretched out from my shoulders, my wrists held by the cold metal gauntlets of the nights.
All around me, the excited courtiers were pairing off-and in some cases, tripling off as well.
Men embraced women, women embraced women, men embraced men. Even the very air seemed thick and heavy with a heavy, sullen atmosphere of lust.
A tall, silvery-haired woman, a dignified lady from one of the greatest families in the dukedom, caught a teenaged male page by the wrist.
He was only a lad, barely into his teens. He had long brown hair, and a pale and studious face.
The woman was about forty-five, but very tall, back erect, posture excellent. She was thin and wiry, with sharp, pointed breasts and glittering eyes.
She gathered up the hem of her gown, and pulled it up to her waist. This was a debauched court, and she, like the other female courtiers, was nude beneath her gown.
Her pubic bush was speckled with silver hairs, but her thighs were smooth and un wrinkled.
She spread her legs. The young man knelt at her feet. She twined her claw-like fingers in his hair, and pulled his face into her crotch.
His jaw and tongue worked as his lips rubbed against her pussy lips. She put her hand on the back of his head, and held his face pressed against her pussy.
A pale, sulky beauty from Brittany stood up, raising her gown to her waist. A bearded swordsman moved behind her.
She had strawberry-blonde hair, a radiant complexion, and red, ripe, pouting lips. She wore a sky-blue gown.
She was standing. She bent forward from the waist, and put her palms against the top of a table.
As she bent forward, both her breasts worked free from the bodice of her gown. Her breasts were soft cones with sharp pink nipples.
The swordsman stood behind her. He was thirty-five, muscular and fit. He had the knowing, leering face of a rogue.
The beauty's gown was hiked up, and she was naked from the waist down. Her bottom was dimpled and heart-shaped and white as ivory.
Her legs were long and lovely, and her thighs were so white and polished that they seemed to shine.
The man knelt behind her, and buried his face between the cheeks of her ass.
He spread her buttocks, exposing the dark crack, and the tiny puckered asshole. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
The beauty screeched with shameless laughter as the man thrust his tongue deep inside her anus.
The cheeks of her bottom pressed against his face. As his tongue worked inside her, she wiggled her hips and sighed.
All around the hall, similar scenes of lust were taking place.
Dresses were lifted, exposing naked thighs. Breasts tumbled free from their confines. Tights were pulled down, revealing; splendidly erect male members.
Meanwhile, the Duke's knights dragged me naked to the banquet table.
The Duke's great arm swept across the table, knocking platters of food and bottles of wine to the floor.
The table was covered with a purple velvet cloth. The cloth was stained with gravy and spilled wine.
The Duke's men forced me to lay on my back on the table. Two women, jaded and lecherous, joined them.
While the knights held my hands, the ladies each gripped one of my ankles, and together they spread my legs wide open.
The Duke stood looming over me. His face was red and swollen with lust.
He pulled down his tights, unpeeling them from his hips and hairy thighs. His cock was stiff and throbbing, with blue veins winding around the reddened shaft.
He climbed up on the table, and stretched across me. His beard rasped against my breasts, against my erect nipples.
His cock rubbed against my thighs. He guided it to my pussy. The swollen head was hot and throbbing against my pussy lips.
The Duke thrust deep inside me. I was wet and ready for him, but he entered me forcefully, and I cried out, more in fear than in pain.
His cock was thick and filling inside my pussy. I groaned from the strain of having to take his full length inside me.
The knights chuckled indulgently at the antics of their lord, the Duke.
The women who held my legs open for him mocked me by imitating my cries and moans.
The Duke reached under me, and gripped my bottom. His strong hands dug into the tender flesh of my buttocks.
He thrust vigorously into me. His cock glided against the dripping walls of my pussy.
He rubbed his face back and forth over my trembling breasts. His mouth was hot and wet on them.
I turned my head to the side. All over the hall, wild orgiastic scenes took place.
A nude, beautiful young boy lay face down across the lap of an obese brunette.
The brunette had a moon-face, breasts like melons, and masses of black hair piled at the top of her head.
Her nipples, which were erect, were pinkish-brown, and big as thumbs.
The boy lay across her lap, his groin pressing against her massive thighs. Behind him knelt an elderly woman with a sharp, bird-like profile.
The elderly woman grinned lustfully. She held a dildo fashioned out of glass. It was transparent, and shaped like a male member.
The fat woman dipped her hand into a bowl of frothy cream. The elderly women spread the boy's buttocks apart.
The obese woman smeared the cream between the boy's bottom cheeks. The other woman greased the glass dildo with the stuff.
The boy wriggled when the elderly woman prodded his anus with the head of the dildo.
The fat woman encircled the youth's waist with a massive forearm, and held him tightly in place.
The boy's face creased with gasping pain and pleasure as the woman slowly and tantalizingly penetrated his ass with the dildo.
A third woman appeared, young and luscious, with bobbing breasts. She was naked.
This new arrival grasped a handful of the boy's hair, and lifted his head up, cording his neck muscles.
His face was on a level with her pussy. She thrust her hips forward, grinding her pussy against his mouth.
He ate her out, while the elderly woman sodomized him with the glass penis.
He wriggled on the fat woman's broad lap. I saw that his cock was hard and achingly erect.
The fat woman reached over his hip, and took his member in her hand. She squeezed and kneaded his cock, fondling him to ejaculation.
Not far away, the beauty from Brittany still leaned forward, supporting herself against the table to p.
The swordsman stood behind her. His black tights were rolled down to his knees, and his erect cock jutted in front The beauty spread her feet apart, and wiggled her bottom. The cheeks of her ass gleamed with his saliva.
He placed his cock in the crack of her ass, so that the rod of flesh nestled in the bottom cleft.
She wiggled her hips. He took his cock in hand, and rubbed the head against the lips of her pussy.
She thought he was going to penetrate her cunt, but he surprised her.
He spit on his hand, and smeared the saliva over the head of his cock. Holding her buttocks apart, he poked her tiny anus with his member.
She shrieked as he forced his cock head past the tight ring of her sphincter. Her scream triggered screams of laughter from the jaded members of the court.
She struggled vainly in his strong arms, trying to get away. He pushed her down so that she lay with her front pressed against the tabletop.
Her face creased with pain as he penetrated her anus, thrusting his cock inside it.
Her mouth opened in a wide, moaning O which covered half her face.
A man was strolling by on the other side of the table. He stopped and faced the beauty.
He pulled down his tights, and fumbled his cock into view. It was stiff.
He guided it into the moaning beauty's mouth. She sucked his member while being fucked in the ass.
The dignified, silver-haired woman was writhing naked on the floor with the young man, who now was also naked.
Her legs were long and white and spread.
The young man's buttocks were tightly clenched as he thrust in and out of her.
The Duke suddenly gripped my face in his hands, and turned it to face him. He crushed my lips with his.
His tongue and his cock thrust into me.
I raised my bottom from the table, and moved in response to the Duke's savage thrusts.
His breath was hot and rasping in my face. His hungry mouth licked and sucked my breasts. And his hard, hot member plunged into my pussy, thrilling me.
Suddenly, he thrust deeply into me, so that his cock head bumped against the mouth of my womb.
He stopped the rocking in-and-out motion of his hips. His cock quivered against my membranes.
Semen gushed out from his cock head, spilling over the heated tissues of my pussy.
That was all I needed to sweep me over the edge, and into orgasm.
My heels beat out a furious drum solo against the tabletop-no, no, it wasn't a tabletop at all!
It was a mattress!
I opened my eyes at the moment of my climax. I was still in darkness.
But there was a hard, hot cock inside me, spurting semen inside my pussy. A wet, hungry mouth pressed against my trembling breasts.
I realized where I was. I wasn't in my fantasy world at all! I was in the hotel room, and Steve was making love to me.
His climax had coincided with the Duke's climax in my dream. But, when Steve came inside my pussy, I was snapped back to reality.
It was a nice reality. I shuddered as my orgasm hit me. Then I sighed as the heat of afterglow soaked through my body.
Steve groaned as the last drops of semen were forced out of his cock. His member quivered against my membranes.
He collapsed on top of me. His hairy legs were entwined with my smooth, hairless ones.
We were both oiled with sweat, so that our flesh glided silkily against each other.
My nipples were hard against his muscular chest. He and I lay there, heaving for breath, soaking up the glow of orgasm.
After a while, Steve reached for my blindfold, and started to take it off.
"No," I said. "Please-leave it on. And leave my hands tied, too, just for a little while. It's good to me."
"Whatever you desire," he said, kissing me.
His cock was semi-erect in me. I loved the feeling. I lay there, bound and blindfolded, listening to the beating of our twin hearts.
Steve fondled my breasts, idly playing with them. I lay there dreamily, letting thoughts drift through my head.
I thought about the strange chain of events that had brought me to this remote hotel in the foothills of the Alps.
It began with the discovery of the trunk full of films of Capabaria. Each film in the trunk was like the first two.
In all, the collected films were a bizarre record of life at Capabaria. It was a succession of lust and cruelty.
I hid the films away, determined to suppress them, to protect Dr. Lobar's reputation. But I couldn't escape from the images of lustful monks and lecherous nuns which haunted my mind.
The combination of pain and pleasure in the films was like nothing I had ever seen before.
It was perverse, but fascinating. Obsessively fascinating.
Before too long, I bought an old 8-millimeter projector, and ran the Capabaria films again and again in the privacy of my own apartment.
It wasn't too long before I stopped deluding myself about my real motives.
I would sit naked in my living room, fondling and rubbing my pussy, as I watched hour after hour of the films.
I felt as though I knew Rodrigo, Juliet, and the others better than my friends or family.
My dreams were filled with images of bound beauties, stone dungeons, and lascivious monks and nuns.
Sometimes I would wake up from a particularly erotic dream, to find myself covered with sweat, my hand pressed against my pussy.
I was so obsessed with the riddle of Capabaria that I made a determined effort to locate it.
Using all the visual clues in the films, and all the resources of the research library of a major university, my persistence was rewarded.
It just so happened that there was a monastery named Capabaria, located in the northern boundary of Italy.
I had a year-long sabbatical from my teaching duties. What better way to spend it than by unraveling the mysteries of Capabaria?
I met Steve in Milan. He was an American graduate student. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were lovers.
So, he had come with me to this remote hotel, in a province whose ownership had been disputed by Switzerland and Italy for five hundred years.
Tomorrow, we would go to the castle. With any luck, I would solve the mystery of the monastery.
I wondered if that would really satisfy me after all.
Wasn't my obsession with the sado-masochistic sex orgies of the castle really just a symptom of my own submissive tendencies?
I had spent my own life trying to be my own woman, answering to no one. Then why did I identify so strongly with Greta and Teresa and all the other females slaves at the monastery?
Why did I long to have manacles attached to my wrists and the clothes ripped from my body?
Why did I ache to be taken simultaneously by a man and a woman, a cruel pair whose faces were the faces of Rodrigo and Juliet?
I had never been with a woman, not sexually. Then why did I want to be forced to put my mouth on a dominant beauty's pussy, and service her with my mouth while a man took me from behind?
Why was I fascinated by all the paraphernalia of whips and chains and dungeons and cruel, demonic lovers of either sex?
I didn't know. Perhaps I would find out the answer tomorrow.
But that was tomorrow-and this was still tonight.
This was the first time I had ever gotten up enough courage to ask one of my lovers to tie me and force me.
I loved it. But I wondered how far into the world of the submissive I dared to go.
I murmured, "Steve ... "
"Yes?"
"Darling, may I-would you-would you please force me to take you in my mouth? Right now, right this very instant?"
There was a hoarse, pleading quality in my voice that shocked and excited me.
It must have excited Steve, too, because I felt his cock throb against my pussy.
Without saying a word, he pulled out of me. He drew his hips back, causing his cock to slide out of my pussy.
The bedsprings groaned as he moved on the bed. I was still blindfolded, and had to sense what he was doing.
I sighed as his skin brushed against mine. He slid off the bed and stood on the floor.
He hooked his hands under my arms, and lifted me up. His semen oozed in my pussy, and trickled out from between my labia.
He made me kneel on the bed, near the edge. My legs were folded under me, and my breasts jiggled.
My nipples puckered in the cool air of the room. It was enormously erotic, not knowing where Steve would touch me next as he moved me into position.
His hand touched the back of my head. I assumed that he stood on the floor, with his groin level with my face.
He pulled me forward, gently but firmly, drawing my head toward him.
My bound hands rested on my thighs. His semen oozed out of me, and spilled on the sheets.
I opened my mouth. I felt something fleshy and hot and sticky brush against my face.
I guessed that it was the head of his cock. I was right.
His cock head brushed against the edges of my parted lips as he guided his member into my mouth.
His flesh was hot against my tongue. I rubbed my tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock.
The veins winding around his member throbbed against my lips. His cock grew and stiffened in my mouth.
In a few seconds, he was hard and thick inside me. He rubbed his cock head against the soft roof of my mouth.
He pushed my head back and forth. He moved his hips so that his cock glided in and out, in and out.
He was fucking my mouth like it was a pussy. I loved the excitement, the wanton erotic thrill. It was a new kind of kick, a new kind of kink, a new high.
I relaxed the muscles of my throat as much as possible, so I could take him as deep into my throat as I possibly could.
My lips glided along his hot, throbbing shaft. Time went by. I sucked and slurped and licked.
Steve groaned. He held my head in place, and pushed his cock deep into my mouth.
He filled me so much that I almost choked, but I fought back the urge.
His rod of flesh quivered and jerked as semen jetted out of it.
Since he had come in my pussy only a little while ago, he didn't shoot all that much semen into my mouth.
He grunted, "Swallow it. Swallow it all, Donna."
My throat and jaw muscles worked as I gulped down his come. I hardly tasted it at all, since it went down my gullet so quickly.
He sighed with satisfaction. He fondled and smoothed my long hair.
He kept his cock in me for a long time. When he finally pulled it out, I sighed sadly.
He held the head of it to my lips, so I could kiss it. I stuck out my tongue, and felt the tiny hole in his cock head against my tongue tip.
He pushed me down, so I lay on my back. He got into bed beside me, and pulled up the sheets.
He didn't ask me if I wanted to be untied, and I didn't ask for him to do it. I slept like a baby that night. My hands were bound, and my eyes covered with the blindfold.
CHAPTER THREE
"That's Capabaria?" I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice.
"That is Capabaria, yes," Guido, our guide said.
I asked, "What happened to it?"
It was a good question. The looming, sinister castle of my dreams was a bombed out mass of rubble.
Only the western wing of the castle, and a solitary tower, remained intact. The rest was a mountain of broken stones and splintered beams.
Guido explained, "During the end of the war, some of the fascisti took refuge there. The partisans and Allied forces blew them out. It was too damaged to be restored."
That was an understatement. I felt glum, and somehow cheated. Steve put his arms around my shoulders, and hugged me.
It was around noon. The sun was high and shining, but we were so far up in the mountains that it was cool and chilly.
I wore slacks, hiking boots, a ski sweater, and a nylon windbreaker.
I asked Guido, "Does anyone still live there?"
"The caretaker," he replied.
I started up the hill toward the castle. There was an arched gateway set in the wall which had survived the bombardment.
I climbed the crumbling stone stairs. There was a rusted iron knocker set on the stout wooden planks of the door.
I banged the knocker against the door. Dull, hollow booms from it echoed and died away inside what was left of the castle.
We waited a long time. The wind blew. It was cold. Steve said, "Nobody's home. Come on, let's go."
The door creaked on its hinges as it swung open.
The woman standing in the doorframe glared at us suspiciously. She was in her mid-fifties, very German looking.
She had buxom breasts, heavy and thick, which pushed the front of her white blouse out of shape. Her breasts were voluptuous and somewhat sagging.
Her blouse was very sheer, and I could see the flowered, white lace bra which supported her massive mounds of flesh.
Her waist was thick, and her hips were wide and womanly. She wore a tight black skirt which covered her knees.
Her legs were thick and strong, with slender ankles. She wore dark stockings, and black leather shoes with pointed toes and high heels, shoes which were laced up and knotted in a stringed bow at the tops of them.
Her face was wide, and lined. Her eyebrows were-arched and dramatically darkened. Her eyes were gray as winter rain, and totally without warmth.
