When Mary opened her eyes and discovered that she was naked and bound hand and foot she realized that Jack the Whipper had struck again.
That's what the newspapers called him, after he'd raped four or five victims. It had seemed to Mary a flippant way to talk about someone who kidnapped innocent women, beat them, and raped them. The name had stuck though.
Mary looked around the room. It was just as the other women had described it-a large, drafty place, perhaps a warehouse basement.
She lay on a table, and the only light was directly overhead. The Whipper could have been lurking in the shadows, outside the island of light. She saw no one.
She knew it was useless to scream, but she did-and then stopped, ashamed of herself. He was probably listening, enjoying her cries for help. All the others had screamed, too, but no one had come to their aid. He didn't even bother to gag them.
The table was large, and Mary's wrists and ankles were tied down at the four corners. She was completely open, undefended. The feeling of total helplessness was the worst thing about it, just as some of the girls had said.
But she was being foolish. She hadn't experienced the worst of it yet-the beating. The Whipper was a madman, a sadist who punished women for what he called their immorality and then, carried away in his orgy of pain-infliction, he'd rape them. The papers usually described the rape part as "unnatural," without elaboration. Mary supposed she'd find out before long what they were hinting at.
The only thing the Whipper's victims had in common was the fact that they were all beautiful, in a buxom sort of way. Mary was no exception. She was a rosy-cheeked blonde with big, voluptuous tits. She couldn't be called fat, though-the exercise required by her job as a topless-and often bottomless-go-go girl kept her from getting flabby.
She supposed that's why the Whipper had chosen her, because of her job. He had a strong puritanical streak, and he specialized in women who might be called liberated from middle-class morality-prostitutes, bar girls, hippie types, entertainers like herself, they comprised the majority of his victims. They always got a lecture with their beating-but Mary couldn't understand why he'd do such a thing, in the name of morality, and then wind up his lecture by raping them. Either he was just plain crazy, or else he was an awful hypocrite.
Maybe that's why the papers had taken such a flippant view of the whole thing. If his victims had been housewives, or ordinary working girls, they probably would have been up in arms about it. But one paper had even had the nerve to run a cutesy editorial praising the Whipper for clearing the streets of hookers during the night hours, and suggested that the police might take some lessons from him in taking care of the problem in the daytime.
She must have seen him, without knowing it. He must have been one of the customers at the seedy clip-joint where she worked, one of the interchangable male faces staring up at her as she went through her routine, her tits jiggling and her hands sliding provocatively inside the elastic of the bikini panties she wore. None of his victims knew what he looked like. He wore a hood, and a sort of Batman cape, and high leather boots, and that was it. He'd sneak up behind his victims and chloroform them, then they'd wake up in this place.
She tried to think of all the faces she'd seen this week, the ones who'd looked a little odd, who'd looked too hungry, or-but it was hopeless. He hadn't necessarily come into the club this week. He might have seen her a year ago, and filed her name for future reference. Maybe he'd never seen her at work-maybe he was just a garage mechanic, or a checker at the supermarket, or someone else who'd seen her around her home neighborhood and had taken the trouble of finding out what she did for a living.
She wished he'd come and get it over with. The waiting was driving her nuts, and she began to think that even being beaten would be better than this awful fear and uncertainty.
Nobody knew for sure how many women the Whipper had victimized in the past three years. His official score was twenty, but the papers suggested that it might be only the tip of an iceberg-that many more women had been ashamed or afraid to go to the police. He always warned his victims about going to the police, saying he'd get them later if they did, but thus far he hadn't made good on any of those threats.
Personally, Mary didn't see what good it would do. If the police hadn't caught him by now, she didn't see what she could possibly add to their knowledge of the Whipper's operations.
"For God's sake, why don't you come out and get it over with?" said Mary, loudly, angry now as well as frightened. "You're just wasting my time, you screwy mother-fucker."
She felt a deep resentment toward him. He had no right to take her off like this, against her will, to exert such total and obscene control over her body. She resolved to get him back for this, if she possibly could, to find some way of learning his identity and making him pay for what he'd do to her and what he'd done to all those other women. Perhaps she could pull his mask off, get a look at his face-or-or-
Mary gasped. He'd appeared, and the sight of him was terrifying. She'd thought his corny outfit would inspire her to laugh at him, but it didn't: he was frightening, his tall figure wrapped in the black cloak that hung to the floor, everything hidden but his thin-lipped mouth and square jaw by the leather hood he wore-and his eyes. They burned into hers with a dark, fanatical intensity.
"Wasting your time, eh?" he chuckled. "You won't say that when I've finished-I plan to give you a valuable experience."
"Look, I'd just as soon pass it up, if you don't mind. You have no right to bring me here against my will, to-"
"Rights? You've violated my right to privacy and peace of mind, and you can't complain now that I'm infringing on your rights."
"You're nuts. I never did anything to you-as far as I know, I've never even seen you."
"But I've seen you, and that's what I'm talking about. Your clothes -your walk-everything about you is a blatant advertisement for your sexuality, a calculated bombardment on the senses of any unfortunate enough to cross your path. Your lipstick, for instance-do you know where lipstick originated?"
"How should I know? But just because you've got weird ideas about-"
"It originated among the prostitutes of ancient Egypt, who cultivated the vile practice of fellatio with almost religious zeal. They wore lipstick to heighten the similarity of their mouths to the filthy holes of corruption between their legs."
"Ugh. You make it all sound so dirty," shuddered Mary. "Is that what you're after, a blowjob? I'll give you one, if you'll let me go."
"I bet you would," said the Whipper-and Mary winced as his lean, muscular hand appeared outside his cape and she saw that he was carrying his trademark, a heavy, tightly coiled bullwhip. "I just bet you would. It would mean nothing to you. It would no doubt be just one more of the unending succession of male organs you've slipped between your lips, sucking them and licking them and fondling them until they spurt their seed into your mouth. Tell me, do you usually swallow it?"
"I don't see that it's any of your fucking business what I do," said Mary.
"I'm making it my business, you rotten bitch!" he shouted, his voice cracking with a note of hysteria. He uncoiled the whip and just flicked the tip of it against her soft, white belly.
"Yes, yes, I usually swallow it," cried Mary, cringing away from the stinging touch of the limber leather.
"Good. Now-how many men have you done it to?"
"God, I don't know. Thirty or forty, I guess, I never kept any records of it."
"Do you like it? Do your lips itch for the touch of a man's' penis? Does your mouth hunger and burn to be filled with hot flesh?"
"Hell, no. It's sort of fun, but that's about as much as I can say for it. I figure if a guy gets all hot and bothered with me, and he's nice, it's just something I can do for him that he'll get a kick out of."
"Oh, it's just as I thought! It means nothing to you-you don't realize how wrong, how evil it is, what an awful influence for corruption you are on men," said the Whipper, shaking his head slowly.
"Maybe it's wrong and maybe it isn't, but either way, I figure it's my business. You have nothing to say about it," said Mary, her anger rising once again.
The Whipper laughed-a short, flat bark that had no mirth or warmth in it. "But it is my business. You are part of the society I live in, and you hurt me when you corrupt its standards, its morality, when you cheapen love and destroy the sanctity of the American home, when you spread disease-"
"Me? You've got your head on backwards. I'm just a plain, ordinary girl who maybe goes a little farther than most-and I've never yet even had a dose of the clap, if that's what you mean by spreading disease."
"How would you know, you ignorant bitch? More than three quarters of the women who have it and spread it never experience a single symptom."
"Well, I have to admit I didn't know that-but whoever I gave it to, which I didn't, certainly would have told me about it."
"Bah-half of them probably didn't even know your name, lured to some sleazy hotel room to satisfy your base appetites, or writhing in the back seat of some car-an unending procession of nameless, faceless men, burnt offerings on the evil altar of your insatiable lusts."
"Oh, brother," sighed Mary, weary of trying to argue with him.
"You may be an ordinary girl, as you say-but women are the active agents in the transmission of all that is evil, and vile. I've devoted most of my attentions to women like you, but don't worry-I'll get all the others who work to rot the core of our society-the writers of dirty books and dirty plays-the filmmakers who pollute the screens with raw sex-in short, all the liberal communist hippie weirdo creeps who labor to destroy our society, just as the Roman Empire was destroyed, by causing a massive breakdown of the old virtues that made our country strong. Right now I'm devoting my time to women, but you can be sure I'll soon get around to all the bleeding-heart scumbag faggots, too."
"Why don't you just write letters to the newspapers, or something? You can't get around to working over everybody you hate, which seems to be just about everybody."
"I did-God knows I did, but the newspapers are part of the same conspiracy, as you well know. They wouldn't print them. Maybe I won't get around to everybody, but I'll certainly have a try at it."
"Maybe I could help you. I used to be a newspaperwoman," said Mary.
"You? Hah! That's a laugh. To have some scarlet woman twisting my words, distorting my meaning, trying to make a fool of me-no, you can't pull your tricks on me," laughed the Whipper.
"It was just a thought," she sighed. All during the conversation she'd been trying to determine what sort of a man he was, what he did for a living, some clue that might help her to identify him-but she couldn't be sure. At first, when he'd started lecturing her, she thought he might be a teacher, perhaps, but as he got worked up like that, she wasn't sure.
"But enough about me, and my mission of purification and vengeance," he said. "I want to make sure you're just as I think you are-how many men have you copulated with? A hundred? A thousand?"
Mary laughed. "What do you think I am, a fucking machine? Just five, that's all."
"You're lying to me. I know that it would take an army of men to gratify your brutish lusts."
"I don't have any brutish lusts. I just happened to think I was in love five times, and it seemed like the thing to do. I'm sure you couldn't understand that."
"I suppose this 'love' you prattle about was your justification for living out the evil fantasies that crawl through the cesspool of your mind-doing unspeakable things to them with hobnail boots and red ostrich feathers-letting them sodomize you-"
"No, just ordinary, everyday fucking and blowing, like that," said Mary.
"You even made them perform the apotheosis of sinful filth by making them touch their lips to that putrid pit at the bottom of your belly," said the Whipper, his voice shaking with disgust.
"Don't knock it till you try it," said Mary. "Some of them said my cunt was delicious."
"Ugh," gasped the Whipper, turning away.
"Why don't you taste it, and see?" said Mary, prompted by a perverse impulse to play on his disgust-the way he was acting, she wondered if she could make him throw up-maybe even let her go, if she made him sick enough of her by her words.
"Silence!" choked the Whipper.
"Just get your head down there between my legs, and slurp it up, and I guarantee it'll get nice and wet-and you can just suck the juice out of it, and stick your tongue into it, and I guarantee that you'll just have a ball," sighed Mary, injecting a throaty, sexy throb into her voice. "No!"
"Aw, come on-I know you're so hung up about it because it's really what you want to do. If you'd just relax, and let yourself go, you'd get a lot more fun out of life than you must now, with all the problems of the world on your shoulders, trying to go around and reform everybody when they don't want to be reformed."
The Whipper turned. What she could see of his face seemed to be going through a twitching convulsion as he looked at her, and his dark eyes burned with hatred.
"You're just what I thought you were-only worse!" he screamed, twisting his heavy whip in his hands. "Trying to corrupt and seduce even me with your honeyed, filthy words-me, the avenging angel of purification, sent to Earth to do God's work and lead the sinning wretches out of their long night of bestial sensuality."
"Oh, bullshit. You're just a poor, fucked-up slob, like everybody else-why don't you get off that kick and learn how to relax and enjoy yourself?" said Mary, who was beginning to feel just a little bit sorry for him.
"Enjoy? We weren't put on Earth for mere mindless enjoyment-far from it. Life is a grim struggle with the forces of evil, and the only enjoyment can come from vanquishing that evil."
"If you're such a holy hotshot, how come you've raped all those girls? Isn't there anything evil about rape-to say nothing of kidnapping and torture," said Mary.
The Whipper laughed. "Do you think I enjoy myself when I force you wicked creatures to submit to the lust you try so hard to arouse in me? Far from it. The act is as painful to me as it will be to you, perhaps even more so, and it serves to remind me that the sort of love you talk about is evil and despicable."
"But if it's evil, why do you do it?" persisted Mary, slightly exasperated by the convolutions of his weird reasoning.
"Because you are evil, and deserve nothing but evil at my hands," snarled the Whipper.
CHAPTER II
Mary saw quite clearly that she couldn't talk Jack the Whipper out of working his will on her, whatever it was: he was really crazy. He hadn't dropped a single hint, either, about his true identity, as far as she could see-but she resolved to remember every word he said. Maybe if she could recite it all to some cop, he'd pick up a clue that she just hadn't seen.
Something else occurred to her, but it was a slim hope-he'd mentioned writing letters to newspapers. From her own experience, she knew that letters to the editor that weren't printed just wound up in the wastebasket, but perhaps some paper he'd written to kept files of them, or perhaps some staff member would remember a crackpot with his particular hang-ups.
Mary hoped she could have drawn him out more, with further questions, but she saw that this was not to be-he'd uncoiled his whip once again and was about to start using it.
"Please-if you're going to whip me, won't you whip my back-I don't think I could stand-"
"It hurts more, this way," he laughed. "But don't worry -I won't neglect your back, not in the least."
Mary was totally unprepared for the pain. He'd just touched her before, just stung her on the belly with the tip of his lash, but now he flogged her with the full force of his powerful arm, drawing the whip back over his shoulder and crashing it down across the white flesh of her belly.
Mary screamed. Her whole body seemed to hurt, from her head to the tips of her toes, and her mind dissolved momentarily in a blinding red flash. When her head cleared, the pain had localized itself to her belly, though, an ice-cold track of fire that hurt so much she could hardly breathe.
He paused between each stroke, smiling at her, drinking in the sight of the nude girl writhing and twisting in her bonds in a vain effort to escape the frightful pain he was inflicting on her. Mary thought she'd go out of her mind when he began working on her tits, and she shrieked her head off as the whip cracked against the soft tenderness of her nipples, again and again.
The Whipper didn't neglect her legs and arms, either, and that was bad enough-but it was obvious that he was saving the worst pain for last. When at last he'd touched every accessible portion of her naked body with his stinging lash-every part but one, that is-he allowed himself an extra long pause, flexing his arm and chuckling.
Mary sobbed as she pleaded with him not to beat her any more, and her sobbing only made him laugh more. She resolved that, whatever happened, she was going to find some way of getting even with this bastard, making certain that the law caught up with him and made him pay for his horrible crimes.
She saw it coming-and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Her spine arched painfully as she made a desperate effort to tear the bonds at her wrists and ankles, but she succeeded only in tearing her flesh on the tight ropes. And then the worst pain of all exploded through her body as the whip cracked right against the pink cleavage between her thighs, searing her cunt with pain. He did it again-and again-and again-and Mary found she couldn't even scream anymore, her voice had cracked under the strain of the howls of agony that had been forced out of her by this obscene attack on her tender genitals.
And it was obscene, in a singularly horrible way. Some of her lovers had made love to her like that, kissing her all over her body before finally kissing her where she really ached, by that time, to be kissed-only Jack the Whipper had done his kissing with a whip, reversing the tenderness of those other encounters into his own singular brand of cruelty.
At last he came and untied her hands-and she immediately tried to attack him, to hit him, at least to scratch him-but she found that her arms just didn't have the strength. She was as weak as a kitten, every muscle of her body aching from the strain of her cramped position and from the whipping she'd just undergone, and he had no trouble at all in subduing her.
Mary sobbed bitterly. She'd been looking forward to the time when he'd untie her and she could repay him, if only partially, for what he'd made her suffer, and now that the longed-for time had come there was nothing she could do to take advantage of it.
He untied her ankles, now, but she was too weak to kick him, and her feet were numb from the tightness of the bonds that had cut into her flesh. As the circulation returned to them, she cried out again-the pain of that was almost as bad as anything else she'd already suffered. He forced her to lie on her belly, now, and once again stretched out her arms and legs to spread-eagle her body on the table.
"You see, I don't intend to neglect your back at all-I was just warming myself up for it, and now I'll give you the kind of whipping that you really deserve."
Mary hardly heard his words. He'd warmed himself up, all right. He'd flung his cape back over his shoulders, and she could see now that he had a massive, throbbing erection sticking out from a bush of black pubic hair. Well, at least now she knew what color hair he had, at least, provided it was the same color as the hair on his head. She knew his build, too-lean, muscular, about six foot one or two-but she saw no distinguishing tattoos or scars on his body. None of the other girls had seen any, either, so she felt there was little hope of identifying him that way in the future.
She began sobbing again as her search for distinctive scars on his body reminded her that he'd cut her-she could feel the sticky blood trickling down her breasts and belly-and she wondered whether he'd scarred her permanently, and wondered what that would mean to her professional career.
Maybe it would help it. Maybe the creeps would line up to see a girl who'd been a victim of Jack the Whipper perform her naked dance, especially if she had the scars to prove it -but she didn't think she'd enjoy performing very much, under those terms. She liked the sensation of thrilling men with the sight of her naked body in motion, and she wouldn't get any thrill if that were tied in with the disordered fantasies of her captor's mind, in the eyes of the onlookers. Maybe she'd never be able to perform again, at least not in this town. She could leave Baltimore-perhaps go out to the Coast, where she'd heard there were hundreds of topless places. Maybe they wanted girls who could really dance out there, though.
She realized her thoughts were being disorganized by her pain and panic. Here she was, planning her future career-and for all she knew she might not even have one. There was no guarantee that the Whipper wouldn't kill her-for all anybody knew, he might have already killed some of his victims, and their disappearance either hadn't been reported or else hadn't been connected with Jack the Whipper.
"Yaaaggghhh!" Mary screamed, jolted out of her reverie by a stinging blow on her ample buttocks.
The Whipper was at work again, and this time he was really laying it on-apparently he warmed to his work as his sexual arousal progressed, and now that he really had a hard-on his desire to hurt her was increased. He didn't pause at all, hardly, between his blows, but just rained down a tattoo of whip-cuts on her exposed back until she could hardly distinguish one blow from another and it all became just a single flood of pain that ebbed up and down from her shoulders to her heels and back again.
"That's it, bitch, scream-scream! I'll give you something to scream about before I'm through with you, you foul whore, you worthless seducer of the innocent," gasped the Whipper, apparently running out of breath from the force and fury of his exertions. "I'll teach you to strut around with your powder and paint and your low-cut gowns, your see-through blouses, your miniskirts and hot pants and all the other paraphernalia of your wretched arts of corruption-with your perfume and your eye-shadow and your seductive glances-your wiggling and jiggling and posing and posturing-driving men mad with evil lust for the noxious clutch of perdition between your legs-"
"Oh, shut up!" groaned Mary. "I think having to listen to all that garbage is the worst torture of all."
Mary regretted her words instantly. She'd thought it impossible that he could hit her harder than he was doing already, or ply the whip up and down her back with greater frequency-but she'd underestimated him. Her words had driven him into a mad rage, and nothing Mary had experienced before had prepared her for the torment he was inflicting on her now.
Not only was he whipping her harder and faster-he was concentrating his efforts mostly on those areas of her body where it hurt the most-on the flexure behind her knees, on the wrinkled pink soles of her feet, and, worst of all, on her ass-hole.
"I take it back-I'm sorry-I didn't mean to make fun of your ideas-" gasped Mary, desperate for some relief from the flogging she was getting from him.
"You don't think my ideas are so funny now, do you?" he laughed-but wonderfully, her plea had apparently touched him; he'd stopped whipping her.
"No-no-whatever you say, I'll listen to you-I just can't stand any more-"
"That's too bad," he laughed, "but I'm afraid you'll just have to stand some more, because I've got a brand new experience waiting for you-something that may make you wish I was whipping you once again."
Mary couldn't imagine anything on Earth that would make her wish he was whipping her again, but she wouldn't put anything past him. He was climbing up on the table behind her, apparently kneeling between her legs. This was apparently going to be the rape part-but she saw nothing unnatural about it; he was just going to go in from the back, that was all. Maybe the law actually forbade anything but face-to-face fucking, the laws on the subject were so screwy, and that's what they'd been talking about.
She could feel the big, hard tip of his cock sliding down the crease of her ass now. He was so excited that it was oozing juice, making the slide down easier and slicker. She didn't feel the least bit sexy after all he'd done to her, but she made an effort to relax and prepare herself for it, so she wouldn't have the pain of a dry fuck added to all the other tortures he'd already inflicted on her body.
Now the Whipper's cock was poised at the lip of her ass-hole-and Mary screamed as he pushed it straight in, into the forbidden passage into her behind.
"God damn it-you've got the wrong hole, you bastard-down further-aaaggh!-don't you know anything about it?" shrieked Mary, twisting and writhing as much as she could in her bonds, but unable to escape the hard penetration.
"I know what I'm doing, you slimy slut-do you think I'd put it in that filthy hole that's been traveled by so many other men?" grunted the Whipper, still shoving against the touch resistance of her unplumbed ass-hole.
Mary wouldn't have believed it possible that anything could have hurt her worse than the beating that her masked tormentor had already given her, but he was succeeding in hurting her even worse with this forced sodomy. Now, at least, she knew for sure what the newspapers had been talking about, but that was small consolation as she felt his cock ripping into her, like a red-hot poker up her ass.
"Please stop-oh, please stop it-you're splitting me in half up the middle," shrieked Mary, still fighting unsuccessfully against the intrusion of his oversized cock.
"It would serve you right if I did, you bitch," he gritted, pushing even harder and twisting this way and that in an effort to work all of his cock into her aching rectum. "You don't think this is any fun for me, either, do you? If it weren't painful I couldn't bring myself to touch your vile, perfumed flesh for one minute."
Mary sobbed, confronted once again with the frightful evidence that she'd fallen into the hands of a real maniac, someone she couldn't communicate with at all-she might just as well have been trying to get her ideas across to a man newly landed from Mars.
The Whipper looked down at the delicious sight before him and realized once again with dismay that he'd fallen victim to a woman's charms again, against his best efforts to maintain control over his lust. He wasn't doing this to hurt her-regardless of what he said, he realized that he was doing it for fun, that he'd just been carried away in the orgiastic frenzy of his flagellation until all his basest appetites had been aroused.
He stared down at his big cock, swollen even bigger and stiffer since he'd begun butt-fucking her, thrust in between the plump cheeks of her voluptuous ass, into the stretched rim of her ass-hole, where a slight trickle of blood had begun to ooze out-whether it was his blood or her blood, though, he couldn't say. He knew he had hurt her, but he'd been telling the truth when he'd told her that it was no picnic for him, either. He took some consolation from that-maybe he hadn't really succumbed to his basest appetites-but he wasn't entirely convinced.
Whatever the case, he still had a good six inches left out in the cold and he redoubled his efforts to drive them in deep and give her the reaming out she really deserved. He clutched her soft, white buttocks so hard with his hands that his fingernails drew blood, and Mary screamed at this brand new pain as he clawed her ass for a handhold that would allow him to drive his hot shaft all the way into her inmost depths.
"Stick it up, you bitch-stick up your ass so I can get at it," growled Mary's captor, wrenching her up tighter against him and still pushing with all his might.
Mary tried to go along with him now, realizing that she had no choice at all in the matter but to comply with his wishes. It seemed impossible that her sore ass could ever accommodate his big cock with comfort, but she believed that if she relaxed she might be able to minimize her pain. She hated to cooperate with him in any way, but she saw that refusing to do so might hurt her even more-so she made a conscious effort to relax her ass-hole, and that was all Jack the Whipper needed to slide every last inch of his swollen shaft inside.
"Ahhh," groaned the Whipper, "at last you're learning your lesson, I see-you must do as I say in all things, and we'll get along a lot better than we have been." Mary just groaned. Perhaps now was the time, when his mind was so preoccupied with his bestial sex act, to pull something clever on him-to pop some question at him that might make him slip up and give her a clue to his true identity-but Mary didn't feel the least bit clever at this point. All she could think of was the frightful pains lancing through her whole body from her violated rectum, and the only thing in her head was a blind, burning desire for revenge on the man who'd so tortured and humiliated her.
Once he'd reamed Mary out with the first intrusion of his big cock, it was easy for the Whipper to fuck her in the ass-perhaps the fact that the slide was lubricated with her blood, or with his, made it go faster, too, but at any rate he was soon humping away like mad, shuttling his tool in and out of her ass-hole at a furious rate as his clutching hands fumbled and clawed beneath her to play with her monumental boobs.
It was then that the most horrible part of the whole experience occurred for poor Mary. Up until now, her feelings of hatred and loathing and pain had been quite uncomplicated by any other feelings at all-they were directed against this monster with a single minded frenzy. But now-horribly, against her own will-she found herself becoming aroused, sexually, by this unprecedented violation of her body.
If there was one thing Mary loved to do, it was fuck, but up until now she'd always believed that she had to have some warm personal feelings for the person who was fucking her before she could really enjoy the sensation to its fullest degree. And now-with someone for whom her feelings were the exact opposite-she began to experience the tingling sensations of physical arousal coursing through her tormented body.
"Oh, God," she sobbed, unable to control her words, "I like it-I like it-do it, yeah, do it to me, fuck me in the ass, come on, faster, faster I -ah ! I'm coming!"
CHAPTER III
The Whipper was disgusted with himself as he washed up after his bloody bout of anal intercourse with the voluptuous Mary.
He was disgusted first of all because the unprecedented had happened-he'd given her pleasure. Some of the girls he'd raped that way hadn't felt any pain, because they'd allowed men to do the same thing to them so many times before, but none of them had actively enjoyed it-and Mary had not only enjoyed it, she'd achieved an orgasm. It was the first time in his life that Jack the Whipper had ever brought a woman to a climax sexually, and the idea shook him up.
But worst of all were his own feelings in the matter-her animal lusts had stirred up things in him that he didn't even know he'd had inside him, and now he trembled as he tried to shove down the thought of sampling the other charms that she'd used so often to lead other men astray-her lovely mouth, for instance, where she'd admitted that she'd let so many men penetrate her body, or even her cunt, where she'd no doubt lied when she'd said how few men she'd fucked.
The trouble was that these were more than just thoughts and feelings-for now, as he washed his cock at a basin on the side of the big basement, out of range of her eyesight, he found himself getting another big erection, just a few minutes after he'd pumped an unprecedented load of semen into her ass-hole.
The Whipper groaned, wringing his hands together, not knowing how to resolve his desperate moral struggle. If he gave up to his base feelings, lured to sample the corruptions of her body, all his work would have been in vain-but, on the other hand, maybe he ought to just allow himself a day off from the hard job of world purification and vengeance on the female sex and enjoy the pleasure of screwing the piss out of her. One wouldn't hurt, after he'd resisted so many temptations in the past.
Either way, his cock was getting bigger by the minute, and he didn't feel it was up to the job of penetrating the tight squeeze of her ass-hole again-she'd probably be just as tight as she'd been the first time, regardless of his efforts, and he'd cause himself some more pain. He decided to take up his second idea and just enjoy the temptations of her body. Maybe he could get even with her for making him succumb by whipping her extra hard before he let her go, or even by thinking up some brand new refinement of torture to perpetrate on her, just to let her know who the master was around here.
He went back to the table in haste and began undoing the cords that bound the beaten, bloody girl face down to the table in a spread-eagle position. Once again Mary felt the unbearable pain of circulation returning to her wrists and ankles, and once again she tried to take advantage of her temporary freedom to hit him or try to escape him, but once again she was just too weak to do anything-and now, after the psychological shock she'd just experienced by coming for this monster, she felt drained of the will to fight and she could only put up a slight resistance. He soon slapped it out of her.
"What do you-what are you doing--? " moaned Mary as he climbed up on the table on top of her, having shoved her over on her back.
"Give you what I know you want-what you're just dying to get from every man you see-what you beg for, with your advertising in your walk and your looks-"
"I don't want it! I want you to let me go-please," sobbed Mary.
"I'll let you go-but I plan to sample everything you have to offer me first, and perhaps give you a few extra things that you hadn't even planned on getting," he laughed.
Mary shivered with disgust. The papers of course hadn't gone into all the gory details of Jack the Whipper's previous rapes, but they'd never said anything about his raping his captives more than once. Apparently she was getting special treatment at his hands. She was disgusted with herself to think that there was something about herself that should cause her to be singled out for his slimy attentions.
It must have been her reaction to his anal rape, of course-perhaps no girl had ever reacted like that before to him, and it had turned him on. She didn't know why on Earth she'd reacted to it the way she had. If someone had suggested the idea to her, before, she would have found herself disgusted with it, she was sure. Perhaps she really had a strong, latent streak of masochism in her character, something she'd never even suspected could exist in her psychological makeup, that had made her respond to pain the way most girls responded to tenderness.
It was a frightening thought, and it made her hate the Whipper even more, for bringing out this shameful and unknown side of her personality. He really owed her something, now-if this idea continued to bother her, she'd have to go see a psychiatrist when she got out of this, to get her head on straight again, and it would all be the Whipper's fault.
Now the disgusting man was grabbing her buttocks, pulling her cunt up to meet his dripping cock-and this time, to her shame, it was loose and wet and receptive as he slid it down into her, sliding it into her and filling her up with ease. He groaned with lust and pleasure, and that made Mary feel even worse. She began sobbing again.
"Tears of happiness, no doubt," grunted the Whipper as he began fucking her vigorously. "I'm sure you're overjoyed that at last you're getting the one thing you think about all the time."
Mary wondered where he'd got his crazy, distorted ideas about women. Well, if she knew that, she'd know who he was. She was sure he could never have been married-unless he'd been married to some atrocious woman who'd been as bad in her own way as he was in his. She doubted that the marriage could have lasted long. More likely he was a shy, lonely bachelor, who got all his ideas out of dirty books. Maybe she could hang around the dirty book stores-but she gave up that idea. There were a great many of them near the bar where she worked, and they seemed to draw more people on most nights than the bar did. She'd never be able to recognize him-unless he spotted her, and started acting nervous, but that seemed a very slim chance to waste her time on.
"You fuck pretty good, for somebody who says he doesn't like it," Mary sighed in his ear, injecting a sexiness into her voice that she didn't feel.
"I didn't say I don't like it," gasped the
Whipper, reaming his big cock in and out of her at an even faster rate. "Like all mortals, I share in mortal weakness-I said it was wrong, that's all-wrong-ahhh-"
"Don't you have a wife or a girl friend, or somebody like that, who told you it wasn't wrong?"
"God, no. Do you think I'm as evil as you are? I attempt every day to purge myself of the fires of lust that rage in me, stirred up by the sight of creatures like you."
"How? By whacking off?"
"You fiend! How did you guess? But I should know that no vileness is alien to you. Yes, to my eternal shame, I have to submit-but only to remove from myself the lusts that are aroused by your sort."
"Well, if you're going to do it anyway, you might just as well do it with a girl. Doesn't this feel a whole lot better than jerking off?"
The Whipper said nothing, but from the grimace of almost painful pleasure that twisted his thin lips as he ground his hips around to rub down every inch of her cunt with his cock, Mary knew that he was probably thinking the very same thing at the moment.
As a matter-of-fact, he was doing it to her, once again, even though she tried to resist the pleasure that she didn't want to feel. Now that his huge prick was stuffed all the way inside her cunt, his balls pressing against her sore ass-hole, she began to feel even warmer glows of pleasure flooding through her body. She lifted her lithe legs to enfold his body, and began grinding her ass around in an effort to syncopate his rhythm.
The Whipper shuddered with distaste as he realized how much pleasure he was giving her. If only he could have done what he wanted without satisfying her base and bestial lusts as well-but he didn't see how. It pained him terribly, though, and he resolved to pain her terribly in return for what he was feeling-with his whip.
He'd driven Mary up to the crest of another orgasm, now, he could see, and she was moaning with gratified lust as her whole body stiffened, then went limp, then stiffened once more under the rapid-fire plunges of his hard-driving cock. Even as he cursed her for making him do this to her, he felt the hot load from his balls surging up and flying headlong down the electrified path of his prick to spatter inside her cunt.
"Take it in your mouth now, bitch," grunted the Whipper, slipping his slimy cock out of her pussy, "I want you to give me everything."
By now, Mary couldn't have resisted. Jack the Whipper had exerted some unholy power over her, and whatever he wanted her to do was what she passionately desired. She hated herself for it, but that was the way it was: there was nothing she could do about it. Almost eagerly she sat up and leaned forward until her lips were close to the limp organ. It was limp, but it hadn't lost any of its phenomenal size, she saw, as she lifted it to her mouth with her fingertips.
Jack the Whipper's mind swam as he looked down and saw the lovely blonde studying his big cock with passionate attention, stroking her fingers down its wet length and reaching under to tickle his balls. No woman had ever blown him before, although he'd experienced the situation in his dreams thousands of times-only to wake up with a load of cold come in his pajamas, and a sickening sense that he'd betrayed the high standards he adhered to in his waking thoughts. But now he'd flung his high standards aside, and nothing mattered but the beautiful girl leaning forward with her full, red lips puckered just inches from the tip of his prick.
"Suck-come on, suck it," he groaned.
Mary complied. She pressed her lips down on the fat head of his huge phallus and sucked in just as much as she could possibly take, until her nose was nuzzling in his public hair. She lolled her tongue all over its surface, and she was happy to feel it give a sluggish little stir of lust as she went to work with her practiced lips and tongue.
Against his will, he found himself stroking the smooth, sweating curves of her back, sliding his hands underneath to fondle her big breasts and squeeze her nipples with his fingertips until he felt them shrivel and harden with lust. As her lust mounted, so did his, and now he could feel his prick swelling and beginning to stiffen inside the moist clutch of flesh as she sucked him and licked him and began pumping the red ring of soft flesh that was her lips up and down on his prick.
Jack the Whipper's cock had swollen to its full size, now, and Mary could no longer squeeze all of it into her talented mouth. She pressed her lips halfway down the shaft but being so big that even that was quite an achievement: the pliant head was nudging down into her throat as she worked it over.
Mary reached down to cup his big, hairy balls in her hand, tickling the pebbly surface with her fingertips until they began to shrivel and tighten around the nuts inside. The Whipper, meanwhile, was giving Mary a thrill by shoving his forefinger in and out of her hot cunt, lashing the juices to a sizzling foam that spattered out onto her thighs.
The Whipper realized that he was betraying all of his principles by trying to give pleasure to Mary, but he couldn't help himself, she was doing such wonderful work on his cock. He shoved a second finger into her cunt, and found that she could accommodate both of them with ease. She gave them a little squeeze with her slithery flesh and wiggled her ass around to show how much she liked the fingerfucking he was giving her.
What he was doing gave Mary an idea, and she giggled around her hot mouthful of meat as she wondered what he'd think of it. She didn't hesitate, though, but slid her hand beneath his balls and shoved her finger right into his ass-hole, shoving it in just as deeply as she possibly could and wiggling it around inside.
"What-what are you doing to me, you slut?" cried the Whipper, squirming around in an effort to get away from the unwelcome intrusion-but if he squirmed too much, he'd break the contact of his tingling cock with her mouth, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Mary shoved even deeper, and then began to duplicate on his ass-hole the work he was doing on her cunt with his flailing fingers, simulating a butt-fuck on her tormentor. It wasn't much, but in some small way she felt that she was getting back at him for what he'd done to her, and it pleased her to know that she'd got him at least partially in her power with the talent of her expert mouth. Perhaps she could even go further-perhaps, somehow, she could .get the upper hand and reverse their roles-the idea gave her such a tingle of pleasure that she shocked herself: she'd never thought before that she could get a sexual charge out of beating a man, but the thought of whipping this cruel person and giving him a dose of his own medicine gave her a positive sexual charge. She wondered how she could go about doing it.
The Whipper had a first objected to Mary's intrusion into his ass with her wiggling finger, but it wasn't long before his feelings in the matter changed. For some strange reason, what she was doing began to become pleasurable, began to blend with the electrical tingles of excitement that were coursing through his cock from the moist pressure of her pumping mouth and magnify them. He'd thought that his prick was swollen to the limit, but suddenly it surged up to a brand new height of thickness and rigidity-and the reason was the work she was doing on his ass-hole.
He found now that he could squeeze three fingers inside Mary's cunt, and she gasped with pleasure as he fit them in and began pumping all three of them in and out, flailing his wrist to a furious tempo. She tried the same trick on him, squeezing a second finger up his ass, and the Whipper at first stiffened up and tried to evade her, but before long he'd relaxed and was letting her get on with her digital sodomy.
He'd thought that he could go on fucking Mary in the mouth for a long time, after coming twice already, but unexpectedly he felt the agonizing tension of a third orgasm building up to a crucial point in his cock and his balls.
"God-that's it-that's it-suck it-suck my cock harder-give it the works!" screamed the Whipper, writhing his hips around to syncopate the fingerfucking that Mary was doing and to give his prick an added massage in the clasping flesh of her lovely mouth.
Mary needed no encouragement. He'd turned her on so thoroughly with the vigorous massage of his fingers in her clutching cunt that she was desperate to suck him off, and her eagerness frightened him a bit, even in the midst of the delights he was experiencing, with the wild hunger and near ferocity of it. She seemed desperate to slurp every inch of his prick into her mouth, and she seemed to be on the verge of succeeding just as it exploded with the force of a fire-hose, blasting hot jets of semen into Mary's mouth. She sucked them and swallowed them greedily.
Mary was amazed at the vitality of his balls. She thought he'd never stop spurting the sticky semen down her throat, and, considering that he'd come twice already, the performance was phenomenal. Eventually he did stop coming, though, and this time he slumped back on the table, drained physically and emotionally by the strange new experience of actually making love to a woman.
Mary was in a wild state of sexual excitement, however. He'd driven her right up to the brink of another climax with his fingerfucking, but as soon as he'd taken his pleasure in her mouth he'd forgotten all about continuing-but he'd also forgotten all about tying her up again, and Mary looked around wildly for an exit. She might be able to slip off the table and make a dash for it on her bare feet if she could only discover which way she ought to run.
Then a new thought struck her as she glanced at him covertly. He was lying back with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, in a sort of daze of total sexual gratification that might even merge into sleep. If she could find some way of tying him down quickly, before he realized what she was up to, she might be able to give him a real dose of his own medicine. Once again, the thought gave her an unprecedented sexual thrill that merged with the excitement she already felt and drove it even higher. She'd never suspected herself of being a sadist, but she couldn't doubt the evidence of her own senses.
Silently as possible, she slipped off the table, glancing back at her captor to make certain that he wasn't observing her. She was sure that he'd fallen asleep, now-and he'd regret this little catnap for the rest of his life, she'd make sure of that.
She padded across the big room on her bare feet and found just what she wanted-a rack of torture implements-whips, chains, thumbscrews, all sorts of devices for inflicting pain-and among them a pair of handcuffs. She took the manacles and returned quickly to the table, where she quickly snapped one over each wrist.
"What the hell?" he cried, coming instantly awake as the steel pinched the flesh of his wrist.
"The shoe is on the other foot, Mr. Jack the Whipper-or you might say the whip is in the other hand!" cried Mary, pulling his own whip back over her shoulder and beginning to flog him with the same zeal he'd displayed in whipping her lovely flesh.
CHAPTER IV
Mary squatted over the Whipper's face and slowly lowered her hot, dripping cunt down his mouth, stifling the screams of protest he was giving vent to at the thought of this frightful act.
"Eat my cunt, you bastard," she snapped, rubbing it all over the exposed part of his face and smearing his lips and chin with her odorous juices, "eat me out, you miserable creep, and if you don't do a damned good job of it, if you don't give me just the kind of cunt-licking I groove on, I'm going to turn your ass into hamburger with that whip of yours."
Mary sweated with lust as she pumped her swollen clitoris up and down, backward and forward, from side to side on Jack the Whipper's mouth. The sexual reek of her steaming pussy was almost overpowering, and the Whipper gagged as he struggled not to be sick. He'd never in his life imagined doing a thing like this to a woman-he'd never thought that a woman would ever give him the kind of treatment he gave them-but it had happened, and there was nothing he could do about it but go along with her wishes and try to please her with his inexperienced brand of cunnilingus.
"Suck harder, you worm," she said, slicing her fingernails into the flesh of his belly.
The Whipper did as he was told and sucked harder against the hot, pink jelly that Mary was swabbing his lips with. He'd tried to overpower her, even with his handcuffs, but Mary had used the whip with such force and enthusiasm that he hadn't been able to get near her. And when at last she'd whipped him into a quivering bundle of bleeding flesh on the floor, she'd forced him to the table and chained him down in the same spread-eagled position that he'd chained her after he'd drugged her and brought her here.
Now the worst humiliation of all was happening-despite the feelings of disgust he told himself that he ought to be feeling, his cock was stirring up, lifting from his thigh and getting hard once again. Mary laughed as she watched the progress of his sluggish erection.
"I bet you'd like another blowjob, wouldn't you?" laughed Mary, and the Whipper groaned with frustration and lust as his cock sprang up another notch. "Well, I wouldn't suck you off if you were the last man on Earth, you motherfucking bastard-I'm just going to tease you and torture you until you just can't stand it, but you're not going to get any satisfaction from me except the pleasure of eating my pussy. So eat it-suck harder, pig!"
The Whipper pulled just as much of her pasty, hairy cunt as he possibly could into his mouth, thrusting his rigid tongue as deeply as he could into the hot, wet hole: he knew she'd carry out her threat to whip him again, and he couldn't stand the thought of it-he'd found that, as much as he liked to inflict pain, he couldn't take it when it was being inflicted on him, and the last time he'd been screaming and groveling before her in a way that made him hate himself before she was through.
Mary's hot clitoris was getting thicker, and the juice was oozing out of her hole in a hot flood now as she grunted and wiggled and squirmed and smeared her pussy around on the Whipper's lips. It gave her a tremendous thrill to subjugate him like this, and she couldn't remember when she'd enjoyed having her cunt eaten more.