Her hair was golden and fine. It was in braids, and the braids were coiled in a prim bun at the top of her head.
The instant that I laid eyes on her, she seemed tantalizingly familiar. I was certain that I knew her, but I wasn't sure how.
Suddenly, a connection was made in my mind, and I knew who it was. True, she was some forty-odd years older, but her identity couldn't be mistaken.
I gasped, "Greta!"
She frowned. "I am afraid that I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, miss. Who are you, and what do you want?"
Her face softened somewhat as she saw Steve over my shoulder. Her eyes glittered, and she licked her lips.
"Who is it, Greta?" said a voice from inside.
A man stepped from the shadows and emerged into view. After Greta, I was somewhat prepared, but it still was a shock to see Rodrigo in the flesh.
Time had done its cruel work on him and on Greta. Greta must have been thirteen or fourteen in the films, certainly no older than that.
That meant that she must now be somewhere around fifty-five years old, give or take a few years either way.
She looked ten years younger. I estimated that Rodrigo had been about twenty when the films were taken.
That would make him sixty, or close to it. After I got over the shock of their age, I realized that the years had treated him kindly, too.
Like Greta, he looked at least ten years younger than his real age. He was the very picture of a Continental European aristocrat.
His hair was thinning, and what was left was brightly silvered. He had a neatly trimmed pointed beard, and his eyes were clear.
His massive, impressive physique was still in pretty good shape, except for a softness in his belly from too much good food and wine.
He wore conventional clothes, a shirt, slacks, and a sweater. He looked out at me and Steve and smiled.
"Have you forgotten your manners, Greta?" he said. "Invite our guests inside."
Steve and I stepped into the hall. This section of the castle was still intact. It was a great stone hall. On the far side of it, a stone staircase wound upward to a second floor.
The door shut behind us. Rodrigo bowed from the waist. "Good afternoon to you both. I am Rodrigo di Luparo, the master of this place."
His voice was like honey. He took my hand, and kissed it. I felt my ears and face burning.
I told him my name, and Steve's, of course. I said that I was a scholar who had been intrigued by reports about Capabaria, and that I had come to see it for myself.
"Wonderful," he said, leading us into the next room. "We rarely have visitors these days.
Capabaria is all but forgotten."
He graciously offered to conduct us on a tour of the castle, or what was left of it.
I accepted eagerly, and for the next hour, he led us through what remained of the once-great fortress.
Every room was filled with art treasures, and Rodrigo spoke eloquently and very knowledgably about it.
I looked, but did not see any of the places I remembered from the films-no great underground crypt, and no torture chamber.
After the tour, Steve and I took refreshment with the Duke at a long table in what was left of the hall.
Greta served us wine, somewhat sullenly, I thought. After much pleasant conversation, Steve and I thanked Rodrigo, and prepared to leave.
But Guido, and his car, were gone.
"These peasants are very ignorant," Rodrigo said. "He must have assumed that you were staying the night here. Now that he has gone, please permit me to offer you my hospitality."
We really had no choice. The hotel was too far to be walked too, especially at night. And there was no phone in the castle with which we could call to be picked up.
Steve and I were given a pair of rooms adjacent to each other. I was disappointed that we wouldn't be sleeping in the same bed, but since Rodrigo knew that we weren't married, I didn't want to offend his sensibilities by asking him to put us in the same room.
I freshened up before dinner, and wanted to do a little exploring. I exited my room, and went into the hall.
I was on the second floor. It was dimly lit, and shadowed. At the far end of the hall, I saw a darker patch of shadow move and turn a corner.
It was a woman, but not Greta. Following my curiousity, I went down the hall after her.
I was in a deserted corridor of stone. I followed it to its end, and came to a blank wall.
"You are very beautiful."
The voice came from behind me. I was startled, and nearly jumped out of my skin. It was a woman's voice, low and silky.
I turned around, and then I really got a fright. Standing before me, covered in a black cape, was Juliet!
But this was no Juliet withered by forty years of age. She was as young and beautiful as she had been in the films!
Which was plainly impossible, of course. I realized that it couldn't be Juliet. But she resembled Juliet so much, that they had to be related by ties of blood.
Was this, perhaps, Juliet's daughter? Or grand-daughter?
The woman said, "You are English?"
"American."
She laughed softly, showing white teeth. "You are a long way from home, my pretty. What is your name?"
"Donna," I said.
"Ah! Donna. Bella Donna, beautiful but deadly. Are you deadly, Donna?"
"No, I don't think so."
"But this place is dangerous. You might easily lose your way, and be lost."
Her laughter was light and silvery. Suddenly, she turned on her heel, and vanished behind a blind corner.
"Wait-" I said, starting after her.
But when I reached the next turning of the corridor, it was empty. I heard her laughter fading off in the distance.
I shook my head, puzzled. Ruined or not, Capabaria still had more than a few mysteries left to solve!
We ate dinner in the great hall. The meal was really quite superb. The wines which accompanied it were like nectar, and flowed freely.
I guess both Steve and I drank more than we should have. And, after the meal, we spent a pleasant hour or two sipping liqueurs while Rodrigo spoke to us of the history of the area.
When Steve and I staggered up to bed, we were more than a little drunk. We each went into our own separate rooms.
I threw myself down on the bed. My head was spinning. I rolled over and lay on my back, looking up.
I decided that later I would slip into Steve's room. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make love in this strange castle which had haunted my dreams for so long.
I fell asleep on the bed, with my clothes still on.
I woke up hours later. The room was dark. I heard something rattling behind me.
I rolled over and peered at the wall. It was dim and hard to see, but I realized with a shock that the wall was moving!
A door-sized panel opened up in the wall. Rodrigo stood in a secret passage, holding a flashlight. Greta stood behind him.
They both wore the black robes of the corrupt monks of Capabaria.
He said suavely, "Good evening, my dear."
I gasped, "If you don't get out of here, I'll scream!"
"Scream as much as you like," he invited. "Your friend next door will not hear you."
"Why not?"
"I administered a sleeping potion in his last glass of wine. He will sleep like the dead until morning. So please, scream if you like."
I didn't do anything. Rodrigo and Greta came into the room. I shrank back on the mattress, backing away from them until I bumped into the board at the foot of the bed.
"You do not scream," Rodrigo said. "You are a most unusual young woman. There is more to you than you have revealed. Greta tells me that you knew her name, although she has never met you before."
I told them about my connection with Dr. Lobar.
When I was finished, Rodrigo stroked his beard, smiling. "Ah, yes, the good doctor. He was most fascinated with our activities here. Of course, that was a long, long time ago. Now, I fear, Capabaria, like Greta and myself, is just a shadow of its former glory."
"What will we do with her?" Greta asked.
"What do you think?" he answered. They both drew back their lips in wolfish grins.
Rodrigo said, "You wanted to experience Capabaria for yourself, Donna, and so you shall. Take off your clothes."
I blinked at him. It was hard for me to believe that this wasn't all a dream. Maybe it was a dream, at that.
I pulled off my sweater. Greta came to me. I held my arms over my head. She pulled the sweater off me.
I wore a simple white bra. Rodrigo said, "You will not need that."
His hands were strong and gnarled, with crooked veins running along the backs of them. He unhooked my bra, and took it off.
My breasts tumbled free of the cups. My nipples puckered and hardened in the cool air of the room.
Rodrigo fondled my breasts. His palms were dry and leathery. My nipples throbbed against them.
I was sitting on the bed, with my feet on the floor. Rodrigo put his hands on my chest, and pushed me backward so that I lay on my back.
He took off my shoes and socks. Greta sat on the bed next to me, fondling and kneading my breasts.
Her nails were long and sharp, like claws. She lightly scraped them over my flesh, sending chills up and down my spine.
Rodrigo opened my pants, and pulled down the zipper. I raised my bottom so he could pull the jeans off my hips.
My pants slid down my thighs and calves, and off my ankles. Now, I was nude except for a pair of thin, white cotton bikini-style panties.
My breasts trembled as I took shallow, panting gasps. I was afraid, but excited. Hot wetness tingled inside my pussy.
Rodrigo took down my panties, and pulled them clear of my ankles. He lifted them to his face, and inhaled the aroma of my pussy from the cotton crotch.
"Her perfume is delightful," he said.
Greta said, "Let's get her below, where we can really go to work on her."
They pulled me so that I sat up. Greta pulled my arms behind my back, and used a length of rope to bind my wrists together.
The rope cut into my flesh, and I winced with pain. Rodrigo and Greta helped me to my feet.
He said, "I do not think that we will need to gag her."
He threw a black cloak over my shoulders, and wrapped me in it. The fabric of the cloak was coarse and rough.
It chafed against my soft flesh. It rubbed against my hard nipples, irritating them.
Greta and Rodrigo led me into the secret passage. It was dark and musty and cramped, so that we had to walk in single file.
Greta was in front of me, Rodrigo behind me. He lifted my robe up to my waist, and fondled my buttocks as we walked.
The passage went downhill for a long, long way. Finally, it opened up into a chamber of stone.
I gasped. This was the torture chamber I had seen in the films!
Greta and Rodrigo wasted no time. They pulled the cloak off me, and led me to a waist-high, horizontal whipping bar.
The bar was iron, with red velvet padding wrapped around it. The velvet was old and stained and moth-eaten.
I was like a sleepwalker in their hands. Finally, all my submissive tendencies had come out, and taken control of me.
Rodrigo bent me forward from the waist, so that I lay draped face down across [the text in the original pocketbook did not continue the above sentence]
There was an iron ring set in the stone floor. Now that Greta and Rodrigo had tied my hands in front of me, they secured them to the ring.
Greta came behind me. Her leathery hands parted my thighs. She kicked my ankles apart, and chained them with fetters attached to the base of the whipping post.
Greta took off her cloak. She wore a black leather waist cincher, studded with sharp metal points, which laced up the back.
Her strong legs were encased in thigh-high black leather boots. The boots were dusty, as though they hadn't been polished for a long time. They had pointed toes, and high heels.
Except for the boots and the midriff cincher, Greta was naked. Her breasts were heavy and pendulous, and sagged down on her belly.
When she moved, the dangling breasts swayed with her. Her nipples were as large as thumbs, and dark brown in color.
Her bottom was wide and plump, with fat, jiggling cheeks. Her hips swayed from side to side as she went to the rack and took down a thin, whippy rod.
She gripped it by the handle, and swung it experimentally through the air a few times. It made a nasty cutting sound, and I winced, even though it hadn't touched me yet.
Rodrigo said caressingly, "Make our lovely nightingale sing sweetly, Greta."
Greta stood behind me, and whipped my bare bottom with the rod. It felt like a white-hot wire cutting across my buttocks.
I screamed, and writhed helplessly in my bonds. The ropes and chains cut into my flesh as I twisted and moaned.
In the last four decades, Greta had graduated from masochism to joyous sadism. She applied the rod to my bottom with sensual delight.
The delight was hers, not mine. After the twentieth stroke across my bottom, I lost count. I'm sure that I got at least ten more after that.
When she finally put the rod down, I was draped limply over the bar, as though my bones had turned to jelly.
My bottom felt like it was on fire. It had gone partially numb from the pain, but I could feel the heat. Something wet and warm trickled down my buttocks and thighs.
Standing in front of me, Rodrigo opened his robe, and let it fall to the floor in a heap.
He took hold of my hair, and yanked my head up. My eyes were blurred with pain.
His pubic bush was flecked with gray, but his cock was thick and hard and proudly erect. Veins twisted like old ivy around his gnarled, big-headed cock.
He said, "Surely you can't be tiring already, my dear? You are young and strong. Perhaps this will wake you up."
He yanked on my hair, pulling it by the roots. He pulled my head up so that my face was on a level with his groin.
His swollen cock head brushed against my tear-stained cheeks. He twisted my hair, and I moaned.
While my mouth was open, he stepped forward and shoved his cock into it.
I sucked it. I felt like all my life had been leading up to this moment. The cock was hot and rigid against the moist softness of my mouth.
His veins throbbed against my puckered lips.
He rocked back and forth, shoving his member in and out of my mouth.
Greta stood to one side of us. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye.
She was strapping a fat, long black dildo around her waist. The leather straps which held it cut into her abundant flesh.
The dildo dangled, bobbing obscenely from her wide woman's hips. Her high heels clicked on the stones as she came up behind me.
She rubbed the head of the dildo against my pussy lips. I tried to ignore it, and concentrated on sucking Rodrigo.
I opened my mouth and gasped as Greta took hold of my hips, and penetrated me with the dildo.
I was hot and wet and lubricated in my pussy, but the dildo was so big that it was a strain and a struggle to fit it all inside me.
While I gasped, Rodrigo's cock fell out of my mouth. He slapped my face, and stuck it back in.
Greta fucked my pussy, while Rodrigo fucked my mouth. He came first. His cock quivered and jerked as semen spurted down my throat.
He didn't have to tell me to swallow it. I knew that was what he wanted, and I did it without being told.
After he came, he rested his still-erect member in my mouth, while Greta used the dildo on me.
She reached between my legs, and roughly fondled my pussy. Her thick fingers found my clitoris.
She rubbed my clitoris while she thrust the dildo in and out of me. My stomach tightened in knots, and heat flooded my body.
My breasts dangled, and my nipples were hard. Rodrigo took his cock out of my mouth, and wiped the semen off it with a handful of my hair.
He didn't have to do that. I would have licked it clean for him.
He played with my breasts while Greta fucked me. He squeezed my nipples, pinching them so hard that I screamed.
Greta thrust deep into me. I lost control and climaxed. I shoved my hips back and forth in response to the dildo inside me.
When I came, it was so intense that I nearly fainted.
I lay over the bar. My shoulders and breasts rose and fell as my lungs heaved for breath.
My pussy contracted, convulsively squeezing against the dildo inside me.
After they had rested for a few moments, Greta and Rodrigo changed places. She got in front of me, and he got behind me.
I screamed again, when he put his hands on my beaten buttocks, and cruelly fondled them. My blood got on his hands and he wiped them off on my thighs.
Still, it felt good to have a real, live, hot cock inside my pussy, instead of the cold, slick dildo.
Rodrigo thrust inside me. I was dripping with juices, and his cock was oiled with semen and saliva.
His member glided against my pussy like hot velvet. Each thrust sent pleasure tingling through my nerve endings.
He thrust deep with each stroke. He pushed in, so that my pussy lips pressed against the base of his shaft.
It hurt when his hips rubbed against my poor, abused bottom. I gasped with pain every time he did it.
Both he and Greta were amused at my pain, and laughed at me and mocked my cries.
Greta stood in front of me. She unstrapped the dildo, which glistened with my juices. She took it off her hips, and put it aside.
Her bush was a hairy dark triangle, flecked with gray. Her pussy lips were thick and fleshy, a lewd delta in the center of her hips.
Greta turned, and presented her backside to me. She had a broad, fleshy back which widened at her buxom hips.
Her ass was big and round, with white, shining cheeks. They were plump, and jiggled with rolls of fat.
Her boots were like those a pirate would wear, and the tops of them came up so that they almost touched her bottom cheeks.
The odor of leather was thick in my nostrils. The leather waist cincher pulled in her waist, and plumped out her buttocks.
Greta put her hands on her bottom cheeks, and spread them. She pulled them to the sides, exposing her dark crack, and her brown, puckered anus.
She gripped my hair, and pulled my head up. She backed up, and shoved her bottom in my face.
A heavy, musky odor made me feel giddy and lightheaded. Her buttocks were warm and smooth and they pressed against my face.
I puckered my lips, and pressed them against her anus. It quivered and shrank into itself when my lips touched it.
I stuck out my tongue. My tongue tip -rimmed her anus. Greta moaned, and stepped back, pressing even more tightly against my face.
Her anus was wet with my saliva. I thrust my tongue into her, past her tight sphincter muscle, and into her hot, sticky rectum.
While Rodrigo fucked my pussy, I fucked Greta's ass with my tongue, working it inside her like it was a tiny penis.
Time passed. I heard Rodrigo grunting as he thrust into me again and again. And I heard Greta's moaning gasps of pleasure.
Time passed. My jaws and tongue ached. My ass burned like, fire where it had been whipped. And my pussy was chafed and irritated.
Greta turned around and faced me. She ran her fingers through her pussy. She opened her labia, and displayed the wet pink membranes inside.