The Whipper couldn't breathe. She was engulfing him with her hair pie-smothering him. He tried desperately to push her ass up so he could get some air.
Mary let him push her up just a little bit-and then she laughed as she cut a long and smelly fart, right against his nose. "There's some air for you to breathe, mother-fucker-it's the kind you deserve," she laughed, pushing her cunt down on his mouth once again.
Abruptly, Mary's body stiffened. Her clit was as rigid as a little bone, and the Whipper outdid all of his previous efforts to eat her as he sucked on it and flailed it with his flickering tongue-and then it began to go limp as she collapsed on his body, wallowing in the pleasure of his orgasm.
When Mary at last came out of her lustful daze, she saw that the Whipper's big prick was swollen and thick and rigid, red with lust. Crystal fluid oozed out of the purplish-pink cone and slid down the shaft to make the whole thing glisten. She laughed as she flicked her tongue around on it, just once, and he groaned with frustrated lust and anger and writhed around in an effort to stick it all the way between her lips and fuck her in the mouth once again. Mary managed to evade his efforts and began peeling his foreskin up and down in a slow, rhythmic motion.
"You want me to keep on doing this, lover? You want me to jerk you off?" she asked.
"Yes-yes-anything," gasped the Whipper.
"Then open your mouth."
The Whipper responded. He had no idea what she had in mind, but suddenly he was gagging on a hot, golden stream of piss that was gushing out of her cunt to flood his mouth. She raised her cunt from his mouth and wiggled it over his face, squirting her hot piss all over his eyes, his nose, then back into his mouth. There just seemed to be no end to it. She always seemed to be able to squeeze out another spurt just when he thought that she'd finished for good.
'I m glad I could give you all of that, laughed Mary. "That's what you get for tying a girl down and not letting her go to the bathroom. It's a shame I don't feel like taking a shit, as well."
The Whipper shuddered, and was about to protest, but she pushed her cunt down on his face again, locking his head with her voluptuous white thighs. She decided she'd keep his face there for a long, long time, making him lick her when she felt like it, pissing on him when she felt the urge, but never once taking her smelly muff away from his mouth.
Mary had stopped jerking him off, knowing she'd brought him right up to the point of an orgasm before she'd desisted, and now she teased him by breathing on his cock, and the humid currents of air sliding up and down the hot flesh as she blew on it was an agonizing torment to him.
Now Mary shifted her body upward slightly, moving her crotch until her ass-hole was pressing against his lips.
"I want you to lick my ass-hole for me now-and you'd better do a good job of it, if you know what's good for you."
The Whipper shuddered with disgust, but he did as she'd told him to do, running his tongue around the inflamed hole that he'd violated with his cock. The thought of doing that to her again made him desperate with lust, but he doubted that she'd give him any such satisfaction. He drew only one consolation from this whole business-she hadn't taken off his hood or forced him to reveal his true identity. Perhaps she wouldn't think of it-he hoped desperately that she wouldn't think of it.
"Now, stick your tongue inside and wiggle it around," said Mary.
As the Whipper complied with her lascivious command, Mary began running her fingertips lightly up and down the tormented, stretched skin of his big cock. She seemed to have a genius for sensing just how far she could go with her teasing efforts. When he knew that one more light brush of her teasing fingers would send him off like a skyrocket, she'd stop touching him. His frustration had mounted to the point where his balls ached with the bloating of the monstrous load that was just itching to shoot out.
"That's not deep enough, pig-get your tongue in there," snapped Mary, digging her fingernails into his balls until he screamed.
The Whipper made a rigid roll of his tongue and stuck it deep into her ass, thrusting it in and out, while she sighed with pleasure. A river of sweat streamed down the crease of her big buttocks to drop onto his nose.
"Aw, you stink," cried Mary. "You just don't know how to eat an ass-hole-you're afraid to suck on it. I think you need some real discipline to shape you up."
The Whipper shuddered and closed his eyes as Mary pulled her big ass away from his face. He dreaded the thought of what she might do to him next. He knew that she was as enthusiastic about the fine arts of torture as he was, now that she'd got turned on to the pleasure of giving pain.
Mary stood up on the table over him, sweaty and red from her exertions, and fingered her cunt tantalizingly above him. She spread her thick cunt-lips, laughing at him as he strained to look up into the hot, red hole he lusted for, getting splashed in the face with the trickle of juice that was once more beginning to flow as Mary's excitement began to build up once again.
"You'd really like to get your prick in there, wouldn't you?" laughed Mary. "But I wouldn't let you put your prick into my cunt on a bet, you miserable cocksucker!"
She gave the Whipper a good, swift kick in the chin, and realized he wasn't very badly hurt by her bare foot. She'd noticed quite a collection of boots over by the rack of torture instruments, and she wondered if she could find a pair to fit her, so that she could do some real damage the next time the spirit moved her to kick him. She found just what she wanted: the papers had said that Jack the Whipper sometimes forced his victims to dress up in weird costumes to gratify some special lust, and she found a high, glossy pair of black boots with long, spike heels that just molded themselves to her feet and calves. Now she could really kick him.
She returned to the table and unsnapped the shackles she'd put on his ankles from the table. His hopes that she planned co free him were short-lived, though, because now she didn't unshackle his hands, but began lifting his legs and pushed them back toward his head. She pushed them so far back that the Whipper felt she was going to break his back, but still she pushed, and a cry of desperate anguish was wrenched up from his guts as she folded them back to the point where the agony was absolute.
"You said you wanted a blowjob, so I'm going to oblige you, and let you give yourself one," said Mary, shackling down his ankles so that his knees rested on either side of his head and his own erect cock was pointed at his mouth, just a few inches away from it.
Mary went back to the rack of equipment and found some stout rope. She returned and tied it around the Whipper's neck, pulling his head up with it until his own hard cock was thrust right into his mouth, then securing the other end to the table.
Mary had done her work with the rope quite skillfully. If the Whipper tried to ease the pressure on his neck or change his unbearable position, it would strangle him. Each and every muscle in his body trembled with the ache of the frightful position, and the taste of his own cock in his mouth made him sick with shame.
Jack the Whipper was rolled into a tortured ball, Mary saw as she wiped the sweat from her brow and surveyed her clever work. The cheeks of his ass were spread by the angle of his" knees, and his ass-hole was the highest point of his contorted body. She laughed as a positive inspiration struck her; she was certainly glad that she'd thought to put on those boots!
She climbed onto the big table above him and pressed down the long, spiked heel of one of her boots on the purplish-pink rim of his ass-hole. She heard a muffled sound from the Whipper that was probably a scream of protest, or a plea for mercy, but she didn't hesitate for a minute as she pushed the heel of her boot into his ass, deeper and deeper.
"Nbw you know what it felt like to all those poor women, when you stuck your dirty cock into their ass-holes," said Mary, twisting her heel savagely, this way and that, into her tortured rectum. "I'm going to pay you back for me and for all the rest of them, before I'm through-and if you ever dare pull your stunts with any other women, I'll come and give you more of your own medicine."
Jack felt that his spine was in danger of being broken at any second as Mary began to pump her knee up and down to fuck him in the ass with her spiked heel. Her downward thrusts became more and more vigorous as her leather heel burrowed deeper into his rectum-and now the shoving of her boot against his ass was pushing his cock in and out of his mouth, and he felt himself trembling on the edge of an orgasm that would splash his own seed into his throat. He retched with disgust, and nearly succeeded in slipping his swollen sex organ out of his mouth, at the expense of nearly strangling himself.
"What's this? You said you wanted a blowjob, you mother-fucker, so you'd better enjoy it," snarled Mary, giving the rope around his neck a vicious twist that forced him to slip his prick back between his lips. "Suck it up, you bastard, get your cock in there and suck on it, real hard, the way you wanted me to do it-you're the fucking expert who tells women how to give blowjobs, so now let's see how good you are at it."
Mary's leg was pumping like a piston now as she tore his ass-hole with the heel of her boot. He could feel the hot blood trickling in his crotch as she tore the delicate membranes of his rectum, and the blood only served to lubricate her heel and allow her the pleasure of fucking him even faster and more vigorously than before.
Just as Jack's cock was tingling unbearably, its load quivering on the fine edge of ejaculation, Mary once again demonstrated her remarkable ability to judge how far she'd driven him by stopping for a breather. She rubbed her supple, shapely leg, tired from its exertions, and then when the Whipper thought she might be about to desist from this horrible torture, she shoved the heel of her other boot into his ass and started all over again, but this time with renewed frenzy, as if she'd caught her second wind.
"After all this work, I feel like having my cunt eaten again, honey," yelled Mary. "I hope you're up to the job-because if you're not, I've got a few little tortures I'd like to try out on you-like maybe I could dry off some of that messy old blood on your ass with a blowtorch."
The Whipper shivered. After this performance, he believed this madwoman was capable of anything, and he had no doubt that she meant to carry out her threat if he failed to perform to her satisfaction. But now he had other problems, because as soon as she'd shoved her other heel into his ass, Jack began to feel the tingles in his cock and balls building right back up to the point of no return-right back where he'd been before, right on the edge of ejaculation-and he struggled to hold back this obscene thing from happening.
It was a gallant but futile attempt on the Whipper's part. He tried desperately to hold himself back, but there was just no stopping it. In the next moment his prick, teased and tortured for hours by Mary's expert caresses and tonguings, went off in his mouth like a skyrocket, spouting sizzling juice into him and pumping as if it never meant to quit.
"Good to the last drop, honey-and you better swallow every last fucking drop, then start sucking for more, or else I'll go out in the street and sell tickets to fairies, so they can come in here and teach you how to throw a blowjob-maybe thirty or forty of them. It would compensate me for my time, at least," said Mary, as she saw the scum running creamily over his lips. She underlined her words by giving her heel a really vicious twist in his ass.
The Whipper was horrified by her words: his hatred of women was exceeded only by his fear of homosexuality. He sucked and slurped like mad and tried to make it seem that he was enjoying it, not wanting her to even entertain the thought of carrying out her horrible threat.
Mary stopped buggering Jack with her boots as soon as he'd stopped coming. She sighed with satisfaction and wiped off her bloody heels with a cloth before undoing the painful rope around his neck and the shackles that bound his legs down to the table.
Getting himself out of his contorted, painful position was even harder for him than getting into it had been, and Jack the Whipper shrieked with agony as his tormented bones and muscles wrenched themselves painfully back into their proper shape.
"Gee, I didn't hurt you, did I?" crooned Mary, tickling her victim under the chin.
"You fiend from hell," hissed the Whipper.
"How about a nice piece of ass, to make up for all the nasty things I did to you?" asked Mary, stroking her way down to his limp cock and flapping it from side to side.
"You witch-I can't, now-you--. " The Whipper closed his eyes with shame. He wanted a piece of ass, as she so crudely put it, wanted it from her worse than anything he'd ever wanted before, and his hunger made him sick of himself-but he felt even worse about the fact that he couldn't do anything about it at all. That blowjob he'd given himself had just wrenched all the coming out of his balls that there was in them, and now not even Mary's talented, maddening touch could get a rise out of it, not even when she bent over and sucked it into her wonderful mouth. His humiliation was twofold, and it was complete: he betrayed all his noble principles by wanting her, and his body betrayed him by being unable to participate in the betrayal.
"Well," said Mary, "I at least like to know what a man looks like when he turns me down on the offer of a nice, juicy fuck."
"No," cried the Whipper, "NO! Don't do it-I'll give you anything-I'll-"
"You'll go take a shit in your hat, you silly cocksucker," said Mary, continuing to peel his hood up over his face.
She was shocked at what she saw. He was quite handsome in a cruel, thin-lipped way, and the scar running down the side of his temple didn't detract from his looks. But what shocked her was the fact that she knew him-at least recognized him, from newspaper photos. It was none other than Major Alan D. Rider, the noted author and lecturer on sex education. To think that a man with his fame and his position should be Jack the Whipper-but even worse, to think that a kinky sex-freak should have the audacity to teach other people about sex-it was just beyond belief.
"Oh, brother," sighed Mary. "Have I got the goods on you, honey."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that I could squeeze every nickel you've got out of you with blackmail, or else ruin your career by exposing you," said Mary.
The Whipper laughed. "You don't scare me," he said.
"I don't see why not. When the world learns that Jack the Whipper is really Major Alan D. Rider-"
"Who's he?" the Whipper asked, a blank puzzled look in his eyes, "I'm Jack the Whipper, purifier of womanhood and avenger of men, sent directly to Earth and fully grown from heaven to do the Lord's work. I never heard of that other guy."
Mary looked down at him, baffled-and then realized that he was telling the truth, or what he thought was the truth. He was insane, the victim of a split personality. Perhaps she should go to her psychiatrist friend, Dr. Leo F. Mooney, and ask for his advice in this matter-but suddenly she had a better idea, a much better idea.
"I'll tell you what, Jack-since you don't know who you are, you can't very well be frightened by blackmail-but I guarantee you, if you ever pull one of your stunts with women again, I'll come after you and give you some more of this treatment-I guarantee it."
"Not that-anything but that-" sobbed the Whipper.
"Just that," said Mary.
It took Mary some time, rummaging around the huge basement, before she came across her clothes-and the chloroform he used on his victims. She used the chloroform to knock him out, then unlocked his fetters. Then she got dressed-all except for her shoes. She'd decided to keep the pair of boots she'd found among the Whipper's paraphernalia. They might come in handy sometime in the future, she thought.
CHAPTER V
Major Alan D. Rider made a habit of drinking twenty ounces of wine every night to ease the tensions of his hard daily round of lecturing and writing in order to cultivate the proper attitudes toward sex in a misguided population who thought of it as dirty. After the twentieth ounce, he became Jack the Whipper, but he didn't know it: he'd always thought he'd passed out.
The Whipper had been going through the tortures of the damned for the past several weeks. There were all those women out there who needed to be whipped-who needed a good beating to knock all the nonsense about kissing and hugging out of them-who needed to be taught that their strutting and posing, their paint and their perfume were the causes of all the evil in the world-and he'd been sent here to do it. But he was unworthy of his task, because all his thoughts were filled with images of the lovely Mary Box, and all he could do was think about her and jerk off. She was beyond help, of course, but all those other women needed his attentions.
He was afraid to strike though, afraid that Mary might make good her threat, and find him, and do to him the horrible things she'd hinted at.
He still went out and patrolled the streets, though, especially the block where all the topless joints and dirty book stores were clustered in the city, constantly seeing women who just cried out for his attentions. He'd even gone a few times to the bar where Mary worked, not knowing it, and not seeing her-Mary had decided to take a few weeks off to let her wounds and bruises heal before she again took to the runway of the Puss 'N' Boots, as the bistro where she worked was called.
Then, one night, he was given a jolting reminder of her existence; he was in the men's room of one of those places, jotting down the graffiti for his documentation of human foibles when her name struck him like a fist from a poem someone had written on the wall:
I knew a girl named Mary Box Her ass was white as snow; She really loved to suck big cocks, My God, but that girl could blow!
Jack the Whipper staggered out into the bar, hardly knowing where he went, not noticing shamelessly topless temptress who was strutting her stuff on the bar, not noticing the barker at the door who was selling buttons that, at first glance, seemed to be inscribed in Hebrew script, but which, on closer examination, proved to read "FUCK YOU" in wiggly letters-he saw nothing as he staggered up the street, driven to distraction by thoughts of the girl he needed and wanted so desperately. Maybe he ought to get her and whip her into shape-but no, that was just a cop-out: he didn't want to whip her-not too much, anyway-he wanted to fuck her, he wanted to fuck her in the mouth, too, he wanted-he wanted everything, and he'd be yielding once again to his basest temptations if he kidded himself into thinking that he was doing it in order to make her repent.
He had to make somebody repent, though. He was just dying to find some fallen women and knock the shit out of them, now, to send some hooker to salvation on the end of his whip. He couldn't hold back any longer-but then he remembered Mary Box's threat. He tore his hair and fell down, foaming at the mouth.
"What's the matter, honey?" a woman's voice said.
Jack the Whipper got control of himself with a violent effort. He looked up from the gutter and saw a shapely pair of ankles, sheathed in black mesh stockings. He looked higher, up her well-turned calves, her dimpled ankles, her full thighs-and, just as he was beginning to wonder whether she had anything on at all besides the stockings, he saw a skin-tight pair of shorts, tight as a coat of red paint, over the kind of ample hips he loved. He looked up further. She was apparently wearing a black mesh body stocking, and he could clearly see the white flesh of her big tits through the mesh. It was a positively shameless outfit, and he quivered with stifled outrage.
The woman had very long, straight, red hair, with a kind of inner, shimmering gleam to it. Her face was lovely, with full lips and smoldering, slightly tipped green eyes. She was a walking advertisement for all the filth and vileness of womanhood, in Jack the Whipper's eyes.
"I-nothing. I seem to have fainted."
"Poor baby. Why don't you come up to my place and see if I can't do something to make you feel better?"
"Your place? Yes-I think that might be a good idea."
"It'll cost you, honey," she said.
"How much?" the Whipper asked, tightly controlling the cold fury that rose in him as he realized that he was dealing with the embodiment of all female evil, a whore.
"A hundred dollars."
"That's pretty steep."
"Well, most anybody can afford a Volkswagen, but people still buy Cadillacs-maybe because of the available options," she said, so close now that her big tit was rubbing against his arm.
The Whipper could barely control himself, now. He was itching to whip this scarlet woman into repentance. He couldn't even bring himself to use the chloroform. He'd take her straight to his secret hideout and start working her over immediately.
"A hundred it is-but we'll go to my place, all right?" he said.
"Suit yourself, honey," she said, taking his arm.
The girl was slightly put off when he led her down the dank stone steps to the basement he used to torture his victims, but he laughed off her qualms and told her it was the only place large enough to suit him and his ideas of how an apartment should be designed. Once inside, though, she seemed startled that he locked the door before turning on the light.
"Hey, I'd like to get a look at this place," she said, her suspicions aroused by the musty odor of the old cellar. "Whyncha turn on a light?"
"All things in due time, my dear," said the Whipper, who was hastily removing his street clothes and donning the hood, boots and cape that were his trademark. "What's your name?"
"Joy," said the redhead. "Joy Bang. What's yours?"
"My name," he said, pausing to give vent to a maniacal laugh as he pulled the light switch and revealed himself in his familiar costume, "is Jack the Whipper!"
Joy screamed and turned back to the door, but she was confronted with a baffling array of police locks, chain locks, bars, bolts and padlocks-she didn't know where to begin, and now the Whipper was already upon her, grabbing her about the waist and ripping the black mesh body stocking away from her lovely white shoulders. He rummaged through the rubbery flesh of her tits with his hungry hands.
All the Whipper's pent-up frustration from the past few tormenting weeks were venting themselves on poor Joy Bang, and he seemed to her to have the strength of ten men. He tore away her crimson hot-pants, ripped off the last shreds of her body stocking, and then turned her around and tied her hands behind her back with a piece of stout cord.
"Not so tight-please, not so tight-you're hurting me," groaned Joy.
"I'll make you eat those words-" began the Whipper, but that word "eat"-the vile connotation it had had when Mary Box had used it-the taste of Mary's cunt-a cold chill went through Jack's body.
Jack felt something rubbing against the rosy moons of Joy's sensuous ass-and suddenly realized that it was nothing less than his own cock, stiff and erect. This was unprecedented. He usually didn't succeed in getting an erection until he'd whipped a girl for at least an hour, but here he was, getting a hard on from his first physical contact with the nude girl. He moved closer, to nuzzle his red, swollen love-gun down the deep crease of the redhead's ass-and shuddered as he realized that he was giving way to her evil charms, just as he'd done with Mary Box, succumbing to the turbulent lusts that stormed through his body, which had to be exorcised by whipping the wicked creatures who aroused them.
He looked down at the big, shapely hemispheres of Joy's ass, just the kind of firm but fleshy ass he liked, just like Mary's ass, only hers was a bit bigger-he closed his eyes, shaking his head, striving for self-control and an end to these lascivious thoughts-and now all he could think about was the second stanza of that obscene poem he'd seen on the wall of the men's room-Say I'm wicked, say I'm bad, Say that life is out to screw me-Say I'm growing old, but add, Mary blew me.
Jack could control himself no longer. He pushed Joy down to her knees on the rough cement floor, and without a single bit of further preparation or warning, he rammed his cock into her pussy and began screwing her in a maniacal frenzy of lust.
"Stop it-oh, God, stop it, you're ripping me up!" shrieked Joy, whose cunt was cold and unready for the intrusion of the Whipper's gigantic organ.
"Shut up, you stupid cunt!" grunted Jack, shocking himself with his own vile language. It must be the bad influence of Mary Box-or perhaps it was the influence of the dirty poem, confirming his belief that pornography degrades one's standards-but whatever the reason, Jack the Whipper had never used bad words before. But he didn't stop to think about his lapse. He grunted with lust as he jammed his phallus in and out of her, and now she was loosening up, growing moist, and he could feel every inch of her slithery cunt-flesh pulsing and oozing around his prick.