She pushed her pussy against my face. My lips rubbed her labia. Her juices wet my mouth and chin.
I licked up along her slit. Her juices tingled in my mouth. My tongue tip probed upward, and found her clitoris.
It was fleshy and well developed. It throbbed against my tongue. It was a marble of flesh at the top of her slit.
I licked it. It was hard for me to concentrate on tonguing her, because Rodrigo's hard cock kept thrusting into my pussy.
He came first. He gripped my hips, and thrust deeply and penetratingly into me.
His cock head bumped the mouth of my womb. He didn't come very much, that is, he didn't shoot much semen inside me.
His first orgasm had taken most of his semen. But the force of the climax was even more powerful the second time.
He groaned aloud when he came. His cock spit a few drops of semen into me.
Greta thrust her hips from side to side, rubbing and grinding her pussy against my mouth. My tongue worked frantically.
She reached upward, cupping and squeezing her fat breasts. They dangled and she flicked the nipples with her sharp nails.
She soon came to a climax. Her jaw dropped, and her mouth hung slackly open. A deep, shuddering moan rippled through her massive form.
She pushed me away. Moaning, she stepped back and clutched her stomach.
She sat down, squeezing her thighs together. Beads of sweat glittered on her shoulders and upper chest.
Rodrigo pulled out of me. His cock glided out along my pussy walls, and then its knobbed head popped free of my labia.
His semen trickled and oozed inside me. I hung limply, not moving, just staring at the stone floor.
Time passed while Rodrigo and Greta recovered their strength. Finally, Greta moaned and rose creakily to her feet.
Rodrigo said, "Put her in the harness for now." He sounded like a cranky old man.
Greta fitted me into a bizarre restraining device. It was a leather harness which buckled around my hips like an old-fashioned chastity belt.
But there was nothing chaste about this device.
The inside strap of it came equipped with a pair of smooth, six-inch plugs which were a few inches apart.
The leather harness rattled as Greta's strong hands buckled me into it. I groaned as she demonstrated what the plugs were for.
The first plug penetrated my rectum. I groaned and grunted and tried to relax my muscles so it could penetrate me.
It felt like it was splitting my bottom. The only lubricant which Greta used was a bit of her saliva which she smeared on the head.
After the first plug was safely lodged in my anus, she fitted the second plug into my pussy.
It went in with greater ease. Both plugs lay on the inside of a stiff leather strap which ran through my crotch, and up between the crack of my ass.
Greta buckled it into place. The device was held together by a small metal padlock, which she clicked into the tiny eyebolt.
After that, she raised my head, and fit a leather collar around my neck. The collar was stiff and black and studded.
She attached a long chain to it, then gripped the free end, like a leash. When I was safely restrained, she released the cuffs on my ankles, and untied my hands from the ring in the floor, although she left them tied together in front of me.
The blood rushed to my head when I straightened, and a wave of dizziness crashed over me.
The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, my hands and knees rubbing and chafing against the hard stones.
Rodrigo and Greta laughed. Rodrigo said, "I hope that our hospitality has not disappointed you."
Greta said, "For our next amusement, why don't we chain her boyfriend, and bring him down here to the dungeon?"
"An excellent idea, Greta," he said. "I am sure that you would enjoy using that dildo on him."
"That I would. I have an amusing idea, Rodrigo. We can tie the pair of them to the bondage horse side by side. Then I can rape the boy's bottom, while you can rape the girl's."
He agreed that it was a most amusing variation, but said that she would have to wait until he had recovered his sexual vigor.
"After all," he reminded her, "we have not had a workout like this in many years!"
I lifted my gaze from the floor. Hanging on the opposite wall was a dark and shadowed portrait of a lady.
It was Juliet. In the painting, she wore a jeweled gown, one cut so low that her white shoulders and lush breasts were plainly visible.
I said, "Where's the third member of your little trio? I'm surprised she didn't join the fun."
My tormentors frowned. "Who are you talking about?" Rodrigo hissed.
"Her." I pointed at the portrait.
Rodrigo blinked. "Are you mad?"
"I-I don't understand," I said.
"Greta and I are the only two left in the castle-that is, until you arrived."
I insisted they were wrong, and told them about my meeting with Juliet, or her double. Rodrigo and Greta questioned me very closely.
As I described that strange encounter in the hall, I was puzzled to see Rodrigo and Greta turn pale, deathly white.
Rodrigo said, "We are godless folk, but there are some things which even we do not joke about." He pointed at the portrait. "She is one of them."
They pressed me to admit that I was lying about the meeting. I could almost smell the fear coming off them.
Cold sweat broke out on Greta's face. "Can it be? Can it possibly be?"
Rodrigo hurried out of the chamber. He walked bent forward, like an old and decrepit man. He seemed to have aged twenty years since I told him about the meeting.
He returned five minutes later, carrying a pick-ax. I screamed when I saw the murderous tool, but it wasn't me he was after.
He and Greta hurried out of the chamber. Greta pulled on my leash, forcing me to accompany them.
They went into a small room of stone. Greta yanked on the chain, knocking me to the floor.
I crouched on the stones and watched the pair of them in amazement.
Rodrigo slammed the pick into the wall. He attacked the blank, solid wall like a crazy man.
I thought he would collapse from a heart attack from the strain. The pick head dug between the bricks, cracking them open, knocking them to the floor.
His body dripped with sweat as he widened the gap. I could see that there was a space behind the wall, a space about the size and shape of a closet.
There was a hole in the wall the size of a garbage can lid. Rodrigo fell back, his chest heaving, madness in his eyes.
Greta shone the flashlight beam inside the space. It was empty, except for a pair of chains dangling from the wall.
Greta screamed. "She's gone! Gone!"
I said, "Who?!"
Rodrigo turned to me. His face twitched convulsively. His expression was one of mortal terror.
He whispered, "Juliet!"
"What are you talking about?!" I wailed.
"This wall has stood solid and undisturbed for twenty years-ever since the night that we walled Juliet up alive!"
I felt fear so strong that it twisted in my belly like a knife. All the pain of my whipping and the plugs inside me was forgotten in my fear.
Greta said in a voice as still and cold as the tomb, "But where-where-where has the body gone?!"
"Here I am, lovers," a silky voice said sweetly.
Juliet entered the room.
Greta dropped as though hit by a bolt of lightning. She thrashed on the floor like an epileptic having a fit.
Rodrigo staggered backward. He was literally foaming at the mouth.
"Get away!" he screamed. "Get away!"
"Aren't you glad to see me, Rodrigo? I've come from such a far distance to see you," Juliet said seductively.
She was wrapped in a black cape. She seemed to float across the floor toward Rodrigo, who retreated with strangled moans.
"Give us a little kiss," she said. She reached for him.
My eyes teared, and for an instant, I saw an uncanny hallucination. Where Juliet's lovely, glowing face was, I thought I saw a bone-white skull with hollow eye sockets, and a gaping nose.
Then I saw no more, as I ran screaming from the room. Juliet wrapped her arms around Rodrigo's neck and pulled him down.
The rest is a confused blur in my mind.
Somehow I managed to find my way out of the dungeon, and back up to the upper levels. Somehow I managed to wake Steve from his drugged sleep.
We took our clothes and fled into the night. I took off the collar, but couldn't unlock the bondage harness. I pulled my pants over it.
We stumbled through the night, down to the village far below. It was nearly dawn when we staggered into the hotel.
Later that day, we went back up to castle with a detachment of police who were frankly skeptical of our story-particularly my story.
But an old village priest, and an elderly policeman, both remembered the evil reputation of Capabaria, and they did not mock us.
The laughter of the others died away when they found Rodrigo, Greta, and Juliet.
Greta had died from pure fright. Her face was purple and unlovely. But the expression on Rodrigo's face was a thousand times more terrified.
He lay dead, sprawled on the floor. Lying across him was a skeleton, its bones picked clean and white and shining.
It was the skeleton of a woman who had died a long, long time ago. It was wrapped in the black cloak Juliet had worn.
The policemen stared nervously at each other, saying nothing. The ancient priest began to chant the Latin words of the ritual of exorcism.
Steve and I went out of the dungeon and into the light. Like the police, we had nothing to say.
* * *
STORM TROOPERS' SLUT
CHAPTER ONE
I was walking home from the grade school when the police picked me up.
My name is Emily Lee. I'm twenty-nine years old, and a teacher, not a student. I hail from Richmond, but I live and work in the coal-mining town of Blue Point, West Virginia.
I'm five foot eight, slender, willowy, with firm breasts and long legs. Since this is the kind of in-bred small town where gossip is one of the main pastimes, I'm always careful to dress modestly.
It was about five o'clock on a fall evening in the middle of the week. I wore a white blouse and a tweed blazer and skirt.
I was crossing the street when a car rolled up behind me. I walked along the sidewalk, and the car drew abreast of me, cruising along with me.
It was an unmarked car, but there was a red emergency flasher mounted on the top of the dashboard.
I shivered inside my jacket. I felt that sense of guilt which any citizen feels when the Law turns their attention on him or her, no matter how innocent he or she may be.
I tightened my grip on my purse, and kept walking. My sensible shoes scuffed against the pavement. I stared straight ahead.
I had done something to feel guilty about. Blue Point is a one-horse town, and the horse that rules it is the coal mining company.
The town had been shaken by labor violence in the last few months.
The mood in town was ugly on both sides of the fence. And it was impossible for a citizen like me to remain neutral, as much as I wanted to.
The Company controlled the town, and they had brought in a goon squad made up of some of the most vicious scum in the South.
A few nights ago, some thugs had worked over a labor organizer from Wheeling. They had beaten him brutally.
I had driven the poor man out of town, to the nearest bus stop. It was my bound and Christian duty, and I could do no less.
But I had singled myself out as a target.
The police car rolled up a few yards in front of me, and came to a stop. A door opened on the passenger side, and a man got out.
It was Ty Larson, a deputy sheriff. He was forty years old, big and burly, with a fat, spreading belly.
He hitched up his gun belt, and stepped on the sidewalk, blocking my way.
He said, "Well, well, well, if it ain't Miss Emily Lee. Evening, Emily."
"Good evening, deputy." My voice cracked. Larson heard it, and grinned. I said, "Excuse me, but you're blocking me."
"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to do more than that, Emily. I'm going to have to bring you in for questioning."
"Questioning?" I said sharply. "About what?"
"I guess maybe you don't quite get the picture, Miss Emily. I'm the one who's supposed to ask the questions, not you."
The back door of the car opened, and another man stepped out. He was long and lean and wore the gray uniform of the mining company's security force.
I shivered as I recognized him. It was Jack Stango, one of the worst of the Company's hired thugs.
He said, "Would you just do us a favor and get into the car, Miss Emily?"
I said, "Who's running this town? I thought you were the law, not him."
Larson grinned. "There's been so much trouble in town lately, with all these outside agitators coming in and stirring up the folks, that I plumb had to deputize some of the boys from the Company."
I looked around. I was alone on the street with the police. There were no witnesses.
As if he could read my thoughts, Larson said, "Now, I know a sensible young lady like you ain't going to be fool enough to risk a charge of interfering with an officer in the performance of his duties. So why don't you get in the car like a good girl?"
He took my arm, and led me to the car. A beefy, red-faced man with thick sideburns sat in the back seat.
He leered up at me as I got into the car. My belly was a knot of tension. I felt like I was going to vomit, and I had to go to the bathroom.
I sat in the middle of the back seat. Jack Stango slid in next to me, and slammed the door shut.
Deputy Larson got behind the wheel, and drove off. I sat with my legs pressed together, and my hands primly folded in my lap.
The beefy man licked his lips and stared at me. I stared straight ahead.
He said, "Hell, Jack, when they told us to pick up the school teacher, I figured that we was going to get some dried-up old prune."
He leered at me. "Instead, we got us a ripe little cupcake ... yeah."
I said, "Do I have to listen to that?"
Stango said, "Slow down, Grady."
I said, "Where are we going?"
"Headquarters," Larson said. "The Chief wants to ask you a few questions, that's all. Strictly a formality."
We drove through town. We passed a square plaza. A table was set up in it, and was manned by a handful of big, rugged characters who wore green nylon jackets.
They looked tough, and ready for trouble. A couple of them held baseball bats. A small bunch of townspeople clustered around the table.
They all turned their heads and glared at the car as it rolled by.
Grady said, "Looks like them Green Shirts are stirring up trouble again, the bastards. What do you say we roust them?"
"What do you say you let me do the thinking around here?" Stango said tiredly.
"Them Green Shirts are awful high and mighty. If you ask me, it's time they were cut down to size."
"Nobody asked you. Besides," Stango said, looking over at me, "we got better fish to fry."
Grady licked his lips.
The car turned suddenly, and drove onto a small road heading out of town.
"Where are we going?" I gasped. "This isn't the way to the police station!"
"No shit," Larson said, laughing.
Grady said, "You just take it easy and don't get excited, little lady. That way you won't get hurt."
He patted my thigh. I grabbed his hand and pushed it off me. "Don't you dare touch me, you bastard!"
"My, my-such language. Now, what kind of a way is that for somebody who's teaching our kids how to talk?"
We drove off the road, and onto a rutted gravel drive which rose into the hills. The sun had almost set.
The hill leveled off on a plateau. Standing there was the charred remains of a house that had been burnt during the War Between the States.
Jack Stango said, "I reckon this is far enough."
"I reckon," Larson said. He stopped the car and killed the motor.
I said, "This is crazy. You'll never get away with this."
"You know better than that, Miss Emily," Stango said. "Of course we will. There isn't anything we can't get away with in this town. You know that."
He opened the door. A chill wind made my flesh creep. Stango grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the car.
We were high in the hills. There wasn't a living soul within miles. Grady and Larson got out of the car.
The three men clustered around me. I gasped, "What are you-what are you going to do?!"
Jack Stango said, "You should never have helped out that union organizer, Miss Emily. That was a big mistake. Now, we've got to teach you a lesson."
"Hey, that's funny," Larson said. "She's the teacher, but we're going to give her the lesson. That's funny, ain't it?"
"Yeah," Grady said. He wouldn't stop staring at me.
Jack Stango said, "You can get it the hard way, or the easy way, Miss Emily. Take off your clothes."
I tried to run. I got about ten steps before Stango caught me and spun me around. I tried to claw his face.
He caught me by the wrists. "I see you want it the hard way."
Grady came up from behind me. He clamped his hands on my breasts and squeezed them. I cried out in fear and pain.
I tried to kick Stango, but he was too quick for me. Grady's breath was hot on my flesh.
He said, "Christ! For a skinny little broad, she's got big tits!"
Stango shook his head. "She's got to be punished first. You can have your fun later."
Larson and Grady each gripped one of my arms. Stango unbuckled his belt, and slipped it free from the loops of his trousers.
The belt was big and black and made of leather. Stango said, "Bend her face down over the front of the car."
Grady whined, "Can't we strip her first?"
"Yeah," Larson said. "Let's have us some fun!"
Stango shrugged. "Don't rip her clothes."
They took off my blazer and tossed it on the ground. My blouse was thin, and the cool winds cut right through it.
Grady and Larson held me while Stango pulled me blouse free from my skirt, and unbuttoned it.
Grady said, "Damn! That's a no-fooling big pair of tits!"
I wore a simple white bra, with a tiny flower decoration on the strap holding the cups together. Goose bumps rose on my naked flesh.
Larson's fat fingers fumbled with the hook of my bra. It came loose, and they pulled my bra off, so I was nude from the waist up.
While this was going on, I begged and pleaded with them to let me go. I swore that I would never cross the Company again, if they would only give me another chance.
"You had your chance, Miss Emily," Stango said. "You broke the rules, and now you're going to pay."
Grady said, "Hell, now that we've seen them tits of yours, there just ain't no way you're getting away from us!"
He took my nipple in his fat fingers, and viciously twisted it. I screamed. The pain made my nipple stiff and hard and throbbing.
They held my hands behind my back. Larson snapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. The cold metal bracelets cut painfully into my flesh.
Having my hands cuffed behind my back made my breasts stand out even more. They were firm and high and jiggled as I struggled helplessly.
They bent me down from the waist. My feet were planted on the rocky ground, and my upper body was pressed against the hood of the car.
My breasts flattened against the hood. It was still hot with the heat of the engine, and I writhed on it, sobbing and moaning.
I kicked and screamed as rough hands lifted my skirt and raised it high above my waist.
I wore a pair of thin, pink cotton panties, those bikini-style kind. Stango pulled them down to my knees, baring my bottom.
"Lordy!" Grady said. "I thought them tits were something special, but that big fat ass puts them all to shame!"
"Why don't you kiss it, Grady?" Larson snickered.
"Later for that," Stango said.
Larson and Grady held me down against the car hood. Stango doubled the big black belt in his hands.
"This is the first part," he said. He brought the whip down across my buttocks.
I screamed. I screamed the whole time he was whipping me. My screams echoed through the lonely hills.
My folks had never so much as spanked me, and I had never been whipped. I had never known pain like that.
The belt beat agony into my bottom. The pain was a real, overwhelming thing. After the first four or five strokes, I became hysterical.
I sobbed and shrieked and writhed as I was whipped. I begged them to stop, and screamed that I would do anything-anything!-they wanted, if they would only stop whipping me.
"Hell, we're going to do that anyway," Grady laughed, "so you might as well save your breath."
My eyes were blurred with tears. I grunted and groaned when that whipping belt hit me. I was breathless and gasping with pain.
Finally, the sound of the leather striking my flesh ended, and my ears rang with my own sobbing.
My bottom was alive with agony. It burned like it had been stung by a dozen wasps. My shoulders heaved with weeping.
Larson said huskily, "Now comes the fun part."
He and Grady turned me around. My panties were rolled in a thin pink line at my knees, and was held in place by my spread legs.
My face was contorted with weeping. The pain in my bottom was so intense that I hardly noticed that Grady's fat, sausage-link fingers were fondling and kneading my breasts.
Larson's hand dropped to his groin. There was a bulge in the crotch of his pants, and he squeezed it.
"Damn," he breathed, "look at that sweet young pussy!"
"Look at it?!" Grady laughed. "I'm going to fuck it!"
"After me, you will."
Stango wiped the blood off his belt, and slipped it back on his pants. He looked bored.
Grady and Larson held me under the arms, and led me to the back of the car. They pushed me inside. I fell sprawling on the back seat.
I gasped from the pain of sitting on my beaten bottom. I felt white-hot knives lancing through it, and wondered if I was going to faint.
No such like. I stayed wide awake. I was sitting in the back seat. The shoulders and heads of the men were cut off by the top of the car roof.
Deputy Larson took off his gun belt, and handed it to Stango. Larson opened his trousers, and pulled down his fly.
He pulled his pants down to his knees. He wore white boxer shorts with tiny red diamonds on them. Funny, the odd details a person's mind remembers at a time like that.
Grady ducked down, and popped his head into the car. His face was red and his eyes were wide and staring.
He put his hand on my chest, and pushed me so that I fell on my back on the car seat. My long legs hung partially out of the car.
My cuffed hands were pinned awkwardly under me, so that the metal bracelets cut into my flesh. It hurt almost as much as the sizzling pain in my bottom-almost, but not quite.
Grady grabbed my pink panties, and pulled them down off my ankles. Deputy Larson's hard cock had a red head. It poked through the hole of his boxer-style shorts.
He pulled down his shorts. His penis was erect-thick-huge. I whimpered as he ducked his head down and crawled inside the car.
Over his shoulder, he said to the others, "I been waiting to get a piece of this ever since the bitch came to town."
He crawled into the back seat. His belly was heavy, and the rolls of hairy fat rippled as he climbed on me.
His thick, veined hands were rough as they rubbed my pussy and my breasts. His palms felt like old leather.
His knees pried my thighs open, bruising them. Then he pushed my thighs apart, exposing my naked, quivering pussy.
His face was huge and red and swollen. His mouth was open, and a strand of spittle oozed down from it and spattered on my face.
"I got something for you," he chuckled.
His cock head poked my labia. I cried out. Deputy Larson reached under me and grabbed my buttocks. I nearly passed out from the pain.
His bulk was crushing me. His breath was hot on my face. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut.
I opened them when he shoved his cock into me-opened them, and shrieked.
He clapped his hand over my mouth, stifling me. His hand seemed as huge as the paw of a bear. The back of it was covered with black hair.
His cock was big, and I was tight and dry. The head of it pushed my tender pussy lips to the side.
He hurt me so much going in! I wasn't a virgin, thank God, but my pussy was small and not lubricated at all.
He grunted and groaned as he struggled to cram his cock into me. His hand muffled my screams as he penetrated me.
I heard Grady remark, "Sounds like old Ty is sure playing hell with that little girl."
Larson's hairy thighs chafed against my soft, smooth ones. My scream turned to a gurgling, choking moan as he shoved his cock deep into me.
He began humping me like a dog. His meaty thighs pressed me into the seat cushions. He pawed my breasts.
He squeezed my breasts together, so that they were plumped up. He rubbed his face from side to side against them.
His beard stubble rasped against my sensitive flesh. My nipples were stiff and hard. He opened his mouth, and more drool spattered on me.
He pushed my breasts together. I writhed under him. He took both my nipples in his mouth at the same time, and sucked them as he raped me.
The only consolation, and it was a minor one, was that he couldn't do it for very long. After about five minutes of humping away at my pussy, he came inside me.
I still was dry in my pussy, and I could have screamed as he thrust as deep as he could inside me. I could have screamed, if he wasn't holding his hand over my mouth.
I didn't know the true meaning of degradation until that pig shot his semen inside me.
I felt it gushing, oozing into my membranes. I shuddered with disgust. Larson groaned and collapsed on me like a beached whale.
For a moment, he lay so still and motionless that I thought he had had a heart attack. No such luck.
He raised his head. His face was red, and his mouth hung slackly, stupidly open. He looked befuddled, or drunk.
His weight pressed against me, holding me down. Grady stuck his head into the car.
He said, "Come on, Deputy, get it in gear. Let somebody else have a crack at her!"
"Hold on to your damned horses, Grady," the deputy wheezed breathlessly.
He rose up off of me. He pulled back his hips, and his cock slithered out of my pussy and popped free.
It was red and glistening with semen. He squeezed it, and a fat drop of semen oozed out of the little hole in the tip of his member.
He got out of the car, bumping his head as he did so. He groaned as he straightened up.
As he pulled up his shorts and pants, he rumbled, "Damn! A man could break his back, trying to fit in that back seat!"
"How was it, Deputy?" Grady asked.
"Good," Larson said. "That's one sweet little honey. But don't believe me, find out for yourself. Unless you'd care to rip off a piece first, Jack."
Stango yawned. "You boys go ahead and have your fun."
Grady said, "Get her out here. I ain't going to throw my damned back out of joint fucking her in that back seat!"
He and Larson grabbed my ankles, and pulled me along the seat. I cried out as my whipped backside slid along the seat covers.
They pulled me out of the car. I fell to my knees on the ground. I scraped my knees raw on the gritty pebbles.
I could feel the slime of Larson's semen oozing inside my pussy.
Grady said, "She's on her knees, just the way I like her!"
"Ain't you going to fuck her?" Larson asked.
"Not her pussy, not after you left your calling card there between her legs, Deputy," Grady said. "I'm going to fuck her mouth!"
"Better be careful, man," Stango said.
Grady asked, "Why?"
"She might bite."
"Shit, that don't worry me none," Grady laughed. "Gimme your gun, Deputy."
"What's your game, Grady?"
"You could say that I'm taking out an insurance policy on my cock," he said.
"Just don't do anything stupid," Stango said.
"I won't as long as she don't," he said. He took the revolver from Larson, and pressed it against the side of my head.
He warned me, "The instant I feel them teeth of yours starting to bite, I'm going to blast you all clean out of this world."
"I won't," I said.
"Just keep that mouth open, honey," he said, "because here I come!"
He held the cold muzzle of the gun to my throbbing temple. With his other hand, he pulled down his fly, and took out his cock.
It was fat and semi-erect. He gripped it and slapped it across my cheeks.
It slapped meatily against me. It jerked, stiffened, and grew until it was long and hard.
I opened my mouth, and he shoved his cock inside it. I thought that being raped in my pussy was the worst, but this was a thousand times more disgusting.
His cock was hot and hard. He pulled my hair, forcing my head back and forth.
"Suck it," he moaned. "Suck it good, honey. Work that good tongue around, the way I love it!"
His balls were hairy and swollen. He shoved his hips back and forth, raping my mouth the way the deputy had raped my pussy.
His cock head thrust against the back of my throat, and I nearly choked.
Grady cocked back the hammer of the revolver. I was so frightened that I wet myself. The fluid was hot and sticky against my thighs.
Stango warned mildly, "Slow down, Grady. Mr. Grindle said for us to shake her up, not to kill her."
"I ain't going to do nothing to her," Grady protested, "not when she's going to swallow my come like a good girl. Ain't that right, honey? You're going to swallow it all, ain't you?"
He rocked my head back and forth, so I nodded yes, yes I would do what he wanted.
He rubbed his cock head against the roof of my mouth. He thrust hard into me, trying to hurt and choke and suffocate me.
Finally, he shoved it deep, and semen jetted out of his cock. My throat worked as I swallowed it down.
Grady took his cock out of my mouth after a while. His smile was sloppy and loose, and he sighed happily.
"That was real good, Miss Emily." He patted my head, like I was some kind of dog.
He stepped back, tucking his red, semen-oiled cock back in his pants. He lowered the hammer of the gun, and gave it back to Larson.
I turned my head to the side, and vomited.
Larson and Grady jumped back in disgust. Stango chuckled softly. "Tears as though you're not too appetizing, Grady."
"I'm just too rich for her, that's all," Grady said sullenly.
Larson stared down at me. My stomach felt like it had been turned inside-out, and bile burned my throat. But the bile was better than the taste of Grady's come.
Stango said, "Fun's over, boys. Let's go."
Larson unlocked the handcuffs, and put them back on his belt. I buried my face in my hands.
Stango said, "This was just in the nature of a friendly warning, Miss Emily. Next time we won't be fooling around."
The three of them got back in the car. Stango rolled down the window, and leaned his head out.
He said, "I know you're too smart to go telling tales about us around town. It won't do you no good, so just keep your mouth shut, and mind your Ps and Qs. Otherwise, we'll have to pay you another visit."
The car drove off, spraying me with dust. I vomited again, and lay huddled on my knees, with my forehead pressing against the dirt.
I didn't get back to town until midnight. It was a long walk, down from the hills. The town was sleepy and quiet, but there was a light burning in the window of the Green Shirt headquarters. I made sure that nobody saw me sneak up to the door, and step inside.
The Green Shirts were a rough bunch, men as raw-boned and hard as the hills or the coal they dug. But they stared at me in shock as I staggered in.
I said, "I want to join up."
Then I passed out.
A well of blackness closed around me.
I felt nothing.
CHAPTER TWO
Six weeks after the night I was brutalized and raped, I was about to get my ass whipped again-and this time, I was loving it.
Of course, it was all in the interest of a good cause-the Green Shirt cause.
I was in the deluxe suite of a motel overlooking the superhighway ten miles south of Blue Point. I could hear the sound of big-rig trucks rolling down the road.
It was a little after midnight, but the red neon sign in front of the motel was still blazing bright. The red light leaked through the spaces in the blinds of the motel room window.
Anybody who knew prim Miss Emily Lee, the grade school teacher, wouldn't have recognized me now.
My full, firm breasts were supported by a wickedly sexy black bra. My flesh was white and creamy, and contrasted with the black fabric.
The bra was tight, and lifted my breasts, plumping them up. The soft tops of them jiggled with every move I made. The straps cut into my smooth shoulders.
Wrapped around my waist was a black leather garter belt. It was decorated with fat flounces of black lace.
My long legs were sheathed in dark nylons. They rustled when my thighs brushed together. The garter tabs were pinned to the stocking tops.
Over the garters, for easy removal, I wore a flimsy, scanty pair of black satin panties. They were so brief that the top of my pubic bush could be seen peeking over the elastic waistband.
I wore a pair of black, patent leather shoes, with pointed toes and high, spiked heels. Tiny leather straps ran over the tops of my feet, holding on the shoes.
The contours of my legs were dramatically accented by the heels and the high arches of the shoes.
My face was heavily made up. My eyebrows were darkened. I had on thick lashes, and eyeliner which widened my pale blue eyes.
My mouth was painted with a glossy red lipstick which looked like wet paint. A saucy black beauty mark had been penciled in on my cheek.
My light brown hair was no longer simply cut. It was piled into a mass of elaborate curls which framed my face.
I looked like the very model of a perfect whore-and that's just what I was.
I wasn't alone in the room, naturally. There was another girl with me, and a man, too.
The girl's name was Cindy. She was a local girl, a teenager. She couldn't have been over sixteen years old, but she was wise in the ways of whoredom.
She had a thin, sullen face, a tight slit of a mouth, and cynical, knowing eyes. She was long and lean, but her breasts were large, and her bottom was ripe and insolently curved.
She was dressed like me, except that all her garments were red: garter belt, bra, satin panties. Even her high heels were red patent leather. Only her nylons weren't red. The color went well with her hair, which was a shimmering mane, black as coal, and which fell to the middle of her back.
The man had rented our bodies for this night. He didn't know it, but he had bought more than he bargained for.
His name was L. Calvin Grindle. You might recall that name. He was the owner of the mining company which controlled the county.
He was a pudgy man, about fifty, and dressed like a Kentucky colonel. He had a head of bushy white hair, and a little pointed white Van Dyke beard.
He wore a white plantation suit, and a little string tie knotted in a bow. His paunchy belly thrust dangerously against the buttons of his vest.
He didn't know who I was, of course. To him, I was just another cunt that his money had bought and paid for, and now he would have his fun.
He didn't know that I was going to have some fun of my own, later.
There was a radio in the room, and the dial was set to one of those easy listening stations. Syrupy music with lots of strings floated out of the speakers.
Grindle held a thin, brown leather riding crop across his plump thighs. He tapped it lightly as he sat sipping his whiskey.
He said, "You girls have been very naughty."
Cindy and I both nodded in agreement.
He said, "Your daddies know how you girls make your living?"
Cindy said, "My daddy's dead."
I said, "My daddy's a Bible-beating, God-fearing Christian man, Mr. Grindle. He'd surely beat the fires of hell into my tail if he knew what I was doing."
"Well," Grindle said, "since your daddies aren't here to correct you, and since you wicked girls are sorely in need of discipline, I'm electing myself to attend to your punishment."
Cindy said breathlessly, "Lord knows we deserve it, Mr. Grindle, but please, please don't hurt us too much."
"That's going to depend on how obedient and chastened you girls are," Grindle said. "You all come over here now."
We crossed the room and went to him. I walked slowly, swaying my hips from side to side, letting my breasts bob.
Grindle licked his lips. "Turn around, girls."
We turned so that our backs were to him. He reached up, and pulled down my panties to the tops of my thighs. He gave my bottom a little pat as he did so. Then he did the same thing to Cindy.
He got up creakily from his chair, went to the bed, and pulled down the blankets. It was a huge bed that could have slept three people comfortably.
I knew that sleep would be the last thing that Cindy and I got this night.
Grindle made the two of us lay down on our stomachs, side by side on the mattress. We both were tall girls, and our high-heeled feet hung over the edge of the bed.
Grindle stood behind us. "It behooves me to apply the rod of correction to the seat of wisdom."
He brought the riding crop down across my buttocks. I moaned loudly. It hurt, but not as bad as I made out it did.
He brought down the riding crop on Cindy's bottom. She whimpered. Then he laid another stroke on my ass. Then Cindy's. And so on.
Grindle had a grand old time, whipping our asses. He would whip Cindy, then me, then Cindy.
It wasn't too long before I could really feel the pain. My bottom felt like it was on fire. My fingers dug into the blankets.
It got to Cindy, too. She sobbed brokenly, with a little quaver in her voice. Her weeping was interrupted by the ugly sound of leather whipping into tender flesh.
Grindle was really enjoying himself. He was excited and breathing hard. He kept whipping us harder and harder.
I put my mind in another place, and it helped me to endure the pain. I thought about the strange chain of events which had brought me to this place on this night.
After I was raped, the old Miss Emily Lee was dead. I never went back to my teaching job, and disappeared from sight, ignoring my old friends and associates. I moved out of my little room at Mrs. Baylor's boarding house, and everybody thought I had left town.