Joy was moaning with pain and shame by the time Jack's cock went off, hosing down her twat with hot blasts of come, but as he pulled it out of her at last, she had the presence of mind to say, "So okay, now where's my hundred dollars, you son of a bitch?"
"Do you think I mean to pay you? Why, you ignorant strumpet-I plan to make you atone for your sins, to purify you, to avenge mankind for-"
"What you said you was going to do, mother-fucker, was pay me a hundred bucks for a piece of ass. Now, if you want to dress in a crazy clown suit while you're doing it and rip my clothes off-which you ought to pay for as well, now that I think of it, so we'll say a hundred and a half-that's okay with me, but just cough up the bread, honey."
Jack was aghast. He realized that his image was in danger of being destroyed. If it came out that he'd just picked up a whore off the street and fucked her without paying for it-why, people would say he was no better than some common rapist. They'd lose faith in his crusade.
But a new problem had arisen-or, more properly, had failed to go down. His cock, slimy with blood and pussy-juice, was still as hard as ever, hungry and itching to fuck. Jack shrugged. He couldn't concentrate on all these niceties of morality and public relations until he'd really gotten his rocks off with the voluptuous redhead. He shoved his mammoth sex-club into her tight, hot ass-hole.
"No -not that-I've never done that-aghh!" screamed Joy.
"Just think of it like I'm expanding your business, slut," growled Jack. "Now you'll have two cunts to sell, because once I get through with you, you'll be able to get anybody's cock up your ass."
There was no question about it: Jack's high standards had been seriously eroded since his contact with the insidious Mary. Now he was not only using bad language but making bad jokes about her filthy profession. He'd have to see Mary once again. If he could only get the upper hand with her, give her the beating she deserved, then he was certain that he'd be his old self again. He was sure it was not merely a justification for the temptation he felt to see her-to fuck her-to-Jack struggled to put Mary Box out of his mind, but that didn't help much: he was still buggering Joy Bang.
Joy had broken out in a cold sweat of agony and was sobbing bitterly at the pain of his relentless, searing thrust. It was no picnic for Jack, either, but at least this time-the first time in the course of all his anal rapes-his cock was all slickered up from its prior intrusion into her cunt. The pain this time was far outweighted by the pleasure, and all he could really feel was the squeeze of her tight, hot ass-hole, driving all sorts of tingling sensations from his cock through his whole body.
It took the Whipper slightly longer to corn-hole the voluptuous redhead than it had taken him to fuck her, but soon it was happening again-his cock erupted like a geyser, and it seemed that the load of steaming come he was jetting into her ass-hole was an even bigger flood than the one he'd spurted into her pussy-and now, incredibly, when he pulled out he was still itching for more.
"Now we'll see what kind of a blowjob you can throw, honey-and if you don't do it as well as Mary Box does it-if-"
"Who?"
"Nothing. A slip of the tongue-forgive me."
"I'll think about forgiving you when I see my hundred and fifty bucks, and if you think
I'm going to blow you without I see some bread, then you can go and give yourself some multidigital autosodomy," snapped Joy, twisting around on her knees to face her abductor. "Now untie me, buster, and fork over, or I'm going to-mmmfff!"
Joy's words were smothered as Jack grabbed her by two handfuls of her shimmering red hair and shoved his cock in between her full lips. Joy groaned. For all her bold words, she knew that she had no choice but to suck him off. She was one pulsing, searing pain below her waist from the buggering and screwing that this frightful man had inflicted on her. She knew she wouldn't be able to work for a week, at least, after this. She should have charged him a thousand.
She'd never met a man with a cock like this-not only its size, but also the fact that it never seemed to get limp, no matter how many times he came. If he were a little more gentlemanly about the whole thing, it might be a hell of a lot of fun to make it with him-but he had to be brutal and turn her off. She'd get some of her friends to give him a short but exhilarating trip to the bottom of Chesapeake Bay with an engine block tied to his ass if she ever got out of this alive. They'd be able to find him, even if the cops couldn't.
Blowing him didn't hurt, at least, but he soon remedied that by pinching her nipples until she squirmed with pain, snarling, "Come on, you slut, Mary can do it a lot better than that-lick it, use your tongue, and suck harder!"
Joy didn't know who the hell this Mary was that he kept jabbering about, but at last he'd succeeded in touching her professional pride: the day hadn't come yet when anyone could claim to throw a better blowjob than Joy Bang. She used every trick in her book, tracing the outlines of the head and shaft with her tongue, caressing it with her lips, pulling in the sides of her cheeks to surround all of the big organ with moist flesh that squirmed and writhed and pumped around the sensitive skin of his cock.
The Whipper gasped. She was better than Mary-but no, that wasn't really the case. She was using technical expertise-great technical expertise-but not even that was a match for the wild, hungry enthusiasm and lust that Mary had shown when she'd done it. He sighed. He had to find that bitch again and whip the pants off her. He had to make her repent, and give up the evil ways that haunted him and tempted him as no woman had ever been able to do before.
After he'd finally calmed his rampaging sexual appetite, Jack went about the business of whipping Joy Bang almost listlessly. His heart wasn't in it, and he just went through the motions of demanding that she repent. She was still bitching about her unpaid fee when he chloroformed her and took her out to dump her somewhere.
CHAPTER VI
Mary Box was admitted to the palatial mansion of Major Alan D. Rider by his butler, a deformed, twisted creature who seemed to look at her with an evil knowledge in his batrachian eyes. She wondered how much he really did know about his master's secret activities-how he could avoid knowing about them, as a matter-of-fact.
She was ushered into the major's study, where he joined her shortly-and she was instantly struck by the change in his appearance and manner, the cool, sophisticated charm he exuded as he took her wrap and saw her seated comfortably at his fireplace.
He didn't even ask her business at first, but said: "It's my custom to drink twenty ounces of wine every night to ease the tensions of my hard round of daily lecturing and writing in order to cultivate the proper attitudes toward sex in a misguided population who think of it as dirty. I was about to start. Won't you join me, Miss--? "
"Box," said Mary. "Mary Box."
"A charming name. Stikeleather!" he cried, clapping his hands sharply. The deformed servant lurched into the room with a bottle and glasses.
Mary was completely taken off guard. She'd read in the papers today about a poor girl named Joy Bang, who'd been found unconscious and naked in an alley, an apparent victim of the Whipper-and she'd come here to carry out her threat to give him a dose of his own medicine if he ever tried his tricks on another woman again. But he'd disarmed her with his suavity-she wasn't confronting Jack the Whipper, but sipping a fine vintage wine in the tastefully furnished study of an elegant gentleman.
"Drink it up before the ice cubes melt," said Major Rider, breaking into her thoughts. "And may I ask now what brings you here-although such a charming young person as yourself needs no excuse whatever to come here and brighten my evening."
The major was sitting beside her now on the couch, his arm around her, and Mary didn't quite know what to make of it. He was working on his second large class of Coast-to-Coast chablis, and now he gave her shoulder a little squeeze.
"Major-"
"Alan, if you please."
"Yes, anyway, Alan, I had a run in with Jack the Whipper."
"You poor child!"
"Master-" said Stikeleather, shuffling nervously at the door.
"Get out," said the major, gesturing impatiently. The servant seemed impelled to speak, but he thought better of it and left. The major rose to lock the door, and Mary reached into her handbag for the comforting feel of the whip and the other things she'd brought along with her to carry out her threat.
"Go on, Mary. He's a frightful nuisance, but I'm sure he won't disturb us any more.
You were saying?"
"About the Whipper-"
"Yes. A sad case. A Sade case, if you'll excuse my little joke," he said, chuckling, but Mary didn't find it amusing. "Any society that finds sex dirty and ugly eventually turns to sadism. It was true of the Roman Empire, with its frightful orgies of sex and cruelty, and true of ours-the poor unfortunate they call Jack the Whipper is an extreme example of the, kind of attitude I'm trying to change by my work, my constant preaching that sex is a beautiful and meaningful experience in which the spirit of man and woman-"
"Excuse me, major, but the Whipper shares your views entirely," Mary interrupted.
"Are you having a little joke at my expense, young lady?" asked Major Rider, draining his second glass and pouring yet a third.
"Not at all. You'd find the Whipper's ideas fascinating, I'm sure-when he's his normal self. But he suffers a radical change in personality, for some reason, that makes him behave in exactly the opposite way."
"Good Lord. Are you telling me that you know the true identity of Jack the Whipper?"
"Yes."
"Then you must go to the authorities immediately. Do you want me to go with you?"
"No-I've made him a promise-a special kind of promise-and I don't intend to reveal his identity as yet."
The major had returned to the couch and his arm was once more about her shoulder. "I think we ought to talk this over. Why don't we go to bed and discuss it there?"
"Major!" cried Mary.
"My dear, you must be familiar with my views-even sympathetic to them, if you came to me for help-and you must know that when two attractive, adult persons wish to indulge in completely open and honest communication, then-"
"If you want to do all this communicating, how come you don't even have a hard on?" asked Mary, sliding her hand up his leg.
"God damn it," cried the major, "that always happens when I get drunk. I should know better by now, you'd think."
Despite his words, the major was pouring himself another drink. Mary saw that he was slightly more than a little sloshed, and she began to wonder if his personality was any more stable in its present incarnation than it was as Jack the Whipper.
Perhaps the proper course was to go to the authorities with what she knew-but who'd believe her? Her only proof that she'd even fallen victim to Jack the Whipper were the marks of the beating he'd given her, and they'd all healed. It would be the word of a topless go-go girl against that of a prominent if somewhat controversial public figure.
Major Rider was standing by the fire now, and he'd drained half of his last glass. "Twenty ounces," he said, putting it aside on a table.
"What?" asked Mary.
"Twenty ounces-I've reached my limit."
Mary noticed something strange about his voice-but no, not strange, something familiar, a certain hardness and flatness she'd noticed in it before-when it was the voice of Jack the Whipper! She noticed something different about the set of his back, the slight slump of his shoulders-and when he turned, she saw the same frightening expression of the man who'd tortured her.
"You!" cried Jack the Whipper. "What are you doing here?"
Mary Box smiled. Now she was on sure ground. She pulled the whip from her large leather bag and uncoiled it, snapping it before his eyes as he took a frightened step backward.
"I've come to carry out my threat, you miserable worm. A girl named Joy Bang fell victim to the Whipper last night, and you remember what I told you I'd do if you ever pulled any more of your filthy tricks on women," snarled Mary, strutting forward and keeping him off balance with cracks of the whip.
"I don't know anybody with a silly name like that-you must be mistaken-I haven't done a thing to anyone," babbled Jack, stumbling back over stray articles of furniture as he backed away from Mary Box and her insidious, omnipresent whip.
"Take off your clothes, now, or I'll cut them off your back with my lash," snapped Mary, showing she could do it by flicking away the top button of his shirt with the ease of an expert. She'd been practicing for this. "Obviously you've forgotten what the kiss of my whip feels like, and it's high time I came around to refresh your memory."
Jack the Whipper's fingers fumbled numbly with his buttons. He didn't need Mary to remind him what she could do with a whip-his back still had the scars of their previous encounter, scars that had caused his other self a considerable amount of puzzlement when he'd been totally unable to account for them. Yet his feelings were curiously mixed-he was afraid of her, but he lusted for her desperately at the same time, and at least part of him lusted for the feel of the pliant leather tearing up his flesh with all the force her lithe arm was capable of.
Mary Box's taste in clothes had changed, for some inexplicable reason, since that mad night of sex and torture in the Whipper's basement hideaway. First, it had just been the boots, high ones with spiked heels, but from there it had progressed to an abbreviated leather miniskirt and a leather blouse cut down to her navel that revealed all the voluptuous contours of her big breasts. Her costume was ornamented with a chain belt and other dangling clusters of chains, but they had a utilitarian as well as ornamental purpose.
As soon as the Whipper was naked in front of her, Mary unclipped the chains from her outfit and fastened them to his wrists, then forced him to stand on a chair and extended his arms over his head until she fastened the other ends of the chains to the chandelier. Then she kicked the chair away and Jack the Whipper found himself dangling from the chandelier, barely able to touch his toes to the floor to take some of the weight off his tortured arms and shoulders. His naked back posed a tempting target to Mary as she uncoiled her whip once again and took a few practice swings.
Taking a deep breath, Mary snapped open her leather blouse, letting her big, up-thrusting breasts free of the tight confinement in order to be able to really swing her arms and give Jack the Whipper everything she wanted to give him, which was a lot.
"Don't," cried the Whipper, "I tell you I haven't done anything-I never heard of anybody named Joy-"
"Shut up, you lying cocksucker," snapped Mary. She took a step back, whirled the whip over her head, and then brought it down on Jack the Whipper's back with a resounding smack. He stiffened and screamed, every last nerve and sinew in his body seared with the pain of Mary's slashing lash.
Mary paused, making sure he'd fully appreciated everything that he could get out of that one in the way of pain before she gave him the next one, lower down on his spine. She went on down his back like that, her strokes close together, making a tight ladder of red weals on the Whipper's naked back as she moved the cruel lash closer and closer to the target that tempted her most, his muscular ass.
Mary began to outdo herself, once she got to his buttocks. She didn't even bother to pause between her strokes any more, but gave it to him backhand and forehand. The whip crackled like a series of lightning-bolts as she pulled it this way and that in the air to keep up a constant, hammering tattoo of blows on Jack's quivering haunches.
She'd drawn blood, now-not just once, but from a dozen separate cuts across his ass, and now she added a few vertical strokes to provide him with a crosshatching of bloody lacerations before she worked her way down further, down the backs of his thighs, concentrating for a while on the tender spots behind his knees. But he hadn't yet felt the worst that Mary Box was capable of, and in a sudden, surprising blow that made him scream with pain and shock, she swung the whip upward from the floor and cracked it against his big balls, drawing it like a tongue of fire across them.
"Well," said Mary, red and sweating from her exertions, when at last his moans and sobs of pain had died down, "I wonder if that's done anything for your cock, the way whipping me did when we first met."
Mary tossed her whip aside and advanced to the quivering body of her bleeding victim. She slid her hand over his hip, down his belly, and found what she'd hoped to find-his cock, big and hard as ever, driven up to a fever pitch of lust by the beating he'd received. What she'd suspected was true-that the Whipper loved to be beaten just as much as he loved dishing it out, but that she'd been the first woman ever to make him realize this. Only he probably didn't realize it himself, not yet. She was sure she'd be able to teach him where his head was at before the night was through, and perhaps free him of his compulsion to go out and beat up innocent prostitutes.
As before, she fondled and stroked the Whipper's cock until it was poised on the fine knife-edge of an ejaculation, then let it go and laughed at him, compounding his frustration and making him groan with lust and anger.
"Please-for God's sake, torture me if you must, but please, please do something for me-give me one of those wonderful blowjobs of yours," begged the Whipper, who realized that she'd driven him beyond all shame with her talented flagellation.
"How about a fuck?" asked Mary brightly.
"Yes-yes! I've dreamed of it-I've wanted it-"
"Well, you'll get it," said Mary, returning to the big leather bag she'd brought with her and rummaging in it for the Sears Roebuck saber saw she'd bought with just such an eventuality in mind. The way the saw operated-with a long, thin blade that moved up and down at a rate too fast for the eye to follow-had fired Mary's imagination. She'd bought one of them, and then taken it to a specialist in rubber and plastic novelties with whom she was acquainted and instructed him to replace the blade with an imitation cock, somewhat larger than the normal variety.
She'd been quite willing to take the ribald jokes and winks of the plastic novelty man, since it was a small price to pay for getting back at the Whipper for at least part of the humiliation she'd suffered at his cruel and grasping hands. She plugged the power tool into a socket and then came up behind her victim, who was quivering with lustful anticipation at the thought of dipping his wick into the scrumptious Mary Box.
"Aren't you going to let me down? How can I fuck you when I'm hanging from the chandelier?" asked the Whipper, unable to see what the clever girl was up to.
"Who said anything about fucking me, you bastard?" asked Mary with quiet logic. "I still haven't gotten you back for that butt-fuck you gave me-but I'm sure as hell going to try tonight."
Mary knew that she'd never be able to get the dry plastic cock up the Whipper's ass, much as she would have loved to do it that way, since it was at least twice as big as his own huge organ, and covered in addition with numerous lumps and bumps and plastic warts that Mary had specified, to the great amusement of her friend in plastic novelties. She gave it a liberal coating of Vaseline before shoving the tip of it up against the Whipper's ass-hole and activating the lowest of its three speeds.
The racket that the instrument made was deafening, and it shocked Mary almost as much as it shocked Jack; and she found that she could barely hold the bucking, vibrating tool in her dainty hands, but she made a real effort and jammed it hard up against his anus.
Now Jack screamed as he forgot all about the shock of the clattering, unexpected noise and felt the thing vibrating furiously against his ass-hole-against it, and now inside it, as Mary kept jamming it upward with all of the strength she could muster.
The Whipper begged and shrieked for mercy at the top of his lungs, but that just wasn't loud enough to drown out completely the noise of the saber saw with its plastic dildo attachment, and Mary just ignored him, concentrating on the boring, tunneling job she was doing into his ass. He'd gotten used to her fingers up his ass after a while, and maybe he'd get used to this, too.
Mary had shoved it halfway in, now, and she decided to let it cut loose and do its stuff. She pushed it up to its second speed, and as the racket of the motor increased, so did the intensity and volume of Jack's unholy howls of protest. He raised his legs in the air, looking rather ridiculous, but trying to spread himself as wide as he could to minimize as much as possible the frightful pain that was jarring through his whole body, that seemed about ready to blow the top of his skull off, as the speed of the reciprocating engine increased.
"This is what you'll get the next time you rape another girl up the ass, you bastard!" shrieked Mary, calling on all her lung power to make herself heard-but it was doubtful that she'd succeeded, he was yelling so loudly himself, and the vibrations on his rectum were transferred into the rhythmic quavers of his screaming voice.
Now, incredibly, Mary had managed to shove the thing all the way inside his ass, and she giggled with glee as she gave it full throttle. She was barely able to hold onto it now as it bucked and humped and pummeled its way back and forth in Jack the Whipper's tortured rectum. His knees were raised up to his armpits now in a wild contortion as he tried to spread himself out even wider to accommodate the intrusion.
At last Mary was physically unable to hold onto the thing any longer, much as she would have liked to have done so all night. But her arms felt like lead, she was bathed in sweat, and she just couldn't lift the thing any longer. With deep reluctance, she switched it off and collapsed back on the couch while Jack slowly and painfully lowered his legs, groaning and moaning with pain from the nightmarish fucking.
"You bitch," he hissed, "I'll never be able to sit down again."
"Then you can kneel, while you're eating my cunt. I think I'll let you do that for a few hours, knowing how much you like it, and maybe you can think about Joy Bang while you're doing it, and about how I don't make idle threats," said Mary, but she lacked the energy even to rise and let him down.
"I tell you I don't know any-" began Jack, but at that moment he was interrupted by a light tapping at the door of the study.
Mary rearranged her leather blouse and went to answer it. She recoiled slightly as she saw that it was Stikeleather, the hideously deformed servant, and she opened the door only a crack.
"Yes?" she asked.
"A Miss Joy Bang, to see the master. She's most insistent," he said, trying to angle around to peer over her shoulder into the room but unable to do so.
"Send her in," laughed Mary. "By all means, send her in."
CHAPTER VII
"So, you don't know Joy Bang, do you?" said Mary, slapping Jack across his bleeding buttocks with the flat of her hand and making him cry out as she opened the old wounds. "Well, apparently she knows you-and knows who you are. You seem to be slipping up."
The Whipper choked with embarrassment, unable to admit the frightful lusts he'd given way to last night.
Joy entered, her green eyes snapping. "So where's my hundred bucks and the fifty for some new clothes, mother-fucker? I-" Her voice trailed off as she took in the scene and saw the bloody man chained to the chandelier.
"So now you're paying for it, are you?" whooped Mary. "What happened to all those high moral standards you were babbling about a couple of weeks ago when you were giving me my lumps?"
"Only he didn't pay for it," said Joy. "That's how come I'm here. Either I collect my bread, or I go to the cops and tell them that Jack the Whipper is in reality Major Alan D. Rider."
"You're mad!" cried the Whipper. "Me, that lascivious sex maniac? That polluter of young minds? That smut-peddling panderer to the debased lusts of the concupiscent majority? He's one of the first people I plan to horsewhip, after I get through with all you evil women."
"He's nuts," explained Mary. "He really doesn't know who he is."
Carried away by the sense of power and sexual excitement that her torture of Jack the Whipper had given her, Mary Box had forgotten all about the Major's deformed henchman, Stikeleather. He'd crept into the room behind Joy Bang, lurking in the shadows-but Jack the Whipper hadn't forgotten him, and now he cried out at the top of his voice: "Stikeleather! Seize them!"