But I hadn't. I was living in a small cabin up in the hills, and learning how to be a Green Shirt. The organization never had a more eager or revenge-filled pupil.
The Green Shirts were all folk from the county. They were rugged, raw-boned, solitary, and as tough as they come.
Almost all of them had been in trouble with the law before, and they weren't afraid of it now. There were moonshiners, gamblers, and fast-car drivers, but there were lots of humble family men who had suffered at the Company's hands, and had now gone to war.
The Green Shirts didn't believe in turning the other cheek. They met violence with violence, and terror with terror.
My cousin, Jody Jennison, was a big man in the movement. He was young but reckless-crazy, and not afraid of anything.
We hill people are a tight-knit, clannish folk, and with Jody to sponsor me, I rose quickly in the ranks.
I couldn't forget the night that I really gave me all to the group. Ever since I was raped, I hadn't had sex of any kind.
I'm a normal, healthy young woman, and the tension had to be relieved sometime. Finally, after a long hard day of training in the high country, I spent the night with Jody and two other Green Shirts in a cramped and tiny cabin.
As L. Calvin Grindle whipped my ass, I let my mind drift back to the memory of that night.
A cold wind blew against the wooden walls of the cabin. But a fire was burning in the hearth, and it was warm and toasty inside.
Besides me, there was Jody, Luke, a big old boy of forty with a wife and two kids living down in the valley, and Bill, a gangly nineteen year old.
We didn't have much to do to pass the time, since there was no radio or TV-no electricity, for that matter.
The boys were passing around a plastic, half-gallon jug of moonshine. I drank some myself. It kicked like a mule, and burned like fire.
It went to my head, and my face was hot and flushed. I was wearing my lightweight green nylon jacket, a T-shirt, and blue jeans.
They were men, lusty and filled with life, and I knew they wanted me. But like most hill folk, they were real gentlemen.
They lived a hard and dangerous life, and were all under a kind of death sentence. If the Company goons, or the town law ever got them, they would be finished.
When you live under the shadow of the gallows, little things like being a good, moral girl don't amount to much.
The men were sitting at a rickety table, playing cards. It was so quiet in the cabin that I could hear the sound of the cards slapping down on the table.
The moonshine burned like acid in my veins. My hands trembled as I unsnapped my jeans and pulled down my zipper.
I stood up and pulled down the jeans and let them drop. I stepped out of them. I was wearing a thin pair of panties.
Luke was sitting facing me. He was studying the hand he had been dealt. He looked up, and saw me.
His jaw dropped, and so did the cards. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.
I pulled my panties off my hips, and let them drop to the floor. I was nude from the waist down, and my legs gleamed in the flickering firelight.
Jody and Bill turned in their chairs to see what Luke was staring at. When they saw me, they stared, too.
I said, "It sure is hot in here. Why don't you boys take off some of those clothes, and get comfortable?"
I walked over to the table. Jody licked his lips and said, "Damn, Emily Lee! I mean, damn!"
I stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders. "It's about time we got better acquainted, Jody. Haven't you ever heard of kissing cousins?"
Looking at Luke and Bill, both of whose eyes were popping, I said, "I feel like all you boys are family to me. Surely you all can think of a better way to pass the time then by playing cards?"
I sat down on Jody's lap, rubbing my bare bottom against his groin. I felt his hard cock throbbing through the crotch of his pants.
I said, "Come on, you all, get those clothes off. You've been working so hard, you deserve a reward-and so do I."
Jody caressed my thighs while Luke and Bill pushed back their chairs and stood up.
I said, "Let's go to bed."
There wasn't a bed there, only a few old mattresses with sleeping bags on them. Bill and Luke piled up the mattresses, first stacking them, then covering them with a blanket.
I yawned. "Won't one of you gentlemen help undress a lady?"
Luke grinned as he took off my jacket. I raised my arms, and he pulled the shirt off me. Now I was totally naked.
Jody stood behind me. He put his hands on my breasts and fondled them, while he pressed his groin against my buttocks.
Luke took off his shirt and pants. He was a big, broad-shouldered man with a black-haired chest rippling with muscles.
He took off his jeans. His cock was red and thick and quivering with life. As I watched, it grew and jutted out stiffly from his hips.
His cock brushed my thigh. It felt warm. He rubbed my hip. I spread my legs and took his hand and placed it between my thighs.
His hands were rough and cracked from a lifetime of hard work, but his touch was gentle on my pussy. He rubbed my soft lips.
Jody stopped fondling me long enough to take off his clothes. He was about thirty, and a handsome man who was a devil with the ladies.
When he pressed his nude body against mine, I could see why he was so popular with the girls.
His long, thick cock nestled in the crack of my bottom. It was hot against my smooth flesh.
I lay down on my back on the mattress. Jody and Luke knelt beside me. Bill hung back nervously, his eyes wide.
I said, "Well, which of you boys is going to go first? Hey, Bill, what's the matter? Don't you like me?"
"Sure I do," he said defensively, his voice cracking.
Jody said, "Bill ain't never had a woman."
"I have too!" he shouted. "That's a he, Jody Jennison!"
I sat up and knelt on the mattress. I crooked my finger and beckoned him to me. "Come here, Billy boy."
He shuffled over. I noticed that his hands were shaking. Jody was probably right about Bill's being a virgin, I thought to myself.
Well, I would fix that.
"Come a little closer, Billy," I crooned. "Don't be shy, honey."
Jody and Luke fondled my breasts and thighs. It was wild to have two pairs of strong hands caressing pleasure into me.
I reached up and opened Bill's pants and pulled them down. He stared goggle-eyed at me, unable to believe that this was really happening to him.
His cock was semi-erect. I licked my lips. "You know what I'm going to do now, honey?"
"N-no ... "
"Something that will make you feel real good," I said. I took his cock and put it in my mouth.
He was a healthy lad. There was nothing wrong with him except a bad case of nervousness at being with a woman.
His nervousness vanished when I took his cock into my mouth. His member stiffened and grew inside my mouth.
I rubbed his cock head against the soft roof of my hot, wet mouth. While I was doing that, I spread my legs, opening them.
Luke reached down and fondled my pussy, Jody's head lowered, and his hungry mouth fastened on my breast and sucked my nipple.
I was wet in my pussy. Luke slipped his middle finger inside me, and rubbed it against my dripping membranes, slowly sliding it in and out.
Bill made soft, whimpering sounds. His chest rose and fell, and his hands opened and closed into fists while I sucked him.
His cock was hard and hot in my mouth. I knew that it didn't take young men like him long to come, particularly when they were inexperienced.
I wanted him to come inside me, and know the pleasure of fucking a pussy. So I took his cock out of my mouth.
It dripped with my saliva. A tiny drop of semen oozed out of the hole at the tip of his cock. I lanced out my tongue, and lapped it up.
I said, "If you all don't mind, I'll take Billy first."
They didn't mind. I lay back down on my back. "Come to me, Billy."
He knelt between my legs. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and pulled him down so that he lay on top of me.
Reaching under him, I gripped his cock. It throbbed against my palm. I guided the head of it between my soft pussy lips.
Bill gasped as his cock head contacted my sleek, slippery membranes. When his cock head was safely lodged inside me, I put my hands on his boyish buttocks and pulled him to me.
His cock was long and thin, and penetrated me deeply. I started rocking my hips back and forth, up and down, grinding against his cock, showing him how to do it by my example.
He picked up the hang of it pretty quick. Soon he started thrusting in and out as though he was trying to pound me through the floor.
I loved it. The moonshine was racing through my veins, and I felt wild and crazy and low-down.
His belly slapped against mine as he thrust into me again and again. I fondled his hair, and caressed his thighs.
It didn't take him long to come. When he did, he shoved deep into me, and cried out.
He gasped and moaned as he came inside me. His semen was thick and there was a lot of it. It oozed inside me.
His face was red and sweating. His mouth opened in a moaning O. I pulled his head down to my bosom.
He rubbed his face against my breasts. I cupped a breast, and fed my nipple into his mouth.
He lay on me for a few minutes, weak and trembling. Finally, he said, "Lord God, I never felt nothing that good in my entire life!"
Jody and Luke laughed. Luke clapped him on the shoulders and said, "You're a man now, son."
Bill finally pulled out of me. His cock was still hard. I said, "Don't bother to get dressed, honey."
Luke was next. He was a big man, and he knew how to pleasure a woman. I got on my hands and knees, and he knelt behind me.
His cock was thick, and it Fit tightly inside me, even though I was well lubricated with my pussy juices and Bill's come.
Luke fondled my bottom as he fucked me. My dangled breasts jiggled as I rocked my hips back and forth.
I gasped as I told Jody to kneel in front of me. He put his hard cock in my mouth and I sucked it while Luke took me from behind.
Bill knelt beside me. He fondled and played with my breasts. Luke reached around my hips, and rubbed my clitoris.
I was wild with excitement. There was a cock in my mouth, a cock in my pussy, and three pairs of caressing hands stroking pleasure into my body.
When Jody came in my mouth, I swallowed his semen. It was the least I could do for a cousin.
Luke was a powerful lover. He drove me into a frenzy with the deep, thrusting strokes of his cock. He was a man and he knew how to pace himself and take his time.
That was how the night went. After the initial feverish excitement, where all three men fondled and fucked me at the same time, things simmered down to a slow and steady boil.
All through the night, I took those men, one after the other. In between bouts of making love, we drank plenty of moonshine.
After that night, strange events happened in Blue Point.
Luke, Jody, and Bill knew the reasons why I had joined the Green Shirts. In their own way, they paid me back in full for the night of pleasure I had given them.
Deputy Larson was up in the hill country, checking on an anonymous tip about a hidden still. While he was up there, somebody blew him sky-high with dynamite.
Grady was driving home late one night. When he stopped for a red light, a car pulled up next to him, and somebody in that car blew Grady's head off with a shotgun.
Jack Stango was a careful man. That was why it was such a mystery that he had fallen into a smelter at the mine. Fell-or was pushed.
I never asked Luke, Bill, or Jody who had done in my three rapists. But I knew it must have been them.
That didn't take care of the problem. As long as L. Calvin Grindle ran the mine, he could always hire more goons.
And that was why I was in a motel room, having my bottom whipped by him. It was part of a Green Shirt plan to fix him but good.
It was common knowledge that Grindle went through whores like a man with a head cold goes through tissue papers.
A whore who had been with him had a brother who was in the Green Shirts. When she told us about Grindle's kinky ways, we hatched out a plan.
I posed as a whore, and Cindy was a whore. After some careful plotting, she and I were given an appointment with Grindle himself.
The "appointment" took place in the motel. He thought we were just two fresh whores in the county, and he wanted first crack at us.
My thoughts and mind returned to the present. I realized that Grindle had stopped whipping up.
Cindy's face was pressed against the mattress. Shiny tears glistened on her cheeks. I was crying, too. My behind was sore and fiery.
Grindle said, "You girls stop your crying, now. You stop it, or I'll give you something to cry about. Stand up."
Cindy and I got to our feet. I saw that her white buttocks were criss-crossed with a couple dozen angry red welts from the whipping.
I looked over my shoulder, and saw that my bottom was in the same condition. I put my hands on my ass, and groaned as I tried to rub the soreness out of it. The flesh was hot to the touch.
I saw that Grindle's cock was hard in his pants. Cindy rubbed the tears from her eyes.
I said, in a breathless, little girl's voice, "Thank you for punishing us, Mr. Grindle, sir.
We surely deserved it."
He said, "I reckon I showed you girls what happens to little ladies who don't know how to behave."
"That you did, sir," I said. "My daddy never beat me so hard!"
"After a good beating, there's nothing like some hot loving to dry those tears," he said. "You all can comfort each other."
He told us to undress each other. Cindy turned her back to me, and I unhooked her bra and took it off. She did the same for me.
She pulled my panties down off my thighs. Her breasts dangled. The nipples were hard. So were mine. I took off her panties.
"That's enough for now," Grindle said. "Leave the rest of what you got on."
Cindy and I were in garter belts, hose, and high heels. Cindy's bush was a thick black triangle on her white thighs.
Grindle made me lick Cindy's bottom. She presented her behind to me, and I knelt on the floor behind her.
I stuck out my tongue, and licked a broad stroke on her buttock. She flinched and moaned softly from the contact.
I licked every inch of her whipped behind. The welts were raised and I could feel the shape of them with my tongue.
Cindy's behind was framed by her red garter belt, and the tops of her nylons. She spread her legs, jiggling her buttocks.
As I tongued her, she cupped her breasts and fondled her nipples. L. Calvin Grindle watched us with hot eyes. He squeezed his cock through his pants.
He told me, "You done enough licking of her outside. Now, I want you to lick inside her ass!"
CHAPTER THREE
Cindy groaned with pain as I spread her buttocks. I tried to be gentle, but her bottom was so abused and beaten that there was nowhere I could touch her that wouldn't hurt.
I spread her buttocks, exposing her dark crack. Her anus was small and puckered, like a tiny rosebud of brown flesh.
I had never done this before, never been with a woman before, but that didn't matter. I was playing a part, and I would do whatever was required of me.
Besides, kissing a lovely girl's bottom was better than having my own bottom whipped.
I stuck out my tongue, and licked a circle around the rim of her anus. Cindy moaned, but with pleasure, not pain.
She fondled her breasts, steadily and rhythmically pinching and squeezing her hard nipples.
I stuck my tongue inside her anus. It was a tight fit. I shoved my tongue in and out, working it like it was a miniature penis.
Cindy gasped. One of her hands drifted down from her breast, and dropped to her pussy, where it rubbed her clitoris.
I licked Cindy's anus until my tongue was sore and aching. My bottom rested on the heels of my patent leather shoes, and it pained me whenever I moved.
L. Calvin Grindle hovered over us, his beady eyes glittering. He played with his cock and balls as he watched.
Finally he said, "You girls are so fond of each other, that you might as well go all the way. Get into bed."
Cindy and I got on the bed. We both lay on our sides, to keep from putting any weight on our beaten bottoms.
Grindle ordered us into position. We lay so that Cindy's head was poised over my crotch, and my head was poised over hers.
We pressed close together. My breasts rubbed and flattened against her tummy, and her nipples grazed my belly.
Her pussy smelled fragrant and aromatic with the perfume of a woman. The black hairs of her bush were softer than the softest, silkiest fur.
Her pussy lips were even softer than that. They quivered as my tongue licked over them. I quivered as her tongue did the same to me.
I stuck my tongue inside her. I had never tasted a woman. Her juices tingled on my tongue, but really, it didn't have a taste you could put a name to.
I glided my tongue inside her, licking and lapping. I shivered with delight as her probing tongue found my clitoris.
Soon I was gasping and breathless from the pleasure her tongue was putting into my clitoris. I followed her lead, and tongued her the same way that she was tonguing me. My nylons rustled softly, and the spiked heels of my leather shoes dug into the mattress. My head bobbed back and forth.
I heard the sound of Grindle taking off his clothes, but I didn't bother to look up from what I was doing.
Cindy's lips-the ones on her face, I mean, not her pussy lips-her lips were wet and soft and pressed against my throbbing clitoris.
She applied a gentle suction, and drew my clitoris up between the soft, smooth undersides of her lips.
The sensation was incredible. I stifled my moans by pressing my face even deeper into her wet, dripping pussy.
As her lips held my clitoris in place, she ran her tongue tip over the pulsing button.
I'm no superwoman. I couldn't hold out for long against that kind of treatment. I shuddered with the force of my climax.
I slumped limply, and lay on my back, forgetting my beaten bottom. But as soon as I put my weight on it, the fiery pains shooting through my backside reminded me of it.
I stared up at the ceiling. My breasts with their stiff nipples jiggled as my chest rose and fell, heaving for breath.
My pussy glowed with heat and delight. My body felt electric with pleasure, but I soon returned to earth.
Something fiery and wicked cracked against my thigh, above the top of my stocking. I cried out.
It was the riding crop. L. Calvin Grindle stood over us. He was nude, except for a pair of brown leather shorts.
The shorts bulged out at the groin. His flesh was white and doughy and unlovely, with fat red blotches.
I moaned with pain as I sat up and rubbed my thigh. Cindy sat up, too. Her mouth and chin were wet, wet and shining with my juices.
L. Calvin Grindle wasn't through with us, not yet.
He made us stand up, face to face, and press closely against each other. My breasts and Cindy's intermingled, our nipples grazing, our breasts rubbing together.
The silken curls of her bush rubbed against my own. Our long, stockinged legs rubbed and rustled, and seemed to crackle with static electricity.
Grindle tied us together. He had a black bag on the dresser top, and he took a reel of thin clothesline out from it and used it to bind us.
He tied us so that our arms were at our sides. The ropes cut tightly into our flesh.
He put his hands on the backs of our heads, and moved them together. He made us open our mouths, clamp our lips together, and kiss each other.
While we kissed, he whipped us some more.
He circled us, first striking my behind with the crop, then hitting Cindy. Each time he struck, one of us would stiffen and gasp from the pain.
Cindy's pussy was pressed tightly against mine. To keep my mind off the pain, I began moving and grinding my hips against hers.
Actually, it was hard not to, because whenever either one of us was whipped, we involuntarily moved forward.
As he punished our bottoms, Grindle reached into his leather shorts, and played with his cock. He giggled as he applied the riding crop to us.
It was hard to stand after a while. My bottom hurt worse than ever. Luckily, the pain was balanced by the pleasure in my pussy as it rubbed against Cindy.
The riding crop whistled through the air, then struck tender bottom flesh with a wicked smacking sound.
When Cindy was struck, her groan of pain would rise up from deep in her belly, and echo inside my mouth, which was pressed against hers.
I did the same when it was my turn to suffer. We were off-balance from being bound so closely together, and we had to take mincing little steps to keep from tumbling over.
The only reason that Grindle stopped was that his arm got tired. When he finally put aside the crop, tears were running down my face, and Cindy's, too.
A tear dribbled down her cheek. I stuck out my tongue, and caught the tear on the tip of it. It tasted salty.
Grindle feverishly untied us. His leather shorts had ridden down his thighs, and the red head of his cock could be seen.
As soon as we were free, Cindy and I staggered to the bed, and threw ourselves down on it-face down, that is.
Grindle had some smaller lengths of rope, and he used them to tie our hands behind our backs.
My bottom burned like it had gotten a blistering sunburn. The rest of my body felt cool in comparison to my blazing buttocks.
I looked over my shoulder, and saw that my ass was bright red, like the shell of a boiled lobster. Tiny blisters were rising on the smooth globes of flesh.
L. Calvin Grindle tied me very tightly, so that the ropes dug into the skin of my wrists, which were crossed behind me.
I moaned as he patted my bottom. He had finished binding me. He moved on, and tied Cindy's hands behind her back.
When his task was done, he crossed the room and drank another glass of whiskey. I was glad to just lie on my tummy and do nothing.
After Grindle had fortified himself, he returned to the bed, and moved us into position.
He had me sit on the bed with my back pressing against the headboard. My legs were spread wide open, and my high-heeled feet hung off the edges of the bed.
My pussy was framed between the black lace of my garter belt, the frilly garters themselves, and the tops of my nylons.
Next, he made Cindy kneel between my legs, with her bottom facing the foot of the bed. He lifted her knees and spread them apart, opening her up to him.
He fondled her bottom, chuckling as she gasped and flinched from the pain.
He said, "You know what I'm going to do, little girl?"
"No, Mr. Grindle," she said breathlessly.
"I'm going to fuck you in your sweet ass!"
I sighed softly with relief. I was glad that he had chosen her, and not me.
Even though she was more than ten years younger than I, Cindy was a professional, and had given up the virginity of her ass a long time ago.
But, I was still a virgin in my behind, and I wasn't looking forward to losing it to L. Calvin Grindle.
If he had examined my anus, he would have seen that I had never been penetrated back there. But since Cindy was so much younger, he selected her as his target.
Cindy laid it on thick. She said that he was so big that he would split her apart, and begged him to fuck her pussy instead.
Grindle laughed. Cindy pleaded for him to at least use something to grease her up, so that it wouldn't hurt so much.
Grindle did that. He got a tube of lubricant and squeezed some goo in the crack of Cindy's ass.
He smeared it around, greasing up her puckered anus. He took off his brown leather shorts. His cock was short and fat and stubby.
I watched as he smeared lubricant on his cock, making it glisten with the stuff. Thick, crooked veins wound around his shaft.
I said, "I hope you're saving some of that for me, Mr. Grindle." Naturally I hoped nothing of the kind. "I wouldn't want to feel neglected."
"Don't worry your pretty little head about that, honey," he said. "If I go soft for a while, I've got a big old dildo to keep you girls busy with until I get hard again."
Oh, great, I said to myself.
He got on the bed behind Cindy. He pressed her face against my pussy, and ordered her to eat it.
Her shining black hair fanned out over my thighs. Her tongue slipped between my labia, and thrust against my membranes.
She shivered as his cock poked her anus. His fat hands rested on her red buttocks, spreading them apart.
He stuffed the head of his cock past her sphincter muscle. It was a struggle. He wasn't that long, but the member was fat and thick.
Cindy yelped and whimpered as his cock worked its way inside her. Once the head was safely lodged inside her rectum, Grindle took his time shoving the rest of his cock in.
His face was red and swollen and sweating. Cindy shrieked as he clutched her hips, and snaked his cock into her.
His shaft disappeared between her buttocks as it penetrated her. He thrust in until her anus clutched the base of his shaft.
He rocked back and forth, pumping his cock in and out. On the out strokes, he would withdraw all of his member except the knobbed head.
He reached under her and scratched and pinched and kneaded her breasts. His fingernails clawed bright red scratches on the soft breasts.
Fortunately for Cindy, it didn't take him too long to come. His face seemed to swell up even more as he climaxed.
He groaned as semen gushed into Cindy's vitals. He closed his eyes, and his head drooped down so that his chin rested on his chest.
Cindy stopped tonguing me when he came. I licked my lips and smiled like I was having the time of my little old life.
Seconds later, I really had something to smile about.
The motel room door shuddered and splintered as somebody kicked it in. It rocked on its hinges and then the lock tore free and the door crashed open.
An action squad of Green Shirts thundered into the room. There was six of them, and a photographer.
I recognized Jody and Bill and Luke and three others. They carried baseball bats and lead pipes and sledge hammers.
Out in the hall, I could see the bodies of L. Calvin Grindle's men. I didn't know if they were unconscious or dead, and I didn't care.
Before Grindle had time to gasp, the photographer swung his camera up.
He was a cocky character, and he shouted, "Hold that pose!" before he clicked the shutter.
The room was filled with the white light of flash bulbs as the cameraman snapped picture after picture.
Grindle fell back, his cock popping free from Cindy's ass. The photographer kept on snapping pictures.
Finally, Grindle had the presence of mind to cover his startled face with his hands, but by then it was too late. He was captured on film.
Cindy and I were untied. The Green Shirts clustered around Grindle, who cowered on the carpet, blubbering and begging for mercy.
Luke rumbled, "Don't hurt him, boys. We want to keep this son of a bitch in real good health!"
Bill draped a green jacket over my shoulders. I put it on and zipped it up. I found my skirt, and pulled it on my hips.
Cindy wasn't in such a hurry to get dressed. She had something different in mind.
She rummaged through Grindle's bag, tossing out handcuffs, gags, restraints, and the like. She crowed with triumph as she found the dildo.
It was big and thick and black. She strapped it on her hips with practiced ease. It was amazing to see that sullen teenager with her big breasts and her womanly hips wearing an obscene dildo.
L. Calvin Grindle stared up at her. "What what are you going to do?!"
She hissed, "Maybe you think it's funny, plugging a girl in the behind. Well, I'm gonna show you just what it's like!"
She turned to the camera man. "Better load a fresh pack of film, 'cause I'm gonna give you some pictures that will be worth their weight in gold! I reckon that the high-and-mighty Mr. Grindle will do just about anything to keep from having people see him fucked up the ass like a girl!"
L. Calvin Grindle screamed as the Green Shirts lifted him up, and dragged him across the room. They stretched him face down across a bureau top and held him in place for Cindy.
She greased up the dildo and stood behind him. Grindle shrieked like a woman as she thrust that thing up inside his tight ass.
The photographer scrambled around the scene of the action, taking picture after picture.
He shouted encouragingly to Cindy, "That's the way, honey! Give me a little more of that action! Keep it coming! Lovely, darling, lovely!"
Well, things are real different in Blue Point now. The miners have their union. Everybody who wasn't in on the know was purely amazed by how the once-rigid L. Calvin Grindle gave in to every one of the miner's demands.
Blue Point is peaceful, now. For a while, anyway. You see, a lot of Grindle's goons have now joined the Green Shirts.
The Green Shirts are getting pretty high-and-mighty themselves. Now, they don't want to stop. They figure they can run the whole county, and maybe someday, the state.
Not long ago, a bunch of them paid me and Cindy a visit. They say that they want to make the county a place fit for decent folk, and we're a corrupting influence. They said if we didn't get out of town, we'd be in big trouble, and they'd have to teach us a lesson.
We got the message. Cindy and I hopped the next bus to Wheeling. We haven't been back to Blue Point since. Funny how things worked out, isn't it?
* * *
THE VIRGIN AND THE PIRATES
CHAPTER ONE
I am alone now. Li Chang and her lover, John Bryant, have left me. They will return when it pleases them.
Li Chang is the cruel Oriental beauty who is my captor and my mistress. John Bryant is a renegade American soldier who obeys her every whim.
My name is Barbara Toland. This is the account of how I was taken by pirates in the South China Sea. I do not know if anyone but myself will ever read it.
I am twenty-four years old. I have long brown hair (longer than it ever was, since Li Chang has commanded me to let it grow) green eyes, and red lips.
I know that I am beautiful. Li Chang would not have made me her slave if I was not. My beauty was my undoing.
Li Chang has locked me in my room. It is a very pretty room, but it is none the less a cage for its loveliness.
I am lying on the bed, drained and exhausted. I am naked. There is a mirror mounted on the canopy over my bed, and I can see my reflection.
I am long and lithe, with firm breasts and alluring legs. I rub my blurred eyes, and study my reflection.
I am sprawled on my back. My breasts are large and firm, and my pink nipples are still hard from the excitement of making love.
I have a slender torso, a narrow waist, and wide hips. My skin is as pale and white as milk. Li Chang rarely lets me out in the sunlight.
My pubic bush is chestnut brown. The glossy curls are now damp with saliva and semen. My pussy lips are soft and tender.
I sigh heavily, and roll over on my side. I curl my long legs, watching the muscles flex in my thighs.
It is a hot spring afternoon. Only an hour ago, I was lying on the bed, fully dressed.
I looked up as I heard the door rattling. It was Li Chang. She let herself in, and closed the door behind her.
She is only a year or two older than me, but she is my unquestioned master. She is of mixed blood, with an American father, and an Oriental mother.
She has the best qualities of both. She is very tall, much taller than the average Oriental, and I am only an inch or two taller than she and I am very tall.
Her breasts are full and voluptuous. Her skin glows like amber. Her hair is sleek and black and glossy, and falls to the middle of her back when she unbinds it.
When she came to me this afternoon, she wore a black silk dress. The shimmering material clung to the seductive curves of her perfect body like a second skin.
The tight skirt is slit up the sides, straight up, so that her thighs are exposed to the very tops.
Her legs are a dancer's legs, long and strong. The high-heeled, black leather boots she wore added to her grace and sinister beauty.
Her breasts thrust against the silken fabric, stretching it. Her nipples were clearly outlined, and I could see that they were stiff and erect.
The dress was sleeveless, and her arms were bare. A jade bracelet shaped like a snake was entwined around her arm.
Li Chang has a beautiful Oriental face, with wide, sensuous lips that demand to be kissed. But I have seen those same lovely lips order the sadistic deaths of men, women, and children.
Because, despite her beauty, Li Chang is one of the most murderous pirate captains in the China Sea.
Her eyes are Oriental and almond-shaped, but the irises are bright blue. They sparkled coldly when she saw me lying on the bed.
Li Chang keeps me in satin and lace lingerie. I am her toy, her love slave.
I was wearing a long gown of pink silk. The cups of the gown which held my breasts were made of delicate lace.
The gown has thin straps running from the top of the bra cups and over my smooth shoulders. It is very low-cut, and most of my bosom is exposed.
My nipples could be clearly seen against the cups. I had just brushed my hair, and it fell across my smooth shoulders and the tops of my breasts.
The gown came down to the middle of my thighs. The hem was pink lace. The rest of the gown was pink satin. It caressed my flesh.
I wore white silk stockings, held up by a lacy white garter belt. A thin pair of white lace panties were on my hips. My feet were in golden high-heeled shoes with open toes.
This is how Li Chang dresses me. I have no choice in the matter, of course.
Today, she wasn't carrying her whip. That made me glad. She only has used it on me twice, when she was very angry with me.
It hurt so much that I am even afraid when I see her carrying it. But this day she only had a slender bamboo cane, and so I relaxed.
When she entered the room, I rolled off the bed, knelt on the floor, and humbly touched my forehead to the floor.
Li Chang nudged me with the toe of her boot. She said, "You may rise."
I stood up. She embraced me and pressed her body against mine.
I opened my mouth to be kissed. Li Chang put her lips against mine, and thrust her tongue in my mouth. She kissed me boldly and possessively, as if she owned me-which she does.
She fondled my buttocks through my garments. She hadn't come to visit me for a few days, and I was very happy to see her, even though I knew that she would give me pain before she gave me pleasure.
But I would welcome it all, even the pain. It gets very lonely and agonizingly boring, being locked in for days at a time.
I kissed her back, and rubbed my belly and hips against hers. Satin rustled against silk.
Li Chang ran her hands along my thighs. She stepped back, breaking off the kiss, and fondled my breasts.
She has a skilled touch, and my nipples hardened as her fingers rubbed and stroked them. My breasts jiggled as I took deep, slow breaths.
She slipped the straps of the gown off my shoulders, and pulled down the bra cups, baring my breasts.
She lowered her head and kissed my nipples. Her long black hair brushed against my flesh, thrilling me.
She smiled mockingly. She asked me if I would be so glad to see her when she thrashed me.
I answered her by raising her hand to my mouth and kissing it.
The bed is an antique, with four stout posts holding up the canopy. Iron rings are set in each of the posts.
Li Chang took a length of rope, and bound me standing up to the bed post. It pressed in the space between my breasts. My breasts enveloped it, rubbing against polished wood.
She crossed my wrists in front of me and tied them and tied the rope to the iron ring. My arms were raised over my head.
She pulled off my pink satin gown. It fell in a heap at my feet.
She caressed the soft flesh of my inner thighs over the tops of my stockings. I burned from her touch.
When she lowered my panties and bared my bottom, I was wet inside my pussy.
I gasped as she suddenly penetrated me. She slipped her middle finger inside my pussy, and buried it up to the knuckle.
I wiggled my hips in response. I moved just as if it were a penis that she was using to fuck me with.
She took her finger out of me. I felt hollow inside, now that it no longer filled me.
I wondered if she would summon John Bryant, so the two of them could take me at the same time.
I hoped that she would. My pussy tingled at the thought of John Bryant raping it with his thick, powerful cock.
Li Chang rolled my panties down below the lush curves of my bottom cheeks.
I shivered as she rubbed her bamboo rod against my flesh. The rod was bumpy with knots, but was very smooth and slick, almost as if it was polished.
She rubbed my thighs with it. After a while, she stopped toying with me, and began to whip me on the buttocks.
Li Chang was feeling merciful today, so she didn't hurt me as much as she usually did. Or else perhaps she just wanted to use my body, and was in a hurry.
The bamboo rod fell with a meaty sound on my bottom. It was heavy and stinging and numbing. I cried out.
Li Chang applied the rod to my bottom. Compared to some of the thrashings she's given me, this was almost pleasant.
When she first took me, she used to beat me often, to break my spirit. She succeeded. But it was really the shame of things that she made me do in bed that broke me down.
I was ashamed, because I loved the things she made me do. If she didn't beat me, I couldn't do them. But after she beat me, I did them willingly.
Now, she whipped me more like a ritual, or a formality. But she did love the pain of others, especially when she was the one inflicting it.
Pain was an erotic stimulant to her. She liked to listen to me moan and gasp and beg her for mercy. It excited her.
She whipped my bottom with the bamboo rod until I was weeping helplessly.