"Wha--? " exclaimed Mary-but in the next instant his twisted arms were circling her body, exerting a strength she hadn't believed possible they could demonstrate, his fetid breath was moistly caressing her ear, and he'd succeeded in knocking her to the floor.
It all happened so fast that Joy couldn't react quickly enough. She turned to run to the door, but by that time the Whipper's servant had already succeeded in tying up Mary and was hopping after her in his lurching, ungainly, but incredibly rapid gait. Joy clawed and bit and kicked, but she was putty in his taloned hands. She soon found herself trussed up as securely as Mary had been.
"He said seize me, you motherfucking midget!" cried Joy. "He didn't say nothing about feeling me up."
Joy was dressed in a see-through blouse and a red miniskirt without panties-and when Stikeleather had noticed this omission, he began feeling and fondling her naked cunt with his twisted paws, giggling lecherously to himself.
"Control yourself, man!" cried the
Whipper. "Get up here and unchain me."
Stikeleather gave vent to an inarticulate gurgle, obviously in the grip of painfully conflicting emotions, but at last he drew his hand, smeared with the translucent juice of Joy's ever-ready pussy, away from it and shambled toward the hanging figure of his master.
"Ahhh," groaned Jack, rubbing his tortured wrists to return the circulation to them and walking somewhat gingerly after his frightful experience with the customized Sears Roebuck saber saw. "I'll be ready for them in a few minutes-take them down to the torture chamber, and mind you aren't distracted by their feminine wiles."
Stikeleather nodded, blushing, as he slung Joy Bang over his shoulder and scurried down to the cellar with her. He was thoroughly ashamed of himself for feeling her cunt like that in the presence of the master, who stood out to him as a shining example of male self-restraint and moral rectitude.
It was strange how their relationship had developed. After flunking out of the Harvard Divinity School some years back, Cosmo Stikeleather's life had been miserable. He knew that he had a mission in the world, to open men's eyes to the frightful temptations that modern women were laying in their path by their increasingly liberal, indecent, devilish ways, but all organized sects rejected him as being overzealous, if not downright insane.
At last, willing to accept the idea that possibly the world was right and he himself might be in error, he'd come to Major Alan D. Rider-the foremost spokesman in America for the new sexual freedom-to hear a first-hand articulation of his controversial views.
But something strange had happened. Cosmo didn't buy the major's views at all, and in their long discussions it had been Cosmo who had come to dominate the conversations with his droning, hypnotic voice as he detailed all the snares that the modern world posed for the man struggling to maintain the upright path to salvation. And then-with the suddenness of St. Paul falling off his ass on the road to Damascus-the heresiarch of the sexual revolution, Major Alan D. Rider, had become converted to Cosmo Stikeleather's divine vision. He'd out-Stikeleathered Stikeleather in his frenzy to get to the bottom of the new Sodom by sodomizing the bottoms of the new women. He still had lapses, though, when it seemed that he'd forgotten all about his new conversion, but Stikeleather was working on him day and night, staying at his house and posing as a servant, in an effort to make sure that Jack the Whipper stayed in control of the major for longer and longer periods. Wine helped, and Cosmo was able to override his prejudice against any vice by consoling himself with the thought that its consumption was done in a noble cause.
The warehouse basement in the city where Jack the Whipper attempted most of his conversions had its merits, but he and Cosmo were fitting out the cellar of his suburban mansion with every sort of conceivable torture instrument. The walls had been thoroughly soundproofed, and several cells had been constructed off the main, high-vaulted chamber.
Cosmo and Jack had decided that Jack's attempts at total reformation of a woman through one night of flogging had resulted in a dismayingly high rate of backsliders, and they felt they would have much greater success if they could keep their victims here until they were certain that their reformation was total. Joy and Mary would be the first girls ever to set foot in this chamber, and Cosmo rubbed his hands with glee after he laid Joy Bang's bound body on the floor and scuttled back up the stairs for Mary Box.
"Master!" cried Cosmo, scandalized as he entered the major's den to see Jack crouching over Mary's nude body, just on the verge of pronging her with his swollen cock.
"I-forgive me, Stikeleather," gasped Jack, pulling away with a visible effort, "this woman-she does things to me."
Cosmo frowned. Jack hadn't told him what had happened, that first time, between him and Mary, but Cosmo had known something was wrong-desperately wrong. Jack had thought up all sorts of excuses, since then, for not going out and pursuing his divine mission, and he'd seemed to be in a frightful emotional torment; and Cosmo had been certain that it had something to do with Mary.
"I'm afraid her particular wiles and snares are too much for you, master," said Cosmo-who generally called him that, although it was problematical who held the upper hand in their twisted relationship-"we must give her very special treatment indeed. I don't doubt that she was sent directly from the Devil to sabotage your mission."
"Yes-yes-special treatment," gasped the Whipper, brushing aside the perspiration running from his forehead to blind him.
"Come with me, master," said Stikeleather, throwing Mary's big, voluptuous body over his shoulder with a strength belied by his bent frame. "I think I have just the thing for these two."
Once the two girls had been brought down to the cellar, Cosmo rolled out a large, square frame of aluminum with hooks for chains at all four corners. It was his own invention, for whipping two persons at once, and he was rather proud of it. He untied Mary and, despite her desperate struggles to escape, her clawing hands and kicking feet, he chained her spread-eagled to the empty frame, her arms and legs stretched out as far as they could go.
Now, with Jack the Whipper's help-because she was struggling even more desperately than Mary had been-they stripped Joy and chained her to the frame, facing Mary. The only difference was that Joy was upside down, her face at Mary's crotch, while Mary's face was on a level with hers.
"Get me down, you bastards! I'm going to faint," protested Joy.
"We have all sorts of ways of reviving you, so don't worry about that," laughed Cosmo, surveying the two nude girls pressed together on his demonic device.
"What do you plan to do?" asked Jack.
"It's a known fact that all prostitutes are lesbians, who actually hate men," explained Cosmo. "When this fact has been clearly demonstrated to you, then I'm sure your fatal infatuation for this whore will vanish as quickly as it struck you."
"God damn it, you crazy creep," screamed Mary, "I'm not a whore-can't you get that through your thick heads? I'm an interpretive dancer. And I'm sure as hell not a dyke."
"Neither am I," said Joy. "If hanging upside down won't make me faint, the smell of this broad's cunt is sure as hell going to do it."
"You go to work on the foul-mouthed redhead, master," said Cosmo. "That way you can have a fine view of the blonde eating her cunt-"
"I'll be damned if I'll eat her cunt!" cried Mary.
"-and I'll whip the blonde, to make sure that she does it, and gives you a good show," said Cosmo, ignoring her protests.
Jack the Whipper would much rather have plied his skilled wrist on Mary's alabaster back, but he decided that what Stikeleather said might have some merit in it. If she was indeed a lesbian -which he secretly doubted-then the sight of her indulging her foul practices on the upended crotch of the spread-eagled Joy Bang might serve to sour any of the lustful feelings he felt for her. He didn't have much faith in the idea at all, but he decided that anything was worth a try to free his soul from the strange bondage that Mary Box had placed it in with her satanic snares.
"Go on, you slut, eat her-indulge your deep, forbidden lusts-kiss her cunt!" cried Cosmo, taking up a whip from the many different varieties that hung on the wall of the basement and slashing it across Mary's plump, shapely ass.
The Whipper trembled as he watched Mary's lovely face contorting in a mask of agony as she threw her head back and cried out against the pain of Stikeleather's vicious stroke. Seeing her hurt like this only served to drive up his maddening erection yet another notch, and he wished he'd thought to put his trousers on, so that Cosmo couldn't see the plain evidence of his lust for this bestial creature.
"Eat it, I said-get your face down in her muff and suck on it, the way you're secretly lusting to do," cried Cosmo, giving Mary another cruel stroke across her lush buttocks.
"You bastard," sobbed Mary. "I can see it all now-Major Rider! This awful person has some evil influence over you-he's making you do these awful things because-aaaAAAGGGHHH!" cried Mary, her words blending into an incoherent scream of pain as Stikeleather gave her a flurry of whip-cuts that blended into one awful, throbbing sea of pain from her heels to the top of her head.
Jack the Whipper shook his head to clear it. Why had she called him that? It stirred some dim memory that he couldn't quite pin down, but-
"Master!" cried Cosmo. "You're letting down the side-put your whip to that redhead's back, and make her eat the blonde-maybe that will inspire our reluctant friend here to sample the forbidden fruits she'd have us believe she doesn't want so badly."
"Yes-yes!" cried Jack, eager to get into action and dispel the confusing thoughts that the evil Mary Box had planted in his head in an effort to divert him from his uplifting mission.
The Whipper uncoiled his own whip and now went to work on Joy Bang, and soon the two girls were blending their frightful screams of pain as their nude, sweating bodies writhed together in their chains.
Mary was the first to be beaten into submission, and managing to control the churning of her stomach at the very thought of it, she lowered her head to the pasty confection fringed with red fluff between Joy's widespread thighs.
"Don't just nuzzle it, you worthless whore!" cried Cosmo, looking to see that Mary had pressed her lips against Joy's cunt but that there wasn't much action going on. "Get in there and root around in it-suck it-slurp it up-guzzle it!"
Cosmo underlined his words by grabbing Mary's crotch, gathering up a handful of her tender flesh and twisting it until she had to lift her face from Joy's cunt to give vent to an agonized howl of pain-but when he'd released it, she went to work on the other girl's pussy the way he wanted her to, feigning a wild enthusiasm to suck and lick and kiss the soft pink cleavage that was thrust up under her nose.
The Whipper paused in the work he was doing on Joy Bang-to Joy's great relief-in order to concentrate on the sight before his eyes. He told himself that this should really turn off any of the confused but powerful feelings that Mary had produced in him, the sight of her eating a girl's pussy like this, but if anything it had a quite opposite effect-he found his knees trembling with lust as he watched, his head swam with desire, he wanted nothing more than to fuck her while she was doing it.
Mary was the victim of some confused feelings herself. She'd told herself that this act was going to disgust her no end, but she found herself beginning to groove on it. It didn't make her wildly excited, but it gave her the same sort of feeling she got when she was sucking a cock-it was fun. She was glad Cosmo had forced her to do it, otherwise she might never have realized what a pleasure it was; and she could do it as eagerly as she wanted to, lying to herself that she was being forced to do it and didn't really care for it. She began to eat Joy out with the same sort of wildly enthusiastic lust she'd demonstrated when she was eating the Whipper's cock.
"You see that, master? She's just an animal-anything at all arouses her base desires for fleshly pleasures," said Cosmo, pleased with the tremendous success of his experiment.
"Yeah," said Jack the Whipper, wiping the saliva from his chin.
"But master-the other one. You haven't forced her to give as good as she's getting," said Cosmo, looking uncertainly at Jack the Whipper and the strange gleam in his eye.
"No-please-I don't want to-don't make me," begged Joy.
The Whipper snapped out of his sex-crazed daze for a moment and decided to take out some of his wild frustrations on the sensuous white back of Joy Bang. He had to do something, or he'd go out of his mind, and he didn't dare shoulder Cosmo aside and give Mary the thorough fucking he wanted to give her while she was eating Joy's cunt. He outdid himself in his efforts on the redhead's back. Last night she'd felt his whip-hand at its worst, and the beating hadn't bothered her too much-but tonight she was feeling it at its best, and she shrieked uncontrollably as the flailing leather bit deeply into her flesh, drawing blood from a dozen or more wounds.
"I'll do it-I'll do it-stop, for God's sake, stop!" screamed Joy, when at last she could force some air into her lungs and bring her screaming partly under control.
The Whipper didn't comply, at first-he seemed to be totally carried away in a frenzy to whip the voluptuous girl's back into a bloody mass of shredded flesh, and Cosmo had to come forward and stay his wrist before he could go too far with her.
Joy barely had the strength to lift her head up to Mary's crotch, spread over it, but she forced herself to do so and began sucking and kissing as eagerly as Mary was in an effort to convince them that she needed no more whipping to do just as they told her to do.
CHAPTER VIII
Cosmo had determined that Joy Bang and Mary Box would be the first women on whom they would make an all-out effort at reformation. Instead of being chloroformed and dumped in an alley, as Jack the Whipper's previous victims had been, they would stay on in the newly constructed cells in the basement until they had demonstrated beyond a doubt that they were fully conscious of and repentant for their utter unworthiness in the eyes of God and men.
Cosmo waxed eloquent as he accompanied the Whipper up the stairs, after they'd locked
Joy and Mary in separate cells. There was a zealous gleam in his bulging, frog-like eyes as he gripped Jack's arm and said: "Think of it, master! These lucky girls are to form the vanguard of a whole new generation of liberated women-women liberated from their perverse egos, their bestial desires, their corrupt souls! They will be taught to dress with decency, speak to us with lowered eyes, walk ten paces behind us at all times-freed from the distractions they pose, men will be able to concentrate on the perfection of their souls. We are on the verge of creating a new world!"
"Who'll populate it?" asked the Whipper, who would never have thought of questioning Cosmo's vision just a few short weeks ago.
"Why-no one is perfect, master. There will always be those who cannot achieve perfection, who will give way to the base appetites of the flesh. But there will be those who will persevere, who will forge their own souls on the anvils of their iron will-and these will be the ones who will rule the others, wallowing in their corruption. You and I, master, we will set the example of perfection that all will bow to!"
That sounded logical to the Whipper; whatever Cosmo said usually sounded logical to him. That was because, as Cosmo said, they could see behind the beyond, while most men were unable to see beyond the behind.
But logical or not, Jack the Whipper couldn't sleep that night and, after tossing for several hours, he returned to the cellar and looked in on Mary, sleeping a deep, exhausted sleep on the straw pallet they'd thoughtfully provided for her. He fumbled for the key to her cell. What she needed was a good whipping, right now, for stirring him up the way she did, for casting doubts on his most deeply held convictions, for churning his lusts up-but he forced himself to stop, his hand trembling from the strain of holding it back. His motives were mixed in unlocking her cell. What he wanted to do-what he wanted to do desperately-was not to whip her, but to fuck her, to sample once again the exquisite thrill of her incredible blowjob, to have her do with her mouth to his cock what he'd seen her do to Joy's cunt.
He replaced the key on its hook, his hand still shaking, and gripped the bars for support. This would never do. He turned, casting his eyes furtively about the cellar-and there, on the opposite side, he saw Joy, asleep on her pile of straw. He could handle her. He could go to her with a pure heart and whip the shit out of her, and maybe that would ease some of the pressure that Mary created just by being here.
He hurried to her cell and unlocked it hastily with fumbling fingers, pulling the door open with a loud clang. Even that didn't awaken her, she was so exhausted by the frightful beating-which had gone on and on, as they'd forced her to eat Mary until she could no longer move her lips and tongue.
Mary had seemed to enjoy the experience with progressively increasing enthusiasm, but Joy had only grown more and more sick from what she was doing. That had annoyed Cosmo, since it was his deeply held conviction that all prostitutes were lesbians, and it had resulted in her getting the worst of it from the two sadists.
The Whipper chose a heavy cat-o-nine-tails from the wall of the main basement and returned with it to her cell. There was only one way to wake up a slut like this, and his fingers itched to clutch the thick, heavy handle of the brutal bundle of lashes. He swished it from side to side, relishing the weighty feel of it, the exact balance of it in his muscular hand.
He paused for a second to look down at her. She lay on one hip, her torso turned to thrust up her big tits with their chunky, pink nipples, the fluffy red vee of her cunt turned toward him. One lithe leg lay atop the other, the wrinkled pink sole of her foot pressing against her shapely calf. Her long, shimmering red hair hid her face. Her ass was exposed by her position, though, and the Whipper concentrated on that as he raised the heavy cat high over his shoulder and brought it down with all the force of his powerful arm.
"Wake up, slut! What do you think this is, a home for retired whores? Get on your feet-we have a lot more to do before you can say that you've been reformed by our treatment," he cried, slashing down at her once again.
Joy scrambled out of the way, screaming hoarsely and scattering her straw pallet before she was even fully awake-her body had been so conditioned to fear the whip that she didn't even need to be awake to flee it. She cringed against a corner, shielding her face with her upraised arms.
"I said, on your feet!" shrieked Jack, taking all of his anger and sexual frustration out in the blow that knocked her arms down and left them bleeding and momentarily paralyzed at her sides.
Trembling all over, Joy staggered to her feet. She knew better than to plead for mercy, or even to say a word when confronted with either of these two-all she could possibly do was go along with everything they told her, try desperately to stay alive, and wait with never-flagging vigilance for the chance to escape-a chance that just had to come, she kept telling herself with steadily weakening conviction.
"Wh-what do you want of me?" asked Joy, her voice shaking, her lower lip trembling.
"Get out here where we can see you," Jack barked, just brushing her legs with the lashes of the cat-but even the soft touch against her legs made her jump as if she'd been burnt, and she hurried to obey his order and go before him into the basement.
Jack directed her with the lightest flicks of his scourge, but Joy jumped to obey each time, and finally he'd led her to a big table near the center of the basement, under a powerful overhead light, very much like the one he kept at the warehouse basement for his one-night victims. At his signal she climbed onto the table and lay on her back. Jack clamped thick iron rings around her thighs, and Joy gasped at the tight, constricting pain of them. They sunk deep into the surrounding flesh. He chained these down to the table so that her legs were spread just as wide as they could possibly go.
Then Jack grabbed her hands, and as he pulled them up over her head and tied them to something, she realized that this wasn't quite like the table at his other chamber of horrors. Here, he'd tied the ropes at her wrists to some kind of round thing, like a roller, at the head of the table. Perhaps he meant to stretch her, like a victim on the rack, and the thought of it made her shudder-but she forgot all about that as she saw him coming forward with something that terrified her much more than the thought of any medieval rack.
It was only a large needle and some stout thread, but the implication was too horrible for her to think about, and she screamed. "Shut up, you noisy bitch! Do you want to wake up the other one?" demanded Jack, slamming her across the face with the back of his open palm. She tasted the salty tang of her own blood in her mouth as he did it.
"What do you mean to do?" she asked. "Why don't you just whip me-please-don't use that thing-I "
"I seem to remember your cunt wasn't big enough for me, last night," said Jack. "I'm just going to make it a little bigger."
"No, it's big enough-it's just that I wasn't ready, you grabbed me and you-"
"I know what you need," chuckled Jack, threading the big, gleaming needle.
"Let me prove it to you-please-come on and fuck me, now, I'll show you-you won't have to do anything-you can fit your cock into me easily, it's-"
Jack's hand shook so much that he could barely thread the needle when she spoke like that. He'd misjudged his ability to resist either one of them. He remembered, now, how he'd succumbed to Joy's charms last night, fucking her when he should have been whipping her.
It was all Mary's fault. He hadn't been able to think straight since he'd met her. And here he was, using bad language again, another vice he'd picked up from Mary. His eyes flickered momentarily to her cell. Perhaps he could free himself from her bondage if he whipped her to death-but that would prove nothing. It would prove that she, a woman, was superior to him, that he'd been unable to subjugate her and control the turbulent emotions she aroused in him, that he'd failed.
He turned his attention back to Joy, whose eyes were closed tightly. Her teeth were gritted. She anticipated the pain. She didn't want to watch. So much the better. She'd feel it more.
He plunged the needle into one of the plump, pink lips of Joy's cunt and took his time about pushing it all the way through, relishing the sobs and screams that were torn from her throat. He was sure he couldn't be hurting her as much as she was making out, but he'd managed to psyche her thoroughly-he could have tickled her with a feather, and she still would have carried on to wake the dead. It was an accomplishment, and it took his mind off his utter failure to do anything with the voluptuous Mary.
He pulled it all the way through, until the knot at the end of the thread was pushing into the incision the needle had made, then pulled the thread outward, opening the lip. He pinched together some of the soft white flesh of her thigh and drove the needle through that, evoking more screams from Joy, then went back and drove the needle again through the outer lip of her cunt, then back through her thigh.
He took his time about his work, but it wasn't long before he'd laced the left lip of her pussy to her hip. He broke off the thread, tied it neatly in a bow, and then went to work on her right lip. Her loins were covered with a fine lacery of gleaming blood-trickles now from the pin-pricks in her cunt and in her hips.
"I've been reading lately about how the Chinese practice a form of anesthesia called acupuncture, which consists of driving pins into a certain part of the body until it's numb," mused the Whipper. "Judging from the way you're carrying on, I can't see how it could possibly work."
"You're hurting me," groaned Joy.
"That's obvious," said the Whipper, continuing with his bloody but precise work.
Now the Whipper had finished, and he wiped the blood from her loins with a damp cloth. It was damp because of the liniment he'd put on it, and Joy outdid all her previous efforts at screaming as the score or more of needle punctures were seared by the fiery preparation.