She slipped the rod between my legs. She held it so that it pressed against my pussy lips.
I was wet inside. I burned with humiliation at the knowledge that I was now so much her slave, that even her torments sexually excited me.
She raised the rod and rubbed it against my pussy. I moved my hips back and forth in response to it.
She liked that. She lifted the hem of her black silk dress to her waist. Her pubic bush was a neatly trimmed black triangle of tangled curls.
She stroked and fondled her pussy. She rubbed the bamboo rod against me as she did so.
The knobbed bumps in the rod pressed against my throbbing clitoris. I moaned, and moved my hips faster.
Li Chang said, "What a little whore you are."
She put the rod aside, and untied me from the iron ring. When my hands were in front of me, I bowed and humbly thanked her for my punishment.
The bed was covered with black satin sheets. Li Chang pushed me down on it.
My bottom was sore and burning, but the whipping had been relatively mild. The skin wasn't even broken, although my cheeks had a deep, rose-red tinge.
Li Chang ordered me to amuse her by playing with myself. I fondled my pussy with one hand, and my nipples with the other.
I lay on the bed with my legs spread wide open. My high-heeled shoes dropped off my feet and hit the floor.
Li Chang peeled off her black silk dress. Her breasts were full and heavy.
Her nipples, and the rosettes surrounding them, were dark brown in color-almost black. They were stiffly erect.
She didn't bother to take off her high-heeled, black leather boots. She wore them into bed.
She slid on the sheets, and lay on top of me. Our breasts rubbed. She held my head, and covered my mouth with kisses.
Her kisses made my blood race, and my head spin. Li Chang rolled to the side, and massaged my clitoris.
When that failed to amuse her any longer, and she was stirred by her own pleasure, she reversed positions on the bed.
She straddled my head and faced my feet. Her legs were folded under her, and her pussy was poised over my face.
I licked my lips, wetting them.
The aroma of her leather boots was heavy, and so was the musky fragrance of her pussy.
The sleek, hard, shining boots pressed against the cheeks of my face. Li Chang leaned forward, and parted my legs.
Shadow fell across my face as she lowered her hips. Her pussy got closer and closer until suddenly her labia pressed against my mouth.
I kissed her pussy. I slipped my tongue inside her, and held it up straight, so that it stood vertically.
Li Chang rocked her hips back and forth. Each time as she moved forward and backward, her clitoris rubbed against my tongue.
I gasped as Li Chang playfully bit my thigh. Her teeth were sharp. Then she licked the place where she bit me.
Then she went down on my pussy.
She was very skilled. She made me come before I made her come. As her tongue worked on me, she continued to move her hips.
Her tongue was a whip of pleasure. She used it to reduce me to a sweating, writhing animal who shivered beneath her.
My mouth tongued and sucked her pussy. I was so hot and frantic that I lashed my tongue across her clitoris.
I screamed when I orgasmed. Li Chang muffled me by rocking back on her bottom, and pressing her pussy against my face.
It was hot and wet and dark under her. My face was sticky with her juices.
I kicked my legs involuntarily, and bucked my hips. She pinned me to the bed, and devilishly applied her tongue.
How much pleasure can a body stand? There comes a point where pleasure is so sharp and concentrated and intense that it becomes a kind of pain.
I reached that point, reached it and passed it. I wanted to beg her to stop, but her membranes, slippery and dripping, pressed against my mouth.
Finally, just when I was telling myself that I couldn't stand it anymore, and that I was going to pass out, Li Chang stopped.
I shuddered with orgasm. I felt the mouth of my womb convulsively opening and closing.
Li Chang concentrated on her own pleasure now. I moaned as she rode my mouth with her pussy.
She rocked back and forth on my face until she came. No matter how excited she gets in bed, she never screams or shrieks or even cries out.
I knew that she came, though. She stopped moving, and pressed her pussy hard against my mouth and just held it there in place.
Her thighs squeezed my head. The leather boots were hard against my cheeks.
I felt her clitoris throbbing and pulsing against my lips. Li Chang shuddered, the only indulgence she allowed herself to show that she was in orgasm.
She climbed off me. She lay alongside me, and pressed her body against mine. Her flesh was hot and sweating.
She idly caressed me, and played with my breasts. Her sharp fingernails were painted scarlet, like the bloodied claws of a bird of prey.
She teasingly pinched my nipples erect, let them flatten, and then pinched them stiff again.
Sometimes she would dig the nails in, twisting the flesh until I cried out. Then she would smile and lick her lips and continue caressing me.
With Li Chang, I never knew when pleasure would turn to pain, or pain to pleasure.
She said lazily, "Barbara." Li Chang speaks perfect English, and has no trouble with the Rs in my name.
I said, "Yes, mistress?"
"What are you, Barbara?" She asked the question like a teacher reciting a familiar catechism.
"Your slave, mistress."
"My slave, and my whore."
"I am your slave, your whore, and whatever you want me to be, mistress."
She supported her head with her hand, and slowly traced circles on my breasts with her fingernails.
She said, "You desire the American?"
I am American, too, but to her, there is only one person who is "the American", and that is John Bryant.
"I desire you, mistress," I said.
"Yes, yes, of course. That goes without saying. Shall I have the American come to us?"
"Please." I was frightened by the husky sound of need in my voice.
Li Chang heard it too, and grinned. "When I first took you, you were a virgin. Soon you will be as wanton as I."
She reached for a golden bell by the side of the bed, and rang it.
The footsteps of a servant hurried to the door, and stood outside it. He said, "Yes, mistress?"
She ordered him to summon the American. I heard his footsteps fading as he hurried to obey her command.
Li Chang has a simple way of dealing with her servants. If they displease or disobey her, she has them executed.
As you might well imagine, she does not have much of a servant problem.
While we waited for John Bryant to arrive, Li Chang sat up in bed. Her breasts are very firm and pert, without the slightest trace of sag.
She put a brown ball of opium into a long-stemmed pipe, and smoked it. The gray fumes twisted in the air and snaked along the ceiling.
Her eyes were clouded and dreamy. I was somewhat afraid. She is always dangerous and unpredictable. When she is under the influence of the drug, she can be a thousand times worse.
The opium fumes tickled my nose. As we waited in the hot, heavy silence for John Bryant, I thought about the strange fate that had made me the body slave of a pirate queen in the last quarter of the twentieth century, after men have walked on the moon.
I was born in Nebraska. My parents were missionaries. After I was born, they settled down in the USA.
I grew up in a devout and religious atmosphere. I managed to shake some of their teachings off, but not without a struggle.
When I graduated college, I was still a virgin. I channeled all my energies into helping the suffering masses.
That was why, less than a year ago, I came to the Sarawat island chain in the South China Sea.
There was a famine, and I was part of an international relief effort to keep the islanders from starving.
I didn't have much free time on my hands, not with the massive effort we had to make to see that the food actually got to the people, instead of being stolen by corrupt government officials.
In the little time I had to myself, there was nothing to do. No radio, no television. The few young men who were part of the relief effort were idealistic but unexciting fellows.
Some of them tried to spark my interest, but I didn't give them any encouragement.
After all, I told myself, I was saving my virginity for my husband. Whoever he might be, he would not be one of the pale and flabby aid workers.
I spent a lot of time reading romantic fiction. You know the type. The kind where a beautiful but virtuous heroine is pursued and ravished by a handsome, swashbuckling man.
I felt a bit sinful about enjoying such trashy reading material, and knew that my parents would be ashamed of me if they knew.
But they were on the other side of the world, and I was here. As I read these romantic fantasies, devouring them by the score, my mind would drift off into daydreams.
Some of my fantasies were very sexy, and I would find myself stroking my pussy. I was humiliated by my lustful nature, but I permitted myself the luxury.
It was such a very small sin, I told myself, and I had all my good deeds to balance them on the scales.
After a time, I fell into a routine. I would drink a little wine before going to bed. The wine was warm in my stomach, and made my nerves tingle.
I would prop myself up in my narrow, uncomfortable cot, bunching pillows under my head. I would read one of the books as I lay there.
After some time, my hand would steal under the blankets, and lift the hem of my night dress. Then I would begin to play with my pussy.
As heat started to rise up inside me, I would let the book drop from my hand, close my eyes, and drift off into a fantasy while I masturbated.
I had many fantasies, but the pirate one was my favorite. Needless to say, that strikes me as somewhat ironic now.
In the pirate fantasy, I would be the passenger on a ship sailing the ocean some hundreds of years ago.
The ship would be attacked by pirates.
There would be smoke and fire and the shattering roar of cannons.
My ship's defenders would put up a valiant fight, but they would be no match for the buccaneers.
When the ship was finally overwhelmed, and the pirates triumphant, I would try to throw myself over the side, and into the water.
Then the fantasy would start to get interesting. This is how it went:
I ran across the blood-stained decks. Huge billows of choking smoke drifted across, mercifully veiling the destruction.
Suddenly a fierce pirate would loom out of the darkness. He was tall and his muscular body gleamed with sweat.
He wore a pair of ragged striped pants, and not much else. He was a fierce villain, with a thick black mustache.
I ran for the rail, but he was too quick. He hooked his arm around my belly, and scooped me off me feet.
I smelled his sweat and the odor of gunpowder on him. I formed my hands into pathetic little fists and beat futilely against the thickly corded muscles of his shoulders.
He gripped both my wrists in his hand. He grabbed a handful of the front of my gown, and ripped it open to the waist.
My soft, white breasts popped free and jiggled as I struggled. I gasped at being exposed to him.
His hands were rough and hard. He squeezed my breasts, and made me cry out with pain and fear.
Still holding both my wrists in his one hand, he ripped the gown off my body, attacking me like a savage animal.
He tore the gown to shreds. He tore the shreds off my body and left me naked before him.
I was hysterical with fear. He ignored my pleas, and threw me down on the rough boards of the ships deck.
His hands loosened his trousers, tugging them down. Whimpering, I backed up until I backed into a wall, and could go no further.
He pulled down his pants. His male member was thick and red and dangling against his thigh. It began to jerk and quiver with life.
He lowered himself down on me. His semi-erect cock brushed my breasts, and went rigid.
Grinning hugely, he shook his cock in my face. I shrieked, and covered my eyes with my hands.
But I held my fingers apart, so I could look at him. I was fascinated by the instrument of lust that would be my undoing.
It was hard and long, with blue veins hugging the shaft. The head was swollen, and almost purple. His balls were small and hard in their sac, and his body was thickly haired.
I clenched my legs tightly closed. He pried them open with his knees, bruising my soft white thighs.
His face was close to mine. He put his hands on my breast, and forced me down on my back.
He took his cock in his hands, and pressed it against me labia.
Then he shoved forward and then he....
By this time in the fantasy, the blankets would be thrown down to my feet, and the hem of my gown hiked up around my waist.
My fingers would be smeared with my pussy juices, and frantically rubbing my labia and clitoris.
I would be drenched with sweat from the sultry heat of the Asian night. But that heat would be nothing compared to the fire my fingers stroked into my pussy.
The tips of my fingers would be tightly pressed to my throbbing clitoris, and gently but forcefully massaging the tiny pearl of flesh.
My fantasy always ended with the pirate just about to rape me. Since I was a virgin, and had never been with a man, I didn't know what would happen next.
Of course, I knew the mechanics of the sex act. I knew that he would stick his stiffly erect cock inside me, and fuck me until he ejaculated.
I knew the clinical details, of course. But I couldn't relate that to my own body. I didn't know what the experience would feel and smell and taste like I didn't know-yet.
CHAPTER TWO
Then I met some real pirates.
They were nothing like the pirates of my fantasies. They were Asian pirates. They were wiry and lean, with glistening sun-browned bodies.
Instead of using cutlasses, they had machetes and bayonets. Instead of flintlock pistols, they were armed with automatic rifle and machine guns.
They came out of the pre-dawn fog. Their boats were shallow rafts that drifted down the broad, sluggish river.
They cut the motors, and glided to the shore. They slipped into the village, silently murdering the few police officials before an alarm could be raised.
By the time broke clear of the horizon, and burned the mists away, the village was a burned, smoldering ruin-and I was a prisoner.
The ground was Uttered with dead bodies. The pirates were like scavengers, and looted everything that wasn't nailed down.
I wore a simple T-shirt and baggy, khaki trousers. I didn't have on a bra, and my breasts were clearly outlined against the taut fabric.
Some of the pirates eyed me and leered. I couldn't speak their language, but I knew that they were talking about me. About what they were going to do to me.
There was nothing romantic about it. I was in total terror. I wasn't afraid of being raped, I was afraid of being murdered.
Murder was what they were doing to the hapless villagers who had fallen into their hands. It was sheer, cold-blooded execution.
At one point, a white-bearded village elder was beheaded. I was so frightened that I wet myself.
The urine was hot and sticky against my thighs. The odor was strong in the hot sun. There was a damp spreading stain at the crotch of my pants.
The pirates killed all the villagers out of hand-except the young and pretty women.
I gasped as I saw them drag Soo Lin from her hiding place. A pair of burly pirates dragged her into view.
She was screaming and crying. She couldn't break free of them. She was brought to a small cluster of the cut-throats.
They jeered and joked and laughed. Many pairs of greedy, grasping hands ripped the clothes off her.
She was small and slight. Her breasts were delicate mounds of gently swelling flesh, with hard brown nipples, and rosettes neat and small as buttons.
She was stretched naked on the dock. Men held her arms and her legs. They spread her legs wide.
Her skin was rich and golden brown. Her pussy was very lightly haired, making her look even younger than she was. She was small-boned and delicate, a flower of a girl.
Almost all of the pirates wore baggy black pants, and were bare from the waist up. They bristled with weapons.
One of the biggest and fiercest pirates, a hulking brute with a bald, gleaming skull, roughly shouldered some of his smaller fellows aside.
He was a much-feared and respected leader among them. Later, I learned that his name was Yagga.
Yagga pulled down his trousers. He had a long, thick cock. Muscles flexed in his massive thighs.
He knelt between Soo Lin's spread legs. He gripped his cock, and rubbed it against her thighs.
His member hardened and grew when it touched her soft, satiny flesh. It jutted out in front of him, a terrifying rod of flesh.
He stretched out on Soo Lin's squirming body, crushing her breathless with his weight. But she still had enough breath to scream when he penetrated her.
He thrust the cock into her. Soo Lin's face was a mask of pain and humiliation as he entered her.
The other pirates thought that that was the funniest thing ever. They howled with delight.
I could hear Soo Lin's screams over their laughter. Involuntarily I pressed my thighs together.
Yagga's pants were down around his knees. His buttocks shone absurdly white and rounded in the morning sun.
They were tightly clenched as he thrust in and out of her. Muscles rippled up and down his bronzed back.
Soo Lin shuddered when he came inside her. Yagga'a buttocks tightened as he rammed his final thrust deep into her tight pussy.
He lay stock-still on her for a moment. Then he rose up. His cock emerged into view as he pulled out of her.
His shaft glistened in the light. It was oiled with semen. Yagga looked sleepy and relaxed.
He stretched and yawned. He pulled up his pants and tucked his stillerect cock back inside them.
Then, he once more rudely shoved his fellows aside, and went off in search of plunder.
Soo Lin didn't scream quite so loudly when the second pirate raped her. He was a thin, rat-faced man with long mustaches.
She hardly screamed at all when the third man entered her. Her mouth was a wide, moaning O.
Her screams were silenced completely when a another pirate pulled down his pants, knelt next to her head, and fed his cock into her mouth.
Soo Lin was gagged with a rod of flesh. Her squirming body vanished from my sight as the pirates clustered around her.
Every now and then I would hear one of her screams. They got fainter and fainter.
The pirates moved aside, and I could see her again. I wished that I hadn't.
A huge pirate crouched on his hands and knees. Soo Lin lay stretched across his strong and sweating back.
Her breasts dangled on one side of his torso, and her thighs on the other. She looked like she had passed out.
A pirate squatted behind her. He spread her buttocks apart, opening her crack and anus to him.
Soo Lin's eyes fluttered as he shoved his finger in her bottom. I was disgusted that such depraved brutes could walk the earth.
Then he took his finger out, and shoved his cock into her bottom.
At first, I assumed that he was going to rape her pussy, like the others all had done. But this fellow was an individualist.
He had to take her in an even more perverted way.