He glanced at Mary's cell, but she was still asleep, undisturbed by the frightful shrieks of the other prisoner. He wondered why it mattered to him, whether she was asleep or not. What was the name she'd called him by? He couldn't remember. It didn't matter, anyway. Cosmo Stikeleather had told him that Jack the Whipper was a good enough name for anyone, and Cosmo was invariably right about everything. It was a godsend to have a servant like that.
He looked down to inspect his handiwork. The tender flesh of Joy's crotch had turned fiery red from the irritation of the liniment, even where he hadn't punctured it. Her vagina was spread as wide open as it could possibly be, a gaping hole that could accommodate any size cock. He peered into the red, wet cave between her thighs, wiping the saliva that oozed from his lips.
"Yes-very good. It's even a little too big for even me," he said.
"God-you didn't have to do that-I told you it was big enough," gasped Joy.
"Yes, you were quite right-and that's the point: it's too big, now."
"Then cut the stitches, God damn it!" screamed Joy.
"Now, now-we don't have to do anything as drastic as that," laughed Jack, walking across the room to a large cabinet where Cosmo had stored most of their varied torture implements. Jack the Whipper had never tortured one of his victims quite like this before, sticking basically to his formula of a good flogging followed by a vigorous butt-fuck, but he wasn't branching out into any original new fields with his work on Joy Bang.
He was following the dictates of Cosmo Stikeleather, who'd said, in stocking the torture chamber at his home with all sorts of instruments, "These women-they strut about as if the putrid hole between their legs were the most precious thing on Earth, tempting us with it, guarding it from us, withholding it from us to work their will on us-but we have to show them just what it's worth: nothing -do you hear me?-nothing!" Cosmo's voice had risen to a cracking scream on those last words, and Jack had had to step back slightly to avoid having his eardrums busted by the vigor of his servant's eloquence.
Jack pulled open the appropriate drawer and looked over the wide selection of attachments for his cock. He finally selected the most fiendish of the instruments that
Cosmo had managed to find on sale in a downtown store. It was a large metal cap that slipped over the head of his cock, doubling its size at least. This was attached to the shaft of his cock by three thick leather straps, each with a large metal buckle. He buckled it on carefully, tight enough to get a good rubdown for his cock from Joy's cunt at the same time he was reaming it out with the big knob and the protruding buckles.
"There now," he said, stepping forward so that Joy could see the horror he'd strapped to his phallus, "I think that ought to be big enough to stuff up that stinking maw between your hind legs, don't you?"
"HELP!" screamed Joy.
"I thought I told you the walls were soundproofed," said Jack, rubbing his ears as he climbed onto the table and knelt in the angle of her wide-spread thighs.
He knelt for a minute, his cock poised over her enlarged hole, ignoring her babbled pleas for mercy and tears of anguish as he relished the sight of the monstrosity hanging over her. But he couldn't hold himself back for long, and even as he shoved the huge steel ball down into her stretched and bleeding cunt he couldn't help wondering whether he was so eager to do this because he wanted to torture and humiliate her or just because he had to get his rocks off. All those hours he'd been tossing and turning in his bed, thinking about Mary Box, he'd been plagued by a rampaging erection that kept coming back up, no matter how many times he jerked off in order to stifle his base and animalistic lusts for his voluptuous blonde captive.
But even though it had been Mary who'd inspired his lust, the lust still persisted as he toyed with the nude body of the equally scrumptious redhead. But he was able to shove aside all thoughts of his treacherous lechery as he rammed the torturing tool into Joy's cunt, pushing it deeper and deeper against the slithery resistance of her tormented vagina.
It must have taken minutes to drive it all the way inside against the resistance of the buckles that peeled his foreskin back painfully and against the pressure of the oversized metal cock-head. If his phallus hadn't been hard as a rock, he never would have been able to do it, but it was, and eventually, to the accomplishment of his grunts and Joy's rasping croaks-she couldn't even scream any more, and his ears were thankful for that-he drove every last inch of his augmented pecker into the depths of her cunt.
He lay on top of her for a while, pausing, gasping for breath, his sweat dropping from his forehead to her agonized face.
"God," groaned Joy, "I get this for a hundred and fifty fucking dollars? I should have gone straight to the cops. It feels like you're ruining my source of income for good."
"What could you have told the police? That you were seized by Jack the Whipper? My arms are like steel, but my feet are like fog-I come out of the mist and return to the night-l am nowhere and everywhere-"
"And your name is Major Alan D. Rider, and you're in the fucking phonebook, you nitwit," Joy interrupted. "Did you think I didn't recognize you when I saw you foaming at the mouth in the gutter?"
Jack paused, looking at her oddly. That was the name Mary Box had used. The girls must have got together, down here in their confinement, and made up some kind of crazy story for the sole purpose of confusing him-but what good that would do, he couldn't possibly imagine. He'd have to ask
Cosmo about it. Perhaps he could come up with a logical explanation, although it was most likely just some more feminine irrationality.
Joy was about to say something more-but her words broke off in another croaking scream as the Whipper withdrew his cock, much faster than he'd thrust it in, then shoved it in again, beginning to build up a steady rhythm of humping that was underscored by her gasps and grunts and strangled screams as he ripped up the tender flesh of her vagina with the cruel instrument.
As he fucked her more and more with fury he lifted his hips and looked down to see that his cock and the instrument were coated with a slimy skin of gleaming red blood, and that accounted for the incredible ease with which he was able to whip it in and out of her now. It gave him some satisfaction to realize that none of the blood was his own.
But that satisfaction began to blend with the ultimate satisfaction as he realized that the rubbing of the straps and her shredded flesh against the super-sensitized skin of his cock, swimming in a bath of warm blood, were driving him up over the brink of a monstrous orgasm.
CHAPTER IX
Whenever Jack the Whipper awakened, he was plagued by a certain dizzy fogginess. Awakening was an odd process for him. He never did it in bed, like most people, even though he'd remember going to bed on the previous night-usually, quite early in the morning. He'd always awaken in the evening, and he always seemed to be fully dressed and usually in the midst of doing something-usually, drinking a glass of wine. It was an odd existence, but he didn't question it; after all, it wasn't everyone who'd been sent to Earth, full-grown, direct from heaven to do God's will, as Cosmo had explained he'd been, and you had to make certain allowances for someone like that.
At any rate, Cosmo had a wonderful cure for the fogginess that plagued him when he woke up. Cosmo would inject something into him with a hypodermic needle that would make him feel twice as awake as he ought to feel-once it had taken effect, he'd be superhumanly alert and active, champing at the bit to go out and find another woman ripe for a dose of salvation, and the most violent exertions never seemed to tire him-until many hours later, when the weariness would hit him all at once and he'd collapse.
That, he decided, was just the thing for Joy Bang, who'd passed out cold as he'd shot his load into her. Nothing else would revive her, not even the special whip with the bits of razor-edged steel embedded in its tip, not even a bucket of ice cold water, not even a half hour's worth of vigorous backhand and forehand slaps across her face.
He went to the cabinet where Cosmo kept the drug, put an extra large jolt into a hypodermic needle, and returned to Joy's unconscious body. He studied her for a while, wondering where to inject it, and then, in a burst of inspiration he pinched her flaccid clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and jammed the needle into it, pressing down the plunger until all the crystal-clear fluid in the vial had been injected into her.
He waited for results. When nothing happened at first, he began to wonder if he hadn't gone a bit too far with her-after all, she'd only got a few hours sleep, following her first whipping, before he'd come back and subjected her to further torture-to say nothing of the fact that she'd been whipped and raped just last night.
But just as he was on the verge of filling up the syringe again and giving her a second jolt, Joy's eyelids began to flutter. A barely audible groan escaped her bruised lips.
"Wake up!" shouted Jack, slapping her across the face once again, and Joy's body tried to squirm sluggishly away from the blow. "We haven't even begun yet-I've got all sorts of things in store for you before you can call it a night."
Embarrassingly, one of the things he still had in store for her was a rampaging erection. Even the shattering climax he'd attained while savaging her cunt with the cruel device he'd used on it hadn't succeeded in driving down his swollen, throbbing cock. He glanced once again toward the cell where Mary Box still lay asleep, miraculously undisturbed by all the screeching and screaming that Joy had done. Perhaps he ought to give way to his lust once again, and stick his prick where he really wanted to stick it-into Mary's mouth-but his will power held out. He'd use it on Joy, but he'd use it as an instrument of torture for her. He'd live up to his principles, and to the high opinion that Cosmo Stikeleather had of him-he could let Cosmo and his divine vision down by going and succumbing to the base lusts that Mary stirred in him.
"Oh, God!" cried Joy, opening her eyes-and the Whipper was pleased to see how clear and alert and sparkling green they were, thanks to Cosmo's miracle drug. "What have you done to me-I thought I'd passed out for good-but now, the pain-it's ten times worse than it was before-"
"I told you that you weren't here for a rest cure. We have plenty to do before the night is over."
"Couldn't you at least take those bands off my thighs for a while, so the blood can circulate again-couldn't you let me stretch out? Every muscle in my body has a cramp in it," Joy groaned.
"Oh-you want to stretch out, do you? Well, we don't have to let you up for a little thing like that. Here, let me help you," said Jack, walking to the head of the table.
Joy's mind was working with an accelerated alertness that surprised her, and as soon as the Whipper spoke she remembered that the cords binding her hands so tightly were attached to some kind of roller at the head of the table. When she'd first noticed it, she'd had a fleeting fear about the medieval rack-but now it came back, that first fear, with redoubled force, and she twisted her head around to see what Jack was up to. She screamed when she saw that he was beginning to turn a large wheel at the head of the table, above her, his muscles bunching and sticking out with the effort required to turn it.
"Damned thing needs oil," grumbled Jack-but at that moment she heard a protesting squeal of rusty metal and the roller began turning, gathering up the slack in the cords that bound her wrists and pulling her arms upward, higher and higher.
Joy could feel a hot trickle of blood on her wrists as the cords cut into them under the pressure of Jack's assault-but that was nothing at all compared to the pain she was beginning to feel in her shoulders as her arms were wrenched upward, stretched and pulled by the wheel. The pain in her shoulders radiated upward to her other tortured joints-to her elbows-her wrists-and now she was stretched out tight against the table, unable to move an inch in any direction, able only to scream.
Jack paused to inspect his handiwork, running his hands up over her big tits, which were thrust upward provocatively, the skin taut and shining, by the stretching he'd already given her.
"Don't scream till you're hurt," laughed Jack, toying with her nipples with his fingertips. "That's the first thing you'll have to learn, around here."
"God ... it hurts," moaned Joy. "Everything hurts."
Jack smiled. He knew that he could turn the rack a dozen more notches before the pain would become intolerable to a normal person-but Joy was no longer a normal person, under the influence of Cosmo's drug. Every perception was heightened to an excruciating degree by the potion-both the perception of pleasure and the perception of pain. By the time he'd stretched her out to the point where a normal person would find the going rough, she'd be literally suffering the tortures of the damned.
Jack the Whipper went back to his work of turning the wheel by slow degrees to gather up the cords that bound her wrists onto the roller at the head of the table. The work went much easier, now that the rust-lock had been broken. Cosmo had picked up this device at a second-hand furniture store, and God knows how long it had gone without use.
Joy had thought the pain in her arms was bad-but now, as she was pulled up the table, all the slack had been taken out of the chains fastened to the rings around her thighs, and she suddenly felt an electrical jangle of agony in her hips that was like nothing she'd experienced yet. Her thighs were spread wide by the chains, but the tendency of the upward dragging pressure was to pull them together-and the two forces, working against one another, set up an agonizing cross-current of pain in her thighs and hips. To top it off, the steel bands were cutting into the flesh of her thighs now, and if the pain wasn't bad enough the sight of her own blood trickling down to her crotch from her lacerated flesh was the final straw.
But Jack hadn't finished yet. Incredibly, he kept turning the wheel, notch by notch, stretching her beyond the limit of endurance. She couldn't say that she'd grown accustomed to the pain, since it was getting worse and worse with each notch that Jack turned the wheel -but she'd developed a certain familiarity to it, she could think of it as being localized in her arms and legs and neck, and that allowed her a certain ability to stand aside from it, to look at it objectively. But suddenly, even that flimsy refuge was denied her as a whole new world of pain opened up in her chest and belly.
Everything inside her was being stretched, too, and she began feeling pains where she'd never felt them before. Something was being stretched up in her chest, with an agonizing, burning sensation, making it impossible for her to scream any more-impossible even to breath normally. She could breath only in short, shallow gasps.
"Well," said Jack. "We don't want to break any of your bones-not this early in the game, anyway. How do you feel?"
"Uhhh ... uhhh ... " That was all Joy could ma nage.
"Not such a good idea to make you blow me, now," mused Jack, studying her tormented position, "since you can barely get your breath to start with. And I can't get at your ass-hole properly, the way you're laid out-and as far as fucking you in the cunt is concerned, I've already done that."
"Uhhh," groaned Joy, wondering how he could possibly think of her as a sexual object as she lay here in the last extremities of pain, in this tortured position, but there was no question that he did: his cock was sticking up even stiffer and more swollen than ever before, and a little bead of crystal dew was twinkling at the tip of it.
"I guess I'll just have to give you a brand new cunt," chuckled Jack, letting that sink into her tormented mind as he went back to the drawers and shelves where Cosmo had stored their collection of diabolical instruments.
Joy was terrified at the implications of what he'd said. She had horrible visions of him taking a knife and making some kind of incision in her soft flesh somewhere to accommodate his frightful, obscene desires. She tried to struggle-but any effort at all to move in her present position only served to increase the pain she felt, and it made it even more difficult for her to draw her breath.
Jack at last returned, clicking something metallic in his hand, and she couldn't make out what it was. It appeared to be a pair of hollow metallic hemispheres, together about the size of a grape, connected by a thin silver chain on which was some kind of screw attachment.
"It's nothing but a very elegant little bra for you, Miss Bang," said Jack, "a bit skimpier, no doubt, even than the bikini you probably wear to the beach in an effort to destroy the soul of any man unfortunate enough to behold you-but in this case, more than adequate for the purpose it's supposed to serve."
"Wha ... uhhh ... " moaned Joy, wishing she could speak, but knowing in her heart that nothing she could say could fend off the attentions of this monstrous degenerate.
Jack took one of the metal hemispheres and opened it on a hinge-then closed it over her plump nipple. Joy tried to scream, but the sound came out as a sort of squeak-there were hooks or clips inside the metal cap he'd put on the tip of her breast, and they cut deeply into her soft flesh. She saw a tiny trickle of blood oozing out beneath the metal cap. Even more blood oozed out as Jack pulled her tormented tit closer to the other one so that he could cap that, too, with one of the fiendish metal hemispheres.
Now her nipples were pulled toward each other, attached by the silver chain with the screw arrangement in the middle-and Jack began turning the screw, drawing them closer and closer toward each other, cutting deeper and deeper into her tender flesh with each turn of the screw.
It seemed to Jack the Whipper that with each turn of the screw his throbbing erection seemed to rise to another plateau of hardness and thickness, until he could barely stand the pain of the tightly stretched skin over his hot meat. He feasted his eyes on her pillowy tits as he pulled them closer together by means of the screw, until at last their plump, pliant surfaces were pressed tightly together and all the slack had been taken out of the chain connecting her nipples.
"Poetic justice," chuckled Jack. "You go around flaunting these obscene protuberances as if they were some kind of sexual end in themselves, while their only real purpose is to fascinate and enslave the souls of those who look on them-well, I'm beating you at your own game, bitch! I'm going to fuck you in the tits!"
And with that Jack hopped onto the table and straddled Joy's tortured body with his knees. He thrust his thick meat in between her confined tits until she could see the bulging purple knob of it sticking out between them point at her face.
He had no concern at all for the fact that the pressure of his cock, thrust in between her tits like that, served to make the metal caps bite and gouge deeper into her nipples-as a matter-of-fact, he seemed to delight in that fact, and he wrenched and twisted his swollen prick back and forth in an effort to make sure she felt as much pain from this loathsome perversion as she could possibly feel.
Jack was delighted with his work. The blood was really running down into the tunnel he'd created for his cock by pulling her breasts together, and its hot, sticky wetness not only served to inflame him even more than he already was but lubricated the slide of his prick and let him buck in and out of there at a faster and faster rate. Joy's lips and chin were soon spattered with red drops that splashed out with each of Jack's forward thrusts.
Joy closed her eyes, unable to watch any longer the sight of that bloody knob peeking out at her on each of Jack's inward lunges, unable to stand any longer the sight of her own blood. She wondered how long this maniac could go on. She'd had more than her share of experience with men, and she'd never met one who'd been able to get his cock up so many times in the space of an evening as Jack the Whipper. Judging by his performance last night, he'd be able to keep indulging his frightful lusts long after she'd been reduced to a bleeding, mindless, quivering lump of flesh by his tortures.
But even as he relished the soft slide of his cock between her bloody, pillowy breasts, Jack couldn't help thinking of Mary. He looked once more to the cell where she was sleeping. He began to feel some concern, wondering whether she was dead-because she'd managed to sleep like a log through all the frightful howls that he'd wrenched out of Joy Bang.
He tried to keep his mind on his work. That witch, Mary Box, had somehow enchanted him, had gained some fearful power over him that was endangering his divine mission.
Perhaps the proper thing would be to turn her over to Cosmo, to tell him that he could no longer think straight while she existed-to do away with her. No. He couldn't stand the thought of having her done away with-and anyway, that would be confessing his unworthiness to Cosmo. He had to stand up to her, gain total control over her and over the feelings she aroused in him.
"Aaargh," he growled, giving his cock a particularly vicious wrench between Joy's breasts, one that set a fresh spurt of blood flowing from both of her nipples.
Joy couldn't even groan anymore. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips drawn back from her teeth, and all of her energy was concentrated on the simple act of breathing-it had been bad enough before, with the pressure of the rack to contend with, but now with the added weight of Jack the Whipper's body pressing down on her it was almost impossible.
"Open your eyes, bitch!" snarled Jack, smashing her across the face with his open hand. "I want you to see-I want-you to watch-those eyes of yours, with their seductive looks and temptations-I want to come in them!"
Joy didn't quite know what he was talking about, but she didn't dare refuse any of his requests, however crazy, now that she was so utterly and hopelessly in his power, and her green eyes flickered open-just as Jack the Whipper's cock went off, spewing hot gouts of semen into them, blinding her, matting her eyelashes and running disgustingly down her nose to her lips.
Jack kept coming for what seemed to Joy like an eternity, spraying her face with the stickly liquid until it seemed that her face and hair were soaked with it, and meanwhile he urged her-backing up his requests by tugging viciously at the cords still sewn into her cunt-to lick off as much as she could and swallow it.
At last Jack the Whipper's orgasm was spent, and he nearly fell off the table as weariness suddenly overcame him with the force of a club. He knew that he could sleep now, even if Mary Box was confined in the cellar. He'd halfway started for the stairs, though, when he remembered Joy. It would serve the bitch right to leave her in her present position, until he awoke again, but he decided that she might not be able to survive such an ordeal. Reluctantly he unwound the rack, undid her chains, pulled out the cords he'd sewn into her cunt, took off the metal cups on her nipples, and dragged her limp form across the stone floor to her cell, where he flung her inside and slammed the door after her.
CHAPTER X
It was impossible to tell time in the cellar of Major Alan D. Rider's mansion, but Mary Box knew that she'd slept three times since last she'd seen Jack the Whipper. She'd lost track of how many times Cosmo had scuttled down the stairs with a dish of utterly unappetizing food for her-she tried to ignore him and the food, although he was constantly prodding her with sly hints about the horrible fate that awaited her when Jack got around to dealing with her again. It seemed to enrage him that she wouldn't even look at him.
The first few times, Cosmo had brought food to a cell on the other side of the big basement, but he'd taken it away with a shrug. Lately, he'd been leaving it. She assumed that Joy Bang was confined there, but thus far none of her efforts to talk to her had met with any response.
It especially annoyed Cosmo that Mary, as well as not looking at him, made a point of covering herself with the filthy sheet they'd provided, along with the straw, for her bedding.
"What's the matter with you, bitch?" he snapped, banging her tin plate against the bars. "Why don't you use your feminine wiles on me? Why don't you try to distract me from my duty by doing your obscene best to tempt me with the foulness of your naked body? Why don't you try to trick me into freeing you by promising me a night of evil pleasures in-"
"Fuck off," interrupted Mary in a bored tone, and that drove Cosmo up the wall. He screamed inarticulately and scurried away.
"Mary?"
Mary looked up, startled-and then saw Joy Bang peering through the bars of her cage across the room.
"Joy! I wasn't sure you were even alive," cried Mary.
"Neither was I. God. Did you see what he did to me?"
"Who?"
"The Whipper-who else? That creep Cosmo doesn't have the guts to touch us, I think. I don't see how you slept through it."
Mary noticed now, in the dim light, the bruises and clotted blood on Joy's body. She felt pity-but a shudder of fear as well at the thought of what the Whipper could do to her, too, here at his mercy.