Soo Lin started screaming again as he shoved his cock head into her tiny hole. Her buttocks wiggled from side to side.
There was no escape. The pirates' roar of laughter momentarily drowned out her screaming.
My own anus quivered and contracted in sympathetic fear. I shivered at the thought of trying to take a male member in that tiny hole.
I was terrified at the thought of having my virgin pussy penetrated. But having one's bottom raped was a hundred times worse!
I couldn't watch anymore. The ugly, sickening spectacle had hypnotized me, like a mouse paralyzed by the presence of a cobra.
Now, I looked away. But I could still hear the screaming.
When it stopped and was choked off, I looked up again. Some joker was kneeling on the other side, and had shoved his penis into her mouth.
While one of them fucked her from behind, the other raped her mouth.
Soo Lin fainted, but that didn't bother the pirates who were next in line. They took her unconscious body anyway.
I was tied up. A stiff bamboo rod was inserted between my arms and my back, and leather cords tied my arms in place to the rod.
Being tied that way made my breasts thrust out. One pirate whose lips and teeth were stained brown from chewing betel nuts squatted beside me.
His breath was foul. He rubbed and squeezed his crotch and grinned at me. His trousers bulged with a thick erection.
He pawed my breasts. His fingers were like brown, bent twigs. His nails were cracked and filthy. He dug them into the soft flesh of my breasts.
He ripped open my shirt. I shrieked. He squeezed my breasts, kneading them together, plumping them up.
His mouth hung open, and in his excitement a strand of his saliva drooled on to my breasts, staining them.
He pulled down his pants. He gripped his penis and shook it at me. His member was brownish-red, the same color as a brick.
Just then, another pirate came into view, and gave him a kick that sent him sprawling.
The betel-chewer let go of his cock, and reached for a knife. The second pirate drew his revolver and shot him through the forehead.
I fainted.
After that came a confusing haze of impressions, like a half-remembered nightmare.
Strong hands lifted me, and carried me down to the docks. A motorized launch was moored alongside it.
I was carried onto the boat. The decks were covered with sandbags and machine guns. I was taken out of the glaring sunlight, and carried below decks.
I drifted in and out of consciousness. I remember being untied and stripped naked. I was too weak and sick to even protest.
I remember being washed. I remember being tied down to a wooden bunk for many hours as the launch cruised up river, into the dense jungle.
It was night when I was taken out of the boat. There was a camp in a jungle clearing near the river-the pirates' camp.
The next time I awoke, I was lying on my back, in a luxurious window. The first thing I saw was Li Chang's face only inches away from mine.
It added to the dream-like quality of the episode, because she looked like a princess from out of some enchanting fairy tale.
She was one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen.
As I became more fully awake, I saw that I was stretched out on black silk sheets. My flesh looked even whiter and paler by contrast with it.
I was stark naked. My hands were tied, and my legs, while not tied, were spread wide open.
There was a small, high window in the room, and I could see a crescent moon floating in the black sky.
There was a wetness in my pussy and thighs, and I groaned in shame, thinking that I had once more lost control of my bodily functions.
But really I hadn't. Li Chang had a bowl of warm, soapy water, and she was using a sponge to wash my thighs.
My skin was clean and glowing, and my hair shimmered. I realized that I had been fully bathed some hours ago.
Li Chang said, "Ah ... you are awake."
"You speak English?"
"And nine other languages." She said it like I might say, I went to the store and bought a loaf of bread.
I remembered what had happened, and tried to sit up. The ropes cut into my wrists and I groaned.
Li Chang put her hand on my chest, and pushed me back into the pillows.
I realized with sudden embarrassment that I was spread out naked in front of this strange and exotic beauty, who was fully clothed in a gorgeous, embroidered silk robe.
I closed my legs. Li Chang laughed. She asked, "Why do you do that?"
"To protect my modesty, of course," I said indignantly.
"You will have no modesty, where I am concerned."
I said, "Who do you think you are?!"
"Your new master," she said.
She told me who she was. She was Li Chang. Her uncle, her mother's brother, was the chieftain of a clan of pirates. Now that he was dead, she was their unquestioned leader.
She told me that I was beautiful, and I blushed. Then she told me that she was going to make her pleasure slave.
At first I resisted. How foolish I was! Li Chang had always gotten whatever she wanted. Now she wanted me.
She taught me to fear her first. On the second night I was in the camp, she came to me.
She wore a skin-tight robe of royal blue which looked as though it had been painted on to her perfect body. And she carried a whip, a cat-o-nine-tails.
She sat down on the bed, and kissed me. I wasn't bound during the day, just locked in the room.
I slipped free from her embrace, and swore that I would rather die than be her perverted love slave.
This was a deadly insult. Later, I realized how lucky I was to have escaped a cruel and painful death, since Li Chang's rages were just feared by even the most hardened and ruthless of her men.
She called out to the American, John Bryant. He was the very picture of the swashbuckling, piratical adventurer of my dreams.
He was hopelessly in love with Li Chang, and would do whatever she commanded. I believe that if she ordered him to kill himself, he would do it for her.
He doesn't think like an American anymore. He thinks like her men.
He helped her tie me to the bed. His hands were rough and I cried out. He silenced my begging pleas with a vicious slap across my face.
I was tied face down on the bed, naked. Li Chang was furious. She did everything but hiss and spit like a cat.
She used her whip on me. I screamed and screamed and screamed. She was still whipping me when I mercifully passed out.
After a week, most of my wounds had healed. Later that night, she came to me.
I was deathly afraid of her. I sat trembling on the edge of the bed, my breasts bobbing, my shoulders hunched up like I was anticipating some fearful blow.
My teeth chattered. Her hands were light and gliding on my breasts. She kissed me and I opened my mouth so she could thrust her tongue in my throat.
She smiled cruelly. "Ah, so you no longer detest my kisses."
I babbled hysterically, weeping as I begged her not to whip me again. I swore that I would obey her, and do whatever she wanted.
She pulled the drawstring of her robe, and it fell from her shoulders. She was naked underneath it.
She lay on her back on the bed and propped up her head with pillows. Her legs were long and golden and glowing. Her pubic bush was black as night.
She made me eat her pussy that first night. I had never done it before.
I was in terror that I would do something wrong and displease her, so I carried out her instructions with total fidelity.
I knelt between her legs and lowered my face to her pussy. Her bush tickled my nostrils. Her pussy lips were very soft against my lips.
I timidly stuck out my tongue, and licked her pink lips. I did it until they glistened with saliva.
She said, "Lick it inside, Barbara." Her laugh was silvery and musical. "Go ahead-it's not poison. Those who know about such things inform me that I taste delicious."
I stuck my tongue inside her. She was wet and slippery in her sleek pink membranes. My tongue glided over them.
Li Chang liked that. She began moving her hips back and forth. She told me how to thrust me tongue in her.
Her pussy was damp and moist, like a jungle. Her pussy was like a rare and exquisite flower, with sweet nectar inside.
I lapped up that nectar. I can't say I liked the taste. I really didn't think about things like that. I was nervous, and my only thought was to please her.
I knew how much I enjoyed rubbing my clitoris when I was alone in bed. I licked up along her slit, until my tongue touched her clitoris.
It throbbed in response. Li Chang sighed, and rubbed her satiny thighs against my head.
My hair was long and hanging down freely, and Li Chang savored the sensual feeling of rubbing her thighs against it.
She rested her hand on the top of my head, and pressed down, keeping my mouth pressed against her pussy.
That night, Li Chang used my mouth to bring her to orgasm. The only sign of her excitement was the way she moved her hips faster and faster.
Finally, toward the end of the session, she raised her buttocks clear of the bed, and ground her pussy against my mouth.
I just kept working my tongue against her small, pulsating clitoris. All my attention was concentrated on the tip of my tongue and on her fleshy button.
When she came, she squeezed her thighs against my head. She did it with such sudden violence that I was afraid she had gone mad and was about to strangle me with her thighs.
But my will was so broken by the whipping, that I didn't lift a finger to stop her.
She held my head in place with her legs, and smothered me by pressing her pussy against my nose and mouth.
Suddenly, she released me and fell back. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her mouth was open in a whispered moan.
She clutched her breasts. Her belly quivered and went hollow as she shuddered with her climax.
I just knelt there on the bed, between her legs, staring at her.
When she opened her eyes again, they were glazed and shining. She sat up and grabbed me.
I cried out, fearful that she meant to hurt me. She pushed me down on my back, and fondled my breasts.
I didn't resist as she spread my legs. She put her palms on my soft inner thighs and clamped her mouth on my pussy.
She raped me with her mouth. Her hands traveled up over my belly and fastened on my breasts.
She fondled my breasts, and played with my nipples as she ate me. I stared at the ceiling and listened to the liquid sounds of her mouth on my pussy.
Li Chang was a sexual demon. She knew me better than I knew myself.
The greatest sexual excitement I had ever known was fingering my pussy to orgasm.
Now, instead of fingers massaging my clitoris, there was a hot, wet, skilled mouth pleasuring me.
Some of it was psychological. After all the atrocities I had witnessed, and the brutal whipping she gave me, I lived in an rgony of suspense.
I never had a moment's peace. I expected Li Chang to inflict some dreadful torment on me, particularly on my sexual parts.
Instead, she used her lips and tongue to give me nothing but pleasure. I was so relieved that I nearly wept.
She used her mouth on me until I was breathlessly gasping. My voice was a faint, rasping whisper as I told her that I couldn't stand anymore pleasure that intense, that she was turning me inside it.
And when my climax arrived, it rolled over me like a runaway express train.
It left me limp and sweating and sobbing for breath. And it blew the last of my scruples and moral restraints away with it.
When she pressed her mouth on mine, and thrust her tongue inside my mouth, I could taste my own juices.
I wiggled like an eel under her. I was crying as I covered her breasts with kisses, and sucked on the nipples.
From that moment on, I was her slave totally. That was only the beginning.
Step by step she led me down the road to total amorality. She loved corrupting me, and making me a willing participant in the process.
She arranged for John Bryant to take my virginity. It happened shortly after I came to the camp. I had been there less than a month.
By then, I was Li Chang's willing sex slave, and eagerly performed acts that I never could have conceived of a month ago.
I would kiss her bottom, tongue her anus, suck her toes, masturbate while she watched with her cool amused smile.
She was there when John Bryant took me. I was bathed and perfumed and gowned in white.
She sat on a throne-like chair at the foot of the bed, so she could see everything. She sat there, smoking bowl after bowl of opium.
John Bryant was incredibly handsome. I don't think that he said more than a dozen sentences to me that night, and most of those were commands, telling me how to move, and how to please him.
He stripped me naked. My body trembled under his hands. I was shaking with feverish arousal, not with fear.
Then he was naked, too, and we were rolling on the bed. He parted my thighs and licked and tongued my pussy until I cried with pleasure.
I was dripping with my own juices and his saliva. I was as lubricated as I was ever going to be.
He spread my legs and got on top of me. His swollen cock head pushed aside my soft, tender labia.
His cock penetrated me an inch deep, then bumped against the thin membrane that was my maidenhead.
He took me quickly. A sudden thrust, a sharp pain inside me, and then my maidenhead tore apart, and his cock penetrated deep into me.
I was a virgin no longer.
Li Chang's gown was open from neck to hem. Her legs were parted, and she fondled her pussy as she watched John Bryant take me.
His chest, hard and muscular, flattened my breasts. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Li Chang smiling, her eyes heavy-lidded from the drug and the masturbatory trance she was under.
I was in a trance myself, a trance of pleasure. The cock inside me glided against the wet hot velvet of my pussy.
Each stroke was more thrilling than the one before it. I was shameless and driven by pleasure.
I was so excited that I dug my nails into the corded muscles of John Bryant's neck and shoulders.
But the mightiest muscle of all was his cock. I should have known that Li Chang's lover would have to be far beyond the abilities and appetites of ordinary men.
When my climax came, I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I bit it so hard that blood spurted into my mouth.
At the same time, a flood of something warm and thick gushed into my pussy. It was semen spurting from the heated cock head.
I opened my mouth. My scream was a supersonic whisper. I thrashed under his firm, powerful body like a crazy woman having a fit.
When I opened my eyes again, John Bryant was rubbing his face against my trembling breasts, covering them with hot wet kisses.
Motion at the foot of the bed caught my eye. Li Chang, naked and glowing, padded to the bed, and lay down beside me.
John Bryant was my master, but in bed, both of us were Li Chang's slaves.
That night, he and she used me and positioned me in a dozen different ways.
I was the slave of Li Chang, and existed only to be used for her pleasure.
Li Chang's amber-colored flesh felt like satin as she slid into the bed. I turned my head to the side, and looked at her through blurred eyes.
John Bryant's muscular chest pressed my soft, yielding breasts, flattening them and pushing them to the sides.
He, too, looked up when Li Chang got into bed. We both waited to see what would be required of us.
She stretched out on her back beside me. Her nipples were like pebbles, and the roseates were like brown buttons pasted to her breasts.
She patted John Bryant's clenched buttocks. "Withdraw from her."
Obeying his mistress, he pulled his cock out of me. The stiff member slid along my slippery membranes.
I remember that I felt a sense of hollowness and emptiness when his knobbed cock head popped free of my labia.
I realized then that Li Chang was well on the way toward depraving me, toward corrupting my morals and making me over the way she wanted me to be, which was to serve her pleasure as her wanton whore.
John Bryant's cock was out of me, but he had left two souvenirs.
The first was his semen, which oozed
, i between my legs. It didn't repel me. On the contrary, the thick fluid felt soothing in my pussy.
The second souvenir was the dull, throbbing pain of my broken maidenhead. It didn't exactly tickle, but it was far from agonizing.
So that's what it's like to be a woman, I thought to myself.
Li Chang opened her legs wide. John Bryant followed the instruction of her pointing finger, which was aimed at her pussy.
As he moved into position, I saw that his back was criss-crossed with a faint network of dozens of thin white scars.
He must have gotten them years ago, as they were healed. I wondered how he had received them.
They couldn't have been anything but the scars from a whipping. I guessed that he had received them from Li Chang in the distant past.
My guess seemed to be verified when I saw bright red welts and weals covering his rounded, boyish buttocks.
Those marks were definitely from a whipping, and they were fresh. And the only person who could have done such a thing to the lawless American pirate was his mistress, Li Chang.
John Bryant crawled down on the bed, until his head was on a level with her pussy. His legs hung off the bed's edge.
Li Chang put her hand on the top of his head, and pressed his face into her crotch. I saw a look of eagerness and worshipful adoration on his face before it was hidden in her thighs.
He rubbed his lips against her pussy lips. Li Chang sighed, and moved her hips in response.
He stuck out his tongue, and slipped it into her pussy. She had the most beautiful pussy ever. It was like a flower, and he lapped at her nectar.
Li Chang turned her head, and stared at me. Her face was only a foot or so away from mine, and it was round and glowing. John Bryant made liquid slurping sounds as he lapped at her pussy.
Li Chang's lips curved into an enigmatic smile. "How do you feel now, slave?"
At that moment, I became somewhat reconciled to my captivity. I knew that no matter what happened, I was going to be her prisoner for a long, long time.
To demonstrate my submission, I answered her by taking her hand and raising it to my lips and kissing it.
"You are wise," she said.
She caressingly ran her hands up her belly to her breasts. She cupped her breasts and fondled the nipples.
She said lazily, "My breasts cry out for attention. Cover them with kisses, while the American mouths me between my legs."
She wound a strand of my hair around her finger, and pulled me toward her. I lay on my side, curling my long legs.
As I shifted position, I felt a twinge of pain in my pussy. But that was only to be expected, of course.
I rubbed the side of my face against the perfumed softness of her breasts. The nipples were hard, throbbing points.
I brushed my lips against her breasts. My lips were very dry. I licked them, then fastened my mouth on her nipple.
The nipple was warm and hard in my mouth, a pebble of flesh. I pressed my lips against it, and was careful not to bring my teeth into play.
After all, I seemed to be getting on Li Chang's good side, and there was no point in angering her needlessly.
Besides, I had the still-fresh memory of my awful whipping to remind me to be cautious and submissively obedient.
Li Chang sighed. She folded her arms behind her head, resting them on the pillow.
She lay there, smiling lazily, while John Bryant and I served at, and for, her pleasure.