"Joy-somehow we have to communicate with Major Rider."
"Are you nuts? That's Jack the Whipper," said Joy.
"Yes-but not really. The major doesn't remember the frightful things he does when he's Jack the Whipper."
"You mean he's a split personality?" asked Joy.
"Exactly -and I think that little monstrosity, Cosmo, encourages him-I think that's where he gets all of his crazy ideas."
Joy said nothing, thinking about it all for a moment, and then she said: "But how do we get in touch with him when he's sane? How do we know when he'll be sane?"
"We-" began Mary.
"Plotting, eh?" cackled a voice from the stairs, and Joy turned in horror to see Cosmo shambling down the steps once again. "Plotting against Jack the Whipper, the instrument of God's will, eh?"
"I thought I told you to fuck off," said Mary, wrapping her sheet around herself once again. "You filthy whore!" screamed Cosmo, rushing at the bars and clawing inward at Mary, who just managed to evade his clutch. "I won't be spoken to that way in my house!"
"Your house? Ha. You're just a pitiful little hanger-on, a leech, a vampire-"
"No-I am the master of this house, just as I am the master of the creature you know as Jack the Whipper. He does my bidding-he follows my commands-he obeys me as my hand obeys my brain-at least he did until you came along, you sex-crazed sow! You've turned his head around, somehow, with your evil ways, but by God I'll turn it back again," screamed Cosmo.
"How? You don't look very sexy to me," laughed Mary. "Are you going to tempt him with your flawless alabaster body?"
"God damn you!" screamed Cosmo, clutching at the key to Mary's cell, "I can start by getting rid of you, you daughter of Satan!"
Mary cringed into a corner of her cell, clutching the filthy sheet around her. She knew that Cosmo had the strength of a maniac, and she was afraid now that she'd goaded him too far. She felt that she could hardly be blamed for it, considering all the indignities and cruelties she'd been forced to suffer-tout blame or not, the fact remained that Cosmo was wrenching open the barred door of her cell now, and this might very well be the end of her.
She should have saved her clever remarks for Jack the Whipper-she seemed to have some strange kind of power over him-perhaps he was even in love with her, in his sick, filthy way-but she had no rapport at all with the frog-faced gnome who now lurched into the cell, clenching and unclenching his twisted hands.
"Come here, you-come here so I can kick the vileness out of your body-so I can tear your eyes out-so I can claw you to shreds-" Cosmo said, his voice strangled with evil lust.
"None of that sounds very inviting," said
Mary, eluding him by ducking under one scarecrow-like arm and crouching back against the other corner of the cell.
Something seemed wrong with Cosmo. Mary couldn't quite pin it down, but it seemed that his anger wasn't quite genuine. He was genuinely in the grip of some powerful emotion, though, his eyes rolling, his face red, saliva dripping from his slack lips-but she had the odd feeling that what he said had no connection with what he really felt.
Acting on a sudden hunch, Mary flung her filthy sheet aside. She leaned back against the stone wall, spreading her bare feet wide on the scattered straw of her pallet, and looking straight into Cosmo's bulging eyes, she breathed, in her sexiest, huskiest voice, "How'd you like to eat my cunt, Cosmo? Nobody's watching us-I'll yell, and Joy will think you're really torturing me-but how would you like to give me some head? Or maybe I could blow you-just suck your cock into my mouth and give it the kind of loving I bet it's never had before-but what I really want you to do, Cosmo, is kneel down here and-"
"Stop, stop!" hissed Cosmo, turning white he took a trembling step backward.
Mary spread her legs wider and thrust her pelvis out further. Cosmo's eyes were riveted to the tender pink cleavage between her legs, and she slid one hand slowly down over her belly to touch it in front of him, beckoning him to it with one finger. Like a puppet drawn by strings, Cosmo lurched unevenly forward.
"You abominable slime," he hissed, "don't you realize what-you're-doing-to me?"
"Yeah," breathed Mary, "I'm giving you my pussy to eat."
It sounded as if poor Cosmo was gargling on his own saliva as he dropped unevenly to his knees and crawled forward to the pasty delight that Mary thrust out even further for his lustful inspection. He gripped her thighs tightly, almost painfully in his taloned hands as he stared up at it with a mad look of burning hunger in his eyes.
"That's it, Cosmo-come on up and suck it," Mary said, injecting a throaty throb into her voice.
"You won't-tell anyone?" gasped Cosmo. "Do I look like that kind of a girl?" "No the Whipper-if he knew-if-aaaghh!-what are you doing to me? You fiend -you bitch -you mmmwwwaaahhh...."
Mary gasped. Nobody had ever attacked her cunt with such unashamed, single-minded lust before, and she forgot entirely, under the heat and passion of the assault, how much she loathed Cosmo. She fell forward, clutching his head tightly between her thighs, and knocked him over on his back, planting her cunt down on his mouth and rubbing it furiously against his hungrily sucking lips and flailing tongue.
Cosmo managed to pry his mouth loose for just an instant-then went immediately back to the squirmy, moist delicacy he was burying his face into-and in that instant, he managed to hiss, "Scream, damn it!"
"AAAGGGHHH! You're killing me! Stop, oh, please stop!" screamed Mary, trying to keep up her end of the bargain.
"What's he doing to you, Mary? Oh, what's he doing? I can't see," shouted Joy.
"It's awful, Joy -oh, no no no no-Cosmo-oh-oh-ohhh!" groaned Mary, twisting and squirming her cunt around to massage the mouth that so hungrily sucked at her.
Mary felt that she was beginning to understand what made Cosmo
Stikeleather-and, by extension, Jack the Whipper-tick. She would have been willing to bet that he'd never done anything like this with a girl in his life. She would even have been willing to bet that he'd never had anything at all to do with girls, but that he'd lusted for them from afar, afraid that they'd reject him because of his twisted, stunted body. His weird ideas stemmed from his fears-but at the basis of it all was a hungry, itching lust for all the things he condemned.
She didn't know whether this would cure him of it or not-it might just as likely make him feel guilty and take his guilt out on her-but she resolved to give Cosmo the time of his life, in the off-chance that she might be able to change his mind about women-and about her in particular.
She twisted her cunt around on his mouth until she was facing his crotch, and reached down to undo his belt and unzip his fly. As she slid his undershorts down over his scrawny legs, she was shocked to see a cock every bit as big as the Whipper's monstrous organ springing up at her, inflamed a deep red with Cosmo's uncontrollable lust.
Mary knew there was nothing to the belief that the bigger the cock the better the fuck, but that didn't dampen her enthusiasm for big cocks: the bigger they were, the more there was for her to play with, she reasoned, and she was utterly delighted with the length and thickness of Cosmo's huge organ-it was the best-looking part of him, as a matter-of-fact, and she was much happier staring down at his smelly cock and balls than she would have been gazing into his bulging eyes.
But she wasn't content merely to stare, and in the next instant she went down on him and slid her lips quickly down the shaft as far as she could, measuring how much she could fit into her hungry mouth. Not all of it, not by a long shot.
Cosmo gasped as he felt his cock touched by female flesh for the first time in his life. His head swam, his limbs trembled, and he thought for a minute that he was going to faint-but the utter ecstasy of that first light contact of Mary's moist mouth was suddenly magnified a thousand-fold as she pressed her lips tighter around his inflamed organ and began running her tongue around the stiff ridge at the base of the head.
Cosmo had always jerked off a lot. As a matter-of-fact, one of the principal tenets of the religion he'd invented held that masturbation was a positive virtue, in that it enabled a man to control himself and stay away from Satan's chief creation, women. A pamphlet he'd written and distributed-POUNDING OFF TO GLORY-had been one of the main reasons for his dismissal from Divinity School, as a matter-of-fact.
In positing this thesis, though, Cosmo had always believed-from sheer ignorance-that there was no qualitative difference in the sensations his own hand could give him and the sensations a woman could give him. He realized now, with the sinking feeling of one whose deepest convictions have just been shot away from under him, that he was dead wrong.
"Scream," hissed Cosmo, taking his dripping lips from Mary's redolent muff, "scream-you're forgetting to SCREAM! SCREAM! SCREAM!"
Mary couldn't very well scream, not with Cosmo's massive cock in her mouth, but he was more than making up for it, the way he was carrying on with bestial, inarticulate shrieks as he shot his load into her mouth. It was as if he'd been saving up all his come for her since he was a boy, and Mary had all she could do to keep from choking on it as she sucked and swallowed for all she was worth. It had taken only a couple of licks and sucks and pumping slurps, and the next thing she knew the thing was going off like a fire hose in her mouth. Swallow as hard as she might, strands of the translucent fluid dribbled out over her full lower lip, and still more of it seemed to be shooting out with even greater force than the first load.
"Mary-oh, Mary, what's he doing to you?" cried Joy Bang.
"He's trying to drown me!" shouted Mary, momentarily pulling her lips from Cosmo's cock and regretting it instantly as it started pumping afresh and spurted a mass of sticky come into her face. She put her lips back instantly, not wanting to waste another drop of the tasty stuff.
Mary started to crawl away when Cosmo's cock at last stopped spurting and began to grow limp in her mouth, but Cosmo clutched her ass tightly and wouldn't let her. He'd never seen a woman's cunt up close-unless one counted the thousands of gynecology books he'd pored over since he was a youth, and here again, the imitation barely made up for the reality. He was utterly fascinated by the folds and ridges of the remarkable pink organ, shading off to a deeper red where it opened into the soft depths of her body. He wished now that he'd taken the opportunity to screw her instead of letting her blow him, but he supposed he'd have time for that....
Cosmo turned cold. What on Earth was he doing, staring up at a woman's cunt like this while lustful thoughts ran riot in his head? He must have lost his mind-or, worse yet, he must have fallen under the same evil spell that this frightful woman had managed to cast over Jack the Whipper. He was caught in the same net of corruption and damnation.
Now it was Cosmo who tried to get away, but Mary plunged her squishy cunt right down on his mouth and locked his head in the tight grip of her voluptuous white thighs. Cosmo struggled-but for all his strength, Mary was heavier than he was, and now she was lying on top of him. Besides that, now that the delicious thing he'd been feasting his eyes on was once more in contact with his mouth, Cosmo's scruples tended to fade and his struggles to get away from her were somewhat less than energetic.
"Aaahh-Cosmo, you're killing me!" cried Mary, trying to ease some of his qualms by maintaining the fiction they'd arranged for Joy.
"What's he doing now, Mary?" shouted Joy.
"Oh, God, Joy, he's sticking it inside-deep-he's wiggling it around in me-aaaAAAGGHH!"
"Oh, no!" Joy cried, imagining that Mary was talking about some frightful instrument of torture, when Mary was in fact referring to the moist flickers of Cosmo's tongue inside her hole.
Now that Mary was acting once again and putting up a front for Joy, Cosmo surrendered unconditionally to her cunt. He slurped and guzzled at it with a thirsty greed that he hadn't shown even before, in his first onslaught, and this time he took care to lick and kiss every inch of the scrumptious hair pie that the heroically proportioned blonde was offering him.
He even overcame his scruples about something else-although he hardly knew he was overcoming his scruples at the moment, all he knew was that he was grabbing her big tits and feeling and fondling them furiously. Mary gasped with pleasure as his combined action of her pussy and her boobs began to get to her, and she forgot even to scream-but it's doubtful that Cosmo would even have heard her, buried down deep in the sweaty oven of her thighs.
"Here it comes again-I can't stand it!" shrieked Mary, referring to Cosmo's cock, which was swelling up once again to its full and incredible size.
As soon as it had lifted slightly from his thigh, Mary grabbed it with her greedy mouth, eager to suck in all of it and feel it swelling inside the clasp of her mouth. And swell it did, until at last she was forced to relinquish some of it-and still some more of it-and until finally the moist red ring of her lips was clasping somewhere halfway down the huge love-gun.
Believing that he'd have more control over himself the second time, Mary really threw herself into her work with the wild energy and hunger that characterized her blowjobs at their best. But she misjudged the lifelong frustration that she was dealing with. Cosmo was hot as a firecracker, and he had no control at all over his own prick. Barely had Mary begun to give it the works with her lips and tongue than it blasted off like a rocket, spattering hot gobs of seed into her throat before she was even prepared for them.
CHAPTER XI
Cosmo Stikeleather was a broken man. Everything he'd believed in and striven for all his life-the divine vision that had come to him one day as a youth, while he was jerking off in the bathroom-all this lay in tatters around his feet, stripped and shredded away by the irresistible wiles of Mary Box and her incredible mouth.
He lay back on the straw-strewn floor of Mary's cell, gasping for breath, his face smeared with the odorous juices of her red-hot cunt, while Mary lay beside him and stroked him and crooned soothing words in his ear.
"Come on, Cosmo," she breathed, "there's nobody down here but you and two beautiful girls-nobody to see what you're up to-why don't you let Joy out, and we'll have a real orgy-just you and the two of us."
"God," gasped Cosmo, "don't tempt me like this-you don't know what you're doing to me."
"Yes, I do," said Mary, sliding her hand down to clutch his hot meat with her dainty fist, "I'm giving you another hard on."
Cosmo tried to struggle away from her, but his efforts were pitiful and weak. He didn't for a minute want her to let go of his cock, now that it was swelling up once again and tingling in anticipation of carrying out the lecherous activities she kept whispering about. But his mind was in a terrible turmoil as he considered how badly he'd let down his own high opinion of his powers to resist the charms of women.
"Come on, Cosmo-let's go and get Joy. You've never even fucked a girl before, and now you'll have the chance to fuck two of us," whispered Mary, running her tongue around the inside of his misshapen ear.
"It's wrong," breathed Cosmo, "wrong."
But even as he spoke, he was getting slowly to his feet, letting Mary lead him by the cock to the door of her cell.
"Just think of it, Cosmo," said Mary, not wanting to stop her running patter and give him pause to consider what he was doing, "two cunts-two mouths-two ass-holes-six wonderful holes, all for the exclusive use of that big, beautiful cock of yours. Mmmmmm, I can just feel it now!"
"Wrong," gasped Cosmo, unlocking the door of her cell.
Joy Bang couldn't believe her eyes as she saw the door of Mary's cell open and saw the big blonde step out, leading Cosmo by a hand on his erect cock. Cosmo's eyes were glazed, and he didn't seem to know quite what he was doing. A thousand questions bubbled to her lips, but she didn't speak. It was obvious that Mary was up to something, and she didn't want to spoil it if it meant that they might get out of this frightful place.
"Look what I've got for you, Joy," said Mary, frigging Cosmo gently with her fingertips, "a nice, big cock. Doesn't it just make you drool to look at it?"
Joy's hand jerked involuntarily to her sore cunt. It was the last thing she needed, after the treatment that Jack the Whipper had given her, and she felt more like throwing up than drooling, but she decided it would be best to go along with Mary's lead.
"Hurry, Mary-bring it here. I just can't wait to start giving it the loving it needs," said Joy, squirming and writhing against her bars like a bitch in heat.
Cosmo made a choking noise in his throat as he began lurching toward the cage a trifle faster. Joy had always thought she'd be willing to do anything for money, but when she saw Cosmo in the nude, she decided that she wouldn't have accepted his cash on a bet. But she had to put up a good act.
"Unlock the cell, Cosmo, like a good boy," Mary breathed in his ear. "A real man like you needs at least two women to take care of him-I'm sure you'd wear me out in an hour."
Cosmo unlocked the cell with trembling fingers, and Mary glanced at Joy sharply, warning her with her eyes that she had to go along with the fiction-but Joy was already well aware of what was going on, and the instant the door was open she grabbed Cosmo and kissed him, open-mouthed, tangling her tongue with his and rubbing her bare tits against his scrawny chest.
At the same time, Mary grabbed him from the back, kissing him from the neck down his twisted back to his buttocks, running her tongue down the crease of his ass to flicker around his ass-hole and kiss his balls. Unlike Joy, Mary was so sexually turned on that it wouldn't have mattered if Cosmo really were the frog he resembled, as long as he had a big enough cock.
Cosmo grabbed one of Joy's big tits in his mouth, and Joy squealed as he began running his tongue over the wounds that Jack the Whipper had inflicted on it a few days ago with his infernal metal bra-but Cosmo took the noises she was making as indications of unbounded lust, and he just sucked and licked it harder, pulling as much of the rubbery meat of her big boob into his mouth as he could.
Cosmo had never kissed a girl on the tit before, never sucked a knocker into his mouth, and the experience made him dizzy. His knees trembled, and soon he collapsed to his knees and lifted his face to Joy's red muff. She obliged him by spreading her bare feet on the floor and thrusting it forward for his insistent tongue, even though she winced slightly whenever he sucked too hard at one of the freshly healed wounds that Jack had caused with his needle.
While Cosmo was thus engaged, Mary leaned forward over him and whispered in Joy's ear: "We've got to exhaust him-keep his mind entirely on sex-and when the moment comes, we'll seize him."
"What about the other nut?" breathed Joy, beginning to groove on the way Cosmo was eating her cunt.
"We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it-maybe if we have any luck, he'll be his normal self," said Mary, with a confidence she didn't really feel. She knew that they weren't out of the dungeon yet, not by a long shot.
"Oh!" cried Mary, because Cosmo, kneeling between them, had suddenly swiveled his hand around and attacked her cunt with his sucking mouth. Her surprise instantly changed to rutting, grunting lust, though, as the hot tingles flooded upward from her cunt. She hadn't realized how hot Cosmo had really got her, earlier, with his tantalizing tickles, and without really knowing what she was doing she grabbed Joy over his body and began kissing and feeling her.
"Mmmmmm!" Joy protested, trying to squirm away-this was all she needed, on top of the ugly dwarf she'd already allowed to eat her sore cunt.
"Oh, just let it happen, Joy," Mary breathed in her ear, "I got such a kick out of eating your cunt the other day-didn't you get one, too, when they made you eat mine?"
"No," said Joy, honestly, trying to squirm away from this fresh and unexpected assault.
"Aaagh!" cried Cosmo, as the two women collapsed over him in their struggle. He squirmed and twisted this way and that in an effort to get out from under the heaving pile of female flesh, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Joy and Mary rolled away from him, though, and he found himself breathing again. He could see that Mary, the bigger girl, had pinned Joy down and managed to shove her head between her thighs despite the redhead's most valiant efforts to keep the blonde's mouth away from her cunt. Joy wasn't reciprocating, though, just lying underneath Mary and gritting her teeth as the other girl went to work on her-but now Mary shoved her cunt right down against Joy's face, burying her in it, and began rubbing her crotch against her mouth.
Joy Bang had wanted to scream-it had taken a violent physical effort not to let out the howl of outrage that was building up lustily in her chest-but she'd forced herself to keep silence because she knew that the only one she could possibly summon would be Jack the Whipper, and that would only mean even more trouble than she had now.
But now the choice of whether to scream or not had been taken entirely out of her hands, now that Mary had plastered her muff down over her mouth and was swabbing her face and chin with her juice-matted pubic bush and her hot, juicy labia. Joy tried desperately to breath through her nose, but that was difficult, too, since half of the time her nose was buried in Mary's ass-hole.
A more secure individual than Cosmo might have been let down by this sudden transfer of attention from him, but Cosmo had grown so used to having women ignore him that it didn't really bother him-and anyway, the sight of Mary's big, plump ass, sticking up over Joy's lovely face, drove all other thoughts right out of his head as he scrambled toward it.
Mary had forgotten all about Cosmo-but she was suddenly reminded of him as she felt a pair of hands clutching at her haunches and a big, dry cock plowing its way into her ass-hole.
"God grease it up, or something-you-aaagghh!" shrieked Mary, but her words were inarticulate, since she didn't want to let Joy's cunt out of her mouth for a minute.
Nothing she could have said would have deterred Cosmo anyway, now that he was well on his way to plunging into her behind. He'd never imagined that anything on Earth could give his cock such a tight, sweet clutch as the beautiful blonde's ass-hole, and he forgot entirely about the miraculous pleasures of her mouth as he enjoyed this new sensation to the fullest.
At first, Cosmo's assault had provided Joy Bang with a tremendous relief. She'd been just on the verge of suffocating, with her nose buried in Mary's ass-hole, when Cosmo had lifted the big blonde's ass and shoved his cock into it-but now, as more and more of the huge shaft slid inward, like a zeppelin going into its hangar over her head, she found that her situation was just as bad-Cosmo's huge, hairy balls were pressing down around her nose, and she couldn't breath in them any more than she could breath in the hot oven of Mary's ass.
"Mmmmmff," cried Joy, trying desperately to tear her mouth away from Mary's juicy pussy or her nose away from the enveloping sack of Cosmo's heavy balls.
"Ah!" cried Cosmo, realizing what she was up to and noticing that, up until now, she'd been doing nothing to contribute to his pleasure, "get out of there and lick my balls while I'm buggering her."
He grabbed Joy by her long, red hair and yanked her face out of Mary's cunt, shoving her until her mouth was under the bulging sack of his testicles. Joy breathed a sigh of relief and gratitude, and she began giving Cosmo's balls a working over with her soft, moist tongue that he wouldn't soon forget. She hadn't liked at all the idea of eating Mary Box's cunt, and she liked even less not being able to breath-and even Cosmo's balls seemed a wonderful thing to lick by comparison, now that her nose was out in the open air and she could breath again.
Cosmo didn't even begin to question the irresistible fascination that his body seemed to hold for these two voluptuous girls. It was a principle of his faith that all women were animals, so he merely accepted it from whence it came. It prevented him from being in the least suspicious of their motives as he continued with the delicious work of fucking Mary in the ass while Joy licked and guzzled his balls.
Mary had at first been pained by the squeeze of Cosmo's prick into her rectum-and doubly pained when Cosmo forced Joy to stop eating her cunt-but she'd been so wildly aroused to start with that it wasn't long before she began to feel the shuttle of Cosmo's hot meat in and out of her behind as the most delicious sensation she'd ever experienced. She began groaning and moaning with lust as she lolled her tongue around on the moist pink ridges of Joy's cunt, and she was even delighted to see that her work on this end was having a decided effect-Joy Bang's clit had grown so big and swollen that it seemed about ready to burst, and it was glowing like a little red Christmas tree light.
Mary took that as her signal to really start eating Joy out, and she shoved her tongue as deeply as possible into her vagina and sucked as hard as she could, drawing out streams of sticky juice and pulling the flesh out around her tongue until it seemed that it was completely enfolded by the hungry, sucking mouth at the bottom of Joy's belly.
Cosmo had hoped that he could draw this butt-fuck out till End of all time, it was such an exquisitely delicious sensation, but such was not to be. Although he lasted for a bit longer than he had during the two wonderful blowjobs Mary had given him, he didn't last nearly long enough to please himself, and before he could seize control of himself he found himself shooting off into the depths of Mary's rectum.
"Aaarggh!" cried Cosmo, writhing in the grip of an orgasm so wonderful that it was almost painful-and now, he found, the hot semen he'd unloaded into Mary's ass enabled him to fuck her at a furious rate, and he kept doing so until his cock had grown so limp that it was at last squeezed out of the tight passage, to flop, wet and limp, on Joy's face.
Joy's reservations about lesbianism had suffered a signal defeat at the mouth and tongue of the talented Mary Box. She didn't care who the hell was doing what to her at the moment-all she knew was that it was good, so good that she wanted to scream-but instead of screaming, she grabbed Cosmo's cock in her mouth the minute it flopped out of Mary's ass and began sucking it until she'd slurped every last bit of it into her mouth.
Cosmo was a bit taken aback by the fury of her assault. He'd wanted to take a breather after that last harrowing fuck, but the girls just couldn't keep away from him, it seemed. He gave a resigned sigh and contented himself with looking down and feasting his eyes on the sight of Joy's pretty face, her soft lips sucking and pumping at his limp cock in an effort to get it up and going again.
Now that Cosmo had finished buggering her, Mary remembered that Joy was still down there under her crotch, and she was desperate to get some more action going at her hot cunt-she was intensely frustrated when she found, by wiggling and shoving her cunt around, that Joy's mouth was otherwise occupied.
Cosmo took up the slack instantly, though, and rolled Mary's heavy body away from Joy's without for an instant breaking the tight contact between Mary's hungry mouth and Joy's equally hungry cunt. With his cock still in Joy's mouth, he shoved his head up between the blonde's sweating thighs and began to eat Mary.
CHAPTER XII
Mary Box didn't know how long she'd lain on the floor in her post-orgasmic daze, but when at last she came out of it and remembered all the facts of their situation, the first thing she saw was Cosmo Stikeleather, plowing Joy Bang for all he was worth.
She didn't know how much longer he'd lie there, held tight by her thighs as his scrawny ass pummeled up and down in their angle, but judging from past performance, she decided that she'd better act fast if she wanted to take advantage of the situation before he came.
She cast wildly about the cellar for something to secure him with, and it wasn't long before her eyes fell on a pair of leg-irons hanging from the wall. She got them down and snapped them locked around Cosmo's ankles-and incredibly, he didn't even seem to notice, but just kept humping away at Joy.
Mary tried to get Joy's attention, to let her know what she was up to, and to try to gain her cooperation-but Joy, she saw to her dismay, was just as much out of it as Cosmo was, totally engrossed in the thrill of the hot and heavy fuck they were throwing at each other. The hot, wet suction of Joy's cunt as Cosmo plowed his huge member in and out of it was making so much noise that Mary could barely hear their moans and groans of lust.
Mary shrugged. Even if Joy didn't know what was going on now, she was sure she'd approve of it when she was capable of rational thought once again.
Now that Cosmo's feet were secure, she was fairly sure that she had him where she wanted him-but Mary wanted to be entirely on the safe side, remembering the maniacal strength that invested Cosmo's scrawny thews when the spirit moved him.
Cosmo's hands were behind Joy's back, gripping her ass tightly and pulling it up to meet the pile-driver strokes of his monumental cock as he blasted it in and out of her at a dizzying rate, now, too fast for Mary's eye to follow. Hot juice from Joy's overflowing love-bucket was splashing all over the place, sizzling and steaming away wherever it landed.
"Fuck-unnhhh-fu-uh-uhk," grunted Joy.
" F u c k f u c k o h , beautiful, fuck-fuck-fuck," replied Cosmo.
"Turn over, God damn it!" Mary shouted, trying to pierce their daze with the volume of her shriek-but they just groaned and grunted and humped and squirmed, oblivious of her presence, and the squishy noises rose to a racketing crescendo.
Mary decided they wouldn't know it if the roof fell in on them, so she took the direct approach and just shoved them until they rolled over, until Cosmo was on the bottom and Joy was humping away on top. His hands still dug into the full, creamy flesh of her ass, and Mary reached down and quickly snapped a pair of handcuffs on him. Neither one of them seemed to notice.
Mary sat back on the stairs to watch, crossing her legs and wishing she had a cigarette-cigarettes had been denied her, since Cosmo said they were another of the Devil's works. As soon as Cosmo had finished with Joy, the two girls could go upstairs and deal with Jack the Whipper-or possibly, just phone the police and clue them in to this crazy place. She'd decided that she'd taken on far too big a job when she'd resolved to keep the Whipper under control by threatening him-she hadn't known about Cosmo, then, and she realized that both of them needed some kind of help.
At last, judging from the grunts and howls and shrieks that had risen to a frightful pitch and now seemed to have died away, it was over, although Joy and Cosmo were still squirming spasmodically against one another.
Mary felt she might possibly be heard, now, and she said, "You'd better come here for a moment, Joy-I mean, now."
At first she thought the redhead hadn't heard her, but at last, in a sort of slow-motion take, Joy turned and stared at her with glazed eyes.
"Come here a minute," said Mary. "Wha--? " Joy said, and slowly it dawned on her that she was confined by Cosmo's shackled hands. It took a little while for this information to sink in, but when it did she began slowly and carefully to disengage herself, trying not to arouse Cosmo.
At last she was able to step away from him, leaving Cosmo chained hand and foot-but apparently not realizing it as he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
"Now," said Mary, rising as Joy joined her, "now we go after Jack the Whipper."
"Not so fast," said Joy. "I'd like to get back at that little mother-fucker for what he did to me."
"What did he do to you? It looked like the two of you were having a ball."
"Exactly. It really burns my ass to think that crummy little bastard got me going like that, when I wouldn't spit on the best part of him, if I was in my right mind," said Joy.
"Look, Joy, we have no time for that kind of craziness-"
"God damn it, I'm not leaving here until I get back at him for everything that's happened to me in this awful place-and if I can't have the hundred and fifty bucks I came for, I plan to take it out of his hide-and out of the Whipper's, while I'm at it."
Mary frowned. Joy was apparently in a semi-hysterical state, brought on by all the frightful experiences she'd been through. She didn't know how to combat it-except to humor her, although her reason told her that the sooner they got out of here and stopped fooling around the more chance they'd have of making it to safety.
"Cosmo, dear," crooned Joy, walking over to the prostrate man on the floor-and despite the sweetness of her voice, she followed it up with a good swift kick to his ribs.
"Wha-uhnf!" gasped Cosmo.
"Get up, mother-fucker," snapped Joy, a hard edge in her voice now.
Cosmo looked around him, taking in the situation-and a wild gleam of panic entered his protuberant eyes as he realized that he was chained and struggled against the clanking irons at his wrists and ankles.
"You fiends! What have you done to me?" he screamed.
"Tied you up all pretty like a birthday present," said Joy, "and now we're going to open you up."
Cosmo lay back, gasping. His worst fears had been verified: these creatures were every bit as bad as he'd always believed, and he'd fallen victim to their fatal entrapment-him, the last person on Earth who should have given way to such temptations! Why hadn't he contented himself with pounding off, as he'd always preached one should do? Because, now, he knew, he'd never be content to pound off again-having tasted the forbidden fruits of their bodies, he'd never be satisfied any longer with anything less than the real thing. He'd betrayed his vision, and now there was nothing left for him.
"What are you blubbering about, you silly bastard?" asked Joy, giving him another kick to get his attention. "We haven't even started to work you over yet."
"You don't need to," sobbed Cosmo. "You've already done your worst. Why don't you just kill me, and get it over with?"
"Not such a bad idea," said Joy, "but I plan to have a little more fun, first."
Joy knew that she'd never be able to use the same ingenuity on Cosmo that the Whipper had used on her: Cosmo and the Whipper probably lay awake nights, thinking of different ways of torturing people, while it had never before occurred to her that she might someday find herself in this position. But despite Mary's obvious impatience and despite her own apprehension that the
Whipper might barge in on them at any moment, she resolved to take her time and think up something that would just suit the misogynous midget who'd given her such unwelcome pleasure a few moments ago.
She rummaged through all the drawers and cabinets lining the basement torture chamber-thumbscrews, iron boots, branding irons, knives, chains, whips-no, none of those suited her imagine. And at last she opened a drawer-and let out a whoop of laughter.
"So, you hate women, do you, Cosmo? You find them the ultimate personification of evil-the Devil's own handiwork, eh?"
"Yes!" cried Cosmo, who wasn't the sort of person to recant his faith under threat of torture.
"Well-I think I've found just the things we need to make you change your mind," giggled Joy. "Boy, are you going to get your just desserts, you mother-fucker."
"Joy " began Mary, glancing apprehensively up the stairs.
"No-this is just too good, Mary. I wouldn't pass this up even if it does mean risking getting caught. Come here and help me lift our little friend onto this table."
Mary's misgivings had grown, but she saw that Joy was not to be deterred in her purpose. Together they were easily able to lift Cosmo onto the very table where Joy had been tortured by the Whipper.
Joy instructed Mary to get a basin full of hot water and soap from the washroom adjoining the torture chamber, and as Mary did so she shuddered to see that Joy was stoking up a roaring fire of coals in a portable brazier she'd moved near the table where Cosmo lay.
When Mary returned with the hot water and soap, Joy began lathering Cosmo's hairy body-lathering every part of it that was covered with hair, which was most of it. She then took a straight razor, dipped it in the basin, and began shaving him all over-his face, his neck, his chest, his armpits, even his arms. She paused to work up another good lather, pausing for a long time on his cock and balls-giving them so much attention, in fact, that Cosmo's incredible cock began to rise once again under the soapy touch of her hand, and he soon had a huge, pulsing hard on.
"Mmmmmm," said Mary, "Let me suck him off, one more time."
"No, Mary-those days are gone forever.
Cosmo Stikeleather is a man of principle, and we mustn't try to compromise him."
Joy shaved Cosmo's crotch carefully, but Mary was surprised to see that Joy didn't actually shave his balls-just around them, and around the base of his cock. Then she went on down his legs. They turned him over on the table and they repeated, the procedure on his back, until the only hair he had was on his head-and on his balls.
"I just don't see what you're up to, Joy. I mean, if shaving a guy gives you your kicks, I suppose you could get to do it anytime, but-" Mary began.
"You'll see," was all that Joy Bang would say.
At last they were finished, and Joy carefully patted Cosmo dry with a towel before going once more to the drawer where she'd found her apparent inspiration. She returned carrying what appeared to be a metal bra, with two big steel cups attached by a chain.
"No," gasped Cosmo, "not that!"
"Oh, shut up, mother-fucker," said Joy, wearily. "This thing is going to be the very least of your worries, I guarantee you, before I get through with you."
She pushed Cosmo up to a sitting position and strapped the bra onto him-and Cosmo screamed when she cinched it tight, because underneath the phony metal boobs were sharp spikes that dug deeply into his chest, more deeply as the chain was drawn tighter, and soon blood was trickling down over his belly.
"Mm," said Joy, "I dreamt I was a perverted sex-fiend in my Iron Maiden Bra."
"You'll pay for this, you slut," gasped Cosmo--.
"Gladly," said Joy, "I'll pay for it like that other son of a bitch paid me my hundred and fifty dollars."
It was incredible, but the way Joy kept harping on her fee, Mary was almost convinced that it was the reason she was doing all this. But she said nothing as Joy returned to the cabinet and came back with a long blonde wig, which she clamped down firmly on Cosmo's head.
"God," said Joy. "He looks a little bit like Bette Davis, in a gruesome kind of way."
Mary couldn't see the resemblance any more than she could see the point of all that Joy was doing: he looked rather like a frog in a long blonde wig.
Next Joy returned with cosmetics-she decorated Cosmo with lipstick, eyeliner, false eyelashes, the works, even adding false fingernails, and liberally splashed an especially cheap and odious lilac perfume all over him.
"When I see someone like this, it makes me wish I was a lesbian," sighed Joy.
The next items Joy came up with were black mesh stockings, a floucy garter belt, and black shoes with high spike heels. She removed the chains from Cosmo's feet and forced these items onto him while he writhed and squeezed his eyes shut to avoid looking at his own humiliation.
"Perfect," said Joy, standing back to survey her handiwork, and even Mary had to admit that Cosmo might pass for a very ugly woman with a bizarre flair for garish makeup.
"Except for one thing," giggled Mary, pointing to his hard, throbbing erection, which had grown stiff as it had ever been before while Joy was pushing and pulling him around the table.
"I was coming to that," said Joy, going back to the table.
She fondled Cosmo's cock with her hand, peeling the foreskin back and forth, and said, "Do you remember what it felt like when you fucked me, Cosmo? Wasn't it so much better than jerking off-wasn't it the most delicious experience of your whole life?"
"No-no-" gasped Cosmo.
"Aw, come on. And when I blew you-didn't you like that? And how about the way Mary blew you? Had you ever imagined that anything in life could be quite so good?"
"I-" Cosmo began, planning a denial-but his cock was betraying him, getting even stiffer as her honeyed words caressed his ears.
Now Joy lowered her parted lips to his hot cock and slid them lightly down as far as she could, then kissed and licked her way back to the top, giving the head a good smooch before she pulled them off.
"Don't tell me you didn't like that, Cosmo, honey," sighed Joy.
"Yes-oh, God help me, yes, it was the most wonderful thing-your lips-your lovely mouth-I just love it, I can't help myself, I want it, I want it-I" babbled Cosmo.
"Well, honey, you can kiss it all good-bye," sighed Joy, lowering her lips once again to his cock-and in that instant Mary screamed as she saw Joy's hand coming up from behind her back and saw what it held in it-but Mary's scream was nothing, compared to
Cosmo's, when Joy began slicing off his cock and balls with the razor she'd used to shave him.
The razor wasn't quite up to the work, and Joy had to saw and hack her way through to make sure she'd done a good job with his genitals. When at last she held the bloody, hairy trophy up for Mary to see, Joy was covered with blood up to her elbows and Cosmo was out cold.
"Joy-for God's sake, he'll bleed to death! Do something!" screamed Mary, appalled at her companion's frightful deed.
"We ought to stuff this fucking monstrosity," said Joy, inspecting her trophy calmly. "Only now he doesn't have a hard on any more, poor bastard."
Mary was once again about to plead for Joy to do something-Cosmo was spurting blood from his ravaged crotch, and she was sure he couldn't have very much more left in him. But Joy had evidently prepared for this contingency, and she went to the brazier of glowing white coals she'd set alight before beginning the transformation of Cosmo Stikeleather. She took out an iron, glowing white-hot, and plunged it down into his crotch. Mary turned her head and felt her stomach churn as she heard a sizzling crackle, saw white steam arising from between Cosmo's legs, and smelled the sickly-sweet, horrible odor of burning flesh.
"Ugh, what a mess!" said Joy, pulling the iron away. "But anyway, he's not bleeding any more."
"How can you do this?" said Mary. "You're more of a monster than they are, you-"
"Oh, shut up. Maybe he didn't get you mad with all that crap he was spouting off about women, but he did me. A man like this is dangerous-and he's already influenced another person completely to follow him-a person who should certainly know better, if anybody should. What do you suppose might happen if other people started listening to him? We're nipping a potential Hitler of the male chauvinist pigs right in the bud."
"But who are you to say? The police."
"Shit. They'd just send him up for a couple of years, where he'd get a chance to preach to the other prisoners-or maybe just send him to a psychiatrist, and if he ever got into serious conversation with him, he'd probably turn the shrink's head around. You've seen what he's done to Major Alan D. Rider-what do you suppose he could do to somebody else? Anybody else? He's a menace, I tell you-or at least he was."
Mary kept silent. She was glad Joy had a serious reason for this atrocity, even if the reason didn't make very much sense. She wasn't nearly as sure as Joy was that Cosmo was as dangerous as all that.
Joy had returned to the cabinet, and now she returned with what appeared to be a blonde merkin-an artificial mat of pubic hair. It had an adhesive backing, and she plastered it down firmly over Cosmo's wound.
"There," said Joy. "Isn't he a peach? The Whipper doesn't pay much attention to cunts-at least he didn't until he got hold of mine-so maybe he won't even notice there's nothing under it. Maybe he'll even try to fuck him the regular way-and wouldn't that be something!"
Joy had taken up her razor again, and Mary was too sick and shaken to do anything as she forced Cosmo's jaws open and cut his tongue out. She threw it on the floor where she'd discarded his bloody cock and balls. Then she applied the white-hot iron to stop the bleeding, and this time Mary could no longer stand as the horrible sights and sounds and smells were repeated. She sank numbly to the floor.
"Okay, honey," said Joy, "that just about wraps it up-except to wake Cosmo up."
She remembered where Jack had put the hypodermic syringe after he'd used it on her, and she went for that next, filling it with a liberal jolt of the clear fluid that increased sensitivity to pain. She shot it into Cosmo's arm, and he was soon wide awake, gagging and mumbling, screaming hoarsely, but unable to form articulate words with the burned stump of his tongue.
"Off the table, honey," said Joy, giving his metal bra a twist that made him comply, "we're going to let you try out your evil, feminine wiles on Jack the Whipper, and see what he thinks of this."
Major Alan D. Rider was sitting peacefully in his study, drinking wine to ease the tensions of his hard daily round of lecturing and writing in order to cultivate the proper attitudes toward sex in a misguided population who thought of it as dirty.
He was just finishing up his third six-ounce glass and wondering what had become of his friend and companion, Cosmo Stikeleather, when the door of the study was flung violently open. He whirled in his chair, just in time to see a frightful apparition come staggering into the room.
"Good Lord!" cried Major Rider, hastily downing his glass and pouring another. "Who-or what-are you?"
"Gnnnaagnnaghnaghaa," said the creature as it staggered toward him, a wild, imploring look in its bloodshot, protuberant eyes.
"Sit down here-miss," said the major, guiding the poor wretch to a couch.
He had no idea how this person-apparently, a woman-could have gotten into his house, or what had brought her to her present wretched state. There was clotted blood on her thighs, around her mouth, on the strangely unfeminine musculature of her belly. Her only garments were a flouncy garter belt, black mesh stockings, high-heeled shoes, and the sort of metallic bra featured on the covers of science fiction magazines of two decades or so ago. Strangest of all, though, her hands were chained behind her back.
"Gnnaaagnaghlllaagack!" she croaked, staring wildly at him.
"Yes, yes, of course," said the major, patting her thigh. "Would you like to go to bed with me, and talk about it? I find that a man a woman can only communicate effectively when their communication is arranged around the act of love. Perhaps-"
"GnaGNACKACK!" cried the creature, shaking its head violently.
The major had to admit he wasn't especially disappointed by her refusal; he couldn't recall when he'd seen an uglier woman in his life and, despite his belief that sex should not be withheld from any woman simply because of her looks, he had a hard time living up to that principal in her case.
The major wondered whether he should call the police. The creature kept trying to communicate something to him, searching out his eyes, trying to make him look at her. He shuddered and took a sip from his glass, hitting the twentieth ounce of the evening.
"Aaaahhhhh," he said, awakening, wondering where Stikeleather was with his shot. He felt foggy and disoriented. "Stikeleather!"
No response-but now something was nudging him, on the couch behind him. He turned, and stared in horror. Stikeleather!
